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emberfrostlovesloki · 7 months

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Moschino and Muddy Water [Emily x Reader]

Prompt: You offer unsolicited fashion advice to a total stranger in the dressing room; aka when you meet Emily Prentiss in the Moschino dressing room and give her some much-needed confidence… and maybe something more.

Category: Fluff/Comfort

Word Count: 3.2K

A/N: This is yet another @imagining-in-the-margins prompt from her Meet Cute writing challenge. Thank you for all the inspiration! Please know that I don’t have Moschino money, so if my writing about the brand or experience of shopping there is off, that’s why. I’m just giving my best guess as to what it’s like to shop at a luxury store like that. Also, I don’t love the current Moschino collection, but they seem like clothes Emily would wear to me. This is the first time that I’ve written a story in the second person. Please let me know if you like this formatting more than the third-person formatting I’ve done in the past. I hope you enjoy this story, and if you do - comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated!

P.S. The reader uses she/her pronouns

List with all stories

_s/s_ = shoe size

_d/s_ = dress size

_f/c_ = favorite color

_b/t_ = body type

_f/j/c_ = favorite jewel color

_f/m/s_ = favorite mall store

_y/n_ = your name

_f/s_ = favorite senator

_f/a_ = favorite artist

You had spent the morning window shopping at the outdoor Historic Downton Shopping Mall. She was currently standing outside the Moschino storefront with its crisp glass exterior and metrosexual, jewel-toned fall collection on the mannequins. _y/n_ would never stop at such a high-end shop, but a pair of boots had caught your eye and you really, really like them. _y/n_ thought, ‘Oh god, why do you have to torture yourself like this?’ As you walked into the store to take a closer look at those shoes. You justified the choice by thinking that she would take a closer look at the boots so you could try and find a convincing and far cheaper dupe online. As soon as you walked into the store a sharply dressed sales assistant approached her and said, “Good morning, Miss. Can I grab you a glass of champagne while you are looking around?” You smiled and said, “Yes, please.” The assistant nodded and moved into a back room for a moment. You heard the pop of a cork. While the woman was away, you looked over the dresses and jackets in the women’s section. You like this season’s collection and found a dress that you thought you had seen one of her coworkers wearing. The sales assistant came back and handed you a champagne flute and asked, “Is there anything particular you’re looking for today? Any style or event you’d like to help you with?” Now that you had committed to the bit by accepting the champagne you realized you were going to have to play that you were going to buy something, even though you knew you weren't. You turned to the assistant and said, “Well the black boots in the window caught my eye. I’m also looking for a new jacket; something that can transition from day to night.” The woman nodded and said, “Great. What’s your shoe and dress size?” You replied, “I’m a _s/s_ and a _d/s_.” The woman nodded and said, “I’ll go in the back to get those shoes. Feel free to look around the jacket sections -- it’s on the far wall.”

You did go look at the jackets, but not before looking at the price of the dress you had seen her co-worker in. The number on the label took your breath away and you wondered how your co-worker could possibly afford something so expensive? ‘Maybe she’s loaded?’ you thought. You stepped toward the jackets and pulled one from the rack. The quality of stitching and the material used was impeccable. You placed the piece back on the rack as a _f/c_ dress nearby caught your eye. It would be perfect for work. You looked at it longingly and hadn’t noticed the sales assistant had come back. You nearly jumped out of your skin when the woman said, “Ma’am.” You caught your breath and turned, trying to look composed. The assistant motioned for one of the plush chairs on the floor. As you sat, she took out the shoes. You tried them on; you were happy they weren’t that comfortable, because with how good they looked on you, you might be tempted to waste two months' salary and eat ramen for two weeks straight to get them. The sales assistant said, “Why don’t you walk around a bit and see if you like them. There’s a mirror on the other side of the wall so you can properly see them. I also saw you looking at that dress and jacket. I’ll grab them in your size and put them in a changing room for you.” You smiled and thanked her. As the woman moved to the racks, you did a few circuits of the store and looked at the shoes in the mirror. When you finished trying on the boots, you moved back to your old shoes and put them back on. You moved to the dressing room. It was lush and as a grandiose, over-the-top addition the hallway that was lined with changing rooms was essentially lit like a runway with two towering mirrors on either end of the hallway. Just before the changing rooms, there’s a seating area full of neutral-color plush sofas and chairs similar to those in the showroom. For a moment you thought they might be for the poor husbands who were dragged out shopping with their wives. However, after a second look, the space was far too feminine; you ascertained that this was for mothers and girlfriends to coo and make recommendations on the fit and look of the clothes to be soon bought and stuck in a closet somewhere potentially to be forgotten. A shot of jealousy shot up you for a moment before you took a breath and let it out. You may not have come from money, but you were happy. You had a job that fulfilled you and that’s all that mattered.

Your thoughts were interrupted when the sales assistant called for you. You moved to the dressing room she had picked out for you. As you peered into the large space you noticed two things. The first was that the woman had brought your champagne glass into the changing room and topped it up. Secondly, she had brought more than the two pieces into the dressing room. From your count, there were at least ten items on the small personal rack in the ostentatious room. The saleswoman said, “I took the liberty to pull a few more pieces in your sizes that matched the description of day to night that you mentioned. I’m going to let you try these items on. If you need anything like a different size or a top-up for your champagne, just let me know. My name is Kirsten, so please let me know if you need anything.” Kirsten graciously moved out of the dressing room and closed the door behind her. There was a satisfying click as the door automatically locked behind her. You relaxed after letting out a breath that you hadn’t realized you were holding. The fact that Kristen hadn’t realized that you didn’t have any money to buy anything she had pulled for you was shocking, or maybe she was just taking pity on her and not making this a humiliating experience. Whatever the cause was, you took off your pants and shirt and tried on the first dress, the original one you had been eyeing. When you looked in the mirror it really wasn’t as pretty on you as you had anticipated. It looked great on the rack, but on your _b/t_ it wasn’t flattering. With that disappointment swept under the rug, you took off the dress and grabbed for the next garment because surely they couldn’t all look as bad as the first.

As you slipped the second dress off the hanger you heard Kisten’s voice and a new voice a few feet from your dressing room. From what you could hear Kristen was talking to a regular. The jealousy swelled again, but you pushed it down again. The next two dresses were also flops and you started to try on the jackets Kirsten had picked for you, the new voice spoke. Whoever was in the changing room with you caught your interest. It was clear to you that whoever was speaking was on the phone. If you listened with concentration, you could hear some of the words being exchanged. Given this was such a stupid and surreal experience, why not listen to how ‘the other half lived?’ As you eavesdropped these were the snippets of conversation you heard: “Listen J.J. I’ve shopped here for years, but I don’t know about the Fall 23’ collection. If I buy these dresses and pants they will have to function for work and this date I’ve got coming up on Saturday… I can’t decide if this dress is tacky or chic” There was a long pause before the woman who was speaking said, “Okay, okay, fine, I’ll look in the big mirror if you insist.” You couldn’t help but leave your lush cubicle to see who this woman was and what someone who sounded like they had been a consistent customer for years looked like. You zipped up the hidden zipper of the _f/j/c/_ dress you were pretending to be trying on. After the zipper was up, you peeked out of the door to see the woman. She was still on the phone and hadn’t noticed you standing there yet. Your jaw almost dropped when you saw the woman. She was beautiful; the most attractive person she had seen in months. The maroon dress she wore hugged her body in the best possible way. Its plunging neckline showed her cleavage in a way that highlighted her form. Seeing her in that dress she realized who these clothes were made for. You could help yourself and you said aloud, “You look amazing.” At your comment the woman finally realized that she wasn’t alone and her eyes looked up to the mirror, locking onto yours. She turned and said, “Thank you. Do you really think so? I think the neckline might be a bit much” You smiled and nodded saying, “I think that dress was made for you. I couldn't help but overhear your comment on the phone and I don’t think it’s tacky at all. I would probably wear a cami under it at work, but other than that I don’t see any downsides.” The woman smiled and said, “Thank you. I needed to hear that. It’s been a rough week.” The woman took a moment to look you over, and you flushed as you felt her eyes quickly rake over you. She said, “You look great as well. That dress really suits you.” You beamed replying, “Thank you.” With slight hesitation and a bit of awkwardness, the conversation stopped and both women went back to their own stalls.

You took off the dress and put it back on the hanger. As silly as it was, you didn’t want the woman she had complimented to see her walk out of the store empty-handed. You exited the dressing room and told the sales associate that none of the dresses or jackets had worked out, and she thanked her for her time and help. Outside the weather had turned cloudy and grey. It had been raining a lot that fall and it looked like the trend was going to continue today. You decided to go to a store you could afford. You looked around the racks of _f/m/s_ and picked out a suad purse. You moved to the front of the store and checked out. You spent some time just walking around appreciating the cool weather and people-watching. You remembered that you had a Starbucks gift card and decided to treat yourself. As you walked toward the coffee shop you heard a noise on the opposite side of the road in front of her. You looked over in that direction and found the woman from the dressing room. It seems that she had fallen for some reason. You became increasingly annoyed as a group of guys and a few women walked by and didn’t help her up. More infuriating was the fact that you could hear one of the men laugh, and you knew that if she could hear his nasal laugh the woman most certainly could. You quickly moved across the road, avoiding a slow-moving car, and knelt down near the woman offering her a hand. The woman took it with surprising strength and you leaned back to help her up. Not only had she fallen, but she had fallen in a puddle of muddy water, staining her crisp white shirt. As she helped the woman up, she said, “Thank you so much! You’re my savior.” You smiled and said, “I’m happy to help.” Once she was back on the sidewalk, you leaned down and got to her dropped shopping bag and purse from the puddle. You made sure the bag labeled Moschino didn’t have any water damage to the package. Thankfully whatever clothing the woman had bought was put in another box due to the quality of the product. You shook the bag slightly to remove any excess water.

You noticed the reason for the woman’s fall was due to the fact that her right high heel had broken off. You couldn’t help but feel a bit of pity for this woman; she had said she had had a bad week, she had fallen and no one had helped her up, and now even her shoes were betraying her. Without even really thinking you said, “I was going to go grab a coffee and Starbucks, could I treat you to a drink? I’m_y/n_, by the way.” The woman looked at you and replied, “That sounds really nice actually. I’m Emily, Pretiss. It’s nice to meet you _y/n_.” You handed the Mischino bag back to Emily and you both moved down the street toward the Starbucks. As you were walking, Emily said, “You didn’t buy the dress from the dressing room? It looked so good on you?” You flushed but responded truthfully with, “I couldn’t afford the dress. I can barely afford Guess which is just a knock-off Prada.” Emily laughed at the last comment and you thought the sound of her laughing was the most beautiful thing you had heard all week. She replied, “Tell me about it. Why does shopping have to be so humiliating? First, you have to try on clothes and be disappointed when they don’t fit, and second, if they do fit, you can’t afford them! Certainly, men don’t have this type of problem while shopping.” You chuckled and said, “They most certainly don’t, but most men are wearing cargo shorts and Polo’s. A two-year-old could make the outfit.” You both burst into another fit of laughter. As you got to the Starbucks Emily opened the door for you. You both waited in line and as you got to the front you ordered your usual creme brulee latte with a shot of espresso and a pump of vanilla. You turned to Emily and asked, “What would you like?” She thought for a second before saying, “I’ll have a cold brew with sweet cream foam.” After you had paid you both found a quiet table in the corner of the store.

As you sat across from each other you appreciated Emily’s face. You couldn’t stop thinking about how pretty she was. You were pulled from your thoughts when Emily said, “So, where do you work?” You replied I’m an intern for _f/s_ currently. How about you, Emily?” Emily replied, “I work for the F.B.I. actually. I’m a profiler?” At this, your eyes widened and you said, “Really? What’s that like; it must be dangerous I assume?” Emily nodded. She was looking at you and the way you were looking at her ignited a small warmth in the pit of her stomach. _y/n_ was looking at her with a kind and attentive gaze. Emily had been struggling with dating since she had joined the BAU and now, by fate or fortune, she was someone who seemed lovely. She was actually dreading her upcoming date, but didn’t want to cancel on the guy and have to explain that she wasn’t into him anymore. So she was going to savor this moment with _y/n_. She responded to the question saying, “It is. It is dangerous most of the time. But it has to be done you know. People deserve to live in a safe world. And that’s what I do.” There was a moment of silence after this before Emily continued, “So what’s an average weekend like for you apart from boosting my confidence by fifty percent?” As both Emily and you recognized how this feels like a first date this all felt. However, neither one minded, and you replied, “I like to sleep in if I can. Then get a workout in and answer some emails and after that, I’ll grab a coffee and do something fun if I have the energy. I have a penchant for used bookstores and vintage copies of Virginia Wolfe. In the evenings I like to listen to _f/a_ on vinyl while I unwind with a glass of wine. How about you?” Emily liked what had said and replied, “Oh my god, I love _f/a_! I was them in concert last year. I think I changed my life.” You smiled and said, “Lucky.” After finishing a sip of her cold brew, Emily said, “Well it depends if my team is on a case then I’m working, obviously, but if I’m free I like to get in a workout like Yoga or pilates. I cuddle my cat and spend time making a nice meal. I’m trying to see every art museum in the city, so if I can fit that in then I will. My job is pretty stressful, so relaxing stuff mostly.” You couldn’t help but think about Emily cuddling her cat, or maybe you were thinking of her cuddling you instead. Your face visibly reddened and you had to look away for a moment. You and Emily continued to chat as you finished your drinks and before you got up to go Emily went out on a limb and said, “Hey, _y/n_, would you like to do this for real sometime soon?” At hearing this the butterflies in your stomach fluttered up into your chest and you thought you might float up to the ceiling. You wanted to be sure you heard correctly and said, “This?” Now Emily flushed and she replied, “Would you go on a date with me? You seem really kind and I’d like to get to know you better.” You wanted to nod or scream with excitement, but something stopped you for a moment and asked, “What about your date on Thursday?” Emily shook her head and said, “I’ll cancel. He was rude in his messages with me and I was having doubts already.” You took in the information and nodded replying, “Then yes. I’d love to go on a date with you, Emily.” Emily’s face broke into a radiant smile and she said, “Great. What day works for you?”

As you planned the day and time for the date the chemistry was palpable between them. As they both walked to the door to go their separate ways, Emily held the door for you. Feel blossoming feelings Emily felt toward you surged as you turned away from her and she couldn’t stop herself from saying your name. You turned and there was a look of desire on Emily’s face. You stepped forward and whispered her name. Emily closed the gap between you. She took one of your hands and leaned down slowly. Slowly enough for you to say no if you wanted. But you didn’t want to say no. Instead, you raised up on your toes to meet her lips. They were as warm and soft as you had imagined. The scent of her light perfume overwhelmed you and you felt dizzy in an intoxicating sort of way. Emily was similarly reveling in your closeness. She lifted her hand and ran her thumb down your jawline. The kiss lingered, but it was polite and respectful and left room for more when the time was right for them both. As you parted for real this time as you walked toward the train you had never been so happy to have gone into that Moschino to look at shoes you couldn't buy in your life.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #emily prentiss #Emily Prentiss x reader #emily x reader #Emily fluff #moschino #criminal minds x reader #reader one shot #reader insert #Reader x Emily #emily prentiss one shot #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff

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rukia-writes · 1 year

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If nobody is gonna ask on how Hercules is gonna propose, amma do everyone a favour.

