#give up writing and editing and all that

[skyyguy]

.

[cherrywhite]

Okay some of these I had written down before chapter 43 but I finally found the time to sit down and make a bingo sheet for the last few episodes. Ranging from Legitimate Predictions to Things I Want to Happen to You Know What? Sure 🤠

Template if anyone wants to make one of their own:

[littlespidermonkey]

I think in the universe where the Cullens aren't in Forks, Bella Swan takes a while to come out of her shell, but when she does, she's witty and passionate and smart as a whip, even if she's still quiet and reserved. She sits with Jessica Stanley, who demands the best of everyone, and tells her friends about her boyfriend down on the rez, who is sweet and caring and funny and good with his hands, who works for everything he's ever had.

After class, during a sleepover, Bella whispers to tell Angie and Jess about the night after prom, even though her father, loving and careless, worries about her only a normal amount and loves Jacob Black like his own. When she gets into Dartmouth--all by herself, through study sessions in garages and with Jessica and in Angela's house--she chooses to go to Stanford instead. She misses the heat and light on her skin, even after falling in love with the rain. Jessica comes with her; Angela and Eric go to U of Washington in Seattle instead, for education and journalism respectively.

Bella makes sure to call every week and then one day she drives down to Seattle and her boyfriend, warm like the sun she loves and at least twice as reliable, becomes her fiancé. The ring isn't especially big or ornate or pricey, but the way she smiles could trick anyone into thinking that it was. All of her friends, new and old, are waiting at the small party afterwards, and Bella laughs the entire time. The engagement cake--chocolate, her favourite--is sweet and moist against her tongue.

She moves back to Forks once she gets her masters in information sciences and becomes the town's librarian. She gets married a month before the move, barefoot in the surf and her old prom dress, both her parents weeping with joy and Billy Black beaming damn near as bright as his son, Sue Clearwater holding his hand.

She raises her kids --both beautiful children, blessed with Jake's thick, long hair--with Angela and Eric's and takes them down to Los Angeles to visit their auntie Jess and her husband Quil, who lavishes them with gifts from her career as a top surgeon. She jokes about having to support Quil's career as an environmental lawyer and displays each and every one of his wins alongside her diplomas. When William Black II decides he wants to be a doctor too, she writes him a shining letter of recommendation to her alma mater. Sarah, who has always been the spitting image of her father, joins and eventually takes over Jacob's mechanic shop.

On occasion, Bella fights with Jacob, even though he's the love of her life. Despite this, she is never afraid of him, and he never stops her from doing what she wants. Instead, he goes out and works on his cars and comes back in an hour later with slightly greasy hands and a bouquet of flowers from Emily Young's little garden, planted to celebrate her cousin Leah Uley's wedding. Bella makes him muffins, recipe courtesy of Sue and missing bites courtesy of Seth, Colin, Sarah, Will, and Claire, with raspberries, not blueberries, just how Jake likes them. They make up, and they make changes, and they go on.

Eventually, both slower and quicker than she realizes, Bella gets old. She lives in fear of losing herself, of losing her husband and her children, like her grandmother had. But she remembers her grandkids to the very end, even gets to meet her first great-grandchild a week before it happens. Her heart gives out before her brain does, too weak and too slow.

It was too full of love, the letter from Jacob says. Sarah reads it. Her father passed a day after his wife--simply too heartbroken to live without her. Much of the town of Forks and hordes of family attend their funeral, remembering a life well lived.

It is an unremarkable life, in the grand scheme of things. She does not live to be a thousand; she is no great beast, with speed like the wind and strength; she does not discover her powers or lead a great defiance. Bella Black, happy and human and surrounded by love, could never imagine wanting anything else.

[icouldhyperfixatehim]

happy to have an offgun sunday show back on the docket but i can already tell this series is going to put a bee in my bonnet every week about late stage capitalism foisting its cancer upon all workplace cultures and turning things like internships from learning and exploratory opportunities to build skills and discover interests in a field, to an expectation of free/low paid but inexplicably pre-skilled labour. do you think ye olde blacksmith's apprentice showed up to the first day of the apprenticeship and the blacksmith is like "what do you mean you don't know how to shoe a horse?? that's so basic" no. the expectation of apprenticeship is that a newborn emptyheaded youngin with a vague notion that metal is cool shows up, and is taught how to blacksmith. the expectation is not that the young savant of metalwork turns up with a list of horses already shoed, including One Very Special One in the Royal Stable, and god would you please please please allow me to debase myself for you, o blacksmith? my resumé is just like the journeyman's!! this workplace culture is a modern invention!! they used to teach you things at work!!

