#and i got the inspo to write

[arhvste]

“this is killing me.” kuroo mumbled as he tossed his phone to his side. “just trust me bro,” his best friend-turned roommate bokuto grinned. “this works everytime for me i swear!”

kuroo sighed before grabbing phone again to refresh his instagram story views once more. several people had already viewed the post-gym mirror selfie he’d taken in attempts to garner attention from one particular follower of his; you. “maybe it’s too cringe…” he muttered while over analysing the photo that had already gained a couple of likes within the twenty minutes it had already been up for. “nah.” bokuto reassured him and pat his friend on the shoulder. “you look sexy.” kuroo stared back at the two-toned haired boy. “… thanks bro.”

this isn’t something kuroo would typically post but times were tough and he was desperate. he’d seen you around campus but luck was not on his side when it came to scheduling and the two of you barely had class time together. yet the little class time you did share, kuroo hung onto it tightly and would let scenes of these weekly one hour classes replay in his head more often than he’d like to admit.

“i feel like a modern jay gatsby,” the ex volleyball captain huffed. “my selfie is the equivalent of the wild parties he’d throw in hopes to get daisy’s attention except i don’t want to post every night, i’ve already made myself cringe with this one post.” bokuto stared back at his friend blankly. “yeah… whatever that means.” kuroo frowned back “it’s a classic, you should know what i mean!”

how much longer was he going to have to wait? bokuto had promised him quick results with this method and so far he’d felt deceived and lied to. if talking to you when he got the chance wasn’t enough to get a conversation going outside the classroom, then social media seemed like the next best attempt to start interacting more.

what were you doing? why weren’t you viewing his story? could you even see his story? did he accidentally block you?

these questions ran through his mind as he quickly rushed to check to make sure he hadn’t for some reason blocked you from seeing his story. he half wished he did because then at least he’d know what on earth was taking you so damn long to see the photo he was increasingly starting to hate more the longer it was posted.

“this is stupid.” he stated as he faced bokuto who had zero concerns in his method in gaining someone’s attention. “it works you just have to wait, trust me.”

kuroo frowned as the little red hearts of others who weren’t you fluttered from the bottom corner of the photo. “look!” his best friend grinned as he leaned over kuroo’s shoulder and pointed to the screen of his phone. “you’re getting likes on it!”

“what’s the point if they’re not likes from the person i posted this for in the first place.” kuroo grumbled back in response. he couldn’t believe he’d been subjected to such an attempt to gain some attention from you. it was ridiculous.

it had been about forty five minutes since he’d posted it and he was slowly losing his mind. sure, the post was going to be up for twenty four hours (if he didn’t give into the voices in his head telling him to delete it) so forty five minutes was nothing, but the minutes were beginning to feel like hours and he was dying inside. why weren’t you viewing it already and what could possibly be keeping you off your phone right now?

“this is stupid.” he decided as notifications from his old team mates started to flash up on his screen. the last thing he needed was lev replying with ‘looksmaxing’ to a post that was secretly dedicated to you. “no, it’s barely been up!” bokuto whined. “you look hot so you should get some replies anyway what’s the big deal?”

pinching the bridge of his nose, kuroo huffed. “the big deal is the person i posted this for hasn’t replied!” what was the point in making sure to go to the gym during a rest day just to take this photo if he wasn’t going to at least make his existence more known to you? he’d even worked his legs enough to the point of managing to achieve the sweaty but sexy look. the muscles in his legs were dying, but his dignity sure as hell wouldn’t.

the college student opened up his phone with the intention to end the mental war inside his head once and for all by deleting the post altogether. bokuto watched his friend in defeat but his eyes flashed. “yes they did!” he yelled and pointed to the screen as your name flashed at the top of his screen.

kuroo’s heart jumped at the sight of your profile picture he’d made a daily routine of staring at and the now blue dot indicating a message from your profile in his inbox. to think he was going to delete this post just a second too, what were the chances?

psyching himself up, kuroo took a few quiet deep breathes before letting the time next to your message pass for a few minutes. he wasn’t an instagram warrior by any means, but he knew enough about general rules in order to not look desperate online.

bokuto watched over his friends shoulders as the two stared in anticipation awaiting the message kuroo had been dying for. this was it. leg day two times in a row was gruelling and he’d regret it for the next few days but it would have been worth it. the countless messages from his old teammates mocking his attempts at a thirst trap could be looked past now that you had finally given into the bait he’d so carefully laid. this is what he’d been waiting for. days of preparing and deciding how to gain your attention had finally paid off and he was about to reap the rewards he’d sown.

clicking the message with baited breath, his heart raced as bokuto’s grip of his shoulder tightened. finally.

‘the label on your shirt is sticking out, make sure to cut it’

“a wins a win.” bokuto filled the silence between the pair as kuroo stared at his phone with a blank expression. “… a wins a win…”

[merlinmylove]

Dragonlord reveal: The Darkest Hour rewrite

Bamf Merlin

The Prince Regent faces the Cailleach. “I am willing to pay whatever price is necessary” Arthur spoke, his voice steady with determination.

