#writing random nothingness my beloved

[vampyrtism]

not gonna lie i forgot 2 post this but !!!!! Stephen :-)

this was Technically studies since i can never draw this guy right, but fuck it we ball tbh

[f0xfordcomma]

Happy FFWF! Since I missed last week this one is a two-for. Do you have a favorite sentence/scene you've written in any of your fics? Link the fic it's from and tell us a little about that part. Then, what do you do when you wind up having to cut a sentence/scene that you *love* from your work? Do you save it somewhere to maybe use later or just cut it and cry a little?

Happy ffwtuesday hotwife!!

So, I have a scene from my miraculous ladybug multi-chap fic the solitude of cinders that just makes me FEEL things every time I read it. I started writing meta on Adrien that turned into a whole chapter and then (because you know I can't just ~not~ turn an idea into an entire dang production) evolved into a multi-chap monstrosity. I did HOURS of research on greek mythology and rose variants and baking competitions for this bad boy. Will I ever finish writing it, who the heck knows. But the notes are all there. Anyone want to write it for me? Bueller? Bueller? NO? Dang it. I am a mess.

(I'll put the scene below the cut bc it'll make this a wee bit long.)

The worst/ best writing advice I've ever heard is "kill your darlings." It plays throughout my head whenever I'm editing and usually (out of spite for that annoying little voice in my head) I ignore it. I am a compulsive editor as I write, so I usually end up cutting sentence as I am writing and don't let myself get too too attached to anything (but this also means I am *the* world's slowest writer) when I do, inevitably, have to cut or edit something, depending on HOW in love with it I am, I'll just save it at the bottom of the document for ~posterity~ or to possibly use later on in the fic if the time comes. Or I'll just try to edit the phrasing enough to fit tonally where I need it to. (Thesaurus.com and Rhyme Zone, my beloveds.)

Usually, this happens with snippets of dialogue, which are always fun to look back on and marvel at how hilarious these little characters (and the *very* humble writer who loves them *very* much) are.

When I write poetry I'll save images/ snippets a lot more often. I have a document in the notes on my phone and a document in my google drive just full of random images that make zero sense out of context. One of my favorite late-night poetry notes document additions is just: "write a poem about the holiness of shit." I don't remember where it came from or what I was writing at the time that gave me this idea... but now i HAVE to write a poem about the holiness of shit.

Anyway, here's the scene!

Though he had been sheltered by fame and fortune his whole life, Adrien Agreste was self-aware enough to never carry any grand delusions of importance. Sure, his face was plastered all across Paris and there were always autographs to sign and interviews to do, but that was all just because he was pretty. Pretty wasn’t important.

Important, Adrien knew, was the way his father had smiled at his mother when she’d cracked a particularly corny joke. The way he had held her hand a little too long after pressing a chaste kiss to her fingertips on his way out the door each morning.

Important, Adrien had learned, was a lonely man and the countless hours he spent appealing to a painting of a ghost—hoping, Adrien assumed, to hear the voice of his muse; to relish in her inspiration; to catch, just once more, the light in her eyes (eyes that, Adrien knew, were all wrong on canvas). Important was discarded designs and missed meals all in search of that spark.

See, if Emilie Agreste had been a spark, her son was a cinder.

Adrien knew this, too.

Her pyre had been a brilliant blaze, but it had been snuffed out much too soon. All that was left of her inferno was smoldering cinders. Cinders which, in order to prevent the fire from extinguishing entirely, needed to be prodded and protected.

A bonfire built from cinders could be just as warm and just as bright, but it took a lot of work to nurse a flame back from near nothingness. Strike a match and in an instant, you’ve got fire. In the presence of a firesource, one needn’t bother with smoking remains. But when the spark is gone, the cinders become vital. The only hope for heat on the coldest of nights.

Adrien was a cinder.

He could sputter and smolder and produce heat when he needed to. But it never reached his eyes. (Her eyes.)

Adrien had her eyes.

His were green in the way that hers had been viridian. He was pretty in the way that she had been beautiful.

And pretty wasn’t important. And Adrien was very pretty.

[chelsfic]

I Fell into Fantasy - Nandor x Guillermo One-Shot

WWDITS Masterlist

Summary: Guillermo admits to a secret desire. Nandor tries to fulfill it without compromising his aloofness. 

A/N: The title of this fic comes from a song called “Days of the Phoenix” by AFI. I was inspired to write this fic by the scene in the movie where Viago talks about how he likes to make things “nice” for his victims during their final moments.

Warnings: Blood drinking, a bit of smut, frottage, pining, angst

---

Guillermo really should know better.

How many nights has he spent digging up the garden to dispose of the mangled corpses left behind after the vampires’ feasting? How many bruised, torn throats has he seen? Cracked collar bones and broken limbs? Lifeless, staring eyes? 

He knows the victims are in pain before they die. He knows the vampires sometimes like to play with their food, chasing tearful virgins through the house, giving them a taste of escape before tucking into their meal. He knows it hurts. He knows it isn’t sexy.

Really. He knows.

He’s still jealous. He’s jealous when he shows up to yet another sad familiar mixer to find that nearly every other human in attendance has faded puncture wounds and he has to hide his smooth, pristine throat with a turtleneck sweater. He’s jealous when he’s forced to stand in the corner and listen to his master’s obscene, tantalizing moans as he drinks from some random human who isn’t him. He’s jealous when Nandor remarks on how tasty a victim is, licking his lips before discarding their lifeless forms like so much garbage.

He knows it’s wrong. But he gave up caring about right and wrong a long time ago, around the time he dug his first clandestine grave.

He’s wanted to be bitten ever since he was 13-years-old and he first watched Lestat turn Louis on the 18-inch TV in his bedroom. He’d paused the movie, rewinding and frantically beating off as the blood poured onto Brad Pitt’s lips.  He wants to know what his master’s lips would feel like on the tender hollow of his throat. He wants to feel the scratch of his beard as he closes his mouth over Guillermo’s sensitive skin. He wants Nandor to hold him close. He wants to feel those sensual moans rumble through the vampire’s chest as he takes his fill.

He wants so much.

Whenever he feels jealousy, lust, longing... he reminds himself that he should feel grateful, proud even, that Nandor has never fed from him. Nandor sees him as more than a meal. He’s a trusty companion, a person, a...friend? This is what Guillermo tells himself. He knows it’s not a matter of taste. How many times has Nandor scolded him for looking too tempting when he blushes? Or warned him to be careful with his sword collection because he didn’t want him bleeding all over the place and testing his self-control? 

Whatever his reasoning--respect, boundaries, taboo--Nandor doesn’t feed on his familiar. But Guillermo often wonders if things would be different if his master knew how badly he wanted it.

