#how many times have i misspelled prompt in the tags

[aria0fgold]

It may just be the sleep deprivation, but yaknwo what? I'm going to post the whumptober snippets I've written, fuck shame yall gonna be seeing some embarrassing and self-indulgent OC snippets.

[d33zn33tz]

hey hey hey hey I saw your prompt which basically went "Tangled au Gm" so I just had to write it

Um, apologies for the any misspellings or rushness, it's reallly difficult to edit on Tumblr. This is brought to you by someone who never watched tangled in it's entirely but have listened to the og rapunzel story where who healed a prince from blindness when they were 7

If it isn't any trouble, could you tag this for gerrymicheal? I would put it on my blog and tag you but is too shy to do it. If not that's alright.

-------

Michael’s grip on his shoulders along with how his hair wrapped itself around his arms keeps Gerry from looking away from him.

In another time, Gerry would've thought he looked beautiful.

Downy golden hair that framed Michael's face, the sun's light making his face glow with warmth, two wonderfully dark eyes looking directly at him.

But all he could see was the desperation in Michael’s face.

“She sent you on a fool's journey." Michael tells him in an almost resigned shock, like he wasn't too surprised at the revolution. "This is meant to kill you."

Huh? His brain frozed at those words. No, she wouldn't do that.

No, she wouldn't straight up send him to his death. Sure, he had to fight viscous monsters under her order and she wasn't very nice but sending him to his death felt out of character.

Gerry open his mouth to immediately defend Gertrude but stops.

"What do you mean?" He questioned, chosing to hear Michael out.

"The monster here, Gerry, it can’t be killed." Michael explains, loosening his grip on Gerry then moves away so he isn't right up Gerry's face. "It simply can't, believe me, I tried. Many people tried."

"Run." Michael tells him, "Run while you still can. As far as you can, it can’t chase you and I can’t be saved."

----

"Have you ever been betrayed before Gerald?" Michael asks, sweet and cold, still looking out the window. "By a person you thought you could trust?"

Gerry felt his blood run cold as his gut tells him something very wrong is happening, "Um."

Gertrude technically betrayed his trust but he didn't know that until Michael told him and even then he only felt shock. There was his mother but he learned to not trust her from the very start.

Michael had turn his attention away from the window, staring at Gerry with cold eyes. "Have you?" He repeats, jumping down from the window.

"Have you?" Michael repeats, backing Gerry into a corner.

Suddenly he towering over Gerry, with limbs completely out of proportion and Gerry realize that this wasn't the Michael he feel in love with.

But he realized too late as a knifelike finger attempts to drive into his chest. He narrowly managed twist himself around to it only drives into his side.

"Now you have."

It burned cold. Fire and ice attacking at his senses, not canceling out. He could feel it almost hitting his lower ribcage, probably just millimeter away from bone.

The finger pulled itself out and he falls to his knees, gasping in pain that he never had felt before.

Hand were on his body as he heard Michael, the real one, not the one he had been hanging out with, swore.

The blood- his blood- was a multicolored hue on the creature's finger. Gerry looks down and saw as streaks of color spewed out along with red.

He felt sick seeing such bright colors coming out, something inside him squirming from the unnatural shades. He look up at Michael, wondering why wasn't he using his powers.

"Don't. It doesn't work." Michael whispers, covering the wound with his coat. "It never had."

"This spell can't keep me here forever Michael," It says cruelly as it watches them from the side. "You knew that you can't keep me in this human form in this tower right?"

"You can't trap a concept," Gerry echoes as he watches the entity slowly approach them, hand outstretched, reaching.

Then it dawns on him. "You can't trap a concept."

His fingers fumbled for the dagger, his hand shaking as he holds the knife under Michael's hair.

"Ger-!" He advert his eyes away from Michael’s face and with one swift motion, the blade sliced through the hair.

The effect was instant.

The unnaturally saturated yellow of Michael's hair dulled into a nice sandy almost brown, whatever left of the tangled mess of curls seemed to smooth out into nice waves.

The tower began to crumble as the monster began to shriek.

It screams at him, the sound bouncing around but before it can do anything, the tower shakes and the floor underneath it breaks. Sending the creature falling to the ground.

Through blurry eyes, Gerry could see it shed its human look into something more incomprehensible, colors and shapes stacked ontop of each other that vaguely resembled a person as it fell.

He looks away before he can see it land.

The burning ice sensation from his wound seem to disappear alongside the creature, leaving only a constant stinging agony.

"Try- Just try." Gerry gasp, black spots taking over his vision.

His eyes closed unwittingly but he could hear Michael's voice waver out the song, trying to remain steady.

The pain lessened as the song begins. Skin knits together and Gerry opens his eyes again.

Michael's hair was gold again, floating around his face but it wasn't as dramatic like the literal feets of hair. His face was pinched in concentration, the words being forced out his mouth.

"What was once mine." Michael's hair flickered bright yellow once last time as the song ends then faded back to brown.

Michael open his eyes slowly, afraid to see if Gerry had died and the song didn't work.

"It worked, Michael." Gerry breathlessly, carefully moving his hand to hold Michael's cheek. "It worked. You can open your eyes."

"You are a fool. You are so stupid, Gerry. So stupid." Michael laughs through watery tears as he pulls Gerry up into a hug. "I love you so much."

Gerry smiles, feeling lighter than ever, and returning the hug. Using his thumb to wipe away the tears.

"I love you too." He says, kissing the side of Michael’s cheek.

Michael giggles and moves up to kiss Gerry on the mouth.

With pure adoration in his eyes and feeling like he was on cloud nine, Gerry returns the kiss eagerly.

Their life will start now.

----

I saw the prompt and had to bang this out in about 3 hours

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

I loved this, omg!! Thank you so much! I genuinely wasn't expecting anyone to write it, but now that you have, it's amazing!! :DD

[ailendolin]

✊🏽: Thomas and Francis

Thank you for the prompt, anon! I hope you don't mind me adding Julian into the mix.

Next up:

💪🏽 Bridal carry - Pat & the Captain

🐾 Pet-names - Humphrey’s head and Annie

🎁 Presents - Julian

💀 Near-death experience - Milton, Mike & Death

Ask Game is here. Filled prompts are here, here & here on AO3.

Prompts for this ask game are closed.

————

Trust

✊🏽 Protecting

“You were supposed to protect me.”

That was the thought that ran through Thomas’s head as he sat under the tree where he had died and gazed out over the lawn with unseeing eyes. Normally, he did all he could to stay far away from this place. It held too many memories and regrets, and more pain than he could put into words. Tonight however, after his death had been turned into the evening’s entertainment, it felt like a fitting retreat. He had found himself alone once the spectacle was over, abandoned by those who should have cared about him. Not one of them had looked back and offered to stay. Not one of them. 

Thomas knew he should not let it bother him. Loneliness was his oldest friend, after all. If it hadn’t been for Francis, he would have spent most of his life on his own. He had been terribly shy as a child, and by trying to overcome that shyness had grown into an adult most people had no desire to get to know. The only reason anyone had ever spared him a second glance was because Francis with his quiet smiles, infinite patience and admirable diplomatic skills had allowed him to tag along wherever he went. Thomas, on some unconscious level, had known his cousin was only suffering his company because he pitied him, but he’d always been too grateful to be included to care. Francis had been his hero; someone who had come to his rescue more times than he could count.

He’d never been meant to be the villain of the story.

Thomas reached for the wound in his side with trembling fingers. How had he missed the ink stains on Francis’s hand when he’d held onto it? How had he missed the misspelling of Isabelle’s name and the differences in handwriting? The way Francis had looked at Higham House, his eyes full of greed and taking in none of its beauty?

The worst thing was that Francis had only been there that day because Thomas had invited him to come along. He had been so eager for his cousin to meet his beloved Isabelle so he might understand why Thomas’s heart beat so fast every time a letter from her arrived that he hadn’t even considered the possibility that Francis might see something else when he looked at her. He should have known, though: it was no secret that Francis envied people like the Highams. Despite his natural charm, he’d never been able to talk his way into those circles and knowing he was a lesser person in their eyes had always vexed him. Thomas had hoped a visit to Higham House might cure that envy and show Francis that there were fairer and more important things to be found there than wealth and fortune. Instead, it had lit a fire in his cousin’s heart that had ultimately burned its path through Thomas’s ribs.

“Did I ever truly know you?” he whispered into the night. With a heavy sigh, he pulled his legs up against his chest and rested his chin on his knees. “You were always like a brother to me – did you know that? More than my real brothers ever were. The only one who always stuck with me through thick and thin. I trusted you with my life, Francis. God, I trusted you.”

He broke off with a wretched sound and buried his face in his knees. Digging his fingers as hard as he could into his stockings, he tried to focus on anything but how hard it had become to breathe.

Someone suddenly cleared their throat beside him, and even though the sound was soft, Thomas flinched.

“What do you want?” he said hoarsely, lifting his head. He was not in the mood for Julian’s mockery right now – not tonight, not after his life had been treated like a joke.

“Just wondering if you’d like some company,” Julian said with a nonchalant shrug. “I’ve finished my talk so …”

He left the sentence hanging, and Thomas glared up at him. “I have no need for your pity, sir.”

Julian rolled his eyes. “It’s not pity, you idiot. It’s compassion.”

Without waiting for a reply or an invitation, he plopped himself down on the ground next to Thomas, close enough so their shoulders touched. Thomas huffed and looked away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fine by me,” Julian said. Without missing a beat, he pointed up at the stars. “Did you know that Robin has his own names for them?”

He went on to tell Thomas all about the people Robin saw in the stars, not even once checking if Thomas was actually listening to him. Thomas was, though, and by the time Julian ran out of breath and stars to name, he found his eyes brimming with tears and his heart feeling a little less heavy than it had before.

“Thank you,” he whispered into the silence before he chanced a glance at Julian. Their eyes met in the dark, and after a moment Julian nodded and gently nudged Thomas’s shoulder with his own – a silent promise that he would stay for as long as Thomas needed him to.

[kennyisaloserr]

LAST UPDATED ;; 10 / 08 / 23 !

 ▄︻デ══━一💥

" YEAH ... IM TIRED GUYS , THINK I'M GONNA GO TO BED . . . " /Q

WAVES HI HELLO HII !!! im kenny ! you might have originally known me as slime (@vicchaos) ! ive decided im going to recreate my blog , brand and new . and this is my intro !! :3

;; ABOUT ME !!

my name is kenny !

i use he / they pronouns & im a transmasc omnisexual ( fem pref ! ) :3

my birthday is 04 / 01 ( april 1 ! ) and i am a MINOR ( age range 12 - 15 )

i love south park !! im also a previous dsmp fan ( previous since it sadly came to an end )

i also like total drama , stranger things , et cetera

i love singing , drawing , and im also a gachatuber !

;; WRITING INFO !!

my blog is SFW !! requests are open :3

fandoms i will currently write for include only SOUTH PARK and DREAM SMP ( only some characters , mainly being c rather than ccs ! )

i WONT write ; NSFW , fandoms i dont know

i wont post fics all the time , but ill try and post some occasionally :3

i WILL write ; south park fics , dsmp fics , angst / fluff / hurt+comfort , ships

pls dont request nsfw fic prompts ... i will just ignore !

;; CHARACTER CRITERIA !!

i will write for any south park character ! adults , kids , etc .

regularly , i will not age them up or down , ages would range from 6 - 13 if i were to change their ages though

any characters that are not on this list , you can request ! i will only write c ! smp members

the only characters i will NOT write for dream smp wise are ...

- dream

- george

- sapnap

because of problematic issues .

- punz

- boomer

- antfrost

- connor

- ponk

- michaelmcchill

because ive never watched them and dont know how id write them

( list may be continued if recommended certain characters)

;; BEFORE YOU FOLLOW !!

✩ i am a MINOR !!

✩ i use tone indicators

✩ i make kys jokes and have south park humour ( lmk if uncomfortable !! )

✩ might take a bit to respond to dms , etc cuz of my timezone + lack of social skills

✩ i might be dry sometimes but im sorry if i come off that way !! /gen

✩ i use a typing quirk ( have not adapted toward many of them , the only one i have is spaces before punctuation )

additionally ( i dont think this counts as a typing quirk but i add it just incase ) , i sign off of all my posts . originlly i used ' -slime ' , now i will use ' -kenny ' :3

✩ i misspell words sometimes

✩ i use silly emoticons !! ( ^_^ , :3 , :] , etc! )

;; DO NOT FOLLOW / INTERACT !!

