#alex writes

[alexthetrashyracoon]

Simon is the type of husband that, when you watch your silly little tv shows, let it be something like a documentary on Rhinos on Documentary Chanel or just some murder documentary about serial killers in the 17th century or even worse, reality tv like Keeping up with the Kardashians, he says he’s not interested in watching them with you.

But like everyone else, he finds excuses to walk into the living room where you are sitting, in the winter mostly underneath a million blankets, and stands in the doorway. He watches whatever is running on the tv from the corner of his eyes, asking whatever he had on his mind before leaving again.

Minutes later he returns, now a step deeper into the living room, but not close enough to sit on the couch and accept that whatever is running on the tv is not boring but rather exciting. You lose interest in your show because watching Simon try to be subtle is the best evening filling entertainment you could ask for.

Next he leans onto the back of the old grandfather chair he had restored, his hands clasped together, looking at the tv, asking what happened previously or who was the person on the screen. You always answer and offer him a place at your side to watch the show or documentary together which he immediately denies and scurries out of the living room to get back to what he was doing beforehand.

At some point Simon realizes that the stupid tv show is actually pretty good and begrudgingly he sits down next to you on the couch, wordlessly you usually hand him the bowl with popcorn which he takes just as wordlessly and sinks into the pillows, kicking his feet up onto the small tv table and watches the tv.

Not that you weren’t the same when his shows comes on, you too always pretend to not be interested when he watches his cooking shows, instead trying to get the laundry done but by the time the host of said cooking show announces the winner of todays round, the laundry is forgotten and you two are arguing about who you would have chosen as the winner.

Only to decide that you two would have been the true winner because the last time you and Simon cooked together the neighbors had to call the fire department since your kitchen burned down and Simon wasn’t fast enough to extinguish the flames fast enough.

#cod x gn!reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #cod mwii #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #cod mw2 #cod x you #alex writes

[aritany]

alright, you can have the opening to my current novel. as a treat for all of us

#alex writes #mtik #mtik excerpt #don't have a taglist for this bad boy yet but feel free to ask if you'd like to be tagged in updates for this book!

[alex-rambles]

What would Bill do if he accidentally hurt us? Like it’s during weirdmaggedon or just whenever he got a physical body and he was aiming to use his powers to hurt someone else but they dodge it and it ends up hitting us and it gives us extreme and unbearable pain to the point we scream

-He actually screams himself

-Bill doesn't cuss but now he does

-"OH FUCK! SORRY DOLL, I'M SORRY!"

-Intended victim gets time to escape as he is now focused on you

-"Are you okay? Here, this should help with the pain and let me just heal that up-"

-He's feeling incredibly guilty, really has never felt worse

-He treats you to whatever you want

-Then he finds his intended victim and punishes them five times as hard for "making him" accidentally hurt you

-He is much, much more tentative using his powers around you from then on

#billposting #alex writes #gravity falls x reader #bill cipher x reader

[actual-changeling]

"just say what you mean"

metaphors have meaning, they are meaning, stretched and twined and twisted around the truth at its core.

i am saying what i mean, feelings pulled out of my chest, a red thread dripping blood onto the carpet. my hands, my words, weave it into the fabric of a poem.

it is the ugly truth made beautiful, digestible. no one actually wants to hear what you mean. their shoulders do not know how to carry my thoughts, my pain calcified and ancient.

i say what i mean and no one believes me. i say what i mean and they tell me to use smaller words. to make myself smaller.

less ugly, less sharp, less wounded and scarred.

plainness is bright but just as honest as planting seeds and harvesting poetry. their eyes are not meant to stare at the sun. mine weren't either, but i was never given a choice, so i stared. so i hurt.

i can say what i mean, without flowers, without jagged edges sanded down, without the softening veils they demand.

i was a child. people hurt me. a lot of people hurt me. no one cared and no one helped. i was alone, lonely, and i was in so much pain all i thought about, all i could think about, was how to die.

if you peel back the layers, you will see tears and wounds and pain. you will discover scars. you will hear voices screaming into my ears until they were ringing and i was sure he was going end me right there and then. sometimes i wish he had. it would have saved me a lot of pain.

i say what i mean, and it is too much, too ugly, too distressing. no one wants to hear any of it. no one wants to know which words were thrown at me, how many times hands grabbed my arms and left bruises.

look at the flowers, look at the garden, look at me plucking weeds and planting trees, and tell yourself how good a person you are for being brave enough to open the gate and walk down the path.

come one, turn around and leave. i won't say what i mean again, i promise. i will nod and smile, and you will leave the garden.

once the gate swings shut behind you, i will pick up a shovel and continue digging my grave.

#alex writes #spilled ink #original poetry #cw childhood trauma #cw child abuse #just in case

[aevallare]

Minthy x Halsin for drabble request?

this is not a drabble but that's fine. 497 words.

deluge.

The night after Minthara helps Wisp and her wizard and her band of do-gooders free Reithwin of its curse, it rains. Last Light Inn is long behind them and the dirt beneath their feet turns to mud and when Minthara joined their party, the druid’s tent had become hers, and she stays dry.

He had cited a preference for sleeping outdoors, and Minthara is not one to turn up her nose at luxuries which others are idiotic enough to relinquish. He has not complained once since.

But it rains. And Minthara is not one for empathy, but the druid has proven a formidable ally. To not have him at full strength would be folly.

She pulls the flap to the tent open and seeks him. Her eyes are by far the best in the party under these conditions, and it takes only a quick sweep of the campsite to find him huddled under a tree in his favored bear form.

There’s no chance in the hells that she’s going out in this downpour. With the parasite, she reaches out to him, brute-forcing her way between the folds of his mind. It’s easier to communicate with the others — their tadpoles are naturally receptive — but Minthara’s used hers this way many times on goblins outside of barking distance.