[breathing audibly] i just think entry level should mean entry level, and that as much effort goes into gathering experience that makes people competitively hire-able, ability, opportunity, and luck also play a role. it is lucky to know your passion early enough to be able to groom yourself to competitiveness in a sharky field of work, but a person should be able to turn up for entry level positions/interning with an unabashed "i know nothing" as long as it's followed with an "and i'm ready to learn" and it is in neoliberalism's favour to allow work environments to cut their costs by eschewing the responsibility to teach. to train the trainee.

[angeart]

hhau rescue rambles - part I

>> hhau masterpost here << [cw besides the usual mess and violence: animal death mention]

It’s been months since the latest hermit got saved, and over a year since Hermitcraft imploded. There’s only two people to go: Scar and Grian. And they can’t seem to locate them at all. But they can’t stop looking. They can’t, they won’t. 

The rescue party is comprised of X (voidwalker), Doc (creeper), Ren (wolf), Impulse (partially demon), Cub (vex), Gem (deer), and Pearl (moth). Thanks to X knowing how to navigate and survive the void, they are able to get a void vessel (a sort of ship) to base in as they go around scanning different worlds and scouring for information. 

Until they come across a world that reads as permadeath, and somewhere in the world files, X flags Grian’s and Scar’s name. Not as players; there’s no list available here. What comes up is the wanted poster. It doesn’t have a date stamp. It could be months old, and they know Scar's track record with dying.

Still, they have to try.

They search for a place that seems to have good resources and Cub, Gem, and Pearl get dropped down. They’re equipped with bracelets that they can activate to send X a signal to teleport them back, and two extra for Grian and Scar, if they do find them, but they have to gather any other kind of equipment, including armour and weapons, on their own.

They quickly realise comms don’t work on this world, and as the player list is also non-existent or corrupted, they are going in blind.

Well… almost.

They use Cub’s vex bond with Scar to pick a direction to head in.

--

Grian and Scar, in the meanwhile, are not having a Good Time. 

Some awful things have happened prior to this, namely the ending of the Summer house arc. To quickly sum it up, Grian and Scar went up north, for as long as they could. Away, away, away from everyone. Until it felt like maybe they’re far away enough, and they tentatively set up a house. Which turned into a nest. Which turned into a semblance of permanence.

A lot of things went on here. Days turned into peaceful weeks and, tentatively, they started thinking that maybe they can start planning some kind of future here. They planted crops. Scar re-learned to glide with his torn wings. Grian unfurled his wings and re-learned the feeling of flying through the sky. And they found a bird friend! (A real, living bird in this world!)

The reality caught up to them eventually. 

Nobody’s really seen Scar or Grian for a while, but the avians in this world have dull wing patters, for survival reasons, and so Grian is really special. And the hunters don’t want to give that up. The reward on the wanted poster gets upped, and now the fever pitch to get this avian rises. The hunters go further. In bigger groups. Greedy and determined.

They find the nest house, empty at the time, and they burn it down. 

Scar and Grian come back to find it in flames, and to find themselves unsafe and hunted once again. All of a sudden, they have nothing again. The fire licks high, turning everything to ash, to a distant cheering and hollering of a party of hunters. There’s no sign of their bird friend.

(Grian finds him later. Dead, with wings cut off. The only creature that resembled him; the bird he befriended, the proof that a winged creature could exist here and survive. Ripped to pieces. Echoing the only fate that is bound to await Grian as well.) (It was a sun conure parrot, bright and beautiful.) 

The hunters are on their tail once they realise that Scar and Grian are here; that it wasn’t just some temporary base that’s now abandoned. With no remorse and still too much cheer, bloodthirsty and unstoppable, they go after them. 

Scar’s blood is absolutely boiling and he expects Grian to ground him. To talk him down. But Grian’s mind buzzes, looking at that bird, and— He’s as down to fight as Scar is. Because anger is easier than grief right now.

He’s so tired of grief. 

So instead, Grian goes angry and feral. (The other option is to fall apart, and he can’t.) 

