#my constant need to always outdo myself is NOT GOOD!!!

[chickenchirps27]

Woe. Sun sketch befall you

[cyborg-franky]

Frankyyy!! let me join this date event <3 Could you please make this little woman happy with her husband Sanji? this woman need some comfort and would appreciate it so much <3 <3 Thank you I love you!!

I will do my best <3<3 I hope this makes you smile my deaaaar!

Sanji was always trying to outdo himself, every Valentine's day, every anniversary, and every birthday. He was always in constant competition with himself. He wanted you to feel cherished and loved with each passing year. His desire to make you happy never dwindled in all the years you’d been together.

Every time he floored you with something you’d tell him that you loved him no matter what, he could just bring you home a takeaway and watch a movie on your sofa and you would love him just as much as when he took you to fancy meals and bought you flowers. 

And he knew that he never did it to prove himself, it was simply his love language. 

This year on your wedding anniversary he hadn’t made big sweeping plans, hadn't bought you the biggest bunch of flowers he could carry. He suggested a nice meal and honestly? You were happy for something a little less crazy and exuberant. 

You’d dressed up nice, he had lavished you with kisses and praise, hearts in his eyes as he took your hand and kissed the back, working his way your arm to your neck, tickling with the scruff on his chin before his lips met yours.

The food was good, the place nice and quiet and you enjoyed your evening with your husband. He’d suggested a walk in the park, the weather was fresh and cool. It felt nice on your flushed cheeks, the wine at dinner being the culprit to the blush.

“Dinner was lovely,” You sighed and thought about the dessert, missing how it tasted already. He held your hand as you walked down the gravel path of the park, lit up at night with lights draped across mighty tree branches.

“Wasn’t bad was it?” He said with a shrug, you knew what he was getting at. “I mean, it wasn’t as good as your cooking but it was good.” You smirked when you saw him straighten up, a spring in his step, he loved hearing what he already knew from you. Loving the praise and compliments.

The park was mostly empty, a few other couples and people walking dogs crossed paths with you. “That’s pretty,” You pointed to a bandstand, flowers planted all around it, and lights decorating the structure. Sanji nodded and could tell you wanted to go up onto it. 

At the back was a bench, you and Sanji sitting on it, admiring the calm evening atmosphere, just enjoying each other's company. You both chatted away, talked about boring everyday things, about plans for the future. 

A comfortable silence settled between you both as you heard the gentle tip-tapping of rain on the roof, you didn't care though, it was fine. The smell of the rain was always one of your favorite smells. You watched Sanji dig around in his pocket, well, it had been an entire hour since he had his last cigarette.

“Hey,” you turned to face him, seeing a small box in his hand, and noticed he’d sank to his knee before he popped open the box. “I tried to think of how to outdo myself and I thought if I proposed to you again if we renewed our vows, I could start all over again. My love, will you accept?”

You blinked… taking in his sweet words before you put a hand over your mouth, feeling tears of happiness roll down your cheeks as you nodded, too choked up to form words as he slid the ring on your finger, it complimented your current wedding band.

He managed to outdo himself once again.

[bigfeelingstiedtongue]

i don't drink a lot. only on special occasions with friends. i drink for a good time, not to deal with bad times. i never take it up as a coping mechanism because it's slippery slope i'm not willing to risk falling into.

but sometimes it gets really tempting.

it's always so disappointing looking at them and seeing the kind, amazing people they could have been. they constantly say that we can be whatever we want and not to compare ourselves to other people but to who we were in the past, yet they constantly say things that contradict that so badly. and i know its a generational thing because i've always heard the same from my grandparents, and i absolutely despise it.

i recently found out that one of my younger cousins from my father's side basically made it his goal to outdo me academically (consistent honors student that makes it seem effortless, ig) because our grandmother kept comparing us. i hate that for him, and i hate it because i know my brothers feel the same way even if they would never say it. when things get really rough, i hear the bitterness in their tones when they speak of me and the constant criticisms. i try my best to comfort them, but i'm probably the last person they want to speak to when in those moods.

i never wanted to be the standard. i nearly broke under the pressure of having to be the pristine first grandchild who could do no wrong (no vices, great grades, rarely complaining, etc.). in my head, if i kept it up, all the attention and they would be free of the pressure that has haunted me. i was wrong and i ended up as another tool in this cycle of generational trauma, and i absolutely hate that.

my mother may not know it, but she does make me feel like an investment to an extent. she uses herself and her siblings as an example of constantly helping each other financially, but she doesn't see what we see as the next generation.

we see how our grandmother disregards our aunt's feelings to the point our uncle has to step up.

we see how while they do help their eldest with financial problems, they hold it against him sometimes.

we see how one of my grandmother's brothers is such a deadbeat that he relies on his sisters for most of his financial needs because he decided to have more than 5 children with multiple different women without having financial stability. and we see his youngest growing up to be exactly like him

we see how they want to appease family so bad that they'll do nearly everything for approval. at one point, my grandmother let some extended family sleep in her room for a night and she got expensive jewelry stolen, but she didn't know who stole it so she let it slide.

we see how until now, they're so afraid to disappoint family that they're willing to compromise their own desires and boundaries.

i don't want that for us. am i wrong for thinking that? am i wrong for not being willing to disrespect myself for other people?

at some point you just get used to that emptiness that you don't even notice it anymore. i can acknowledge to some degree that i need some help but i've been doing fine so far so why bother, right? i'm coping just fine, so until i can no longer cope, i'll keep going as i always have.

i like to think i'm in a better place now, though.

[ham-st4r]

Attention ‼️

Please read this!

I do not mean to be rude but it’s really stressful for me when my readers do these things

I understand you like my writing and you want to see me updating part 2’s and all that but the request and spamming part 2 when I stated that it bothers me is really discouraging and stressful for me I can’t keep up with the demands I’m one person and I can’t think of a plot and write it down in the same day I know a lot of you try to be friendly about it but even saying “no rush” makes me feel like I need to rush I’ve been constantly updating since I’ve been here and I do my best to put out good fics and I know some of you appreciate my hardwork but behind the scenes I have a life and sometimes I get writers block or I’m working or busy whatever the case may be some days it’s just a lot for me and the worst part is I get less feedback and more what feels like demands on updating

I really hope no one is offended but I needed to get that off my chest

A great example of what crossing those boundaries look like for me is “just a call away” I never even intended to make a part 2 for that but so many people wanted one so I wanted to give it to them but once again the constant asking for part two put a load of pressure on me and that’s why I have yet to post a part 2

On top of that I know everyone says I make nothing but “masterpieces” but I don’t feel that way so if something is not the way I want it I’m not entirely okay with that I appreciate the positive words but I need to feel 100% about my works and I don’t feel that way about half of them

Another example is road trip however the demand for that was a lot less so I was able to put out more parts and currently work on a 4th part even

Plus I really feel like I always have to outdo myself and that’s hard to do when you pump out fic after fic my brain doesn’t get a chance to really reset and put out the best work

Example number three “wasted time” I haven’t even begun to think about what could happen in a part four but people want it so I’m trying

I have a few rules that are easy to follow please respect me and the chances of me being motivated to write will def be higher

This is also why I don’t take requests cause the work piles up on you in a blink of an eye but even still I made exceptions with “professor lee” and “angels like you” however I will not make any more exceptions especially when people don’t even read my rules in my bio

I feel slighted cause not only are all my posts getting labeled but also I feel under appreciated for what I go through

For those of you who comment frequently and send feedback in my ask box I love you🩶

For the people that just ask for part two and aren’t really active until I post something please understand how I feel all I’m asking for is respect my rules that’s it

Cause at the end of the day I write for your entertainment so the least you could do is show me some love even if it’s just a little

And please no one come for me cause this is just the way these things make me feel it may not even be anyone’s intention but it comes off a certain way to me and that’s what matters cause this is my blog

I think I said everything I needed to but just be mindful of what others go through not just what’s in your face and that goes for anything not just writing but life in general

Thank you all for reading this🩶

[dapper-lil-arts]

1. How did you get so good at drawing? And do you have any tips for someone who isn't?

2. Of your characters, who gives the best hugs?

3. What inspires you to make your characters?

1 - i practiced and fully finished a piece DAILY for at least 3 years, i used TONS of reference and was inspired by plenty of diffrent artists. And i also was very motivated on making "feezable" bodytypes rather than just realistic human ones! taking the furry concept of character design to its maximum capacity. I would say another thing that made me good is my constant desire to outdo myself and learn new styles of coloring and shading and lining and anatomy. My advice for getting better is trying, trying, trying! keeping an open mind and love for art, trying as much as you can passionately everyday. and keep in mind that you will suck at something before you're good at that something. 2 - depends on whats best for you tbh. some people like to be smothered, others embraced gently. 3 - i like making original stuff a LOT. i never wanted to just follow trends, but i realised i needed to have SOME appeal to my art, so on the nsfw i decided to make booby ocs. it kinda spanned out into it being its own semi organized thing on its own, rly i still express myself even on the facet of huge breasts. Also i never liked to half ass anything. so rather than making semi large breasts like the classic anime girl, i decided to go all the fuckin way. if the concept and appeal of these characters is that they have big boobs, i am going all the fucking way. breats bigger than head. (which ironicaly lowers mass appeal lmao. very few people are gonna wanna reblog huge tits.) on the sfw character front, (and generaly rly even booby) ive always been fond of characters that were combinations of multiple tropes and concepts at once, and still worked, easiest example is Agatha, shes a witch, a mom, goth, a killer, and sexy af; it was so fun creating her by combining a whooole buncha concepts and tropes n ideas; forming their own original thing! A lot of my sfw characters can be seen as those combinations too; one of my favorite side-passtimes is making a list of all characters that remind me of my own that i see out there. its very messy, and yet, very fun to do.

I honestly recomend anyone that has ocs, even if they dont share them and their details with the public (like i sure fuckin dont lol) to try doing stuff like this. its rly funny to have those "aha!" moments when you realise a character you love has stuff in common with a character you made. like YES jim hawkins DOES have a lot of daddy issues and is an angsty teen! add him to the list. lmao. thanks for the ask!

[raziroo]

Riddle Me This - James Potter x Reader

Pairing : James Potter x reader

Genre : Angst

Warnings : Mentions of injuries, reader-inflicted torture, hair pulling, reader-inflicted injuries, mentions of death.

