#and I’ll find something interesting to read

[nemo-writes]

𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖿 141 + 𝗏𝖺𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗋𝗈𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗌 ; 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗐𝗈 ── .✦

── .✦ 𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗉 ; "𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝗈𝗉𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗅 𝖺𝗍 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝗈𝗉𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇."

It’s day three of bed rest, and Soap’s already climbed up the walls of his room and back down again. Injured or not, he’s never been one to sit still, and being restricted to the base with “no hard jobs, no missions”—as the medic had stressed—has left him itching for something to do. Restless, he decides to wander, eventually finding himself at the library-slash-records room, a quiet corner of base he’s never thought to visit before.

He thumbs through a book on the nearest shelf, flipping pages more out of boredom than actual interest, when a voice behind him makes him nearly jump out of his skin.

“Good choice,” you say casually, glancing over his shoulder at the book in his hands. “I read that one when I was a teenager.”

Soap whips around, wide-eyed and ready to defend himself before he registers you standing there, a bemused smile on your face. It’s not often anyone manages to sneak up on him, especially after working alongside Ghost—but here you are, quiet as a shadow.

“Christ, you gave me a fright!” He laughs, trying to shake off his surprise. “You a ghost yourself, or just a natural sneak?”

“Neither,” you reply with a shrug. “I just work here. Records department.”

He raises an eyebrow, tilting his head with a hint of scepticism. “Records, aye? Right, sure. So… what squad d’you belong to, then?”

You laugh, not seeming to mind his incredulity. “No squad. No task force, either. Just a regular base staff member. I make sure all your physical files stay organised, is all.”

“Well, I didn't expect to find a hidden gem like you in here,” he says, putting on his usual flirty grin, expecting some kind of blush or maybe even a shy look.

But you just give another amused smile. “I’m not a gem, just the records keeper. I also stock the books,” you add, gesturing around. “Figured a small library might be good for those interested. We don’t have much, but it’s a nice change of pace for some people.”

The flirting sails right over your head, and Soap’s grin falters ever so slightly before he recovers. “Ah, so you're the one to thank for this wee slice of quiet paradise on base, huh?”

You nod, a touch of pride slipping through as you straighten a few already-tidy books. “It’s simple, but I like to keep things in order here for whoever wants to pick up something to read.”

Soap tries another grin, leaning against a shelf, his tone softening just a bit. “Well, reckon I’ll be a regular if it means more chats like this. Seems like a fair deal, yeah?”

But you only hum thoughtfully, eyes scanning the shelf beside him, clearly cataloguing if anything’s out of place. Soap finds himself smirking, both amused and oddly challenged by how thoroughly you’ve ignored his attempts to charm you. He realises with a quiet laugh that this just might be the break he needed.

. . .

In the quiet of his quarters, Soap lounges on his bunk with the phone pressed to his ear, listening to his mum and sister talk about his childhood. It had started with the usual check-in—hearing how he was healing, how things were on base—and soon drifted into familiar family banter.

His sister, Cait, laughs as she recalls his ‘miraculous’ ability to get hurt every other day growing up. “Remember when you broke both your arms jumping off that shed roof, John?” she teases, barely stifling her laughter. “Mum had to practically wrap you in bubble wrap.”

“Aye, aye, laugh it up,” Soap mutters, though he’s grinning. “Was tryin’ to perfect my landing, is all.”

His mum’s voice chimes in with a fond chuckle, “Perfect it you did, son. Broke both arms and had us all in stitches—not just ‘cause of the casts, but because you couldn’t stop fidgeting.”

“Oh, I remember,” he groans, recalling the itch of the casts and the boredom of sitting still for weeks. “I was goin’ mad with nothing to do!”

“That’s why I read to you,” his mum adds, the warmth in her voice audible even over the line. “You were always restless, even with two arms in casts.”

Soap’s grin turns a bit softer. “I remember that… just not the book itself. Somethin’ about a fox and a forest?”

His mum hums thoughtfully. “It was a sweet story, but I can’t recall the title. Do you, Cait?”

Cait only chuckles, clearly drawing a blank. “Oh, I remember the fuss he made, but the book? Not a chance.”

Soap shakes his head, feeling a little pang of nostalgia. “Wouldn’t mind findin’ it again someday. Reminds me of home.”

A few days later, Soap strides through the hallway, his arm still snug in a sling but his energy undeterred. He greets everyone he passes, effortlessly drawing smiles and laughter from a few soldiers standing by the vending machines. A corporal waves, and Soap flashes him a quick grin, offering a joking salute with his free hand. 

But today, he’s not here to soak up the attention. His steps have purpose, carrying him straight back to the quiet sanctuary of the records room. When he steps inside, the calm hits him like a breath of fresh air. His eyes land on you instantly, tucked in the back of the room, your head bent over something on the desk.

You’re focused, scribbling notes or reading from a thick stack of papers, and for a moment, Soap just watches. There’s something about the way the light catches on your face, the peaceful concentration you exude. He doesn’t even realise he’s smiling until his cheeks ache slightly. He adjusts his posture and clears his throat, strolling over casually, pretending not to notice the way his pulse picks up just a bit.

“Hey, there,” he says, his voice breaking the quiet like a soft ripple on a still pond. You glance up, blinking at the interruption, and he swears there’s a flicker of recognition in your gaze that makes his chest tighten.

“Back again?” you tease lightly, setting your pen down. “Getting into trouble already?”

“Nah, just takin’ it easy,” he says, his tone breezy. “Needed a break from bein’ so popular, y’know? The fans are relentless.” He winks, and you roll your eyes, though there’s a smile tugging at your lips.

He shifts slightly, leaning his good arm against the edge of the desk. “Actually, I was hopin’ you might be able to help me with somethin’. Feels a bit daft, but here goes.” He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly feeling the weight of how silly this might sound. “There’s this book. From when I was a kid. My Ma read it to me when I broke both arms once—don’t ask,” he adds quickly, grinning sheepishly. “But I can’t remember the title. Just bits of it.”

That piques your interest. You sit up a little straighter, curiosity lighting up your features. “What do you remember about it?” you ask, your tone genuinely warm.

Soap exhales, relieved you haven’t laughed him off, and starts piecing it together. “Right, so it was about this fox. A scrappy wee thing, always gettin’ into trouble. Lived in a forest, sneakin’ around like it owned the place. There was… a badger, I think? Big, grumpy fella, always tellin’ the fox to stop bein’ reckless. But the fox didn’t listen—bit of a troublemaker, that one.”

You nod, your attention fixed on him, and it spurs him on. “One part I remember clear as day—there was a trap. The fox got its paw caught, and I thought it was done for. Had my heart in my throat. My Ma kept tellin’ me it’d be fine, but I was sweatin’ over it.” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck as if to brush off the emotion. “Then there was somethin’ about the forest gettin’ destroyed, so the fox had to leave. Find a new home, y’know?”

You lean forward slightly, completely drawn in, and it makes his pulse quicken. “That sounds… really sweet, actually. And a little sad.”

“Aye, it was,” he says, his voice softer now. “Hit me like a brick back then. Think I might’ve cried—don’t tell anyone that,” he adds quickly, wagging a finger with mock severity.

Your smile widens. “I wouldn’t dream of it. But… you’re describing it so vividly. I might know it. Hang on.” You tap your chin thoughtfully, sorting through your mental catalog of titles. Soap watches you closely, his expression softening as you mentally sift through the possibilities. After a moment, you shake your head, regret flashing in your eyes. “I think I know the book, but I don’t have it here. Sorry.”

Soap raises his brows, clearly impressed. “You’ve got a memory like a steel trap, lass. How d’you even keep track of all that?”

You wave him off modestly, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “It’s nothing, really. I just like books. Spend enough time with them, and you start remembering the little details.”

“Still,” you say, your tone tinged with determination. “I’ll keep an eye out. If it crosses my path, I’ll make sure you’re the first to know.”

Soap’s grin widens, his eyes crinkling in that way that makes it hard to look away. “Aye, I’ll hold you to that.” His voice softens, and for a moment, there’s a quiet warmth between you that neither of you rush to fill.

“Thanks,” he says finally, the sincerity in his tone catching you slightly off guard. “You’re good company, y’know that?”

Before you can reply, he pushes off the desk with his good arm, the playful edge returning to his expression as he gives you a wink. “Don’t let me distract you too much, aye? I’ll see myself out.”

You manage a small laugh, watching as he makes his way toward the door, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in his wake. But just as he steps into the hallway, he pauses, glancing back through the open door.

For a brief second, his gaze softens, the memory of the fox, his Ma’s soothing voice, and the quiet comfort of your little nook weaving together to warm a part of him he hadn’t realised needed it. With a nod to himself, he turns away, the thought of returning already forming in the back of his mind.

. . .

The cafeteria buzzed with the usual hum of conversation and clatter of trays. Soap, now out of his sling and feeling like himself again, sat among Gaz, Ghost, and a few others from the base, his laughter loud and infectious as they swapped stories and teased one another. His attention was fully on Gaz’s exaggerated recounting of a drill mishap when Ghost’s gravelly voice cut through the din.

“Oi, Johnny. Little mouse headed this way.”

Soap blinked, confused, until Ghost gave a subtle nod toward the figure approaching from behind. Soap twisted around, and his breath hitched the moment he spotted you.

Springing to his feet far too quickly, Soap’s knee hit the table with a loud clang, trays rattling dangerously. The others shouted half-hearted complaints, but Soap didn’t care. All his attention was on you, standing there with a paper bag in hand, a shy smile gracing your lips.

