#like it helps to get it out so‚ fuck you yes i am pretentious fuck you <3 i love you

[noforkingclue]

The Body in the Library (Sherlock Holmes x reader)

Summary: when you fid a body in the library there's only one person you know to call. Such a shame that the two of you cannot get on.

Author's note: well, why not? A returning hyperfixation is still a hyperfixation.

It was when the mobile rang for the fifth time that John finally lost it. He slammed down his paper and marched over to Sherlock’s mobile. On the first ring, Sherlock had glanced at it and practically threw it across the room. It was only by chance that it happened to land on the spare chair and Sherlock had abruptly left soon after. That hadn’t stopped the mystery caller though.

“Hell-“

“Holmes,” a voice barked down the line, “why the fuck did it take you so long to answer your phone. There’s a body in my flat and I’d thought you’d like to see it before I call the police.”

“Err… a body.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then the person said.

“Who are you?”

“I think I should be asking you that.”

“You picked up a phone that doesn’t belong to you. Did you steal it?”

“Of course not!”

It was at this moment that the front door slammed shut and John heard familiar footsteps running up the stairs. He was going to hang up but the person on the other end of line was describing a very brutal murder and he found himself unable to. When Sherlock flung open the door the two of them stared awkwardly at each other.

“Hello?” the person said again, “are you still there? I mean, there is a dead body in my flat and it’s hard to get blood out of hardwood floors. Well, at least from what I understand.”

*

“So,” you glanced over at John, “How do you know Sherlock.”

You grinned at him as you filled up the kettle and put it on the boil. You hopped onto your countertop and said,

“Cuppa?”

“You also seemed to be very calm about this.”

You paused for a moment before saying slowly,

“Where is Holmes?”

“Still in your living room.”

“Then he can’t hear us,” you said, “the truth is I’m freaking the fuck out about this. I mean, there’s a body in my flat. How often does that happen?”

“You’ll be surprised.”

“I’m just keeping up appearances in front of Sheer Luck. You know him. You can imagine how insufferably smug he’d be to see me that unsettled.”

John’s lips twitched at the nickname. He folded his arms and you swung your legs back and forth as the two of you waited in agonising silence for the kettle to boil. Eventually you shattered it by saying,

“So, was it Afghanistan or Iraq?”

John looked up at you sharply and you couldn’t help but laugh. You hopped off the counter and put some tea in the strainer and continued,

“Don’t worry, I already know. I not like them.”

“How you know?” John asked, exasperated

The kettle boiled and you poured the water into the two waiting mugs.

“If I was pretentious I would say that it’s the way you stand,” you said, “how you remained standing despite me offering you a seat. Your clothes, old but good quality. Clearly you value practicality over style. Blah, blah, blah. However, I am not like that. You want to know the truth?”

“Yes!”

“I googled you.”

You handed John his mug and at that moment Sherlock burst into your kitchen. You rolled your eyes at him and he took John’s mug from him.

“That’s not for you.” You snapped

Sherlock ignored you and took a sip. You clicked your tongue and handed John your mug. He tried to offer it back but you shook your head.

“So, what do you think of my little problem.” You asked

“Is that what you call it.” Said John

You shrugged and turned your attention back to Sherlock. He remain silent, taking a sip of tea, before saying,

“It’s… curious.”

“High praise,” you said with a smile, “I’m glad you said that. Although it shouldn’t be too hard to solve.”

You grinned at John’s shocked reaction and Sherlock’s raised eyebrow. You turned your back on them as you filled your own mug with water.

“Although if I didn’t know who already done it, it would be a lot harder to solve.” You said

It was at that moment that you heard banging on your front door.

“And that would be the police.”

Sherlock gave you an affronted look and said,

“You called them? Then what was the point of wasting my time with this.”

“I gave you the heads up,” you said with a shrug, “not my fault you chose to ignore my calls. Maybe you could answer the door? I’m sure Anderson will be there and I’m also sure that he’ll be so pleased to see you.”

At your smug look Sherlock turned on his heel and marched towards your front door. Whether it was to get away from you or to rub it in the faces of Scotland Yard that he was here first, you didn’t know. Still, now he was out of your space you could finally relax.

“You two really don’t get on.” Said John

“Does he get on with anyone?”

“I do.”

“You seem to be the exception.”

“And what did you mean, you already knew who did it.”

“Ah that,” you laughed and sat down, “well you see John, I recognise this murder.”

“You… recognise it?”

“Yeah.”

You leant across your table and shifted some books. When you found the one you were looking for you tossed it over to him.

“I’m an author,” you said, “mystery which is part of the reason why we don’t get on.”

“Death is on the Cards,” said John, “yeah, I’ve heard of this.”

“Body found in the library of a mystery author’s home,” you said, “head smashed in with a candlestick. If I’ve seen the similarities then so has Holmes.”

“Still doesn’t explain how you know who did it.”

“Oh that’s easy. The person who committed the murder was the detective who inspected the crime scene.”

#fanfiction #bbc sherlock #reader insert #sherlock holmes #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader

[iheartaleena]

one piece au where literally nothing went wrong everyone is alive and happy hc's

nami

belle mere is still alive obvi

the attack on her island was less of an attack and more of like a alliance? like the fishman pirates pulled up and were like hey we need a hideout can we pls use ur island. and they were like yeah offer us protection and in turn u can use our island! no violence no blood nothing!!

in this au fisher tiger is still alive and the fishman pirates are still what he envisioned before his death, so he’s the captain, not arlong

speaking of arlong he’s like hella toned down. he got the jinbei affect in the sense that koala changed him and showed him humans aren’t all bad. yeah sure he’s more radical and unhinged than the other pirates but he’s just like the weird conservative uncle you tolerate at thanksgiving not a real threat

hachi and nami bonding!!!

nami never develops an obsession with money, she gets to put her full effort into map making and exploring that talent

she makes maps for the fishman pirates completely out of her own free will

she joins the movement for fishman human equality woohoo!!!

yeah in this au that movement actually gets taken seriously instead of played off and the fishmen actually make progress in equality 

koala visits sometimes! koala and nami bonding time!!!

law

doflamingo is toned down like 1000% in this au he’s not a family killer in this one he’s just odd

like seriously idk how the logistics would work but maybe somehow after the whole “doffys family becomes human” thing the humans don’t persecute him? so in turn he just kinda is pretentious and misses being rich instead of holding a particular grudge against humanity?

either way he’s also just the weird conservative uncle you see at thanksgiving 

corazon is number one dad ever did he offer law henny for his 8th birthday yes does he know how to do laundry or cook not at all but he is trying his best!

LAW BABY FIVE AND BUFFALO AS COUSINS. PLEASE!!!! dellinger too maybe idk if he’s a kid or not tho

the executives like trebol diamante whatever the fuck also aren’t as evil either they just tryna do their own thing yk just black market deal in peace but no unnecessary killing 

donquixote family stays pirates instead of going and trying to take a whole kingdom (took a shit ton of convincing for doffy to accept that)

the whole pirate warlord thing gives doffy enough prestige he don’t need to be a king necessarily 

law eats the op op fruit, doffy tries to get him to make him immortal, corazon slaps him, doffy changes his mind

(i am taking so many liberties in this au omg)

zoro

kuina didn’t fucking fall down a flight of stairs!! yippee!!!

their whole competition abt who will be the greatest swordsman is still on

they venture outside the dojo and become pirates

both bounty hunters maybe

kuina is so so gay

hear me out…. kuina x tashigi? LET ME COOK

yeah zoros just there

they find their way to mihawks island without the whole kuma blasting zoro to a random island thing

they beg mihawk to train them but he’s like wtf get out of my house but they show potential and he’s like ok fine ill train y’all 

persona is also there bc i said so FUCK MORIA ALL MY HOMIES HATE MORIA she left him and somehow ended up with mihawk he also let her stay for some reason (he needs to stop adopting kids)

hear me out…. perona x kuina? or at the very least they become besties

once again zoro is just there

robin

olvia and saul are still alive

all of her island is still alive, don’t ask why the world government is ok with that they just are shhhh shhhhh 

robin grows up an archeologist but decides she needs to find the poneglyphs and discover the truth of the world

so she becomes a pirate and joins baroque works, led by crocodile

he respects her (WHAT) doesn’t try to kill her (WHAT) and they actually have a fun friendship a friendly lil boss secretary relationship its adorable

she helps crocodile get with doffy because god knows he couldn’t do it himself

ok if this is how this au is going robins gotta be besties with bon clay come on. mr three hello?? 

#one piece #op #straw hat pirates #one piece zoro #zoro #roronoa zoro #one piece nami #nami #cat burglar nami #one piece law #trafalgar law #trafalgardwaterlaw #one piece robin #nico robin #op hcs #one piece headcanons #one piece au #everyone lives au #everyone lives/nobody dies #op crack #one piece crack #monkey d. luffy

[shaarlslec]

The “I can see that you are lonely, and I don’t know how to fix that.” Prompt with Charles pls

don't tell me to write charles only if you want long-ass drabbles, i cannot help myself; thank you so much for your request, let me know if you liked it; prompt list and masterlist here;

safety nets

short summary: in which you break-up with your boyfriend and charles tries to help in the aftermath;

words: 5658 & warnings: angst, depression, alcohol, arguing with charles;

The last couple of months have not treated you great – not even a bit, not even at all.

You broke up with your boyfriend of three years at the beginning of the year and tried to cope with living alone ever since in the apartment you two once shared for most of your relationship as you took the risky decision of moving in together three months into your relationship claiming that you were nothing but madly in love with the dude.

Wrong, you were so wrong. “In love” was not exactly what you were back then, infatuated with the hopes of what is about to come in an unrealistic scenario that you played in the back of your head, yes.

And yet, who does not have a screwed-up story about a relationship up the age of twenty-five?

Moving too fast together and thinking that you were the one to change the man’s toxic behaviors was yours. Now, you had to cope with your learnings that people do not change just because you put in the efforts to help them to do so, and that being madly infatuated with the idea of love was not as great as it has first seemed to you. 

Moving back with your parents was not one of the options afterwards, as you were trying for the last five years to show them that you can be your independent little self without having to depend on their wealth and connections.

After the break-up you have tried to switch the narrative and to focus on your work instead of malicious habits, but working non-stop in the sales world in such a place as Monaco took a tool on you fast, and without you even noticing that all you were doing were meeting after meetings after meetings with pretentious customers that wanted the best real-estate assets with little money just to keep their names well-known and well-renowned, your mental state became heavily affected by the higher ambitions you had and all the pressure on your shoulders.  

In between trying to make a name for yourself in the industry, keeping your mental and physical state in check as tight as you managed, being as out-going as you were once when your boyfriend played music in the clubs you two enjoyed spending countless nights at, you slowly yet surely lost your spark as the bubbly-loving-warm daughter, friend and lover that everyone around you knew and admired for her free-spirited personality.

Your laughs were all faked, your giggles barely heard within your group of friends, and your enthusiasm for life taken away by the fact that you found yourself in a place you were not yet so familiar with – utter and complete loneliness. 

“I am fine, guys.” You nervously lied once one of your friends popped the question that you had heard all year being addressed to you, brushing the soft air of autumn with one of your hands that held a cigarette in between your fingers as you were taking a break outside the club during one of your “drinking until I pass out” weekends. 

Those happened a lot lately as your newfound mechanism of coping after months of pretending to be fine in front of everyone, considering that alcohol at least made you funny to be around people – trying to get back at least one thing about you that you loved.  

“You are sure, Y/N?” They continued, showing you the same worried eyes that you got from everybody lately and that you despised from without your soul, “Take it easy with the drinks, we barely arrived here.” They emphasized, pointing to the half-empty gin and tonic that you held in your other already shaky hand. 

