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delphi-shield · 5 months

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OLD FOLKS HOME ↪ age gap hcs

the people you love & the shit they do that reminds you of the dreaded Gap (tm). characters included: leon kennedy, chris redfield, jill valentine, claire redfield, rebecca chambers no warnings to speak of. remember kids, if you're gonna date people in their 30s and 40s, you're gonna have different cultural contexts and, most likely, different senses of humor.

Leon is eight levels of irony deep. He started doing Old Guy Shit just to mess with you, and now it's all come full circle.

It turns out he actually likes watching the weather channel. He’s monitoring storms that are miles and miles away from you, pointing out the feeder bands like it’s some kind of sporting event.

He's genuinely invested in Ice Road Truckers. He asks you to TiVo it for him when he's gone. You do not have TiVo. In fact, you're pretty sure no one still has TiVo.

Or you were, until Leon once again committed to the bit and got TiVo.

Really, genuinely annoying about old movies, actors, and directors.

”What do you mean you don’t know who Robert Redford is? The Candidate? Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid? C’mon. He was even in an episode of The Twilight Zone. You’ll know him when you see him.”

At least you get movie dates out of it.

Movie dates that he will pepper with trivia about the film, by the way. You don't need the commentary track. He is the commentary.

I'm so, so sorry about this. 🤪 is his favorite emoji. I know. I'm sorry.

Chris cannot fucking hear. To be honest, I think most of them have some degree of hearing loss - but Chris in particular seems to have very subjective hearing loss.

Yes, you were just having a full-fledged conversation. No, he didn’t hear you ask him to take out the trash. He didn’t forget, he just didn’t hear you. Sorry, you were standing on his right - come on, you know that’s his bad side.

Explains basic technology to you because he’s not sure if you know what it is. Then, in the same breath, crams in so many military acronyms he may as well be reciting the alphabet. Does not explain the acronyms.

Like, yeah, Chris. I know what a landline is. Dial-up internet, too. Now, what the fuck is an ORE?

Have you ever gotten ‘ok’ in response to a nude? You’re about to. Completely demoralizing, by the way.

He didn't know you wanted him to compose a poem dedicated to your beauty, okay? He tries to get better, but winds up sending shit like 'wow 👍'

Does the dad thing where he insists he's not interested in watching what's on TV and then stands with his hands on his hips in the middle of the living room, enthralled by the show.

Jill does not understand your music. She will not make an attempt to understand your music. If you see her tapping her foot to the beat, no you do not. She is not interested in expanding her musical horizons.

She only bought you tickets to that concert because she knew you would love it. She only went with you because you’re cute when you’re so into this stuff. She only bought that t-shirt because it would be a good souvenir, and eventually, a good grease rag.

Generalized distrust of social media. Do not show her a tiktok. She will ignore the video and lecture you about data safety. Jill, please. Just watch the fucking cat video.

And then she turns around and opts in to literally everything on the McDonald's app.

If there’s a rewards program, she’s in. Already sold. Didn’t even read the fine print. All that shit she was telling you about how you need to be more careful is right out the window for some free fries.

Anything for the thrill of a good deal. If she had more time on her hands, she would be couponing.

Buys in bulk. No, it doesn't matter if the two of you could not physically eat that much rice. It's cheaper to buy it like this. It's fine. It's good for you.

Gotta stock up on non-perishables, too. You gotta be prepared in case something happens. "Better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it."

Claire cannot stop shopping from QVC. She's in the kitchen with David. It Takes Two with Mary and Sandra? Wrong. It actually takes three. Mary, Sandra, and Claire.

Infomercials have got her by the throat. You have so many gadgets and gizmos around your home that are just collecting dust.

Gets wine drunk and goes online shopping. Legitimately does not remember what she’s bought.

Absolutely will not let you open the packages. (“Some of this stuff could be for you, you know.” “Claire, last time it was a 10,000 count package of googly eyes.” “And I used all 10,000. You still haven’t found them all.”)

Uses every piece of technology until it’s about to fall apart. Absolutely not interested in having the latest and greatest. She’s one of those people who insists that as long as her phone can make calls and send texts, she doesn’t need a new one.

Speaking of texts. Somehow, she got it into her head that a read receipt is equivalent to a reply. She doesn't get what the problem is. You know she saw your text. Why does she have to reply?

Genuinely doesn't mean anything malicious by it - but also, if you did that to her, you would never hear the end of it.

Rebecca legitimately has facebook humor. They all have some degree of facebook humor, but she's got it the worst.

Will blow up your notifications tagging you in shit that is just straight up not funny. I’m talking full on tagging you with “😂😂😂”

Unironically sent you a minion meme once.

It's not that she's disconnected. She teaches undergrads. She knows what’s in, even if it’s only from the periphery. It’s just that she doesn’t care. She has no interest in keeping up with trends just for the sake of it. She’s so used to being the youngest person in the room and having to keep up expectations that she just absolutely does not care anymore. She's glad she's not one of the kids anymore.

If it made her laugh it made her laugh, her enjoyment isn’t shackled by feelings of shame!!

If you have a group chat on any platform with your friends please invite her. She's just happy to be included. She'll make a discord if she has to, and she'll brag about it to her students.

Yeah, she says pupper and doggo. She does. Look at her.

#resident evil headcanons #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x reader #chris redfield x reader #jill valentine x reader #claire redfield x reader #rebecca chambers x reader #resident evil fanfic #resident evil #leon kennedy

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theprettynosferatu · 3 months

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Oh, you miss me? My apologies. The day job is being quite hard and leaving little time to indulge...

But you? Ah, you're a different case entirely. You see, you don't really have a choice, do you?

I'm sure somewhere in that perverted mess you call a brain you have an inlking of an idea that you are in control. You can stop any time. It's just harmless fun. You know what? Lie to yourself all you want. I know better, and deep down so do you.

Let's not bullshit one another, you and I. You're far too gone now. There's no way back for you. You've edged and recited mantras and trained your brain to love worse and worse stuff, more degrading, stronger... darker.

In fact, what part of yourself haven't you perverted yet? Your gender? Your sexuality? Your free will? You have rubbed thinking about betraying all of them, mentally crossed line after line and now you can't get off to anything else. You need it so badly...

You don't want sex. Not really. You need to be used. Taken. Forced to go further and further, to those places you yearn for and are too scared to explore. You need to be worse.

But what you need most of all is permission. Permission to be as sick and fucked up as you truly want to be. A voice to choose for you so you can pretend you aren't a completely broken fuckdoll.

After all, if someone chooses for you it's not your fault, is it?

We both know that's the game you play with yourself. And that's why you are here now.

You have my permission to go deeper. You have my permission to fall and fall and keep going until morality is nothing but a distant memory. You have my permission to let go of delusions of independence, of strength.

But we can agree that you like your permissions more when they are commands, don't you?

Fine.

Be a good doll and fall.

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loguetowns · 1 year

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the one that (almost) got away

roronoa zoro x fem!reader

it takes him 12 hours to realize

3.6k words

a/n: ok listen, i think i started writing this like 6+ months ago and it’s just been sitting in my drafts bc idk how to commit to endings so y’all are gonna have to take this as it is. also i have no concept of how sailing works or how long it takes oops

9:00 pm

“y'know, there's really no point to a farewell party if the one leaving isn't there.”

you look up from your spot on the library floor. your eyes land on the green-haired swordsman leaning against the doorframe and you smile.

“i’ll be there in a second. i just have some more stuff to go through.”

zoro eyes the mess of books surrounding you, recognizing a few of nami’s atlases and robin’s textbooks. “you haven’t finished packing yet?”

“i’m mostly done. i’m just trying to decide which books i want to keep.” catching his eye, you joke, “why? you want me gone that bad?”

crossing the room, a scoff leaves his lips. nothing could be further from the truth.

“you got me. i am so sick of you,” he says with a grin. “can’t wait to get rid of the annoying librarian invading my napping spot.”

zoro plops down on the bench behind you, catching a whiff of your shampoo as he lies down. you sit with your back to him, sorting through your piles, but zoro can hear the smile in your voice when you speak.

“you’re such a pretender, eh?”

zoro puts on a look of overdramatic offense, a hand on his chest. “me? you’re talking about me?”

at his poor acting, you turn around. you rest your chin on the bench, your face so close to zoro’s that one could only describe it as a kissable distance.

“you act like i'm all in your space, but nami told me that you never used to spend any time in here at all!”

“pfft, why would you ever trust what that con artist has to say?” zoro pokes your forehead. “you see it with your own eyes. am i or am i not here every day?”

you purse your lips as you think back to the last few months; he’s right.

you’ve spent most of your days in the ship’s library, and zoro has almost always stopped by. in the beginning, it would be for a few minutes, but over the last little while, he’d be in here as long as you were.

zoro smiles as he watches you think, eyebrows furrowed as you replay the last few months in your head. little do you know that this is exactly why the library is his new hideout. watching your pretty little mind work — doing what you love, thinking and studying and reading — is a far better use of his spare time than anything else he could be doing.

“anyway,” he says. “i guess your silly star stories have been a good trade-off.”

now it’s your turn to be mock-offended.

“silly star stories? you’re the one who asked about the constellations in the first place!”

“only because you kept talking about these fictional gods like they actually did something important.”

“says the guy who's completely enthralled by hades,” you roll your eyes.

“king of hell, god of the underworld,” he grins. “that’s my kinda guy.”

zoro laughs when you shake your head at him. he’ll never tire of teasing you; you are far too adorable with your little sigh and a ghost of a smile on your lips.

“did you know,” he says with a playful look. “that you still owe me about ten more constellation stories? d’you think you could squeeze in one more before we head up?”

zoro smiles at you, and you can't help but smile back.

you have so many treasured memories with zoro in this library; ones of just the two of you (him napping while you studied), ones with nami and robin (and sanji until nami kicked the boys out for their incessant bickering), and ones where the night listens in as you recite the history of the stars.

whether you were telling the story of another righteous deity enacting justice, or the tale of mere mortals who insulted the gods, zoro would listen with his eyes closed, lying across the bench as he is now, and you’d sit in front of him as you are now.

everyone’s waiting for you upstairs and you hate to disappoint, but some things are more important — like telling a silly star story to a silly swordsman.

“of course i can.”

12:00 am

raucous laughter and cheering that’s loud enough to deafen anybody; empty plates, once piled high with food, now scattered around the room; bottles on bottles of sake and rum and whiskey and every liqueur that one would hope to find on a pirate ship.

these are zoro’s requirements for a good time, and suffice to say that your farewell party has them all in spades.

zoro watches his friends’ tomfoolery from his spot at the table (currently, luffy’s trying to get franky to see how far he can slingshot him) when you plop yourself into the seat beside him.

“this,” you say as your arm knocks against his, “is the best party i’ve ever been to.”

zoro takes a swig from his glass, “you haven’t partied until you’ve partied with pirates.”

“seriously! you guys are insane!”

as if to prove your point, franky chooses that exact moment to show off a juggling sequence involving a barrel of whiskey, a giant potted plant, and a squealing chopper.

you gasp at the spectacle but quickly dissolve into laughter when nami saves chopper, and it’s with both awe and pure excitement that you turn to zoro. laughter is etched into your lips, your cheeks are flushed, and zoro can’t help but marvel at how you’re even cuter when you’re having fun.

“what, you’ve never seen a cyborg man toss a speaking reindeer in the air before?”

you nudge him with your elbow, “well, excuse me for leading such a mundane life where animals don’t speak and men don’t tinker with their bodies.”

“ah, but that’s where you’re wrong.”

you look at zoro quizically.

he takes a sip of his beer, “most men do tinker with their bodies.”

it takes you a moment to catch his innuendo and zoro roars with laughter when the realization hits you. embarrassment tinges your pretty face and you shove him with a loud “ew, zoro!” but he can’t stop cackling.

“you’re disgusting!”

you make to swat zoro across the chest but he quickly catches your hand. he leans in to waggle his eyebrows at you, “but i’m not wrong, am i?”

you groan loudly, which only makes him laugh again.

perhaps it’s the alcohol that let his inhibitions go, or maybe it’s the fact that he doesn’t have much longer with you, but when you hastily change the subject and there’s no longer a reason for him to still be holding your hand, he doesn’t let go.

when nami joins you two, his fingers slips between yours and to his surprise, yours do the same. sanji joins your threesome, then franky and robin, and in no time at all, it’s no longer just the two of you at the table.

but zoro doesn’t care.

drunk, carefree, and more content than he’s ever been, zoro closes his eyes and smiles. he lives in the moment, and in this moment, he’s happy — happy with a full stomach and a full glass, happy to be surrounded by his favourite people, and happy that, under the table, you’re still holding his hand.

3:00 am

“and what’s that one?”

hands swinging between you, you and zoro dodge the tide as you roam further and further from the thousand sunny. the sand is cool under your feet and the tide kisses your toes with each step. your other arm is stretched above you, pointing at a constellation in the distance.

“what is this - a pop quiz?”

you smile, “i want to make sure you don’t forget about my ‘silly star stories.’”

zoro groans, “has anyone told you that holding grudges isn’t healthy? keeping going and you’ll turn into a bitter old thing some day.”

you stick out your tongue, “you’re just afraid you’ll get it wrong.”

“wrong?” zoro scoffs. “i’ve gotten the past six right.”

walking along the beach, you and zoro fall in step with each other and your footsteps match the ebbing waves in perfect rhythm. you smile in his direction and his chest is flooded with a warmth that has nothing to do with the copious amounts of alcohol he’s consumed.

“alright, let’s see what we got here.”

zoro follows your gaze at the cluster of stars you’ve chosen, and he grins when he sees the constellation. “really? at least try to make this hard for me, please.”

his cocky attitude leaves you speechless, making zoro laugh.

“you’re so annoying!” you shove him with your free hand and the force of his stumble pulls you along, and you shriek as he drags you into the ocean with him. he doesn’t let go of you, not even for a second — not when water splashes your legs, not when zoro’s pants get soaked as he spins you around.

your laughter is warmth in its purest form, the kind that you can feel all the way down to your cold toes. when he sets you back down, you give his hand a little squeeze, to which zoro answers back with a tender smile.

now with wet feet and a distance between you that’s even smaller than it already was, zoro continues to walk alongside you.

“moving on from your pathetic distraction attempt,” — you let out a dramatic gasp — “i’ll tell you exactly who we were looking at.”

pointing at the starry zodiac sign, zoro speaks with complete confidence.

“virgo the maiden, otherwise known as persephone, wife and muse of the best god of them all, hades—”

“fanboy much?” you tease but zoro pretends not to hear you (the little tug of his lips tells you that he does).

“—who snuck her a pomegranate seed because he couldn’t bear for her to leave him.”

zoro puffs his chest with pride, relishing in this one niche study of which he is now an expert. it’s incredibly endearing how pleased he is with his answer and you almost feel bad for correcting him.

almost.

“good answer,” you grin. “but you left out the little detail about how she was kept in hell against her will.”

zoro gasps, “are you accusing my idol of being a kidnapper?”

“your idol!” your cheeks already hurt so much from smiling but another giggle slips out. “first of all, these aren’t my accusations. historians have told their love story this way for years—”

“slander is what this is.”

“—and secondly, why would you want to look up to hades? he’s literally the antagonist in every story.”

“he’s the king of hell! that’s so bad ass.” zoro winks at you, “don’t be surprised if you hear them calling me ‘zoro, king of hell’ some day.”

“what’s wrong, demon of east blue doesn’t go hard enough for you?”

embarrassment rushes to zoro’s face and he’s never been more grateful for the night. “who told you that? was it usopp or nami? i bet it was nami.”

