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melodrangea · 6 months

Note

I loved your nicknames headcanons so much 🥺Could I please have a Death the Kid in an enemies to lovers scenario where the reader is really laidback and chill. Kid hates how they never appear to take anything seriously on the surface, and the reader thinks he’s too uptight. The two eventually reach a mutual understanding that develops into a relationship

Tysm if you’re reading this!!

Of course my dear, and thank you so much!! 🫶🫶🫶

You didn’t specify a one shot or just headcannons so I hope headcannons are alright!!! :D

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Death the Kid w/ a Laidback S/O

-Kid would not BE ABLE TO STAND YOU at first

-he just can’t comprehend how you never take anything seriously, never study, always forget your homework etc

-AND YET YOU’RE STILL REALLY FREAKIN SMART

-you have the ability to just lay back and let most things roll do your shoulder while he just can’t

-and you aren’t exactly a huge fan of him either

-thinking he’s wayyy too uptight (which he is tbf)

-he’s always lecturing someone, everything needs to be perfect around him which you found to be a headache

-so safe to say you two don’t get along

-until the day you knocked over a painting in the hall

-Kid ofc is inconsolable as he stayed after school for several hours trying to fix and reposition the painting

-when he saw you coming out of the library, hair pulled back, jacket unbuttoned with a decently high stack of books in your arms, backpack swaying back and forth on your shoulder

You chuckled, tilting your head towards Kid and the painting. “Still fixing that painting? I’m surprised you didn’t use your Grim Reaper crap to fix it”

Kid rolled his eyes.“And I’m surprised you know where the library is, seeing as you never study”

You scoffed, “Atleast I work for it behind the scenes, school doesn’t come easy for people that aren’t golden-child pricks like you.”

“Being a grim reaper doesn’t give me enhanced intelligence, I do my fair share of studying like you.”

You paused, “you mean it isn’t easy for you either?”

“It’s easier sometimes but sometimes I don’t understand everything right away.”

“Huh, who knew?”

-From then on there was a change between you two, small at first

- like you not taking every opportunity to make some unsymmetrical, and him sometimes slipping you an answer you don’t know

-you two grew to have a very sarcastic academic rivalry, both pushing eachother to make the other better

-you didn’t know when you had developed a crush on Kid but it was hard not to, he was determined, driven, and handsome. And not as much of a snob as you previously thought

-then you ran into eachother at the library again, you were sat where Kid usually sits

He paused, noticing that his spot was taken

You saw him and start to stand up “sorry, you usually sit here don’t you?”

Kid shrugged, setting his books down across from you, “it’s fine, it’s just a chair. Is this one open?”

You cracked a small smile and gestured to the seat, “all yours.”

Kid sat down across from you, peering at the worksheet ahead of you. “Is that Professors Steins lab?”

“Yeah, I was just about to start it, is it hard?”

“I’m not quite sure, I haven’t started it yet.”

Your small smile turned into an evil grin, “you wanna race and see who finishes first?”

Kid looked at you, curiously. “And what do I get if I win.”

You shrugged, “whatever you want.” You pause, “within reason of course!”

“Seems acceptable, what would look like if you by some miracle beat me.” Kid said sarcastically.

You laughed, “hm, if I win. How about…you maybe take me out to lunch sometime?”

Kids eyes widened, his checks turning a bright pink in contrast to his fair monochromatic outfit.

You panicked, going to grab your paper to leave, “I’m sorry that was way to forward, I’m such an idiot, I’ll just go.”

Kid grabs your wrist, “no, it’s fine. And who said I didn’t agree to the terms anyways?”

It was your turn to blush. You nodded sitting back down. Kid grinned at you and picked up his pencil, starting his worksheet

You did the same, brain turned to mush, you frantically scratched at the paper

Mere ten minutes later Kid placed his pencil down, you had three questions left

You look down at his paper then at him, you frowned, tears of embarrassment working their way to your eyes. “You won Kid, what do you want?”

“Well If the offer still stands for lunch that would be what I want.”

Your heart skipped a beat, face turning bright red.

-from then on it only got better, the academic rivalry was still there but even more lighthearted then before

-Kid motivated you to work harder, and you pushed him to let loose sometimes, creating a healthy equilibrium for the both of you

-most of your dates are either study dates or out to small cafes

-he will refuse to take you back to the manor as long as he can (in fear of Liz and Patty mostly)

-but regardless of when you meet his weapons you’re just glad that Kid is your boyfriend and not another smart asshole

-It saves a lot of paintings from being destroyed

———————————————————————————

that’s all folks!

thank you anon for the request! I hope you enjoyed and if anyone else has requests or questions feel free to get in touch or submit an inbox!

-Melodrangea <3

#black star x reader #crona x reader #kilik rung #kilik x reader #soul eater #soul eater x reader #soul x reader #stein x reader #soul eater dtk #death the kid x reader #liz and patty

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

Text

The Rebound 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, body insecurity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Curtis Everett

Summary: after a divorce, you try to start over.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

A giggle crawls through you and nips at your ears. You can’t help your paranoia as every whisper prickles across your skin. Are they talking about you? Laughing?

Things were going pretty good. Your new regime of walking is going on day eight and you’ve cut back on your snacking. You're a bit sore from trying to jog along the path but that morning felt okay. Until you ventured down to the grocery store on your lunch.

Ugh. You should’ve just walked away. You shouldn’t have kept listening to the conversation. To that girls churlish laughter. And you surely shouldn’t have gone to peek at her. You could pretend she isn’t so much younger.

Her name is Greta. She spoke loudly about the sheriff, almost as if she knew you could hear. Maybe she did.

It’s over. Let it go. You keep telling yourself that. It’s not that you want Lee back.. You’d rather be alone than unwanted. It’s just that you were right. You were being traded in for a younger model.

Well, so much for starting over. You’re going to cry into a tub of ice cream tonight and catch up on reruns. You don’t have the energy to go out for your walk. You just want to lay face down and forget the world, or at least, Hammer Ford.

You wiggle a pen in the air and look around the library. It’s not very busy. It never is. This place is lifeless. Like everything else, it’s dull and empty.

“Um, excuse me,” a voice startles you from your self-pity. You make yourself smile as you face the man. It’s him, Curtis. “Return.”

He holds up the book he took out last week and sets it on the counter. You look at the cover and pick it up. You key it in as returned in the system.

“Thanks, you’re a fast reader,” you comment as you put it in the returns pile.

“Mm, sure,” he utters.

You turn back to him and stare awkwardly, unsure what to say. He hasn’t been unfriendly but he’s less than outgoing. You’re not sure what to say. He’s so stoic and stony, it makes you nervous.

“How was your—”

“Do you–”

He stops himself as you speak at the same time. You chuckle and wring your hands, “you go.”

“Yeah, uh,” his grey-blue eyes cling to you, “I was wondering if you had any suggestions.”

“Um, oh, yeah, of course, if that’s what you typically like to read, I can definitely make a few recommendations,” you breathe through your anxiety. You think he’s younger than you, maybe not by much but you definitely show your age a lot more obviously. “Have you tried any Dean Koontz? Odd Thomas is fascinating.”

“That ones my favourite,” he says.

“Heh, yeah, that was kind of obvious,” you sniff, “well, you can try Patrick Logan if you haven’t checked him out.”

“Logan,” he nods and looks around, “you think you could show me?”

“Right, yeah,” you step around and push through the door of the counter, “it should be with the usual stacks…”

You take him towards the fiction section at the rear and find the right shelf, “looks like we only have a few here… oh but the first one’s available.”

You slide out the book and offer it to him. He considers it and takes it, reading the back. His eyes flit up and startle you.

“Thanks, sounds good.”

“Great, well, er, I’ll let you look around. You know where I’ll be.”

“I’m good. I’ll take this one,” he affirms.

You nod and sidle past him. He follows you back to the counter and takes out his library card. You go through the usual routine as he stands silently across from you. You hand him his card back with the book.

“Hope you like it.”

He looks at it and tilts his head, “have a good night.”

“Yeah, good night.”

He turns and stalks away. He doesn’t lift his head as he stares down at the book in his hands. He passes through the library doors, a young teen dodging out of his way as he enters. You give a thoughtful hum. He’s a bit odd but who isn’t around here.

You go to the returns and start your closing duties. You zone out as you put the books on the cart, keeping them in order by which call number you’ll pass by first. A sharp woop makes you jump and look up as coloured lights flash outside the library.

Your moment of peace dissipates. The scene at the grocery store replays in your head. The laughter echoes in your ears. The silhouette striding up to the doors makes your heart drop. No, why?

Lee Bodecker enters, his thumb hooked in his belt. The sheriff. Your ex husband. You cringe as he approaches the counter.

“Evening, ma’am,” he drawls as he stops across from you, “you haven’t seen a kid in a hoodie, have ya?”

You swallow as you stare at him. He’s going to stand here and act like nothing happened. Like he doesn’t know you. You shake your head, “no, sir.”

His cheek dimples. A strike of anger zips up your spine. He used to stand just like that when you did something wrong. No, not wrong, just not the way he wanted it. And even then, you called him sir. He always had that smug smirk on his face.

“Mm, well, you see some twerp in a blue sweater and you give me a call. You still got my number, don’t ya?” He winks.

“Haven’t seen him,” you repeat, even as you recall the young kid who shied away from Curtis. The teenager couldn’t haven’t done anything that serious. “Good night, sheriff.”

“Night, honey,” he snickers.

You turn your back to him before he can see you crack. He’s mocking you. He struts around proudly, waving his dick around, gloating in the whispers. And you’re left to wallow in dejection. After all, he’s a man of the law, he’s untouchable. You’re the bitch who couldn’t do your damn duty.

#curtis everett #dark curtis everett #dark!curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #drabble #the rebound #au #backwoods au #snowpiercer #series

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wri0thesley · 2 months

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crush (mahito x reader, 1.5k)

cw: self-ship coded, reader is implied to be chubby, mahito is himself warning!!!. non-consensual voyeurism. reader is afab, wears a dress and makeup and lingerie, is in a relationship with nanami. not sfw

“What does it mean,” the curse asks Geto, his mismatched eyes far more serious than the man has ever seen them, “to want to touch somebody? Not just to change them; not just to feel the shape of their soul underneath the skin. But . . . just because you want to know what they feel like?”

Geto doesn’t respond for a moment. Mahito’s curiosity is certainly boundless; but there is usually a faint crook to the corner of his mouth, a laugh in his voice. He usually finds all of this - the little foibles of what it is to be human - amusing more than anything else. Geto - at least, the man wearing Geto’s face - thinks back on his own long life, and feels a smile tugging at his own not-really-his mouth.

“Mahito,” he says. “I think you have a crush.”

“A crush.” Mahito repeats the word; savours the syllable against his tongue and lips and teeth. It feels good there; at once vicious and fascinating. He knows the verb ‘to crush’ - imagines holding you against him until you squeak, until you go weak and your body turns to a boneless, helpless thing in his embrace.

“And if I want to know what they taste like?” He presses on. “Without biting into their flesh?” He pauses. “No. I just want to know what they taste like. I’d bite as hard as I could.”

Geto laughs again, a laugh too old for the man he’s pretending to be. Mahito is the most human-like curse he has ever met; he wonders, sometimes, how much easier it would have been to experiment if he had Mahito on side hundreds of years ago. Why, the curse even seems to have figured out ‘desire’ all on his own--

“Definitely a crush,” Geto hums. “Touching and tasting? Would you want to kiss them, too? Hold them? Fuck them?”

The question leaves Mahito silent for just a moment.

“Crush,” Mahito repeats to himself, instead of responding to Geto. It seems the conversation is over; Mahito turns away without answering any further, still murmuring that syllable under his breath. But he is smiling, now - the stitches on his face pulled taut, his eyes sparkling with what somebody optimistic might call ‘mischief’ and what somebody who understood Mahito would call ‘intent’.

He thinks about you again, later that night. In the privacy of his hammock, with a stack of aged, foxed books by his side as he flips through them. He’d taken them from a library - simply wandered in and picked a collection from the ‘romance’ shelves, intent on understanding what it is he feels stirring in his gut when he looks at you.

It had been an accident, the first time he had seen you. It had not been you he was following - but that 7:3 sorcerer, the one who had almost beaten him. A fascinating opponent, and a fascinating man - and Mahito was always interested in learning. He had stuck to the shadows, let his body change and ripple in order to camouflage himself, as he had followed Nanami Kento around the city.

And in a restaurant, Nanami sitting and checking his watch, he had seen you for the first time. You’d been babbling apologies about being late, a flurry and swirl of colour and motion in a dress the colour of melted butter, and Nanami had stood up to greet you and laid a hand on your shoulder and you had gone quiet, looking up at him with a smile on glossy lips until he had kissed you.

(Mahito had found a drugstore the next night; picked up lip glosses and swiped them over his own mouth, wondering what yours had felt like against Nanami’s. Intense, sticky flavour? Strawberries or pineapples or vanilla? He’d taken one that had shone like yours).

He had just wanted to know what fascinated the sorcerer about you at first; dissect him, work out his weaknesses. You had seemed so different from the stolid, stoic man that Mahito had encountered - and he had read so many books, of course, about human relationships and psyche and how like calls to like but also how opposites attract . . . He had thought of it as research.