Oh, fuck off and let me be, you would have wanted to shout straight into their worried little blurred faces. 

You were fine, completely fine. That was what you kept telling yourself not to go insane every single time when you watched the mirror and saw a completely far different person that the one you were during the same period last year when two shots would have been enough for you to get you tipsy and ready for bed in the arms of a man you thought was loving you back as much as you loved him.

Instead of letting your outrage shine bright, you just laughed it off with a silly huff as you threw the cigarette’s butt in the ashtray with a loud hit, “Come on, let’s go back in.” You added, already on your way to the door and down to the bar to get you another gin and tonic. 

Your friends stood perplexed for a short while behind you, watching you getting through the crowd of people drunkenly so on your already stumbled feet, “Charles is back for good in three weeks, he will know what to do with that. That is if they met.” One of them told to the group in a soft tone, grabbing one of your shoulders not to accidentally spill your drink on one random stranger that was questionably looking at you, “Let’s get her home for now, I will let Charles know that the situation has not improved since the last time he asked about Y/N, Charles will not be happy about it.” They uttered to each other in mumbles for the words not to reach your ears, pulling you closer to the group amid your loud rejections of not wanting to go home so early in the night. 

Your friends meant well – they really did, letting aside the critiques of your new-found drinking improved game. Besides your parents that you visited once or twice every other month since your break-up, they were your safety net in the absence of Charles.

No one was able to save you from your own personal hell that you have created, and no one was willing to go through the pits of that hell as much as Charles has done in the beginning of all that was happening with you, even though the man was not obliged to do so.

And yet, being your closest friend that knew you the best amongst the bunch – Charles took that duty upon himself and was not going to give up that easily no matter how much you resisted him. Your own personal safety net, always there to catch you.

That was what Charles has been to you since a long time ago, and what you liked to think you were for Charles too. Not just friends like you were all friends within the same group, but something much more than that. You knew him since you were children, your parents living nearby and always organizing brunches together and some other pretentious neighborhood events such as shiny parties, charities and all that jazz that all adults around you liked to attend to keep their network busy and growing while you were playing hide-and-seek with the Leclerc brothers. 

At some point during high school years after your last serious hide-and-seek game, the parties had stopped and yet you and Charles were already tightly bonded for your meetings outside your houses to stop. You watched yourselves grow together being that much of a constant presence into the other’s life. Even when Charles got severe about the whole racing thing, and he was gone most of the times away from home, weekly calls were still on the table, and attending his races became a tradition as well as him attending most of your important life events such as graduation from college, getting your first pay-check, and getting your heart broken for the very first time – although Charles would have preferred to not be a witness to all the pain it caused you, troubling your mind in such a way that you even fought with Charles due to that. 

Right after Charles found out that your boyfriend moved for good from your apartment, the man tried anything within his efforts to keep your mind busy with anything else but not the break-up. Charles was rarely home still as the season begun, but every single time he came back even for two or three days, Charles went out of his ways to plan something for you two to do with or without your other friends.

Movies, plays, camping, road-trips, finishing, laser-tag, dinners, breakfasts – Charles done everything for you to light up a little and to not feel empty and alone all the time. For most of the times, Charles succeeded at first. At least, that was what your best friend thought.

You were faking your smiles in front of Charles to as you did with many of the people back then, trying to enjoy the time you knew your friend planned just for the sake of his own good rather than yours – upsetting Charles was the last thing you wanted to do, yet another person about whom you cared and loved deeply pushed by your behavior was the last thing you intended. You went to whatever Charles booked you tickets for and attended all the mentioned above goings, trying not to upset Charles by not appreciating the man’s efforts, wanting to keep him close. 

That was until the boiling point.

You needed time to get over what was happening and to clear your head on your own pace, and although being around Charles managed to ease the pain – you wanted nothing else right after the break-up rather than to be alone in a caged mind full of what you could have done differently, while Charles’ intentions were to break you completely out of that. 

“You know what you are to Y/N, Charles?” One of your friends was brave and drunk enough once to ask him as they noticed the Monegasque glaring at you across the campfire during one of the times in which Charles booked an entire cabin somewhere far away from the city to get you spending time with your closest friends instead of locking yourself in your apartment as you often did when Charles was away racing, hopping that you will show up at one of his races this season – always having a pass ready for you.  

Without taking his eyes out of you, Charles huffed a short “What exactly?”

“The boyfriend without the rewards.” They spoke, clicking yet another glass of liquor with Charles who now turned to look at his friend with an ironic side-eye, “Don’t look at me like that, man.” They loudly panted back before placing their lips on the edges of the glass and then pulled Charles close to him by one of his shoulders so they can make sure that you and your other friends next to them gathered around the fire were not hearing what it was spoken, “Everyone here knows that it is true – even you two.” They added with a short sigh and an arched eyebrow that questioned Charles on what he was going to do about that.  

“Oh, shut up, asshole.” Charles commented while visibly rolling his eyes even in the dim light of the windy spring summer you were having aside of the cabin, “She just broke up with that dick of a boyfriend of hers, and you are out here talking about boyfriend rewards to me.” He then added, glare now on the one mocking him at his side rather than at you who were attentive enough at the orange sparks that light up the air rather than at the conversation across from them, “I know her since we were like ten – I cannot just stand by and watch her close herself. I am her friend, friends help each other.” Charles added with a loud sigh, knowing that has happened before in the past and knowing how hard it for you was to open again after feeling blue for larger periods of time, “I do not want any rewards.” Charles then stated, drinking part of the liquor in his glass as well before standing up to find a better seat rather than one in which he was questioned regarding his feelings for you. 

Charles’ defensive mode that was just activated by your common friends’ statement was not random. He has been in love with you for years, long before you met your ex-boyfriend, and long before Charles had even realized that is how love was supposed to feel like. That aching yet calming throb of his chest when you glanced at him, and that twist in his stomach when you smiled into his direction. Charles felt them all, and yet there was never the right or enough time to confess them to you.

Racing has always been a priority for Charles to which he fully dedicated first and putting all his other feelings rather than the thirst for winning second, thinking that you will always be there next to him and that maybe, just maybe, you will be the one to make the first step when the right moment will come. Charles thought that you and he had enough time, and when you first told him about that little crush of yours three years ago, that was when he figured out that the assumptions was wrong – you were not willing enough to wait for him until he decides what to prioritize best. 

Fast-forward three years and a couple of weeks later you were standing next to Charles still, but with a broken heart and with the idea that no one, not even him, will have access to your soul ever again. Charles went behind you, placing one of his hands on your right shoulder to tightly squeeze you, announcing that it was him behind to guard you from the wind and no one else – as you were not allowing any man to touch you since your break-up.

You looked up to him as your fingers pressed against Charles’ on your shoulder, “What?” You had asked, watching Charles’ eyes reflect the orange sparks of the fire as he was looking down at you with somewhat of a poignant smile and yet with warmness within the irises of the man’s eyes, “Has anything happened?” 

Charles declined with a nod and then scooped in the chair next to you that was now emptied by one of your friends leaving, everyone knew that the one who could talk you out of your mood was Charles, “Just wanted to check on you.” He then smiled, taking both of your hands to warm in between his own.

Your heart sunk seeing how Charles blew hot air on them to make sure that you were all comfortable, and then it ached again when your friend refused to let them go back into your lap as Charles guarded them with his. You would have wished for him to do that sooner, three years and a couple of weeks sooner to be exact.

As complicated as Charles’ feelings were for you, so were yours.

You were in love with Charles too, or to be more specific you had been in love with him too in the past when you were able to feel something, anything at all. And yet, Charles was never home – not like you would have craved him to be. 

You were not to blame him for that, you were very much very aware of how important racing was for him and you had done nothing but support him through all of it. Still, you would have secretly wished for him to carry a type of lifestyle that selfishly permitted you too to be more than just friends. You were way too needy in the beginning of your twenties and trying to make a move with someone who was barely home was none of your options.

You were in this constant need of attention, need that was fully satisfied by dicks who were from there and who were more than willing to spend every single minute of their day with you having no other things to do rather than drive you completely and utterly crazy over meaningless stupidest things. 

Now that you had lived that kind of a burning love where all you did was fight and make-up, you were mentally kicking yourself in the joint for refusing a calm and soft love that you knew Charles has been always capable of giving you. You wanted that now, and yet you were not ready to open yourself again – not even in front of Charles.  

“I am fine Charles,” You muttered as you glared away from him, millions of thoughts of what could have been pricing your mind, “I am not a child, you don’t have to check on me every five other minutes.” You added with a short roll of eyes, also letting the sarcasm within your bitter tone to go through Charles’ ears. 

“Y/N, I know that you are not a child, and I am not trying to baby sit you I just –” Charles then spotted, your chair loudly being pushed back by you lifting from your seat as you snatched your hands from below Charles’ – that was the tenth time somebody asked you if you were fine that day alone. 

You needed a break, a break that Charles was not willing to give it to you, “I want to sleep Charles.” You breathed, “Can I please go to sleep?” You inquired looking at Charles getting up too, “You don’t have to walk me, I am telling you for the second time – I am fine.” You sharply demanded with a nervous chuckle, and yet it was already too late to play pretend in front of Charles who had figured all your fake laughs and giggles.  

Charles’ already walking up in front of you giving you a glance over his shoulder, challenging you to move and follow him to the cabin meaning that you two had to have a talk alone in between closed doors, leaving your other friends behind to watch the fire still burning up to the sky. 

You huffed as the door to your room closed behind Charles, “Look, Charles – I love you,” You paused, both of your hands resting on the man’s chest as you were looking up at him, “I appreciate all the things you are doing for me, and all the things that you had done for me – I just need space and time for my own stuff now, that’s all.” You softly added, departing inches away from him only for your back to be blocked by one of Charles’ palms that sustained your body close to him. 

“I love you too, Y/N.” He then spoke, “And that’s exactly why I cannot let you out of my sight for now.” Charles muttered with a heavy chest, “I know what you do to yourself once I am gone, they told me everything – the bars, the guys, the alcohol, the loads of work.” He added, voice shaking while his eyes were fixed on you, “You will break at some point, I know you will – you have done it before, and I cannot watch you do it again.” Charles continued, feeling your back tensing beneath the man’s touch, “I can see that you are lonely, and I don’t know how to fix that.” Charles then almost sobbed, eyes softened in a nostalgic type of a sadness that you have seen him looking at you with before. 

You took a deep breath in, glancing away from the man who had eyes only for you. You took two steps back, forcing him to release you from the embrace. Taking your head in both of your hands, you ruffled your hair in nervousness as you spoke, “Why do you always think that you have to fix everything?” You answered back, “Am I that bad that I need to get fixed?” You inquired as you took as many steps as they were needed from Charles not to resist the urge of jumping straight into the man’s arms no matter how much you would have wanted for that mere touch to fix everything for you, “I am not some sort of a patient that you need to find remedies for Charles, and I have never asked you to do so in the first place.” You busted out with your voice cracking, “You don’t see how fucked up that is?” You inquired, tears slowly streaming down to your cheeks now. 

Charles took two steps ahead, and you took two steps behind you, “I am here to help Y/N, I am not trying to get you fixed or to be a prescription to you. I cannot—” 

“That’s the thing Charles.” You interrupted in between the sobs, “You are barely here.” You mumbled glancing once into the man’s direction, “You are away for most of the time, and I cannot just ask you to take care of me two days once in a blue moon when you are back home – that is not healthy for either of us.” You commented after a loud sigh, your cheeks burning and being washed by your fingers helplessly trying to wipe away the tears, “I need you to stop.” You ended, your fingers touching the edges of the widow’s sill for better stability unless you were about to break down completely. 