“I��uh—hi,” Soap stammered, suddenly unsure of himself as you held the bag out toward him.

“I found it,” you said simply, your tone giddy. “Thought you might like to have it.”

He stared at the bag, then at you, before carefully taking it from your hands. His fingers brushed yours briefly, and he swore he felt a spark. Peeking inside, his jaw dropped. There it was—the book. The cover was pristine, like it had just been pulled from a bookstore shelf.

“You didn’t…” he began, but words failed him. His gaze flicked between the book and your face, awe written plainly across his features.

You chuckled softly, patting the hand that held the book. “It’s no big deal. Enjoy it, yeah?”

And with that, you turned and walked away, leaving Soap frozen in place. He watched you go, only snapping out of his trance when Gaz whistled low under his breath. Soap turned back to the table, clutching the bag as if it held a treasure.

Seated back at the table, the book resting carefully in his lap, he barely touched his food, his usual chatter replaced by a soft, distracted smile. He flipped the book over in his hands, running his thumb along the edges of the paper bag, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

“Someone’s got a fan,” Gaz teased, grinning.

“Shut it,” Soap muttered, his cheeks flushing.

But the teasing didn’t stop there. One of the younger men at the table, a mechanic who had joined the base recently, leaned forward, asking him about you with a smirk edged with something he didn’t like, at all.

Soap’s expression darkened instantly, his jaw clenching. Ghost, always the observer, grumbled lowly. “Leave it, lad,” he warned, his voice a quiet rumble. The mechanic wisely dropped the subject.

As the conversation shifted back to base gossip, Soap’s focus stayed on the book in his hands. He traced the edges of the paper bag absentmindedly, his mind replaying the moment you’d handed it to him and the warmth of your hand on his. His smile widened, soft and genuine, as he looked the book over again, the edges of the paper bag crinkling beneath his fingers.

Ghost glanced at Soap briefly, noting the faraway look in his eyes. With a barely audible snort, he shook his head and returned to his meal, leaving the smitten Scotsman to his thoughts.

. . .

Soap spent the better part of the next day scouring every corner of the base, peeking into offices, workshops, and even the records room during normal hours, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. Each empty space only added to his frustration.

“Sneaky little mouse," he muttered under his breath with an undeniable smile, hands on his hips.

His gripping earned a chuckle from Gaz, who leaned back in his chair and exchanged a knowing look with Ghost. “Maybe you’re just not lookin’ in the right places, mate,” Gaz teased, popping a peanut into his mouth.

Ghost, however, offered a rare bit of practical advice. “Try the rec room. Late hours.” His tone was low, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Sometimes I go there when I can’t sleep. Tea’s decent, and I watch matches on my phone. Could be she’s got the same idea.”

Soap perked up at the suggestion, nodding gratefully. “Aye, worth a shot. Thanks, mate!"

Later that evening, Soap made his way to the rec room. The base was quieter, the halls dimly lit, and the faint hum of a vending machine filled the otherwise empty space. As he approached the rec room, the soft clink of a kettle caught his attention. Peering in, he spotted you by the small kitchenette, the warm glow of the stove’s light illuminating your face as you poured hot water into a mug.

For a moment, he hesitated. His usual bravado faltered as he took in the calm scene, unsure how to approach without disturbing the peaceful air you carried with you. But then, squaring his shoulders, he stepped inside.

“Didn’t think I’d find you 'ere,” he said, his voice low but carrying a playful lilt.

You glanced over your shoulder, surprised but smiling softly when you saw him. “Evening, Sergeant. Tea, late-night stroll, or both?”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Both, maybe. Been lookin’ for you, actually. You’ve got a knack for disappearin’, y’know.”

You turned back to the stove, shaking your head lightly as you reached for another mug. “You found me now, didn’t you? Want some tea?”

“Aye, thanks.” Soap approached, watching as you handed him the steaming mug. He cradled it, savoring the warmth in his hands. “Listen, about the book…”

You waved him off, cutting him off before he could continue. “It’s nothing, really. I should be the one thanking you. You’ve shown interest in the books and my little corner. It means a lot to have someone notice.”

Soap blinked, caught off guard by your words. Before you could turn back around to retrieve your own mug, he reached out, catching your hand. His fingers curled around yours gently, his thumb brushing the back of your knuckles.

The contact was warm, steady, and startlingly tender.

“No,” he said, his voice dropping to a softer tone. “It wasn’t nothin’. You went out of your way for me, and… it means more than I can say.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat when he lifted your hand, pressing a lingering kiss to your fingers. His lips were warm, his expression earnest as he looked up at you, gratitude and something deeper shining in his eyes.

For once, you were the one left speechless, your heart skipping a beat as the weight of his sincerity settled over you. Soap released your hand gently, his fingers lingering for just a moment before pulling back.

“Thank you,” he said again, his voice a near whisper.

You swallowed, your cheeks feeling uncharacteristically warm. “You’re welcome, Sergeant,” you managed, offering him a soft smile.

“Stay a while?” he asked, nodding toward the small table tucked into the corner.

Your heart skipped a beat, and before you could overthink it, you nodded, moving to sit down. He followed, his mug cradled in his hands as he eased into the chair across from you. The quiet hum of the room settled over you both, broken only by the soft clink of his mug against the table as he set it down.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. Instead, it felt warm, almost fragile, like something new and precious was taking root between you.

“You’ve got a knack for this,” he said, his tone low and easy.

“For what?” you asked, taking a sip of your tea.

“Doin’ things that catch a man off guard,” he replied, his blue eyes glinting with something playful yet sincere. “Like huntin’ down a book I barely remembered just to give me a piece of my past back.”

You waved him off modestly, though the compliment made your chest tighten in an unfamiliar way. "It's...just a book."

“To you, maybe,” he countered, his voice soft. “To me, it’s somethin’ more. And so’s this.”

He gestured vaguely, encompassing the quiet space you now shared, the table between you feeling more like a bridge than a barrier.

You lowered your gaze to your mug, the steam curling upward as you processed his words. There was a warmth in his voice, an openness you hadn’t expected but found yourself leaning into.

When you finally looked up, Soap was watching you, his gaze steady and filled with something unspoken. You held his eyes, the corners of your lips curving into a smile that matched his.

“This is nice,” you murmured, almost to yourself.

“Aye,” he agreed, his voice low. “It is.”

And as the two of you sat there, sipping tea and sharing quiet smiles, the space between you seemed to shrink, the glow of the moment wrapping around you both like a promise of something more to come.

banner credit

[fxrmuladaydreams]

angel on his shoulder: happy birthday (op81)

mean!oscar x sweet!reader

summary: oscar struggles to find the perfect gift for your birthday

notes: again, he’s not really mean, but idk what to call him now

wc: 1533

prev. part

You had somehow managed to do it, to worm your way into Oscar’s life, to make yourself a permanent part of his day. What was once passing glances had now turned into soft smiles and quiet conversations. He looked forward to seeing you everyday, to talking with you.

He started saving a seat for you whenever he ate lunch, or sitting closer to Lando during meetings, so he could sit closer to you. He longed to be at the receiving end of your smiles and laughs, and mentally cheered when he was.

Of course spending more time with you meant spending more time with Lando as well. Oscar didn’t dislike Lando, not at all, but Lando could occasionally be… a bit much. Especially when he was wiggling his eyebrows at him for simply talking with you.

He was sitting in the training room at the MTC one day, getting ready to begin his workout when he feels an arm around his shoulders. He turns to see Lando smirking down at him.

“Hey.” He says.

“Hey yourself.” Lando replies. “What are you up to?”

Oscar furrows his eyebrows and looks around the gym. “What do you think?”

Lando rolls his eyes, but smiles as he walks towards a set of weights.

“Is, uh, is Y/n coming around?” Oscar tries to sound casual, but hearing Lando snort makes his face flush.

“To stay with me while I work out? I doubt she’d be interested in that.” He scoffs. “But I bet she’d be more interested if she knew you were here too.”

“What?” Oscar spurts. “Why would she?” He can feel his face burning up.

“No reason.” Lando says, teasingly. “Hey, what are you doing for next week?”

Oscar furrows his brows. “What’s going on next week?”

“Y/n’s birthday.” Lando answers. “You didn’t know?” He turns to look at Oscar.

Oscar tries to think back, wondering if you’ve mentioned your birthday.

“Well it’s next week. I’m throwing a party for her. You can come if you want.”

Oscar nods. “Yeah, yeah I’ll be there.”

Lando grins. “Good. She’ll be glad to hear that.”

Oscar tries to hide the blush he feels spreading on his cheeks.

“I’ve already got her gift picked out and wrapped. Not by me, of course. It’d look like I was handing her a wad of paper.”

“Gift?” Oscar asks. He feels panic beginning to rise in his chest.

“Yeah, gift. It’s a birthday.” Lando laughs. “You have to get her a gift.”

“Right.” Oscar murmurs. He stands up. “I think I’m done here, for the day.” With that he walks out of the training center, gym bag slung over his shoulder, his gaze locked on the ground as he leaves.

“Didn’t even see him do anything.” Lando mumbles to himself.

Oscar spends the rest of the day wracking his brain for something, anything to get you for your birthday. He could get you jewelry? But that seems too intimate. Money? Too casual.

He sits alone while he eats his lunch, staring off into space as he eats, trying to think of something.