Rest will elude you the whole night long in these conditions.

In the darkness, Minthara sees an ear tilt upward as if that will somehow facilitate his understanding of the voice in his head. Then again, he’s the only one in this camp without a tadpole of his own.

What awaits us in Baldur’s Gate will be no small feat to overcome. Your best is the only condition in which you are of value to the party.

But the druid doesn’t move.

Must I fetch you from the rain myself?

At last, he stands, and Minthara steps back from the open flap into the warmth of the tent once more as his magic glows around him. He’s an elf fully once more when he stands on the threshold, face stern.

“Defile my mind that way again, and you will know the Oak Father’s fury.”

He’s an imposing figure, but Minthara is not in the habit of being intimidated, and certainly not by surface elves. “Don’t be a fool, druid. Much as I, too, am loath to admit it, our journey will be easier if we can coexist. I was not myself when I marched on your grove and I have no interest in poisoning an ally. Be a bear if it sets your mind at ease, but know this — if I wanted you dead, you would be. Your shape would not matter. Accept my grace for what it is.”

His gaze remains stony, but he steps into the tent.

“We are not friends, drow.”

Minthara smirks. “Perish the thought.”

He remains an elf. In the future when the weather is inadequate, he takes his rest in the tent. They stay dry.

#bg3 #minthara baenre #halsin #baldur's gate 3 #prompt fill #fic #mine #alex writes #rarepair april. binch. #asks

[lawonderlandwriter]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Game of Thrones (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen Characters: Daenerys Targaryen, Rhaegar Targaryen, Jon Snow, Rhaenys Targaryen (Daughter of Elia), Aegon Targaryen (Son of Elia), Rhaella Targaryen (Wife of Aerys II), Viserys Targaryen (Brother of Daenerys), Olenna Tyrell, Cersei Lannister Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Regency, Regency Era, Alternate Universe - Bridgerton (TV) Fusion, Daenerys as Daphne, Jon as Simon, NO rape or no-con, Eventual Smut, slowish burn, depends on how long it takes me to write it really, age history and relationship changes for my own convenience, Don't Like Don't Read, Aunt/Nephew Incest, Targaryen incest is still a thing and totally acceptable, copy pasta the Bridgerton script in places, if that's not your thing you don't have to read Summary:

After Daenerys's eldest brother Rhaegar all but ruins her prospects on the marriage market with his constant meddling, her newly minted Duke of Winterfell nephew steps in with an intriguing proposal. All Dany has to do is... not fall head over heels in love with him. And all Jon has to do is the same. Pity for them both things do not go according to plan.

#because I felt like it #jonerys #jonerys fanfic #jonerys fanfiction #shit I write #Alex writes #Bridgeton AU

[infrequent-creator]

Trapped

Ler : Gojo? Technically

Lee : Yuuji

Summary; Yuuji gets tied up in demon traps by Gojo, just trying to contain him, but little did he know that it would reap a different result.

Word count: 527

Tw: bondage, tickles

<3

“Wakey wakey~” Yuuji stirred slightly at the voice.

“Mmm five more minutes…” he grumbled mostly asleep.

“No can do kid, I gotta talk to you right now.” The boy’s eyes fluttered open to see a very handsome man wearing a blindfold

“H-Huh? Wha.. where.. where am I?”

“Who am I talking to right now? The boy or the beast?”

“Wh-what? What are you talking about? I’m Yuuji Itador! I’m a student at.. hey wait a minute! You’re that guy! You fought that monster with me and then it…” He paused, recalling the memory.

“Then I ate the artifact you were after..”

“Ah so you do remember. Good. That shows you’re still in there somewhere.”

“What do you mehehean?” Yuuji started to giggle at a funny feeling along his sides. He couldn’t place it, but it was making him squirm.

“Why are you laughing, demon?”

“D-Demon? I-I’m nohohohot a demahahan..” The sensation started to tingle up to his ribs, nearing his armpits.

“You fool… this mere toilet paper does nothing to me~” a voice spoke out do nowhere.

“Ah.. so the demon traps are too weak. Strong enough to hold, but not enough to hurt you. Tell me Yuuji, does it tickle? Is that why you’re laughing?” There was a lilt in his voice, making the pink haired boy blush.

That was it! It was ticklish! The sensation finally spread to his armpits causing him to squeal, and wiggle around vigorously.

“P-Plehehehhease mister!! Let me gohohoho—AHAHA!!” Finally the feeling spread to his sensitive hips, making him arch far enough to fall over onto his back.

“Awww, you look like a little pill bug that got flipped on it’s back. Here, watch this..coochie cooo..” The man cooed, his fingers skittering along the slender bones.

“AHAHAHA!! W-WhahAHahat do youhHUHUhu wahahAHAHANT?!” He was losing his mind over the combination of gentle scritches along with the tingly tickling from the possession charms.

“I want to know if you’re violent in there, if that demon could snap and be a danger to us at this moment..” Gojo slowed his skittering and switched to poking at his thighs.

“But you aren’t scary at all are you, little Yuu-chan~” the man teased in a playful tone. The younger one couldn’t take it anymore. He curled up and fell over on his side to avoid the evil pokes. His legs kicking back and forth as the giggles bubbled up his throat.

“IM *hic* NOHOHOT!” A hiccup suddenly came out causing Gojo to stop.

“Interesting, you hiccup when you laugh too much? Adorable..”

“*hic* N-No it’s not!” He tried to defend but the additional hiccups weren’t helping his case.

“Alright then, I’ll go discuss this with the elders. I’ll comeback here and either let you free, or kill you. Sound good?” He smiled brightly, patiently waiting for an answer.