Heart shattered – right there. Charles’ heart in million pieces. You were slipping in between his fingers again. There were many things that Charles could kept his promise for when it came to you, being there for you all the time was one of the things that he was not able to pledge to you and that caused him another type of hurt. You not being alright was something, you two not being alright was something else – something that cut deep, and something that he did not know how to mend for the better in that very moment, no matter how fast he was searching for the answers in the back of his mind. 

“Don’t you talk to me about what’s healthy and what’s not.” Charles fought back, resting now his right shoulder on one of the room’s walls, “When you are the one who is using all the unhealthy ways of coping after breaking up with a fucking sore loser and rejecting all of the help from anyone who truly do love you back.” Charles uttered and there was a type of spite in the man’s tone and use of voice that you had never encountered before coming from him, “I will let you sleep.” Charles then spoke, watching you shockingly staring at him back, “We will talk about this tomorrow.” He then nodded, putting an even greater distance in between your bodies by completely leaving the room and silently shut the door behind him, leaning on the other side for a minute holding his breath at the top of his lungs before a long release of a sigh, maybe you were right and what you needed was space and time, Charles thought then. 

Tomorrow’s talk never came as Charles got a call the first thing in the morning being announced that he had to switch for an earlier flight to Italy where he had to get ready for the Imola GP and you returned in the city with your other friends after yet another day when you spoke nothing but replayed the words of yesterday’s little clench. Pushing Charles away from you was the last thing that you wanted to do, but that was the right call in the moment – he had to focus on his races, while you had to focus on getting out of the vicious circle that you caught yourself into. After all, it was not Charles’ duty to get you out of trouble – you needed to fix that yourself. 

You thought about apologizing days after you returned to the apartment after you watched Imola’s race, and yet Charles was not picking the phone after what had happened there for him and the team. As much as Charles knew you the best, you knew him too. Watching him spinning and losing points will cause him to not want to talk about right away with you or anyone else, and that gave you part of the same treatment you gave to Charles in the last couple of weeks. 

You thought that will pass, and that Charles will undoubtedly so phone you when he calms down, and when everything goes back to the normal flow of things. And yet, from then on nothing was considered a normal flow of things for Charles. You texted from time to time, but neither of you were ready for a phone call or to meet in flash and bones, you both needed space and time to deal with your own personal things on your own instead of searching for your safety nets. 

Time passed in this matter, and as much as you would have loved to not grow cold with Charles as much as you did with everyone else around you – it happened. Life got busy for the both of you, and days have passed without texts, calls or seeing each other. It was for the very first time in years when you two took a break from your friendship, and maybe that was exactly what was needed. 

You found excuses not to see him when he was back in town, and you even booked a whole entire holiday away from Monaco during his summer break to clean your head from all the working that you have done since the last time you saw him. You were deliberately avoiding Charles, knowing that you two meeting in those fragile states of yours will only do both of you worse than good. And yet, you knew that you cannot avoid Charles for the rest of your lifetime, and neither of you wanted that to happen. 

After the season ended, Charles was home for good for a couple of months that were enough to get his mind off a hell of a season that was, and that was when he found out that you were still out there having not-so-much a lovely time being alone just as you wished back after your break-up. Charles was not the type to give up, especially on you. You were given the space and time you needed from him, and now he was back to take what was his. That is when Charles ambushed you during one of the weekends when you decided to paint the town red with your friends, tagging along too without letting you or anyone know that he will be there. 

Your eyes widened in surprise as you spotted him on the dance floor having the time of his life with a couple of girls, all of them wanting to impress him in all ways known: dancing, flirting, touching. 

“Look who’s back.” One friend spoke, elbowing you as they were already ahead of you to greet Charles and join the group of girls. 

“And in what a fashion.” The other friend laughed, giving you a glance over your shoulder as they joined too, Charles’ arms spread widely to welcome them in a hug. 

“Oh fuck.” You muttered underneath your short breath, Charles’ eyes catching yours in an instant as the man’s attention was switched from the girls to his friends, and then to you – completely and utterly looking astonishing in your little black dress. 

Charles came to you moments after as you stood there perplexed watching him approaching you. Your heart raced, and there was no point in trying to escape the man’s glare on you as he was passing through the crowed with two beers into his hands already to hand you one as a greet. 

“You look great.” Charles spoke, opening one of the beers for you as he took a quick look at you from head to toes. 

“Thanks.” You muttered, taking the beer from his hand to make it your first drink of the night, “You look drunk.” You commented, watching the man’s already ruffled hair and white unbuttoned shirt that you guessed it was not his doing but one of the girls he was dancing with earlier.

Charles’ eyes rolled in annoyance, “Oh come on now Y/N, don’t critique me on this matter – I have heard that you had loads of fun without me here.” He added, bottle on his lips now as he was head bumping on the played song’s rhythm that blasted your ears, “Have fun with me too, come on.” Charles spoke, grabbing you by one of your wrists so you could join the middle of the group too. 

You shortly sighed, and yet you knew that Charles was right. You were in no right or position to tell him to stop drinking, you were the one who has been indulging in this type of behavior for the last couple of weekends. One single beer was enough for you that night to stop as your eyes were curiously searching for Charles each time that your friend left the group to go and fetch another drink for himself. 

Charles was not the type to drink, and you knew this based on all the previous encounters you two had at a party or in a club, or even during casual dinners. Your friend was not the type to hold his alcohol, and Charles stumbling on his feet with one arm around a random girl’s neck while looking at you with lazy sleepy eyes and the start of a hiccup confirmed you once again what you had already known. 

“It was such a fuckery – this season.” Charles drunkenly shouted when you were back to your booth surrounded by only your friends now and no random girls, “I want to forget all about that. So, cheers to that.” He then nodded before taking yet another shot down his throat, being accompanied by all your friends but you, “What’s going on Y/N, not in the mood for drinking tonight?” Charles teased with both eyebrows up and a sly grin, “Everybody in here told me that you are a big fan of it now.” 

You leaned back into your chair with your arms crossed at your chest as you were eyeing him, “Someone has to be sober enough to take you home, Charles.” You replied, giving a sharp look afterwards to all your friends present at the table for spilling the beans to Charles about your recent behavior. 

Charles laughed at your words, “So thoughtful of you, Y/N.” He then replied, chin rested on one of his palms now as he was looking at you with a slight tilt head, “Taking care of me, when you were the one to tell me to stop when I was trying to do the same.” He bittersweetly continued, cueing all your friends that it was time for them to leave you two alone at the booth – everyone knew that you had things to talk about, and none of you wanted to be in the middle of your fight. 

“Charles I—” You began, but your words being cut short right away by one of his fingers waving “no” in the air in front of you after you two were left alone, everyone else suddenly wanting to dance again. 

“Don’t “Charles” me with those eyes of yours, Y/N.” Your friend spoke next to you now as he switched seats so you could hear him better, “I have been nothing but a good friend to you, and all you did was pushing me away when you needed me the most.” Charles helplessly breathed, “And then again, when I needed you the most.” He then added, head resting on your shoulder as Charles’ eyes closed in the comfort of your body being again so close with his, “I have missed you.” 

You closed your eyes too, one of your hands catching his into yours to squeeze it tightly as a sign of even more comfort, “I have missed you too, Charles.” You added after a short breath which Charles’ felt on his forehead, sending shivers down the man’s spine in an instant, “Let’s get you home, and we will talk all about it somewhere where we can actually hear the words.” You chuckled, cupping the man’s face into your hands for him to be attentive at you inches away from your face, “Let’s get it fixed together.” You added, getting the man’s hair out of his eyes with a short brush of fingers, “Whatever we both have to fix.” You laughed, thinking about the many things that has been going sideways in both of your lives lately and the methods in which you could help each other to mend them. 

Charles nodded, but not before placing a short peak on the top of your lips as you two were too close for him not to resist the urge to do so as the man struggled to contest the need of your lips on him too many times in the past. You were taken aback by his sudden move, and yet so deeply happy that he was the one to make the first step.

"I don't want to be the boyfriend without the rewards anymore, Y/N." Charles muttered as you were confused by the words not making any sense to you, "I want all the rewards, love." Charles then mumbled, forehead glued on yours now, waiting for your lips to be back on his to confirm that indeed he will get all the rewards.

You chuckled, nuzzling your nose with him and putting yet another short peak on the man's lips, "You will get them all."

You took him out of the booth with one shoulder across your neck stabilizing the man’s unbalance due to the alcohol, guiding him in a cab and going home together that night with an understatement that everything was going to be alright for the both of you if you were together in this, accepting and returning the soft kisses, warm embraces, forehead kisses and strong clasps of hands.

#f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 one shot #f1 fanfic #formula one x reader #formula one x y/n #formula one x you #f1 fic #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc angst #i don't really like this one as much #but let's roll with it #charles leclerc drabble #f1 drabble

[letstrythisout4]

Chapter 3: Blaise Zabini and his increasing exasperating day

Series Masterlist

By the third week of school Blaise had a schedule set up. Wake up at 7am and take a run around the Quidditch pitch. (And when Quidditch season starts he has already decided he’s just going to wake up even earlier). Take a shower, get ready and make it to the Great Hall early enough to be the first person to sit down at the Slytherin table. 

The schedule is perfect. He gets to dodge his roommates, release some energy on his run, take his time getting ready to make sure he feels prepared for the day; all with enough time to make sure he gets access to all the food first so he isn’t just eating everyones leftovers. 

It’s great.

It also allows him plenty of room to switch up his schedule. Nothing major, getting up at 7 and being first at the table are non negotiable. But everything in between can be subject to change. 

Which leads to situations like today, where Blaise is heading to the kitchens for the first time in his Hogwarts career. After reading through Hogwarts : A History Blaise has come to the conclusion that the best way to get an audience with the Hogwarts elves is through the kitchen. As he approaches the infamous painting with a bowl of fruit which is said to lead to his destination, Blaise stops and for the first time wonders, “What the hell am I going to say?”.

This leads to Blaise pacing in front of the portrait for a good few minutes having an internal debate with himself.

Ok, what’s my end goal?

I want to be in their good graces.

Why?

Because they do so much for the castle and everyone is ungrateful.

…cute. What else?

…It would be nice if they would drop off my clothes when I’m there so I can organize them. How I like it, to keep it in perfect condition.

That sound so fucking pretentious. 

Well I am pretentious so what of it?

Fair.

But how am I going to word that?

I don’t know, it's probably best to just be honest and get it over wi-

“Can we help you sir?” squeaked a voice to his left.

Blaise, stiffly, turned towards the voice to find an elf poking her head out from behind the portrait. All that could be seen was her bat-like ears and large blue eyes.

“Yes, actually I was wondering if I could speak to an elf about some…request I have concerning my clothing?” Blaise choked out.

I hate this, is all Blaise could think as he watched the elf process what he just said. How could I be so stupid as to not plan this out? I always plan out my conversations, that’s what I do, I plan.

“Would you like to discuss it now or shall I find you later, sir?” 

“Now works just fine.” said Blaise doing his best to hold in his frown at the formal way she addresses him. 

“Oh well,” she muttered, clearly unprepared to have someone actually want to speak to her “ please come inside so that we can figure something out.”

Bliase followed her through the portrait and took a breath just to absorb all the wonderful smells he was suddenly surrounded by. He did his best not to stare at the way the elves were so focused and coordinated in their movements in preparation for the children they were about to serve. 

The little elf sat him down at a small table against the wall, out of the way of the mass operation commencing at the same time that Blaise came to beg for them to take special care in delivering his laundry. 

I don’t like this.

