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wedonthaveawhile · 1 month

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Baby Garreth, and where to find him.

Garreth Weasley x MC

Inspired by her desire to see mermaids, Garreth brews his Herbology partner a potion as a gesture of his affection. Cue the inevitable chaos and peril.

AO3 // Word count: 4.4k

Can be a standalone fic or read as a prequel to Crimson and Clover

Had Garreth been asked for his opinion on the Heroine of Hogwarts a few months back, you likely would have been treated to such eloquent critiquing as: "Bit of a teacher's pet."

There was never any intention to offend; tactful words simply weren't his forte—as proven by the way he inadvertently voiced this opinion directly to her face on the day they were assigned as Herbology partners.

He was only teasing, possibly with an underlying motive of reverse psychology. He had felt her eyes drilling into him while his own ogled the snakeweed—a rare ingredient, almost impossible to obtain by non-thievery means. He thought implying his witness was a snitch might prompt her to look the other way to prove him wrong.

When he tried to execute his nifty little scheme: Pocketing the goods while hoping fifteen students and a professor weren't looking (a tactic that boasted a commendable twenty-three-percent success rate), the snakeweed had vanished—as had his partner.

A middle finger if he'd ever seen one.

Her assault on his pride. Her flawless execution of theft. Her exemplary eye for valuable plunder—It was one step shy of a strip tease, and Garreth had been chasing her tail ever since.

These fresh circumstances might offer insight into why he was currently trudging through ankle-deep mud on yet another lap of the kneazle pen.

His timing had been impeccable—A passing stroll coinciding perfectly with the end of her Beast's class, setting the stage for a spontaneous walk to Herbology together.

Professor Cockblock must have had some trivial errand to palm off to a trustworthy student and was holding back the obvious choice for a briefing.

Just because Garreth had formed new opinions didn't mean he'd relinquished the old ones. Teacher's pet was, unfortunately, terminal.

At long last, the tardy witch bounded down the steps of the hut. Considering Garreth's feet were now encased in a three-inch layer of sludge, he was surprisingly light on them. She remained oblivious to him sauntering up behind her until his shoulder met hers in a clumsy bump.

He grinned as she shot three inches skyward with a hand clutched to her chest. The profanity-laden gasp that followed was the cherry on top.

How she wasn't routinely dismembered during her trips into the forbidden forest was nothing short of a miracle.

"Surprise."

She branded him a twat, delivering a retaliatory shoulder-bump with a slight more force than necessary. "What are you doing lurking around out here?"

"Quidditch practice wrapped up early, so I figured I'd take a stroll."

"A gorgeous morning for it," she chirped as drizzle splattered their faces.

"Caught sight of my favourite botanist and thought I'd put her survival instincts to the test."

"Results?"

"Atrocious."

"Blame it on my hunger," she sighed, booting a pebble in frustration. "Do you think we have time for a detour to the kitchen? I'm starving."

Garreth couldn't relate; he was stuffed to the brim with sweeties. The head of Gryffindor always whipped up a batch of red velvet cookies for their Quidditch meetings—something to do with flying the house colours and fostering team unity. A cloying sentiment, but if they earned him brownie points, who was he to complain?

Quite the wingman was Aunt Matilda.

"Fear not, sunshine. I've got you covered," he declared, fishing around in his pocket and producing a stack of the stolen treats.

"Oh, you do come with perks, Weasley."

"In Garreth, we trust."

The primary ingredient of his perks was fluff from his pocket lining, but she graciously overlooked that detail.

"How did the meeting go?"

"Eh, alright," he shrugged as he shouldered open the door and used a drying charm to restore his sodden hair to its usual wayward refinement. "Team building can only get us so far when the entire Slytherin team is equipped with the latest Nimbus."

Her proceeding moan could have been interpreted as one of sympathy or indulgence as she took a mouthful of sickly scarlet sustenance. "You could shave off your mane; you'll be more aerodynamic."

"Genius. I happen to be a dab hand at hairless potions, ask Leander."

Her ensuing sideways glance was a sly one. If Garreth were a presumptuous man, he might have thought she was checking out the ginger vista.

"Don't, though," was her conclusion.

"But I want to be a speedy boy."

"On your hair be it. I hope there's a nice-shaped cranium underneath all that," she said with a swooping gesture that implied his hair was three-feet wide.

"And if there isn't? How do I make egg-head look good?"

"Ask Leander."

Garreth glanced at her with a grimace of guilt. "He did not make it look good. Poppy mistook him for a golden snidget on three separate occasions. And a testicle on one."

His face lit up as he bathed in the golden glow of her laughter.

Professor Garlick was palpating leaves as they descended into the greenhouse—regaling her students on the metamorphosis of herbage as the wind slammed against the windows and sent the trailing plants into a wild frenzy.

They bypassed the lecture and gathered the equipment to carry out their assignment. Garreth watched the analytical projection suspended over the plant pot twinkle in his partner's eyes as she assessed the growth since its last inspection.

She was a vision.

An english rose.

Worthy of a Chocolate Frog Card.

Probably already on one.

He ought to go find it.

He unwillingly shifted his attention downward when asked his opinion on its condition.

"Beauty in its purest form," he declared as he twiddled a leaf between his fingers, though the sentiment wasn't directed at the foliage.

"Do you think?"

"The crème de la crème of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

"I didn't know you were so fond of mandrakes."

"Mm-hmm, marriage material if you ask me."

He went too far with that one, and she shot him a strange look, "Is that a joke?"

"Dead serious, sweetheart."

Her cheeks flushed at his honeyed words, and she hid it by bobbing under the desk to fetch the cotton balls.

"Here," she declared to the underside of the table. "You'll need some ear protection; we need to repot your wife."

"Saucy. We've been looking for a third."

She muttered a phrase popular among the muggle-born students—something about God giving her strength.

Garreth dismissed it as a term of endearment.

Having successfully ploughed his wife, the witch bent over the worktop to scribble down some notes for their theory assignment. As luck would have it, Garreth found himself conveniently positioned behind her. In a moment of whimsy, he indulged in a passing fantasy wherein the screaming atop the bench wasn't solely the mandrakes' doing. Their fictitious romp was cut short when she turned to Garreth with an expression implying he had just been posed a question.

They locked eyes for a transient moment.

"Hello."

"What can be brewed with mandrakes?" She repeated, fluttering the quill over the title of her notes: Potions.

The blood ascended back to Garreth's brain, which he used to fuel a monologue. He began with healing elixirs, then progressed to combative and defensive tonics. She was very impressed by his knowledge of the animagus potion, so only after he'd soaked up every drop of attention from that did he segue into miscellaneous potions…

"Younger or older?"

Garreth halted his steady stream of words. "Come again?"

"You said age potions. Is that for becoming younger or older?"

"Both."

"Got it," she transcribed the information onto the last remaining sliver of parchment before duplicating the notes and handing him a copy. "That should be enough for now."

"What would be your preference?" Garreth asked as he scanned her hasty summary. “If you had an ageing potion, would you go older or younger?"

"Younger." Her reply was instantaneous. "I'd sign up for first-year classes. Did you hear they get a class trip into Black Lake now that Nerida Roberts has made peace with the mermaids?"

"I heard the rumours, not the confirmation that they're true."

"Well, Mr. Moon has been preparing the boats for their afternoon class, so it's likely."

"Criminal. Why do the ankle-biters get to go?"

"The younger the human, the less likely they are to get eaten." She looked crestfallen at having involuntarily aged into mermaid fodder. "I'd do anything to see one in the flesh."

Anything?

Garreth tucked that juicy little nugget of information into the corner of his brain for future reference.

As he began to tidy up their tools, he hesitated as he reached for the mandrake. Since their last class, it had flourished quite spectacularly. Ripe leaves were unfurling, and fresh sprouts were vying for their place in the renewed soil.

The potions that could be concocted with all this deliciousness.

It made Garreth's thumbs itch.

He leaned on his forearms, knocking an elbow against his partner in herbology/crime. "Might I trouble you for a favour?"

"Another heist?"

"You know how it is."

"You still owe me for the last one."

"What's your price, sunshine?"