“Ohkahay.” He nodded.

“Perfect. You just sit tight, and I’ll be right back.” He stood up, making his way towards the door.

“W-Wahait! The w-wraps still tihihickles!”

“Don’t worry, you’re a tough boy. You can handle it. Byeeee Yuu-chahahan.”

“Plehehease! H-Hurry bahack!” Yuuji lay on his side giggling like a child for the rest of the evening.

THE END

#tickle #tickle community #tickle kink #trash writes #Alex writes #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk yuuji #lee!yuuji #ler!gojo #ticklish!yuuji #Yuuji #itadori yuuji #jjk tickle fic #jjk tickle #tickle fic #jujutsu Kaisen tickle

[areyoudoingthis]

one day ed's gonna do something crazy romantic like breakfast in bed (but better cause he's gonna have lots more practice) and he's gonna pull out a ring and proceed to be so confused when stede starts crying and just keeps going for 10 minutes straight until he can finally get himself to calm down enough to get out a vague explanation about always wanting to marry for love only to then start crying again. and ed will just hold him and let him cry until he feels better and then stede will pounce on him and yell YES 🩷🩷🩷

#hey #hey brain #how about we stop starting fic every other post #there simply aren't enough hours in the day #oh right i have all hiatus never mind #this WILL become a fic someday #alex writes

[spearxwind]

dark.

Short story based on this prompt!! I'm super proud of how this one turned out :]

There’s hikers in the forest tonight. They must be feeling really brave, camping out here at night, knowing how many people go missing between the firs even in broad daylight. The campfire they’ve lit melts the shadows away from their tents, which are sheltered in a secluded area off the trail and away from open spaces. They know what they’re doing. But that won’t save them.

Adriel has been watching them for a while now. Coiled up on the treetops, thorny scales blended effortlessly into the evergreen, like an extension of the darkness itself. He flicks his tongue out.

> Scent receptors (active). SCANNING… █████████ 100% > Complete. > Full data (dropdown)> > Life forms v [human] = 2 > Chance of success with both of them there: 76.5%; > >>“Not ideal.”

Hunger tugs at him.

> Charge() at 32%. Swarm unstable.

The two people below are deciding on their guard shifts before they call it a night when they notice the fire has started dying down. The silence hanging over the camp is broken by the older of the two. “I’ll go fetch some more firewood” He says, as he gets up from his spot. The snow crunches softly as he steps out of the light cast by the flames, disappearing into the treeline and leaving his younger companion behind. 

> Set (TARGET) {true};

The serpent descends down from the canopy and onto the forest floor, circling the campsite, staying out of reach of the dying light from the fire. 

> Run [CALL] > Warning: Data incomplete. Call fragmented.  > >> “Proceed anyway”

“...go Fetch-tch.. fiRewood” Adriel speaks from somewhere behind the trees, unseen, his own voice replaced by a mimicry of the older one’s. The imitation is incomplete of course, there was only one clear phrase to go off, but it doesn’t matter this time. It does the job. 

The hiker jolts up, obviously startled. Is their companion back already? They don’t see him though. They take a few steps away from the campfire, not quite daring to leave the light.

“Jonah?” The nervousness is palpable in their voice. “Hello?” They call out again. “This really isn’t funny, man…”

Behind them, Adriel gently places a massive mechanical hand on the dying fire, choking its comforting light completely and plunging the area back into darkness. The hiker pulls out their phone in terror, fumbling to turn on its flashlight, quickly finding that its sickly beam can only illuminate a mere few feet around them. The light glints off of the snow as they swing it around frantically… until it falls onto something. 

The white of the snow interrupted by... black. Black scales. The light stops moving, now reflecting off of the eyes of a snake. An impossibly huge, jet black viper, its features seemingly shifting and writhing under the dim light, as if one were looking at a mirage. But it is very much real. Whatever this thing is, it is clearly not a regular animal. It’s something much worse. And it’s staring right at them.

One minute the hiker is frozen in place, the terror of their situation holding them in place and rendering them unable to even speak. And the next they are gone.

The loud crunch that follows is deliberate, obviously. More noticeable than the fire going out, less immediately alarming than a scream. Enough to draw the attention of the one remaining. A trap, set.

And sure enough, “Jonah” makes his way back to camp. With the fire gone, he too is using his phone as a flashlight. Adorable, really.

“Kid? Where’d you go? What happened to the fire?” He’s trying to keep his voice from shaking, just barely succeeding. He sweeps his own weak light over the area, to no avail. There is nothing there. There is no one here.

> Charge() at 62%. Swarm stable.

The mimic calls out from the trees again. With energy no longer being a concern, it could have a little more fun with this one. The imitation is far better this time. 

“Jonah? Hello?”

“....Kaya? Where are you?” The man’s resolve still not too shaken, he keeps advancing through the dark trying to find his companion. Hands trembling almost uncontrollably, he reaches for something on his belt, a dagger, drawn to fight off whatever is surely circling him right now. Pathetic. Time to take it up a notch.

“Hello?” The voice echoes through the trees once more, repeating itself with increasing volume until it’s coming from almost every direction at once, disorienting. 

HELLOHELLOHELLOHELLOHELLOHELLOHELLOHELLOHELLOHELLOHELLOHELLO

Jonah’s facade breaks instantly. He turns to bolt, and the snake strikes, sinking it’s fangs deep into the man’s shoulder and pinning him against the ground. In response the man slashes wildly at Adriel, panicked, stabbing the dagger deep into the serpent’s eye in an attempt to get it to release him. And it does. It opens its jaws just enough for the hiker to stumble out and flee, scrabbling to get up and leaving the dagger behind. Blood drips onto the snow like a breadcrumb trail as the survivor makes a desperate run for it. 