Merlin pushes him out of the way. “No. You will not”

“Merlin, stand down! This is not your time to play hero” Arthur pleads, trying to keep his wayward manservant at bay, desperate to keep the situation under his control.

But Merlin ignores him. He keeps his eyes focused on the Cailleach as he walks closer to the stone alter in front of the torn veil. “We know what price must be paid for the veil to close. A blood sacrifice”

“Indeed” The old crone smiled a wicked smile, “The witch killed her own sister upon the blessed alter, and tore open the veil between the worlds. A similar sacrifice must be paid to close it”

“Then I give my life to repair the damage my sister caused” Arthur tried yet again to step forwards, but once more Merlin interrupted him.

“A blood sacrifice, yes. You did not specify that a life must be taken. And I willingly give my blood”

“Merlin!” Arthur groaned indignantly as his servant ignored him.

The Cailleach moved closer to the pair, taking them in. Her eyes looked calculating as she observed their odd behaviour.

“And what would the blood of a servant be compared to the life of a prince?” she mocked. She knew of course that he was Emrys, she knew what powers he possessed. Perhaps she wondered how he would challenge her.

Merlin steadies himself, shoulders tighting and back straight, “I am the last dragonlord”

The Cailleach smiled.

“I am the son of Lord Balinor Ambrosius, third of his name, Duke of Elmet and descendant of the Fisher King.” Pausing for just a moment to gather his courage, he continued;

“I am the last of my kind, the last man in a lineage that predates the Roman Invasion. You ask what my blood is worth…Dragonsblood flows through my veins: the ancient creatures of the Old Religion, venerated and revered all over the world. My blood is that of dragons.”

Merlin could not keep his eyes off the torn veil in front of him. He could feel Arthur looking at him, probably distraught and angry, but he knew had to keep going. But then, In his peripheral vision, he could see Lancelot nearing the veil — no!

Merlin could not stand by and watch as another friend looses his life when he knew he could prevent their death. He is Emrys, magic incarnate, and the Cailleach knew it.

The magic inside him flared up. It’s not the first time he’s used his powers to speak change into existence. If he says his blood is worth the same as a life given willingly, then it is.

“A single drop of my blood is worth more than the life of a High Priestess.”

A moment to silence passed before the Cailleach nodded her head in acceptance.

«How brave, young dragon. So you do challenge me after all. Very well. But are you sure you’re willing to part with such a precious thing? You might save your Prince’s life tonight, but tomorrow when you return to Camelot he will demand that you burn at the stake for your powers”

Arthur’s breath hitched and he tried to lift a hand and reach Merlin. He ignored his hand as he raised his voice again.

“Then so be it”

Merlin kneeled down to get the dagger he always kept in his boot. Handy for all sorts of occasions; cutting herbs, whittling firewood, stopping assassins, and apparently, sacrificing his own blood.

Holding his hand up and over the alter he spoke “I willingly give my own blood to heal the veil that Morgana tore open. May the spirits find their rest and return to their rightful home”

The blade cut into his palm and he squeezed hard. A single drop of red fell down onto the alter already tainted with Morgauses’ blood.

A warm and soothing wind rushed through the Isle of the Blessed as the torn veil stitched itself back together. The silence that followed was deafening as the haunted screams of the spirits disappeared and the wind stopped howling.

A few moments passed before the Cailleach spoke. “It is done. The veil is closed, and the spirits will no longer torment the living. Your sacrifice was accepted by the gods and goddesses.”

Her eyes leered form under her hood

“But will it be accepted by your Prince? He is, after all, the son of the man who eradicated your entire family”

She disappeared into thin air before he could reply. Not that he knew what he would’ve said. Neither does he know what Arthur will say once he turns around.

But he knows what he will see.

The face of a man who’s been lied to for years. The betrayal and fear will be clear as day, and there is nothing he can do about it now. He made his choice, and now he must stand by it.

Merlin knows he ought to be executed or exiled simply for existing. All the knights surrounding him has sworn an oath to uphold the laws of their kingdom — and the law says he must die. They’re all expert killers, carrying swords and dressed in battlearmour. If they were not his friends, he would be petrified.

Merlin can only hope Arthur is kind enough to allow him a moment to say goodbye to Gaius and Gwen before he’s banished.

And perhaps Arthur had been right all those times he’s called him a coward. Because when he turns he does so without looking at Arthur or the knights, instead keeping his eyes on the stone floor at all times.

“We must hurry back. Camelot will be happy to see their Regent alive and well”

- - - - - - -

Read it on AO3 here

[radiance1]

Danny often felt tired, as of late.

He wasn't certain as to why he did, though. It happened after his, apparent, coronation as the Prince of the Infinite Realms and after finally getting a boyfriend out of that damsel in distress who made him into one.

Which was unfortunate, because though he may try, it was very hard to pay attention on dates when Danny felt he just came from using the Ecto-Skeleton and no amount of sleep would make it go away. Fortunately, however, Billy was very understanding and accommodating of his plight, letting him sleep on him whenever he wanted and having their dates be less mentally/physically demanding things.