They tear this particular hunting group apart, and it’s meant to make them feel better, but it doesn’t. It feels like a necessity; like just one more step towards survival. They loot what they can, and they continue moving, realising that stopping anywhere to do more than just survive is a moot point. They’re not going to outrun this. They'll never be allowed to stop. They’ll be hunted forever.

(Grian will be hunted forever—)

The word gets out, and more and more hunters arrive, wanting the trophy of violet wings and the wanted reward for themselves. It’s a sport to them. A way to get rich. Like a gold fever, they continue tracking Grian and Scar, relentlessly hounding them down.

There are times when things go worse in these encounters. Grian gets his wings grabbed and attacked, and it sends him spiraling back to never allowing anyone—including himself—to touch his feathers. (He was doing better and now it’s all gone.)

They internalise many horrible thoughts, during their run. It’s been a year-worth of culmination of awful events, a year worth of pain and fear and loss. 

For Scar, as a vex, he’s been expected to be a monster from the start. And all he wanted here was some peace. To be with Grian. He wasn’t allowed it, but now he finally got a glimpse at it—at what could’ve been; at who he wanted to be from the beginning (who he’s always been)—and it’s violently taken from him. So yeah, fuck it. If they want a monster, he’ll be a monster. 

(This leads him to thinking that he shouldn’t be trusted with soft things anymore, Grian’s feathers included, especially as Grian gets ground-bound again and starts pulling his wings tightly against his back and flinching at the mere implication of touch.) (It hurts to witness, after what Scar’s seen: Grian, freely gliding through the sky, violet feathers catching sunlight.) (He was allowed to preen them, tentatively, slowly, gradually, a couple of times.) (Not anymore. Not anymore.)

 Grian keeps thinking about the bird, and how they’re the same. He’s seen the brutal display, the way the wings were taken. He can’t quite stop thinking about it. 

But it’s more than that. He’s also thinking about [redacted]. About anything winged being doomed. About what happened with the vexes. It all spins and spins and spins until he can’t see himself as anything but harbinger of death.

The hunters wouldn’t care to go this far for one vex. They only go because of his goddamn feathers.

Naturally, this topples into him thinking that Scar will be safer and better off without him. They’ve been running on sleepless nights and exhaustion, trying to get away to no avail. They’re tired, and things are looking dire, and— Grian wants it to stop. He needs Scar to be taken out of this equation, separated from this fate. He needs him to be safe. (He can’t bring death to Scar.)

Grian can lead the hunters the other way. They only really care about him. ([redacted] already proved that point, after all.) 

So one night, Grian sneaks away.

He presses a soft kiss to Scar before he goes. (It’s a farewell kiss.) Scar is asleep, only kind of waking up to it—just that groggy, sleepy “mm?” Grian kisses his forehead again, oh so gently, and murmurs the quietest “Love you. Stay safe for me.” To Scar, it just feels like a dream, and he dozes off again, none the wiser.

The next morning, Scar wakes up to Grian gone.

For a while, he doesn’t even remember that hazy interaction from the night, but then he does remember, all of a sudden. An absolute vertigo slams into him, panic flooding his veins as he stares down the empty, quiet forest.

And this is when the Hermit Rescue Party finds him.

They only find Scar.

They only find Scar, and they instantly try to take him off world.

-- part II here

[necrotic-nephilim]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: DCU (Comics) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake (DCU) Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Dirty Talk, Top Jason Todd, Bottom Tim Drake (DCU), Spanking, mild blood kink, Hair-pulling, Mild S&M, Dom/sub, Face-Fucking, Ass to Mouth, Degradation, Spit As Lube, Possessive Sex, Pre-Flashpoint (DCU) Series: Part 17 of necrotic nephilim's writings Summary:

If Jason pushes Tim's buttons in the right ways, he always gets what he wants out of it. Tim bent over underneath him, giving up all of his control to Jason.

Tim belonged to Jason and no one else.

my fic for cavypretzel for the @jaytimexchange is live! make sure to show all the fics and art in this exchange some love, it was a lot of fun to participate in! <3 and of course ty to @eebuckley for being my beta, they probably lost more braincells to this fic than i did <3

[thefrogdalorian]

I think on this fine Saturday afternoon it's a good opportunity to take a breather and remember that there are really no ethical paparazzi pictures. Every single one is inherently exploitative.