“i might hold a grudge but i don’t snitch,” you flash a mischievous smile. “anyway, let’s get back to how you want to be just like devil who tricked a poor girl in returning to the underworld.”

“come on, can you blame a man for doing whatever it takes to stop his beloved from leaving him?”

it sounds like an innocent question — harmless banter, really — but something in the way he says it makes you stop dead in your tracks. a silence falls and in its wake, all you can do is stare at the man you’ve spent the last several months with, the same man that you have to say goodbye to tomorrow.

moonlight falls unto the both of you and bathes zoro in soft light. it illuminates his eyes and when you meet his gaze, you see a sense of longing there that you feel in your chest. a longing for what, you don’t know — or rather, you don’t want to know.

at least, not yet.

so you hold his hand a little tighter, and underneath the watchful eye of the gods and constellations, muster a smile,

“i guess not.”

6:00 am

if this was any other morning, zoro would be awake and working out already. he'd be done his fourth set of bicep curls or, at the very least, working on his form. he could even be in the middle of deadlifts (because he knows not to skip leg day), but he definitely wouldn't still be in bed the way that he is right now.

the thing is though, if this was any other morning, he wouldn't have you sleeping next to him, curled into him like you were made to be a perfect fit.

he's never been more glad to still be in bed.

your breath matches the rise and fall of zoro's chest, perfectly in rhythm with the waves outside his window and the beat of his heart, like the universe meant for all these things to be in harmony at this one singular moment in time.

your lashes flutter in response when he shifts his weight.

he takes a peek at you, “psst, are you awake?”

eyes still closed, you manage a noncommittal grunt but your body says otherwise.

zoro can’t help but smile as he watches you start to wake up. your toes wiggle beneath the covers and you rub your eyes before looking up at him with an adorably sleepy look that he would love to wake up to every day.

if only he could.

you focus your gaze on zoro like he’s an anchor in a sea of slumber. the way that you look at him, as if he’s the only thing that you see, fills his chest with a golden warmth akin to the breaking dawn.

you offer him a soft smile, and zoro wonders if the sun knows that you glow brighter than it ever could.

“why are you up at this ungodly hour?”

he chuckles, low and tender, “’m used to it. i’m usually up by now.”

“freak,” you mutter. zoro laughs, and you can’t think of anything else that sounds more beautiful at six in the morning.

you’re not usually up this early but what you notice is that, at dawn, time has a habit of moving slowly. it’s as if the morning casts magic upon those who rise with the daylight — and you’re so thankful for that.

because if time moved any faster than this, you’d have to say goodbye that much sooner.

“are you going to miss us?” zoro puts his arms around you.

you murmur into his chest, “of course, i will.”

“who do you think you’ll miss the most?”

you give pause and zoro’s almost certain you can hear his heart beating a little louder — he can definitely hear it. he doesn’t typically get nervous like this but, then again, nothing about the way you make him feel is typical.

you seem to have come to a conclusion because you look up at zoro and he holds his breath.

“sanji.”

he blinks.

“wait, are you serious?”

you’ve never seen zoro looks so wonderfully scandalized before, and you burst into a fit of giggles. as soon as you start, he knows he’s been had. he scowls but only for a moment; for who could be upset in the presence of such twinkling laughter?

“silly man,” you snuggle closer, "of course i’m not serious.”

“okay, good.” you can hear the smile in his voice. “i don’t know if my ego could handle losing to him.”

zoro holds you close, his thumb tracing circles on your skin. his movements are slow, steady, comforting — ‘round and ‘round, in the same spot, like he’s drawing an invisible mark that is only known to the two of you.

"but, you know,” you hum, careful not to disrupt the peace. “you wouldn’t.”

“wouldn’t what?”

“lose.” and after a beat, you quietly add, “you wouldn’t lose to anyone.”

and just like that, zoro’s on cloud nine, airborne and weightless. he’s always known that he has a place in your heart, but this is the first time that you’ve ever hinted about where that place may be. if he allowed himself to be hopeful, it almost sounds like a confession.

but almost isn’t good enough for him. zoro wants more — wants to find out exactly where he belongs in your life, wants to know if he can make himself at home there.

it’s a shame that he’s out of time.

you interrupt his thoughts with a whisper, barely audible above the sound of the ocean and his aching heart,

“will you miss me?”

more than anything.

9:00 am

surely, zoro’s dream to be hades has been granted. otherwise, why would it feel like he’s in hell, standing on the deck, all alone and watching your dinghy sail away from the thousand sunny?

zoro’s had his fair shares of farewells while aboard the ship, and to be honest, yours wasn’t any more emotional than anyone else’s. you left with a smile as beautiful as the morning sun and with far less tears than he expected (which he’s thankful for because he would hate to see you cry). as far as bittersweet goodbyes go, yours was definitely more sweet than bitter.

and yet, here zoro stands, with a bad taste in his mouth that he can’t explain. he can still see you from where he stands, and watching your little boat in the distance is the only thing that seems to settle his uneasy heart.

should he have bid adieu privately? maybe he should’ve left you with a memento of some kind? should he have done more than offer you a quick hug? was it his imagination, or did you hold onto him just a beat longer than you needed to?

zoro’s so occupied by these messy thoughts that he doesn’t even hear sanji approach him.

“well?”

startled, zoro can only stare at the blond cook. ignoring the dumb look on his face, sanji continues.

“what’d she say when you told her?” sanji nods in the direction of your boat.

“told her what?”

“that you love her,” sanji takes a drag of his cigarette, looking at zoro directly now.

he speaks so frankly, so matter-of-fact and candidly, that it takes zoro a second to really register what it is that he’s saying.

he loves you.

and as soon as he thinks it, the truth comes barreling through all the doubts clouding his head. clarity floods his chest as he comes face-to-face with what his yearning, pining heart has been trying to tell him this whole time.

he loves you. he loves you. he loves you. he loves you. he loves you-

fuck.

he loves you.

and he never told you.

epilogue — 9:30 am

sails closed, your boat floats with the current and the salty breeze reminds you that your adventure with the strawhats has come to a close. compared to the never-ending bustle of the crew, it’s almost too quiet being at sea alone. the silence lends itself to your overactive mind, working full time to unravel the tightness you feel in your chest.

you’re lost in thoughts of what could’ve, should’ve, and would’ve been — so much so that you don’t even hear the commotion behind you. it’s not until you hear zoro call your name that you hear the frantic swimming and you whirl around.

“zoro! what-”

“can you help me first?” he splutters.

you pull yourself together long enough to run to the side of your dinghy, pulling a sopping wet pirate on board. zoro leans back, trying to catch his breath as you rummage through your things.

“are you crazy? do you know how far we are from the sunny?” you throw a towel over him before reaching for another. you start drying off his hair, frantically fussing over him.

“you think that just because chopper gives you the clearance that you can push yourself over the limit-”

“y/n.”

“this is why you’re always on house arrest! you’re actually insane, you know that?”

“y/n.”

“i know you work out, but for goodness’ sake, zoro, you’re only human-”

“y/n.” zoro holds your wrists, forcing you to stop with a start.

in all your worrying, you didn’t realize that you’d been gravitating closer to zoro until you’re staring into his dark, obsidian eyes. there’s clarity in the way that he looks at you. his eyes are shining with a fierceness that you’ve only seen in his worst fights, and you brace yourself for whatever comes next.

because you know that this will change everything.

“hades and persephone.”

“huh?“ you blink at him. “did you hit your head-”

“ask me if i think hades loved persephone.”

you stare into zoro’s eyes, desperation reflecting back at you. there’s a hidden question there and you understand immediately.

quietly, you ask, "do you think hades loved persephone?”

“i do,” he whispers. “i think he loved her and he would've been stupid to let her go.”

your breath catches. zoro places a hand over yours, surprisingly warm as his fingers find their home between your own.

the heavens watch on as the two of you finally open your hearts and give way to the stuff that myths and legends yearn for — a connection that can only be described as fated, destined, purely and resplendently magical.

the gods smile at the two lovers who find themselves falling into each other, laughing as you confess, over and over again,

i love you.

#zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro fluff #zoro fluff #one piece x reader #¡! ❞ [ fics ]#i know i just wrote a zoro fic BUT #this fic has been stuck in my drafts for too mf long #i didn't even proofread the epilogue bc fuck it #i just need her to go out into the world ok #i promise i will write non-zoro stuff soon #(maybe)#(jk i will)

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hedgehog-moss · 7 months

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Loved your mentioning of learning poetry by heart: this is something I haven’t done since school! What are some of your favs that you’d suggest to ease my brain back into it?

(Française ici donc les options 🇫🇷 autant que anglais sont welcome :) merci!)

Hi :) You can look at the poem tag of my quote blog if you want—some of the ones I've learnt by heart (or excerpts from them) include this one by Sara Teasdale - Nanao Sakaki - Velimir Khlebnikov - Wallace Stevens - Rabindranath Tagore - Archibald Macleish - Howard Nemerov - and these paragraphs by Henri Peña-Ruiz which I consider prose poetry... My favourite French verses (from Corneille, Aragon, Anna de Noailles, Hugo, Valéry...) are all alexandrines and I find it to be the easiest type of verse to remember, as the structure is so rigorous and consistent. I sometimes translate English poems into alexandrines (like this one) to make them easier to learn in this more familiar form—I think even after all this time English prosody still feels foreign to me; the patterns of sound and rhythm in French are more deeply embedded in my brain so it can more easily predict what comes next...

Re: easing your brain into it, I guess that depends on your style of learning? For me the best way to learn a text is to spend time with it in written form, be it by translating it, or by writing it down by hand (slowly) and then (sometimes) keeping it for a while in a place where I often stand idle, like taped to my microwave so I re-read it as I wait 1 minute for something to heat up.

One thing I like about learning poems is that it's a costless, always-accessible way to get a sense of personal accomplishment. Beyond that, I've got three categories of poems I like to learn for different reasons—I'll go into some detail in case it can help you figure out what you're after :)

1. Classic poetry, because it's just fun to have little snippets of ancient tragedies or epic Victor Hugo poems living at the back of your mind and accompanying you through your own everyday tragedies—as an overdramatic person who tends to feel devastated or exasperated over tiny stuff, it helps me to take some distance from my feelings. Like if I spill a bucket of manure on my boots and my first reaction is rage and despair and my second thought is a couple of verses by Euripides where Iphigenia bemoans her relentless fate, it's a way to make fun of (and get over) myself.

My grandmother did this a lot, she knew so many poems by heart and often used them ironically. If I went whining to her when I was little she'd recite to me the last few verses of Alfred de Vigny's La Mort du Loup (it sounds better in the original but):

[...] With all your being you must strive To that highest degree of stoic pride [...] Weeping or praying—all this is in vain. You must instead shoulder your long and heavy task In the way that Destiny has seen fit to ask Then suffer and die without complaint.

(Let me tell you, that's just what a five-year-old wants to hear after scratching her knee at the park) But really I admired this treasury of poetry she carried within her, especially as she only went to school until age 14 and came upon most of it thanks to her own curiosity; as well as the way she used it playfully in everyday life, using dramatic classical verse to de-dramatise minor annoyances.

2. Nature poems are great in the opposite way, to magnify minor positive things :) Like seeing a fox and having a few lines by Mary Oliver come to mind, seeing a frog and thinking of that Basho haiku... I recently discovered Jean-Michel Maulpoix and I also love his nature poems, like 'The recovery of blue after a downpour', the way he describes snow melting in the spring, or golden-blue evenings:

[Snow] takes some time to leave, but delicately. She doesn’t insist, hardly persists, never roots… She gives way. No one else dies so merrily With such good humour Unmatched is her disdain for eternity…

L’azur, certains soirs, a des soins de vieil or. Le paysage est une icône. Il semble qu’au soleil couchant, le ciel qui se craquelle se reprenne un instant à croire à son bleu.

3. And then there are the poems that proudly serve no purpose. <3 I mean beyond distilling language in a beautiful way. No deep meaning—or no meaning at all, e.g. surrealist poetry. I learnt this passage from Les Champs magnétiques back in middle school:

La fenêtre creusée dans notre chair s'ouvre sur notre cœur. On y voit un immense lac où viennent se poser à midi des libellules mordorées et odorantes comme des pivoines. Quel est ce grand arbre où les animaux vont se regarder ? Il y a des siècles que nous lui versons à boire. . . Prisonniers des gouttes d'eau, nous ne sommes que des animaux perpétuels. . . Nous ne savons plus rien des astres morts ; nous regardons les visages. . . Quelquefois, le vent nous entoure de ses grandes mains froides et nous attache aux arbres découpés par le soleil.

—and I've often recited it to myself just to enjoy these gratuitously nice sentences that aren't here to deliver information. Like Kay Ryan said, "Poetry makes nothing happen. That's the relief of it." It's a nice break, a way to remember that communicating isn't all language is for; beyond the social dimension there's also an intimate one that relies on our own aesthetic sensitivity. Most of the time we look through language, to access ideas, meanwhile enjoying poetry means looking at language, for a change, appreciating it for itself.

I just realised I'm paraphrasing John Brehm here—in The Poetry of Impermanence he wrote something that can be read as an ode to learning things by heart:

When you read lines that seem especially lit up—that move or intrigue you in some way, or that are simply pleasing or even dazzling—don’t focus on being able to formulate a statement about what they might mean, as if you might be called upon to explain the poem, to yourself or to someone else. Just linger with those poems or passages that resonate with you. . . Rest your mind on them; let them live inside you.

#ask #poetry

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precious-little-scoundrel · 3 months

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🍸 Harry Crosby headcanons

18+ -helluva lot of nsfw under the cut but interspersed with a lotta fluff and domesticity…to me that’s the appeal of this man, cannot be separated one from the other: the unassuming sweater wearing vet at the block party is also a man of hidden depths.

Long promised and woefully incomplete, the word count was getting out of hand so I’m tossing it out, there’s more where this came from. Not edited so, apologies

Entirely co-written by myself and my comrogue @crazymadpassionatelove , enhanced and bedazzled by chats with @ab4eva including special additions from other guests who commented under my announcement post, credit is given at each specific point for their contributions

|screencap cred grabbed from: @hawkinsfuller

First off let me say it’s been ages since I read A Wing and A Prayer. I remember loving it, loving him and I cannot stress how much I respect and admire the real Harry Crosby and his Jean, the Missus of our dreams.

This is purely for fun, a heavy mix of both Boyle’s portrayal and a tad of Crosby’s real life vibes as taken from his accounts by me. Sometimes you gotta take historical figures’ virtues in one area -say navigation and math- and translate it to the more suggestive aspects of life -say, how to find a clitori- *gunshot*

Because this man’s biography is the most oral-leaning, drink-your-respect-women-juice book ever. Ok, almost ever. For a wwii book at least. Uhem so -I am prejudiced, sue me.

See, sometimes it’s the quiet, stressed ones with a self consuming desire to please who have the cozy sweaters and the attentive appreciation for your interests and the stubby fat schlongs and the propensity to keep you in suburban comfort all your days

The compulsive drive to call you “button” and be on time for church and thank you for your scrambled eggs each morning with eager kitchen countertop oral before waking you children up with annoyingly soft catchphrases they’ll recite fondly at his funeral: “rise and shine” etc

Also back to the perfectly respectable schlong for just a moment -This is a Thing! Justice for the perfectly adequate plug stoppers, not everyone needs a rolling pin, who can resist giving head when the head is the same gorgeous color as his lips?!