Man, Danny loved his boyfriend.

Unfortunately, he was away on one of his Justice League mission things.

Another thing he noticed, is that he liked to sleep in more cold places now. Very, very cold places.

So much so, that he genuinely debated moving to the Far Frozen if not for his parents turning his room into a literal walk-in freezer for him.

Did he ever find out why he needs to sleep so much? No, not really. But man.

Danny could go down for a nap right now.

---

Pariah was having a good, very good day.

He woke up, stretched, ate some food he didn't actually need to, did some light exercises after aeons of not using his sword and just fighting in general and sat down for some tea.

Even had a letter from the Master of Time with a P.S that two humans would be busting down his door!

Wait what-

"Ghost King!" Came the rather loud, effeminate shout accompanying the loud slam of his castle doors. "Where is our son!"

Honestly, Pariah is impressed by the lungs on that human.

"You heard her!" He looked down calmly at the... Actually, what in the infinite is that? Since when did humans go walking around with cannons??? "Tell us where our son is our so help me! Ghost King or not we'll exorcise you right where you stand!"

Pariah blinked slowly, very, very slowly.

Then took a sip of his favorite ghost blend then calmly placed the cup back down.

"You must be the boy's, human, parents I presume?" He asked calmly, gaze sweeping over them both. They seemed to be prepared for war, a burning fire in their eyes as they stared down the very King of Infinity and saw only an obstacle.

Oooooh, how that made the part of him that longed, sung for battle purr in sheer delight.

"Why don't you join me for tea?" He said, waving a hand and conjuring forth two extra, human sized, chairs on the opposing end of his table alongside two more tea cups. "And explain whatever is going on, while you're at it."

The two shared a glance between each other, then slowly lowered their weapons down to a point where they could still draw them at a moment's notice, yet not actively antagonizing the king at the same time-

Oh, he just loves these types of mortals.

-before slowly making their way to their seats, which were right next to each other of course. Married and whatnot.

"Tea?" He flicked a finger, filling their cups with the same that was in his cup but before remembering. "Ah, right. Human and your mortality." He casually mentioned, flicking his finger and changing the liquid to one of the few mortal blends he could still recall. "Worry not, for they are not poisoned." He chuckled lightly.

Honestly, doing such a thing would be beneath him, especially when faced with mortals of such fire.

"Now," He brought his cup to his lips. "Why don't you inform me as to what, exactly, has brought you to my doorstep prepared for battle?"

They, once more, exchanged a glance between each other, making sure the king was still in sight before Maddie opened her lips.

"Our son is missing."

---

The summoning was a success.

A terrible, terrible success.

One that the Justice League, One John Constantine especially, had valiantly attempted to stop.

But, unfortunately, once it got going it seemed to be incapable of stopping.

Faced with an entity being summoned from the Infinite Realms, they had called all of the heroes who were capable that weren't occupied. Shazam, unfortunately, was one of said heroes occupied.

Superman and Wonderwoman? Were not. So, at the very least, they had two of their heaviest hitters available.

The circle glowed a toxic green, growing and growing in glow until it reached its zenith.

Then was snuffed out as brightly as it glowed.

The air stilled, followed by a chill that rivaled the chilliest of snowstorms as if they were standing within one that very moment.

The next moment?

Ice.

Pure, unflinching, jagged pillars of ice rose from the circle the same moment it glow returned. Sticking out from the circle haphazardly and nearly impaling those that stood too close.

Mist, thick, blue mist. Rolled from the pillars of ice, descending down onto the floor with a gentleness that was almost deceptive if not occupied by such cold and being completely and utterly unnatural as it was.

The Justice League readied themselves.

[imaginationblur]

How’s it hangin’ Sal?

Bunnie>>

[haechansunshineboy]

*:・ﾟ✧. *:・ﾟ✧.

*:・ﾟ✧. *:・ﾟ✧.

“The cute girl is back.” Haechan thinks to himself. He’d noticed you pass by the flower shop everyday during his shift on your walk over to…wherever it is you went to on the weekdays.

Sometimes you’d pause on your walk to admire the flowers on display outside and even bend down to smell them before leaving. Haechan liked these days in particular when you’d smile brightly at an arrangement. Sometimes it makes him wish he worked the morning shifts so it would be bouquets he arranged himself on display for you.

The chimes on the flower shop door jingle, interrupting Haechan’s work flow, shouting a quick “Be right there!” before adding the final touches to a pick up order.

He wipes his hands on his apron while heading over to the customer that walked in, praying they wouldn’t be too upset about the wait.

Haechan’s breath catches in his throat when you turn around, reflecting the sunshine when you beamed at him. His lips part almost in awe that it’s actually you inside the store looking at him, when he’s spent who knows how long daydreaming about this exact moment.

All those imaginary scenarios when he’d say something cool to impress you were now out the window as he froze in place at the reality.

In this exact moment, he felt like a sunflower, helpless to turn and stare at the bright sunlight you radiated as you offered your name.