✩ basic dni !! ( nsfw, homo / trans phobes , racist , etc )

✩ kyman / proship

✩ TW // self harm twt / sh tumblr + eating disorder twt / ed tumblr

✩ dteam supporters ( sorry old dteam moots )

✩ hellparkies

✩ if you dont use tone indicators

✩ 20 or over ( unless sfw ! )

;; MAIN TAGS !!

all my posts will be tagged accordingly ,

#kennys-thoughts - random posts

#kennys-reblogs - posts i reblog

#kennys-askbox - asks

#kennys-fics - 5+ paragraph fics

#kennys-ficlets - 4- paragraph fics

#kennys-art - my drawings :3

( fics will be tagged fandom accordingly as well ! )

;; MY OTHER SOCIALS !!

my twitter !

my youtube !

my discord !

more links might be added but this is all i can think of rn LOL

;; EXTRA / END OF POST !!

thats it !! if u follow me on my old acc ( again , @vicchaos ! ) pls refollow n btw I WILL FB EVERYONE :3 unless ur weird or follow my dnf / dni criteria i will block u

OTHERWISE SOUTH PARKIES AND DSMPERS PLS INTERACT AND YAYAY HOPE I CAN MAKE BACK MOOTS BYE BYE WAVES TO U !! ^_^

-kenny

[the-kittens-of-vol-tron]

Delete ur blog lol

Debating it.

Because this blog isn't as fun as it used to be to run. Becuase no matter how much time and effort I put into it I still get stuff like this daily.

Because I made a new VLD blog a couple weeks ago and it's honestly so nice to be able to interact with people and post things without getting unwanted criticism and just enjoy the fandom. Because I've yet to get a single anon hate on that blog.

Because this blog make me so irrationally jealous when I see some other blogs because they don't seem to have to deal with this stuff. And maybe they do, I don't know but it's exhausting.

Idc that my writings flop. I don't care if I spend hours on something and only ten people read it. Because ten people still saw it and hopefully enjoyed it.

I love when people leave comments on AO3 or little notes in the tags because then I know I created something that someone else liked. I don't care how many people see it.

But it's frustrating. I don't get paid to write. This doesn't pay my bills and yet I use almost all my free time writing because when I try and take a break I get 30+ dms asking me why despite my written explanation.

I love writing, I truly do but I feel like I'm being demanded to write and that's all people care to see from me. And maybe they do, but it's my fucking blog and I can post literally what I want.

If I want to post my vld rewatch thoughts I will. When I stream VLD idc if no one joins because it's for me. My head canons are for me. Everything on this blog is for me and if others like that I welcome it.

But the criticism and unwanted comments are dragging me down. No one is paying me for this so why does it matter if I misspell a word or two in a posted prompt? Or I get a ship name wrong or post something that unknowingly came from a problematic blog? I'm not perfect. I make mistakes. So block my blog or just scroll away.

So, yes I have debated deleting this blog or just letting it go idle again. Because I am so tired of trying to make this a fun place for me (and the followers that like what I post) and getting these anons.

So, if you're a kid. Grow the fuck up. Sending anon hate is "cute" or "cool" and it literally doesn't do any good.

If you're an adult, grow the fuck up and get a new hobby.

[ourgreatergood]

🌿 🪲 ❄️ 🧩

give some advice on writer's block and low creativity

well, I've been writing for pretty much all my life (since I learned how to write) and I really just try not to put much pressure on it. There are just going to be days/weeks/months perhaps even years that you don't write - and that's okay!

But if you have the urge to write but have a hard time starting, I always like to get some simple prompts. something that inspires me, that I have an idea for and just really want to write and then I write that without any expectations of it being good or anything - I write it like a self-indulgence and usually that helps already. Or sometimes maybe you also just have to take a step back in a WIP and think about why a scene/chapter/whatever isn't working and then try different angles until one IS working.

add 50 words to your current hip and share the paragraph here

On the first day of September Aberforth went back to Hogwarts – begrudgingly so, but still. He had insisted that Albus didn’t have to accompany him to King’s Cross but, naturally, Albus had insisted that he did. Gellert had offered to stay with Ariana – something that Albus found endearing while Aberforth thought it offensive.

what's your dream theme/plot for a pic, and who would write it best?

That's hard because I just tend to write the things I want to read myself lol

I think I'd be interested in reading a really good, creative interpretation of the 1945 duel, since I suck at writing action scenes. I just read one that was pretty cool, but I think there's also still room for improvement but tbh I couldn't say off the top of my head who would write it best since there are so many talented people out there!

what will make you click away from a fan fiction immediately?

Ugh, many things, unfortunately. I am rather picky, sadly. Generally: Wall of text, misspelled Character names, anything weird or graphic that wasn't tagged, too much swearing...

More grindeldore specific (since that's what I read most): Gellert's name shortened (like Gell or Gelly or whatever), other cringe nicknames/petnames, Aberforth portrayed as the bad guy...

thank you!! <3

[autumnslance]

STOP SELF DEPRECATING YOUR NEW WORK TOO.

I see it way too often. If you're rusty cuz you haven't written in awhile? IT'S OK.

If you're not sure how this experimental piece came out? IT'S OK.

If you just wanted to get this prompt out of your inbox so it feels rushed and incomplete? IT'S OK.

Stop downing yourself and your creative work, period. You're only creating a self-fulfilling prophecy: "no one will read it cuz I'm bad so I just shouldn't write" No, you're giving yourself an excuse to stop doing something you ostensibly enjoy and want to do and make yourself less willing to do it.

And besides, a writer sees all of their errors, the work, how many times they had fix inconsistencies, misspellings, format. How much they did or didn't revise. We know how long it's been since we've written and how it's not like riding a bike, you have to get the rough stuff out in fits and starts before things start really flowing again...

We've read and reread the thing so much of course to us it feels rote and stale. But! it's new and sparkly to someone else. The stuff I felt less certain of? Is so, so often the things people rave most about!

So delete those nasty comments from your tags, summaries, notes, and so on. If you wouldn't say it on a friend's fic, why are you saying it on your own?

Be nice to yourself. I promise; you do, in fact, deserve niceness and respect, and have to start with yourself. Even if it feels like "faking it" then "fake it til you make it" and be nice to yourself anyway.

I have done a post about this before, but I tried to find it and well you know the tumblr search engine.

So I will say it again.

STOP SHITTING ON YOUR WORK IN THE TAGS AND SUMMARY ON AO3.

My god, please don't hate yourself this much. Self deprecating on a website where people go to read about fictional characters doing things we all make up, isn't as funny as maybe you think it is.

If you post in the summary "Old and bad, readers be warned," I am going to take you at your word and not read it because you said it is bad.

Be kinder to your past self who was learning and having fun for the love of pete.

You were brave enough to post, be brave enough to respect yourself and the work you did.

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

🌔🔥Miami Nights🔥🌔

Prompt: Roman’s little bossy attitude towards Y/N will lead them to one of the most sensual nights they’ve had.

Word count: Long...

Pairings: Roman Reigns x Reader

Warnings: +18, smut, jealousy, a little bit of angst, “make up sex”, cursing, dirty talking (‘cuz we already know I’m a sucker for it!), praise kink and even a little bit of ass worship (because you can never go wrong with that! 😉)

Tag: @jibbles26 , @lustyromantic , @reigns-5sos , @mindofasagittaruis , @nicolewoo , @saccreigns , @ziasaph

Notes: So, the fact that I’m a lover of rough smut is no secret (I mean, have you seen the shit I write?!) but something that hits you different is a good old sensual smut! Just the intimacy and slow deep movements of it are just worth drooling.. I’ve been wanting to write a more sensual scene for a while so here you go! Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊)You can check out my other stories on my Masterlist and my newest story as a fixed post. Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

My heels click clack fast upon the stairs as I make my way down to the first floor, severely searching for my phone around the living room.

“What are you looking for?” His deep voice echoed from behind me

“Jesus Christ, Roman! You startled me. I’m looking for my phone, have you seen it?”

“Do you mean this one?” He showed me my phone in his hand

“Oh, thank you baby. I-“ I stopped when instead of giving me the phone, he tossed onto his joggings side pocket.

“What are you doing? Give me my phone, please”

“Where are you going to?” He asks, ignoring my request

“My boss called saying he got a last time meeting with that big potential French buyer and asked me to help him with the translation”

He raised his eyebrows “And you’re dressed like this” He scoots closer, pulling at the hem of my black pencil skirt “Just to meet him?”

“I have to dress nicely. It’s a work meeting, so yeah, I need to dress in work clothes” I spat, not really liking where this was going

“Couldn’t you have ‘dressed nicely’ with pants?”

“What’s your point, Roman?” I ask slightly annoyed

“My point is: You’re dressed in a pencil skirt that will make any alive man stare directly at your ass, your cleavage is so deep that I can see your bra” He leans in “You’re wearing your Givenchy perfume, makeup, heels...all of that, just for a meeting with a buyer?” His voice had an incredulous tone to it

“Yes! I just told you it’s a work thing, how do you expect me show up there? With sweatpants and flip flops?!”

He’s still staring at me as he coldly said

“You’re not going out on that outfit”

“WHAT? Are you kidding me? Since when do you prohibit me from wearing something?”

“Since now!” He growled

I bitterly laughed “Sorry my dear, but I’m not one of our children! You don’t tell me what to do. You’re my husband, not my father!”

He closes the distance between us

“Do you really expect me to believe that you’re looking all hot like that for a last minute meeting? I’m not that dumb, baby girl. To me, that smells like there’s some other male trying to piss at my lawn and I don’t like that” His voice is dangerously low

“Are you suggesting that I’m romantically seeing my boss?” I ask in disbelief

“No, you wouldn’t do that. But him on the other hand, always had a soft spot for you. So yeah, I think he pulled together this whole ‘last minute meeting’ thing just so he can be alone with you. That’s why, you’re gonna go upstairs take off that makeup and that outfit and put on something less provocative”

“I’ve ALWAYS dressed like this to work! Even when I worked at the WWE and you’ve never had a problem with it before”

“I have a problem with it now” He growled

“Roman, are you listening to yourself? You better bring that attitude down! That whole ‘tribal chief’ gimmick thing is going up your head”

“You’re not leaving this house in that outfit!” He roars

“That’s nonsense! Give me my phone back, please”

“No” He calmly answered

“Give me my fucking phone, Roman” I spat

“You want your phone back? Go upstairs and change that outfit” He explained like if I was a kid

“Give me my phone!” I try to grab the phone out of his side pocket, but before I could, he grabbed my wrists forcefully. Locking them in his grip, behind my back.

“Oh, you’re in big trouble now” He devilishly laugh

I try to release my wrists from his grip but it was too tight

“Roman, let me go”

“Why should I? I mean, you were brave enough to try to take your phone away from me, so you can be brave enough to free yourself”

I try to pull on my wrists but the more I try to the harder he grips

“Roman, you’re gonna hurt me, let.me.go” I punctuated so maybe he’ll understand

“Stop fighting then!” He pushes me forward with the hand that is on my back securing my wrists, I tripped and he holds me in place by my ass, with his free hand

“This is mine” He slaps my ass forcefully, making me look up at him with pure hatred

“Don’t give me that look” He warned

“You’re gonna make me loose my job!” I start to fight against his firm grip, in despair to release myself

Roman then holds my body against his by my waist

“Behave” He chuckled

I was already pretty annoyed, to be honest, so I spat

“If you don’t let me go, I swear to God I’ll forget that you are my husband and I’m gonna kick your balls so hard, they’re gonna fly out of your mouth!”

He stares at me and let me go

“My phone, please” I reach out my hand so he can place the phone in it, which he obliged.

The front door opened and the kids ran inside like maniacs followed by Jey, who’s holding some bags from the local Candy Shop.

“This isn’t over yet” Roman whispered

“Man, I tell you, the amount of candy that shop has is out of this world!” He chuckled while chewing on something covered in chocolate. He looked at us and said

“Uh oh, I feel some tension...Did I had a bad timing?”

“No, Jey” I say “You couldn’t have a better timing not even if you tried to!” I look away from Roman to get my hand bag and the kids ran to us to show what uncle Jey had bought them.

...................................................................

I came home around 10 p.m. The reunion was a success and we had managed to close a deal with one of the French buyers we were hoping to get a contract with. He was in Vancouver for business and was able to attend the meeting through a video conference.

One part of me was excited to tell Roman about it because he knew how much that contract would help me in both career and money wise. But the other part of me was still mad at him for that little stunt he put up earlier.

I walk through the living room to place my hand bag and phone at the coffee table when the lamp by the armchair went on.

“Did you had fun?” Roman asked with a cold voice

“Sweet Lord, Roman! Do you want to kill me?”

“It must have been quite fun, I mean, for you to have came back home just now”

“You do know there’s a timezone of -3 hours from Vancouver to Florida right?”

“I didn’t asked that, I asked if you had fun”

I look at him in disbelief and say

“Look, I don’t know what’s up with the whole Samoan Don Corleone thing, but I’m really tired” I sighed

“Come here Y/N”

“What? You’re gonna ask me to kiss your ring too, Don Samoan?” I mock

He cackled at my little joke and stood up from the armchair, walking towards me.

“You and your clever little mouth, right baby? Always putting yourself in trouble with those pretty lips” His smile fade-away and he quickly pulled my head up by my hair

“I think you’re forgetting that you’re walking on thin ice right now and I wouldn’t test me if I were you”

“Where are the kids?” I ask faintly

“At Jey’s, for a sleep over” His smile is now purely evil

“Did you planned this, then?”

