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to-be-a-rose · 1 year

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Age 4 (?): I can't read yet but I make a book out of paper and tell my mom what to write on the pages. It's about the tooth fairy or something. When people talk about their relationship with writing they always reference childhood stories like these, and they usually say they "started writing as soon as they could hold a pen," or they "picked up a pen one day and never put it down again," something like that, it always involves a pen, and a precocious vocation for storytelling. I was never too impressed because every kid has the instinct to make up stories, it doesn't mean you're a born writer. (But secretly I think yeah well, I started writing BEFORE I could hold a pen. The pen didn't factor into it at all actually.)

Age 8: I enter a writing contest where the prize is getting your story made into a real book. I wrote a story about a sentient flower in a pot because I had never read a story from the point of view of a flower. I don't win.

Age 10: I love reading even more after I get diagnosed with clinical depression, which feels like when your grandpa died and for the first time you fathom the foreverness of death while standing beside his casket, only all the time. I don't really understand why my brain broke but I do know if I'm reading then it's like it's fixed, as long as I get really sucked into the book. I decide I'll cure myself by reading every single moment I'm awake. It works!

Age 12: Another writing contest, this time everyone in the sixth grade is required to enter. We have to write a short piece (300 words) encouraging people to join the priesthood or be a nun or something (Catholic school). Every middle school in the Archdioceses enters, and I win first prize and have to read my entry in front of all-school mass. I'm given a plaque and a check. My essay goes pretty hard even though I hate church and religion. I wonder if anyone joined the priesthood because of what I wrote, about vocations, a word I only just learned. That would be hilarious.

Age 16: I'm in highschool and writing is my "thing." Everyone pays me to write papers and book reports for them, about $20 a pop depending on the length and subject matter. My motto is "at least a B or your money back!" I brag a lot because I don't have to read the book to do a decent book report. I'm in college level English and French but I'm not getting college credit because I can't pay the fee, so I'm just in there writing people's papers. I love that people think I'm deep and smart because I can write (this is what I think they think of me) even though I don't really read as much as I used to.

Age 20: It turns out I'm a terrible student. Putting words in an attractive sequence isn't so impressive; everyone knows how to do it now. Writing nice papers might help me if I wrote the papers, and went to class. So I'm on academic probation for like five years and trying not to lose my student aid. As soon as I arrived at college the fear of God went through me and I abandoned all notions of being an author. I need to do like, business. Marketing. I'm not going to be one of those chumps with an English degree, no. I'm going to get a degree in Communication! Communication is kind of like writing. It's really broad, I tell everyone, so it applies to lots of fields. They say, what do you want to do with it? I say that's the beauty of it, I can do anything. Marketing. Business. Public Relations. They say, but like what job? What job do you want? I say oh man, the sky's the limit. The future is bright. I'm gonna have my pick of jobs, you'll see.

Age 21: I get it in my head that I want to be a literary sort of writer. Confessional, feminist, slam poetry style writing is very en vogue, especially on Tumblr, so I imitate that. You do a lot of writing in second person perspective because it's provocative. It's all about dragging out my traumas for everyone to consume and it's all a claustrophobic examination of myself. I am the most fascinating person in the world. Nevermind that I never, ever edit anything I write. Nevermind that I don't spend any time reading or examining my craft, because I don't even know what that means. People are gonna read about how I did weight watchers when I was twelve and they're going to love it! I'm basically Lena Dunham but all of the cringe and none of the talent.

Age 22: I have an online job ghostwriting blog posts for law firms, a job I didn't even know existed, and that I don't think does anymore. It's just a side gig really, I'm assigned a few blogs per week for several different law firms, about 500 words, and $8 per blog. They give me topics like Divorce Law and Carseat Recalls and I churn out content. Boring as hell but a pretty sweet gig, and not unlike what I did in highschool. I got the job by submitting a writing sample, an essay I wrote about a Frida Kahlo's Henry Ford Hospital, a painting where she is laying naked in a bloody bed contemplating her miscarriage. My employer said of the writing sample, "the content you write for us will be...different."

Everything is all wrong. I'm very concerned with Being a Writer and not at all concerned about writing. I submit writing to magazines because I desperately want to be published but I never edit any piece, I never try to become better at writing, because I think it's a born-in thing and I was born with it, baby. I never like anything I write. I don't even know what I write about; confessional think pieces that hit all the beats they should but don't actually say anything. I'm putting words in an order I think people will like. I want to be published, I want to be a writer, I want the cool girls in the English department who work at the lit mag and go to poetry readings at the book shop to think I'm cool, too. (There's a huge poetry phase in here too, good God, the poetry. I do a lot of comparing men to cigarettes.)

Age 25: I live at my mom's and I quit my job at the vintage store where I've been working for three years. I took a break from school and haven't graduated. I got a job at the hockey stadium and I quit after two days. I got a job at a bakery and I quit after one. I break down crying to my mom that I just turned 25, I have no job, no degree, and I've done nothing. Something was supposed to happen by this point. Everyone thought I was so smart.

Age 26: I wonder when writing became synonymous with literary and memoir, for me. I wonder when I decided I couldn't be an author anymore. I didn't even try. I never even fucking tried, and I never asked myself what I wanted to write. And I never asked WHY I wanted to write. It's very exciting to realize this. I admit that I fucking hate writing about myself, and about the real world, and all the other imitation vagina monologues schlock I was half heartedly writing.

I dive into my interests and it's an exciting time. I'm going to write a book. As soon as I decide I'm going to be a fantasy author everything makes sense again, it all feels right and momentous. I'm fine, mom, sorry about crying earlier, I was so young then. I get on Tumblr which I abandoned a couple years ago and find a whole new community called writeblr. I start to amass writing friends and pictures of castles and writing tips and advice. I draft a YA fantasy novel about a girl who goes to a boarding school that has been infiltrated by faeries.

Age 27: I've written a book. I scrapped the YA somewhere in the first edit but I'm impressed I even did that; wrote it, and then contentedly put it away. I worked so hard for 120k word that I would never show to anyone, and I was happy because it made me a better writer. A year's worth of craft work. I think it's the first time I've ever worked hard on something, and I wish I was kidding. And it was fun. But I scrap it because I am possessed by a second idea, an adult fantasy novel. Oh yeah, and I go back to school and finish my degree. School doesn't seem as hard now that I found out how to work at something. I get my degree in Communication even though by now I know that I'd rather die than work in public or human relations, or business, or marketing. But the great thing is I get a job at the library and when I'm not showing old people how to use the computer, I read and brainstorm my novel all day long.

Age 28: I've written the adult novel, and rewritten it. I'm basically writing the same book over and over again nearly from scratch. It doesn't seem like this is how I'm supposed to do it but I can't fathom a better way. Now I've definitely worked harder than I've ever worked in my life. I've never been so certain that my writing is dogshit, and trying to make it not dogshit is so fun its like being high. At least half of the time I want to tear my hair out and sob but I'm almost certain that it's going to pay off, and pay off soon.

Age 29: Holy shit, I'm still going. Every time I think it can't get any better, it does, and every time I think it might be kinda good, I blink, and it's shit again. I've written the same book over and over, but now I'm at the point where I'm not rewriting, I'm keeping most of it and editing on the micro level. I say cool shit now like "micro level." Sometimes I get so frustrated I cry, but I'm starting to kind of love my writing.

Age 30: On Thanksgiving day, 2022 I turn 30 years old. It's a big thing, a big birthday, the big three-oh. I have a really magnanimous feeling like I need to reflect and commemorate and mourn my twenties. I figure since it's my writing blog I should do that through the lens of writing, which has been a presence in my life the whole time, some might say, since before I picked up a pen. And I figure it's my blog and big birthday, so why shouldn't I make a long self-mythologizing post in the style of how I wrote in my twenties?

My adult fantasy novel is just about done, and I'm going to give it to someone to read, and then I'll query it. Four years ago if you would have told me I would write intensively for four years to get one functional novel I wouldn't have believed that was a good thing, but now I'm just proud that I'm mature enough to try and hone the craft before rushing to get recognition for it. I do want the validation of publishing, and I want the paycheck even more, but I had no idea it was possible to feel so content in a process. Just looking inward and fucking with something until it makes you happy (that's writing in it's bare bones, fucking with it until it makes you happy.) Writing is continually becoming; when you force your life into a narrative you start saying shit like that so it all seems so prescient and profound, and then the essay can end. I don't think I can get there. There's something in there about vocations and pens that I should use to put a neat bow on this but I can't. I'm just excited. I think I'm going to be okay.

#personal #writing #writeblr #long post #happy birthday to myself :)#11.24.2022

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neilgayman69 · 1 year

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What it takes for you to be honest - (2/2) - hotchreid

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No one came through the door.

Hotch was all on his own trying to get out if this.

But he couldn't move. He couldn't even register how many times he had been stabbed, but he was acutely aware of the growing pool of blood.

He could almost hear Reid rattling off the statistical probability of him surviving, and he knew it was dwindling with every time he saw that knife come towards him.

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

They all saw how Hotch had been during the case, they could tell he just wanted to close it and move on, that he was struggling to keep himself focused on the scenes.

Spencer had had a hard time hiding his concern. He and Rossi had both talked about it while Aaron was with a suspect.

"it's pretty common for people who feel they fall short in certian areas to notice and identity with those traits when seen in other people, I thought it was just the physical appearances till it was clear the unsub was targeting single father's." Reid had said.

They were both aware of Aaron's self perceived shortcomings as a father, as was the rest of the team, and they knew it seeped into how he operated as the unit chief.

"He needs to give himself a break" - Rossi said. - " he does the best he can and jack knows that, and we do too."

Reid agreed.

He wished he could have done more to help Hotch over the course of the case, but he didn't want to stand out and make his feelings for him obvious.

Hotch had enough on his plate and Reid didnt want to make it worse.

He had to mentally restrain himself when Rossi said he would go over to Hotches house the night they returned.

He wanted to join him, but he knew it would be so much harder to keep himself from accidentally exposing whatever feelings he had for Hotch when all he wanted to do was hug him and distract from the case.

So he let Rossi go and just asked to be updated on how Hotch was doing.

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

Rossi got to the house at about 3 in the morning. Which, for any normal person would have been an absurd time to pay a visit at, though they had only been home about two hours and Rossi knew Hotch always got started on the paperwork as soon as he was back home.

He figured he would just get in and give Hotch the chance to say something.

He got up to the door and immediately noticed something odd.

There were marks around the door handle, and it looked like someone had attempted to rip it out of the door entirely.

Rossi opened the door and peeked in, grabbing his gun out of the holster and mentally thanking himself for not disarming before he left.

He quietly walked down the hall, gun in hand and stopped when he heard it.

Or rather, him.

"Waiting for your precious team to come in Aaron? Maybe I should go for one of them next, what about that doctor?"

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

"-What about that doctor? How does that sound?"

Had he not been so still, Aaron would have frozen at that.

"He doesnt...fit your victimology though." Aaron muttered.

"Ah yes, my victimology. Well he may not be the typical type I go after. But you're a special case, so i think I can make an acception." Brian replied, grinning.

"What does that have to do with Reid? And why am I special?" Aaron asked.

He just needed to keep him talking. To buy himself time. He couldn't even bare to think about what Brian would do to Reid right now.

"You were so close. Yet still so blind." Was all Brian said.

"Oh was I?"

"Yes. Youre just like all the rest of them. All you do is work while you're son gets pawned off to who, his aunt I assume? Nevermind the fact that even though you ignored your own son to try catch me, and you still got it wrong. Someone else is sitting in a cell right now because of you. So you get to be the lucky final victim. And you're going out with a bang."

Hotch could only pray that wasn't literal.

"You wanted to be noticed. To make yourself worthwhile, something for people to abandon something else that was important just to see." Hotch asserted.

"You could say that." Brian replied.

"Your father did that to you, didn't he? Left you with whoever would take you for a few hours to do other things, though I don't think it was work for him."

"No, it was casinos for my good ol' dad. Always going on about how he was going to win big and get out of here. I knew he meant by himself and that I'd get stuck with whoever was unlucky enough to be watching me."

Brian started to pace slowly as he talked, spinning the knife in his hand.

Hotch took the opportunity while he was distracted to try move either of his wrists from the arm rests of the chair.

He knew he didn't have much time even if he was left alone now, and especially not if Brian came at him again.

"Would you do that to your son? Get rid of him to whoever you could if something else came along?" Brian asked.

"Never." Hotch replied.

"They all say that till they get exactly what they want. You would leave him if something or someone else came along."

"No I wouldn't. My son comes first."

"Well, let's see how that holds up after a few more goes with this knife then, shall we?"

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

"-Shall we?"

"Freeze, put your hands where I can see them!" Rossi shouted, jumping out from the doorway.

He saw out of the corner of his eye as Hotch looked over at him. And even from his blurry view he could see how much of him was stained red.

"Drop the knife Brian." Rossi urged.

Brian grinned, and brought the knife to his throat.

He was on the ground in seconds with the release of the trigger.

"Youre not getting out of this that easily Brian." Rossi said.

He made sure to cuff him, and once he did he was on Aaron in a second, untying his hands and feet and examining his wounds.

Just more scars for the collection.

He called for medical and police assistance immediately, just before calling reid, and telling him to meet them at the nearest hospital.

-----------

Aaron woke up to steady beeping this time, and when he looked down only saw clean sheets and thankfully no blood.

He looked up and saw Reid sitting next to him reading, though when he saw Aaron was awake he closed his book immediately and began to tell him about everything that happened after Rossi got to his house.

"Reid, Reid, stop for a second." Aaron spoke.

Spencer shut his mouth immediately, and only then did Hotch notice the tears welling up in his eyes.

"Reid, I'm ok. It's not like this is my first time in a hospital under these kinds of circumstances."

Reid sniffled and replied.

"No, you're not ok Hotch, you got stabbed 16 times in the abdomen and you had damage to your intestines, stomach, and it's a miracle he missed your liver and major arteries."

Aaron almost grinned at that. Trust Spencer to know the ins and outs of all this by the time he woke up.

There was one thing he couldn't get his mind off of thought.

But first

"Where is everyone else?" Hotch asked.

"They all went home, we were meant to be doing shifts with you till you woke up." Reid replied.

Aaron's heart swelled.

"Well i'm glad you're the one who's here right now."

He was still trying to work up the nerve to say what he wanted to when he saw the tears well up in Reid's eyes again.

He furiously wiped them away, though looked defeated when he saw that Hotch had seen.

"Reid-" Hotch reached his hand out.

"I should go, just... One second I need coffee." Reid stammered, turning to leave.

"Spencer." Aaron said, more serious.

Reid turned to him, looking surprised.

Hotch reached out and gently grabbed Reid's wrist. He slowly pulled Reid towards himself and sat up as much as he could.

Reid let Aaron pull him till he had one knee on the side of the bed.

That moment was when Hotch decided he needed to be honest with himself.

He pulled Reid slightly closer, and gently kissed him.

For a second he would have said getting stabbed was definitely worth kissing Spencer reid.

Spencer kissed back before pulling away suddenly, and Hotch worried he made a mistake.

"Hotch youre... you're probably still feeling the affects of the painkillers they gave you, you shouldnt be doing stuff like this, you wouldn't if your head was clear." Reid stammered.

Hotch just stared up at him, and were he not so weak in that moment would have pulled Spencer down with him.

"yes I would Spencer, I've always wanted to kiss you." He said.

Spencer looked so red you would have thought he had been the one to be stabbed, and he was unusually lost for words.

"I've...wanted to kiss you too."

Aaron smiled and pulled Spencer towards him, this time with much more ease, and kissed him again.

When they separated, Aaron saw Spencer blushing under his glasses, and knew he would have done anything in the world to make him look like that more often.

He was definitely taking him on a date when he got out of there.

#ao3 #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #hotchreid #david rossi #fanfic #jennifer jj jareau #emily prentiss #alex blake #kate callahan

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xarrixii · 4 months

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Cinder_13 : "Pancakes" ━━━━━━━━━━━━━

CW: previous chapter | beginning | masterlist

━━━━━━━━━━━━ ▼

As an official PY A-5 member of Cinder, Alph had been given access to the training room. It’s exactly where Liam found them. Jabbing at a punching bag.

After a long, dwelling silence, “You need something?”

“A hello would be⸺ Nevermind. Congratulations, you’re being handed your first mission, courtesy of the bitch-ess herself.” Liam sits down on a weight lifting bench.

Punch. “Okay.”

“You’re going to more deeply investigate a site we think has the potential to harbor criminal gang activity without getting the police called on the joint. Last thing we need to do is to potentially scare all of the enemies into hiding.”

“Seems like a decent enough idea to me.”

“Maybe from the mindset of an officer-to-be, not seeing criminals is your most preferable outcome.”

Alph frowns.

“Obviously, it’s a stealth mission we usually reserve for A-4 non-pyros. For some reason, your mother just wanted to get you on the field ASAP.”

“So I’ll be with other people?” Hit.

“No. You’re going alone.”

The frown digs itself deeper.

“On paper, anyway. I’ll be helping whether anyone wants me to or not. We need something in case you die or disappear in there.”

“You are such an asshole, you know that?”

“Not nearly as much as I could be. Take your boyfriend for example.”

Jab. “Urban isn’t my boyfriend.”