Just because photos were taken on a movie set, when someone is 'working,' does not make the practice any less invasive and creepy. Imagine just going about your day, doing your job and having some weirdo snapping pictures of you to sell without your consent for others to endlessly repost online.

There are thousands of pictures of your favourite actor online already. Plenty taken with his knowledge and consent. I'd really like to see more of them on my dash, rather than the creeper shots.

And don't get me started how disseminating these pictures directly leads to people going to said sets. What starts off as admiring how good someone looks has real world implications.

No, hanging around a movie set and disrupting people doing their jobs is not harmless fun or a way to show your appreciation.

If you hang around a movie set, you are a stalker.

Don't tell me that it's okay to take your online admiration for someone offline. You may admire him but he does not, and will never, personally know you. He will never be your friend/boyfriend/daddy. He is a stranger.

The only way meeting your favourite actor is going to happen is at a convention or maaaaaybe a movie premiere if you're incredibly fortunate. You know, places they appear specifically to meet fans (or not in the case of premieres, where the purpose is to promote a movie. Which is also completely understandable if actors don't stop. You are not owed an interaction).

Of course, you cannot help it if you randomly run into someone you admire in the wild. Even then, consider that they probably won't be all too thrilled to be approached in public by a complete stranger. It's up to you to gauge the situation, but remember there is a person at the heart of all of this.

Boundaries and respect are a kindness which deserves to be extended to each and every human being regardless of their looks/talent/fame/wealth.

Fandoms blur those lines a little too often for my liking and I think just scrutinising what you're interacting with, or what behaviour you could be possibly falling down that slippery slope towards is nice to do every once in a while.

I mean no malice with this post and it is not directed at anyone in particular. It's something I cannot help but feel strongly about because I've seen this destructive cycle time and again in fandoms over the years. It's not healthy and it makes us all a little bit more disconnected from our humanity for it...

[atsoomi]

When you first see Sakusa, it’s at a regular coffee shop.

He stands tall, intimidatingly towering over other people as he reads the menu with a disgruntled expression. You take notice of him while you wait for your usual drink, and you can tell you’re going to think about the attractive stranger at your favorite coffee shop for weeks.

His mask conceals most of his face, but his eyes catch your attention. The striking pools of onyx scan the menu rapidly as he seems to lose patience, his frown growing more by the second.

You don’t stare at him for longer than five minutes, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to overcome the embarrassment of being caught. But the outline of his figure burns in your mind as you turn to follow the worker who’s making your drink, a Mari who you’ve befriended during the frequent visits to this shop.

You think about whether he’s just having a bad day or if he’s always like this, whether he’s going to order from here or not, whether he’s ordering for just himself or others as well— friends or a girlfriend. Or someone he just likes, no tags.

You don’t hear the sound of someone approaching you over the sound of your own thoughts; in fact, you don’t even notice his presence over your shoulder until he clears his throat.

Turning to face him, you feel caught. Your cheeks warm in embarrassment, as if he could hear all the obsessive thoughts you were having about him. He stares at you blankly, and you realize his eyes are not only nicer up close, but also sharper. Being close to him also allows you to take notice of his other features— like his moles, the curve of his eyebrows, his cupid’s bow.

He leans down to your level, still keeping a safe distance like you’re carrying an infectious disease. Must be a germaphobe, you think. Getting the hint, you turn your ear to him.

“Do they add nuts to every drink on the menu?”

His voice is pleasantly deep and the whisper-tone makes him insanely attractive to you, but he asks the question with such genuine distress that you have to suppress a giggle. You turn your head back slightly to face him with a smile.

“Yeah, they’re big on the nuts thing. If you’re not a fan, you can ask them to not add nuts to your order, that’s what I do.”

He nods, still seemingly unsure, and you reflexively continue talking.

“But the coffee is really good, trust me, it makes up for the nut craze.” He stares at you with a blank expression, “trust you?”

You pale slightly, feeling like you’ve overstepped with the friendliness. But thankfully, Mari comes up to the counter, chiming in with your drink. “Here’s your usual,” she chirps as she hands you the straw.

You smile thankfully at her and she gives you a questioning look as her eyes shift between you and the tall stranger. She smiles slyly at you and you ignore her as you grab your cup.

“Well, uh, it’s up to you really.” You turn to him one more time, “You’d be the one missing out after all.”

And then you’re out the door as fast as you can. When Mari calls you that night, she’s disappointed to say the least, but she provides you with crucial information: he ended up asking for whatever you had.

