#'cause it's all material for writing y'know?
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omg hihi i love how u write sooo i wanted to ask if u could write where the reader tries getting matt jealous by flirting w chris (?? optional it could be anyone else) and he eventually gets jealous and that turns into a smut 😛😛 if that even makes sense 😭 PLSPLS thank you
Attention
Matt Sturniolo x Reader
Summary: y/n gets matt’s attention by flirting with chris
Warnings: weed, smut.
IM BACK (maybe) SO EXPECT MORE SHIT (hopefully) I LOVE YOU GUYS AND I WILL BE MORE ACTIVE I PROMISE (i don’t)
like halfway proof read
Wind blew through her hair as she sped down the highway, one hand loosely holding the colorful steering wheel, the other holding a joint up to her pink, glossy lips.
✄┈┈┈┈
The glowing warmth of the orange sun hid behind the tall trees, golden rays painting her face as she sped down the street.
Sza's "Julia" was blasting through her speakers as she pulled up to the triplet's house, music cutting off abruptly as she cut the ignition and exited the black jeep.
She sucked in a final hit of her joint, snuffing out the half-smoked spliff against her car and tucking it behind her ear.
With a final tug on her black miniskirt and one last readjustment of the straps of her thong, she strutted her way up to their front door, not bothering to knock.
climbing up the stairs, the sight of Chris sitting on the couch, legs spread wide welcomed her. Matt was sitting a few feet to his right, scrolling on his phone. Everyone else was scattered around their living room, holding separate conversations as music played lowly in the background.
"Ayy, y/n! c'mere" a very blasted Chris exclaimed, patting the plush material of the cream couch next to him.
Matt's head shot up at the mention of her name, eyes fixating on her scantily dressed figure as she sat right next to Chris, leaving barely any space between the two of them. His brow quirked.
"Hey Matt!" she said, looking at him up and down. His jeans sat low on his hips, his muscle tee riding up just enough to show off the band of his Calvin Klein boxers.
He held up a peace sign, a silver ring wrapped around his pointer and pinky finger--he shot her a flirty smirk.
She blinked at him slowly, expecting more of a greeting.
Rolling her eyes, she brought her knees up on the couch, resting them against Chris and looking into his eyes.
He started to ramble, sativa taking control of his senses.
"Y'know we were all waiting for you to get here. Matt especially. He kept asking if his outfit was good enough--and his hair, he messed with his hair way too fucking much."
Chris grabbed a small strand of her silky hair, toying with it absentmindedly as he spoke with a raspy voice, close enough for his warm breath to raise the hairs on her neck.
"Yeah? Well he doesn't seem to be interested now." She giggled, brushing a lock of his hair out of his face.
"Well, that's ‘cause he wants to seem all tough. Don't tell him I told you but he's just a big pussy." He said in a hushed tone, pulling a smile from her lips.
Y/n couldn't deny Chris' charming and dorky personality--if she were anyone else, she was sure she would be chasing after him rather than sitting on his couch leading him on.
Matt, however, could have her chasing for miles. Everything he did seemed so intentional and suave; he was always calm and collected--he felt like a refreshing soda after a day at the beach.
Suddenly, Chris focused on the joint sitting behind her ear.
He stopped tugging on her hair to slither his hand behind her neck, fingers brushing her skin and creating goosebumps. He grabbed the rolled paper between two fingers, looking at it with heavy eyes and a smile.
"Thank you, weed gods" He cheered, searching for a lighter.
Y/n reached into her bra, pulling out a bedazzled lighter. Chris placed the lipstick-stained paper in between his lips, gazing up at y/n with hot cheeks as she brought the lighter up to the end, igniting the paper.
Matt watched the events unfold with a clenched jaw, losing the faint grasp on his buzz.
Y/n breathed in a large puff, closing her eyes, and letting the burning in her throat subside. she turned and crawled over to matt, removing the joint from her flavored lips and handing it to matt.
He took two deep hits, letting the intoxicating substance flow through his anticipating lungs and into his bloodstream. She sat on her knees and watched him intently as he visibly relaxed.
Reaching up to grab the paper again, he grasped her wrist with a firm, yet gentle grip. They sat like that for a few beats before he stood up, dragging her with him. A large hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her to his side.
He quickly passed the drug to Chris, who tried to conceal a knowing smirk, before pulling the teasing girl into his dimly lit room, shutting the door with their combined weight pressed against it.
"Have fun!" Chris faintly yelled.
The sunset lamp y/n bought for Matt projected an array of warm colors along the pair, the orange light kissing y/n's face, and ethereal and angelic aura surrounding her.
The denim in matt's jeans became more restricting, he found himself itching to free himself from the confines of the blue material.
She held eye contact with him, pouty lips parted slightly.
No words were exchanged, but there was an understanding. Of their shared desire; their shared need.
His slender fingers gripped the plush skin of her hip, tracing the black elastic band of her thong. His other hand traced up her side, barely caressing the skin and sending a tingling sensation to her spine. His hand caressed the side of her neck.
Her fingers hooked into the two front loops of his light-wash jeans, searching for somewhere to place her earnest touch.
“P Power” by Gunna echoed throughout the house, a nice touch from Chris, the designated aux.
Both were breathing deeply, as if they had just finished a light jog.
It happened in an instant--she squeezed her tan thighs together, his pinky finger dipped underneath the seam of her miniskirt, and their lips clashed together with feverish haste.
They each fought for dominance like the push and pull of the ocean. Y/n wrapped her arms around Matt's craned neck as Matt pushed the two further into the door.
Bringing his hand to the front of her neck, he squeezed the sides of her soft skin lightly--she gasped, tugging on the baby hair at the nape of matt's neck.
He took control of the kiss with a low groan, applying more pressure to her neck, grinning into her lips as her head fell back. He took this opportunity to start working down her jawline and neck, biting small, aggravated marks into her silky skin.
Their chests heaved, her hardened nipples poking through the sheer fabric of her shirt and against the rough material of his worn cotton shirt.
"Oh, fuck." She said breathlessly as his teeth found the sensitive part of her neck, working a dark mark into the flesh.
Once he was happy with his work, he pulled away from her touch completely, nearly pulling a needy whine from her throat.
"Fuck, you're hot." He gaped, trailing his eyes up and down her flustered figure. Her hair was messy; eyes droopy, staring at him with need. A thin layer of sweat caused her skin to glow under the sultry lighting, her thighs pressed together and hands resting at her sides.
A wave of confidence surged through her veins, a product of the drugs in her system. She pushed herself off the door, "you have such a way with words, Matthew," she breathed out, pressing her lips to his once again.
He sat back on his bed, tilting his head up to meet hers as she climbed onto his lap, shaky legs straddling him.
Her hands ran back and forth through his fluffy brown hair, pulling sporadically to rouse a reaction from him.
His hands explored her thighs and hips, each time threatening to push her skirt farther up her skin. He gripped her hips once more, lifting her slightly to lay her down on the bed, lips never disconnecting.
Wandering hands traced underneath the thin fabric of her blouse, caressing her chest and pinching her hardened nipples, kissing them through the sheer material.
He continued his assault down her stomach, leaving a trail of wet, needy kisses. The tips of his fingers dipped under the top of her skirt, pulling them down slowly as he left closed-mouth kisses to her hips.
Y/n’s thin excuse for a skirt was discarded somewhere on Matt's bedroom floor, along with his shirt.
He hovered above her lower torso, ringed fingers toying with the thin black bands. Her manicured fingers shoved his forehead gently. "Don't be a tease, Matthew."
He planted slow, teasing kisses to the fabric of her underwear, speaking with a smooth, deep voice in between each.
"Such a hypocrite. How would you feel if I got with one of those girls out there, huh?" He finished his sentence by pressing one final kiss to her clothed clit, watching her shudder with a grin.
"That's hardly what happened," she breathed out, sending a pointed look to him. "You know would never get with Chris. Just wanted your attention."
He continued to kiss down her thighs whilst gently removing her soaked-through thong.
"Hmm. And is all this for me?" He kissed her inner thigh, centimeters away from where she needed him the most.
"Yes, god yes. Please Matt."
"So sweet." He finally said and wrapped his arms around her stomach, pulling her legs over his shoulders.
His mouth attached to her bundle of nerves, tracing small shapes with his tongue. His movements dragged a long whine from her lips, manicured nails reaching to grip his hair.
He traced his tongue up and down her core, orchestrating her audacious sounds, needing more.
He brought his middle and ring finger up, gathering her arousal and pushing his slender fingers into her warmth. The metal of his rings pressed against her skin sending chills over her skin.
Her noises grew in frequency and amplitude, his other hand shooting up to her mouth to muffle the loudness while he repeatedly stroked her spongey walls.
Matt could tell she was getting close, harshly sucking her clit while continuing to trace patterns with his tongue, fingers never losing their furious pace.
Her moans grew louder and louder despite Matt's efforts to muffle them—though he didn’t really mind, anyone who was paying attention when they left already knew what was going on.
He continued his ministrations even as her thighs threatened to close around his head and as her hips lifted off his silk cotton sheets with overstimulation.
When the stimulation became too much, she pulled him away from her sensitive cunt. He was as equally out of breath as her, his eyes had become droopy like hers, and his boner pressed harshly against the denim of his jeans.
He earnestly pressed his lips against hers again, kissing her harshly and sloppily, his hands quickly working on removing their remaining clothing.
He quickly leaned over to his dresser and searched for a condom, y/n lifting herself to rest on her elbows, peppering his chest and neck with quick kisses.
“You have all my attention now, doll.” He muttered quietly, almost to himself.
He slowed down, rubbing his length up and down your cunt, gathering your wetness, watching as you practically drooled at the sight of him.
“Is this what you want?” He used his other hand to caress your jaw sweetly.
“More than anything, please Matt.”
He slowly pressed his length into her, letting her fully adjust to her size before beginning to thrust, slow and gentle movements quickly becoming deep and harsh.
His enthusiasm elicited loud moans from deep within her chest, hands looking for anywhere to anchor into, landing on his freckled back, leaving raised, stinging marks all over.
In an instant she was flipped over, and her flushed face was pressed into a plush pillow. Matt continued to drill into her, quiet groans and curses falling from his lips every few seconds.