Liam blinked a few times. “Her bitchiness said he was. My mistake. Let’s get a move on, kid. I don’t have the energy for teleportation calculations, so you’re driving while I’m on GPS duty. Along with ignoring every single call from your mother duty. Except not because she might send a search and rescue party after me.”

“Good to know she considers you an asset.”

“Most people who find out they’re TE/TK don’t join the criminal business. They join the government, with safer benefits. If they don’t join the government, they don’t tend to learn both. Which means teleportation itself is rarer than it could be. Being able to teleport more than once⸺”

“Alright, I get it. Toss me the keys, and we’ll go.”

Alph catches the keys in one hand, ruffling through their hair with the other.

If they’d known the ride there would be so grueling, they would have let Liam rant about kinetics for longer.

“This is the part where I tell you about the pancake stack, isn’t it? I suppose it would be. Have I told you about the pancake stack before?”

“Yes⸺”

“Jokes on you, I can read your mind. Anyway. Cinder is like… Cinder is a pancake stack, except you kept thinking you made the previous pancake too big and that the griddle wasn’t hot enough. The top pancake, that’s A-1. Big shots like your mom, Jackstalk, and other extended family.”

“Who the hell is Jackstalk?”

“That one is for another time. All you need to know, hyper powerful EK.”

“Right.”

“I knew you’d catch on fast. I would hope that of anyone, really, if they’re working in this business. Unfortunately nothing in life comes guaranteed. The second pancake is right below the first, pretty much how this entire stack goes. That’d be A-2. People like me. Direct command branches that the A-1s use so that they don’t have to. It’s like the strange story combat game with the… command guys and their weird ex-prisoner subordinates.”

“Those are not at all similar.”

“Are they not?”

“There are people above the ‘ex-prisoner subordinates’ and lower than the ‘command guys.’”

“Then I guess they aren’t that similar, but you get the point. Thanks for the promotion, by the way. Faster you die or become independent faster I get to keep my position without having to watch over anyone.”

“What?”

“The third pancake is the position I used to be, A-3. They’re the guys you tend to see making marks everywhere and commanding low-scale field missions. Fourth pancake—the A-4 group—is the A-5 guys that have been here a while. Fifth pancake is the biggest pancake, it’s the general base of Cinder, the A-5 group. Looks really weak and raw compared to the A-1s at the top. Almost still a liquid, leaking all over the plate. That’s you. The plate is the crime organizations Cinder fights to keep them from taking over a fucking continent. Not that we couldn’t if all the leadership decided to simultaneously change their minds.”

Alph wants to bang their head on the steering wheel. “You’re losing me.”

“Now that I’ve set up the stack, put a piece of butter on top. The butter is slowly melting into the top pancake. That’s our dwindling resources. Then get some syrup, and start pouring that over the whole thing, and that’s enforcement on our ass while we do their job more efficiently because we don’t have to follow the law to do it. Does that make sense?”

“No.” Alph stole a glance at the GPS to make sure they were still going the right way.

“And then there’s the hammer⸺”

“What does a hammer have to do with pancakes?”

“It breaks the plate underneath the stack that is Cinder and starts digging into the stack without permission. Trying to rip the stack apart from the inside.”

“And what does the hammer represent? My attitude?”

“The hammer is Storm.” Liam paused before opening the glovebox and grabbing a container of TicTacs. “And since I know you’re wondering, Urban is the raw batter the chef has yet to cook.”

“The chef?”

“The chef is the world, manipulating things into being. The griddle heat is our kinetics.” The car was quiet for the rest of the way, Alph pulling into a parking space when Liam spoke again, “You’ll get it eventually.”

“Right.”

next chapter

━━━━━━━━━━━━ ▲ missing a content warning? let me know

everyone's favorite daytime activity:

explaining why your local criminal organization is not a bunch of bad guys by using a terrible pancake analogy

#fiction #original story #original characters #magic #dystopian #fantasy #angst #mmmmm pancakes #best analogy ever am i right #dont worry the original one was worse

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theguidetocryptids · 2 years

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I was unsure if I wanted to share this story, but I think it’s worth it. Anyone who wants to become an exterminator should know the sort of trouble that you might get yourself into. The last thing I want is someone being enamored with the thought of bagging man-eating cryptids and managing to get themselves seriously hurt, or worse. This is not a safe sort of job.

A few pieces of advice before we continue, in case you really do plan on becoming an exterminator—though, these are more field tips than anything.

Diesel is better than gas for setting things on fire, if you’re worried about the flames surging up too fast or reaching up to you.

Fire can spread between joined structures with extreme ease. Please make sure that the area around your firesite is clear before lighting the flame, and that you know how to contact the relevant authorities in case something goes amiss.

With explosions, even the shockwave—the air that gets shoved out of the way by the violent combustion of whatever fuel you chose—can be deadly, nevermind shrapnel and the accompanying heat and fire.

Do not, under any circumstances, try to replicate anything that I’m about to tell you. The Bureau managed to cover it for me, but to say they weren’t pleased would be doing a disservice to how pissed an entire governmental branch can get.

But, on to the story. I’m sure you’re more than ready to hear it.

We left off with, assuming you read the last post I made, the man that had just saved me, and I’d be damned if I wasn’t about to buy him a beer. We had wound up at the local dive—I think it was named the Y-Bar, or something similar—and we were maybe a few drinks in when we started talking about more than just what jobs we’d worked before. When we started talking about what he was.

It was his smile that gave him away. Every single tooth sharpened to a point, like he’d taken a file to them. Whenever he grinned, it made me think of a shark circling in the depths, waiting for the right time to try and take a bite. Waiting for just the perfect moment to lunge up . . .

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s with the teeth?” I said, sipping on the most piss-poor glass of beer I’d ever had.

“My teeth?” He said, staring at me like I was crazy, before grinning again, laughing at the expression that no doubt washed over my face. “My teeth, right. I’m a vampire—I’m sure you know the type.”

Of course I did. Vampires were outside of any regular exterminator’s wheelhouse—that was something you called in to the guys over in the BoSS’s black book, but exterminator’s knew all the signs in case we ever stumbled upon them. I said as much, and started to say something about how anyone knew what a vampire was before he raised his hand.

“I wasn’t done.” He said, grinning that damn shark-toothed grin. “Regular vamps are like . . . cottonmouths. Deadly, sure. A real threat to the regular prey—humans. I’m more of a . . . kingsnake.”

That was when I thought about calling the Bureau. It was strange—he was strange—but more importantly, it was way out of my league. Exterminators aren’t the ones that have to deal with these kinds of threats—we’re supposed to be for the pests. I can assure you that if you pursue this line of work, you won’t be encountering situations like this unless you are very, very unlucky.

I hadn’t really moved—I was about to stand up, to walk away, but his hand was already on my shoulder, pushing me back down into the seat.

“Woah now, there’s no need for you to be rushin’ off like that.” He said, voice colder than steel even as he smiled at me. He drained the rest of his glass before he spoke again, taking his hand off my shoulder once he did. It left a pretty nasty bruise—his grip wasn’t gentle. And he said, “Look, jackass, I eat other vampires. I didn’t lure you here just to try to drain you or convert you or some bullshit—and I certainly didn’t bring you here for you to turn me into the BoSS. And, I can you tell you right now, you ain’t takin’ that job in Mississippi.”

There was a job I had intended to take after the gig here—the one that this man saved me during. How he knew about it, I didn’t know exactly, but I could pretty well guess. Exterminators have to phone in the locations of jobs that they work to the Bureau of Supernatural Services, mainly for record keeping, but also to help identify any problematic areas that’ll require more experienced exterminators. Apparently, he had someone on the inside.

Or the Bureau was helping him willingly. I don’t know which would be scarier.

“You weren’t down at the graveyard because of a friend, were you?” I asked. The man only smiled, offering his hand. I shook it warily.

“Call me King. I’ll tell you what the problem is on the drive over.”

“Over where?” I asked, following him as he walked outside. This was all, in hindsight, the craziest goddamn thing I’d ever gotten myself into, but it seemed like the normal brand of supernatural weird at the time. That was until he told me what the problem he needed so much help with was.

We both tuned in to a CB radio channel, and I followed him out the parking lot. It wasn’t too long until he gave me the rundown—a vampire nest, a big one, set in the middle of New Orleans. They’d been running a pretty tight operation for a few months now—maybe even a full year—just by sticking to taking homeless people off the street, people passing through town, no one who would be missed by the locals. Or, more importantly, no one who’d really be missed by the local police department.

At some point they got greedy. Blood-drunk, as King put it. There was a spike in missing person’s cases around the area, an increase in the stories about kidnappings and gangs roaming the streets. Their big mistake, I remember him saying, was when they tried to convert someone, and she ran out screaming into the street. Somehow, the poor woman managed to outrun them—and the story got back to King. And, I reckoned, the BoSS, if no stories about it ever surfaced.

That was all just the backstory—what he really needed me for, was taking them down. He’d managed to get in good with the vampires actually running the show—they based it out of a bar in the area, and held a “feast” for all the members of their group every month or so. King reckoned this would be the perfect opportunity to burn them all to ash, considering there was no way we’d be able to take care of them traditionally.

So we were going to burn it down, he said. The bar had a kitchen that used gas stoves. He planned on sabotaging the propane tanks to fill up the kitchen before starting a fire in the adjacent room to burn through the wall and blow the place up. It sounded stupid, and I said as much, but he only asked if I had any better plans. Really, besides torching the place, there was no better alternative, but that didn’t make me feel any better about the plan—especially considering that I was going to have to act as a willing “convert” for them to not be suspicious of me.

There wasn’t much to talk about after that, and there was still plenty of road to cover, so I turned off the CB radio and made a call to the Bureau.

“Hey—this is need_a_nightlight, calling in about a suspicious figure in the Central Louisiana area. I believe him to be a type of vampire—please advise.” There was silence at the other end for a few moments before the person at the other end spoke.

“You are to help King with his plan. Orders from the top. Will you two be needing assistance?”

I sighed before relying with, “No backup needed,” and ending the call. It was a damn rare sight to see a vamp nest this big go undetected for so long, and I wasn’t completely surprised to learn that they were fully aware of what was going on. It’d be more surprising if King had managed to actually infiltrate the Bureau, more so than just enlisting their help. It was a testament to what he told me, too—the BoSS takes no chances with entities that could turn against humans. The fact he was working with them meant that they had no doubt he was safe, even if inhuman.

What it meant for me to be assigned as the helper, I have no clue. Maybe it was just by chance, but looking back, I’m not so sure. The caller for that ghoul-case gone wrong hadn’t been the most urgent sounding, nor even particularly worried. Given everything that’s happened since then, it certainly could have been staged—but at the time, I didn’t consider any of that. Just turned the radio back on just to tune into King’s awful rendition of Highway to Hell. Nothing much happened till we actually got to New Orleans.

We parked a good few blocks away, me having changed out of my duds while King kept his jean-and-trench-coat look. (as a man who had no sense of style—it was bad. Pretty damn bad.) It was around 10 PM, I believe—a full two hours before the party started. Enough time to actually put the plan into action.

It was maybe a fifteen minute walk there. I think we just shot the shit, King making sure his pistols weren’t showing out the side of his coat. I did the same—it’s a prerequisite to have a concealed carry permit, the BoSS just happens to have a special one for exterminators. I don’t generally like handguns, but for a stupid plan like this? We’d need all the help we could get without putting more people in danger.

I figure that was my biggest problem with what we were about to do. Blowing the place up would take care of the vamps, sure—burning them to ash was a sure fire way to keep them from hurting others, but explosions and flames don’t exactly discriminate between human and non-human. It wasn’t as if we really had a better choice—at this time of day, everyone should be home, away from the particular part of the French Quarter that we planned to reduce to ash—which would mean we’d be saving more people by eliminating the nest than we’d be endangering with the propane tanks.

That still didn’t make it sit any better with me.

The bar was across the street from us whenever King spoke again, saying, “Alright, fresh meat. You ready? You’re really gonna have to lay on the eager wannabe schtick thick, here.”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it.” I said, despite the fact that acting was probably my worst skill—right next to lying.

“Bullshit you do, but we don’t have time for that.” King said, patting my shoulder like we were old friends. “Look, just keep it cool, go along with whatever they do. As long as you don’t stir up a fuss, I’ll have time to take care of everything else. Just. Play. Along.”

I’d wager that it’s much easier to talk about playing along with vampires whenever you aren’t the type that they like to sink their fangs into, but I kept quiet. I knew damn well we’d only get one shot at this—any sort of slip-up, and we could kiss the chance to nip this in the bud goodbye. There’s no telling how many more they’d kill or turn before the Bureau would ever get a chance to root out the infestation again. Vampirism is, quite literally, a virus, just more on a macro-scale than anything else.

“Alright.” I said, after a second. Not like I really had much choice in the matter. Save lives, or, what, go and get drunk in some other shitty country dive?

“Thatta boy. I might actually start to like you, at this rate.”

“Don’t consider it mutual.”

King just laughed as we walked across the street. He waved at the vamp on duty outside of the bar, said something about how he was starving, how he couldn’t wait to get a bite to eat. Probably the most on the nose joke I’ve ever heard, even from him, but the guard just laughed and waved us in.

Now, I can’t exactly tell you what I expected from a vamp’s feast, but what was going on inside that bar was most definitely not it. Think a rave of a hundred crammed into a space maybe big enough for fifty. I don’t even know how we made it into the crowd, much less found ourselves in the middle of it, but I do remember King shaking hands with some mob-boss looking vamp and looking back at me.

There was no way I could possibly hear him over the music. They had speakers (almost as big as I was) set up towards the bar, absolutely blasting. Someone must have been bribed to ensure there were no sound complaints—but I digress.

I could have sworn he said “here’s the food.” while pointing directly towards me.

The mobby grinned, shook King’s hand a little harder, and finally let him go. King slunk off to somewhere unseen, obscured by the bodies clogging the bar, but the boss headed straight towards me. There was hardly room to breathe, but the vamps around him still managed to scoot out of the way, leaving a bubble of space between me and him as he placed a hand on my shoulder.

“I hear,” he said, “that you’re looking to become one of us.”

I looked into his eyes. He was perfectly passable as a human—no sickly sheen to his skin, his fangs barely more pronounced than regular incisors, overall looking the very epitome of health. Except for those damn eyes. They were slimy, almost glazed over, like a fish which had been dead for much too long.

I smiled. “Yes sir. I’ve been tired of living from paycheck to paycheck for too long. I just . . . I just want to have some fun.” I really couldn’t see anyone turning to these things out of anything other than desperation. Maybe to escape the law, or their family, or their own problems, but always to run away. I needed to tell him something—copying those reasons seemed my best shot. I thought it worked; the boss smiled, even nodded gently, and then took his arm away.

“Tie him up.” He said, those fish eyes staring me down.

I tried to fight back, but it was never a fair match up to begin with. Six or so vampires against one human? I might as well have been a mouse up against lions. A few moments of struggling later and they had me down against the bar, rope digging into my wrists. Someone had killed the music, an eerie silence already filling up the room. There was only the boss walking towards me, the tap of his shoes against the floors.

Just the boss, and the fact that King had left me for dead. Kingsnake my ass, he’d brought me here just to feed the rest of his friends. I don’t know how he’d managed to convince the Bureau he was harmless, but that didn’t change the fact I was as good as helpless against an entire vampire nest.

I was able to turn my head enough to watch the vamp boss step closer, taking his sweet time in reaching me. “We’re getting real tired of you Bureau fucks trying to ruin our fun, y’know? Asshats like you thinking they can walk into our homes and take us out like trash. But you ain’t even one of the big guys, are you? You one of those regular exterminators. Probably only bagged a few spirits, too. The hell’s one of you pitiful bastards doing down here? I can’t believe you even tried taking care of this alone. Probably thought King was one of you, too?”

I stayed quiet. I was trying to give them less of a reason to speed up my most likely inevitable death, but it only seemed to make him even more mad. “Oh, you’re a pretentious little fuck, ain’t you? Probably some redneck piece of shit who’s only been in a city twice in his life. Yeah, alright buddy. Play the strong silent type with your throat ripped out.”

He gave some signal to the vampires around him. I barely caught it, just a flick of his hand, and the ranks advanced towards me. Just a few more steps and they’d be on me. I’m not a religious man, never was, but I tried my hand at praying then. Just in case. I tried thinking more of absolution than the hundred-something pairs of teeth about to dig in, no doubt all of them vying for their own special drop of my blood. I still get chills thinking about the look in their eyes. At that moment, I wasn’t a person. I was cattle.

And then the back of the bar exploded. Relative to the entrance, I was on the left, and the entire back wall went up in a flash of flames and sound. I don’t even think the vamps next to it had any time to react, speared through with flaming hunks of wood and stone as they were.

King was there, untying my hands a second later. I wanted to thank him, but it came out as more of a, “You’re an absolutely despicable motherfucker.”

“Woulda done that sooner, but I forgot we were going to have to block off the entrance. Had to circle back around to park some asshole truck in front of the doors.” He said, cussing as the ropes put up for a few more moments before finally falling away.

The confusion only lasted for about that long. The main body of vampires were still picking themselves or their friends up off the ground, but the explosion hadn’t touched me, or the boss, or his cronies. Too much of a buffer. It didn’t quite make sense–propane tanks, large enough to run two different industrial gas stoves, and they hadn’t blown the entire place skyhigh?