Word count : 5,298

~~~~~

It’s hard being the daughter of the Darkest wizard of all time, of the one they all fear, of Lord Voldemort. Harder than you can imagine.

Because there’s always expectations, and opinions. Expectations have of you, and opinions people have about you. And it’s not good for your own self-esteem when you know that you will never be able to be all that they want you to be. And by ‘they’, I mean my father.

See, contrary to popular belief, Lord Voldemort is capable of caring. Yes, he can never love, and neither can I, but we can care. And for me, that’s enough. Being conceived under the effects of a love potion, my father was doomed to never be able to love; but that didn’t mean he wasn’t capacitated with sympathizing, empathizing, caring. Yes, he would never in a million years be able to experience the joy of being able to love, of being in love, and neither could I, but that was only for the best.

That was one lesson, along with several others, that had been taught to me from the start by my father, and his followers. I could never, ever, ever love. And I should never want to. Because love is for the weak, love is for inferiors. Love itself is weak, and all it does is make bounds for you.

And thus far, I had been successful. I didn’t want love; I didn’t need it. I was capable enough as it is.

Another lesson I’d been taught, was being ambitious, having ambitions. Striving to be the best, being the best, and reveling in the satisfaction of winning, it was a value instilled in me from quite a young age.

And ambitious I was. I reveled in the satisfaction of proving myself right and others wrong; I basked in the glorious feeling of victory, of exceeding expectations.

Being homeschooled since a young age, and that too, with the occasional inputs of the Dark Lord himself, I was a trained witch, and a good one at that. Having Death Eaters as competition, and the constant expectations of being better than each of them, it wasn’t an exaggeration when I say, you do not wish to cross me. I usually came out triumphant in duels, all except when I was ill, or exerted, or when me and father dueled. He was the obvious champion.

But then came along Bellatrix LeStrange. The female, who previously belonged to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, was related to two blood traitors. One was her sister who, despite having such a rich and reputed heritage, eloped with a Hufflepuff. A Hufflepuff. The other was her first cousin, Sirius Black. And in the latter’s case, what surprised me wasn’t the fact that the boy had managed to escape and betray the Blacks, no. It was the fact that he had escaped Walburga Black. The woman was a tyrant, a hurricane, with a pitch high enough to rupture your ears, and fury blinding enough to make you cower back in fear.

I aren’t going to lie, I had severely underestimated the woman. Bellatrix, she was deranged, she was unhinged. Her eyes were maddening and crazy, and her skills beyond average. Her ruthlessness and un-sympathizing nature was what made her all the more an even terrible foe to have. She reveled in screams, hearing people scream and cry and writhe and shout in anguish pleasured her. She wasn’t sick. That made it sound like what she had, had a cure; when in truth, she was insane, off her rocker, and so, so dangerous.

So, as you might have understood, I lost in the duel against Bellatrix. And I had lost bad. Father had refused to speak to me for 6 straight weeks after that, he had been so disappointed. And it hurt me, because all he had ever asked of me to be the best, to strive for perfection, to outdo even the greatest of rivals. And I had failed him that day.

So when father asked me to go attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, for the sole purpose of being able to keep an eye on Dumbledore, I had packed my bags without a sound of protest, as much as I dreaded going to the school. I wasn’t thick, I understood the fact that father could have very easily asked any one of his Death Eaters to-be to spy on Dumbledore; he had given me a chance. Something that he didn’t give everyone, and I was grateful.

. . . . .

I hated this place. Students swarming everywhere, so much noise, so many people, it was unbearable. I’d always been one to find solace in loneliness; this place was the exact opposite. I couldn’t fathom how you were meant to actually study in Hogwarts; sounds and voices and whispers and chatters were unescapable, anywhere and everywhere you went. Even the classrooms and the library weren’t spared – the former and latter, both, due to the courtesy of the Marauders.

Oh, the Marauders. They were a whole entire issue separately. A group of rambunctious, untamable, and obnoxious boys, and that too all Gryffindor, whose sole purpose was to create chaos and play pranks, and who went by the name, ‘The Marauders.’ A marauder, typically, means a person who roams around, looking to steal. Sweet Salazar, why would you decide to call yourselves that? And then be proud of it?

The group consisted of four ‘pupils’, if you could even call them that (they were just troublemakers, in my opinion), namely Remus Lupin, the only tolerable one, Peter Pettigrew, the rat-like one, Sirius Black, the blood traitor by choice, and James Potter, blood traitor by family. How very nice.

Now, me, being the live and let live sort of person that I am, didn’t care too much about those four, as long as they kept their noses out of my business. They didn’t. They were all overly curious about my background, my family, why I joined mid-year, et cetera, et cetera. Their curiosity was low-key harassment, in all truth. Merlin, leave me alone. But no, those blood traitors and half-breeds all wanted to invade my privacy, annoy me, make my life hell. So, I returned the favors.

See, father had sent Nagini along, just for a piece of home to be with me. And my snake not only spied on them and contributed in the ‘Trouble the marauders’ project in the day, she contributed during the night as well. And so, I’d ended up here, in an abandoned classroom after curfew, wand pointed at the Marauders after a particularly irritating day.

We Slytherins, every Wednesday morning, shared double potions with the Gryffindors. And as if that wasn’t torturous enough already, Slughorn had fixed seats, because “Some students have been disrupting the decorum of the classroom,” and so now I was seated beside Lily Evans, a “particularly bright muggleborn witch,” as Slughorn said. She was just a pathetic know-it-all, and a mudblood to top it off, in my opinion. The girl was sickeningly sweet, and was all chirpy-chirp when I had been assigned as her partner. She was ecstatic, probably to meet a new person. I was disgusted, probably to meet a new person.

And above that, Pettigrew and Black sat behind us, Lupin and a Slytherin named Severus Snape on a bench on my right, and in the front was Potter, sitting alone. And I know, I know, it seems exaggerated because a real life situation possibly cannot be this bad, but it’s true, trust me. Potter was reciting cheesy pickup lines to the Mudblood, all while she grew angrier, his friends suppressed their laughter, Snape turned green from envy, and I refrained from

 committing bloody murder.

“Hey Evans, why don’t you play Quidditch, you look to be a keeper.”

“Shut up, Potter.”

“Oi Evans, are you a dement-“

“-Sod off-“

“-Or, because I’d die if you kissed me.”

“You don’t die after a dementor’s kiss, Potter, your soul gets sucked.”

“Evans, we may not be-“

“-Godric, no-“

“-In Flitwick’s class, but you sure-“

“-Are a charmer? Potter, you’ve used this.”

“Did you use the stupefy charm, Evans-“

“-Potter, I swear to Morgana I’ll-“

“-Because you sure are a stunner.”

Merlin, this blasphemy was giving me a headache, and making it harder by the second to not kill someone. I was in the process of stirring the cauldron, and Evans was just adding a bit of snakeskin, when Potter abruptly turned around and started speaking, and so, out of shock (or it could be because she was mad), Evans dropped the snakeskin too early, and the potion suddenly became a brilliant blue, instead of a mellow violet, and exploded, covering me and mudblood and potter and Black in goo. On top of that, my hand got burned due to the jump I made on Potter’s suddenness.

As the entire class fell silent after the burst, I slowly brought up my right hand, which was shaking, and wiped off the slimy substance off of my face; the slime made splattering noises as it hit the floor. When I finally opened my eyes, my hands still shaking, I was met with a red-faced mudblood, probably with anger, red-faced Pettigrew and Black, probably with suppressed laughs, and a pale faced Potter.

And trust me, I tried so hard to contain the magic threatening to erupt from inside me; I’d bit my lip the hardest I could, clenched my shaking fists, and closed my eyes, hoping against hope that my magic didn’t lose control. No such luck, however.

Potter and friends were suggested to bedrest for 5 days after that.

Of course, they’d tried to escape out of the hospital win the very same night, and unfortunately, right at the moment I was on my way to the Owlery, so that Celine, my eagle owl, could deliver the letter to father. I was on the fifth floor corridor in the west wing of the castle, when those troublesome Marauders an into me. Literally, straight into me, for they had an invisibility cloak draped around them. How they had managed to escape the nurse even with the cloak was a mystery to me, because there were constant hisses and whispers and mutters coming from the direction in which, occasionally, a pair of feet came into view.

As I bumped into them, their cloak fell off, and I swiftly picked up the letter of mine that had dropped to the floor. “What are you idiots doing here, in the middle of the night?” I asked, brow raised.

They looked stricken for a moment, then sounded Lupin’s voice. “We could ask you the same question,” the scar-faced boy said, still a tad out of breath.

“Yeah, Riddle, what are you doing out here?” Black enquired further.

“That is none of your business, blood traitor,” I said, my tone sharp, eyes cold. Black looked a bit hurt, Lupin pursed his lips in what seemed to be disappointment, Pettigrew whimpered, and Potter looked angry.

“What, did you say to him?” he asked in a tone that would be menacing for some, but not for me. “I merely reminded your friend of what he is , Potter, what he’s become, what he’ll forever be. A blood traitor,” I said in a calm and cool voice, which seemed to irk the raven-haired boy even more.

“It’s alrig-“ Potter, however, cut his friend’s sentence off midway.

“Don’t call him that, you filthy snake,” he snarled.

“Seem to hit a nerve, have I, Potter?”

“You bloody-!”

“WHO’S THERE?” screeched a scratchy, gravelly voice. Filch.

All five of us gave each other a glance, and the next second, we were inside the nearest room, which just so happened to be an abandoned classroom that was priorly used for History of Magic. We all held our breath, until the steps and meows and purrs and grunts faded off into the distance.

“Now, back to what we were-“

“We weren’t doing anything, Potter. You took the truth a little too to the heart, when even your friend didn’t seem so bothered by it.” Potter was going redder in the face by the second. “Now, if you Gryffindors don’t mind, I should get going. I,” I waved my letter-holding hand, “have a letter to deliver.” Just as I turned around, Potter snatched the letter right from my hand. Oh, Merlin, no.

“Let’s see what we have here, hm?” as Potter said that, even Black’s troubled look evaporated from his face. They were back to their bully nature.

“Yes, Prongs, let’s.”

“No!” all four looked up from the half-torn envelope. “I- don’t open that.”

“Why? Why,” Potter waved the now half-torn envelope in a much similar fashion in which I had, “would I return this? Or not open this?”

“It’s a letter containing… things that I would share with people who’re… close to me,” I said, my stance cautious, manipulative mannerisms in progress. Although it would be hard to talk my way out of this one, and that was considering if I even could.

“Close to you, hm? Well then, it’s even more precious,” Black said this time, both dark-haired boys sharing devilish grins, as their friends behind them looked sheepish, but said nothing.

“Black, Potter, please. Don’t be immature,” I tried to reason, but the boys were having none of it, and tore open the envelope fully, and begun reading the letter aloud. “Dear father, I hope you are doing well. You will be pleased to know that Dumbl-“

“Accio letter!” I exclaimed. The letter didn't come into my hand, Black had anticipated this. The boys, having read and heard part of Dumbledore’s name in my letter, had now shed their teasing demeanor and their eyes furiously roamed the piece of parchment, as Lupin cast a Protego so that I wouldn’t be able to Accio anything again. “-that Dumbledore has been unsuccessful in finding out your location. I hope it will continue to be so, seeing that Malfoy and Avery can’t seem to keep their mouths close in presence of Gryffindors. I am sure you can take care of that.

As for the elder Black boy, chances of him joining your ranks seem to be as good as none, considering his constant company is half-breeds, blood traitors, and mudbloods, and he seems keen on troubling each and every Slytherin; he gets into routinely brawls with LeStrange, Crabbe, Goyle, the likes. His friend, the blood traitor Potter, his mother has caught the Dragon Pox,” Potter’s voice broke, “so it is assured that she will not survive. As for his father, Fleamont Potter, the auror, he seems determined to find the cure and weed out each and every member of your ranks; the man is livid. As for the werewolf, his company is same as Black’s; it is highly unlikely he will join your ranks.

My education here is going as expected, the Professors teach me nothing that I don’t already know.

I hope all the information I have been able to convey in this letter will be efficient for you. As always, Nagini has been an absolute darling.

Yours truly.” Potter finished, looking stricken and sad and livid, all at the same time. His friends all were furious, too.

He, however, was angrier than any of them; the mention of his mother’s name, and the fact that he now knew that father’s followers were the cause of his mother’s ailment, only added fuel to the fire.

Although I hadn’t once mentioned father’s name in the letter, it was clear that these four boys, whom I’d just assumed were naïve teenagers, knew more than they let on. And suddenly, it was clear why they bothered me so much, specifically, why I’d become their main target: these boys knew something fishy was up; something that wasn’t just related to a new transfer student.

With trembling hands, and a quivering lip, Potter looked up, eyes ablaze with fear-inducing fury. “You. It was… you, you were involved with… this, all along,” the boy declared more than asked. “You-!”

“OI! Who’s there?!” a scratchy voice asked, from not very far away. Merlin, Filch. I glanced at the boys, panic settling inside me. I couldn’t afford getting caught in an abandoned classroom with four of the most troublesome people I had ever met. My record, up till this day, had been perfectly clean. No failed tests, no late assignments, no detentions. If I got caught today, there would be a huge, ugly, black spot on my school records, as well as my reputation – because one thing I’d learned at Hogwarts was that news travels fast. Faster than I’d like.

In a panic-stricken haze, I made what was possibly the most impulsive decision in the entirety of my life. I pointed my wand, muttered a spell, snatched the letter, disillusioned myself, and fled the classroom as fast as I could. The letter could wait.

. . . . .

As I sat on the Slytherin table the next day, I chewed on my omelette with well-masked anxiety. If the boys came in, and started pointing fingers and started shooting spells at me, I would most certainly be in trouble, and the public humiliation would come hand-in-hand. However, if they’d decided to tell Dumbledore, then my trouble would be doubled. And if, if, by chance, by Salazar’s most divine blessing, my spell had worked, then I could seek refuge here in the castle for more time.

Lost in my thoughts and the chatter surrounding me, I completely missed on the theatrical but yet, routine and typical, entrance of the Marauders. Their flailing hands, arrogant smirks, loud banter and even louder chatter gained a couple students’ attention, though said students went back to what they were doing almost immediately.

As I looked up, the four Gryffindors appeared and behaved as they usually did – without a care in the world. No visible anxiety, no frown, no scowl, and definitely no pointed fingers. I was relieved, and my short sigh indicated so. Just as I was about to really go back to eating my food, I caught the mischievous eyes of one James Potter, and by the look in his eyes for that split-second, I knew something was definitely wrong.

. . . . .

Salazar, I hadn’t expected things to go this wrong.

See, the spell I’d used on the Marauders that night was a simple ‘Obliviate’, and then a bit of memory-modification; the boys were planning a prank to make everyone drowsy, and while they planned, they started messing about, used the spell on each other, and fell asleep. Simple enough, yes?

No.

In my hurry, I’d done something wrong, I don’t know what, and had made James Potter think that he was infatuated with me. And yes, I know, the odds of someone believing that were pretty not in my favour, but James Potter could be pretty persuasive, and the fact that the male had finally moved on and given up after so much time, was… expected.

But such a drastic change wouldn’t be believed. His first choice was the golden girl of Hogwarts, the redheaded muggleborn genius Gryffindor, the one who had a warm aura radiating off of her, whose emerald eyes were sharp yet so affable; and then there was me, the brooding Slytherin with green tips in her hair, a stare so pointed people would turn away if they were walking in my direction, and a resting bitch face so effective no one, not even purebloods, wanted to talk to me.

But that was just the beginning. The number of unwanted gifts I received was horrendous – roses in black, white, red, Merlin, even green color; poetry so bad it was tragic; pickup lines so bad I swear my ears would start bleeding if I heard more of them; and extravagant confessions of love that were embarrassing beyond comparison.

But I knew it wasn’t love; love can’t be created. Yes, it was infatuation, but it was just that. The effects the messed-up memory-altering spell were quite similar to those of Amortentia, the only difference was that I didn’t intend that.

. . . . .

A month had passed already, and we were all growing nearer to graduation. The workload was crumbling; seventh-years, such as myself, spent their days and nights in the libraries, the gardens, abandoned classrooms, dormitories, anywhere they got, just studying and learning and practicing. And the three essays we were doomed to get each day didn’t help either.

So now, Jam- sorry, Potter’s unwanted public displays of affection only added to my stress. The constant nagging, shouting, pickup lines, rejections – ugh.

I put up with it only until I snapped.