Research to watch you go about your day to day life; grocery shopping and humming under your breath. You’d seen him, once - Mahito had felt himself tense, had grinned at you something sharp and inane and waited for you to pounce on him (a pity, he’d felt at the time, to shape you into something hideous when you were such a pretty thing to observe, like a bird in a glass cage)--

But you had smiled at him and tilted your head to the side and gone back to what you were doing. If Nanami had ever said anything to you about a curse with a patchwork face . . . clearly you had not remembered it. So you could see curses, at least (would see him, then, when he dug his fingers into the chub of your cheeks and they sunk into the soft flesh - when he harshly grabbed your chin and jolted it upwards so you could see how the light played over his stitches).

Research, then, to fade into the background and watch you with Nanami. The way he placed a hand around your waist and you seemed to go all soft and complacent. The way he placed his mouth against yours with perfect surety.

Research, to take the form of a crawling creature and perch himself on the branch outside the apartment you and Nanami shared. To watch you shower and wonder what it would feel like to press against you in it, hot and damp and wet, humid in a different way from the sewer. To watch you pick up piece after piece of flimsy lingerie and hold it against your body, brow furrowing in distaste at the way you looked in the mirror.

Mahito likes the way your body looks against the frills and the flounces; likes the idea of ripping them to pieces as he bares you again. Nanami, it seems, prefers something tighter - lace, stockings, complicated straps that he traces his fingers across and smiles.

Research, to watch how you kneel for the blond sorcerer and look up at him with devotion writ clear in your eyes. Research, to watch Nanami knot his tie around your wrists - to scuttle closer until he is on the windowsill, insect creature of too many legs and eyes, something that wouldn’t attract attention on a hot summer night - and to hear the way that Nanami speaks to you. The harsh orders that you fall over yourself to fulfil. The way your voice pitches and whines when you call him ‘Sir’.

What would Mahito make you call him, he wonders?

He leaves when the two of you are sweat-slicked, naked, wrapped around one another in the big bed. Frustration gnaws at a part of Mahito he didn’t know he had. He has read the romance books. He knows, without a doubt, this is what they would call ‘jealousy’, and it does not abate even when he reaches his sewers and pouts, climbing into the hammock and making it swing gently from side to side.

He thinks about yours and Nanami’s anatomy; the part of him that had fitted into you as if it was meant to be there, that had made you arch your back and beg the man for more, please, you could take it. He touches his own stitched body; makes it swell underneath his touch, makes the thing between his thighs bigger and thicker than Nanami’s so that you wouldn’t know for sure if you could take it. Would you cry? Say it was too big? Mahito thinks perhaps he’d like that.

The jealousy does not abate, roiling in his stomach sour and irritable. Sulking, Geto had called this. Had told Mahito to go and play with some of his toys to make it go away.

But as Mahito’s hands press into fleshy quivering masses that may once have been human, that beg him to die . . . it is only you he can think about. As he makes a human soul smaller and smaller, shriveling it to the size of a kidney bean, wondering if he could ball it up in his fist so tight that he could turn it to dust.

A crush, Geto had said.

He thinks about you. Thinks about how Nanami had cradled you so tightly against him, about how his hips had pressed so deeply into you that Mahito couldn’t see from his vantage point on the windowsill where one of you started and the other ended. Thinks about Nanami’s mouth pressing hungrily against yours.

Crush. The word in his mouth, murmured in a puff of stale air - like a candy, like something to be grabbed between his teeth and shaken until he had conquered it.

He smiles to himself; thinks about the indent of his hammock pressing into your skin until it marked you for hours, a beautiful pattern on your soft, sweet, achingly mortal body.

Crush.

How appropriate.

#drabble #writing #not sfw text #jjk posting #dub con for ts #non consensual voyeurism

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selineram3421 · 11 months

Text

Dodadodadoo-

Temporary Control

Part 1

Prolouge

Alastor X Fem Reader

Warning! ⚠

⚠ using she/they for reader, cussing, fluff, soft Alastor, kisses. ⚠

Alastor was attending an Overlord meeting.

He sat in one of the chairs, making sure it was a comfortable one. The others trickled in slowly, talking with one another to catch up or trying to start a fight.

The smile on his face widens into a wicked grin when a fight did break out.

"You piece of shit edge lord-!"

"Who are you calling edge lord!?"

It soon breaks up when another yells at them into submission.

Like two children being scolded. He chuckles at the thought.

Then Vox enters.

Alastor's smile is strained as the T.V. Demon sits across from him.

Of course he would.

The other two V's took the seats on either side of their companion. Velvette on her phone and Valentino lighting his vulgar smelling cigarette.

"Oh goodie, everyone's here.", Lucifer says walking in.

The others still standing quickly go to get an empty chair.

"Its just the usual, regular check ups and keeping track of population on territory.", the King says as he walks over to his chair. "A good amount of demons died this year."

The Morningstar sat down and looked down the table.

"Who's first?"

The meeting wasn't anything special. It was like any other before, just keeping numbers on demons and reporting anything of importance.

Alastor just sat back and waited to give his report.

Vox was glaring at the Radio Demon, arms crossed and tapping his foot underneath the table.

What makes him so great? He thought with a huff. He's just a conceded, self absorbed, egotistical cannibal who's still stuck in the past and cares for no one but himself.

The red demon across the table ignores the glares, checking his claws instead.

He's not fit to keep them. The T.V. demon decides, beginning to think of ways to drive her away from Alastor and into his arms.

The meeting finishes quickly, nothing too interesting or new.

Vox continues to glare as the man in red stands from his chair and leaves the room, screen starting to glitch out and crash.

"You're gonna have to start up again if you stare too long.", Velvette comments after glancing over.

"Shut up.", he grumbles.

"Oh what hate can do to a demon.", Valentino says, blowing out smoke. "If I wasn't any wiser, I'd think you're in love."

"SHUT UP!"

"Oho~ He is! But not with the red man!", the social media demon says, placing herself on the table and shoves her phone toward the moth, showing him who. "Its this pretty little hourglass!"

"Damn it Velvette! I said shut up!", Vox stands up and tries to take her phone.

"DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE BITCH!", she growls, quickly rolling off the table and away from the T.V. Demon.

The two fight over the phone and the moth demon just lets out a sigh, taking another drag from his cigarette.

After shoving Velvette's annoying face away, Vox leaves the two and walks out of the meeting room, hissing out curses while stomping out of the building.

His screen starts glitching again when catching sight of the damn deer demon again.

Fucking piece of crap!

You were helping Alastor with looking for spell books in the library.

He had just come back from an Overlord meeting and you noticed he looked a little tired, so you suggested to read together. With a smile, the demon in red accepted the invitation and walked into the library with you.

Now both of you were looking for books for each other.

"I don't think Charlie would have any books of witchcraft or voodoo in here. It is the library for guests.", you say, still looking anyway.

"I suppose you're right.", the radio demon says from the other side of the library. "But maybe you'll find something even more interesting while looking."

You're surprised when he appears out of the shadows with a small stack of books in his hands.

"I found your books darling.", he says and passes them over to you.

"I didn't find yours yet.", you pout.

Alastor quickly but gently held your head and tilted it up, using his thumbs to turn up the corners of your lips.

"Forgive me my little hour glass but you're pouting.", he says and places a kiss on your forehead. "Read me one of your books instead?"

You oblige and turn to head over to the seats nearby. The deer demon holds your hand as you read one of Edgar Allen Poe's poems out loud. Later, he walks you back to your hotel room and both of you make plans for a date.

Finally arriving at your door, both of you turn to face each other.

"Good night.", you say softly.

"Sweet dreams my darling.", he replied with a smile and gave you a kiss on the cheek.

You wave at him before entering your room and closing the door. Now in your room, you take off your shoes and get things ready for bed, turning on the radio on your vanity.

It's just the thought of you

The very thought of you

My love~

The radio plays a favorite of yours as you get into bed, letting the song lull you to sleep.

Sorry this is so late! I've finally written down the notes for this and I'm going to post the next part soon-ish? Soon.

~Seline, the person.

Part 2

Taglist@

@ducky-died-inside @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @willowaudreykeyes @bisexualboba @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

ChL for TC

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sailtomarina · 9 months

Text

Don’t tell me it’s over

When they were first paired together for their quarterly project, they begrudgingly accepted, too tired from the war and its fallout to fight what now seemed so pointless, so small in the face of everything else they each managed. Meeting in the Hogwarts Library was a given since they both already treated the books as their own haven away from all the other parts of the castle that haunted them.

But this was the first time that Malfoy sat at Hermione’s table, the same seat she’d considered her own since her first year. The spot was perfect, situated near the back in a corner that was mostly hidden by tall shelves, but sat along a window overlooking the Black Lake and the forest beyond. He’d always preferred somewhere near the center of the room in the past, one where he could catch the attention of anyone he wished, and spot those less fortunate than him who walked through the doors. He didn’t sit there anymore.

Instead, he sought her out at her place of peace, a pile of books already in hand and a resigned expression on his face as he waited for her invitation to sit. Her only response had been to clear one side of the table before returning to her page to resume where she’d left off.

That was their routine.

Day after day, they met to take notes and share thoughts.

Hermione found in Malfoy a sharp mind and a way of thinking different, but not undesired, from her own. He filled in the gaps of her knowledge and challenged her to consider points from opposing views.

Draco found in Granger what he’d always known deep down to be true: a brilliant outlook on a subject he’d assumed complete superiority, despite all her other achievements. He wanted to learn more about the ways she viewed the rest of their subjects, perhaps even ones outside of academia.

It was only natural that they moved from their project to other courses. Why not finish homework from their shared classes together? A couple of hours a day turned into a handful, the two of them often closing out the library alone.

Then came the day of their presentation. Neither of them had talked about what would happen once they weren’t required to meet anymore. It was as if planning ahead might shatter the fragile peace they’d found.

The next day, Malfoy walked up to their table at the same time as usual, only to find it empty. He felt a hot slip of a knife between his ribs into an organ he’d thought long dead.

He could sit and wait, but doing so reeked of a desperation he couldn’t bear to face just yet.

He could find another table, some hidden spot he’d used before they were forced to work together, before he’d started looking forward to seeing and hearing her each day.

Better yet, he could just say ‘sod it all’ and go back to his room. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t check out books and use his own desk.

His mind made up, he turned and ran straight into her smaller body, knocking the stack of books she’d carried out of her hands and onto the ground.

“Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry about that. I wasn’t paying attention to—”

“Granger.”

Her mouth clicked shut at his interruption, and she slowly looked up at him from where she now crouched on the ground.

“What are you doing?”

She cocked her head in puzzlement. “I’m…getting books for our other assignments?”

She said it as a question, as if it should have been obvious to him why she was here.

“You still want to study with me?” He hated the hesitance in his own voice, the disbelief that reeked of want.

“Isn’t that why you’re here? We still have until the end of the school year—we still have our N.E.W.T.s!”

The relief that coursed through him was so strong, he couldn’t help but sag against the table behind him, his bag dropping onto the chair beneath.

Gathering the rest of the books back into her arms and standing to place them carefully next to him, she turned to poke him playfully in the ribs, right where he’d sworn he’d just been stabbed earlier.

“Don’t tell me you thought it was over between us.”

She’d touched him before, of course, an innocent passing of quills and parchment, a playful nudge to the shoulder that became more frequent as the weeks passed them by.

This time, his hand closed over her wrist and held her there.

“I hoped it wasn’t, but feared it might be.”

Her skin was soft beneath his grip, and she stood close enough he could feel her heat through the thin layers between them. Silver eyes met golden-flecked brown. She leaned in close, pressing slightly up on her toes to match his height, and wrapped her free arm in a hug around his neck, allowing the full length of her body to embrace his own.

“We’re in this together now, Draco. You’re stuck with me for a while yet.”

Huffing a relieved laugh, he slid his arms around her waist, returning her hug and accepting everything she had to offer today and every day beyond the four corners of their little table.

WC 890

Twitter prompt from DramionePrompts

#dramione prompt #dramione #dhr fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy x hermione granger #hermione granger #draco malfoy

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shywritersblog · 8 months

Text

⚜️𝐿𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝑀𝑜𝓉𝒽⚜️

⚜️ Summary: You need help researching local insects. Who better to ask than your favorite angyboi bookworm, Tannie?

⚜️ Content: Satan x Reader. No gender specified. Mentions of insect taxidermy. Slightly grotesque at one part. Otherwise, it’s all just gentle fluff.

⚜️ Word Count: ~1,500

⚜️ Note: Lepidoptera is the name given to butterflies and moths. This is my first ever fic. I don’t ever plan on becoming much of a writer, I’ve just been wanting to get my thoughts and fantasies somewhere. But if you have any helpful constructive criticism, please let me know.