“So what I can I help you with?” she practically whispered, refusing to make eye contact.

I don’t like this.

“I’m sorry I’d just prefer if instead of putting my clothes away for me, if we could set up a time where I can take the clothes from you personally, so I can put them away myself.”

She did a slow absent blink.

“I just am really particular about how I have my personal items set up, I have systems etc. So I’d really just appreciate it if you could give me my clothes directly.”

Another blink.

I don’t like this.

You’re too deep now, you must commit.

“I’ve noticed you all tend to clean the rooms and put away the clothes between 11pm-12am every Tuesday while I’m at astronomy with the other Slytherins of my year.”

Another blink.

“So if instead you could meet me just before or after astronomy so that I can take care of it myself, that would be perfect.” 

Another blink.

Blaise whipped his palms on his slacks as covertly as he could under the table.

Why won’t she say something?

“You don’t want us to put away your clothes for you?” she mumbles with a shaky breath.

“Yes…” Blaise is starting to become incredibly worried with the condition that the elf is in.

“But everyone prefers it when we do it for them.” She now has a tone of confusion that does nothing to aid Blaise’s stress levels.

“Well I am weird in that sense, I have a bit of an obsession with organization so-” he trails off trying to find the right words “- I really appreciate all that you all do for us but if I could do this one thing for myself I would be infinitely happier.” 

Another blink.

Blaise sends her his most disarming smile.

“Okay.” she agrees as if she was winded.

“Okay?”

“Okay, what’s your name sir?”

“Blaise Zabini.”

“Well Mr. Zabini, I shall ensure to arrive 30 minutes before your astronomy class with your clothes.” she promises with wringing her hands together.

“Thank you so much…”

“Daisy.” she stammered.

“What a lovely name, thank you so much Daisy. I’ll see you then.” Blaise said quickly. 

Eager to be finished with that conversation and out of the kitchens, he walks as quickly as possible without looking rushed out of the kitchens and to the Great Hall.

I hated that.

I hated that so much.

Why the hell didn’t I plan that conversation out.

The things I do for organization, is the last thought Blaise allows himself to have before he stares at all the food before him losing his appetite entirely only being able to force down two pieces of bread with jam and a chalice of apple juice.

--------------------------------------

He sets off to History Of Magic the second he convinces himself that he’s eaten enough. He arrives beyond early, not even Binn’s is here yet. The classroom is set up the same as a muggle ‘Lecture’ classroom he visited for an abroad program in the States- though he’d never voice the comparison outloud. He takes his usual seat- he far back against the right wall to give him a perfect view of the entire classroom. Pulling out his textbook, parchment and his quills and sets himself up for today's lecture.

Blaise loves History of Magic. 

He might be the only person to have ever sat in this classroom and to have thought that unironically. And he’s fine with that. There’s something about history that has always consumed Blaise. And it seems not even Binn’s monotone voice can kill his love for the stories of the past.

And so by the time Blaise has perfected his setup, students begin to trickle in. First is a Hufflepuff girl. Blaise has seen her around before; it's practically impossible not to, considering they share 3 classes together a week, but it's more than that. She seems to not exist outside of these classes. Everyone else Blaise catches a glimpse of in the hallway or at dinner or lunch or just somewhere. But she seems to disappear the second she walks out of the classroom.

And it pisses Blaise off.

Blaise likes to think of himself as observant. He knows things about people. He can tell that despite having met only in the beginning of the year two Ravenclaw boys are already squabbling with each other. He can tell that ever since she’s demonstrated her brilliance Hermione Granger has been isolated from her house. He can tell when Flitwick is having a bad day. He can tell Pansy is getting an irritating letter from home. He can tell when Susan Bones is talking down to Anthony Goldstein despite her sweet tone.

What he can’t tell is who the hell this Hufflepuff is. All he has is a name and information gathered from his eavesdropping. Name: “Isabella Reyes”. Isabella is apparently Black and Latino, which tracks with her light brown skin and curly black hair constantly pulled into a messy ponytail. She’s a Hufflepuff. Blaise had to stop himself from exclaiming, “No shit we all wear house robes.” when he heard someone whispering it to their friend group like it was the juiciest piece of gossip ever heard. And that’s it.

That is all Blaise has gathered in the weeks since starting school.

And it keeps him up at night.

And what is most upsetting is, there is no real way to fix this.

Blaise refuses to become a stalker, eavesdropping hasn’t gained him any information, and he will not speak to her directly. 

Not even an option.

This plagues him. Far more than it should considering he’s never spoken to her. 

But just as he starts to gain momentum in his frustration Binns begins the class…and at what point everyone filled in the seats Blaise couldn't tell you.

An hour and half later, Blaise has been sufficiently distracted with information about Emeric the Evil.

That is until he runs right into the problem he needed to be distracted from, knocking her right to the floor.

Damn. Two unplanned conversations and one bad meal in a day. What have I done to deserve this? Blaise asks the Universe as he puts out his hand to help Isabella up.

“Thanks.” she says shortly as he takes his hand.

A short “a”. She pronounced “Thanks” with a short “a” sound. 

“You’re American.” Blaise states plainly, pulling her up.

 All this time and the first thing and that's the first thing I say? I don’t know what I did, but Universe I am sorry.

She looks at him like he's an idiot. “Yes, thanks for pointing that out for me.” 

They both start collecting her books and papers from the floor. Why have a school bag if you're just going to carry everything in your hands?

Blaise hovers with tense shoulders as he hands her her things to put away. Finished, she turns to leave and makes it four steps before turning back around and asking, “Can I ask you a weird question?”

“You just did.”

She was not amused with this response.

“I’m going to take that as a yes. What were you doing pacing outside the Hufflepuff common room?”

Daisy must have rubbed off on Blaise because all he could think to do was blink.

“This morning~” she taunts.

“I wasn’t pacing outside of your common room, I was pacing outside of the kitchens.”

She was quick, “Why?”

“I needed to ask for a favor from the elves?”

“Why?” 

“Because I need their help.”

“Why?”

“None of your business.” 

“You’re one to talk.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” 

“I’ve seen you people watching. I’ve seen you blend into the background and listen in on people’s conversations.”

There’s a beat.

“Incorrect, try again.”

Another beat.

“Excuse me?”

“What you are implying is factually incorrect, I don’t do any of those things on purpose. They just happen.” Blaise said confidently.

Blaise Zabini is a bold-faced liar to everyone but his mother. He has mastered the art of spouting false information with expressions varying from a straight face to the most dazzling smile anyone has ever seen. The only one who has ever seen through this is his mother, hence why he doesn’t like to lie to her. 

It's pointless to even attempt to.

The second the sentence leaves his mouth, Isabella is striding towards him. Blaise resists the urge to take a step back when she stops right in front of him. 

And then she stares. She stares right into his eyes and suddenly Blaise feels compelled to tell the truth.

Before he can even think of something to say in response to her actions she takes another step forward and this time he can’t stop himself from taking a step back.

“I know that you don’t know me yet so I’m going to let that lie slide. But for the record, I do not appreciate being lied to. I will clock any lies you tell me whether it is in the moment or after digging, but I will find out. So I strongly suggest, for the sake of your health and sanity, that going forward you are just honest to me. Either tell me the truth, or that you aren’t comfortable to talk about it or whatever logic you have behind not wanting to tell me something but do not lie. Because from now on I will not accept you looking me in my face and lying to me.”

She takes a moment to breathe “ Okay?”

“Definitely, I’m sor-”

“Don’t apologize, just don’t do it again.” 

And with that threat (?) she turns around, makes a left and is gone.

…Blaise has even more questions than he did before.

Starting with, what the hell does she mean “yet”?

Author's notes: hey yall I'm still trying to figure out what would be a good upload schedule but for now its going to be...whenever. Apologies, that's not specific at all but its what I got for now. Alright please like if you enjoy and comment to share thoughts. thanks for reading

ALSO I really want to tag this blaise x reader but like Isabella is defintely an oc and i dont want to miss tag it and for people to get annoyed. But like people miss tag all the time soooo. so if anyone wants to tell me what theyd do please go for it

#blaise zabini #draco malfoy #harry potter #slytherin #slytherin boys #pansy parkinson #theodore nott #blaise x oc

[gale-gentlepenguin]

Tell me more about your feelings on Hazbin Hotel.

Part of me doesn’t want to answer this question, because of how popular this show is on Tumblr.

And I know that people will be like.

“What do you know, you’re a Christian, of Course you’d have some problems with it.”

Yes, I am going to disclose that. I am a Christian. Not ashamed of that. Still working to be a better one. But I can be objective enough to view it as a writer, and that at most my personal bias will only be a slight enhancement of my view.

And these are my unfiltered thoughts on this show.

But for my opinion of Hazbin hotel. The original Pilot was interesting. A place trying to reform sinners in the last place people would think to be reformed. (Spoilers ahead)

That pilot premise is interesting. You see Hell as a cesspool of the absolute worse people. (Like Los Angeles but with more cannibalism) and it takes the “Hell is other people approach”

The songs were fine, the animation was great, and the characters introduced were intriguing. So much potential depth to them, theories can speculate. And of course the big question of. “Can someone in hell actually be redeemed?” And we even have a character pointing out “of course not, they’re in hell. Their chance was before this?”

It raised this question of, if you know your doomed, why try to be a good person? And That is fascinating.

Then the show finally airs. And it’s just another “Heaven is corrupt” storyline. And it’s not even done well.

(The whole retelling of creation made my eyes roll. Trying to make Lucifer to be the good guy? How original (sarcasm). And not even done well. Because it’s Charlie narrating this, which makes it be like Charlie knows all this and is doing all of this pointlessly)

Hells gonna rise up against it and all that. The hotel was basically pointless.

The show goes on to constantly contradict itself at numerous points that leaves me more confused.

Yes there is an interesting character (Alastor) but outside of a great soundtrack and animation… the writing of the show is a mess.

It feels both rushed and too slow. The characters are speedrunning their arcs, yet the plot is crawling.

Let’s then not forget the fact that Angel power and weapons are said to be the only thing that Perma kills sinners and angels. Yet sir pretentious dies and instead of permadead, goes to heaven? What fucking logic is that?

Also it says how only Angel weapons and powers can hurt angels (they make a whole point about it) only to show Vaggie and Lute have a whole ass fight hurting eachother with tables and s***. Unless they’ve been blessed them chairs…

Also where do the souls that perma die go? Detroit? Because if Sir pretentious can go to heaven after dying, what the deal with all this? Is Hell actually hell? Seems more like purgatory.

And then you include the helluva boss lore as they take place in the same universe. And MORE questions get added.

But that’s a can of worms for another time.

More importantly, Charlie, the main character hardly gets any development moments. Her issues are TOLD not showed.

Vaggie is also a mess too, like her whole thing is protecting Charlie, and helping her. But then she gets told that she has to fight For Love and that’s how to win? You mean what she’s BEEN DOING THE WHOLE TIME?!

All the stuff with Angel Dust, the writing for that is fine when showing the messed up situation he’s in, but then after the Song “Loser, Baby” he’s suddenly months sober? Speedrunning a bit too much.

Side note: HOW DOES HEAVEN NOT KNOW HOW PEOPLE GET INTO HEAVEN?!

Like they genuinely seem like they don’t know? From my understanding, there is no Big Man making all the calls. Thats not corruption. Thats incompetence.

So if it’s just angels in charge, THEY should know. Like show that they’re tilting the scale or maybe denying certain people that DO follow the criteria. Because with the incompetency of it, it basically leaves the door open for potentially EVERYONE to get into heaven.

Yet then the show shows how awful people in hell are, like it’s clear there are people that deserve hell. Maybe I’m overthinking it, maybe I’m not thinking about it enough. But it’s a really dumb system.