“Haechan, nice to meet you,” he blurted out, remembering only now that he was working. “What can I help you with? He replies, hoping his customer service skills will just work on autopilot to save him from the humiliation.

“I was wondering if you could possibly make a bouquet with just yellow flowers?”

“Just yellow?” You nod in response, giving Haechan the go ahead to get started on your bouquet.

The flower shop is relatively small so you watch Haechan move around the shop, his hands delicately plucking out the prettiest flowers and resting them against his forearm.

You notice the thoughtful look on his face as he decides which flowers to add or omit from what he’s collected so far. He’s pretty cute? How come you’ve never noticed him before?

After wrapping up the assorted flowers with yellow film paper to add the final touch, Haechan brings the bouquet over to the register.

“Your total is $25 miss.” He reads the number off the machine. You nod and begin digging through your bag for your wallet.

This is Haechan’s last chance to get your attention in some way and he’s mentally scrambling, when a particular bucket of flowers catches his eye.

He moves away from the register to the bucket and delicately plucks one out. Shaking the water off the stem, he carries the solitary flower back to the desk, laying it next to the bouquet on the table. You’ve already tapped your card on the machine reader when you notice the new pretty flower.

“Um…for you..Miss.” Haechan’s not even sure what to say at this point. He’s definitely not supposed to be giving away flowers from work for free. He’s so going to get in trouble with his boss later.

“Oh! Sorry I already tapped. Should I put my card in again?” You automatically pull out your card again when he raises a hand, preventing you from paying again.

“No-no Miss, um, it’s a…a sale we’re having!”He’s stammering, not sure if you even believe him, he can already feel his face getting hot. “Yeah, uh buy a bouquet get a flower for free!”

“Oh! Um, thank you! It’s beautiful!”

The flower Haechan had picked out really was beautiful, and you couldn’t help but pick it up to admire it. Surprised at the kind gesture (and trying to tell yourself that him cutely telling you about the sale was just for promotion ONLY) you briefly scan yourself to see where you can put it. Haechan notices this as well.

“If you’ll allow me Miss.” Haechan opens his hand to take the flower back from you, resting his other hand flat over his chest. You chuckle and pass the flower to him, seeing his lips curl into a smile.

He takes a pair of scissors from inside the desk and trims the stem of the flower shorter. He admires the flower for a second before moving around the desk to approach you. You take in the height difference between you and Haechan when you realize he’s only inches away from you.

He’s so close to you now and you try not to flush at the thought of imagining him closing the distance.

Haechan sucked in a breath and carefully tucked the flower in your hair behind your ear. The tips of his finger brushed against your face as he pulled away.

“Beautiful.” Haechan muttered under his breath.

Your cheeks turn pink and you look down at the ground to hide your face. Haechan finally remembered where he was and takes a step back.

“If-if you need anything else, Miss…”

You blink back into reality, looking back up to see Haechan’s ears turning red. You shake your head and thank him again for the flowers before stepping out of the store. Haechan watches you go, running a hand through his hair.

He notices you looking outside at the signs for the sales, until it hits him:

There’s no sign out there saying anything about giving out a free flower.

“You fucking idiot.” He’d been caught in his lie and he face-palmed himself. “How could you forget the sales signs are outside?”

He turned away to seat himself behind the desk again and calm his racing heart.

If Haechan hadn’t turned around, he might have seen the smile bloom on your face as you gently touch the flower in your hair, before walking away.

Haechan thinks he’s screwed until the next day when he sees you wave at him on your walk over to wherever.

*:・ﾟ✧. *:・ﾟ✧.

[thesistersarcheron]

where we gonna go? i whisper in the dark, wherewegonnago? i think he knows...!

— the devil's in the details by miss_belivet

[cacaocheri]

guys who remember my fic (daydreamers). how would you feel if I rewrote it. would I be shot on site. would that be okay

[xhollowfaerie]

silverv drabbles #5

a/n: oof, this might be my favorite one so far. after witnessing a particularly bad memory, Johnny offers to teach V how to play guitar. also yes my V is kinda seeing Judy too but idk I also ship her so hard with Johnny so interpret that however you will, I love her with either or both <3 also pre-game Samurai fan corpo V is my new roman empire

warnings: traumatic childhood, depiction of physical abuse, abusive "parenting", hopefully Johnny isn't too ooc

- Black Dog. V’s eyes watered at the sight of the electric guitar in her new apartment, bringing the back of her hand up to her mouth as she bit back a grin.

“Gettin’ all emotional on me? Sweet, but you know we’d never work” Johnny lit up a cigarette, resting against the windowsill.

“Shut up, Johnny” she laughed through her wavering emotions, kneeling down to admire the instrument. Her long nails ran over the glossy finish, hesitantly plucking a string to relish the sound. The rockerboy watched her in amusement. She looked just like a little kid getting their favorite toy on Christmas Eve.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never touched a guitar before” he said in between drags, eyes glued to her.

“No” V breathed, lowering her gaze. “Wasn’t somethin’ I was allowed to touch.”

Victoria Lovett’s slaps always stung for days after. Valerie gasped in horror as her mother snapped her vinyl in half before angrily bursting into tears.

