#firts time I write in present tense

[tangyyyy]

Bon, parce que je te connais et que tu vas me faire un truc ultra angst tu vas te faire pardonner avec du pure fluff avec cet autre prompt^^ , Fluff numéro 7 “wait, no, don’t take kissing away from me.”

Here it is !!!! :D

My second dads!elu one shot ! Many many thanks @juuuunaaaaoooo, you made me write again !

Guys, you can request any prompts anytime in my box, really… ;)

Anyway… I hope you’ll enjoy this one !

Worst parents ever

Lucas is in a hurry. The rain began to fall on the streets of Paris and the young man has no umbrella. Walking on Boulevard Barbès, Lucas tries to bury the baguette he just bought under his coat, nobody likes wet bread. A fast-moving car passes by him and, driving in a puddle of dirty water, splashes his jeans. “Damn…” he grumbles, fastening his pace a little more.

Night has fallen on Paris and the Christmas decorations shine brightly. Lucas has never been a great fan of the holiday season. Especially Christmas. The endless family dinners, the fake kindness and the crappy gifts of his old aunts? No thanks, not for him. Eliott, on the other hand, loves Christmas. Lucas remembers, nostalgic, of their very first Christmas together, many years ago. Offended to learn that Lucas didn’t like this great tradition, Eliott had done everything he could to make this evening unforgettable. Thanks to his many talents, both physical and artistic, he succeded, although Lucas has always refused to admit it. He smiles. After a busy day of work, he can’t wait to find his man and their daughter.

Éléonore, said Nour, is now two and a half, almost three. Lucas often looks at her and can’t repress a whiff of anxiety at the idea that she can grow up so fast. His thin blonde hair leaves place, for some months, to thick chestnut hair that Lucas and Eliott have the greatest difficulty to style. On his little nose, many small freckles have appeared. Only his big deep blue eyes like Lucas’ don’t seem to change. Now capable of the most spectacular acrobatics, she’s also a talkative little girl with an overflowing imagination, just like Eliott. Lucas is sure of this and can say, objectively, that their daughter is the most beautiful person in the world.

Going home every evening to his apartment that he loves so much, coming back to his lover and his daughter… He was so happy! Once in front of the big massive wood door, Lucas pushes it and come inside. Automatically, he puts his keys in the small box placed on the entrance furniture, takes off his shoes, leaves his soaked coat that hangs on the coat rack and walks in the narrow corridor, the baguette unscathed by any trace of rain in his hand. A smell of tomatoes, thyme and rosemary tickles his nostrils. Tomato in the middle of December? Lucas knows that Eliott can be very creative in kitchen but making such an affront to seasonal vegetables? No it’s not in his habits…

Lucas finds Eliott in the kitchen, busy over the sink, washing a green salad. Looking around him, Lucas doesn’t see Éléonore. No doubt she must be playing alone in her room with her many toys as it happens to her more and more often…

“It smells good.” Lucas say, smiling.

Eliott, who didn’t hear his manwalking behind his back, jumps and put a hand on his pounding heart.

"Damn Lucas, you scared me…”

Lucas laughs and puts a little kiss on Eliott’s cheek before placing the baguette on the worktop.

“What are you doing?” He asks, curiously, as he sits on one of the high bar stools near the sink.

"I had no idea so I warm a jar of ratatouille.” Eliott replies by refocusing on the salad.

“Mmmh… good idea!”

Last summer Lucas’ mother had gave them several jars of fresh ratatouille, telling them that during the cold and long winter months, they could at least have some sun in their plates. Smelling the scent of Mediterranean vegetables bursting with sun and olive oil, Lucas licks his lips in advance. Éléonore, too, loves the ratatouille of her grandmother. She, who, however, begins to sulk the vegetables for a few weeks, makes an exception for the famous Mamie Marie’s Ratatouille.

“You had a good day?” Lucas asks, absently looking at Eliott bustling around the salad.