“Hey, Os. You okay?” You ask softly placing your food down on the table next to him.

He snaps out of his thoughts, looking at you wide-eyed.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

You laugh. “I don’t know, you’ve got this weird look on your face.”

He shakes his head. “No I don’t.”

“Okay, fine.” You laugh.

Oscar sighs, looking back at his food, but out of the corner of his eye he sees a book on your lap.

“What’s that?” He asks.

“Oh,” you smile, lifting the book to put it on the table. “It’s the book I’m reading right now.”

Oscar looks at the cover.

“It’s actually like, the tenth time I’m reading it.” You say.

Oscar snorts. “Why?”

“It’s my favorite book.” You shrug. “It’s so good. If you haven’t read it, I highly recommend it.”

Oscar hums.

“No, seriously, it would be so nice to have someone to talk to about it.” You whine. “I tried to get Lando to read it, and do you know what he said? He said ‘I’ll wait for the movie’. Can you believe that?” You ask.

Oscar laughs. “That sounds about right.” He watches as you push the book to the side to eat your lunch. “Hey, I gotta go, but I’ll see you later.”

“Oh, okay, see you.”

Oscar tries not to let the way your shoulders slump affect him. He gathers his things, and leaves you sitting there, pulling out his phone as he walks away.

After work Oscar goes to several different shops, looking for that damned book. He’s just about to give up, when he finally finds one lone copy. He keeps it tucked close to his chest as he walks to the checkout counter, as if afraid someone’s going to try to pry it from his hands.

He spends any free time he has for the week with his nose in the book. He brings it with him to the MTC, he reads it before and after work, he feels like the book becomes a part of him.

He shows up to Lando’s apartment for your party, with his gift tucked under his arm. He’d spent about an hour on picking a shirt, then another on fixing his unruly hair.

He has to admit, he’s surprised when he walks into Lando’s apartment. It’s not the bright rave lights or loud music he’d picture Lando would pick out for a party for himself, instead it’s soft warm lighting with some soft music in the background.

“I see you’ve made it.” Lando says, when he sees Oscar. “And you’ve managed to find a gift.” He smirks. “What’d you get her?”

Oscar shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”

“Keeping it a surprise?”

Before Oscar can answer, he’s pulled into a soft hug. “Thanks for coming, Os.” He hears your voice next to his ear.

Oscar smiles, wrapping an arm around you. “Happy birthday.”

When you pull away Oscar allows himself a moment to admire you. You’re wearing a soft dress that compliments you well. He notices the small sparking stone on the necklace around your neck.

“Pretty necklace.” He says.

You lift a hand to touch the stone. “Thanks. Lando got it for me.”

Oscar feels an uncomfortable twist in his stomach. His eyes search for the brit, who has made himself scarce.

“I told him it was too much. He said it’s the least he can do for me, having to put up with him everyday.” You laugh.

Oscar gives you an unconvincing smile, awkwardly shifting the gift under his arm, the gift he’s starting to feel immensely insecure about.

“Do you want to go sit somewhere?” You ask him. “Lando invited all of these people, but I don’t think I know half of them.” You laugh.

Oscar nods, following you as you lead him to the balcony.

You each take a seat, looking out at the sun setting over Monaco. He can’t help but admire you. The sun makes you practically glow, your eyes quite literally sparkle.

“Thanks for coming, really.” You break the silence. “I appreciate what Lando’s done, but I can’t help but feel a bit… out of place.”

Oscar hums. He holds out his gift to you, figuring it’d be better to deal with the embarrassment of you thinking it’s lame out here alone, rather than inside surrounded by people.

He watches as you tear open the gift, a confused look spreading across your face as you see what it is.

“It’s my book…” You say, holding the same book you showed him at the beginning of the week, though this copy is clearly newer. “Thanks Oscar.” You say, trying to hide your disappointment.

“Open it.”

You look at him confused again. “I swear if you cut a hole in my favorite book-“

“Just open it.” He cuts you off with a smile.

You slowly open it, flipping through the first few pages, the title page, the acknowledgment, the table of contents, until you get to the first actual page of the book.

Inside, surrounding the text in the book are little notes and doodles, scrawled in messy handwriting. You flip through the pages to see them everywhere.

“You annotated it?” You ask softly.

Oscar nods. “I read it this week. I figured it would be nice for you to have someone to talk to about it.” He says. He takes a deep breath. “Look, I know it’s not great-“

“I love it.” You cut him off.

“You do?”

You nod. You had copies upon copies of this book, paperbacks, hardcovers, special editions, sprayed edges, but none of them compared to the one in your hands. The one Oscar took the time to read, then write out all of his own thoughts for you. It felt like you were holding a piece of him in your arms.

“Yeah, I love it. Thank you.” You murmur, pulling him into a hug.

Oscar feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders as he wraps his arms around you. He smiles to himself, feeling like he’s successfully planted himself in your heart now.

[thoughtsforsoob]

txt with a bookworm gf 🤍

note: I’ve been on my bookworm shit lately so I thought I would share some ideas (I feel like I did this already so please let me know if I did!) please enjoy

yeonjun

He likes when you read to him. No, he doesn’t care if it’s a memoir, a biography, or a history textbook. He just likes to hear your voice and listen to the story the book is telling. Your voice calms him and he is genuinely interested in what the book is saying. It’s your little bonding time. He sits silently next to you and leans his head on your shoulder as you read out loud.

soobin

He has a little book like with you. You both pick small books to read together and then discuss it. You and him take turns and switch off every other book (he picks and then you pick). When it’s his turn to pick, he almost always picks a manga! When you pick a novel, he has to listen to the audiobook. It helps him focus.

beomgyu

At first, he wasn’t really a big fan of reading for fun. He found it cute that you did it but would playfully call you a nerd. You never minded it. Overtime, he would start to casually ask you about the books you were reading in conversation. Over dinner, he’d ask question about the plot or your thoughts on the book. Even if he doesn’t read the books, he finds himself interested in them.

taehyun

He likes to read but you two have different interests. So, in order to expose each other to new things, you trade books, read them, and update each other on what you think. He loves when you write in the margins of his books or when you leave sticky notes with your thoughts. Whenever he goes back to reread the book, a little piece of you is there and it makes him smile.

huening kai

not super interested in books and all that but would love to hear you yap about them. he would much rather flip through a manga. so, his solution to this is reading his manga next to you while you read your book. if you have big picture encyclopedias of animals or something, he’s also looking at them, showing you his favorite animals.

note: true story for the kai one. I have a giant ocean animal encyclopedia book that I loved looking through as a kid :) it made me so happy! I’ll never get rid of that book.

[sc4rrc]

Jealous much, but for a 'solid' reason

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- 2012!Donnie x reader - Jealous much, but for a 'solid' reason - Fluff - Warnings: None Request: Nope, just came up with this on my own whilst reading through some one shots of my personal favourite creators. You like Donnie, he likes you. But you're both as oblivious as ever, despite clearly showing each other that you care. And as a date is set between you and someone who is -clearly- NOT Donnie, he finds it hard to not feel jealous. ════════════════════

For quite some time, nearly since you met, both you and Donnie had held an affection for one another. Whether it was how he saved you and your friend, April, from the Kraang that first drew you to him, or the fact that he so easily got along with you from then on, it didn’t seem to matter. You became close from that point, and eventually you even took part in most of their missions—after you’d gotten more familiar with fighting through Splinter’s lessons.

A few problems did arise between the two of you though, like how oblivious you both seemed when it came to actually catching on that someone might be interested. Or the way doubt crept in because of your close friendship. He’d compliment you a lot, always ensuring your safety on missions, and you did the same for him. But somehow, you both missed the bigger picture. “It’s not something new; he worries about all of us during fights,” you’d tell yourself whenever April pointed it out.

And it was true; he always watched out for his brothers, too. How could he not? They were family. But there he was, watching you train, helping you improve when Splinter was busy.

Other times, you’d be the one to assist him. Sometimes you’d grab things from the top that he did not have easy access to, or simply keep him company in the lab to make sure he took breaks. Lunch, water—the basics. But one thing you both did constantly, no matter how oblivious each of you seemed in the moment, was stare. Even from across the room, one of you would be looking at the other. On movie nights, for example, you’d sit on the couch, Mikey on your right and Casey on your left, everyone focused on the screen—except Donnie, whose gaze would occasionally drift toward you.

He’d become well aware that he was absolutely, undeniably infatuated with you. Even he knew he sometimes went a bit too far with his attention, though his brothers never hesitated to tease him. Raph, mostly. But with his feelings also came doubt, for both of you. After so long, with neither of you daring to believe the other felt the same, you both wondered if it could ever work. You didn’t want to risk your precious friendship on a confession that might lead to rejection. So, silence it was.

“I don’t know, April. Just think about it. If I say something, and he doesn’t feel the same, then this might just ruin our friendship. And I don’t want that.”

Harsh words to admit, really. The thought wasn’t exactly pleasant. April had been trying for ages to nudge you both toward a confession, convinced it would lead to something good. Or maybe that was just the hopeless romantic in her, but she hoped nonetheless. And despite her efforts—along with the boys’ attempts to coax Donnie out of his safe shell—neither of you would budge. Sighing, she finally said, “That is fair, I suppose. But I still stand by what I said earlier. Forgetting doesn’t sound like the best alternative. I’ll help, but that doesn’t mean I’m agreeing with this plan.”