They always flee deeper into the forest. They think the trees will protect them. They think the darkness will hide them from him. And they are always wrong.

The release, too, was deliberate. Adriel does not need to give chase. The man will not get far.

> Set (INFECTION) {active};

A sudden jolt of pain cuts the man’s sprint short. The virus in him starts to spread at an alarming rate, radiating from the wound and into his veins, painting them black. 

> [INFECTION] at 2%;

Shortness of breath hits him first as the particle buildup blocks his throat and the man falls to his knees, desperately trying to cough it out, to scream, all to no avail as his condition worses exponentially by the second. 

> [INFECTION] at 14%;

He can feel it inside of his head, humming. The particulate congealing into an ink black ooze that starts leaking out of his ears, his nose, his eyes, clogging his lungs. 

> [INFECTION] at 57%;

It surges beneath the skin like worms, and then like snakes, ripping out and back in again, with complete disregard for the host. They tunnel through, avoiding anything immediately lethal, popping the limbs out of their sockets through sheer volume displacement. 

The assault relents when Adriel finds the broken body at the end of the blood trail, still alive, though just barely. He can’t really move anymore, and he probably can’t see either. No more fun to be had, then. 

But he should still be able to hear. It leans close and opens its jaws enough to flash all its teeth, far too many for any one creature to have, hovering just over the hiker. Once more, the companion’s voice rings out, coming unnaturally and glitched from the monster. “This-is reallllly funny.y.y.y” 

The jaws clamp down like a vice.

> Charge() at 99%;

The serpent melts back into the darkness, as if it had always been a part of it. 

#alex writes #adriel #gore #body horror #😳😳😳😳 #i put effort into formatting the post as well i hope its good!!! :D #super excited to share #the hollowridge disaster

[alexthetrashyracoon]

Simon loves you. He adores you. He worships you.

You love Simon. You adore Simon. You worship Simon.

That’s one thing you two have in common.

The other thing is that you two hate your own bodies.

You hate the fat on your belly and the fat of thighs that make every jeans you wear too tight. You hate how slabby your arms are when you wave at someone and wear a t-shirt. You hate the stretch mark on your stomach and under your arms, around your thighs. You hate the little double chin you’ve gotten over the years and can’t get rid off, no matter how hard you try.

Simon on the other hand hates how rough his body is, how firm and hard. He hates the scars all his years in the military had left behind. He hates how there is always a reminder of a bad past, one where you didn’t have a place just yet. He hates how calloused his hands are, from years of punching people or holding weapons. He hates that no matter how hard he tries, he always is a bit too rough, never too much to hurt you, but it’s not easy to relax.

So one of these days, your parents invited you and Simon over for brunch and you agreed to go. But now you’re standing before the full body mirror and stare at the tight shirt you chose to wear, you swore the last time you had it on it wasn’t like this. Tears gather in the corner of your eyes as you squeeze the pouch of fat on your belly.

That’s when Simon walks inside. He’s dressed casually, jeans and shirt. He looks good, handsome. But as always he hides most of his body behind long sleeves and pants.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispers into your head, wrapping his arms around your waist to take your hands away from the small pouch. “You’re gorgeous, sweet, sexy. There are a million words I could say to describe you, but they won’t be enough. You’re perfect, the way you are.” Simon says softly, looking into your eyes through the reflection of the mirror.

You believe him.

Because you might hate yourself but you love Simon.

Simon is the same. He believes you when he stands at the sink and looks at his scarred hands. Those hands aren’t made to love someone, they are made to kill and destroy. Those hands aren’t meant to touch someone as pure as you.

That’s when you walk into the bathroom. You see him, hate and disgust in his blue eyes.

You place your smaller hands on top of his before taking them and placing his hands on your cheeks. Smiling softly.

“Your hands are made to protect, you save not just me but many people. They are gentle and kind. You are gentle and kind. You aren’t a machine that’s made to kill. You are perfect, just as you are.”

And Simon believes you.

Because Simon might hate himself but he loves you.

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x gn!reader #cod x you #alex writes #fanfiction #cod mwii

[aritany]

ok writers, what’s a line from your writing that makes you start foaming at the mouth?

i’ll start:

#alex writes #iwyw

[alex-rambles]

For personality for someone into cryptid academia, I’d say the reader be almost like dipper but sorta different? Like keeps to themselves, overall loves walking in the woods. And also thinks like ford.

Also here are pictures

Thanks for the info! I like how there was a journal 3 in there lol. I did the Pines + Bill because i wasn't sure which characters you'd want

Gravity Falls characters with a cryptid academia s/o

Dipper

🌲Your aesthetic may actually have been what caught his eye to begin with

🌲He likes it a lot

🌲Would love taking walks in the woods with you, hoping to come across a supernatural sighting or two.

🌲He adores pouring over The Journal™ with you, looking for creatures you should hunt for next

🌲Very happy to find someone who shares his interest in the supernatural and the outdoorsy stuff

Mabel

🌠Supports your interest despite not sharing them

🌠Def enjoys going on hikes and nature walks with you though, and likes to listen to their stories and theories about the supernatural

🌠Even though she might call Dipper a nerd for displaying some similar traits, you're her s/o so that sibling teasing does not apply to you

🌠When you're on walks she gets distracted by cute animals so you'll probably have to either let her stare and try to pet them or attempt to reign her back in

Stanely

💰Bro compares you to Ford constantly

💰Not in a purposefully mean way he just likes to tease you jokingly

💰You may end up developing a friendship with Ford after Stan introduces you to him