The second time you see him, it’s on the court.

You learn that the guy you crushed on in a coffee shop is actually the outside hitter for MSBY Black Jackals, Sakusa Kiyoomi. Mari, who sits next to you during the game, nearly screams when she recognizes him.

She jokes about how you could’ve asked for his autograph or became a micro celebrity by dating him if you had a single romantic bone in your body; you tell her you have plenty of romantic bones in your body but he was just too intimidating.

The teasing goes on throughout the game as you both continue to be completely oblivious to the volleyball game around you. The tickets to this game weren’t cheap, and if Mari didn’t beg you to accompany her because her cousin plays for one of the teams and bought her tickets, you would’ve never found yourself seated at the front row of a volleyball game.

Granted, it’s one of the least violent sports and it’s entertaining to watch for a while. But you just couldn’t be any less interested in adult men throwing a ball around.

This game, however, seems to be much more interesting to you. Whether that’s because Sakusa is unreasonably gorgeous on court, or because Mari makes really entertaining comments on the game, you couldn’t really be sure. But watching Sakusa play was a life altering experience, you’d think about him in those shorts for months to come.

Your eyes follow him the whole time; you take notice of all his physical assets and find yourself giggling like a schoolgirl with Mari about all the athletes’ physical builds by the end of the game. She teases you about having a favorite and you can’t find anything to say in denial.

When the game ends, you’re almost disappointed that you can’t watch Sakusa in action anymore.

Later, when you’re standing outside the huge stadium as Mari talks to her cousin, you spot Sakusa’s team celebrating their win, circulating around him like a tornado. He stands in the middle of the chaos rigidly, and his ability to not crack a single smile around such cheery people astonishes you. You smile to yourself at the thought of how practice goes for the team if this is how it was when they won.

While MSBY’s blond setter (you were too focused on Sakusa during the game to catch anybody else's name) is aggressively throwing an arm around him, speaking loudly over the others, his eyes fleetingly meet yours. Your throat constricts at the brief eye contact and you reflexively stand up straight. When his teammate has moved on from annoying him, he looks back at you, and this time, the stare lingers.

He’s so intimidating and yet so breathtaking to you— standing in the middle of his friends, he seems to stick out like a sore thumb. You wonder if there’s any emotion behind his stare, if he’s judging you or if he thinks that you’re hideous and that you coming to his game is an insult— or if he finds you pretty and intriguing the way you do him.

You wonder about his dating history and his type of woman.

Before you’re too far gone in the land of delusion, Mari is back with a wide grin and mischief written all over her face.

“You should really talk to mr.loverboy at one point. I’d like to attend a wedding once in my life.”

You laugh at her as you both walk to your car. Turns out both of you are already too far gone in the land of delusion.

The third time you see him, you’re not doing too well.

The walls of Onigiri Miya are terribly familiar to you because you find yourself in the same spot every few weeks. In your mid-twenties, you’ve discovered that one of the few things that lighten the burden of existence is food— good food, something that the gracious Osamu Miya always offers at his shop.

While the world constricts around you, the place offers you the kind of comfort that only a warm meal could. Your stomach is full even if your heart feels empty, and that makes you feel a bit better.

Your monthly breakdowns at the onigiri restaurant aren’t new to you.

What you didn’t plan for, however, is the unfamiliar voice that calls your name.

You push your head off the table with a grunt to look at the caller and you’re, once more, facing the beautiful stranger that you stumbled across in a coffee shop— Sakusa Kiyoomi.

His eyes widen slightly at your face and you suddenly feel self-conscious, you don’t particularly look your best on a night like this. Out of all the times to actually meet him. The surprise on your face must have offended him because his expression reverts to his usual frown.

He stands rigidly with his hands in the pockets of his coat. His mask is pulled down for a change and you finally see the rest of his face at a closer distance; if you weren’t in emotional shambles, you’d be much more thrilled right now.

His frown is heavy as he looks at you, almost like frowning helps him think.

But before either of you have the time to think, the blond setter from the game you went to barges in on your moment and casually swings an arm around Sakusa’s shoulder. Sakusa shoots him a deathly glare but he doesn’t waver. Must be pretty good friends, you think.

“Hey omi-kun, who’s your little friend?” he asks, eyeing you with growing interest, a crooked grin on his face.