"Meeting, meeting, meeting and… Meeting! We’re on a new project. It’s going to be great but it’s hyper ambitious so there’s a thousand things to see upstream of the real…

-Oh ok, cool.” Visibly immersed in his own mind, Lucas now stares at a tiny gnat drowning in the sink full of water.

"And yours?

-Yes, yes, it’s been okay…” He answers absentmindly, staring at the gnat.

Silence falls in the kitchen. Drops of water come to the windows and the wind rises almost conceals the noises of the Parisian traffic. Only Eliott continues to work on the preparation of the meal, Lucas remains motionless near the sink.

Finally, Lucas frowns and redirects his focus to Eliott, now busy taking out the plates and cutlery of the small wooden furniture on his right.

“It means that you’ll spend a lot of time with Amélie…

-Well yes, she’s the pre-real workload so yeah indeed, I’m going to work a lot with her. Why?

-Just to know…” Lucas scowls, crosses his arms against his chest and forces himself to think of something else.

Knowing very well why Lucas asks such a question, Eliott bites his cheek, forcing himself not to smirk. Nevertheless he’s not decided to let such an opportunity to make fun of his lover. For years Eliott has been working with Amelie, Lucas has always been jealous of the young woman. It’s true that Amelie is an attractive woman who has never tried to hide, in the past, the attraction she felt and still feels for Eliott. But he’s always very clear with her. Although Eliott can’t be more faithful to Lucas, the young man can’t help but worry. Diyng of jealousy to know that Eliott is gonna spend most of his time with this very beautiful and clever artist, Lucas can’t think straight anymore.

Eliott, pretending to clean the sink a little more, discreetly walked to Lucas.

"Besides… Speaking of Amélie… Today she showed us the new shoes she bought, really high heels, Louboutin. Wow, it makes her legs beautiful, you should see that… Aoutch!”

Lucas just kicked him.

“Stop it already!”

Eliott now laughs openly.

“Stop what?!

-I don’t fucking care about Amélie’s legs!

-You should, she’s beautiful! And then her little dress…

-For fuck’s sake!”

Raging and crimson cheeks of shame, Lucas punches Eliott’s shoulder. The latter, far from being offended, laughs again and walked closer.

“You know I don’t like that girl and you play with it!” Lucas complains, folding his arms back and lowering his head sulkily.

"Sorry, sorry… I can’t help it!” Eliott say, wiping a small tear of laughter at the corner of his eye.

He tries to take him in his arms but Lucas is struggling.

"You’re just a fucking sadist!”

Eliott laughs again and finally settles down. He puts a soft, gentle hand on Lucas’ cheek, encouraging him to look up at him.

“I’m sorry, but… I can’t believe you’re still so jealous. Even after more than ten years, the house, Nour, all that…

-Yeah I know it’s ridiculous… ” Lucas breathes, biting his lip.

“No it’s not ridiculous, it’s… quite flattering actually.” Eliott smiles. "But once again… You’re the only one who counts, you know it.”

Lucas smiles as well, sighs and relax his muscles. His hands rest on Eliott’s hips.

“I know…

-And then you have nothing to envy to Amélie.

-Really?

-Really.”

Lucas, still sitting on the bar stool, legs apart to accommodate Eliott closer to his body, raises his eyebrows.

“She’s one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen though.

"Yeah well…” Says Eliott unconvincingly. “Allow me anyway to put your tastes about women in question.” As Lucas prepares to retort, his man keeps talking. "She’s too tall… My type is smaller people…” He finished with a mocking smile.

"I’m not that small!” Lucas complains.

"Who tells you that you’re my type?

-You jerk!”

As Lucas begins to slap Eliott’s abs with his fists, he grabs his face with his hands and puts his lips on his.

“I love you Lucas…” he whispers between two kisses.

“I love you too, bastard…” Lucas answers.