It was two months later, three days until our first exam, History of Magic, when it happened. I was roaming the dungeons, muttering spells under my breath and practicing wand movements, when I heard noise. I immediately knew. And even though if I’d been saner, I’d probably just ignore it and leave those Marauders and their shenanigans alone. But at that time, I was past the point of sanity, and my fingers were itching to do some actual magic – real magic, not the amateur spells this pathetic excuse of a school was teaching me. You would think that learning advanced stuff would make the basic spells and hexes and potions easier; it was quite the opposite. Having learned what first years learn at age four or five, and reaching seventh-year level by twelve, I was so ahead that I’d forgotten the basics.

So I whipped around, wand pointed, the boys’ cloak blowing off by a nonverbal spell, as they all stared at me. Potter spoke up first.

“Hey, Dahlia, how’re you holdi-?”

“Shut up, Potter,” I snapped. Dahlia was short for black dahlia, the name he used for me in his “poetry”.

“Aw, someone’s i-“

“Shut up, Potter!”

“Love, you shouldn’t preten-“

“Shut. Up,” I sneered, taking two quick strides and jabbing my wand at his throat. “I’m not pretending. I don’t have to. I loathe you, you imbecile! Stop bothering me, because I have work to do, and chapters to study, and spells to practice, and write letters to my parents, unlike you, who would much rather just roam around bullying people, and whose mother is on her death bed and father is half-mad, and whose entire family are filthy bloodtraitors!” I was heaving for air at that point, and once oxygen reached my brain and lungs, only then did I really comprehend what I’d said.

The hazel eyes of the boy in front of me had lost their glint, and had suddenly become too dull, even for me. His friends were standing stunned behind him, eyes flitting from my – as I then realized – guilty expression, and his heartbroken one.

It took him a few seconds and shaky breaths, but the Potter boy finally spoke up. “If… i-if what I say and, uh, do, g- gives you such a headache, then I’ll just, um, stop,” he said in a voice that was uncharacteristically quiet. I gulped, uncomfortable due to the pit that seemed to be settled in the bottom of my belly, and gave a stiff, curt nod.

He nodded again, gaze constantly on the floor, and then trotted away, his friends trailing behind him, now giving me angry glares, having come out of their stunned stages.

And although I should have felt relieved, because I somehow knew that Potter wouldn’t be back to his old ways, I instead had a strange tightness blooming in my chest, slightly constricting my breathing. Shaking my head, I went back to the dormitories, because I couldn’t possibly have gone back to sleep then.

. . . . .

Two days until the day all seventh-years would graduate, say goodbye to the castle, probably forever, but instead of feeling sadness or nostalgia or sadness on leaving the castle, I just had that constricting feeling in my chest growing every day, because I didn’t have even one happy memory in the castle.

My letters to father were sent occasionally, because honestly, except recruiting the seventh-year Gryffindors, and one Hufflepuff, to the Order, Dumbledore had done honestly nothing.

Potter had once again slipped back into his old routine, but his eyes never seemed to had that sparkle anymore. He flited with Evans, she flirted back, seemingly suddenly not liking the lack of attention she got when his affections had been aimed towards me, and each time I saw them that way, I would tighten my jaw, and grip my wand, or books, or even the hem of my sweater if I didn’t have anything, a little tighter.

The feeling was so foreign, and I didn’t like it one bit. Perhaps Evans’ case was what I was suffering with; but I had never liked the attention.

So…why?

. . . . .

During autumn 1979, Lily and James Potter had decided to get married, only at the supple age of 18. And I didn’t know why it bothered me, but it did. That’s why I had been the one to plan the attack on the same day as their wedding.

At 4 pm, the Death Eaters all broke in to the Potters’ mansion; an anonymous source had informed us of the location. I was part of the crew that was attacking – so were Bellatrix, the LeStranges, Malfoy, Pucey, Nott, Rosier, Selwyn, Regulus, the Carrows, Dolohov, Greyback, and Snape – we were father’s most ruthless and dangerous pawns, in the midst of the useless ones. Except me and Bellatrix, clad in hooded robes, the rest all wore their masks.

The wards around the Potter mansion had been taken down by someone inside, and so, there were little to no obstacles in our path.

As we all apparated in, it took the guests a hot second to even realize what had happened; once they did, there was a full-on battle.

The first person to attack me was Professor McGonagall, who was, as expected, one heck of an opponent. It was fun, going back and forth with a person who was suppose to have power over me, and that too in a dangerous duel. And yes, she caught me off-guard a couple times, but that was that. Confringo’s, stupefy’s, crucio’s, expulso’s, reducto’s, spells that melted your insides, jinxes that turned your heart to metal, hexes that made your wand obey your opponent, curses that blasted you apart; there was everything included, because I had lethal intent. It was a Sectumsempra, however, that finally took down my Professor, for she was growing out of breath, and when cuts and gashes made way into her arm and shoulder, she finally dropped to her knees, wand still not forgotten.

Trusting Nagini to take care of her, I went off, assisting Snape in a duel against a certain redhead that he was going way too easy on. And it was easy to take her down, because with a carefully aimed Crucio, the bride had dropped down, screaming and writhing; my companion turned to me just as I heard a scream of “LILY!”, and I just knew he was grimacing underneath. Shrugging my shoulders, I then left Snape to engage in a duel against Dorcas Meadowes, who was fighting beside a heavily breathing redhead whose wand had been blasted off to who knows where. I needed to see the captured.

As I entered the mansion, I was impressed; I didn’t remember any attack in which we’d done this well. But then again, I’d been ready to kill whoever didn’t immerse themselves into pure torture of these people. Most guests had already escaped; only the groom, his father, his friends and colleagues, a couple Professors of whom Dumbledore wasn’t part of, and the bride who was soon brought in, we had mostly all the important ones in our grasp.

I locked eyes with Pettigrew, on his knees beside Potter, and was quivering. He seemed to know what I wanted to tell him – good job.

“Lily!”

“Dorcas, are you okay?”

“What happened?!”

“Lily, love-“

“SHUT UP!” exclaimed Bellatrix, just at the right time. She then proceeded to cackle madly, which I rolled my eyes at. Lucius hissed something about “embarrassing women”.

“Let her go, please,” uttered Potter, and only then did I turn to see Snape holding his wand at Evans’ back. Holding, not jabbing. Striding towards him, pulling her forward with her left arm, and forcefully making her sit on her knees directly in front of Potter as I held her in place with her hair, the girl couldn’t hide her quivering lip from me.    I didn’t blame her; I’d successfully destroyed her wedding, and would probably kill her. But I couldn’t help chuckling when Potter started pleading to let her go, because she was bleeding. And the twisted pleasure I derived from that sickened me, but I couldn’t stop it.

Tugging at her hair harder, I muttered a stinging spell under my breath, and the girl’s shoulder began burning more. She yelped and hissed, and I could make out the clenched fists of my fellow Death Eater from the peripherals of my vision. He had to get over her.

And that was the reason, I convinced myself, why I Crucio-ed the girl on her knees.

Her friends screamed at me to stop it, she screamed at me to stop it, Potter screamed at me to stop it, but I didn’t. Amongst the shouts, Black screamed at me to reveal my face, as his cousin already had. I didn’t. And the billow of wind that went past me, temporarily stopping me, and lowered my hood, I knew it wasn’t just nature’s wrath.

As Rabastan tortured Black for lowering my hood, McKinnon taunted, “Oh, your friend can’t defend herself, is it?”

I was flattered, honestly, with the uproar that caused among the Death Eaters. Chuckling, and then asking them to stop it, I wandered to McKinnon, and crouched to her eye level, looking head-straight into her blue eyes. I was aware of the tense gazes of the wedding guests on me, and I couldn’t help but smirk. Quickly suppressing it, I ran my hands along the girl’s face – her nose, jaw, lips, and then threaded them through her hair.

Pulling her head back with her hair, I tilted my head to the side. “You’re the half blood, hm? Gryffindor, like your mother. Your father was Ravenclaw.” She seemed creeped out a tad, at me knowing her family so well. I raised my voice, no longer muttering. “Dolohov, take this one back home. Don’t touch her, or her family. Kill them off, make it hurt. Once you’re done, come back here.”

And so the screams started again, protests and thrashing and writhing. Dolohov did as he was instructed, and everyone watched, horrified.

“Anyone else, have any problem?” I raised my brows. Silence.

I then worked efficiently. Meadowes, Black, Pettigrew and Lupin were taken to the headquarters, meant to be attended to by Father. Bellatrix was allowed to torture whoever she pleased. Once she was done, I dragged the mudblood by her lover, and both of them were tied together. The professors were sent back to Hogwarts as a message, and once those two, as well as Auror Potter were the only ones left, me and the Death Eaters trudged out. Standing at the door, I pointed my wand. “Fiendfyre.”

The doors were closed, and the screams inside would haunt the area forever. The Potters had been murdered, along with all the most valuable assets of the Order of the Phoenix, and Neville Longbottom, two years later, had been marked with a lightning scar.

No one messes with the Riddles and gets away.

No one is worthy of our jealousy.

[way-to-the-future]

#22: Blaire - Fluster

The best thing about my chamber is the door. The heavy oak, sourced from Daddy’s own stands, and the accompanying array of locks provide the sense of security which one might think found only in straightjackets and manacles. The solace of my pillow and sheets is that of suffocation, of muffling every errant sound until I can hear myself think over my own despondency. I calm my sobs and stutters by weary little efforts a half-minute at a time. At least, here, I have mastery of my imprisonment, and freedom to step into or shut off the broader cage as suits me.

               For all his foibles, mon papa little resembles other Ishgardian fathers. Though he’s not the sort of man to kiss and hold his children dear to his breast, neither have his weathered hands ever found any recourse to the switch or the belt. All the same, he straightens my jacket. He disapproves of my hair, and obliges my mother to style it in the fashion of the day. It has always, ever, been thus – I am a child in his eyes, one that demands constant, if gentle correction. I don’t doubt his love, though he is rarely ever the sort of fellow who sees the need to communicate it. Love should be felt in a full plate, in new suits, in the hypothetical freedom and trust he confers upon me. He may be weird, my papa, but a fool and a tyrant he is not.

               Wherefore, then, this new idiocy?

               Daddy takes a cigarette, twisted by some unfortunates in the Corvos Narrow, and a glass of Gyr Abanian amaretto from his special reserves with unerring habit each night by the hearth in the solar. Not so long ago, to import was the truest sign of conspicuous wealth, but now Maman must have the porters of foreign goods turned away. Her constitution allows her to tolerate no more than one smoke at father’s side each night. The only one of us to sit alongside is dear Épiphanie, whose fastidious devotion to the pianoforte could almost outdo daddy’s own loyalty to the after-dinner ritual. So imagine my surprise when, just as I was pulling on my gloves and cap to go and join my people in the squalid corners of the city, dear Therevault informs me that my presence is requested by my father, this evening.

               My presence? That is not agreed upon, but neither do I feel it in my power to refuse. I have never – may the Fury Herself strike me down for conceding it – disobeyed him, not since he transported us out of the gutter with nothing but his own will and intellect. My steps move ahead of my own preferences, and I find myself in that dusky courtroom, confronted by the trilling sound of the keys and the wafting fumes of Papa’s addiction.

               Can you imagine his voice? Like a sigh that sinks out of him, more than something he expends effort in conjuring. My Papa, I’ve seen him in the cadre of his fellows, all jowly and stern men of a certain age, and among them he is the least inclined to bluster. So when he speaks, and speaks thoughtfully of matters of weight, one does feel compelled to listen. He has contrived to try his hand at politics, my dear patron. A man of Ishgard must now seem worldly as never before, whether he seeks the seat of the commons or the lords. And with his mind upon his constituents, he will surely not have time to address all the functions of the family properties. The acrid tang of responsibility fills my mouth.

               Yet it is not mere apprenticeship to his foremen that daddy has designed. Being possessed of only one son born breathing, he must be particularly considerate of my future, and while my sisters have not the head for numbers, I have always done ever so well both with other people and with my figures.

               The world of the south is opening, dear boy, and there are contracts to be concluded and bargains to be struck. Won’t you go and represent your old father while he attends to home?

[we-rate-tmnt]

Give us the Donatellos!

Donnie is my favorite so Imma be super biased on this one. Maybe I like smart guys or maybe purple is my favorite color, you’ll never know!

Up first, the og ‘hehe turgle’

Donatello (1987)

Yeah I’m sorry for making this 

First of all, not the biggest fan of his voice. It has a bit of a whiny quality to it, and I’m not about all that jazz. His gismo’s look pretty lame a lot of the times, either it’s a grey box with some buttons, dials and flashing lights or looks like it was pulled directly from Lost in Space. Still a cute design but he felt pretty bland and seemed to be used for plot convenience most of the time. To put it simply, he was cute and essential but kinda bland. I’m always really harsh on this version because it’s so painfully dated and cheesy, which ain’t my cup of tea, but what can I say be hehe turgle.

5/10

I had a crush on this Donnie so you know that this is not remotely close to a fair rating but eh, I love him and yall do too

Don (2003)

His voice, such a huge improvement. I’m really sound-oriented and I often like to play a game of ‘I’ve heard the VA before, but which role?’ when I watch cartoons and I don’t mean to brag, but I’m pretty good at it. So when I heard that soft, caring voice, ten year old me was head over heels. Which is one quality I love about him. His heart is so huge, like I can think back to a bunch of side characters and most of them were introduced through Don helping or knowing them. The Atlantians and the homeless in the show owe so much to Don, but he goes out of his way to make sure that they are alright. In the last season (which everyone hated but I actually really liked so fuck me I guess), Splinter is lost into tiny pieces across the web and Don blames himself and goes without sleep and food for days to bring him back. It broke my heart, and I’m pretty sure a lot of others, to see him like that.

On a lighter note, I vaguely remember this one scene where the triceration dude is like ‘you did this!’ and Don’s like ‘I did? Good for me then.’ and had a very pleased grin on his face right after. I don’t know why, but that killed me. Bless Don and his rare, but excellent, comebacks.

He really does so much and there were quite a few episodes focused on him. He also had quite a bit of character development, not as much as Leo, but whoever gets any more development whatsoever besides Leo?

I love him he’s amazing protect him/10

Next up is the Donnie that helped me love my old gap tooth.

Donnie (2012)

Voiced by the very talented Rob Paulson, this Donnie goes back and forth from really great character to eh. The whole April thing was just kinda strange to me and I don’t really think it added anything other than some interesting Casey and Donnie banter. His crush was really strong the first two seasons and came off as stalkerish almost. Although I’m guilty of having a picture of a crush as my lock screen once as well, so I can’t judge that much. I really liked that they actually addressed this when Bigfoot had a crush on Donnie and he realized how April felt. Yeah, that episode was weird and just didn’t make any sense, but it really helped Donnie gain a new perspective and made him go from super crush to (mostly) hidden pining. He has a nice design as well, especially with the gap tooth. I used to have one and was really embarrassed of it but whenever I saw that Donnie had one, I thought it looked neat and I started to see myself in a more positive light. It’s closed up now, but I can still spray water between the little bit that’s left as a parlor trick. But seriously, what the FUCK was up with Don visiososoos whatever tf his name I I don’t understnad my tiny brain don’t understand why my purple boy tried to kill this dude who looked like he should’ve been wearing a red jumpsuit in the background of a pixar robot love story. Anyway, my tall gap tooth son, ily.

7/10

Then, the barely changed but fantastic

Donnie (Heroes in a Half Shell: Blast to the Past)

Baby but Bastard at the same time purely because of the ‘Anyone who bothers me, ejector seat button’s right there’ line. 

10/10

Now this version has one of my favorite designs out of all the Donatello’s!

Donatello (2014/2016)

They put a lot of thought into his design psychically, the long body, the near-constant look of surprise and curiosity in his features, the gadgets made of common objects, the wraps on his arms, I would love to be able to think of and make those kinds of details! It was all really well thought out and he stood out since he wasn’t as bulky as the rest of the turtles. I really like the little lines and the actor did a fantastic job on the delivery and really made the character come to life. Some favorites: ‘Ohmygod, they have guns’, the little awed, snorty chuckle when he flips a car over with his bo staff, ‘doitdoitoitdoit im not gonna stop til you do it doditdoit’ and when he straight up yeets himself out of a plane. He has a genuine curiosity in everything he does and I think he might be my favorite version. It’s hard to choose when it comes to Donnie because he varies so wildly. But for detail, voice and writing alone, definitely the 2014 Donnie.

8.5/10

Next up is God himself

Donnie (2018)

Chaotic as all hell, like I can’t think of a more chaotic character from ANY of the versions other than this Donnie. I have a lot of thoughts about his character in general, from design, to psychology and complexes. First and foremost, Donnie is a softshell turtle, meaning he has a DOPE battle shell and overall looks pretty damn neat. Although, I think that just the fact he’s biologically weaker has caused him to put up a lot of boundaries between him and his family and friends. He can’t be incredibly strong like Raph, agile like Leo or fast like Mikey and even though he brags about being smart, he feels almost beneath his brothers and strives to outdo them in any way he can. He wants to show them that he’s just as, if not more so, talented and feels overlooked because his inventions become ‘too smart’ or ‘too over the top’ and even the ones that work out incredibly well are written off for flashier projects. 