Probably not the smartest thing to think about while running from a literal bloodthirsty horde, but King was laying down cover fire as we ran back into the smoldering wreckage of the kitchen so I had a bit of room to breathe. (Bullets can’t kill vampires, but they still feel pain and their bodies take a minute to adjust to the shock of getting shot.) Clearly, King hadn’t completely emptied the tanks before starting the fire—presumably to save my sorry ass from becoming vampire-dinner—but as it was, the current fire wasn’t going to be enough to take care of the rest of the nest by a long shot. They’d escape through some way or another before the fire spread enough to do its job—which would mean that we completely blew our chance at this.

Unless we set off the rest of the propane.

“I’ve got a really stupid plan.” I called back. It was a longshot, but some of these restaurants didn’t have their own propane tanks. I wasn’t sure if that applied in New Orleans, much less to this bar in particular, but if we could find access to the pipeline on the street, we’d be able to take out a lot more than just the bar. Maybe even the entire block. Hell if I knew if there was even enough gas in those pipes to cause an explosion that big without letting it build up first, but it was our only shot. “Should be a natural gas pipe running under the street—if we can find the sewers, we can probably find the pipeline too. Take that out, and . . .”

“Boom. Yeah, alright, exterminator.” We just ran at that point, but not before King slammed the backdoor shut, pulling a nearby dumpster in front of it like it was no big deal. Normal vampires were a bit stronger than humans, but King? He must’ve been in a whole ‘nother league, just from that. Didn’t really think much of it at the time, though. I was too busy prying the manhole cover out of the ground with a piece of scrap for an improvised hook. It came up with a good bit of force, but King stopped me before I could climb down.

“This is where your job ends, I’m afraid.” It was the least pretentious thing he said to me since we’d met, which was more worrying than I’d like to admit.

“The hell do you mean? We still have half of a nest to take care of.” I’d shoved his hand off my arm. He just grinned back, smiling that same damn sharktooth smile as he did when we met. Same smile as whenever he held me down in that seat.

There was no humor in it. There never was. Just that sense of waiting for the right time to move in. The right time to corner his prey.

I didn’t think there could be a better moment than now. An entire nest, ripe for the taking. “I think you misunderstand. I have a nest to take care of. You were just helping. And you’d damn well get your ass out of here before this place goes up in flames, or the Bureau will be on my ass for months.”

“You better be damn sure you know what you’re doing.” I said, even as I moved out the way. King just laughed.

“How hard can it be? I break any pipes I see, wait a minute, and light a match. You just worry about getting far enough away, exterminator. Vampires are my area of expertise.”

I be damned if I didn’t feel sorry for the blood-drunk fuckers for it, too.

I was still running a few minutes later whenever the explosion shook the ground. It lit up the city like the world’s largest bonfire for a few moments, before it dimmed down into an angry glow on the horizon. Smoke filled the sky like thunderclouds, and it was only a few moments later whenever fire truck sirens started blaring. It took them half a day to stop the fires that broke out after the explosion, I heard. Burned down half the French Quarter, too.

King took his sweet goddamned time lighting up that match, but it was enough for the natural gas to fill the area. I still don’t want to think about how much that must have cost the Bureau in damages to the city, but the accounting part of the operation was never my problem. I do know that they printed something in the papers about a catastrophic failure with the city’s natural gas lines, but it never even made it to the news stations, much less the internet.

I know that blast didn’t take care of all of the vampires. There was no way that a few of them didn’t manage to weasel out of the building before the flames took it, and I wasn’t too surprised whenever I heard a few exterminators in the area talking about having cases taken over by the feds in New Orleans—but even that was pretty quick to stop. King worked fast, I’d give him that.

I was out of the city pretty damn fast, but I was expecting it whenever I woke up to a silver truck idling in my driveway. Took my time getting ready, too, just to pay him back for my almost-death, but I knew I owed the man a beer.

And that time, we didn’t go to some shitty honky tonk—I got to choose.

That was that, for the most part. We kept in contact, and every now and then King would call about some other nest popping up in my area, but they were much smaller, much more manageable without the use of blowing up entire city-blocks.

I think this just about wraps up this story, but again, comment if you have any more questions about the work, or how to become an exterminator. It’ll be a lot more tame for you, I bet, but you can count on some nice paydays if stuff like this ever does turn your way, and you have the stomach for it.

#creative writing #my writing #fiction #short story #writers on tumblr #horror writing #series #NoSleep #nosleep series

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mctreeleth · 4 years

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Here it is! The instructions to make a pieced and quilted plague doctor mask!

Just as a heads up, this pattern is not really recommended for beginners. There is not a whole lot of explanation of the basic techniques, and it requires a fair bit of precision, two types of fusible interfacing, and an assumption that you can keep a consistent seam allowance and do some hand sewing and know when to sew things right sides together and such.

I am not promising anything, different methods will yield different results, I have never made a pattern exactly as it was written and neither should you. If you want something the same as the next person, go to the shops.

Actually, nevermind, this is a quarantine craft, stay home.

There are two ways to do the piecing for this project. The first is a quilting technique called English Paper Piecing, there are plenty of tutorials online, but it is done by hand and I do not have the patience for it. Still, if you have the time but not the machinery, it is probably your best option for a very good finish. Cut the pattern net out of card, glue the bits onto your fabric, sew them up, pull them out and add interfacing after. I sewed three hexies together once and got bored and gave up.

The method I actually used involves my favourite cheat for sewing: you can use an inkjet printer to print on non-woven fusible interfacing! There are ridiculously overpriced pre-cut packs available, but also you can just cut up some midweight to the right size. I just have a boring old Epson printer, and I can get away with just putting some scotch tape along the edge that feeds in for a bit of stability. Alternatively, depending on the brand, you can “fuse” it onto some non-stick baking paper, cut it to size, and then peel it off without losing too much adhesive. (My pictures look a little different because my original A4 version fits on the page differently than the shared version)

Printing onto interfacing means I know my dimensions are perfect, and I have the markings on the pieces so I know what joins to what. If you only have a laser printer, or your inkjet hates you and wont let you print on interfacing, I still recommend using fusible interfacing for structure and precision piecing. You will just need to keep a lot better track of what is what, because the pieces are all slightly different and they only go together one way.

The actual “pattern” for this project is a geometric net. I highly recommend making one in paper or cardstock first, because we all have different sized heads. As with most quilting projects, it will generally get to be a little bit smaller again once it is all sewn together, so keep that in mind.

This is a link to the PDF on Google Drive. It is a 4 page document, for printing on US letter size. There is enough space around the pieces that it can also print onto A4 paper: the one inch square should measure 2.5cm. Similarly, the extra space means it can be scaled up a bit before any gets cut off, if you have a particularly large face.

(Edited to add: if you were going to make this in a single fabric rather than pieced together patchwork pieces, I have uploaded a simplified version of the pattern, which has more curved seams which are easier to match. The technique is otherwise the same, but note that these patterns do not have seam allowances - you will need to add them when you cut your fabric so that the pieces match.)

The body of the mask is made up of two mirrored (four total) pieced together bits, plus some circles to go around the lenses. There are two mirrored top pieces, and two mirrored bottom pieces. The top pieces are numbered 1-14, and are split over two pages and need to be joined together. The bottom pieces are lettered A-H. On one side of the pattern the numbers and letters are circled, so you know which side you are working on. There are also small dashes in the corners of the pieces; single dashes connect to single dashes, double dashes connect to double dashes. At the parts that become the edges of the eye holes, there are little dots at the end of the dashes.

Even if you are printing onto interfacing, you will also need to do a paper printout, as it will be used later as a pattern to cut the batting and the lining. The paper printout can also be used to work out your fabric placement, if you are going for a certain look (again, this one was printed as an all in one A4 sheet, but it works the same).

Cutting the Patchworked Outer

If you have managed to print onto fusible interfacing, all you need to do is cut the pieces. Otherwise, do what you need to trace the pieces onto interfacing, making notes of where they go and which sides align to what.

Once you have your interfacing pieces cut and organized, fuse them to your fabrics with at least enough room between and around them for seam allowances on each side.

I use a 1cm seam allowance, but feel free to use a quarter or half inch if that is what you are used to.

Trim all the pieces to have a consistent seam allowance.

Lay the trimmed pieces out on the paper printouts. This will let you know if there are any pieces missing, or any parts where fabric duplicates might share a seam.

Piecing the Patchworked Outer

First, piece together the nets of the bottom pieces. Put a straight pin straight through at the corners of the interfacings of two neighboring pieces, so they are perfectly aligned. Then angle the pin on the right hand side so it comes back up along where the seam will go, and angle the one on the left so that it is going across.

Sew along the edge of the interfacing, aiming for just alongside of it, not on it.

Finger press the seams open, then repeat until all the pieces are together.

The technique for the top pieces is the same, but at any join which ends at an eyehole (marked on the pattern with a black dot on the ends of the dash), backstitch at the end of the interfacing, so that it won’t pull apart at the edge. The seam allowance at this part will be cut off, so it needs to be secured before that point to prevent it from pulling apart.

Batting and Quilting

Properly press all the pieces, with the seams open.

Using the paper pattern, cut out two mirrored top and bottom pieces from fusible batting.

Iron these onto the inside of the pieced parts, so that their edges line up with the interfacings. In my experience, the best way to iron on fusible batting is from the right side, so I pin them in place and flip them over, iron a little bit so they barely stick, pull out the pins, and fuse properly.

Do some quilting. I just went 5mm to the side of every seam, because the next lot of seams need to be topstitched in the same way, and I like the consistency.

Assembly of the Patchworked Outer

Join together the gap in the top pieces. The batting was aligned to the interfacing, so the technique is the same.

Press the seams apart and topstitch the seams to either side.

Trim off the excess seam allowance around the eye holes to the edge of the batting and interfacing. this was why we needed to backstitch earlier.

The next step joins the top and bottom pieces together. The bottom piece attaches to the more curved edge of the top piece - that last seam that was joined after adding the batting will meet these side seams, angled towards the tip of the beak. Sewing the sides is the trickiest bit to do on the machine, so, while I would normally say basting is for cowards, if you want the points to match perfectly, this is a time when pinning will not really cut it. I just hand sew through each point where the seams join, go back through a couple of threads over, and tie it off.

Then I put pins through the longer seams.

When sewing it with the machine, try to keep the lines as straight as possible, making turns only at the seams where you put a basting stitch.

Once both sides are sewn, press the seams open and topstitch to either side.

Repeat this step for the top centre seam. You can just pin baste this one if you would rather, because the angles match, but it is literally right there in the middle where everyone can see it, so if you are not confident in matching points, baste it.

Press the seams open and topstitch.

The technique is the same for the bottom centre seam, but topstitching all the way to the tip of the beak is not possible, so you will have to do the last bit of top stitching by hand.

It doesn’t matter so much if it is a bit messy, because it is not in a place where it can really be seen, but spitting the seam will help it hold its shape more nicely.

That is the pretty outside bit done.

Making and Attaching the Lining

To make the lining, use the paper pattern to cut two mirrored pieces of the top and bottom pieces, with whatever seam allowance you prefer.

The gap on the top piece will have a maximum possible seam allowance of about a quarter inch, but this is enough for a secure internal seam. The eye holes do not need a seam allowance.

Sew together the gaps in the top pieces, then sew the top seam of the top pieces and the centre seam of the bottom pieces together.

Open up both pieces and sew the sides together. You should have a lining piece that is a floppy, boring version of the outside piece.

I have not included a step for how to make a strap, because everyone has their own preferred methods, and there are plenty of alternative options. If you don’t want to worry about making strapping you can use ribbon or elastic, or put a small loop there to thread something through afterwards. Whatever the choice, pin to the centre of the back edges of pattern pieces #10, facing towards the eye holes.

Put the lining piece, facing right side in, over the pieced outer and the strap pieces and pin around the edges, lining up the four seams of the lining with the seams on the outer.

Sew around the edge.

Turn the piece right side out through one of the lining’s eye holes. You just sort of pull the pieced outer (which is currently inside) back a bit, until the tip of the beak can come through an eye hole, and then try to pull it through as gently as possible so that the raw edge of the eye hole doesn’t get too stretched and frayed.

Then push the lining back into the pieced outer body of the mask.

Pin around the edge, so that the lining is all tucked neatly inside.

Top stitch over the edge.

Eye hole time!

Pin the outer and lining together in the eye holes, and top stitch about 4mm (1/6th of an inch) from the edges. Trim any fraying bits.

Hand stitch 1 inch wide bias binding to the inner edge of the eye hole, just over the top stitch.

Flip the bias binding through the eye hole to the outer, fold the raw edge of the bias binding under itself, and hand stitch it down to the outside. Repeat for the other eye.

This next step is the worst bit, and if you have another method, go for it. Theoretically you could use something thicker that wouldn’t fray, like a felt or leather, so that you didn’t have to worry about lining the eye holes, but it depends on the look you are going for.

Cut out four circles from fabric, two of the biggest size, two of the medium size. Draw the smallest size circle in the middle of the back of the medium sized circle, and stack it on top of the centre of the big one, right sides together. From the fusible batting, cut two donut shapes of the medium size with the smallest circle cut out of the centre.

Using very small stitches, sew around the small circle drawn on the medium sized circles. Fuse the donut of batting to the back of the large circle, with the inside of the donut matching the sewn line. Cut an even smaller hole out of the middle, so that the seam allowance that remains is a slightly smaller width than the batting. Clip this into at least 12 pieces.

Press the smaller circle towards the centre, so that it can be turned in though the hole.

This will take a lot of careful ironing and pinning. Let it sit for a bit, so that it learns to be there.

Then unpin it, but hopefully the little clipped bits will stay there. Fold the bigger circle down over them – you will need a lot of little tiny pleats – making the outer edge as round as possible.

Then press that smaller circle back down over the pleats, so that it is level with the folded outer edge. If it sticks over in any places, trim it back, but only just.

Pin this donut shape over the eye piece. The inside edge of the donut should be level with the inside of the bias binding, the raw edge up against the outer fabric.

Hand sew around the outer edge of the donut to the pieced fabric. Make sure that the raw edge from the smaller circle is under the donut, but do not let it flip out through the middle. On the machine, top stitch about a quarter inch from the outer edge.

This should catch the raw edge inside, and leave a ridge between the outer eye donut and the bias bound eye hole. From the inside, it should be possible to pop in a round lens from a pair of sunglasses, or an improvised lens such as a circle of clear plastic cut from the lid of an old takeaway container, or some transparent holographic vinyl, such as this stuff on amazon. Repeat for the other eye hole.

Hooray! You are all done!

I am really not sure on the efficacy of this as an actual viable mask. On the one hand, there are a lot of seams through which germs could pass, but on the other hand, the fact that the lining is a bit loose and baggy inside the beak might cancel that out.

Depending on your materials, it should be machine washable, although it will almost certainly look a lot less crisp.

I had a lot of issues with my lenses fogging up after a couple of minutes of me wearing it, but who knows, maybe I am just a very wet breather.

I am not going to charge anything for this pattern, nor am I going to place restrictions on what you do with the items you make. I do not control your right to profit from your work. All art is derivative, and you making your own version transforms this pattern. Don’t let assertions of intellectual property rights be another way you are alienated from your labour. If you decide to sell your work, demand fair remuneration for your time and skills. Someone offering to pay for the materials is not enough. If you have decided to take an activity you love and turn it into work, make it worthwhile.

On the flip side, please don’t try to sell this bit of writing or the PDF of the pattern net or these photographs. They are free for you and for everyone else. Resist society’s message that you should try to profit from your every action, and especially resist the notion that true success is achieved by profiting from anyone else’s labour.

If you want to discuss this stuff further, I would love that! I am researching the commodification of creative knowledge for my PhD, focusing on quilt patterns and designs. Message me @mctreeleth on tumblr and instagram or @sarasewsstuff on twitter for my uni email.

Edit: I have added in a link to a simplified version if you are going to make this with a single fabric rather than patchwork piecing.

#plague doctor mask #quilting #sewing #quarantine craft #sewing pattern #craft pattern #long post under the cut #with so so many pictures #it has been a wild five days #I haven't slept in about 37 hours #I have three of these but only one set of lenses #that just fog up instantly

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floorbe · 3 years

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Kazuichi, Byakuya, Shuichi, Nagito, Hajime, Taka, Sonia & Mondo headcanons with a partner who is the Ultimate Dreamer? As in they have a HUGE imagination and creativity. They always ramble about ideas, are easily distracted/zone out a lot and get very emotional when an idea for a story or art piece doesn't go according to plan? I know that's a lot of people so you don't have to do them all, i'm sorry

ofc!! its not too many ppl at all, dw!!!

Kazuichi Souda

-He’s right on your wavelength!

-He’s got a crazy amount of creativity, too, so he’s right there with you and egging on your ideas!!

-He even adds on to them if you want! He’s got a lot of suggestions for everything

-He also asks for suggestions from you when he’s blocked for ideas on what to build/examine next

-At first he’s kind of offended when you keep getting distracted while he’s talking, but once he realizes it doesn’t mean you’re not interested, he’s cool!

-Has no problem repeating what he said, even if he has to do it twenty times in one conversation

-Kazuichi can completely empathize with getting emotional when something doesn’t turn out right

-He gets the same way when it’s his own creations, so he knows exactly how you feel and how to help

-“Hey, Y/N, don’t worry about it, okay?! We can always try again! Plus, I think this turned out pretty damn cool, anyway...”