Mr Crosby is skipping off to lecture college kids about literature post-war with a pep in his step that you put there without fail, you can’t help it, it’s as essential as the matching “his and hers” coffee mugs you bought during your honeymoon

Cookies slightly burned cuz you’re busy as bunnies in the bathroom while the kids ride bikes in the cul-de-sac is a Crosby staple

This is a man who as husband keeps you well supplied with mixers and microwaves and cute little nighties and also loves your brain -SCORE.

Loves to gift you with bath oil and fun stuff to smell good. He's into lavender. It benefits him in the end, loves to sit on the edge of the tub and just talk with you for ages

Croz’s go-to distresser is to have Jean sit on his face until his vision spots

She knows as soon as he walks in the door. Fixes him a Shirley Temple, takes him by the hand to the bedroom and …..boom.

De—stressed

As for the ptsd nightmares? He just barely starts to thrash in his sleep and Jean is rolling that man over and taking matters into her own hands

You’re Jean now, you do realize that don’t you? It was never ever going to be anyone but Jean

This man leaves love letters on your pillow, in your apron pocket, in the dash of your car anywhere at all that you’re likely to be. All of this even though he’s gonna be home by six that evening.

Also, hear me out: lots of evenings he just lays down next to you for ages, facing each other on your sides, absentmindedly mapping your body with his calloused palms and fingering you for ages while talking about Persuasion.

Actually gives a shit about your opinions too, and not in the way of wanting to argue them. When you make a good point his eyes get even droopier and he grabs your neck and…

“You're one smart cookie Mrs Crosby”

“My clever, wise, beloved…”

Honestly though, deep connections and the ability to go vulnerable, and if those moments are often concluded with little laughs to shake off the moment -it doesn’t diminish it

Can actually talk about dying to you, not in a morbidly preoccupied way, but he can face it and admit it and be vulnerable enough to acknowledge the likelihood

Then get on with what needs doing

He appreciates how well you grow to know him, and he in turn makes a lifelong study of you

Also, this man is so highly attuned to your well being.

Yes you have to put up with his stress but for you? He will man-up repeatedly and without thought. He doesn’t even think twice about just up and leaving whatever situation is tiring you. did you see him hop up to get the fuck outta that bar fight? Yeah so, you’re bored? Tired? Stressed? It’s not even machismo it’s just a homebody not giving a fuck with the subtext of “my wife and I would like to go home and read and cockwarm”

Often gives the shiftiest excuses to army buddies and coworkers just to go home and hang with you, swears he has to repair that squirrel feeder -or that an alligator is in his swimming pool, “sorry guys maybe drinks next week”

Don’t tell the guys but…HE PAINTS YOUR TOENAILS

Maybe some of your high school friends snickered about Harry Crosby way back when. Making googly eyes at you and barely getting out the most stammered greetings? Bookish and a little clumsy at times?

Ha, you won in the end

He comes home in one piece, that beautiful schlong still intact

you prayed for that ok?

“Lord keep my husband safe -- and his girthy manhood in tact as well” …for the babies you’re hoping for of course...just that… kneeling in silk pajamas each night, adding this addendum with a blush but was always faithful to keep it in your prayers

Sometimes you have that thought in church as well...so you has to take a couple deep breaths and calm yourself...it's because you want children...not because you’re already so sprung off this man's dick after only a couple weeks of married life.

weeks that feels like a lifetime ago now, by the way

Prim and lovely Jean Crosby staring off into stained glass worlds thinking of having her tight little hole tugged open and her guts rearranged, it’s even worse than her thoughts prior to the wedding, because she’s had the experience, then suddenly it was ripped away

And she’s empty and scared to death for him

She gets asked to sing at the funeral of a lieutenant who never even got off the ground during a training flight,

work and church and such are hopeless distractions

Wanders through the department store wondering if every other wife misses this way, does everyone feel the same primal ache?

Dear Jean Crosby terribly worried she’s a freak yet entirely unrepentant for it

But ya know what’s probably funny? Across the ocean Harry Crosby is sometimes so direly missing his wife in the carnal way that he just about spaces out too, and god knows there’s zero privacy anywhere and the showers are the showers but like???? it’s just a no-go most times and everyone gets very confused when he’s in this mood?? Not at all suspecting baser distractions are what’s at play. Somehow someone figured it out, maybe he actually snapped a little about having five seconds to himself while reading a letter and they’re like

And somehow there seems to suddenly be five minutes or so when NO ONE but Crosby is in the showers?!

It only takes him two minutes to get there but he needs to stand there catching his breath and clutching at his heart while he thinks of Jean sprawled beneath him

This is probably Douglass’ doing? Because he’s a good dude, he doesn’t underestimate Croz AND he’s a dirty little bastard himself

“Fellas, the man got himself a wife while half of you guys are virgins? Of course he has urges?”

In a quiet, rare moment, Gale bends his ear -Harry is so modest and low key...unlike some folks *looking at you Bucky*- “So, uh, where'd ya say you and the missus went off to before ya came here?“

Gale’s gotta casually open the door for this conversation “Lots of good sights to see? I, um, haven't done much traveling myself”

It takes Croz a few conversations until he realizes just what Gale means, until then there’s a lot bewildered eyebrows at the inquiry and bashful appreciation for the interest: “Major Cleven I-I already told you, sir, we had a little cabin in the Alleghenies for a week?“

He's been telling Jean about Major Gale Cleven, about how she'd really like him. Gale is a good fella. He tells her about all their "travel talk"

Until one day Jean writes back: “Oh honey, that Cleven of yours is a virgin”

Whether Harry divulges to Gale anything he learned about ladies in that little cabin in the mountains writhing before a fire on a bearskin rug, that first time Harry actually didn’t stop and ask if Jean was dying every time she made a noise but instead, kept going until her cried properly built and she screamed…

well, it was probably an abbreviated account that mostly consisted of “wives are just wonderful people, Major Cleven” with a far off look in his eyes

Gale leaves him to it after all- Harry was married for like 3 seconds before he left, It's literally either playback of the last horrific mission or thinking of the curve of her spine

He gets the dreamiest look on his face, eyes all shiny, mouth a little slack

Somehow these two can be so passionate and yet it’s so wholesome and good and angelic?!!! It’s the allure of them

Because it’s all in these gentle and safe and good boundaries? Like it isn’t complicated and yet it’s not simple and it’s neither settling nor is it turbulent. something to be said for “doing it right”

They genuinely thank God for each other, they’re so sure it was always intended to be just them

I have 1k of headcanons just for the homecoming ok? Y’all will have to request those separate

But once home:

The eye contact they make at social events?? It’s a whole language, the most loving and adorable thing ever

He may not be a real gem of a singer but he’s an excellent hummer. so much gentle humming around the house while he’s fixing the stove light or rocking a baby to sleep or-

You know what I mean don’t you? Some men can just humm and you’re instantly wet? No I don’t mean humming a Billie Holliday tune

I mean humming when you make a new reaction to his incessant fingering while he’s reading, makes him look away from the page and arch a brow, highly inquisitive puppy dog look on his face, reading glasses pulled down.

*a new spot? After all this time? Must investigate further*

This man, when in his element, is a goddamn tease, he’s impossible, he’s goofy, he makes sex the joyous sacrament its supposed to be every damn time and he ain’t shy to remain stark naked for ages

Praise kink for miles in that, once you’ve praised him, he will keep doing whatever earned it for the next two hours. Brace yourself

He can recite your favorite literature passages (he knows them and took pains to memorize them by your tenth anniversary) when he’s gently plowing you from the back with his hand on your neck and your ear lob in between his teeth

He’s a biter my friends -gotta keep quiet somehow, can’t scar the passel of children y’all made, after all

So many excuses given to kids about “mama and I need to talk about the mortgage” -very rarely is mortgage even thought of once the door is closed and locked

But that brings us back to the early days, it’s one thing to know someone so well after all those years but the early days?

Two Virgins named Jean and Harry went straight from the chapel to fucking like Bunnies before he went to war

Harry had done his research tho. All that reading…

Harry Crosby totally ate his wife out on their wedding night.

even though he’d never really seen a full vagina before

he’s a bit methodical, yeah? At first? with a hint of overly flustered and terribly delighted

So I’m just picturing him like hunkering down there, tentative but firm hands on your thighs: “to get my bearings, honey pie” as he takes in the lay of the land

because there’s a lot happening down there on a lady, ok? -there’s petals and more petals and slippery slopes and little buttons and a tiny hole that has to be for pee, no way he’s supposed to go in that one?! but, but she doesn’t have another? Well the backdoo- no can’t even think of that. Oh god ok, ok, vaginal opening, -I guess that’s a vaginal opening?! and due north, a little button that makes her squeak when I touch it. ok ok, might as well start there…

I can see him with a metaphorical pencil behind his ear, ready to jot down notes

Jeanie finally sighs and grips him by the ears and hauls him up for a kiss and just grinds against him and insists it’s lovely

“just kiss me, silly.” she says to him after awhile.

“Mmm, I do like kissing you, Jean” he grins back

he’s naturally kissing his way to her boobs and staying there a lovely long time but she starts pushing at his dark head, *hint hint* lower down her belly and lower, and lower and he’s so caught up he doesn’t even realize it until there’s a sweet little patch of curls under his chin and he looks up with the oddest expression of curiosity and doubt on his face only to be met with Jean’s expectant eyebrow

She wouldn’t want me to?—-*ah, she just face planted me in pussy, ok then*

Lapping at it with the biggest grin, there may or may not have been some noise complaints

the whole apartment complex just knows he’s a good husband, never would peg him as a stud if you met him in the hallway but, Jean sure takes forever to say goodbye to him in the mornings so he must do something right

All the neighbors just can't help but be happy for those two kids

They cook them food and leave the casserole dishes on the landing so they can savor each other for as long as possible before he leaves

Next Sunday they show up at church like dutiful little Americans and they’ve got hickies everywhere and his cheeks are a permanent pink, Her knees are red and raw under her church dress

I feel like maybe they get a little adventurous as their time together draws to a close? Maybe they break a dining room chair? She's too mortified to put it out on the curb

*saves it for 50 years*

Some of those wedding china ends up in pieces on the floor. Can't explain to her aunts why they don't have a full set all of a sudden

i really hope he never loses that occasional hair trigger premature ejaculation tendency.

Sometimes it even shocks him, “O-Oh...shoot”

The last day together is a dismal and precious night

The poor man probably laid there on her sweaty boobs after blowing his last load with the saddest *fml* face on as he processed it being, indeed, his last

But HOMECOMING!

and now the war is over they can set up house and make babies

A small breeding kink, after all, these men marched home from war and basically were told "get a job and let's repopulate for all the boys we lost!"

It’s so damn primal when you think about it but under the veneer of the starched and polished 50’s

Croz can't think straight in that tight little hole, let alone think of the ramifications of another baby

“Give it to me, give me another, come on Harry, we've got an empty space in the Christmas card anyway, think of it!! fill me up baby oh godddd Jesus bless your pretty dick-*

it’s the most mundane reasons and he still busts a nut like she’s some filthy vixen and not his sweet and slightly too optimistic wife

frantic love making with a sweater and socks still on, too

Jean is a writher because the longer they are married the longer he lasts and soon she’s come and he just keeps going and she cannot keep quiet then and he’s too big to ignore or calm down between, just thick enough to always be tugging just right and she fully sobs from it sometimes

Often she’s trying to cup herself?!? Fully spasming and shaking and curling in but his strong forearm is over her belly and his lips on her ear

This man is a god at spooning sex

she is so cock feral when she falls pregnant it almost alarms him

The books didn't say anything about this?! He's exhausted and dehydrated and his classes are suffering as a result

Wants to ask Egan if he encountered this phenomenon

His war buddies become a new father support group

"Hang in there pal, only three more months"

They’ll be in the kitchen just chatting before dinner, she wants to tease him. Scoops a little cherry pie filling onto her finger. He licks it and sucks it off -- bites the finger too, in the background dogs are barking and kids are running amuck

As the Crosbys you’re in for a life of very benign but nauseatingly idyllic Christmas parties.

Snow globes, y’all

Sweaters, spiked eggnog and very well thought out gifts

Harry is the sort to carry Jean's purse when they are out shopping and she is trying on clothes. He also has no problem going and buying her sanitary napkins at the drugstore when she's on her period, because it's completely normal and there's nothing for anyone to be embarrassed about. Basically, he is just stupidly in love with her. He's like a puppy who will always follow, but she doesn't take advantage of that fact (credit to:@noneedtoamputate)

He is Harry “Have You Met My Wife?” Crosby back home, too, it’s even worse when he gets tipsy and his confidence grows and good luck shutting him up about how beautiful she is

This is the sorta man whose kids only learn Daddy was a goddamn boss during the war when they’re outta college, a very casual “oh yeah, that was sort of a thing, pass the salt.”

It’s canon this man cut his own son’s hair all his little life, propped him up on a little stool in the back yard and got to trimming -some of the only times the boy ever heard of those devastating missions

Imagine? Same man who used to take you out on the porch into the night air and rock against his sweater when you were a baby and wouldn’t settle is the same man who bombed the hell outta Fortress Europe

He’s the kind of man whose kids are so enamored over how both sides of the coin could settle in the same man, they end up making a documentary about him

Now I also need you to think of this man at bath time in the early 50’s -Shirt sleeves rolled up, top two buttons on his pristine white button up shirt popped with a peak of chest hair showing through, his curls getting steamed by his kids bubble baths

He’s got the prettiest slightly hairy forearms, y’all -according to Jean at least

Gives himself a bubble beard to make his kids laugh, will stay on his knees watching them play for ages, fully participating

His white shirt gets fully transparent with all this splashing and Jean has to really keep her mind on what’s next when she can so easily see his hair and pretty little nipples pebbled in a chill under them. Stops her whining about water on the floor in seconds.

Harry’s already hushing her and mopping it up with a towel anyway

The Crosby kids will have memories of their idiotically in love and enthralled parents who loved being parents, wrapping their baby selves snuggly into towels and setting them on the counter and just cracking up over how cute they looked with their chubby and shiny widdle faces poking out of terry cloth

Jean and Harry spend a lotta time doing that, they just love their kids, ok?

Brushing their cute little Croz curls

Jean can’t say no to a single one with their sad puppy eyes their daddy gave them

Sometimes they sit the kids in front of the fireplace (they obviously needed a house with a fireplace after that honeymoon) and line them up. Talk about them as if they aren't sitting right there. "Honey, look at those gorgeous eyes -- and his smile! Oh my, who do these cuties belong to?"

But it’s not all placid domesticity. Picture this:

Crosby with a mega phone, organizes a neighborhood Easter egg hunt. He's in charge, his aviators on, taking this so seriously

There are maps, he’s planned this for weeks, some of those traits and skills he picked up during the war come back at the oddest times

this gets even more intense if any of the war buddies are there

Harry writes letters to them strategizing, they all come and bring their own kids

It makes the local paper for being one of the biggest Easter egg hunts the state has ever seen

Night falls, children fall asleep and there are still some eggs left. Armed with booze and flashlights, the boys go out to collect the rest

Harry and Jean don't collect any though, they end up in a bush necking somewhere

Bucky gets very adamant about finding them and Brady is just as adamantly begging him not to

But Major Egan cannot be stopped, he rallies his men, hopping on the kids’ bikes and scooters

Everyone heckling each other in the dark suburban neighborhood

"Ya lost your touch Buck, keep up will ya?"