💰And then you and Ford continue talking

💰aNd STAN GETS JELOUS BECAUSE YOU'RE SO SIMILAR

💰So he tries to get into that stuff for you

💰And buys you the clothes the match your aesthetic (only the cheap ones ofc. If he doesn't have enough he either shoplifts or steals from Ford)

Ford

✋Like Dipper, your aesthetic probably caught his eye

✋He sees something of a "partner" in you

✋BIG BRAIN DUO

✋He could spend HOURS talking about the supernatural with you

✋You probs find his six fingers thing cool so he feels comfortable around you

✋After all, most people bullied him for it

Bill

👁Bill is the cryptid you were looking for

👁He will explain all about his home dimension to you if you find it intriguing. If it were anyone but you'd he'd give a vague response about "liberation something something," but you're you sooooo

👁You like hiking? He'll make a mindscape hike trail for you to do together

👁During Weirdmaggedon he'll force his henchmaniacs to let you study them

👁He might make one little area of the forest normal so you can hike in the real world and obliterate anything that dares step into the area

👁In the mindscape he likes to try to scare the shit out of you with eldritch-esque creatures, but it doesn't work because a) not real, and b) you want to sTUDY tHE tHING

#gravity falls x reader #gravity falls #bill cipher x reader #ford pines x reader #stanford pines x reader #stan pines x reader #stanely pines x reader #dipper pines x reader #mabel pines x reader #alex writes

[actual-changeling]

i'm good in a crisis.

not calm, but good. calm on the outside, maybe, my face set in stone, my body carved with jagged edges. don't touch me, it says. don't come near me. don't try to stop me.

i was raised on adrenaline and cortisol. i feel at home in fear, with teeth snapping close to my face, with shadows growing and reaching.

home means counting steps on the stairs, listening and knowing, means holding my breath, my tongue, means biting my lips until they bleed so i stay quiet.

good in a crisis—or maybe i simply never knew anything but.

my body disappeared more and more with every year, my mind shrouded in mist, in caressing darkness, until all that remained of me was my fear.

fear is home, fear is me, fear means i am still alive. if you have fear, you have something to lose. it means you haven't lost yet. it means there is purpose to this, somewhere. a meaning to the pain.

i'm good in a crisis.

there is always one, there is always something. my hands quiet, tremors settling as i become cold to the touch, eyes widened, nails digging into my palms. always something. no, always someone.

people scream, panic, hesitate, bargain, lose themselves in anger and denial.

let me tell you a secret: i pity them. no, that's not quite right. i am upset? no—scared. scared for them. i do not understand why they turn in circles, why they freeze and lose, why they stop running. they will catch up with you. the danger will not pass quicker if you put your head into the sand and pray.

trust me, i tried. no one will answer.

norepinephrine floods my body, i taste copper and salt, and i act. sometimes it means freezing. sometimes it means running (run run run and never stop, never look, keep running). sometimes it means gripping your fear and using it as a weapon. collateral damage is unavoidable, my kindness lost along the way; i'm almost sorry.

i'm good in a crisis because it makes me sharp, clears my mind.

danger is children surrounding me, cornering me, and i run and run and run, unable to escape because eventually recess will end. because eventually i will go home and flee to the one place no one can follow.

danger is familiar, cruel steps on the stairs, the creaking wood my only warning sign. it is the colour blue in the mirror, it's voices weaving nightmares, it's a fear of the light but not of the dark.

danger is my feet balancing on a cliff's edge with my eyes closed and nothing to lose.

feel the wind on your face. feel your heartbeat settle. nothing to win, nothing to lose. no one listening but you. there has never been anyone except you. the destruction of the self is only feared when you are still whole.

i'm good in a crisis. i'm always scared.

#alex writes #spilled ink #cw childhood trauma #tw sh implied #just to be safe

[bradshawsbitch]

international | bradley bradshaw x f!reader

disclaimer: y'hello, this is basically me writing down my maladaptive daydream so like yeah. this is somewhere between reader and oc cause I added some shit to the character. this is for my bilingual queens! 'reader' ain't from america, but u h h h yeah! hope you like it still!

word count: 3700.

warnings: cursing - a lot of cursing, mentions of eating meat, mentions of alcoholic beverages, a bit of self doubt if you squint.

plot: you're an international student, currently located in san diego. on a little sight-seeing tour you bump in to mr. hawaii shirt!

part 2

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You almost couldn’t believe your sheer dumb luck. Was it years of hard work that finally paid off? Maybe. Was it divine intervention? Perhaps it was. But you could hardly believe that you had managed to go through the process of applying for an exchange from your University to the one you were currently sat in. Sunny San Diego had always felt like a perfectly good place to explore, and you had painstakingly went through many Universities’, reading their websites and the description of their international programmes. You’d looked at other countries as well, but you had secretly always been quite fascinated with the US - and when you received the e-mail that a university in San Diego could accomodate you, you’d almost screamed out loud back in your home country. 

It had been a few weeks now. The semester had started, the weather was still warm as ever, and you had finally decided that today you would go sight-seeing. Spending the early morning at La Jolla Cove, you looked at the sea lions - marvelling at how cute (albeit smelly) they were, and enjoying taking the scenic route in the beat up, champagne colored, Honda you’d rented. It was automatic - something you weren’t really accustomed to (back at home you always drove a manual). Today was a day off for you, so you felt like you could really do all of the touristy things you hadn’t had the time for since you arrived before the semester started. Sure, you’d spent the first week seeing all the things you felt were important. You’d been to Cheesecake Factory (happily surprised with the hibachi steak you had), you’d been to a baseball game (it was fun! You’d gotten a little pin that said it was your first game), and you’d tried to understand american football - courtesy of a very drunk guy on campus who seemed appalled that you, an international student, did not already know the inns and outs of the game. The memory made you snort out a short laugh. 