After a moment of consideration, she swiped her quill's bristles against his jaw and told him: "Surprise me."

Garreth's heart skipped a beat, then kicked up again at an alarming rate.

Fucking titillating.

"I'll wrangle you a mermaid," he stated succinctly, embodying the charismatic gentleman he was known to be. His words absolutely did not stumble out in a jumbled lump.

"Ambitious."

"And, on second thought, kind of inconvenient," he added, mulling over the logistical implications of housing a mermaid. "Fine, I'll wrangle you a glimpse of a mermaid."

"Still ambitious; how do you plan to pull that off?"

"I have my ways," he said, tapping his nose. "Meet me in the boathouse after lunch?"

She narrowed her eyes, scouring his features for any trace of dubious intentions. The boathouse was a notorious hook-up spot and had been the subject of a few too many jokes (that perhaps weren't entirely jokes) suggesting they relocate their study sessions there.

He kept quiet and tried to look like he wasn't harbouring several ulterior motives. Her curiosity evidently outweighed her better judgment, because she agreed.

With their tasks completed, the distraction sprang over to Garlick, loudly inquiring about the "breathtaking" new assortment of plant life on the opposite side of the greenhouse.

Garreth carried their mandrake over to the shelves.

In a moment of clumsy misfortune, he fumbled with the pot, inadvertently grabbing the plant by its sprouts and plucking off several leaves in the process.

In sheer happenstance, these fallen leaves found their way into his cloak pocket.

Completely unaware of the faux pas, Garreth quickly skedaddled out of the classroom.

The potion prodigy dropped a pilfered leaf into a steaming cauldron. It belched up a scalding mist of fuchsia fog, and Garreth ducked to avoid it with a triumphant grin. As the potion simmered, he envisioned what tantalising rewards awaited him for bringing her dreams to fruition.

It was an odd sensation—having impure thoughts whilst mashing troll bogeys into a fine paste.

Their fictitious romp was cut short once more, this time by the intrusion of an abnormally long nose topped with impeccable hair.

"Hello, Prewett."

Leander sidled up to the desk, two ice-cold butterbeers floating behind him. "Have you been here all morning? I thought you were joining us in Hogsmeade."

"An opportunity arose."

Leander looked a combination of curious and suspicious as he surveyed the array of grimy receptacles. He kept himself and his hair at a safe distance. "What's going on?"

"Just brewing a gift for someone."

"Who?"

"Someone."

Leander didn't waste time guessing; he jumped straight to the correct conclusion and informed Garreth that he was a soppy bastard. Garreth didn’t dispute it; she occupied his mind far more than any previous passing fancies.

Turning the notebook around, Leander scanned the nearly indecipherable process for age potions. "How far back does she want to turn the clock?"

"Seven years, give or take," Garreth replied, watching his friend sniff a jug of a failed experiment. “I overshot it with that batch. Best not ingest it; you might turn into a sperm."

Leander tossed the potion back onto the table and scrubbed his unsullied hands on his robes. "Are you sure about this? Sallow will have your head if you turn the heroine of Hogwarts into seminal fluid. Then Gaunt will harvest your functional eyes."

Garreth waved those minor concerns away, his focus honing in on the most critical point. "Don't call her that; she hates it."

"She'd also hate being jizz."

"Trust me, it's going to be a wild success. I have a secret ingredient," Garreth declared, jabbing a bogey-stained thumb to his chest.

"Heart?" Leander asked with a stifled sound of disgust.

"No, me. Garreth Weasley. Most of what I do results in the desired outcome, one way or another."

"Just with several explosions along the way."

"It's called pizazz, Prewett.”

"Well, I can't say I didn't try. I'm leaving before I'm implicated." Leander plucked one of the butterbeers out of the air and slid it across the table. "Best of luck, Weasel."

"Cheers, buddy. For the beverage and soon-to-be-forgotten advice," Garreth raised the drink to his lips and chugged half. Appeasing ladies was thirsty work, and he had begun to resemble one of the sweaty puddles forming on the counter.

He lowered the cup and was met with Leander's horrified visage.

"What…" Garreth's lips curled in disgust; he smacked them together in response to the cataclysmically putrid aftertaste. Had Leander fermented the beer in his arsehole? Bloody hell, it was foul. He opened his mouth to demand answers, but it remained agape as the tabletop began to rise.

Garreth watched in dubious disbelief as his full and frothy butterbeer, alongside a half-empty beaker of defective potion, ascended past him.

Oh shit...

No matter how much Garreth thrashed, pushed, and grabbed at the thick blankets swaddling him, he seemed to be making no progress towards freedom.

A refreshing gust of fresh air greeted his face as someone whisked the material away from it, and his vision adjusted to the gangly thing staring down at him. Bony hands were clamped over its mouth, muffling its irritating bleating, save for one vaguely familiar sound that slipped through the cracks.

"Weasley?"

Garreth had no clue what it meant, nor was he really listening.

His attention had been lured upwards to something familiar and profoundly comforting. It called to mind dreamy memories of tight cuddles and the aroma of freshly baked cookies. With his chubby arms eagerly extended, Garreth reached towards the glossy mass of ginger hair.

"Mama."

Mum's immediate response was a stiff: "No."

She lifted Garreth's arm and began probing the joints while letting out a string of confounded noises: "Well, at least you're not a sperm. How old are you?"

Ah, Garreth knew this trick well. He withdrew his fingers from his dribbling mouth and proudly brandished the moist digits—quantity unknown.

"No, you look younger than four…"

Garreth was actually trying to display eighteen, but that was by the by, as his stomach interrupted the goings-on with a grumble of protest.

Some absolute cretin had failed to provide him with sustenance.

"Don't you dare…," said mum.

Garreth sucked in a deep lungful of air, mustering every wisp of it to articulate his plea: "Mother, please. I'm famished." Except it took the form of a skull-splitting scream.

He cracked open an eye in hopeful anticipation of a succulent meal being bequeathed to him to find a stick hovering an inch from his face.

It looked delectable—a gourmet feast of the highest quality.

He took a hearty bite but was promptly shoved away by Mum. She wiped the resultant drool off on Garreth's hair, which felt uncalled for, before making a noise that shrunk his blanket into clothes befitting his podgy form. He was then scooped up haphazardly, his body contorting at a crooked angle as Mum's lanky fingers awkwardly gripped his limbs.

Her attempts to keep him upright were clumsy and uncoordinated as if she'd never held a child before. Something seemed fishy, but before he could assign any brainpower to the feeling, they were transported through a doorway and absorbed into a bustling crowd.

What were all these people doing in Garreth's house?

He caught snippets of his name, each time prefaced by words beyond his current comprehension like: "Is that..." and "What the fuck have you done..."

A few intruders waved, and Garreth returned the gesture despite Mum's increasingly laborious efforts to prevent him from tumbling to the ground.

Garreth realised it had been some time since he travelled by way of arms, and decided then that he must get back into it.

And so, after that fine voyage (during which he only vomited twice), they landed in a lush field. Overhead, people dressed in vivid green costumes whizzed around on brooms, overseen by a man to whom Garreth was unceremoniously presented.

The man's piercing eyes roved over Garreth's fiery red hair, then lifted to Mum's.

"Prewett, is this your foetus?"

Mum looked freshly displeased and dumped Garreth into the man's much sturdier arms.

A dark line was carved across his eye; it piqued Garreth's innocent curiosity. He reached out to touch it gently, but his new-fangled toddler strength drove his tiny fist to inadvertently deliver a solid punch to the man's nose. Garreth instinctively grasped out as he teetered on the recoil, knotting his hands in the man's thick brown hair.

It looked delectable—a gourmet feast of the highest quality.

Garreth tried to indulge in a munch, but his efforts were met with resistance as his fingers and mouth were gradually, and by all accounts, painfully, pried away from the tangled strands.

This scene unfolded as the man flagged down his airborne squadron. Many pointed gestures were exchanged among the teams' objections before they dispersed towards Garreth's house—except for one dark-haired girl, who stood on the brink of delivering the man's second solid punch of the day for reasons unknown.