Her words made you smile in gratitude. Crushing on Donnie, though a genuine feeling, had become almost frustrating. He seemed so unaware of your feelings—close, yet so distant. It made you wonder if maybe he really didn’t feel the same. And yes, that stung a little. But it also made you realize that moving on might be necessary. For everyone’s sake, including your own. So, when a boy in your History class asked you out, you accepted. It felt like progress for a moment, but only for a moment. Soon, it became a test to see how quickly you could let go of Donnie, knowing that dwelling on him wasn’t helping you move forward. And after all, it was just a date—a way to focus on someone else. ════════════════════

When it came to being in that position—being told by the girl he couldn’t stop being so fond of that she had a date with some guy, a human guy no less—Donnie wanted to dig himself a hole in the lab and never come out. He’d imagined this day might come, and he felt like he was losing his chance—if he ever even had one. His heart sank as the words left your mouth, and it was hard not to show his disappointment. But for your sake, he put on a smile and congratulated you. He even wished you good luck. Then, once you left the lair, he retreated to his lab, shutting the door behind him, eyes focused on his work. Anything to avoid thinking about his growing jealousy, even for a moment. The others noticed the slump in his shoulders as he walked away but decided to let him be. They knew it might be a long evening in the lair, but they figured the situation might resolve itself—if it could.

--- Time Skip ---

Hours went by, some faster than others, and soon you found yourself back in your apartment, changed into a new set of clothes, ready to sleep the day away. Reflecting on what was supposed to be a date, you thought back to what he’d said: “Listen, I’m not really one for these serious things, ’kay? You’re cute, I’ll give you that. But I’ve got my ways around relationships, if you want to keep me happy.” That was about all you’d heard before mentally checking out of the “date.” He seemed nice at first but turned out to be a self-centred idiot—not the good kind of idiot either. And with all his talking, you made little effort to understand what he really meant.

You couldn’t recall the whole conversation, but you knew there was no way you’d repeat the experience. The things he said—about you and about others—were all wrong for you. He kept going on about some “party with girls” he had to get to, and the moment he crossed a line, you’d made your exit, realizing just how little interest you had in seeing him again.

You’d only just drifted off when a soft, rhythmic tapping at the window stirred you back to consciousness. Groaning, you pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders and shuffled toward the window, squinting through the curtains. It could only be one of the guys, you knew, but the last thing you expected was to find Donnie, hanging upside down on the fire escape patiently, his expression hovering somewhere between nervous and excited.

Fighting back a laugh, you pushed the window open. “Donnie?” you whispered, the surprise obvious in your voice. “What are you doing here?”

He offered a tentative smile, voice low. “Hey. Sorry if I woke you. Just, uh… thought I’d check in. Make sure you got home okay.”

You laughed softly, raising an eyebrow. “It’s a bit late for a check-in, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I know, but…” He shrugged, his calm exterior cracking just enough to reveal a hint of nervousness. “Couldn’t help myself. April mentioned the date didn’t, uh… go quite how you planned?”

A sigh slipped from you as you pulled the blanket around yourself a little tighter, rolling your eyes. April, of course. “You could say that,” you chuckled. “He was… something, alright.” You caught his amused grin, the faint hint of relief there not lost on you. You shook your head, feeling a smile tug at your lips despite it all.

Donnie’s face softened, his eyes meeting yours. “Yeah, well… I think you deserve better than that.” His voice was quiet, sincere, but even he looked surprised by his own words, cheeks darkening just a bit under his mask. “I mean, someone who’d treat you better than that. A lot better, actually.”

A warmth spread through you, his words settling in, making you feel a little lighter after such a disappointing night. His gaze hadn’t wavered, and you felt yourself holding your breath, caught off guard by how much his simple words meant.

“Thanks, Donnie. For worrying about me,” you said, the words barely a whisper. Before either of you could overthink it, you leaned out the window and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

Donnie froze completely, his eyes wide, his usual calm vanishing in a heartbeat as he stared at you, utterly speechless. It took him a second—maybe two—before he swallowed, blinking a few times as if to process that the kiss had actually happened. A deep blush crept over his face, nearly reaching the edges of his mask.

“Oh. I, yeah.. Anytime,” he stammered, his voice slightly higher than usual. His hand moved almost instinctively to where you’d kissed him, and for a second, he was all but suspended there, entirely lost in the moment.

You bit back a laugh, giving him a little wave before you gently closed the window and pulled the curtain back in place. A small thrill ran through you as you moved back toward bed, a smile lingering even as you settled back under the blankets.

Outside, Donnie remained still, one hand pressed to his cheek, replaying the moment over and over in his head. A grin broke out slowly across his face, unable to hold back the ridiculous happiness building up inside him. "Oh, man... She kissed me. She actually kissed me.” He couldn’t help the ridiculous grin on his face as he clambered back up the fire escape, his heart still thudding as he slipped back into the shadows, feeling no more of that jealousy from earlier. Not even the knowing looks from his brothers as he made his way through the entrance of the lair brought him fully back, his mind still stuck in that moment.

════════════════════ A/N: Here's my first one-shot. I think it turned out pretty good, considering nearly half of what I made the other night in drafts did not save. But idk if I should make a part 2 for this? I could, if I feel like it. It also depends on what you guys want so I might pole it, but the main idea is that I did it. (Also I love Donnie so much, he's so bf material.) - I do NOT give permission for any of my work to be republished on any other sites, or even here. Not Ao3, not Wattpad, nowhere. This is simply for entertainment purposes and I would appreciate respecting this.

[milfhunter6698]

Star girl

Synopsis: You were a talented but underappreciated actress lands a dream role in a highly anticipated romance film directed by a well—respected filmmaker. Your cast opposite Victoria Neuman, an industry icon known for her powerful performances and magnetic screen presence. As you work together, unexpected feelings develop between you, you find yourselves drawn to each other in ways you didn’t expect.

Warnings: 18+ eventual smut, no use of (y/n), cursing, no describing reader’s appearance, explicit language, fluff, suggestive themes, a lot of angst, teasing, hollywood AU, slow burn, Acting, friends to lovers.

AN: Hello hellooo!! happy tuesday everyone, guess what? yep another Victoria Neuman fic because I ain’t gonna even lie and just say that I got over that crazy bitch, I’m missing her like crazy baddd. Anyway this is just something that’s been on my mind, heh… I dunno I mean who wouldn’t love a good Hollywood love storyline. It’s just something short, while I work on a few requests I’ve gotten, I’m gonna also be posting this on ao3 If you’re interested go check it out. Now as always have fun, and lmk what you think because I kind of have mixed feelings about this.

wc: 4.1k

You moved between tables at the cafe, balancing a tray loaded with coffee cups, sneakers squeaking faintly with each step. The place was buzzing with late-morning chatter, filled with the smell of fresh coffee and fried eggs. You’d perfected the art of pretending to be completely focused on your job, but every spare second, your mind wandered back to the idea of acting—your true passion, the career you were chasing even if you were currently only known as “the girl with the tray.”

On your break, you slumped into a corner booth with your phone, scrolling through casting calls, your eyes landing on headlines you’d read a dozen times. Your finger hovered over an audition listing when your phone suddenly vibrated. You barely recognized the number, but your manager’s name popped up on the screen.

“Hey, it’s really not a good time, I’m—”

“Sit down,” he interrupted, his voice breathless with excitement. “Are you sitting down?”

You raise an eyebrow glancing around. “Yeah, I’m sitting. What’s going on?”

“You know that big casting call I sent you on last week?” His voice was buzzing with excitement, a little smug.

“The one you said was a ‘long shot,’ right? Look don’t mess with me. You said they wouldn’t even look at—”

“They looked. And they loved you. You got the part.”

For a second, the noise in the cafe faded to nothing. You blinked, trying to make sure you’d heard him right.

“You’re not serious,” you said, your voice barely a whisper.

“Dead serious,” he said. “This is the role. You’re going to be in a movie with Victoria Neuman. The Victoria Neuman.”

Your heart started to hammer. “Wait, Victoria Neuman? That Victoria Neuman? The one who—”

“The one who’s headlining the Oscars, the one whose face is on every billboard on Sunset Boulevard, yes. I told you it’s big.”

You gripped your phone so tightly your knuckles turned white. “But… how?”

Your manager laughed. “Because you’re good, that’s how. Look, they want to meet you this Saturday for lunch. The director wants to give you the rundown himself.”

You could barely process it. You’d spent so many nights pacing around your tiny apartment, rehearsing lines for auditions that led nowhere, wondering if you’d ever break through. And here it was, your shot.

“I swear… if you’re messing with me, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Trust me, kid. I’d never mess with you on this. So you better get your best outfit ready.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing, a small, breathless sound. For the first time in months, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Saturday afternoon you stood outside an upscale restaurant, your heart thudding as you stared up at the polished glass doors. You’d spent nearly an hour choosing an outfit, finally settling on something simple—a black dress and a vintage jacket you’d found in a thrift shop. You tugged at the sleeves nervously, feeling a strange mix of excitement and intimidation. Your manager had reassured you repeatedly, but the idea of meeting with a famous director and talking about your role felt surreal.

Inside, your manager waved you over, standing beside a man with sharp, discerning eyes and a warm, easy smile. He was younger than you’d expected, dressed casually in a way that somehow made him look more important.

He greeted and you reached out, introducing yourself and trying not to let your nerves show. “Thank you so much for… I mean, this is just…”

He grinned, shaking your hand. “Take a breath. We’re all just people here, no need to be so formal. Grab a seat. Let’s talk.”