“So fuckin’ loud. Want everyone to know what we’re doin’ in here? Huh? You want Chris to hear how good I’m fucking you?”
She thought was strange thinking about Chris when his brother was fucking into her like this, but the thought didn’t maintain one Matt reached around to rub her clit, mind going completely blank other than thoughts of Matt.
Once the familiar knot started to coil in her lower stomach, she reached back to grab Matt’s wrists for more stability, her legs starting to shake as her orgasm washed over her, tears beginning to soak his silk pillowcase.
Strong hands gripped her hips harder as she clenched around him repeatedly, causing Matt to throw his head back in pleasure and let out a sharp breath.
“Ah, shit. Fuck!”
He fucked them both through their climaxes, slowing his staggering thrusts and finally pulling out of her pillowy walls. He threw his condom into his trash next to his bed, before leaning over and pressing sweet kisses to y/n’s back.
“You did so good, sweetheart. So good for me.” he praised, running his hands up and down her sides and back.
Once she regained her strength, she flipped herself over, heaving chest lifting up and down. Her shaky hands grabbed Matt’s arm and she pulled him down next to her, snuggling into his side.
“I think you might’ve got a little jealous in there...”
“Yeah, ya think?”
#matt sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo smut#nick sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo fluff
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I saw someone having a post mentioning if a character from one piece would be certain about age gaps so here i am in a silly goffy mood.
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Idea: Waking up/Walking around not realising youre wearing a shirt saying "Dilf patrol" and going out on the ship/certain places causing some interesting conversations.
Raighley, Shanks, Mihawk, Law, Kid, Doflamingo
Special addition: Bepo for cuteness
I know kid and law arent dilfs but theyre fun to write
Kid
Way too busy to notice it at first until someone points it out.
Hes flabbergasted.
"Into experianced men huh?" he comments brows furrowed in question.
It took you a while to register.
"I know i dont qualify as one but give me a few years."
You couldnt be more embarrassed, not to say anytime he asks you to stand on lookout he'll yell "DILF PARTROL" full blast embarrassing you each time.
If hes into you he'll paint over one of his shirts the words "certified dilf" while working on his gagets. If you catch him in the act give him a sly smirk and run for your goddamn life.
However if you both happen to wear it at the same time again its now your turn to shout over the entire ship "DILF SPOTTED" the moment you see him. You'll distract him so horredusly he wont be able to unhear it for the next week.
At some point you both take a picture, altough the main focus is you zooming in on his tits where the label he drew on was.
"Let me see the photo."
You show it to him proudly and prepare for self defense.
"You little shit." hed scoff ,however his ego was lifted that hed certified dilf material.
Doflamingo
This pink flamingo has been walking around you all morning trying to be subtle.
It was getting on your nerves.
"Can you ATLEAST pretend that your subtle, Youre like 10 meters tall dude you wear a PINK FEATHER COAT."
"So?" He picks his teeth with a toothpick.
"Why are you following me?"
"Your shirt."
"What about it?" you get more annoyed by the second.
"Not your dresscode madamoiselle?" you give him a fake smile with your eyes.
"Ha..Hahaha..HAHAHAHA, i must send this to the navy." He takes a photo.
"Fuck do you mean send it to the navy?!"
"Look, i can already hear "it's the dilf parol woman" with your face plastered all over it."
Oh he really was pushing it huh.
With a loud FWAP the shirt lands flat on his face right on the centered plastered with the writing.
"I think they'd like this one better."
You show him the picutre. There he is this wooden shelf for a man in his pink ridicilous coat with his face covered in a shirt thats says "Dilf patrol" boldly.
"My ass im gonna let you have your way with it."
Onsues a battle between two idiots.
Nearing your defeat you splur out "Y'know if you had a kid you'd qualify for it."
"Huh- Yeah right."
"Im dead serious."
"..."
"Time to take one for the team." He said confidently.
Raighley
Usually you stay over at Shakky's rip-off bar having known the owners well half owner Raighley. You never managed to catch his wife on time however, she was always out so one good day you treated yourself to a hands on barman experiance pouring yourself a drink, mind you its late so its okay.
Whilst mixing your drink you hear the front door open Raigley in sight he catches a seat.
"One whiskey on the rocks ma'am." he gets cozy until seeing you prepare your drink. You shake the mixture the tshirt you wore frurrowing all sorts of ways.
"?" He sees something written on it.. not fully tho, so he'll take a another peek in a bit.
Your drink made, you start his grabbing some ice and whiskey for the foxy man.
"Here ya go~" you happily chirped at him offering his drink.
It wasnt until you were mid drink he said "Say would i qualify as a dilf?"
ah the burning sensation of choking on alcohol.
"What?" you ask him barely able to breathe.
"You know, I mean not to shoot myself in the foot i do happen to look good for my age." he takes a swig of his drink calmly.
"F-First off, where is this coming from? Second off what!?" You stutter, Raighley barely dared being so cocky, and now all of a sudden this!? Did he hit his head?
He doubles the K.O pointing to your shirt at which you stare down, immidiatley embarrased for showing your interest in older men un such a dumb way.
Cheeks blazing you admit defeat, giving him a thumb up weakly.
"You're overqualifed.."
"That so?" He smirks hand on his beard in question.
Now confidently you humm altough your legs were giving out.
Who woulda thought you had one of the hottest man, not to mention the most humble one around teasing you like this when youre compleatley unprepared.
[continuation awaits (￣^￣)ゞ]
Law
Poor guy was hoping to eat his meal in peace when you come in theough blazing the words dilf patrol on your shirt.
He literrally chokes.
"You alright capitan?" you ask him.
He swallows dryly, "Yeah..." he stares at you, then at the writing, then at you,the writing and at you for the last time.
"Y/n-ya, You know our crew mostly has guys around the age of 20, right?"
"Riight.. , point being?" you curiously ask.
"Point is WHO ARE YOU PATROLING FOR?!" Not gonna lie he was determined to know.
"!!?" Shocks sets in as you realize what youre wearing.
"Haha oh this thing, well you know give it a few years everyone will be aprooved, even you Law." you chuckle lips pointing in a whistle like manner.
He mentally stopped until he lowered his cow-print hat lower over his face, continuing eating without furter comments.
Hoo... Oh my.
"C-Capitans blushing!" Bepo alerts everyone in the dining hall. Startling you and Law himself.
"Was not, shut up!"
"I'm sorry!" he bows apologizing.
"Well in anycase we have time dont we?" You chuckle pouring yourself some tea.
Few meters behind you you hear more bickering about "Dont joke about this!" et cetera.
Mihawk
The silent man was trying to enjoy a morning newspaper till perona started babling to him about you.
"Whats the issue?" the blandly replies.
"Have you seen what shes wearing its not cute at all!" she pouts pointing to you , a pastry in your mouth the shirt revealing the writing.
Lightning stuck in his head.
"We all have preferances.."
He didnt want to even think about it.
"Thats right, we all have preferances" you pouted back disagreeing with her.
"Of all things you choose old hot guys seriously!? Pick something cuter next time!"
Bwaaa~ You drop your pastry.
"Who says i like old hot guys?"
"Your shirt says.." He nonchalantly interrupted.
"Ah so it does, WHAT?!" You strech out your shirt noticing the writing 'Dilf patrol'
"As long as she can handle it, i see no issue." He adds in.
Your jaw dropping, how can he be so relaxed about this.
"Stop embarrasing her old man-"
The bell dings in everyones head striking a nerve.
Everyone locks eyes.
Silence follows.
It was the tensest breakfast youve ever had with the two of them.
After breakfast you chose to clean the dishes upon hearing a knock.
"Not my buisness, but good choise." And he leaves just like that.
No dishes were washed for the next 30 minutes out of sheer incapability to understand his approval.
Shanks
All bark all bite he doesnt hold back.
He digs the shirt, calls it trendy,odd but trendy, hes seen worse.
"Y/n, i qualify."
"For what?"
"You can count me as a dilf, no?"
Your brain shortcircuts.
"Well.." You eye him up and down making him wait impatiently.
"I mean sorta? Youre not really the hot DAD material are you? "
"I can be though." he shoots you a grin.
"Caaan you?" you hiss back at him.
"Wanna seee for yourselllf?"
[Continuation awaits (￣^￣)ゞ]
Bepo!
You had just woken up having no actual shirt to wear from your regulars you scramped one from the dryer. You didnt even bother to check which one it was you had agreed to train with bepo.
"Goodmornin'. " Hes as polite as ever.
"Mornin' bepo, lets start some warm ups?"
You both proceed to train along eachother however the longer it lasted the more people gathered around you two.
"Whats this about?" You question wiping the sweat off your forehead with your shirt.
"Mm Maybe because youre wearing that today?" ,his fluffy paw points to your shirt.
Every guy in a 10 meter radius was giving you thumbs up making you red as a raindeers nose.
"Y/n, whats a dilf anyways? Some new monester out there?" He innocently asks
"Haha y-no?, Do you wanna know?"
He nodds.
"Well its a preferance for older attractive looking men that have kids or had kids who grew up."
"So.. Do you like ..." he was deep in thought..
He didnt know what to ask.
"Ah mabye Vice capitan Ben?"
Pffttjfjfhdha
"Dont think hes got kids, but hes attractive so i approve." You wipe ur nose at the thought.
Next day Bepo shows around with a shirt labeled
"Shaved ice patrol."
What an innocent creature..
#perona#perona one piece#shanks x reader#one piece shanks#onepiece x reader#onepiece#dracule mihawk#mihawk x y/n#mihawk x reader#one piece mihawk#one piece doflamingo#doffy x reader#doflamingo smut#doflamingo x y/n#doflamingo fluff#donquixote doflamingo#raighley x reader#raighley x you#raighley x y/n#onepiece raighley#onepieceraighley#eustass kid#eustasscaptainkid#eustass kid x reader#eustass kid x y/n#bepo one piece#bepofluff#trafalgar law#trafalgar law x reader#trafalgar law fluff
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Are you familiar with Ms Marvel (Kamala Khan)? What about Yandere Platonic Batfamily with a reader who is basically like Kamala (Comics ver).