Her shrill cries of "You can't cancel our Quidditch practice because of a baby; we're only three days away from a match!" did nothing to alleviate Garreth's confusion.

As they deliberated, he was placed onto the ground, where a grassy banquet awaited him. A fitting compensation for his ordeal in the hair.

In a fit of anger, the girl hurled her broom to the floor, which was promptly confiscated from Garreth’s reach. In the interim, he had chewed a dandelion into a pulp and was now squeezing it until the juices mushed out from his tightened fist. With pride, he handed it to the man for inspection.

Rudely, his attention was elsewhere.

"Up," Garreth called, his stout arms extended as he slapped his soggy green fingers against his palms.

He wasn't spared a glance.

"Up!" he insisted, baffled when his efforts to raise himself three centimetres didn't result in being catapulted straight into awaiting arms. With a disappointed whine, he stretched his limbs higher.

"Quiet, Weasley."

Not one to shut up on command, Garreth rose to his unsteady feet and supported himself on the broom the man held loosely in his hand.

"UP," he commanded.

Up he went.

Draped over the broomstick like a towel hung out to dry, Garreth levitated until he reached a midpoint of the multicoloured spires surrounding the field. The broom purred between his fingers as he hooked an ankle over, the trembling coursing up his arms and animating his fleshy cheeks with a lively jiggle.

A sharp scream rang around the meadow from somewhere far below him.

Mama?

Garreth glanced down. It wasn’t mum—it was the man. His arms outstretched and calling his name. Alas, Garreth's interest in uppies had withered away, for an instinct was awakening. He was somehow aware that if he adjusted his posture...

His cheeks, bereft of their former jiggle, now thrashed against the back of his head as he shot off at breakneck speed.

With a twitch of his finger, he manoeuvred the broom to narrowly avoid smashing into a row of seats—it was a reflex, a memory ingrained deep in his muscles.

He streaked over the team in green, their yelling and leaps onto their brooms signalling their intent to challenge him in a race.

Oh, what delightful fun.

The wind carried away Garreth's gleeful shrieks as he weaved through a narrow waterway flanked by the castle walls. The roar of his peers from walkways spanning the passage propelled him onward. He was a creature of speed—a blur of motion—and, as always, thriving in the presence of an audience.

He ducked beneath a stone bridge and burst across open waters, escorted by a pair of majestic snowy owls gliding alongside him. The birds dropped to the surface of the lake, skimming their wings against the mirrored reflection of the sky before soaring up into the billowing clouds.

Oddly, their shadowy doppelgängers remained by Garreth’s side. His toes grazed the waves as he strained to catch a glimpse of his companions beneath the waterline when a sleek fin sliced through the water, while something breached entirely on the other side of him. Their playful dives splashed icy water across his face before they vanished into the depths. Garreth laughed as he extended his hand and squealed at them to come back.

Glancing up, he realised that his beckoning had summoned a building instead, and it was hurtling toward him at a frightfully rapid pace.

A fish erupted from the crest of a wave, snatching him off the broom seconds before it splintered into a million pieces against the bricks.

Garreth plunged into the water, ensnared in slippery arms.

The biting chill was only a passing thing as the fish breached the surface, clutching Garreth by a pudgy leg and hoisting him above the waterline. It rotated him this way and that, inspecting him with hungry eyes.

Garreth could relate; dandelions had been a sub-standard excuse for nourishment—he much preferred fish.

He grasped what he initially mistook for a writhing mass of serpents, only to discover it was sinewy strands of fish hair. Undiscouraged, he sank his tiny teeth into the gleaming scales. He was torn away, the fish's reprimand manifesting as a bone-shattering wail that shook Garreth to his tiny core.

Upset, tired, and starving, Garreth attempted to deliver a solid punch to the fish's face, but his new-fangled toddler exhaustion hindered his little fist, and he petted the slimy creature instead. On the verge of an imminent nap, Garreth curled into a ball and utilised ropey grey fish hair as a pillow.

He was vaguely aware of some heated commotion around him; at one point, a hungry fish snapped its teeth in his direction while another held him at arm's length. He dismissed this as irrelevant to his situation, providing the offending party with a slap before settling back into his nap with a grumble of irritation.

His consciousness ebbed and flowed with the undulation of the water. A serene fish guided him towards the building he had narrowly avoided colliding with. The lake rippled around them, while boats knocked against each other as they bobbed in the surf.

A delighted gasp stirred him as a figure waded up to her knees to reclaim him from the fish.

This new resting place was the essence of luxury—her familiar, soothing voice a balm to his weary senses. This divine ray of sunshine shrugged a blanket off her shoulders and wrapped Garreth in its warmth, granting him the comfort he needed to indulge in the finest siesta.

He awoke to the jarring sensation of a turbulent ride, his eyes rolling in their sockets as he wobbled around on a skeletal hip.

Merlin, Sharp's built like a sack of razor blades, Garreth grumbled inwardly.

Wait...

His body expanded moments after his mental faculties did.

The flickering flames beneath the cauldrons danced in and out of focus as his vision swayed. Finally it settled on the scene: his body sprawled across Sharp’s lap, both on the floor, scraps of a size 18-24 month Hogwarts uniform strewn across them like confetti.

"Hello, Professor.”

Sharp shoved him off and flung an abandoned cloak in his direction. "Put some clothes on, Weasley."

Garreth felt as though someone had scooped out his brain, used it in lieu of a bludger, and then poured the battered remnants back into his skull.

The soft twinkles of floating candles were like fireworks to his bloodshot eyes, magnifying the relentless throbbing behind them. Everywhere he looked, countless pairs of eyes stared back at him, accented by whispers interwoven with giggles.

An audience during dinner was an unnerving affair he wasn't accustomed to.

He turned a deaf ear to the hearsay that he'd smashed up Imelda's Nimbus. He had enough to bury deep down without living in perpetual fear of a hex taking him from behind. He employed his Gryffindor bravery to bolster his confidence and strode through the great hall his with chin up. If nothing else, it was a great story, albeit a slightly mortifying one.

He caught sight of Leander perched on a high horse. No doubt poised to unleash a storm of I told you so's and serves you right for the bald thing. Before Garreth could muster his wits and rustle up a selection of witty retorts, he was knocked sideways in a flying embrace.

"You're you again!"

He glanced down at the figure clinging to him and Merlin, the smile.

"I was always me, sunshine."

"I can't believe what you did. You brought mermaids into the boathouse, real ones!" Her tender hug was replaced by a firm grip on his tie and a pointed finger jabbing against his chest as she scolded him. "Don't you dare pull a stunt like that again. The whole school thought you'd drowned, but, gosh, it was incredible…"

Garreth's mind spun as her voice gained momentum with each euphoric word until everything froze, and she was touching his cheek—a fleeting, electrifying brush of her lips against his skin before they were torn apart by Poppy and her rapid gunfire of mermaid-themed questions.

His knees turned to mush under the weight of endorphins drowning his system. He slumped onto the bench opposite Leander, who had undergone a mood shift and now radiated a deliciously palpable rage.

Garreth smirked at him.

"Desired outcome achiev—"

"Shut the fuck up, Weasley."

#garreth weasley #weasley wednesday #garreth weasley fanfiction #garreth weasley fluff #garreth weasley x reader #garreth weasley fanart #garreth weasley x you #garreth weasley x mc #leander prewett #leander prewett fanart #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #poppy sweeting #hogwarts oc #hogwarts houses #weasley

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lawlietscaramels · 4 months

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love the colour scheme in death note. basing on sense of justice more than individuality or personality, but both come up.

L is blue, because he's detached and analytical when it comes to right and wrong. Light is red, because he's more rash/hot tempered and a strong believer in extreme punishment (plus the literal blood on his hands but L has that too). Red/blue is also common for opponents in anime, and they're almost opposite (contrasting colours) on the colour wheel.

Misa and Matsuda are both yellow, which is the third primary colour, meaning they're not really like either L or Light. Sure, Matsuda has a sense of justice but it's not subjective or selfish. He's a literal ray of sunshine and positivity in the grey Task Force. Sure, Misa is a Kira and in love with Light but her character's actually very different to him (it's such a shame she's never developed). She wants to bring sunshine - yellow - to people, even if it comes out only after a storm. That's why she's Kira. To help people, not to punish them.