You slipped into the seat across from him, trying to play it cool as the waiter poured sparkling water into your glasses. He leaned back, studying you with a quiet intensity that made you feel both exposed and encouraged.

“So, I saw your audition tape,” he started. “You’ve got something—an authenticity that I want in this role.”

You couldn’t help but blush. “Thank you. I’m really honored you thought of me.”

“Now, I’m not going to lie,” he continued, “this project is demanding. The story centers on two women, past lovers who come from very different backgrounds, but they find solace and understanding in each other. It’s raw, emotional. We’re looking for chemistry, vulnerability. That’s why Victoria Neuman is the co-lead.”

At the mention of Victoria’s name, your eyes widened. You tried to hide your reaction, but he noticed, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah, the Victoria Neuman. She’s a big personality, but she’s focused. And demanding. Don’t be surprised if she challenges you—she does that with everyone.”

You took a deep breath. “I’ll… I’ll do my best.”

“Good,” He said, nodding approvingly. “I have a feeling you’ll do more than that.”

You spent the rest of the lunch discussing the film, the script, and his vision for your character. Your excitement grew with each detail, feeling a spark of confidence you hadn’t known you had. By the end of the meal, you couldn’t believe you were about to step into a project like this.

The morning of the table read was overcast, the gray sky adding to your nerves. You arrived at the studio early, clutching your script as you walked into the bustling room. People were milling around, flipping through scripts, chatting casually. Your heart thumped as you found your seat, glancing nervously around the table.

Just as you were trying to steady your breath, you heard a small hush ripple through the room. You looked up and felt your pulse quicken. Victoria Neuman had arrived.

She moved gracefully, exuding a quiet, confident presence. She was dressed simply, yet she looked every bit the star she was, her gaze sharp and focused. She walked over to the table, catching your eye for a brief moment before giving a polite nod.

Your breath hitched. Act normal, you reminded yourself, pretending your palms weren’t sweating. You managed a small smile in return, trying to look calm.

The director greeted everyone and launched into his vision for the film. “This isn’t just a love story. It’s about connection, about finding something real in the chaos. We want to capture those quiet, vulnerable moments, the ones that people don’t talk about but feel every day.”

When it was time for the read-through, you and Victoria shared your first scene together. You focused on your lines, but your heart was pounding as you read opposite Victoria. Her voice was smooth, effortlessly slipping into character, and her eyes stayed locked on you all throughout the scene, intensifying each line.

By the end of the scene, you could hardly breathe. She leaned back, nodding slightly, and then you offered a small, approving smile. It was just a flicker, but it felt like an acknowledgment—a silent promise that you belonged here, too.

After the session ended, you lingered at the edge of the room, replaying the moment in your mind. You were about to leave when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

Turning, you found yourself face-to-face with Victoria, your name escaping her lips softly. “Is it?” she asked, her voice calm but with an unmistakable warmth.

You nodded, trying not to let your voice shake. “Yes. I… I just wanted to say, I’m a huge fan of yours. I’ve watched all your films.”

She gave a soft laugh. “Thanks. I know it must be overwhelming, jumping into something like this. But you were great today.”

Your heart lifted. “Thank you. That really means a lot.”

She nodded, her eyes lingering on you just a moment longer than necessary. “I’ll see you at the next rehearsal.”

As she turned and walked away, you felt a flutter in your chest. You knew this role was going to be life-changing, but you hadn’t expected Victoria’s presence to affect you so deeply. For the first time, you wondered if this film might change your life in more ways than one.

Your apartment was a mess. Scripts were scattered across your small, worn coffee table, along with half-empty coffee cups and stacks of notes. You had highlighted every line, each margin filled with scrawled thoughts and questions. Late into the night, you practiced alone, your reflection in the mirror staring back with the intensity you hoped your character would convey.

The role wasn’t simple. Your character, Lauren, was a guarded, impulsive complex woman burdened by loss. She had loved deeply once but had lost it all, and as you read through the lines, you felt yourself peeling back her layers, finding the pain and resilience hidden beneath.

You practiced your lines over and over, speaking them softly, then with anger, trying to understand the character’s emotional range. You kept Lauren’s experiences in mind, dissecting every reaction and choice she’d made, wondering how you yourself would react in such moments. You hadn’t had much in life, but you knew about chasing dreams, about feeling that endless mix of hope and fear. There was so much of yourself in Lauren—and that scared you. You wanted to do this right, not only for yourself but for the chance you’d been given to stand on this stage.

You arrived on set early your first day, your nerves a steady thrum under the excitement. The studio was a blur of movement—crew members rolling carts stacked with equipment, actors adjusting their costumes, assistants buzzing around the director with notes and coffee cups. Cameras and lights stood like sentinels around the set, wires coiled across the floor in intricate patterns you had to carefully step over.

You spotted your director in the middle of it all, standing beside the cinematographer, discussing the shots for the day. His voice was calm yet energized as he gestured toward the mock-up of the first scene. This was where the magic was happening, the place you’d dreamed of being. And now, you were here, not as an extra or a bit part, but as one of the leads. The weight of that realization pressed down on you, but it was also exhilarating.

“Hello there! Good to see you,” he called, waving you over as he noticed you lingering at the edge of the set. “Ready for the big day?”

You smiled, hiding the nerves that knotted in your stomach. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Good, good. Remember, this isn’t just about the lines. It’s about Lauren’s silence, her glances, her gestures. Don’t be afraid to let the camera see that,” He said, his eyes filled with encouragement.

You nodded. Feeling the director’s words sink in, you needed to live the character—not just act her. You weren’t sure if you would be able to pull it off, but you were at least ready to try.

The first few days on set went by in a haze of new faces and whispered directions. You and Victoria had only one brief exchange about your first scene together. She had approached you with a warm yet reserved smile.

“Hey, I thought maybe we could run through this scene together. Just to get a feel for each other’s rhythms,” she suggested, her tone calm and professional.

“Absolutely. I’d love that,” you replied, your heart racing. You kept your voice steady, but you couldn’t shake the nervous flutter you felt deep in your chest.

Victoria read the lines with such ease, her delivery flawless, yet subtly different each time as if experimenting with nuances. You watched her, trying to keep your focus, yet every word from her seemed to pull you in deeper.

As you wrapped up, she nodded approvingly. “You’re good. I can see why they’ve picked you.”

You flushed, stammering a quick thank-you, and then watched as she walked off, her steps graceful, her confidence effortless. Just keep it professional, You told yourself. But as the days passed, it became harder to ignore the warmth you felt whenever she looked at you, a lingering gaze that seemed to see more than just your role.

When the day came for your ever first scene, you arrived on set early, going through your lines one more time. The scene was intense—a reunion between Lauren and Helene, two people who had shared a complicated past and were bound by emotions neither of them could entirely let go. You had thought you were prepared, but now, with each beat of your heart, you felt a new nervousness you hadn’t anticipated.

As you walked on set, you saw Victoria standing at the other end of the room, speaking with the director, who animatedly explained his vision for the scene. She caught your gaze and gave you a nod, her usual professional demeanor in place, though something about her expression felt unreadable—guarded, maybe, as if she was bracing herself for what was to come.

He turned toward you, breaking you out of your thoughts. “Hey, come on over. Let’s get you in place. So, here’s the setup: Lauren is paying an unexpected visit to Helene at her office, and she’s there because… well, that’s up to you. She has her reasons, but the scene hinges on that ambiguity, the push-pull between them. Lauren is bold, maybe even a little reckless, but we need to feel that Helene is barely holding herself together.”

You took a steadying breath and nodded, your nerves slowly morphing into a focused determination. This was Lauren’s moment to push, to test the waters with Helene. And in a way, it felt a little like you yourself were testing something—feeling your way through the strange pull you’d somehow begun to feel around Victoria. You couldn’t explain it, but it was there, like an undercurrent humming just beneath the surface.

Your director called for quiet on set, and as the cameras rolled, you transformed. You were no longer you but Lauren, striding into Helene’s office with a calm confidence, a hint of mischief in your gaze as you found Helene at her desk, pouring over stacks of papers.

“Hello, old friend. Long time, no see,” you said, your voice low but carrying a hint of hesitation, as if unsure of the reunion.

Helene looked up, startled, and for a split second, the cool facade she wore slipped, allowing a flicker of surprise and maybe even a touch of longing. Then it was gone, replaced by her usual detached, slightly exasperated expression as she leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Lauren,” she said, her voice edged with a mix of wariness and familiarity. “Not that long. Maybe a year?”

You tensed, responding instinctively. “A year’s a long time when you’re left wondering.”

The words hung in the air, and the silence that followed was thick, charged. You could feel Victoria’s eyes on you, not just as Helene but as herself, watching you, assessing you.

You let a slow smile spread across your face, the kind that was both playful and just a bit dangerous. You crossed the room, closing the space between you until you were just close enough to lean down slightly, your gaze intent.

“What, I can’t just stop by for a friendly visit?” Lauren’s voice was light, teasing, but there was an unmistakable intensity in her eyes that made Helene shift, visibly uncomfortable yet rooted to the spot.

Helene rolled her eyes, but her hands, you noticed, clenched slightly on the arms of her chair. “Last I checked, we weren’t exactly on friendly terms.”

Your smile softened, and you tilted your head, a touch of vulnerability breaking through. “Maybe that’s something I wanted to change.”