They all end up in a schnapps induced heap in the Crosby's backyard, long limbs all folded up on too small equipment

Jean and Harry leisurely stroll back up the street under lamp glow to their house where everyone is feral and collapsed and calling loudly for their hosts

Sharing soft little smiles and picking twigs out of each others hair

They tuck these idiot men in on the couches and floor, blankets, sleeping bags and dogs

Hear me out: Jean is the only human able to talk a belligerent Bucky out of his thirtieth beer

She has that sweet way about her that makes every person wanna be a better man for her

When he finally gives in and throws his arm over her little shoulders and swears she’s a good woman, Harry is there with the pan and the aspirin and the blanket

She makes them all the most perfect hangover breakfast the next morning, gingham checked apron stretched over swollen belly

Harry nuzzles her belly when she stops at his plate to dish up the eggs

Everyone wants to gag over how perfectly content these two are but that would be a waste of the best breakfast in the USA

And if Jean happens to make the best baked goods on the block - Croz is making sure everyone knows just who’s muffins those are on the bake sale table. Or if she wants to pursue a career or education? Harry is her biggest cheerleader, doing anything and everything to support her and being sure that everyone knows how incredible she is at what she does. (Credit @blurredcolour)

They may be the sweater wearing, block party and Sunday school couple but don’t think anybody gets away with being snide to Mrs. Jean Crosby -there will be comeuppance, even if it’s just an exquisitely literate verbal evisceration.

There's even more often a roaming band of local kids who kick the shins of everyone who's mean to Mrs. Crosby, because she gives them sweets and feeds them when they're hungry and cleans up their scrapes when play gets too rough and -if Mr. Crosby hands out a comic or two to the boys that "accidentally" tripped some bloke who was harassing his wife, well. All is fair in love and war. (Credit to @promptedwordsmith)

When in the summer of 49 the Crosbies get a swimming pool dug? It might as well be considered public property.

not just the kids who are attached to the crosbies, though. your home is a constant revolving door of visitors - including a bunch of ex-servicemen. if it's not bucky lounging in the pool, or rosie painting the fence in his shirtsleeves because he wanted to be helpful, then douglass is smoking a cigarette in the yard while trying to make you laugh. ev is asking harry to show him how to read this goddamn map bc they're supposed to be taking a trip to the grand canyon in a month, and bubbles is over for dinner every other night. even brady sometimes shows his face, if only to carp at harry for getting them lost over france that one time while working the barbecue because you asked him to. when you and harry bought the house with an extra room you weren't sure you would ever use, you didn't expect it to be occupied as often as a popular hotel. if anyone ever had any bad intentions toward the crosbies, they're definitely rethinking it. those that don't...well. being in the air corps teaches one all sorts of creative ways of getting back at people. (Credit to @fidelias)

Imagine all the different skills the Crosby kids (_and their neighbor friends who never seem to leave_) learn from these guys?

“Oh yeah, Bucky Egan taught me how to swim while wearing his aviators…”

In other words:

Harry Crosby went home and built himself a little Norman Rockwell Camelot and then opened the doors of the kingdom to his buddies and -that’s as it should be.

And that’s not even mentioning how the Air Force and the CIA walked up to his front porch and interrupted a backyard ballgame to ask him for his help

It sucks to be super smart and needed when all ya wanna do is teach literature, go camping and help keep the church life going

But still

Jean sure looked good in Pakistan, the kids enjoyed a new culture and Harry likes to say he may have done some good

#mota fanfic #masters of the air #harry crosby #Harry Crosby fanfic #Harry Crosby x reader #mota headcanons #masters of the air fanfiction #anthony boyle #hbo war fanfic

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realisticfanfictions · 5 months

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Being Sanji's Girlfriend & Baratie's Head Waitress - Part 3.

Sanji x Waitress!Reader: Part One, Part Two.

Working at Baratie wasn't without its challenges, and the fights that sprung up because of them weren't rare either. You and your boyfriend never sweated the small stuff, after all working in a high stress environment made you, well, stressed. But maybe some things can't be resolved that easily.

Tags: Sanji x Reader, Waitress!Reader, constant bickering, mostly fluff with some angst, (heavy) swearing.

A/N: This one is slightly shorter, but it expands more on Y/N's chartacter and finally introduces her to the rest of the crew! BTW, this series may or may not have turned me into a Taz Skyler fan.

Word Count is 3,475. Hope you enjoy!

Tag list (comment to join!): @siriuslyblackonback

Did you overreact? No. Did you feel bad when you saw the look on Sanji's face as he watched you leave the kitchen? Why the fuck would you? You took a left down the almost endless corridors that made up the Baratie. It wasn't your fault that some kid thought you were a pirate, or 'acted like one', whatever the hell that meant. No, you did know what that meant, and it pissed you off. He meant that you were aggressive, or uncouth, or whatever other adjective fit the slobbering, passed out pirates that littered the Baratie's deck come morning. The same ones that spent the entire night making disgusting comments about how they'd like to force themselves onto the waitresses, or pull a gun out just for the hell of it. But you know what? It wasn't your fault you were like this. You were a byproduct of the most fucked up parts of the world, forged from the suffering of years past and created into what you were by the Devil himself.

And it certainly wasn't your fault when that same kid, the foolish, naive and sheltered brat who had the gull to say that you acted like that, tried to recruit your boyfriend into that cult they called piracy and you got upset. "Freedom, my ass." You hissed under your breath, venom seeping off of every word. You weren't a good person, but at least you didn't try to rip off a restaurant under the guise of being the 'Future King of the Pirates'. You didn't indoctrinate people into that abhorrent lifestyle and pretend that it was all about adventure, and not about pillaging and murder. And you certainly don't pretend that pirates are innocent, little fucking sailors on the high sea singing sea shanties all day long, when all they're good for is taking,

and taking,

and TAKING!

With a yell, you drove your fist into the wall, sending shards of wood scattering in a million directions. You didn't even realise that you were shaking until you fell against the wall, your legs morphing into some gelatinous abomination that couldn't even keep you upright. Did you overreact? The hole in the wall was your answer.

One, you took a deep breath. You're lucky you have a whipped boyfriend who you've somehow conned into putting up with you even though you're fucking nuts.

Two, you exhaled. No, you both have issues and it's pointless to criticise or get hung up on the small things.

Three, your lungs filled with air. You're a fucking disgrace, how dare you storm out there like that?

Four, the carbon left your lungs. You'll need to explain yourself, and apologise for your outburst. You are human and you make mistakes, Sanji will understand. He's good like that.

Five, the air burned as you breathed it in. The amount of mistakes you make is incredible. Your entire existence is one big fucking mistake.

Breathe, (Y/N). Count to five. Breathe in air and breathe out your toxicity. You were a bad person. But, you are stronger than your past, and you deserve better than to be known for your mistakes.

You repeated it like a mantra, a prayer you recited more often than you'd like to admit. The tips of your fingers found themselves entangled in your hair. You overreacted. Why the fuck do you keep overreacting?

"Are you okay?" The voice jolted you back to your senses. With a quiet gasp slipping from your lips, you snapped your head to the source of the sound. There stood someone you vaguely remember serving - a young woman about your age with hair as orange as tangerines. She had a wary look on her face and stood a fair distance from you, but seemed at least somewhat concerned.

You couldn't help but laugh dryly. "I'm alright, thank you." When you untangled your hands from your hair, you tried to ignore the strands that came along with it. "How can I help you?"

Her eyes flicked up and down. "Out of the two of us, I think you're the one who needs help." She paused. "You're our waitress, right? The one who helped us get the table."

By the time she was done speaking, you had pushed yourself off the wall and tugged at the hem of your shirt to drag out any crinkles. "I'm not exactly the model employee at the moment, but that's me. I'm not working currently, but you can always ask if you need something."

A contemplative look crossed her face. "If you're off the clock, why don't you come have a drink?"

You held up a hand. "Sorry, but I'm not really meant to be-"

"It's just a drink." She stated and walked a couple feet toward you. "Just as thanks for the table, and you look like you need one."

Her eyes were honest, and although you could see something hidden far behind them like a memory she was trying to forget, your shoulders dropped and you nodded. "That would be lovely, thank you."

She smiles and turns to walk toward what you now realised was the sounds of the bar. With how close you were to well-over one-hundred patrons, you weren't surprised that you were found practically hyperventilating in the corner. You were, however, glad that it was this kind stranger. Or perhaps she wasn't kind at all, you weren't sure yet.

The orange-haired woman brings you past passed out sailors to the back of the deck where the silhouettes of two men already were. "You're (Y/N), right?" She asked as she took a seat and offered you a glass from the table. "I'm Nami." She pointed to the man in the pirate costume noisily slurping out of a ceramic bowl - the Ultimate Tropical Dream, your mind reminded you. "That's Ussop," She then pointed without looking to the man beside her who's eyes hadn't left you since you approached. "And that's Zoro." She nodded as she took a sip of her drink. "Take a seat."

You hesitated, but sat down. Your eyes naturally drifted to the green-haired man, Zoro. "Pleased to make your acquaintance." While you spoke to the group, its true intention was a question. Did he know you?

Zoro sat back and hummed. "Likewise." He grunted and took a swing. No. Then his gaze finally broke from you to the other male. "Pace yourself."

Ussop moaned into his drink and slurped. "I don't think there's any liquor in this, it tastes just like candy."

"Last time I said that, I woke up face down under a table." The swordsman muttered both as an admission of fault and a warning to the naive pirate.

You nodded, taking a quick sip of your own drink. "The Ultimate Tropical Dream has four-seven ounces of rum, four of vodka, and seven of filler. Fucking filthy fads get you shit-faced faster than a fleeting face, but Fred can help with that. He's the fourth one down and sometimes he won't do it, but just needs some persuasion. So when you want to get a Tropical Dream, you force the four to pour four-fourths Warmth North, four-sevens froth, seven-fours broth, no cloth, henceforth no wroth. Got it?"

All three stared in your direction, blinking. "I... think I'm fine, thanks." Ussop replied and took another sip.

"I need a drink." Zoro mutters and brought his glass up to his face. His eyes crossed over to Nami. "That glass have gold on the bottom, or what?" At her confused expression, he tilts his head. "You haven't stopped staring at it."

She looked over at you, and you shrugged. "I'm just a waiter."

Her gaze lingered on you for a second, before going back to Zoro. "You don't think what Luffy did was messed up?"

The swordsman paused and set his drink down. "Yeah. He should've told us." You took a sip out of your own drink as they talked. "But in case you haven't noticed, we've been making enemies everywhere we go. Psycho-clowns, killer butlers. What's a vice-admiral gonna do to us?" You almost choked on your drink.

"No, you don't get it." Nami's face shifted between emotions. "I can't get caught, not when I'm so close-" She cut herself off and stared at her cup for a second, before getting up. "Who's ready for another drink? My treat."

Zoro hummed. "My favourite kind of drink." He watched as she walked off, and his gaze turned back to you. "You seem a bit lost."

You huffed. "All I know is my drinking partners are being hunted down by a vice-admiral, of course I'm fucking lost."

For some reason, that caused the uptight man to let out a small chuckle. "Drinking partners, huh?" He commented and swirled the contents of his glass. "Haven't had a drinking partner in a while."

As he spoke, you finished off your glass and set it down with a wince. "Me neither, Sanji's great but can't handle anything with booze in it to save his life."

"That's that waiter boyfriend of yours." He said as he looked at your finished glass and took a sip of his drink. "Where's he now?"

You shrugged. "Your boss tried to recruit him, so I did the mature thing and stormed out."

A smile grew on his face. "Really? That's Luffy for you. Is he joining?"

"No offense, but I don't think he'd wanna run with your type."

At that, his eyes squinted ever so slightly. "My type?"

"Pirates," You reminded him. "He's not really the pillaging type."

"Neither are we."

You hummed. "It's a wonder how you can pay for all this then." You pointed to Ussop, who's now beginning to blink very slowly. "A Tropical Dream costs at least seventy-five berri without all that fancy shit added to it, and everything needs to be paid upfront. I'm looking at this table and... I see about three-hundred berri worth of drinks? Not including other drinks the waitresses must've taken. And I'm pretty sure pirates don't have normal jobs, and you don't seem like hired guns." You leaned back, staring into his eyes. "So if you're not plundering, then who is?"

Zoro stared at you with an unreadable expression. His eyes ghosted over your form, lingering near your thigh where you kept your gun, before lifting back up to your face. He looked away and finished his drink.

When Nami got back, the tense atmosphere was lifted and you were able to properly enjoy yourself. True to the swordsman's words, Ussop was under the table before he finished his second Vodka Sunrise. He giggled and you had to catch him as he slid down the couch, righting him up with a laugh. “I'm fine.” He slobbed out, his words almost incomprehensibly slurred.

You shook your head with a smile plastered on your face, pushing him into his seat. “I'm pretty sure you're not.” You replied with a small chuckle.

"What'd I tell you?" Zoro asked after he finished his beer with a sigh. "You can't handle your liquor at all."

You smiled and took a sip of your drink. "Sanji can't either, he gets a red face just smelling it."

The shit-faced man, who apparently was a sniper according to Nami, puffed out his chest. "Hey! I can... drink." He pushed off of you and wobbled to his feet. You held out your hands as you watched him stumble forward. "I'm going to get us... more drinks!" He slurred and almost tripped over his feet, but managed to walk himself over in the vague direction of the bar.

You laughed and took a gulp of your drink. "He's certainly a character."

Zoro nodded, face split with his own smile. "Ussop's spirited, but not good with spirits." You both shared a small chuckle and went to drink, but frowned at your empty glass. Hearing Nami chuckle, you looked back up and laughed at the completely distracted Ussop who had begun to drunkenly sway his body around.

"He does have a certain grace about him. Like a frantic, uncoordinated..."

"Sea slug." Zoro contributed with a smirk.

Nami nodded. "That's it. That's what he's like." Her eyes remain fixed on him. "Look at him. Like he doesn't have a care in the world."

Her tone was unusual to say the least, and you placed your glass back down on the table. Zoro was the first to speak. "What are you carrying around that's so heavy?" Whether it was the alcohol, or him feeling more comfortable around you, he didn't so much as look your way when asking the navigator.

Nami's eyes flashed between the both of you. "You have no idea."

You scoffed and pinched a chip from the centre of the table. "You'd be surprised. You're an open book."

Zoro nodded. "And I bet I know more about you than you do about me."

Nami quirked an eyebrow at the both of you. "Yeah right, you both are open books."

"Care to prove it?" When he prompted her, she recoiled slightly but otherwise didn't have much of a reaction. He grabbed the bottle of rum from the table and poured it into some empty shot glasses. "Whoever guesses something right about the other person, that person has to drink." He looked over at you and nudged a glass in your direction. "You in?"

You shrugged. "Sure."

But it seemed as though Nami forgot you were there. She leaned toward Zoro and forced a smile. "Go ahead, tell me all about myself."

He thought about it for a second, then spoke. "I bet you grew up in a big city, running schemes, hanging out in swanky bars like this one."

"You must be thirsty." Her tone dripped with venom.

"You're saying I'm wrong?"

She paused for a second. "I grew up in a small village. Barely a village. Just a handful of houses in the centre of a tangerine grove. Drink." You watched her as she spoke, a dreamy look in her eyes before she came back to reality.

He set down his shot glass. "Your turn."

Nami smirked. "I had you read all the way back in Orange town. I'll bet you didn't have any friends as a kid."

"I had friends."

"Swords don't count."

Zoro was quiet. "I had one friend."

The orange-haired woman's smile grew sad. "Hell, one more than I had." She also went quiet. "Drink."

Zoro grew a smile on his face. "Drink." They both had a shot, then he turned to you. "You're quiet, all of a sudden."

You forced a smile. "Just letting you two bond over your miserable childhoods."

Nami let out a scoff, but a smile wormed its way onto her face. "Fine. I'll bet you had a miserable childhood too?"

"Be more specific."