Just imagine how hilarious to find that their Fangirl knows their identities and made a few fanfics about them. Like for example-
Red Hood vs The Monster truck possessed demon!
Batman and Robin vs Evil Sewer lizard's from another world!
Nightwing and the Smog-Breather!
Y'know just Fanfic writer who's also a superhero.
Also I love your content. Make sure to take breaks!
YANDERE BATFAM W/ MS MARVEL! READER
“Just to make sure. . . You’re totally Damian Wayne right?”
“What-“
“Cool! That means Batman has to be Bruce. And the robins…”
You may or may not have been knocked out during your first encounter with one of your favorite heroes. By Robin himself.
Look, Damian doesn’t usually knock out innocent civilians like they murdered his cat or anything but you were a liability and a half.
Yeah, maybe revealing that you knew everyone’s identities wasn’t a good idea.
Besides Damian was kind of iffy about you since you were feeling up his body when he swooped in to save you.
(Turns out you were just confirming your theories but still)
Now the surveillance started mostly due to your uncanny encyclopedic knowledge of the Batfam and basically every other hero and villain out there.
Once they figured out you were basically harmless and just needed to get a better filter when it comes to things you say, you were mostly home free.
The thing is, the Batsons might have formed an obsession with you. Since you’re asking a yandere blog here, it was definitely not healthy.
They liked the idea of someone knowing them in and out. You’ve had competitions with Tim to figure out who knew the other better while Bruce and Damian just deadpanned in the background.
Dick loved entertaining your ships and headcannon questions. Bruce was more reluctant but found it to be a great way to incentivize you to behave and work with him better.
Jason just adores you. You’re the only younger sibling that isn’t stuck up or reminds him of his low self esteem and struggle to be a good vigilante. He was definitely weirded out at first but grew to be like Dick and definitely fuels your fan habits. Both guys definitely not so subtly strip in front of you sometimes so you can get more “reference” material.
Which brings me to the next point, who you choose to write or draw on your blog definitely gets discussed. Your blog’s every post is actively monitored at all moments. I wouldn’t be surprised if Bruce installed a large monitor in the Batcave just to watch over it.
Him and Tim definitely analyze your stats and help you with growing your blog. Watch Bruce spend thousands of dollars to get your page everywhere (subtly cause the first time he did it, you were so embarrassed you refused to talk to him for a week). Alfred works as your personal assistant when it comes to timing/scheduling your posts and making sure you tag them properly + have the most aesthetic formats.
Anyways, back to the discussing your posts thing, you learnt to make sure your posts, heck even your drafts, are all equal when it comes to who it features. Otherwise prepare to get overwhelmed with love bombing.
It took Damian the longest to warm up to you, but when he realizes how much you mean to him there’s no turning back. It starts from him unconsciously humoring your questions to full blown out debates over how he’d definitely win in whatever battle you pit him in your fanfics.
Speaking of fanfics, Damian loves to blackmail you about them. He’s the type of brother to love tormenting you about your totally ‘weird hobbies’ while simultaneously reading every piece of literature/art piece in your blog as if you’re bringing out the modern bible and he’s a staunch believer in the God that is you.
He then proceeds to critique your art and written works if not outright bash them.
You’d have been in tears from the essays he writes about you if you didn’t already know it was him.
(Tim told you.)
Now when your powers awakened, you went from that one sibling that knew way too much to almost an essential part of their team.
Almost because every time you were allowed to go out, someone had to be on “mouth guard duty” for when you accidentally spill what you know.
(It’s usually Tim or Bruce)
You worked a lot with Bruce during those times. Who definitely flexes the hours you two spend in comparison to the batsons.
He doesn’t mind it if you get distracted by the boys, though.
Really, he’s glad you haven’t asked how your family has been doing or when you’re going home.
‘Cause he’d have a lot of explaining to do.
General Batfam Taglist: @the-sander-fander
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere batfam#yandere damian wayne x reader#damian wayne x reader#yandere damian wayne#dick grayson x reader#yandere bruce wayne x reader#yandere jason todd x reader#yandere tim drake x reader#yandere jason todd#yandere tim drake#yandere batman#yandere batfamily#yandere imagine#yandere fic#yandere damian#platonic yandere#yandere robin x reader#yandere nightwing x reader
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okay but... high school sweethearts with grunauer but he promises if he survives the war he's coming back to marry you (and he does 😭)
oh my GOD baby boy peter grunauer 😭 i got carried away, per usual
The train whistled, signaling its eminent departure, and Peter turned back to look at you with wetness in his big brown eyes. He had been crying almost nonstop ever since he had gotten the draft letter; your Pete always did wear his heart on his sleeve. "I don't wanna go," he told you, grappling to grab your hand. "What-What if I flunk the eye test and they have to send me home?"
"Pete, please," you sighed. "You know you have to go."
"I know," Peter said softly. "I know..."
"I'll be right here, waiting for you to come back," you told him, and you reached up and righted the little cap he wore over his shorn curls. Your tears caught in your throat, and you uttered "Waiting for you to come home to me."
"What if I..." Peter began, dropping his eyes to look at your intertwined fingers. "What if I don't make it home?"
"You will," you told him firmly. The image of him got all wishy-washy as your eyes brimmed with tears, and you dragged him into a tight embrace. He smelled just like he always did, nice cologne and the sweet tang of his own body, but you took a deep breath of him. Who knew when the next time you'd see him was? Who knew if you'd ever see him again?
"Doll, you know," Peter started. His hands touched your back as he held you, his chin settling on your head, and he pressed a kiss into your victory-rolled hair. You had only gotten all dolled up to take one last photograph with Peter before he was shipped off, and the film was stuck in a tiny plastic container in your purse. "You know I ain't coming home."
"Don't say that," you sniffled. "Pete, don't you dare—"
"It's easier, y'know," Peter said. "If you pretend like I'm a lost cause. It won't hurt when it happens, and, if I do come home, it'll be a big surprise."
"You're not a lost cause," you told him. "Stop it. Just let me think for five minutes that I'll see you again. That I'll get to hold you and kiss you—"
The train whistled again, and Peter was quick to cup your cheek with his shaking hand and kiss you. His lips were soft against yours as he held you tight and kissed you, and he only broke the kiss with a heavy sigh. "I'm gonna marry you, doll," he said urgently; your time had come to an end. "When I get home, I'm marryin' you. How about that? Now I've gotta come home."
"You'd better," you sniffled, and you kissed him quickly again before he stepped away, back onto the train. "You'd better come back to me, Peter Grunauer, you hear me?"
"I hear you," Peter said. "Loud and clear, Mrs. Grunauer. I love—" The train blowing its final whistle drowned him out, and the chugging and clanking of the train only served to break your heart further. But you watched his lips form the word, you watched his big eyes as the door to the train car was closed, and you watched him as he pressed himself against a window to wave goodbye as the train departed. You couldn't watch anymore, though.
-
Two years. You got weekly letters from Peter for two years. Most of them had been heavily censored, his lead pencil marked out with black ink. No names, no destinations, not even what time of day he was writing the letter. Thankfully, the important parts, the parts about him loving you and coming home, persisted through the edits.
And then, one day in May, two years since he left, no letter came. Peter never missed a letter, not once. You kept every single one in a box under your bed, and you rifled through them as you tried to find any reason why he would miss a letter, other than the obvious. Maybe that letter had been too full of redacted material and the US Army hadn't even bothered to send the scrap along. That was your theory.
And then the next week came along, with no letter. And the week after that. And the week after that.
No word from Peter for four weeks, and you tried to keep your spirits up. He promised you he was coming home. He promised you that he would marry you. Peter made good on every promise he had ever made, all the way back to high school.
You had first met when you were 15 years old, when Peter asked to borrow a pencil in math class. He was handsome, in the boyish sort of way that he always had been— big brown eyes and freckled cheeks and plush pink lips— and you had fallen for him immediately. He was good to you, kind and funny and loving, and you had been together ever since then. And he had promised time and time again that he was going to marry you. "Just gotta get enough money for a ring," he always said with his charming smile. "And then I'm marrying you."
Then, the damn war. The damn draft.
You got a letter from the Army five weeks after Peter's last letter. It stated that Peter's paratrooper squad was shot down and that they had been unable to locate him, and to assume that he was either deceased or missing in action. You held the letter to your chest and collapsed in the doorway, heaving sobs from the very pit of your stomach. The letter was so clinical, no room for emotion, and it hurt. You wanted to destroy it, to tear it up or throw it into the fireplace, but you needed it. It was your last link to Peter.
You reread his letters every night. You looked forward to it, to mourning your husband-to-be. Eventually, you stopped calling him that and started calling him what he was: he was your husband, through and through. Reading his letters made it feel like he was there with you, and you needed the encouragement to get through the day. Your friends gave condolences and your parents hugged you when you cried, but nothing fixed your heartache like reading his letters.
The wound felt like it would never heal. Until a year later.
A knock came at your door just as you were setting down dinner for your parents, and you wiped your hands on your apron. "I'll get it," you told them. "Start eating, it's gonna get cold."
The knock came again, heavier, more intense, and you frowned. "Coming!" you called, and you wound your way through the house to the front door. Nobody ever used the front door of your house, always opting for the side door, and you couldn't imagine who was rapping on your door at this time of night. A third knock came, firmer than before, threatening to do the poor door right in, and you flung it open with a quick "Can I help you?"
Your heart stopped, your throat dried up, your eyes wetted with tears. You could hardly believe it. Your Peter stood there, looking worse for wear, deep wrinkles in his forehead with a slight limp as he stepped forward. But it was him. "I—" Peter started, and you sobbed out, grabbing him and pulling him into you. His arms grabbed you tightly, holding you even closer to him than ever, ever before, and he held your head close to his heart as he whispered, "I wanted to say somethin' funny, but, Jesus, you look so beautiful. My girl."
"How—" you sobbed. "I thought you were—"
"I know," Peter whispered. His chest was warm against the cold night, and you nestled close into him. "I thought I was too. How much do you know?"
"Your plane was shot down," you whimpered. "I-I was told to assume the worst."
"Yeah," Peter said softly. "Plane went down... We were in enemy territory, and I fucked myself up pretty good, broke my leg in two different places. But I survived, managed to get myself to a French family that took care of me. My leg didn't heal right and I walk like this now, but—"
"But you're home," you whispered. "You came home to me."