For a long, charged moment, you held each other’s gaze, a silent conversation happening in the space between you. Helene’s jaw tightened as she looked away, a hint of pain flashing across her face.

But Lauren wasn’t one to let go that easily. She stepped closer, until she was close enough to reach out, to touch, though she didn’t. Her presence was all-consuming, and you could feel your own pulse quicken, blurring the line between yourself and Lauren.

“Come on, Helene,” Lauren murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know I hurt you. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about you… that I haven’t missed this.” She let the words hang, raw and intimate, before adding softly,

“Missed you.”

Helene’s cool facade cracked just slightly, a flash of pain and frustration in her eyes as she stood up staring back up at Lauren, her composure barely holding. “You don’t get to say that. Not after all this time.”

The line struck something deep within you as she spoke it, feeling Helene’s hurt and resentment like a living thing. But Lauren your character, ever defiant, only leaned in closer, her hand coming up to brace against the wall beside Helene, effectively trapping her.

“Tell me you don’t feel the same,” Lauren challenged, her voice a low, urgent whisper. The tension in the room thickened, and you felt the weight of Victoria’s gaze, a spark of something intense and undeniable in her eyes.

Helene hesitated, her resolve wavering, her breath catching as her gaze flickered from Lauren’s eyes to her lips, the charged air between them pulsing with all the words left unspoken. But just as the moment seemed poised to tip over into something more, the director called, “Cut!”

You snapped back to yourself, blinking as you released the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Your heart raced, your skin tingling from the lingering tension of the scene. You let your arm drop from the wall, stepping back to give Victoria space.

Victoria straightened, her expression unreadable as she adjusted her jacket, her gaze sweeping the set before finally settling on you. There was a flicker of something in her eyes—something that looked almost like… admiration? Or was it something else?

“That was intense,” you said, trying to keep your tone light as you offered a small, slightly self-conscious smile.

Victoria nodded, a faint smile playing at the edges of her lips. “You have a way of bringing out the worst in Lauren,” she replied, her tone laced with irony but also something warmer, softer. “It’s… refreshing.”

You laughed, a little relieved but also thrown off by the words. “Well, she’s complicated. Keeps me on my toes.”

Victoria tilted her head, studying you for a moment. “Complicated is good. Makes it more interesting.”

The look you exchanged held a spark, something you couldn’t quite name but was beginning to recognize more and more each time your eyes met. It was as if you were both playing a game, one where the rules were unspoken, yet unmistakably understood.

Before you could say anything else, your director clapped his hands, calling everyone’s attention for a quick break before the next setup. You caught one last look from Victoria before she turned away, feeling the remnants of the scene still thrumming in your veins.

As you headed back to your trailer, your mind swirled with a mix of emotions—excitement, nerves, and the undeniable pull you felt whenever you and Victoria shared the screen. You’d always thought the hardest part of acting was embodying someone else’s feelings, but now, for the first time, you wondered if maybe the hardest part was keeping your own at bay.

You rubbed your temples, fatigue and excitement mingling as you gathered your things in your trailer. The day had been intense, the charged energy between you and Victoria in that last scene still humming under your skin. Just as you were about to head out, you swung the door open—and nearly collided with Victoria, who stood in front of the trailer with her hand mid-air, ready to knock.

“Oh!” you stammered, stepping back in surprise. “I didn’t expect—”

She chuckled, lowering her hand. “Neither did I, apparently.” There was a slight pause as you stood there, your heart beating just a bit faster, the exhaustion from the day melting away in her presence.

“I was actually going to suggest grabbing a drink. Somewhere quiet to unwind after…” She gestured vaguely, but you knew exactly what she meant.

You blinked, caught off guard but strangely thrilled. “A drink sounds… perfect,” you said, a smile slowly spreading across your face.

You ended up at a dimly lit, tucked-away bar, the kind of place you would never have noticed on your own. Victoria seemed to know it well, however, leading you inside with the ease of someone who valued privacy.

You settled into a booth near the back, ordering drinks and sinking into the quiet atmosphere. For the first time all day, you were free of the cameras, the lines, the lingering tension of your roles. Here, you were just you and Victoria, sharing a drink like two colleagues winding down after work.

“So,” she began, raising an eyebrow over her glass. “How was your first day of intense romantic drama?”

You laughed, taking a sip of your drink. “I have to say, it was… exhilarating. But definitely a bit intimidating.” you glanced at her, a little more openly than you might have dared earlier. “You make it seem so effortless. I keep wondering if I’m doing it right.”

“Trust me, you’re doing it right.” Victoria leaned forward, her expression earnest. “Acting isn’t about ‘right’ or ‘wrong,’ anyway. It’s about trusting yourself. You get lost in the moment, and… well, you did that today.”

You felt your cheeks warm, feeling simultaneously grateful and a little self-conscious under her gaze. “Thanks. Coming from you, that actually means a lot.”

You fell into an easy rhythm, talking about the movie, then drifting into lighter topics—the absurdity of long filming days, the occasional mishaps on set. Victoria shared a story about an elaborate costume mishap during a period drama that left her frantically trying to fix her dress just seconds before a big shot. You laughed so hard you nearly spilled your drink.

“Is this your secret weapon?” you asked with a grin. “Getting everyone to laugh so they forget their lines?”

“Ah, you’ve caught me,” she replied, a playful glint in her eye. “It’s all part of my master plan. Throw them off just enough so I can look that much better.”

You chuckled, and then, in a moment of pure spontaneity, you blurted, “Well, I don’t have your number. So if you ever need a partner in crime… or just someone to grab a drink with…”

Victoria’s eyebrows rose, a hint of mischief in her smile. “Is that your idea of subtle? Or is that just how you are with women?”

You felt your cheeks go warm again, though you grinned, refusing to back down. “Maybe a bit of both.”

She held your gaze for a beat longer than necessary before reaching for her phone. She tapped a few times, and your phone buzzed in your bag. “There. Now you have my number,” she said, her tone playful, yet her eyes held a trace of something deeper. “Just… don’t go spreading it around. I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Oh, wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied, matching her teasing tone.

You finished your drinks, lingering for a few more quiet moments before you finally decided to head home. Outside the bar, you shared a quick, almost shy goodbye, both of you staying just a bit longer than needed. You watched as she disappeared down the street, a strange blend of exhilaration and confusion swirling inside you.

When you finally returned to your small apartment, you lied awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling. The day’s events replayed in your mind, your thoughts wandering from your intense scene to the quiet, easy comfort of the bar. Every moment with her felt like an uncharted path you were just beginning to explore.

A smile crept onto your face as you thought of her teasing remarks, her gaze, the effortless way she seemed to fill every space she entered. You couldn’t quite pin down what was happening between you, only that something had started, and you were more than ready to see where it would lead.

[bekkathyst]

Custom Wire Wrapped Necklaces

These are the stones I have available for wire wraps, for those of you who are interested!

If you would like to claim one, please be sure to read this entire post!

So here’s the rundown. Below is a picture with each stone numbered, and below that is the name of each stone, along with the price.

The price includes the following: the stone wrapped in the metal of your choice (sterling silver, 14k gold fill, 14k rose gold fill), an 18″ chain finished with a handmade clasp, and it includes free shipping worldwide! 

You will choose the style they’d like it wrapped in. There are three example pics below. 

Payment is due when the stone is claimed and all the options are chosen (metal, style, etc). PLEASE NOTE - these will be completed by the end of NOVEMBER 2024. There’s always a possibility that something comes up that causes a delay, but I do try to get them done early. They take a long time to make, please make sure you’re okay with the wait before ordering. I put the utmost care into this and have extreme attention to detail, and when that combines with my busy schedule, it means that it can take a while. 

To claim: send me a message over the instant messenger with your email address, the country you’re in, the stone you’d like to claim, the metal you’d like it wrapped in, and the style you’d like it wrapped in. I’ll then send your invoice and get started on your pendant! :) 

If you'd like to purchase just the plain stone without any wire wrap, remove $100 from the price.

Here are all the stones:

Old stock Persian turquoise - $155

Old stock Persian turquoise - $130

Old stock Persian turquoise - $140

Old stock Persian turquoise - $130 Sold Out!

Old stock Persian turquoise - $130

Old stock Persian turquoise - $115

Kunzite from Pakistan - $175

Kunzite from Pakistan - $145

Kunzite from Pakistan - $130

Natrolite from Russia (video) - $165

Natrolite from Russia (video) - $160

Azurite from Peru - $140

Azurite from Peru - $145

Rainbow pyrite from Russia - $135

Rainbow pyrite from Russia - $135

Hematite in quartz from Brazil - $125

Hematite in quartz from Brazil - $130

Hematite in quartz from Brazil - $130

Lepidocrosite in quartz from Brazil - $160

Dendritic quartz from Brazil - $150

Dendritic quartz from Brazil - $155

Dendritic quartz from Brazil - $150

Fire quatrz from Brazil - $160

Fire quartz from Brazil - $145

Fire quartz from Brazil - $140 Sold Out!

Copper agate from Indonesia - $165

Super 7 amethyst from Brazil - $170

Leopard aquamarine from Brazil - $195

Leopard aquamarine from Brazil - $145

Ethiopian opal - $165 Sold Out!

Ethiopian opal - $170 Sold Out!