He depends on technology and feels like that's all he has, and (ironically enough) he’s built up a shield around him. He acts confident and narcissistic and has an almost nihilistic outlook, but he’s frustrated and feels inferior and wants validation more than anything. I came up with this theory when I saw the episode Turtle Dega Nights. I know that the scene was meant for Donnie to express how he feels about Splinter lying about the event and believe that he didn’t genuinely want to hang out with his sons, but that kind of thing feels like it’s been built up over time, like he’s been lied to before about the true meaning behind something. Something like, oh idk, how great his inventions are? Or how helpful he really is? Or how talented he is? Just sayin. Also ngl I might be self projecting a bit, but mmm. Also he has so much purple on him and it’s wayyy more accurate compared to just a purple bandanna bc people who like purple GO ALL OUT. A friend told me this and I thought ‘nah thats not true I like purple’ but then I looked down to find my dyed purple jeans, purple vans and my favorite hoodie, also purple. A really chaotic version but he seriously needs a hug.

9/10

Storytime: One time my friend dressed up as Donnie the same year I was dressing as April O’ Neal and we didn’t even plan it. It was fantastic.

Thank you so much for sending this in! Sorry it’s taking me so long to get around to these! I’m so glad you guys are liking my blog and my opinions!

[moprocrastinates]

and sung me moon-struck; kissed me quite insane (I think I made you up inside my head)

Pairing: Jude x Cardan

Words: 2,080

Summary: It’s not like she intended to lose them. That would be cruel, and as much as Jude regarded as a ruthless, cunning, royal bitch, she wasn’t cruel. No, no, that title belonged solely to her beloved husband, who, if she couldn’t find her gift in the next day, wouldn’t be getting much of anything for their first anniversary.

Jude wrote Cardan letters during her time in exile.

Warnings/Rating: T. Some kissing, and some angst.

Notes: I FINALLY WROTE SOMETHING AFTER, LIKE, FOUR YEARS AND SO MANY OTHER FANDOMS. (Please take pity on me if it’s not good. I’m tired, and I promise I’ll get better.)

AO3

Jude would like it somewhere on the record that she tried. 

Really. She did. 

It’s not like she intended to lose them. That would be cruel, and as much as Jude regarded herself as a ruthless, cunning, royal bitch, she wasn’t cruel. 

No, no, that title belonged solely to her beloved husband, who, if she couldn’t find her gift in the next day, wouldn’t be getting much of anything for their first anniversary. 

Not that it mattered, really. Cardan had said he didn’t want anything, in the same stupid way he had confessed, “Of course it was a trick!” when she returned to Elfhame to save Taryn’s ass. 

“Sure, Cardan,” Jude huffed, blowing a tress of curly hair out of her face with a heavy breath. All heart and steel, she moved with a ferocious grace as she tore through the castle. Windows bright with moonlight cast ghostly shadows across the floor, and a soft breeze, warm as the summer outside, did nothing to ease Jude’s anxiety. Thankfully the hallway was empty; she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t explode in an odd faerie’s face should they bump into her. 

“I don't want anything, dear Jude, because why would I desire possibly anything when I have you?” Her tongue tripped over the delicacy of Cardan’s tone, and she sighed. A year later, and still her mockery of Cardan wasn’t nearly as good as it should be, but she figured she could blame that on her nerves. 

Once she found the damn letters, she’d do a better impression. In front of him, no less. Her husband caused her so much grief. (She wouldn’t have it any other way.)

“Focus, Jude,” she told herself, deep brown eyes moving straight in front of her, brows beginning to furrow. “Don’t let Cardan distract you.” 

Over the year since her successful return to Elfhame, Jude found herself utterly besotted (Cardan loved the word, and so she’d begun using it-- damn him) with her husband. Not that she hadn’t been before, but living beside Cardan and experiencing all that he is in a brand new light was something entirely new. Every day, it seemed, brought something new from Cardan to Jude: cups of tea with milk and teaspoons of hot honey right as she woke up, hot baths, sprinkled with lavender and mint, drawn when she came in from sword practice, and gentle kisses and massages whenever her ire felt strong enough to control all the roots buried deep within their land and force them to ruin Elfhame itself. Cardan’s words, always soft, sometimes sharp, remained her constant. HE remained her constant, and it was now, marching through the hallway, that Jude reminded herself that she needed to show him the same feeling he gave her. 

She needed her letters. But they were nowhere to be found. 

The mortal world, and Vivi, had been absolutely no help. “What kind of place do you think I’m living in?” Vivi had asked her as Jude flipped up cushions, emptied cupboards, and pried up ceiling tiles in their formerly-shared apartment. “I’m not a vault! I’m not just storing stuff for you for a rainy day! You live in a castle, Jude! You have over a hundred rooms!”

“I had hoped you would at least keep some things of mine!” Jude jerked her old mattress away from the wall and peered behind it. Nothing. Fuck. “You know, sister sentimentality and all that!”

She didn’t have to turn around to see the half-smirk on Vivi’s face. “That’s exactly why I’ve kept as little as I have.”

Ugh. Sisters could be the worst.

Now, her steps were loud in the empty, elegant hallway, slim, glittery boots clomping down onto the marble floor as she strode to her rooms. Her-- their-- rooms, right. She still wasn’t used to that.

If she was honest, she still wasn’t used to this life. Or love. 

She tried. Really, she did. Jude gave him kisses and hugs and curled her body around his in the evenings, strategy plans in hand. But she wasn’t as good at words as Cardan. Now, even a year later, despite having said them before, those three words escaped her, forced her mouth dry, and floated off with the wind. Madoc had taught her to keep her feelings close as a method of control, of power, never letting an enemy know one’s weaknesses. She’d done that her entire life, and even with Cardan, it was difficult. So she showed it differently than he did. Was that her problem? Her love shaped itself physically, her hand crawling into his, her face buried into his shoulder.

Did he know how much she cared if she didn’t use the words?

“I know you love me, my villainous girl,” Cardan had told her just last week when she’d shyly asked about their upcoming celebration, and the look on her face -- frustration, probably-- made him smirk. “I don’t need anything, I promise you.”

“Sure, Cardan,” she snorted again. His voice had become somewhat of a nuisance in her mind, a conscious that, if she ever let it slip, he would lord over her until they vanished into dust. 

They had to be in their rooms. Right. It was the only logical place.

Cocking her head, Jude looked around her half of the room. Everything seemed to be where it was when she left this morning, so maybe Cardan hadn’t been poking around, the way he often did when she was this scatterbrained. He probably knew something was up, and if he had any brains (which he did-- she wasn’t fooling herself), Cardan would absolutely know, and then he would win. 

Damn him if he knew something she didn’t want him to know just yet. Damn him if he won the game of feelings. 

“Stupid, Jude!” She cried out, brows furrowed as her fingers reached for the most coveted of her hiding spots under the nearest floorboard to her bedside table. “He’s going to know, and you’re going to get caught, and he’s going to outdo you on this.”

“Outdo you on what?” 

Jude immediately dropped the floorboard, and tried not to look like she’d been caught with her hand in a sweets jar. At the entryway stood Cardan, her beloved, beautiful husband, a thick eyebrow arched in her direction. His black eyes shone with something akin to sunlight. “Uh, nothing. Nothing.” She stood up, brushing her hands against her dress’s skirt. “I’m just looking for something. It doesn’t concern you.” 

“Ahh,” Cardan said, and stepped toward her slowly, black eyes glinting as he traced the black dress she wore. He licked his lips, and oh, mercy, he was going to kill her, and he’d still win. “You’re such a terrible liar, Jude.”

“No, I’m not!” She snapped, but even before she said the words, she knew she was caught. 

Cardan merely laughed, a soft sound. “Defensive to the end, are we?”

Jude raised her chin. “As always, my king.”

She refused to break eye contact, which was probably why she didn’t feel his hands until they touched hers, circled them like they were telling hers a secret. “Not with me, Jude,” Cardan whispered, eyes leaving hers to watch his own fingers trace a pattern on her palm, “Never with me.” 

Well, shit. Swallowing a breath, she whispered, “I can’t find your gift.” 

Black eyes flashed back to hers. “What gift?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Cardan.”

“I know nothing, darling,” he purred, and Jude felt his tail curl around her right ankle as he stepped close. Pale hands came to clutch at her upper arms. “I promise.”

“Uh huh,” she eyed him skeptically. Cardan merely blinked slowly and sweetly back at her, and damn if he didn’t know how to play her like a faerie fiddle. 

She hated that she loved him so much. 

“Care to share, Jude?” He said, and stepped away, choosing to sit on the bed although his eyes never left hers. 

Letting out a sigh, Jude plopped herself down beside him. Her sigh was a long one. “I lost your letters, Cardan.” 

Cardan raised a brow, looking confused. “My letters? I thought you never received them. I thought my mother burnt them before they reached you.”

“Yeah, I never got those.” Jude sighed again, this time tucking her hands under her thighs. She shifted, looking down at them, and knew Cardan tracked the motion. It was a nervous habit of hers. “I’m talking about my letters to you. I wrote them when I was in exile, and they contain some, uh, of my feelings.” She gulped. “My feelings then, about you. The things I can’t say. Even now. I was going to give them to you tomorrow as an anniversary present.” She swallowed, and felt that it was suddenly thick and harder to do than before. Be vulnerable, Jude thought. “I wasn’t sure you knew how I felt about you, so I decided I’d give them over, because I know I don’t always say how I feel. And it’s been a year, and you’ve been so loving and beautiful and sarcastic and verbose about your love for me. I wanted to repay that kindness to you. But I can’t find them.”

When Cardan didn’t respond, she looked up. Her husband had frozen, eyes locked on her hands in her lap. “Cardan?” 

“You wrote me letters?” His voice was soft. “You cared enough to write letters?”

“Cared probably isn’t the right word. Felt strongly, maybe.” Jude tried, wincing as her words stumbled through the air. “I just didn’t want to admit what I felt, even to myself. So I wrote letters. I read somewhere that it was a way to let someone go.” Cardan lifted his head to look at her. 

“You loved me then,” he murmured, and Jude saw in his eyes that he knew he was right. “You loved me even when I exiled you.” Cardan’s tail lashed once, twice, and she saw that the monster she had once thought he was had awoken under the surface. “I thought this was one-sided, that you didn’t love me back despite all we’d been through together. I thought that was why you didn’t come back right away. I thought I’d finally scared you away.” 

She swallowed. “Of course I did,” Jude said quietly. “I’ve never been as good with words as you, but I wrote letters because I didn’t know how else to tell you I felt so much for you, not when I thought you were happy you had finally gotten rid of me, tricked me, humiliated me, that you were celebrating over how you’d finally triumphed over your stupid mortal seneschal.” Softly, she reached out and curled her hand around his. Immediately, his thumb found the ruby ring on her finger and twisted it around gently. “I just didn’t know you felt the same. I didn’t know that you longed for me the same way I pined for you. I thought I would burn the letters and let you go.”

Cardan’s eyes found hers, soft and smoldering and stoked embers all at once. “I love you, Jude. If I had the choice, I’d find you in every life-- so we’d never have to let each other go.”

Jude blinked, light tears falling down her face. “I’m so sorry, Cardan,” she murmured, and huffed a small laugh as a fresh wave of tears streaked down her face. “You deserve to know, and I can’t-- I can’t-- I love--”

“Jude, my darling, my goddess,” Cardan’s hands were all over her body, pressing into her cheeks as she cried. She felt his fingers stroke her there, and it was a new sensation, having him know everything and still clinging to him. “I know, dear Jude, I know.” Before she knew it, she was being pulled into him, gentle hands pressing her face into his shoulder. “You don’t need to say it. I know how much you love me.” 

She didn’t know how, but she found his lips, pushing hers into his as desperately as she could. Jude wove her fingers through his hair and pulled, sharp and sweet, and his answering groan was loud enough that she wrapped her arms around his neck tightly. “Please, please, please know.” She whispered, breaking the kiss. “Please, Cardan. Please hear me.”

“I do, Jude.” He said, nudging his forehead into hers, eyes closed. “I do. I love you.”

And so she kissed him, breathing him in, and he whispered it again.

[helbramstrauma-main]

Headbutting

Masterlist

David Jacobs x Reader

Modern Era: Totally not me complaining about the gifted program

Word Count: 555

A ruthless battle of the wits is my everyday life when it comes to Y/N Y/L/N. Always fighting for a better score than the other one, fighting for the top of our class. One of us will excel at one test with the other one that will exceed the other on the next. It is a constant race to outdo the other. It also does not help that the teachers constantly encourage the competition, saying that it helps us strive for better. However, I personally think it only hurts us, only making me feel like I am never going to be good enough.

Having a constant reminder that I have to outdo the other person or I am a failure is unhealthy but, at the same time remarkably addicting. I want to be better than them, so I always give in to the bait of test scores and top student praise. Which makes what I am about to do even harder.

I am falling behind in math, and I know a substantial unit test is coming up, and if I do not get help my grades will suffer. Math is one of the classes that Y/N is better at, they tend to exceed me in that subject, while I tend to perform better in other things. Unfortunately, I know the only person who can help me in math is them.

The problem with always being challenged against one another is that it makes me look incredibly weak if I ask for help. I am stuck between a rock and a hard place, I can either admit defeat to Y/N or take a lower grade on my test. After a few hours of debating, I decide it is better to have a perfect GPA than avoid a little embarrassment.

The gifted program makes me feel ashamed when I don't understand something. It makes me feel less than, but the power to say I am a part of it makes it hard to quit. I know it will have damaging lasting effects, but having some sort of superiority complex still allures me to it.

When I first approached Y/N for help, I chicken out making me repeat it again about an hour later. Surprisingly they are super relaxed about it, and they do not even tease me. We schedule for two hours the day before the exam to make sure I am comfortable with everything.

The day rolls around faster than I could have imagined and I have never been so anxious. My teachers have always told me that I don't need help and that I am special, but I am slowly seeing that delusion withers away.

Once we start to study, however, all of my worries quickly wash away. Y/N is an amazing teacher and I finally am understanding the principles. Once I finally understand the concepts I do not stop them from teaching. Their gaze when looking at their notes is unbelievably passionate, and the way they slightly adjust their glasses makes them look so wholesome. I have spent all of this time comparing myself to Y/N, that I completely ignored their beauty.

Before long they have to snap me out of my trance that they put me in. How could I of ignored them for so long, is all I could think about for the rest of the session.

[punkpoemprose]

December 4th- Hold You (To it)

Universe: Canon (shortly after Frozen 2)

Rating: M (Mature Audiences, sex, oral sex, and somewhat explicit in places though I tried to keep it to a minimum)

Length: 3031 Words

A/N: Behind as ever. Who’s surprised? Not me! But that said, here’s some “first time” sex set just hours to a day after the events of Frozen 2!  It was supposed to be 1,000 words, but of course I spent all day writing over 3,000 instead. Whoops! Hope y’all enjoy!

Anna was giggling as Kristoff took to unlacing her dress. The trek back from the enchanted forest hadn’t been a long one in a grand sense of things, but between it and the meetings she’d had to sit through about Elsa’s abdication and how they planned to perform her official coronation, and about when she and “Lord Bjorgman” would announce their engagement to the kingdom at large, it had seemed like several days had passed instead of several hours, and she was feeling rather impatient.

“Just tear it off, I really don’t care at this point.”

His laughter was rich and warm to her ear, and despite how exhausted she knew they both were, the enthusiasm for what they were about to do was keeping sleep at bay.

“I’m not going to rip your dress off Anna… well not today at least.”

She moaned as his clever fingers finally exposed and brushed against her upper back. “Don’t say that or I’ll hold you to it.”

She’d never had him alone like this. Of course, this wasn’t the first time they’d “explored” together. They’d seen each other naked, and they’d done just about anything and everything they could come up with to each other that involved mouths and hands, but now, despite it being unspoken, Anna knew that they were finally going to go all the way. She was more than ready.

In fact between the fact that they’d nearly died, the fact that they were engaged, and the fact that first the first time since they’d started dating, absolutely no one was around to interrupt them, Anna was about ready to tear her own dress off, as well as his pants. But Kristoff was steady, stripping off layer after layer with familiarity and practiced speed.

“I look forward to it,” he said as her bodice fell to the floor with her overskirts. He had her down to her corset cover and associated underthings, and she stripped off the cover, tossing it to the side and feeling mobile and bare enough that she could turn and begin divesting him of his layers.

“Off, all of it, come on!”

“Anna you really don’t need to…” the rest of his words were muffled by his vest as she pulled it over his head to the best of her abilities and started in on his shirt.