---

“Guillermo, you’re very serious tonight. Are you having to take a human shit? I can wait until after for you to do the tucking in…” 

Nandor stands by his open coffin with an uncomfortable smile on his face that’s akin to a grimace. Guillermo has already helped him remove his outer layers and brushed out his flowing, dark hair. All that remains is for the familiar to hold his hand while he steps up into his coffin.

“No, master, I--I don’t have to take a shit. I’m fine,” Guillermo murmurs with sadness practically oozing out of his pores.

Nandor bristles, his eyes darting all over the room as he wars with himself over whether to press further or simply to ignore Guillermo’s stupid human moods and hope they go away.

The vampire sighs dramatically, “I think you better tell me what is the matter, Guillermo. I don’t want this affecting your work performance. You do a very poor job dusting the paintings and the window dresses when you’re sad. Now what is it? Laszlo and Nadja? Are they giving the guff to you?”

Guillermo is quiet for a long moment, looking up into his master’s fathomless brown eyes as he decides how to respond. Nandor’s whole body is tense as if he’s awaiting the guillotine blade. Maybe he should just get it out of his system and finally admit--well, certainly not everything he feels for his beloved master, but at least about his deep desire to be bitten. 

He blushes, lowering his gaze as he finally answers, “I guess...I’m just a little jealous. Of...of the people you feed from.”

Nandor’s face drops into blank befuddlement before his dark brows lift upward and his lips curl in a poorly concealed smile.

“You’re jealous of my victims? I kill those people! You want me to murder you? Is this some kind of death wish thing? Because I find that really annoying!” Nandor sputters, half amused and half serious.

Guillermo’s face is burning with humiliation now and he rushes to clarify, “No! No, I don’t want to die, master. It’s just...I’ve always wanted to know what it felt like to be bitten by a vampire...”

His voice fades to nothingness but Nandor clearly understands him and his face grows pensive as he contemplates his words.

“Are you bullshitting me?” Nandor questions and his tone is just close enough to irritation to cause Guillermo to shrink in on himself as he answers.

“No, master.”

“Well…” Nandor sighs and affects a look of disinterest. “It’s alright to say that sort of thing to me, Guillermo, because you’re my familiar. But you want to be careful out there with the other vampires. You could get eaten up! And then where would I be? Having to make another ad on the Greg’s List!”

“...Craigslist…”

“As I said!” Nandor snaps, holding out his hand expectantly as he moves to get into his coffin. “Now, that’s enough of this crazy talking. Alright?”

“Alright, master,” Guillermo murmurs subserviently, reaching up to release the lid and slowly lowering it, sealing his master inside. 

“Goodnight, Guillermo!” Nandor’s muffled voice calls as the familiar moves around the room, blowing out candles.

“Night, master!”

Sealed in the claustrophobic darkness of his coffin, Nandor’s mind races as he tries to process this new information about his familiar. Guillermo--his little Guillermo!--would let him bite him and drink his delicious blood? No, he wants him to do it. Yearns for it. He is jealous of the people he kills just because they get to feel the sting of his fangs and the touch of his lips. Nandor palms himself through his trousers. He’s harder than he’s been in a century just thinking of it.

---

He tries, he really does. Guillermo tries to forget about his shameful admission and go back to normal. Nandor certainly seems unmoved, doing nothing to even hint that he remembers having the conversation. So, Guillermo goes through the motions, dutifully completing his chores, searching for fresh sources of virgin blood, and standing by while Nandor sates his bloodlust with perfect strangers. But now that he’s revealed his secret--part of his secret, let’s be honest--and faced his master’s outright rejection, he just can’t seem to let go of the hollow ache in his chest.

He feels inadequate, pathetic, unattractive. And sad. Mostly sad.

Guillermo might think that Nandor has forgotten all about their little chat, but the vampire dwells on it just as much as the human does in the days that follow. And it’s impossible to ignore the scent of “sad human” that’s begun to permeate the household. Nandor spends several days battling with himself over what to do. He considers killing Guillermo and starting over with a new familiar… Guillermo gets his wish, Nandor doesn’t have to confront his shameful attraction to his servant… everybody wins! But the thought of Guillermo’s sweet little face gone still and lifeless sends a foreign stab of emotion into his chest that is really unpleasant.

He could ignore the situation and hope for it to go away on its own. But now that he knows his familiar is secretly lusting after his bite, he can’t get it out of his mind. He’d avoided feeding from Guillermo for years. At first it was a matter of preserving a valuable asset. Guillermo is a good familiar, why risk slipping up and accidentally draining him? After a while, when Nandor started to fixate on his familiar’s adorable smiles, fantasizing about how his soft, little body would feel against his...then it became a matter of self-control and rejecting his disgusting, unnatural feelings for a... servant!

So, that leaves him with one option. He must feed from Guillermo...carefully. So, so carefully so as not to be overcome and either kill or ravish the poor fellow. And if he is going to bite his Guillermo, then he must make it a pleasant experience for his familiar. He can’t stomach the idea of simply ripping into his human and hearing him scream and cry with the pain of it. No, it has to be...special.

---

Guillermo is barely in the door, laden down with shopping bags, when his master’s voice calls to him.

“Guillermo! Is that you?”

“Yes, master! I’m back from the store. I got you some more of those bath bombs you like,” Guillermo answers, wrestling with the bags as he edges towards his room. “Is there something--?”

Nandor appears at his side and interrupts, “The one with the lavender? Very good, Guillermo. Ehm--why don’t you put down those satchels and come with me to my room for a moment. I have a surprise for you.”

Guillermo’s face lights up with a warm smile and he drops the bags on the floor by his closet-room, “A surprise? For me, master?”

“Just for you, Guillermo! Come!” Nandor practically skips at his side as they walk back to his room, his eyes lit with anticipation.

Nandor closes and locks the door behind them, watching his familiar take in the arrangements he’s made. He borrowed Laszlo’s gramophone and set it up in the corner. It’s playing a soft, quiet melody that floats gently on the incense-infused air. A vase of vivid red roses sits on an end table next to his fancy couch, which he’s covered in a layer of bath towels. 

“What...what is all this, master?” Guillermo breathes, walking up to the flowers and burying his nose in the fragrant blooms with a smile on his lips. 

“Do you like it, Guillermo? I wanted it to be--” he pulls a face but manages to get the word out “--nice for you.”

“But, why?”

Nandor steps up beside his familiar, towering over the smaller man. “I’m going to feed from you. If... if that is still something you are wanting.”

“Oh,” the word comes out on a shaky exhale and Guillermo feels his knees go weak. “I--yes, I still want...that. Thank you, master.”

Nandor smiles, baring his fangs and crinkling his eyes. Guillermo feels his heart do a flip in his chest and wonders, distractedly, if Nandor can hear his heartbeat. They’re standing so close. Guillermo could lean forward just a bit and they’d be touching. He looks up into Nandor’s eyes and finds them melted with warmth. His master has never gone through such an effort for him before. Guillermo feels like his heart could burst.