The two men kiss each other. Eliott’s hands are set in Lucas’ neck. The latter grabs the bottom of his husband’s tee-shirt and strokes his bare stomach. Their tongues touch and play together. Eliott’s hands move up in his hair pulling them slightly. Lucas scratches his thin skin lightly, stroking his belly button and his ribs. Deep in his throat, Eliott lets out a small sigh of ease, without getting away from the mouth of Lucas. It’s the latter, at this sound, which moves away slightly, he licks his red and swollen lips, he rests his hands on his knees. Eliott frowns and looks sulky.

“Wait, no, don’t take kissing away from me.” He says, trying to take him back to him.

Lucas smiles. Yes, of course, he would love to keep kissing him, but at the same moment, a whole other preoccupation is coming to his mind.

"If we don’t stop right now, I’m not sure I could control myself for a long time…”

Eliott cuts him off by sticking his pelvis to his.

“I like that…” He moans close to his ear.

“I think it’s more reasonable to wait for Nour to be sleeping Babe…” Lucas smiles again, not finding the strength to walk away.

Hearing his daughter’s name, Eliott sighs, puts his forearms on Lucas’ shoulders and displays a look of deep reflection.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right…” He admits in a half smile. “It would be a shame to traumatise her for the rest of her life… By the way, where is she? That’s it, it’s teenage time? She doesn’t even want to come and kiss her father after a hard day at the childcare centre?” Eliott asks, glancing down the corridor to the bedrooms.

Lucas raises his eyebrows, losing his bright smile. He moves a little further and looks Eliott straight in the eyes.

"You’re joking right?” He asks his husband.

Eliott, not understanding what Lucas means, rising in turn a mocking eyebrow.

"Yes, Lu’, it’s a joke. I don’t seriously think that our two-and-a-half year old girl is already in her teens…

-No, I mean… She’s playing in her room right?

-Well yeah, I guess.

-Eliott…”

The two men look at each other, the same expression scandalised on their two faces. The situation seems to clear suddenly for one as for the other.

“Did you get her at the childcare center when you went out of work?” Lucas asks.

"No! It was you who were supposed to pick her up on the way back! You didn’t do it?

-No I didn’t!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” Understanding that their daughter is not at home as expected, Eliott rushes to the other end of the living room, to his phone that he had put there an hour or two ago.

“6 missed calls from the center!” He shouts, panicked.

"They tried to call me too!” Lucas answers from the small entrance where he went to get his coat in which he had buried his own phone.

Pacing up and down in the living room, the phone sticked to his ear, Eliott calls back the childcare center. Lucas joins him, collapses on one of the chairs, takes his head in his hands, nerves alive, succumbing to the stress of such a situation.

"Hello… Yes, I’m Éléonore’s father.” Eliott introduces himself, his worried eyes staring into Lucas’ anxious ones. "I’m really sorry, there was a misunderstanding and… Yes, yes, very well, thank you. Sorry again, we… We just… I know… Yes… We’re coming right now, sorry, we’ll be there in five-ten minutes.”

Coming out of the house with Eliott, Lucas doesn’t mind the rain anymore. In a big hurry, the two men walked fast to the childcare center.

“Fuck! We spoke about it yesterday! It was you who had to go and catch her!” Lucas yells, already out of breath.

"No no no! It was you who was supposed to come home with her!

-But that makes no sense! It’s you who came home first!

-Yes but the center is on your way, not mine!”

The two men remains silent, each convinced to be right.

After a little while, Lucas lowers his head and burries his hands in his coat.

“Damn… We’re the worst parents ever…” he said in a sad and shameful tone.

“Don’t say that.” Eliott answers without looking at him or slowing down.

"But we’re not even fucking able to decide properly who’s supposed to care about our daughter at the childcare cen…”

-Shut up!“

Lucas is guilt-ridden. Honestly and in theory, he knows very well that he overreacts. Éléonore is perfectly safe at the childcare center, they’re only late for an hour and then mistakes can happen from time to time… But he can’t help himself. How could they forget their own daughter? Worse still, how did they do to not realise earlier that the little girl wasn’t in the house? And if she hadn’t been to the childcare center, what if a stranger had come to get her? What if, what if … Before Éléonore came into his world, Lucas was the first to make fun of all those parents feeling guilty for the slightest mistake about their offspring. And now, he and Eliott find themselves in the same situation… What a joke!