✧༺⚜️༻✧

I had always has an interest in pretty things, so it was no surprise that I liked insect pinning. It was a small hobby of mine that I’d enjoy in the human world whenever I would come across deceased butterflies or other insects. I also just enjoyed spotting the different local Lepidoptera. But since being in the Devildom, I haven’t been able to partake in this hobby of mine, as I am not very familiar with Devildom creatures. And knowing that the Devildom is a rather magical place, I fear that picking up any random dead moth would leave me cursed or something. So that's when I decided that I should study more about the wildlife in this strange new place I‘ve been suddenly thrust into. I think it over. How do I obtain this knowledge? Maybe I should go to the RAD library?…Or perhaps I could ask Satan if he has any books on local insects. I decide on the latter; It would be a good excuse to spend some alone time with him and talk to him about a favorite hobby of his, books.

✧༺⚜️༻✧

You leave your bedroom and hike upstairs to Satan’s door. Knocking on it’s antique wood, you whisper “It’s me, MC. Can I please come in?” “Ah!” He exclaims gently before you hear a quiet shuffle and his footsteps near the door. He opens it and asks “Of course you can come in. How may I help you, MC?” with a gentle smile gracing his soft pink lips. He steps aside and gestures for you to enter his room. It’s a large room, dimly lit with candles and ethereal moonlight pouring from grandiose arched windows. As usual, it’s something similar to a maze as you maneuver around piles of books stacked as high as pillars. He shuts the door behind you, creating distance between the both of you from the rest of the house so that you can have some much needed privacy. Standing before him you ask, “Umm, I hope you don’t mind… I was wondering if you had any books on the local wildlife. Insects specifically.” You twiddle your thumbs and blush slightly. Even though you love the boys to death and have spent ample time with each of them, you can’t help but to feel a little embarrassed about revealing your hobby. He pauses to think for a moment, hand on his chin as he averts his cerulean eyes. “Yes, I think I have a few, let me take a look.” Thankful that there seemed to be not even a shred of judgement, you take a seat and watch as he shifts his attention to focus on the given task. He gracefully paces back and forth, checking a few different places in the room for books matching your request. He pulls out books from a large stack with precise precision, as if taking a block from a Jenga tower, careful not to knock the rest over. About 6 different books pile in his arms as he meets you on his relatively stiff bed.

“Is something like this what you’re looking for, MC?” You take a look at the books. Some large and thick, others thinner. Some bound in leather, some very old and moth-eaten, and others that seem more modern. They all seem useful, but your attention sticks to the book with the title: Devildom Moths and Butterflies; A Complete Guide. “Ah, yes! Something like this.” You take a moment to peek through a few of the pages before Satan questions “Might I ask what you need these for? You seem very interested” “I‘d like to take a closer look at Devildom’s insects, even take some home if they’re no longer alive. So I wanted to make sure I did research on them first - lest I get struck with some unruly curse!” You gesture dramatically with your hands before chuckling lightly. Satan’s eyes widen slightly in surprise before relaxing into a sweet smile, as if he wasn’t surprised you’d take interest in such a thing. He loves the look of excitement on your face when you find something else that you’re fascinated by. He’s also happy that you came to him for that help, not one of his idiotic brothers.

He shimmies a little closer to you until your thighs and shoulders are touching. You can feel the warmth radiating from his body, and you can smell the subtle floral and musky scent of his cologne. You take a long breath in, letting his essence spill into your nose and send waves of comfort reverberating throughout your whole body, making you relax a little more. “Want to take a look at this book together then?” You look up at him and smile with a nod. “I’d like that a lot!” You gently pry open the aged leather-bound book, pages fluttering as you turn them, and your eyes wander at the pictures of the different butterflies of the Devildom. Together, you pore over the short blurb of information on each of the insects.

“•Demon Silk Moth

Located in only this specific region of the Devildom, the Demon Silk Moth produces silk that contains very special properties and is used for making the most luxurious clothing. The moths are also made into a wide variety of gummies. Yum!”

“•Devil Clothes Moth

A common and destructive pest that eats away at clothing, carpets and tapestries, causing significant damage to any and all fabrics. Is found all over the Devildom, and can be kept away with Mothballs. You can tell when a Devil Clothes Moth infestation is on the rise when you begin to notice holes and weakened spots in your clothing.”

He reads aloud in his smooth and feathery voice as you follow along with your eyes. You point and ask about some of the more eccentric looking Lepidoptera as you see them, to which Satan replies with stories of the occasions he’s found their beauty and grace in person. He places his pointer finger, tipped green with Asmo’s designer nail polish, onto a picture of a butterfly similar to that of a Blue Morpho in the human world. “These ones we often find residing in the garden of the Demon Lord’s Castle. They’re much more beautiful in person, you should see the way their scales glisten in the moonlight. It’s truly an enchanting sight” Your face lights up at his retellings, you feel the excitement surge through your body, letting your toes wiggle as an outlet for some excess emotion to spill out. His expression is warm and gentle, deepening your feeling of ease and comfort. A soft chuckle leaves his lips as you rest your head on his shoulder, continuing to read together.

“This butterfly here with what looks like eyes on its wings, charms it’s victim to eat it so it can lay eggs inside the hosts brain, and like a parasite, it takes over the victims body, making them seem like a zombie and controlling the body to find an area perfect for its offspring to grow and to then devour the corpse as it comes of age.” “Creepy. I’m totally glad a took the initiative to research before possibly ending up as a zombie, haha!” You almost shudder at the thought. “Good thinking. Not to mention, I don't think zombies make good exchange students” You respond by make a silly face and growling like you think a zombie would, extracting hearty giggles from both of you.

Holding the book with one hand, he snakes the other around your waist to pull you in closer. You stare at him again for just a moment, silently consenting to his touch. Your big, goofy yet content smile sends heat to his cheeks. He warmly beams back as you reposition your head back against him, he responds by settling his head against yours. “I value time spent with you, little moth.” You’re struck by Cupid as the words leave his lips. Little moth? “L-Likewise.” “Well, what do you say we make this insect spotting a date? I know perfect places for us to go looking. We should prepare a picnic as well.” “It’s a date, then!” Your glee and excitement is palpable. He takes the moment into his hands and lands a chaste kiss on your forehead with his warm lips, sealing the promise.

Your head spins. It’s at this moment, with wide and glazed over eyes that you realize, the butterflies you were looking for were in your stomach this whole time.

✧༺⚜️༻✧

𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

𝒮𝒽𝓎 𝒲𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒𝓇 ༝༚༝༚

#obey me #obey me shall we date #selfship #obey me satan #obey me fanfic #fluff fanfic #obey me fluff #omswd x reader #obey me x reader #first fic #dividers #gif #satan x reader

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boundinparchment · 1 year

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Deus in Absentia - I

The first time was a coincidence. The second time was a fluke. But the third time? You were starting to think it was fate. Or, more likely, a calculated trap. Reposted from my previous blog, @/zhonglis-empty-wallet AO3

The first time was a coincidence.

The second time was a fluke.

But the third time? You were starting to think it was fate.

Or, more likely, a calculated trap.

Why was the Harbinger coming to your bookstore? Why this Harbinger? Didn’t he have servants for this sort of thing? All of the others Fatui leaders sent in their orders via mail or proxy agent; not him. He left his lackies outside, either as a display, or because he didn't care one way or the other if they suffered the brutality of the Sneznhayan climate.

Il Dottore took hours. Every. Single. Time. Which normally wouldn’t matter. You were more than happy when any other customer did so. Granted, that too was occasionally frustrating (you owned a bookstore, not a library, it bit into your margin if they finished reading and never purchased); but the Second Harbinger terrified the rest of the shoppers. Many were willing to go right back into the Sneznhayan cold at the sight of him.

And that hurt your profit margin way more than loitering readers.

Not enough that your landlord and vendors wouldn’t be paid, of course. The Harbinger compensated for the inconvenience. Or, rather, the Ninth did so on Dottore’s behalf a few days later. It always worked out.

But there was always a price to businesses that caught Fatui eyes for too long. Most would see it as honorable; serving the Tsaritsa in any way was the highest form of honor in the land of ice and snow. Even if it meant…

A slam of a book being shut stole your thoughts. You weren’t alone, you shouldn’t get so distracted. Especially with him around.

He seemed frustrated by something. Red eyes were staring at the books in front of him as he ran his fingers through his hair, his hands stopping instead to fist around teal locks for a moment.

Besides his rank and the whispers about his experiments, his temper was what most remembered about him. He hated interruptions, any break in his train of thought if he didn’t ask for it specifically.

You weren’t sure what possessed you but when you stepped away from the counter to make tea in the back room, you found yourself pouring a second cup. And then putting it on a tray (a remnant from the previous store owner), and offering a small collection of the usual fixings of milk, sugar, and honey. At the last second, you threw in the last of the cookies that a customer sent in as a thank you (their order required a six month lead time and you’d had to go all the way to Liyue and back to get it personally).

You slid the tray onto the table that Dottore had taken as his dominion in your shop and walked away without a word.

It was a stupid move. What had you been thinking? You may as well have offered your own head on a silver platter (if you had one). Most Harbingers would think you were trying to poison them.

And that was certainly what Dottore must have been thinking when you caught him watching you as you took inventory.

It was unprompted, not asked for.

But anticipated.

You were good at that. Whether it was books or not. You had a knack for knowing what someone else might need.

Dottore clicked his tongue, a sound that traveled further than he likely meant it to, as he muttered something you didn’t understand. Not uncommon. The Harbingers were from all over Teyvat and there was more than just the Common tongue.

You rolled your shoulders and set to work unpacking boxes. These books wouldn’t check themselves in. You were still unpacking hours later, stacks of books surrounding you, sorted by genre.

“I’ll be taking these.”

The voice, always deeper than expected, startled you. You rose too quickly and whacked your head on the counter. The Harbinger was unamused, the visible corner of his mouth pressed into a firm line.

“I’ll also be requiring these,” a gloved hand held out a list, folded once.

You took it as you soothed your throbbing head. A curious part of you wanted to unfold the note and take a peek but the way Dottore’s eyes narrowed told you to wait until he was gone.

He was buying a larger stack than last time, if memory served. The titles were unfamiliar, probably books that you’d ordered on a whim or inherited from the previous owner. So much of your business was a constant juggle between your own touches and an inventory that was there when you signed the lease.

Before you could even give him the total, he placed down a sizable bag of mora onto the counter, the coins jingling.

“That should cover everything. I’ll be back next month for the rest.”

He scooped up the books with ease, expression unreadable. Even without the mask, you got the feeling that he was typically unreadable to begin with. Just as Dottore opened the door to leave, he turned and said:

“And thank you for the tea.”

The Harbinger left without another a word. The poor underling who accompanied him was left with the task of carrying the good doctor's purchases, the sheer weight of the stack of books catching them off-guard. Perhaps a newbie.

A quick glance at the table told you that his thanks had been, at least in part, genuine. The cup was empty, as was the plate.

Later that night, long after closing and after curiosity gnawed at your stomach for the better part of the day, you unfolded the list burning a hole in your pocket.

Obscure titles, specific editions, things that sounded as if they would have been collected by the Akademiya's library and hidden away. You'd never heard of these titles before and their length alone was indicative of their scholarly nature.

These would take more than a month to research, let alone acquire.

An impossible task.

Your stomach sank.

For the Fatui, no task was impossible.

Impossible came at a cost.

And everything had a price.

#dottore #il dottore #genshin impact dottore #il dottore x reader #dottore x reader #yes this is being posted again this time under my new blog #yes this circulated before like a year ago #was previously on wtpd but if it's there now I did not post it #i should probably heavily this fic but i cannot be assed

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mercurygray · 5 months

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hi! i'm here to distract you from work :) so i wanted to ask, what are your methods of researching for your historical fiction stories? like if there's a specific topic or story you want to learn about, what would you recommend looking at first? books? novels? documentaries?

Aw, thanks, Blu! I hope you are having a great Saturday whereever you are.

I am very fortunate that I have access to several very nice local public libraries and a community college library, so usually I start my research by going there, looking up some keywords and then going to that part of the shelf and seeing what I can find there. (And they're free! Zero limitations and zero guilt if you bring something home and it doesn't work out.)

Here's an example stack from a very old fandom project for the tv show Vikings.

One of my characters was a nun, so I needed some information on early monastic traditions, I wanted some information on the role of women in general, I like my characters to have hobbies so she was going to be a gardener, hence the garden book at the bottom, and of course, I just needed to read more about the 900s in general, since that's not a period I knew a lot about.

Sometimes if I have a particular setting I'm working with, I'll check out some large coffee table books. (When I was writing more for Downton Abbey and wrote a lot of stately homes, I did a lot of this for visual flavor.)

I'm not a big documentary person, as a rule, it's not not a format that appeals to me, but that's just a personal preference thing. I like books because I can see a little bit more easily where someone got their information, and it gives me more ideas for other things to read.

I also like a book because if it's good, and it's got an index in the back, I don't necessarily need to read the whole thing to find what I need - I can use that index to get me closer, faster.

Novels are a great way to get some ideas for flavor and feel, but I'm not sure I'd use them as a reference, per se- unless the author has a works consulted of their own in the back, which does happen.

Hope this gives you some ideas!

[distract merc at work day!]