“You want to take a seat?” Nandor gestures to the towel covered couch and Guillermo snaps out of his daze.

He sinks down onto the cushions, running his hands appreciatively over the terry cloth, “This was clever, master.”

Nandor takes a seat beside him, close enough that their thighs brush together and Guillermo gulps. He’s brushed his master’s hair, helped him dress, helped him bathe for goodness sake, but he’s never felt as close to him as he does now.

“Are you comfort-a-ble, Guillermo?” Nandor asks, staring at his face with a hungry intensity. 

Guillermo locks eyes with him and he sees his master’s pupils dilate, his lips part to bare elongated fangs. He gasps out a quivering breath as he fights the waves of exhilaration, lust and fear in order to answer.

“Yes, it’s...very comfy, master. Very nice, thank you.”

“Good,” Nandor responds, his eyes flicking down to Guillermo’s collar. “Why don’t you remove your woolen garment and open your collar. I don’t want to spoil your nice clothes.”

Guillermo feels like he’s in a dream. Nandor is never this...considerate. His mind flashes back to every time he’s watched his master strike out at a victim unannounced, with fierce aggression and even cruelty. It’s pathetic that his standards are so low, but the fact that Nandor isn’t treating him like just another victim to be used and discarded sends a rush of affection and hope flowing through him. He hastily grabs the bottom of his sweater, pulling it up over his head and tossing it aside. Next, he reaches for the collar of his shirt, but Nandor is there first. His long, thick fingers pluck at the buttons, releasing each one until Guillermo’s chest is visible. He pulls the collar aside, revealing the smooth, unblemished curve of Guillermo’s neck and shoulder.

“Are you ready?” Nandor asks with a hiss as he eyes his familiar’s naked skin. He’s never seen so much of the man before and he feels his cock stir with interest inside his trousers. 

“Yes,” Guillermo breathes needily, tilting his head to bare his neck even further. 

Nandor brings his hand up to cradle Guillermo’s head, letting his fingers sink into his soft curls and cupping his warm cheek in his palm. The pulse point at Guillermo’s throat is practically visible, his heart is beating so fast. Nandor feels his mouth flood with saliva as the rushing flow of Guillermo’s blood reaches his ears. 

He wraps his other arm around his familiar, drawing him onto his lap and finally leaning in to bury his face into the warm, inviting crook of his neck. Nandor breathes in the intoxicating aroma that even the human-things-for-smelling and his incense cannot obscure. He moans loudly. He might be embarrassed if he were less overcome with the sensory feast of his familiar’s soft body in his arms and the promise of his warm, thick blood.

Guillermo mewls at the touch of his master’s mouth on his bare throat. His beard is scratchy and rough but his lips are impossibly soft and gentle. It’s like a kiss, he thinks, his heart rushing with affection and joy. Nandor’s arm around him is firm and strong. He knows that he could never hope to escape if Nandor truly wished to restrain him and drink him dry. Putting this level of trust in his master makes him feel like a tiny, frail rabbit in the jaws of a hungry wolf. A delicious shiver runs down his spine at the image. And then Nandor’s lips pull back and he feels the sharp points of his fangs graze over tender skin.

“Oh!” Guillermo cries out. 

Nandor growls low in his throat but pulls back just slightly to check, “Is this still alright?”

Guillermo nods quickly, bringing up his hands to run them through Nandor’s soft hair reassuringly, “Yes! Yes! Please, master!”

He feels Nandor’s chest rumble with suppressed laughter and then there’s just the blinding, burning flash of pain that blooms as Nandor finally strikes, burying his fangs into his familiar’s soft, warm throat. Guillermo’s mouth falls open and his hands fist in Nandor’s hair as the first wave takes him. 

“Shhh,” Nandor murmurs wetly against his neck, lapping the spilled blood with long strokes of his tongue. “Shhh, you’re safe.”

“Nnghh!” a pleasured groan strangles from the familiar’s throat at the touch of his master’s tongue. Guillermo squirms, his cock filling even as blood drains away from his body. 

Nandor tightens his arms around his little Guillermo, pulling him flush against his broad chest and biting down once more as he begins to drink in earnest. He moans wantonly as the sweet blood fills his mouth. He’s as hard as he’s ever been and he rolls his hips against his familiar’s generous backside. He drinks and he drinks.

The pain ebbs enough for Guillermo to lose himself in the delicious feeling of connection with his master. His hands, his lips, his tongue, his teeth are all on him, inside of him, part of him. Nandor’s touch unlocks a secret room inside of Guillermo where he keeps his most tender feelings. For once he allows himself to truly feel the devotion, the affection... the love that he has for his master. It’s wonderful and dizzying. Tears slip from his eyes as he reaches his arms around Nandor’s broad shoulders, hugging him closer for as long as he’ll allow.

Too soon he feels his head start to spin and his grip on Nandor’s shoulders loosens. The vampire senses it immediately and draws back with a feral growl. Guillermo is limp and breathless in his master’s arms. He looks up with heavy-lidded eyes and watches Nandor lick blood from his lurid, stained lips.

“Thank you, master,” Guillermo whispers, snuggling into Nandor’s chest with a contented sigh. His arousal is flagging and he hopes that his master hasn’t noticed. He’d felt Nandor’s rigid erection grinding against him while the vampire drank his blood, but he has no way of knowing if that’s just something that happens every time he feeds. Whatever the case, he’s far too weak and drunk with happiness to do anything but drift along and hope that Nandor keeps holding him.

Nandor’s dead heart squeezes in his chest at the sight of his sleepy familiar burrowing his face into his chest. His plan seems to have failed. He’d wanted to give Guillermo his fantasy while remaining aloof, but instead he’s feeling an annoying rush of warm affection. Worse, he’s shamed himself by...rutting against the human like a street dog. He should push him away, or give him an order to remind him of the boundaries that are still in place. But as he looks down at the sweet smile on his familiar’s lips he can’t find it in him to spoil the moment for him so soon. Tomorrow. Tomorrow night he’d remind Guillermo of how things still stand between them.

“Will you keep holding me, master?” Guillermo mumbles, his eyes drifting shut. The human has read his thoughts!

“Yes,” Nandor replies, leaning down and tracing a barely there kiss onto Guillermo’s forehead. “For a little while.”

[galaxy-parker]

Build Me Up, Buttercup

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Where Spider-Man crash lands on your fire escape and ruins your garden, so you force him to help you build a new one. 

Request: The reader is someone who isn’t too crazy about spider man. (It’s not like she hates him!! She just knows that he’s a little bit destructive) one day spider man accidentally swings into her porch destroying her prized flowers. She makes him promise that he’ll help her rebuild the garden!!

Warnings: There might be cussing but I don’t remember

Word Count: 1969

A/N: This was so much fun to write! Thank you to @minnie-marvel for the prompt (love youuu) 

~~

It was on a rainy night four years ago that you’d realized your fire escape was just really boring.