Eliott pushes the door of the childcare center and introduces himself to one of the childcare worker at the entrance. On his heels, Lucas sees Éléonore playing quietly alone with small wooden cubes. Not caring a lot about the worker, he breaks off quickly, takes off his shoes and rushes alongside the little girl on the playthings. He crouches down and takes her in his arms.

"Oh sorry… Sorry babygirl…” He holds her tight and kisses her hair. “We’re here.”

Obviously the little girl doesn’t seem to have realised that her two dads had forgotten to pick her up. Lucas puts his hands under her armpits, places her against his chest and keeps her close to him while standing up. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Letting herself be carried into the entrance, the little girl sees Eliott in great discussion with the childcare worker. Visibly surprised to see that her both of her dads have exceptionally come to get her, Eleanor made a funny face.

“Papa?

-Yes, see? We came both! We really wanted to see you!”

Lucas stops near Eliott. The latter turns to his husband and daughter, smiles and lays a kiss on the little girl’s round cheek.

“Hi you. How are you?

-Good!

-What did you do today?

-I did the painting!” The girl answers playfully, proudly showing her two little hands on which there are still some traces of red paint.

Lucas turns to the woman.

“We’re really sorry, I don’t even understand what happened…

-Oh do not worry too much! As I said to your husband, this can happen to everyone.

-No but really, sorry…

-Listen, you’re not the first to whom it happens and you wont be the last, believe my long experience.”

Lucas smiles at her sheepishly, absently stroking his daughter’s hair.

“And then…” Keeps saying the woman. “It’s a pretty good thing!”

At these words, the two men raise their eyebrows.

“It means that your world doesn’t revolve around Éléonore only. That’s a good thing! She needs to see that everything is not just working for her only, that she’s not the center of the whole world, especially at that age. There are times when we don’t necessarily think about our children, it’s pretty healthy actually.”

Lucas bites his cheek, thinking back to what they were just doing to forget their own daughter. Seeking to hide his embarrassment, he drops the little girl on the ground so that she can get her shoes in the small lockers near the entrance. Eliott bends down and helps her to put on her shoes.

Seeing two other pairs of shoes in the lockers, Lucas looks up at the woman.

“There are still children?

-We don’t close until late, around 9:30 pm, for parents who have atypical schedules.”

Lucas nods before putting on his own shoes.

Once Éléonore has put on her thick coat, Eliott takes her in his arms. The little girl frowns and tries to struggle.

“Nooo! I want to walk!!” She gasped. Eliott doesn’t let her go and shakes his head.

"Sorry kitten but it’s raining a lot and…” He glances at Lucas. The latter shrugs. “And as we left the house quickly, we forgot to take an umbrella so we will walk very quickly to not get wet.”

Lucas bites his cheek again. They didn’t even think of sheltering their daughter from the rain… really, they fucked up everything today! The shrill voice of the little girl draws him from his dark thoughts.

“Will you run?” She asks Eliott. Éléonore loves when Eliott carries her on his back while running at full speed, it’s even one of her favourite activities. His father laughs.

"Of course! Everything you want tonight Mademoiselle Lallemant.” He replies, kissing her forehead.

His coat on, Lucas turns to the woman, standing there, watching them tenderly.

"Well… We’ll go now. Thank you very much and sorry again for all that.

-Do not worry, not a big problem, really. Next time make sure to keep your phones with you.” She answers with a smile.

"It wont happen again.” Lucas adds, shaking her hand. "Nour, you say goodbye?

-Goodbye!” Nour yells, still in Eliott’s arms, waving her hand to the woman.