“The fuck did you do that for?!” she roared, her rebellion earning her another painful slap across the face before feeling her hair being viciously tugged upwards. 

“Who do you think you’re speaking to, Valerie? Address me like that one more time and see what happens. This time, we’ll make sure you don’t get any medical attention.”

Valerie sobbed, attempting to free her mother’s hold of her hair to no avail. She helplessly stood face to face with the vitriol across her mother’s still-youthful features, the various implants and surgeries to keep her looking in her late twenties at most.

“Don’t try to play the victim with me. I’ve told you how many times? Stop wasting time on this drivel, it’s simply not my fault you won’t listen to your own mother. You need to focus on the Academy and the Academy only-” “I have top grades in every class! Every professor has praised me to you! What more do you want?! I’m not even allowed to listen to the music I like?! I’ve done everything, everything to appease you, it’s never enough! I’m never enough! ”

Victoria glared towards the broken Samurai record on the floor before returning her attention to her daughter. “This noise? You call this anarchistic low-class propaganda filth music? You are the heir to a royal bloodline, Valerie Lovett! There is no higher insult for us or for the future of our family for you to betray us - to disrespect The Company like this.”

Valerie’s dark makeup ran down her face in trails of black, shaking in fear in her mother’s grip. She squeezed her eyes shut and whimpered before she was abruptly dropped, falling to her knees. She tried to back away, but her mother grabbed onto her face so ferociously, she thought her fingers would crush her jaw to dust. Fear instructed her to bite down hard into her tongue, still her trembling and silence her cries. It always riled them up even worse when she couldn’t stop crying.

“Perhaps we’ve been too lenient with you - I should’ve listened to your father and scrapped you. He was right, your genetics were flawed. I was soft because I’d always wanted a daughter.”

Her unloving hands moved down to Valerie’s throat; she lowered herself onto the floor under the weight, eyes wide in horror, feeling the oxygen cut off from her lungs with a wheeze.

“M-Mom, it- hurts-”“You will address me as Mother, Valerie, and you will watch your tongue with me from this day on, unless you truly want me to go ahead and remove it. Better yet, your father suggested a faceplate; you know your facial features are… less than desirable.”

Valerie couldn’t help the tears pouring down the sides of her face, lips trembling. This was it, she thought. This time, Victoria would really go through with it and kill her, like she always said she would. She closed her eyes, trying to conjure up the smallest spark of courage inside her, to accept her death with dignity. She’d been contemplating choosing her own way out over whatever nightmare of a future her parents had planned for her for a while now, anyway. Lyrics played in her head, offering her the tiniest hope of solace as she tried - to no avail - to block her mother's words out.

“I better not see this slut makeup or clothing on you again. I’ve told you time and time again; a woman must be elegant. You’ve tarnished our reputation enough. I do not need the whole corporate world seeing my daughter parade around like a harlot.”

“Black dog in my head, guiding me into the end…” Valerie found herself humming, sitting down on the couch as she gingerly cradled the guitar in her arms. Johnny blinked in confusion for a moment before realizing they were back in the present, rubbing his temples.

“Fuck, kid. I’m- I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

V gave him a sympathetic half-smile. “...thanks. Sorry you had to see that.” She didn’t correct him on her age this time. She was barely a few years younger than him when he died, but she’d almost gotten attached to the stupid nickname.

He felt the clutches of wrath crawling up throughout his whole body. That familiar feeling. Anger, helplessness. Or maybe that was V. Maybe both.

“I know nothin I say’ll make it any better. But I’d kill ‘em for you, in a heartbeat,” Johnny tried to steady his voice from wavering with anger, taking a few steps towards the couch before lowering down onto the floor. She nodded, wiping the dampness off her face with her sleeve. “I know.”

They sat in silence for a moment; her fingers explored the ins and outs of the guitar, getting used to its weight atop her frame, humming still.

“That your favourite one? Black Dog.”

V let out a small sigh. She wrapped her arms around it, snuggling it to her chest like a teddy bear, but carefully enough to not damage it in any way, bringing her knees up.

“One of.” Johnny shook his head. “Never told me you were into Samurai.” “I did, though. Remember? Oh my gosh!!! I can’t believe it! It’s The REAL Johnny Silverhand?! I’m gonna pass out! Can I get a backstage pass? Please, I’m your biggest fan! I’ll let you see my backstage…!  Please, Daddy, I promise I’m 18! Can I at least get your autograph on my tits? Swear I’ll never wash it off!”

He let out a loud groan and quickly pushed himself up to the couch, placing one arm on either side of her to tower above.

“Christ, shut up” he barked, drinking in her joyous giggle as she playfully tried to push him away. Their eyes caught onto each other and they both stilled for a moment, brown staring into blue with a feverish intensity that made her heart pause its rhythm. Fine, maybe she'd had the most miniscule crush on him when she was a teenager, a lifetime ago.

Her hands, forgotten atop his chest, idly ran over the silver chain of his dog tags. He successfully suppressed displaying the tingle that rushed down his spine.