Aizawa is green iirc and he has a sense of justice that's more sympathetic, like Matsuda and Misa, but also doesn't question that Kira needs to be destroyed like Matsuda does, in which sense he's more detached and b&w sense of justice like L. Y + B = G

Also OC wise, Rie is purple because she can see both Kira and L's version of justice, yet she's neither blue nor red because she doesn't believe fully in either. I have a problem with making my OCs morally complex fencesitters. R + B = P

#don't remember any other canon colours #yk the ones that come up when they're monologuing #analysis #colour theory #l lawliet #light yagami #misa amane #touta matsuda #death note #desunorie #shower thoughts #lei chats #death note headcanons #lei's death note

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stephdrawsjohnlock · 4 months

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SH – :More Every Minute: (FTH #3 for @totallysilvergirl) Procreate on iPad Pro

[...] In Ch. 4 [of my fic Both Sides Now], John unexpectedly announces that after the night they’ve spent TOGETHER together, he has to break up with Mary. Sherlock didn’t see that coming, didn’t dare to hope for it, and flings himself to his knees and embraces John around the waist (John’s sitting in a hotel armchair). They’ve both still got their dyed hair etc. and are wearing white hotel bathrobes.

FINALLY, at zero hour with 2 days to spare, here's pic three of three for my @fandomtrumpshate pieces for 2023! The AMAZING @totallysilvergirl gave me a selection of scenes I could try to draw from their BEAUTIFUL fanfic, Both Sides Now, Of course I chose the HARDEST one to draw because I SUCK at background elements, but I was determined to give them something that would do their story some justice, because it is VERY sweet (the other options probably would have been easier to draw, but this scene specifically made me melt) and I love it!

So yes, this is John and Sherlock, after spending a night together... they're undercover hence why their hairs are different colours, and in the story John has brown contacts as well, but I really wanted to MAKE this John, so decided he took them out LOL (I genuinely don't remember if Silver wrote that he took them out, but they didn't mind I made this creative choice).

As I mentioned, I have a hard time with scenery and such, so I lately try to do things a bit more complex for other people so I can get comfy with doing it. Silver seemed to really like the piece though, despite my reservations about it, so I'm happy that they're happy.

AND I am shocked I got this done on time... I was SO nitpicky with the colours on this one, so I am glad I got it done within deadline of December 31, LOL.

Title is from this beautiful line in the scene being depicted:

John’s moral compass isn’t blind, no, it’s as pragmatic as it is honourable, and Sherlock loves him more every minute, more than he knew he could love anyone, even John.

Everyone please go give Silver's fic Both Sides Now a read, it's really lovely and can be done in one sitting!! It's just a bit over 14K w. <3

Thank you everyone for letting me draw your scenes for you, and I hope you guys like my final art piece being posted for 2023 <3

🖼 I’M ON INSTAGRAM at stephdrawsfanart 🎨 @stephratte is my Primary Fanart Blog! Art © to S.G.M. Ratté. Do not repost or sell.

(Tags below cut, dm to be added/removed)

@totallysilvergirl

@queerbeess

@ayryn-art

@antisocial-otaku

@havetardiswilltimetravel

@yorkiepug

@tea-and-gingernuts

@quantum-sparrow

@chinike

@chained-to-the-mirror

@almosttomorocco

@loveismyrevolution

#johnlock fanart #johnlock #sherlock fanart #sherlock #fandom trumps hate 2023 #fandom trumps hate #fth 2023 #sdjl myart #sdjl johnlock #sdjl sherlock #fanart #my art

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craneworms · 2 months

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strawhats (except jinbe) + ace & sabo winged au because i love birds:

LUFFY:

Albatross.

Chose an albatross because they are common seabirds and represent freedom & they meant good luck to sailors. <- basically a lot of positive connotations that i felt fit luffy’s character. also the thought of him with these ridiculously large wings made me giggle.

Has disproportionately large wings compared to his body. When fully grown his wingspan reaches around 10 ft (approx 3m)

His wings are active soaring wings. They are very long and narrow. They have a grey colouration on the dorsal surface of the wings and white on the undersides.

He’s always been drawn to the sea, thanks to being a seabird, and that helped shape his dreams of becoming the pirate king.

He has trouble landing and setting off, but can fly for very long stretches of time. He mostly glides and can do so for miles at a time without flapping his wings.

Along with having wings, he has feathers running across his shoulder blades, connecting his wings together and down his spine to about the middle of his back.

He preens his wings only when absolutely needed, so they look very scruffy. Luckily, it doesn’t affect his flying in any way and instead confined to looks simply because he was taught by garp & his brothers to at least take care of his wings a little before it does get to that point.

ZORO:

Heron.

Decided on a heron because they use their beaks kind of like a harpoon, which is kinda like a sword? They are also seen as being the messenger of the gods for some greek mythologies. They also represent the sun in Egyptian mythologies <- nice tie in with his role in the crew & relationship w luffy.

His wings are very big and broad and rounded, reaching around 2m long. They are made of dark plume, varying from greyish on the innermost part of the wing to pure black on the primary feathers.

He has passive soaring wings which allow him to fly for long periods of time. Despite this, he prefers to stay on ground and only flies when necessary. Unlike most other people, he doesn’t use his wings much in combat beyond movement and instead prefers to rely on his swordsmanship.

He grew up regularly grooming his wings, taught by the dojo the importance of preening and maintaining them. Although, after leaving the dojo, his maintenance of his wings began to slip. They were extremely damaged for a few years, becoming so bad that it even began to affect his flight.

After joining the straw hats, he began to take care of his wings better (mostly upon nami’s insistence). Although they still look quite messy, the damage is reduced and his flying is hardly compromised anymore. He still gets a few weird glances from outsiders because of the state of his wings, though.

NAMI:

Pigeon.

Decided on a pigeon because of their excellent navigational & directional skills which they are noted for. They are also a more domestic species of bird, which i thought fit her character more than a more wild species.

Her wings are typical pigeon wings, rounded and suited for long flights. They are mostly a light grey with some feathers tipped in a darker shade. She has two bars across both wings. They are a pretty average size, not too big but also not too small.

Along with her wings, she has a little bit of loose plumage on the back of her neck, coloured grey and iridescent green/purple.

She’s an extremely strong flier, the best in the straw hats, and very manoeuvrable. She can launch herself quite quickly, although his is taxing and only done during emergencies. She also normally flies in a direct path to where she needs to be.

She preens herself often, believing that maintaining your wings is very important. This is partly due to the fact that it was one of the things she did to ground herself while in Arlong’s crew. Her wings mean a lot to her. Most people don’t seem to recognise her effort, however, and instead completely dismiss her wings due to being dull and uninteresting compared to others.

She was once quite vocal, cooing and calling often over anything that interested her or while communicating with others. Although after joining Arlong, this habit was discarded quite quickly. After she officially joined the straw hats, she began to become more vocal. Although, she isn’t at the level she used to be, it is a huge improvement.

USOPP:

Kingfisher.

Decided on a kingfisher (after a lot of debate) because they are pretty small & unassuming but actually really amazing hunters. And i thought their method of flying/hunting really suited him!

His wings are quite small compared to his body with his wingspan only being less than 1m long. His wings are specifically suited for fast, direct and precise attacks/movement and hovering. He can also fly backwards.

His plumage on the dorsal side is a brilliant metallic blue and the underside is brown. He also has bright blue plumage surrounding his eyes.

He takes relatively good care of his feathers, so they look pretty healthy and well groomed. Thanks to this & his vibrant wing colours they are considered quite beautiful. He gets a lot of compliments on them.

He has extremely good eyesight, although his eyes have pretty limited movement in his eye socket so he has to move his head to track things. His eyesight really helped to elevate his sniping skills.

He doesn’t sing, but he has a pretty distinctive, kinda shrill sounding, call. He mostly uses it to warn the other strawhats of danger. He also doesn’t really fly a lot for leisure since his wings can only sustain him for a short time.