"See you tomorrow sweethart.” She greets her back, giving her a small wink.

On the way back, Lucas looks in front of him, Eliott running in the rain, holding Éléonore firmly in his arms. The little girl laughs loudly. Lucas could never get tired of this laugh for sure.

Back home, while Eliott kneels in the small entrance, helping their daughter to get rid of her coat and shoes, a burning smell suddenly rises to Lucas’ nostril.

"Oh fuck!” He rushes into the kitchen. In the saucepan, the ratatouille is totally burnt and lets escape a blackish smoke. With a quick gesture, he grabs the pan and puts it in the sink before running the water.

"Damn fucking shit… That must be a fucking joke…” Lucas takes his head in his hands. “We make everything mess!” He slaps his forehead with the palm of one of his hands.

He feels so guilty to not being able to do anything right. He would like to be that perfect, caring, organised father, but deep down, tonight, he still feels like a teenager who has trouble growing up. He knows it’s fleeting, he’s aware that most of the time things don’t go so bad but… Tonight is too much…

On his back, he feels Eliott taking him in his arms. The man puts his hands on his stomach, puts his head on his shoulder and hugs him, his chest stucked to Lucas’ back.

"It’s okay…” he whispers in his ear.

“But Eli, look, we’re fucking pathetic…” Lucas complains, thinking back to the forgetting of their own daughter and their house full of an unpleasant burning smell. He begins to run out of air and feels his belly knot. Eliott moves slightly away to give him room to turn around.

“Hey, hey, calm down, Lucas… look at me. Look at me…”

Lucas turns around and stares into the calm and reassuring eyes of his man.

“Nour’s perfectly fine, she’s here, with us. And about the ratatouille… It doesn’t matter at all. It’s nothing… ” He told him confidently. Lucas nods, soothed by the sound of Eliott’s voice.

“What are we eating then?” He asks in a weak voice.

Eliott frowns and thinks.

“Hmmm… we can order a pizza!” Leaving Lucas’ eyes, he turns towards the living room in the direction of Éléonore, who is busy telling the contents of her day to one of her stuffed toys, sitting on the ground at the foot of the Christmas tree. "Nour… Do you like pizza?”

The little girl raises her big blue eyes towards her father. She doesn’t answer anything, obviously not understanding what Eliott is asking to her.

“Pizza… You know, the round good thing with other stuff on it…”

The little girl frowns before refocusing on her stuffed toy. Obviously what her father tells her, not only does she not understand it but she doesn’t really care about it either.

“Oh my God…” Eliott blows tragically, a hint of indignation in his voice.

“What?” Lucas asks.

"Our own daughter has never tasted pizza in her whole life…” He says, eyes round, slowly turning to his husband.

“Well… Uh yeah… Maybe not with us but wi…

-That’s the real shame, Lucas! What unworthy fathers we are!” He exclaims in a perfect dramaqueen’s impersonation. "We have to fix this right now!” He adds, grabbing his phone to call their favourite pizzeria.

A smile on his lips, Lucas looks at him, his own blue eyes filled with unspeakable tenderness.

A little later in the evening, Eliott and Lucas are settled in the couch. Éléonore is sitting between them. Just out of the bath, her hair is still wet and her skin smells like baby soap. In her hand, she holds a small slice of pizza she carries to her mouth, already smeared with tomato sauce. Her two dads watch her eatting with appetite.

"So? You like pizza?” Lucas asks her smiling.

The little girl just nods, too busy eating her new favourite dish to answer properly to her own father.

Lucas sighs of ease, keeps smiling and lets himself go against the back of the couch, a hand resting on his daughter’s back. He looks at the ceiling thoughtfully. Eliott prefers not to waste time and takes a large slice of pizza.

"You know what?”

Eliott turns to him, traces of tomato sauce at the corners of his mouth, just like their daughter. At this sight, Lucas laughs.

"I think we’re not so bad fathers…” Lucas says.