“I could teach ya. If you want” he spoke in a low voice, motioning towards the guitar in her arms. She widened her eyes with excitement, heart hammering rapidly inside her ribcage.

“No kiddin’?” “No kiddin’. Might even get a jump start, assumin’ your fingers inherited my muscle memory.”

The tone in his voice was very suggestive - her face flushed at his statement, reaching one of her hands up to clasp his face and shove him off her. “Ew! Do you always have to be a fuckin’ weirdo? I’m tellin’ the media that Johnny Silverhand was a degenerate sicko!” He chuckled as he moved away, reaching to wrap his fingers around her wrist and pull it off from his face with a sly grin. “Think you’re about a half a century late on that one, choomba.”

She rolled her eyes, feeling a sense of loss as his touch departed from her hand, grazing the guitar with a loving gaze perhaps meant for something, someone else.

“I’d love that” she whispered in reply to his suggestion, prompting Johnny to walk around the corner and grab his own guitar. How did that even work? Ah, whatever, she didn’t fucking care anymore.

“First off; you gotta shorten those vixen claws. I’m sure Judy will live just fine without them shreddin’ her back.”

She flung a throw pillow off the couch at him with a gasp. “Ugh! Don’t tell me you watched?!” “Nah, got better things to do, but you’re definitely a scratcher. Maybe Judy’s onto somethin’” he smirked, adding “...woman after my own heart” in a hushed voice before the unexpected pillow hit him right in the face. “You little!-” 

V let out a squeal as he threw the pillow back at her, dodging in time for it to only hit her side. “Slow reflexes, old m-ahh!” 

He pulled her to his chest with one swift motion, her guitar separating them from being flushed up too closely against each other. She gave him the faintest glare, trying to withhold the blush from returning to her cheeks. “What?”

Johnny’s eyes bore into hers. V shivered, gulping. Wow. The rockerboy smoulder really worked, huh.

As if he’d heard her thoughts (shit, he definitely did), he burst into a chuckle, shaking his head before turning them around, standing behind her and tilting his head by the side of hers. He tentatively hovered his hands above her arms, asking for permission. She gave him a small nod, freezing when his fingers made contact with her skin; oh, as if it wasn’t embarrassing enough, she was sure he could feel her heart rate climbing higher.

“Relax” his gravelly voice brushed against her ear, making her eyes widen - yeah, not helping! - the distance between them shrinking as he wrapped his arms around hers, placing his hands atop V’s. “You’re holdin’ it wrong. Here.”

Without any smartass reply, V followed his lead, letting him adjust her hold of the guitar and position her fingers atop the strings. “You ever play anythin’ ‘fore?” She was thankful for his idle chitchat, helping her relax into his instructions. “Yeah, piano.” “Hm. Suits you. Know the basics, then?” “Wouldn’t mind a refresher…” Truthfully, having him so close still unnerved her, and music theory was the last thing on her mind. “Alright. You’re gonna need a pick.”

-

The Kabuki apartment was filled with laughter and the sweet strumming of guitar strings as they passed the night away in their little corner of Night City. He was right - she did get the gist surprisingly quickly, learning the riff for Black Dog before it got high time to hit the hay. He watched her tired figure on the couch, sweetly curled around the guitar. 

He softly ruffled her hair with a chuckle. “Startin’ to look like you might just be cut out to be my prodigy. I'll admit - I'm impressed!”

“Mmm… Johnny?”

“The man, the myth, the legend. At your service.”

“Promise me somethin'?”

“Man, why do chicks always say this to me? Is it my devilishly good looks? Wasn't exactly tryin’ to inspire husband material…”

“Promise… you'll stay?”

His smile faltered, eyes idly following the curve of her thighs, all the way to the peaceful expression on her face. 

‘Course I'll stay.

“Don't got much of a choice.”

She let out a small noise, making herself comfortable as her speech slurred, breathing softly.

“‘m scared… t’… sleep alone. Been so good… know you're there. Means… they can't… hurt me.”

“No. They can't. We'll flatline ‘em before they even think it.”

She scooted closer to him on the couch, allowing her head to rest on the side of his leg. He tensed for a moment before his muscles eased into her touch, ghosting the tips of his fingers over her arm with uncharacteristic tenderness before letting out a quiet chuckle, the corner of his lips tugging upward as he looked down at her.

“‘night night, V.”

I’ll stay until I fix this. ‘Til you can be free of me.