Peter angled your head up to look at him, deep in his dark brown eyes, and you finally pressed forward and kissed him. He tasted just the same as all those years ago, back before everything awful that could have happened did. But Peter was home.
"I promised you that I'd marry you," Peter said into your mouth, and he gripped you tightly. "And I'm gonna do it, doll."
#bex answers#jd 🥀#bex's 11k sleepover#peter grunauer#peter grunauer x reader#grunauer#grunauer overlord#joseph quinn#joseph quinn x reader#bex's drabbles
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mean dom!steve x gn!reader, 18+ minors dni
Steve was not having a good time.
Well, actually he was, and that was kind of the problem.
Steve was driving the two of you down some random backroad, and you’d apparently decided you wanted to thank him for the lovely dinner he’d bought you.
Except you weren’t exactly thanking him. Yet.
All you’d done so far was lay your hand, beautifully smaller than his, on his thigh and lean into his space. The scent you had chosen for the evening making him dizzy with want in the process. Your lips pressed feather soft kisses into his neck, causing heat to rise in his cheeks. And elsewhere.
“What’s wrong, Stevie?” you giggled, his plight becoming more and more obvious to you as he shifted in his seat, trying (and failing) to adjust himself discreetly.
Steve glared at you, and you had the audacity to laugh. His patience was fading quickly. He’d wanted you earlier, before you’d gone out, and now—
Now, he needed you.
You shifted, getting even closer to him, nuzzling into his neck, as he huffed, dangerously frustrated, "Baby."
"Hmm?" You let your mouth open slightly, letting your teeth trail across the skin of his neck, but when you gently bit down on his ear lobe and tugged, that's when he lost it.
"Hand me your underwear, and get in the back seat," he ordered. "Right now."
You pulled back, brow wrinkling in confusion, and laughed nervously, "What?"
"Did I fucking stutter?" he pulled the car down onto a dirt road shrouded by trees.
"Well, no, but-"
"The panties, honey," his voice had dropped an octave lower than usual, and he turned to face your stunned expression. "Y'know, the lacy fucking things I put you in before we left? Those. Now."
He ran his hand through his hair impatiently, as you sat back, still processing that he was, in fact, serious.
"What?" he snapped mockingly at the pout on your face. "Oh, you wanted to watch me take them off of you? Mm, maybe next time you won't be such a brat, hm? You know better than to tease me when I'm driving."
As he spoke, you'd decided you'd better do as he asked. After all, if he didn't let you come tonight, you thought you might die. You began to peel off the necessary layers, until your fingers hooked into the elastic of the waistband. You started to drag them down your legs, and Steve held out his hand.
"That's it, c'mon," he raised a single eyebrow as you balled up the lace-trimmed satin in your palm.
His hand opened and closed quickly, a clear drop-'em-here gesture, and you obeyed.
"Mm," he hummed in acknowledgment. His hand closed around them, and he brought them closer to his face, fingers rubbing the material as if to inspect them. You watched him, wondering if he'd notice the tiny wet dot you'd seen as you were taking them off.
If he'd seen it, he didn't say anything. He stuffed them into his back pocket without a word and looked at you expectantly.
"Well? Back seat. Now."
well. idk what's gotten into me lately, but anyway, have this idea i came up in with in the shower lmao. maybe i'll continue it, cause mean dom!steve just does things to me and also i'm supposed to be writing an essay, but that's no fun. thank youuu for reading <3
#stranger things#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x gn!reader#steve harrington x you
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Fun fact this is the first time I'm properly writing for either of them.... but this is another banger from @snarky-wallflower , so I hope you enjoy!
"So... you're the guy who's never left Hatchetfield, right?"
Paul adjusted his position in the passenger seat of Emma's car, looking over his shoulder to try and find the seatbelt. He'd told her that about three weeks ago, during one of the longest conversations he'd been allowed to have with her while she was at work. It had been just an admission that carried on the conversation, but Emma had been largely surprised to hear it.
Today was a bland Saturday that otherwise wouldn't have been filled with anything. Emma had invited him on a surprise, and nervous as he had been, he trusted her. That wasn't likely to be a bad experience.
"Nope," he clarified, clicking the seatbelt into place and absently running his hand over the material. "Never had a reason to leave, so I never did."
"But you don't wanna see what's out there?"
"I guess I never really thought about it."
Emma's eyebrow quirked, and an amused expression crossed her face. "Well, that's what this is! You said you don't wanna move away, and yeah, that's fine and all, but you've never gotten outta town at all, so I thought... How about a road trip? Just for the day! You'll be back here in this shitty, shitty town by tomorrow!"
For a moment, Paul faltered, and his gaze stayed fixed on Emma for a few seconds. "A road trip?" He echoed, really thinking it over. He'd never taken a road trip before... The idea of spending hours at a time driving with no destination, eating packaged sandwiches out of gas stations and stopping just because of a nice view... It had never really stood out to him as something he wanted to do.
But, then again, he'd be doing it with Emma. Did that change the game? She seemed like she knew what she was doing, and any excuse to hang out with her was a good one.
"I mean, we don't have to if you don't want," She leaned against the wheel, waiting on his response. This was her way of mediating his desire to stay in Hatchetfield with her desire to get as far from it as possible. She was starting to warm to the idea of staying- pretty much entirely because of him- but god only knows she would crack if she had to spend every single day trapped here like some caged bird. A large part of her really hoped he'd agree.
"No- uh- I want to, I think... It's just unexpected."
She smiled a little. "Thought it might be fun, y'know? You can have first pick of the music."
With a nod, she motioned towards the cable running from her radio dock. Paul stared at it for a moment, tilting his head. Before too much time could pass, he picked up her phone, she muttered the passcode at him, and he started the scroll through her music library.
Emma revved the engine into action. "Hey man, warning," she put on a playful tone, causing Paul to look up suddenly from the albums he was sifting through. "There's only one bridge out, for about forty minutes we're going to be driving the highway through Clivesdale."
Paul grimaced, and ended up selecting whichever album was currently sitting under his wavering thumb. When it started playing through the car's vaguely tinny speakers, Emma's smile grew and she nodded her approval.
"Clivesdale, huh?"
"It's really fucking boring, to be honest. Everywhere looks the same. I swear to god, if you're not careful, you could end up taking a complete wrong turn without even realising..."
"So, uh..." he began to ask as Emma pulled away from the kerb and out towards the street. "Where did you have in mind? After we've gone through Clivesdale..."
"I did think we could just make up the directions as we went along, but you're not good at spontaneity, and I barely have a sense of direction, so that one's outta the window," she chuckled, shaking her head.
"People do that? What, and they just... don't get lost?"
"Right? There's no way that's possible."
Paul noticed the corner of a badly folded paper map sticking out of the glove compartment, and hummed. He was under some kind of impression that Emma knew how to get around better than he did, but it was nice to find some kind of kinship in someone else with absolutely no sense of direction.
"... So how about we just start in Michigan and see how far we get?"
He nodded, turning his gaze towards the open road. "Sounds like a plan."
#starkid#paul matthews#emma perkins#paulkins#void offering#nova's tags →#hi :) paul has never left hatchetfield :)#not any more babey!#road trip fics!#is it the anxiety or the autism im projecting onto paul?#yes. yes it is.
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let me share a bit of my self insert details for cod, since i figured out i can write smth while i think about how to continue the other wips i have
with callsign "rookie", a first generation immigrant. they're the youngest between all the 141, and was recommended by laswell. still, their rank is definitely under both soap and gaz. a non-binary person, though don't mind any pronouns.
here's a few sketches of them (i made it to my likeness because, y'know, "self" insert)
the change in haircut is intentional as it should reflect my continuously changing hairstyle since my hair is a dumbass who can't make up its mind in how it should present itself.
i made a "relationship chart" to explain the dynamics of rookie with the other members of 141
gaz ⇄ rookie
gaz and rookie i'd imagine to be some kind of the ride or die best friend, which unfortunately often happened because rookie has the worst kind of luck, but just good enough that they get out of danger somehow in the last second. the kind of best friend that you could understand being so close because you'd known eachother really well. it's probably the case of them being quite similar in age (rookie is still younger though), so he took pity of them at first and happily accompany them everywhere. he knows how anxious it can be to be around something so unfamiliar and scary, and he understands how it feels to be frustrated knowing that you can't save everyone (he hopes that rookie can be more mature but for now he'd gladly sigh at their naivety).
soap ⇄ rookie
maybe because i view soap to be slightly older than gaz i feel like soap and rookie are more like siblings? i feel like if soap became best friends with rookie, he'd be too much for the poor lad. soap as best friend is a good trope but he's a wild card that he could show up at your doorstep either with a bong or a shovel, and i'm not sure if rookie can handle all that. he's a good friend, sure, but one that gaz hope that won't influence rookie too much because what is he going to do with not one but two soap at the barracks?
that being said, i think that soap treats rookie like somewhat of a younger sibling that he gets to pick on from time to time, but in a nice way. like he'd wear their stuff that he found on the laundry, strutting a booty shorts (and killing it) while he makes some coffee for himself as rookie hunts his head for sports since all their clothes get stretched because of him. or the one that tells them that price likes spicy in his sandwich causing rookie to witness price choke on a sub slathered with hot sauce, getting them in trouble. he takes advantage of their naivety in a funny way and he teaches them weird things. definitely gets him in trouble with ghost though because of that.
price ⇄ rookie
now don't come at me for being so overrated, but i see price as a father figure. if activision don't want me to commit fatherless behavior, then they probably shouldn't make him so dad material in the first place. that being said, i like to think that when price sees rookie's files and do a small "interview" with the lad, he feels like he was responsible for a new teammate. like mama hen finding a kitten and taking care of it like a chick.
he understands that rookie is very, very new to everything, and that's saying it lightly. being the youngest of the group, an immigrant, not to mention very naive made him pity the newbie, which of course made him go "dad mode" and teach them things from time to time. he has definitely been called "dad" by accident a few times by rookie, but he didn't seem to mind. didn't seem to enjoy the fact that soap's influencing them to act up too at times.
ghost ⇄ rookie
now ghost is my favorite (obviously), so this might be long. in general, ghost didn't like how inexperienced rookie is. they're in 141, working as an sas soldier, and they're going to fumble on their guns like an idiot?
preposterous, why did laswell let them in the team?
it's not like he has any say in it, and unfortunately he had to mentor them and make sure they're doing a good job (read: babysitting, as he would say), and it didn't make him feel better about it. sometimes i want to see him just grab the poor newbie and just scream at their face like "what do you want!? i can't believe someone is this bloody fucking incompetent, you might as well be a sea cucumber!" like this man would not hesitate to insult the newbie to the point that they're crying.
and he should be. he's not going to put his life in the hands of some dumbass who can't shoot right half the time.
of course, it'll take a long, long time for him to acknowledge their skill, even getting a small "passable" from him is worth celebrating. literal years to be close to him, share the fact that they're both fatherless people who used to live in an abusive household and maybe he'll start to acknowledge them (anything that's beside work ofc). little affirmation that they've gotten this far somehow even after such horrible things happening to them.
i only ever pair rookie with ghost and soap (or both of them together as a throuple) romantically, gaz is more platonic and price is more fatherly.
i know this is a different post from what i normally would post but if you're all interested in getting to know rookie more, feel free to interact. my askbox are open for requests or something a bit more casual, don't be shy. i don't bite.