Oh lady Rukia, How does Herculues propose to his s/o? (Can we get a Bonus on Ares as well? 👉👈)

You can ignore this if you want, I don't wanna pressure a great writer like you. Stay Healthy and Relax, Rukia! - 🦉 anon

Hades and Poseidon proposal 💍

♡︎Well, he’s a Greek god and half human to boot.

♡”(Name)! Catch!”

♡Imagine (Name)‘s surprise when an apple is hurled their way that was thrown by the god of fortitude! (😭) hopefully they catch it. ♥️ Hercules will kindly explains that when someone threw an apple at someone it’s considered a marriage proposal. ♥️

♡If this works Hercules will be flabbergasted because he just wanted to test the waters to see if he could a yes of sorts before actually proposing. If it doesn’t work no harm done, he’ll try something different.

♡when Hercules is ready he’ll buy the actual wedding ring (Greek tradition) and he’ll talk with their father first (if they have one/are around) and then he proposes! Hercules most likely proposes giving his s/o a bouquet of flowers with the ring inside or omg (🥹) he’ll make a duplicate of his club and hand it over and in the lion’s mouth is a ring 💍💍🥹

♡The ring is probably simple but very pretty as the stone is probably a diamond or whatever jewel they like, but on the side are inscriptions saying something like, “For my beloved (Name), my wish is to always protect you and cherish you.” He came up with those words don’t laugh! 🥹

♡One thing is for certain he definitely proposes the day the confessed their feelings for one another, he never forgets.

♡Hopefully they say yes, if not give me my ring 💍♥️

ꨄAres tried Hercules approach by testing the waters except he does his by simply asking at random times.

Washing the dishes? “Hey, (Name) how do you feel about marriage?”

Outside gardening 👨‍🌾? “What do you think of a rose colored ring? Is that ugly?”

In a meeting with the gods? He’ll whisper, “This is a bit boring, but I heard there are rings for sale this week what do you think about that?”

ꨄand depending on the answer Ares may or may not go thru with proposing, his pride is at risk and he thinks a lot about the” No” But! If his s/o gives him green lights then he’ll go with it.

If his s/o is really cunning they can snoop around Ares’ friends and family and get a heads up that he’s thinking of marriage.

The ones who won’t talk: Hermes, Zeus, Poseidon, Hades, Hera.

The ones who won’t talk but look suspicious because they know: Hercules.

The one who jokes about having a new in law: Zeus. (😭)

The one who will talk: Adamas.

ꨄ How does Ares propose? After listening to his uncles and father listing elaborate ways to propose and honestly he’ll really consider doing so, he’ll choose something simple. Ares will claim he’s lost his helmet that he wears and asks his s/o to help him find it. But ah! He knows where his helmet is he’s just waiting for his s/o to find it and when they do inside is a wedding ring and then he asks shyly (even though he’ll claim later he wasn’t shy) if they will marry him ♥️💍

ꨄthe ring is most likely very elegant and expensive because he doesn’t want his s/o to say no (they better not) so he’ll have their birthstone or choice for a stone ring.

It’s also possible he’ll somehow have the constellation of the ram which is his zodiac sign either in the ring itself or on the side of the ring. ♥️

ꨄThe moment they agree Ares takes a huge sigh of relief 😮‍💨

#shuumatsu no valkyrie headcanons #Hercules headcanons #record of ragnarok headcanons #Ares headcanons #ror headcanons

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spookymaesblog · 3 months

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ACOTAR Review

Alright yall, i am 3/5 of the series done and what the fuck. I picked this series for the fucking and its FUCKING me emotionally.

(THIS WILL HAVE SPOILERS)

Basically the first book (a court of thorns and roses) starts out with feyre in the woods hunting. it is snowin like a mf in this forest and she's going on about how she has to catch something something tonight while she is out or her and her family are gonna die within a week. She's apparently in this clearing or some shit and a doe comes into her view and she is like 'oh shit, nice' and starts getting her bow and arrow ready, thinking to herself how she only has three arrows (i understand she is poor but & i dont hunt but wtf girl?? 3?? ok) and two are normal and one is made of ashwood. (some special ass tree that kills fairies idk) as she is getting her arrow ready, she looks up and sees a wolf is also stalking the deer, yikes. she is like 'oh fuck, wtf' and looks around and realizes it just one wolf and is like 'eh i can kill it' (go off queen) but then she sees the size of it and stops like 'HUH' bc the motherfucker has glowing eyes and is HUGE. she goes onto this long ass inter monolog about how the fae/old gods used to rule the world and keep humans aas salves and would treat them like shit and torture them and all this other shit. basically she is like FUCK FAIRIES loud and proud and shoots the fuckin wolf. the wolf doesnt do shit and lets her kill it, she SKINS the damn thing (oh yeah it killed the deer lmao) and puts the deer in its skin???? HELLO?? and carries it home. when she gets home, you meet her two sisters (Nesta and Elain) and her dad (kinda a loser). they are in this small shake excuse of a cottage that is literally barely keeping them alive, around a fire trying to stay warm. nesta (who is a BITCH) is like "what and where the fuck did you get that?" and they kinda go back forth over stupid shit on money and who needs a new cloak or boots (you learn nesta and elain just spend money even though they broke as shit bc their dad made a bad sale and lost all their money) and feyre wants to punch them and asks nesta to cut more wood for the fire and nesta is like "fuck you no" and feyre is like "bitch you are gonna marry a man who farms but you cant cut wood? okay" and nesta storms off to the shared room and shared bed. ( i think they all share the room).

the next day, feyre and her sisters head to the market that is happening instead the town to sell the pelts. at the front of the market they are stopped by a group of weirdo they called 'children of the blessed' and apparently these ppl are 'fairy loving whores' who pray to the fae and old gods and willing sacrifice themselves over to them. one of the girls corners the sisters and tries to talk some shit to them and elain goes useless and just hides behind nesta as she yells at the girl and goes back and forth with her for awhile and shows her the iron bracelet on her wrist (apparently wards off fairies) as this is all happens feyre uses it as an excuse to kinda slip off as it comes to an end and runs off to try and find some to sell the pelts to. she finds a big bitch standing by a fountain and is like 'work' and goes up to her and the lady is like '??? wtf you want?' and feyre is like ''you want some pelts?'' and the lady who turns out to be a fuckin mercenary is like ''who killed them??" and feyre goes "me" and the merc is like '?? this bitch fr rn?' and just stares at her for a lil and basically ends up buying them and guves her away too much money for them talking some shit about how someone did it for her once and now she wants to repay. they SOMEHOW get on the topic of fairies and the merc tells feyre how she has fought and killed one and everything that she knows and how she shouldn't fuck with them and stay away from the wall and all this shit and how she always died and shows her nasty ass leg she has. you know this bitch aint gonna listen.

later that day after they have ate dinner, they are just hanging out and it is snowing some big ass beast comes bustin throuh their dingy ass cottage screamin n howlin "WHO KILLED HIM" over and over and them whole family is like ???!!??!?!?! and finally feyre is like ''who??'' and the beast is like "ANDRAS!! THE WOLF!! and she is like 'damn.................' and the family is all like "no one killed anyone!! we promise!! just leave!!!" and the beast is sniffing around and smells his dead friend in the house and starts losing it and is screaming and feyre's stupid ass goes "what to say..... if someone did kill him......'' and the beast says "LIFE FOR A LIFE" or "you come and live in Prythian for the rest of your life on my land" and feyre is like "just kill me!!!!' and basically her dad convinces her to leave and go and live in with the beast in the fairy realm and she leaves.

she wakes up about two days later after waking up from being knocked out with magic from annoying the fuck outta the beast and is in a room where there is a fairy getting her clothes and she is like ??? and the fairy is like "im alis, im the maid, get dressed" and feyre gets pissy and refuses to wear a dress and puts on random ass clothes and goes downstairs to the dining room in this big ass manor and is meet to see this hot ass big man sitting at the table (his a blonde tho, a shame) with a gold mask on and she is like?? basically he is the beast, his name is Tamlin, another comes in, he is way hotter and a red head with a fox mask and his name is Lucien (who she should of picked) and they talk and she learns shit.

shes super annoying for a couple of chapters (rightrfully so i understand but stfu) and then finally gets okay, she hangs out with tamlin and lucien more and you can tell she is starting to like tamlin. she is wanting to learn more but tamlin is kinda weird and doesnt wanna tell her shit so she goes to lucien. he tells her to trap this ugly ass fairy called a Suriel. she does it and basically fucking DIES but is told "stay with the high lord" and shes like HUH and finds out tamlin is a high lord. she is almost killed bny these ugly ass things called a Naga and tamlin comes and saves her. she learns that the blight is a sickness that is in the lands and thats why they wear the masks.

some time goes by and its spring and there is a festival going on and she is like "okay fun!' and tamlin is like "you cant go" and she is like "? fuck you" and she fucking sneaks out and goers anyway. well her dumb ass goes into this cave area n gets caught by some random ass fairies and then someone saves her and goes "oh there you are, ive been looking for you'' and she looks at him and is like "oh god damn" and thinks "this is the finest mf ive ever seen" and then lucien finds her and is like "YOU ARE A FUCKING IDIOTTTTTTTT STUPID BITCH" and brings her inside and tells her what the holiday actually is and how tamlin is giving back his power to the land for spring and then has to FUCK(??) and she needs to be away. she is like ?? and just goes to her room and then SNEAKS OUT AGAINNNNN later and runs into tamlin in the manor and he fucking presses her into a mall and they start making out and bumping and grinding and then bites her?? and then they go to bed.

more time goes and then it is summer or some shit i think and they are more into each other and they are having lunch or some shit and tamlin n lucien are like ??? HIDE bc they sense someone coming and lucien shoves feyres ass against a wall and covers her and puts a glamour on her to protect her and the hot ass mf from the festival night (rhysand) comes in like a jack ass and gives them shit. basically he realizes there is a glamour and is like FUCK YALL and makes it go away and sees feyre and is like "oh i know you" and goes into her mind and looks at tamlin like "why is she thinking about fuckin you??" and tamlin starts begging him not to tell this bitch named amarantha and rhysand makes him and lucien bow down to him and he leaves.

tamlin freaks out and is like "YOU HAVE TO LEAVE" and they FINALLY fuck andsays I LOVE YOU and then he makes feyre leave and go back to the mortal lands (he family thinks she has been helping a wealthy sick aunt, tamlin has been taking care of her family and made them rich again) and lucien was pissed she left. she gets back and nesta is like "wtf i remember everything you better spill bitch" and basically helps her after two weeks to get her back to the spring court after finding out nesta tried to save her.

feyre makes it back and the manor is fucked up from ppl destroying it and stealing everyone away and she finds alis there and alis basically tells her the truth. tamlin was LYING ABOUT EVERYTHINGGGGG. amarantha was a family friend of tamlins dad (dead) and was pissed tamlin wouldnt fuck her so she cursed him that he had to find a human girl with so much hate in her heart for fairies to kill one of his men and to get her to agree to come back and live on his land and fall in love with him in a certain amount of time and the curse thats on EVERYONE IN PRYTHIAN is lifted and thats why they wear they mask and she stoles bits of all the high lords powers.

feyre goes to where they are all at to save tamlin and agrees to do some hunger games ass trails with amarantha once a month on a full moon for 3 months or solve a riddle. jokes on feyre she is fucking ILITERATE. she gets the shit beat out of her and tamlin just watches. we learn that rhysand is amaranthas whore/right hand man and is taking a weird liking to feyre. he is randomly visiting/helping her. her first challenge is to fucking fight this big ass worm and she uses some damn bones and wins. lucien screamed out to help her, rhysand bet on her winning, she fucking broke her arm to the bone sticking out and is dying in her dirty ass vomit cell. rhysand comes and visit and is like 'i can save you but you have to make a deal and come hang out with me two weeks out of them month' and she is like 'fuck you ill die' and he goes to leave and she gets him to agree to one week and they make the deal and he seals it with a tattoo on her arm and heals her.

rhysand keeps basically helping her through out all the trials and the two nexts months she is under the mountain. you are kinda like ?? do we like him?? do we hate him?? its hard to tell. he is making her dress like a whore and getting her drunk every night but not doing anything with her but watching her and bringing her to her cell and helping with chores and shit. her second challenge is a fucking READING one and shes like "well...' and rhysand helps her through the bond of the deal tattoo and she wins.

the third challenge is to kill three fairies with an ashwood dagger, she kills the first two and when she goes for the third, its tamlin. she starts sobbing and freaking out as everyone is laughing ang hootin and hollering but then she remembers alis saying "you know everything already" and how she has over heard multiple times that ppl have said tamlin has a heart of stone so she goes on a limb and stabs the fucker. she is right and wins and the curse is broke and amarantha is pissed tf off and is like "WELL I DIDNT SAY WHEN HAHAHA" and everyone is pissed off and starts a riot and then feyre figures out the riddle and says the answers and amaratha is even more mad and starts beating the shit out of feyre and KILLS her.

tamlin starts sobbing and just holds her not doing SHIT and RHYSAND stabs amarathna and then tamlin starts doing shit and kills amarthana and then goes back to feyre and is like "please!!!!" and all of the high lords come up and give a lil shit light of something on her and we see that feyre is seeing something through another persons eyes and realize it is rhysands and because of the tattoo and then she falls asleep and this bitch WAKES UP!!!! and she is a HIGH FAE!!! the girl won and she was a fairy.

9/10 very good book, love the turns and twist def recommend, is a slow burn tho

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acowar #acomaf #feyre archeron #rhysand #rhys acotar #tamlin #lucien vanserra #acotar headcanons #acotar au #sarah j maas

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survey--s · 1 year

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487.

What is something you’re behind the times on? TikTok lol. What are you brainstorming ideas for right now? Nothing right now, to be honest. Do you have a neighbor who plays real annoying music? Nah, mostly our neighbours are pretty quiet and respectful luckily. Do you miss someone? No. What’s something you’ve had a toxic reaction to? Nothing as far as I’m aware.