-He’s always encouraging you and complimenting all of your works, even the ones you don’t think are up to par. And he genuinely means everything he says

-You can count on him to always be there to motivate you to try again or move onto the next project

Byakuya Togami

-He’s honestly really impressed with how creative you are

-You’ll probably never know genuinely how much, because the most he’ll say is a “That’s quite an idea, Y/N”

-He’s going to get frustrated at first if you zone out often, so bear with him as he gets over himself a bit

-Once he does get more used to it, he’ll just sigh and repeat what he said. It isn’t much better than before, but at least he’s not rolling his eyes with a snarky reply anymore

-He kind of... nitpicks your ideas? He doesn’t mean it in a harmful way, he just wants to add on in his own way. He’ll add on his own suggestions for a more practical and successful approach

-He’s actually a pretty good listener, though you’ll mostly get hums and grunts as responses as he doesn’t have much to add onto your thoughts

-If you’re a writer, he’s fully willing to proof read your stuff! He won’t say that, of course, but you can tell by how quickly he gives in when you ask him

-When you get emotional that something didn’t go right, he’ll walk past you and take a look at it himself

-“...This turned out well, Y/N. Our minds expectations are always higher than what we can accomplish; or, you’re your own worst critic, as they say.”

Shuichi Saihara

-He’s amazed with how many ideas you have?? It seems like you never run out, and he’s so interested in hearing every one

-He doesn’t really have much to add on (and he kinda feels like he’s imposing by suggesting stuff) but if you ask he’s more than happy to give his own thoughts!

-Doesn’t mind you zoning out at all! He actually starts picking up on the signs that you are and either 1. catches your attention again or 2. gives you a minute before going on

-When you start getting emotional over something that didn’t turn out quite right, he’s right there beside you to ride it out with you

-“I-I think it’s amazing, Y/N, really!” and he does! But he knows what it’s like to not meet your own expectations, so he tries his best to be there for you

-And when you eventually pick up the motivation to start a new piece/work on your project again, he’s right there supporting you

Nagito Komaeda

-He’s astounded by how many ideas you have, and he wants to know about every single one

-This man is one of the best listeners you’ll ever meet

-He’s dead silent while you talk unless you want him to add stuff in or ask questions, in which he’s got you, too!

-He loves watching you work, and will gladly sit by you for hours just chilling

-Doesn’t mind at all if you zone out, but he may take it way too personally in a self hatred way, so make sure to reassure him it’s not because of him

-He’s so, so supportive of everything you make!

-He really does not understand how you could think that something didn’t turn out well, because “everything you do is amazing, my love!”

-He’s got so many compliments for every project you work on. It’s almost too much, but later on in the relationship he knows when to pull back

-If you’re a painter, he’d love to paint with you!! He has no qualms about getting messy, and he loves spending time with you!

Hajime Hinata

-He loves listening to all of your thoughts and ideas!!

-Secretly kinda jealous of how big your imagination is, but he won’t tell you that

-He doesn’t have much to weigh in tbh, he just likes listening, but he’ll give suggestions if you want!

-Tbh he zones out a lot, too, so he totally understands you! He’ll just gently snap your attention back if you ask him to!

-He’s also right by your side when he sees you start to get emotional over a project

-He tries his best to comfort you, mostly by complimenting the piece in question and reassuring you it looks great (and it does!)

-He’ll stick to just comforting you if you don’t want any compliments, tho. He’s a great hugger!

-If you draw, sometimes you’ll catch him sketching in his own little book after watching you draw. He only lets you catch a glimpse of it before he shuts it, but it looked... suspiciously like you?

Kiyotaka Ishimaru

-This man admires you so, so much. He has so much respect for you

-He’s not really an art person, so if your projects are art based he is so enamored by it! If you’ll let him, he’d love to sit in and watch you while you work!

-Your creativity is so fascinating to him. He loves hearing all of your ideas, and loves discussing them with you!

-He’ll try to add in suggestions, but if you want him to just listen he’s fine with that, too

-At first he thinks you’re zoning out because you’re being rude/disrespectful (and he’s a little hurt on the inside at the thought), but once you clarify that that’s not the case at all he’s 100% okay again

-Offers to proof read your stuff if you’re a writer! He may not be that good at creative writing, but he’s damn good at proof reading and editing writings

-He’ll absolutely ask for tips on some of the stuff that he’s interested in if that’s what you also do! (“Y/N, please teach me how to draw the other eye!”)

-He starts picking up on early signs that you’re starting to get emotional over a project, and he’ll rush to your side early to try and help out

-Whether it be by complimenting the piece (which he thinks is just... amazing, really, he doesn’t get how you don’t see that??) or just rubbing your back as you lament over it, he’s right there

Sonia Nevermind

-She’s so excited!!! She loves listening to other people talk about what they’re passionate about!

-She could spend hours just sitting with you and listening to you talk about your new ideas!

-She’ll get so excited if you ask her to weigh in with her opinion, so excited that she may fill up the suggestion with curse words on accident

-She doesn’t mind you zoning out at all! She knows it’s not intentional and she has no problem just catching your attention again and asking where in her sentence you zoned out so she can continue

-Sonia is very observant about the people she cares about, so she can see that you’re starting to get emotional over a piece before you even notice it

-At an instant she’s bringing you water and snacks, suggesting to take a break with her and relax for a bit

-If that doesn’t work, she’ll wrap you up in her arms to comfort you and remind you that even if this didn’t turn out exactly how you wanted, it still turned out amazing in the end, and that is something to be proud of!

Mondo Oowada

-Damn, he’s impressed. How do you have so many ideas up in your head?? He’s astounded with every one tbh!

-Sometimes he asks you for ideas for what he should build next! (He’ll also let you paint his stuff if you want)

-If you paint or draw, please ask him to join you one day. It will be hilarious and endearing (imagine him drawing a hideous stick figure and labelling it as you)

-He likes sitting you in his lap as you talk about your ideas, and he’ll hum as he listens to you; he’s more of a listener

-Doesn’t mind at all if you zone out! He’ll just hum and repeat himself; no harm done! If you’re apologetic, he’ll scoff and reassure you that he does not “fuckin’ care, babe, it’s not a big deal to say something again”

-He can tell if you’re starting to get frustrated by a piece not going according to plan, and he tries to coax you into taking a break before you get too frustrated

-If you still get emotional over it, he’s beside you rubbing your back soothingly and reassuring you that you can try again another time

-Brings you away from the piece to get your mind off of it, whether that be by motorcycle ride, movie, etc., he’s pulling out all the stops

861 notes · View notes

tipsydipsydo · 3 years

Text

Pairing: tall! & sub! Reader x dom! OT7 BTS

Gender of the Reader: male

Word Count: 2.3k

Rating: 18+

Genre: Smut/PwP

Warnings: Dirty Language + Dirty Talk; Dom-/Sub-Dynamics; accidental overhearing of a phone call, Mentions of Exhibitionism & Voyeurism; Mentions of Sex Toys & Masturbation; slightly mentioned Double Penetration; mentions of Anal play; Praising; Petnames; some Degradation; Daddy-Kink; Teasing; slight Edging; the boys are teasing the poor reader to Death

A/N: Well- that was a quick writing. Instead of studying I decided to write this funny request and to use my procrastination in a better way than scrolling stressed through TikTok. I hope y’all like it!!

Status: unedited bc I am lazy and should study.

Request: i want to request a drabble/one shot: sub taller male reader and his seven boyfriends in which he confidently talks naughty things with his friend on phone but when he realized his bf are watching, he became crazily shy because he is just a big cute boy, then his bf decided they want to test those ‘words’ he has said, poor boy =))

Requested by: anonymous

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「© tipsydipsydo」

This following story is my intellectual property and belongs only to my blog tipsydipsydo.tumblr.com!

I’ll not accept any kind of reposting, stealing or using/editing my work!

That includes reposting my content on other social media platforms too, even when you link me as the original author.

Thank you.

After too many and super busy weeks full of work, you’ve finally managed to find a free afternoon in your schedule where your best friend and you have enough time for a nice, long telephone call on the couch. You are already over one and a half hour on the phone, exchanging the newest stuff that happened in your life with each other and joking around. Slowly your conversation turns their focus to your more private life and your bestie asks you about your polyamorous relationship with your boyfriends. At first just normal things like, how’s it going in general, how you all manage the relationship with all the different time schedules, how often it comes to fights and how you deal with that etc. Just normal stuff and the ‘typical’ questions you’re already used to, when people realize that you’re not in a monogamous relationship.

Your best friend and you grew up together. You met each other in elementary school, went through the curses of puberty as an inseparable team and even survived middle and high school thanks to the other one. Already in your teens, where both of you made your first experiences and got into your first relationships, your best friend had a guess that you’re not as straight as you want him to believe. No, they even assumed that you’re maybe not made for the typical monogamous relationship which the society preach every fucking day.

Well, turns out that your best friend really knew you better than you did yourself back then but honestly, nowadays you’re thankful for their suggestions and that they gave you the save space you needed to dare to make new experiences in those directions.

Nevertheless, they were still more than surprised when you introduced him to not only two or three boyfriends, no that you brought seven (!) other men to their birthday party two years ago. At first they were a little worried if you didn’t overload yourself with such a complex relationship dynamic and that it’ll turn out as a serious burden and not an enrichment for your life. Turns out, now it was their turn to make a false assumption about what’s the best for you and theu were more than happy to admit that everything turned out just fine. It truly makes their heart swell to hear the happiness in your voice through the phone everything you mention something about the boys.

Quickly your phone call turn into an even more private talk and dedicate itself to the really interesting stuff. You’re sharing every detail in your life with another, so why should it stop when it comes to sex talk? You have absolutely no problem and any shame to talk freely with your best friend about your kinks and dirty thoughts. Sometimes you even think that you’re better informed about each other’s preferences better than your actual partner(s) are.

“I think, I already told you that idea more than once... that I have a thing for exhibitionism and the thought of getting catched doing something ‘forbitten’ or ‘dirty’, right? Uhm... TMI but I don’t give a shit, whenever I am alone at home because they’re busy and we can’t meet for some days... I mastubate with some of the toys they’ve bought for me and imagine that they catch me. You know, when we have sessions with Dom and Sub Dynamics, they’re only temporarily and usually we go back to normal in the moment when the scene is over... that means, when I am alone and horny, I can do whatever I want to. I can jack off or fuck myself as much I desire and they wouldn’t say anything about it. It’s not like, I don’t appreciate my personal freedom when it comes to masturbation or that I want something completely different, no! We both already talked about that too, I don’t like the idea of Total Power Exchange, I prefer to be an independent person as soon as I walk out of the bedroom- okay, not only bedroom, we have sex in other places than the bedroom too- ANYWAY, what I wanted to say with that: ...”, you mutter and take a deep breath into your lungs.

After holding such a long monologue your mouth dried up terribly and now you need quickly something to drink. You get up from the couch and walk over to the kitchen island to pour some soda into a glass. A satisfied hum leaves your throat after you took some gulps of your favourite sparkling sugar bomb.

The whole time, where you moved around in the eat-in kitchen of the apartment, you are not that alone anymore as you thought you’d be, especially right in this moment. Namjoon, Hoseok and a boyish smirking Jimin joined you around ten minutes ago, leaning casually against the wall next to the door of the room and listen very interested to the conversation you have with your friend right now. They didn’t mean to overhear your private talk, they just wanted to know what kind of take-out food you’d prefer for tonight.

Unfortunately your conversation turned out to be very, very interesting for them, so they decided to give you some more time to talk with your best friend about the sexual fantasies you have which they don’t know about... well, until now.

Hoseok texted the other boys in the group chat to join them in the living room as well, they need to hear those very important information too!

Poor you, completely oblivious and naïve to what’s happening in this moment, not getting any kind of hint that not only your best friend would get those significant informations...

“...-what I actually wanted to say with that: I prefer to be independent in relation to all other non-sexual life-responsibilities. Well, that doesn’t mean we couldn’t increase the Erotic Power Exchange, right? To be very honest, I can’t get the fantasy of them taking my sextoys away and to forbid me to touch myself without their permission out of my head. I love to be their good boy and to get praises, I really do... but there is this thrill to be break the instructed rules, getting caught while doing it and getting punished for it. I want... I want to get called bad, filthy and dirty names, I want to be a disobedient, greedy and insatiable slut for them. I want to get spanked, edged and overstimulated, I want to get fucked into the mattress so bad, up to the point where I can’t get a single clear thought together and my brain turned to mush... I want to get used, ruined and wrecked by their cocks, getting my holes stuffed full with their cum and then plugged up, so nothing can run out anymore- God fuck, I should stop talking like that or I’ll get a serious problem! Well... sorry for so much detailed TMI, you know that this shit always happens when you tell me to stop overthinking and encourage me to spill everything that comes to my mind. Now you got every filthy detail you’ve asked for, you’re welcome.”, you joke sarcastically and facepalm yourself. You can’t believe how incredibly blunt and shameless you just threw your latest sex fantasy in every fucking detail at your poor best friend.

Usually you’re more than shy to talk about such things, in your understanding the magic for your shameless mouth towards your best friend has to reside in the deep thrust you have in him and simply the knowledge that your relationship is platonic. It’s not like that you couldn’t trust your boyfriends wholeheartedly, god no! You know, that they would never kinkshame you for anything,

it’s just... after sharing those thoughts it would result something out of it. You don’t want that they think you’re a weirdo or that they only do specific things because they know it would turn you on.

The other one just snorts in amusement when you voice this slight helpless apology, they can imagine the significant blush which has settled down on your cheeks.

“Hey buddy, don’t apologize for that. There is nothing to apologizing for, I am way too curious for my own good as well and I need to make sure that you’re happy in your relationship, especially when it comes to the point if they are able to fulfill your sexual desires. I need to know that, believe me. Okay, there’s one thing... I knew you were submissive, my dude. But I didn’t expect that you’d be such a masochistic hoe and that you’d have such a thing for degradation, Jesus! Nevermind, more important: did you talked with them about that fantasy? Would they be down for this idea and would they like to be more in charge? Please do not tell me that you’re too shy to talk with them about it, not again! I tell you this every goddamn time, communication is key!”, your best friend says to you in a serious tone.

Here you go again, getting scolded by your friend all over again. He is right, you know that... y’all already talked about ‘how to deal with certain kinks some of them or you have but the others aren’t into and how to not make them feel bad or insecure about it’ several times, you tend to overthink everything you have ever said to them all over again. You are always so flustered when seven pairs of eyes are looking at you, waiting for an answer. You are tall, even taller than Namjoon, but under their curious stares you feel always so small, fiddling with your fingers around like a little schoolboy. You love that about them, putting you into such a submissive place just with their aura and charisma and giving you the feeling as if they overtower you physically too.

“I can absolutely agree with Y/BF/N, communication is key. Why didn’t you told us those nasty fantasies you have in your cute head up here, right away? Too shy again? Do we really need to call your best friend the next time to get some hints to your secret kinks, Babyboy?”, Taehyung rasps into your earshell and wraps his arms around you. He chuckles slightly as you squeak high-pitched in surprise.

An equal surprised yelp of your best friend comes out of the speaker of your phone which takes Yoongi out of your hand and excuse you with the apology that ‘they need to have an important talk with you now and that you have to hang up unfortunately’.

The display of your phone turns dark and Yoongi puts it on the surface of the kitchen island before he flashes you a dirty smile. That you’re mortified that they caught you spilling all those filthy fantasies to your best friend is the understatement of the century. Never and you mean never did you hoped so bad that the floor opens up and swallows you whole, saving you from this embarrassing misery. But Yoongi give you much time to drown in shame, coming up to you and connect your lips to a rough kiss.

“God, I love it when our so sweet and shy Baby has such nasty and indecent fantasies in his head... why don’t you tell us these ideas in every single filthy detail once again? I think we could turn the information into some very good use, big boy~”, whispers the smaller one with blown-out eyes against your lips.

“...or would you prefer that we call you a needy cumslut, hm? The things I’ve heard give me the assumption that you want to get fucked stupid and pumped full with cum as if you are our personal playtoy?”, growls Jungkook and grabs himself a handful of your right asscheek, kneading it with a firm grip in his big palm.

“Come on, big boy, admit that you want exactly the things Jungkook just said... I can feel how fucking hard you just got from his words... already so hard and swollen against my palm even though we barely touched you. You’re truly such a pathetic, needy slut... I bet you’d already cum in your pants if we just tease you enough... Am I right?”, chuckles Namjoon in his deep, arousal soaked timbre against your neck, nibbling at the sensitive spot of your Adam’s apple.

“...what about we change our location to the bedroom and talk about the things you’ve said to Y/BF/N? Maybe we could try some of your newest kinks out? Would you like the thought of us watching you from the couch while you prepare your needy asshole for us? Showing us how you stuff you clenching rim with a girthy dildo? Wearing a cockring so you couldn’t cum without our permission? Prepping yourself all messy, whining for our finger, tongues and dicks in your ass like the greedy slut you are? Yeah, you’d love that thought.”, Seokjin teases you mercilessly, rolling your sensitive balls in his palm, just how you like it. “Y-Yes, Daddies... I’d love to be a greedy cumslut for you... please turn me into one!”, you wisper.