“C’mon baby, how are you gonna be able to scream my name while I fuck you senseless if the kids are at home?” He leans in to sniff the nape of my neck

“I love when you wear this perfume, it drives me crazy! It makes me want to fuck you all night long” He sucks on my neck “You look good enough to eat Y/N. That skirt baby...it’s gonna be the death of me! Give me a 360, baby girl” He said, intertwining our fingers and slowly turning me around while whistling at me.

“What is this all about?” I ask, suspicious about his true intentions

“What do you mean?”

“The whole complimenting me for the one thing you made a whole fuss about it earlier”

“What? Can’t I compliment my gorgeous wife?” He asked innocently

“I’m not saying that! I’m just saying that I find it suspicious the fact that earlier we almost got into an argument because of this outfit and now your throwing praises at it” I crook an eyebrow at him

He smiles “You know me so well it’s actually embarrassing!” He chuckled

“Ok baby girl, you got me! I felt guilty, ok? I regretted being so rude with you earlier, you didn’t deserve it”

“So why did you do it, Ro?”

“Because I got jealous! I mean, the time we have together is short and it’s mostly taken by the kids, we barely have any alone couple time and I miss you! I miss having my wife, having you: Y/N! Not the mom version or the professional version of you, but just my wife. All to myself” He scoots closer “So when I saw you dressed up all nice like this, smelling so good and looking so beautiful I remembered how it used to be back then...when you worked at WWE and I used to sneak out to your hotel bedroom at night so we could spend the night together because you didn’t wanted people to know about us. I remembered the amount of convincing that I had to do, for you to finally agree to make us an official thing. How we thought that our marriage wouldn’t survive with me being on the road and you at home with the kids. How many times I couldn’t sleep at night ‘cause I got scared thinking that I could lose you after that fight we’ve had when Ben was born” Roman hugs my waist and look me in the eyes “I felt the same fear earlier today, I know that’s on me and not on you but... I couldn’t help it, I got carried away by my jealousy and I apologize for that. You’re a beautiful woman! Gorgeous face, delicious body, a goddess in the bedroom, strong personality, such a kind soul and a heart made of gold. And I’m a selfish man! I don’t wanna lose you, I can’t afford to lose you...I want you all to myself, body and soul” He leans in to capture my lips in the most romantic, sensual, long kiss.

“Do you forgive me?” He whispered

“I don’t know...maybe I need some more convincing” I tease him and he laughed, knowing it was all good between us

“What can I do to convince you, baby?”

“Lose the shirt and the pants and sit on the armchair”

He happily obliged, sitting on the armchair with eyes filled with excitement

“Can you help me with this?” I point towards the skirt’s zipper innocently

He smirked and I got closer to the chair. Roman reaches the zipper, pulling it down torturously slow.

“Take it off, Ro”

He slowly pulls it down, savoring every inch of my ass being exposed to him, with each tug at the skirt he nibs and kisses the recently discovered skin. And I couldn’t be happier to be wearing a new lace set in a beautiful midnight blue shade.

The skirt became a pile of fabric around my ankles as Roman growls: squeezing, biting, licking and kissing my ass while I take off my white dress shirt.

“Fuck Y/N, baby...I’m in love with your ass”

I giggled at his choice of words

“It looks so fucking good in this blue color. Is this a new set?” He asks, still kissing and biting it.

“Yeah, I bought it last week. I thought it looked good so-“ I couldn’t even finish my sentence due to the forceful tug he gave my hips so I could sit down on his lap.

“It looks insanely good, baby” He whispered in my ear, kneading my breasts softly through the lace.

“And the bra too...they make your boobs look full as fuck! I love it”

I feel his erection resting against my ass and I can’t help but grind my hips to it.

“Hmmm baby, you’re so hot, so fucking hot. The hottest woman I’ve ever met” He pressed my hips further down to his bulge

“You never fail to turn me on baby girl, you’ve always had the power to make my cock rock hard for you”

“Just for me?” I ask with a voice raspy from pleasure, reaching my arm around his neck so I can pull his lips towards my ear

“Always just for you, baby. Ever since he tasted you, he got addicted and wants only you” Roman whispered

His voice always worked wonders on me. How deep his voice is, the things he says...it was always an infallible combination.

We explored each other’s body until we couldn’t wait it anymore.

I stand up to remove my lace panties and bra and he loses his boxer briefs, sitting back at the armchair with me on his lap. I lifted up a bit, so he can enter my core and oh, how I missed my man!

I start a front to back motion, holding onto Roman’s thighs for support while my thighs are closed shut in between his opened ones. I circled my hips in deep, slow circles from time to time so he can sink all the way in.

“Yeah, keep doing that baby girl. Fuck, it looks so sexy when you ride me like this” He moaned

And that’s my intention: a sensual, lustful, intimate sex.

Roman roamed one arm around my hips until his hand stopped at my mound

“Spread your legs a little bit, baby” He asks

I do it and two of his fingers start to rub my clit at the same pace of my riding.

“Oh, Ro...fuck me babe, that feels so good” I reach my arm back, so I can toss it around his neck, pulling him closer to me. The change of positions made his cheek rest against the side of my breast. I look down and see him staring at his hand on my clit.

“Baby” I wine, making him look up to me. And when he did I leaned down to capture his full lips in a deep kiss.

Once apart he cupped my cheek with his free hand

“I love you Y/N, so fucking much baby girl”

“I love you too Ro, the only man I’ll ever want” I smiled

“Promise me?” He asked

“Promise” I leaned down to kiss him again

I felt him twitch inside of me, a sign he was close to coming.

“Are you gonna cum inside this pussy, baby?” I smirked

“I can’t hold it back anymore, baby girl. You’re riding me so good and your pussy is milking my cock so nicely that I just can’t hold it” He laughs and kisses the side of my breast

“Cum for me baby, cum right on your pussy” I whispered in his ear

“Mine” He growled and turned up the pace of his fingers on my clit

“Yours” I moaned as I could feel my own release rising

Roman pressed our foreheads together as we reach our high in between moans. As we’re recovering our breath he says

“Damn baby, that was something!” Taking a deep breath in

“Did I just took your breath away, Reigns?” I chuckled

“Fuck yeah, that was the hottest sex we’ve had in the last 2 months”

“You’re unbelievable!” I laughed hard

“What? I’m serious! My girl is always giving me some breath taking sex” He said seriously, pulling me closer to his chest

“I’m glad you think that way because I already want a round 2” I sucked on his lower lip

“Oh baby, you’ll have the round 2, 3, 4, 5...’Cuz the kids won’t be back until tomorrow at 9 p.m.” He licks my neck

“Are you serious?” I whispered excitedly

He nods “I told you I missed my wife” He winks and take me on his arms bridal style

“Let’s go baby girl, round 2 awaits!” He laughed carrying us up to our bedroom

Where our night was just getting started

Please let me know your thoughts on this? Feedback is always appreciated 🥰😘

[jesslockwood]

Jess’ 700 Celebration

Bingo writing challenge!

So I haven’t quite reached 700 but close enough… right? I also wanted to get this out early so y’all have time to write them, so I therefore introduce this madness I came up with!

(I’m also sorry if anything is misspelled I made this so quickly at 4am lol)

Quick How it works

(rules, guidelines and bingos are under the read more line)

The whole point of this challenge is to mix and match different ideas and challenge yourself creativity to come up with something awesome!

This is not your average writing challenge, as you will be picking 2 to however many Au’s and prompts and smushing it into one piece of writing!

So for visual example:

Pick 2+ for a combination to write on one bingo sheet (for example i highlighted the two on this pic but you can add many more if you like)

Send an ask to me telling me what you’re writing and for who

Write it

PLEASE actually Highlight the bingo spaces you used so it’s easy to tell!!! (Apps you can use are ones that have a drawing feature like Snapchat or pics art!)

And post it!

⬇️ The Rules, Guidelines and Bingos below ⬇️

Not necessary but a follow would be nice!

Send me an ask (with your user if on anon), the bingo number (1, 2 or 3) and 2+ tropes/prompts/AU’s you’re writing with, and who it’s for

Eg: I’d like to use bingo card 3 with the Blank AU(s) and the trope(s) A blanks B (etc.)

Write a piece by September 7 2021 (if you need an extension don’t be afraid to ask!)

Please don’t combine bingo cards unless you ask first because my one brain cell will get confused!!! (But if you want a challenge use one bingo card itself. Or as many prompts/Aus you can fit I will be impressed lol)

Most importantly have fun!!!

Guidelines for writings

NO non-con

NO Incest

NO smut for characters who are minors

NO minors writing smut

It’s fine to: Suggest characters had intercourse without actually writing it, and aged up characters (eg. Peter parker at university age) are okay for any suggested intercourse or smut

***Put warnings to possibly triggering content before writings

Reader insert and OC allowed

If Over 500 words put a read more line (there’s no set limit on how much or little you want to write btw!)

There is no limit to how many individual ones you want to write for this challenge

You can totally use an already existing series as long as it includes the things you pick on the bingo!

please tag your works with #arg700bingowritingchallange so I can reblog it and read it!

ANY FANDOM IS ALLOWED :)

***please post writing with the bingo sheet you used with highlighted tropes and Au’s

(P.S if anyone wants to use this idea for a celebration of your own you are welcome to as long as you give credit where due, and totally tag me in it cause I will most likely be joining!)

THE BINGOS 🎉

Tags for mutuals who might be interested:

@duskholland @worldoftom @tomhollandd @spideyspeaches @harryhollandsgirlfriend @tomhollandsgirlfriend @samhollandscupcake @tommysparker @londonspidey @miseryholland @greenorangevioletgrass

[glambitions-a]

couldn't take you home to mother in a skirt that short.

uma x original female character fanfiction | post descendants three | canon compliant | part one of ? | rating : teen | warnings : swearing | word count : 2389 | masterlist

prompt : none! i made this post a while ago and finally i have made true on my promise!!! moodboards for this fic can be found here and here.

tags (open): @cherry-bxtch​, @cosmosstarstudio​

    when uma gets to auradon, she is quick to learn that not everybody is as happy to meet pirates as they were when the barrier was first opened.  none of the royalty and heroes she danced with weeks ago will even look her in the eye, it’s like it just dawned on them that she’s uma triskelion, cotillion ruiner. so when she walks into her dorm room for the first time and nobodies there to greet her, she’s not even fucking surprised.

   it’s lived in, barely, but she’s sure she has a roommate at least.  evie apologizes and apologizes through the phone because she was so sure the other girl would be there, but uma can’t even blame her missing roommate, if she was a prissy princess, she wouldn’t want to meet her either.

   it’s bad enough that uma can’t be with her friends, the school had done a fantastic fucking job of making sure she couldn’t be with harry or gil, or any person from her crew from that matter.  the teachers had told her it was because they had to keep the boys and girls separate, but they wouldn't let her stay with desiree or bonnie or harriet for god’s sake, which even though they had thoroughly proven to have different crews, uma was allowed no familiar face.

   harry was going fucking mental, he pretty much threatened fairy godmother when she told them that gil and her couldn’t be in the same dorm as him.  at first, harry and gil had been put in the same room together, because uma was the real villain, they didn’t ruin cotillion, she did. but then it came to their attention that the two of them had broken out of the barrier when audrey had control of the scepter, so that had made them separate as well.

   and at first, they wanted to put audrey with uma, but since they were both villains now, they had to be separated as well.  it was a shame, they both had something in common at least.

   but no, instead she was living in this suffocatingly neat room, and everything on the occupied surfaces on the other side of the room seemed so delicate and soft that if the sea witch looked at it for too long she might break it.  

   the whole room had white french inspired furniture and the walls were a pale blue so light it was almost not there. after the barrier was opened, the castle decorator came back from her long break in italy.  she had left as soon as the barrier was put up, wanting no part of a world like that.  but within her travels she had met a man, and apparently she had a baby girl. uma didn’t really care, but she respected the woman, as diva as she was, she still fought for the villain kids over and over.

   so now, she had redecorated the dorms to match the personalities of the inhabitants.  uma’s side had seashells and little pirate-y decorations.  uma had already unloaded her things in the room, her clothes dumped on the bed, she had little knickknacks her boys had given her scattered on the crisp white desk.

    the floor had two pairs kicked off shoes, since those were all that she had on the isle.  the jewelry that she had was stashed underneath her mattress in a ratty cloth.  she didn’t have very many ‘beauty’ products, and those that she did have were from audrey and evie, but those that she did have were haphazardly strewn in a desk drawer.  

    in comparison to her roommate's side, uma’s seemed messier than the isle of the lost.  the other girl’s side was pristine and the surfaces were devoid of anything considered dirty.  the white furniture had gold detailing on both sides, but with what the other girl had decorating the surfaces, the gold seemed to shine brighter.  a fresh vase of flowers seemed to laugh at uma, who had never seen flowers before coming to auradon.  the blue and white bedding looked straight out of a magazine with the layers and several pillows adorning the bed.