Have you ever had a severe allergic reaction? No, thankfully not. What do you want to be for Halloween this year? Nothing, thanks. If you don’t know, what are some ideas you have? ... Are you happy at the moment? I am happy! I just finished work for my Easter break and my GOD it’s been a long time coming lol. I just need some time out. Do you have a headache? No. I have stomach cramps instead. What color are your glasses, if applicable? Black and purple. Do you still look in the toy aisle, or do you pass it by? I can’t remember the last time I looked there. List a great $1 store find: Amazingly nice scented candles. List a great garage sale find: I’ve never been to one. They’re not really a thing over here. Have you ever had a friend push you away for no reason? Probably not for no reason, even if it felt like that at the time. Looking back, we just grew apart and didn’t really have much/if anything in common anymore. What are your summer fashion essentials? Suncream, nice dresses, comfortable shoes that don’t rub lol. Do you have a 5-year plan? I don’t even have a five minute plan. Who is one celebrity you would like to meet? I don’t know, Johnny Depp maybe. Who is one youtuber you would like to meet? None of them. What are your fall fashion essentials? Oversized, chunky sweaters and a cute ankle boots. What was your favorite outfit to wear this past summer? I don’t really remember anything specific, I mostly wore shorts and t-shirts to work. Where do you buy most of your clothes? I haven’t bought new clothes for ages, but normally a mixture of Fat Face, George and Amazon. Do you post on youtube regularly? I’ve not uploaded a video on YouTube for well over a decade. Do you have your own website? Nope. What do you sell, if anything? I sell natural dog treats as part of my business. Do you think you would be a good salesperson? I’m good at selling my services online or via social media, but I’d be absolutely rubbish at it in person lol. What are ten positive words that describe you? Animal-lover, organised, loyal, hard-working, open-minded, determined...and I really can’t think of anything else lol. Are you getting excited about fall?!?! I mean, it’s only April. What’s your favorite school supply to purchase? I used to love buying cute notebooks and folders. Do you keep a planner every year? I just use my phone diary for work appointments. My days change constantly so having a paper planner/diary would just get very messy, very quickly. Do you write a lot? No. What’s your favorite color pen to write with? Black. Do you go to church? Nope. What’s your favorite fall drink? Nothing that’s specific to that time of year. Do you use a sunlamp? No. What’s your favorite thing about Sundays? It depends, every week my days are different depending on what jobs I have to do and the weather. Generally I get to sleep in on Sundays though, which is good. Do you like candy corn? We don’t have them here. What’s on your to-do list for today (or tomorrow, if it’s late)? I got up, did housework, had breakfast, worked 8.30-12pm, picked the dog up, came home, fed the animals, had a shower, had lunch and now I’m doing this and watching TV. Tomorrow I plan on doing as little as possible lol. Where do you buy calendars? I don’t. Do you like to wear skirts? No. I like dresses, though. What is your name (first and middle)? Nicola. I’m not giving you the rest. What are your sibling(s)’ names? I don’t have any siblings. What would you have been named if you had been born the opposite gender? Alexander. If you had another sibling, what would he/she be named? My parents didn’t want any other children. Do you like your name? It’s okay. I wouldn’t bother to change but it’s not a name I would pick for anyone either. What does your name mean? According to Google, it’s Greek and means “people of victory”. What would you name your daughter/daughters? I don’t want children. What would you name your son/sons? See above. Do you want to have kids? Absolutely not. What was your favorite vacation you went on as a kid? I loved skiing in Switzerland and Canada, summer holidays in Italy and seeing family in Australia. Were you happy as a kid? Yes, for the most part, especially as a younger child. Which Barbie had your hair color? I have no idea, I never really played with Barbie. Do you have any toys still from when you were a kid? No. What were some of your favorite toys as a child? A rabbit named Beauty, a bear called Cameron and a doll called Rosie.

#survey #surveys

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oreostacker · 2 years

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It was a normal day in Splaintcaster, nine am temperature reaching 80 degrees but feeling 85. Big puffy clouds lazily drifted through the sky as if to judge which spot would be the perfect place to later turn angry and cry warm tears about it. There were birds here and there but far to little to take interest in them.

Further away from the center of Splaintcaster but not too far from the rest of the living lives there, we see Barbara sitting on her porch. She has blonde and silver hair, a frame that looks like it supported life and icy grayish blue eyes.

She's sitting with a curve in her posture, feet up and crossed on a table and her hands wrapped around a cup of coffee that tastes of hazelnuts. She's wearing an orange dress with yellow flower designs along the bottom and a yellow shall wrapped around her shoulders. Her eyes are staring, glazed over, looking through her surroundings and not taking them in no facial features to be detected as to what she may be feeling.

Hurrying up the street, on her brown horse, wild with happiness and amazement, we see Kara. Kara has a similar face shape to Barbara.

But they have more differences than similarities. Kara's hair is brown and Grey, with more Grey than brown. Her eyes while the same shape are in fact chestnut brown with honey being stirred in em, if viewed in sunlight. Her frame also carried life but was not as wide as Barbara's (surprising all who found that Kara carried more lives than Barbara.) Kara while older stood two inches shorter than Barbara as well.

Kara came flying, wearing a deep blue dress with a brown shall and brown boots to match. She also had a brown money pouch strung across her hips. Though hilariously, riding at break neck speeds, she was trying to balance as still as possible a container in between her legs.... while on a horse...... that has four legs that must move...... and not on a well paved road..... a feat that humans would struggle with if just walking with a full cup of water on two legs.

"BARBARA, BARBARA!!! YOU'VE GOT TO TRY THIS!!!"

Turning to look with bewilderment in her eyes,

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING? BESIDES LOOKING LIKE A HOT MESS OF A TWENTY YEAR OLD AGAIN?!?!"

Now stopped and attempting to get down with her precious box,

"Can, can you, can you get over here please? I'm having a hard time trying not to drop this."

Setting her coffee aside and making it down the three steps to the mess in question.

"What is it anyways? Oooo smells nice. Where'd you get this? I don't recognize this box from a bakery, did Linda make this ?"

"No, Linda didn't make this, here I'll take it back let's go inside, it's a sugar cream pie, and I wasn't planning on buying the whole thing but I had a slice and knew you need to try this.

I swear it's like an angle and a dove had a baby and God blessed it and the clouds gave it a fluffy dress to look cute in while it dances in your mouth."

Ha! "Can't be that good it's really easy to screw this pie up and make it a swampy mess, you still never said where you got this thing from, put it on the table I'll grab some plates, There's fresh coffee in here if you want some?"

Setting the box down and removing the lid we see a skewed pie

Tsk "crap"

Mmm? "What's wrong?"

Two plates are set on the table followed by the sound clinks from the forks,

"I may have messed up the pie, I think the taste will obviously be fine but presentation wise....."

"It looks like a crazy woman was holding it while flying down the road on a horse looking like she stole the queens jewelry."

"Hey when you try this you'll be glad I was trying to share it with you instead of hiding it."

"My hopes are getting higher by the minute, said with a humorous dead glare at her sister, again where'd ya get this thing?"

"Church was having a bake sale remember? This was the second thing I tried the first thing I tried was a slice of Linda cake for a nickle of bronze an-, "

"Wait you got a slice of Linda cake, didn't buy me a slice, as you can clearly tell I forgot that today was the bake sale day, then decided that this pie was worth buying the whole of instead of getting all of the Linda cake? Is that what you're telling me right now?"

"Yes, now-,"

Scooping out two... slices... Barbara interrupts again,

"Then this pie better be worth gold, yer insane for one not getting me a slice of Linda cake-"

"YOU WEREN'T THERE?? how is that my fault?-"

"AND TWO, for not buying the Linda cake, she makes that like twice a year If you don't specifically ask nicely for it as your present on yer birthday. And three you could have imagined that this pie tasted like all that, agian very easy to mess this one up what if yet wrong? And you got the cake flavoring messed up with the pie flavoring?!?"

Huffing out air while dropping her head back she does a little dramatic push of the plate towards Barbara,

"Shut up and try this thing."

Staring at her sister with her arms crossed one eyebrow raised and leaning back into her dining room chair she waits for the face of awe to cross the other's.

Barbara purses her lips and digs for an even mesh of pie filling to crust on her fork, leaning forward over the table she looks through her eyelashes over to Kara who's waiting impatiently for her to take a bite. She rolls her eyes and blinks back to her fork before finally taking a bite.

It sits there on her tongue with smug satisfaction. The kind that a little girl will show after she beats a boy in a sport that the boy claims to be a master in. And it's just too beautiful to swallow. I mean how is this possible.... no variation of this pie has ever turned out this decedently before, she clearly died and had gone to heaven this is God's food that's being eaten it has to be....

Ahem?????

"You gonna finish that bite or just carry it with you like a toddler does a rock?"

"I'm... working on... it...give meh... a seconmd.."

Swallowing and looking fully at Kara,

"How in the hell does it taste that damn good?"

"I know right?"Answering with a smile

"No I mean how?"

"I Know," she happily groans while moving to grab her own fork.

"Its too good of a thing to pass on so I bought it for five silver nickel pieces and one gold nickel peice."

"That.... may be too much but I'm not judging, give another slice wouldya"

Sliding the box closer to her

"As you won't shut up about, it is really easy to screw up this pie, so no, it was worth everything I spent, I regret nothing from this purchase."

"Who made it anyways?"

"I'don't know, but I mean we can ask Linda or mom, you had to sign up with what you were bringing so that you could be thanked by the pastor for bringing something in, so shouldn't be that hard to find out. Why?"

"This is the best sugar cream pie we've ever had in our lives.... from the first taste of table food to now Nothing has ever tasted better..., I want the recipe and or I want to hire this person for the rest of their or my life to be in charge of my desserts from now on."

"You mean you'd willingly give up all other desserts for this pie?"

" I mean I'd willingly give up all other foods and live and die by this pie. Would you judge me or care if I have another slice?"

"No, cause I'm also working on slice three."

Talking continued and the pie was nicely paired with hazelnut coffee. Soon the pie was gone and they were still talking about their individual and their children's lives not realizing that the pie was still gone...

they had a whole pie to themselves and they still talked assuming there was some left. Their problem going un noticed for thirty more minutes and finally the horrible truth was revealed to their mouths and brains.

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strgshazam · 9 months

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Missing Out - Chapter I - I'm so glad I woke up today

While she's smoking, he leans down and starts pressing his lips against her neck. She turns her head away from him and back towards the party to give him more room to work.

That's when she sees Steve Harrington coming their way.

She puts a hand onto Billy's chest before whispering to him, "Sorry babe, fun police is here."

Just as Billy's pulling away to see what she's talking about, Steve makes his presence known. Loudly.

"Harper! The hell are you doing back here?" Though he doesn't say it, she can feel the added 'with him' at the end of that question.

︶꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶꒦

a/n: tags and characters will be updated as the story moves along. there will be eventual smut. maybe. probably.

about: billy hargrove x ofc, slow burn strangers to lovers modern!au

︶꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶꒦

Harper had heard about the infamous Billy Hargrove, sure. Her customers had mentioned the new guy in school, not to mention Steve never shut the fuck up about their rivalry. Of course she had heard about how hot he was, how much of an asshole he was, how great in bed he was. But she didn't expect him to be this attractive. Were these other rumors gross underestimations too?

She sat on a picnic table in the backyard of….someone's house party. To be honest, she didn't give a shit whose party it was. She was here to conduct a business. Maybe that's a bit too formal. She was here to sell drugs to teenagers. But it was how she kept her bills paid, so business it is. Cigarette in hand, she was sitting on top of the table with her feet on the bench. Along with the small black bag she had tucked between her feet on the bench, she was dressed in all black: her Docs, her jeans, and the lace bodysuit she had on that was better described as lingerie than clothing. This was entirely on purpose: the sexier she looked, the more easily she could sucker her customers into buying more than they were originally asking for. It was a fairly warm night, so the worn leather jacker she brought (also black) was laying on the table directly underneath her so as to provide some semblance of a cushion between her and the table. It wasn't working.

Despite her discomfort, she was having a great night - with sales, at least. She had gone through most of the weaker shit she brought along, leaving her with a bit of weed, some coke, and a fair amount of pills left. That's when she saw him: his tucked-in shirt almost completely unbuttoned, heavy boots, a gold necklace, and jeans that fit him almost too well. Plus it was painfully obvious that he had spent a decent amount of time making sure his hair looked perfectly coiffed. He's standing just outside the backdoor of the house with that asshole Steve used to hang around with. Suddenly, said asshole points directly at Harper, causing Billy and her to make direct eye contact. God he was pretty. She takes one more drag from her cigarette as he starts walking toward her. She stubs the butt out on the bottom of her boot and flicks it directly into the pool nearby.

"Hey sweetheart, haven't seen you around before," he smirks as he's closing in on the table. He sits down beside her and leans back on his hands.

She leans back with him, mimicking his posture, "Must not be looking very hard then, handsome."

"Well that can't be true. If there were someone as hot as you walking around Hawkins, I would've been the first to know."

"Is that so? Any girl who's above a seven needs to be on your radar, huh?" She quips back at him. He seems unphased.

"Please. You think I'd be caught dead with anyone less than an 8.5?" Okay, so he's absolutely full of himself, but at least he's quick.

"Can I help you with something, or did you just come over here to shower me in compliments? Cause I'll accept either, honestly."

He nodded his head back to where the asshole was standing, "Tommy over there told me you've got some party favors. I was in the market." That's the asshole's name. Tommy. She tells herself she's going to remember it this time, but she won't.

She grabs the small bag from between her feet and gives a sort of 'follow me' gesture to Billy. They get up from their seats and walk over to the side of the house where there's no crowd.

"What kind of party favors were you looking for, sweet thing?" She leans against the wall of the house and Billy stands directly in front of her. Almost too close.

"Just some weed. Maybe an eighth?" He takes a small step even closer to her as she unzips the bag she's carrying. She frowns, "I've only got a couple pre-rolls left. But I'll tell you what - I'll smoke one with you, no charge, and you can come by my place tomorrow to pick up the eighth."

He's now directly next to her, leaning his shoulder against the wall. He starts brushing some of her hair behind her shoulder and she can smell the mint and cigarettes on his breath. He's smiling something wicked, "Sounds perfect, doll."

Harper pulls one of the few joints she has in an Altoids can from her back and places it between her teeth before rezipping her bag and placing it over her shoulder. By this point, Billy is already pulling out a lighter to assist her. Once the end of the joint is lit, she takes a deep inhale and holds it in. She looks her smoking partner directly in the eyes while she exhales, following it up immediately with her second hit. Wordlessly, she passes the joint to him.

Harper is used to people flirting when it comes to their drugs. Trying to get a discount, usually. Sometimes it works, but not usually. Not to mention she fully anticipated Billy Hargrove being an enormous flirt even if drugs weren't involved. What she wasn't expecting was for Billy to take a hit before using his free hand to gently grab her face, pushing her lips into a pout. His lips just barely graze hers as he exhales the smoke directly into her mouth. She can't remember the last time she shotgunned with someone - and it's definitely never made her this flustered. Billy takes one more hit, this time exhaling away from the both of them, before passing the joint back to her. She's doing her best to remain unphased (at least visibly) while she takes her next hit. She thinks she's doing a pretty damn good job until Billy surprises her yet again. While she's smoking, he leans down and starts pressing his lips against her neck. She turns her head away from him and back towards the party to give him more room to work.

That's when she sees Steve Harrington coming their way.

She puts a hand onto Billy's chest before whispering to him, "Sorry babe, fun police is here."

Just as Billy's pulling away to see what she's talking about, Steve makes his presence known. Loudly.

"Harper! The hell are you doing back here?" Though he doesn't say it, she can feel the added 'with him' at the end of that question.

"It's called running a business, Steven. You should try it sometime," she quips as she rolls her eyes at him. She pulls the bag off her shoulder and grabs a pen out of it. Without a word, she grabs Billy's hand and begins writing something on his wrist.

"Here's my number. Text me tomorrow when you want to come by," she winks at him before walks toward Harrington. Billy can hear them arguing back and forth as they walk back into the house, but he can't hear what's being said.

He looks down at his wrist and adds the number into his phone before it gets smudged.

#stranger things #stranger things fic #billy hargrove #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove x ofc #billy hargrove x original character #modern!au #slow burn #strangers to lovers

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all-gabs-bloomic-fanfics · 2 years

Text

Scum of Society

Summary: After getting banned from the server, societyboy seeks revenge.