There wasn’t anything distinctly wrong about it, there just wasn’t anything distinctly right about it either and that bothered you, even if it was only just a little bit.

So, that day you’d decided that you would decorate the little balcony with various sorts of plants and flowers in various different colors and various different shapes and sizes, and it was magical.

Really, it was your favorite part of the tiny apartment you and your parents occupied. It filled the drab home with life and washed it with pigmentation- even if it was from behind a glass pane.

It was your happy place- that is, until the Queens renowned Spider-Man messed it all up.

~o0o~

‘So what do you think?’ Liz’s voice snaps you from your reverie and you look at her quizzically for a moment, before realizing she was trying to hold a conversation, one that you’d rudely zoned out of.

‘What?’

Liz rolls her eyes playfully and crosses her long arms across the lunch table. ‘Spider-Man?

‘Right,’ The words come out harsher than you intend and you quickly offer your friends a sheepish smile before shrugging somewhat nonchalantly. ‘I don’t know.’

‘You don’t know?’ Betty raises a perfectly tailored brow and all you can do is shrug again as your friends stare you down in interest.

‘I’m just not,’ You hesitate. ‘I’m not crazy about him.’

Betty hums and Liz- to her credit- tries not to look appalled ‘So, you hate Spider-Man?’

‘I don’t hate him,’ You hiss, shushing your friend before she draws unwanted attention before sighing deeply. ‘I’m just not very fond.’

‘He’s a hero,’ Liz challenges with a small shake of the head- more in disbelief than anything else. You can’t blame her, the girl is practically in love with the webslinger.

‘He’s a vigilante,’ You simply retort before the warning bell rings, signalling the nearing end of lunch. ‘See you in seventh.’ You’re answered with a few bye’s and see you later’s and one mumbled response from a still shocked Liz as you swing your way-too-old and way-too-crusty bag over your shoulder.

But you can’t bring yourself to feel even remotely bad as you push through the cafeteria doors and step into the hall. Your statement holds a true point. Spider-Man is a vigilante and he is working outside of the law. He’s reckless and careless and if you’re the only person who sees it, then so be it.

You reach your classroom just as the last bell rings and take your place towards the back of the class, immediately resting your head on your hand.

It’s safe to say you zone out the second your history teacher walks in the room.

~o0o~

You’re halfway home from school when the sound of sirens reach your ears. They’re faint at first, barely there, and you think nothing of it. Police sirens aren’t news in New York, but it’s only when you’re crossing the street five minutes later that your heart finally begins to pick up pace- when the sound of horns honking and tires screeching grows louder and louder until it’s unmistakable and undeniable and right in front of you.

What you can only assume to be a crazed to driver is barreling towards you, followed by at least five police cars and you barely have time to scream- barely have time to brace yourself before it’s too late and-

You’d imagined dying to be like falling or a white light or a painstaking nothingness- you didn’t imagine it to be like flying. Wind whipping in your hair, arms braced around the body of someone or something unknown.

A quiet gasps leaves your lips as the wind ripples through your clothes and- do dead people gasp? Do dead people wear clothes?

You wrench your eyes open and immediately regret it.

From the feeling of your stomach turning loops you can say with full conviction that you are indeed alive. Alive and flying high above Queens. A scream lodges in your throat and you choke on it, arms gripping whatever the hell they’re gripping tighter and tighter until you’re sure they’ll fall off.

‘I’ve got you,’ A voice yells, the words getting muffled in the wind for barely a moment before you’re landing with a thud.

You unwind your arms and stumble backwards but you’re caught again before you can hit the ground. You look up at Spider-Man (who might be a little too close for comfort) and laugh dryly.

‘What the hell,’

He releases you quickly, taking a step back to distance himself from you before whipping his head around to glance over his shoulder, the eyes of his mask whirring strangely as they grow and shrink.

‘I’ve got to go,’ He starts to jog backwards and you watch him, still gaping. ‘You good?’

Not waiting for your answer, he shoots a web from his wrist and lets it pull him away and, suddenly, he’s gone. He’s gone and he’s left you on the roof of a random building.

Spider-Man sucks.

~o0o~

By the time you’d made it home you were ready to gut Spider-Man and whoever else tried to tell you how amazing he is.

You had called Liz after you finally made it off the building and she’d rambled on and on about how lucky you were and how much she wished she could have been there and blah blah blah- and to make matters worse, on the long trek home you heard civilian after civilian do the same.

Thankfully, after half a week of torture Liz mercifully dropped the subject of your near death experience and you moved on. Or so you thought.

~o0o~

An orange-pink hue casts over the city- courtesy of the sunset- and causes the flowers on your fire escape to give off a luminescent glow.

You breathe deeply, relishing in the sweet evening air, the somehow peaceful sound of bustling New York streets and the feel of the breeze against your skin. It’s a perfect night.

And then it’s ruined.

Your first tell of something being horribly off is the sound of grunting. Not sexual grunting, rather a sound of pain. The second is the sound of something you can only describe as a thwack. It sounds wet and sticky and again not sexual, but it’s there and it’s alarming to say the least. The third is the sight of a blue and red blur crashing into your fire escape.

A scream leaves your mouth as the figure makes contact with the metal, sending your beloved plants flying and crashing down to the streets below and for a second, for half a second, you’re worried for them- that is, until you see the face (or rather mask) of the intruder.

‘You?’

‘Hey,’ Spider-Man grunts from his position below you, raising his head slightly and and wiggling his fingers at you in greeting before letting them both fall down again.

‘What the hell?’ You take in the damage, the ruined flowers, the broken bits of pottery and felt a renewed anger fill you. Honestly, it was like he was trying to get on your bad side.

‘You say that a lot,’ He scoots back, pulling himself upright and leaning against the back railing. The eyes in his mask narrow to what almost looks like a wince and you can’t help but note how he’s holding his side. He sees the incredulous look on his face and shakes his head, gripping the railing with the hand that’s not gripping his side and slowly- difficulty- pulling himself up. ‘Please don’t call the cops, I’m just looking for a first aid kit and I’ll be gone,’

That’s when you see the blood slowly seeping through his gloved fingers, nearly invisible against the red of his suit.

‘Oh my god,’ You whisper and suddenly all grudges are out the door as you scramble over the remains of your shrubs and race into your small apartment, praying for silence while you open up drawers and cabinets, hands grappling for the first aid kit your mother keeps somewhere.

After what feels like hours but what can only be minutes, your fingers wrap around the little tin box and you wrench it to your chest, practically vaulting over your couch and through your window to get to the wounded webslinger on your fire escape.

‘I thought you were bailing on me,’ He jokes as you kneel next to him, already clicking open the box.

‘Shut up,’ You mumble, rifling through the half empty contents until you find some antiseptic and a few Hello Kitty band aids.