“She’s not my friend miya, get your arm off my shoulder.” Sakusa grumbles as he attempts to shake the blond’s arm off, but it stays planted on his shoulder firmly as they begin to bicker like an old married couple. Yeah, definitely good friends, you smile to yourself despite the gloomy cloud hanging over your head.

You realize that the guy Sakusa not-so-affectionately called Miya looked similar to Osamu, and you vaguely remember Osamu mentioning a brother before— a twin to be exact. The puzzle pieces come together and you’re amazed at the way fate connects people. The restaurant you visit frequently is owned by the twin brother of Sakusa’s teammate.

How many times did you come close to meeting?

Osamu comes out of the kitchen and the bickering evolves into sibling arguments as you zone out in the corner. The familial scene with Sakusa in the middle makes you bite back a smile, who thought that something so silly could be so entertaining? And entertaining enough to distract you from the things weighing you down.

The blond twin suddenly turns to you and you instinctively flinch, realizing you’re about to become part of the conversation unwillingly.

“Are we annoying you, doll?” he asks.

You hesitantly shake your head and the blond jumps to grab a paper bag out of Osamu’s hands, “See?” Osamu gives him a blank look, “you literally pressured her.”

“Did not. Now come on Omi-kun, we’ve got places to be. Everyone must be starving.” You turn to look at Sakusa (Omi-kun, as you know him now), only just realizing that he’s standing closer to you than before.

He gives the blond a stare that you’re oblivious to, and they share a moment of silent communication. Osamu looks between them and momentarily at you, seeming to understand something you don’t.

The blond twin, whose name you still haven’t discovered , slowly smirks at you with recognition. “Oh yes, I’ll go ahead. Don’t take too long now Omi.”

Then he’s out of the door, and Osamu retires to the kitchen with a knowing smile. You wonder what secret they were sharing in front of you.

Now that it’s just you and Sakusa in a nearly empty restaurant so late at night, the realness of the situation hits you like a cold gust of wind. You slowly turn your face towards him only to find him already looking at you.

Unsurely, you smile politely at him. He doesn’t return it, but he doesn’t seem like the kind to anyways. Instead, he drags the chair across from you back and plops down in front of you. The fact that you’re sitting across from the mysterious attractive guy you saw in that coffee shop is surreal.

His face finally relaxes and you notice how much prettier he looks when he’s not frowning. In this state, you don’t find it in yourself to look away from him. The dim lights of the shop illuminate his face and he’s almost god-like with his pushy brows and sharp eyes.

He seems okay with the attention you’re giving him, and you’re not sure if it’s the midnight paranoia but you swear his cheeks go pink at one point.

You’re too engrossed in admiring his physical features to notice how he hesitates to talk.

“You’re.. are.. are you okay?” His question brings you out of your lavender haze and you don’t process the question at first.

“Am I okay?” you retort in confusion.

He nods reluctantly.

Your hand comes up to cup your cheek when you realize that they’re wet, and suddenly you realize what he’s asking about. Your cheeks grow hot in embarrassment.

“Oh yeah yeah, I’m fine. Or I will be.” That explains why he was surprised when you lifted your head.

He observes you with interest and it’s your turn to feel embarrassed at the attention.

The intimacy of the scene isn’t lost on you. You sit like old lovers who never fell out of love, admiring each other in a public place that feels like it only contains the two of you. You sit together like you’ve known each other for years. You want to salvage the intimacy of the moment but a burning question comes to the front of your mind.

“How’d you know my name?”

He blinks at you, seemingly confused by the question.

“When you got here, you called out to me.” You continue unsurely. “We’ve never spoken before, how do you know my name?”

He blinks at you again as the gears in his head turn. When he realizes that he did in fact call out your name despite never asking you about it, the tips of his ears turn red. You observe the changes in his face with a slowly growing smile; you’ve noticed something he hoped you wouldn’t.

“It was on the cup. Caught it when you were leaving.”

The cup. The cup of coffee you ordered at the coffee shop you first met at. When you ran away from him. You raise your eyebrows in amusement, how did he manage to catch that? Moreover, how did he manage to remember it for weeks when you’d barely talked.

The thought of Sakusa having an interest in you since the first meeting makes you feel like a teenager getting asked out for the first time.