By the time lunch rolled around you’d gotten to Old Town, where you drank in the charm of the buildings, looking at trinkets in the shops, and stopping to gaze at the Whaley House. You’d never really been too into true crime, but even you knew about the Whaley House - and despite the warm weather, a chill ran down your spine. Shaking it off, you decided it was definitely time for some lunch. Milling about Old Town, you suddenly spotted a quaint little place that seemed to serve variations of tacos and burritos - which turned out to be the best damn burrito you ever ate in your entire life. 

Continuing the day of sight-seeing, your little Honda puttered further down, weaving in and out of scenic routes and roads. You’d turned off your google maps when you left Old Town, wanting to have some spontaneity in your adventures. After quite some time driving (it was now afternoon, closer to evening), you found a parking spot to claim, where you figured you could continue on foot. Looking around, you’d managed to find a beach, where a small bar sat - music playing softly from within. Heading for the beach, you peeked inside. It seemed as if the woman inside was setting up for the afternoon and night, and it seemed rather empty. Perhaps you’d have a quick swim and have your dinner there. 

You went for a quick swim, enjoying the way the waves cooled your body down and washed away the sweat and grime from having driven and walked around all day. Having a quick dry-off, you swiftly put your clothes on again (only stumbling once when putting on your pants, that’s a win!), and headed for the bar you’d spotted earlier. By now the sky had turned a beautiful shade of red, lilac and blue, as the sun set slowly. Making your way inside the bar, you managed to get the attention of the pretty woman in the bar - standing next to a man with dark hair that she had been talking to. 

“Hi, do you serve food here as well?” you asked with a smile, nodding in acknowledgement to the man sat by the bar. As the woman confirmed your suspicions, you ordered something small and made your way over to the other side of the bar - you didn’t want to seem like you were prying. As your eyes scanned the shelves, seeing some familiar bottles and some unfamiliar bottles of liquor - you suddenly felt a strange need for a drink. You’d driven here though, so a coke would have to do. 

As you waited for your food to arrive, more people were entering the (what you thought was a) quiet bar. Many of them were dressed in khaki. Now, you didn’t exactly have an impeccable sense of fashion - but khaki always made you think of Bella Swan. Her khaki skirt. Sexy, according to S. Meyer. 

Your gaze roamed around to find a blond man throwing darts, his friend trying to mess him up by putting a hand in front of his eyes - to no avail though - it looked like it was a bullseye from where you sat. Looking around further, you spotted a group of people gathered around a pool table - and you almost wished you’d brought a friend, just so that you could play. Of course you could always ask to join, but you felt like you were too shy for that. You never wanted to impose. 

Seeing a beautiful woman in a sleek bun walking in, walking with purpose towards the pool tables had you biting your lip. Why were all these khaki clad people so handsome? Was it a club? Your brows furrowed slightly at your own thoughts. Surely not. 

As your head swivelled to thank the bartender for the food she’d just delivered to you, you noticed the door swinging open, and a tall form walking in. And boy, howdy, were you glad you’d decided to turn your attention to the door.

Never in your life would you have imagined salivating over a man with a hawaiian shirt over the top of a white wife-beater, let alone a man with a fucking moustache. But damn, this dude had obviously won the gene-lottery. A soft uttering of a curse word slipped past your lips in your native language, and the bartender, who had apparently hung around to witness your reaction, couldn’t help but laugh at the expression on your face. 

But like honestly, you felt you were blame-less in this. The man stood tall, with broad shoulders and (when he’d removed his sunglasses) a face that would make a Vogue model envious. In other words, a man that would never in a million years go for you. You sighed, shaking your head slightly, picking up your jaw from the floor, you turned to order a drink from the bartender, only to find that she had moved on down the bar. You could only smile at your own behaviour. You weren’t a teenager anymore! Should a man really make you react like that? A man with a hawaiian shirt at that. 

“That seems awfully dry without a drink,” 

Perhaps you were having an aneurysm. A short-circuit. A power outage? The voice that spoke was soft, but the honeyed tone of his voice alone made you want to shiver. Turning your head yet again, your lips slightly parted in surprise, you were met by the face of Hawaiian shirt God, standing right there next to you. Blinking a couple of times, you took a quick look-around, just to make sure a Victoria's Secret model wasn’t standing right next to you with something dry that he could comment on.

“Uh, are you– are you talking to me?” it might seem like he was, but one could never be too sure. Perhaps he was talking on the phone. Without headphones. You never know! Hawaiian shirt God chuckled and nodded towards your food and your apparent lack of drink. 

“Oh, I drove here!” you smiled “I was going to order a coke but the bartender was too fast for me,” you said in a jovial tone, making sure to not make it seem as if you blamed her. Hawaiian shirt God furrowed his brows, leaning his frame on the bartop, twisting his torso so it was facing you (was it getting hot in here?), with a bewildered look on his face. 

“You know you can have a drink and still drive home right?” you could kick yourself. You were used to the slightly stricter laws from back home.

“Oh,” you uttered softly “I’m not from around here. I’m not used to being allowed to drive if alcohol has even touched my tongue,” you joked, shrugging your shoulders. 

“Could I perhaps buy you something to drink? Coke is allowed,” he smirked and your breath hitched in your throat as you took in his words. He wanted to buy you a— you blinked and took a steadying breath. 

“I– yeah, sure. What’re you having?” you asked, your mind suddenly becoming blank. What did you even like to drink? It was as if you had never had anything to drink ever in your entire life before this. How embarrassing. He answered with the name of a beer you’d never heard of and you wrinkled your nose slightly. The laugh that rolled from his lips was divine. If only you were a stand-up comedian and could make him laugh all the live long day. 