SANJI:

Secretary Bird/Bird of Paradise.

I chose a secretary bird because they are a very unique kind of raptor (literally having it’s own family group). It’s known for it’s unique way of hunting, using it’s long legs to hunt/kill prey & being a largely terrestrial bird.

His wingspan is pretty big, around 2m long, and like zoro his wings are specifically made for soaring. Although, thanks to germa, one wing is kinda deformed, which makes it hard for him to fly. He only really flies in emergencies & to soften landings because he has very little control over his flight path. He usually ends up spiralling to the ground rather than actually flying.

Along with having wings he also has some head plumage and some loose neck plumage.

Regarding his feather colours, it’s very unlike a secretary bird’s usual coloring. It’s a iridescent black with glossed blue, green and purple shades mixed in, reminiscent of a trumpet manucode. He got this from his mother, which shouldn’t usually happen but germa experiments messed weirdly with the genetics of all the vinsmoke siblings.

His feathers are extremely well groomed but thanks to his wing deformity and strange colouring people struggle to tell what bird he is. His wings are still regarded as quite attractive despite that.

Most people assume he’s simply a bird of paradise thanks to his colouring so his fighting skills are underestimated for a while. There’s a stigma about birds of paradise being rather weak, mostly seen as entertainment for others.

He has a pretty unique call. It’s more of a deep croaking noise rather than the typical bird call. He doesn’t use it a lot however, mostly just in dangerous situations like usopp.

CHOPPER:

Sparrow.

Chosen because, again, it’s a more domestic bird which i felt represented him better. I also thought it fit considering he was once a wild reindeer but instead found him home with humans, rather than in a wild settlement. They also round and plump, which fit his rounder design.

His wings are quite small and round, being elliptical shaped. His flying is mostly very direct and in short but fast bursts. Colour-wise, his plumage is mostly various shades of brown with some feather tipped with white. The undersides of his wings are significantly lighter than the dorsal sides.

He’s very vocal when it comes to calling & he has a typical chirp that you would expect from a sparrow. He also likes singing, although it’s more of a long string of calls rather than an true song with a rhythm.

He also has some more chestnut kinda markings along his face, reminiscent of a male sparrows markings. Although, he doesn’t have any extra plumage like some other people.

Like a sparrow, he actually engages in dust bathing. He tries to get the other strawhats to join him in doing so, especially because it’s a more social behaviour. For similar reasons, he enjoys water bathing with other people too.

ROBIN:

Peacock

Peacock for obvious reasons.

Robin’s wings are elliptical wings, suited for short bursts of flight that allow for a lot of control. They are quite large and, along with her long tail, make up for most of her body length and weight.

Her plumage looks like the typical peacock colouring, with iridescent blues and greens on the innermost part of her wings and browish-white on the primary feathers. She also has the distinctive tail with the feathers of a peacock.

She can’t fly very far & only does it when she absolutely needs too. but her devil fruit makes up for her lack of mobility compared to her crewmates.

She used to hide her plumage when she was on the run from the government. She didn’t really take care of it properly, she was always too busy and saw it as a burden during her youger years. It was very recognisable, after all. Although, after Ennies Lobby, she begins to put the time into correctly caring for her wings and tail and actually takes great pride in them, despite how flashy they are.

People are usually impressed by her wings & tail as they are very eye-catching and beautiful (especially after she began properly caring for them). But, they can really add to the creepy factor when she wants them too.

FRANKY:

Crow.

Chose a crow because they are widely known for their intelligence. They are able to use tools very efficiently, which i thought suited Franky thanks to being a very good shipwright and very handy.

He once had a pair of wings that he didn’t care for well, often leaving pin feathers in and damaging the feathers during while building his ships. Though, after he was hit by the Puffing Tom, one of his wings was mangled so badly that it had to be amputated, and the remaining was broken in a way that prevented him from folding it inwards. It looks bent, clear where the bone had snapped and healed incorrectly, and hangs loosely by his side most of the time. He can still use it, although his range of motion with his wing is limited and he can no longer fly.

He had elliptical wings and his flight consisted of little to no gliding. He was also very acrobatic in the air, able to change directions and even backflip in the air. His wings were an average size, black plumage with a green/purple sheen to them.

Now much older and having lost his ability to fly, he regrets not taking better care of his wings. Nowadays, he actually puts a surprising amount of care into looking after the remaining wing he has.

His calls are the typical crow calls and, like chopper and nami, he’s rather vocal & uses it in day-to-day life to express emotion and communicate with others.

BROOK:

Hummingbird.

Chose a hummingbird because they make a very distinctive humming noise when they fly. Reminded me of Brook, especially because his first epithet was Humming Brook. Also, they are very swift & light.

After he died, his wings became simply bone, but when alive he had a pair of striking emerald green hovering wings. They were thin, lithe and small and allowed him to move very swiftly in any and all directions, although flying was highly taxing on him.

His wings also made a distinctive humming sound, which was what first intrigued Yorki, especially since Brook incorporated the noise his wings made and his chirping into his music.

He can make a wide range of vocalisations, including chips, buzzes and hums. He isn’t particularly over-vocal like Chopper & Franky, but still more vocal than Zoro & Sanji.

Nowadays he cannot fly, although he can still make his vocalisations. Much like Franky, he greatly missies his wings, especially since they were like another instrument to them & one of the reasons as to why he joined the rumbar pirates in the first place. He & Franky probably bond over their shared experience of loosing their wings (although in different ways) and understand each other’s feelings when it comes to the matter the best.

ACE:

Eagle.

Decided on an Eagle because they are seen as very powerful and intelligent, which is what he’s first introduced as. They also represent freedom, which all of ASL associated with so i thought it was a nice way to connect him to them. Also, in some depictions, the Phoenix is based on an eagle, which is thought fitted his whole fire thing.

Ace’s wings are quite broad and long (although not as long as Luffy’s), being about 2m. They are passive soaring wings, very powerful and fast. He flies directly, most of the time.

He uses his wings during fights a lot, mostly taking advantage of their speed to catch up with faster opponents and their surprising agility to avoid attacks.

He used to be quite ashamed of his wings, especially due to sharing them with his father. This was only exacerbated by people’s dislike for eagles shortly after his father’s death due to Roger’s eagle heritage. Thanks to this, they were very unkept. He didn’t seem to care when feathers were caught on branches in the forest, damaged or ripped off, and sometimes plucked his own feathers too.

Despite this, after meeting Sabo (and later Luffy) he eventually began to like his wings and separated them from his father. He still has some mixed feelings about them, but sees them in a more positive light from when he was younger, especially after joining the WBP and making a name for himself, separate from roger.

His wings are still a little scruffy, although a lot less than Luffy’s and Zoro’s. It doesn’t cause any real problems for him, and instead manages to look almost intentional despite it absolutely not being.

SABO:

Bluebird.

Chose a bluebird because they typically represent new beginnings & the dawn of a new day & spring in various cultures. They also have a historical connection to death, specifically the death of a loved one. <- thought it was a nice way to tie him in with his brothers & his literal storyline as a revolutionary & his not-death. I also thought it would be ironic to have someone who was born noble be a common bird - it’s like a physical representation of his disconnect from his origins.

Sabo has rather small, round wings that are a vibrant blue colour with his primary feathers tipped with black. The colour is little duller on the underside, a more pale blue-white and tipped grey instead. They are Elliptical wings, lending themself to shorter and more direct flights.

Sabo is actually quite proud of his wings. They are small, simple and that of a common bird, which is generally quite frowned upon by nobles & celestial dragons. As such, he takes good care of them. For him, they represent his disconnect from his family and the nobles at large.

He takes pretty good care of his wings. He’s really the most serious about it between the ASL trio and his pride in his wings is one reason that inspired ace’s turnaround in his feelings about his own. He taught ace and luffy how to properly care for their own and carrying on that lesson is probably the only reason theirs aren’t damaged beyond repair.

Later on, his bluebird wings become a symbol synonymous with the revolutionary army and the concept of liberation as a whole. A lot of countries rioting inspired by the revo army fly flags and symbols with bluebird wings upon them.