#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#cod#call of duty self insert#call of duty oc#cod oc#cod self insert#self insert#yumejoshi#yume#yumeship
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Sleepover
Asmo x MC
Fluff + Angst (asmo talks a bit about life after he fell and moving into the HoL)
Some suggestive remarks (cause it's asmo)
G/N Reader, 2nd person.
unfinished due to pure laziness and lack of ideas
𝘏𝘦𝘺, 𝘔𝘊!
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵?
𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘖𝘒 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦!
You open the text box, and write your response.
𝘚𝘶𝘳𝘦.
You respond, you see the bubbles indicating he's typing again.
𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵!
𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘶𝘱 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘭.
You grab your pillows, and a few blankets and things you'd need for a sleepover, and walk to his room.
He opens the door as soon as you prepare to knock, "You're here!" He plants a light kiss on your cheek, leading you inside. "Yeah I'm here. But LISTEN, no funny business. Just a sleepover. Okay?" "Aww! You just took away my poison!" Asmo whines, but agrees never the less. While his original plans for the sleepover were cancelled, he could still have some fun. "Ooh! We should get matching nails!" He shows you a photo on his D.D.D. of pink and red pattern nails, with the letter "A" on the ring finger. "Why is there an 'A' written on their ring finger?" You ask. "Oh! I think it's because the idea was to put the initial of someone who means the world to you!" Asmo smiles, "Soooo, I guess I'll see an A on your finger?" You smirk. "Hmmm.. Maybe an M?" You see his face drop. "Kidding." "Good!" His face lights up again as he goes over to his nail polish box, and grabs the needed materials. He walks back over to you, and pulls up a chair between a small desk. He grabs your hand and hums as he files your nails. He grabs the nail polish and gets to work. A few minutes of silence go by, before you speak up. "When did you start, y'know.. painting your brothers nails? And, your own?" "...After we fell, you know how we were at the demon lords castle for a bit, while he figured out what to do with us?" "Mhm." "Well, painting my nails and theirs were the way we could cope with boredom. Of course, since Satan was just born then, he was an angry ball of wrath. I did his nails while he slept, hehe. But, we could cope. It was basically a bonding moment. When we moved into the House of Lamentation, it... it was basically the same. It was a routine. We each had our own ways to cope with the.. grief. Only Beel, Belphie, and Lucifer saw Lilith like that. Me, Levi, and Mammon... Gosh... We could only hear how bad it was. I had protected Lilith a number of times during the war, along with Levi. Mammon was in charge of sending messages. It was scary. I remember when we had all met up, Mammon was the first to realize what was wrong. 'Where's Lilith?' He had asked, Lucifer had to break the news to us. Levi went off, he said it felt like another wound had stabbed him, straight through the heart. He was fresh with grief, of losing his home, and now he'd learnt he'd just lost his sister. His *only* sister. I wasn't angry, I didn't know how to feel, painting my nails calmed me. It made me think I was back in the Celestial Realm. The habit just kind of, stuck." Asmo fell silent after that, you didn't know what to say. "I'm.. glad you trust me enough to tell me that." You gave a reassuring smile, squeezing his hand, 3 times. It was a habit you had with the brothers. It was basically a comforting thing to do to them. If they were stressed, sad, angry. It had no real meaning, it just, calmed them down. "Thanks dearie." He wrote the final last touch on your nails, "A" written on your ring finger.
#unfinished#asmodeus x mc#obey me#obey me x reader#obey me swd#obey me!#my fic#fanfiction#not finished#adhd wont let me finish#bored of this fic
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Potions
Does anyone still write for Draco Malfoy?
Draco Malfoy x (Female) Reader
Desc: Reader spends a lot of time talking about Draco with her friends, so she finds a way to hang out with him.
Warnings: uh like kinda fluff at the end? Pansy Parkinson? Idk
Draco and I have been close since we were sorted into Slytherin years ago, and recently the time we spent together felt full of tension, and maybe its one sided, but I was starting to feel for him romantically.
I knew that Pansy liked Draco, and since she was my best friend I obviously kept that information very private and to myself. Of course I would never tell Pansy, I liked Draco, but I did tell Blaise. The three of us have been friends since first year, and more recently, Pansy joined us because she didn't talk to us until the past 2 months.
It was about 9 pm, we were all sitting in the common room. Pansy was trying to make conversation with Draco. Enzo, Theo and Adrien all sat having their own talk. I sat with Blaise as he told me about this blonde Ravenclaw girl he wanted to take out, whose name he wouldn't disclose. We then started getting into the conversation of relationships, and who we think would look good together. Blaise was surprisingly good at finding romantic couples out of people, but maybe that was because he was observant.
"Okay Mr. Match maker who would you set up with... Looney Lovegood!" I ask thinking i finally found someone he wouldn't be able to think of a match for.
"She's not looney, don't call her that, she's quite nice actually, and I'm not sure I could match her with someone. Luna likes to focus on her studies, and research." Blaise said in a very matter-of-fact manner.
"I knew that she would stump you! and since when have you been paying attention to Luna so much?" I say exaggerating her name. Blaise stares at me blankly, and suddenly i am reminded of the mysterious Blonde Ravenclaw.
"You have a thing for Luna Lovegood!" I practically yelled as i made the connection, Draco looking over with a raised eyebrow pointed at Blaise inferring that this would definitely be brought up later.
"Ooh Blaise wants the nerdy chics!" Adrien laughs from across the room causing the rest of us to burst out in laughter.
After the room settles down, Blaise looks back at me and speaks loudly, "What about Draco, who do you think would be a nice fit for him?" Blaise says with a smirk on his face, knowing that Draco is now overhearing this conversation. I look over at the Blonde haired boy and it is as if I can see his ears tune into our conversation completely. Of course I'm not gonna give my genuine answer, which would be me, of course, but with Draco and Pansy in the room i'm not willing to take that risk.
"Well, I think Draco is... He's better alone, he doesn't really seem like dating material. However we still should take into account all the girls he brings back to his dorm room every Friday. That's gotta be some type of credit." I say in a sarcastic tone trying to bring the conversation back between Blaise and I.
"Every Friday night is pretty Specific, y/n how much attention are you paying to our dorm's visitors, huh?" Blaise continues the joke, taunting me with the information i gave him weeks ago.
"Well y'know with Theodore Nott in that room of course I'm going to pay attention." i look over giving him a wink, as he sits by the fireplace and looks up from his conversation with Adrien and Enzo.
"You're always welcome over, y/n!" Theo looks at me and winks back. I smile and look back at Blaise who is looking at Draco, who of course is staring at me. His eyebrows raised in an 'oh yeah?' type manner, but no words come from his mouth.
The night continues and we eventually all come together, discussion, jokes, and insults, flying across the room as we laugh and poke fun of each other.
"Can you guys keep it down, im trying to sleep! Enzo yells from a couch in the corner of the room.
"Shut the fuck up Enzo!" Draco shoots back, as he stands up, and we all start to get up and gather our things, realizing we should probably go to sleep as well.
Pansy and I go back to our dorm, where the other girls are already sleeping, I get into the shower and wash my hair, and my body, and then start my face care after getting out.
While getting into my pajamas, I cant help but think about Draco, and what it would be like if we were dating. I somehow convinced myself to go talk to him, finding myself at his door. in my pajamas.
I knock 3 times, and Theo comes to the door.
"Taking up my offer princess?"
"Who is it?" I hear Draco and Blaise say at the same time.
"Sorry Theo, but I'm actually here to talk to Draco." I say apologetically, knowing Theo's just joking anyways.
"Draco you've got a visitor!" He calls to Draco as he opens the door all the way and moves over allowing me to see into the room.
I stand in shock when my eyes find Draco. He was shirtless, and his hair was wet, as if he had gotten out of the shower. I've seen Draco shirtless before, but he must be working out lately because his abs, and arms were more defined and muscular than I remember.
"Y/n you can come in, it's rude to stand in doorways." Blaise says laughing at me. I make my way into the room and sit on Draco's bed as I've done countless times before.
"So what'd you want to talk to me about?" Draco asks, standing next to me.
"Well first I want you to put on a shirt, but secondly, I need your help with potions." I lied realizing that I didn't want to make any moves on Draco while our friends were in the room.
"Why didn't you ask while we were in the common room, we're all about to go to sleep." Blaise complains turning off his lamp.
"Because I was so intrigued by hearing about your not so secret crush on Luna." I quickly retorted, causing Theo to come out of the bathroom, and bombard Blaise with questions.
"So what are you confused about?" Draco said putting on a shirt, and pulling out his desk chair to sit across from me.
"Well firstly-" I started
"ZABINI HAD A WET DREAM ABOUT LUNA!" Theo shouted, jumping on top of Blaise, which caused them to start arguing very loudly.
"Can we go some place else, i can't hear myself over the children in the room." I said raising my voice. Draco nodded in response, grabbing his binder and pencil.