Rare pink covellite included quartz from Brazil (video) - $240

Mystery stone from Siberia* - $170

Mystery stone from Siberia* - $160

Purple labradorite from Madagascar - $165

Purple labradorite from Madagascar - $155

Blue apatite from Madagascar - $150

Blue apatite from Madagascar - $150

Rainbow moonstone from Madagascar - $145 Sold Out!

*This is a "mystery stone" because I cannot find the name of it. It came from an older Russian miner who I had a language barrier situation with but he did confirm it's from Siberia. I wish I could find the name! It's shiny and almost metalic, reminding me a little bit of sphalerite. It's gorgeous.

These are the styles you can choose from (I do very minimalist wrapping so the stone really shines through! And the wrapping is super sturdy!) 

Style #1 (prongs): 

Style #2 (symmetrical): 

Style #3 (asymmetrical):  

I will cross out each stone as they are claimed! 

Extra little note: I have some square wire if you prefer that to the round, just let me know!

Thanks, everyone :) 

[amebanworld]

So, here we are. Finally I’m dropping by to share something I’ve been pondering. I think it's about time to speak about this openly.

You know, I've been a TF fan since my childhood, since I saw G1 Cartoon till now.

But since I'm not a native English speaker and the TF TV series have been aired irregularly at my country, I just haven't be able to follow all series when they were broadcasted. I just wasn’t able to watch all of them. I'm not interested in every single series though, just in some of them. Same happens with comics and movies: seriously I like to think Bayverse just didn’t happen.

So I’ll will tackle the series/comic sI’ve watched/read only, and not every Screamer incarnation.

Let's start…

In 80's (and earlier) cartoons, it was quite common that one of the main characters was bashed by other characters under the premise that "this chara is problematic b/c he thinks different from the others, so he must be punished". As crazy as it sounds, this was encouraged by parents supervising children cartoons’ morality. That's why Eric (from the D&D cartoon) or Rudy (from Fat Albert) were made fun of, and that is what’s happening with G-1!Starscream. Yes, I mean the regular bashing he suffers by almost every other character in the series, and mostly from his leader, Megatron. Also, this was encouraged by the idea of "Hey! They're just aliens robots! We can be harsher with them since it isn’t an average cartoon for kids." And that's how it begun.

Since the G1 cartoon (and its comics counterpart, although the mood is quite different), Screamer has been portrayed as “selfish, a disloyal second-in-command, a coward yadda-yadda", but he also has been portrayed as somebody who endures punisment from almost every other character regularly, and mostly from Meggs, as I said before. This pattern repeats itsel over and over in all TF series, no matter the plot or the setting.

Despite being so popular, most of the fandom think that "he deserves it b/c he's a traitor", or just like it as a slapstick comedy. However, over time, and since certain series and comics have more serious plots, this issue was interpreted under a different perspective by older audiences.

Starscream, no matter the continuity, suffers from PTSD and is victim of abuse.

And I fully agree with that.

Over the years, I've met many fans (female fans mostly, perhaps b/c they usually have this kind of sensibility) who loved the character and felt bad for him because they identified with him on a personal level. I've met veterans too who indentified with Screamer. Both of them just felt really uneasy about how he’s treated in comics and especially in the series. Of course, there’re many fans that just think this is nonsense and don't agree with it. However, invalidating the opinion of these other fans and brush it aside as "nonsense" means to ignore the victims of abuse and their suffering too.

So, what do I mean with "victim of (domestic) abuse"?

First of all, it doens't mean just abuse from your romantic partner, but also from your parents or relatives, from your boss, your classmates, etc. The thing is, all that applies to Screamer. Unlike other characters that just attack him during battles and such, Screamer is punched many times till almost dying by Megatron. He’s also insulted and invalidated. There’s some examples of different continuities below.

The dynamic of abusive relationships is very complex, but in all continuities we can find the same pattern: "The victim tries to flee and does something careless, then he's caught and punished by his insolence". The problem is that the victim is also a traitor and a liar, and certainly he's not a saint. Plus the abuser keeps him around still.

Why?

Summing up, it's a vicious circle. The victim thinks he "deserves" to be punished, but since he wants to be free, he behaves carelessly and paying no heed to loyalty so as to “deserve” that punishment. Meanwhile, the abuser seeks to blame (and punish) the victim from his own faults. Then, when one makes a move, the other behaves accordingly. Meanwhile there’s also calm moments where things “seems” fine. That's why Meggs and Screamer seems to get along "nicely" when nothing happens.

Eventually, the victim copies the abusive behaviour, becoming also an abuser. This is quite obvious in the TFP continuity, where Screamer does the same things to KnockOut.

Of course, the abuser is guilty, but the victim has his own faults. Usually, these people suffer from PTSD and develop a nasty behaviour towards others. They become selfish, demanding, disloyal, etc. This explains why Screamer behaves as such with almost everyone in all continuities. Usually, the victim isn’t aware (or just doesn't want to ) that he's into an abusive relationship (no matter what kind), so he’s just seen as being disloyal, stupid or something like that. Usually, only people who have suffered abuse, or are close to an abuse victim, are aware of this problem, and of how hard it is to break the vicious circle and break free.

Many fans were aware of this problem, and some years ago a bunch of them decided to let know their feelings about SS to Hasbro, so they send the company a long letter, thanks to @tyrantofthefirmament You can read their letter HERE.

And how did Hasbro answered?

I guess they get a lot of letters from the fandom, and that their marketing team will be well aware about the fandom opinions at least now, b/c it's kind of obvious that the later comics and series portrays ideas that were born in the fandom. Anyway their answer to that letter sounded like "We're glad to heard from you. We'll think about it someday. Thanks!"

And that’s whay they did on the later series, it seems.

Let's check it…

*TFP: SS is written so randomly here. First, he's a serious threat; in the second season, he breaks free and joins the Abots or is just on his own (the best part), and finally, in the third season, he joins Dcons again, and Meggs punches him for any random reason. Finally, he dies.

*Armada Trilogy: he's written as a tragic character. He ends up being a hero and dies saving the day on the first season. Later on, he's resurrected as a zombie with no memories. Finally, in the 3rd season, he becomes… what the heck?? He doesn’t seems to be the same character!

*War for Cybertron Trilogy. Well. Here, he's closer to his G1 Incarnation, despite he wasn't a scientist and he was under Jetfire's command till the white jet joins the Abots. The same tropes are repeated, till Blacharacnnia teams up with him and he meets Unicron in a Lovecraft- like scene. Afterwards, the writers got wild and gave him the arc to be an anti-hero, warning everybody, who actually barely believe in him. At least, the writers tried here to give certain credit.

Starry meets Cthulhu... eeer, Unicron.

*IDW comics. Perhaps the most developed incarnation. Here, the problems of abuse and trauma, along his faults in the GreatWar, become an issue that must be solved. He becomes a Cybertron ruler, makes a friend (Metalhawk) then kills him… and later, he regrets it a lot. Bumblebee appears to him as an hallucination and befriends him (his only friend is imaginary). WheelJack has a soft spot for him, but this isn’t enough. Then, Windblae appears, who is oblivius of the Cybertronian war. And well, things happen and he isn't disloyal anymore and learns about his true self. Perhaps this is the only series where his fate is different.

Bee facing Screamer in his own hallucinations...

*EarthSpark. These series tries to mix up G1 with IDW. War is over, the Earthling TF are born and Screamer is jailed in a corrupted human facility, till he manages to break free. At this point, an Earthligh TF, Haghstag, knows about his trauma and helps him. The whole first season deals with Dcons as people with his own lifestory and traumas, and how important redeption is. Starscream fits this plot…

Haghstag and Screamer... and he's smiling.

Till the following seaons where the writers just ignore everything and they come back to the same old plots again and again in a very creepy way.

The thing is, Starscream nor talks about this with others, neither uses it as an excuse for his behaviour towards his companions. That goes against the Decepticons ideals, but also that would make him to look "weak", or he just doesn't want to admit it despite his pain. Dcon's are usuallly portrayed as horrible people, after all.

Anyway, the fact is Hasbro and their writers just don’t dare to tackle a character arc to give him some reliable background or credit. They show some hints here and there of "perhaps he's victim of abuse/he suffers PTSD", and later, they brush him off. This is kind of obvious for every continuity discussed here.

So why? I just don't get it. And that's why I find this is a problem. I just don't want to see the same old story again and again, with a character that is basically a punching bag on one hand and a baddie on the other. (Skybound comics aren't included here since it's an ongoing series by now). If the writers dared to write a redenmption arc for Megatron. Why not for Starscream?

(Special thanks to @sandalwood03, who edited my broken English into something nicer).

[dreamyyesenia]

Always Keep Simming - Protective rings, making Ambrosia & Ghostly Wohoo

Aileen crafted a moonstone ring and a cuff that protects from death!

Aileen prepared ambrosia for the first time! Should Lenore have it?

Guidry 💘 Lenore’s, for now, ghostly love

⬇️ Full Story below

The last preparations to finally confront Jenna Blackburn were made. Aileen wanted to make sure that Colin was as well protected as he could be. So, Colin had given his “Compendium on the Occults” to read, as Aileen was interested in crystals and their respective powers. She had been into gemstones and crafting jewellery since being a teenager. Back then, she hadn't considered studying, she had thought about opening a crystal shop in Windenburg... Jewellery crafting had helped her come out of a bad place, it had helped her turn her anger into something else, something beautiful and creative. She hadn't known about the real power of crystals though. That, she only discovered after Colin told her about his findings during his own research in the Realm of Magic. Crystal trees were placed everywhere around the Headquarters of the Realm of Magic - mainly to protect from intruders. As Aileen already finished the Crystal Collection, she had a lot to choose from to craft for Colin. She crafted two very special items: A moonstone ring, which would help with his spells and overcharging curses, and a cuff that would protect him from death. Colin and Aileen didn't tell anyone else about the power of these jewels though - as a precaution.