#asked and answered #history nerd is my default setting

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zosociologist · 9 months

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"Dating Peter Tork Would Be Like..." [Scrapped]

[Teacher!Peter x Librarian!Black!Female!Reader Headcannon]

A/N: This was bound to happen eventually...just glad I was able to get this out of my system; WwaBRiM per usual and likes, comments, & reblogs are strongly encouraged(=

Era: Mid-70s (around the time Peter became a teacher)

Warnings: Mentions of fooling around, and light makeout stuff.

Yeah, you knew who Peter Tork was....as did every young woman that came of age in the 60s and had a working television in the house.

Re-run episodes of The Monkees is what helped you get through your last year of college, and although you hate to admit it, you'll be forever grateful(:

Your love for sharing knowledge led you to get a Bachelor's in Education, but your spite of those around you saying that men don't like women that are "overachievers" got you your Master's in Library Science.

You have quite a few interests: you paint, sing, and play the guitar now and then, and read and write a lot of poetry and stories.

So, you took those skills and became a Librarian at a nice high school in the hills, and the job is very enjoyable, just as you would’ve expected it to be.

You expected there to be hundreds of things checked in and out per day and thousands per week, resulting in hours of restocking shelves and setting displays.

And you were expecting to have engaging conversations with students as they tell you about their recent reads, while you return the favor by giving them even more book recommendations to further expand their minds.

What you DID NOT expect when the new school year started, was for an oddly familiar man to approach your counter inquiring about an instructor’s copy of a textbook that he’d ordered for his science course.

And you’re still not sure if it was your slight gasp or starstruck demeanor over the random circumstances, but something made him chuckle at the situation while you spoke in disbelief, “Nooo, you can’t be”, “The only problem is, I am”.

Far off from his former band days, Peter grew his hair out much longer and sported a beard that you thought fit him very well. He also dropped his alias and went by his actual surname, Mr. Thorkelson. A subtle change that made a huge difference.

At first, you weren’t so sure that Peter could be that friendly a person, even bashful at times, but you learned early on that it was all genuine.

That was just the kind of person he was. On the job, Peter could talk to anyone and make friends with everyone.

But after a while, you noticed he went out of his way to make conversation with you…even though the library is nowhere en route to his classroom.

You two soon became good friends, bonding over various things from literature to your shared love for the folk music scene.

Whenever you had free time in your schedules, you’d be at each other’s respective workstations scribbling ideas on chalkboards or making pyramids out of lost library cards and bookmarks (that you’d return to the students that lost them immediately after).

Somedays you and Peter could even be found in the teacher’s lounge, sharing reviews of movies you’d watched in theaters that past weekend.

Your coworkers started calling you “two peas in a pod” and neither of you minded it…as a matter of fact, you were both kinda hoping the phrase spoke for itself.

There would be days when you’d set a big apple on his desk before he got to his classroom in the morning, and he’d return the gratitude by waiting until you were in the back of the library somewhere, ID-ing some publishers, before placing a folded paper crane on a short stack of books on your counter.

Of course, there was something there! But nobody said anything for fear of ruining the great friendship you both had cultivated for months.

But in the thrill of the moment, and contrary to Mr. Thorkelson’s belief, you took the liberty of making the first move…and at the Christmas faculty party of all places!

The event was off school grounds at a venue in the city. The night was young, and it was freeing to see your coworkers let loose outside of the professional box that working as educators placed them in.

Add in the fact there was an open bar and everyone was basically on cloud nine.

There were Secret Santa gifts and party games, and one of them was, of course, "Truth or Dare".

Salaries were exposed, shots were taken, relationships and teacher pregnancies were revealed…

But your new Library Assistant, with a suggestive amount of wine in their system, took the liberty of shooting Peter a truth question: "I saw you put a crane on (y/n)'s desk a week or so ago. Do you two have something going on?"

Your eyes shot up from the unopened Secret Santa gift you received just in time to witness Peter finish his old-fashioned, "With all the love and respect in the world, no. We do not."

Your co-workers gave lively reactions, and the game quickly moved ahead, but now the tension between you two became suddenly unavoidable.

Peter couldn't bring himself to look at you, let alone in your direction. He thought he messed up everything, by not saying something different. He felt like it set his relationship with you back by a long shot. How was he supposed to recover from that if he ever did find the balls to confess that he thought the world of you?

You, on the other hand, didn't think much of it….mostly. I mean, sure, you did like him….A LOT. But for the sake of professionalism, you figured that if it wasn't meant to be, then it wasn't meant to be.

The evening progressed and so did the party, but you figured you'd make your discreet leave and wave goodbye to a few close coworkers early.

You saved Peter's goodbye for last and gave him a warm embrace like usual along with a warm message, "Don't worry, okay? We're good! I'll see you back at The Hills after the break. Merry Christmas, Peter."

And off you went…….to the venue's unsupervised walk-in coat closet to retrieve yours. It took you a bit of sliding around coats on hangers to track it down but you finally were able to get a hold of it.

When you opened the closet door to exit, Peter was on the other side holding your Secret Santa gift you left behind.

You kinda just stood there? Mouth open and in shock, but the good kind. You even backed up a little bit, hoping that he would walk in.

And he did. Shutting the closet door behind him, Peter stepped forward, closing the gap as if he was just a short space away from you.

"You forgot this on the table and I didn't want you to leave without it." He smiled, handing the gift back to you as you handed your coat over for him to hold.

Unraveling the silver and gold wrapping paper, you couldn't help but rest your forehead against the gift and laugh: a hardcover copy of "Origami: The Art of Paper Folding" by Robert Harbin.

You were tickled because you KNEW it was Peter, and he couldn't help but smile at your infectious laugh.

"What? What's so funny?", "No, it's just this is so adorable! Did you plan this? Did you pull strings to be my Secret Santa?", "I didn't, I promise that was coincidental. I just figured since I was making so many of these and leaving them with you, I'd give you something so you can make your own.", "But I like when you make them for me!"

Your eyes were filled with such sincerity, and you were HOPING…that it would be enough for him to TAKE A HINT…..

You didn't wait. You kissed Peter, but he immediately followed suit, cupping your face as he leaned into it. The book slipped out of your hand as Peter grabbed your waist, backing you two into the wall as the line of hung coats surrounded you both.

The kissing intensified, and Peter dropped your coat to the floor as he unbuttoned his cotton henley shirt, never taking his lips off yours. You lost all sense of time. The closet got smaller and warmer by the minute, and frankly, you were feeling more aroused than you ever had in your life. And he sensed that, but he also respected you much more than just minimizing what you two share to a quick fuck in a stuffy coat closet at the faculty Christmas party.

So in the midst of you reaching to undo his belt buckle, he stopped you, fixed you both back up, retrieved his corduroy jacket, and kissed your forehead.

Gathering your things, you both left the party together, unnoticed, and hand in hand.

You two finished the evening by watching artists perform at a venue you randomly stumbled upon.

❣Dating Life❣

You and Peter becoming official made everything that you were already platonically doing regularly, feel a lot more special.

You still bother each other on school grounds, but now you enjoy one another off of school grounds as well! (In more ways than one)

Movie theaters, plays, concerts, farmers markets, and bookstores on the weekends. And you have sleepovers at either of your apartments.

You always love his place. It always feels cozy and nostalgic because of some things he has around from his days as a television star.

He'll lay his head in your lap in his living room conversation pit and share stories from the set, and you enjoy every moment of it. He plays his guitar or piano and you'll listen or sing along.

But you're convinced he loves your place more. He adores just how much "the essence of your apartment matches your personality" or whatever that means.

You'll admit, you have a lot of scholastic things lying around that gives away your identity as an educator, but your apartment holds much more than that!

He loves your collection of autobiographies, novels, and poetry books of Black authors, and finds joy in having you read passages written by esteemed artists of the Harlem Renaissance to him as he listens intently.

You'll cook together and sit on your couch watching sitcoms, music, and game shows.

And he was SO determined in helping you out whenever you have a wash day, so you walked him through how you detangle your hair and he's been a specialist ever since😌

He will make up any and every excuse possible to hold you and just be in your space.

He loves when you just lay together in silence, preferably with the window open so you can hear the sounds of the outside world and everything happening around you both while you're in your little sacred space.

That's happened quite a few times on Sunday nights, which rolled over into Monday mornings…which resulted in carpools to work where you'd have to act like you two didn't just arrive together from the same place.

You were almost late quite a few times on those types of mornings, it's like Peter wouldn't let you shower and get dressed in peace without messing up your outfit due to his..............antics…..

Oh, he wasn't a saint. You've heard rumors of the parties he'd host at his old Hollywood home, but you didn't think he was THIS mischievous…

When it came to sex, you were far from innocent. But Peter brought out this adventurous side of you as far as stepping out of your comfort zone goes.

You went three rounds in the back of a van at a music festival high off Mary-Jane once because you kept giving him praise and it drove him insane.

Sure, the bedroom, shower, kitchen, and balcony were nice…..but the library back room, teacher's lounge, janitor's closet, his classroom, and school parking lot in his backseat were mind-numbing. There was also your childhood bedroom when you went back to visit once…It was an otherworldly experience.

And he's such a giver! His definition of helping you de-stress is going down on you while you vent about what happened during the day and how it made you feel (and how he's making you feel).

He LIVES for seeing you come undone and lose yourself in pleasure, it's a challenge to him almost.

You're careful with how blissed-out you look after he makes you finish because HE WILL immediately go again.

And that's basically Peter's whole thing, he lives to please and enjoys helping in any possible way he can

Like that one time you and your library assistant were supposed to go over to the primary school to read books to the little kids and sing songs while you played your guitar , but the assistant got sick so Peter gladly snatched up his guitar as well and went along as your Stories and Songs accomplice

[End of Writing]

I started writing this in May but I just had so much going on during the summer that I would have to keep pausing my writing and just add on when inspo hit. This is basically the entire headcannon I guess, but I just didn't know how to close this one out and I didn't wanna just abruptly stop, ya know? BUT my classes are starting back soon....and with that comes the random and unexpected spurts of writing inspiration so I'm hoping for the best😅

#my writing #the monkees #peter tork #peter tork fanfic #the monkees fanfic #60s music #70s fanfiction

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dolamrothianlady · 2 months

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Bouquets (part four)

Leonard McCoy x Reader 591 words

---

Another flower, but this time there's something else as well.

---

Hyacinth (your loveliness charms me)

For the first time since all of this flower business started you received a message from Jim about said gifts. Usually he dodged your questions or was "too busy" to really chat (an absolute lie - that man could multitask like no other), but when you came home one afternoon you found not only a pot of hyacinths but a message on your machine.

“Hey,” Jim started, sounding strangely muffled; almost like he was calling you from inside a closet. “Look, I’m going to give you a hint, one hint, and that’s all you’re getting from me, alright? I’m not gonna come out and tell you who’s doing this; number one cause these messages you’re leaving me are hilarious, and yeah I’ve definitely been playing them for him, and number two cause I promised I wouldn’t. Just...look, you work in a library. Maybe tomorrow you browse the gardening section. Pick up a book on flowers. Have a flick through and see what flowers can convey. That’s all you’re getting from me. This call never happened.”

Well. This was getting interesting. You’d always found flower meanings fascinating, but given that you chose your blooms solely on looks and how you were feeling at the time you never really gave it much thought. You were going to go to work early tomorrow, blow through all the books in the gardening section, and get to the bottom of this. You had a plan. Of course it wouldn’t help with figuring out who was doing it but you’d at least be able to work out what they were trying to express to you. And maybe, if you were brave enough, you’d be able to send a message of your own.

You got to the library a whole hour and a half before your shift, and after dumping your bag in your locker made your way to the gardening section. Most of it was unhelpful; what to grow where, plants native to the area, how to grow this and that. But, tucked away in a corner, you found an old book of flower meanings, complete with illustrations. You couldn’t be sure this was the one that your mysterious admirer was using, and you weren’t going to go and check the previous borrowers in the system cause that would be cheating, but you had a feeling you were onto something.

After making your way out of the stacks you hid away in the breakroom, spending the last half hour before your shift going through the book and figuring out what was being said to you. To say you were surprised would be the understatement of the century, and by the time you’d checked out all the flowers you’d gotten you were incredibly flustered. Whoever he was, he knew you, and knew you well. You most definitely knew him as well, and you could forgive him his shyness. The ongoing gesture was the sweetest thing to have ever happened to you, and you had to let him know that you were onto his secret messages. Another quick flick through the book gave you an idea how to proceed, and you made a mental note to change your route home so that you could pick something up.

Of course you had to let Jim know that you’d cottoned onto the messages.

“Jim, I figured it out!” This time you were the one whispering, huddled in the corner of the room. “I’m very flustered, not real coherent right now, but I’m gonna leave him a message of my own tonight.”

#leonard mccoy x reader #leonard mccoy #reader #star trek fanfiction #leonard mccoy fanfiction #star trek au #star trek

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shelbgrey · 11 months

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Glory of love(Eleazar Denali)

Chapter 4: monsters are good

Table of contents

The next morning I got up early and headed to the school so I could stock up on books for my upcoming lessons. The schools library was a lot bigger than I expected and had found all the needed books expect for Dracula by Bram Stoker.