"Sorry mommy." Theo shouted on my way out, while throwing a pillow at Blaise's face.
Draco exited behind me, and we went to sit back in the common room, in front of the fireplace.
"So like I was saying, yesterdays homework isn't making sense, and our quiz tomorrow is really stressing me out because i don't know what directions go with which spells." I quickly made up realizing that I for some reason was subconsciously continuing this lie as an excuse to talk to him alone.
"Well for all the potions you need to remember the ratios," Draco pulled put a blank paper and his notes from class, beginning to make a diagram. "For these potions the ratio is one to four to three, and you set up the math like this..."
He continued to talk and at some point i stopped listening and watched his face glow from the fire in front of us. The way his nose and jawline were even more defined. The way his eyes slightly squinted when he worked out the math. He's so pretty.
"Y/n are you even listening to me?" Draco says waving his hand in front of my face.
"uh yes I'm listening, and it makes a lot more sense now." I say in a convincing tone that hopefully he'll believe.
"Are you tired? You seem tired. Maybe we can work on this in the morning, yeah?" He asked looking at me with a concerned look on his face.
"Yeah that works, thank you." I say with a genuine smile. He stands up and reaches his hand out to lift me up with a small smile on his face as well. We stand there, neither of us wanting to leave. Our hips felt to be connected to a string as I couldn't bring myself to just walk away.
I took a step closer and got up on my tiptoes, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.
"Goodnight Draco." I whispered, as I started to walk away. He grabbed my arm and spun me back around.
"I think you missed, pretty girl." Draco smiled Pulling me into him, making our bodies crash together. He threw his binder onto the couch, and our lips collided, exploring unknown territories and starting unknown boundaries. He pulled away from the kiss, out of breath. grinning.
"What?" I laughed at him
"We don't have a potions quiz tomorrow. You set me up!" he sounded surprised. He held my face in his hands and kissed me again.
"Goodnight pretty girl." he said with a smile as he gathered his things and walked back to his dorm.
#draco x y/n#draco x reader#draco malfoy#harry potter#slytherin#luna blaise#blaise zabini#theodore nott
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okie, time to talk about The Witcher season 3 part 1
To be honest, I've been having trouble figuring out what to even say about S3, because it takes longer to unpack what they're doing wrong than it takes them to do it.
How do you formulate a coherent critique of something that's not? How do you isolate the mistakes so you can discuss them when everything is a mistake? "This plot point was executedly badly, but it was also a misbegotten idea that they shouldn’t have done in the first place"?
¯\_(ツ)_/¯
--
So I tend to conceptualize writing as operating on two levels -- the macro/story/structural level, and the line/dialogue level.
On a macro level, are events linked by cause and effect instead of just Happening? Is there a point to the things that happen? Do characters behave in alignment with their personality and motivations? Is it clear what the stakes are?
(In fairness, S2 was far worse on that front than S3 -- the crowning example being the time they moved Yennefer from one setpiece to the next by having her literally fall down a manhole. Cue some pasted-on drama where an extra gets eaten by a sewer monster and then never mentioned again, and what the helllllll was the point of that detour? o_O)
On a line level, does the dialogue flow naturally, one person's line following from what was said before? Does the dialogue successfully evoke the audience-reaction that it's supposed to, is it funny when it's supposed to be funny, profound when it's supposed to be profound? Does it sound like something that would actually come out of a human being's mouth?
Shadowhunters was probably the worst show I ever watched in terms of writing that failed on both fronts, but TWN is a close second.
--
If this were a fic I was beta-reading, I would ask the writer, What's the story you're trying to tell?
Because this happens to all of us sometimes -- we get too bogged down in the nuts-n-bolts of the story action, what’s happening from scene to scene, and lose sight of the forest for the trees. A good editor (or beta reader) can help you keep an eye on the big picture, and make sure that all the story elements are working in service to your goal, that you're not wandering off track into something irrelevant, or worse, accidentally undermining your own message.
I don't think the writers at TWN know what their story is. Sure, they know the events that happen, but there's no sense of why, neither within the story world, nor why this is a story worth telling in the first place. It feels like an adaptation in the worst sense of the word, hitting predetermined story beats simply because they’re obliged to, because that’s what’s in the source material, not out of any natural plot progression.
With S3, they clearly wanted it to be a high political drama, a web of intrigue!! full of shifting alliances and backstabbing and clever people playing four-dimentional chess, etc, but it was done without any understanding of what politics actually is -- ie, people with conflicting goals attempting to gain and leverage power to achieve those goals. So there's spies and ~scheming~ and assassinations, but no sense of what these people hope to get from it all. You can't create conflicts of interest if you don't know what anyone's interests are.
(And to be blunt, these writers aren't clever enough to write clever characters.)
--
The one instance of motivation & conflict done well in S3 -- and hands-down the most compelling part to me -- was Jaskier promising Phillippa et al that he would deliver Ciri to them, if they could kill Rience.
Yessssssss.
Was he lying? No idea, doesn't matter. It's a delicious conflict of interest for him either way.
Because Jaskier's friends are, quite frankly, failing him at that point -- Geralt and Yennefer are preoccupied with the threat that Rience poses to Ciri, which is understandable, but they show a breathtaking lack of concern for the threat Rience poses to Jaskier. Y'know. The guy that actually got tortured by him last season.
(Jesus wept, they make him be bait for Rience, and brush off his anxieties like they're not even listening. They treat Jaskier like he's acceptable collateral damage for Ciri's sake; like her safety matters, but his doesn't.)
(I'm not sure whether the writers meant to make Geralt and Yennefer come off as bad friends? o_O But if they didn't, then playing bait needed to have been Jaskier's idea. Not something they forced him into -- his idea, even though he's terrified out of his mind by Rience, but he's brave enough to stand up and offer it anyway, because it's the only way to protect the people he cares about, and he's the only one who can do it.)
So yeah -- I don't fucking blame him for taking the initiative to look out for his own interests, since it's clear that no one else is going to.
And why shouldn't Ciri go to Redania? If Dijkstra & company can kill Rience, does that not demonstrate both their ability and willingness to protect her? Sure, Geralt's not going to like the idea, and he'll be mad at Jaskier, but what else is new, right? And wouldn't Ciri be so much safer in a fortified castle with an army between her and Nilfgaard, instead of constantly on the run, with mercenaries never more than a step behind them? There's enough logic to the idea that Jaskier could talk himself around to it, while still believing that he's doing what's best for everyone.
It's a potential betrayal, or something that Geralt might view as one, but there are very good reasons for Jaskier to feel and act as he does, even as it puts them at cross-purposes. And that is what well-rooted conflict looks like -- it emerges organically from characters wanting something specific, and wanting it strongly.
But what does Dijkstra want? What does Phillippa want? "Power"? What does that mean, in this context? What do they want to accomplish with said power? When the Brotherhood comes into conflict with the Lodge of Sorceresses, what are they actually fighting over?
Writing a political drama requires understanding both the personal and the political stakes for everyone involved, and the writers just didn't -- didn't appear to even know that that was something missing from their story.
In trying to mimic the political intrigues they'd seen in other fantasies, they transplanted the stems and leaves, all the visible trappings of cloak-and-dagger, but didn't realize that they were leaving the roots behind, and that the roots are what makes the whole thing HAPPEN.
(Awkward metaphor, but you get what I mean.)
--
So yeah.
Like I said, it's hard to figure out where to even begin an analysis of this show, because it's such an incompetent mess on every level. (How do you say where it went wrong, when it’s never gone right?) I'd be fine with judging the show on its own terms, not on a rubric of fidelity to the source material, but I swear to god, half the time I can't assess how it's doing because I can't tell what it's trying to do.
Are Yen and Geralt supposed to be bad friends to Jaskier, and frankly embarrassing role models to Ciri with their juvenile silent treatment of each other even when they're living in the same house?
Is Dijkstra supposed to be a brilliant Machiavellian chessmaster, or is he supposed to be unhinged and delusional?
Is Radovid supposed to be a weirdo who perpetually looks like he's about to burst into tears? (Why are his eyes so MOIST???) Is it supposed to be a red flag when Jaskier says he’s not in the mood to perform for Radovid’s salon and Radovid makes him do it anyway? Or is that what the writers think cutesy romcom behavior is?
idk, man! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Anyway, I'm going to wrap it up there, even though I've got a lot still kicking around in my head. But y’all should like, send me asks n stuff, because it’s a lot easier to write a response to specific questions/prompts than to try to cover everything in one post.
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How to beat writer's block
Here are 9 tips to get yourself out of a nasty writer’s block (y'know, other than the obvious ADHD issues that I also struggle with).
Causes
Fear – This usually revolves around publicizing your work, being rejected by publishers, or the general criticism you can receive from your peers. Being nervous or afraid of these things is absolutely normal, but it becomes a serious issue when it prevents you from sharing your work. There are always going to be trolls, just remember when they come out the taunt you that they’re just jealous because you have potential and they’re stuck living under their toll bridges. Leave them there and pay them no mind.
Self-criticism – I’m guilty of this one so I’ll be as fair as I can without being a hypocrite about it. We are our own worst critics. It only gets harder to view ourselves as professional or avoid that nasty old imposter syndrome when we compare our own work to that of other successful authors. Stop that! Keep writing and honing your skills and one day it might be okay to compare in this way, but until then this process is just being unfair to yourself. These authors have been writing for years and practice so consistently that they’ve earned that best-seller title. You’ll get there, just try to stay out of your own head until then.
Perfectionism – This one is a little harder to get out of because we always want to do good and put our best work forward, however, this can often lead to us overthinking the structure of a single sentence and cause so much time to be wasted just trying to make it perfect. Here’s the thing though, nothing is perfect, and here’s why… No matter how well you do your work will be perceived differently by your readers individually. Everyone is different and you can’t please them all, so do your best to make sure you are happy with it and you’ll likely have others who enjoy it as well.
Pressure – This is mainly due to deadlines. Whether they’re set by teachers, publishers, heck even if they’re set by you. This one isn’t so easy to overcome as the closer you get to that deadline the more the anxieties start to set in.
Tips
Now that we’ve covered the causes, here are the 9 ways to creep your brain out of your writer's block.