#i’m pretty proud of usopp’s & sabo’s i think they fit really well #i struggled a lot w brook tho I couldn’t decide on hummingbird or nightingale for a long time #& choppers he went from a swan to calling duck to a sparrow #one piece #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #nami #usopp #sanji #tony tony chopper #nico robin #one piece franky #one piece brook #straw hats #portgas d ace #sabo #asl trio #winged au

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ririya-translates · 10 months

Text

Mitsuki Shirota's Short Story

On the official Japanese Jack Jeanne website, there's a page of full of concept art and short stories for each major character (as well as stories for every character + Kisa). They were written by Shin Towada (primary writer of the game and Ishida's sister) and the art is by Ronin (also did concept art for Nier, Pokemon, Fire Emblem).

I thought it would be cute to post translations on each character's birthday. Since they were written as promo material, spoilers are quite minimal (mostly around the first performance). I tried to keep the original notebook aesthetic and dialogue colour-coding to post on Twitter, but I'm posting a regular text version here for better accessibility.

As if he were observing the ever-fluctuating world through a pane of glass, he always kept his distance. "It's already been a year since we were on stage at the Newcomer's Performance, huh?" He heard those words while in class at the beginning of lunch period. It wasn't that big a deal. The topic should have ended with that one disruptive statement, but it captured the attention of the Univeil Drama School second-year students. Voices of shared nostalgia all piled on top of each other.

"A lot has changed since then, huh? For us and for the ones in other classes too." "I didn't think Sugachi would become the Al Jeanne of Onyx. He's so reserved." "And in Rhodonite, Minorikawa is likely their Jack Ace yeah? It's probably tough being a Jack Ace over there." People always brought up the same names to represent the second-year class.

"Shirota became a tresor like we all expected too." The moment that name was said, the Quartz second years turned their eyes to him. They're so annoying.

Sitting in a chair, chin in his hands, Mitsuki Shirota looked over his sheet music. He remembered something even more clamorous than the noisy stares of a crowd. Shirota was a second-year Quartz student, same as them. The term 'tresor' was reserved only for Jeannes with strong vocal talent. Combined with his unmistakably Jeanne-like facial features, he drew notice from people around him. But their unrestrained gaze was not something he enjoyed.

Shirota raised his head and looked directly at them to catch their stares. His calm expression suddenly turned sharp. Crumbling under the impact, the students hurriedly averted their eyes. "W-well, our grade sure has a lot of talented people, huh?" Avoiding the topic of this interaction, they resumed their conversation. But Shirota knew this discussion would be pointless. He took his sheet music in hand and stood up.

"But y'know… it's because 'that guy' is here." The end of these conversations was always the same. "The moment I saw that guy on stage at last year's Newcomer's Performance, I lost all hope." The cheery atmosphere immediately turned and a heavy air permeated the classroom. "As long as that guy is here, us in the 77th class are…" Shirota and the other second-years were part of the 77th class year in the history of Univeil Drama School. And in that 77th class, everyone had been cursed by the existence of just one person. This doesn't just apply to our class though, does it? It affected the third-years in the 76th class and the first-years in the 78th class too.

Leaving the classroom, he closed the door as if to shut out everything. It's pointless

He fled the group's vortex and went to the terrace next to the Univeil school building. This place, covered in vibrant plants mixed with the smell of flowers, enveloped him in a peaceful atmosphere Siiigh Shirota released a big breath from deep in his lungs, sat on the bench, and opened his sheet music. The Newcomer's Performance vocal section. It was a performance for the newly enrolled first-years to be in lead roles, but Shirota and the other older students would be on stage as well. The duty to support the first-years seemed burdensome to him. Staring at his music sheet, he began to play the song in his head to see the shape of it. Huh?

Suddenly the song was scrambled by noisy footsteps in the distance. Going this way and that, the sound started moving towards Shirota. "Oh, it's Shirota! Working hard today!" Echoing even louder than the footsteps, that clear voice penetrated the ears he was trying to cover. The one who came to greet him with the sunny face to match his personality was the brand new Jack of Quartz, Suzu Orimaki. He had barely just enrolled and was in Shirota's class. "Shut up." "O-oh! My bad!" After being smacked with this unreasonable anger, Suzu sincerely apologized. He didn't avert his eyes the way the students in Shirota's grade did. Shirota's eyes relaxed. "What are you looking around for? The other ones in your grade?" "Whoa, how did you know bro?!" "You're being too loud." "Oh, my bad!" Seeing Suzu quickly cover his mouth, Shirota let out a breath. "I knew because you were wandering all over the place. You're probably looking for Yonaga." Suzu nodded and opened his mouth, "I promised to run lines with those guys on the terrace." He took care to lower his tone of voice a bit, although strangely his voice still reverberated. "…You're with the other first-years a lot huh?" In competition for the good roles with others in their grade, there was often a lot of friction early in the school year. A friction that continued all the way up until graduation in some cases. Images of students in his year flashed in the back of Shirota's mind. "Yeah, they're great guys," Suzu answered with a smile that showed no trace of conflict. "Hmm," Shirota responded vaguely. "Well, sorry for bugging you! I'll be going now!" Suzu gave a short nod and ran off.

As his footsteps faded into the distance, the quiet returned. "…He sure is an energetic one eh?" As if waiting for the right moment, another presence appeared. "Fumi." "Yo." How long had he been there? Without disturbing the quiet, Sarafumi Takashina, the Al Jeanne of Quartz, showed himself. As Shirota was a Jeanne himself, this was the person directly above him. "Kuro would get so excited seeing you talking to the younger students." "Please stop…" The person Fumi called 'Kuro' was the leader of Quartz, Kokuto Neji. He fit in with the rest of those prodigy guys, but to Shirota he was just a bothersome senior. Seeing Shirota make an upset face from deep in his heart, Fumi chuckled. He stood next to Shirota and looked in the direction where Suzu ran off. "Orimaki seems like the type to be friendly with everybody huh?" "No matter what I say, he doesn't back down." "Wherever he goes, the place becomes brighter." "Even just his presence is loud." As soon as Shirota said this, in the distance he could hear, "There you guys are!" It seemed like Suzu had rejoined his classmates. Even with him not present, he was such a loud man. It would probably get even noisier as they started running lines. Or so he thought. Miraculously, Suzu's voice faded and he could no longer hear it. Maybe they changed locations. "Orimaki isn't the only one you've talked to right?" "Hmm, well…" Shirota had an unapproachable energy. While many of his juniors kept their distance to avoid upsetting him, there was one other first-year who approached him like Suzu did. There was this first year with a gentle face whose name kept coming up over and over, from the time he enrolled until being nominated as a Jeanne. This student was always hanging out with Suzu and Yonaga, even the other first-years too sometimes. Maybe those guys changed locations because Orimaki told them I'm here. When he had unpleasant thoughts towards others, all he had to do was reject them. But, if he wasn't like this, how should he be instead? Thinking about it made him a bit tired.

"…Well, Mitsu, it's good to take baby steps," Fumi said in a slow relaxed voice. He spoke as if seeing a future not visible to Shirota himself.

As if surrendering himself to the idea, he quietly replied, "Yeah, we'll see."

#jack jeanne #jackjeanne #translation #hbd mitsuki #towada is an amazing writer #i hope i can do her stories justice

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tsirxyawntu · 1 year

Text

✰𝔐𝔦𝔩𝔢𝔰 𝔔𝔲𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔠𝔥 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰✰

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨s: choking, biting, mentions of drawing blood, fingering, oral m and f recieving, spanking, overstimulation, tail pulling, collars, dacryphila

SFW

His primary love language is physical touch. No doubt.

He deffo pulls you into his lap and wraps his arms around your waist, maybe sneaking one on your thigh

If your sorting something out standing up or cooking he'll come behind you and press his chest against your back. He would drop his head into your neck and his arms will wrap around your waist. He usually does this after a hard day maybe after a long mission, inhaling your scent to help calm him down, to reassure him that you there and not leaving. That you're there with open arms, open legs and an open mouth.

If he's infront of his teammates that he's not so close with he would subtly grab your hand under the desk or wrap his tail around yours or your leg, keeping you by his side.