But the biggest glaring hole in this show is the fact that there is no point for heaven to actually do the purge in the first place.

Hell being overpopulated shouldn’t matter. Only Angel power and weapons can actually hurt angels. Why would they worry about an uprising. Heaven could easily wipe hell. The only people that could probably do damage is Lucifer and the leaders of the rings of hell. And even then… That’s like 7 against ALL OF HEAVEN!? Even if we assume overlords and some high level demons could do similar… Heaven still takes it. (But then again the Lute and Vaggie fight might contradict that. Hard to say it’s so confusing)

That all aside, is it an awful show? No. It’s just so riddled with plotholes and pacing issues.

Would I recommend this show to people? No.

Would I recommend the sound track? Probably, the songs are catchy. Can’t deny that.

Everyone has their own opinions and tastes, but the show has too much of a mess for me.

#Gale’s thoughts #hazbin hotel #hazbin spoilers #now everyone if you can grab your pitchforks and touches #line up in a straight line. you can complain about my opinion

[googoobabajogwick]

A John Thanksgiving.

Words: 3176

John Wick x sibling! reader

Summary: Helen really wants John to invite some family over for Thanksgiving dinner with her family. Hard part is John doesn’t have any family, but he does have you and that’s the closest thing he’s got.

Warnings: weed smoking lol

John and Helen had been married for two years now. He had never been happier. Everything felt so perfect, so normal, so domestic. His wife knew little about his life before her but she still knew he was an ex assassin. It had taken a while for him to tell her but how could he not when they were planning their wedding.

Helen took it much better than expected, though she was mad he waited six months before the wedding. Her family, they were very judgemental. No matter how hard he tried John didn’t feel like he could be good enough in their eyes. He didn’t really care but family was important for her so he tried.

Thanksgiving was coming up and this year the two of them decided to host again. Last year, her family had made remarks on the lack of family on John’s side but he shut them down by saying they were busy. That was a lie. He didn’t have any family, not any he’d like them to meet at least. Yet Helen had asked once more,

“Are you sure? No friends or family you’d want to invite over?” She was careful with her words, John was a solitary man but he thought for her.

“I suppose there may be two people I could invite..” he scratched at his beard.

The way her eyes lit up made his heart soar. There was no way he could get out of this one.

That led him to where he was now. Old ass notebook with numbers important to him in it laid on his worktable. He hadn’t needed it since he retired but some people were in it he thought he’d ask. Those two people were you and Marcus. His two ‘best friends’ as Helen had put it after he explained your relationship.

Marcus was John’s first choice as he had met Helen at their wedding. He’d said yes the minute the words left the ex assassins mouth. A thanksgiving dinner at the wicks house? Now that was just too hard to pass up. The sniper asked his friend if he planned to invite anyone else and when he tossed the idea of inviting you, Marcus busted out with laughter.

“That’s a great idea!”

So here he was, dialing your number on his old rotary phone. It rang and rang to the point he thought you weren’t going to answer. He did feel a bit disappointed, it would be nice to see you and Helen would love to meet you again. Right as he was going to hang up when he heard you answer.

“Oh my God am I dreaming? Fuck you asshole! It’s been so long you haven’t called in months!” You shouted over the phone though he knew you were playing.

“Yeah, sorry I’ve been busy.” He grimaced over the phone, “I, uh, Helen wanted me to ask if you’d like to come to our thanksgiving dinner this year.”

John could hear you as you shuffled around on the phone and then the sound of papers being flipped. He rolled his eyes. You weren’t doing anything, he knew it. His foot tapped as you made him more and more impatient. He knew if you could see him you’d have a shit eating grin on your face.

“Hmmmmmmm.” You exaggerated,” I guess I could come. A little upset that it’s Helen who wants me to come and not even my own big brother though.”

The two of you weren’t brother and sister. He was starting to regret asking you. You were ten years younger than him, a baby found outside in the alleyway. People always made jokes that you two were like siblings and it was true. You teased him like crazy and he kept you out of trouble. When you were ten and he was twenty you’d bug him like an annoying little sister.

John’s punishments when he’d mess up or do something that pissed off The Director, were to help the younger kids learn to fight and shoot guns. You of course were a part of that group and although you annoyed the shit out of him, he was always softer with you. Even when you were fifteen and bit his leg.

“Please be normal. Her family doesn’t know, they are a bit-“ Pretentious, egotistical, snobby, stupid fucking assholes, “Judgy?” He was trying to be nice.

“HA! Me? Not normal, yeah right. See you on turkey day Johnny!”

You hung up and John stood there for a moment. This was a big mistake. Any other day he wouldn’t care. If it was a normal dinner that would be fine but he was really starting to think of the consequences of inviting you to a holiday dinner with Helen’s family. He took a deep breath.

Shit.

Helen, of course, was ecstatic to hear you were coming. You’d met her once and it was at their wedding. She thought you were hilarious and fun but her favorite part was when you’d share stupid stories about her husband. It was nice to hear about his youth as he was very private, only sharing what he thought was necessary.

She herself wished her family wasn’t so rude but she had hope that they would soften up someday. The long haired woman was hard at work in the kitchen with John as her helper. He was a very sweet husband who demanded she let him help. If she asked he would do it all himself. He kissed her cheek as he moved to get the turkey out of the oven.

Marcus was the first one to show up and was leaning against the kitchen island with a glass of wine in his hand. People were starting to arrive. John was thankful his mentor was good with people, already charming multiple of Helen’s female relatives. Everyone was intrigued by him, their in-laws' mysterious friend..

Then he heard it. John and Marcus locked eyes with each other. His friend smirked as your booming bass approached his home. Helen looked up wondering what that noise was but based on her husband’s face she knew exactly who it was. He should have invited Jimmy.

Before he knew it you were letting yourself in. Dressed in a sports jersey, sweatpants and a huge oversized zip up hoodie you called out for him.

“Hello! Jonathan, I'm here the party can officially start!” You belted out while shutting the door behind you.

When you turned to greet him you saw everyone staring at you. They were dressed in suits and dresses. Your mouth was agape. You were always super expressive and sometimes it got you in trouble. About to ask if you were in the wrong house John and Helen ran to greet you.

She was shocked as you grabbed her shoulders and left two big kisses on both cheeks. Then you hugged John hello while also scolding him for not telling you there was a specific attire, not that you cared. They introduced you to everyone before you found Marcus. He looked dashing as ever and you told him so.

Things were going very well so far. Helen’s family questioned you about your profession, finding it very odd when you told them you were a doctor. They believed a doctor would hold themselves to higher standards but you just laughed it off because you were the best of the best.

You didn’t get to see much of John as he was busy following his wife around, hosting the holiday. Your elbow hit Marcus’s arm. He looked at you and chuckled knowing exactly what you were hinting at. Your old friend looked so uncomfortable, not that anyone but you and the man next to you could tell. He leaned down so you could hear him.

“Like a lost puppy, look at him..” He shook his head and smirked.

“I want to say it’s sickening but, I actually find it pretty endearing. She’s a very nice woman.” You watched them.

“That she is, sweet too.” He agreed.

The two of you continued to catch up until the socializing became too much. You excused yourself and went out back to smoke. There would be no way you’d get through this without it. Although you hadn’t ever been to their house you made yourself at home. The cool breeze was welcoming compared to the stuffiness inside. You pulled the pre rolled joint out of your pocket and right as you were about to light it you heard someone clear their throat.

It was Helen. You felt a bit bad because you did pull out drugs on her property but she surprised you by sitting down across from you. She seemed a bit stressed but still smiled at you. You almost had the wind knocked out of you when she asked if you would share. In a way you felt guilty like you were a bad influence on the good kid but she was older than you and you were always told to respect your elders.

You lit the joint, taking the first hit and then handed it to her. She took a small hit and started coughing. You handed her your water and she took a sip before laughing. Your hand brought the joint up to your lip to take another inhale. This was top of the line shit, you hoped she would know that. The warm fuzzy feeling started to settle in your mind and you couldn’t help but laugh with her.

“God, I haven’t smoked in years!” She sounded excited.

The two of you spent the next few minutes in silence just passing the rolled joint back and forth. Half way through it though you started talking. Like weed tended to do, you talked about life and all that jazz until the topic of John came up. She told you she was so happy you came and that she knows he’s happy as well.

You were surprised he hadn’t followed her out here. Helen explained to you that as much as she loved her family she hated that they were so rude about her husband to him himself and her. Next year they wouldn’t host, she had enough of all the tension and how everyone getting along was all fake. You agreed with her and finished the joint.

“Tell me something about him that no one else knows.” She giggled behind her hand.

Helen felt like a teenage girl gossiping about her crush but she had to ask. You brought your finger up to rub at your chin as you thought. What’s something you could say that would shock her or embarrass John. You thought long and hard before the lightbulb went off in your head.

“John can dance. Specifically ballet.”

“No way.”

“Yeah way, he had to wear a tutu!”

“No I didn’t.” You jumped at the sound of his voice.

Damn how quiet he could be.

“I invite you to my house and you get my wife high?” John questions.

“You want some? I have another.” You went to pull it out but he put his hand out to let you know he was okay.

“Don’t be such a fuddy-duddy John.” She chastised him and you almost spit your drink out.

“Yeah John.”

“I came out here to tell you the food is almost ready, not to be ganged up on.”

The two of you laughed before Helen got up to go back inside saying she should probably go inside. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and disappeared into the house. You giggled while lighting up the second joint and he continued to stare at her.

“Did she just call you a fuddy-duddy?”

“Yes. Why what would you have said? Actually-“

“Lame, loser, boring…”

“-I don’t want to hear it.” You snickered and kept hitting the joint.

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments before he let out a sigh. John needed the fresh air, though it might not be so fresh with you here smoking but it was better than in the house. He thanked you for coming and you reminded him that you were always only a phone call away, to which he responded that he knew.

It was nice seeing you, John thought to himself. For how annoying and crazy you could be, he’s glad he did it, and that Helen had pushed him too. He forgot how well you two got along even if he’d only seen you interact once. Meanwhile you were smacked. Maybe you shouldn’t have had that second one. You seemed to overdo it a lot.

Something about the way John was looking at you made you start giggling. When he gave you a confused look you just laughed harder. You were almost laying on the chair as you cackled. It was definitely the weed but you couldn’t breathe from how hard you were laughing. You flicked the roach at him but he dodged it.

“What are you laughing at?” His deadpanned voice made you laugh even harder, which seemed impossible.

“You. Man you’re making me laugh, go back inside! Your lover awaits you!”

John realized he wasn’t going to get anything of substance out of the conversation and got up to leave but not without a small chuckle. You were always so weird but you were still right. He knew Helen was waiting for him and that food was ready by now. You were still laughing as your friend told you to come in for food.

“Give me a minute!” You shooed him away.

*

The air in the house felt almost hot as it greeted you when you came inside. Everyone was sitting at the table staring at you as you made your way to your seat next to Marcus. You looked at them with a raised eyebrow. Jeez, Helen wasn’t joking. Her family did seem judgemental.

“And where were you?” One of the family members asked.

“I went for a walk.” Is all you said even if you wanted to jump over the table and strangle them.

“Smells like it…” Marcus snorted into his glass.

You gave him a light smack and started to fill your plate. The talk of people filled the table but all you could focus on was how good the food was. God damn, Helen was an amazing cook, you don’t think you’ve ever eaten something so good. You thought about how to everyone else you looked more like a hungry dog

devouring your food but you didn’t care.