Once I found it I sighed when I looked up. It was on a shelf behond my reach. I shifted the four other books I had to one arm and stood on the top of my toes to reach it. As I did heard someone come up behind me and cold hand grabed it with no effort.

“here” the voice said softly. My cheeks immediately faded into a light shade of pink as Eleazar Denali held my desired book out.

“thank yo-Gracias” I stuttered and took the book. He smiled softly as his enchanting gold eyes stared at me.

“De nada” he smirked as I placed the novel on top of my stack. He turned away for a second and surched for a book. “Dracula, huh?”

“yeah, it's for my English class” I responded. Eleazar nodded and grabed the novel he was looking for. It was The Shining by Stephen King, one of my favorites.

“my niece and nephew were talking about that” he said holding the book to his side as we walked towrds the check out counter.

“the shining, huh? I love that book” I said as the librarian checked my stack of books out. Eleazar smiled and looked at the cover. “well, if you recommend it, I'm really gonna have to read it”

“do you believe in the supernatural?” I asked catching him off guard. “¿Qué?(what?)”

“The shining... It's about ghosts and man going crazy... And of course Dracula is vampires” I asked holding my book up. “just asking is all... Never mind, I'll see you around” I said felling like I embarrased myself.

I walked out of the library shaking my head, questioning myself why I'd ask a random question like that, especially to someone I barely know.

“wait up” Eleazar said catching up to me. I looked at him then up head. “to awnser your question I prefer not to dwell on it”

“so you once didn't and you got proven wrong?” I asked. He gave me the side eye and huffed. “somethings are just worth staying a mystery”

I nodded, agreeing with him to some extent. The leadgens Harry used to tell me Leah is a great example. Harry believed them to be ture while the two of us didn't know what to believe... That was intill Sam phased.

“I guess you got a point” I said as the bell rang telling us we had five minutes until our students would start the migration to our classrooms. “bye Eleazar”

“Adiós Y/n” he said, flashing me his hadsome smile.

As I took attendance for my English class I noticed it to be a tad bit smaller than usual, I looked up and noticed Edward Cullen was gone.

“Tayna, where's your Cousin?” I asked marking down names. Tayan looked up from her book and nervously bit her lip. “he's out of town... Personal reasons”

“I don't need to know where he is, I just wanted to make sure he's okay” I stated. Tayna smiled softy.

I turned around and started to write on the board. “today where gonna start off with Mary Shelly's Frankenstein” I said as I wrote Frankenstein in big letters on the board.

“now first things first... Frankenstein is the doctor not the name of monster. Over the years people have gotten that confused, so I'm telling you this now” I half joked. The class snickered or rolled their eyes as I started the lesson.

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

Later that night I was invited to the Clearwater's home to suprise Leah. Me and Leah had been best friends when we were little kids up until mom made me move to Arizona during my freshman year of college. We stayed in contact all those years and I think us being away only made our relationship stronger.

“y/n!” Seth said cheerfully as he opened the door and gave me a big hug. And there was Leah's little brother, Seth, who was literally the sweatest person on the planet. I grew up babysitting him during my time living with my father. I think this also helped me become so close to the family.

“Hey, buddy” I said ruffling his hair as he smiled big.

Leah came down the stairs with a huff, she looked up and immediately smiled. “n/n!” she ran and gave me a big hug. “I missed you”

“missed you too”

I was greeted by Sue and Harry next, they welcomed me with open arms then lead me into the kitchen. Usually you would have seen Sam with Leah, but unfortunately he broke up with her and is now datting Emily. Sam hated himself for hurting Leah, but with the whole imprinting thing he realized Emily was the one. It really put a damper on our friend group, me and Emily were just as close, same with Sam. In the beginning of there relationship there was a lot of 'picking' sides and Emily would either call me with tears in her eyes or Leah would call me shouting. Then Sam would just come over to my house needing a break from the reservation.

Dinner was peaceful and felt like a real family dinner, Sue cooked steaks and potatoes. Sometimes I wished I had this, the peaceful dinner with the whole family without any fights.

“so how's the teaching job?” Sue asked. “more specifically, why aren't you teaching at the reservation?” Seth joked. Sue playfully hit him then turned to me so I cound continue.

“it's great, the kids there are really great” I said taking a sip of my tea.

“Cullens go there, don't they?” Harry said bitterly. Sue rolled her eyes as she put some green beans on her plate. “Harry, don't start”

“yeah they do... They're good kids” I said softly. “and one of them is the Spanish teacher.”

“you should keep your distance from them, Trouble follows them like wild fire” I raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

I knew about they're treaty just by the leadgens Billy and Harry would tell me and Leah, but I never would go to the lengths that they're part of the supernatural world.

“Nothing Honey” Sue quickly said as she gathered our plates.

“you don't think the leadgens are true?” Seth asked me and Leah quietly. “cold ones and shifters are just stories” Seth was still in the dark about the pack, Leah knew about it because of Sam but the family agreed to keep Seth safe from the truth until he was old enough... Or he phases.

“I don't know... I think they're different, but I don't think they are what the leadgens say” I said giving the Cullens the benefit of the doubt.

I thought about they're gold eyes though and how cold Eleazar's hands were. But the leadgens always said the cold ones had red eyes and couldn't be trust around Humans... So what's the deal?

--------(Cullen residents)--------

“Heaven knows your name I've been praying, To have you come here by my side Without you a part of me is missing. Just to make you my own, I will fight”

Tayna heared the music coming from Eleazar's room as she came home from from hunting. Everyone knew he played guitar, but unlike Edward he didn't like people hearing it. It was rare occasionally to hear him play, so most of the time he'd play while everyone else was gone. It was even more rare to hear him sining, he had this Spanish tone the family loved to hear.

“haven't heard you play in a while?” Tayna said coming in. Tayna and her sisters were the exception. He didn't mind if they heard, he used to play all the time when they lived in Alaska.

“I got board” he said setting his guitar down. Tayna set down next to him and smile. “the song make you think of her, doesn't it?”

He shrugged as he retuned his black guitar. Tayna chuckled and shook her head. “you shouldn't hide your feelings so much”

“hypocrite” he said jokingly.

Beofer she could awnser there was a crash down stairs, that only ment two things: Emmett was being reckless or Alice had a vision. Eleazar and Tayna shared a quick glance and raced down stairs.

“what did you see Alice?” Jasper asked as Tayna and Eleazar stepped over Esme's broken vase and the pile of orchids. Eleazar looked down not relizing he brought the guitar with him, he set it down on the counter and walked up to Alice.

“I think y/n I getting close to discovering what we are, she has her suspicions... But she doesn't want to jump to conclusions” Alice said.

“why would she have her suspicions?” Eleazar asked.

“she grew up with the Quileute leadgens” Irina rolled her eyes. “oh great, she's friends with the mutts”

Eleazar shot her a nasty look. The family would learn quickly not to talk down to y/n in his presence. And with y/n, you insult her friends then your insulting her too. “they're her friends... Don't talk about her like that” he said.

He then turned to Alice. “she can't know, it'll put her in danger”

“she'll find out sooner than later... Maybe you should be the one to tell her” Kate said gently. Eleazar knew she was right, but thst didn't change the fact it scared him to bring her into this world. His world.

#Eleazar denali x reader #Eleazar denali imagines #Eleazar denali #Twilight stories #Twilight #New moon #Eclipse #Breaking dawn #Denali x reader #Denali imagines #Cullen family x reader #Cullen #Edward cullen #Charlie swan

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pokesoniclegend · 1 year

Text

OC Storytober Week 1

Deep within the long, winding, and dimly lit halls of the Reapers’ grand library, William was busy checking each and every shelf to make sure every book and manuscript was properly categorized and in its proper place, and reorganizing when he ever noticed something even slightly off in terms of placement. While most would treat this activity more like a chore than anything, he saw it more as a way to be able to focus on his own thoughts, without having to listen to the constant quandaries of the other Reapers. And alone with his thoughts he would remain– at least until he felt a gentle tug on the sleeve of his suit. Frustrated, he turned his head towards the source of the tug, catching a glimpse of an all too familiar blue haired young boy looking up towards him. He let out a long, deep sigh before he said anything to the boy.

“What is it Altair?” he asked. “Can you not see that I am quite busy at the moment?”

“Well, it was becoming lonely back home,” Altair softly responded, “so I decided to come see you.”

William, for his part, found Altair to be quite the nuisance, albeit not for the same reasons he usually found children to be a headache for. Rather than being an obnoxious brat who got what he wanted through constant whining and demanding, Altair happened to be the total opposite– sickeningly sweet and polite to the point that refusing to give him the time of day was like being mean to a puppy that did you no wrong. Of course, William couldn’t exactly blame the kid for constantly desiring attention from him and Lady Grimmale, given all that he had gone through that had ultimately left him without both his family and the wealth he was born into. However, an interruption was an interruption, and William was not in the mood to give Altair his full attention. Instead, he conjured up one of his many studying materials via his Mark of Knowledge, and offered it to Altair.

Unfamiliar with the material presented, Altair attempted to articulate the title of the work, “Nick-o-match-ean Ethics?”

“No no, it is pronounced ‘Ny-Kom-uh-Kee-uhn,” William scoffed as he corrected the boy’s pronunciation. “All I ask of you is to read through this one, two, or however many times it takes you to understand the material, and then take notes on whatever you may find interesting about it. Do you understand?”

“..But I came all this way just to see you.” Altair stared up at William with pleading, puppy-like eyes– even in spite of the burns occupying his left eye.

William sighed, knowing that it would be downright impossible to argue with him on the matter, “Alright, I suppose I could afford to spend some time studying the material alongside you. Come along then.”

With a joyous gasp, Altair gleefully grasped William’s free hand with his own as the two headed off towards one of the many desks in the library’s study hall. When they arrived at their destination, the boy set the book onto the desk as the two sat down, all the while William conjured up a pen and a stack of paper for note taking. Afterwards, he set the pen and paper next to the book.

“Well, shall we begin then?” William asked.

“Yes, we shall!” Altair excitedly replied.

William couldn’t help but give a small, but very genuine smile towards the boy as he picked up the book and turned to its first page. It had been a long while since he interacted with anyone who had just as much interest in the world of studying as he did, and even if Altair’s excitement and interest was purely fueled by a desire for his attention, it still brought about a feeling of warmth that William never fully felt before. And so the two began their study and note taking session, William reading the material in spaced out sections, and Altair taking the notes as he listened closely to what was being read.

…

Ding! Dong! The clock tower hauntingly called out, signaling for the Reapers to head back to their residences for the evening. A half-asleep Altair was shocked awake by the sudden noise, while William looked towards the nearest clock in the library as he heard the clock tower’s ringing bell.

“Goodness me! We have been at this for quite a while,” William stated with stupendous shock. “Let us head back quickly, as Lady Grimmale will be quite worried if we do not.”

The boy gave a determined and understanding nod in response as William deposited their items into his mark. With that all taken care of, the two locked hands with each other as they headed back to Grimmale’s residence from the library. As they did, William turned his head to Altair, giving a rare warm and gentle smile as he did.

‘Perhaps, this arrangement will not be so bad after all,’ William thought to himself. ‘Only the passage of time will tell I suppose.’

#writeblr #short fiction #original character #paranormal fantasy #creative writing #originally finished on 10/1/22 #writing

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chaotic-tired-bastard · 2 years

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Can we have more Joseph content? Either with or without the spine :)

I've started reading your fic yesterday and I already love him

Of course!! This is just some shenanigans with Joseph and The Spine, featuring a few of the others in the last scene (and Mach too!) I'm glad you love him :D

CW for mention of claustrophobia

Joseph sighed, staring at his book with something akin to despair. 101 Ways to Exercise Your Robot’s Mind! stared back at him, its cover deceptively bright in the true 1980’s fashion. Rabbit and Zer0 had been complaining about being bored 24-7, and Joseph wanted to do something about it, if not to save his sanity. This book was the best thing he could find in the twenty libraries he had searched, and he was pretty desperate, considering he was reading a book from the eighties.

He sighed, opening the book and reading the first page. It was incredibly demeaning and spoke of Robots like they were toddlers. Joseph groaned, slamming the book shut and tossing it over his shoulder. That wasn’t going to help…

“Uhm, Joseph?” The Spine’s voice said, strangely timid.

Joseph looked up, expecting to see the mechanical man standing there with something to talk about or request. Instead, there was nobody there. Odd. “Joseph, down here,” The Spine’s voice said again, bashful and quiet.

Joseph peered over the green arm of his chair and, lo and behold, it was The Spine. Well, not exactly. It was part of The Spine; specifically his head, neck, and spine. He looked like a silver snake; an embarrassed silver snake, but a silver snake nonetheless. “The Spine? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out of your chassis,” Joseph commented, surprised.

The Spine looked embarrassed. “Yes, uh, that usually because I’m not out of my chassis for long. But, you see, uh… I can’t find it,” He said, not looking Joseph in the eyes.

Joseph blinked. “You what?”

The Spine cringed. “I can’t find my chassis..?’ He said again, smiling uneasily.

Joseph sighed, his brain already working out what had happened. Rabbit and Zer0 got bored and decided to swipe The Spine’s body. “Do you remember where you left it?” He asked, deciding to make sure that was what happened before he went around pointing fingers.