“Not a fan of beer, huh?” he asked, smiling down at your sitting form. You smiled sheepishly, shaking your head as you took your bottom lip in between your teeth to think. 

“Perhaps a glass of wine?” you looked up at him questioningly, and he smiled in response 

“Red or white?” 

“White, please,” you smiled. He nodded and managed to make eye-contact with the bartender, who swiftly helped him with the drinks. 

“Thank you so much–” you raised an eyebrow, your tone insinuating you wanted a name for Hawaiian shirt God. 

“Rooster,” 

Hold on. What? Like the animal? 

“R-Rooster?” you were trying your damn best not to laugh. Laughing would feel like an insult to this poor kids’ parents. You knew some Americans liked to name their children eccentric things, but you figured that was mostly Hollywood. 

His booming laughter at the way you hesitantly stuttered his name had your cheeks warm with embarrassment, and you averted your gaze down to your finished plate of food.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart, my name’s Bradley. I’ve gotten so used to being called Rooster so– I figured not too many civilians would find their way into the Hard Deck,” he smiled, and it seemed as if he was trying his hardest not to seem like he was mansplaining his name to you. Bradley. Alright, maybe his parents did love him after all.

“Oh, well thank you then, Bradley,” you smiled uncertainly “and uh- well I guess I am a civilian, I’ve been sight-seeing all day so you might even smack me in the face with ‘tourist’ as well if you want,” you joked. Again, that chuckle was endearing as all hell. You had no idea what he meant by civilian, but you didn’t want to seem any more dumb by asking what he meant by that. 

He searched your face for a little while, letting silence fall between the two of you for a short moment - a moment where you yet again could hear the background noise, the drunk singing, the cheering for the people who played pool (you guessed this is why people were cheering, but you were also quite certain you’d heard a bell being rung as well). And in the midst of the noise, you could vaguely make out words of conversations that happened around you - catching words such as ‘naval’, ‘officer’ and ‘lieutenant’. 

“Ohh,” you uttered softly, understanding, quickly checking out a person wearing khaki who passed by you. Of course. It was a uniform! You figured the woman who wore her hair in a tight bun was just a woman who wanted to flaunt her immaculate cheekbones, but now it seemed more likely that they were probably military. How did this always manage to happen to you?

“Are you in the army?” you blurted out, and he at first looked amused, but then borderline offended. Shit. Did you do the ol’ foot-in-mouth now? You knew absolutely nothing about the US military, you didn’t even know shit about your military back home. 

“I’m a naval aviator,” he responded with a small smile, his body language telling you he wasn’t all too keen to brag. Even though it was undoubtedly impressive. 

“I’m sorry– I didn’t mean to offend you or anything. I know I joked about being a tourist earlier but I sort of am - I mean, I’m an international student–” you were struggling to find words that didn’t make you sound unbelievably stupid, but sometimes when you had to talk fast, it was as if all the english you’d ever learnt fell out of your vocabulary, and you wanted nothing more than to blurt out some familiar words from your native language. 

“Are you old enough to be in here?” he asked as you mentioned you were a student. Now it was your turn to be offended. You were nearing your thirties thank you very much. 

“I’m working towards a master of science, so I’m definitely old enough to be in here, thanks” you explained, narrowing your eyes slightly at him, a smirk playing on your lips. He smiled at you again before sipping his beer. 

“I never caught your name, sweetheart,” he continued.

“You never asked,” you replied, only slightly letting your tone hint at flirting as you sipped your wine, keeping eye contact with him over the rim of your wine glass. 

“I’m asking now,” God, the way his voice had lowered and became slightly husky should be illegal. You could feel your body react unceremoniously to the sound of his voice, and you had to lick your lower lip as you pondered how to answer. Should you say your name with like, an American accent? Should you say it as you would usually at home? 

You settled on the latter. You didn’t have the confidence to pronounce it like an American would.  

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that?” you repeated it, slowly, and jokingly said that he was allowed to call you your nickname if he was in a hurry. He laughed at that. You enjoyed making him laugh. His eyes looked so pretty when they lit up in the dim bar-light. 

You smiled up at him, and you were just about to initiate another topic of conversation, when his name was called from across the bar.

“Rooster, is this how I find out you’re state-side?” It was the beautiful woman with a tight bun. Damn. 

“I’m sorry, would you excuse me for a second?” he smiled at you, and seemed glad to have seen his friend. You nodded quickly “Absolutely!” 

And he was gone. Fuck. That was the most exhilarating experience you’d had in a while and you’d let him slip away! It wasn’t as if he was going to drag you out back and take you against the wall (but damn if he wanted to you wouldn’t say no), but still - you had liked how confidently he’d approached you and how sweet he had been about buying you something to drink. You stared at said drink now, swirling the wine slowly in the glass that was now half full - you took a sip as your eyes wandered across the room. The bar had a warm, familiar feeling - even though this was your first time being there. You wouldn’t mind spending more time here. Perhaps they were looking for help - you had bartended before. 

Shaking your head, you took another sip of your wine. Rooster had said you could drive home after a drink, but you felt like perhaps it would be wise to wait a little while after finishing your drink before you hit the roads. But now you didn’t have the company of Bradley to keep you occupied, and you heaved a small sigh as you brought out your phone to scroll through social media, checking your instagram story from earlier during the day. 

Suddenly, the familiar sound of ‘Slow Ride’ was cut short, and you heard the soft notes of a piano being played. Looking up, you quickly found that the source of the sounds was Bradley, his shade having slid down to rest on his nose. Jesus, was he aware what the hell he was doing? Probably. He smiled as he spotted you, and you couldn’t help but smiled back before he turned his attention to the people standing around him as he started to sing. 