You grab Spider-Man’s wrist, maybe a bit too harshly and he hisses, but lets you move it out of the way as you inspect the torn suit.

In reality you have no idea what you’re doing, but you’ve seen a few episodes of Grey’s Anatomy and that should be enough knowledge to care for an enhanced individual, right?

‘I need to see the wound,’ You push, glancing up at him and he nods solemnly before pressing the Spider- emblem in the middle of his suit. You try not to let your eyes widen too much as the once skin-tight suit slackens until it’s loose and ill fitting. He lets it slide down his shoulders and off of his chest until the cuts are visible.

‘God,’ You shake your head, wetting a few cotton balls with the antiseptic and pressing them against the wounds gently. Spider-Man hisses from underneath you and you wince, dabbing a few times for good measure before taking the little band aids you’d found and sticking them on his side.

‘Hello Kitty?’ His voice is gravelly, but filled with humor and you roll your eyes.

‘Deal with it.’ You pull his suit up over his shoulders and avert your eyes as he tightens it again.

Darkness has fallen over the city now, and you stare out over your broken paradise in silent heartbreak. Spider-Man must pick up on it because he takes your wrist gently. ‘Thank you,’

You nod, not yet looking at him.

‘And,’ He hesitates, squeezing your wrist. ‘I’m sorry for leaving you on that roof, and ruining your plants.’

‘Well you saved my life,’ You glance up at him now, feeling your face grow hot. He quickly releases you and clears his throat, looking over the fire escape. ‘But you have to do something for me,’

He whips his head back towards you, and you’re surprised at your own words, furrowing your brows and worrying your lip. ‘What is it?’

You fiddle with the hem of your shirt for a moment before bowing down and picking up the first-aid-kit. ‘Help me rebuild it,’

‘What?’

‘You destroyed my garden,’ You shrug, trying to find out yourself why you’re trying to make plans with Spider-Man when you don’t even like him. ‘Might as well help me fix it.’

A quiet chuckle. ‘I guess I owe you that much,’ He motions to his side, where the Hello Kitty band aids stick out between the rips in his suit.

‘You bet your ass you do,’

He laughs now, loud and joyful, throwing his head back. ‘I’ll see you around, Y/N.’

‘Mhm,’ Your grip tightens on the kit in your hands and rock back on your heels as he climbs over the fire escape and shoots out a web- much like he did that first time you met him. He glances over his shoulder at you one last time.

It’s only hours later when you’re curled up in bed, tired and overwhelmed that you realize you didn’t tell him your name.

And it’s only days later, on Monday, when you notice Peter Parker staring at you from across the hall.

[alpha-imagines]

Sleeping and Studying- Billy Hargrove

A/N: Here’s a random little Billy imagine i wrote in like 20 mins so i’m sorry if it’s a lil rushed (and not proof read oops?) I found the most amazing inspo (link right here) with different prompts for characters to realise they’re in love so i chose “ Watching their partner study for an exam “ and “ The way their partner looks when they fall asleep/wake up “ so i hope you enjoy!

“Think you could take any longer?” Billy asked from his position on your bed, he was lying flat on his back, spread out like a star amongst your floral bed spread, pillows pushed upright from where he’d previously been sitting before deciding he was so bored he had to lie down.

“You chose to come over knowing full well I have a test tomorrow” You retorted from your desk, not bothering to look over at the boy on your bed

“It’s a pop quiz” He sighed “You know you’ll ace it, you always do”

“I always ace them because I always study for them” You smirked, turning in your chair “That’s how it works Billy” You laughed

Billy felt his heart flip when you laughed like that, even if his mockery was the cause of it. He came over to spend time with you and whilst truthfully he didn’t mind just being in your presence, because he knew full well sitting in silence with you was better than not sitting with you at all, but he would definitely rather be doing something else.

“Well do you think you could stop being a brainbox for like 5 minutes?” He asked, propping himself up on his side to look at you properly “It’s exhausting doing nothing”

“Good job you’re on a bed then” You smirked “I’ve heard it’s the best place to be when you’re exhausted from all that nothingness” Noting the pout on his face you swivelled back around and continued writing your flashcard.

Billy didn’t want to keep at it, he was still worried that you’d find him to annoying or too clingy and his stomach cringed at the thought. Instead he just lay on his side and observed as you wrote your cards, tucking a piece of hair back that kept falling into the way. Noticing how you’d squint your eyes a little trying to think of exactly the right way to write the answer, watching the end of your pencil tap the top of your cheekbone as you momentarily paused to think.

Billy might have hated studying but he certainly had no problem watching you do it. It was something he was always envious of, how motivated you were when it came to school, the only thing Billy was motivated for was getting out of school after the final bell. The only thing Billy thought school was good for was getting him out of the house and being with you for most of the day.

“Ok I’m done” You clapped triumphantly for your desk once all of your flash cards were stacked neatly in your completed pile

With no answer from Billy you turned around to see his face squished into your mattress, your most beloved curl falling across his forehead. The sight made your heart squeal, he looked so peaceful and calm it would be rude not to take a moment to admire him. You were sure that every inch of the boy in front of you was absolutely gorgeous and you wanted nothing more than to capture the moment forever. You gently reached for the Polaroid camera that sat on your shelf collecting dust and snapped a photo. The flash only mildly startled Billy, watching his brows furrow deeper into his head at the light but he still remained perfectly sound asleep. You waited for the picture to develop properly before waking him up with a kiss to the tip of his nose.

His face scrunched and the more kisses you peppered on him the closer he was to reality and he had to admit that waking up to your lips and the sound of your laugh was possibly the best thing to have happened in his life.

“Wakey wakey sleeping beauty” You laughed, lips still attached to his neck as hand instinctively reached out for your hair

“So you really were exhausted from all that nothingness” You giggled, pulling away from his neck and resting your forehead on his

“I did tell you” He argued with a smile

“Well now you’re awake and now I’m done studying we can do something fun” You announced, bouncing up from the spot beside your bed where you’d been crouched and heading over to your mirror to apply some lip balm

“What’s this?” Billy asked with a self-conscious laugh as he picked up the Polaroid that you’d left on your bedside table

“My favourite picture ever” You smiled sincerely

“You took a picture of me?” He asked with a raised eyebrow but he couldn’t help the smile that rose to his lips “You’re such a creep” He joked, walking nearer to you and wrapping his arms around your waist once he got to you

“But I’m your creep” You smiled up at him to which he responded with a kiss on your forehead

“You sure are” He smiled, so content that finally he had something good in his life that was his own “But seriously come on I’m starving” He laughed and pulled out of your embrace just as you lightly hit him on the arm

“I’m the studious one, you’re the starving one, why’s that not a surprise” You smiled following Billy out of your bedroom and down your stairs.