“Of course we’re not.” Eliott replies.

“We forget our daughter at the childcare center, we almost burn our kitchen, we don’t eat at the table but on the couch by putting crumbs everywhere but…” He pauses, watching Éléonore and Eliott. “We’re happy like that.��� He finished with a smile.

"And that’s what counts.” Adds Eliott, his mouth full of pizza.

"Yeah, that’s what counts…”.

[acnara]

first line tag meme

tagged by @alysae bc she either likes my writing (????? how????) or is calling me out... hmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Rules: List the firts lines of your last 20 stories (or however many you have altogether) See if there are any patterns. Then, tagg your favourite authors. Alys why tf did u tag me I only write Aus I´m crying I don´t quilify as a fave author

Y´all ready for all the fandoms I once planned to ruin?

Home (Harrymort)

     Her hair was dark, dark charcoal and she looked so small Harry was sure she would have fit in the cupboard under the stairs.  

 She looks so small compared to the huge coffin In which lay the red eyes that used to haunt him under those stairs, too.

For Voldemort and Valour (Harrymort)

“We need to wait,” Snape had told him. “Wait until no one will notice us leaving.”

That had been days ago. Scorpius trusted Snape, of course. This might be another reality --a bizarre, terrible, scary one—but Snape was a war hero, after all. He remembered how Snape’s eyes had gone wild when Scorpius had told him about Albus’ grandmother, Lily, and had begged him to help him restore the future.

Snape had looked at him like he was hope, and had asked him to wait until he could warn the others, until he could make a plan.

And six seconds (Harrymort)

Harry’s soulmate clock peaked out from under the sleeve of his uniform when he raised his hand to rub his eyes.

It was late and he was tired, but profesor Snape had decided to ask for a full detailed inform about vampires that was due the next morning. Dumbledore had been reducing Harry’s free time more and more each month since the beginning of the year. Now his mornings where filled with classes, his afternoons with the headmaster and his pensieve, his nights with homework and his early mornings with the occasional torture vision courtesy of the Dark Lord.

Sometimes his life sounded utterly ridiculous.

In dark suspension (Harrymort)

Ginny couldn't remember the first time she told Tom about Harry Potter, but she remembered how much he used to dislike when she talked about him.

"Tell me about you Ginny, not him. I want to know more about you"

"I'm not that special, Tom. I talk about myself all the time. And I really need help with Harry... I'm sure he thinks I'm weird. I can't even talk properly when he is around!"

Ginny would not be able to point out the first thing he told Tom about Harry, but she would never forget the way the diary had suddenly become quiet for days after she told him why Harry was famous.

She would never be able to forget the sudden interest Tom took in what he used to call Harry-centered conversations.

Take it on (Harrymort) 

“AND THE BOY WHO LIVED DID IT AGAIN, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!”

The thunderous voice of the commentator was what took Harry out of his concentration state. As the adrenaline started to leave his body he felt his breathing slowing down and his heart starting to beat faster and faster as he looked up, slowly, and took his helmet off. The crowd went crazy, and Harry couldn’t help but smile, bright and proud and more than a bit smug. He had just won the world motocross competition. Again.

A dead man´s tale (Harrymort) 

Harry was angry. No, more than angry. He huffed, his breath leaving his lips in a cloud of white smoke when it came in contact with the cold winter air as he entered the big old doors of Hogwarts, still a bit dizzy from the apparition. Transportation spells had never been his thing, and apparently not amount of practice would ever change that.

The harrymort fuck the timeline one I wrote after going to a Monet exposition bc I´m a museum sucker. Also lol with only he first lines this sounds so not like the fic it actually is (Harrymort) 

Of course Hermione had heard about the exposition. There was no way she would let a one-time opportunity like this pass by. Ron had assured him this would be the last time he asked Harry to go with them to an art exposition. ´Only this time, please mate. I swear I won´t bother you again for five- no six! Six weeks!´ Those had been Ron´s exact words. And Harry, loving friend he was, had let himslef be persuaded into accompaning his bets friends on their cultural date.