Heath Sousa thrashed his laptop to the wall. That nerd banned him. That fucking nerd banned him.

Heath planned on destroying Quest, but he didn't expect the coward to take him down with him.

Head throbbing, Heath stared at the hole in the wall of his apartment.

"Your laptop, shit." He seethed, picking up the machine.

The casing cracked, but the monitor seemed to be fine. It took a while for it to boot. He pressed enter several times.

TACK.

TACK TACK TACK. BAM.

Heath paced the room and clutched at his hair.

Ping.

He turns around to the sound of his phone. Walks to his bed and reads a text from his aunt.

"I paid for your rent this month. Don't forget to look for work."

He grips his phone before deciding to put it down. He will not ruin two gadgets today, oh no.

Not when someone has to pay for it.

He sits on his office chair and goes to a recently visited website. The sales department was hiring, and that was the perfect place for trash like him.

On the day of the interview, a man with green hair and multiple ear piercings enters a dark narrow entrance of a tall building. The steps were steep and gray, and the security guard functioned as a receptionist.

The guard looked doubtfully at him, but the pierced man knew how to deal with the likes of them. Both stared down until the guard decided it wasn't worth their pay. The pierced man smirked, and flashed his clear book. "I really am an interviewee, believe it or not."

"So, Mr. Sousa. It seems that you were a stellar performer at your previous place of work," a man with unremarkable features droned on.

His eyes aren't blue, Heath thought.

The interview had gone on for a while, and he didn't have the patience for pleasantries like he used to, Heath realized.

"Despite your current attire, you seem fully qualified for a position in sales. What made you decide to leave your previous job?"

"Oh, I was engaged in important communal work," Heath forced a smile. He had to be professional until he gets what he needs.

The idiot had a follow-up question. "Communal work? Of what nature?"

"Wiping my grandma's ass."

The unremarkable man remained unremarkable, though the look on his face burned into Heath's memory. Heath stared him down.

The unremarkable man bursts out laughing. "Hahaha! Ohh, I see you have an odd sense of humor. Well, since you're already dressed that way, it seems in character for you. It must be useful when selling to clients, eh?"

God, Heath hated that man. He had started to gain some features. A round face, double chin, rosy cheeks. Bald. Old enough to be his father.

"Well, as long as you get the job done."

That left a bitter taste on Heath's mouth. He used to be passionate about this field. It was where his talents got him. His knack for understanding people and what makes them tick. And it was that talent that told him his interviewer was a selfish man who hid behind jovial smiles.

"I've already specified what the job entails in the job description, including the hours. Benefits are stated as well as the salary. I'll admit I'm hesitant to hire you given your entire year break and your current attire, but you should be content with the bottom salary, right?"

Heath internally cursed himself. Had he remembered to buy a new suit that fit him, he'd have gotten the upper salary.

"We do have a performance bonus, of course. After six months, your salary will increase. You will have to prove yourself, of course."

"Of course."

The repetition irks Heath more than the knowledge that he has nothing to prove.

He had a great record on his previous company. He won an award for 3 years. He got promoted. He remembered that fact clearly, and that is why he forgot something as important as buying new clothes.

He had torn them in frustration when he made the decision to resign a year ago.

He didn't even want to leave his job. He had the perfect life.

A career that worked for him.

A partner.

A new apartment.

He needed his family to be perfect, too.

He juggled caregiving with work when no one else wanted to do it.

He was the perfect boyfriend. A family man. A career man. A lady's man who can woo any woman he wanted, yet stayed loyal to one. A nice guy.

He wasn't like this bumbling man poring over papers he should've prepared beforehand, who probably only got to keep his job because nobody qualified would apply to this obscure company.

But that shattered one day when his partner didn't show up for him. They knew he was busy, yet still prioritized their selfish desires.

He followed them only to find them spending time with another man. He's been gathering evidence ever since. He confronted them, and they called him a stalker. Ceased contact.

It was by chance he came across them again, but to think the whore is still out seeking random men. He just had to interfere. Especially when one was this lowly. Pathetic. Trash.

Heath's thoughts are interrupted by a flash of white.

At last, the unremarkable bumbling man found the contract papers. It was being waves in front of his face.

"Just sign here and your rent is secure for a month!"

Heath signed the contract and glared at the man.

"See, I can make jokes, too," the idiot explained. "Ah, yes. One copy for me, and one copy for you."

Heath nodded quietly, determined to get out of this place before he loses it.

He needed to put Quest to shame. To expose him. First, Heath will make a reputation for himself. Then he'll show that bastard Quest what's it like to lose something he worked for. Not that someone like him will understand. Trash that thinks he can reintegrate into society scot-free while citizens like Heath suffer.

They descended the stairs as the annoying man made what seemed to be more quips. Heath ignored them until he reached the bottom of the stairs.

Finally, he turns to this man, whom he had to acknowledge was his new supervisor.

"Well, I'm glad to have you on the team!" They shake hands, and all Heath could think of was to get past the guard, and get out of this place. But then he hears something.

"They didn't hire a nurse?"

"Ha ha ha ha!" The supervisor laughed. "He said he wiped his grandma's ass! Of all the bullshit I've heard interviewees say, that was the only one entertaining."

Heath strides back up the stairs and opens the door.

"Oh, Mr. Sousa, did you forget something?"

Without a word, a cutter emerges from Heath's pocket. Someone screams.

"Mr. Sousa, I think you're taking the acting a little too far--"

Speak for yourself, you fake. Heath slashes at the man, only to feel something grab his wrist and hit his chin.

The last thing he sees are a pair of blue eyes.

Heath's contract was cancelled. He was brought to a local precinct where a blotter was made against his assault.

His would-have-been supervisor wanted to lock him behind bars, afraid that Heath will do good on cutting off his tongue. But a secretary reminded him that they did not have the money for that, and the police reassured him that they would arrive on scene as needed. And if they didn't, there was still the tall jacked man with blue eyes.

While Heath remained in handcuffs, he watched the atmosphere around the others quickly shift. They left the precinct without giving him so much as a glance. They were treating him as scum. The scum of society.

#Alternate Universe #post-canon #unreliable narrator #societyboy #Blooming Panic #Bloomic #Scum of Society #How Badly Do You Need A Redemption Arc? series #societyboy headcanon as Heath Sousa #mentions of Quest #mentions of LovelyLola #dark LovelyLola #STOP READING THE TAGS THERE MAY BE SPOILERS IN THE CONTENT WARNINGS #the warnings are there to be filtered not to be read #HAVE YOU STOPPED READING? OK #CW: assault #CW: foul language #CW: mentions of cheating #CW: laughter

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symphonicmetal101 · 3 years

Text

MC Struggles With Obsessive/Compulsive Behaviour

Ok, just to be clear.

I haven't been diagnosed with anything, which is why I refrain from writing "OCD" in the title. I've always known I'm a perfectionist- please be aware that there are some major differences between OCD and perfectionism, (despite what Youtube videos may say)- however I have had instances in which I have taken it too far and paid the price physically, mentally, and emotionally. Please be aware that these are all very real things that not only myself, but other people go through. I haven't had one of them in a long time, but my current circumstances make me feel like I might soon, so bear with me while I write another self-indulgent thing.

Or don't.🤷‍♀️

TW: compulsive/obsessive behaviour, a little self-deprecation as seasoning👌

Lucifer

At first, he's very happy to see that you are very organized and neat

One less thing for him to worry about

However, one day he walked past your room and saw you organizing your desk

He respected that, and continued on

The next day he passed by around the same time and saw you organizing your desk again

Odd, but perhaps one of his brothers had interfered and interrupted you, meaning you hadn't finished yesterday

It had been five days now, surely you weren't still cleaning your desk??

"MC, if my brothers bother you, you should close the door. Perhaps then you would be able to finish cleaning your desk properly. Unless you would like some direction in time management instead?"

Lucifer glanced behind you. To his surprise, your desk looked immaculate. He then saw your blushing face.

"Ah... well that's very kind of you Lucifer, however I'm afraid it's not an issue of time management or your brothers. Well, sometimes Mammon comes in and moves the pens around, so then I have to start over..."

"Start over?"

"Y-yeah." You explain your process to him, how you completely clear off your desk, to the type of cleaner you use, how many sprays, to how you like to stack your paper, to how you always have to have three paperclips to your right, and how the black pen is always in between the blue and the red.

"And when Mammon moves the pens...you start over?"

"Yeah. I do."

Lucifer has sympathy for you, put also struggles because it seems like a waste of time if he were to do it.

But he doesn't do it, and it seems to make you calm, so instead he buys you proper gloves for cleaning and a few more bottles of your cleaner

Mammon

"Come on MC, I wanna show ya something in my room."

Oh no

Nononono

You could feel yourself panicking a bit. Mammon's room was messy

Not messier than Levi's but still

But he looked really excited, so you reluctantly followed him

"TA-DA!!!"

Oh wow. His room was spotless!

"I-uh, noticed ya only seem to be comfortable in yours or Lucifer's room. It-it took a while for me to figure out why, but...whaddya think? Will it work for ya?"

He smiled at you and you could see a hint of nervousness in his eyes.

"It looks great! You even picked up the water bottles that were by your bed!!"

He instantly became more confident, his smile growing wider and his cheeks slightly flushed.

"Of course it looks great! Why wouldn't it?"

You gave him a withering stare

"Uh..yeah. Y'know, if ya had just told me ya didn't like it being so messy I woulda tidied up sooner. J-just make sure ya let me know if it gets too messy again. I want ya to be comfortable in more places than just your room, so my room seemed like a good idea."

His face was incredibly flushed

"Thank you Mammon. It really means a lot.

Levi

You had only been in Levi's room twice

But dear god

You really really really wanted to tidy things up for him

But you also knew what it was like to be very particular and have things "just-so"

Aksjsjshdgjak

"Hey Levi, can I make you deal?"

He took off one of his headphones to listen

"What's up?"

"This might be kinda weird. Can I take pictures of your stuff so I can reorganize and clean your room? That way if you don't like it, I'll put everything back?"

You could see confusion and slight panic that crossed his features.

"I'm sorry, I know it's weird, you don't have to say yes I-"

"Um, what exactly would you be doing?"

"Uhhh.."

He stopped his game to sit and talk with you for a bit.

"O-ok. Just that shelf is off-limits. And I'll stay in here to let you know if something isn't ok with me."

He watched in awe as you carefully rearranged his figurines by rarity as well as colour.

You crawled under his desk with velcro ties and made all the cords under there much more organized

You rearranged the pillows on his couch so that they were symmetrical on both sides, fluffing them and squishing them as you saw fit.

His manga was pretty organized, so you just straightened out the pile.

You organized his games in alphabetical order

The whole time you had been dusting stuff off as well

"There. That's better....what do you think Levi?"

"WOOOAAHH!!! I love it!! It looks really good MC!"

"Thanks for letting me do that."

"No problem...but w-why did you want to do it?"

You shrugged. "It calms me down? No, that's not quite it....I don't really now. As it is, I need to cut myself off otherwise I'll clean until I can't stand. Mind if I join you for a bit?"

He nods at you and hands you a control. As the game boots up he says, "Y-you're welcome to do that again if you need to...but that shelf is still off-limits."

You nod, grateful for his understanding.

Satan

He said he had a surprise date for you

So you followed him

To the Cat Cafe

Now, you love cats

And you love food

But the two of them together don't sit well with you

But Satan looked so eager and happy that you didn't hesitate much to go inside.

Everything was going really well until Satan asked if you wanted something to eat or drink.

You politely declined his offer, but he insisted on getting you something

You reluctantly chose a hot drink.

But as you watched the worker prepare your drink, you were horrified to see them carry a cat out from behind the counter, and then without washing their hands, snap the lid on your cup.

"Satan..I need to step outside for a bit."

He watched you in mild concern as you walked out the door and he waited for your and his order to be complete

You were pacing outside, trying to calm down.

Why did that upset me? I haven't even touched it yet. Besides, normal people don't usually care about stuff like that. And I can clean it??? Or grab another lid?? Fuck! Why am I like this?

Your train of thought was broken as Satan tapped on your shoulder, concern and curiosity apparent in his eyes.

"Are you alright? I noticed the worker didn't wash their hands after handling the cat, so I grabbed a couple lids on my way out. I was going to put it on for you, but I believe it would be best for all parties if you did it on your own."

You almost started crying as he handed you a paper towel with two lids in it.

"Why are there two?"

"Although it never particularly bothered me, I thought you may have wanted some solidarity. I can understand where you're coming from." He smiled sympathetically at you.

From that day forward, he paid extra attention to things while you were around to make sure you wohld feel comfortable. You two also managed to tackle the daunting task of properly organizing Satan's books so that you could spend more time in his otherwise clean room.

Asmo

"Darling, you look wonderful in that outfit!! And it's so hot outside, it's perfect!! I was just about to head out, do you want to join me?"

"That depends. Where are you going?"

"Oh, I'm just gonna do a little shopping. There was a cute top on sale at the mall yesterday, I just want to see if it's still there."

You told him you'd be right back.

When you got to your room you threw on a sweater, and then made sure you had your wallet and your phone.

You walked out of your bedroom, checking again, wallet, phone

As you approached Asmo, you checked again. Wallet, phone

"Are you ready to go?" You nodded and followed him out the door.

He made idle gossip with you until he noticed you were looking a little pale

"Oh my goodness, love are you alright? You should take this sweater off, you'll get much too hot!"

"I can't!" You panicked a bit, and he was caught off guard by your reaction.

"I- I'm sorry. But I use the sleeves to open doors and hold bags and stuff. I don't like touching that stuff. Even groceries are hard for me to touch, so I wash the groceries before I put them away when I get home. I enjoy shopping with you though, because you always know what kind of stuff I like just by looking at it, or feeling it for me. It's the same thing I explained before, where it's difficult for me to model the clothes for you until after they've been washed."

"Aww honey, I'm sorry. Next time I'll see if Mammon or Beel can come and help with your bags, m'kay? But you cannot stay in this sweater in weather like this. What about gloves? Would you be ok wearing gloves? I know a place where there's some really cute ones!! And I'll handle the doors for now, ok?"

You took off your sweater and tied it around your waist.

"Huh. I actually do feel a little better....thanks Asmo."

You two laughed lightly as he held open the door for the next shop.

Beel

You had waited for Beel to get out of one of his extracurriculars to walk home with him

You two were planning to eat together

However when you walked into the kitchen, you were greeted with a sink overflowing with dishes, and a sleeping Belphie on the island.

"Oh, uh, before I eat Beel, I'm going to clean that up. You go ahead though."

Belphie piped up, "Just throw what you can in the dishwasher....I'll do the rest later."

Beel looked concerned. "We were late getting home. Are you sure you're not hungry?"

"Oh...uh" you contemplated lying when your stomach gave you away.

"Just eat. I'll take care of the dishes. It's my turn anyways. I'll get to it soon."

"It's not a big deal Belphie, I'll just do them."

"But you're hungry, aren't you? Just eat first? Or did I do something? Is it something I can fix? I can go if it makes you more comfortable-" Beel looked disappointed. Of course it wasn't his fault.

You shook your head. "It's not you. It's me. I just- I don't know- ugh." You felt close to tears.