“Yes, but it wasn’t there- and I checked the entire Hall of Wires!” The Spine said, sounding a bit like an anxious child.

“Alright, The Spine. I’m not blaming you. I think Rabbit may have swiped your chassis because she was bored,” Joseph said, smiling at the anxious robot to relieve some of the tension.

The Spine seemed less embarrassed, but remained frantic. “That doesn’t make it any better! What if she damaged my fins? What if she ripped my vest? What if- Joseph what if she dyed my shirt pink,” The Spine rambled, his spine-tail thing curling and uncurling frantically.

“The Spine, she wouldn’t do that. Rabbit’s mean sometimes, but she’s not cruel,” Joseph reasoned, picking The Spine up by the scruff of his neck(?? Spine??). “Now let’s go find your chassis.”

◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇

"Are you sure she would hide it down here?" Joseph asked, looking under another stack of boxes.

“It’s where she hid a box of my westerns once, so it’s plausible that she might hide it here,” The Spine reasoned, poking his head out of the satchel around Joseph’s shoulder.

He and Joseph had agreed that The Spine should be somewhat involved in the search, but there’s only so much a head can do. And so, he was nestled safely in a bag and helped Joseph look through boxes.

Joseph shifted through another stack of boxes, his arms screaming in protest. These boxes were full of old papers, stray parts, and gods know what else. Therefore, they were extremely heavy.

“I… I just don’t think she’d go through the trouble of putting your body down here if she had to lift all this,” Joseph groaned, picking up a giant box of metal spare parts and moving it to the side.

He dropped it with a clang and started rifling through it, inspecting each part before going to a new one. He pocketed a few things; for instance, a knee joint, a vent, and a water tube. He needed to do some maintenance on his legs anyway.

“Well, I don’t think it’s down here,” Joseph said, closing the box and grabbing his cane.

“Hmmp. Where would Rabbit even put my body?” The Spine bemoaned, draping his chin over the lip of the bag.

Joseph thought for a second, limping out of the basement door and turning the light off. He closed the door, as ghouls sometimes materialised in the basement on Thursdays and they didn’t want to deal with another one of those. Finally, his brain kicked into action and tossed him an idea. “I think I might know,” He mused, giving The Spine a knowing grin.

◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇

“The Super Secret and Cool Hall Closet?” The Spine asked, eyeing the door with distrust.

Joseph shrugged. “Well, yeah. It’s The Super Secret and Cool Hall Closet. It’s the only place other than the labs and the Hall of Wires that has a door, so it’s a good choice to hide stuff in,” He reasoned, adjusting the position of his bag and absentmindedly patting The Spine on the head.

The Spine didn’t comment and only looked at the door, the gears in his head turning and producing a faint whirring sound. “You don’t have to go in, Joseph; I know you’re claustrophobic. I can go alone,” He said, glancing at the man out of the corner of his eye.

Joseph sighed, smiling ruefully at The Spine. “C’mon, Spine. This is your body we’re talking about here. I’m gonna help however I can, even if it means braving a closet,” Joseph said, trying to distract himself from the anxiety creeping up on him.

“Alright, if you say so. Lead the way,” The Spine said, snuggling into the bag and peeking his eyes out, glaring at the doorway.

Joseph chuckled and opened the door, flicking on the lightswitch. A single bulb hung from a wire in the middle of the closet illuminated, like something out of a horror movie. “Ooh~ spooky~,” Joseph teased, ignoring how low the ceiling was(or at least seemed to be).

“Yeah, terrifying…” The Spine joked back, his tone uncertain.

Joseph made quick work of the closet, searching through with more speed than necessary. “Whelp, it’s not here. Let’s go!” Joseph said cheerily, flicking the light off and closing the door with a certain finality that suggested that Joseph would not go in there again.

“Are we ever going to find my chassis? Will I be stuck as a head forever?????” The Spine whimpered, his fear evident in his voice.

“No, definitely not. C’mon, how about we look somewhere else?” Joseph reassured the head.

He patted The Spine on the head again, offering The Spine a comforting smile. The Spine huffed but smiled, almost leaning into Joseph's hand.

◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇

“I can’t think of anywhere it might be,” The Spine groaned, his face smashed into a pillow in Library #84.

“Beats me, too,” Joseph sighed, leaning back and setting his cane to the side, rubbing his legs in a futile attempt to soothe the dull ache in his legs.

The Spine sighed, wrapping his spine around the pillow like a snake. “I’ll never find it…” He said sadly, sounding quite like a child who had lost a toy.

Joseph felt a pang of pity for the robot go through his heart. “Hey now, none of that! We’ll find it!” He said, his mind already working out possible other places to check.

Suddenly, something occurred to him. “We never asked Rabbit outright where your body was,” Joseph said, shocked that he had missed that opportunity.

The Spine’s head snapped up and a myriad of emotions travelled over it, ending with shock. “We didn’t!! Why didn’t I think of that earlier!?” He cried, wiggling in Joseph’s direction.

Joseph gently scooped him up and stowed him in his satchel, grabbing his cane and pulling himself to his feet. “Let’s go do that now, then,” He decided, and off they went.

Walking there didn’t take too long, seeing as how Rabbit’s room was only on the fifth floor, as opposed to how Joseph’s was on the seventh. When they reached her room, a big, sparkly sign was hung over the tapestry covering the doorframe, reading, Tea Party- Only come if invited!!

There was a little box taped to the wall, two slips of paper hanging out of it. One was addressed to Peter, and one was addressed to Joseph. He already knew what it was; an invitation to said tea party. He knocked on the door, shushing The Spine and asking, “Rabbit, may I come in?”

“Jo-Josen Stone! Enter!” Rabbit cried from within and Joseph did so, brushing the tapestry aside.

He almost had to bite his tongue to keep himself from laughing. There, across from Rabbit in a tiara, Mach in an orange and blue spotted tie, and Zer0 in a bright purple top hat, sat The Spine’s body, a hot pink feather boa draped across his shoulders and a teacup balanced delicately in his hands. “Rabbit!” The Spine cried in outrage, wiggling his way up from the bottom of the satchel and glaring at his older sister.

Rabbit grinned, waving at her brother’s disembodied head. “Hi-Hiya Spine! As-As you can see, you’re already here, so you can-can’t be double here,” She said.

“Mhm,” Zer0 ahreed through a mouth of tea, Mach raising his teacup in agreement.

“Well, he’s half here. His chassis isn’t all of him, he’s his head too,” Joseph pointed out, pulling The Spine out of his bag.

“Yes! And if you don’t mind, I’d like to not be two halves anymore, thank you very much!” The Spine cried, glaring at Rabbit.

Rabbit pouted, putting her teacup down. “Bu-But then you won’t have tea!” She said, her tone sad.

“Yeah, you gotta!” Zer0 protested.

“I agree,” Mach said, refilling his cup carefully.

“Yeah, you kinda have to,” Joseph said, giving The Spine a serious look.

◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇

The Spine straightened his feather boa, taking care not to slosh his tea onto one of the other table’s occupants. Joseph shot him a smile, taking a sip of his own tea. Mint, he believed.

It had taken forever and then some bargaining, but he had managed to get The Spine’s body back and get him to stay for the party. So, here they were, both Joseph and his cane adorned with pink star stickers and red earrings in his pierced ear, sipping tea.

It wasn’t bad tea, after all. Rabbit may be a horrendous cook, but she could boil a pot of tea like nobody’s business. It wasn’t the tea that had made him stay, though, or Rabbit’s pestering. It was the chance to see all the robots in the Walter Manor having fun together. That was the part that always got to him the most.

#SPG OC #Matter Master Joseph #Joseph Turner #SPG Fanbot #OC #Fanbot #Mach #The Spine #The Spine SPG #SPG The Spine #Rabbit #Rabbit SPG #SPG Rabbit #Zer0 #Zer0 SPG #SPG Zer0 #Steam Powered Giraffe #SPG #Post-Accident Joseph for once!!

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first-only · 2 years

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Are there any places/people (online) you know that teach solid writing advice?

I want to get better at writing, but I don't want to accidently follow incorrect/unhelpful advice.

Ehhh it might be the crusty cynic in me but I really don’t trust any advice from random people online, it’s usually way too hard-rule oriented and/or aimed at utter beginners, or, you know, just outright bad. I’d say the best way to approach learning writing is through actual textbooks and schoolbooks. Like grammar and general language rules, and then onto English lit schoolbooks (or whatever language you want to use ofc). Plenty can be found on Z-Library (I’d advise you to look up what you want first, check out the amazon preview and then go on the hunt if you like it/it seems useful). These can teach you the basics of lit crafting like specific terms, how to read symbolism, some basic archetypes and story structures, how the 3 act structure works, what’s a culmination and where to put it, how emotional curves work, how to read for context etc etc. And of course they will point you at famous and classic examples and teach you through reading them how to read and reference further reading – learning how some authors have utilized certain tools can help you grasp the usage of the tools themselves.

Apart from that, I’d look at what authors themselves say of their creative process. LeGuin, Pratchett, King, all people I know for sure have shared their thoughts and processes on how they create. Of course, their work ethic and language/narrative use specifics might not be for you, but it might shine some insight on writing in general.

Of course, it wouldn’t be me if I didn’t give some of my own (unasked for lmao) advice:

Read – Yes, yes reading a lot always helps, soaking yourself in the craft helps, and reading outside of your genre helps – like reading history even if you want to write romance, reading romance for romance also, of course – knowing the nips and tricks of the genre and all – but diverse reading material, including non-genre fiction and non-fiction is always a way to get more original, to get inspired, to garner sources, yes yes we’ve all heard it. This NOT what I’m saying here. Like do it, sure. But /also/ read the words on the page before you. Look at the letters and the words and analyze the sentences. Look at your favourite author, fic or otherwise, determine the mood of the work, and /look at the sentences that crafted it/. Analyze each sentence that sends you mad and backwards engineer on /why/. How was that word used in that sentence? What does it add? Why was that the word choice? Why is that the sentence structure? Why is that sentence exactly this long and why is it in the spot where it is? Does it affect you emotionally? Did it convey the feelings of the character? Of the work? Did it make the scene, the world, the work more clear? How did a string of words achieve this? Does this author have a particular style? How do they achieve it, like on the page itself with the words and the tricks and the pauses and what is left unsaid? Open War and Peace and open A Tale of Two Cities and see the differences in the authors’ styles, the way they present characters, the way they use backgrounds, and dialogue, the length of their sentences and descriptions. Open Frankenstein and read all the descriptions of landscapes and nature and ask yourself, why is this here? What does this add to the book, the character, the mood? Open a fic and open a published romance novel and look at the particulars of the two genres, are they similar and why are they so different even if they serve the same function?

Write – Again, yes, yes, practice makes perfect, every craft is best when worked on a lot, keep writing and growing for yourself, yes, this is good advice. Again not what I’m talking about though. I read a story once, of an aspiring writer who had to stack firewood with his uncle. They were talking about his dreams, and his uncle said ‘looking at the way you stack firewood, you’d make a great writer.’ He took that as an insult, as an ‘you’re lower class, you’ll never achieve the arts’. But that is not what it meant, he realized as he grew into his craft. Writing, in its essence, is just putting words next to each other. In the same way you methodiously and meticulously put the firewood in stacks on itself, the words are just woods that you put in a particular order to achieve a particular result. And in the same way if one woodstack is out of order it will destabilize the entire thing, the words are all important and carry weight on themselves. That doesn’t mean that every word and every sentence has to be mindblowing and extravagant, but it does mean that every sentence is load-bearing. Some are a means to an end, some are a bridge over water, some are an info bulletin. It doesn’t matter. Every part of your work is a thought put into it, and flows into itself, stacks into the completed work with your effort. /Write/ as in keep writing and don’t give up and keep practicing, yes. But also /write/, as in look at the words you’re putting down with mindfulness, pay attention to what is happening to them, how they get transformed once they turn into sentences and then into paragraphs, into chapters, into completed narratives. Most people do this in editing – looking at the consistency of the work and whether its building blocks get it there. I like doing it as I write (which doesn’t exclude editing sadly lmao) – seeing the way you’ve built it so far helps you fill up the holes you’ve missed.