@cys-mental-escapades; @bangtanloverboys; @btsxmalereaders

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dontbeunraisonable · 2 years

Text

‘21-’22 NYE Event - Jean Gunnhildr x GN!Reader - Painting

Requested by anon! Part of my ‘21-’22 NYE Event

Word Count: ~ 700

Warnings: none

Note: reader is mute, but im not sure if i made that clear enough;

“Can I at least have a hint?”

You shook your head at her, beaming. “Do you not know what a surprise is?” you signed, booping her nose at the end of it.

“Just a little hint? I won’t tell anyone.”

“It’s your surprise!”

She followed you through Mondstadt to your house, waving hello to people and wishing everyone a happy new year. But you didn’t let her stop for anyone, knowing that she is much too eager to help and would end up spending what is supposed to be her day off doing some knightly duties. Not on your watch. You entwined her fingers in your and led her on, gently tugging her at times, her thumb gently rubbing up and down the back of your hand.

You reached your house and opened the door for her, stomping your feet to rid them of snow and shaking off your coats. She started the fire again before you could do it yourself, nudging the coals and expertly placing more logs.

“Thank you.”

She pecked your cheek. “Of course. Now where’s the surprise?”

“Patience. Let’s have dinner first.”

“Ohhh,” she tapped her foot impatiently. “You’re drawing this out on purpose.”

You batted your eyelashes and held a hand to your chest, as if to say ‘moi?’

She sat down to eat with you despite her teasing, and dug into the pizza you made for her. You watched her with a smile as cheesy as the dish, and she flushed when she noticed.

“Something on my face?” she blotted around with her napkin.

“Only indescribable beauty.”

She groaned and flicked your face with her napkin. “Bad. No more of that for the night.”

“No promises.” You reached out to brush a lock of hair behind her ear. She wrinkled her nose at your flirtatious wink.

“One more and I’m making you show me the surprise now.”

“A small price to pay to fluster you.”

“I am not flustered! I’m used to you being… a flirt. I’ve gone through 2 years of it.”

“ ‘Gone through’? Nevermind, no surprise.”

She stood and grabbed your hands. “Please. I’ve been patient.”

You pretended to think long and hard before “conceding” and had her follow you upstairs to your art studio.

“Aw, did you paint me something.”

“Mhm. I hope you like it.”

She darted from easel to table to wall, looking at all the paintings you had done or were working on. Dandelions, scenery of the lake, a portrait of some couples. A small pile of pencil and charcoal sketches of Klee’s favorite toys (bombs) were at your desk, as well as miscellaneous studies as you had done. A stack of books regarding clothing and both current and past fashions went unnoticed by the Acting Grand Master.

“It’s the covered one, isn’t it.”

A single large easel was in the center of the room, covered with a thin cloth. You nodded and joined her in front of it. She looked to you for permission to lift it, and swished it off.

Underneath was a gorgeous painting of her, her blue eyes eyes vibrant and somehow shining. Her blonde hair was loose about her shoulders instead of in its usual ponytail, with pins that looked like real dandelions. And the pièce de résistance was the gorgeous wedding attire she wore.

Her eyes roamed the painting, taking in all the details. The bouquet, the ring on her finger, the glow on her cheeks. Your eyes steadily searched her face, looking for a sign of her answer.

“Are you-?” Her voice was quiet. She turned to see your response and saw the tiny glint of gold being extended to her. You were.

She was on you in an instant, lips against yours and hand closing around the ring. She pulled away only to tell you ‘yes’ before kissing you again and again. Tears ran down both your cheeks as the fireworks went off and loud cheering filled the streets. The ring eventually found its way onto her finger, and then was pressed against your cheek for a good while longer.

Posted 2021 December 26

#jean x reader #jean gunnhildr x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader

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katsumiiii · 3 years

Text

Drunk In Love

roronoa zoro x fem! poc reader

genre: fluff

warnings: consumption of alcohol

description: the strawhat crew stops on a nearby island for supplies. zoro takes a trip to the local pub only to have some interesting company join him.

It’s safe to say that Roronoa Zoro was lost. While this was not a rather surprising statement, it does get tiring to hear that the swordsman hasn’t picked up on his sense of direction since entering the New World. Again and again, every twist and turn looked similar to him, causing him to wander further and further from his desired destination. That destination of course being a pub.

The male couldn’t go too long without having at least a sip of alcohol, his mouth craving the flavor after a good while. He cursed as he traveled down another unfamiliar path, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he dragged his feet along the dirt ground.

Maybe he should’ve listened when Nami said to take someone with him. Nevermind, he would have had to take that curly browed idiot with him, and he’d rather not argue the whole way to the pub.

Zoro scanned his surrounds once more, seems as though those twists and turns led him back into the town, where the pub was apparently located. He let out a sigh of relief, tired of wondering around the dense forests, especially since all of the trees were so similar looking.

He trotted along, dirt kicking out in front of him as a result. Many different sounds flooded his ears, whether it were children whining for the cherry tarts that were on sale to the left of him — they were supposedly the best in town — or the slight ringing of laughter coming from the restaurants to his right, he reckoned that’s where Luffy was trying to go, the smell of meat too tempting for him to ignore.

About half way through the town square, Zoro encountered the very place he’d been searching for. With a snarky grin on his face he hurriedly pushed open the doors, the smell of booze greeting him ever so kindly. Walking a few feet up from the entrance way, he plopped on to a tall wooden stool, slamming his hands on the oak countertop in order to catch the bartenders attention.

“Lemme get a beer.” He bluntly demanded, obsidian irises staring boringly into the man behind the counters backside, watching as he turned around with a tight lipped smile on his face.

“Sure, coming right up!” The chubby male worked swiftly, and right as Zoro gave a long loud yawn a pint of beer was slammed on to the table, causing him to smile excitedly.

“Thanks.”

“No problem sir! Tell me if you need anything else!” He stated as he hurried off to handle another customer.

Zoro raised the mug to his chapped lips, taking large gulps as he drank the liquid. It left a satisfying burn as it traveled down the pathway of his throat, soon settling in his stomach along with whatever else was down there. He let out a sigh of relief and a belch, which caused quite a few heads to turn towards the noise.

“Oh shit, that’s Roronoa Zoro!”

“What’s he doing here alone?”

“If he’s here then that means Strawhat is most likely near by.”

The whispers grew louder as men and woman alike began to worriedly question the young males motives, discreetly scooting further and further away from him. Zoro huffed closing his only good eye, all he wanted was a peaceful drink at the bar, was that too much to ask for? Guess that’s what he gets for being a pirate.

“You looking for company?” A voice asked, the groan of wood rubbing against wood following soon after, causing Zoro to assume that they pulled out the chair beside him. He grunted, eye still not opening as his left hand gripped the handle of his mug.

“No, go away.” He replied, taking another gulp of his liquor.

“Aww don’t be like that, I promise I’m an interesting gal.”

Zoro opened his eye in annoyance, gaze traveling to your figure. “I said go away you damned wom-” he cut off suddenly, voice caught in the back of his throat as he stared at the sight in front of him.

You were beautiful, your hair was braided into a style he’d never quite seen before, but it was unique and eye catching. Your browned skin all but glowed as there was a window right behind your figure, the sun illuminating your very being. Your nails were thumping against the dull oak countertop in front of you as you softly bit your plump lip, your pearly whites slightly poking out. “You alright there mister?”

His body jolted causing a cough to rile up from the sudden movement. “Oh my god are you okay?” You asked again, this time worriedly. Your voice was damn near angelic, the sound of it bringing heat to his cheeks as he slammed his fist on to his chest to stop his wheezing.

“Y-yeah I’m fine.”

“You sure? Had a bit of a cough there.” Your eyes seemed like they were staring into his very soul as you laid a hand on his chiseled backside, rubbing light circles upon it.

“I’m fine! I can handle a little cough.” He roughly shook your hand off of his back, face becoming more crimson by the minute.

“Hm, I can see that big guy.” You chuckled, gesturing the bartender over. “Hi, may I have some booze please? I’ve been craving some for the longest!”

The male nodded, cheeks turning pink at the slight groan you let out. “Y-yes ma’am, I’ll get right to it!”

“Thank you love!”

“Oi!” Zoro quickly called out, watching as the bar man rolled his eyes before sending him a full smile and a slight nod. “I need more booze.”

“Coming right away sir.” The man grumbled, reaching upwards to retrieve two mugs.

“You seemed to have irritated the man a bit.” You quipped, letting out a small thank you as the very man you mentioned handed you your drink.

“Not my fault he hates his job.” Zoro replied back, muttering out a thank you as well as his drink was set in front of him.

“I don’t think it’s the job he hates.” You smirked, licking your lips of the residue booze.

“Yeah whatever.”

Silence overtook the both of you as you indulged in your liquor, you yourself starting to feel a slight buzz around your fifth mug. “You still drinking?” You questioned, glancing over at the green haired male beside you.

He shot you a quick look, cheeks red from what you assumed was caused from his alcohol intake. “Yeah, surprised you can keep up with me, you damned woman.”

You scoffed, leaning closer to his flushed face, the red of his cheeks increasing with the closing distance. “Oh please, I could out drink your ass in an instant.” You announced cockily, nose scrunching at the smell of alcohol coming from his breath.

He cackled at the sentence, body shaking from complete and utter shock at what he believed to be an incorrect statement, though he guessed he’d have to find out. “Oh really? Is that a challenge?”

“You bet it is moss head.”

“Oh it’s on.”

Drink after drink, you two continued to down as many mugs as you could, the burn intensifying with each gulp. You took a sharp breath as you hastily drank another one, hearing cheers from the spectators, bets circulating on which person would win the battle. After about 56 mugs, Zoro lightly tapped chipped oak countertop, causing you to whoop in victory, screams erupting from the onlookers.

“Ha! Told you I would win!”

Zoro giggled, pushing his body from the wooden stool. “Damn, never thought I’d see the day.”

“I’m surprised my damn self, you can drink your ass off.” You smiled, flipping your intricately braided hair off of your shoulder.

“Well, it was nice drinking with ya.” The male declared as he trotted out of the bar, sending a small wave your way.

“Wait! You can’t just leave!” You rushed after him, hands clammy and mouth dry as you forced your legs to work properly enough to be able to run after the male. Though Zoro did hear your outburst, he decided to continue walking, once again kicking up dust as he wandered about. Your footsteps grew heavier, the affects of the alcohol you drank just now washing over you. You began to walk sluggishly, soon tripping, sending your body tumbling into Zoro’s.

“H-hey! What the hell?!” He firmly grabbed your plush waist, unintentionally pulling you flush against his toned body.

His cheeks heated up once again as his eyes settled along your face, your eyes glazed over, bottom lip slightly red, most likely irritated from the amount of times your teeth have harshly dug into them. “You...you alright?” His fingers traced pathways along your skin, trailing lines and circles as you both continued to stare at one another.

Soon you leaned forward, capturing your lips with his, the taste of alcohol dancing along your tongues. Heat trailed throughout your body, hands settling on top of his as you continued to embrace one another. The kiss was hot and messy, teeth clashing more than once, though neither of you minded, you simply continued to take in every single bit of each other.

You eventually pulled apart, both of you heaving from the intensity of it all. You both stared at each other’s slightly dulled irises, gazing upon the possibilities of this new relationship, or whatever you’d like to call it.

“Y/N”

“Mhm?” Zoro cocked his head sideways, rubble rubbing against the back of his scalp from the movement.

“My name, it’s Y/N.” You repeated, ruffling the males hair to shake off the excess debris.

Zoro hummed in response, cheeks flushing for what seemed to be the thousandth time today. “My names Zoro.”

notes: idk wtf is going awn in this fic lmfao 💀

taglist: @izvana @myhoodacademia @mypimpademia @0risha @blackweebtrash @katsumox @kazuluvr @yuujisbby @manjiiroll @asaincy @namjoonswifeyy @angiebug101 @amethyst09 @sisifromthed @lilsparkyswife @morosis-haze @solar3lunar @lightofcordonia

#roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x poc reader #roronoa zoro x black reader #zoro x reader #zoro x black reader #zoro x poc reader #one piece x reader #one piece x black reader #one piece x poc reader #op x reader #op x poc reader #op x black reader

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glazelilyy · 2 years

Note

They're dead

Enraged. Whoever's responcible is following S/O to the grave very soon. Be it an enemy attack or negligence, Scara needs someone living to take responcibility for this. And not just anyone will do, he won't be satisfied killing a random Treasure Hoarder, no, he needs the one who dared to lay their hand on his S/O. He doesn't care how long it takes, how much time or recorces he needs, he'll find the fool who dared to take away the one Scaramouche loves. Who knows, maybe Childe will join in the search.

They're missing/trapped

Conflicted. He's happy, reliefed, thankful his lover is alive. However he's also angry at many, many things. The fact it happened, the fact no one found them sooner. The fact his lover had to suffer for a year, surviving God's know how, unable to leave the freezing mountain.

His lover is the first to leave the mountain, and as soon as the bigger injuries are treated, they're rushed to Scaramouche's home where they're cared for by top quality medical staff.

If his lover wants to keep working on the field, they're gonna have to do alot of convincing, even then it'd end in compromise. S/O can keep working under the Fatui, but as a right hand to Scaramouche, where ever S/O is, Scaramouche is never far. He's not suffocating, he won't monitor every single move, however, on the field, he's always near enough to hear his S/O's shout in case something happens.

If S/O quits fatui, they can either stay home, or start a new job at a restaurant or something, he's way more relaxed, however, there's always someone to walk with S/O to work, and to walk them back home safe. Their home also has a few guards now. Scaramouche also confirms their shared home is easy to escape from, if things really turn that bad while he's away.

It's a bad dream

Wakes up in cold sweat, and rushes to make sure S/O is still with him, he won't say anything, won't do anything, only grips their shoulders and stares. When S/O asks him if he's alright, he just huffs and turns away with a quiet "nevermind".

The night passes, and the morning comes, he couldn't fall asleep so he busies himself with paperwork.

He reads through them, bored out of his mind, till he sees one mission, ''expedition squad to be sent into Dragonspine: S/O-" he doesn't read further, already decided that a different group would need to be sent. He's probably not a supersticious man, but this is the one thing he's now willing to take risks on, S/O's safety can't be compromised, even if his fears are rooted in a dream

ok OKAY obviously the death angst hurt me the most but AAAA I THINK BAD DREAM ENDING MIGHT BE MY FAVORITE because i love hurt/comfort :P LOL

if reader is dead:

i know we don't really know too much about scaramouche as a character but i get the feeling that, as you said, he has an unquestioning resolve and once he sets out to do something he'll do absolutely anything to achieve it. he won't stop until whoever was the cause of his beloved's death is 12ft underground and rotting with the worms, dead at his own hands. i think childe would def offer his help! but scaramouche would be too stubborn to accept and drive himself mad seeking to enact revenge for his lost love when in reality nothing he does, no matter who he kills or extorts, will bring them back :( and i think once he realizes that he'll revert to how he was just before joining the fatui: a cold, empty shell of a person who wanders about looking for a meaning and purpose in a life without his darling :(((((

if reader is missing/trapped:

GUHGHGH THE HURT/COMFORT POTENTIAL GWAAAAAA (i'm reduced to tears thinking about how scared he'd be and how tender and loving he'd be once reader is found EEEEEE). i like to think the fatui has various regiments dedicated to various tasks and harbingers can lead whichever regiment is required at the moment (like childe leading the "intimidation" regiment to get their clients to pay up). scaramouche wouldn't be caught dead affiliating with the search and rescue regiment before because he's all about seeking glory and achieving strength and power, but when it comes to reader he's immediately making plans and being cooperative with the search and rescue staff (much to everyone's surprise). he's on the site leading the team and making sure that they get to reader first before anyone else. and when they finally do pull reader out of wherever they are, scaramouche is going to be the one to tend to their wounds himself because he trusts absolutely no one else to do a good job. and yeah i agree!! he wouldn't be super suffocating but obviously when his s/o goes back to work, whether it's for the fatui or somewhere else, he just wants to make sure they're protected and safe so that they don't slip from his grasp again. also just a little sidenote, i love the idea of a gruff and hostile fatui harbinger scaramouche coming home and looking like hell, where his patissier s/o is already baking cookies and sweets for him and spoils him rotten with sweets :P

if it's a bad dream:

*evilly rubs my little hurt/comfort-loving hands together*

in this case the first thing he would do would be to check if reader is beside him: well, fine, and breathing. once he's confirmed that, he'll probably sit up in bed for a while since there's no way in hell he'll go back to sleep after a dream like that. he's not too big on physical affection whether it's public or private but he'll take their hand just to ground himself in reality and remind himself that reader is ok and here and alive with him. i think despite all his barriers and walls, he'd still cry at the thought of someone he loves so much not being with him anymore, even if it was just a dream. if being softhearted was a sin than he's prepared to be titled a sinner :(((( (ps: lil kissies for his s/o's hands bc he's soft and they're sleeping so they can't tease him HAHA)

LUSUS YOUR BIG BEAUTIFUL BRAIN MWAH MWAH anything scaramouche always makes me happy hehe :P ty for all the brain food!! <3

#sincerely: the stars—☆#from my beloved lusus—☆#tw: MCD #tw: major character death

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therealvinelle · 3 years

Note

How do you believe Carlisle feels about Esme? How would their break up go? Would he ever cheat on her? I mean like emotionally?

He loves her.