How the fuck were you supposed to explain yourself?

Beel pulled you into a hug. "Hey, it's ok. You don't have to tell us what's going on, but if you do it'll make it easier for us to help you."

He let go of you enough for you to step back and wipe tears from your eyes.

"I-I don't know what it is! But whenever I know there's something to be done, especially if I can see it, I have to do it before I do anything for myself. That includes eating, getting a glass of water, even going to the bathroom! And if I find another thing to do half way through he first thing, I'll just continue to postpone the thing I need to do for myself until I'm done or I forget about it..."

Silence settled across the kitchen.

"We'll help you do the dishes so it gets done faster, then you have to eat, ok?"

You smile and nod graciously as the twins helped you feel more comfortable

Belphie

"Come cuddle with meeee."

"Belphie, I need to study, please."

Belphie pouted. He was going to cuddle with you one way or another, even if he had to annoy you into it

Only what he didn't realize what he saw as "mildly annoying" was actually triggering for you

So he started messing with the postion of things on your desk.

"Stop it Belphie, I need to study."

"Yeah? Don't let me stop you, I'm just playing with your pen jar."

"But I asked you. To. Stop."

He huffed and put the pen jar down

But then he started to mess with your three pencils you had laid out, smallest to tallest.

"Why do you need three pencils?"

"Because. Now leave them alone."

He grinned.

"Because is hardly an answer and you know it. What would happen if I just took this one?"

"BELPHIE NO!" Your voice sounded between laughter and tears, butbhe figured it was just your way of begging.

"Belphie, please? I need that!"

He just grinned as he shifted into his demon form and passed the pencil to his tail and lazily flicked it back and forth.

Until he saw your face.

"Whatever. Do what you want, I'm done dealing with you." You walked out of your room, angry tears filling your eyes.

"W-wait! Shit! No, come back! I didn't-ugh." He groaned as he picked himself up to go after you, finding you on the outside steps of HOL.

"Hey, why're you crying? It was just a pencil. I put it back."

You pulled your head out of your hands.

"Yeah, but did you put it back right?"

Belphie looked at you perplexed...right? What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

"Look, I'm sorry for using that tone with you. It's really hard for me to focus unless I have things a certain way. It may seem ridiculous to you, but that's just how I am. I don't know what causes it, I just know that it's a part of me. I'm working on it, but if I say stop, I need you to stop. Please."

"....okay. I'm sorry."

Masterlist

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me thoughts #obey me scenarios #comfort fic #tw mental health issues

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secretsickysideblog · 3 years

Text

dumb lucky

"“you know my favorite color?” bucciarati slurs, brows furrowing. “anyway, it also came in purple, and black, and ivory, so I bought all of them, and uh…” “that’s cute,” bucciarati smiles, and abbacchio nearly dies at the way he looks while smiling unabashedly, weak as it may be right now. “you know my favorite color.”'

a mission takes bucciarati and abbacchio all the way to a town in piedmont where bucciarati finds himself fever-riddled in the midst of a snowstorm. abbacchio finds silver linings.

(sicktember day 1 - fever)

read under the cut!

It’s only tradition for things to go wrong for Passione.

Well, perhaps that’s a lie--normally, they get dumb lucky. But this means that when things go wrong, they go incredibly wrong in multiple ways at once. It’s only fair for the amount of times the gang has narrowly escaped death by the skin of their teeth. And Abbacchio is grateful that neither he nor Bucciarati are running the risk of death right now; it could be much, much worse.

But this mission could certainly be going much better. After all, Abbacchio never thought he’d be buying fever reducers in a little town in Piedmont, Italy as a part of the job of Neapolitan Mafioso. He hadn’t expected to be led all the way to Piedmont in the first place.

Easy mission my ass, Giovanna, he laments internally, rolling his eyes as he compares the prices between on and off-brand fever reducers. Abbacchio doesn’t usually bother to buy things like this, but Bucciarati’s fever--yes, a fever that had managed to swell up to a whopping 39 degrees overnight while on a mission--definitely needs to be treated.

He settles on both bottles, and he grabs a pack of water bottles, too. Abbacchio peruses the shelves, considering what else Bucciarati might need. He’d rather not come trudging out through this snow again if he could help it; it started coming down last night and hasn’t shown any sign of stopping since. He grabs another thermometer, a can of soup, and he’s about to head to the register when he spots something else that catches his eye.

It’s a large blanket in blue--Bucciarati’s favorite shade of blue (not that Abbacchio bothers to remember things like his Capo’s favorite color), and god, does it look soft. His gaze wanders to the window. Snow falls in clumps, kicked up into a white mist by the wind, and Abbacchio could shiver just looking at it. He does shiver thinking about the short walk back to the motel through that storm.

Abbacchio sighs, runs his fingertips over the inviting fleece. A blanket couldn’t hurt.

He grabs it and tucks it under the arm without the basket only to spot that there’s another of the same in purple. And another, in ivory? Abbacchio isn’t someone tempted by luxuries, but blankets in the cold seem like a necessity.

So he picks up both. Because Bucciarati has to sweat out the fever anyway, right? He’s too out of it to be angry, anyway.

Abbacchio lugs the three heavy blankets and the basket of various other supplies to the register, fishing around in his pocket for his wallet. The cashier looks over his selection as she rings up and bags each object, smiling fondly.

“Taking good care of someone, I see.”

Abbacchio huffs, lips quirking upward to a ghost of a smile. “Yeah, I guess I am. It’s about time he lets me.”

“These blankets are on sale, you know. Buy one and the other is half-off,” and, in an expertly-crafted manner of egging him into it, the cashier finishes her sell with, “Everyone loves a good blanket. Perfect to cuddle up under.”

Abbacchio doesn’t anticipate growing the balls to ‘cuddle-up’ with Bucciarati, but something about the idea sways him into it. He stares at the blanket shelf in consideration for a long moment before giving in and grabbing a fourth, this one in black.

The cashier is, clearly, proud of herself. Abbacchio can’t find it in himself to get as annoyed by this as usual. He did fall for her marketing scheme, after all. Can’t bitch about it if he gave in.

Altogether, he walks out of the store with five bags slung on his arms, four of which are occupied by heavy fleece and tied off to avoid any of the snowfall. His boots feel like weights as he trudges through planes of muddy white, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck. His hands are freezing--he wishes he’d bought gloves.

When he finally returns to the motel room, Bucciarati is curled up on the bed. He looks just about the same as he did when Abbacchio left which is, admittedly, like shit. His hair, lacking its typical braid, fell in uneven layers wherever it wasn’t sticking to sweat-soaked skin. The only real color in his face is across his cheeks in bright, splotchy red, and though his eyes are closed now, they’ve been glazed over all morning.

Abbacchio shakes his head in disapproval, wondering how Bucciarati managed to just ignore this, because he knows damn well it didn’t just spark overnight. He must’ve been feeling at least vaguely unwell before they’d embarked on this (unexpectedly) lengthy journey. Abbacchio tells himself, as he has every time he starts thinking about how his Capo sucks at self-care, that he’ll just bitch at him about it later; criticizing a sick person is mean, and besides, there’s not enough cognizance in his fever-addled head to comprehend annoyance right now anyway.

He unties his scarf, shrugs off his coat, and unbags the items on the small coffee table in the room. Bucciarati stirs into half-lucidity, as told by the mix of a groan and a whine that slips from him after a bit of shifting around. Abbacchio looks over to him, seeing his hazy blues blink open, and he immediately grabs the bottle of fever reducers to force down his throat now while he’s just awake enough to swallow and not awake enough to protest.

“Here,” he holds out a bottle of water and two of the pills for Bucciarati to take, which he does after taking a second to process the command. He moves sluggishly, but he manages to get the pills down and put the water bottle on the nightstand. Abbacchio feels his forehead with the back of his hand, frowning at how much he’s burning still.

He goes to pull away. Bucciarati doesn’t let him, grabbing his wrist and holding his hand there.

“What are you doing?”

“Cold,” he mumbles, letting his eyes flutter closed again. “Feels nice.”

Abbacchio opens his mouth, closes it. Thanks the lord above that Bucciarati can’t see the way his cheeks heat up as though he’s contracted a fever. After a moment of hesitance, Abbacchio brings both of his hands up to cup Bucciarati’s cheeks, and the other man sighs contentedly.

“Well, if it’s cold you want, maybe you should go take a nap in the snow,” Abbacchio jokes.

“Hm,” Bucciarati takes a breath. “Perhaps I should.”

Abbacchio stares down at Bucciarati. At the way his eyelashes, dark and thick, fan out across his cheeks. At his lips, still pretty and pink and miraculously not very chapped. Even now, sick as a dog, Bucciarati is gorgeous. Abbacchio could watch him forever, he’s sure, but then he realizes how creepy he’s being and abruptly pulls away. Bucciarati’s eyes open with a dejected look to them, and Abbacchio reminds himself that it’s not because it’s his hands, it’s because his hands are cold and Bucciarati is delusional with fever.

“Uh, so, I got you two kinds of fever reducer, and you’re gonna take it whether you like it or not,” Abbacchio starts to say, clearing his throat. Bucciarati hums, half-listening. “I got water. A can of soup, if you get hungry, but since you just woke up I’m sure you’re not yet.”

Bucciarati doesn’t respond, so Abbacchio assumes he’s right. He’ll make him eat something later.

“And,” Abbacchio unties the other four bags, “I know you’re not looking to get warmer, but fevers have to be sweat out, right? I got blankets. They were on sale.”

Bucciarati almost whines, though it’s quiet, subtle. Abbacchio opts to ignore it, because it does nothing good for his heart.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but look, it’s your favorite color,” Abbacchio holds up the blanket in proud display. Bucciarati looks at it, but it’s clear that he’s not fully seeing it.

“You know my favorite color?” Bucciarati slurs, brows furrowing.

“Anyway, it also came in purple, and black, and ivory, so I bought all of them, and uh…”

“That’s cute,” Bucciarati smiles, and Abbacchio nearly dies at the way he looks while smiling unabashedly, weak as it may be right now. “You know my favorite color.”

Abbacchio takes the tags off the plush fabric and chucks it at Bucciarati. Bucciarati, as expected, makes no move to catch it. It takes him a minute to slip the fleece off of his head and onto his lap. This process is repeated four more times as a mountain of plush fabric piles up on the bed--the singular bed, which Abbacchio would be incredibly nervous about if this was a year ago, but they’ve been stuck in the ‘unfortunate’ one-bed scenario too many times for him to care anymore.

“This is...so many,” Bucciarati murmurs, staring down at the pile. He runs his thumb along the hem of the blue one. “They are soft, though.”

“I don’t know if you can feel how cold it is in here, much less out there,” Abbacchio gestures towards the storm just beyond the windows, “but we needed them. I don’t know how long we’re gonna be stuck here, between your fever and the bastard we’re after.”

Bucciarati nods, absently petting the blankets. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Falling ill,” Bucciarati says it like it’s the most obvious reason to apologize in the world. “We’re stuck here. It’s my fault.”

Abbacchio rolls his eyes. “Stop apologizing for things you can’t control.”

Bucciarati looks like he wants to protest, but then his expression turns confused as if his own thought process doesn’t make sense to him anymore. Abbacchio snorts at the sight and shakes his head before climbing into bed beside the other man and urging him to lay back down.

“I’m all sweaty.”

“I don’t care,” Abbacchio pulls one of the many blankets around them up to his shoulders, and another about halfway above that. He lets Bucciarati kick the others aside. “You’re warm, and I’m cold. I’m finding silver linings.”

Bucciarati chuckles a little. If he were any more coherent, he’d make a joke about Abbacchio’s usual pessimistic cynicism being an act; the latter is almost grateful, at that thought, for the fever. The wind howls outside as the storm picks up. It’s definitely not an ideal situation, but it could be much worse.

Bucciarati turns to nuzzle his face into the crook of Abbacchio’s neck. Tentatively, Abbacchio wraps an arm around him.

Maybe this was just dumb luck in disguise.

#sicktember #sicktember2021 #jjba sickfic #jjba fanfiction #jojo's bizarre adventure sickfic #bruabba #bruno bucciarati #bruno buccellati #leone abbacchio #bruno x abbacchio #bruabba sickfic #sick!bruno #caring!abbacchio #sickfic #fever #nice first post

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miekasa · 3 years

Note

Headcannons for the kinda style/fashion sense Levi and Eren would have in Modern AU??

EREN

I am once again going to push my Eren lowkey hypebeast agenda because you asked.

Honestly his general clothing style isn’t anything too extraordinary. He wears jeans most days, sometimes sweatpants and track pants. Never slacks or chinos unless he’s specifically dressing up to go somewhere.

I think he’d have a pretty damn big collection of sweaters and hoodies honestly. Like... an extensive collection. He shouldn’t need to buy anymore, but he does. I think he’d also wear a lot of crewnecks.

They’re not always plain though! I think he’d be a box logo kind of guy, maybe something with a design/reference to a show he likes, and probably a few that are plain on the front, but have lettering or a drawing on the back.

Maybe a little bit of logomania on a few items, but it’s his not his whole outfit, and really only ever once in a blue moon. Expensive things he got on sale or from a reseller for cheap, that he wears because he has, you know.

You know those half/faux collar things that make it look like you’re wearing a button down under your crewneck, without actually having to wear one? Yeah, whenever Eren discovers that, he’s all about it and suddenly feels all put together and like a real adult LOLOL

He also has a pretty big sneaker collection, and he is a little obsessed with collecting them. I think he’d wear a lot of high-tops, and definitely have one or two pairs of shoes that need to be thrown are but are just so damn comfortable he can’t let them go.

I could see him having a lot of oversized t-shirts. He’s definitely the kind of guy that has 74485245 white t-shirts in his closet (“They go with everything!”)

He thinks fanny packs are stupid before he actually buys one, and then he acts like he invented them. “Babe, I don’t even have to put my phone in my pocket, look it fits in here! With my keys! I even have the lip balm you gave me--is this why you always have a bag??”

I think he’d look good with a few rings... I think you’d have to buy them for him first... convince him... build your perfect choker you know 😌

He mostly just wants to be comfortable, but if you wanted him to try out a specific style, he’d do it for you. He can’t promise to like it, but who knows it might grow on him over time.

He might have a lot of hats (beanies, bucket hats); not that he wears them super often, but he keeps buying them. For safe keeping, he claims. (It’s because he’s an irresponsible spender but we don’t have to unpack all of that).

LEVI

I feel like business casual is a good way to describe his every day style.

Not necessarily wearing a suit and/or blazer every day, but he definitely looks smart, tidy, and put together. Slacks and/or chinos, maybe a button down if he feels like ironing the day before, or maybe just a nice sweater or turtleneck.

He owns jeans, too, like any normal person, but they’re all pretty plain, and never, ever ripped. I also think he would prefer dark washed jeans over light washed or acid washed. And they’re not really skinny jeans either; they’re tapered, but not skin tight. They’re comfortable.

He would like blazers, though. They might not be an every day occurrence, but he definitely has more than a few. He’s pretty good at styling them, too. I would pay to see him style the oversized blazer trend, but I don’t really think it’s something he would lean towards himself... unfortunately... but he would look so cute omg.