Plan – you know how often online writers “joke” about the story getting a mind of its own and the characters running off with the plot? That’s bad writing. It /is/ good practice, and it /is/ fun, and it’s an awesome feeling sometimes to just sit down and let the words flow and not care where it goes as long as you’re having fun and are creating. It is awesome! But if you’re serious, /plan/. When you let things just ‘flow’ you’re leaving them up to your subconsciousness, and that is full of stereotypes and plagiarized ideas and wishful thinking. You know those memes ‘there’s a plot hole in my fantasy gotta start over’? /That’s/ what happens when you let your ideas flow out without corralling them. You rush into the good part and there’s no bridges that tie it together and make it coherent, make it make sense. Having at least a basic bulletpoint plan of what you want your story to be, where you want it to go, what you want its theme to be, can help a lot with writing it in such a way that it /gets there/. You know what you’re writing /towards/ and that helps you build up to it. Having a solid premade characterization and actually thinking about it helps with keeping characters consistent and deliberately showing how and why they change, helps you show their decisions and actions as significant and meaningful. A coherent, consistent, character is an unforgettable jewel with a whole personality. A character left to ‘grow’ as they please often turns samey and forgettable and blends into every other one. Same as the stories themselves. You can tell a story of a hero heard a thousand times as just he 1001st. Or you can make something spectacular out of it with just a little thought planning and care, even though the basics of the plot and narrative are the same. And if the story keeps running away from your plan, think about why. Are your writing techniques inconsistent? Did you put the groundwork that would get both you and your reader on the path to the right story? Did your foreshadowing and basics work, or did you lean into a common trope you can’t escape now? Think of it as laying roadworks. If your road doesn’t lead where it’s supposed to, then the architecture wasn’t well thought out. That doesn’t necessarily mean change the plot. In fact I would say /keep the plot/. It would be more rewarding and a better practice to wrangle a story and characters into pace, to find and fix and add the necessities, than to change the plan and relinquish to the flow.

Trust – as in, trust your reader. Overexplaining is unnecessary and cumbersome, both to write and read. This is what ‘show don’t tell’ actually means. Describing a character as crying and then explaining that they’re sad in unnecessary and bloaty and it /insults/ your reader. They /know/, they can read, they can understand. Sure, not every work will be understood by everyone, but you’re not writing for everyone. You’re writing for /your/ audience and for yourself. Make sure you /like/ what you write, that it conveys the thing the way you want it to convey the thing. This is why YA is often looked down upon, it assumes its reader is someone who needs a basic plot overexplained and overexaggerated. Now don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing inherently wrong with YA – its target audience is, by definition, prone to edgy plots and grandiose emotions reflected in simple things. And, of course, explanations are sometimes good and necessary. If a character is prone to crying of happiness for example, saying that explicitly is establishing a characteristic. Reminding the reader of it isn’t bad. But repeating it over and /over/ every time it happens becomes cumbersome. This is where /trust your reader/ comes in – if you’ve established something you can trust your reader to know it. Repeating it reinforces your undermining of their intelligence and reading comprehension. This comes with the caveat that some people /will not/ get it. They will not read your words and gleam the meaning that you put into them. That’s okay. You cannot please everyone, and a core audience of people that truly vibe with your work is much more rewarding that a wide swathe of uninterested casuals, /trust me/. Some might insult your approach or style – fuck them. Some might understand something completely different than what you wanted to say – let them. A work belongs to its reader as much as its author. We’ve all gained something completely unhinged from a media that absolutely did not intend it. It’s fine. It’s okay. I’m sure you know for yourself how annoying it is when an author clings to their version on twitter and throws a temper tantrum. You know what you wrote, what it means to you. Don’t change it for someone else, but don’t try to change someone else for it.

Do not follow writing advice – this absolutely and fully includes /everything/ I just said. People forget that writing is an /art/. Art has no rules, no one can give you concrete advice, art is about feeling, and emotion, and conveying your inner world. Sure artists will tell you you need to learn the basics before you jump into scrambling them, they will show you Picasso’s perfect anatomic drawings he did before abstract art. But there’s also plenty of examples of people who got famous and whose work was regarded highly who had absolutely no previous experience and teaching. They broke the rules and they made it /good/. They went outside the box because no box existed to them. There is something about foundations destroying creativity. Words are /not/ blocks of wood. There is a wrong way to stack firewood - where it twists or falls or opens gaps for water to seep through. There is no wrong way to weave words, twists and falls and things unsaid are tools that you have at your disposal, not failings. Work for /yourself/ and make sure /you/ like it. Absolutely do not listen to bullshit like ‘do not use adverbs’ or ‘do not use said’ or ‘never use passive voice’. Do not listen to entitled readers telling you how to space your paragraphs. Turn off any functions of your writing program that check for anything but spelling. They want to put you in a box. One that is good enough, and mediocre, and an every man’s meal. You’re here for the expression, not the marvel movie tailored by twitter and reddit algorithms to please the most vast demographic possible for profit. Look at House of Leaves. Think of all the people that would tell you you’re dumb for styling any writing like that. Are they groundbreaking artists or is Danielewski, whatever your opinion on the book or him? And /yes/ this fully includes all those silly phrases or “clumsy” descriptions. Cerulean orbs shouldn’t be used for blue eyes? But what if I’m writing about a husband who has stared at his wife’s beautiful eyes his entire life, but now, /now/ while he’s looking at them he sees something monstrous and inhuman in them? What if he looks at her and can only describe what he’s seeing as her gentle blue irises replaced by cerulean orbs that stare through him, without seeing? What if I’m using the phrase thoughtfully and appropriately, what if it has place in my narrative? Writing is art. Art is expression. Express yourself as you see fit, even if people do not see you through it. They’ll either catch up or fall behind, neither is your problem or goal.

Well. Unless of course you want to go commercial. Then I guess study what’s hot and trendy right now, what your genre of choice offers, and needs, to please its audience. Actually follow common writing advice as it’s often what the readers themselves have read and will thus judge you by. Watch Cinema Sins and frequent TV Tropes, you know both by amateurs pretending to be great by hurling critique and grouping everything in the same house. I guess that would work. But then again, making money through art is often either luck or connections so. I doubt even that matters ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ getting hired by a triple A company to put what their online algorithms produced into a not even coherent plot sounds like creative hell to me, especially as it doesn’t even pay that well, but ey. We all got dreams, right?

#ask #this turned pretty huge #but this is what ive learned from way too many years in the trenches #this is legit the only writing advice i consider in any way useful or good

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posswrites · 2 years

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It Feels Like This - Chapter 5

"I can't believe you suggested that," Harry began as they made their way to the library after they finished eating. Hermione had finally relaxed her shoulders after Ron had been eager to start this plan immediately, after Harry filled him in on what he'd found out from Dumbledore, and left the table to brag about Hermione to Lavender, which made her blush. ("You know, it's funny, Hermione. When we first met, I'd never in a million years want to brag about you, but now, there's plenty you can do that she couldn't dream of.")

Hermione groaned. "I can't either. It feels so stupid. But I thought that maybe in pretending, he'd realize how he actually feels about me? It sounded like a good idea at the time, but now that I'm trying to figure it out, I'm not sure it is."

"Well, really the only thing that's affected is our plan. Should I keep pretending with you or do we not want to do that anymore?"

"I don't know." She took a deep breath, running a hand through her hair. "Let's just worry about horcruxes, okay? That seems much easier right now."

Except it wasn't. In the two hours before class started, neither Harry nor Hermione had anything except a stack of books higher than their heads.

"I can't believe there's nothing! There's never nothing but this… it's like horcruxes don't even exist." She flipped through the same book for the fifth time absentmindedly, as if something would appear that wasn't there before. "I've never come up this empty-handed." Hermione ran a hand over her face as her head fell onto Harry's shoulder next to her.

"Not even in the restricted section?"

"Not even in the restricted section. But I suppose I can check again."

"Yeah, of course. I'll come back with you."

"You don't have to do that, Harry." She picked her head up and turned to face him.

"I know. But I'm not expecting you to do research on this by yourself. I know you're better at it than I am, but this concerns me more than you. You shouldn't have to do it all."

A tired smile crossed Hermione's face. "Thank you. You know I'm not going to let you do anything by yourself either, right?"

"We'll see," he chuckled, quickly taking notes of the books they had out before standing. "Come on. Let's put these back and head to class. We don't want to be late when exams are coming up."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with Harry Potter?"

"Well, you're taking a page out of my book. I figured I'd take a page out of yours," he shrugged. Hermione just shook her head as she gathered her books and left the table.

They went their separate ways to put them back, and Hermione knew she did need to focus on class, but there was a part of her that started prioritizing Harry's safety. School would always be there, and she could go back after all this was done. But though her class assignments obviously needed to get done, and testing was going to happen, keeping Harry alive was a lot more important. She couldn't lose him. Even the thought of it hurt. Harry was… well, she didn't want to think about it too much. Having a best friend was something she wasn't ready to give up yet. She and Ron would probably be fine, but Harry was the main target, and she knew that.

"Are you all right?" Harry's voice drew her back out of the negative thoughts, and she smiled when she turned to him. He was here now, and that's what mattered.

"Yeah. I am," she breathed as the last of her books slipped back into its place on the shelf. "Sorry, just thinking."

Harry only nodded. "We'll be okay, Hermione." He'd noticed Hermione seeming to space out a little bit lately, and he knew she was taking Voldemort's comeback hard. They all were, but it seemed to affect her a little more frequently than usual. Her brain was always thinking, always working, and she kept putting more and more on her plate. And he hated that he kept adding more mysteries that she expected to solve. He needed to think of a way to ease that stress, and if that meant helping her research, he would. Withholding information, even, if it came down to it. He was smart - there were some things he could figure out himself.

Hermione took a deep breath. "I know we will."

Their walk to class was silent, and a little farther apart than normal just at the fear of getting too emotional too early in the morning. But Hermione found herself longing to be near his side. After all the closeness and touching they'd been doing over the past week, this distance was… odd.

She didn't sit next to Harry in Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Instead, she immediately took a seat next to Ron, leaving Seamus to partner with Harry, who looked over in confusion.

"Ron, I need your help with something," she whispered as she set out her book and a piece of parchment to write on.

Ron seemed a little taken aback at Hermione needing his help, but he answered quickly. "Yeah, of course. Whatever you need."

"I need Harry's Invisibility Cloak."

Ron's eyes glanced over at Harry, who was taking out his books and talking to Seamus. "What for?" he asked quickly.

"I need to do some research in the restricted section and I don't want to be interrupted."

"And I assume Harry doesn't know you have this plan?"

"No," she admitted. "But I don't want to go into your dorm while everyone's in bed, so I need you to get it for me tonight." Hermione halted, sitting up a bit straighter as Snape walked by, moving to the front of the room to give them instruction for the day.

More than usual, Defense Against the Dark Arts had been stressful once Harry had told them about what Snape was up to. It seemed like he was tenser than normal, as if he knew there was something they knew.

"Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley, is there something you'd like to share with the rest of the class?"

Hermione's cheeks turned scarlet, and she looked down at her parchment. Ron spoke up. "No, Professor."

"Then I suggest you save your conversations for afterwards."

"Yes, sir," she peeped. Once Snape's back was turned, she quickly wrote a note on the top of her paper: After class. Ron looked over the message and nodded, and the rest of the class went by smoothly, though Hermione caught Snape eyeing them every once in a while.

As soon as they were dismissed, Ron and Hermione seemed to be the first ones out of the room, getting to the door well before Harry, even though he was across the aisle. He frowned as they snuck off.

"So what is it that you're researching?" Ron asked as soon as they were alone in a side corridor that wasn't usually too busy. Not very much risk of people coming by, though it didn't get past Hermione that she hadn't been alone with Ron in a while. But she wasn't going to lie; it did make her heart flutter a little bit, though she tried to convince herself it was just because they had a secret plan.

"The horcruxes," she whispered. "We went to the library before class this morning, but I couldn't find anything. I was able to get some restricted books, but I know there has to be something else in there. I didn't look through everything."

"Shouldn't Harry be trying to figure that out too? Why is it a secret?"

Hermione sighed, leaning against the wall. "I don't… I don't want him to think I'm doing too much. He keeps asking me if I'm okay, but I want to do my part too, you know?"

"Yeah, of course. Do you want me to come with you?"

As inviting as being under the Cloak with Ron was, Hermione shook her head. "No. If Harry finds you out at night, he's going to get suspicious and come looking. He won't know I'm gone. Please, Ron, I'll come up with something for Lavender for you." She watched his face for a second as a smirk came over his face.

"Okay. Look, if it's getting rid of her, I'll do whatever it takes. Tonight, right?" Hermione nodded. "Done. I'll meet you in the common room at 10, after everyone's in bed."

"Thank you," she whispered, resisting the urge to kiss him.

"Hey! Where'd you two run off to?" Harry laughed, waving to Seamus as he caught them out of the corner of his eye.

"Sorry, Lavender planning," Hermione answered. "I wanted to make sure we talked about it before I forgot."

"You, forget something?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, playfully smacking his shoulder. "It happens occasionally. I… think we've agreed, though, right? About the plan?" Her eyes looked toward Ron, who nodded.

"Do I get to be in on it?"

"Maybe," Ron answered. "Once it's really in motion, you know. Don't want to say too much out here. She might hear."

Hermione couldn't help but smile sheepishly, a small subconscious giggle bubbling up in her chest. There was no way this was actually happening. Ron had agreed to go behind Harry's back to help her. It seemed unreal.

She basically had to force Harry to bed that night, promising that she'd be right up behind him, and that Harry needed his rest as Quidditch captain. It was true; Harry couldn't deny it. So, he'd reluctantly left Hermione in the common room.

Her heart was racing as she waited for Ron. It seemed too quiet, and she began to worry that he hadn't been able to do it. Then what would she do? How would she know? What if Harry had kept Ron up talking to him and he couldn't get away?

But after what seemed like forever, Hermione finally let out a sigh of relief when she saw Ron heading down the stairs with the Cloak in his hands. "You made it," she grinned, standing from the couch and reaching out her hands.