[taeinmycup]

San Junipero | prologue.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst & Fluff, Smut in future parts || Black Mirror au

Words: 2.2k

If you could make a choice for your life in the hereafter, which choice would you make? When you meet Jeon Jeongguk in the heavenly San Junipero, your perspective on the human-made heaven changes, as he makes you see things in a perspective you never dared to imagine.

A/N: this story is actually based on the netflix series black mirror, season 3 episode 4, called “san junipero”! if you have a netflix account, i definitely recommend you to watch the episode (since it’s AMAZING as hell). however, you don’t have to watch it in order to follow the storyline.

p.s. IM FINALLY BACK WITH A NEW FIC ;; i really missed writing. this piece is actually made out of a draft i wrote months ago, and i eventually decided to make a short story out of it! i’m not sure if i will continue this though, unless there are enough ppl interested in this fic. so let me know if i should continue it or not!! enjoy the reading ;; <3 

Death was a concept you were not necessarily afraid of. It was more of a concept that felt strange to you throughout your whole life. You were never afraid to die – it would eventually happen to all people. At one point in your life, you started to doubt about the purpose of life; everyone was going to die eventually, so why would you even care to live?

Although this thought occurred to you once in a while, there was actually no reason to think of such thoughts. You have lived a wonderful life – the concept of death barely crossing through your mind as you lived a life as a tremendous oncologist, happily married to a wonderful husband while taking care of a beautiful daughter, whom you saw as your own unique diamond that you would not be able to share with anybody except for your husband.

Your life was simply wonderful, a life that every individual had dreamed about once in their lifetime. Sadly, you came to learn that life had its turning points as well – and it all started after your first daughter died in a car accident. Your emotions were beyond words. It was not that these emotions you felt were unknown (oh, you definitely recognized the emotions), but when you lost one of your precious diamonds, you felt these emotions on a level you had not experienced yet. It was so extreme, that you were shocked about yourself – shocked about the fact that you were able to feel this way.

After your beloved daughter’s painful death, you started to think about the concept of death more. In your younger years, you were convinced to choose for the worriless eternity in San Junipero, at the point that the place almost became your final goal to reach. Although you had never visited the place – not even in a trial process – you had heard a lot of good and promising things about it. San Junipero was basically the human-made version of heaven – a concept people used to believe in centuries ago, until San Junipero stepped into the world. You were amazed by the fact that technology had developed it selves so far up to the point where humanity could control life and death – and you could not wait to be a part of it yourself.

However, it seemed like not everyone had the privilege to pass over to San Junipero, as ‘sudden passes’ like your daughter’s were not qualified for passing over. You could have expected that, since the San Junipero system was rigorous, and you could only enter the system after applying for it many years before you were supposed to pass over – although no one really knew exactly when that time would be.

It saddened you and your husband that your precious daughter was not able to pass over to San Junipero, because the two of you would have loved to give her that one chance of living a life of eternal happiness. That’s why, two years ago, when your husband got the chance to pass over, he chose not to. You reminisced his weak voice almost every day, as his thin and ill body was shaking on his deathbed, the image haunting your mind more than it should be.

“How can I pass over and live an eternal life everyone dreams of, when I couldn’t give that to my own precious girl?”

Those were his last words before he passed away, his spirit disappearing into a void of nothingness – leaving you behind in an ocean full of tears while clinging onto his thin, lifeless arm. Ever since the passing of your husband, a life in San Junipero wasn’t something you were considering anymore. You couldn’t do it without them – the guilt would eat you out. Why would you live such an amazing eternal life when your loved ones couldn’t?

That’s why it was so unbelievable to you that Jeon Jeongguk – a random guy you met while you were on trial in San Junipero – was able to convince you otherwise.

You met the dark-haired guy in a filthy 80’s club where it literally reeked of sex and alcohol, your outdated body replaced by your 21-years old one. In every corner, your poor eyes came into sights of kissing couples, their saliva literally dropping out of their mouths because of the unhealthy tongue twists. The sexual tension in this club was real, although you couldn’t say that you were affected by it.

If these popular abbreviations were already invented in the 80’s, ‘YOLO’ would be the perfect one to describe this era.

He approached you when you were sitting all by yourself at the bar as you were in the middle of gulping down your fifth drink, your throat already feeling heavy and sore because of the strong liquid.

“You shouldn’t try so hard, you know? Try to genuinely enjoy, and you’ll get there eventually.”

Your eyebrows quirked up at the unfamiliar honeyed voice, slowly turning around to see the owner of it. It would be a lie to say that your eyes weren’t disappointed at what you saw, because this man was definitely a lovely snack to your half-drunken eyes. Your orbs moved along with the movements of his lean, but steady body as the owner of the honeyed voice sat down on the stool placed next to you. He lifted his arm – his thick veins almost popping out of his deliciously tanned skin – probably about to order a drink for himself.

“Bartender, can I get a tequila sunrise? Oh, and a glass of water for the lady next to me? Thank you.”

You blinked your eyes at him in surprise, totally not expecting the last few words coming out of his mouth. You shook your head amusingly, putting down your empty glass with a soft thud before turning your body towards him, as your eyes were met with a teasing grin on his perfectly sculpted face.

“Excuse me,” you began to speak, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked the stranger in his brown orbs – almost as honeyed as his voice was. “I appreciate your friendly gesture, but I don’t think I’m in desperate need of it.”

The chuckle that came out of his mouth sounded like a beautiful melody to your ears – and for a second, despite the club’s loud ugly music, it was the only thing your ears could pick up.

“Well, I think you’re wrong. You actually look like you’re in desperate need of it.” By then, the bartender already arrived with the man’s tequila sunrise and, supposedly your glass of water. You wanted to let out a hard laugh the second you eyed the glass of water, but instead let out a painful thread of coughs that almost burned your throat off. The man only eyed you with a simplified look while you were coughing your lungs out, waiting patiently until you were done with the coughing fit.

You quickly grabbed the glass of water from the bar, gulping it down even harder than these shots you drank before. After a few minutes of calming down, your throat felt much lighter – the heavy burn almost gone as you drank the glass of water empty.

“Your welcome,” the honeyed stranger next to you simply said, before taking a shot of his tequila, but not before you could catch a glimpse of his shit-eating grin, causing you to roll your eyes at him.

“Yeah, well. I guess I should thank you after all. I’d be dead in a ditch if you didn’t buy me that glass of water,” you mumbled underneath your breath, letting out a sigh as you leaned your head on your sticky palm.

“Don’t overreact now. Your time isn’t here yet. Plus, you can’t die in San Junipero. Eternal is the keyword here,” the stranger responded to your remark, putting down his glass of tequila, before he turned his eyes towards you. They lingered on you for a few seconds – as if he was scanning you up and down – and all of a sudden you felt shy and intimidated. You thanked the universe that your cheeks were already rosy from the shots, otherwise he would find out the red blush on your cheeks was because of his curious orbs.