Chelsea boots oh my god. But also sneakers! I think he’d have at least one good pair of running shoes, and maybe one or two pairs he wears casually. Like air maxes. I think he’d like those.

He has his casual days, though. When he’s not working or doing whatever he does regularly, he has sweatpants. I actually think he’s a sweatpants and big t-shirt around the house kind of guy.

On that note, I think he’d run errands in a matching sweatsuit. Not a matching tracksuit -- that would be resident wanna be cool golf dad, Erwin Smith -- but matching sweatpants and crewneck sets. Wears it with his fancy sneakers. Sometimes a pea coat if he’s trying to be extra stylish.

I don’t see him as a hat kind of guy. If it’s cold, he would either suck it up, or just wear a jacket with a hood. You buy him one of those hats with the pompom on top during the winter and he claims he looks like a child, but you always catch him wearing it when it’s snowing anyway.

He would accessorize pretty well, but also in subtle ways. Like coordinating his scarf and belt to his outfit, making sure his cufflinks go with his clothes, a proper tie. I don’t know that he’d have a lot of jewelry, but maybe a few daintier necklaces or chains. Maybe one or two rings.

#anonymous #this was so fun #eren is like.... very very very casual street style you know #like he's not trying super hard to have an aesthetic but he definitely has his own style #levi is just put together all the time #hes the person that walks into your class all dressed up and youre like 'fuck now i wish i dressed up too'#but to him its not dressed up its just his every day fit #aot x reader #snk x reader #levi x reader #eren x reader #aot imagines #headcanons #levi.ask #eren.ask

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battle-of-alberta · 2 years

Photo

Disclaimer: I am not a fashionable or a fashion conscious person and all my ocs suffer for it. You’re all welcome to dress them up better than I can, though I’ll caution that they all tend to fall into the “unfashionable north american” category regardless of how much or little they spend and are probably just a little less helpless than I am anyway haha.

(This ask was sent to my main blog so I actually thought I’d lost it and forgot about it until I remembered to check yesterday oops)

Also: I enjoy making these meme charts lol, they’re a fun challenge and easy to put together.

Some more detail below.

Ed: Is a regular cheapskate when it comes to clothing and is still trying to get use out of stuff that reminds him of better times, even if its nearly half a century ago. He oscillates between denim on denim (aka The Canadian/Western Tuxedo) and thrifted sweaters. Generally, his excuse is that no one cares what he’s wearing under his layers anyway. Ed has about as much aesthetic sense for himself as his downtown architects do (they don’t).

Red: I think she really aspires to getting cute clothes but does have a challenge with her height and also her work schedule, since getting grease out of cute clothes is always an emotional ordeal. I think she would dress more feminine if she thought she could still be taken seriously - maybe she does on the weekends. But I think fashions tend to pass her by once she saves up enough to refresh her wardrobe and that frustrates her a little too.

Mac: Only buys his own clothes out of necessity, if he were a normal human family man he would be utterly helpless and his wife would pick all his clothes. The sunglasses are a stereotype about oilmen but I don’t really know what the appeal is, but it fits into the “utilitarian except for one really lame purchase”. Spends a bit more on his hunting jacket and steel toe boots for work.

Cal: He wouldn’t place himself where I did on the chart partially because he has a very skewed idea of what is fashionable and what is expensive, I think he just think it’s normal to pay a lot for clothes. He has an entire closet just for cowboy boots which usually start around $300 a pair, and his stampede outfits are probably custom made.

Maddie: I don’t think she puts a lot of thought into updating her wardrobe and is just lucky that 1. old people fashion comes back in cycles and 2. she has the twiggy body type that makes anything she wears look like a conscientious fashion choice rather than throwing on the same old thing every morning.

Jo: My impression of Josephine is that she is fashion conscious and does keep up with Big City Trends, but she’s also the sort of person who assembles wild outfits from the sale racks because just having access to department stores is a big deal for her. She can spend what she saved on the outfit on a special accent piece or something custom when she goes down south to bigger cities.

Lil: Would spend less money on clothing if she could and finds shopping an annoying ordeal, but I think she is also somewhat fashion conscious and probably follows some god-fearing influencers spearheading the modesty movement lol. I dress her badly specifically because of her poor flag design choices but I think she is still working out what she would wear if she had access to it and pushing the boundaries of how much black is acceptable for church.

Nor: She’s so out of touch with normal human society that, like Calvin, she doesn’t really understand what the rest think clothes are “supposed” to cost. She’s also the one that people would most likely give stuff to advertise for them, so she might not have an accurate assessment of how pricey her “practical” outdoorsy outfits actually are.

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oddsnendsfanfics · 3 years

Text

Love, Uncle Sy

Genre: Fan Fiction (Sand Castle) Pairing: N/A Warnings: It’s so fluffy! Rating: G Length: Drabble Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: I had fun with Sy and Willow, making Christmas cookies, so I brought them back for some adorable birthday fluff.

Henry Cavill Master List

Saturday morning, sun barely above the horizon and Sy was wide awake. As usual, his morning began in the kitchen, a pot of coffee perfuming the room while accompanied by the humid scent of dishwasher and frying bacon. He'd woke this morning, tossing and turning, a cold sweat cresting his brow. Nothing a shower and a soothing meditation tape wouldn't temporarily fix. Had he not been woke by the nightmares, Sy would have planned to sleep in – or his version of sleeping in, at least.

Waking from a nightmare on your birthday, should be criminal. Never the less, he had work to do once breakfast was over. In a few hours, he had to pack his truck with a few party favours and drive over to the local horse farm where his niece took lessons every Saturday morning. While Sy was turning older than he cared to remember, today was his niece's seventh birthday.

The grizzled Army vet loved all of his nieces and nephews, but Willow was certainly his favourite. She was his mini-me. His tiny partner in crime. His shadow, and the light of his life. From the moment Sy had held his birthday twin, he'd been in love. His heart was melting and there was nothing that he wouldn't do for that child.

Calling the dog back inside, he gave a scratch behind the ears. Plating his bacon and a piece of toast, saving a few pieces to cool as a treat for the faithful canine. Checking his watch, Sy frowned, 6AM was a little too early to call his birthday girl. He'd have to wait until he saw her later this morning, when he would also be presenting her with the most perfect present in the world.

Around 10AM Sy's truck was packed with a few birthday banners, balloons, cupcakes, and a giant pink sparkly bow. Willow's lesson ended at 11:30, if he wanted to get there and allow his sister time to set up then he had to hurry. Sy couldn't wait to see his niece's face, when he presented her with the present that he'd bought her. He could picture it now, her eyes shining and that adorable smile, ear to ear, squealing in pure delight.

Arriving while Willow was busy cleaning her tack, Sy managed to get somewhat set up. A kind parent helping to set up made it easier on Sy. One last thing to get from the truck and they were set. Sy shut the door, the case of cupcakes in his arm. Walking back to the surprise location, the last thing he'd expected when he stepped inside the barn was Willow running towards him, tears streaming down her face, sniffling and trying to contain the sobs of anguish. Stopping in his tracks, Sy removed his sunglasses, intercepting the little girl rushing towards him at the speed of light.

“Uncle Sy,” Willow rushed her uncle, tears in her eyes. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she sniffled.

“Hey Wispy, what's wrong Bub?” Sy stroked the back of her head, the braided pig tails messed from their time under her helmet.

“Oh Uncle Sy.” She wailed, bottom lip trembling. A child crying on their birthday was never a good sign. Squatting down to be the same height as his niece, Sy wiped her eyes. “Checkers.”

“What about him?”

“He's,” hiccup, “he...” she sobbed. “He's sold.”

Biting his bottom lip, Sy felt for the little girl. He wished they could have told her before now, but that would have ruined the entire birthday surprise. Of course her favourite pony had sold, the second Sy had heard that the striking spotted pony had a price tag, he called and negotiated the sale. Checkers had sold nearly two weeks ago, his new owner none the wiser that the pony even belonged to her – at her Uncle's request.

Aimee and Mike had been discussing buying their daughter her own pony, though funds and the right pony were never aligned. When Sy heard that the favourite lesson pony was going to be sold, he discussed it with his sister and knew what he had to do.

Seeing Willow sobbing uncontrollably was going to make the reveal that much sweeter. Even so, knowing something his niece did not, seeing her in such a state broke Sy's heart.

“Oh Wispy,” Sy soothed her, bringing her in for a tight hug. “I know it hurts now, but just think, Checkers is going to have a little girl of his very own. Don't ponies deserve a good home and all the love?”

“Yeah, but I'm going to miss him. I wish I could have him. I would love him forever, Uncle Sy.”

“I know bub, I know.” Gently giving her a squeeze, Sy let her go rubbing the tears away from her cheeks. “How 'bout you go finish putting your things away, then come find me and we can give Checkers some treats and tell him what a good pony he is?”

“Okay.” Willow nodded, hiccupping through a new batch of silent tears.

Close one. Sy stood, blowing out a heavy breath.

He had to hurry, if he wanted to be set up by the time Willow came back. He picked up the case of cupcakes. Delicately arranged in the shape of a pony, of course. Sy had worked hard baking, decorating, and creating the perfect birthday treat. Walking through the aisle of the small riding facility, Sy smiled seeing his sister and nephew waiting at the party site.

They had arranged to meet up after Willow's lesson, catching a few of her horsey friends before they left. Parents happy to wait for an extra hour to help the little girl celebrate her birthday. Sending Willow to the car to put her things away had been the only way Sy could get her far enough away to make their plan work.

“Sy, Happy birthday.” Aimee hugged her brother tightly. Careful not to squish the container of cupcakes that he held.

“Thank ya.” He kissed her cheek, smiling wide. Nodding to Ben, who would rather be anywhere else right now. “Wispy was pretty upset,” he commented glancing over at the pony who was standing in a holding paddock near by. “I nearly broke, Aim.”

“Oh god,” Aimee rolled her eyes, “who knew all it took to break the soldier was a crying child.”

“She's gutted,” He frowned, setting the cupcakes down on a small table decorated with a pink birthday sign, matching plates, and cups.

“Won't be for long,” Ben shrugged.

“Sure you and Mike are okay with this?” Eyeing his sister, Sy smirked adjusting his cap.

“Well, we kind of need to be. It's not like we've a choice.”

“Course you do, if you don't want the pony, I am sure Checkers and I would get on fine.” laughing, Sy took a good look at the pony who was content to eat the hay he'd been given. The big sparkly pink bow around his neck didn't seem to hinder him any. “He's a good looking boy.”

“I'd like to see you on that pony.” Her laughing intensified, Aimee snorted slapping Sy in the arm.

Her giant of a brother would look insane on the pony, even if Checkers was on the bigger end of being a pony. Hell, the last time she'd seen Sy ride he was maybe twelve, before girls and other interests had taken over his attention. Back then he would have loved to have his own pony. Their parents had allowed Aimee to begin taking lessons, when Sy had tagged along, insisting that he be allowed to ride too. Fearless, the six year old climbed onto the horse assigned to him and didn't bother to look back. For a few years everyone had began to assume that he'd eventually end up in high school rodeo, after that he'd find a woman and settle down on a farm somewhere.

Heh. What a life that would have been. A wife and kids were evidently not in the cards for this Syverson. He loved his nieces and nephews, but the scars his life bore, it would be unfair to condemn a child to a father who was broken and haunted by war. Clouds settling in his mind, Sy cleared his throat bringing himself back to the present matter at hand. Tormenting his sister.

“I happen to be a fine rider.” Winking at Ben; Sy nudged his sister. “I remember being a much better rider than some others that I know.”

“Shut up, I was a good rider.” Defending herself, Aimee stuck her tongue out at him.

“I know you were, but I was better that's all.” grinning from ear to ear, Sy ruffled his sister's hair, checking his watch. Willow was still missing, unlike her. “Should I go find Wispy? Bring her over?”

“Uh, yeah. If you don't mind.” Aimee nodded, checking her watch. The car had been unlocked, there was no obvious reason for her daughter to be held up.

Walking to the parking area, Sy laid his sights on the suv belonging to his sister. The doors were all shut and no sign of Willow. His truck, parked beside it was also vacant. In the back of the suv, Willow's stuff was tossed in. It looked like she had thrown it and ran.

“Wispy?” his heart began to thump when the car was clear. Logically, Sy knew that she couldn't have gone far. The soldier in him told Sy that there was no need to panic. The uncle side tried to take over his wildest imagination. No, sir he was not allowing those thoughts in. Listening for a moment, he took a deep breath steadying his heart and calming the pounding in his veins. “Willow?”

Behind him, he could hear a rustling in the grass. All the dogs were around the back and this was too big to be a barn cat. Following the noise around the corner of the shed, Sy's heartbeat returned to normal finding Willow sitting in the grass. Knees to her chin, her face stained with tears, her jeans dirty, boots covered in dust.

“You coming, birthday girl?”

“Uncle Sy?” Willow sighed, rubbing her hands against her eyes.

“Yeah?”

“My heart hurts. Is this what it's like when you have a broken heart?”

“Wispy, bub.” Sinking down to sit beside her on the grass, Sy felt his chest tighten. Wishing that Aimee had never mentioned the sale.

“I miss him already.”

“I know, but for now he's still here and he wants those carrots that I brought.” Trying his best to encourage his tiny shadow, Sy smiled. “If we go see him now, it means we get to spend more time enjoying Checkers than worrying. We can't predict tomorrow.”

Leaning into her uncle, Willow sighed. “But why did he have to sell? I love him, I don't want him going to a new home and on my birthday.”

“Oh Wispy,” Sy kissed the top of her head. He wanted to tell her, reassure her that Checkers wasn't going anywhere, but he didn't want to ruin the surprise just yet. “Honestly, bub, I don't know what to tell you. What I can tell you is that it won't always hurt.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. Now, your ma is waiting for us. Some of your friends have stayed, too. There are cupcakes.”

“Really? But I thought we were going to feed Checkers.”

“We are, after. I wasn't supposed to tell you about the cupcakes, but I even made them myself for you. Come on, let's go enjoy the day. It's our birthday! No tears on our birthday.” Standing, Sy held his hand out to Willow.

Grasping her Uncle's hand, she squeaked when he grabbed her and tossed her over his shoulder. Laughing hysterically, Willow flopped around on his back, bracing herself with her elbows as he walked through the yard.

Seeing Sy with Willow over his shoulder, Aimee instructed Ben to grab Checkers and have him ready for his sister. Whatever. Ben crawled through the wooden fence, clipping a pink lead line onto the pony and coaxing him away from he hay. His sister was about to lose her mind. Straightening the bow, Ben smiled fondly at the thought of how happy his little sister would be.

“Happy Birthday, Wispy!” Sy announced setting her down, back to Checkers.

“Is this all mine?” Willow's eyes were wide as she stared up at her uncle.

“Sure is.” Nodding, Sy smiled with pride.

A few of the kids who had stayed were giddy with anticipation. Wishing their friend a happy birthday, waiting for the big moment. Turning to look at her mom, Willow spotted her brother with the pony. More tears in her eyes, she began to loudly sob. Her body shaking, words escaping her. Kneeling down beside his niece, Sy sniffed back his own tears.

“Happy birthday, Willow. He's all yours.”

“M-mine?”

“Yeah sweetheart, Checkers is all yours. If you want him.”