    the first time uma saw it, she sneered.  it looked like a dollhouse, nothing was out of place, whereas uma’s side looked bare. (and now it looked out of place against the pastel dream, every time she went over there it felt like she was being suffocated in sugary sweet frosting.)

   now, she was sitting on her bed, having just thrown her things wherever she damn pleased (that’ll show them what she thinks of their prissy princess ruffles). her side is actually quite plain, save for the sea shells and a painting of the sea hung above the wired frame of her bed.  neither of them have canopies, but her roommate has an angel painting above her bed instead.  it’s quite pretty, if she thinks about it. (but she doesn’t because she doesn’t care at all about what some princess has on her side of the room)

    it sort of feels like the girl is never going to come, which makes uma think that the girl is scared of her. (which she fucking should be, i mean, she’s a pirate captain and a sea witch)  nobody else seems to like them that much, and that makes harry glow, and gil pout a little (which makes harry threaten to kiss him if he doesn’t stop, and that makes uma laugh because she knows gil really wouldn’t mind being kissed by the older boy.)

   uma falls back on the bed with a sigh, eyes boring into the ceiling, the bed was super fucking comfortable, like holy shit.  she could feel herself sinking in, but she would not let her eyes close.  she was tired, but she was always tired.  she had always convinced herself that really she wasn’t really tired (harry had always sat next to her in bed until she fell asleep, and if she didn’t he’d wake gil up so he could hold her, and the three of them fell asleep like that.)  she and the boys at stayed in evie’s castle for the first few days, but now school had started and they needed to move into the dorms.

    next to her, the phone carlos had given her buzzed with a call notification.  it didn’t startle her, but she groaned and flipped over, grabbing a pillow and whining into it.  she really didn’t want to text anyone, she had only been here for a week and already evie had blown up her phone about a million times.

   she remembers when evie came to uma and telling her that they put her in a room with this other girl because they were both new to auradon.  and originally this had caused uma to think this girl was from the isle (which made her think all hope is not fucking lost, get your shit together uma, you’re in for a long ride but at least it’ll be someone you know), but the blue-haired girl had told her her roommate wasn’t from there. (fuck)

   her phone eventually died down, before a shorter buzz emitted from where she had tried to muffle it.  she knew this one too, it sounded like a text, she groaned and crawled over to where it lay buried underneath the pillows from where she tossed it away.  unlocking it with her fingerprint (something she didn’t quite understand yet) she saw a missed call from (you guessed it) evie and a text also from her saying, ‘mark my words, i’m going to track down your roomie, i’m so sorry she ditched, ugh.’

    uma carefully typed back, ‘okay’ before powering it off, tossing it back to it’s pillow buried state.  she didn’t even want a roommate, she really didn’t. uma could go without a stuffy girl who watches her with caution.  it would be better if she was all alone to worry about gil and harry and their respective nightmares.  (she was their anchor, after all.)  harry’s scared him more, but gil’s were longer, so that was almost worse.  her stomach knots at the thought of them being alone, which she will never ever admit to them. (even though they already know)

     her phone buzzes again, and this time it confuses her.  furrowing her eyebrows she sits on her knees to pick it up.  and, in fact, it’s not evie. from what she can tell, it’s an unknown number with a message that is misspelled in so many ways, that she knows it just has to be from gil.  it says something about ‘haz’ which is a name that only gil is allowed to call harry, and it includes many of those stupid smiley faces carlos showed her.  but basically, the message tells her that harry and gil are coming over tonight.

      her mood is lifted as she imagines that everything will be almost normal, the three of them will be together, just in a more comfortable bed.  but, someone else will be there, unless maybe she’ll be able to scare off this roommate of hers.  it should be pretty simple, since she couldn’t even come and meet her in the first place.

      she could always send harry to find her, which is so dramatic and totally unnecessary it makes her laugh a little.  but she didn’t want to kill her experience here, and terrorizing her roommate without being here for even a day (or even meeting said roommate) will probably ruin her dutiful and redeemed first impression.  (not that it could get any worse, she turned into a giant octopus and almost killed them all, and she kidnapped the king to hold him hostage.  so really scaring her roommate is probably considered tame compared to everything else.)

     and now, everybody’s safe and healthy, away from their parents.  harry’s going to learn how to count and gil will learn how to read.  and even as much as she wants to stay with them tonight, she’s not going to risk them getting themselves kicked out.  she retrieves her phone and opens the message, mentally telling herself to ask carlos how to make a contact. (whatever the hell that was)  she types back, ‘you can’t, i have a roommate remember?’

     closing her eyes, her phone is dropped on her stomach as she lays back, its quiet, which unnerves her in a way she hadn’t thought about yet.  even the breathing of someone else would calm her nerves in the slightest.  she thinks about this ‘roommate’.  maybe she’s home schooled and has never even been to school before.  it’s likely she just went to a different school before this, uma’s not stupid, she’s sort of even the most logical person out of her crew. (which makes sense because she’s the fucking captain)

    her phone buzzes within ten seconds of her laying down, she carefully takes it in her hands like she’d scared it would fucking shatter.  ‘but i wanna come see you :( i miss you.’ a smile worms it’s way onto her face as she looks at the message.  it surprises her as it buzzes again, the little chat bubble pops up saying, ‘harry says he misses you too :)’

     her brow furrows, ‘harry’s with you?’  the teachers had seemed hellbent on keeping them apart (not that it would work) but harry always found his way around things.  he climbed through uma’s window when ursula used to keep her locked up in her (very bare) room, he dragged gil to the ship when his dad was being especially dumb.  he cares about all of the crew even if he doesn’t show it.

    ‘yeah, he climbed through the window and locked jay out :)’  she laughs, that sounds like a the kind of thing harry would do.  they haven’t even been in these dorms for two hours and yet he’s already found a way out of the ‘punishment’. she hadn’t imagined him taking a long time though, they were family.

    ‘i miss you too, both of you. but i’m not going to risk getting kicked out of here on our first night.’  she sets down her phone and gets up, stretching.  ‘tell harry to bring you to the commons, he knows where it is.  they can’t punish us for socializing.’ she figures that if they act like they’re at least trying to fit in, they’ll stop trying to separate them.

    ‘okay uma :)’ the message buzzes in the pocket of her jeans, a newly acquired item audrey had thrown at her this morning when she went over to evie’s to get the trio awake.  she had told them that after this week of school, she’s taking them to the mall to find, her words, ‘less spikey’ clothes.

     uma points her gaze at her phone briefly before leaving the sugary sweet looking room, tucking her phone back in her pocket and shutting the door.  evie had given her a key to the dorm, and so she attempted to lock back up again.  a satisfying click was heard before she put the key away, finding her way to the commons.

      she pretended not to notice the stares and whispers, but she expected them so it was hard to ignore it.  things were so much easier on the isle, if people had something to say, they would say it to your face instead of being bitches about it.  the more uma stayed, the more she could tell that auradon was just a bigger prison, like a refinement center or some shit like that.

      she neared the chatter of students and comfy sofas, eyes caught onto her with a fearful twinge, and then the whispers started again.  she only heard ‘that’s the girl that turned into her mother and tried to kill us.’  her heart clenches with the anger rising in her chest.  she was not her mother, she almost succeeded where her mother failed miserably.  she had fooled everyone, and she knows it’s wrong to still be so angry at mal, but that girl terrorized her, basically her entire life.  it’s hard to forget that shit.

     “uma!” she barely even turned around before she felt strong arms encircling her waist and a smile pressed into her shoulder.  she ignores the way her heart warms and reminds herself that she doesn’t have to hide here, they can be happy.

ʚĭɞ | if you want to be on my taglist, all you have to do is like this post.  i hope you enjoyed the lil bits of sea three fluff i threw in here :)  this chapter is sponsored by jupi because she puts up w my random descendants related ramblings ♡♡ requests are open so please feel free to shoot me an ask! please don’t let this flop!  evangeline will be introduced in the next chapter, so consider this a prologue almost. - rory

[seenashwrite]

A Fluff By Any Other Name

Word Count: 1.8K Category: One-shot, Domestic Family Fluff, Husband Dean, Reader Insert Mommy, Sam And Dogs, Practical Jokes, Meet Cute   Rating: Teen & Up Character(s): Dean, Sam, You, a Newborn, a Nurse Pairing(s): Dean + You Warnings: None Author’s Note: *This is a re-post minus tags and links in an effort to get it to show up in searches*; more post-story Overall Summary: Sam arrives at the hospital to meet his newborn niece.

Dean was waiting for Sam in the hallway.

“No flowers?”

“Uh, she hates flowers. Figured I’d ask what she wants for dinner, run get it.”

“Maybe I would’ve appreciated the flowers.”

“You know, I’m going to let this go, because you’ve had a long day, but not as long as hers, so—”

“Ask me.”

“Ask… what?”

“You know.”

“Dean, did you sneak some morphine, or whatever they’ve been—”

“Ask me what your niece’s name is. Actually, no - ask me what it’s not.”

His voice hadn’t ratcheted down to the deep-deep levels of pissed off - and, to be sure, there were several subtle variations Sam knew well, having been on the receiving end of all of them - but Dean was definitely serious, and had crossed his arms for good measure.

“I legit don’t know where you’re going with—-”

“The dogs. All your foster dogs. You took the good names.”

“Okay, now, that’s— I started volunteering way before she ever got pregnant, before you two even got serious, come to think of it. And I just chose a bunch of names that I thought of off the top of my—-”

“I picked up on that, yeah - around the time you used Jessie. And on that real jumpy, kinda twitchy one, which was extra weird. And was a boy.”

“Wait, wait - that was such a sweet dog, and besides - you really would’ve wanted to name your daughter after my dead fiancée?!”

“Oh, everybody’s dead, Sam!” Dean whisper-hissed. “And, no, not necessarily, but I do wonder what Jessica’d think about that…. about that…. what damn breed was that thing?”

“A mix.”

“Of?”

“A pooset and a corgat.”

“Sam. The hell.”

“A poodle-basset hound mix and a rat terrier-corgi mix shared a special hug—”

“So it’s a poocorgaset.”

Sam stared.

“Corsetpoogat.”

Sam brought a hand up, slowly rubbed his temples.

“Can I pull from the rest of the real names? I mean, ratbassgipoo is turning my crank.”

“But always the poo.”

“Of course always the poo, what the hell good does -dle do anybody?”

The nurse cleared her throat - she was leaning into the hallway, a leg and foot still in the room. “We’re done. Everything’s looking good. She said for you guys to come on in, but if you’re in the middle of…..”

“No! No, not at all. Hey, and this is my little brother, Sam. Sammy, this is our nurse, she’s been here the whole time, basically delivered Macka… Mmmuh… my kid.”

She raised her eyebrows at that, but smiled, extending her hand and shaking the one offered, introducing herself as Dean slipped past them.

“Uncle Sam, huh?”

“Uh-huh…. oh god, I just now realized that!”

“Eh… could be worse.”

“Yeah?”

“You could have a name that your nurse had to re-write on the birth certificate five times - twice for misspells, then again because she ran out of room. Me. I’m that person. We’re talking about me, here.”

“What was the fourth? Since there was a fifth?”

“Oh, well, that one? Can’t take credit for - under ‘father’s name’, the proud papa got a case of the jitters and wrote your father’s name.”

“Jeez, I’m so… I’m so sorry…”

Sam would’ve sounded sincere if he hadn’t burst out laughing, but she immediately joined in. And though he didn’t know it at the time, he would be sincere with her many more times than not, and he’d be getting plenty of it in return. Starting that night, when he’d ask if she’d be interested in getting coffee sometime. She would be tips-to-toes sincere when saying she hoped to hear from him soon.

They’d still keep bursting into laughter, amongst and in between the sincere times, over a million different things through the years. There’d be the breath-stealing kind, prompted by the action of more amusing-than-scary hunts; the gasp-induced kind, stemming out of nervous relief over the hunts that weren’t; and her favorite, the bent-over, knotted-into-cramps kind, resulting from drunken Dean tales of hunts long past. And then his favorite, when the Winchester kids were raising hell, and there was nothing to do but laugh.

This time, this first time, after the birth of their niece, in the moment they’d met, would ultimately get ranked as the best, though it was followed closely by the tear-tinged round that erupted after another first, when they heard the justice of the peace say the words “husband and wife”.

But that��s another story.

For now, Sam closed the door quietly before tip-toeing to the bed, bending and giving you a kiss on the forehead. He glanced over to the bassinet and back, saying, “Nice work.”

“Work is right.”

Dean was seated in an armchair next to your bed, unlacing his boots, but paused and looked up at this, tacking on a clarification. “Work is damn right.”

You winked in acknowledgment before speaking again. “So listen, while I’ve got you both—-”

“We in trouble already?” Dean asked, changing his seat from the chair to the opposite side of the bed, perching near the end.

“—-I wanted to make sure you knew that I haven’t totally lost my marbles with the name, and I know that’s what you’re both thinking.”

Sam opened his mouth, ready to protest, but Dean just held up his hands in a sort-of surrender.