You look at him across the table, observing his face and everything you’ve grown to like about it. Suddenly, you think about meeting him like this more often, about getting to see him much closer than this, about being the kind of woman he’d date, and about tracing his lips with something other than your eyes.

When you notice his eyes traveling across your face, you wonder if he possesses any similar thoughts, any burning urges to reach across and touch you and set off the reaction that's been brewing for weeks.

It's so close you can almost taste it.

You lock eyes and you slowly realize that neither of you are ready to jump straight into anything. He's as hesitant as you are, maybe even more. But, if you've got to start somewhere, you know exactly where to take him.

“Sakusa," you start, already smiling, “would you like to get coffee with me sometime?"

[queenbirbs]

Popping the neat line of tape, Tim unwrapped the paper and lifted the lid of a box to reveal a printout. It was a reservation for two for a scotch whisky tour, including a private dinner and a round of tastings. He noted the date and time: December 30th, 4:00 p.m. “Nice,” he said with a smile. “Thank you. Let’s hope that we can both get off shift in time for it.” “Yeah, well, we’d have to leave pretty early if we wanna make it there.” She bit her lip and motioned to the box. “The rest might help with that.” Intrigued, he set the paper down and moved to the next. Another printout, but this time with the British Airways logo stamped across the top: tickets to Scotland for the 26th through the 2nd of January. “This is— Luce, that’s two days away.” “Actually one, remember?” she reminded him with a grin.

Tim and Lucy ring in the New Year with a trip away from LA — 5,146 miles away, to be exact.

Happy early New Year's, @roguetwelve! Hope I took them far enough away from LA for you ;)

[good-beans]

A little creative summary for the year ✨ (Template)

Even though I'd done art inspired by/for others before, it was my first time doing proper trades and projects together -- thank you for including me :D

As for writing, I was worried about my thesis next year since I'll be rewriting most of my novel which is a lot to do in a single year..... until I realized I posted 83,794 words for fun in 2024.... 😅 (11,259 words of longfic projects, 54,642 words in drabbles, 17,893 words in creative but explanatory posts, and who knows how many in wips/unposted things :0)

Though writing on here may slow down bit with my thesis, there's no way you can stop me from working on fic completely 😂 I also have some translyric projects I want to complete within the year, as well as the usual art ideas I'm plagued with haha!

[kaidanalenkosprmanager]

THE BEST OF SHENKO 1/?

The end of the world has a way of reminding you of all the things you forgot to say do. Mass Effect: Legendary Edition (2021)

[darlingsart]

Hi everyone! 💕

I made a Patreon if anyone's interested in supporting me a bit more:

Patreon.com/Darlingsart

My patreon will run more or less like this blog, but with a few extra goodies! Over there, I'll be posting a few more sketches/doodle pages, WIPS, voting polls on what I should draw next, and some speed draws!

I'll still be posting all of my art on here like I always do! Patreon will just be like a little tipping jar so if you enjoy my art and my fics (and if you're able to!), feel free to subscribe to help me out. If not, I still appreciate all of the love! 🥰

[all-i-do-is-live-in-daydreams]

I can't get over every little thing spencer reid does. like his little mannerisms are EVERYTHING TO ME. The way he talks with his hands, how he presses his middle finger to his thumb and rubs them together sometimes or moves it as if he's writing when talking, the way he scrunches his face up sometimes, the way he wrings his hands at all really like just playing with the fingers of his other hand or sometimes I've seen him just press his knuckles together and rub them together, the thin lipped pressed together smile he does as he awkwardly waves to new people he's being introduced to, when his hair is a long enough length and he tucks it behind his ears all the time. I think he does both sides sometimes and and and UGHHHHH I LOVE HIM

[widowshill]

— Are you sure Burke wants to buy Collinwood? — Yes, he said so. I'm just afraid it's only the beginning of what he wants.

[berryblu-soda]

ninjago reincarnation AU where the world ended, and from it´s ashes rose another, similar yet eerly different, growing and changing from being little more than a rock in space, to a modern society much more like our own (show to movie setting :D!). with new old faces, flashes of a world long gone, a simple wish at the end (beggining?) of it all, etc etc...

[youmakethelight]

I made a ✨️video thesis✨️ on caryl's clashing attachment styles to exile by ts (all 4 mins 42 secs not sorry) to fill the hole tboc left in me. 💔

I mostly made this for my own mental health. I hope you like angst. ✨️ (the ending is nice)