Deffo plays footsie with you under the table if he's in a relaxed mood, seeing who'll break first

Only lets certain people call him by his first name

The people include Lyle, Z-dog, Mansk, Spider and Ja. And of course you can 🙊

He prefers if people call him by Quaritch in front of his superiors or other people in the base who he is strictly professional with.

He lets people close to him call him Miles as it helps him feel secure in his own body. Human Quaritch was referred to as Quaritch by everyone and as recom Quaritch is his own person he prefers Miles from his friends as it also helps him not feel guilty for human Quaritch's actions.

Uses 3 in 1

The man has body wash, shampoo and conditioner all in one, he ain't have time for all that

He uses a wash cloth or a loofah. EVEN THOUGH HE USES 3 IN 1 HE WANTS TO BE CLEAN. The guilt eats away at him so he tries to scrub it away (I'm sorry)

Likes showering with you

Helps him to relax if he's with you

Secretly loves to be pampered. Wash his hair (with your shampoo, probably gets teased for smelling like you by his mates)

I just know he looks forward to you drying his hair. Him sitting on the edge of the bed with you standing between his legs using a towel for dry his hair, his hands resting on your hips, his eyes either closed or looking up with adoration in his eyes.

Makes sure he's touching you whilst sleeping (NOT LIKE THAT. yet...)

We all saw that scene where he woke up and swung first thing. He needs you next to him to once again calm him down.

Either with you laying on his chest, you legs tangled together and you falling asleep listening to his heartbeat, him listening to your breathing.

Draw shapes in his skin with your fingers or pat him to sleep gently and he's out like a light.

His chest against your back, arms engulfing you with your head tucked under his chin. It helps him to feels as if he's keeping you safe.

He usually waits for you to go to sleep BUT coddle him and he goes to sleep first, both of you on your sides, his head on your chest or stomach, one of you hands stroking his hair and the other wrapped around him

Gives you random gifts

He'll pick up or steal little things from the base or on his mission because they remind him of you

You have a box in your drawers with a bunch of little rocks, flowers, pens or things that are your favourite colour. (Bae material fr)

🚩NSFW

WE HAVE ALL SEEN THE PART WHERE HE HAS HUMAN QUARITCH'S SKULL IN HIS HAND. MAN CAN CRUSH ME

Your ass in the air with one of his hands having your tail wrapped around his knuckles, using it as leverage to pull you back on his dick, his tip jabbing at your cervix with every thrust threatening to pierce through.

The other hand covering your head, pushing it into the cushions, his sweaty pressed against your back, the two sticking together. His teeth grazing over your neck, poking at your dewy skin teasing you before clamping down on it and piercing your flesh with his fangs, marking you for others to see (maybe if some new recruit has been flirting with you, his possessive side come out) watching the blood trickle down your neck, his tongue lapping it back up before kissing you.

"It's alright cupcake, let them hear you. Let that motherfxcker from the new team hear who you belong to. Don' understand whose you are, 'll make him understand. Aww you crying cupcake. It's 'lright you can't take it. My good girl yeah. Mine. I ain't lettin' you go. Stuck with me now, I'll make sure of it. Put my cum inside of you, have it leakin' out by the time I'm done with you. Gonna have you walking around with it leaking out of you, show him you're mine, all mine. Always taking what I give you, so good fr' me, love ya so much. Gonna have ya carryin' my baby by the end of this. You feel that baby, where I have your hand, that's my cock inside you. God you're so small, taking me so well, can feel me poking outta you." (Got a bit carried away, BUT THAT'S ALRIGHT)

Loves keeping eye contact when giving or receiving head

When one of his hands is holding your hair is a ponytail and the other is stroking your cheek, pushing his length all the way down your throat, watching your eyes mist over with tears, running down your flushed cheeks begging for mercy, your lashes clumping together from your tears. His eyes looking down on you, his pupils erasing the gold from his eyes as his lust consumes him.

When he's going down on you, his tongue flicking on your swollen clit, his fingers abusing your sweet spot, ready to coax an orgasm out of you. Darkened eyes looking up into yours.

"Nuh uh,*slap* eyes on me darlin'. Atta girl. Gotta keep looking at me, can you do that fr' me"

My man deffo has a dacryphilia kink (sadist yk but well get into that after).

Maybe he'll even put some mascara on you before just to watch it run down your cheeks, ruining your innocence. Corrupting you

Watching tears run down your face, showing how good he's making you feel, how good you're taking it for him...pleasing him

S A D I S T. Full stop

He'll slap your pussy if you misbehave, sending quick reigns of pains shooting up your body, your clit pulsing and red.

Miles'll pull on your tail, maybe even wrap it around his knuckles and tug on it if you're tryna get away when it's too much,

Spanking...he'll use it as a punishment AND foreplay. With your stomach lying across his legs, one hand slapping down, watching the skin redden and the other having two fingers shoved in you, just resting, moving in and out once in a while. He'd wrap his belt around your thighs, keeping them shut together.

"Wanted to be a brat huh. Wanted to grind on another man with me watching, with me looking in your eyes. Thought you were my good girl yeah. Thought you listened to me. Guess I was too nice to you yeah."

Biting...😩

He has to bite your neck when he's fucking you, he needs to mark you, to show others you his, only his

Maybe he'll even lean down and bite your ass, "Sorry baby I had to, it was calling me"

He'll graze your clit with his fang, teasing it whilst his fingers are inside you

Collars or choking will be the death of him...again

Maybe he'll even buy you a collar with his name engraved on it or a charm with his initials on

His hand'll wrap around the whole of your neck, it satisfies him that you'd trust him with your life, allowing him to choke you (even though he could easily snap your neck in half)

"Shit sweetheart what're you doin' to me. Ya look so pretty with my name on your neck, shows everyone your mine, mine to fuck *thrust*, to breed *thrust*, to kiss *thrust*, to keep *thrust*"

If you wear the collar he gave you, expect to need a wheelchair the next morning, actually he'll probably just carry you everywhere, using it as an excuse to roam his hands all over you, fingers digging into the plush of your skin

He might even make the collar for you himself. Collecting beads he finds until he has enough to complete the collar for you. He'll know how to make one by watching you over your should when you make jewelry, taking in your every move, watching as your nimble fingers work on the piece, remembering how they were wrapped around his cock the night before

#miles quaritch #colonel quaritch #atwow quaritch #quaritch x reader #atwow fanfiction #atwow smut #miles quaritch smut #avatar smut #avatar the way of water

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sl-ut · 1 year

Note

Can you pls elaborate on the breeding kink w abby and reader?🥺love ur writing!

more college!abby

baby you don’t gotta ask me twice

it doesn’t really come into play until they’ve been together for a while. abby is a very practical person, and while the prospect of it might pop into her head once or twice, she doesn’t feel like it would be appropriate to bring it up until it’s clear to her that they’re going to be together for a while and would actually have a future together. this probably doesn’t happen until after y/n graduates from college, when abby decides that they should finally discuss what they want in the future. in fact, abby might not even realise how much of a breeding kink she actually has until the discussion comes up; when y/n brings up kids, and mentions that she would be open to having them together, abby couldn’t help but envision how beautiful she would look while pregnant, and how great of a mother she would be.

they both agree that they would be interested in having kids in the future, though not for a few years just yet. both of them agree that y/n would probably be the best primary carrier for their baby if they chose to do ivf, and abby is suddenly obsessed with the idea of her girl swelling up with her baby–even if it wasn’t gonna happen for years to come.

from this point on, when the strap is in use, abby is just rambling on and on about it;

“you want my cum, baby? want me to fill you up?”

at first, she’s the main one involved in it, but once y/n finally joins in on the dirty talk???? abby’s brain goes brrrrrrr. the first time she does it is while she’s face planted into the soft sheets of abby’s bed, lazily working her hips back onto abby’s strap and struggling to form a single coherent thought. it just slips out–she wasn’t even aware of the words until after she’d spoken them and after her girlfriend had reacted to them.