[shouyuus]

hi not a request but I want to know how you got to be such a good writer. Practice? Or maybe writing exercises? Did you fall inlove with writing? If so, when and how? Has it always been, i don’t know, a thing you like to do ever since you were a lil kid? Or were you inspired by other pieces and authors. (mind-boggling curiosity is driving me rn)

ASDLFKJSD thank you ?!?!?! so. this is a question that i sometimes got on my old blog as well, and i've always dithered on how to answer bc there's no like... magic potion, right. there's no secret sauce.

unfortunately (and super boringly), how you get "good" at writing is just... practice. just hours and hours and weeks and months and years of practice.

i've been writing almost every single day since i was about 10 years old. i'm 30 now so that's twenty years of practice -- neigh on SEVEN THOUSAND DAYS of practice. i also majored in comparative literature, so i paid like insane amounts of money to an higher education institution, for people who are objectively considered experts in this field, to teach me and help me and coach me. i can't discount at all how important that was in like getting my writing to the next level (i can name the specific professor and course in my freshman year that changed me as a writer like that's how deep of an impression it left on me)

that being said, you don't need to do all that to become a "good" writer. and i think that's the best thing about this craft is that anyone can decide to pick up a pen one day and #Nike Just Do It. (also, good is subjective and like blah blah blah all that stuff)

but if you want actual tangible things you can do to improve your writing, here's some things that have helped me:

read. read alot. read everything. think of your body like a car. you need to put oil in to run. you need energy in to put energy out. in the same way, you need to intake good writing to output good writing. ive always been a voracious reader, and for the longest time, even when i was actively writing fanfiction (both online and just for myself), i wouldn't read any other fanfics, i would only read published books, and published books either from authors that i know i like, OR published books that i've vetted (ie read the first few pages of and said okay, this is a style i like and a story that's interesting to me)

it's impossible not to be "inspired" when you take in a lot of good writing. so read. but don't limit yourself to just fiction or whatever. read narrative nonfiction -- some of the most moving stories and well-written things i've ever read are actually essays, or longform journalism stories -- try a bit of everything and see what you like, and make note of the things you like to read

then, dig a bit deeper. if there's a sentence you find particularly moving, take it apart, try to figure out why you like it. i rmbr in elementary school we did "sentence diagrams" and it seems strange but getting really technical with writing is a good thing! and i'm the kind of nerd that loves stuff like this so u__u. BUT BUT the point of this is -- once you figure out how a "good" sentence is structured, you can take that structure and plug your own words in! and voila! it's another good sentence!!!! kind of like a super nerdy advanced version of mad-libs LOL

i went thru a phase of my life where i thought it was super cool to memorize famous first sentences of novels LMFAO (yes. again. my parents should've KNOWN i had adhd as a child holy fuck) but i did that for a while and i think that also just... ingrained in me specific sentence structures and turns of phrase that have stuck with me to this day.

if you read a thing and you don't like it, try to pause and ask yourself why -- was it the pacing? the structure? the characterization? what about it was offputting? try to be a more active/critical reader.

COPYWRITING. okay OKAY so this is a thing that i discovered only.... a few years ago? i think? but its a writing exercise wherein writers will literally copy out word for word writing that they like from another author -- not to publish, mind you, but just for the FEEL of writing it themselves -- NOW. i know what ur thinking "what the fuck why" but think about it this way -- classical musicians spend their entire lives playing pieces written by other musicians. dancers learn dances from other choreographers -- even choreographers start by learning dances by other people right like. why should writing be any different?

this does a few things -- it makes you an "active" participant in the writing. don't knock it till you've tried it -- reading a sentence (even deeply) and having to write/type it out yourself are two totally and completely different things. the way you pay attention to pacing, cadence, punctuation, line breaks, shit that you don't even think about when you're reading, suddenly, you're paying attention to it bc you're the one typing each and every letter, every comma, every exclamation mark.

i have a whole separate folder in my notion just for copywork. for the days that i don't feel like actually writing anything, i'll pick one of my favorite books from my favorite authors, and pull it up on kindle, and just copy out a few paragraphs, sometimes an entire chapter. and you'd be surprised at how different you feel after!

read/listen to poetry. this is more of a personal thing for me but i love the cadence of poetry -- i love internal rhymes and spoken word, i love limerence and sibilance and alliteration. i love IAMBIC PENTAMETER GODDAMNIT. lmfao but like. alot of times, prose is more "forgiving" in a way -- you have more space, more words to do the thing. poetry is (i think) the essence -- especially metered poetry, or specific forms of poetry where you have to write within a super rigid set of rules -- and sometimes, i think that creativity flourishes the best under "stress" aka under a strict set of rules. the shit that people come up with in very strict poetry is INSANE and sometimes i copy those out too, over and over again, just to feel the words and the rhythm

read your favorites over and over again. i used to never re-read books, but as i got older and my tastes became pickier, i find myself going back to reread my favorite books over and over again -- and it's fascinating because every time i go back, i find something new to marvel at, a new aspect. and i think that's the lovely thing about media after it's been put out in the world -- you can consume it over and over and over again, and each time, because of the way your brain is wired, of your physical setting, your mindset, you'll notice sometime different.

if you want a list of my fav books/authors, i can def make one! or i'll just reblog the list i made on my prev blog but yeah! lemme know if that's of interest to you! and i think you'll find that if you read any of my fav authors, you'll see immediately how they've inspired me LOL

and FINALLY be kind to yourself! you do not have to be good at every hobby you choose. if writing is something that just gives you joy and you don't want to become 'better' at it??? then that's perfectly okay! also, there are TONS of different styles of writing -- and not all of them is for everyone! you might like super dialogue-heavy writing, some other ppl might prefer really rich prose! it varies by person, and you'll never please everyone. so the best you can do is just write the stuff that makes you happy and that makes you giggle (lord knows thats what i've been doing on this blog) and if you want to put it out into the world, then do! but if you wanna keep it just for yourself, then that's good too!

just because you don't put it out into the world, doesn't make you any less of a writer!