“I just saved our people from assured destruction from pissed off elements, got engaged, became Queen, and sat through several hours of associated meetings. You’re the one who said in the wagon that as soon as we got home you were going to…”

He interrupted her then with another laugh. Once his shirt was over his face she saw his broad smile and relaxed a bit at the sight. She was, maybe getting a little carried away, but too much had been happening for her to take the risk of one more interruption before she could celebrate their engagement in the most intimate way possible.

“I know what I said Anna, but you can breathe you know. Take it slow? I promise you I’m not going anywhere.”

It was the truth and she knew it. He really wasn’t going anywhere on her. He had proven, as he always did, that he was one constant in her life that she didn’t need to worry about. It didn’t mean she wanted to slow down very much, however, as she was absolutely beyond thrilled to finally be alone with him.

She stepped into him, relaxing into his arms as they wrapped around her.

“Sorry, I’m getting a little carried away.”

She looked up and met his lips with hers when he leaned down to kiss her. It was so natural, the way his hands fell to her waist as he stooped slightly to make up for their height difference.

“Honestly Anna I appreciate the enthusiasm, but I want us to enjoy this.” His hands wandered across her lower back and hips as she looked up into his eyes, accepting and giving kisses as her own hands settled on his bare back.

She wasn’t sure what she loved more, the feeling of his muscled back under her palms, the knowledge of his strength and just how effortless it was for him to lift her, or the way it felt to be on the receiving end of his loving gaze. She was happy that she didn’t have to choose. She felt warm and full of energy when he pulled her closer and she felt his wandering hands settle on the laces of her corset.

“I want to remember everything about this,” he said, continuing the thought as Anna nodded into his chest. “I want you to remember everything about this.”

A pleasant shiver went through her spine as his voice deepened. He was unlacing her slowly, and despite the urgency with which she had just tugged off his shirt, she was enjoying the process, his head dipped low, his lips close to her ear.

“I want to show you that I can take care of you in the way you deserve.”

She moaned and didn’t put the effort into quieting herself that she normally would. She suspected that when the castle staff had seen her dragging Kristoff to her bedroom, they’d cleared the floor. She didn’t care if they hadn’t.

Kristoff hummed in response; the laces released enough that he could turn his focus to the front closure. Anna shivered when he kissed her neck before straightening himself to unhook the garment. He was slow in doing so, and she knew that it wasn’t due to inexperience, but instead a result of his intentions to make good on his promises to make the night memorable.

She decided, as the corset fell and she stooped to press a kiss to her décolletage, that she didn’t mind slow after all.

Her hands slipped into his hair as he pressed kisses along the neckline of her chemise, kissing just above her breasts and along the uncovered portions of her shoulders. She tugged gently at his hair as he did so, his groans mixing with her own soft sounds of appreciation and want.

“I know you can Kristoff,” she whined as he pressed another kiss to the juncture of her shoulder and neck, “I know you take such good care of me.”

He hummed against her skin, illiciting another soft moan. She couldn’t help herself, now that they were slowing down, now that he’d helped her appreciate the moment, it just felt so good to have his hands and lips on her skin.

“And I’m going to try to outdo myself if you’ll let me.”

One hand, which had found itself on her lower back, shifted to her bottom, and Anna tugged on his hair again, perhaps too hard, in response to the sensation and his words.

“Please!”

He chuckled through it, and as she released his hair she found herself being scooped up in his arms, cradled against his chest as he carried her the short distance from the space by her door where she’d dragged him to begin with, to her bed. She didn’t know whether the heart she could hear racing was her own or his from her place against his chest, but she had a feeling it was both. They’d waited so long for this, and while neither of them had really discussed it, Anna was glad that they’d waited for this at least. It felt like there was a purpose to it now, and she was also thrilled that they’d taken the time to get to know what the other liked.

When her back hit the mattress, he was already above her, kissing her, carding the hand that wasn’t supporting his weight through her hair.

She kissed him back with all the energy she’d shown when she’d pulled him into her bedroom. She kissed him like a woman starved, and he responded in kind. She had a feeling that the long wait was starting to catch up with him as well, as while he didn’t necessarily speed up, he was clearly much more focused in his attentions to her. She knew that from the moment she said please, he was determined to show her exactly what he’d meant.

“I love it when you take charge,” she panted as his lips traveled down her neck and again to her chest.

He nodded subtly as he reached down for the bottom edge of her chemise, her last layer since she’d decided against certain other underclothes when she’d returned to the castle and changed clothes. The decision was one made strictly under hopes that he’d have one layer less to contend with.

“May I?” he asked. He always asked, even when he had Anna’s most enthusiastic consent for the entire process. It was one of the many ways in which Anna saw him display his love and respect for her. She never told him he didn’t have to ask, because she knew that even if she said as much, he still would.

She however, thought for a minute and smiled devilishly at him when a thought crossed her mind.

“After you take your pants off.”

His grin as he sat up to obey her request was certainly something, she knew she’d always remember about their night together. He wasn’t a shy man when it came to his body, and before they’d started experimenting together as a couple she hadn’t been used to it. Now though, she knew that the little roll of his hips as he removed his trousers was for her benefit. He was comfortable in his skin and it was something she loved to see.

As soon as his bottoms were discarded, Anna felt his hands against her thighs, his hands traversing them from the knee up, feeling his way up to her chemise’s hem, which was, of course, already hiked up.

In response she sat up slightly and reached her hand to his chest, moving down his stomach at the same pace he slipped up her legs.

When her fingers met hair, his met fabric.

Her eyes were locked onto his, a staring match for who would move first. It made more sense for him to bare her before she started to touch him, but his trousers were off and she knew for a fact how much he enjoyed it when she took him in hand. She preferred his mouth on her, though they both enjoyed any permutation.

“Ripping my clothes is still an option,” she offered cheekily, fingers fluttering against his lower stomach.

“I’ll just pull it over your head,” he decided, leaning away from her touch with some effort and capturing the edge of her chemise in his hands.

Anna bucked her hips up as he tugged it over her rear, and sat up facing him so that he could pull it over her head, leaving them sitting completely bare, facing each other.

His eyes ran over her, as they always did. She’d been somewhat nervous the first time he’d seen her naked, never having been bare for intimacy before, but now she bore his appreciative and lustful gaze with great pride. Whenever she saw him bare, seeing how hard he was looking at her, filled her with delight.

“Okay?” he asked, reaching a hand out to touch her bare waist.

“Yes, very okay,” she responded, reaching up to place a hand on his cheek in return.

They were at a standstill for a moment. She wasn’t sure of what she should be doing. Of course she knew what the actual act was, and she had plenty of familiarity with Kristoff’s manhood as well as of her own body, but figuring out a process, a way of getting things going that felt natural, was always the trouble of them getting intimate the first time. Fortunately, she thought, they were very quick learners, and they already had plenty of mastery.

“Can I taste you?” he asked, leaning his head into her hand, his eyes fully focused on her lips in return.

She nodded. It felt like a good a place to start as any.

“Can I touch you?” she questioned in return; her voice barely able to raise above a whisper.

 He nodded, and it was with practiced ease that they found a position they were pleased with.

Anna moaned when she felt his tongue slip from her as his lips closed around her bud. He knew exactly how she liked it, and she in return, increased her attentions to his length. She was still trying to wrap her head around how she was going to take him. It was a thought she’d had before, and while she was certain that sex with Kristoff would always be something that made her feel good, she was unsure of whether it would hurt first. It had never hurt with his mouth or his hands. He was always so careful with her, and that was a comfort.

She ducked her head down, pressing a kiss to his cock before she took it in her mouth, deciding that as close as she was feeling from his mouth alone, she should do her part to ready him for what they were about to do.

He moaned her name, and she almost laughed as the sound was muffled by the most inappropriate barrier she could think of. When he groaned and pushed on her rear gently she came up for air, understanding that he was as ready as she was to move things along.

She turned around, facing him, hovering just above his chest, and feeling every bit as blissed out as he looked when he sat up slightly to kiss her.

“Are you sure you want to do this Anna?” he asked, his voice thick with desire, “We can wait if you want to.”

She did laugh then, “I don’t know if I’ve ever wanted to do anything so much in my entire life.”

He smiled then, and laughed a bit himself, sitting up and shifting her until their roles were reversed and she was under him.

“I thought maybe, but I had to ask. Ready?”

She nodded, keeping her eyes on his as he shifted his weight. She lifted her hips slightly, moving on instinct as she felt him positioning himself at her entrance. She was wetter than she’d ever been, in fact she was almost certain that she’d need to change the sheets before they could in good conscious sleep where she was laying.

Though she had a feeling too, that he loved it in the same way she loved the knowledge that he was hard for her. They’d only ever been with one another, so it meant more to her that time after time she could interest and excite him. She was certain that their upcoming nuptials would change nothing, beyond how often they were able to enjoy each other’s private company.

He leaned down slightly, pressing a kiss to her forehead that made her heart leap, despite it’s relative chasteness. It signaled a beginning to her, and he made good on the promise in it, slowly but surely pressing into her.

Her breath caught in her throat as she adjusted to the feeling of being filled by him. Of course she’d had his fingers and mouth before, but there was something unsatisfying to them now in her thoughts as she felt what it was like to be surrounded by his arms and to have him inside her.

He smiled down at her and it was soft, if not a bit nervous. He was checking on her, she knew, and even though her eyes were watering a bit from the emotion of it all, she smiled broadly at him. It didn’t hurt in the least. The feeling was new, but it was a good one, and her tears had much more to do with the revelation that this was the last frontier they’d explore before their wedding than it did anything even remotely negative.

“You feel…” he trailed off, whispering something under his breath before he ducked down to kiss her.

As his lips met hers, she rolled her hips into his a bit experimentally and was treated with him groaning into her mouth as his hips bucked in response.

“So do you,” she moaned as he shifted back and turned his attentions to beginning a slow rhythm between them.

Her hand slipped to where his was bracing him on the mattress and as they found their pace, and she gave his hand a squeeze when his angle changed slightly, rubbing her in just the right way.

“Right there,” she whispered like a prayer, and he heard it, following her associated moans as they found their way to climax together.

“Anna I’m…Do you want me to?”

Riding out a wave of pleasure, she moaned out the best semblance of an affirmative response she could manage, which she knew he recognized when he picked up his pace, his hand squeezing against hers, his brow gleaming with sweat as she watched him come undone.

He slipped from her moments later, an emptiness she had expected, but frowned at nevertheless as he quickly moved to lay at her side.

She reached out for him and with some speed, found herself settled in his arms, feeling just the slightest bit sore, but generally sated. His lips were against her forehead, his fingers making lazy shapes against her bare skin. It felt right in a way she couldn’t explain, in a way that felt a lot like belonging and like it was natural.

“Was it worth the wait?” he asked, sounding exhausted, but evidently not so much that he couldn’t tease her.

“Absolutely, but you’ve made me never want to wait for it ever again.”

He laughed, a warm and familiar sound that made her feel even more at ease, if it were even possible.

“Give me a couple hours? Maybe in the morning.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” she said again, meaning it more than she had the first time.

“I’ll look forward to it,” he said in response, kissing her again before closing his eyes.

[mostlycompetentwriter]

I Am You- Chapter 6

Pairing: OC x Bang Chan x Jisung x Changbin

Genre: Romantic Fantasy

Warnings: Smut!

Previous Chapters: (chapter 1), (chapter 2), (chapter 3), (chapter 4), (chapter 5)

Note: Sorry for the late update. I’m working on multiple things right now!

NCT finally left after securing our alliance, and I was feeling down without Lila around. 

Amelia was far worse, lamenting the loss of her sister to anyone who was nearby. Hyunjin usually took the brunt of her tirades, listening with admirable patience. As for me, well I complained to my mates whenever they would listen because that was supposed to be part of their job description. Which is why I thoroughly voiced my complaints whenever it seemed like they were trying to tune me out.

Meanwhile, I was finally able to start walking again, but freedom came with a price and one of my mates was always lingering, watching me from afar. I started working in the kitchens again, grateful to return to something I felt passionate about in addition to my artwork. Life was resuming back to normal in the pack, a new alliance cause enough for celebration.

I even managed to talk Jisung out of his pants in the midst of the festivities. It was some of the best sex I’d ever experienced, leaving me breathless and aching in the places that had started to gather dust while I was still on the shelf. But I also knew complete normalcy would take a while, especially for Changbin who had actually been present to witness my gruesome injury.

Unfortunately, like all good things in life, the lighthearted moods soon came to an end when one of our border patrols returned to camp reporting suspicious scents. Chan, as head alpha, took the threats seriously, immediately going to investigate. Unsurprisingly, Changbin was already calling for blood before the situation had even been fully assessed.

My alpha mates rarely argued. In fact, I could only recall one real instance of a fight that had almost resulted in violence. It was almost bad enough to break apart the pack before we had even started:

Six Months Ago:

Jisung was always more talkative after a good orgasm, especially when said ecstasy came courtesy of one of my coveted blow jobs. I was pressed into Jisung’s side, head resting on his chest as I listened to his heartbeat gradually slow to its normal gentle thud. “Have you talked to Chan about moving the new pack?”

Jisung and Changbin had originally claimed the rights to a nice patch of land along the eastern border, but after some more scouting from Felix and Minho, they decided to try somewhere further down the river. Personally, I liked the riverside land better because it was closer to the mountains. 

In response, Jisung grunted, carding his fingers through my hair. “Chan will agree with us. The new land has more prey.”

“How tempting,” I teased him. “Can we start moving in?”

Jisung chuckled. “Don’t be impatient, princess. We still haven’t decided on head alpha yet.”

“I thought you would just do it,” I said indifferently because it didn’t really seem like a big deal to me, but that was my first mistake.

Jisung tensed at my side. “It was my idea,” he grumbled, a faint growl underlying his tone.

I hesitated to speak any further on the subject, but I was concerned that my mates were having problems deciding who would lead our pack. “Is something wrong?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, leaving no room for further inquiry. Instead, he distracted me with a kiss.

Present:

And now, my three alphas were on edge again, disagreeing with one another on just about everything involving the potential threat. Changbin wanted to follow the scents and lead a preemptive attack while Chan insisted we should investigate first and try diplomacy. Meanwhile, Jisung wanted to call our new NCT allies back to fortify the camp, defending his belief that we required “strength in numbers.”

Of course, I was caught in the middle. The three boys currently hated one another and they didn’t want to share me at all. Changbin, being so much more in-sync with his wolf, was the worst, insisting I stay with him every night because he was, and I quote, “the only one competent enough to protect me.”

However, staying with Changbin at night only made things worse as I predicted they would. During the day, my mates would often corner me alone, scenting me so heavily that I grew light-headed. They were obviously trying to leave their mark on me, trying to outdo one another in this tedious argument they were stubbornly insisting on furthering. Nothing was being solved, and that only meant our pack was in constant danger from the potential threat at our borderlines.

The tension finally spilled over one afternoon after I had left the pack to have a good run in the woods. I was feeling restless, especially as the entire pack remained on edge with the threats. I always found exercising to be relieving in a lot of different capacities, but I had also made a promise to myself to shift more often. I didn’t set out to worry anyone, which is why I was surprised to start feeling distress pulling at the edges of my mating bond. My wolf let out a whine as I turned back to camp, tasting the air and wondering if we were being attacked.

An invisible rope was tugging on my heart, urging me to return to camp, so I obeyed it, especially as it started to escalate my steadily pounding pulse. I trotted at a faster pace, slightly cautious in case something bad had happened while I was gone. Everything seemed perfectly normal this morning, and I vaguely recalled eating breakfast with Chan while trying to ignore the envious glares being sent in our direction from Jisung and Changbin. 