Re-read – One method that helps me out of my (book-related) writer’s block is to go back a chapter or so and re-read some of my older materials. More times than not, this gets the gears going again and places my thought process back into the mindset I was in when writing it.
Take a break – Sometimes you sit there writing for so long that your brain starts to lag and your blood flow slows down, stopping you from refreshing your thought process. A good way to fix this is to take a small break and do something else. Get up, stretch, get some water, and maybe even go for a walk (I know, I know. The “walk” thought made you cringe, but it can really help). If those things sound too effortful, just switch to a different creative subject like trying a writing prompt or writing a little poem. Either way, sometimes the brain is just looking for some inspiration, and staring at the same page for hours isn’t gonna cut it.
Tunes – Every once in a while I’ll have myself a nasty struggle with trying to set a scene. I find that a cheeky way to help this issue is to make a playlist of songs that put me in the mindset of the scene I’m trying to build. For example, when I’m trying to write something sad or traumatic that happened to a character I’ll play some sorrowful tunes to get the right ambiance. The same goes for fighting scenes. I’ll play many upbeat and catchy songs to try and get a good idea of that half-cocked adrenaline feel so I can write the fighters reacting to one another effectively.
Quiet time – Sometimes too much noise or too many distractions can cut into your writing time, making your mind as blank as the page you’re sitting in front of. If so, maybe try and go somewhere quiet and avoid external distractions so you can write in peace.
Perfectionism – Yes, you read that right. We circled right back into perfectionism, but hear me out. If you’re sitting there on that same sentence because you can’t decide the best way to structure it just make a note of where you are and keep writing past it. You’ll have time to fix that when you re-read or edit your work. Wracking your brain about it now is just slowing your progression.
Outline – One thing I find incredibly helpful is to outline or write an overview of your plot line, subplots, and where you want it to end up. I know, everyone wants to be a pantser, but not everyone can do this effectively without wasting years of their time stuck on the same chapter or even worse yet, leaving so many plot holes that even an acrobat would trip over them. I spent 3 years trying to write my book and when I finally gave in and wrote up an outline I had it done in 24 weeks. Don’t be a me.
Happy habit – Another cheeky tip I used to help myself out was to create a productive habit out of writing. The rule was 1500 words a day, and eventually, it started to get easier and easier for me to get the words out of my brain and onto the page. Your word count does not need to be this high, just set a comfortable goal and get to it!
Read something – No, not your own stuff. Read something else that you find interesting. More times than not this can inspire your gears to start spinning so you can get back to writing your own works.
Play – Alright, so at this point you might have just been working for too long. Stop that! A big old work binge can be great from time to time but just remember, all work and no play made Johnny a dull boy. Don’t be Johnny! Go have some fun and get that tension out so you can be your best you! <3 Hopefully, this helps those of you out there who like me, spend way too much time just wishing the brain would shut up and write things.
#writers block#writers and poets#writer tips#write better#writerslife#writing community#amwriting#author#writing advice#writing troubles#writeblr#creative writing#writing#writing tumblr
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I really feel like Lawrence would fucking hate my ocs.
Tdlr: I really just started thinking about things while reading your blog. (it's a great blog btw!) So, I told you about my musings.
Ellington- Cause he's 1. too old to be his kid (He's in that 25 rn.)
2. Cause he's already famous, his disappearance would be noticed.
3. He's a busy-body, always out doing something.
4. Ellington is kinda assertive
5. Ellington vapes. (Not often but still!)
He wouldn't be interested unless it somehow leaked, he was struck by lightning twice. {That's about to be a bitch to write!}
Rex-Cause while he's a work-a-holic, he still is too old(25). He's also previously had a wife who's deceased. So, like I think Lawrence would feel too connected emotionally.
Also, Rex is famous too. Just like Ellington they're in a deathcore band.
I can't really see how he'd get along with them unless Lawrence was maybe older. But even then, I feel like Lawrence would be that crotchety (grumpy) old man.
Idk, seeing the Luca & Lawrence story made me really start thinking.
Also, they both dress far more revealing than Marshal. I'm talking them wide ass arm holes, no sleeves and ripped jeans. Mainly darker colors.
Also, while Rex might be receptive to the babying in small small amounts, Ellington wouldn't even like the nicknames. {Imagining Larence calling him Elly in a soft voice makes me want to cry & die from laughter though cause while others typically call him that I imagine it wouldn't be reciprocated. y'know?}
Thinking Rex's quiet nature and him being busy-body in the way of being a work-a-holic would make Lawrence consider it.
Also, I think Lawrence might be touched that Rex while still missing his wife (Middle school besties -> high school sweethearts.) moved on from that life and chooses solitude or quiet nights in with his best friend. (He'd totally buy into their dating rumors until Rex got good and fed up. Then he'd be like oh, so they aren't dating but in denial.
(Canonically they're just very affectionate best friends.)
(1/2)
Sorry if this like makes no sense I am not good at concisely putting things. This is just me thinking too deeply. I just wanted to re state that this is just me thinking and not me writing anything..I think you know what I mean but I wanted to just put that disclaimer cause I haven't ever submitted this kinda thing before.
I think Lawrence would like your OC’s, he’d just view it as a challenge to break them down, and though he can get impatient, he would think it’d be all worth it in the end.
Personally I think Lawrence would take a heavier liking to Rex, but I could still view both of them as potential kidnapping material!
The fact of being 25 would also not be too much of a bother on Lawrence, since current Nathan is also 25 and it doesn’t bother him too much. It’s all about the “mental age” to him. 
That’s why Nathan’s anger and stubbornness are seen as childish traits to Lawrence, which is what makes him feel parental, which I think he might see with Ellington (or even Rex). 
I think I could see him wanting both of them, but that’s mainly if they form a connection with him and show vulnerability around him (whether they mean to or not).
Some other things I’d like to add is, Lawrence would hate the fact Ellington vapes, but Nathan smoked, so he’d try to look past the vaping. He has a savior complex, so he’d view it as “saving him from himself”.
Your OCs sound awesome, by the way!! From the way you described both of them, they sound so cool! Feel free if you ever want to share your works with me, privately or not :D
If you decide to write something with Lawrence in it with your OC’s, please don’t be afraid to!! Don’t even be afraid if it’s a little ooc, write him how you perceive him! 
And if not, I still really enjoyed reading this!!
#answered ask#lawrence oc#thank you for sharing your musings with me!!#again your ocs sound awesome!!
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name : rian!
pronouns : he/him :)
preference of communication : discord! always discord, i constantly forget tumblr ims exist, and on discord i can remark things as unread, so i don't lose the notification if i can't reply at the time, which helps when i'm burnt out or if my attention span is particularly bad that day.
most active muse : leon & only leon these days!
experience / how many years : i've been writing on tumblr since late 2018! it feels like way longer, i started writing on tumblr when red dead redemption 2 was released and i was writing josiah trelawny while the game was actually still under embargo, scrambling to watch every new playthrough episode i could find while the fandom was setting up. i didn't actually play the game myself until it was released on pc in late 2019!
best experience : i had several really good experiences writing atlas/frank fontaine from bioshock in a western cusp-of-the-nineteen-hundreds american heartland verse, going into alot of topics like industrialism at that time, the american labour movement and american union history, strike tactics & the economics of greed. it was inspired alot from a show on the usa network called damnation that got cancelled, i did a ton of historical research and i mostly wrote with red dead redemption ii muses, did alot of worldbuilding with @sharp-teeth-and-wide-grins who is an excellent roleplay partner! i'm working on potentially setting up that verse again but from a different perspective for leon, because i miss it.
rp pet peeves : oh i have alot of opinions but i keep 'em to myself until you give me an opportunity. can't stand people getting cancelled for writing villains as the actual villains they are in canon, or characters generally as more complicated morally, especially when they're referencing content from the actual media and people are losing their minds because they're not the fandom expectation or easy ship material. so many people will have 'mun does not equal muse!!' in their carrds and byfs but will clutch their pearls if you even quote directly from source material, and then harass the fuck out of you, send hate anons, suicide bait, i mean we've all seen it happen or heard about it if it hasn't happened to us directly, definitely so if you're on this site for more than a year, so you know what i mean. i don't like people looking to my writing for moral directives or sifting through all my content to glimpse some kind of agenda, i think that's chronically online behavior. obviously it's different if someone is writing pedophilia or something but i just feel like i shouldn't have to make that disclaimer at all, it feels like common sense but if i don't say something i run the risk of someone messaging me like 'so you support so & so? kill yourself!' y'know.
fluff, angst, or smut : i like all of these in moderation so long as there's depth to it further than just being fluff, angst, or smut for no cause, you know? if it's not signature to our muses, if it doesn't fit narratively, and is just feel-good content, i just get bored, and having any of this in back to back to back to back threads of just one roleplay genre is like being smothered to death with chocolate cake, i only like a little bit once in a while otherwise i get sick of it, y'know.
plots or memes : plotting 100%, but even though i heavily prefer plotting, i don't often have the energy for it? even if i really like the other muse's portrayal. or, alternatively, i will do all of this plotting in my head, and just like. never act on it, or bring it to my roleplay partner, due to this weird ocd-adjacent anxiety symptom i'm trying to break now that i have meds to help me out, where i make alot of social rules and conditions for myself that just overall completely pens me up and isolates me. i don't know what it's called but i've just always had that and it gets in the way of what i love doing all the time.
long or short replies : i don't have a reliable perception of long or short replies! i'm happy with two paragraphs but i'll reply with like six or eight paragraphs average because once i get over my anxiety there's really nothing else stopping me and i like run-on sentences and exposition and scenery and internal monologues!! and i know it's not always appropriate sometimes too, like if we agree on a shorter thread for less pressure, but i've always had a hard time knowing where to stop with anything, i have no perception of an appropriate point to cut off? i need like. a reverse nanowrimo.
time to write : apparently 11:00 pm - 6 am est, since that's when i'm most productive lately.
are you like your muses : god i hope not. i did choose to write leon as gay though because, i'm gay myself and it was more comfortable for me, even though he's pretty heterosexual in canon, but that's less from me wanting to relate with him on a point, and more because i have had some really uncomfortable and bad experiences shipping with female muses who didn't respect boundaries in the past. whether that's projecting attraction on me as a person instead of my muse, or wanting me to write noncon or torture porn, and finding a way to take it out on me when i said no or tried to let them down easy, and it's one of those things where looking back on the memory of it gives me the same tight-chested feelings as alot of people get when they've been involved in intense drama and callouts and stuff. just can't do it anymore! maybe that'll change someday ^^
tagged by: @blitzkriegers & @omniterror thamk u both for tagging :)
tagging: @ubcs, @sinibell, @valour-bound, @mycelae
#there might have been more folks who tagged me but i can't remember...#» 🕊️ ﹕ chris redfields arms are bigger than my future. (ooc.) ❧#» 🕊️ ﹕ over here ，stranger. (dash games.) ❧
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Power. Fear. (Soft PG spoilers!~)
(CW for self-harm)
Nightmare sat in their cell, a makeshift knife she'd scavenged dragging along the skin of one arm. Not deep enough to cause permanent damage. No, nothing more than some scarring. Blood welled up and ran down her arm, vibrant red and pooling in her hand.