[mikakuna]

jason taking over the criminal underworld at age 19 when he should be curled up under a blanket writing a hurt/comfort fanfic with pinterest open on split screen while instrumental music blares in his headphones and some random sitcom plays on a second screen beside him, all while a scented candle burns on his bedside table and the ice in his drink clinks around the glass every time he takes a sip

he should also wear thick-rimmed glasses and smell like mangoes

[lewis-bob-rhett]

The most patriotic thing I’m doing tonight is watching Top Gun: Maverick so I can look at Lewis Pullman.

And then maybe watch Independence Day so I can look at the man who gave Lewis half his genes.

I mean LOOK AT THAT FACE. 🥹🥹🥹

The resemblance is uncanny. Bless. 🙏🏻

[sweetlittlenamjoon]

Hello! Can I ask for a skz channie headcannons for if he where to take care of a masc puppy regressor?

of course of course of course chan is such a dog dad youre so right 🙂‍↕️

chan is such a good mix of sweet and strict of a cg in my head

like of course he's always giving you so many pets

and calling you all the sweetest petnames

and bringing you little snacks

but he will absolutely not let you have any more cookies until you drink at least one glass of water

honestly taking care of you helps him take care of himself more too

bc how can he tell you to get good rest and eat properly when currently pulling an all nighter on an empty stomach

he loves a good game of chase

especially if you go to a park or something he always makes sure you don't feel silly going full zoomie mode

bc he WILL be sillier for your benefit

barks at you to make you giggle and bark back

very silly

also INCREDIBLE with tantrums and big feelings

always knows exactly what you need or what to say its like he's magic

(he has a list on his phone of things you have said help so he can remember)

(bc he's a lil sweetie like that)

his favourite petnames (out of the hundreds of made up ones) to call you are: pup, angel, sweetheart, and anything with 'my' (my angel, my cutie)

basically he's dog dad who makes sure you're always at your best so you can get the rest you deserve :)

[sukirichi]

PLEASE STOP COPYING FICS ‼️

I am by no means gatekeeping concepts or tropes. We all know that it’s normal to see the same tropes or AUs be used differently, and that is not plagiarism. However, I recently found a fic that was oddly similar to my old (and discontinued) Gojo x Reader series, Reckless. The CEO! Gojo is nothing new, and neither is an accidental pregnancy trope. The only reason I am concerned is because this Gojo series I found has the exact same themes as Reckless that consists of: a playboy CEO Gojo with a very notorious reputation, a poor reader who is an employee and asset to the company (someone who works closely with Gojo), reader getting knocked up from a one night stand with Gojo, reader with a seemingly dead/absent mother yet still in contact with her father, Gojo with a very traditional family who does not like reader, and Gojo with an ex he struggles to let go of - which are all elements of Reckless.

The first chapter of that Gojo fic is also eerily similar to my first chapter with the same flow of: YN finding out she’s pregnant and her friend being there for her, Gojo saying he’ll take responsibility because ‘they both made the baby’, YN having to move in with Gojo to take care of the baby, and both of them coming to a mutual agreement that their ‘relationship’ will be purely for the baby’s benefit. The flow of events and specific details about the characters’ backgrounds are too similar to mine.

Again, I am not gatekeeping concepts, just as how I’ve had other writers ask me if they could write their own stories or takes based off of the NAOYA’S TROPHY WIFE COLLECTION or the BONTEN HUSBANDS EXCLUSIVE, and I’m fine with that. I’m even happy people are inspired by what I write. But being inspired is completely different from taking someone’s story and posting it as yours. Please trust your own creativity and skills in writing. You can write amazing stories and have people love them without having to steal from others.

It’s sad to say this is not the first time I, and other writers, have been plagiarized. It’s even more upsetting to know that a friend of mine who has also written a Gojo series (that I’m sure you all know and dearly love) experiences the same issues with the same person. The fact that this is happening to many writers out there is disheartening. We work hard and pour a lot of love in the stories we create. None of us are getting paid for this, and we simply want to share our passions with others. So please, let us be kinder with one another and show love and support the right way. If you love a fic, you give feedback and rb/comment + show support to the writer. You don’t steal their ideas and play it off as your own because you liked it.

[baeshijima]

guys i miss him

[auradaparanormal]

Whilst explaining their evil plan through song to the captured caretaker(s), the Whumper rips the whumpee, broken-spirited and bruised, from their cell and forces them to dance with the Whumper, perhaps stepping on their feet, bending a limb too far, or bashing the whumpee's head into a wall as the caretaker(s) are/is forced to watch. Maybe the Whumpee has been taught this dance already, or they're dragged along on a whim and trying not to slip up in fear of punishment?

[karda]

watching stranger things for the first time since 2016 . yippee! yay! wahoo!