I don’t doubt that his feelings for Esme are genuine, that he respects and cherishes her and wishes to spend his life with her. Esme, too, worships the man.

My complete lack of faith in this ship comes from the fact that they’re together for the wrong reasons and not compatible.

The Bad Beginning

Carlisle had spent centuries searching for likeminded, he never did. In the end he succumbs and starts creating his own, first Edward and then Esme, and to his joy they both agree to do the diet.

Esme’s transformation was entirely an impulse on his end. He saw this delightful, vivacious young woman he’d known ten years ago lie broken and dying in the morgue, a Jane Doe declared dead, she was all too easy to steal. She was too far gone for him to have time to think it over, and so he went «alright let’s do this. I imagine it seemed rather like God had sent her to that morgue specifically. We learn from Midnight Sun that romance wasn’t on his mind at all (even if it was, that wouldn’t make their marriage more functional) and he expected nothing of her. He bit her because he didn’t want Esme Platt to die.

Esme, of course, wakes up into this new life under surreal, heavenly circumstances. Her child is still dead - but here is the mythic, pedestaled Dr. Cullen, now her savior and more wonderful than ever. To back myself up with the books:

Esme had already been in love with Carlisle—much to his shock—but not through any mystical, magical means. She’d met Carlisle as a girl and, drawn to his gentleness, wit, and otherworldly beauty, formed an attachment that had haunted her for the rest of her human years. Life had not been kind to Esme, and so it was not surprising that this golden memory of a good man had never been supplanted in her heart. After the burning torment of transformation, when she’d awakened to the face of her long-cherished dream, her affections were entirely his. (Midnight Sun, chapter Bloodtype)

Carlisle, on his end, hadn’t had the idea at all until Edward said “Dude, she’s into you, go for it.”

I’d been on hand to caution Carlisle about her unforeseen reaction. He’d expected that she would be shocked by her transformation, traumatized by the pain, horrified by what she’d become, much as I had been. He’d expected to have to explain and apologize, to soothe and to atone. He knew there was a good chance that she would have preferred death, that she would despise him for the choice made without her knowledge or consent. So the fact that she had been immediately prepared to join this life—not really the life, but to join him—was not something he was ready for.

He’d never seen himself as a possible object of romantic love before that moment. It seemed contrary to what he was—a vampire, a monster. The knowledge I gave him changed the way he looked at Esme, the way he looked at himself.

More than that, it was very a powerful thing, choosing to save someone. It was not a decision any sane individual made lightly. (sic)

I’m not entirely void of authorial intent - I get that this was supposed to be romcom where the cute nerdy guy has no idea the girl is interested.

But, what I see is that after centuries of being alone, never finding anybody who shared his values, Carlisle finally has these two people who share his ideals, the only two in the world. He’s had countless friends, but it never worked out because of that damn diet. But, now he has these two people, and one of them is a beautiful, kind, wonderful woman who’s in love with him.

I imagine falling for Esme was easy. It was just so perfect, simply by being Carlisle Cullen he could make her happier than any other man, and given their shared diet, he wanted her by his side always, just as he did Edward. And this was it for him, really, to Carlisle Cullen Esme might as well be the only woman in the world because she’s the only one who'll share his lifestyle. He also felt responsible for her.

I don’t at all doubt their sincerity or affection for one another.

However, they did not fall for each other for each other’s sakes. Esme fell for the ideal since childhood, and Carlisle fell because she was perfect. Stick them in an AU and it won’t happen.

The Slippery Slope

Where they run into trouble is firstly that Esme doesn’t share these ideals, nor value human life for its own sake. Now, I’m not asking her to be a saint - but over the course of these books we had some lapses that I find pretty damning.

She wanted Edward back in Forks, when this would almost certainly mean the death of Bella Swan, simply because to Esme having Edward nearby > a person’s life. This wasn’t the case for Carlisle, he made it extremely clear he wanted Edward to leave.

During the “Kill Bella?” vote, she was in favor of whatever meant Edward would stay.

Carlisle, having failed to get anywhere with talking sense into Edward, sends him home to his mother for an intervention. What happens next is that Esme gives Edward her blessing to eat the delicious girl if he wants to. Now, we can’t know specifically the talk Carlisle and Esme had before this, but I can’t imagine it was this. Also, damn, what a miscommunication.

Esme simply doesn’t have a problem with the deaths of individual humans, and she will put her loved ones above all other things, even if it’s a minor inconvenience. Keeping Bella alive only becomes her priority after Edward makes it clear he wants this.

Now, Carlisle’s standards have been worn down over the centuries, he just wants his family to try not to eat people on purpose, that’s how low the bar is. Tragically for his marriage, Esme is stumbling over said bar.

The further trouble they run into is that I don’t think they’re very compatible people.

Esme means well, but she’s peculiar, to put it extremely nicely. Her ambition in life is to LARP the human life, right down to being a master chef of something her species can’t eat, which could be sweet if she did other things. She doesn’t, the closest she gets is designing homes for her family. There’s being single-minded, and then there’s Esme, who appears to have honed herself into someone who exists only to be the housewife.

This leads to bizarre behavior - for instance in Midnight Sun when Edward has realized he’s in love, he sits around laughing to himself like a lunatic while playing the piano. Something happens with Rosalie, who runs out of the house in humiliation. Esme, responding to all this, gives her infamous “the best and brightest of us all” pep talk.

It’s just such a weird scene, even accounting for the inhumanity of Twilight vampires this is weird.

Mostly, thought, it is Esme’s interests and desires in life that I find so at odds with Carlisle’s. She wants to be an improved human, living the shinier, better, life without actually embracing the inhumanity of vampirism, while Carlisle is doing the human thing because he wants to be a doctor and save lives. Before that, he was travelling the world, living with normal vampires, using his eternity to study and pursue meaning in life. Now, they end up in the same place, with similar goals - wanting to blend in with humans - but the motivation is the polar opposite.

Which in turn means that as the world turns and their lives inevitably change, the way they live will have to change. This will spell trouble.

There’s also me having a strong suspicion these two don’t have much of a physical relationship, if any. Meyer specifically referred to their relationship as spiritual, and that fits the vibe we get from them in the books. Quite notably, Rosalie and Emmett were impossible to be around when they were newlyweds, while Carlisle and Esme weren’t a problem at all.

Not to mention what Esme longed for all those years was very much an ideal of a man, which to me doesn’t immediately point to a very physical attraction.

The Penultimate Peril

Would he cheat on her, you ask. Answer is yes, they’re both cheating emotionally with Edward. No.

He’s with her because he wants to be, and feels responsible for her. More, developing the kinds of feelings necessary for an emotional affair isn’t really on the table for him, since everyone else in the world is either a. one of his kids or the Denali, b. an unrepentant man-eating demon. So, unless Tanya’s feeling frisky, Carlisle doesn’t have anybody to cheat with.

(I’m here defining an emotional affair, which as I understand it is a bit hard to define, as a romantic, but non-physical entanglement. The cheating party has to know their partner wouldn’t be cool with it for it to count in my eyes.)

As for physically cheating on her, nope. God no, not ever. Unless something really convoluted like the plot of Blue Moon unfolded, but that’s really more a case of Esme pimping out her husband to her daughter-in-law, so everyone’s to blame here.

The end

I think the breakup can happen in any number of ways, but I think either way it will be sudden.

These two aren’t going to go “you know, I think we’ve grown apart” because Esme would never acknowledge that nevermind walk up to Carlisle and say it, and if Carlisle realized things aren’t working he’d still want to stick it out for her sake.

I think it’ll be sudden, it’ll happen as the immovable object that is them is hit by an unstoppable force. One will go someplace the other can’t follow. Maybe when the Cullen coven splits down the middle, and they’re on each their own side of the chasm, or maybe some other cause entirely.

It’ll devastate them both, but given the people these two are, I think it’s inevitable.

#carlisle cullen #esme cullen #carlisle/esme #twilight #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #hope you all think the header theme was as funny as i did #a series of unfortunate events aka-#Anonymous #ask

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akaashigiri · 3 years

Text

Sleepy Jaegers

summary: eren and y/n are at a gathering at armin’s place, and their 2 year old is exhausted. eren is equally as exhausted.

pairing: dad!eren jaeger x fem!reader

word count: 1.69k

warnings: none, fluffff

a/n: sigh my baby fever possessed me to write this 💔 might make armin a father as well if people end up liking this one (i will anyway) 😋

These gatherings were almost like a ritual to the group.

There wasn’t ever a specific place they met, they would always gather in different places, wether it’d be the beach, a park, or at one of their homes. It didn’t matter where it took place, just as long as everyone was there. Everyone was obligated to come.

So of course that includes the littlest Jaeger.

It was mid September, and although the weather wasn’t bad at all, some didn’t really feel like going out to public places like the local park, so the group decided on Armin’s new place, since Sasha and Annie still have yet to see it (their homes are farther from the rest)

They were all gathered in the spacious living room; Jean and Sasha on the long couch, while Mikasa and Armin sat on the smaller one. Historia and Ymir shared the beige-colored chair in the corner of the room, while Annie sat on one of the kitchen stools as she watched Y/N and Connie do the dishes (Armin insisted, but the two almost threatened him if he were to touch a dish).

As soon as Eren walked in, he all but restricted anyone from sitting on the big beige reclining sofa, claiming that he deserved it for helping Armin pick it out. Eren was grateful for going to Ikea that day with Armin to pick out the sofa he was now slouched on, recliner out and all. It was now his favorite spot in the whole house (besides the kitchen, since he loved playing around with the smart refrigerator).

As Y/N passed another dish for Connie to rinse and dry, she suddenly felt a tug on her pants, looking down to meet the tired eyes of her daughter.

She was quick to rinse and dry her hands to pick her up, giving all of her attention to the little girl. “Aw, what’s wrong Mimi? Everything alright?” She asked, already noticing the fatigue on her face.

She only snuggled into her mother’s neck, giving her the simple response of, “Tired.” Her vocabulary was fairly short, due to the fact that she was only 2 and learned her words from the ones around her (Eren got in big trouble the day Y/N heard the word ‘shit’ come out of her daughter’s mouth).

Y/N wasn’t surprised she got tired easily today, since Jean gave her more candy then Y/N would usually allow. And with the way her, Ymir, and Mikasa were running around in the yard earlier today, Y/N already saw this coming.

“You’re tired?” she asked again, earning a nod from the crook of her neck. “Okay, mommy’s almost done. Go sit next to daddy until I finish, okay?” She tells her, moving her head back to face her daughter again. Myra nodded, allowing her mother to put her down.

Walking tiredly, Myra slowly moved through the kitchen and made her way to the living room, spotting her father laidback in the corner of the room, limbs sprawled out on the sofa.

Eren wasn’t sure if it was the father instincts, but he was the first to notice her presence in the room, stopping the ghost story Jean swears is real to bring his full attention to his daughter.

“Mimi’s come to save us, everyone!” Eren exclaims, throwing jazz hands up as everyone joined and cheered her on for simply walking in. Jean didn’t like what Eren was implying, but clapped nonetheless.

“You’re not funny. Aren’t dads supposed to tell good jokes?” He questioned, attempting to steal a fry from Sasha’s plate, but failing miserably as she only swats his hand away.

“No Jean, I think it’s the other way around, they’re supposed to be corny.” Armin butts in, watching with a smile as Myra finally starts walking towards her father.

Eren could already see the fatigue on her face, holding his arms out for her once she got a little closer. “What’s up Mimi, you tired?” Eren questioned, laughing as she instead of answering, simply lifted her arms up for him to take her.

She responds with a nod, her hair falling over her face as she was lifted onto his lap. As soon as she was situated, she wasted no time in making herself comfortable, wiggling out of her dad’s grasp and laying her stomach down on his, her head right above where his heart was.

“Nevermind.” he sighs, making the whole room burst out into laughter. This only made Myra whine, the loudness distrupting her attempt at sleeping. “Sorry Myra!” Sasha whispered, finally giving a fry to Jean afterwards.

“I wonder what got her so tired.” Annie questions, making Jean sink into the couch out of guilt as Eren sends him an irritated glance.

“Jean went and gave her a sugar rush before we got here. It was absolute hell.” Eren’s eyes furrow in frustration as he remembers earlier today and how hard it was for him to catch a nap without his energetic 2 year old jumping all over him. All while Jean was happily eating lunch with his wife.

“Okay, but I didn’t know she wasn’t supposed to have that much candy! Kids eat candy like crazy, right?” He attempts to defend himself, looking around the room for support, only to be met with silence.

“Yeah, thing is she’s not a kid! She’s a toddler! Dumbass.” he mumbles the last part, hoping that Y/N somehow wouldn’t hear. But she always found a way how.

“Can someone please slap Eren for me?” She yells from the kitchen. “Stop cursing in front of Myra!”

Eren has no time to defend himself as volunteers step up to do what their friend asked, but Mikasa was the quickest, and Eren was even quicker. He swiftly grabs Myra’s frog blanket from the bag sat beside him and hids his face in it, saving it from the harsh blow of Mikasa’s hand.

“You’re lucky I didn’t miss completely, I just don’t wanna wake Myra.” she confesses, walking back to her seat.

“God, I cant believe we almost named her after you.” Eren groaned, blanket still clutched in hand.

“Mimi’s close enough for me.” She smiles, noticing the way Myra starts to squirm a bit. “Throw the blanket over her, I think she’s cold.” She suggests, bringing Eren’s attention back to the little girl on his chest.

Eren is quick to unravel the rather big blanket from his grasp and take it in both hands to bring it in the air, watching it fall perfectly onto her small figure. The blanket basically covered his whole torso, the end tickling his neck a bit.

“Thanks again for the blanket, Historia. She loves it so much, a little too much.” he says, feeling his daughter move under the blanket so that her little arms were wrapped around his torso as far as she could go. “She won’t use the one I got her anymore.” he says with a slight frown.

The group laughs again, but quietly this time, not wanting the little girl to possibly wake up in a fit.

“I wouldn’t blame her, to be honest.” Jean shrugs, giving Eren a knowing glance, as well as a sly smirk. He knows how mad Y/N would get if he were to disobey her, especially a few minutes after she scolded him. Since Y/N was only a few feet away, Eren aggresively sticks his middle finger up to the man. It’s not like Myra could see through the blanket anyway.

“Are you gonna finish your ghost story, Jean?” Annie asked, although she didn’t believe a word. She just wants to see him make a fool out of himself.

Jeans eyes light up, snapping his fingers together as he sits upstraight again, ready to go into full detail once again. “Right! Okay, okay, so right when I went to shave my beard...”

Eren let’s Jean’s apparent ghost encounter story fade in the background, focusing on the shallow breaths coming from his daughter. He felt himself getting a little drowsy himself, as if her sleepiness was seeping into him.

He doesn’t waste time lifting the blanket a bit to wrap a protective arm around her small figure under it, adjusting his posture on the sofa and crossing his ankles over one another. His let his neck sink into the back of the couch, letting his head go as well so he facing the ceiling. With the warmth of the blanket and the little girl under it, he couldn’t help but close his drowsy eyes as well, finally giving in.

A few minutes pass and Jean is done telling his story, but of course, no one believes him. All except Historia. “Thank you, Historia! See I’m telling the truth. Morons.” Jean rolls his eyes at the way Armin and Sasha curl up as they laughed, Mikasa and Annie trying their best to hold in theirs.

Jean soon notices the person who would’ve regurlarly had the most to say was being awfully quiet. Getting ready to scold him for not listening, Jean is met with a site he has to admit, is the cutest thing he’s seen all year.

Eren was deep in slumber, soft snores coming from him and the little girl that rested as peacefully as he did on top of him. The print of his arm around her could be seen through the green blanket, as well as both of their steady breaths. They looked so comfortable, it would be a pain for them to get up soon, which they would have to eventually.

“Awww, they’re adorable!!” Historia exclaims from the other side of the room, which seemed to catch Y/N’s attention all the way from the kitchen.

“What’s happening? Is something cute happening? Someone take pictures!” She exclaimed, wanting to abandon the plates and take them herself, but thinks that would be rather rude to leave poor connie alone.

“On it!” Sasha and Jean say in unison. Both are quick to pull out their phones, Jean getting the more unappealing angles, while Sasha actually put some effort into it and snapped a few photos.

These were being sent to every single person on her contact list.

this was written at like 2 am sorry if there are typos i swear i reread 💔

also i’m currently working on a mob fic idk if ppl still like those but i most definitely do so watch out for that one :p

hope y’all liked this one lol

-aysha <3

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butwhyduh · 3 years

Text

Ghosts

Tim Drake x reader

Warning: grief, maladaptive grieving strategies, alcohol, smut, ghosts

I wrote this probably 3 months ago and just now edited it.

You met Tim Drake at the graveyard. It was a blustery early February day. The snow was on the ground but hadn’t snowed in a few days. A short dry blessing for Gotham. Graveyards were the few places that were treated as sanctuaries that they were. Most people in Gotham knew more than their fair share of loved ones residing in multiple across the city.

You walked down the stone path. In the summer the lazy shade of oak trees covered the path but right now, the bare branches just hung mockingly as they protected only a little from Gotham’s frequently bad winds.

You pulled your coat a little tighter and wished you had grabbed a scarf too. Nevermind, your visit was going to be short. You moved with practiced ease through the tombstones. You knew exactly were they were buried. A delicate iron fence surrounded a small spattering of stones. His family plot.