One arm was done. The other was on its way. She could feel her powers returning, bit by bit, but she needed some help. That pesky seal Crescendo had put on her...
Well. It was amateur. If she had access to all her materials, she could have it broken in an hour. Instead, here she was, a week later, carving sigils into flesh. She'd done well enough at hiding it thus far. For that, she was proud.
She remembered them. Of course she remembered them; How couldn't she? Father had taught her well.
Slowly, he worked into the night. Every line had to be perfect. A single flinch, and his project would be ruined. They found themselves grateful, now, that they were used to pain. It was an old friend by this point, family since childhood.
Another line complete. More blood pooling--It was becoming unmanageable, and he couldn't allow it to go to waste. No. His shirt was already off, fingers dipping into the blood and gently wiping some across his chest. Where he could not carve his spell, he would write. Anything was material for his work.
Another line in blood, finishing a second rune. A third, and a fourth. Even at the best of times, she wasn't certain what she thought of her appearance underneath the cloak, but now wasn't the time to contemplate that. Now was the time for action. Although...
"A flatter fuckin' chest would help a lot with this, y'know. All this otherworldly power, can't magick myself up a goddamn binder." He grumbled, but still made use of the canvas he had. Eventually, he ran low on his ink, and began to write upon his arm once more.
Every time his powers squirmed in their place, he felt them growing just slightly stronger. If he was right, this spell he wove upon his own body would act as a makeshift Ak'tarna, turning him into a sort of X'yltchek--A conduit for power. Giving him *something* to work with.
It hadn't been forced to use such primitive methods since it was a child. Another rune, inscribed upon his skin. He took solace in the fact that the scars couldn't be healed by AEGIS--In the worst case scenario, they couldn't ruin his work even if he was caught.
If he had his choice? He'd have some dyes to paint his skin with, or at least a needle to create a tattoo.
At this rate, it'd only take another couple weeks to finish his work... Already, though, he could feel primitive power returning. Enough to set his work into stone for another day. Deep power coursed through his body, eventually settling to radiate on his newfound injuries. Two more lines had been added today. Fifteen more to go. He could only hope he didn't run out of space before his work was complete...
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About that Human Resources sequel
Human Resources was always supposed to get a sequel. Nothing too long or involved ‒ probably just a couple K's of epilogue-ish material, to share some ideas about how Nandor and Guillermo's relationship might progress from "well yes, we have had sex once" onwards to, y'know, wherever that goes.
So naturally, when I actually sat down to write the thing, it grew into something several hundred words longer than the original story. Honestly, I'm not even that surprised when this sort of thing happens anymore, and yet...
Anyway, said sequel is still another round of edits and some proper betaing short of being ready to actually post, but given that 1) I have been promising this damn thing long enough, and 2) it is close enough to done that I've already created the parent series for it on AO3 and everything, have a couple of preview scenes:
“As you know,” Nandor begins, sitting straight-backed in his customary chair like a monarch in the midst of a royal pronouncement, “on account of how it was all caught on film because you documentary people are now just leaving cameras around to record things in empty rooms for some reason – I and my familiar Guillermo had an encounter of an… intimate nature last night. On this very couch! And a bit up against the wall before that – but you know all this, you have all the footage and all that.
“Now, I am told that when this sort of thing happens between two people who live in the same house, and who have not done that sort of thing before in one of your documentary programs, it can be the cause of quite a lot of ex-cite-ment. So I would like to make it officially very clear that there is nothing for the getting excited about in this case! Yes, it happened – and a very good time was had, especially by Guillermo, because of course I am very good in bed – but it was mostly just a one-time kind of thing. We had our fun and all, but you must understand that it does not change anything between me and Guillermo. He is still the familiar, and I am still the vampire, even though now I have touched him on the peepee.”
“Oh my god, this changes everything,” says Guillermo, grinning in a helpless sort of way, like he couldn’t stop if he tried. “A week ago, I never even knew he was interested, and now – oh man. I guess I’d never even really thought this was possible, let alone that he might…” Sitting on his bed in his room, Guillermo is trying very hard to keep his voice to stage-whisper levels, without much success. “I know, I know – it was ‘just’ the one time, but some of the stuff he said to me, while we were… just, damn. This is serious!”
“Yes, certain things may have been said in the heat of the moment,” Nandor pronounces, “but I think we are all grown-ups here, and we understand that they do not necessarily mean anything. Maybe it will happen again sometime, since Guillermo has made us all aware that sex with familiars is an option which is back on the table for us vampires now. But it is never a good idea to let a familiar get too ‘familiar’ with that sort of special treatment, because then they get ideas above their station, and they start thinking they are too goodto clean anything that is not attached to you, and then you have to eat them and start all over breaking in a new familiar, and it is just so much trouble! No-one wants that, least of all Guillermo! So it was fun and all, but you should not go thinking it will be the sort of thing that is going anywhere.”
“…and this could just go anywhere!” says Guillermo, “Like, it’s still so new – it’s not like he’s…” he gives a nervous laugh, “not like we’ve even talked about it yet, but I just…” He glances briefly at his phone, and nearly does a double take, “I just need to get some sleep – I’ve got like four hours of daylight left before he’s… I mean, before I’m on duty again. Okay.” Looking over the camera, he asks, “Can we wrap this up?”
A brief montage shows Guillermo turning off lights and turning in for the night – or for the afternoon, as the case may be.
Come sunset, though, he’s up and ready again as usual – if a little baggy-eyed, having obviously been too excited to get much sleep. He gives the camera a slightly-nervous smile at Nandor’s door.
“Haven’t been this excited to go in here since I started this job,” he tells the camera. “But I don’t really know where he’s… you know, what he’s thinking this is, yet, so I’m just gonna play it cool – go in there and… do my job.” Guillermo self-consciously straightens his shirt, and then finally reaches for the doorknob.
Inside, he dutifully checks the curtains, and then takes his place by the coffin as Nandor wakes.
“Guillermo?” Nandor calls, voice a little muffled as he opens his coffin from within, “are you there?” When his eyes fall on his waiting familiar, however, something happens to them – Nandor freezes, mouth slightly agape.
“Good evening, Master,” says Guillermo, largely oblivious as he holds out a hand to help his master out of his coffin. “What can I… hey!”
He cuts off as Nandor bats the proffered hand away and grabs him by the front of the shirt, lifting him bodily off the floor with supernatural strength. Before Guillermo has time for more than a startled yelp, he’s been dragged right into the coffin, on top of Nandor – the lid somehow, improbably, managing to slam shut over the both of them. That one, brief yelp remains Guillermo’s only objection – the noise he makes next suggests no objections to anything now happening inside.
After a moment, the coffin itself begins faintly rocking from side to side.
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Erin tell me the thing. The representation/trope thing. Tell me.
AIGHT SO. There's quite a few things I wanna see more of in media so here's some~
Something I'm putting as a main theme into Cast Long Shadows that I really enjoy writing is the pairing of neurodivergency and trauma. Like, thankfully more stuff these days includes multiple nd/nd coded characters that aren't there for token purposes, but it's not really present in more serious media. It can be profoundly traumatic to have a parent or society reject the fundamental way in which you experience the world, and even analogizing it seems like really good material for writing to me. But also positive rep or even subtle stuff is great too. TOH is doing a good job with that I think. but it would be cool to see it more, where characters that are nd are treated not as burdens or geniuses, their traits aren't mocked, but we just learn about how someone can experience existing a little differently. This is definitely not in reference to she-ra
Y'know what I wanna see less of? Redemption arcs. And somewhat related to that are brief trauma arcs. There's like a handful that I really do enjoy - there's the zuko classic, idk if peridot counted as redemption but I still feel like that was one of my favorite villain -> friend shifts I've seen, it felt much more human than a lot of other ones. But frankly if a character has done bad shit, yknow there's other things to do with them than redeem them to the people they directly hurt, particularly since these arcs feel more rushed and less genuine by the day. Related to that, rushed trauma arcs annoy the shit outta me. YES, ptsd can get better with time, but it's always with you. you don't give yourself a pep talk one day and suddenly you don't get the severe symptoms you were having a few hours ago. Either take your damn time and have care or just don't write a trauma arc. there is no such thing as a good and brief trauma arc.
REGARDING THESE TWO I'd like instead to see characters dealing with trauma their entire arc, which can be concluded with some amount of healing. Which refers to pretty much all of my characters who have trauma. As for redemption arcs, I'd really rather nastier bitches be cut out of their victims' lives. I wanna make a point of saying that they don't get to make everything about themself because they did shitty stuff. Nah cut that bitch off. let em die, let em move on and find happiness elsewhere, let em be sad in their basement idc. As for personal examples, I can say that in general i tend to avoid redemption arcs altogether and let people get what's coming to them, but that is also a big thing in Cast Long Shadows, deciding between reconciliation with those who have hurt you or saying "fuck off, you hurt me in a way you cannot even imagine. you have broken off a piece of me that i will never get back, it is not my responsibility to make you feel better about the pain you have intentionally caused".
MAN THIS ONE'S LONG AND IT'S ONLY TWO. kinda three ig. I also like characters slowly turning into monsters and tired depressed immortals, which can be found in most of my stuff too.
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