“Babe, I know I said I’d be fine with whatever you chose, but we ain’t lied to each other yet, and wow - it’s horrible.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t worry. It’s an old family name, and, I mean… we could squeak a nickname out of it… probably… you know how some of these Gaelic names are, it’s hard to tell how to pronounce them on sight.”

“So how’s it pronounced?” Sam asked.

“Get ready,” Dean muttered.

And Sam’s jaw dropped briefly as something largely incomprehensible - possibly worse than the name was on paper - came out of your mouth. “Sis?” he said.

“Bro?”

“That’s beyond horrible.”

“Yeah, it is. It is a vicious eyesore that she won’t be able to spell for who-knows-how-long, it makes ears bleed, and I’m a garbage parent for it, though I will point out her father was zero help.”

Now Dean’s jaw dropped, but clearly in faux offense. “I resent that - ‘cause every name I said I liked….”

“….every name we agreed on, that we loved for her….”

“….was already a dog’s name.”

You and Dean turned your heads in unison, leveling looks at Sam.

“I can’t have taken up all of them—-”

“Mary.”

“Jane.”

“Which also took out Mary Jane.”

“Erica.”

“Charlotte.”

“Bobby, which took away ‘Bobbie’.”

“Sandra.”

Dean wrinkled his nose, prompting you to roll your eyes.

“Right, right - not your fave. But we even would’ve been fine with Anne.”

“I haven’t named any of them Sandra or Anne,” Sam pointed out.

“No, but you did name that fire-engine-red cocker spaniel, the one that wouldn’t stop crawling into my lap, Anna - which was a real cute move, by the way,” Dean shot back.

“We’d already 86′d Anna, on your request, and I still haven’t heard that whole story,” you said, jabbing a finger into Dean’s chest before jabbing it in the air at Sam. “The one that really pissed me off? And I get to be pissed off because of the disaster that currently is my—”

“Whoa!” Dean interjected.

You gave him brief but pointed side-eye before getting back to fussing at Sam. “Millie. You took Millie. And she was an adorable dachshund, an absolute doll, but, I mean, come on.”

The tone of your voice had changed, leaving the realm of good-natured teasing and stepping into something akin to disappointment. It wasn’t lost on Sam, who looked to his shoes, swallowing. Then he let his gaze drift to the bassinet, keeping it there even as you went on, though now with gentle care.

“But I get it. We get it.”

“Get what?”

“That menagerie of furry fluff. Thinking they’re it. Only kids you’ll ever have.”

Sam was completely focused, spellbound by the rise-and-fall of the tiny, striped-blanket-bundle’s easy breaths.

Dean’s voice now, definitely deep, definitely serious, definitely one of the subtle variations Sam valued above all the rest, the slightly scolding one that hid a bottomless well of love.

“Can’t know the future, Sammy. I know sometimes we have, but…. nothing’s in stone. I sure as hell didn’t picture this for me. Ever.”  

Sam nodded - it was true, just didn’t feel like it.

“And even if it was? Written in stone? Find another big-ass hammer, grenade launcher, whatever - lay waste, kiddo,” you added.

The baby suddenly jolted herself with a sneeze, causing a reciprocal jolt across her audience. She shifted a little, smacked her lips a few times, didn’t show the first indication of waking up, that anything in her brand new world was even slightly out-of-sorts. Her uncle briefly thought on the realization of how hard he’d fight to keep her in such a place as he brought his eyes back to her parents.

And was surprised to find them grinning.

“What?” Sam asked.

“Check out her bracelet,” Dean said.

Sam looked to you, received a nod.

“Go ahead,” you said. “She won’t notice.”

She didn’t, but did get a hell of a grip on a finger of the hand that moved her arm, so he slid the bracelet around with a few fingers of his free hand. Sam fought his own grin as he tucked her arm back under the blanket. Well, mostly - he opted to leave her hand out, let the grip remain for as long as she was willing to hold on to him, then raised an eyebrow at his shoulder-shaking, snickering brother.

Dean kept it up as he edged to the head of the bed, scooting in next to you best he could in the cramped space, quieting only when he let his eyes close, no need to see as he tilted on his side, laced his fingers through yours like he’d done a million times before, the metal of matching angel-blessed bands briefly clinking.

“So your nurse… she was in on this?” Sam asked you.

You shrugged. “Except the father’s name snafu - that part was 100% true.”

Eyes still closed, Dean briefly gave a thumbs-up, took your hand again, went back to his dozing.

You shook your head at him a little, though a smile was on your face as you went on. “She’s the whole package, my man.”

Sam smiled, too. “Yeah. I noticed that.”

“Thought you might.”

“Speaking of thoughts, what made you think of it? Not the prank, I mean—”

“Turns out, my great-grandmother had a nice, simple, easily pronounceable, no-brainer spelling, peach of a maiden name.”

“And the story on this middle name?”

“She’ll prove herself worthy.”

“Hardy-har-har,” Sam replied flatly, but still with a smile.

“It was the first name on both our lists…”

Even in the dim light, you saw his eyes go shiny.

“….and, we hedged our bets - figured even if you ran out of ideas, you’d never name one of your fluffs after yourself. Thought we’d do it for you.”

.

Author’s Note #2: There’s some fun background behind this story (such as the bit about the crazy name prank & how the story came to be in the first place), and if you care to know it, look at the end of the original post of this story, which you can find via my Master Story Post (see below)!

Want more stories? My Master Post is linked in my profile, and it tells you about getting on the Tag List, too! If for whatever reason it gives you trouble, don’t hesitate to send an Ask and I’ll link you.

Re-blogs and feedback are fuel for a writer’s soul - please do let me know if you enjoyed. 😘

[justice-for-shayla]

Chicken/Egg

A/N: The prompt was Sex before Love and Mutual Pining and I went all the way off. I guess I had something to get off my chest. 

Word Count: 1941 

Warnings: Sexual content, though not graphic, scary academic situations, angst, complete lack of editing,

Tag List: I’m tagging people who liked the prompt ask and some writers I admire in the hopes that people will read this because I’m very proud of it. @sassystrawberryk, @lieblingliebgott, @r-ahh-mi, @rami-hoe, @elliotmercury

Your acquaintance started with crowds.

He was a face you saw in a coffee shop, the only person who was there as often and as long as you were. You spoke for the first time when he came over to your table, awkward as all hell.

“Is someone sitting here?”  

The empty chair in front of you was a challenge. You both . knew perfectly well that you came in here nearly every day and spent hours working on one assignment or another, and no one had ever joined you. You had seen him watching you, and he had seen you watching him right back. The fact that the lunch rush had the place so packed that there really was no option other than for strangers to share was just the thing that finally made it impossible for the two of you to keep ignoring each other.

“No.” 

He shuffled, worrying the strap of his bag. “Can I sit there?” He gestured at the crowd, at all the full tables, at the first dates and business meetings and tired moms catching up.

You nodded and shifted your stuff on the table, allowing him a bit of space. “Sure.”

It took all of three minutes for him to get annoying. He didn’t have to say anything-- people rarely did with you-- it was apparent without words. He typed way to fucking fast.

The stupid clicking was rattling around in your head, driving all the very salient points you’d been trying to put into your essay out of your head. “Could you not?” You snapped after a minute?

“What?” He looked up at you with an expression like you’d yanked him out of a movie theater in the middle of the show.

“The… clicking. It’s annoying.”

He looked at his hands. “Um, sure.”

To his credit, he did try, and you appreciated that, so even when it kept being annoying you didn’t say anything else.

The next time you came in in the middle of the lunch rush, you saw him tucked in the corner like a shadow, and beelined for his table, rather than make eye-contact with the guy who was clearly trying to pack up the nerve to offer you his spare chair.

“Do you mind?” You asked, already putting your stuff down.

He just nodded.

His typing was less annoying today somehow, and you did your work in silence while he did his, neither of you overly concerned with the other’s presence.

Your friendship started with panic.

Sitting with him had become natural, an easy second-best to sitting alone. Neither of you bothered to ask before sitting anymore.

“Morning, Y/N,” He said, surprising you as you sat down.

“You know my name?” You asked, running through your limited conversations trying to remember when you’d told him that.

“Your coffee,” He said, “I noticed it last time.”

You stared at the cup, the barista’s scrawl marking out a slightly misspelled but legible version of your name. “Right.” You looked at his. “Ed? Huh, doesn’t fit somehow. Shit, sorry that was rude.”

“It’s not my real name,” He said casually, not looking up from his screen. “I’m Elliot.”

“You give a fake name when ordering coffee?” You asked.

He looked up at you, his eyes humorless and level. “It’s funny.”

“Right…” With that, you went back to your work.

Two hours later, you fucked something up. Your dissertation, nearly complete, nearly perfect, worth more to you than gold at this point, was gone.

“How? What the…” You searched through all your folders, sure that it had been moved somehow. Sure that this page, which said “File corrupted” in terrifyingly simple text, was somehow not your precious magnum opus. “How?”

Abruptly, your throat is closing and your eyes are filling with tears. “No… No, this can’t be--”

“Are you okay?” You had completely forgotten Elliot, he was so quiet, and in his dark clothes he slipped easily into the background, which is how you thought he wanted it.

You shook your head. “No, I… I did something dumb. I’m not even sure what-- My dissertation is gone.”

There was a small silence while expressions flitted across his face like he was arguing with himself. “Can I see?”

“I doubt there’s anything you can do, see it says that the file is  corrupted. Christ, i don’t even know what that means.”

Those eyes, which you were just now noticing were the most interesting color you’d ever seen, scanned over your screen. “Give me a minute.”

His fingers flitted over your keyboard, typing in languages you couldn’t make sense of. You vowed that if he managed this, you would never be irritated by his typing again.  He was almost exactly right; a little over a minute later he said, “Is this it?”

“Holy Christing Fuck,” You said, staring at your paper, risen from the dead like a sexy intellectual dracula. Unthinkingly, you stood up and moved around the table to wrap your arms around his neck.

He flinched, and you leapt back. “Christ, I’m so sorry. I have no sense of boundaries, I’m so sorry. Just… holy shit, thank you.”

In that moment, you could have kissed him, could have done a great many things to express your gratitude, not that you would have told him that.

“It’s fine,” He said, looking away from you. “Uh, you’re welcome.”

Somehow, that weirdness broke the ice, and after that you talked--Chatted!--whenever you sat together, and he even started walking you home if it got dark while you were there. He never answered when you asked what he was doing, but seeing as he lied about his name for coffee, this didn’t surprise or offend you. He was quirky; you liked that.

Fucking Elliot started because of the heat.

It got hot in New York in the summer, the ugly, sticky, shit-smelling heat that clogged pores and ruined moods. You had turned in your dissertation and were now researching a book, but your days looked the same as they always had. You woke up, you drank coffee, you researched and wrote.

And Elliot was there. Even when the heat got bad, he walked you home and didn’t take off his hoodie. You had kind of started to think about taking it off for him. Weeks and months sitting across from him at those stupid cafe tables had called certain things to your attention. His long fingers, his eyes which were so strangely colored and so fascinatingly keen, his low, steady voice which you were sure sounded amazing when it was gravelly with sex.

You didn’t say anything, remembering your disastrous attempt at hugging him, but at night you fantasized about those hands, those eyes, and that voice.

One day, it all crashed around you, like something out of a movie neither of you would like. He walked you home on a sweaty saturday, where thick clouds hung over the city like wool blankets, making the air soupy and hard to breathe. You were walking, a block away from your apartment when they finally released their burden in a sudden onslaught.

You were soaked through in an instant but you ran anyway and Elliot ran with you, his limbs flying strangely like he’d only heard of running, and was just now trying it out. If you hadn’t been floundering in a rain-soaked white dress you probably would have stopped to laugh at him.

As it was, you both powered to your building door, and strangely, he didn’t stop at the stoop like normal, he followed you up the stairs, right to your door.

His hair was stuck to his forehead, his hoodie sodden and clinging to him, and he was frozen in place staring at you.

What had been loose, flowing white fabric--perfect for the heat--was now transparent and plastered against your skin, highlighting every detail. He licked his lips, paused for a beat, and then put his hands on your shoulders.

“I’m going to kiss you.”

He did, and after a moment of frantic grasping at hair and clothes and keys and doorknobs, you both fell into your apartment and he pressed you against the wall and held you there.

Both of you had to get out of all those wet clothes, the urgency perhaps more extreme because of how much you wanted him inside you in that moment. Your dress fell next to his hoodie, winding around it like a strange, artistic yin-yang sign on the floor, which you barely had time to notice before he brought his lips back to yours and on your neck and then your chest, your nipples.

You had been right about his voice. It had been good before, but low and rough with need and desperation while he thrust into you, it was something else altogether. You wished you could have kept the sound he let out when he came for another rainy day, one when he wasn’t here and you would have to take care of yourself.

After that, you had sex regularly. The heat and the sweat of the New York summer didn’t subside, and the two of you made your apartment that much hotter, but somehow you didn’t mind. Elliot was surprisingly good in bed, and when he wasn’t, he listened and learned well. It was a perfect situation, he wasn’t too much in your life, and you weren’t too much in his, exactly as you wanted it.