Zoro hummed. "So it was a miserable childhood?" He smirked and looked away, waited a moment, then returned his gaze. "I bet the reason you hate pirates is 'cause you had a really strict marine dad."

You chuckled and shook your head, the comment catching you off guard. "Can't be further from the truth." You replied and raised your shot glass. "Drink."

Nami piped up. "I'll bet you hate pirates because one raided your village."

"I didn't grow up in a village," You gestured to her. "It was privately owned land about three hours from any major landmark. The only way to get there was by trekking through miles of swamp filled with crocodiles the size of ships, or by docking on a tiny piece of coast hidden by whirlpools."

She finished her drink. "Privately owned land?"

"Nobles." You replied. "They owned half the island, and owned all the business on the other half. They were pretentious, entitled and made us live in houses no bigger than a shitter, but they were good people." You pushed down the memory. "Anyway, I'm sick of being asked stuff. I'm going to guess." You cleared your throat and looked to Zoro. "I bet that you grew up never having a real connection with anyone."

He tilted his head and was silent for a moment. "Define 'real connection.'"

You adjusted yourself in your seat. "You've never loved someone and you've never felt loved. That's why it's hard for you to trust people, you've never had anyone to trust."

He gave a half-shrug and took a shot. "Lucky."

You smiled and looked at Nami. "And I bet that you did something you're not proud of."

Her smile didn't fade, but the genuineness of it did. "How do you mean?"

"You have a look in your eye. Concealed guilt. You think you're a bad person because you've done something you think is bad."

"Well, actions speak louder than words."

"You're wrong." You respond flatly. "A child rapist can give to charity, and a serial killer can help a little old lady down a flight of stairs. It doesn't mean they're a good person. A Saint can trip someone, and a child can bully their friend. It doesn't mean they're bad people."

"So, if it's a mistake it can be excused."

"No. It's intent. That's why we forgive people when they trip us, or if someone accidentally splashes us with water - it's not their intent to cause offense or harm. If you don't intend to harm people, then you're not a bad person. if you, say, wish to create a more peaceful world for people to live in, but you intend to enslave others to do so, then you're a bad person."

"Then, what if by doing something important, you have to do something bad?" The look in her eye was fierce, but you could see past that.

"That's different again. If you're on a rescue mission to save orphans or puppies and you're dangling from a ledge with a rope connecting you to another person, wouldn't you have to cut them loose?"

"But, you've still killed them."

"You don't know that. Without having you fall on top of them, they could survive and reunite with you after you've saved the kids or whatever the fuck it is. You're not a terrible person, you're a good person who had to do a terrible thing. You didn't want to." You gestured to her with your drink in hand. "I think you had your orphans you had to save, and you had to cut someone loose."

You both stared at each other, the atmosphere suddenly becoming tense and unbearable.

"Hey guys, meet my new best friend." Ussop suddenly landed on your lap and looked behind him. "What'd you say your name was again?"

You looked behind you, and a pit formed in your stomach. There stood a man in a decorative coat with a cross hanging from his neck. You recognised him instantly, and judging from Zoro's expression, he did too. "Which one of you is Monkey D. Luffy?"

Nami, finally tearing her eyes from you, smiled. "Who wants to know?"

Zoro straightened. "You're Dracule Mihawk."

Your hand went toward your gun, but a set of piercing eyes halted your movement. It was like being held in chains, and your fingers refused to move. He loomed over you menacingly. "I have business with your captain. If you know what's good for you, you'll hand him over."

"We don't know anyone named Luffy. Right, Zoro?" As smart as she looked, she caught on quick. Zoro rose to his feet, and you were released from your invisible restraints when Mihawk's eyes ghosted over to him. "Zoro?"

The swordsman stepped toward him. "I've been following your career since I was a child. It's an honour to finally meet you, sir."

"Thank you."

He walked past the older swordsman. "Which is why it pains me to inform you that tomorrow, you're going to die."

Your body was thrown into shock, and Nami spoke instead. "What?"

He ignored the both of you and turned to face Mihawk. "I, Roronoa Zoro, challenge you to a duel to the death."

All of you sobered up quickly, and you grabbed your gun. But Mihawk ignored you, turning to face your drinking companion with the tilt of his head. "I've never heard of you."

"They call me the Demon Pirate Hunter," Like a predator analysing his prey, Mihawk's eyes ghosted over his form. "But my lifelong dream is to best you in single combat, and become the greatest swordsman in the world."

"You're serious?"

"Accept my challenge. You'll see how serious I am."

Mihawk paused for a moment, then nodded. "Very well." His strides were long as he approached the young man. "Tomorrow at dawn. And when I'm done with you, pirate hunter, I'll take your captain." The older swordsman's face didn't change, but his walk was different. He disappeared into the shadows of night.

Nami's face was twisted into one of horror. "What have you done?"

A/N: Wow! This chapter gave me some trouble! It was originally going to be completely different, but the flow was off and it honestly would have ruined Zoro's character. So I ended up having to rewrite all of it. I've been slightly teasing it, but next part will have more action in it! I just wanted to establish character relationships and actually give Y/N reasons to do things, as well as get more of her motivation/backstory out there.

#sanji x reader #opla sanji x reader #opla sanji x y/n #opla x reader #opla sanji #sanji vinsmoke #one piece #anime #fanfiction #writing #black leg sanji #one piece sanji #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #roronoa zoro #blackleg sanji #straw hat pirates

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lawrites · 5 months

Text

Rubens Can Suck It!!

Sweet Gotham S1! Edward Nygma x Plus Size! Female Reader

You are having an awful day when someone leaves a note on your desk, describing your figure. It sets you off, and Ed is the one who seeks to comfort you.

This fic features a LOT of insecurities, specifically around being plus size. It talks about the feeling of being seen by others and how shitty some officers at the GCPD are. But Ed is sweet. No warnings beyond that EXCEPT some dirty thoughts from Ed 👀.

It's been an awful morning and it's only 8 AM.

As a woman who works in a field primarily made up of men, especially a plus size woman, you have made your confidence into your armor. Yeah some of the officers could be pigs, (most of them, actually), but you do love your body and how it looks, so it doesn't bother you.

You enjoy wearing bold colors, pretty dresses, structured pant suits, and even pencil skirts to work most days. They make you feel infallible, and you KNOW you look cute in them. No matter what those tiny men say, you can get through the day feeling good.

And usually...it works. There are some days that you think everyone struggles with their looks, no matter their size. It's what happens when your society is constantly screaming "YOU CAN BE BETTER BUY THIS PRODUCT" at you from all angles.

And so, while you are beating yourself up for letting your confidence slip, you decide to go ahead and make yourself more comfortable while you get it back. Especially because trying to force it wasn't working.

Every glance in the mirror was followed by a critical voice, today. Your hair just didn't sit right, your chosen outfit was too tight and the textures were bothering you, and the high heels you sometimes wear would clack and bring eyes to you. All of that sounded just...exhausting, especially when you just want to get through the day and go home without drawing any attention to yourself.

While usually a pair of eyes on you wouldn't bother you, the thought of Harvey Bullock only staring at your tits when he talks to you, or Jim glancing up and down in what he thinks is a subtle way, or any of the officers giggling when you walk by...yeah it would take only one thing to set you off today, you can tell.

So, while it isn't the most flattering outfit you own, you throw your hair into a ponytail and pull an oversized sweater and linen pants on. Comfy, cozy, still professional enough, and properly disguising your body from any eyes, appreciative or insulting.

After that rollercoaster of emotions while you were getting ready, you don't have time to stop for coffee on your way in, which just adds to your mood. And, of fucking course, some guy decided to begin terrorizing Gotham at 7 in the fucking morning, so all public transport is delayed.

You barely manage to get to your desk by 8 AM with no coffee and already in a bad mood. Setting your stuff down, you dig your palms into your eyes, trying to fight off the urge to just leave. A small slip of paper in neat handwriting makes you smile just a bit, though.

What is always found on the ground

But never gets dirty?

You struggle for a second, your brain moving at a slow pace thanks to the lack of coffee. That is, until you hear footsteps and something blocks the lights streaming in from the windows. You gasp and turn towards Edward Nygma, who is standing right next to you and casting a...

"Shadow!" You blurt out.

He gives you one of his sweet, tight-lipped smiles and nods. "Correct!"

You force a cheery tone to your voice so you don't spoil his mood. Ed may be a bit...odd, but he is one of your best friends here, and he doesn't deserve to be brought down just because you aren't in a good mood. "Great! How many is that so far, Eddie?"

He immediately recites, "That would be 85 riddles correctly guessed out of 90 I have shared with you. 3 you needed a hint for and 2 you did not solve entirely."

You cross your arms in mock anger. "Hey! I did my best! Those ones were hard. It's almost like you wanted me to fail or something."

He hurriedly scrambles to get the next sentence out, "Oh! Oh I would n-never! I j-just..."

Whoops, guess your bad mood made that "mock" anger sound more like actual anger. You take on a placating tone, "Ed, it's ok! I know you just enjoy riddles. And sometimes that big brain of yours makes up a new one that stumps me."

You laugh, maybe a bit bitterly, now, as your bad mood forces itself to the front again. The next sentence is nearly mumbled, "I mean, it must be difficult, sometimes, making puzzles for someone who isn't as smart as you."

Ed seems confused more than anything, now. "I'm...I'm not sure what brought that on, but writing down riddles for you every morning is f-fun for me!"

You sigh, twirling a pen from your desk in your hand to avoid eye contact. "It's just...it's just one of those days, Ed. I couldn't find an outfit that made me look nice..."

Ed interrupts you with his insistence, but he still stumbles over his words, "B-but you always look n-nice!"

Your smile comes out as a grimace, "You're sweet, Ed, but everyone doesn't think so." You glance around to make sure that your next words aren't overheard. "I know that I can usually brush cruel insults away, because I try to tell myself I'm beautiful..." You choke out the last part of your sentence, cutting yourself off before you get too emotional in the middle of the office.

You get up and decide to leave the main lobby to get some of the shitty coffee from the break room. At least there you could better disguise the tears in your eyes. "It's really not a big deal, Ed. I guess I'm just not myself, today. Give it a day or two and I'll be more amusing."

And without waiting for a response, you hurry off.

He stands there awkwardly for a few moments, unsure how to respond to the dismissal you just gave him. Usually the two of you would talk for at least 5 more minutes.

Wracking his brain as he walks away, he tries to think of something to cheer you up.

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

Rubens

Flashes of his paintings fly through Ed's mind as he attempts to type out a sweet note to you. Every time he gets a glance of a plush thigh or your soft belly, he thinks of how he painted Venus, the Goddess of Beauty.

A voice he's been trying to avoid for a while now pipes up, Yeah, Goddess of only beauty? I'm sure that's all you're thinking about, Ed. How about Goddess of Se-

Ed cuts the voice off before it can finish that thought, but now he is unfortunately thinking about it, even at work. Rubens didn't paint all of his women clothed, especially Venus. Her nude form fuses with yours in Ed's mind, haunting him, taunting him.

There's just...so much he can play with. Your body...so much he can sink his long fingers into. He goes back to your belly, what he has ascertained to be the main source of your insecurity. He empathizes with that, but all he can think of whenever you wear something tight is bending you over in the medical lab on site and holding onto that plush belly as he-

Again, he cuts himself off. He would like to think that the other voice took over again there, but those thoughts were all him. He adjusts himself a bit as he sits at his desk, trying to be subtle.

Then he looks back at the screen in front of him, remembering your mood today, and that hits him like a bucket of cold water. He curses the tears in your eyes from old insecurities popping up again. He has seen you become more and more confident in your time at the GCPD, learning to ignore the pigs that giggle at everything that isn't "normal" to them.

Ed knows that feeling, and especially the taunts from those cops, well. He's off, to them. He never quite knows when to start or end a conversation, and he injects his interests even when he knows people are tired of them.

And that's why he likes (loves) you. You always smile and try with his riddles. You even continue to talk to him after, and are interested in who he is outside of work! That's rare. And if he could return that joy you have given him every day, it would be worth it for the possibility of you figuring out his true thoughts.

Unfortunately, while he has a mind for riddles, analytics, and all things mathematical, he has not been as blessed with poetry. So he wants to type this out...if nothing else than to keep you from feeling like you owe him something.

He types and deletes and types and deletes, looks at the clock, drums his fingers on the desk, and then types slowly this time. Reading it over, he nods at what he has written. It's not amazing, but he hopes it will make you feel like there are people in the office that are on your side, maybe even a secret admirer.

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

And now you're soaking wet. You just wanted to escape your desk and get a simple sandwich and the sky decided that it was a perfect time to begin a deluge right before you got back to the GCPD building. Why? God hates you, apparently. There's no other explanation that would satisfy your overdramatic mind at this point in time.

Luckily you managed to keep your precious food dry by stuffing it under your coat, but the rest of you is definitely not so lucky. You huff and start towards your desk. Bullock sees you on the way, starts a sentence of some sort, (most likely to quip at your condition), but the glare you send his way shuts him up immediately.

You end up collapsing at your desk and peeling off your outer coat, feeling the air conditioning of the building start to combine with your wet clothes to make a chill seep into your bones. Trying to ignore it but unable to suppress a shiver, you place your food on your desk...wait...is that? It is! Someone left a little typed note to you under the bag.

You pick up the note, giving it a quick glance to see if there was anything to connect it to someone. There are no initials or name...hmmm.

Your eyes read over the words on the page once...twice. And your heart shatters. How could...why would...how could someone be so heartless that they would taunt you today of all days?

There is a group of those rude, awful officers that like to congregate together around the water cooler, gossiping and laughing at anyone who wasn't them. But right now, one of them is talking while looking directly at you, and when he stops he throws his head back in laughter, with the rest following.

Holding back a sob, you crumple the letter in your hand and get out of the room as fast as you can without running. As soon as you are out of their sight, tears start streaming down your face and you run to a nearby empty room. It doesn't even matter what it is, you just care that it's empty and safe and lock the door behind you, collapsing against a wall and trying to catch your breath as you gasp for air.

You hold that position for only about 30 seconds, trying to muffle your sobs so they couldn't be heard by anyone outside, but apparently you weren't quiet enough. A quiet knock sounds on the door.

Tap tap tap

You do your best to school your voice, but it still comes out shaky as you reply "Please find another room."

But the voice that filters through the door is one you recognize well.

"Y-you looked cold, so I brought you an emergency blanket. Oh! And a-also your lunch."

You let out a sob, unable to stifle it. "T-thank you, Ed." And you walk over to the door to unlock it, opening it just a tad so he can't see your state.

But Ed is observant, and even with what little you present to him, he can see you are massively upset. Your eyes are bloodshot, and you are trembling, whether from the cold or from your current emotions, that he can't tell. He tries his best to gather some courage.

"W-would you mind if I sat with you for l-lunch?" He holds up your bag of food and you notice that his own lunch is clasped in his hand behind it.

Quickly, you try to consider if you are ready to fully cry in front of Ed, but his kind, if nervous, smile and his own insistence on joining you made you certain that he wouldn't be too judgemental.

You turn your head to the side to try and hide it a bit more as you step back to open the door. Your arm sweeps over to gesture to where you were sitting. "Be my guest, Mr. Nygma."

This makes him let out a nervous chuckle, but he enters anyway. You close the door behind him and lock it.

"I hope you don't mind, I just don't want anyone to see me...well..."

He nods, "That is perfectly understandable."

You both stand awkwardly for a few moments, but you eventually feel the floor calling to you again, so you nestle against the wall where you previously had collapsed. Ed slowly settles down at a respectable distance from you, his gangly limbs shuffling until he finds a comfortable position.