When you looked up you were correct. Everyone was staring at you. Some in disgust, some in awe and some in confusion. If you looked closer you’d probably see John’s temple twitch at your actions. With slow movements you kept your eye on everyone while still shoving food into your mouth. Helen hid her smile behind her hand.

“What?” You asked with a mouth full of food.

“You say you’re a doctor?” One of the men asked.

You took a big sip of your wine, your mouth was starting to feel dry.

“Yup. One of the best, actually.” Pride, that’s what you felt.

“That’s hard to believe…”

You don’t know who said it but John noticed the way you gripped your knife in your hand. This needed to end now or you’d end it in ways he didn’t want to think about at a nice Thanksgiving dinner with his wife. You stared at the man, almost snarling at him.

“Well, believe what you want but I’ll let you know that I’ve been watching you all night. The way you move your arm I can tell your shoulder hurts you. Is it a torn rotator cuff? I’m willing to bet money on it. Also that your doctor sucks.” Your grip on the knife tightened at the idea of a good time.

“Why you little-“

“Okay! Okay! Let’s just eat. The food is great, let's just focus on the food.” John’s worried voice filled your ears.

The statement was directed more at you, not Helen’s family member. With a slight grumble you let go of the chokehold on your knife and began eating again. Just like that, the whole conversation never happened as you went back into your dream of amazing, sweet and savory food.

*

The night had ended and almost everyone had left. Marcus left right after dinner saying he had something to attend to. It was just you, John and Helen, and also her parents. You were laying on their couch before you realized that you should get going as well. Your bed was calling your name.

As you were getting ready her mother and father walked up to you. You were putting your coat on. Your face did not hide your confusion as to why they were approaching you. Was it because you threatened their nephew at dinner? Not your fault the man had to challenge your skills.

“So, you and John? You’re siblings?” The mom asked.

“Yes, he’s my big brother. He was in charge of me when we were younger.” You smiled.

“In charge?” The father trailed off.

John could feel your schemes in his bones and found you just in time to hear the conversation.

“No blood relation. She’s adopted.” Leave it to John to ruin everything.

“Um you were too! We had a very big family! That was poor.” John just whacked you upside the head when they looked away.

You rubbed the sore spot while grumbling. Asshole.

The parents looked at John and smiled at him and he had to take a second to believe he wasn’t seeing things. Helen’s parents always kept a distance and never, ever smiled at him. Not even at their wedding. It almost scared him.

“We had no idea you were a self made millionaire Jonathan. All while taking care of a sibling. Good job.” Her father put his hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

John just stood there with his mouth agape. Helen’s parents liked to pretend that he didn’t even exist and now they were smiling and praising him. After a few seconds he shut his mouth and nodded his head. Her parents went to talk to say their goodbyes and left you and him alone.

“Ah Jonathan you have to learn how to work those people. Rich folks, they love any story that fits their narrative. Poor orphan self made millionaire? How inspiring.” You mocked.

John let out a deep chuckle. You were always good at getting people to like you, even if you were annoying and crass. It made sense, you were very smart. You yawned and gave him a hug before he pulled away to open the door for you. You’d already said goodbye to Helen but you called out one more farewell and stepped outside.

“I better be coming back next year.” You laughed when John shut the door in your face.

Helen came up to him and wrapped her arms around him.

“She’s definitely coming back next year.”

He smiled.

“Yeah. She is.”

#john wick #john wick x reader #John wick fanfic #Helen Wick x John Wick

[kaiwewi]

Sharing is Caring #2

[Masterlist: Sharing is Caring] [Part 1]

Synopsis: a few days after the last incident, Hero is missing time again. And someone has left them a message.

Hero was ripped from their slumber by the obnoxious beeping of their smartphone’s alarm clock.

Disoriented, they snatched the phone from the bedside table and fumbled for the mute button.

Why the hell was the alarm going off in the first place? They didn’t have any lectures for another two weeks. No appointments. No reasons whatsoever to cut their resting time short. There was no way they’d set this alarm. The damn thing had to be broken.

A terrible sense of déjà vu settled like something heavy on their chest.

No. No, no, no. Please, not again.

They squinted at the screen: 8 am. Tuesday, January 17th.

Fuck.

Another three days lost. An entire weekend plus Monday, gone.

They couldn’t breathe. They scrambled out of bed, started pacing, wrenched open the window. It didn’t help. Nothing would help. The world was spinning, blurring. Faster. Nauseating.

Oh god. What was going on? What was happening to them?

They really had to call someone. They had to make sure—

A soft breeze blew in through the open window and stirred a few stray sheets of paper sitting in the middle of their desk. Hero just so managed to slam their hand down on top of them before the wind could fully lift the sheets off the wooden surface.

The looked down to inspect the writing on the uppermost paper. The words peeking out from between their fingers were written in an elegant yet unfamiliar hand.

It appeared to be a letter. A letter addressed to them.

~~~

Saturday, January 14th

Dear Hero

How very astute of you to finally notice you’re missing time. And it took you only five skipped days to figure it out; I am truly impressed. (Yes, that is sarcasm, in case you cannot tell. Imagine me rolling my eyes. Well, our eyes.)

Said missing time? – Do not fret: I spent it for us. Productively, I might add.

The first time I took possession of this body, I got to spent two quiet days familiarising myself with our physical condition and our immediate environment. (I strongly suggest a change in diet. I suspect we might be lactose-intolerant.)

The second time my consciousness surfaced, I had another three days that I invested primarily into studying you and your life.

In other words: I read your diary. I’m sure you’ll recognise the necessity of such a transgression, given our current circumstances. (Though, I do confess to a certain delight in skimming through the journal, reading about your insignificant worries and secrets. Quite delightful, the idea that the great hero at the core is no higher or lesser a person than the next university student…)

As for your most recent entries… although it might have brought me great satisfaction to further observe your bewilderment over those ‘blackouts’ and ‘memory gaps’, I think it prudent to introduce myself before you ‘freak out’ and get the two of us locked up in a mental institution. (I’d rather we wouldn’t be put into a straitjacket, thank you very much!)

Don’t worry, you are not ‘bonkers’ or ‘totally going nuts’.

I can assure you: I am quite real.

Best regards, Your Brain-Cell-Mate <3

PS: Your penmanship leaves room for improvement.

PPS: I threw out your fast food and went grocery shopping. Once you take over our body again, please do make use of the healthier alternatives I’ve stocked up on.

~~~

Hero read the letter four times in total silence.

Then they went into the kitchen and opened the fridge to assess the damage. – The rest of last week's cake was gone. So were the leftover pizza and the convenience store lasagna. In their place, Hero found a bowl of potato salad, a bunch of carrots, smoked salmon, a glass of pickles, a few smoothies, whole-grain bread, and two packs of feta cheese. Even their favourite yogurt had been replaced with quark.

Well, screw therapists; they should call an exorcist.

They were possessed. By a pretentious health-freak demon.

Hysterical laughter bubbled up in their throat.

This was the worst moment ever to not have chocolate around.

[Part 3]

———

For my other stories, visit my [MASTERLIST] ♥

#snippet #writing snippet #heroes and villains #hero/villain #writing #my writing #creative writing #fiction #writers #writers on Tumblr #writeblr #body sharing #sharing a body #Sharing is Caring #so look forward to: #hero x villain #villain x hero #enemies to friends

[applegameisprollytaken]

Woohoo, another vent post! I get I need therapy! I will get it eventually. Maybe.

On today's episode of "apples says some bullshit about his emotions that nobody gives a shit about" we have:

The shards.

Pretentious name. I know.

But fuck off this is vent post I'm allowed to be edgy and self referential.

Ok so... I have noticed something about my characters every year or so?

They all tend to have to do with me irl, if that makes sense.

Everything is on display if you know where to look.

I know I won't make it. Not anywhere in life, not to old age. I'm going to work minimum wage until, most likely, I take the easy way out.

And I have a character that represents that

I was raised by homophobic and transphobic old farts who don't like change, and want me to pray to a god I'm sure doesn't care for any of us.

But yet I am close friends with trans people, and AM LITERALLY BI (male preference just to hammer the point home)

So I have a character for that

The feeling I am better than everyone mixed with the knowledge I will never accomplish anything people will give a shit about?

See my very first character written.

The fact that I have to hide who I am with those I care about most, out of fear of losing them? The fact that they only care about me because of the perfect facade I keep up?

Both are characters, sworn enemies of each other, despite being the same person.

The fact that my current personality is a mask I had so long I cant take it off anymore?

Oh, well would you look at that! I have a character for that, and it's topical

The fact I escape to a fantasy world that hurts more than helps. The fact that I live in my games more than I do in the real world, because I know that at least in my games, there is a actual rock bottom I can crawl out from.

I have a character for that.

I have a character for everything wrong with me.

My hatred of parts of myself I cannot change nor get rid of. My fear of how much I have lost of myself. My fear of the world taking more from me if I try to leave my special little place.

I have characters for that.

My spite? My hatred? My fear of death? My craving for it? My every last shard?

All for display.

I even was going to make a game about it, once upon a time.

And I have a character for everything else too. What is too broad to be one or two characters, so instead are split between the hundreds.

My ego, a cardboard cutout of falsities and theatrics, hiding what little self worth I really have

My anger, something that defined me for a decade before I could overcome it. A chained beast I keep in its box l, never to be seen again. (Yes, yes, I know it's edgy fuck off)

My anxiety, with defenses upon defenses to protect from anyone who tries to get close. No matter if friend or foe.

My "funny" disabilities. A jester who can't sit still or get a hint but still won't shut up no matter how hard you try.

And of course, the final boss of my issues, my depression. It eclipses all. Happiness weakened, sadness strengthened. Will to live gone the way of the dodo.

[pigeonwit]

hihi pidge - punch your lights out for the wip game pls :)

this is exciting for me cause i love 'punch your lights out' soooo much

it's an arcade au set in the 1990s (yes that's a bold choice for a gen z to make no i don't care) - jack is a cashier at medda's very run down arcade in their very sad small town. pretty much everyone's going out of business and with consoles drying up arcades, they're kind of just. counting their days until they close. so medda tells jack she's going to be opening up their roller rink again - to their town's local roller derby team. which jack is,,, not thrilled about; a men's roller derby team in a 90s small town is just a big neon sign that says 'UNSTABLE AND GAY', and jack's a chubby foster kid with ADHD who's picked on enough already, being around the local insane queers is not going to help. and then david jacobs comes into the arcade. david jacobs, the new kid, the immediate valedictorian, the perfect boy next door who everyone fucking adores. everyone except jack. because david jacobs is a smarmy pretentious asshole who hates him for no reason. so they have a standoff; whether davey's queer or not, jack's assuming he's not going to want people to know he runs around in legwarmers and glittery eyeshadow wrestling other men on a roller rink - but if jack were to tell someone, davey would get spot to immediately kick his ass into oblivion. it's a rock-and-a-hard-place situation. so they decide to deal with each other. and it's... fine.

(it is not fine. but we will get to that. eventually. someday.)

snippets under the cut for your convenience!!

It doesn’t help that Davey’s weird. Not Race weird or Crutchie weird or even Kath weird – weird in a way Jack can’t quite get. It’s like walking into the arcade rinses away his prim-and-proper schoolboy act completely, leaving behind something ancient and secret that Jack can’t stop looking at.

Right now, Davey is – in the most literal way possible – climbing Hotshot like a tree. He’s got his arms wrapped around his shoulder and has locked his knees around Hotshot’s waist, and is now clambering his way across his broad shoulders so that he can dangle like a scarf around his neck (Jack is discovering that Davey isn’t so much built like a regular person, but more of a cat, able to turn his body into a wet noodle at will). Hotshot, for his part, has barely moved a centimetre under Davey’s weight and is still engaged in his conversation with Spot. Even Davey’s taking part, laughing and chatting away, and the rest of them nod along and smile at whatever he’s saying as if he’s not got an arm and a leg wrapped around Hotshot’s neck. Jack doesn’t understand it at all.