“harder abs–put a baby in me.”

abby stuttered to a stop at the words, then rocketed into a pattern of seemingly impossibly hard and deep thrusts. she made quick work of flipping y/n onto her back, pressing her into the mattress and gripping her jaw with her hand, holding her face so that she couldn’t escape her heated gaze.

“yeah? you wanna be a mama?”

when the idea dawns on her to order one of the ejaculating straps, she’s showing y/n her favourite ones, but would definitely let her pick the colour and size. the glittery pink one that abby had gifted her for her birthday would remain to be a favourite, but this one was for those special nights when they wanted to play pretend. abby loves watching the synthetic white cream seep out of y/n’s tight hole when she’s done with her, always reaching down and forcing any that may have escaped back into her.

“not losing a drop, baby.”

when the time finally comes for the process of ivf to begin, it comes out even more. the strap isn’t used quite as often as abby would like in this case, because the process of fertilisation can cause penetration to feel quite uncomfortable, but she’s happy to go the old fashioned route and get her hands–and tongue–dirty. this doesn’t change the dirty talk, though. in fact, it probably enhances it, knowing that y/n is actually in the process of becoming pregnant.

“i can’t wait till you’re pregnant baby.”

“you’re gonna be such a good mama.”

“you’ll be so pretty all swollen with my baby.”

she’s gonna be so much more in love with y/n’s tits too, if that’s even possible. the second that she notices them getting swollen, she’s all over her, constantly suckling and kissing over the swells and nipples, and even massaging them in both sexual and non-sexual manners–she knows that it helps when they’re tender, and is more than happy to just hold them in her hands and act as a human heating pad for her favourite girl.

the dirty talk is even just dirty, either. it’s intimate and playful, she’s telling y/n about how she envisions their future–how she wants the babies to have her height, but y/n’s gorgeous eyes and smile, how she’s gonna train them to play lacrosse like their mom (she might be a little heartbroken if none of her kids take an interest in the sport, but she would get over it). she’s teasing y/n about how much the kids will take after her, and probably be equally obsessed with y/n as she is.

“soon enough i’m gonna have to be beating those critters away with a stick just to get a second alone with you.”

if they get married first, abby is dead set on the order of things to happen next. she keeps repeating the line to y/n on their wedding night teasingly, but they both know that she’s being 100% serious.

“first comes love, then comes marriage, what’s the next thing?”

and it doesn’t go away even when y/n is pregnant or once they finally have kids. i hc that they have no more than three, but when all of them are older, abby is whipping out the breeding kink in the bedroom, calling y/n mama in a husky voice to get her going. when y/n begins to show, abby is dead set on taking monthly photos to remember the process, and will definitely be taking a few snaps while getting down and dirty to fuel that kink and remember how beautiful she looked when she was pregnant.

#abby anderson imagine #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby tlou #abby anderson #college!abby anderson x reader #college!abby anderson

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chishiyasleftnut · 15 days

Text

Hi everyone ＼(٥⁀▽⁀ )／This is another fic I wrote in the middle of the night, but I couldn't get the scenario out of my head haha. It's not smutty at all, but I want to experiment a bit with different genres. I hope you'll all like it! (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)

2+1

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤 Genre: Fluff w/ mild angst. Warnings: Minor existential dread, mentioning of abortions. Pairing: Dad!Chishiya x fem!reader.

Plot: After a long day at work, dad!Chishiya contemplates about his new role as a father. Is he even cut out for the job?

1140 words. 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Chishiya had never seen himself as the father type. Perhaps it was the subconscious fear of becoming like his own father - distant and uncaring - that kept him from wilfully pursuing that path. However, despite his best efforts to prevent it, you had managed to accidentally become pregnant and he had had to come to terms with the scary reality of fatherhood.

It wasn’t as bad as he thought. Sure, the little creature was awfully noisy and smelly at times, but he had to admit that she was also kinda cute. Did the positives outweigh the negatives? He wasn’t sure. But he knew he didn’t completely hate being a parent as much as he originally feared.

Luckily, Chishiya was earning enough money to secure you a long maternity leave, allowing you to bond well with your baby in a way Chishiya never would. He had accepted that and somewhat found peace with the fact that he wasn’t expected to be as close to the tiny being as you were. It was easier to handle having to accept that he was the secondary caregiver and not the primary.

Another benefit of his job were the long hours, which gave him a much-needed break from dealing with home life. He had always used his work as a coping mechanism to deal with every small, negative thing life threw at him, but it was only after becoming a dad that he realised that that’s what his own father did too. It scared him to admit that he shared more than just blood with the man who had been so distant his entire childhood. However, he tried to shake the feeling and convinced himself that he was taking extra shifts to afford your maternity leave. Mh, yes. That was 100% why.

Despite desperately seeking a sanction from the reality of his newfound status as a dad, a part of him was always looking forward to coming home. And so he did this night, stepping into your shared apartment, which was only lit up by the moon shining luminously through the big and modern windows. The apartment, which long ago had been only sparsely decorated (just as he liked it), was now covered in proof of your child’s existence; no matter where he looked, he saw baby toys, neatly folded onesies, and an array of pacifiers in every colour possible.

Trying his best to ignore the way his once tidy apartment had changed, he walked with tired steps through the apartment until he got to the master bedroom. Slowly, he opened the door, mindful of the way it creaked so as not to disturb you or the little human sleeping safely in her comfortable crib next to your bed.

For a while, he stood still in the doorway, examining the way you and your baby’s breathing were synchronised, as if you had become one with one another. Although he would never admit it, he envied you - envied the way you so easily let this helpless child into your heart and how you so naturally took care of her every need in a way that Chishiya couldn’t make sense of.

It was those quiet moments that assured him that you made the right choice in keeping the child. Of course you had discussed the possibility of getting an abortion, but now that your daughter was in front of you - living, breathing, feeling - neither of you would want it any other way. How silly of you two to even consider any other option, he thought with a small smile creeping up on his lips.

With gentle steps, he walked into the bedroom, carefully closing the door behind him before approaching the bed. Despite how silent he was attempting to be, you regrettably woke up. He hated when he woke you up after a night shift - now more than ever. As a doctor, he was well aware of how desperately a new mother needed rest, and he hated taking that away from you for even a moment.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispered while climbing into bed next to you, still dressed in his hospital scrubs. “It’s just me.”

By instinct, you turned around to examine the small child, unable to fall back to sleep yourself until you had assured her that she was safely asleep. Luckily, she was, her chest rising and falling at just the right speed. He admired your natural dedication to ensuring your offspring’s safety and comfort. It always looked like second nature to you; like you were never, not even when asleep, not aware of how your daughter was doing.

Chishiya moved to embrace you, hugging you from behind and burrowing his face into your neck, taking in your scent. And that’s when he realised that work wasn’t his sanctuary; this was. It wouldn’t be easy for him to rearrange his mindset, but he knew he had to try. While you had never complained, he was well aware of how much being the prime caretaker of a newborn was taking a toll on you. You never got a full night’s rest anymore, surviving on napping throughout the day whenever the baby miraculously fell asleep.

That would have to change, and he knew it. No, he not only knew it; he wanted it to change. He wanted to be a better father and partner than his own dad was, and that started with reducing his work hours.

“I’m taking next week off,” he mumbled into the small hairs on your neck, unsure if you were even awake and listening to him. If he was honest, he wasn’t even sure if the comment was directed at you or if he just needed to say it aloud to believe it himself.

To his surprise, you hummed and scooted even closer to him, gently affirming to him that you were listening. Perhaps tomorrow, when he inevitably has to repeat the very same sentence, he will get a more enthusiastic response.

He could only hope that you were just as excited about the new change as he was. Still, he hoped you were without the deep fear that was echoing through his entire being - the fear of failure, of not being good enough for the sweet, innocent baby that was laying just half a metre away from the two of you.

In the last seconds before he slipped into unconsciousness, Chishiya, for the first time, found peace in his new role as a father, coming to terms with the fear of not being enough for the almost doll-like little girl that lay peacefully so close to him.

After all, very few great things were accomplished without fear and worry, and there was no doubt in his mind that this truly was a great thing. He could and would change. The two of you had turned into three, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

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