When he hands you your bag of food, he decides it's better to talk about what happened than sit in silence. "M-may I ask why you are upset?" You glance at him, and your eyes start to fill with tears again. He hurriedly starts to stutter through another sentence, "Oh! B-but if you p-prefer not to talk about it, t-that's ok!"

You shake your head, glancing down at the floor. "I just...I guess people like to take advantage of you when you're down sometimes, Ed."

You sigh, but begin feeling more angry than sad. "I mean, I've been in a bad mood all day, I got rained on when I was just trying to get some food, and then some asshole leaves me this."

You open your hand to reveal the crumpled note to Ed. He keeps his face as neutral as he can, recognizing it. Oh no, you fucked up, Ed! The voice in his head gleefully taunts.

Your sniffle brings him back, and you look down at the note, spreading it out so you can read it out loud.

"While you are not seen by others as a beauty

I cannot keep myself from glancing at your desk.

Your figure is full, and yet one word sticks truly,

I can only describe you as such: Rubenesque."

Ed ponders over the poem, while a bit rudimentary, it was full of his true compliments to you. But your face crumples when you get to the last word, stuttering it out.

Your eyes look to him, "I mean, Ed! How could someone write this?"

You see his face scrunch in confusion. "I admit, I do not quite understand. I see nothing wrong with the note?"

Feeling frustration well inside of you, you gesture with your hands wildly. "Nothing wrong? It's that word, Rubenesque!! It's an insult, I know it, especially with how those assholes were glancing at me as I read it, laughing once I was done."

Ed seems to be more confused now. "I was not aware it was an insult?"

You nod, and remember all of the times you have heard it in the past, "It's always been used by people who want to try and appear to be kind, but truly aren't. They call me Rubenesque in this snide tone, like it's something they can barely stand to spit out of their mouths."

Ed tries to interrupt, but you continue, softer now. "I just don't know Ed. The whole note seems to be mocking me...calling me full figured and not a beauty. Am I really that bad?" He shakes his head while you feel tears starting again, so you look down at the floor.

Now at a whisper, you barely get out the next words. "I just...I don't even want someone to like me anymore. I just want them to leave me alone." With that vulnerable confession, you sob, and bring your hands to your face, trying desperately to cover it. A shiver runs through you again.

After a few beats, you feel warmth around you, and you glance up to see that Ed has moved closer to cover you with the blanket he brought. His long arms stay in place in a hug after he positions it, keeping you close to him. You are a bit taken aback, as the most that Ed has touched anyone in the past was maybe a handshake.

He leans down so you can hear him, his voice more sure, now, even if it is soft. "Do you know about the painter, Rubens?"

You shake your head. "Is that where the term comes from?" He nods. Not feeling charitable, you grab the blanket and bring it closer around you as you grumble out, "Rubens can suck it."

He lets out a giggle at that, and you feel your heart warm at the noise. "I understand that you feel it is an insult...would you mind if I explain what it really means?"

You nod, because even if it is as bad as you make it out to be, at least you can hear his voice as he explains it.

One of his hands strokes the blanket surrounding you, right on top of your arm. "Rubens painted many different subjects, but the descriptor of Rubenesque usually refers to his nude paintings of women. Specifically, women like Venus."

You lift up your head to look at him. "Venus as in the Goddess of Beauty?"

He nods, gently. "Yes, among...other things." His eyes darken for just a moment before returning to his informative rant. "The women he paints are known to be full-figured, yes, but they are beautiful because of that, in my opinion."

You sit as still as you can, barely breathing, wanting to hear every word he says. A long finger comes under your chin and guides your face until you are looking right at him. "I wrote you that note. I think you are the definition of beauty."

And with that, he brings you gently forward, looking in your eyes the whole time. You let him, and lean forward to meet his lips. The kiss you share is sweet and short, but it fills you with a giddiness that makes you feel like a teen experiencing her first kiss again.

You separate smiling at each other, and Ed reaches up to kiss your forehead. "I apologize for upsetting you. I was trying to be a secret admirer."

You chuckle, "Yeah, well, it didn't help that I read the note as uncharitably as I could." You glance up at him, "I'm sorry for crumpling it up in anger."

He shakes his head. "D-don't apologize. I'll write you as m-many bad poems as you want." One of his long arms slowly moves down, and a finger traces your hip over the blanket. "Is this ok?"

You feel a warmth spark through you again as he makes contact, and all you trust yourself to do is nod. He nuzzles into your neck, whispering in your ear.

"I want you to know, right now, so there is no doubt, I love your body. These hips, your plush belly...even your soft arms." You feel his warm breath on your ear, and it makes you shudder. "They all remind me of art, and they make me want to..."

He trails off, and brings his hand away from your hip quickly, as if burned. You miss his touch, already, and confusedly ask, "What? Ed?"

You can't tell anything from his neutral face, but he gets up, suddenly, grabbing your lunches together again. "Let's find a better place for lunch, more comfortable...maybe with a table."

You nod, standing up with him. As you position the blanket around you, Ed wraps an arm around your waist.

"A-and...if you would like...have dinner with me tonight. I'll cook for you and...tell you more of my thoughts."

Your cheeks heat up, and his do as well. "Ed, I..." You think for a moment. "I'd love to have dinner with you."

He grins at you, again-one of his sappy, closed mouth grins-and leads you out of the room in his embrace. The two of you chat and giggle, seeking out a proper place for lunch and ignoring all of the stares you get. If you have each other, the rest of the world doesn't matter.

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

#lawrites #plus size reader #x reader #reader #plus size fic #gotham #gotham x reader #edward nygma x reader #gotham rogues x reader #gotham edward nygma

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casual-socks · 7 months

Text

jon headcanons be upon ye

-in season 5 it always looks like hes widening his eyes as much as he can but theyre just like that naturally

-hes read the entire bible front to back

-hes really good at tetris

-unpopular opinion here but i think hed quite like christmas?? not like playing christmas music early november or anything but i think hed enjoy the holiday season and decorating and stuff… seasonal drinks and such… would pretend to hate it though

-his hair was slightly curlier after so many run ins with the distortion; it almost looks like a few strands are floating sometimes

-when he was young hed just recite multiplication tables until hed fall asleep

-“im probably non binary but i have a job so idrc about that rn”

-he can actually run pretty fast but WILL get tired in give or take 10 seconds. 15 if you wanna be generous

-in season 4 most of his clothes were stolen from lost and found, including an old cardigan of martins

-his eye powers make his hair grow out when he uses them, so in season 5 he kept scissors on them and cut his hair whenever he smote avatars. it always looked SUPER choppy

-never did his homework at home, always during lunch or other class periods. if he didnt it just wouldnt get done

-he does most of his emoting with his eyebrows

-keeps his old glasses in the same drawer as his rib and janes ashes

-absolutely hates having dirty nails, especially after the buried. keeps them short for that reason

-his #1 song on spotify wrapped every year without fail is some kind of white noise, he hates complete silence

ok thats all,,, for Now,,, i lov e jonathan sims

#jonathan sims #tma #the magnus archives #jon sims #tma spoilers #tma headcanons #i never post anything anywhere i have no idea how tumblr works #but my jon sims autism needs to go somewhere so here we are #jeadcanons

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mockstarling · 2 years

Text

Au where the Waynes have to make a reality TV show because people get too close to finding out who they are. Everyone develops their public persona as follows.

Brucie Wayne:

Wears makeup all the time.

Really clumsy but has a quick reaction time regarding when his kids are about to fight. Yes, he can sense it from the other side of the house.

Mama bear, will panic if someone gets as much as a papercut.

Always wears dark colors because if he wears anything else he always manages to get them dirty somehow.

Will sing to pop songs, gets all the lyrics wrong except the chorus.

Glitter. He always wears at least one thing that is glittery at all times. He also uses a glittery bat-themed pencil pouch in his office (cass got it for him as a joke).

Kathy Kane:

A gay aunt icon.

Fashionable but in a classy way/simple enough to still fight if needed.

Will physically attack one of Bruce's kids to "prepare them for if they get kidnapped".

Damian's favorite, he will go ask her for permission first instead of Bruce. She typically allows him before looking at the camera like 'this is about to be good'.

Is one of the best at giving advice.

Will not hesitate to argue with Bruce's friends (the Justice League in their civilian personas) with the passion of a kid who wants ice cream.

Dick Grayson:

Nice older brother type/has answered to "mom" on screen multiple times before.

Knows all Disney songs by heart and will start singing them as his brothers fight.

The one who posts the most on social media and believes they're "in with the kids".

Is in college but tries his best to make time with his family.

Recites vines with passion as he burns everything in th kitchen.

Always wears "rich people clothing that compliments his best features".

Jason Todd:

Was announced alive before the show started so he's been here since season one and may or may not be the reason that they had to start the show in the first place because people were like, "oh, he could be Red Hood. . . wait".

He's normally the one who starts shit/drama on the show.

He has some of the best comebacks out of his brothers. And yes, most of them are along the lines of, "I died, bitch! I'll kill us both and drag you to hell myself! They love me there, unlike some people!"

Claims he doesn't remember what happened those years he was "dead" and says that he still have bad memory problems to get out of doing stuff because he "forgot".

Plays into the bad boy/street kid stereotypes.

Tends to yell a lot/doesn't have an inside voice for shit.

Tim Drake:

Tired heir to the Wayne family business.

Gets physically thrown around by his brothers (mainly Jason) the most.

Is intelligent but tends to mess up on the simplest things.

Always has coffee on him and when he doesn't he is either going to fight someone or pull a prank.

Is always working on "school" (cases).

Tends to wear more normal clothing because it's most comfortable but he has been know to fall asleep in full on suits before.

Stephanie Brown:

Sings the most out of everyone.

Will never hesitate to tip off one of the Waynes about another one if food is involved.

Is always trying new clothing styles and has rearrange their room the most.

Is the type to try something because they saw it on social media.

Is a ray of sun shine when compared to everyone else.

Is the best at jokes.

Cassandra Cain:

Communicates by sign language when she gets too frustrated/overwhelmed.

Dances the best out of anyone so no one ever challenges her.

Is a silent threat when it comes to pranks.

Has been caught mid-heist (when trying to sneak food from the kitchen) by the crew.

Has successfully stolen the most of Bruce's stuff.

Is the most common one to get tea first because everyone in the family likes her enough to rant about the others.

Duke Thomas:

Will not hesitate to pick cass's side in any argument.

Started a war between the Wayne Brothers without them putting together that he started it until that season was out.

The one who always make sure everyone eats.

Has pulled the most pranks on Bruce's friends (the Justice League's cilvilian personas) because they mistakenly took him out to be the most collected out of the bats.

The one who has the best insider information when shit goes down.

No one knows for sure if he's a Wayne but he has a room in the manor and is always there so people just assume Bruce took in another one.

Damian Wayne:

Took it upon himself to look the best out of all his siblings so he spend days researching on social media outfit ideas and how to do makeup because he's "better than everyone else".

Has showed an interests in fighting with weapons, the arts, and history.

Was very quickly assigned the "furry baby dad" title from fans because of the amount of pets he has.

Is still an angry baby but the family has found that he actually explains his side of stuff to the camera really well.

Experiences the most character development throughout the show as it takes place during his teenage years.

Has been caught uses "baby voice" when interacting with his pets.

#dc comics #dc #damian wayne #bruce wayne #tim drake #dick grayson #kathy kane #brucie wayne #jason todd #stephenie brown #cassandra cain #duke thomas #batfamily dynamics #batfamily

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calholic · 6 months

Note

hey girl!!! i acc j stalked ur whole page i love ur writing sm 😋😋

anyways i was wondering if u could write smth with tom where him and the reader aren’t in a relationship yet but they like eachother, and then somehow they end up having to share a bed (like maybe reader is in the band and the hotel room they were staying in only had one bed girl idk) and then the reader has a nightmare and tom like comforts her and cuddles her and stuff like j fluff and it ends w tom confessing feelings to the reader??

SORRY IF THATS RLY LONG AND SPECIFIC BUT IT WOULD BE SO CUTE 💗💗💗 TY POOKIE 🤭

T. KAULITZ x READER

★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: being the only girl in a band was tough, so of course having to deal with your feelings towards the guitarist after a nightmare incident wasn’t your intention.

★ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: cursing 👼

★ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i’m backkkkkk 😉 probably gonna disappear after this but wanted to give you guys a little something 😜 as always, thanks for the request

you were tough, independent, and didn’t care what anyone had to say about you. that mindset helped you a lot, especially since you were in an awkward situation being the only girl in a hot “all-boy” band. honestly though, you could pretend the mean comments didn’t hurt or that the snarky remarks didn’t even phase you, but truthfully they did. you tried masking it as best as you could but when you were all alone, it hit like a train wreck. considering you were especially close with the hottest member, tom, the guitarist didn’t help either. you’ve know him and his twin since high school, when they first met and recruited you.

they found you performing at a recital your vocal coach was holding and in their words “fell in love with you immediately.” bill was the real star the, the main singer. you would get major solos here and there but bill took the stage most of the time leaving you as a filler member. everyone had their own role, just for them except you who had to share one of you could even call it that considering bill did most the work. this was your biggest insecurity as a member and the “fans” knew that so they dig into you like crazy, but sometimes people had good things to say which was what kept you going.

you spent most of your free time privately scrolling endlessly on sites reading and reading about what others said about you until you couldn’t take it anymore or one of the members snapped you out of it, usually it was tom. tom was like the light in all the darkness, he really saved you during bad days and could read you like an open book. he always knew what to say and when to say them and never made you feel bad. you knew he was meant for being a total flirt but in private he’s genuinely a really sweet person. speaking of tom, you remember you had to meet the band for a rehearsal before a huge gig tomorrow. it slipped your mind so you quickly put your shoes on and left the house.

at the studio, tom, bill, and gustav were already there leaving georg to be the last one to arrive which left some relief knowing you weren’t the only one late. you greeted tom first as you walked over to give bill a hug, he’s been the nicest to you since you guys first met and without him, you wouldn’t have even been in the band. you reached for a water bottle and left to go to a warmup room. it seemed like bill had already warmed up without you so you tried to make it fast so rehearsal could start.

you walked out the room after you finished and greeted georg who had just arrived. you reached for the mic that bill was handing you and got to your designated spot next to tom where you always stood during rehearsal or shows. if it wasn’t obvious by now, you had a massive crush on tom but couldn’t show it obviously die to the fans already speculating something between you two in addiction to the hate you would get, plus you knew tom would never date you since he always had a girl in hand.

“late as usual,” he said. “yea, did you miss me?” you asked. “you know i always do”, he said charismatically which made you fold instantly. you guys got started though and things got serious, bill was very strict with rehearsals, especially today since there was a show tomorrow. “alright let’s get started then,” bill said with a stern face which everyone knew as his “stop messing around and get to work” face. due to the show being tomorrow you and bill didn’t really use your voices as much as you usually did any other rehearsal but just listened to the others who had instruments.

tom always drove you home after rehearsal but today it was different. you noticed a fancy sports car pull up by the studio and tom hopped in. there was a pretty lady driving the car and you already knew why, tom was probably going to a party which would end up in him being blacked out drunk and hungover which wasn’t ideal considering what tomorrow was. you ignored it though and called a taxi, annoyed that he couldn’t even give you heads up. you unlocked your door and headed struggling for your room, falling onto the bed when you got there.

it was quiet and the room was still. you looked up at the ceiling and closed your eyes, thinking about whatever slipped into your head which was obviously tom. he always did this but this time it hurt, like a lot more than it usually did. you let out a long sigh and got ready for bed since tomorrow was a big day and you had to be up early. you went to bed and woke up the next just as tired as the day before but still you got ready. you brushed your teeth, trying to shake off the grogginess of the morning as well before checking your phone to find a text from bill in the group chat.

it read that him and tom would be running late since tom was hungover. that was classic tom so basically everyone ignored it… everyone except you. the memories from last night flooded back and your remembered how tom basically left you for another girl, literally. you were now more annoyed than sad at tom and put your phone down. it was six a.m and the bus was set to leave at seven a.m but you knew the boys would take an hour just to show up so you hurried. you got there at 6:35 and were the first to arrive after gustav, then georg, and then tom and bill.