Except that you started to talk after you fucked. He told you about his parents and his sister, and you told him about your classmates and your book. You learned that he wanted to help people, that he was lonely most of the time but that he cared deeply about things he would never speak of.

You started to love him because of him.

Because of all that kindness wrapped in all that damage. He was so perfectly your type, and you connected with him better than you had with anyone else, but not on that level. No, Elliot didn’t love you the way you loved him. You watched him become comfortable in your apartment and imagined him moving in, living with you in your shitty overpriced studio. He hadn’t even invited you over to his place.

But he let you in in other ways. He showed you his favorite movies and he would lay down with his head in your lap, no longer skittish about touching you. You let yourself believe that these things meant something, even though there was no way. Distance was what Elliot did best.

Still, you couldn’t pull away from him, not even to save your sorry excuse for a heart. You kept sleeping with him, sharing coffee with him, yearning for him whenever he looked away from you.

It was pathetic, and you couldn’t even really care. You wanted him, and you wished he wanted you. It was classic, the very definition of romance from those books you’d pretentiously enjoyed as a teenager.

For weeks, you assumed it was one-sided, that Elliot would never see this as more than a casual fuck between friends, but it changed rapidly, shifting in an instant just like everything in your relationship had before.

He was dozing off on your chest, laying over you in the slow, heavy moments after a particularly good orgasm when he muttered, quietly but perfectly distinctly in his beautiful voice, “I love you.”

Though you wanted to cry, or to leap out of bed and punch the air, you simply smiled and pressed a kiss against his head in an easy little affectionate gesture you’d been denying yourself. “I love you too.”

[curiouskrp]

               “WELCOMING APT 5B TENANT, KIM YANI !

INFORMATION

age –  25 pronouns – she/her  occupation –  gs25 night manager moved into treehouse – six months ago

PERSONALITY: ISFP, THE ADVENTURER

positive –

artistic / passionate, obsessive, curious, imaginative, creative - over the years there have been many adjectives used to pinpoint yani’s ferocious obsession with the aesthetic, with knowledge and beauty. from painting to literature, film to sculpting, she’s busied overeager hands with innumerable past times. a bout of interest in sewing left over enthusiastic fingertips tinged in bloodied pinpricks, a season of interest in ceramics caked her nails in clay, a mishap with glassblowing burned her trachea and she lost her voice for a month.  her home is her workspace now, awash in warm colors and soft sketched lines, photographs strung up on the walls to examine with less tired eyes later - she’ll exhaust herself otherwise, staring at her work until a hypercritical eye begins to pick apart every minute detail, every miniscule flaw. her medium of choice in the moment, and for quite some time now has been photography, both digital and film. she works mostly with still images but has embarked on some video components. she has had her art in a few minor installations and featured in gallery shows, but has never had her own exhibit or show. 

charming / the most necessary to her success as both an artist and as a human being is the fact that yani is innately charming. warm, open, and bright she has an energy that is hard to resist. this is half by design, motivated by an obsessive need to be liked, which has prompted her to cultivate a sharp sense of humor and a dry wit to match. playful, hyperbolic, and creative, she can be a blast at parties or when in a group where she is able to play off the jokes and comments of others. however, leave her to her own devices in a one on one setting and she’s much more laid back and easy-going, preferring to let others steer the conversation. she’s got an easy grace and brightness to her disposition even when she falls into the macabre or dark, tinging it with a sense of humor.

negative –

unpredictable /  yani is not the friend you call at two in the morning for help, unless you’re looking to get really trashed and/or are okay with being left on read until a bleary and misspelled “sup?” at 4am. it isn’t intentional. yani is a slave to her emotions, moods and whims taking over each step of her life as she allows circumstance to pull her rough and tumble through the narration of her story. she seems almost a slave to impulse, which she may grandiose-ly chalk up to “leaving things up to fate” but in actuality is an effort to remove agency from her own hands due to a paralyzing fear of making weighty decisions. while she finds herself empathically able to relate to and understand the needs,  fears, and motives of others, she can easily become overwhelmed with this perceived information and find herself retreating without warning, lest she fail them in some way. her presence in life is both unpredictable and routine - she’ll flit in and out like a butterfly, appearing briefly to leave a mark before she retreats away again, always acting as if no time has passed. her personal moods are just as mercurial, vacillating wildly throughout the course of the day, or even across a number of hours. quick to anger and quicker still to apologize, she’s prone to impulse and erratic behavior that can be off-putting to those who prefer someone more stable and grounded. 

fluctuating self esteem / if you’re being kind, you’ll describe yani as sensitive. a bit empathic, too easily swayed by the emotions and feedback of others. she has a distinct lack of guard up against the world, for all her fronting to appear otherwise. the jaded exterior lasts for only a moment before it’s smashed by the reality of a girl with a heart on her sleeve. she wields a biting tongue against this like a lackluster defense mechanism, as if verbally lashing out at others can counteract how easily, how readily she can be hurt by them. while yani would often rather die than verbally express her feelings, fears, concerns, or worries in any real way, they’re very easily apparent even to the untrained eye. it frustrates her, how easily other people can read her ups and downs, of which there are many. she vacillates between an obsessive egotistical pride in herself and a damaging, truly deep set self loathing that eats up her insides. in reality she has no idea what she thinks about herself, if she’s  proud or not, and pulls all of her validation (as meager as it is) from external sources. thus, her self worth is immensely predicated on the actions, thoughts, and expression of those around her, leaving her incredibly vulnerable despite a veneer of a “devil may care” attitude that, in fact, persists long after the ruse is up.

HAUNT

how many ways can yani answer the question? 

is she haunted by her own failures? by choking in the middle of the entrance exams for university, clutching her chest in a violent panic attack in the bathroom and leaving with the test unfinished, summarily ruining her chances for higher education in the country of her birth that year? is she haunted by wasting her teenage years on booze and cigarettes and skateboards? is she haunted by pining after men and women that would never want her the way she wanted them, who relegated her to her childhood past of knobby knees and awkward limbs and dirt smudged cheeks, sunburnt and freckled from the sun that crested over the mountains?  is she haunted by the death of the one man who professed to love her, by the knowledge that she’d settled for him, had never been able to return the love he so generously gave her? is she haunted by the fear that she’d squandered her one chance of love and now it was summarily too late, and he was too far and too permanently gone, and she would now be punished for her ingratitude with years of nothing? is she haunted by her own propensity to run from the inevitable, to escape to distant locations only to realize her problems were still hers whether she be in paris or london or seoul?

it’s hard to say. 

maybe, in the end, yani is haunted by herself.

HISTORY

i. birth is an uneventful affair. she isn’t a planned baby but she isn’t unwelcome either, youngest of three by enough years that her older brothers dote on her in the abstract but aren’t really fans of actually having her around. it’s sort of a theme. her mother hires a nanny and goes back to work immediately - she took time off with the boys and she’s not willing to do it again. her father is as distant as he was with the elder two, unsurprisingly.

yani grows up this way, chasing after affection and attention, calling out for the same things that were doled out to the other two so easily. she wants her brothers to play with her - dolls or tag, she’s not picky, she’ll take what she can get. they play hide and seek but she always hides, and they never seek, just let the little girl coop herself up in the closet for a half an hour, or until she dozes off. eventually she stops asking.

 ii. she grows into the hand she’s been dealt. she wears a tan like a shield, testament to hours spent outside in the sun, relentlessly scrambling over the landscape. they live on the outskirts of a little town on jeju island, and the sun and surf and sand and rocks and mountains are her company. she takes after her brothers, athletic and enthusiastic, seemingly immune to the scraping of her knees and the scabs on her elbows, bruises on her shins.

yani feels the freest on the skateboard she inherits from her brother - or, more specifically, steals from his room when his interest in girls and his worry about entrance exams takes over his free time. in this way she learns two things: she can only rely on herself, and that she must always, always take that which she desires. 

 she spends hours on it, rolling through town to the ultimate displeasure of the ahjummas who sit outside the town hall and gossip. a girl should be more demure, she should be more careful, she’s going to hurt herself or someone else, they say, but yani is past the point of craving approval now. or at least, that’s what she tells herself, disregard is a shield she equips, straps it over a soft heart, hardens herself by hoping for little and expecting even less. when you expect the world to let you down there is a freeness in being proven correct when it doesn’t surprise you by being anything but bleak.

iii. high school treats her well. there are only so many other kids in town, so it’s not like there’s enough trouble for cliques. not when they’ve all known each other from birth. there isn’t much reason to come to the little excuse for a city, unless you’re a tourist or you’ve got a burning passion for the fishing industry, and even then there are better choices in destination. she studies well enough, but yani is prone to distraction. her attention wanders and she spends plenty of time staring out of the window, as opposed to anything else. but she’s clever, and when she does apply herself she catches up just fine.

there’s a certain sadness to a decaying rural town, and the older yani gets the heavier it weighs on her, this realization that there are no opportunities here, that the only chance for a viable future any of them have exists in some ephemeral elsewhere always slightly out of reach. it’s the cycle of poverty in action - the jobs are manual labor or hardly impressive, few remain in the town, the aging population is setting the community up to collapse in on itself, but what is anyone able to do about it? so they drink or they fuck or they whine about it, anything to carry on the way they always have. from this town yani learns denial and resignation, in a bizarre blend that ought not be properly possible.

iv.

whatever chance she had of success in school goes down the drain with truancy and delinquency, with smokes stolen from the corner store and beer she convinces neighborhood oppas to buy for her with their ids. she gets what she wants and she doesn’t look back, morality a luxury she can’t afford and frankly doesn’t try too hard to squeeze in anyway. she loves boys that don’t love her back and she chases a high that never quite seems to satisfy. climbs a little bit higher, goes a little bit further, to fill herself with the seratonin and the adrenaline that seem to evade her. 

when she finds out, in the dead of night, half drunk with her best friend, who has never seen her the way she’s wanted to be seen, that his older brother - her boyfriend, her second choice, because he sees her the way her best friend refuses to look - is dead, in a car crash, her word falls apart. it crumbles. 

v.

yani deals with her tragedies and her uncertainties in the way she has been taught. she denies it even unto herself, buries herself into distractions. it gets harder, immeasurably, when her two best friends leave for the military one after the other. she submits an application, a portfolio. it’s a long shot, but she makes it. she leaves, on a plane, in a search for more ways to bury her heart. 

it’s so easy to find them in a city like paris. in drink and drugs and then maybe even in boys and girls. she finds her redemption in sex and adrenaline and in petty, stupid actions. she is a terror on two slender legs, she is weaponized femininity and a cutting tongue, she is every bit of sharp wit and killer instinct wrapped in a devastatingly pretty package. the last distraction, the most enjoyable and the most wholesome, comes in the form of an old film camera. she buys it with money she’s picked out of the pockets of men who lean to close to her in clubs, men too old to promise her the things they do, who line her pockets and give her gifts in the hope that she’ll be foolish enough now to offer her youth to those leeches, those vampiric men that wait so eagerly and desperately to drain her dry.  it’s another way to put a distance between herself and the world; observer and artist, not integral, not intertwined. she can expose the truth of the world without involving her own truth in it, betrays herself in a thousand tiny ways. 

vi.

it is so terribly easy to get what you want in a city like this. there is always someone willing to give it to you, for a price of course. yani learns to play this game, to divorce herself from her own reality, to compartmentalize. she feels like a hundred different girls. she feels like a line of glasses on a counter, each varying levels of empty. she feels like she could shatter in a moment, or sing beneath a touch, or neither, or both. 

she feels like they can sense it on her, the sins that paint her skin. she rots herself with alcohol, nicotine, prescription pills designed for someone decidedly not her. she wears herself down with long nights, early mornings, insomnia that clings to her, a weight that settles heavy, drags her down. her moods are mercurial, she tears through the people around her like a storm, intent on destruction, pausing for the briefest moments of calm before the winds pick up once more. 

she falls apart this way, bits and pieces at first, and then all at once, like a spaceship reentering orbit too quickly, she is engulfed. 

vii. 

in the end she stays there, in france, for a little longer. longer than she’d intended. money starts to run out, her feeble language skills are put to the test. it’s sheer luck that lands her a job at an art gallery, luck on top of luck that gets her through an accelerated program. in the end, she spends two and a half years in france, eventually returning to her dismal little rural town. returns with a degree from france that means very little besides “you didn’t make it into a korean school” and “you dedicated your life to creative pursuits that will provide you with nothing.”

she returns with her camera, with a few years of gallery experience, with a couple thousand dollars saved and very little in the way of confidence or strength. she has dreams she barely dares to dream, thoughts she can hardly expose herself too. with a portfolio and no direction, no idea what to do with herself, for herself. 

viii. 

by the time she gets back, one of her friends is out of the military at last, the other long gone for seoul. she spends two months in the little town before she can’t handle it anymore. has photographed every inch of the decaying rural landscape, the town left forgotten by progress, by the government, by the future. her collection on the state of the town, deemed a cutting photojournalistic insight to rural korean poverty, becomes a minor sensation and is picked up by a gallery in seoul. it’s the boost she needs to relocate, flees the town that made her, that funded her flight, to head for the city, to lose herself again. 

seoul is much the same as any other city. she wanted it to have answers that it doesn’t. she hates her apartment, a half basement decked out in mold and wrinkled vinyl flooring over the thick pipes of the ondol. she drags herself through the day to day, gets a job and does what she can to keep herself afloat. takes pictures, sells them, does what she can. it’s unfulfilling. she’s frustrated. her friends feel distant and she feels thoroughly disconnected from the world around her, floating as if on the currents of the ocean. 

viv. 

the treehouse offers a chance at a community, the selfsame thing she has done so much to avoid, so earnestly  distanced herself from - lest anyone figure out the great pretending of her life. that she’s not half the person, half the artist she wants to be. she lives a life steeped in imposter’s syndrome and unspoken words, preserving her thoughts in notebooks and photographs, fragments of time and feeling captured without explanation, left for the viewer to infer.