“H-How do you know?” you asked with a genuinely surprised voice, and the stranger let out another chuckle that sounded lovely to your ears. You mentally cursed yourself for boldly loving something simple, from a damned stranger that was.

“Because of the way you act. Forcing to enjoy your time while you’re clearly not enjoying. Guess I’m good at reading people,” he shrugged as he let out these words, before taking another gulp of his tequila. You let out a sharp ‘tsk’, unlocking your eyes with the man as you turned your head away from him – a simple act of yours in which you acknowledged that he was right, but you were inconsistent to admit it out loud.

“It’s okay, you know. In the beginning, I was like that as well. My time still has to come as well.”

You quickly snapped your head towards his direction, your eyes getting wider while progressing the words he said mere seconds ago. “Wait, you’re here on trial as well?”

He answered your question with a smile – a smile that could make your heart skip a whole beat – before sticking out his hand towards you.

“Since we’re already at this stage of our conversation, why not introducing ourselves to eachother. Jeon Jeongguk. Retired businessman in the real world; a young man who likes to sing sad ballads and dance on catchy rhythms in San Junipero. Nice to meet you.”

You gaped at the man – Jeongguk – with wide eyes and your mouth shaped in a small ‘o’, your eyes glued to his hand, which was waiting for yours to grab it. Before your brain could even realize it, you slowly moved your tiny hand towards his bigger one, and it only took you one second to grab it, his hand somehow perfectly engulfing yours as you immediately felt the warmth of his hand radiating through yours.

“Y/F/N. Retired oncologist in the real world; a confused, young woman in San Junipero who actually doesn’t know if she wants to live in San Junipero. Nice to meet you too.”

With that, Jeongguk’s grip on your hand loosened, but not in a way that he entirely let go of it. His genuinely surprised eyes were glued on yours with his mouth slightly agape – as if he was looking for the right words to say to you.

“Well… fuck,” Jeongguk chuckled eventually, finally letting go of your sweaty palm, before running the same hand through his black hair. You couldn’t help but let out chuckle as well, his words making you shake your head with a small grin plastered on his face.

“Explains why you were like that, jesus christ,” Jeongguk laughed, loosening his broad shoulders while his eyes scanned you up and down quickly – as if he was trying to figure out how you ended up like this.

“Yeah. I had some shitty things going on in the real world,” you sighed in a weak manner, fidgeting with the hem of your pastel crop top as you lowered your eyes – suddenly feeling somewhat ashamed to look into the man’s eyes, as if you turned vulnerable.

“Hey, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. If there’s anything shitty, it would be my life considering I was the owner of a bankrupt business that handled in cheddar cheese. I live in South Korea, you know. Cheese isn’t very popular there.”

You couldn’t help but let out a loud laughing fit at his remark, your cheeks turning into a deep shade of red as you struggled to breathe. Your eyes were watery from the heavy laughing fits, and it almost took you two whole minutes to calm down.

“Okay, yeah. My life as an oncologist was not that bad, I guess,” you chuckled, and as you eyed Jeongguk - who was genuinely smiling down at you – you couldn’t help but feel save somehow. As if your guts were telling you to trust him, and it didn’t even matter if he was someone you had met just half an hour ago.

You eventually came to realize that this conversation with Jeongguk was the start of a simple friendship – a concept you didn’t come across to after your husband’s death. You preferred to be home alone, as befriending the other elders in the old people’s home was not something you craved for.

It wasn’t until this conversation with Jeongguk, that you realized how lonely and isolated you were, away from all the activities in the real world. How death was the only thing that would linger in your mind since you thought your life wasn’t worth living anymore.

Little did you know that your meeting with Jeon Jeongguk in San Junipero would change everything – your perspective on San Junipero; your perspective on life, but also you as a whole person.

Your meeting with Jeongguk in a random 80’s bar somewhere in the world of the perfect and eternal San Junipero was the beginning of a new chapter in your life.

Even when the end of it was near.

[avenger-hawk]

Had Naruto or Itachi the saddest and tragic past?

Sasuke’s past is the saddest, also because it has a traumatic impact on his present, that the ending didn’t solve at all. 

Back to your question (thanks for asking btw), Naruto and Itachi’s pasts are very different so their personal tragedy is different.

(Long post ahead. some anti-Naruto rants because of how he’s written in the ending, anti-Konoha) 

I explained Itachi’s tragedy, or better, what it represents, here and here.

Naruto never got to know his parents, who sacrificed themselves, Kushina to protect him, Minato to protect him and the village. They both trusted Hiruzen to protect their son, believing that the old asshole would keep him safe from the villagers’ hate. He was shunned and hated, he asked Hiruzen about their parents but received no answer, he craved for a family, or friends, or just a little attention, for which he pulled pranks and did anything even to get scolded. It’s a terrible, sad and lonely childhood, with no one around to tell him what’s right or wrong, to teach him stuff, to cook and care about him.

Such life surely affected his personality, making him incapable of paying attention at the Academy, this incapable of being a decent shinobi at first (probably because he was too excited about being around other people, kinda like puppies), incredibly self-centered, only able to relate to those in which he sees a little of himself, because he has been his only reference, literally, for years. Such things affect him forever, even when someone actually was there for him, like when Iruka took him under his wing (but still he wasn’t always around), and then Kakashi (but most of his attention was for Sasuke, and even more of it was for his own struggle) and then Jiraiya, who loved him dearly, and who should have been there for him since the start.

Like the average shounen protagonist, he’s all talk and no real ideal beside lots of nakama and proclaimed bonds, becoming Hokage and random “let’s all be friends” (which is more like “y’all be friends with me”) and “I’ll make things better when I’ll be Hokage”. Which he didn’t do, despite having promised Sasuke.

My in-universe explanation (besides the shitty writing of the ending and everything after) is that he craves attention so much, because he has been deprived of it for so long, that he is addicted to it, and he’s incapable of taking unpopular decisions that would make him look bad in people’s eyes, be it villagers or comrades. After all, he wanted to become Hokage because it’s the one who has the most respect and attention, because it means finally being acknowledged, not being ignored or shunned or looked upon anymore.

He’s a victim of the system, whose way of coping was to be accepted by the people and the very system. It’s a very common thing actually. Many of those who are bullied prefer becoming part of the majority who bullied them, instead of getting revenge over them. Sasuke is another victim of the system, but being an introspective person and an independent thinker, he didn’t chose to be assimilated and accepted into the system, instead he chose revenge first, then he chose to learn about it, and then to change it. If only he succeeded, instead of being manipulated and belittled because of it.

Naruto had a chance to change it when he became Hokage, even before, having become a hero admired by everyone, instead he used the old coping mechanism, being accepted by everyone. And in doing so he is no longer a victim, but part of the oppressing system that fucked up his life and Sasuke’s, and many others’.