“I do. I really do, I love him so much.” Willow rushed the gate, fumbling to undo the latch. Frustrated she darted under the fence, throwing her arms around the pony's neck, hugging him tightly. “My own pony,” She whispered, causing Ben to smile. Handing his sister the lead line, Ben took a step back allowing his mom to take photo of the moment.

“Send me a copy, will ya Aims.” Sy wiped his hand across his eyes, putting his sunglasses on to hide the tears.

“You big softie.” Aimee nudged him. “Go on, get in the photo with them.” She urged her brother.

Stepping into the small paddock, unlatching the gate – unlike his niece and nephew there was no way in hell Sy was darting through the fence boards. He stood next to Willow for a moment, stroking the spotted neck of the content pony. Whispering softly to Checkers about what a good sport he'd been.

“I can't believe it.” whispering, Willow looked up at her uncle. “He's all mine.”

“He sure is, bub.” Holding out his arms Sy smiled when Willow rushed into them. Hugging her uncle tightly. Scooping her up, Sy took the lead line from her, holding Checkers beside them while Aimee took some photos. “Happy birthday, Wispy.” Sy smiled kissing her cheek.

“Happy birthday, Uncle Sy. Sorry that I didn't get you a pony.” Willow kissed his cheek, hugging her arms around his neck.

#captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #henry cavill #captain syverson imagine

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just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot · 4 years

Text

Soulmate September - Day 9

Day 9 - When you write something on your own skin it appears on your soulmate’s skin as well. (Pirates and Sirens AU)

Pairing(s): Romantic Dukeceit, Background Romantic Prinxiety

TWs: Swearing, murder mention, Remus being Remus, semi-detailed leg and fin injury

–

Those who ran afoul of The Witch’s Serpent rarely lived to tell the tale. Many a foolish young sea-farer - far too inexperienced and overly cocky - had met their end at the hands of the galleon’s captain long before they could even hope to make their mark on the open seas.

Captain Remus Gaspar was an impulsive, enigma of a man; capable of great feats of bravery and reckless daring do, alongside acts of cold blooded murder and remorseless torture inflicted upon those who crossed him. The sea choked on the bodies of his victims while he and his crew sipped the finest stolen wines with nary a hiccup. The naval officers of the mainland cowered in fear while Remus decimated their trade routes and sent their men to the depths to keep the fish company. In fact, only one man had faced the Captain and lived to see another day, but kept coming back for more.

Commodore Logan Callows.

Remus would have admired him - in all senses - if not for his fanatic loyalty to the crown and it’s laws. Make no mistake, Remus very much wanted Logan’s head for a bow ornament with every fibre of his mortal being, but outside factors forbade Remus from fatally wounding the man. Namely, Logan’s first mate and closest friend was his brother-in-law, Virgil Giordano. Why did Roman’s soulmate have to be a man who could rival any opponent in a knife fight, despite being the sort to panic over the smallest change in weather conditions? Remus had no goddamn idea what fate was playing at, but he knew for certain that killing Logan would result in having to run from Virgil’s swift and immediate crusade for revenge. And if there’s one thing Remus Gaspar refused to do, it wold be spending his life in hiding.

Remus loved his brother dearly but all the familial loyalty in the world wouldn’t save him from Virgil’s wrath. He’d learned that much from his last encounter with Logan’s ship, The Inquisitor. Too many cocky remarks and attempts to stall while his men pillaged the lower decks of the ship in secret had earned him a close encounter with the business end of Virgil’s dagger. Naturally, the Captain had made things worse by uttering a rather salacious remark for which he was gifted a shiny new slash mark along his cheek.

“As a warning.”, his brother in law had hissed.

When forced to retreat, Remus had lamented the size of their haul at first. Not nearly enough sugar and spices as they’d been hoping for, but a small crate of flintlock pistols ripe for sale more than made up for the loss once they’d been discovered among the spoils.

Thus we come to the present moment; Captain Remus, sat upon the docks with a bottle of expensive rum, staring out into the ocean blue. His men had been more than happy to give the Captain his space while they spent their time merrily drinking in the local tavern. Once he was sure he was alone, Remus removed his black leather bracer and rolled his white sleeve to stare at the message written upon it. The Captain had seen many an alphabet in his day - either scrawled upon the foreign exports stolen from trading vessels, or within his memories of home, being tutored alongside his twin as children - but Remus had never laid eyes upon the letters that adorned his skin in a shimmering golden cursive.

Naturally, ever since he’d first been written to, Remus had made an effort to search for the script, but the only ‘lead’ he had been given was an old woman selling wares a couple of ports prior who had raved on and on, claiming it to be the language of the sirens. He’d scoffed at the idea and decided it likely wasn’t worth trying to work out in the first place.

Remus had never been one to buy into this whole soulmates arrangement. Even the day Roman had shown him the violet cursive that had appeared like magic, Remus had rolled his eyes and sworn off taking such a thing seriously. After all, acknowledging that kind of thing brought about some rather unpleasant thoughts he would rather not think about. The fierce Captain liked to play remorseless, but in truth, Remus simply knew that life at sea demanded blood, and it was up to him whether it’d be the blood of his enemies, or his crew and himself. But that didn't stop his mind wandering into territories he wished it would stay out of. How many men lay on the sandy shores of the depths with messages from soulmates unaware of their beloved’s fate? Did severing the connection hurt? Would fate allow those whom he’d unknowingly widowed to love again? Or had he doomed them to a life alone with no one to share such a connection with ever again?

… More rum would be needed it seemed.

A clattering from the nearby rock shoal drew Remus out from his own mind with a couple of curses leaving the Captain as he knocked over the rum bottle and watched a good portion of it pour away before he could right it again.

“Son of a bitch!”, he hissed, corking it and casting a glare towards the rockpool where the clattering had come from. Whoever had just cost him a good amount of rum was in for the brawl of their life. Remus threw on his coat and cursed his inebriated steps over the craggy rock face, swearing once again as he nearly rolled his ankle when his boot sunk into an unseen rockpool. He wrenched his leg free and crested the large flat rock in his way.

The second his eyes could focus, Remus made a mental note to find that old woman on their round trip and apologise.

Sprawled on it’s side nestled in the sand was an honest to god siren. The Captain was mesmerised by the creature; it’s long golden hair flowed over it’s scaled shoulders and torso, complimented by it’s black and yellow streaked fin-like ears that fluttered angrily each time it hissed. It wasn’t hard to work out why it was so angry. The creature’s left leg fin had been hooked in a rather nasty mess of fishing line and barbed hooks. The Captain had seen the technique used before to ensure a plentiful haul, who knew it could catch such a creature of legend so easily?

Perhaps Remus was succumbing to the creature’s charms, or maybe he was just too drunk already to think things through, but he found himself whistling to the creature to catch it’s attention. The way the creature’s panicked, beautiful eyes met his own momentarily knocked the wind from his chest as he wheezed out, “Need help?”

It let out a strangled sound and scrambled backwards, only to let out a cry of pain as it’s injured leg dragged along the sand. The Captain dropped down from his rock perch and made his way over,

“Woah there! Unless you want that fin ripped out you should lemme unhook you-”

Despite the excruciating pain it must’ve been in, it still managed to hiss dangerously at Remus in a voice that felt like a million tiny hands groping around in his brain with every syllable,

“Stay back!”

Remus’ halted momentarily, the voice in his head warning him, “Come any closer and I won’t hesitate to eat you alive!”

In spite of any semblance of common sense, Remus impulsively shot a cocky grin the creature’s way, “Kinky!”

The siren wasn’t amused.

It lunged forward to swipe at Remus, but the Captain caught it’s arm, making sure his grasp wasn’t painful, but firm.

“Watch it, you’re gonna take someone’s eye out! Or maybe these beauties will just gouge a couple chunks outta my face-”

Remus’ rambling was cut short as he saw the siren’s expression shift from a ferocious snarl to one of immediate fear.

“Please don’t kill me-”, it murmured quietly, slapping it’s free hand over its mouth. It tried to change back to a more aggressive persona but Remus refused to be intimidated,

“The last thing I wanna do is hurt you. Now are you gonna be a good lil fishy and let me unhook you?”

The siren scanned his face with those enchanting eyes once again, scrutinising every inch of Remus before it huffed and turned away from his gaze. The Captain took it as a sign of an indignant ‘do whatever you want’ and sat on the sand next to the siren, already beginning to carefully remove the hooks as best he could. Each wince the creature gave was met with an apology until Remus got the hang of it.

“.....What’s your name?”, Remus mused to the surprised siren, “Might as well get to know each other, right?”

The creature mumbled something Remus couldn’t understand under it’s breath but relented reluctantly, “My name is Janus. At least, that's how you humans would pronounce it.”

“It’s a beautiful name. Mine’s Remus.”, the Captain mumbled, too hyper focused on removing the hooks to see the way Janus’ cheeks flushed a dark ochre colour. Once the last hook had come loose, both of them let out a shared sigh of relief; Remus admired his job well done but grew concerned as Janus went to stand up. “Hey, you’re going to hurt yourself doing that.”, he warned, to which Janus scoffed, attempting to hide his emotions once more.

“I’ll be fine, Remus, I’ll heal quickly-”

“The salt water’s gonna sting like a bitch.”, Remus cut in.

Noting the wince Janus gave in response, he continued, “At least let me take you to my ship so I can bandage you up proper-“

“No!”, Janus declined fiercely, though he softened right after, letting Remus know it was likely a reflexive reaction, “I apologise. I… I’m rather wary of that kind of thing. Please understand.”

Remus sighed and stood up, taking off his coat to place it around Janus’ shoulders. The siren stiffened, though curiosity got the better of him and he softly touched the warm material. Janus inhaled and immediately was hit with the smell of the garment; a mix of body odour, dried blood, sea salt, and countless food-like smells. Not to mention the reek of old alcohol.

“In the name of Uranus, do you never clean this ornate rag!?”

Remus cackled, taking Janus’ hand to lead him to The Witch’s Serpent, noting that his fingers were webbed. Adorable.

“Nope! Not since I hauled it off the guy I ran through to get it!”

Janus’ nose crinkled at that yet the siren kept following Remus towards his ship. With a proper glance in the light of the port, Janus piped up, “Oh. That’s an interesting coincidence.”

“What is?”, Remus questioned, making sure no one was aboard yet so he could lift a flustered Janus on deck despite the embarrassed glare he received from the siren.

“I’ve been following your ship for months.”, Janus elaborated, trying to regain his footing on the decks, “With the scraps and bodies you leave behind in your wake, I rarely have to bother hunting for new prey.”

Ah. Remus wasn’t sure what to make of that yet, simply shrugging, “Good to know you’ve been freeloading this whole time.”.

Once more taking the hand of the siren, Remus led him towards the Captain’s Quarters; the room was just as gilded and ornate as the coat keeping Janus warm, with various trinkets, maps, paintings, and oddities given their own place within the room. Taking the opportunity to snoop around while Remus was rooting around in his desk drawer for bandages, Janus allowed his eyes to lead him on a journey around the room. A telescope, a star map, family photos, animal bones, even a goblet made from a man’s skull connected atop a metal stem, Janus had never seen so many interesting and macabre items. His interest peaked when his gaze landed on a beautiful topaz necklace resting on a book of fairytales.

Janus’ fingers traced the jewellery adoringly. It was rare for such trinkets to end up on the seafloor unless a storm had sent an unfortunate vessel to the depths. Not that Janus was ever lucky enough to get at the spoils; the boisterous captain may be sweet on him, for who knows what reason, but his own kind were never too fond of Janus’ standoffish nature and biting remarks. Of course, Janus didn’t care if he was lonely. He didn’t. Not at all. “You can have it if you want.”

Remus’ voice startled the siren who nearly tripped over the end of the Captain’s large coat. He chuckled and slowly lifted the necklace off the book to carefully let it loop over Janus’ neck.

“It suits you. Really brings out the scales.”, he complimented. Without giving Janus a second to process the act of kindness, Remus led him towards a wooden armchair in front of his desk. He guided Janus to sit down in the chair while Remus sat on the desk itself. To his side was a roll of bandages and a cloth, ‘for the blood trail’ he’d explained, gesturing to the droplets patterning their route. Janus watched the captain remove his bracers and sink to the floor to tend to his wounds. By the gentle way the Captain held and bandaged him, Janus assumed the man had sobered enough for the siren to pose the question,

“Why?”

Remus frowned, looking up to lock eyes with the siren, “Why what?”

“Why’re you...”, being so kind? Treating me so sweetly? Not trying to kill me to sell my skin? “.... treating me like this? You realise I threatened to eat you earlier, right?”

The Captain shrugged, his expression as blank as before, “Yeah. But you didn’t. And you got all fucked up in some moron’s fishing line, so it wasn’t like you posed much of a threat-”

“Exactly.”, Janus interrupted in frustrated confusion in his tone, “My voice is out of practice, if you wanted to, you could’ve slaughtered me for my skin. Any human would be a fool not to. But here you are, treating me like I’m worth more to you alive than dead. Adorning me in such… expensive trinkets.”

Remus’ brow furrowed at that. “For someone who threatened to eat me earlier, I figured you’d practice a little more self preservation.”

The siren scoffed, “I didn’t say I wanted to be slaughtered, I’m merely trying to work out why you wouldn’t take such a chance. Doesn’t your species enjoy monetary gain? Like I said, any human would be a fool to miss such an opportunity- oW!”

Janus fixed Remus a glare as the Captain flicked the abused tip of his leg fin, “First off, yeah, I like money but that's not what I do this shit for. Secondly, most humans think your kind aren’t even real. If I waltzed into town claiming I had siren skin to sell, I’d be run outta town as a conman. Besides, if I’m nice to you, I’ll have an ally in the water, and that's far more valuable to me.”

As he wrapped up the calf area for good, Remus grinned up at the siren, “You’re also really handsome, so that helps.”

Janus’ face crinkled in a flustered surprise, “Remus, I’m part fish-”

“You’re still handsome as fuck.”

“I’m not even using my human glamour-”

“And? You’re hot.”

“I’m literally covered in fish scales-!”

“Still hot!”

Janus couldn’t think of another rebuttal, so Remus counted it as a win for him. He rolled his sleeves to tackle the rest of the injuries when he caught Janus’ eyes tracing the fresh scar on his cheek.

“Wondering how I got this scar?”

“I may be interested.” came the coy reply.

Remus smirked, “You could call it a gift from my brother-in-law. I got a little too up close and personal with his best friend and found up with this beauty. It’s a shame, said bestie’s pretty fun but he’s the biggest pain in my ass since this one time I ate some bad eels-”

“That’s charming,”, Janus interrupted in disgust, “Why don’t you simply dispatch this ‘bestie’ and be done with him?”

“Can’t. If I did that, Virge-”

“Who?”

“My brother-in-law.”

“Ah. Continue.”

“Virge would hunt me down to the ends of the Earth and the last thing I wanna do is trade away my freedom to do whatever the fuck I want.”, he averted his gaze to Janus’ leg and kept bandaging it; whoever had put that line into the ocean had no idea the damage it’d caused to such a beautiful creature. “Besides, if I hurt Virge like that, my brother Roman would be miserable. Even if he probably hates me, some dumb bitch part of me really doesn’t want him to feel like shit just ‘cause I went and upset his soulmate.”