“took you guys long enough,” georg said as tom and bill stepped out their cab. “yeah sorry about that, tom wouldn’t cooperate,” he said. you rolled your eyes and glared at tom. you walked over to the bus and made sure al the luggage was already boarded and after confirming with your manager you got on. you took a seat, put your earbuds in and closed your eyes. you fell asleep for the first half of the ride, then woke up to use the bathroom. once you got back, you noticed tom was asleep. he looked so… peaceful? you creepily stared at him until you heard his phone buzz, a notification. it was from a girl, you already knew. your suspicions were confirmed after you sneakily picked up us cell to check. “can’t wait to see you on tour ;)” read the message. you scoffed and put the phone down, this time going to your cubicle bed instead of your usual seat. you laid there listening to music for the continuation of the ride.

bill was the one to wake you up once you arrived. “______, we’re hereeeee~.” he said. you groaned and rubbed your eyes as you yawned. “we have to stop at a hotel though since there’s troubles with the bus, we can’t stay here.” he explained. “did you guys already book a room?” you asked, sitting up now. “uh yeah, about that.” he looked around anxiously scratching the back of his head. you raised an eyebrow, “there were only 3 rooms available, and we kinda figured you and tom would want to share…” he said. fuck. just what you needed after seeing him with another girl. being too tired to fight and just wanting to sleep you nodded your head and followed the others out.

you finally get situated in your shared room with tom and the atmosphere is awkward, very awkward. “do you want to shower first?” he asked. “i don’t care.” you said bluntly, not looking at him. he said nothing else but just sighed and grabbed a towel, he didn’t want to argue with you. After he finished his shower you took yours. You did your nightly routine and jumped in the shared bed. It was completely silent, neither the both of you wanted to say anything. Tom’s back was turned to you which bothered you a lot because why was he mad? He had no right. You rolled your eyes and turned your lamp off, then dozed off.

You loudly awoken after a horrible dream you had involving a car accident with the your bus. You sat up, sweaty from the panic. You were breathing heavy and felt to alone until a warm touch was placed onto your back. “______ are you alright?!?” tom asked panicked. you let out a breath, and without a thought reached for him, completely forgetting that had happened. “tom is was so scary,” you managed to sob out. “it was horrible, the car just- it’s swerved- and then-,” you rambled with a loss of words. “hey, hey, hey ______, it’s okay. you don’t have to explain anything you don’t want to,” he said ketch a confronting tone. you hugged him tighter. “thanks tom,” you let out. he stayed silent but the two of you stayed in that position for what you assumed the rest of the night since when you woke up, you were still in his arms. butterflies filled your stomach until last nights occurrence flooded back into your memory. you sighed, hating that you don’t want to leave. you wanted to stay in this position forever until you heard tom mutter something.

“sleep well princess?” he asked. you lost all those happy feelings and sat up. “how about we forget this?” you asked. fuck! why was that the first thing you thought to say. deep down you didn’t want to ever lose this feeling of him but no doing so would’ve made things 100% more awkward. “______. i’m tired of playing these games with you. why are you acting so weird?” he asked. you hated confrontation so yo stood there for a while, until finally decided t to be honest. “because tom…” you paused. “you act like you like me and then you don’t? but then you’ll flirt with me and i feel good until i see you with another girl and it’s just so- it hurts me, and you don’t seem to care, like at all.” you rambled out. he as silent. “oh ______… i had no idea you felt that way,” he said looking down. “here, come sit,” he said. you hesitated for a second but did as he said. “truth is, i don’t mean to hurt. actually, i really like you and i know it’s a dick move but i flirt with other girls to make you jealous,” he admitted. you were taken aback.

“why?” you asked. “i don’t know, i guess it’s the only way i figured you would care. i mean you’re so busy all the time with your own stuff,” he said. “that doesn’t mean you can just play with my feelings like that though,” you said. “i know, i know. i admit that mistake. i just really want you to be mine and only mine.” he confessed. you thought about it for a second. “you can make it happen,” you said with a smirk. he didn’t say anything but just had a puzzled look on his face. “how?” he asked. “well first of all promise me you won’t talk to other girls, and second of all, kiss me.” you said with a big smile. “done.” he said as he picked you up which caught you by surprise, and gave you the best kiss of your life.

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pansear-doodles · 11 months

Text

its time i talk about the person who left a dent on me

the worst part of my trauma when it comes to it being connected to people i was once close with is that my perspective of what makes of them reminders of them (i do this to anyone im close with- whether it is a symbol or a certain appearance or trait or event)

little bit of serious talk here folks, so i apologize for the unexpected. hope you have the filters.

for most of my internet life, it was almost only me. completely unfiltered. came to deviantart first. became popular at an early age because of what i was doing in the fnaf fandom- it was not good for my mental health.

my groomer has a sona that never changes by design. he's always depicted as an orange fox with black long hair, black beanie and striped jacket. he likes fps games, especially the resident evil series- having associated me with Mia from resident evil 7. he likes fnaf (we met through fnaf... while i was like 14 i think- while he was 9 years older than me). he draws well... i guess. in pokemon form, he would be a jolteon. i would be a pansear. he would be the fox. i would be the rabbit.

as a child i was very impressionate, overly emotional, and cringe (ofc). i would be best friends with my groomer after finding out we shared many common interests and kept talking to each other about it- and then later fess up i have romantic feelings for him.

this would have been the opportunity for him to back up and say no.

but he didn't say no.

we continued off and became a couple. not many people batted an eye on how questionable it was for a 15 year old to be in a relationship with a 24 year old. almost nobody, save for a few concerned friends (and one stranger on Transformice) who i ignored unfortunately, talked it up with me to leave him. i held our relationship as a sort of defense mechanism. i relied on him to make me feel happy. i did a lot of things with him, and including those of the unsavory before i became of age. (i ever regret doing them- but how would i have known- i wasn't the adult here. he was.)

oh and have i mentioned he said the (un)iconic "you're pretty mature for your age." to me

you know whats one of the funniest weirdest shit about our relationship events was? he would show me this club penguin vid where there is a troll making crude remarks and harass someone (presumably a kid). that brotherman bill cp video. he would recite and memorize the song while blindfolded. ironic how he turns out to be in the end.

the wake up call was when he retweeted nsfw of an underage fictional character. seeing that purged my stomach.

yes. it was nsfw of a fictitious minor that was the nail to the coffin. nothing else. i was so delusioned. so troubled. i couldnt see anything else problematic until that happened.

it was so hard for me to let go of him. thankfully i had friends who comforted me and stuck with me through the whole way through. i was on my bed crying.

we've been in close contact for 5 years. i was convincing myself to stay on a doomed relationship because i didnt know what to do- i was already broken and unwell. i was very co-dependent (and i think some of those negative traits still follow me to this day- learning how to get out of that though). my groomer has left a large gap of my mind when we broke off- i revolved so much stuff around him.... and i forgot a lot of memories because of the trauma- taking even the happy unrelated to him ones with it.

i cared too much. and as someone who draws fast- you can imagine how much ive done.

my old files are infested with his likeness. i know i can just delete them but theres so much. so many. it is utterly revolting to see it all and the memories that come with it.

but as time went on, im starting to care less and less about what has happened between us. i am still traumatized of course and a lot of the negative things followed me, but i am healing somewhat and thats what matters i think. most of the things ive associated with him- the connection is fading. i have separated fnaf from him. i no longer associate orange foxes with him. i am comfortable drawing characters in black beanies.

if there is anything i should be grateful for, is that im no longer with him and im happier with someone else. im thankful for the friends who have helped me cope out of that shitfest.

if you know who this person is, i advise you not to witchhunt and harrass him. i dont know what hes doing and honestly i dont give a fuck on how he's doing. he should get help honestly. it is me, myself the victim, who has the say on the matter- and my say is to leave out of his sight.

if you are a minor and someone older than you does these similar things to you, please let your parents and friends know immediately. please be safe.

if my groomer ever reads this, somehow, then to him i say: i am not afraid of you and i do not care about you anymore.

thank you for reading.

#groomers #tw grooming #cw grooming #please let me know what else to tag #thoughts

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halfmoondaze · 1 year

Note

h can you do an imagine where jack is dating a single mom to a young daughter and the daughter has like a play or has a sporting event or really anything like that and jack promised he would go and watch her and for some reason ends up not being able to go and when she asks why he can’t go he says something mean that hurts her feelings (maybe like oh i’m not your dad it’s not my job to go and watch or something similar) and his gf over hears him and obviously gets mad and leaves for her daughters event and she decides to stay at a friends house or something and jack goes crazy worrying about them and they go back the next day intending to leave and get their stuff but jack apologizes and they both forgive him

Do It For Her

Being a single mom was not easy, especially when the father to your daughter was never present and it’s even more tricky when you’re dating someone in a serious way. And for a while you were always hesitant to take that step, but lucky for you, you had the most caring and patient partner you could ask for. And when the moment came around the whole thing went smoothly. Aitana loved him and Jack made sure she knew she loved her too. They became inseparable and he grew to love her like his own.

So when you asked her if she would be ok with you and her moving in with Jack, she was over the moon. And you couldn’t be any happier.

You were currently making breakfast early in the morning while your daughter Aitana sat on the kitchen counter, when Jack entered the kitchen.

“Have you seen my car keys?”

“Well good morning to you too” you playfully glared at him.

Jack smiled and kissed your lips.

“Sorry. Good morning”

“It’s ok” you smiled. “Have you already looked for them in the coffee table?”

“Yeah, but they’re not there” he said looking around the kitchen.

Aitana let out a chuckle.

You looked at her and saw her pointing at Jack’s back pocket where his keys where.

“Jack?”

“Yeah?” he turned to you.

“Have you checked in your pockets?”

He looked at you confused but stated patting around his jeans until he found them and a sigh of relief escaped his lips.

“Someone’s distracted”

“Sorry, it’s the album. Ive been stressed about it”

“Sorry to hear that”

“That’s ok. I’ll have it under control”

“Ok”

“Ok, Im heading out. Love you” he said kissing your lips.

“Love you too”

“Bye Aitana” he said kissing the top her head.

“Bye”

He almost walked through the front door when you stopped.

“Hey Jack”

“Huh?” he turned to you.

“Don’t forget about tonight”

He looked at you clueless.

You glared at him as you approached him.

“Don’t tell me you already forgot”

“Oh the ballet recital”

You let a sighed of relief.

“Yeah”

“Yeah, I’ll be there. 8 o’clock right?”

“Yes. Please don’t miss it”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world”

“Good, because you promised her”

He kissed you.

“I’ll be there, I promise”

Maybe you were too trusting or maybe you always chose to see the good in everyone, but that night you were shocked to find yourself all dressed up sitting in the audience with an empty seat beside you that was supposed to be reserved for Jack, while Aitana was just like 5 minutes away from going on stage.

A part of you was hoping he would show up at any minute through the door, even though that seemed almost impossible at this point given all the unread messages and missed calls. He promised Aitana.

When she came to the stage, her eyes wondered through the audience looking for you and Jack; and when she only saw you, her face turned to disappointment. And it just became engraved in your memeory and as you sat there just looking at her perform you felt like you failed her.

When you came backstage she had tears all over her face.

“Hey sweetie” you said trying to cheer her up.

“Where’s Jack?” she softly said.

You kneeled beside her.

“He couldn’t make it”

“But he promised” she said with tears filling her eyes again.

“I know baby” you hugged her.

After you managed to calm her down, you decided to treat her to ice cream and for a few she forgot about the whole thing and you were able to see that smile again.

When you arrived home, to your surprise, Jack’s car was parked in the driveway. Fortunately, Aitana had fallen asleep on the drive home, so you were going to be able to have this discussion.

After you put her to sleep, you walked over to Jack’s in home studio, where he was listening to his recording; but stopped what he was doing when you came through the door.

“Hey” he said smiling at the sight of you.

“Care to explain why you didn’t show up to the recital?” you said on the verge of getting angry.

“Fuck. I’m sorry, I guess I lost track of the time” he said running his fingers through his hair.

“You guess? Jack you promised you’ll be there”

“I know, I know. I’ll be there next time” he said nonchalant as he went back to comping his song arrangement.

“No, that won’t just cut it out. Would it really kill you to show up for her?”

“I already told you I got caught up, ok? It’s not like she’s my daughter you know?” he said still not taking his eyes away from the computer screen.

“I’m not doing this anymore” you said and left the room.

Jack knew not attending the recital was bad but he figured he would just discuss it once he finished the song arrangement.

That wasn’t the case because the following day, you and Aitana were nowhere to be found.

His anxiety was at an all-time high as he paced nervously around the house and stopped in the kitchen where he found a note attached in the fridge.

“We will be staying at my parent’s. Don’t call me unless you want to get your act together and be the father figure Aitana needs”

“Fuck” he said as he crumbled the piece of paper in his hand and sat on the floor as tears fell down from his eyes as he recalled the dumb thing he said about Aitana last night. He felt like the biggest idiot on the planet, and deep down he knew there was no way you could ever find it in yourself to forgive him but he knew he needed to give it a shot to turn things around.

That’s how he found himself in front on your parent’s front door.

When he rang the doorbell, your father opened the door and he was not amused.

“What do you want Jack?”

“Is Y/N home?”

“Yes she is, but I don’t think she wants to talk to you”

“Please Mr. Y/L/N”

In that moment you stepped into the door way and saw Jack. Then you turned to your dad.

“Dad, its ok”

He gave you faint smile before going back inside.

You turned to Jack.

“I know I fucked up. I shouldn’t have missed the recital. I know you reminded me countless times for the past two weeks. I was so caught up in my work that I pushed you and Aitana aside. And…I should’ve never said that about Aitana. Yes, I know she’s not actually my daughter, but I love her as my own since the first time I saw her. And I’m so sorry that when it came to me showing it, I didn’t. But I will spend the rest of life if necessary, proving her that I love her more than anything in this world and that I will always be there for her. And as far as I’m concerned, she is my daughter, not my stepdaughter”

By the time he finished talking, you were crying your eyes out.

When Jack opened his arms to hug, you leaned into his embrace.

When you pulled away from his embrace, he looked down at you with an apologetic smile.

“I’m so sorry” he said wiping away your tears

“I know. I forgive you” you smile.

“Can I see her?”

“Yeah”

Jack followed Y/N to the family room, where Aitana was sitting on the floor watching cartoons.

“Aitana, someone came to see you” you said.

When she turned to see Jack, her eyes light up and she had the biggest smile as she ran over to Jack and jumped in his arms.

“Jaack”

“Hey bubs. I’m sorry I missed your recital”

“It’s ok, I know you didn’t mean it”

“I love you, you know that?”

She smiled back at him and hugged him.

“I know daddy”

His heart melted right in that moment. And as he stood there holding Aitana with Y/N seeing that cute moment as she stood by the doorframe, he knew he was the luckiest man alive and he wouldn't have it any other way.