You walked through the gate to a grave on the right side. A small stone vase was attached to the tombstone. You placed a single white daffodil before standing silently. You had nothing to say. Funny when you miss a final goodbye, you often run out of things to say afterwards. You couldn’t cry. It was too stiff. Too odd. All you could do is sigh deeply before walking out of the yard.

You swiftly walked down the path as you hoped to escape the place that caused so much pain. In your hast, you hadn’t bothered watching for others. People very rarely visited on such cold days. You ran into someone.

“I’m so sorry,” you gasped. You’d ran into a man that was clearly grieving. How terribly rude.

“I’m okay,” he said steadying you with a hand on your elbow.

“I’m so sorry to bother you. I’ll let you be,” you said, flushing even in the cold weather.

“Are you alright?” He asked looking at you carefully. You nodded but didn’t move. “Grief is odd, isn’t it? I had to come down here but feel nothing. Not a damn thing.”

You froze. Most people weren’t this honest. “I get it. Grieving sucks. And it never makes any sense, hu?”

“No. It really doesn’t. I think that I’ll come down here and have a deep conversation with him but nothing comes out. I get over here and feel silly talking to a stone,” he said with a sigh. You looked at him. He was about your age and wore a long black peakcoat and a red scarf that whipped in the wind. His clothes were impeccably tailored but looked almost too mature for him. Something a man closer to 30 would wear rather than a guy around 20. Black hair, icy blue eyes. A little bit of a natural sarcastic smile.

“Sometimes the words come when I sit for a while,” you offered.

“Do you- do you mind if I ask who you were visiting? Not their name but who they were to you? You don’t have to. I just wonder,” he said. You hesitated before speaking.

“My boyfriend. He was my boyfriend. And you?”

“My best friend,” he said. “I don’t visit enough. Not near enough.”

“I understand. I’ll let you be then. So you can talk to them instead,” you said carefully. Most people wanted quiet alone time with their dead loved ones. Unlike you. You felt a sense of relief. At least your ghosts weren’t speaking to you when there was someone there.

“Please don’t,” he said quickly. Perhaps not. Maybe you weren’t the only one haunted by ghosts, even if his was more metaphorical. “I just hate being here alone. You don’t have to stay. I’m just a weirdo asking you to hang around a random grave.”

“It’s okay. I really hate being here alone too,” you said barely over a whisper. He nodded. “Do you- do you want to talk about them?”

“Him. Not really. He was just so young. To be dead already,” he said. You looked at the headstone. Yes 22 was far too young to be in the ground. You didn’t say anything.

“I’ll wake up and forget he’s dead sometimes,” he said playing with his fingers roughly. “And it’s like he dies all over again.”

“I’m so sorry. I’ll have a dream so vivid that it’s like he’s back. Sleeping can be so cruel, can’t it?” You said, feeling your throat tighten a little.

“It’s the worst. I just see his death over and over. I think my mind hates me sometime,” he admitted before gulping. You nodded again. You didn’t trust your voice not to break and you could bear to cry.

“You’re freezing,” he said suddenly, looking at you. “Here,” he offered you his scarf and put it around your neck before you could truly protest. His soft cologne invaded your senses. “Do you want get a drink? Or a coffee?”

“I could use a drink,” you answered and he nodded. He kicked the dirt with the tip of his shoes.

“There’s a little pub around the corner. They play cliche Irish music but it’s pretty quiet with good drinks,” he said.

“What’s your name?” You asked.

“Tim. Yours?” He asked back and you told him your first name. “Drinks? It’s cool if not.”

“Yes. I’m half frozen at this point,” you admitted.

“I can tell. You need to wear more layers,” Tim said with a small smirk.

“Is that Gotham’s version of ‘you’re not from around here?’” You asked. He huffed in amusement.

“Basically. You’re from somewhere warmer,” he said. You shrugged in agreement. “Let’s get going before you freeze.”

“It would be the most ironic place to die,” you responded. He shook his head but didn’t seem upset at your dark humor.

The pub was Irish themed in a way that made you wonder if they did anymore research besides the color green and putting on Flogging Molly which isn’t really Irish anyways. But it was warm and smelled like fried food. You sat in a cramped booth in the back and you couldn’t help but notice just how out of place Tim looked. Everything about him screamed rich and this was a working class bar. Tim didn’t seem to mind though.

“Are you hungry,” he asked and you realized you had a rumbling in your stomach. When was the last time you ate?

“Yeah. I wasn’t hungry until just now,” you commented.

“Yeah I usually force myself to eat,” he said waving over the waiter, a tall skinny guy that looked about 14 with almost white blond hair wet with sweat. You both ordered food and drinks.

“What do you do for a living,” you asked Tim as the food arrived. You were finally warm.

“My job is really boring. I work in investment in a technological corporation,” he said and your eyebrows rose. Tim shedded his coat. “I told you, boring.”

“Sounds... serious,” you said with a little smile and he chuckled. His smile was handsome and he had pretty blue eyes.

“Well, yeah. What do you do? Is your job fun?” He asked in a teasing voice. Even as you smiled back at him, you felt guilty. How could you be happy right now?

“I’m a painter. Or I’d like to be. I mainly design advertisements for companies right now,” you said.

“Painting? That actually sounds fun,” he said a little surprised. “Sorry. I haven’t really been around people since...”

“Yeah. It’s hard to be there when their happy and you’re...” you said. Great. You just made it dark again.

“Yeah...”

“Hey pretty lady,” a drunk man said, sitting next to you in the booth, pushing you closer to the wall. “Have I seen an angel on a star, or whatever.”

“Okay, let’s get going,” Tim said standing up and putting his hand on the guy’s shoulder and the guy shrugged him off. “She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“How do you know, rich boy? Maybe she wants to talk to a real man,” he said with a lopsided grin.

“I don’t,” you breathed as he leaned towards you. You pulled back against the wall. Tim pulled the man out of the booth. The guy growled and sized Tim up. He must have thought he had a good chance, being at least 4-5 inches taller and 50 lbs or more heavier.

He took a drunken swing at Tim who easily deflected away from him. The man didn’t stop but tried to punch Tim again. When he deflected another attack, the man grew even more red faced and tried to tackle Tim against the table. Before the gasp you made could fully come out, Tim had slipped out of the way and grabbed the back of the man’s neck and popped his face on the table. The man slid down unconscious to lay on the floor.

You stared with your mouth slightly agape. What the hell just happened??

“Are you okay?” Tim asked and you stuttered before assuring him you were. “Then we should probably get going. The bar won’t like this.”

“It’s a pub,” you corrected.

“Yeah, let’s go,” he said and you snapped out of it as he grabbed your hand and left out the building before the owner could throw you out. He instead screamed out the door that neither of you could come back. You and Tim ran down the street before stopping at the next block. You laughed loudly and after a confused second, Tim joined. He was still holding your hand.

“That’s the most fun I’ve had in a long time,” you said loudly before Tim shushed you. “How did you? He didn’t even get one hit in,” you breathed.

“Luck I guess?”

“Not a chance. You do karate or something,” you said, standing way too close to him. He grinned at you.

“Some Krav Maga. A little Jui Jitsu,” Tim said almost shyly and you nodded.

“I’ll pretend to know know what those are,” you said and he chuckled. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem,” Tim said staring at you. You caught him looking down at your lips. He was really handsome and had just saved you. Cliche? Totally. Did you care? No.

You put your arm on his other shoulder, Tim’s free hand slid to hold your waist. He bent until he was just short of kissing you. All you had to do was lean up to kiss him.

“Can I?” He breathed.

“Yes,” you whispered. He pressed his lips against yours. The kiss started gentle but before long Tim’s hand held your jaw as he pushed his tongue in your mouth. You made a little breathy moan. Tim pulled back to catch a breath but still rested his forehead against yours. You grabbed his collar and pulled him back in. He grasped your back and pressed your body against his. You were panting when you finally pulled your lips apart.

“My place is a few blocks away,” you breathed. He gave you a questioning look. “If you, if you wanna come back.” He nodded before giving you a dizzying kiss. “Through this alley and we’ll be there in 2 minutes.”

“You shouldn’t walk through alleys,” he said before giving you another kiss. You pulled him along.

“I think I’m fine with you.” You said kissing him before walking some more.

“Okay but still. Alleys are dangerous.” He answered before you placed another kiss on his lips.

“Yeah, and we’re out of the alley now,” you said. “And here’s my building,” you said suddenly shy. You didn’t want your neighbors seeing you kissing some random guy. Especially one obviously rich like Tim. He probably didn’t even know he stuck out. You pulled away from him.

You unlocked the door and quietly offered for him to walk in. Where did your boldness go? Tim stepped in and you thanked your stars that you had cleaned up that morning.

“Do you want a drink?” You asked as you shut the door. Tim hung his coat on a coat rack that had come with the places. He shook his head and walked over to you. His eyes looked over your body like he wanted to eat you.

“What do you want?” You whispered. He looked down at you with dark eyes. His lips were red from your kissing.

“You?” He said more as a question. Can I have you?

“Hmm,” you said with a little smirk before pulling him down by the collar to kiss more. Tim’s hands roamed your body, gentle at first and then more aggressive.

You knew you shouldn’t bring a man home. Not a one night stand. Especially because you were grieving. Emotional. But as dusk fell outside your window and his hands held you firmly, you couldn’t help but be grateful that he was chasing your ghosts away. He leaned over your in bed, his lips pressed against your collarbone as he fingered you.

“Do you have condoms?” He breathed against your skin in a rough voice.

“Bedside table, top drawer,” you answered. Tim reached over to grab one. “Are you sure? Do you want this?” He asked, holding it in hand.

“Yes,” you said taking the condom to roll it on yourself. Tim breathed out quickly as you jerked a few times before sliding it on. He leaned over you and carefully looked over your face before sliding in.

You arched into his touch as he moved. His touch was soft, sweet, cautious. But not in the way anyone in your life treated you. There was no pity. You weren’t a broken doll to be tiptoed around. He was grieving too. His movement sped up as you both got closer and you got out of your head.

You softly moaned his name as you came. Tim groaned before resting his forehead against yours as he finished. He pulled out and threw the condom away. He pulled on his boxers but didn’t seem to know what to do next.

“Stay,” you said and he looked at you surprised.

“Are you sure?”

“Just-just tonight. I hate sleeping alone,” you said, feeling small. The idea of him leaving had the place feel colder, darker. Tim seemed to deliberate in his head before nodding.

“I can stay just tonight,” he said and you weren’t quite sure if he was telling you or himself. He climbed in bed and you scooted closer. He laid on his side and you slid closer to spoon. It was comforting to hear another heartbeat and feel the warmth of a body. It’d been months since you’d had that. Even if it was just one night, you didn’t feel alone. It felt secure and you quickly fell asleep.

You woke up to the unfamiliar but pleasant sensation of laying on a man’s chest wrapped up tight in blankets. A steady heartbeat and warm skin was soothing in the early morning light. You almost drifted off to sleep to the sounds of his breathing when you saw her.

A ghost. A woman in her late 30s or early 40s in conservative upper class women clothing that wasn’t too out of date. She had her arms crossed over her chest and she looked down at you both in disapproval. Her nose looked like Tim’s and she had the same black straight hair as he did.

You gulped and tried to blink her away. That worked some times. Not today. It was weird to see her anyways. Wasn’t it his make best friend that died? Who was she? She stepped closer and you stiffened. She was self-aware and was trying to speak to you. A very determined ghost indeed.

Tim moved in his sleep as if he could sense her presence. She reached out her hand as if she wanted to push the hair back on his forehead. You gasped as she moved closer. What kind of fucking ghost...? Tim woke up and she disappeared with a pop.

“You okay? You look scared or something,” he said in a rough pretty morning voice. You debated answering him truthfully that he was haunted by a mean looking woman but decided against it. He was a one night thing right?

“Nothing. Go back to sleep,” you said and he nuzzled closer.

“Hmm I’d rather have breakfast,” he muttered kissing your neck. You flushed. You hadn’t bothered shopping in a while.

“I don’t really- my fridge is-“

“Not the kind I’m talking about,” Tim said gently pushing you to your back.

“Oh,” you said as he slid beneath the sheets. You certainly weren’t complaining as he kissed down your body. He was good at it but it was also a great tactile distraction. Ghosts weren’t there when you were far to busy to see them.

It’s a little different so let me know what you think.

#batboy x reader #Tim drake x reader #Red Robin x reader #Tim drake smut #Red Robin smut #Tim drake angst #Red Robin angst

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xo-cuteplosion-xo · 3 years

Note

okay here me out

A touch deprived reader but that's not all 😀

They don't understand emotions well.

Like can you do something with bandages, angry ginger, kinda furry friend. (Haven't requested him before XD)

Just like a reader who is crying but doesn't understand the tears a,d is all confused and just gets attention and their just like wtf but end up liking it and crying more as t&ey try to explain?

Emotionless ? | Dazai, Chuuya, Atsushi x normally emotionless crying reader |

Hope you like it friend. I’ve also decided to call me followers peeps :) So you are now a peep.

Dazai-

He’d never seen your face in anything but a single emotion, numb.

He never saw you show shock, surprise, joy, love, not even amusement.

Even he grasped some emotions. And he considered his ability to be the perfect description of himself.

He’d known you since the port mafia days.

You were one of the many feared people among the mafia, known as the emotionless angel of death. You even killed subordinates who stepped from line or messed up.

You had changed, but it was near impossible to tell. There was a little more light in your eyes. They weren't as dead now.

So imagine the shock of the former mafia executive when he spots your grip on your phone loosen. When it fell to the floor and your head tilted to the side, he was up from his chair to turn you to face him.

The pure shock would at first scare him.

He’d move away watching as you blinked and touched your cheek over and over trying to form words only for those light whimpers to leave.

He’d hesitantly approach you. He wasn’t all that good with touch and comfort, but he knew you needed it.

At first, your body would be rigid, and he’d argue with himself. Unsure if you wanted him to let go.

It was weird to see your eyes open in shock as you moved your hands to wrap around him.

It was even weirder when you dug your head to his chest and rubbed it on the fabric as if this was something new.

The tears fell faster as you held onto him. He ran his hands over your back as you cried.

“Please… don’t leave me Dazai.” his heart nearly combusted with your words. He’d never heard such desperation, fear, and sadness mixed in your voice.

“I…” how could he promise that he wouldn't? He was one day going to succeed right? He’d leave this world. “For as long as I live… I won’t” he was careful with the wording, but it seemed enough.

As your body relaxed and you pulled away, his hand cupped your cheek.

Once more your eyes widened before they fluttered shut. When you pressed to his touch with a soft hum, he wiped the stray tears with his thumb.

Were you… touch starved? He knew what it felt like to crave affection from somebody. He too basked in this, but he knew the feeling. He got what he needed from his pestering. This was more fulfilling though. The warmth of your skin on his hand was like touching heaven.

The more you leaned into the small touch, the more he wanted to just hold you until you could smile.

That’s what he did. Until the smallest of light jumped into your eyes as they opened, until that feather of a smile popped on your lips, he held onto you like he was your life-line.

Chuuya-

Chuuya is used to seeing your stoic expression and the drained voice when you talk to him.

He was not ready to deal with you showing emotion.

You were joining him for a drink and without even being all that drunk you looked down at the glass and tears just fell.

It took him some time to process this. His head would tilt as he watched you sniffle.

He realized what was going on before you did. “Are you crying?” he asked seeing the water land in puddles beneath your chin.

“What’s that?” Chuuya would dead-pan at you. Trying to figure out how to explain an emotion to somebody who clearly had no understanding of how emotions worked was… difficult.

“It’s the reaction to being sad?”

“What’s being sad?”

“What you are right now.”

“I don’t understand it?”

“Of course you don’t…. I… just come here, damn it.”

“Why?”

“I’m just gonna show you what happens when you're sad, stupid dumb-ass!” he’d shout a little.

Another emotion you would likely never get. Why did people get angry? Why did they shout? Was there a point?

You walked to him with your head tilted trying to get the tears to stop. “Am I sad?”

“Well yeah? You’re crying so you're sad. It usually feels like your chest is all heavy and your head gets a little cloudy. You might wanna lash out, drop to your knees, blame the world, idk, there is a lot that happens when you're sad. It happens to people because sometimes it’s how you just stay sane.” he would explain the emotion as he pulled you down.

When he holds your back to his chest you’d freeze in shock.

He would hesitate and almost let you stand back up.

When you lean back slowly touching his gloved hands he’d keep you close. Removing one of his gloves, he'd let you hold it. “Soft.”

“Tch.”

You stayed like that for a while before slowly bringing his hand to your face. Putting it against your cheek you began to cry more. The feeling was nice and it filled your chest with a weirdly light sensation. “My chest… it feels light.”

“Happiness.” Chuuya would mumble.

He set his chin on your shoulder enjoying the physical contact.

It had been a while since he’d had somebody so close to himself.

He’d eventually find a way to cuddle. He’s big on cuddles.

It would confuse you at first but you would learn it was nice.

Without much thought, you would snuggle close trying to gain as much physical touch as possible.

He’d hold you like that until you stopped crying.

Out of trust and loyalty, he doesn't press for answers, he simply waits until you're ready to talk.

If you are never ready, he waits for you to leave the cuddles.

If you don’t leave the cuddles, he'll stay until the bar closes or until you two get tossed out, or have to work.