I hated it when my mates got competitive with one another as if my attention was a prize to be won. Lately, the three had been worse than usual, constantly looking to rile up the others with taunts and insults. Honestly, it would probably surprise anyone to hear that the three of them were supposedly best friends. 

A loud, threatening growl startled me into a sprint, racing down the mountainside to reach camp. Because I knew who that growl belonged to and Changbin wasn’t afraid to bare his teeth when he was angry. I skidded to a halt outside the perimeter of the main courtyard, eyes widening in surprise when I saw Changbin and Chan engaged in a vicious staredown, pacing around one another as if seeking an opening to attack. 

Jisung was still in his human form, looking quite frazzled as he attempted to pacify the two bigger wolves. Meanwhile, our other packmates looked on with trepidation. “What’s going on here?” I demanded, shifting pack to human form so that I could question Jisung. 

“Myah!” 

I braced myself as Jisung gathered me into his arms, holding me above ground as he buried his nose into my scent gland. His grip was unrelenting, and I could feel his fear through our mating bond. “What’s wrong?” I asked. However, before Jisung could answer, Changbin had broken his confrontation with Chan to intercede, letting out a growl which Jisung heeded, giving Changbin space to push his head against my side. “You’re too strong,” I reprimanded him, trying to push his giant head away to give myself more space. Instead, I found myself overwhelmed, falling onto my backside with an unattractive squeak that would normally lead to some sort of teasing from Jisung.

However, nothing was funny about this situation, especially when Chan’s wolf decided to read Changbin’s actions as aggressive. He came to my defense, knocking Changbin away with a threatening snarl, taking an unexpected protective stance in front of me, blocking me from everyone else’s view. “Channie,” I winced, feeling the soreness start to spread up my tailbone.

But Chan wasn’t listening to me. Instead, he was completely focused on Changbin, mirroring his threatening posture, haunches raised and teeth bared. I was completely helpless, stunned into silence while my two alpha mates continued to search for the perfect opening to attack. Meanwhile, Jisung was still trying to play peacekeeper, holding out his hands to show his surrender. “Chan,” he tried, “this isn’t really the best time to fight with Changbin.” Chan’s giant silver-haired wolf snapped in Jisung’s direction and I watched my mate roll his eyes. “You’re supposed to be the mature one!”

“Why are they like this?” I asked Jisung, slowly rising to my feet despite the flaring pain from my unexpected fall.

“We couldn’t find you this morning,” Jisung pouted. “Changbin blamed Chan because he was the last one to see you. I didn’t think it would escalate so fast.”

“This is irresponsible,” I snapped, reaching out to dig my fingers into Chan’s side. “Stop it, Chan! I’m being serious.”Chan’s wolf turned to look at me, a message to stay back clearly illuminated in the brilliant flecks of his irises. “You’re supposed to be the leader! Why don’t you act like it?”

Chan let out a whine as he gently nudged his head against me. “Lay off, Changbin,” Jisung growled from somewhere to my right.

“Can I talk to you, please?” I asked Chan. “As a human?”

Chan’s look could only be described as chastened once he started to shift back, palish skin replacing his silvery-colored fur. He immediately wrapped me into his arms, one hand buried in my hair as he forced his nose against my scent gland. “You scared me.”

“And you scared me,” I retorted, glaring over his shoulder at Changbin whom must have also shifted back at some point. However, unlike Chan, Changbin seemed completely unapologetic, rage still darkening his features. 

“Where were you this morning?”

“I went for a walk.”

“By yourself? When there are rogue wolves wandering our borderlines?”

I huffed at Changbin’s attitude, wrestling free from Chan’s unrelenting grip so that I could face my furious mate. “I don’t need permission.”

“No, but you could have at least given us some courtesy,” Changbin argued, folding his arms in a way that told me he was closing himself off, completely set on whatever wrongdoing he had decided I committed.

“I’m sorry,” I offered, hoping to appease everyone, especially since several of our packmates still loitered around, despite Jisung’s command for them to return to their assignments. “But the two of you shouldn’t be fighting.”

“This isn’t something we should have to worry about,” Changbin continued. “But Chan doesn’t seem to understand the gravity of our situation. Our lead alpha has grown soft.”

Chan let out a little growl as he pushed me behind him. “I’m doing the best I can. We don’t know anything about these wolves.”

“Exactly,” Changbin grunted. “We shouldn’t underestimate them.”

“And I’m not,” Chan insisted. “I already agreed with Jisung’s plan to call back NCT for reinforcements.”

“It’s not enough,” Changbin snarled. “We should put that numbers advantage to good use.”

“By slaughtering rogue wolves who are likely just passing through the territory?”

“And what if they aren’t? How do you know they won’t attack?”

“I don’t know! But neither do you.”

“How would you feel if one of them attacked Myah?” Changbin challenged and a chilling silence fell over the four of us. 

“Are you saying I would put my mate in danger?” Chan eventually asked as he took a step forward in Changbin’s direction.

Changbin held his ground. “She’s my mate too and that’s why I’ve done everything in my power to make sure she stays safe. I let her out of my sight this morning, entrusting her to your care, and she goes missing! While rogue wolves are sniffing around our borders!” Changbin snarled as his eyes flashed a dangerous red. “You better handle the attacks before I have to intervene.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

NCT arrived the very next morning, and I chose to stay in bed in an attempt to appease my mates who had been far too unpredictable since their unexpected confrontation from the previous morning. Amelia somehow managed to sneak into my room, talking animatedly about the impressive size of the NCT pack. “There’s so many of them!” she said. “They easily outnumber our pack.”

“I bet Chan isn’t happy about that,” I said, half-heartedly swirling the contents of my glass. The orange juice seemed rather unappealing.

“Of course not,” Amelia said. “But neither is Changbin.”

“Changbin won’t be satisfied until we’re somehow living in recluse from the rest of society.”

“Is that what he’s told you?”

I smirked. “Did Lila come with them?”

“Haechan made her stay behind, but you can’t really blame him. It’s not like they’re coming here for a vacation.”

“Have they been out on patrol yet?”

“Chan’s organized one for tonight. Apparently, he’s letting Changbin lead.”

“That’s hard to believe,” I scoffed. “They haven’t agreed on much lately.”

“Hyunjin thinks it’s just some passing rogues,” Amelia said. “They’ll probably move on in the next day or so.”

“They haven’t initiated any sort of aggressive action,” I agreed. “I hope their scents fade so the pack can settle back down.”

“So your mates can get along again?” Amelia teased. “I haven’t seen them this angry since Chan became head alpha.”

I shivered as I recalled the distant memory. “I thought we were going to lose Changbin.”

“Lose him?” Amelia questioned. “What do you mean?”

It was all too easy to remember:

Six Months Ago:

“Where are you going, angel?” Changbin purred as his hands tightened around my waist, pulling me back against his naked chest to halt my efforts in escaping.

I winced because the truth would likely only set off another angry tirade, a frequent occurrence these days. Changbin had been especially moody lately, ever since Chan and Jisung decided our new head alpha would fall to one of them. Chan had argued that Changbin was too quick-tempered to be a leader while Jisung claimed Changbin acted quite irrationally when it came to protecting those he cared about. “I’m meeting with my parents.”

“Today?” Changbin whined, nose finding its way to my scent gland. “I’ll come with you.”

So much for lying. But my attempt was not in vain because if Changbin heard I was meeting Chan and Jisung later, he’d likely hold me hostage in his bedroom just to spite the other alphas. Or, worse yet, insist he come along to the meeting and that would not be in anyone’s best interest. “Changbin,” I tried instead, hitching one leg over his hip. “Remember what happened the last time you met my parents?”

Changbin grunted as I laved my tongue across his pulse point. “What?”

I grinned, feeling his cock heavy against my thigh. “You asked my father for his permission to take me from his pack.”

“Did I?”

I pressed a delicate kiss to the sensitive underside of his sharp jawline. “I don’t think my father liked the idea of you “taking” me anywhere.”

“It could've been worse.”

“You told my sister she should run away with her rogue boyfriend.”

“You should always follow your heart!”

I stifled a laugh as I gripped his cock hard. “Maybe I should handle my parents alone today.”

“Yeah,” Changbin replied breathily, eyes closed against the ministrations of my fingers smoothing up and down. He leaned in closer to press a sweet kiss against the side of my mouth, a stark contradiction to his next words: “But I want to fuck you first.”

I was more than willing to agree.

I only wished later in hindsight that I had been honest with him from the start.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jisung was feeling extra affectionate that afternoon, crowding me onto his lap as he nuzzled the back of my neck, inhaling my scent. Meanwhile, Chan was impatiently trying to organize our pack members, several straggling in at the last minute. “This is an important decision,” Chan scolded Jeongin, the younger wolf whimpering as he passively accepted my alpha’s sharp words.

“Don’t be mean to him,” I spoke through our mind-link, ignoring Chan’s low growl in response.

“Where’s Felix?” 

“He said he might be late,” Jisung answered absent-mindedly, nipping at the edge of my ear. He was far calmer than Chan despite the circumstances of our pack’s summoning.

“Minho,” Chan growled. “Are you taking notes?”

“The meeting hasn’t started yet,” Minho grumped, frowning in Chan’s direction.

Chan looked at Minho incredulously, eyes narrowed, ready to undoubtedly reprimand the younger wolf. However, the abrupt sound of knocking at the door to the main room prevented more unnecessarily harsh words. “Finally,” Chan muttered, and I grinned as Jisung mocked his voice in my ear. At least one of my mates was proving why he would make a good leader.

“Changbin.”

I froze on Jisung’s lap, feeling the alpha beneath me tense considerably at the mention of the older wolf. Slowly, I glanced at the doorway, shivering when I saw Changbin and Felix standing shoulder to shoulder. Chan’s previous mask of hardened resolved had melted away, leaving behind an expression of shock that likely resembled Jisung’s. 

 “What’s going on?” Felix asked, confusion evident as he took in the frazzled states of our packmates.

“I guess I wasn’t invited,” Changbin said coldly, squaring up to Chan as he fixed the older with a fierce look. “Was I not gonna be apart of the vote?” 

Felix glanced away sheepishly as if finally realizing his mistake. And Chan could only struggle for the right words as he found himself in a vulnerable position. But the most heartbreaking moment happened a beat later when Changbin met my gaze from across the room. 

Disappointed.

Present:

“But Changbin obviously forgave you,” Amelia said, noticing the long pause in my story. 

“I shouldn’t have lied to him,” I said, sighing as I reclined back against my bed.

“Everything worked out,” Amelia nodded, tilting her head to the side when a deep voice cleared from the other side of my bedroom door. “Who is it?”

Felix stuck his head inside, eyes wide as they moved back and forth between us. “Felix,” I sighed, “what do my mates want now?”

“NCT recognized their scents!”

Amelia sat up, leaning forward in her chair. “But what does that mean?”

Felix shifted anxiously. “Taeyong said the intruders are a group of former NCT pack members who left several months ago. They’re looking for new land.”

“NCT knows them?”

“There are five rogues,” Felix said, “but they’re trying to recruit more.” He cleared his throat, checking over his shoulder as if expecting someone to overhear. “We might have a war on our hands.”

[imaginesmai]

Thor-Hercules AU

I saw this gift and it just gave me Hercules vibe. And I thought, why not? Might be the first part of a Disney’s AU I’m going to do, since I’m working on college on a project for kids about Disney and WELL I CAN’T HELP MYSELF.

Plot:  you didn’t believe in heroes. Those strong, brave men that always wanted to save the day, only to cower away when the real problems began. You didn’t like heroes, who wanted to save the damsel in distress; you could save yourself, thank you very much. You didn’t fall in love with heroes, until a certain blonde one stumbled into your life.

Heroes, you had come to learn, were entirely more trouble than what they were worth.

They went and ran into danger without a moment’s notice, determinated to be noble and brave and never give cleverness a second thought. They did stupid things, always trying to outdo each other. And, in the end, they died.

You should have known, the moment that horrendous big beast roared, someone would come running. Some wanna-be-brave, and trying-to-be-handsome guy. Greece seemed to be absolutely overrun with heroes; if you lifted a rock, there could be at least two. Girls your age drooled over them, and you had met a few that had faked a dangerous situation just so they could see one. You had heard too plenty of stories about how they saved a damsel in distress and let her become the queen of their dreams.  Still, you didn’t like them.

“It’s alright” you assured the creature, hands spread wide and steps careful and slow. The beast roared again, tossing it’s massive – paws? In the air and moving his head around, as if it didn’t really know where you were. It was so wide that it seemed to block out the sky. “It’s okay, I’m not going to-“

“Milady!”

Your words got cut off by the scream, and you froze, eyes wide. The beast sensed the intruder as well, its huge, golden eyes narrowing as its wings folded in, tail whipping against the ground.

“Are you alright, milady?” the voice asked again, footfalls accompanying it.

You turned, coming face to face with a man about your age, clad in armour and holding a long bronze sword. Well, not much armour; his sculpted abs were bared, only his shoulders and one arm covered in laughably impractical armour. He had long, blonde hair and deep blue eyes, boring into yours as if you were the only woman he had ever seen. He was tall, taller than any man you had met, and his shoulders were broad.

Regardless of how handsome he might had been, you still had no interest in getting killed.

“Stay back, you idiot” you hissed, and the blonde man froze, his brow furrowing.

“I… you don’t want help?” he asked, to which you shook your head vigorously. “But – aren’t you a damsel in distress?”

You almost wanted to laugh. There was the hero; tall, handsome, strong and with not a single braincell that told him that you didn’t need help. It was as if every one of them had a sixth sense to know when a woman was in distress. Distress meaning anything that wasn’t sleeping or trying new dresses.

Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t resist the urge to perch a hand on your hop, fixing him with a withering scowl. You didn’t miss the way his eyes roamed up your entire figure, and suddenly the destiny of ending up between those enormous claws didn’t seem so bad.

“I’m a damsel. I’m in distress. I can handle it” you said, before turning back to the creature, giving it your full attention once more. It roared, wings spread wide once again and faring its razor fangs. If only, the presence of the man made it more nervous and aggressive, and you sighed in annoyance.

Your newfound hero didn’t seem to heed your words, as before you could blink, he was running past you, sword raised. The dress that was then stained and ripped flew past him and you let your mouth hang open, surprised at how stupid a man could be.

The beast roared, taking a step forward and coating the man and you with its disgusting drool. You closed your eyes and scrunched your nose, hearing the metallic clang of his sword against the animal’s side. It echoed through the clearing, only making the creature more agitated, hissing at the man.

“What are you doing?” you demanded, but he continued to fight, to no avail. You wanted to explain that you were the one stepping in the beast territory, and that it could be fixed with a little sweet talk. Your breath caught as he seemed to find a chink in the beast’s skin, the creature roaring in pain. “Hey!”

All thoughts of your own safety thrown to the wind as you rushed over the man, shoving him back from the animal before he could deliver the kill shot. He seemed so stunned by your actions that he stumbled back, sword falling to your side; although, probably, your shove had been like a soft breezed against a stone’s building, looking at his broad torso.

Your hands flew to the beasts neck, who was breathing heavily. It felt warm under your palms.

“It’s alright” you whispered, shushing it. The creature calmed and you swore it almost sighed in relief, the soft touch making it relax. You repeated the words a few times, until it stopped buffing. It’s head lowered and large, golden eyes blinked at her. “You’re safe now, he’s not going to hurt you��

A rumbling noise sounded in its throat, and his eyes slid shut as you tentatively stroked the top of its head, a whistling purr echoing from his nostrils. Once more, the beast’s eyes opened head rising as it spread its wings and leapt into the sky.

You stepped back to allow the creature room to take off, only remembering the ‘hero’ was still there when he spoke again.

“How did you do that, milady?”

“It was just frightened. Didn’t want to hurt anyone, not until you went rushing at him with a sword.”

The man looked down at the sword he had picked a few seconds before, afternoon sunlight gleaming off the bronze blade. The pommel was shaped to look like the handle of a hammer, you realized, rubies glinting on the sides. It looked expensive, and well made. Not something just anyone would happen to acquire. Not that the man was anything normal either; its beauty couldn’t be from Earth.

“Not everything that looks like a monster is one”

You raised your eyebrow at the man, sneaking a glance at his toned chest. He stood there dumbly, blinking at you and sword in hand. As the great winged beast grew smaller and smaller in the sky. Not everything that is a monster looks like one, either.

“I didn’t realize” he said finally. “I’m sorry, eh, milady. Do you – uh, have a name?”

“Y/N” you supplied.

“Y/N, your name calls the beauty in your” he answered, and you tried not to laugh at the poor attempt of a complement. Still, you wondered if you would be lucky enough to hear your name leaving his lips ever again. “I didn’t mean to interfere in something you had under control. Only wanted to help”

“It’s alright” you said with a shrug. “You should head into the city, though, if you’re looking for monsters to fight. Much more plentiful than out here”