Janus scoffed quietly. It lacked the venom he no doubt intended it to have but the disdain was enough to draw the Captain’s attention. “You humans are far too sentimental. My kind have no qualms treating even close family like scum if we so desire. Even our soulmates it would seem..”

Remus caught the darting glance Janus sent towards his scaled wrist, noting the sigh he suppressed. “.... They’re a damn fool to not want you.”, the Captain murmured thoughtfully as he finally finished the upper shin bandaging. He wiped his brow with the heel of his palm but stopped as he felt smoothe fingers wrap around his wrist. His confusion was answered as the siren bore holes into the sliver of writing on his arm with those mesmerising eyes.

“You’re not the only one having soulmate trouble,”, Remus began answering, “Never really cared much for this shit, but now I got a message, I can’t make heads or tails of it-”

“Help me. I need you.”

Remus locked eyes with Janus, the siren’s own eyes wide with realisation and looking ready to bubble with tears, “That's what it says. It’s in Aquan. I wrote that to my soulmate while I was feeling…. rather vulnerable.”

Unsure of how to react to this turn of events, Remus stood and sat on his desk once more. He was too stunned to reply at first. A million questions swelled and crashed upon the shores of his brain, all fighting to be asked, but Janus beat him to the punch.

“Why did you never write back?”, the hurt in his voice stabbed at the Captain’s heart, “I mean, even if you couldn’t understand me, why didn’t you just...”

Remus wasn’t sure himself. No, that was a lie. He simply never fathomed that the message had been a cry for help.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking.”, he began, looking to Janus - no, his soulmate, and asking in return, “What happened?”

Janus sucked in a breath through his teeth, “.... It was a moment of weakness but….. My family had cast me out. Not that it was all too surprising, nor could I stand most of them anyway, but… being left alone to wander by yourself is a rather terrifying thought no matter the situation. I’d reached my breaking point. I felt like I’d been abandoned by my kin entirely. I thought perhaps my soulmate would be there for me. I never imagined you were human.”

“Makes sense. I’m sorry your family sucks ass.”. Eloquent as always. But hey, the snicker that got from the siren was worth it in Remus’ eyes. “And I’m sorry I didn’t write back. But I guess it’s good we finally crossed paths.”

Remus gestured for Janus to join him on the desk, to which the siren accepted the offer, being careful not to catch the coat he was still adorned in on anything on the way up. With his soulmate seated by his side, Remus wrapped an arm around the siren and held him close. Janus gave a lop-sided, fond smile, leaning into the act of comfort and gently resting a hand on Remus’ chest.

“What now then, my Captain?”, Janus’ voice was as soft and sweet as a ripe peach. Remus knew it’d require a lot of explanation where his crew was concerned, but he wasn’t about to let Janus slip away from him. He pressed a kiss to the siren’s temple, relishing the blush that spread over Janus’ cheeks. With a grin, Remus cackled,

“Simple, we make good on this alone time we’ve got ‘til my crew get back!”

Sorry this one’s so late TTvTT I miight need some time to finish days 10 and up, but I’ll get things written asap. @tsshipmonth2020

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @cateye-glasses @fandomsofrandom

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ettawritesnstudies · 3 years

Text

A New Town

This is the wild result of Weswin and Alric taking over my brain for the night having me write 6 pages in under 2 hours. This scene will MAYBE be from Book 2 of the main Lacohe trilogy if I decide to keep it, but for now I wanted to share because I thought it was cool

1254 words. tw: depersonalization

While Weswin went to barter with the gatekeeper for entrance to the town, Alric wandered over to the notice board and gazed over the various flyers and posted warnings. He noticed one corner in particular – plastered with bounties for various criminals and highwaymen. He squinted at them in the red setting sunlight, searching for if any looked familiar, then glanced over his shoulder at his traveling companion. The red hair faded into an auburn and freckles disappeared as he approached. Alric blinked a couple of times to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. He ought to keep an eye on that one, to make sure he didn’t lose him the minute he wandered away. He was about to turn around to re-join Weswin when his partner shook hands with the guard and hurried over to the notice board, shoving their papers in his knapsack.

“We’re good to go in! He said that there’s a tavern in want of entertainment just a block off the main plaza. We can head there, and barter for lodging for the night.” He said, handing over the directions so that he could look them over.

“Sounds like a good a plan as any,” Alric mumbled, turning away from the board. Now, Weswin squinted at the posters over his shoulder.

“Are you wanted?” He asked.

Alric scoffed, “Not here, thank the gods.”

He’d be wanted by no-one but the mages, if they knew what he’d done.

“Where then?”

Alric started at that. He shot Weswin a scowl. “You shouldn’t ask about that so close to the guards,” he hissed, jerking his head back towards the gate.

“Aw, they don’t care. As long as you’re not their problem. Hell, if you ticked off the right people they might welcome you as a hero, fanfare and all.”

“And you’d know?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve been run out of….” He paused and counted on his fingers. “Six towns now. And treated like a prince in two. Not looking to improve that record though. The last one was a long time ago. I’ve gotten better at being inconspicuous.”

As he stood near Alric, his hair turned back to the jet black that it had been when they were alone together in the woods. He shrugged and shifted his lute onto his other shoulder.

Alric narrowed his eyes at that. “You’re not going to cause any problems, are you?”

“Only if you do. Then I’d want in on the fun.”

Alric rolled his eyes and stalked in the direction of the gate. “Come on. I’m hungry.”

Weswin followed him with a spring in his step. “I’ll pay if you tell me that story.”

“Not a chance.”

Weswin shrugged and whistled for Eep, who currently looked like a mouse. It scampered over and scrambled onto his boot. He bent to pick it up and plopped it comfortably in his vest pocket. Then they made their way into the city together. As they entered the throng of people, he pressed his lips into a thin line but said nothing.

“What should I call you?” Alric whispered as they passed through the crowded entry courtyard.

“Wait,” he whispered.

Alric nodded and continued, following the directions. Weswin trailed a half-step behind so he could keep an eye on his friend and not get lost in the business. City markets were both his blessing and his curse. He loved sitting amongst the people, watching their endless faces and mannerisms, imagining stories for each of them. He loved the way the different ways they talked, smiled, gestured. He loved the mothers trying to buy groceries as their children tugged at their skirts. He loved the shopkeepers selling a thousand different wares. He loved the way they haggled and complimented and lied through their teeth to make a sale. He loved the way the soldiers stood at attention for hours under the sun and the brief moments someone cracked their momentary sternness. He loved the way the elderly gathered around the central cistern to gossip and lecture and catch up on the good old days. He loved the beggars, waiting for charity and helping each other when they could. He loved the big stages for the orators who wove arguments with silver tongues, for the performs flipping and tumbling with no regard for their necks, for the musicians that would lighten everyone’s lives with a little song. He was all of these people, and they all were him. His breath mingled with his brethren, his footsteps combined with theirs to make the ground almost rumble, his heartbeat in time with the heartbeat of the city itself.

It was all a part of him but he would never be a part of their daily lives. He would never be the friendly face at the cistern, He would never be the one whose house you came to when you needed a spare cup of flour. Communities don’t tolerate a perpetual stranger. Too many years of heartbreak taught him that. He’d come with a gust of wind and he’d go with the next storm. That was the way of things. It stretched him thin and left him with a hollowness in his chest, an ache in his bones, and exhaustion that a night in the tavern could never truly take away. On his own, he could almost forget. But in the market, his soul was split among a million different lives.

He stopped and took it all in, eyes shut, feeling his magic stretch in every direction. It hurt. He wanted to enjoy this trip. Eep quivered in his pocket. You feel it too, don’t you?

A gentle nudge on his shoulder shook him out of his reverie, and he opened his eyes to see Alric peering at him with a concerned expression.

“Wes-“

“I’m ok.” He shook his head but didn’t attempt to move.

“Let’s get you out of here.”

“mmhmm.” What had that looked like to an outsider? He hoped he hadn’t worried his friend too much. Or scared him, for that matter. Alric didn’t say anything else on the matter. Instead, he took his elbow and steered him in the direction of a less-crowded side street. Weswin came to his senses as they approached the door of the tavern. This was where he could function. He pulled the papers from his sack. They were made out to Israa Hendry – the name he’d come up with at the gate.

“How close do I look to before?” He asked Alric.

“Black hair, not red. Still long, but straight now. Your nose is smaller too. I think you’re about the same height.”

“Close enough.”

“By what metric?”

“By the ‘the guard didn’t write any of that information on the papers, just the time we came in.’ metric. No ID, that means I can bluff.”

“You’re going to… bluff your way into buying a room?”

“Sure. It’s not like the barkeep is going to check this.”

“Wouldn’t it just be easier for me to make the transaction?”

“You playing?” Weswin asked, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at the lute. Alric frowned, then shook his head.

“Fine.”

“Didn’t you say you are wanted somewhere? I don’t suppose you’ve got a fake persona to use while we’re in town?”

“um…”

“Didn’t think so.”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“Sure. Until then, let me do the acting. Besides, if anything goes wrong, nobody will notice me anyhow.”

Alric grumbled for a moment, then handed over the paper with a resigned look. Weswin beamed at him, and led the way into the tavern, showing no sign of the earlier lapse.

He hoped.

#my writing #the laoche chronicles #laoche excerpt #wip excerpt #am writing

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passivenovember · 3 years

Text

Snippets of partially written fics that will never see the light of day, part one!

He keeps a battered spiral notebook in the back pocket of his Levi’s like some sort of behavioral scientist. Life Among the Gorillas, Jane Goodall through and through, beginning when the car is parked on Cherry lane.

Billy considers the slopping roof, the screened in porch, and the cracked pavement that proves the house has never seen a family from the west.

That’s the first fact in his notebook, the holy grail Billy will share with the world when he journeys back home again; houses in the Midwest are not equipped to care for families that were born near the sea.

Families where children are born with boards nailed to their feet. The surfing and skating kind.

Billy doubts they’ll be doing much of either, here.

“It doesn’t look that much different from home.” Max clutches her regulation board to her chest. The world’s most awkward and uncomfortable teddy bear, wheels poking and prodding skinny arms as she glances over, worrying the skin of her lip. “Do you think it looks different?”

Billy thinks it does.

He hates it. Everything about it; the brown house, on its brown yard, next to its brown driveway. Pancakes and hash browns. Grass as far as the eye can see.

Max worries the skin of her lip.

Billy thinks it looks different. Thinks it looks like hell, like wastelands and flood lands and miles of isolation, but. “Nah.” He shakes his head anyway.

“Yeah?”

“Feels different, though.” Billy rolls down the window, plugging his nose dramatically. “Smells different, too.”

Max snorts. “Shut up.”

Small victories.

“It does, it smells like cow shit.” Neil and Susan are still a ways off, pulling the Ford behind the moving van. Billy figures they have time, before.

Things change. Before boards are exchanged for Nike shoes and wool coats in the fall.

Billy digs around for his lighter. “Wonder what the locals do about the stench.”

“Maybe they plant flowers.”

“Impossible,” He says, taking a pull from his smoke and stretching his legs where they sit. It’s been a long drive, but. He’s not ready.

Not yet.

“Maybe they have massive green houses and everyone buys crates of lilies and sunflowers when they seasons change.” Max fiddles with the wheels on her skateboard. “Maybe their living rooms are full of yellow petals. Maybe they only eat sunflower seeds.”

“Sunflowers don’t smell like anything.”

“Bullshit.”

“They don’t, that’s why the factories cover them in barbecue sauce. To make ‘em smell good.” Billy watches Max filter through a series of expressions before she lands on her favorite.

Irritation. “Just because you’re my big brother--”

“Jesus, don’t call me that?”

Max blinks. Wide and owlish. Wet. “How come?”

And Billy doesn’t want to start off on the wrong foot. Doesn’t want to start over at all, but. That’s what this is. Endings and beginnings and relationships that crumble and turn to dust before siblings rebuild them out of clay, into.

Something shiny.

And new.

Billy tugs the collar of his jacket up and around his ears, frowning. “Makes me sound old.”

“You are old,” Max says lightly. “You know too much random shit not to be old.”

“Like what?”

“Like,” Max adjusts the skateboard, running her hands across the etched and worn surface. “How to change a tire. Where to find the best hiking boots. How to roast a turkey--”

“‘S not my fault your mom can’t cook for shit.”

“I know that.” Max says. “That’s what old people do. Complain about how their recipe for peach cobbler is better, and the local youths are ruining the duck pond, and like. Brag about shit they know how to do.”

“Oh yeah?” Billy counters. “And what kind of shit is that?”

Max shrugs. “Survival.”

She opens the car door after that, placing the skateboard on the pavement and testing the waters. Billy rolls her window down for better driveway vision.

“You think I know how to survive.”

It doesn’t seem possible.

“Yeah, you know.” Max gets a little more confident after her feet plant themselves on the board. She maneuvers pretty well over the cracked pavement, a kick flip here, a slash turn there. “ You understand lots of stuff. Maybe everything.”

“Everything, huh?”

Billy watches with glee as she falls on her ass over the fist split in the concrete. Max looks up at him, scowling when he can’t quite swallow the laugh working its way up his throat.

“The jury’s still out on that one.” She says stiffly.

Billy doesn’t buy it for a second. “Whatever, shithead. I’m your big brother now, and I know everything. Remember that the next time you’re trying to get your way.”

Max flips him the bird. Billy leans against the hood of the Camaro, eyes tracking the movement as Max tries the turn again.

If nothing else it feels good to stand on his own two feet.

Everyone in the Midwest leaves their clothes out to dry in the afternoon sunlight, and the only reason Billy knows this is because Steve Harrington’s clothes smell like warm sugar and daffodil blossoms.

Billy thinks it might be the detergent his mother uses.

Maybe the uber expensive, hyper polyester blend that makes up the polos Steve swaps out for gym clothes at basketball practice, but when he finally works up the courage to do more than sniff, Steve looks at Billy like he’s gone insane.

“You actually have dryers on the west coast?”

Billy frowns. “Of course we do, what is this. Little House on the Prairie?”

Harrington balls up his gym shorts, tossing them at Billy’s head. “The next time you wash your sheets, hang them outside.”

So Billy does.

And the next time he crawls into bed Billy realizes that sun bleached fabric does more than block out smells it creates a fortress. A barrier. Warm afternoons and the smell of oak leaves wrapped in his own little world.

From somewhere, through a haze of smoke and the wafting grasp of day old pizza, a needle tore a hole that felt like a bee sting. Painful in the way his feet would sometimes burn on the Middle School blacktop during summer.

Nancy yanked on the yellow rubber-band, letting it fall back in place. It slapped thickly against the meat of Steve's arm, and.

He was hanging in a butcher shopped. Ripe for sale. Wrapped from head to toe in caution tape, and.

Radioactive.

"Ow." Steve hummed distantly, fingers moving to rub. To soothe.

Nancy slapped his hand away. "Stings if you do it like that."

"Stings now, holy shit."

"You gotta let it heal."

Steve frowned. "I didn't think that was the point."

Which made Nancy giggle. "What, not to let it heal?"

"Yeah, I thought." He licked his lips. Once. Twice. It was like seeing God. "I thought we were supposed to let it bleed."

#harringrove #billy hargrove #max mayfield #steve harrington #jaz speaks #I dunno man

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