"Yeah, sorry it took so long. I wanted to wait for him to fall asleep. And it's kind of hard to find, because… well… you know." He held the fabric out to Hermione, who laughed a little and nodded.

Ron grinned as she took it, a half smile Hermione realized she hadn't seen in longer than she realized. "You sure you don't want me to come with you?"

For a split second, it sounded like Ron wanted to join her. She grabbed two corners of the cloak and held it up against her body. "I really don't think we'll fit, but if you really want to go to the library… I'm not going to say no."

"We've done it before."

"We were eleven, Ron. You've grown a little bit."

Ron rolled his eyes playfully. "Come on, Hermione. I want to help. I feel like I've been kind of… useless lately."

"Because you haven't left Lavender's side." Hermione winced internally - that had come out a little harsher than she'd intended.

"I know. It's not that I don't want to hang out with you, I just… she's…"

Hermione nodded. "Well, we don't have time to discuss it, okay? If you really want to come, we can try to squeeze under here. If not, I'll bring this back before morning." She tried to hide the shakiness in her voice at the option, or the hope she was sure leaked through. Her eyes moved down to her feet as she waited for his answer. Honestly, she wasn't really sure which one she'd prefer. On one hand, she'd love the alone time with Ron, and if she really thought about it, the library could be romantic in the right setting. On the other hand, tagging another person along on a mission that involved stealth could create a whole other set of issues, especially since keeping quiet hadn't always been Ron's specialty.

"Okay, fine. Let's go, then." He took the Cloak back from her and opened it, tossing it over their heads and scooting in close so they'd be mostly covered. Hermione's breath caught, and she tried to steady it. He was nearly pressed against her back, and she could feel him breathing lightly on her hair. "Is this okay? I think our feet are covered. I remember there being a lot more space under here."

Hermione nodded. "I told you we were a lot smaller," she whispered. "Okay, I have no idea how we're going to do this, but we'll have plenty of time to get there."

"Right." He held it above them a little while she raised the front so she wouldn't trip over it. They took a couple minutes to practice maneuvering so close to each other while walking, but as if nothing had changed in the past five years (and what had, really?), Hermione was surprised to find their silent communication and subtle body movements steering each other almost effortlessly.

She couldn't help but smile. "It feels like we're back in first year again," she laughed.

"Except without Fluffy."

"Don't jinx it."

Ron spoke again as they were about to leave the common room. "Are you wearing the perfume I gave you?"

Hermione paused. "Yes," she replied, unsure of the emotion she was supposed to portray.

"Good. I like it better on you than just from the bottle."

"Thanks," she replied, though she was glad she was in front of him so he couldn't see the deep blush that suddenly appeared on her face.

They made it to the library without much turmoil, though Hermione had gotten nervous when Ron accidentally stepped on a corner of the Cloak on the stairs and it pulled off of them entirely. Luckily, it had been easy to get to a shadow and throw it back on without being spotted. She really wished she'd gotten the Marauder's Map, too, so she could find some hidden passages.

"Have you tried-"

"Sh," Hermione whispered, jumping a little at Ron's voice, almost having forgotten he was behind her. "We'll talk inside."

She flicked her wand towards the door and heard a click as it unlocked. This wasn't anything new to her, but as soon as they slipped in and Ron began again, Hermione put her hand up, shushing him once more.

"Homenum Revelio." A few seconds later, she quickly pulled the Cloak off of them, taking a deep breath of relief at the cool air.

"What was that?" Ron asked, running his fingers through his hair to fix it.

"Detection spell," Hermione explained. "Haven't you learned that one?"

"No… maybe. I don't know. But… the lock. How many nonverbals can you do?"

Hermione rolled her eyes playfully as she folded the cloak up and draped it over her arm. "Only ones I know really well. Otherwise, I still have to say it. Haven't you been practicing?! We're supposed to be learning and you know it'll be on our exams!"

"I'm barely decent at verbal spells, Hermione. Help me."

"Not here," she whispered. "But… I can later."

"So what are we looking for?"

Part of her suddenly regretted bringing him along and wondered if the closeness was worth it, but she realized this was Ron, and she should be grateful that he was trying to help at least. Plus, she'd get him all to herself for a little bit instead of Lavender, which brewed up a strange feeling of pride and the urge to boast that she wasn't used to. "Information about horcruxes. Or any kind of Dark magic that might point us in that direction."

"Do we know what they do?"

"No, just the name."

"Right." His eyes scanned the shelves of books they passed as they headed to the Restricted Section. "That's it, huh? Just the name."

Hermione turned to him, crossing her arms. "Something wrong with that? I told you what this was going to be. Harry and I just ran out of time this morning."

"No, no, I just… we're gonna be here all night, aren't we?"

"That was the plan."

Ron just nodded, but Hermione could tell he wasn't incredibly excited about the realization. She didn't have time to dwell on it, instead unlocking the gate to the Restricted Section and getting to work by the light of her wand. Within a few minutes, she'd taken a few books that looked promising and deposited them onto a small table, where Ron was seated with two books of his own, looking at them with a kind of glazed-over look in his eyes. Well, at least he tried. Hermione sat down next to him and opened the cover of the first book. "Do you even know how to do research?" she teased.

"No, not really," Ron responded with a smirk, opening his own and skimming the first page.

When he'd been silent for a while, Hermione looked over to find Ron snoring a little with his cheek resting on one of the books. She smiled, pushing his hair back a little hesitantly so he wouldn't wake up. When he didn't, she relaxed, just looking at him. She hadn't really gotten to see him asleep very often, only a few times when she'd had to wake him up at the Burrow. Now, though, in one of her favorite places, it had been a while since she had seen him this peaceful, this relaxed.

He didn't wake up until a couple hours later, when Hermione had been through all her books and she'd grabbed some more. She found herself yawning a few times, but she was glad for the company. His eyes opened and he picked his head up off the book. "What time is it?" he asked, rubbing his face.

"Almost one."

"Oh… have you found anything?"

"Nothing. It's… so frustrating."

"M'sorry. Anything I can help with?"

"I don't think so," Hermione sighed. "But thank you for coming, anyway. I'm glad you got some sleep."

Ron chuckled nervously. "I thought I'd be able to stay up longer. This stuff is just so boring."

"Agreed. I think I'm about ready to call it a night myself, honestly." She yawned again to prove her point and closed her book. "I guess we'll just have to count on Harry to get the answer from Slughorn."

"He can do it. You know he can."

"I know he can." Hermione repeated. "I just sometimes wish he didn't have to."

Ron was quiet as she put her books back. It was a little unnerving at first, but he came up behind her to help replace the books. "It's always been the three of us, hasn't it? Doing all this. Fighting monsters and solving problems."

"Yeah."

"Don't you ever wonder why?"

Hermione paused, frowning softly, and turned around. "What do you mean?"

Ron shrugged. "I dunno. I just… we put ourselves in danger every year. And other students don't have to. They get to be normal and just be kids, while we're out fighting wars."

"I've been thinking about that a lot, too, honestly," Hermione admitted. "It's not fair. I know that. But… we've succeeded this far. We're good at it. We're good at learning and fighting and knowing each other. I mean, you and Harry are my best friends. I'm going to do whatever it takes to protect you."

"And we'd do the same for you."

"I know you would. As far as all of this goes, though, I guess that's just the consequences of you saving me from that troll," she teased.

"Hey, that was all Harry's idea," Ron laughed.

"Are you saying you wouldn't have gone after me?"

"Back then, no. I didn't like you, remember? Well, neither did Harry, but he was the one who remembered you were in the bathroom when everyone was evacuating."

"...Really?"

"Yeah. You didn't know that?" Hermione shook her head. "Oh. Yeah. But now, of course, I'd be the first one there."

Hermione wasn't sure how to feel about that. Harry had tried to protect her even when he didn't like her. No wonder he'd been sorted into Gryffindor. It hadn't really bothered her that much that Ron hadn't been involved - she didn't like him back then, either. The whole reason she was in the bathroom in the first place was because Ron had insulted her. But the man in front of her now would never say anything like that.

"It's funny how much things have changed, isn't it?" Ron continued.

"Yeah, it is."

She stared at him for a minute until an awkward smile came over his face. "What?"

Hermione averted her gaze quickly. "Nothing, nothing."

"Come on, you can tell me. We're alone."

She swallowed hard. Should she just tell him and get all of this over with? What if he said no? That would definitely change things. Maybe. At least for her. But what other chance would she have? Maybe it was the tiredness talking, but she slowly took the seat next to Ron.

"I was just thinking about how our relationship has changed."

Ron nodded softly. "Yeah." He half-smiled as he lifted a couple of books to their place. Hermione paused. She was suddenly nervous. She found her hands shaking subconsciously and quickly stopped them. She had no issue with telling Viktor that she fancied him, and she had no problem pretending with Harry, but this… this was different entirely.

"Ron, I-"

He turned to look at her. "I know, Hermione."

Her eyes widened. "You… you do?"

"Yeah. It's great, though. I don't mind."

"You… you don't mind?"

"Not really. I mean, it could make things a bit weird, you know, at times, but I've known for a bit. Seems kind of sudden in execution, though. Not exactly how I expected, but I guess other things have changed quickly, too."

Hermione's shoulders slumped in relief. If he already suspected, though she didn't think she'd been that obvious, it would be a lot easier considering he hadn't seemed to change their relationship. Then again, that didn't necessarily mean that was a good thing. "Ron, I've fancied you for years," she said with a chuckle.

Ron was silent again and Hermione's smile fell instantly when she couldn't read his expression. "Wait, what?"

"I… I thought that's… that's what you were talking about. I…" she fumbled, her brow furrowing as she felt her eyes prickle with embarrassment. Hermione blinked quickly, trying to calm herself down. "What were you talking about?"

"I… thought you fancied Harry."

I don't mind. His words ricocheted in her ears. If he didn't mind, it meant he didn't feel the same way about her. Or he did, but thought Harry was better. She let out a humorless laugh, rolling her eyes. Of course this is how this would work out for her. And now Ron knew, and their plan was ruined and she'd have to tell Harry. Ron would have to see her pretend to have a crush on Harry while knowing he was really the one she wanted. It was all too much. And though it was childish and there was a reason she hadn't done it in a while, she grabbed the Invisibility Cloak from the table and sped off between the shelves and out of Ron's sight.

"Hermione, wait!" he half-whispered after her, but by the time he put the rest of his books down and moved in the direction he saw her go, she was gone.

How could he not have noticed? It all came together to culminate in the moments from the Yule Ball to just a few months ago when she'd sent those birds after him: the looks, the worry, the jealousy, the care he'd come to feel from her. The rumors were true. Lavender was right, though there was no way he could tell her. He took a deep breath, hoping Hermione didn't leave the library - otherwise he would have no way of getting back to the dorms undetected. He needed to find her, and spent a few minutes weaving through aisle after aisle in silence, trying to listen out for any sign of her. When he was about to give up, he closed his eyes, racking his brain for the spell she used.

"Homenum Revelio," he whispered with a hand on his wand, unsure of what would happen. But he felt a tug in a direction behind him, like a compass. He walked slowly as he followed the instinct. The stronger it got, the more careful he stepped, making sure he didn't run into her or step on her if she still had the Cloak on. Then, when it was right in front of him, he hesitantly reached a hand out to tug the fabric off of her. Her arms were wrapped around her knees as her eyes stayed focused on the floor, unmoving.

"Hermione."

She just shook her head softly.

"Hermione…" Ron slowly dropped to one knee in front of her. "Hermione, look at me." Tear-reddened eyes met his for a brief second, and it broke Ron's heart. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't realize…"

"It's okay," she whispered, looking down at the floor again. "I shouldn't have assumed."

"Me either." He moved to sit down next to her. "I really didn't know, though. I mean, I guess it makes sense and I'm starting to realize how thick I've been. But it… doesn't change anything between us. I promise it won't."

He barely heard her say, "I just thought you might feel the same way."

Ron nodded. "I… I'm sorry, Hermione. I… You're beautiful and brilliant and amazing, but-"

"Don't."

Ron's mouth shut softly. "You are, though. And obviously, it's not like I'd be opposed or anything, but that's just… not how I've thought about you much."

She wrenched her eyes up at him again. "Ron, please stop. I don't want to talk about it right now, okay? Maybe we can later, but… I just want to go back to bed." She sniffed, wiping her eyes with her sleeve and rising to her feet. Ron followed, looking at the Cloak in his hands.

"Are you okay with going back under this with me?"

Hermione nodded wordlessly and Ron crept into place behind her before tossing it over the both of them as they started back towards the common room. Ron had so many questions for her, but he knew she wasn't going to talk about it tonight, if at all. But he couldn't help the guilt that seeped into his chest at almost every interaction they'd had for the past year. He felt lucky that she bid him goodnight after sliding the Cloak off, folding it neatly, and depositing it back into Ron's arms.

"Goodnight, Ron."

"'Night, Hermione." He watched her walk up the stairs, wondering what he was going to tell Harry if she didn't show up for breakfast. He also couldn't ask if Harry knew about her crush without telling him how he'd found out. Maybe he shouldn't have gone with her after all.

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