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aclowntiny · 10 months

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🔮Enhypen as Hogwarts Students🪄

Hope you enjoy! Just like the others, these will be the bases for the Hogwarts AUs I’m sure to write >:3

(I love these boys look at them 🥺)

Jungwon

☆ "You're a humble one, aren't you?" "Er, yes sir?" Jungwon smiles sheepishly at the possible compliment, answering the Sorting Hat with respect. "Hardworking, too," the talking garment continues, "and you don't seem to care about obstacles as long as you get the job done. You're a Hufflepuff!" Jungwon thanks the hat as he leaps off the stool, feeling a sense of joy and accomplishment that the hat saw those qualities in him.

☆ He’s a Muggleborn, or so he thinks until he’s taken in by his Squib grandmother, who reveals his parents were just hesitant about talking about magic to him. He grows up mostly in the non-magical world, but his grandma does teach him how to cultivate some of the magical plants she’s sneaked into her garden 👀

☆ Because of his time spent with his grandma, he goes to Hogwarts loving Herbology immediately, becoming a quick favorite of Professor Sprout 😌 It's not his best subject, but he also enjoys Potions because even if it's hard, it has the funniest mistakes!

☆ There isn't a subject he really hates, but History of Magic is notoriously the most exhausting subject for a lot of students, so it's not exactly Jungwon's favorite.

☆ Jungwon is an avid Frog Choir member, but he also tries out for Quidditch and becomes a Chaser! He's a swift boy, known for darting out of the way of Bludgers and other players just in time 😌

☆ He’s overjoyed as he imagines a time when he was happiest and how happy he’ll feel if he summons a guardian in the form of a corporeal Patronus charm. As Jungwon casts the spell, he can see it taking shape, his heart filling as the image of a tuxedo cat bursts forth and into his arms.

Heeseung

☆ "Oh, a clever one!" The Sorting Hat comments as it touches Heeseung's head. "You've got a unique mind. A thinker, this one. Likes to discuss things. Good with a puzzle too. Must be Ravenclaw!" Isn't Ravenclaw the smart house? Well, that's something for Heeseung to live up to! He's excited to do his house proud.

☆ Heeseung is a Half-Blood, coming from a magical family but just not entirely upholding all the full blooded wizard stuff over the years. He literally could not care less about all that stuff, though, like hey, we all have the same powers 🤷🏻‍♀️

☆ One of the weirdos who actually likes Arithmancy lol Heeseung is just good at it and solving sequences is so satisfying! He also enjoys Defense Against the Dark Arts because it's the perfect combo of active and intellectual, one of few classes where students can actually be allowed to run around a bit, but it still keeps the wits sharp.

☆ Divination isn't bad, but it lowkey feels like a waste of time to him 💀 rather than hate it, though, he uses it as goof-off time hehe

☆ Quidditch all-star right here! Eventually becomes captain, in fact, and leads Ravenclaw to victory many a time. He's a Chaser, in charge of scoring and swift flying, and he tends to be in the central position.

☆ He doesn’t have a certain animal in mind, really. Heeseung tells himself he’d be happy with anything…but what if it’s a tiny mouse? Or something silly like a monkey? Shaking his head, he snaps out of it before reciting the spell, focusing his greatest joy into the shape that emerged. As the beautiful Clydesdale horse stands before him, all the nerves fade away into elation.

Jay

☆ “Cunning? Check. Ambition? Check. Goals? Check. You care what others think, don’t you?” Jay just sheepishly, almost imperceptibly, nods. “I try not to, but-” “This one’s a Slytherin!” Jay nods, too, not entirely surprised to be sorted into his father’s house. He admires its traits, though, feeling like being a Slytherin can shape a cool go-getter.

☆ The Parks are an old wizarding family for sure. Jay doesn’t want that privilege to carry him through everything, trying to keep that down in favor of his own hard work. It’s nice being well off in life, but he wants to be known as a strong person, not just another strong name being thrown around. If he’s offered the easy way, he’ll never take it.

☆ Potions star! Jay’s the only one of his friends who’s really good at that class at all tbh 😅 so he’s the de facto tutor. He also really enjoys Defense Against the Dark Arts, a class where he can have duels, be a dashing hero, & really show what he’s made of! Facing down fears is right up his alley.

☆ Ever since his watch got taken to use as a demonstration and he wasn't sure what it was getting turned into, Transfiguration sort of became Jay's least favorite class, at least in jest.

☆ Ends up taking one of Slytherin's Beater positions, daring to face Bludgers and fly up close and personal with all of Quidditch's threats! It gives him a rush, even if he's had a lot of near-misses the others still talk about. It’s a tight scheduling fit what with him joining Ghoul Studies, but worth every moment of it!

☆ Elbows and jokes abound as Jay gears up to try his hand at a Patronus, jests on all sorts of ridiculous animals getting tossed out. Ignoring the mirth, Jay goes zen, honing in on a memory as he shouts “Expecto Patronum!” A massive wingspan emerges as the eagle soars from his wand, earning looks of awe from Jay’s classmates and pride from the caster himself. He can’t help but reach for his Patronus in wonder, amazed himself that he created such an awesome creature.

Jake

☆ “Can be a bit headstrong,” the Sorting Hat mutters. “Really?” “Don’t act so surprised,” it chuckles, “you’re smart, kid. Got a daring side, though. Use that. That and your curiosity.” So what does this all mean? Jake thinks. “Alright,” the hat responds to his thought, “that clinches it! Ravenclaw!” Surprise fills Jake’s face as he was trying to predict what the hat would say.

☆ The Sims are Pure-Bloods, but Jake literally doesn’t find that out until he’s at Hogwarts because his parents don’t want any kids of theirs to feel like they’re any different just because their whole family tree has magic.

☆ Jake quite enjoys Astronomy, taking in the beauty of nature and recording it, but what he really enjoys is Care of Magical Creatures because he’s a pet owner and even the odd creatures (or, well, most of them) have him soft 🥺

☆ Jake prefers more natural and straightforward subjects, and Divination doesn't really seem real to him. Even a lot of witches and wizards don't believe in it, and it puzzles Jake a bit that there's no clear answers or basis to anything. He's more along the maths and sciences side, so to speak.

☆ Loves Quidditch! Tries out and joins Gryffindor’s team as a Chaser, which he adores because he gets to be part of a little mini team and support the others with his actions. Plus scoring is such a rush!

☆ Jake can’t help but think of his family, think of Layla, as he is asked to embody happiness in his life. Those thoughts guide him as he holds his wand up in anticipation, grinning at the light sliding from his wand. A golden retriever runs out to greet Jake, and he can’t help but grin. Maybe he thought of Layla more than he realized!

Sunghoon

☆ “Hm, bravery isn’t your strongest suit…” “Hey!” “You are focused on your goals. You know what you want in life.” “Yes.” “And you want some recognition for it?” “Y-yes, sometimes it is nice to have a-” “That settles it! Slytherin!” Sunghoon’s still a little salty that the hat kinda roasted him, but intrigued by his house enough to let it go and just join the others.

☆ Like Jake, comes from a big fat “blood traitor” Pure-Blood family we love to see it 😌 thinks it’s all so stupid he plays a love for Muggles and their culture up just out of spite honestly.

☆ Takes Muggle Studies for the bit and actually enjoys remembering the names of all those appliances and things, even if it's difficult to remember so many new words. A lot of the Slytherins are shook because the Sunghoon is writing a paper on telephones??? Dork Sunghoon excels at Charms, quick but precise and elegant casting that requires specific motions. He sees the intricacies in charms more than the average student, and his casting always looks fluid and flawless.

☆ Flying is not his friend- being that high up and feeling out of control scares him. Sunghoon will take the ground, thanks!

☆ Quite obviously, he does not try out for Quidditch, just attending all the games he can and focusing on other extracurriculars like music!

☆ He has plenty of happy memories to go off of, but Sunghoon isn’t sure if he’ll really be able to pull of a corporeal Patronus. He wants to more than anything, though, so he puts his whole heart into it, calling out the spell… only to summon forth a beautiful swan that captures his attention immediately as it gracefully skates in the air around him.

Sunoo

☆ “Could be Gryffindor…” The Sorting Hat ponders. Not Hufflepuff? Sunoo thinks, considering how he wants to be in the nice house. “I can hear you, you know. You are quite innocent. Very loyal, too. Very well- Hufflepuff!” Grinning, Sunoo skips to his table.

☆ He has Squib parents, so he grew up an odd mix of living like a Muggleborn and yet having total awareness of the wizarding world from other family members. Both his sister and he inherited powers, so he also hears about Hogwarts a few years before he goes.

☆ Enjoys Divination because it’s a fun and creative class. They get to drink tea! They get to talk about dreams they have! They get to make stuff up sometimes, frankly. It feels more fanciful and less pressuring than other classes. He also likes Care of Magical Creatures because not only does he love living things, but the presentations are enjoyable too!

☆ He loves looking at the sky, but Astronomy is a bit of a tough one because Sunoo is more of a creative mind than scientific. Calculating the positions of the stars is hard, why can't he just take pictures and appreciate the constellations?

☆ Thinks Quidditch looks really fun, so he tries out and that’s where they discover that Kim Sunoo is basically the perfect Seeker. Boy is a pro at finding stuff so he sees that snitch well before anyone else does. Straight up wins Hufflepuff games by points alone.

☆ Happiness is easy for Sunoo to find; it’s a short mental distance to reach as he has a positive attitude and more importantly lots of loved ones. His friends, his sister, truly his happy place is with his people. Thoughts of his people spur on the little light emerging from his wand, fading in favor of cheering and laughter at the adorable glowing quokka that rolls out.

Ni-Ki

☆ “You’d do well in Slytherin,” the Sorting Hat muses upon Nishimura Riki’s head, “if you want something, you go get it. Brave, though, and quite a tease. You enjoy life. I’d say… this one had better go to Gryffindor!” Riki feels like the Hat gave him lowkey whiplash, but he feels proud to be joining the house of lionhearts! It suits his adventure-seeking side for sure.

☆ He’s a Half-Blood, both of his parents having magic, but his mom is a Muggleborn so he gets the best of both worlds! Adores spending time with his Muggle grandparents and sometimes envies their simpler life even though he wants to become an amazing wizard.

☆ Takes Ancient Runes so he can write secret codes with his friends, but actually gets really invested in solving and deciphering all the questions and scripts he's given. Flying is another favorite of his, just the feeling of freedom and the wind in his hair is the most magical thing of all for Riki!

☆ Don't sit with Riki in Potions though unless you want things to splash and explode on you 💀 he's a bit of a wreck trying to brew potions and it's not even from intentional mischief like a lot of other things are!

☆ Bro best flyer??? Of course he’s going for a position on Slytherin’s team! And he gets it, landing Seeker because his choreography skills lend well to flying in complicated patterns just like his lil gold friend 😌

☆ Riki is beyond determined to cast a Patronus, to have the strength of mind and magic combined to produce his guardian. Digging his heels in, he brings forth a memory, smiling and laughing into the spell despite his moments-prior seriousness. As he calls out “Expecto Patronum!”, a fox leaps around, every bit as cunning, mischievous, and charming as its caster.

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen reactions #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #jungwon #heeseung #jay #jake #sunghoon #sunoo #ni-ki #hogwarts au #enhypen hogwarts au

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maybeitsalivescribbles · 6 months

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VH - The Notice

(TW: the worst, lamest knifeplay you’ve ever read)

Villain was angry, disappointed, and most of all, confused. Fortunately, nothing can clear the ideas up like a good notice. Unfortunately, this was the one they were reading:

Congratulations for your new purchase of the All-Cutting Tool™ ! The All-Cutting Tool™ combines the ancestral knowledge of mankind and the new * cutting edge * technologies by combining an elegant, comfortable, ergonomic wooden handle with a sharp stainless steel blade at the end. Simple and easy to use, the All-Cutting Tool™ will remind you that a problem with no solution doesn’t exist...as long as you have the right tool by your side ! In the comfort of your own home, connect with your ancestors by cutting your belongings with your own hands , and feel the life force you have taken from a piece of wood, a steak, a mighty carrot or your own foes !

“Yeah, yeah, a lot of meaningless stuff, what I want to know is how to deal with problems with the product – cutting objects, cutting food, cutting remarks – ah there we go, cutting your foes, section D.”

Caution ! This usage is widely considered illegal. The All-Cutting Tool™ Company does not condone acts of violence. As such you won’t be refunded in case of misuse.

“Aw man, of course the guarantee won’t work. They count on it, the bastards.”

Warning ! Most people are reluctant at the idea of being cut up. Before beginning, if your victim is alive, make sure it’s tied up for your own security. You risk to be severely injured if it can move. For more security, think to add a gag or even a blindfold (see our other products on our website).

The process is similar to cutting meat, as it is more or less the same fabric. The main difference is that if the victim is alive, it’s likely to be squeakier and twitchier. For a precise cut, secure the place you want to stab. (See 1b, 1c, 1d). Maybe write an x on the skin or something. We don’t judge. If you want to hit a lethal part of the body, stab these parts (see 2a, b, c, d).

Warning ! If you hit a lethal part, your victim won’t be able to move or to make a sound anymore (except the occasional aaaargh, maybe). This action can’t be reversed and should be reserved for experienced users. Think wisely. Also it’s illegal (for related problems, contact our lawyers).

To cut your victim, take your All-Cutting Tool™ by the handle. Take a deep breath. Look at the body part you want to aim. Think of fun One-Liners to say at this moment (for ideas, you can consult the forum on our website). Then strike (use your shoulder muscles, not your wrist so you don’t damage your joints). The pointy part of the tool should interact with the meaty part of the victim with enough strength to pierce the skin. Bleeding should ensue. If not, repeat the same movement at the same place until the expected result.

“Yeah, but that’s the problem, assholes ! The expected result is...never mind. Let’s try one more time, shall we ?”

Hero shrugged as much as a proper tied-up foe could shrug. Villain carefully put the notice away, took their shining new tool in their hand, and then, their lips pursed in concentration, recited:

“So, the pointy end towards the victim... I aim at a fun body part, let’s say kidneys...the impulse is coming from the shoulder and here goes nothing -”

They struck with all their strength in a move that would have made any notice writer proud, except the result. The blade did hit the skin as intended, but then it bounced, making a sound like this:

“Zdiiiiiiiingbonnng”

“Aw, come on !”

They shook the blade to no effect. With a skilled tongue movement that would have made many an eyebrow arch, Hero could finally get rid of his gag with which he was struggling since a while, and said:

“May I explain ?”

“I’d rather you’d bled.”

“Yeah, but it won’t happen.”

“But why ? This All-Cutting Tool™ is new !”

Hero slipped a hand out of his bonds to rub the bridge of his nose.

“It’s a knife. It’s literally a knife. Listen, my deal is that I’m actually a vampire. Hypnotism, super strength, super durability, the whole package.”

“Okay, but -”

“I’m supposed to pass myself as a victim so I can see how you act.”

“Right - “

“I swear that usually I’m smooth. But then I told you to get the notice for the knife – a fucking knife – and it was supposed to be banter, you know -”

“Uh-uh -”

“-But then you’ve actually read it out loud with a straight face -”

“Yeah -”

“-And then I’ve lost all hope about this mission. So here’s the deal: I’m going to bring you down, you will not resist and I won’t tell anyone what happened.”

“Fine. Fair enough.”

Vampire Hero is now a recurring character. His job is to troll current villains. Check the Vampire Hero Masterlist or Tag for more snippets with him.

Or back to Hero x Villain Masterlist.

#villain and hero #hero villain community #writeblr #writers on tumblr #original fiction #my writing #writing snippet #writing drabble #writing dialogue #creative writing #vampire #vampire hero #hero and villain #heroes and villains #hero x villain #you know when sometimes a character kicks the door and demands to be born?#yeah it was like that except that the character was the fucking notice #in which Vampire Hero is utterly done

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