Itachi’s path follows the opposite direction instead. He’s born in an elite clan, son of its leader, he’s a prodigy whom everyone praises and admires. He could have had everything, but he was caught between the Uchiha and the village, he became a tool for both and his life became a living hell, with only his little brother as his ray of light, but also the one he needed to protect at all costs, for whom he sacrificed the clan, his honor, his future.

Looking closer, he was born in an elite clan but he was exposed to war at 4, he was horribly traumatized by it, so much that he dreamed of peace and he studied the past of the village in order to understand how to achieve it, and being the genius that he was, he had a Hokage-like mind already during his childhood. (I mean, looking at Hiruzen’s shitty ruling, Tsunade’s initially promising but then weak one, Kakashi’s canon nothingness and Naruto’s crap, maybe some past Hokages had childlike stupidity but yeah). Despite his entering Anbu at 10 and becoming captain at 13 he was still young so Danzo took advantage of that, and of his love for Sasuke, manipulating him into slaughtering the clan or he would have had it done himself, killing Sasuke first. Itachi trusted Hiruzen, so he was completely lost after Shisui’s death and the old fucker not doing anything to stop Danzo. 

So he took that mission and killed the Uchiha clan and ensured Sasuke’s safety in the village, being branded as a criminal and losing his honor, joining Akatsuki and still protecting the village from afar, since, without him inside it, they’d have attacked Konoha earlier.

Itachi was a victim of the system indeed, he suffered for years, both in Konoha and outside, after the massacre, only living with his resolve, to be alive until Sasuke would kill him and have his revenge. He was willing to never tell Sasuke the truth so he’d only hate him and not the village, so that he wouldn’t have a negative image of the clan. Unlike Naruto, who chose to side with the majority, he stood alone, to defend the greater good (not the shitty village ruled by assholes but the concept of the village and world peace, and the future) but most of it all to protect his beloved brother. He stood alone even when he defeated Edo Tensei by himself, even though Naruto and Killer B, and then Sasuke, fought by his side. He was a victim even though he was very active and he took his decisions well knowing their consequences and meaning. 

In this aspect Itachi’s story has more in common with Minato’s than Naruto, whose story has more in common with Sasuke’s, both boys being victims of a system they knew nothing about, while Minato and Itachi acted actively within it, and even though they wanted peace, they had to do what they had to do, sacrificing themselves and the one they loved the most, thus putting them in a painful future even though they would have never wanted it.

[amarynthian-fortress]

Yayyy tagged!

I was tagged by @forbiddensnakesandpandas, thank youuu!!! :3 :3

APPEARANCE:

I am 5′3

I don’t have glasses.

No tattoos either, but I think they are cute.

No piercings (didn’t even get my ears pierced)

I am a brunette.

With dark brown eyes.

I have long hair, and I love it so much :3

I don’t have braces.

Hmm, not sure if I would change anything, I’m happy :3

PERSONALITY:

I am a Slytherin with a penchant for dark cuteness. Perhaps one of those Slytherins that carries around a sweet Ball Python with a little witch hat, and my plots of world domination include using an army of Underworld unicorns and pulling prank calls on Hades.

I am an interesting hybrid of both introvert and extrovert tendencies.

I love meeting new people and friendships matter greatly to me

I simply adore literature, beautiful architecture and mythology; lore and research give me life.

I yearn for a big neo-gothic mansion, where I can have many rescued puppies and kittens to take care for.

I don’t like conflicts, and I have recently become very apolitical. I want people to be nice to each other

I wish to have the ghosts of Byron, Handel, Rabelais and Nabokov as companions, that would be hilarious. Imagine the gossip parties, oh my, those drama queens would never shut up, while I merely nod as I prepare the popcorn.

One can fight evil with jokes and irony.

ABILITY:

I can sing fairly well, I am a soprano.

I speak several languages.

I can think of the most ludicrous tales in very short time and I love writing.

I think my novice-lawyer skills are blossoming quite well.

I have a good memory, I mostly see everything like a rolling movie.

I think of unconventional jokes.

It is basically impossible to make me truly angry, I turn everything into dark humour.

I somehow made the font of the letters bigger in the former point, and I have no idea how. Alas, it shall remain a mystery.

HOBBIES:

Reading, watching favourite shows and cartoons, exploring themes that captivate my fancy.

Surviving law school was a great hobby born out of necessity. Yipee.

I love to ride my bike. 

Hey look, I made the font bigger again in the former point, what is this witchcraft.

I write stories that I seldom publish, oh, ye gods.

I enjoy hanging out with friends and travelling.

EXPERIENCES:

I may or may not have taken a little stone from Pompeii when I was a kid. Just a tiny one.

I lived in the US for a year, went to second grade of elementary school there, and kids were confused about this new foreign little bean that somehow nailed the American accent. Cartoon Network does miracles, people.

I spent two weeks in summer camp in France, thinking of revenge against parents for sending me off in the first place. Honestly, summer camps are just not my thing. 

My friends and I were making stupid jokes while roaming the Vatican museum. 

I have been to a Santana and Apocalyptica concert.

I have studied Latin and Ancient Greek in school, yeehaw.

RELATIONSHIP:

I’m in a relationship with my sweetest little darling @deanirae

I love love love love love her.

All other past relationships just pale into the abyss of nothingness, for I am so enamoured with my beloved darling.

Like, I literally want to give her a palace, alright.

MY LIFE:

Hmmmm, I am nostalgic for the early 2000s

My parents are a complicated tale and I wish to forget it.

I am an only child, no siblings, alas.

I live in Croatia.

I have my darling pets, a kitty and a dog, and they are my babies. 

I possess many books, and I cannot stop getting new ones.

I still nap with soft plushies, it’s nice and cozy.

RANDOM SHIT

I adore Anti-Cosmo from Fairly Odd Parents. My preferences for evil geniuses with floating hats are basically out of control at this point. Not to mention the human!Bill Cipher art, it is so cute.

I watched a romantic comedy movie in the house of a Dutch ambassador. That’s about as random as it gets.

Hmmmm, I like corgis and shiba inus, and kitties, and I find paw beans very cute.

I rode my bike down the banks of Stari Grad castle and nearly fell off. Totally worth the adrenaline rush.

I want the old Teen Titans show backkkkk.

I still sometimes listen to Evanescence songs, don’t judge me. 

Alright, I tag @roxas-j-frost

@kirenroleplays

@wingardium-letmefuckyou

@theuniversebeyondtherain

@talking-trash

@carryonmyobscurialson

@fifty-shades-of-graves

@cravebone

@deathlesshallows

@wanderingquill

@bunnyscribbles

@waterfall-of-lesbianism

@credence-is-my-child

@shetasteslikeseasaltrainbows

@harperhug

@newt-scamander-niffler

@newt-scamander-imagine

@bimber-dews

@pyschopath-graves