Aileen also managed to finish the Reaper's Quests and made Ambrosia herself, for the first time! She was very proud. The best part was, she had managed to keep some seeds of death flowers and she had more Angelfish than she needed. So, she could always make more Ambrosia, along the way. As she was preparing it, Lenore watched her and Aileen noticed that she was in a grim mood. "I didn't know you could revive sims!", Lenore remarked in a slightly accusatory tone. “Well, this is my first time making ambrosia. I have never revived a sim. I managed to plead for Colin's life to the Grim Reaper though", Aileen explained. She saw how Lenore was looking at the dish when it was finished. Thoughtful, confused, hungry. Hungry for what though? Life? She asked, tentatively: "Lenore, do you ever wish to come back to life?" Lenore was quiet for a long time. Before she could answer Aileen, Guidry entered the kitchen of the Manor. He greeted Lenore happily and they both started flirting immediately. Lenore was happy about the distraction. He then noticed the ambrosia dish on the table."You did it. You made ambrosia”, he exclaimed, looking at Aileen admiringly. Lenore asked Guidry, quietly: "Do you… want to you know… eat it?" Guidry sat motionless for a while. He then turned to Lenore and smiled slightly. "Only if there was a portion for you two. I wasn't planning on being corporal for our first kiss, anyway, darling", he murmured and bent over to place a soft kiss on a surprised Lenore's lips. Lenore needed a moment to process what was happening, but then she kissed him back eagerly. In between kisses, Lenore said to Aileen:”Maybe. I’ll think about it.” She then invited Guidry upstairs and they enjoyed sone private time. Aileen smiled to herself and packed the plate of ambrosia away, for now.

[tr4sh-hive-3]

i need HELP pLEASE (& thank you)

fuck fuck fuck fuCK fUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

i need help.

I am simply in shambles.

hi! my name’s pan, I’m 13, and I’m failing all my classes. Fuck! I’m so lonely. Everyone’s disappointed in me. I can’t do anything. I can’t do anything. Please help me.

I want to do something. I need to do something, anything. I can write. I can go full fucking Hamilton on this bitch. Like tomorrow won’t arrive, like I’m running out of time, like it’s going out of style, all that jazz. that’s my only skill, but fuck it’s pretty goddamn useful. I can do five (5) things; read, write, think, talk, and love. last one probably wouldn’t be super useful for college.

okay, I think I’ve calmed down a bit. hear me out. I will post something on tumblr everyday. everyday. cause if I can’t do something regularly that actually takes consistent memory and planning and commitment and all that fucking jazz I’m gonna start having suicidal daydreams again. even if it’s a stupid shitpost, I need————fucking something. This post has been in my drafts for, probably, some amount of weeks. I didn’t even finish that last sentence, “I need-“. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

Yeah, writing is not useful. Theoretically, it should be, right? I should be seducing teachers and colleges and all sorts of academics with essays, but I’m not. I’m not even that good at writing. Mama says I am but she’s fucking lying. She also says I’m beautiful and smart and hardworking. The only reason I don’t have suicidal fantasies is cause of my mama. I love my mama very much. But she’s a fucking liar.

I can’t write. (4).

The only thing I read is fanfiction. I’m just gonna be honest ‘bout that. I’ve read the first 5 chapters of Divergent and Jesus fucking Christ it’s boring as fuck. Hold on: reading test scores. I’m usually in the 99th percentile for reading comprehension/proficiency. And lemme tell you, every time I take one of those silly little tests, it does WONDERS for my ego. But I am unable to read regularly.

I can’t read. (3).

Pretty sure I have severe social anxiety. I’ve always thought I would be able to talk to and entertain and charm people easily. Because I can talk to myself. I’m always talking to myself in made-up scenarios. And I’m always charming and entertaining. It’s so annoying when I’m trying to socialize with actual humans and I keep stuttering and going quiet and covering my face in embarrassment. And at first I thought it wasn’t that bad. That I could make those annoying-ass mannerisms kinda cute, right? And I could lean into it and make “cute’n’shy” the selling point of my personality. I know that sounds super cringey. This whole post sounds super cringey. And my last post too. I’m so scared that everyone else thinks I’m cringey and annoying and obnoxious and too loud or too quiet and not worth talking to. Anyway, that selling point does not work. It just gives me more anxiety. And fuck if I know the impression it makes on anyone else.

I can’t talk (to other people). (2).

I think I might be cupioromantic. I’ve read about romance. I’ve heard it described as butterflies and ecstasy pills. Romantic, sexual attractions are supposed to be strong feelings. Or at least enjoyable ones. And heartbreak is supposed to feel physically painful. I’ve never felt any of those. I thought I was touch-starved, but there’s this guy that I don’t particularly like who says he has a crush on me and we cuddle at the bus stop and sure the cuddles are fine and I don’t mind his company but I am not attracted to him at all. For some reason, I thought cuddling with a tolerable person would be super nice? But it’s not. So now I’m kinda just doing it so he doesn’t feel rejected. Not that I’m leading him on! I’ve been very clear that I am very much not attracted to him. I guess we’re friends. He refers to me as his crush. I don’t like that. This love rant has gotten kind of off topic. Back on track; I keep having these fantasies with a nameless person in which I hold their hand, kiss their forehead, make them pancakes, sing them love songs, write them love letters, give them little romantic gifts, pet their hair till they fall asleep, etc. I’ve never actually felt that way about a real person. I might not ever feel that way about a real person. All this romance stuff is really confusing and annoying. I’ll just stick to platonic relationships for now. But I don’t have any friends. I really hope everyone’s indifferent towards me. It’s so much easier to be unknown than it is to be disliked. I’m not sure which one I am.

I can’t love. (1).

My grandfather patented a medical imaging thingamajig. He was pretty smart. He’s dead now. I’m actually typing this from one of his three phones that I inherited cause my old one got stolen. I always liked the bastard. My dad yelled at him a lot but he didn’t give a shit. He never got upset or offended or quiet or loud back when my dad was an ass to him. Maybe he wasn’t the best parent. His kids (my dad and tia) turned out to be some nasty pieces of work. Actually, just my dad. Tia’s fine—just kinda loopy and alcoholic. She’s really nice. Her husband’s an ass, though. And her son. I can’t really blame the son. His parents are a little subpar. I got off topic again. Sorry. It’s kinda late and I’ve been dreadfully sick these last few days. You’ve got an attention span of steel if you’ve made it this far. Sorry again, back on track:

Following the pattern of this text post, I am now going to prove my state of <no thoughts head empty>.

I overthink things. A lot. I think there’s something wrong with me. Or maybe I don’t. Maybe my thoughts are completely normal. Maybe this is what it’s like inside everyone’s head. But if I’m the same as everyone else, why is it that the average “everyone else” can function as a human being? I can’t function. I can barely brush my teeth everyday. Let alone exist bearably in a school setting. Grades are the only things that matter right now. And mine are shit. So I don’t matter. I can’t even force myself to try. All of it is so fucking boring. AND I’M OFF TOPIC. AGAIN. FUCKING CHRIST. MY GRADES? SHIT. GRADES DIRECTLY CORRELATE TO? INTELLIGENCE AND MANAGEMENT SKILLS. INTELLIGENCE AND MANAGEMENT SKILLS DIRECTLY CORRELATE TO? THINKING. ABILITY TO THINK. ABILITY TO BRAIN PROPERLY. BRAINING. BRAINING WELL. ZAPPING THE FUCKING BRAIN CELLS IN PROPER FUCKING ORDER. ALL THE BRAIN CELLS. FUCKING. BRAIN CELL ORGY. HOTEL? MOTHERFUCKING TRIVAGO.

Think? I cannot. Can’t think. I cannot think. (0).

Okay! That’s all five! I have zero (0) skills! Yay! Shit! I have provided evidence and reasoning. I’m so proud of myself. I’ve finally gotten to the end of this godforsaken text post. This bitch has been in the drafts for weeks. What was even the point of this? Is this what is feels like to finish something? To accomplish a task?

If you’re actually reading this, congratulations. You’re ready to kill god. If you haven’t already. You have the focus of a goddamn hawk.

I. Am. Going. To. Stop. Rambling

I. Am. Going. To. Post. Everyday.

(insert clever sign-off here)

[vic-does-battlecats]

Minor spoilers for the already revealed chapters of the next A Starless Clan book Wind

[cutearose]

going to my first meetup with a new book club tonight and I am NERVOUS!!! I want to make new local friends and be part of the community but its so scary 😳

[mushed-kid]

gonna sound dumb for a minute.

actually,,,, i dont think i want to do biology💀😭

[imaginarypasta]

i want to write this fairy-medieval romance au but my medieval romance knowledge extends to necrophilia and gay werewolves and just does not fit with the fairy aspect

[malachitezmeyka]

I always forget just how many love songs I have in my playlist until I’m having an ultra-love-repulsed day and have to try my best to contain my breakdown until I get home

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

Why do I never understand what is normal? What media is popular? what hobbies are considered weird? what normal people are interested in?

[risubisu]

i’ve not read a single book written by sylvia plath or jane austen and it is due time for that to change