The Voldemort won Au I wrote after reading that Merhur Au based on The Selection even though i have never read those books myself but #YOLO (Harrymort) 

Draco was not crying. Or shaking. And he definetly was not having trouble breathing. The paper lying on the table between his father and him was harmless, and it wasn´t like he hadn´t been expecting something like this to happen.

He just had to sign. Accept. So what if his heart was seconds for brusting out of his chest or if his palms were sweating? That ment nothing.

To the Drak Lord -his godfather- surely didn´t.

The Love potion AU I started to write for @bigjellymonster that grew 8 pages long in one night (two scenes bc I can´t shut up) so I got overwhelmed and stopped (Harrymort)

“Do you want some tea?”

Harry teared his eyes away from the window when Mr Lovegood entered the room again, the tea pot already in his hands.

“I think we will just wait for Lun-”

“Oh sure! I´ve missed tea!”. Hermione send a a deadly glare at Ron but he was too focused on the boiling pot their host carried in his hands to care. He made room for the bloody lovely tea as he called it, and offerd himself to go get some cups. Mr Lovegood smiled at him but his smile, just like the rest of his actions and words since the three of them had set a foot in his house, was tense.

The strange magic AU alys and I did bc yes i wrote 4 pages of that too (Harrymort)

This is a story about two kingdoms. Side by side, but worlds apart. All along the bordermagical flowers grew: primroses bloomed between light ans shadow. They are used to make love potions...

Because, after all, everybody deserves to be loved.

Untiled Aledrian with one sided Tifón/Adrian|Andras

De todos los habitantes de Rocavarancolia a los que Tifón, ahora Señor de los Asesinos, había soñado con matar, descuartizar y dejar pudrirse al sol, el protagonista indiscutible de la mayoría de sus fantasías era sin duda Andras Sula.

As days go by (the night´s on fire) (Aledrian)

La era de los reyes arácnidos fue magnífica. También terrible, cruel y oscua, si. Pero gloriosa.

De ello podía dar fé la estatua del torreón de Margalar.

Sueños (Aledrian)

- Es una decisón probablemente permanente, ¿no?

La pregunta calló sobre los presentes como una losa de silencio. Marina notó a Héctor tensarse a su lado y le rozó la mano con las puntas de los dedos.

No te preocupes, esto ya lo he soñado.

Poesía eres tu (AKA the Bécquer is a gay ghost and falls in love with a human boy who reads his poems thing I wrote at 16. AKA how I managed to make my Catholic High School literature teacher publish and share my gay ghost historical fiction both in his personal blog and to the rest of my teachers. And asked my classmates to read. everyone read the gay.

Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer sabía una cosa o dos sobre fantasmas. ¿Cómo? Preguntareís. Bueno, esa es una pegunta secilla: porque llevaba muchos, muchos años siendo uno.

The labrythin Au I tired to write to introduce myself into writing horror

Brooklyn solía decir que solo existían tres dias en todo el año: los dias fantásticos, los dias aburridos, y los dias odiosos.

Bien. Pues ese, era un dia odioso.

Pesadilla (Magnus Bane´s conception basically)

A veces la gente se pregunta se pregunta a que huele el infierno.

Muchos piensan que debe oler a quemado y azufre; esos olores que son difíciles de soportar y hacen que tu garganta se cierre y tus ojos lloren. A esos olores que se te meten por la nariz y la boca llenando cada espacio libre con su esencia. A esos olores que martillean tu cabeza hasta hacerte gritar por un poci de aire puro...

El joven matrimonio no olió nada cuando aquel demonio a pareció en su puerta.

So that´s it! I know these are not 20 but one thing you might want to know about me is that I always plot before I write. So when talking WIPs I have the plot written down and scenes but usually never the first scene. And then I have originial stuff but all that is in spanish and I think I have tortured y´all enough...