This motherfucker needed to slow down. If he wasn’t careful he’d catch a wife. With a voice like that, his endearing approach and fucking insane looks he was surely very popular. If he even mentioned he liked literature or cuddling, you’d be done for. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you muttered, downing the rest of your wine in one go, letting the glass hit the bartop with a bit more force than you’d first intended. A familiar laughter permeated the air, and the bartender woman was stood in front of you again - ready to collect your glass. No doubt she needed it clean for the next round of costumers. 

“He’s something, isn’t he?” she smiled at you, and you could only nod.

“Is he always like this?” you inquired and she laughed again. 

“Well, I haven’t seen him in quite a while but yeah, I think so,” she smiled at you “But I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him buy anyone a drink quite this quick before,” she winked at you, making your cheeks warm up again. 

“Hey, would you ever need help around here?” you found the courage to ask “I’ve bartended before, and I make a mean whiskey sour,” you smiled. She pondered your offer for a while before answering,

“Let me think on it. Why don’t you come in tomorrow and we can talk about it?” you nodded and thanked her. 

The smile on the bartenders lips widened (Penny, you found out her name was,) as her gaze lifted from you, to something above and behind you. Furrowing your brows, you twisted around to see Bradley stood behind you again. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Sorry about that,” he smiled at you. Damn. He found you again?

“Don’t… worry about it,” it almost sounded like a question.

“You up for a game of pool?” he questioned, before ordering another beer “More wine?” he asked you, leaning slightly over you, letting his arm brush against yours. 

“I probably shouldn’t…” you trailed off, biting your lip in contemplation.

“Come on… stay a while,” he smiled softly at you, his brown eyes twinkling all prettily again. 

“Alright then, but I can buy my own drink,” you insisted, but he just shook his head. 

Spending time with Bradley felt as easy as breathing, and as the two of you played together, you made easy conversation. Turned out he was quite fond of literature (fuck), and that he was quite fascinated by your field of study (fuckin’ hell). As you missed your third shot, a colorful curse word slipped past your lips and Bradley laughed loudly. 

“I can’t believe I missed that!” you complained, throwing your head back, agitated. You were not necessarily a sore loser, but you felt like you were pretty alright at the game and could do better. 

“You didn’t have the angle quite down,” Bradley said with a shrug, and you narrowed your eyes playfully. 

“Oh, show me how it’s done then,” you mocked him, offering him the table. 

“Yeah, I think I will,” he smirked, grabbing a hold of your arm, and placing himself behind you - his chest pressed against your back. For the umpteenth time that night, your breath was hitched somewhere in between your lungs and your mouth. You could feel rather than hear Bradley chuckle against you, his lips now close to your ear as he whispered “More like this,” before stepping slightly to your side, one hand on your hip to lean you over the pool table. Fuck. Fucking fuck. With Bradley’s help, unfortunately you made the shot perfectly. Straightening up, you turned slowly, facing Bradley’s chest before looking up at him.

“That was good, sweetheart,” he praised. Jesus. Your thighs were clenching against your will and you had to swallow before an airy laugh slipped past your lips. You were so close. One of his hands still rested on your hips, the other now rising slowly to brush a strand of hair out of your face - helping it rest behind your ear. The tips of his fingers ghosting against your neck. Holy crap. You hoped he’d kiss you. His eyes searched yours, a small smile playing on his lips, and it felt as if he was inching closer to you. 

Suddenly the cleaning lights unceremoniously lit up the bar. Damn. You hadn’t even noticed the last call. You swore you heard Bradley utter a soft “fuck” but you might’ve imagined it. 

There was a general stir, as people hurried to finish their drinks and make their way out of the bar. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” Penny called to you, and you smiled and nodded towards her before turning back to Rooster, who had taken a step away from you. Damn.

“You’re coming here tomorrow?” he asked and you nodded, smiling at him like he hung the moon. 

“Hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow then?” he inquired as the two of you made your way out of the bar and out in to the chilly night.

“But uh… just in case I don’t… could I maybe have your phone number?” he continued hurriedly. You blinked slowly, before a large grin found its’ way onto your lips. 

“Yeah!” you exclaimed breathlessly, holding your hand out for his phone. He smiled as you put in your contact, and the two of you just smiled awkwardly for a moment before parting ways. 

God, what a great adventure you’d had - you thought as you giggled and danced your way back to your Honda, giddy after having given Rooster your number. You were looking forward to spending more time at the Hard Deck if it meant meeting Bradley more.

#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfic #rooster fanfic #rooster fluff #rooster imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw #alex writes

[lawonderlandwriter]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Game of Thrones (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen Characters: Daenerys Targaryen, Rhaegar Targaryen, Jon Snow, Rhaenys Targaryen (Daughter of Elia), Aegon Targaryen (Son of Elia), Rhaella Targaryen (Wife of Aerys II), Viserys Targaryen (Brother of Daenerys), Olenna Tyrell, Cersei Lannister Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Regency, Regency Era, Alternate Universe - Bridgerton (TV) Fusion, Daenerys as Daphne, Jon as Simon, NO rape or no-con, Eventual Smut, slowish burn, depends on how long it takes me to write it really, age history and relationship changes for my own convenience, Don't Like Don't Read, Aunt/Nephew Incest, Targaryen incest is still a thing and totally acceptable, copy pasta the Bridgerton script in places, if that's not your thing you don't have to read Summary:

Jon and Dany's ruse gets more complicated than either of them expected as Ser Jorah refuses to be set aside so easily.

#jonerys fanfic #jonerys #Alex writes #shit I write #Alex continues a fic for once #Bridgeton AU #Jonerys Bridgerton AU #Anyone feel like creating a moodboard for this? #I would love you lots if you did