[...]

“Davey.” Jack says blankly. “What are you doing.”

Davey keeps staring at the ceiling.

“Davey, you’re on the floor.”

And Davey should say something clever and biting and fucking annoying, like ‘oh, am I? Here I thought I was in Tahiti’ or – fuck, Jack doesn’t know, he’s not smart. But Davey just hums quietly and drifts the wheel on his heel back and forth, back and forth, and Jack tries not to be entranced by the raise of his knee, the flex of his thigh. Fucking Davey.

“It’s a good floor.” Davey says, far away. “Feels nice, being part of the floor.”

#davey is sooooo mentally ill in this one guys... #it's so important to me #newsies #pigeon scribbles #jack kelly #david jacobs #davey jacobs #javid #javey #piedoesnotequalpi #bunchawetnoodles

[therealrichardpapen]

To shed some light on the topic of "Crime and punishment doesn't make any sense, I didn't understand it, therefore it's a bad book", I've decided to point out some topics of the novel. (Because certain people called me a pretentious fuck and became aggressive when I tried explaining that the book isn't badly written, but their tastes are on other lands. I have two russian friends, one of them hates this book because he was forced to read it in school at a young age, not because it was bad!!!! The second one told me they enjoyed it, and it was kinda good).

The actual topics behind the plot are definitely not murder or the criminal desire, but the torment and guilt that affect the murderer. We discover that after the murder (crime part of the title), the torment follows shortly (the punishment part of the title, lol). It's extremely visible, we can say hidden in plain sight even, that for Raskolnikov, the guilt in itself is the punishment, and he deeply desires to liberate himself from it. He achieves this by going back and forth between a dreamlike state and reality while acting as though he has gone insane. Because there is so much more going on in the novel, we frequently become disconnected from him, which makes us more curious about what will ultimately happen to our tormented hero.

This is a fragment from my review, and now, I get why this book can be very unappealing to readers, the amount of characters, the names, the relations between each of them, the PLOTLINES (because there are many). I must admit that I personally felt completely disoriented (at times). The perspective contributed to the confusion without a doubt. The narration is not first person, but a rather weirdly put third person with a focus on Raskolnikov (our main character). And to top this, the novel is clownish at times! It's memeable, Tumblr worthy. Yes, it's tough to get through if you don't have any support (friends that likes it and help you understand the plot when you get lost) or desire to read it.

I am not stating this is a book for everyone or that if you read it, you must like it. I'm simply saying it has a specific tone and aesthetic that you have to be in yourself at the right time in order to comprehend. I read this book for months, when I was alone, abroad, studying, and yet, I kept returning to it. Maybe I wanted to please my beloved, maybe i wanted to show myself I can and I will read it. I still don't know, but I know I read it, and I liked it. And I won't stand people telling me it's a bad book because they don't understand it. You just don't like it, and this doesn't make the book bad.

Thank for coming to my Ted talk

#yes i will never stop #i have to make my point #this is the continuation of the story where a person called me pretentious for pointing out the novel is not inherently bad #and maybe i am a pretentious fuck #after all I'm a lit student #and Dostoievsky isn’t my first rodeo #dark academia #literary analysis #literary studies #crime and punishment #dostoievsky

[ratcandy]

do you have tips for writing eloquently?

I have started and scrapped and rewritten this post so many times because my confidence level is not working with me here sdhgkJSDGH

Well! Um! To be bluntly honest, I only write Zote's dialogue like that (assuming that is where this question stems from) because I read and reread his dialogue again and again over the course of a year back when I was writing CoGR!,,,

And then once you write like that for a year straight, it sort of becomes second nature to you hdgKHSKH

So if you've got a muse that you'd like to reference the word choice of, honestly, drenching yourself in their speaking mannerisms for a while can help you pick up on the subtleties of how they talk pretty well! Like genuinely! Just sit down and listen to fancy old english for a while, if that's what you're going for. Listen to it for hours and pick apart how things are said and why.

But um! Aside from that, the one big point of advice I can give is to not make it sound forced. The point of eloquence is that it's supposed to flow and feel natural. You can use as many fancy words and syntax as you want, but if it feels stilted and strange, the effect will be lost.

When it comes to the Big Fancy Words, so long as you're using them properly and not over-using them to the point of sounding pretentious (unless that is in-character), you should be fine! I would think, anyway!! I abuse the hell out of wordhippo to get my fancy words, for example. But I try not to fancy word too much, and I make sure those words make sense in how they're used and where. Because the last thing you want is for it to be super obvious you're taking from a thesaurus as you go.

Also, of course, a good rule of thumb: I double/triple-check every word I use to ensure I'm using it properly, even if I'm 99% certain I am. Because otherwise you look Real Silly for it. Check how it's supposed to be put into a sentence. Check the definition. Check alternate definitions to make sure you don't accidentally say something you don't mean!

(This is how I found out that saying "in of itself" is wrong, and it's actually "in and of itself." Which is fucked up and evil, yes, but grammar is bitchy and horrible! Something else I recommend coming to terms with if you're gonna abuse that grammar to sound prettier hgkjH)

I find the best way to check that something sounds natural is to read it out loud yourself. Can you follow along with what you're saying, or do you keep finding yourself tripping over the wording? If you have to read a sentence ten times before it sounds comprehensible, it might be time to modify that sentence a little hdgkJH

And if just reading it aloud doesn't help, try recording yourself reading it aloud. Then listen to yourself and see if it makes sense. A trick I found online to check for grammar/spelling mistakes is if you're using something like Microsoft Word, there's a "Read Aloud" option under the Review tab in which it will read what you've written back to you. You'll notice if something sounds funky pretty quickly when a text-to-speech is reading it ghkjshSDG

[Another quick tip: Rationalize how eloquent you want a scene described/dialogue spoken, and think about whether it fits. Or if it would sound better less eloquent. Genuinely, sometimes a character spitting out "fuck you" has a much harder hit than a long spiteful monologue! Especially if that character has been nothing but eloquent up until that point!]

Otherwise, um. Well! It really is just a lot of practicing. Which is the worst advice ever yes I know, but most people can't fling themselves effortlessly into writing immaculate prose. Which. I AM NOt clAIMING I DO. FOR ONE. Just putting that out there!! It takes getting the hang of. It takes noticing where you slip up and noting how to fix it. It takes a lot of reading other stuff/listening to how people talk to get a grasp on it.

At least For Me. That is what I Do. And I am just Sitting Here. I started CoGR when I was 16,

#i REALLY hope this makes sense I'm trying my best but I have No idea how to give writing advice dhsKDGH #I'm 100% self-taught and flying by the seat of my pants most of the time #these are things that work For Me . They may not work For You! #regardless.......wrow . i honestly never thought i'd be asked how to . Write Eloquently. and yet here we are hdgKH #there's a compliment understood in there somewhere and so I shall say Thank You !!!!!! but also you're putting a lot of faith in my process #dghkdhJH #ask

[swirlysmile]

sooo i have this prompt if you like it: hangman x reader, she's a pilot too but jake finds out she forgot how to ride a bicycle (not like it just happened to me heheheh🥴), you can decide how it goes from there

honestly such a mood. i grew up in utah, hills galore so learning to ride a bike was so hard 🥲 thanks for the request, anon!

word count: 721

warnings; small mention of a wound

Scrapes

“You’re kidding me,” He says. His eyebrows are furrowed, tone dead serious. It would be a little bit threatening if it wasn’t coming from Hangman of all people. 

You’d insulted him, bruised his ego, far too many times to be intimidated by anything he does. 

“I wish I was,” You groan into the palm of your hands. You’re sitting with Hangman in the corner of the bar, and that beer you’re nursing looks far more appetizing than the conversation placed in front of you. 

“I didn’t even know that was possible.” He snickers, almost as if he’s ridiculing you. 

“Yeah, neither did I.” 

“How’d you even find out?” 

You wince, taking another long sip of your beer. Then, you stand to show him the gnarly scab forming on your mid thigh. 

“Fell.” 

He can’t hold back the hearty laugh that erupts from his throat, and any other time you would have been at least a little proud to make him laugh. 

“Don’t laugh, it’s embarrassing.”

“Exactly.” 

You sigh and take your seat again, glaring at him out of the corner of your eye. He’s still laughing at you, the pretentious dickhead. 

“If only I could have been there.” 

“You can ask Rooster. He’s got all of the inside details. It’s too upsetting for me to talk about,” You say, wiping fake tears. He laughs again, and it’s definitely an attractive sound. 

“I could teach you?” He asks, almost a little nervous. It sure snaps you out of your stupor. 

“You say that as if I don’t know how.”

“Yes, because someone who knows how to ride a bike falls in two seconds.” He’s taking another sip of beer and you’re tempted to get up and leave the Hard Deck.

“More like one and a half.” 

Somehow, he convinces you though. You’re sitting on a bike, sweaty hands gripping the handlebars. Both of your feet are on the ground because, fuck that. You’re not toppling over again. 

Your breathing is a little heavy, and Hangman is trying to “coax you out into the light,” as he’d say. Really though, he’s just torturing you.

“Remind me why I promised to let you do this?”

“I paid for all your beer. Now get going, sweetheart.” He grins, giving you a gentle nudge. You’re lucky that you are rooted to the driveway, or you would have fallen again.

“Are you trying to kill me!?” You shout, accusatory tone in tow. He’s shrugging it off, as if to say maybe I am. 

“I’ll be right there to catch you if you fall, darling.” 

“Yeah, because that’s so reassuring Hangman.” 

He knows you’re using his callsign as an insult, but honestly he couldn’t care less. He was just hoping to see an entertaining crash, make some flirty remark, and then have you go on your way. 

He finally manages to persuade you to go. His driveway is on a bit of a slant, so you're going downhill. 

He can’t help himself from laughing when you fall, but he “caught” you. You’re thinking that this is the most reliable Hangman has ever been. 

“That’s it, I’m a lost cause. I’ll never ride again.” 

“Try again, you’ll get it soon, gorgeous.” 

You scoff because, wow. He is laying it on thick, but also because he has too much faith in a girl who forgot how to ride a bike. 

You tell him as much, and he laughs, again. 

Then he has the bright idea of moving to the street. It’s a little bit flatter, probably easier to start on. 

“I’m right here. Good luck.” he calls.

He gives you, or the bike moreso, a little push the second you lift your feet to the pedals, and you’re praying you won’t fall down. 

You’re sure that if you could, without fear of being run over by any passing cars, you’d have your eyes closed. 

Then, in a split second, he’s running up to you to celebrate.

“You did it, you actually did it!” He says, helping you off the bike in a more graceful way. You can’t help but give him a hug.

“We should probably get out of the middle of the road.” You mumble into his shoulder.

“Yeah, probably.” but instead of going to move to the driveway, he moves to give you a kiss. 

“Good job, sunshine.” 

…

the devil works fast but swirly works faster 😉

#hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader #hangman #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake ‘hangman’ seresin #top gun #top gun fic #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fic #hard deck #the hard deck #hangman likes petnames #boom i said it #swirly writes #swirly anon

[blanket-fish]

Ironman 2 rewatch time:

- I usually skip this one on rewatches so like. I barely remember the plot.

- oooooh this is the one with the lightning guy (not Thor)

- oh so his dad worked on the reactor with Howard? Sick

- wait is this the one with Justin hammer?

- 'Please, it's not about me' if it were anyone else the ego would be annoying. However, it's not.