He seemed to glow at your words, showing you a bright smile. He changed his weight from one feet to another, and you realised that you didn’t know the name of the handsome stranger that had made a fool of himself. Your smirked, and he took that as an invitation to talk again.

“I was on my way there” he admitted. “I’m Thor”

The name wanted to ring a bell in your head, but you couldn’t remember where you had heard it before. You blinked, trying to remember why it brought a sense of comfort over you, but he didn’t make any intention of explaining himself further.

“Well, I wish a good fortune. I hope you find the fame al glory all you heroes seem to be chasing” you said, with a little wave of farewell. “Thor.”

“I don’t want fame and glory” he replied, a bit of a frown on his face. Surprisingly, the conviction in his voice had you actually believing him. It seemed like he felt insulted for assuming that. “I just want to help people”

“Well, then I hope you can manage to do that. Try not to get yourself killed” you said. Finally, a teasing smile broke into your lips, a real one. Thor seemed to notice, as he laughed; and it was so loud, that your heart jumped from it. It was a beautiful sound, you decided.

“I’ll do my best, Lady Y/N” he said winking at you, before he turned, and he was gone. Leaving with you with blushing cheeks and small smile.

You exhaled, leaning up against a tree, heart still pounding with leftover adrenaline- whether from the beast, from Thor, you weren’t sure.

The calm after the storm didn’t last long, though. Mere moments after Thor disappeared, you could feel the chill creep into the wood, see the sky darken and the air grow heavy. You squeezed your eyes closed, whishing that you didn’t have to do that. Not after the sweet feeling Thor had left in you, and certain not after the happy smile you had on your face.

“Y/N, darling.”

A voice echoed from the trees, its owner emerging from the darkness like a shadow creeping closer. You could see the annoyance on his pallid face, long fingers pressed together as he stepped closer. You wrapped your arms around your chest, past from the point of being scared but still not comfortable with his presence.

“Hades” you said, trying to keep the bitterness out of your voice. It was not good to go and displease the god of the death, especially when he was already in a sour mood.

“What are you exactly doing here?” he asked, fake sweet smile on your face. “You’re supposed to be working. Convincing minor duties over to my side. Remember? Or is that dumb head of yours empty again?”

In a second, his pale face was in front of you. You had never met such a disgusting eyes over the years; dull, filled with darkness and pain, and slightly red at the end because of the constant hate he felt. Towards everything. His rancid breath hit your face and you tried to stay in place.

“Well?”

How could you forget, if it was everything he ever talked about. His grand plan to unseat the universe the gods by freeing the Titans when the planets aligned, giving him control of the universe. It sounded awful to you, and too much work to be worth it. World domination seemed better in theoreticals, you were sure. But you didn’t exactly have a choice. Whatever the god wanted from you, you had to do.

“I’m sorry, my lord” you said, smiling. Hoping Hades couldn’t noticed how different it was from the one you had a moment ago. “I was going to convince the river guardian to join your fight. I ran into the beast the way there”

“Our fight, darling” Hades corrected you. His hand, suspiciously wet and cold, caressed your face for a bit, until he gripped the back of your hair and pulled your closer. From that distance, he spat on your face when he talked. “As long as your soul belongs to me, my cause is yours too. You’re mine”

You squeezed your eyes closed again, letting the silence between you hang heavy. As if you needed any reminders of everything you gave up for a man who walked away from you the moment it was convenient. Hades kept his grip a little while longer, and finally let your hair go. Then, he wiped his hands on his thighs; as if humans were the most disgusting thing he had ever met.

You mumbled a quick apology, and looked to your feet. Stupid bloody heroes. Always chasing the next best thing, and leaving everything else behind them in dust and ruins.

“That’s more like it!” Hades said, his sickening smile too pleased. He remembered something and frowned, scary attitude back. “Back to the reason I was here. I was – you know, chilling between the eternal flames of death. And couldn’t help but noticing you were talking to, a man, was it? Didn’t remember giving you permission to do so.”

“I don’t know” you shrugged, a bit of annoyed that the conversation was focused on him. “Some here who came barging in, like the always do. Almost killed the poor creature”

“Oh, poor thing, um?” Hades blinked at you and put his folded hands under his chin, as if he was really sorry. “I wonder how long will that beast be alive for. Lucky I wasn’t here, or the dogs would have dinner for tonight”

You prickled at the way he called them beasts. You had always thought those creatures were fascinating in their own way. While they could be fierce, they could also be gentle. Some of them, hydras or chimeras, wanted to hurt you, sure; but most of them were just trying to survive.

Sometimes, you thought of yourself like them. You may had been a minion of Hades, been forced to do terrible things, but sometimes you could still believe there was something good left in you.

“It’s still alive, luckily” you spat back, narrowing your eyes at the god of death. “Even if this Thor almost ran him through”

You expected Hades to quip back. Ignore the anecdote and go straight to what he wanted from you. Maybe punish you from the unnecessary interaction with the man, or make you kill the creature for fun.

He didn’t. Instead, the god’s pale face grew more pallid, eyes going wide and mouth falling open. Hades demanded you to repeat yourself, stepping a little bit closer and making you press yourself further into the bark of the tree. His voice held something you had never heard; rage, surprise, hate. Fright. The stench of death and raw meat he always carried only made room to an even more disgusting one, and you scrunched your nose.

“The hero” you said carefully. “He almost ran the creature through.”

“I got that part!” Hades roared, and the temperature increased. He was fuming. “You said Thor”

“Thor” you repeated, unsure. “I did. Why? Who is he?”

There was no answer on his part, just a big bomb of smoke and he was out of sight. The beautiful landscape you had managed to get lost in the first place came back, birds singing and animals running around. You blinked confused, and took a step forward to finally relieve your back from the rough tree. Looking around, you tried to find the God.

You knew he wasn’t gone; Hades did that a lot. Whenever he remembered something or had business to do, he disappeared and came back a few seconds later. For him, it would had been some days of torturing something.

Your suspicious turned out to be right when he appeared on your right once more. That time, he was cleaning his hands with an old rag. It didn’t take a genius to understand what he had been doing; blood coated his left cheek and there were stains on his clothes. He had a murderous look on his eyes, but he was far more calm. And had a smirk that you didn’t like one bit.

You remined silent, not sure what to say not to anger him further. Thor had seemed strong, sure and a bit dumb although brave, but nothing worthy of being the worry of a god; let alone Hades. You had seen bigger and better man.

“I have a new plan” he said, brushing back his silver hair. “I need him dead, for real this time. And I know just the thing”

Want to know more about me? Here is my Masterlist! Feedback is always appreciated!!

Tag list:

@all-i-need-is-marvel-and-coffee (I don’t know why I can’t tag you...)

@keithseabrook27​

[angeltriestoblog]

I figured out what I want to do with my life! And made a vision board!

It came to me in a flash, really. One minute, I was watching a handpainted narration of the life and death of one of the greatest painters of all time, and next thing you know, I've abandoned it completely and started furiously typing away at my laptop about what I envisioned myself to be in five years' time. And I know I've had my fair share of false alarms in life: I thought I had what it takes to be a lawyer after seeing Legally Blonde for the first time while on my way to a school field trip, and seriously considered pursuing a career as a fashion blogger or MTV VJ because I was kind of fed up with school.

But this one just makes sense. Advising and assisting clients in producing content, collaterals, and campaigns according to their business objectives and based on collected data! It marries my love for writing, my knack for snooping around (the academic term is research!), and the specialty in technology and management my university ensures I'll have at the end of my four-year degree. i have yet to see how it’ll allow me to give back to society since that’s also a factor I want to consider in looking for a dream job but I’ll make it work. I found it hard to sleep that night, thanks to this nerdy, giddy kind of adrenaline rush I had. I broke down this big idea into smaller and smaller action steps until all I had left was a refined list of ideas and intentions, and a splitting headache.

I needed to make sure I was constantly reminded of their existence so all my choices and decisions would serve as a step closer to reaching all of them. So I caved in to the wishes of the "law of attraction" side of the Internet, and created my very own vision board! Simply put, this act of visualization is a powerful technique that can be used to manifest desires and reach goals. Our subconscious minds mainly recognize symbols and images: by merely looking at our vision boards everyday, subliminal messages are being sent to our brains, which will encourage them to work tirelessly to achieve the statements we are feeding to them. I can't find any explanation for this that's less abstract but since many people seem to swear on it and I have a lot of free time and printer ink, I figured why not, right?

It was convenient that I had this small corkboard from Daiso already stuck to one corner of my bedroom wall with several layers of double-sided tape. It used to be a year-long calendar of birthdays but I realized that I've never referred to it and often have to rely on either Facebook reminders or stock knowledge--there is no in between. All I had to do was to look at my list of goals, and compile photos that correspond to each of them, cut them up and arrange them in an aesthetically pleasing manner. You'll see below that I lacked the stereotypical luxury car and beachfront mansion with a walk-in closet and that's because I decided to focus on my goals for the next five years so it looks even a little bit more achievable.  

Here's the finished product, along with explanations for each picture, to make this how-to more personal and to also hold myself accountable.

 Make my girl Jenna Rink and everybody at Poise proud by writing for a magazine | I had listed a specific one at the time, and if you follow me on Twitter and Instagram, you already know what it is and how this endeavor turned out - but on this blog, I'll shroud it in a little cloud of mystery for now and talk about it more in a future post. I'm very happy producing content for this space of mine and have no intention of stopping any time soon. But at the same time I know that I'd be missing out if I didn't take the chance to be part of a community that leads me to like-minded individuals, allows me to grow even more in my craft, and "gives creators a space to speak their minds and push the limits of their artistry, without imposing any restrictions or expectations", as I stated in my application form.

 Be active in three organizations next school year | (I had to blur one of them out because I'm not a member yet and I don't want to jinx it.) I know it's bold of me to assume that we'll be returning to school any time soon, but if we are ever lucky enough, I want to outdo myself when it comes to the orgs I'm a part of. I have been a good follower throughout my first two years of college but now I believe it's my time to try my hand at leading a group of people and being more involved in the conceptualization and execution of projects.

 Go on a trip to Europe | Not even just a specific group of countries anymore (I used to be a France, Italy, Spain supremacist)--I mean the entire continent! (But then again, with its rich history and culture, picturesque tourist spots, diverse cuisines... even the sheer adrenaline rush that comes with being in a land completely different from the one you come from, how could anyone not want to go?

 and 12. Get the job of my dreams | I actually nicked these photos from the website of a cooperative I want to work for once I graduate from college. I know that I can't plan out the rest of my career trajectory as early as now: things are bound to change at some point, but I hope that I stay in a field that combines creativity and business strategy to craft campaigns, create meaningful content, and market solutions to brands.

 Expand my network | I acknowledge how knowing people who know people who know people can open windows of opportunities that I wouldn't have been able to have anywhere else. But I also look forward to building genuine connections with people from all sorts of industries. Talking to the same circle of friends can sometimes feel like you're trapped in an echo chamber: there is certainly much to learn from others' viewpoints.

 Volunteer to teach kids | I don't think the written word could have changed my life as much as it did, had it not been for the presence of English teachers who believed in the power of the language to shape the minds of the youth. I guess this is just me trying to give back and help the next generation express their ideas and bring them to life by channeling my inner John Keating.

 Maintain a clean workspace that is conducive to productivity | Especially during these days, I spend a solid 18 out of 24 hours sat at my desk, trying my best to make magic happen. It's very important that I keep it a constant and active source of inspiration, free from any distractions, and at the right level of comfort. Although it's not as minimalist as I hoped it would be and my table is about an inch too high for my liking, I'm still pretty satisfied!

 Document memories consistently, be it through a physical or online journal | Speaking of clearing out my room, I recently found around 20 notebooks I had filled up over the years. Though maintaining them must have been such a hassle especially as I got older and reading through them was a distraction from completing the task at hand, I am thankful I painstakingly chronicled everything going on in my life and kept them in good condition. Seeing the goals I had set for myself all those years ago and how I achieved most of them without making a conscious effort has inspired me to do my older self a favor by putting in the work now so she can reap the rewards. (While I'm on this note, can anyone recommend a good app for journaling? I keep all my current entries in my Mac's Notes app because even though I am more of an analog person, I seemed to have lost the patience and persistence required to keep a physical journal. But at the same time, I'm scared of my laptop suddenly cr*shing and wiping out everything I had stored)

 Stay focused on my work always | I didn't know how to show this without having to spell it out in words so I Photoshopped my face onto the head of a woman working in a cafe because those who study in coffee shops along Katip always look like they're getting stuff done.

 Keep learning about the world even when I'm outside of the classroom | And this is not limited to frequenting the nearby museum, although that does sound like a great idea right now. This could also mean attending seminars, workshops, and talks, buying books and binge-watching documentaries or YouTube videos about a topic that I find interesting, engaging in discourse with someone (plus points if they have a different viewpoint!)

 Write my own book | Before I even found out that humans were destined to pick a career and work until they died, I already knew that I wanted to spend my days as a writer. Specifically, I wanted to see my name on the cover of a book: By Angel Martinez. (Please refer to the 4:32 of this video and look at how far this dream actually goes back.) But once I realized that I wanted to enter the world of business, I thought I would have to give this up altogether. Thankfully, I now know that one's ability to get published is not reliant on their career--I mean, even beauty gurus get book deals these days. I'm not really sure what it's going to be about but I'd honestly be down for anything: even if it's just a compilation of my best entries on this blog.

13. Go all out when I take myself on self-care dates | I'm talking about picnics at the beach, with a basket full of fruits, a posh looking hat, and a good piece of classic literature! Or fancy dinners for one complete with as many glasses of red wine as I can down! People watching at Downtown Disneyland like my paternal grandmother in hand, with a plastic bag of souvenirs on one hand and a cream cheese pretzel on the other! (The possibilities are endless and I'm already mapping most of them out.)

14. Be financially stable enough to re-enact that one scene in Pretty Woman where Vivian Ward struts down the streets of Beverly Hills in a chic white dress and black hat, an endless number of shopping bags in tow | The part where I humiliate a sales lady who snubbed me the day before because she didn't think I could afford what she was selling by saying, "You work on commission, right? That's right. Big mistake, big, huge." is entirely optional.

I also included some two inspirational sayings that were originally laptop wallpapers from The Everygirl. I feel like they perfectly sum up the attitude I want to have as I forge my own path and accomplish everything I have set out for myself. If I was somehow able to convince you that this activity serves as the perfect springboard for all your dreams and aspirations, here are a couple of tips that could hopefully help you make yours!

Be ready for some intense introspection | Though it may look like a simple arts and crafts activity at the surface, making an effective vision board simply cannot be achieved if you're not willing to do some much needed reflection and watch it balloon into a full-on existential crisis. Identify which areas of your life are most important to you and how you would like to see them evolve over a period of time.

Specificity is key | The trick is to make your goals as concrete as possible, then translate them into visual elements. I know some people who wanted to get into particular universities, who have Photoshopped their names onto acceptance letters and pinned those to their corkboards. As stupid as that may sound in retrospect, I reckon it's an elaborate way of claiming something that's right within your reach.

Design it any way you want | Don't feel pressured to make it look like it's worthy to be on someone else's Pinterest because that's exactly how you lose sight of why you're doing it in the first place. The only person your final output has to resonate with is you.