[thelibrarbian]

Spicy Pasta - Chapter 1

I wrote a thing!!

Yup, leave it to the Undertale fandom and its amazing content creators to inspire me to try my hand at writing again ^^

This is the first of a series of loosely connected oneshots I will be writing for @sfw12-days-of-papcest. I probably won’t be writing for all 12 days, but I would like to do something for at least half of them ^^

Future chapters will be much shorter; this one got a little out of hand ...

Side note: I have not written anything "creatively" for about two years, and I have never written fanfiction or a story in English before, so I'm curious to see how (badly) this goes xD If you find any misspellings, grammar mistakes, or just strange expressions in my writing in general, please let me know so I can fix it!

Rating: T (for language)

Pairing: platonic Edgepuff (UT!Papyrus & UF!Papyrus)

Tags: Multiverse Shenanigans, some drama, Snowstorms, Mild Language

Word count: 2358

Prompts this chapter is (very loosely) based on: Betrayal / Bitter / Relinquish

Read on Ao3

On most days, walking home from Undyne’s house on the Surface was a good way for Papyrus to clear his head. Today was not one of those days.

“Um, Paps … about that guard thing …”

On most days, he would enjoy the clear winter breeze around his head, and greet both monsters and humans on the streets with a bright smile. He would not, normally, replay the last conversation with his friend and ex-trainer in his mind.

“That ‘special training’ back then, it, um, it really was just cooking lessons.”

A young bunny monster called his name from across the street, and it took Papyrus a second to put his smile back on his face – when had it dropped? – and wave back at them.

“What I mean is … I never actually trained you to be in the guard, Papyrus.” Undyne looked aside sheepishly, running a hand through her hair. “Sorry, I … should have told you sooner, I guess. I just thought you’d figure it out, y’know? That it was just cooking, not guard training.”

“OH. OH! OF COURSE. HOW SILLY OF ME. HAHA.”

It really was silly, wasn’t it? He should have realized that making spaghetti was not truly a necessary skill for a future guardsman. Anyway, it wasn’t a big deal, right? The Royal Guard had been disbanded when the barrier was broken. Even if Papyrus could have joined them back in the Underground, it wouldn’t make any difference now.

He shook his skull to clear his mind. There was no use dwelling on this! So he wouldn’t! Straightening his spine, he quickened his pace.

It was only a matter of minutes before he found himself at his own front door. As he fumbled for the keys in his pocket, he looked up the familiar facade. The house was built almost identical to the one in Snowdin, and now the building seemed almost nostalgic to him, a reminder of the time back before everything had changed.

Not that the changes were bad! Things were just … different now.

Very different.

Not only had Frisk the human freed monsterkind from their underground prison, but a malfunctioning machine in his brother’s basement had recently led to the accidental discovery of alternate universes – and had sent both Sans and Papyrus on an unplanned trip into a more murdery, more dangerous and much more spiky Underground. Eventually, they had found their way back home, but not without the help of the local Sans and Papyrus, dubbed Red and Fell to avoid confusion. It turned out they were actually rather nice monsters, once you got past the initial death threats!

Also, his own alternate self was second-in-command of the Royal Guard.

Papyrus quelled the spontaneous pang of misplaced jealousy. He had been there, he knew what Fell’s duties in his world encompassed, and he did not envy him for it. If anything, Papyrus was glad that at least one version of himself had succeeded in joining the guard.

He took a deep breath and put on a smile again before unlocking the door. No use dwelling on it, he reminded himself.

“I’M BACK, BROTHER!” he called as he entered the living room.

Sans, half buried in the couch cushions, gave a small wave. “hey, bro. how was your stay at undyne’s?”

“GOOD! AS ALWAYS!” he said cheerfully. His cheekbones were starting to hurt.

Frowning, Sans extracted himself from the couch. “is everything okay?”

Darn it. Apparently, Papyrus’ smile was not as convincing as he had thought. And when Sans looked this worried, there wasn’t any point in lying.

“IT’S NOTHING IMPORTANT.” He tried a chuckle, but it sounded forced even to himself. “DID YOU KNOW THAT UNDYNE HADN’T ACTUALLY BEEN TRAINING ME FOR THE GUARD BACK UNDERGROUND?”

An expression of guilt flashed over Sans’ face. “aw, paps …” He reached out to comfort him.

Papyrus took a step back. “DID YOU KNOW?” He tried to keep his voice neutral, non-accusing, but Sans’ shoulders still slumped down.

“listen, paps, i’m sorry, really –”

“NO, IT’S ALRIGHT. I UNDERSTAND.” He did, really. They hadn’t wanted to hurt his feelings by outright telling him that he wasn’t suited for the Guard. That he was “just too nice to send into battle” as Undyne had put it earlier. And maybe they were right! But that they thought he couldn’t handle the rejection and would rather keep lying to him for years – he couldn’t help but feel slightly offended.

Sans looked up at him like a sad puppy. “you were always so happy when you talked about the guard. didn’t want to take that away from you, y’know?” For as guilty as he looked and sounded, there wasn’t a lot of regret in his voice.

Papyrus felt the remainder of his smile slip. This was no use. He needed to get away. As much as he appreciated his brother’s concern for him, he had enough of being coddled, like everyone here seemed intent on doing. He was the Great Papyrus, for stars’ sake, multiverse-traveller and vice-ambassador of monsterkind! And yet this whole Guard fiasco was just the last of many recent events that made him think not everyone had quite realized that he was, indeed, an adult. (The fact that the bunny lady from the inn was still offering him lollipops was the least of his concerns.)

Why was it so hard to find someone who took him seriously?

His thoughts traveled back to Fell.

No, that was silly! He couldn’t just flee the entire universe over some maybe – slightly – hurt feelings.

But neither did he want to stay and argue – and the machine was just down the stairs. It wasn’t like he was running away, really. Just taking a short break. Paying a quick visit to his multiverse friends, like he had done before.

“um, paps?”

Papyrus cleared his nonexistent throat. “I! JUST REMEMBERED! FELL AND I HAVE ARRANGED FOR A PAPYRUS MOVIE NIGHT TODAY THAT I CLEARLY FORGOT TO TELL YOU ABOUT! SO! I MUST BE OFF!”

He didn’t wait for Sans to call him out on his threadbare excuse and was already down the stairs before his brother could get out a single word to stop him.

Papyrus stepped out into a basement almost identical to the one he had just left. If anything, this one looked a little more dusty – whether it was traces of dead monsters or just regular dust from disuse, he couldn’t tell. He hoped for the latter.

Even now he was almost sure that he had overreacted. He was being childish, avoiding the situation like this instead of staying and talking things out. But if he turned around now and went back home immediately, wouldn’t that seem even more immature? No, he would just stay for a few hours, hopefully clear his head, then return home, and everything would go back to normal.

And while he was here, he could just as well have the movie night he just made up! It had been a while since their last inter-dimensional meet-up, and he was curious what the skeleton brothers from this darker world had been up to.

He should call Fell and let him know about it.

The phone was picked up on the second ring. For a moment, the sound of wind was all Papyrus could hear, before Fell’s gruff voice came through the speaker. “Creampuff?”

Papyrus brightened at the moniker that had long since turned into an affectionate nickname. “FELL! HOW NICE TO TALK TO YOU! SAY, DO YOU MIND IF I COME OVER?”

“Not at all –”

“WONDERFUL! BECAUSE I MAY OR MAY NOT BE ALREADY STANDING IN YOUR BASEMENT.”

There was a pause on the other side of the line, then a huff that sounded somewhere between amused and exasperated. “I’m on my way home. Stay there, I’m coming to pick you up.” Fell hung up before Papyrus could answer.

Papyrus put the phone back in his inventory and settled down on the edge of a workbench. Just like his old house in Snowdin, the basement here did not connect directly to the living room, and after a certain … incident a while ago, him and Fell had agreed that Papyrus should not walk out to the front door on his own.  

While waiting, he listened for sounds outside the basement door. It was something the previous visits to this universe had taught him: always stay alert and aware of the surroundings! Thankfully, no fights seemed to be taking place outside the basement. As a matter of fact, he didn't hear any monsters at all. It sounded like there was a storm coming up, if the occasional howling of the wind and the patter of light hail against the wall was any indication. Everyone who didn't need to be outside had probably left the streets.

Suddenly, the snow outside the basement crunched under heavy footsteps. Papyrus stood up straight. The footsteps came to a halt, a key clicked in the lock, and the door swung open.

With a blast of air, a tall skeleton stepped into the basement. Snow was clinging to his scarf and to the pointed shoulder plates of his armor, but he made no move to brush it off as he pulled the door closed behind him.  His sharp teeth were set, his expression watchful under the old scar that ran down his eye socket. Red eyelights quickly scoured the room and settled on Papyrus.

“HELLO, FELL! “ Papyrus greeted.

Slowly, Fell’s posture loosened and his face relaxed into a genuine smile. With two long strides he was in front of Papyrus and pulled him into an almost bone-crushing embrace. His metal breastplate was damp from the snow and cold enough that Papyrus could feel it through his clothes as he returned the hug with just as much force.

“It’s good to see you, Creampuff,” Fell muttered against his skull before releasing him.

Papyrus stepped back just far enough that he could look Fell over. It hadn’t escaped him that his alternate self seemed more tense than usual. “IS ANYTHING CAUSING TROUBLE?”

Fell gave a noncommittal grunt. “Not yet, but there might be soon. If the weather keeps getting worse, our food transports will have a hard time getting through to Snowdin. It wouldn’t be the first time, and we are as prepared as we can be, but it is always a recipe for disaster.” He ran a hand over his skull. “We will have to wait and see. But what brings you here so suddenly?”

“OH! WELL, I JUST THOUGHT WE COULD HAVE A SPONTANEOUS PAPYRUS MOVIE NIGHT!” Papyrus stifled the impulse to wring his hands. “IF YOU HAVE TIME, THAT IS.”

Fell narrowed his eye sockets at him. “And why are you really here?”

Papyrus and Fell had moved their conversation to the living room. They were on their second cups of sea tea when Papyrus had finished recounting the events that lead to him turning up unannounced in Fell’s basement.

“ANYWAY,” he said. “I DON’T SUPPOSE THIS IS SOMETHING YOU, THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE LIEUTENANT FELL, HAVE EVER HAD TO DEAL WITH, CONSIDERING YOUR WHOLE …” Papyrus made a vague hand gesture, trying to encompass Fell’s entire intimidating appearance.

“I did, actually.” Fell took a sip from his own tea. “But my Undyne never bothered to lie to me about it. Back in the day, she made it very clear that I was much too soft to ever become a guardsman.” His mouth twitched.

Oh. “REALLY? HOW DID YOU CONVINCE HER OTHERWISE?”

Fell opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was interrupted when suddenly the lights went out.

Papyrus blinked a few times. All he could see were Fell’s eyelights looking back at him from the other side of the couch. He reached over the armrest and flipped the light switch back and forth. Nothing happened. The floor lamp was equally non-functional. “ALRIGHT,” he said slowly. “DO YOU OFTEN HAVE POWER OUTAGES HERE?”

“Sometimes,” Fell answered. The couch cushions rustled as he stood up. “There’s a flashlight and candles in the kitchen, I’ll go get them.”

Papyrus stood as well, carefully made his way to the window and peeked behind the curtain. The storm had gotten worse. It was only afternoon, but with the dense snowfall blocking the artificial daylight almost entirely, it was dark enough to look like nighttime. Thick snowflakes and hailstones pounded against the window.

A door opened on the upper floor, and Papyrus spun around, dropping the curtain. He looked up to find Red, as they had chosen to call the Sans of this universe, standing at the railing, flashlight in hand. He let the beam of light wander across the living room, and Papyrus squinted as it came to rest on his face.

“heya, creampuff.” Red narrowed his sockets, but thankfully, the flashlight moved on. “the hell is going on here?”

Fell returned from the kitchen with a box of candles and a flashlight of his own. “We have a visitor. And a power outage.”

“i’ve gathered as much.” In the blink of an eye, Red was standing next to them. “one related to the other, or not?”