Atsushi- (forgive me if this is bad…. I don’t really pay enough attention to the kitty)

He’s so used to seeing nothing from your face when he’s caught alone with you crying, he's just shocked.

Then he’s scared. He had no idea how or why this happened to you.

Despite the tears, you still look really emotionless. He can’t tell if you're sad, in pain, or happy.

He’ll probably awkwardly waddle around before nervously asking if you were okay.

When your voice is nothing but whimpers, he fears he made you more upset (poor kitty)

He’s good with comfort, but he had no idea how to comfort somebody who rarely shows emotions.

His first reaction is to do what Dazai has done with him a few times. He rubs his hand in your hair.

When it shocks you he backs up.

The moment the touch left your chest felt heavy again.

This time you take the initiative and grab his hand, placing it back on your head.

He looks at you confused before rubbing your hair again.

You feel a comfortable tightness in your chest as well as a small warmth in your cheeks.

You try to put a name to it recalling the definitions of emotions, but it falls under too many.

Eventually, Atsushi would sum it up. The best way to comfort you was to let you know whatever you were holding in or hiding didn't have to be done alone.

The best way to do this (in his thoughts) is to pull you into a hug. It’s more than awkward, and he’s really self-conscious.

When he sees the way your body relaxes and presses to his body, he'll blush but also know he’s doing something right.

He won’t move or anything afraid of messing up or hurting you more.

When your tears stop, he'll smile kindly as he always does. “Feel better?”

When you look at him and think you decide that you were feeling something close to happiness right now. The light flutter of your heart leads you to try and copy his smile.

He’s shocked but chuckles at how you could be cute.

He’ll get flustered after that crosses his mind.

You recognize that one from shows and you don’t understand why you suddenly copy that expression.

You both end up moving from the other, spurting words before bowing simultaneously.

When you giggle you’re shocked with yourself and press a finger to your lips. He’ll smile kindly once more.

“You should show emotion like this more. I think it’s really uh nice wh-when you… you, uh nevermind!”

“I think… I think I’ll try… since Atsushi-Kun asked so nice I’ll try.” you were back to emotionless again but the feeling you had felt, you held onto them as he waved to you and left.

#dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #atsushi x reader #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs headcanons #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #dazai #chuuya #atsushi #bsd headcanons #bsd fluff

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dracowars · 3 years

Note

Hii! So i have seen that your request is currently open! Also that you are kind of new here (i guess? Idrk)! I was wondering if i could request one? The story goes like draco pulls a prank on y/n (any kind really its up to you!) then later on showers her with his love (gift too because we all know he got the ✨ money money ✨ so thats it! (Its very fluffy im sorry) i hope you can do it totally alright if you cant tho!! I hope to see more of your works! God Bless💗

fun and games | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x slytherin!reader

word count: 3,3k

summary: where draco takes pranking y/n too far

a/n: thank you so so much for requesting! <3 since this is my first ever request i'm a little bit nervous >.< i really hope that you like it and that it lives up to your expectations! i feel honored that you trusted me with your request even though i'm still pretty new on here ♡

warnings: none

universe: harry potter

You can't remember when it started, you only know that it did and that it slowly starts to annoy the hell out of you. Not because you don't understand fun, you really do, but you can't even spend a quiet minute with your boyfriend Draco anymore since he started acting like Fred and George Weasley, always pulling a prank on you with every possibility he got.

Some of those were actually funny and made you laugh, but at some point it just got too much. Every time you are with him now, you expect something to happen. Whether it is that he calls you to him to show you fantastic beasts that do not exist, making you look like a fool while he laughs, or that he hides two of your belongings somewhere around Hogwarts, telling you that it is actually three objects that you then have to search for like crazy. He even gave you Veritaserum once, just to ask you an endless number of questions which you inevitably had to answer. All of that you already went through. But today was somewhat different.

Draco did not pull a prank on you for weeks now, which you can not complain about at all, in fact you are quite happy about it. After his last prank you asked him to finally stop and it seems like he listened to you. Still, something feels very weird.

You haven't seen Draco today, which is rather unusual for you and your relationship because neither of you can last longer than a few hours without the other. You have just come out of your Defense Against the Dark Arts class and look around the hallway, expecting to spot him somewhere, while your classmates walk past you to head to their break. Usually, Draco always picks you up after class so that you can spend time together until your next course. But you don't see him anywhere today.

At the end of the hallway you spot Fred and George trying to sell one of their newest and greatest inventions to a first-year. You shake your head and roll your eyes. These two are probably responsible that your boyfriend had his prank phase, even though he absolutely despises every Weasley. Of course Draco would never admit it, but you think that he copied a lot from them.

"Leave the poor child alone, Weasley's", you tell them while passing them, not wanting to wait longer for Draco to pick you up. Regrettably you shouldn't have opened your mouth because all of a sudden they apparate in front of you out of nowhere, making you flinch and taking a step back. "What, Y/N? Did I hear you correctly?", George says, wiggling his eyebrows at Fred. "You really want to test our new creation?", Fred adds with a smile.

"No, thank you. I've had enough of pranks lately", you assure them with a forced smile. Obviously offended by your statement, the red haired twins cross their arms over their chest, giving you a disapproving look before vanishing again. Shaking your head, you make your way to your common room, hoping to meet Draco on the way there. Unfortunately, that does not happen and you slowly start to have a bad feeling. Where is he?

Once you arrive in the dungeons, you say the password and enter the common room, which is cosy warm in contrast to the cold corridors outside. After all, it's winter; what else should you expect from the temperature? Several Slytherin's buzz around, sitting at the green fire or studying at the tables. But still, no sign of Draco.

You spot Crabbe and Goyle on one of the sofas, who have their eyes focused on you. As soon as they realize that you look back at them, they burst into giggles and look away as if nothing happened. Their weird behavior lets you frown in confusion. Before you can confront them about it, Pansy suddenly appears right in front of you and thus into your field of vision.

"Y/N! We want to go down to the lake in a few minutes. It's frozen solid for the first time this year! Do you want to join us?", she offers, her outfit already perfectly adapted to the cold temperature outside. "Do you know where Draco is?", you blurt out, not answering to her question at all. "No? Why would I?", Pansy responds irritated.

You loudly breathe out. "Nevermind. Enjoy your trip to the lake", you wish her and give her a small smile, then walk past her and towards your room in the girls' dormitories. You don't miss the look that Crabbe and Goyle give you as well as their giggles when you make your way out of the big room though.

While walking your gaze falls on something laying on the ground and you immediately stop in your tracks abruptly. You bend down and pick it up in amazement, a now much bigger smile forming on your lips. In your delicate hand you're now holding a rose petal. Looking in front of you, you notice more rose petals on the floor. They seem to show you the way to your room.

It must have been Draco, he definetely wants to surprise you after a stressful day, you are sure about that. Quickly and with unbelievable enthusiasm you follow the path to your closed door. You imagine how you will open the door and come into your room, there will be a romantic atmosphere with warm candlelight and Draco will lovingly greet you, hug you and kiss you until-

SPLASH

You have just opened the door when suddenly a huge mass of cold water falls down on you, completely soaking you from head to toe. Because of the shock and the sudden coldness surrounding you, you gasp for air. In front of you, you do not see your desired romantic atmosphere or any candles, but only your laughing boyfriend.

"I got you again!", Draco rejoices and praises himself while you can only watch him in shock. You look down at yourself and lift one of your feet out of the puddle beneath you which you are now standing in. Water drips from your hair and your uniform to the floor. Your boyfriend's cheeky laugh echoes in your ears. Slowly your whole body begins to tremble, although you are not sure wheather it comes from the cold water or from the anger boiling up inside of you.

Assuming that you find the successful prank as funny as he does, he keeps laughing, not noticing your anger yet. "Fred and George did the same prank with Weaselbee the other day, so I had to try it out as well. It worked! Crabbe and Goyle helped me set it up and-"

"I hate you so much!", you scream at him angrily, no longer able to keep your anger under control. Draco's expression falls immediately, obviously not expecting this kind of a reaction. You are still stiffly standing under the door frame, stretching your arms away from your body to somehow escape the extreme cold, water still running down, even under your clothes. "Why do you never know when it's time to stop?! I thought you wanted to surprise me!"

A little taken aback, Draco slowly approaches you while you are busy with wringing out your wet hair. "Don't you dare touch me now, Draco Malfoy!", you command and he obeys your words, stopping a few inches in front of you. "Love, it was just supposed to be fun..", he mumbles dejected, insecurely rocking back and forth on his feet, slowly realizing his mistake.

"Yeah, of course. For you it's always all fun and games until someone dies!", you angrily rebuke him. "I'm completely wet, I'm damned cold, as if it wasn't already cold enough outside, and all I wanted is to spend a relaxing and nice afternoon with my boyfriend who, as always, only got nonsense in his mind and not thinks about his girlfriend's feelings!", you complain, getting rid of your wet cloak while bumping into him with your shoulder as you walk past, throwing it onto your bed. You sit down next to it on the soft mattress and take off your soaking wet shoes as well. For a few minutes there is nothing but silence between you two.

"Y/N..", Draco breaks the silence, but you just shoot him a scathing glance, your lower lip now trembling from the coldness surrounding your body. "I don't want to hear anything, Draco. Really", you scoff and roll your eyes, standing up to finally get out of your uncomfortable clothes. "Can you leave, please? I want to change", you ask him reproachfully, but he doesn't move a single bit.

"I'm responsible for this so let me help you, okay? I'm sorry", he says, sincerity in his sad voice. You can't even answer him as he already pulls out his wand and casts a spell you don't recognize. The puddles on the floor disappear and your clothes are suddenly dry again. All that is left is the unbearable cold around you. Freezing, you draw your cloak tighter around you and give Draco a very small but thankful smile.

He looks at you thoughfully before spreading his arms to invite you into a warm hug, which you gladly accept. Even though you're mad at him, he still manages to make you soften again. You wrap your arms tightly around his waist and he gently strokes your back with one hand in hopes to warm you up at least a little bit, then places a gentle kiss of the top of your head and hugs you even tighter, pulling you closer to his much warmer body. He can clearly feel your body tremble against his. "I'm really sorry, love. I hope you can forgive me for my stupid behavior..", he breathes into your ear, loosening your arms around his waist to take your ice-cold hands in his.

He closely examines your face, searching for any hint of what your answer could be like. No longer able to resist his pleading stare and shimmering gray eyes, you slowly nod to assure him that you will forgive him. Of course you will; you love him way too much to let something this silly destroy your relationship. More than happy with your answer, he cups your cheeks between his hands, his silver ring coldy pressing against your skin, and gives you a loving kiss.

"I will make up for it, I promise", he speaks against your lips after you broke the kiss, his thumb caressing your lower lip softly. "As long as you stop those stupid pranks, idiot", you roll your eyes, still feeling a tiny bit upset about the incident. A little chuckle escapes his lips and he pulls you close against him again. "Let's warm you up first, hm?", Draco whispers and before you know it he has apparated both of you back into the common room. Because everyone left to go to the lake you're now completely alone in the big room.

Without your consent, Draco pulls you onto one of the couches near the fireplace so you can warm up. With the help of a spell, he increases the flame a little more. Out of nowhere he throws you a fluffy, thick blanket and wraps you in it, your body now slowly but surely heating up.

While you're still busy making yourself comfortable, Draco extinguishes all the lights in the room except for a few candles, which dip the quiet room into a soothing light, creating a relaxing atmosphere for you two.

"Are you feeling warmer already? Do you need something else? What about a hot chocolate?", he questions you, still feeling extremly horrible for what he made you go through. "A hot chocolate sounds very nice, actually", you accept his offer, deciding to take advantage of the situation, innocently smiling at him. It does not even take him one single second and he suddenly vanishes into thin air. Shaking your head but smiling to yourself you watch the flame in the fireplace while you wait for him to return.

To your amazement, it takes him a lot longer than you expected and that just for a simple hot chocolate. After about a quarter of an hour he pops up again in front of you all of a sudden, two steaming cups in his hands. He serves you your hot drink with a cheeky smile on his face. "As requested: one perfectly hot chocolate, but not nearly as hot as you", he winks at you before making himself comfortable next to you.

"What took you so long?", you ask and take a sip, skillfully ignoring his statement. "Had to.. run a few more errands, you know. I'm a very busy man", he smirks at you, holding the, in his hands much smaller looking, cup. You look at him in disbelief and then discover a few white spots on his uniform that make you raise your eyebrows in confusion. "It's snowing outside?", you question and point to the snowflakes on his cloak that are slowly melting in the warm room. "Care to explain why you were outside?"

"Uh, well.. I just wanted to please my lovely girlfriend", he explains and takes something out of his pockets. You immediately know what it is and sit up excitedly, but before you can grab it, you pull your hand back. "That's not another one of your pranks, is it?", you pout and look in his eyes for an answer, any sign that this really is just normal candy from Honeydukes and not some experiments he bought from Fred and George.

"Come on, Y/N! They are not poisoned. Eat now or I froze myself to death out there for nothing", Draco assures you and you decide to trust him, carefully opening the candy, revealing the actually normal, delicious sweets that you love so much. Happily eating them you don't even notice at first how Draco keeps staring at you, one of his fingers nervously tapping the rim of his cup.

"Y/N?", Draco finally clears his throat, sitting up straight while you look at him with big expectant eyes. The way he pronounces your name, how the letters roll of his tongue create goosebumps all over your skin, causing you to cuddle up more into the cozy blanket, waiting for him to continue. His gaze wanders back and forth between you and his warm drink, of which he has not drunk very much yet.

He opens his mouth to say something again but notices the goosebumps on your arm, the alarm bells in his head loudly going off immediately. "Are you still cold? Wait a second!", Draco tells you, without waiting for an answer, and jumps up, running to his prefect room and coming back a few seconds later to give you one of his green Slytherin sweaters. "Here. Put it on, it will warm you up", he commands and examines you carefully as you pull it over your head, the pleasant scent of his perfume clouding your senses instantly.

Your cheeks turn a little bit red, on the one hand because of the extreme warmth that now surrounds you and on the other hand because Draco gives you such a sweet and tender look, as if you are the most beautiful and precious being in this world; which, in fact, you definetely are to him. He moves closer to you and puts his arm around your shoulders so that you can lean against his chest and snuggle up to him. Draco gently runs his fingers over your hair, over your cheeks and to your chin, which he slightly lifts up, making you look at him.

Neither of you say anything for a while, you just look each other deep in the eyes. Draco brushes one strand of hair behind your ear that fell into your face and slowly leans in. You close your eyes, waiting for him to connect your lips, but he teasingly stops shortly before, his breath fanning against your skin. "I have something for you.. as an apology", he gently whispers and you open your eyes in surprise. "You don't have to give me anything, Draco. I've already forgiven you, you know that", you smile at him, cupping one of his cheeks which makes him smile.

He takes your hand in his and squeezes it lightly, kisses your knuckles and then shakes his head with a sigh. "I know. Still, I feel bad and want to give you something. Something very meaningful and significant", he declares, reaching into his pocket once again. Eventually, his secrecy makes you kind of curious anyway and you look at his hand eagerly, waiting to see what the gift will be.

Draco pulls out a small black box covered in velvet. Your curious gaze focuses on the box, which contents are still unknown to you until he finally opens it and reveals a beautiful, gold shimmering and, above all, quite expensive looking necklace. Small moons and stars hang on it, but the real focus of the indescribably lovely piece of jewelry is in the middle. The bigger splendid pendant attached to it is none other than his name, Draco, written in an artistic curved font. Overwhelmed, your mouth drops open.

"Actually, I wanted to give it to you for our anniversary this year, as a thanks for sticking around with me for so long, no matter how stupid and silly and annoying I was. Somehow it just felt like the right moment to give it to you now", Draco explains in a calm voice, no sight of the silly boy from a few hours ago, and takes the necklace out of its box, gesturing that you should turn around so he can carefully place it around your neck. He leaves a few butterfly kisses along your neck before you turn around to him again, immediately touching the pendant with your fingertips, slightly pressing it against your soft skin.

"I thought I would give you my first name as long as I can't give you my last", Draco smiles timidly, a tear escaping from the corner of your eye as you pull him into a tight embrace. "D-Draco.. I don't know what to say.. I love you so much", you sob into his neck, placing a kiss right there. His arms wrap around you and he breathes out contentedly and somewhat relieved. "I was afraid that you would reject me..", he whispers nearly inaudible, more to himself than to you.

"I would never even think about rejecting you! But do you really promise that you will make it come true, Draco? That you will give me the honor to receive your last name?", you ask seriously, retreating a bit so you are able to look at his handsome face. A smile creeps its way onto his lips at your so serious but also hopeful facial expression. "I don't want anything more in my life than that, darling", Draco clarifies honestly and then takes the pendant with his name on it between his thumb and index finger. "This is a promise", he repeats softly and gives you a quick but loving kiss.

Despite the short kiss, you feel a pleasant warmth inside of you and the butterflies flutter around in your stomach. You put your hands around his neck and can't help but grin brightly, trying to hide it by biting down on your lower lip. Immediately, Draco's thumb comes up to your lip and stops you from doing so, looking back and forth between your shiny eyes and plump lips.

The next kiss you share is so passionate and with so much love that you forget everything around you in a matter of seconds, fading out your surroundings. Now, there is only you and Draco. And a promise that you hold close to your heart.

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