Don't get discouraged | Although a vision board can attract positive energy and manifest your intentions to the universe, one thing it isn't capable of doing is granting your wishes in an instant. Don't be upset if what you have cut out and stuck on has yet to happen: I truly believe in the saying that the more you look for something, the more it seems to avoid you. Instead, continue to work hard and focus on the progress that you have already made.

Have you made a vision board of your own already? How has it turned out, and how many of the things you had put up have come true? I know you may be a complete stranger from the other side of the world but I'd be happy to hear from you anyway! Wishing you love and light always, especially during trying times such as this. Wash your hands, pray for our frontliners, and check your privilege!

[melodieoftheuniverse]

A Slice of Boterkoek

A scene involving my version of Siebren and Selene.

The two had met in passing outside between classes, but had not had a true conversation since the impromptu lunch and chocolate moment two weeks ago. In the time between, Siebren had consumed anything and everything he could find on reputable sources about schizophrenia, especially regarding treatments. He had missed this feeling of a new interest and voracious desire for more information, but had decided midway through to keep things to himself unless she brought it up. He didn’t want to seem prying, and the simple accidental mention of her sister nearly sent her into tears, he did not want to be the cause of that. 

Siebren had no real skill in the kitchen past easy, ready-made meals, so he decided to stop by a bakery on the way to campus and pick up one of his favorites to share with his new acquaintance—could he call her that? He had always been the odd child in any group, and any time he had attempted to gain friends, they had always shunned him for daring to rejoin the group the next day. But the word fit. It felt right. And unlike most, she didn’t seem to judge him on anything. 

It was that reason that led him to choose the boterkoek from the display case. And, in his purely professional observation, food tended to be a better social lubricant.

The third time meeting, and you’re bringing her a cake, his inner voice noted. Aren’t you afraid she’ll take the calorie-laden dessert as an offense? Afraid she’ll state it’ll spoil her girlish figure?

Siebren silenced the voice with a shake of his head. What would one small slice do? Selene clearly enjoyed food, but perhaps this “social experiment” of his might teach her a more epicurean approach. How to savor, how to taste the different notes and how they became a symphony together. He snorted and shook his head again. Back to music. It circled back around to music.

He found himself walking perfectly in time to the synth music playing through his headphones, fighting the urge to let more of his body express itself. Walking in a regular rhythm was socially acceptable; flat-out “grooving” would only earn him more stares than he usually received for his height and build. He did allow himself a small head bob and a shoulder swing here and there but otherwise tried to keep his mask of normalcy firmly planted. He had started to turn towards the entrance to the building when he caught motion out of the corner of his eye. He initially dismissed it as a bird of some sort but as he turned slightly, noticed the side to side motion couldn’t be duplicated by a bird, save a large one like a crane, and those were only found in zoos in this area. He turned to face the motion fully and found Selene kneeling and waving furiously at him. He smiled, plucked an earbud out and waved back with the same hand. He noted that she had left her hair down, this being the first time he could truly see the length--and, his inner voice noted, how the sunlight caught the highlights in her auburn hair.

He shook the voice silent again, replaced the earbud, and turned back to the door, Selene’s waving returning to the previous intensity. He faced her again, pointed towards the door, and nodded in the same direction.

She shook her head, moved her arms in a large “no”, and pointed to a spot across from her on the grass.

He shook his head with exaggerated movements, and pointed back to the door.

She scowled, planted her hands on her hips, and settled into a deeper kneel.

He narrowed his eyes, but Selene had done all but put down roots. He clearly wasn’t going to win. He sighed, turned on his heels, and walked over to where she sat on the grass, dodging a flock of freshmen en route to their classes, plucking out his remaining earbud and pocketing both. 

“I thought we could sit under the stars,” Selene began as he approached the edge of her blanket, the opposite edge pinned down by her bookbag. 

He loomed over her, feeling the nearly-ever-present frown begin to tug at his face. “It’s daytime,” he replied dryly.

“Star, then,” she replied, not missing a beat. “The Sun is a star, yes? And technically we are under the stars, the Sun is just bright enough to outdo their light.” She smiled up at him, the smile unwavering until Siebren sighed and sat on an open corner of the blanket. “You look like you could use some outside time anyways.”

He casually ignored the dig at his complexion and brought the bag with the confection around to the front, having it join the spread Selene already had set out. There were slices of various cheeses both soft and hard that joined different types of sausages and salami on two plates. Next to those on other plates were both fresh and dried fruits and two different types of bread, one a sliced baguette, the other a loaf clearly intended to have chunks pulled off as needed. “What inspired the charcuterie al fresco?”

“I wanted something different. Routine is nice, but it’s also nice to change things up every now and then. Agreed?” 

Siebren stayed silent as he untied the knot in the bag and pulled out the boterkoek. That point of view was almost the polar opposite of his own. Routines were comfy, predictable. Inside was still; outside was loud, windy, messy. This change would probably throw his entire day off.

“Ooh, what’s that?” she asked, adopting the same child-like gaze she had when she noticed the projector when they had first met.

“Dessert,” he replied simply. She fixed him with a look, and he returned it with like intensity. “Dessert means after the meal. And after the meal, I will share with you one of my favorite things.” 

She snorted in annoyance, but his look remained unwavering. She grumbled, grabbed a slice of Calabrese salami, folded it, and inserted the entire thing into her mouth, chewing with exaggerated motions. He tried to remain stern, but he could feel one corner of his mouth pulling up into a smirk. He waited until she had finished her angry chewing before crossing his legs in front of him in a more comfortable position, reaching out for one of the softer cheeses, brie, he believed. It was a young brie, the rind not quite sitting in his nose like it should. Still, it was a good compliment to the Genoa salami and...sourdough?

“I got a 90 on my last math test,” she started, grabbing a sip of water from her bottle. “He said he’d give it to my lab teacher for me to work through and maybe get some points back.”

He smiled. “Glad you took my advice on seeking accommodations.” He plucked a grape off the bunch and popped it into his mouth. A bit of sweet to offset the abundance of savory. “Let me know if it helps.”

She nodded, mouth full of a bite of bread. “It seems to be,” she answered after swallowing. “I don’t like the fact that math is this hard for me.”

He shrugged. “I am bad at expressing myself in writing. I have trouble keeping my numbers straight, but I’ve learned strategies over the years.” He rolled up a slice of cheese, then glanced over at her. “Rome wasn’t built in a day, after all. And perhaps your mistakes come from your state of constant hurry.”

Selene stared up at him, pulling the cheese cube away from her tongue. “And what do you mean by that?”

He leaned back, placing the cheese on his lap, letting it unroll. “Think back to the first day we met.”

“I was trying to get some food in my stomach before my class. I hadn’t had breakfast that day, so I was getting something to keep me from keeling over.”

“Ah, there it is. Time management.”

She adjusted the way she was sitting. “You’re not trying to psychoanalyze me, are you?”

“Budding astrophysicist, not psychologist. Or psychiatrist, I can never remember which. But no, your problem is time management. You have little to no sense of time...” he paused slightly, catching the glare over her water bottle, “and when it’s time to do something, it has to happen now or else. Have you considered a planner?”

“Use them for two months, then forget where I put them. Next option.”

Siebren inclined an eyebrow. He was not used to having a suggestion so quickly dismissed. “The calendar on your phone, perhaps?”

“I’ve never used it,” she stated, tearing off another hunk of bread.

“Perhaps now is the time to start?” he proposed, a hint of amusement in his voice.

She sighed, pulled her phone out of her bag, and tossed it across the blanket to land in front of him. 

He sighed as well, adopting a pose he more commonly had when listening to underclassmen explain why they needed more time on an assignment to professors in the department. He purposely took other assignments that didn’t involve being a TA for that reason. “I was going to talk you through, but if you’d like me to set up the first few reminders…”

“Reminders for what? When to get to class?”

“No,” he muttered, slightly disturbed she had no security on her phone--perhaps the next lesson? “Important things. Like remembering to eat. To take a drink of water. To use the bathroom…” He glanced up, her ice blue eyes studying him. “I get caught up in my work too. There have been days where I’ve forgotten to eat and drink anything, and I’ve paid dearly for it.” Her eyes sized him up as he said that. “Let’s start simple. When do you wake up?”

“When do I have to, or when I should?”

He snorted in amusement. “When you should be up. An attempt to retrain your mind into useful habits.”

She plucked two grapes and squirreled them into her cheeks. “My first class is at eight. I live on campus, though.”

He nodded. “And what is your morning routine?”

“Routine?”

“Surely you have things you do every morning? Take a shower, brush your teeth—” he rubbed his tongue over his front teeth subconsciously, noting that he had neglected his own teeth this morning “—have a cup of coffee with hagelslag…” She stared at him with half a slice of sausage in her teeth. “Buttered bread with chocolate sprinkles.”

“For breakfast? That’s considered a normal breakfast?”

He nodded and made a mental note to stop by the store and pick up another box for later. “Do you eat breakfast?”

She shook her head. “It’s not normally a thing. I’m not hungry until like two hours after I wake up, and it’s just easier to skip until lunch.” She stared down at the plates, consolidating the six down to three. 

“Perhaps you could consider a breakfast shake of sorts? I have a lovely recipe for one using cooked oats, peanut butter, a banana, seasonal fruit...fix it before you leave and sip on it as you go.”

“I’ll think about it.” She made a sandwich using a slice of baguette, sausage, Swiss cheese, and a grape, somehow managing to get the entire thing into her mouth. “So I have a wake up alarm and a eat breakfast alarm?”

He nodded. “Now, what is your class schedule this semester?”

She pulled a crumpled half sheet of paper from her bag, rolled up onto her knees and handed it over to him. He glanced down at the page, then back up to her. 

“Yes, I know you’re judging me.”

“Not judging. Just...considering other methods. Examining at a different angle. A three-ring binder with a front pocket, for instance, is a good starting point. Reprint this schedule, slide it into the front, put notes and such inside, since you also like doing things by hand—”

“It kinda becomes muscle memory if I write things down,” she stated, picking up the train of thought easily. “I watch my classmates type stuff and...it feels like we’ve lost touch. My parents were telling me and my sister once that they were probably the last ones to be taught cursive in class.”

Siebren briefly held his breath and stole glances over at her while he inputted when and where her first class was as well as when she should be leaving to get there on time. She had simply continued talking about how she felt she was the only one in her classes who hand wrote anything aside from response papers, seemingly glossing over the mention of her sister. He let his breath out slowly and continued adding reminders and alarms as she finished her train of thought and any meat and cheese that remained on the plates, leaving a small bunch of grapes and two dried apricots on the now stacked plates. He had waited until she had finished her train of thought before taking over, explaining how each of his alerts worked, how he had learned these coping mechanisms in Secondary School and how they had carried over easily to University, requiring only slight tweaks each semester. When he had finished explaining his methods, he noted an odd silence from Selene. He stopped and glanced up.

Selene gazed up at him, head cradled in her hands, elbows resting on her knees. “Your voice...you sound like a chocolate cake.”

“Pardon?”

“Or maybe...the warm caramel drizzle on cold vanilla ice cream.”

He set the phone down and regarded her with another raised eyebrow. He had received comments on his deep baritone voice before, but had never been compared to...food before. 

“I’ve heard some people compare it to a smooth bourbon, but I don’t drink.”

He blinked. “The caramel, or…”

“You have the most wonderful sounding voice,” she said, sitting up, still with a stupid grin across her face. “I could just listen to you go on and on…” she trailed off.

He cleared his throat and rolled up his sleeves. It had been a comfortable temperature outside before, had it gone up since they had started the picnic? “Uh...perhaps time for dessert?” he asked, rubbing at the back of his neck.

Her eyes redirected to the box still between them. He let out a grateful sigh at the change of attention. He opened the box while she pulled out two of the cleanest plates in the stack, then scoffed when he pulled out the slice.

“Is that all?”

No fears of losing her figure here, he chided his inner voice. “You’ve never had boterkoek?” She shook her head. “You poor thing. Let me enlighten you.” He handed her a piece, fished through the bag for a fork, and waited for her to take a bite. She practically purred as she bit into the dense cake.

“Oh...this is good...really good.” She closed her eyes as she swallowed. “How has this not made it over to the States?”

Ah, she is American. “I’m certain there’s areas it’s found. Surely there must be a ‘Little Amsterdam’ to go along with ‘Little Italy’ and ‘Chinatown’?”

“Not in my area.” She took another forkful, chewing slowly, moving it from one side of her mouth to the other. “What did you say this is again?”

“Boterkoek. Butter cake, in essence.”

“Butter cake?”

He nodded. “Butter, sugar, flour. Some add vanilla or lemon zest. I prefer it as is, but if flavor is added, almond, in my opinion, is best.”

“Is that what I’m tasting?”

He shook his head as he grabbed a slice of his own. “I figured I would start you out on what I feel is the purest take. A control, if you will.”

She raised her eyebrows. “So...this is an ongoing experiment?”

“If you will. Many data points.”

“Indeed. Are you providing the samples?”

“I can. But there must be time between the samples. As to not overwhelm the data pool.”

“Mmm-hmm.” She took another bite. “Sound scientific method. I take it you’ve done this experiment before?”

“A purely original hypothesis.”

“I see.” She gave him a sideways grin.

There was a part of him that told him he was clearly missing something socially, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. Rather than focus on that, he instead turned his attention back to the dessert. If this was his control, how could he possibly improve?

“So...next week is the next sample size?”

“Perhaps,” he said, swallowing. “Perhaps I assist you with some of your issues in the interim?”

“What issues would that be?”

“Homework?” He watched something in her demeanor change. “Perhaps these meetings become more frequent, I help tutor you, I introduce you to my culture, you enlighten me to yours?”

She smiled. “That sounds fair. Can we switch off where we meet? I know you like inside, but on days like this, can we study al fresco?”

“That sounds agreeable. Tomorrow in the eatery? It’s expected to rain.”

“Sure. I’ll bring dessert.”

[optimisticcapricorn]

hi congrats on graduating and hope u dont mind me asking for advice? im still in college and i go to a competitive and elite university and while im a hardworking person myself i dont enjoy being around my peers who are always competing, flashing their achievements, and just being toxic and unhealthy in many ways. it makes me so drained :( any advice for me on how to keep my energy high while having to deal with these ppl

Hi!💛 Thank you so much!✨ For sure, it’s no problem!🦋

I feel you so much!😭 Being in these types of environments is so emotionally and spiritually draining!✨ It’s frustrating that we live in such a hustle based and competitive society- at the end of the day, we’re all more than our accomplishments and accolades!👏🏿 I’m sorry that you’re feeling this way and your feeling are totally valid- I’m sending you lots of love and calming energy!💛✨

One thing that helps me tremendously is limiting social media usage- especially if I’m feeling overwhelmed or drained, monitoring how I’m interacting especially with apps like Instagram and Facebook makes a world of difference!✨ This is so important if you find yourself comparing your hard work to others and becoming even more drained!

Whenever I have to interact with others in a toxic environment, I make sure to try to build my own protective wall and release the leftover energy after! For me, protection comes in the form of listening to music that has calm/happy vibes before interacting; repeating mantras to myself during like “remember why you’re here and focus on the goal” or “hang in there, this event/class/meeting will only last for an hour” lol- something along those lines that helps to ground me; lastly- releasing my feelings through journaling after!✨

Releasing is so important because in these types of environments, you’re most likely carrying negative energy that is not your own!✨ There are also meditations/ visualizations that I have found helpful- I will link some videos below! Also, I have a Black Tourmaline crystal that goes everywhere with me lol- it has helped tremendously with fatigue if you’re interested- just make sure you cleanse it often!✨

Even though social distancing has changed the landscape of most colleges- I would also look into getting involved in a student union or group in your local area that you may be interested in! For example, in undergrad I was a part of a community service organization and it was a beautiful space of connecting with others! We also had unique things and ideas to offer and were working towards common goals so competition and feeling the need to outdo or impress wasn’t a factor!💛 I would definitely look into what your university offers, it makes a world of a difference to be surrounded by people who you can genuinely relate to without having to feel like you’re in a constant competition that you didn’t sign up for!✨

I hope this helps!! Take good care of yourself and stay in your path, you got this! Wishing you all the best in your studies!💛🦋