“I DON’T THINK SO?” Papyrus rubbed his chin. “I CAME HERE WELL BEFORE THE POWER WENT OUT, AND I HAVEN’T MESSED WITH THE MACHINE …” He trailed off as another thought struck him. The machine. His only way back to his home universe. The machine that certainly needed power to run. He swallowed. “SAY, HOW LONG DO POWER OUTAGES LAST HERE, USUALLY?”

“That depends on what exactly caused them,” said Fell. “With this weather, at least a few days before any repair work can start. Why?”

Papyrus opened his mouth to respond, but apparently Red had followed his train of thought. “the machine,” he mumbled. “fuck.” Before Papyrus could react, he was grabbed by the elbow and dragged through a shortcut into the basement.

It did not take long to confirm that, with the power cut off, multiverse travel was indeed impossible. Red gave the machine a final kick before turning back to the other two skeletons.

“well, creampuff,” he said with a wry smile, “how long were you planning to stay?”

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

IN NEED FOR A PRIVATE LESSON

Prompt: Request from the beautiful @banks4life Thank you so much for your request babes ❤️😘

Word Count: Long-ish

Pairings: Roman Reigns x Reader

Warnings: +18, smut, exhibitionism (sex in a public place), dirty talk, marking kink (by ejaculation on the mouth).

Tags: @ziasaph , @marlananicole , @akiko-tanaka , @nicolewoo , @saccreigns , @mindofasagittaruis , @reigns-5sos , @auawdo , @lustyromantic , @babydee17 , @yungbludjazz360

Notes: This was such a delightful experience to write. I loved every second of it! Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) You can check them out on my Masterlist. Okay,now let’s get to the fun part, shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

“I’m so excited!” Ember Moon, my best friend, happily clapped her hands

“Yeah, I can see that” I chuckled

“But who wouldn’t, though? We are going to have Roman Reigns himself teach us new moves! Who wouldn’t scream at that?” Ember asked

I try to hide my blush when I remind of all the times I screamed his name while coming on my vibrator at a random hotel room.

“I would” I mumbled softly

“I heard he’s an incredible guy. Plus he’s really hot too, so” Ember shrugged

“I’ll have to agree with that”

“You have the major crush on him Y/N. How are YOU feeling about all of this?” She asked as we warm up

“Honestly? I tried to call in sick today but you know I’m a terrible liar, so I didn’t succeeded”

Ember laughed “Why would you do that?”

“Because I masturbate every damn night thinking about him! Can you imagine how embarrassing it would be to actually have to stare at him for God knows how many hours while last night plays in my head?” I crook an eyebrow at her, but Ember’s shocked face was unexpected to me.

“What, Ember? C’mon you KNOW I do that, don’t give me that shocked face. Fuck, I’m surprised my vibrator hasn’t broke yet, counting the amount of times I use it and think of Rom-“

Ember quickly covered my mouth with her hand and turned me around so I could see the most devastating scene of my life.

Roman Reigns stood behind me, with a cocky look on his face and a sinful smirk placed on his lips.

“Hello ladies” He greeted

“Hi” Ember answered, but I couldn’t even speak from embarrassment

“Hi, Y/N” His voice dropped, becoming deeper

I just nodded

“You have 5 minutes before we get started ladies” He winks, making his way to the ring.

“Oh God, I wanna die” I whispered-screamed

“Y/N-“

“Why didn’t you told me he was right behind me, Ember?” I angrily asked

“I tried, but you didn’t got the hint” She begins to laugh

“Goddamn it...You should’ve punched me in the face! It would be less embarrassing”

“Oh please, Y/N. Don’t be so dramatic, you’re an adult woman and he’s an adult man, I’m pretty sure he knows all about the human body needs at this point. And by the looks of it, he quite enjoyed listening to you” She winked

“Oh shut up” I push her away when she tried to hug me.

......................................................................

“Ok guys, that’s it. Two more moves and we’ll wrap it up” Roman said

After 10 minutes, everybody got cleared to go back to the hotel.

“Aren’t you coming?” Ember asked

“Nah, I feel like my moves are not that good so I’m gonna stay and practice some more”

“Are you sure, Y/N? I mean, you’re gonna be here all by yourself”

I rolled my eyes “I’ll be fine, Ember. Trust me”

“Okay, but if you need anything give me a heads up”

“Yes ma’am” I smiled at her

......................................................................

Fifty minutes have now passed, I can’t seem to get these moves correctly and I’m becoming more and more frustrated by the minute.

“FUCK ME!” I screamed in rage as I slap one of the ropes

“I beg your pardon?” His voice asked from behind me

*Oh great, he’s still here! Jesus, can this day get any more embarrassing?*

“Roman, sorry I- I wasn’t talking to you” I tried to apologize

“Unfortunately” He said, stepping closer to the ring

“What? I don’t understand”

“I said unfortunately” He’s now inside the ring

“Why, unfortunately?”

“Because for a minute there, I thought you were asking me to fuck you” Roman smirked

“Oh” I gasped

“What’s wrong? Having some trouble?” He asked, placing his duffel bag on the corner of the ring

“Yeah, it’s just.. I feel like I’m doing something wrong but I don’t know what it is” I answered in defeat

“Show me how you’re doing it”

“No, it’s fine really. I don’t want to hold you back, I’m sure I can figure it out wh-“

“Y/N! Just do what I say” Roman command and I oblige, showing him exactly what I was doing for the past 1 hour.

“See? It doesn’t look like how you showed” I sighed

“It’s because you’re doing a few things wrong, come here”

I stand by his side and he shook his head, motioning for me to stand in front of him, with my back facing him.

“Ok, so here’s your problem” He places both hands on my hips, pulling me towards him.

“You need to let your hips loose, they’re to stiff” Roman’s hands squeeze my hips and glued them to his crotch.

“Like this” He whispered on my ear and made my hips circle around his crotch

“Can you feel it?” He asked, clearly talking about his hard on

I nodded, enjoying the feeling of his hard cock against my ass

“This is your fault” Roman nibbles my ear lightly “You did this to me” He pressed one hand on my lower belly, so I could get even more close to him. Roman stopped my hips, holding them still so he could grind against my ass.

“You, your dirty mouth and perfect ass, did this to my cock” He growled

My head was buzzing with excitement. Was this really happening? I’ve wanted this for so long that I felt like I was dreaming.

“Tell me, Y/N, do you really touch yourself thinking about me?”

“Yes” I panted

“Hmmm, tell daddy exactly what you think of, baby” He pinched my nipples through my t-shirt

“I-I think about daddy’s cock claiming me, fucking me hard and merciless until I can’t control my body anymore. Until I can’t stop coming around daddy’s dick” I moaned

Roman growls on my ear as his hand sink down the waist band of my leggings, reaching my mound. He devour the nape of my neck while two fingers slide through my folds, spreading my wetness.

“You’re soaking, baby” He murmured, sliding two fingers in “And so, so tight..You’re gonna feel amazing around me”

“Daddy, please” I beg when he reached my clit

Roman laid me down on the ring, quickly yanking my leggings and panties down, followed by my t-shirt, sports bra and his own clothes.

He slowly slides inside of me, once he’s buried deep, he locked his arms underneath my knees so my legs could be as spread as he wanted them to be.

And fuck, was he thick!

“Daddy” I whined, in a bittersweet tone of pleasure and pain

“Shhhh baby, it’s ok. You’re going to get used to it before you know it”

Roman’s lips were sweet as he kissed me to take my focus away from his thickness.

Slowly he begins to move, the friction is so heavenly it makes me even more wet.

“How could you possibly get wetter? Fuck, Y/N” Roman moaned, looking down to where our bodies met “Such a good pussy” He whispered to himself

“Daddy, fuck me harder”

“Harder?” He asked amused and I nodded “Who would have thought that this angel’s face is such a dirty girl” He smirked, turning up the pace. But for me, still wasn’t enough

“Harder” I pleaded

“Fuck, you’re amazing” He cackled, setting a furious pace

“Yes, daddy. Just like that” I moaned loudly

With each hard thrust I felt him hitting my g-spot. With every pump in, I moan louder.

“You’re gonna come for daddy, baby? I can feel you getting tighter”

I can only nod in agreement

“Come baby, come on daddy’s cock”

And so I do. Coating his length with my juices. When I’m down from my high, Roman knelt and quickly pulls off saying

“Tell daddy to feed you his cum, baby”

I place myself in all fours “Please daddy, feed me your cum” I repeat the same words he said, opening my mouth for him and savoring the taste of his seed upon my tongue before swallowing it.

Roman collapse into the ring, pulling me down with him.

“Thank you for the private lesson, professor” I teased

“My pleasure, baby” He chuckled “What you’re gonna do later?”

“Nothing, besides going back to the hotel, taking a shower and watch some movies. Why?” I asked and Roman hovered over me

“In that case, what do you say about learning some new moves back at the hotel?” He nibs my lower lip

“Hmmmm, I think I could some new techniques” I smiled

Already thinking about all of the dirty things that man would do to me

Please if you’re comfortable with it, let me know your thoughts on this. Feedbacks are always appreciated 🥰😘

[icypantherwrites]

IcyPanther’s Fanart Contest Judging and Statistics Post

First off, I would like to say thank you so so so so so much to the amazing artists who participated in this contest. We ended with a total of 17 entries which means I am awarding the tier one and two prizes; a 5k-7k fic of choice and a 2k-3k whump trope prompt fic, respectively.

A few (fun?) statistics about the entry selections:

17 total entries

As Color Fades Away: 11 entries

The Purity of Sin: 2 entries

Disjointed Soul: 3 entries

(Un)breakable Bonds: 1 entry

Hope: The Truest Treasure and Burning Bright series: 0 entries

Of the 11 entries for Color... 5 of them were of the same scene. I’m dying xD (Lance is too jajajaja *shot* *stabbed* *shot again*)

A number of people reported this was their first time drawing/drawing this way and I’m so touched you were inspired by my works to do so!

Only one misspelling of my name in tags and it wasn’t “icypanter” so I’ll take it ;p 

One entry submitted on the first day of the contest opening (well, within 24 hours)

Six entries received on the last day of the contest (one with literally four minutes to spare ;p)

JUDGING

Judging is being done on a number of categories for a most fair assessment across the board. As I stated in the original contest post, this is not just an art contest to where the most talented artist gets the win. I wanted people of all talent levels to participate and have a chance because that’s what makes it fun ♥

On that note, there are a total of five categories that were considered during judging. Each category awards a point of one to three, so a perfect entry would have a score of fifteen (these numbers are privy only to me though ;p) The breakdown is as follows:

Artistic Talent

This category still gets a nod because I would like to acknowledge the entries that are beautifully executed in regards to composition, proportions, shading, colors, linework, etc. That talent is a hard-earned skill and should be commended ♥

Effort

While all of the judging categories carry equal weight this is a personal big one for me. I put a lot of effort into my works and will most definitely do the same to the contest prize. That means that I want to see that same dedication and effort reflected back at me. This is where I may read your descriptions (and tags!) – did you try something new? Did you agonize over a portion of it? Did you put in far, far more hours than you thought you would? Can I *see* the time and love you put into your work? I work hard, I like to reward those that do the same.

Execution

And uh, not the guillotine version. This is in reference to how well your idea came through of your piece. I’m looking at pose, at style, at color (or lack thereof, depending ;p), any “methods” you used to make your piece pop and why, at placement, at scene selection at the *feeling* conveyed… all those good things ♥

Adherence to Source Material

AKA the detail category. This is where I look to see how accurate your artwork is to the related fanfic. Are the clothes what that character is actually wearing in that scene? Bandages/injuries/scars/marks/whatever in the right spot? Are the expressions accurate? Characters in the right place in the scene (right season too? ;p)? I *thrive* on the small details so seeing how closely you’ve read the fanfic and incorporated those details into your art is a big deal for me.

Level of Difficulty

This category awards points based on the perceived level of difficulty the artwork tackled. Just like some Olympic events (gymnastics, figure skating, diving, etc.) the potential scores are calculated based upon certain elements to the routines because athletes (and artists in this case) should be rewarded for attempting more difficult and complicated items. So for this judging I’m looking at pose (dynamic vs still), backgrounds (complex vs simple), characters (one vs many), detail (line work, flat color or shaded and how) and giving nods to those that really pushed for the stars.

From these criteria I will be selecting the top five highest ranked entries and my sister will assist me in choosing a first and second place winner from those. The winner will be announced tomorrow at about 1500 CST.

Today though is all about this celebration of talent and love and passion as everyone is a winner in my book for being amazing and participating in the contest. Thank you all so so much ♥

I will be reblogging all of the entries throughout the day, starting in about half an hour and onwards till 1800 CST. To eliminate any posting bias, I numbered the entries by submission order and then used a random number generator (clicking multiple times in some cases due to repeats xD) until I got through the list. Hehe xD Due to not wanting to cause any perceived bias I am limiting myself to one comment in each reblog (as you guys have seen me write love letters before xDD) about the art but please know that every single one made me squeal, gush and arm flail. ♥