- oh I've just remembered this is the one with Natasha

- 'Let the record show I observed Mr hammer entering the chamber, and am wondering if and when any actual expert will be in attendance' Brutal.

- 'God bless Ironman god bless america' He's so lame.

- 'Rhodey? What?' oof.

- 'You do understand that reading a single paragraph out of context doesn't reflect the summary-' love this guy.

- ah this scene has it all. Justin being incompetent. Tony trolling everyone else and hacking the screens. Rhodey pretending to be annoyed but finding it endearing. Tony swinging people to his side and making Justin look bad at the same time. Efficiency.

- 'You want my property? You can't have it. But I did you a big favour! I have successfully privatised world peace.'

'fuck you Mr stark'

- 'I'm trying to make you CEO. Why won't you let me?' maybe because you're incapable of clearly communicating idk

- 'Its you. It's always been you' Im totally normal about these two I swear

- NATASHA

- oh god Elon musk is in this movie

- 'What is the difference between hold and cancelled?' Yes, what is?' these two are too powerful of a combination I fear

- 'I was hoping the present something at your expo.' 'Well, if you invent something that works I'll make sure to get you a spot.' tony please he's already dead

- 'I love tony stark, I mean, we're not competitors' Justin! I have good news! You're actually right about that one.

It's just. Not for the reason you think.

- The iron man suitcase is still the coolest version actually

- Here comes Pepper and happy driving recklessly towards a guy with lightning whips. I fucking love them

- 'Were you headed for me or him?' 'I was trying to scare him-' 'Because I can't tell!'

- 'Are you put of your mind?!!!! Get in the car!'

- These three are an underrated trio honestly

- SUITCASE SUIT. SUITCASE SUIT.

- Not to beat a dead horse but it all mechanically clicking into place is so much cooler than nanotech.

- Guy got hit with a car at speed. Was fine. Got hit with a car several more times. Was fine. Tony flings him to the floor. Coughs up blood. ???

- 'All I have to do is sit here and watch, and the world will consume you.' damn that goes hard

- 'Not everybody runs on batteries, Tony' pepper that's so deep. How long have you been waiting to use it?

- oh Justin this is so fucking pretentious. Even for you.

- 'I think, if I may' Justin say that one single more time and see what happens

- 'I don't know if you've been understanding everything I'm saying?' can you fucking imagine if he didn't after that whole monologue lmao

- 'You don't gotta do this alone-' 'I wish I could believe that' that hurt

- 'Thats where the pilot goes. Having a tough time finding volunteers' yeah I wonder why justin

- "Hypothetically, if this were your last birthday, how would you celebrate it?" Tony you are not subtle

- can't help but empathise with rhodey in this film. When the American government wants something you do not want to be the person refusing them. Tony can step away. Rhodey kind of can't.

- 'This is ridiculous, I just stuck my neck out for this guy!' 'I know, I know, I'll handle it, just let me handle it.' 'Handle it. Or I'm gonna have to.' We don't see these two interact much huh.

- 'Im only gonna say this once. Get out' Damn, rhodey snapped

- 'Dont miss Potts me, I'm onto you!' well yes, but actually no

- 'You wanna be the war machine? Take the shot' the fact that rhodey actually does go by war machine. Somehow I think the writer of this line was not responsible for that decision

- The complete absence of dialogue when rhodey flies away with the suit. That's so effective

#ironman 2 #mcu #rewatching

[allycat75]

Real? Fake? Don't care. Just disgusting!

Ok, time to scream into the void. Another long one.

I know I don't know Chris, but what this GQ article made abundantly clear is that Chris doesn't know Chris either. I really shouldn't care, but as part of the social contract I signed when I agreed to be a human being, when I see someone in trouble, I try to help. So here are some things Chris needs to hear since he seems to be surrounded yes (wo)men and sycophants.

Let me start with the petty shit, since we know you can appreciate that. Here are some synonyms for quotidian: prosaic, diurnal, perennial, ubiquitous, de rigueur. You often worry you sound pretentious as fuck in these interviews, and yes, yes you do. And what are you wearing- is that a t-shirt with a mesh tank? I thought a mesh tank on its own was bad. Way to make it worse! The Columbo look at least made me giggle.

Ok, now for the hard stuff.

Since I want this to be constructive feedback, you should know I am fucking awesome. And I got this way not by being perfect or ignoring my flaws, but by recognizing I am perfectly imperfect and each day offers me an opportunity to be a little better. A tragedy isn't a tragedy unless lessons are lost. There are gifts everywhere, but if you are constantly pondering your belly button, you will miss them.

First, the pictures. I know you don't have a lot of say on this, but what's with the dead eyes? There is nothing there, no twinkle or joy. Like a depleted soul- you can't hide that. You certainly don't look like a man who is head over heals in love and happier than he has ever been.

And you say you feel like a spectator in your life. Maybe that is because you are not living it. You don't need to get out of your head, you need to dig in and explore. The focus very much needs to be on yourself- the good, the bad and the ugly. Get to know the amazing stuff, the useless stuff you can ignore and the stuff you need to work on. It's like a messy closet- just because you don't open the door, doesn't mean it isn't there. And the more stuff you throw in there the messier it gets and the infrastructure collapses. Saying the small makes you unhappy doesn't make it go away. I dare say it makes it grow exponentially (ironically). Enjoy the macro, but you must not ignore the micro. It's all connected. Besides, you look pretty unhappy anyway.

It has nothing to do with an "egoic narrative", whatever the fuck that means. Get away from this pseudo-self help bullshit you have been "practicing" for years. I am also concerned you are self medicating with weed. Listen, I love me some weed, but I think you are using it to run away. Try a good therapist who can help you through the dark forest of your mind because you can't stay still, it's too long to go around, and there is nothing for you if you go back.

And as an over planner myself, I would not call you a kindred spirit in this realm. What you call planning is actually perseverating where you get into a constant loop which distracts you, often forcing you to make rash and counterproductive decisions (which is why we find ourselves here now).

Next, no one expects you to be Captain America, but do not think that right now you have any morality or personal integrity to be proud of. You have spent over a year being duplicitous, blaming your fans for everything (now you added Ghosted to that list, a film you co-produced), you have sacrificed your reputation as a feminist, anti-racist and defender of Jews (you do remember taking on David Duke, right?). Take some responsibility for your choices, whether this relationship is real or fake, you have made a mockery of love, manipulated situations ("my girlfriend that I've had for awhile..."; you sound like that kid in high school who tries to convince you he has a girlfriend in Canada; you can't even keep the timeline straight) and made your friends and family complicit in the lies. And now you are king of the incels? I have heard you talk about your legacy, and I now don't trust a word that has ever come out of your mouth, but is this what you want your legacy to be?

Let's be clear, you haven't worked all year because you couldn't book anything and then the strikes happened. And check your Privlege- do not talk about how financially secure you are when your kinsman are picketing in the hot sun and having to go to the food bank to feed their families. This interview was probably done prior to the strikes, but they were brewing and you should have known this would not be a good look. Also, this may not be your decision to make at this point- Hollywood may call your bluff this time. I think you are talented when you are passionate about something and I do not blame you for wanting to get out of the cesspool, but are you prepared to give up the perks and adoration, as well as the creative outlet?

I think that is all for now. I don't think you or your minions lurk here but on the off chance they do, you have said you value meaningful, authentic discourse. If that is true, and since I really am worried about you for some reason, I welcome a healthy discussion and debate, you know, like adults do, if you would like to provide your perspective of this mess.

(No, I don't think he lurks here, just yelling into a void)

#was it worth it?

[mothspore]

constantly thinking about how pretentious some (some!!! dw i still love you mwwah) wilburians are about how people interpreted cwilbur. we get it, you were right and we were wrong. but like. he was abusive. there is no way to deny it. yes, he was traumatized, yes, he needed mental help, but he still was abusive, and manipulative, and people had EVERY RIGHT to be suspicious of him when he came back. especially when he started everything off by saying “i never even cared about l’manburg, it was always a means to an end.”

so yes i am defending everyone who called his every move manipulative and called out his every flaw. yes, we were wrong. but we had reason to believe we were right.

i love cwilbur. i really do, i think he’s so fucking interesting to think about

but he isn’t meant to be a good person, and i think a lot of people miss that.

#dream smp #rambles #cwilbur neg #please don’t hate reblog this guys i don’t wanna start fights i just am having thoughts #only maintagging this for filtering purposes

[margridarnauds]

music asks: 4&10

which song rips your heart out?

One recent one is "Castles Crumbling" by Taylor Swift. I've had people tell me it isn't their favorite of the Speak Now vault tracks, but it's incredibly emotional to me. I often talk about it in relation to various blorbos, but it's also something that's incredibly close to me, since that feeling of "And you don't want to know me/I will just let you down" was something that was really preying on my mind when the song was released. Like, for various reasons, I had truly started to believe that I was totally unloveable. That, if you were my friend, you were only my friend because I had somehow, through some arch-manipulation tactic, convinced you to be, but when you got to know the Real Me, you would decide that you hated me. That I was too brittle, too bitchy, too emotional, too pretentious. That...there was something unforgivably wrong with me, that made it so I could never have close friends stay, and that I'd never be able to keep long term friends. That I'd reached my peak a couple of years ago and would never climb back from it, I'd never be happy again, and that every single person who had ever believed in me -- my mentors, my friends, my family -- would be, inevitably, disappointed in me and leave me when they realized it, or else they'd die, and either way, I would be alone. That I'd done something to push them away, that it'd been because I got too into my program, that I had become too arrogant, while also being too inconsistent, too unreliable, a poor student, a poor daughter, and a poor friend. ("Power went to my head/and I couldn't stop/Ones I loved/Tried to help/So I ran them off/and here I sit alone/behind walls of regret/Falling down like promises that I never kept.") In my program, it actually isn't uncommon to lose friends within the first couple of years -- in my case, I ended up losing no fewer than four. There was and is still sometimes a feeling of...separation, like people forget that I'm still me. And sometimes I wondered whether it did change me -- my program as well as the other things and that...now I was ruined. That I couldn't get back who I was before and didn't know how to.

It wasn't just plain self-loathing, it was that feeling, all over again, of being the autistic kid in school and knowing that there's something different about you from the other kids, but not knowing what and wanting to be friends. And...I didn't tell my friends every single time I had one of those spikes, because I thought "I can't show how much this is affecting me, I can't show how fucked up I am, I can't be needy." I probably should have. But I didn't. I tried to keep quiet, especially in public. For the sake of my reputation, I had to keep quiet.

...and then, this summer, I did a string of conferences and trips. I think I might have spent a combined total of a month home out of three months of break, most of it spent in Europe, hitting various conferences, traveling around. People told me I was insane for it. I thought I was insane for it, since I was often only in the States for a week at a time. But it turned out to be the best thing for me, because I had the chance to meet new people, as well as hang out with people who were already my friends. I met people who liked me, who liked my work, who didn't treat me like an inconvenience or an annoyance. And it was a moment of "oh...you...still...like me, don't you? You don't actually hate me? I haven't chased you away? We're still friends?" It was a lot of work, it was stressful, but it was worth it to have that reminder and finally start re-orienting myself. And this song came out when I was recovering from that crisis, so, yes, it does deeply, deeply hit home.

(And to everyone who was with me for the last two years...thank you.)

you have to get a lyric tattoo — which lyric is it?

I know it's considered to be cringe these days, but "I'm not falling behind or running late/I'm not standing still/I am lying in wait." Like, again, I get it, Hamilton fell from grace a while ago, and I don't even disagree with most of the reasoning, but that song's gotten me through the last seven years, every single time I worry I'm lagging behind, every single time I worry about where my future's going or if I even have a future, so it's earned a spot.