#i no longer known if that's genuinely hard or just and excuse idk either way it adds some guilty sense of trying to justify the fact

[ginkovskij]

something good save me... anything good..... save me literally just one random good thing

[cheekygreenty]

Little Witch - Part 12

the Darkling x Reader

The hour was late as the stars basked in the darkness and cold winter air. The fire roared in its hearth while your still steaming cup of sleep-aiding tea sat untouched on the small table. Your talk with Alina earlier was the cause of your unrest. You didn't know whether to feel sorry for her or be frustrated with her. She is a lovely girl, most pure and kind and quite literally the definition of sunshine, but something about her irked you and you hated it.

Maybe it was her somewhat unhealthy obsession with her friend, the tracker- Malyen Oretsev, or the sheer denial and lack of understanding of her position. Sure, Mal was the only thing that tied her to her old life, a sense of home, but he didn't belong anywhere near the Little Palace and posed a threat to Alina's true potential. She should understand that, no doubt it's been explained to her many times. She was no longer a random girl from the First Army or a Child of Keramzin, she was the Sun-Summoner and had to act the part.

But there was also a nagging feeling in you since your last words with Aleksander, the ones about the stag. From what you could gather, Alina definitely wasn't power-hungry, not yet anyway, and placing an antler anywhere on her would be against her wishes. You knew deep down that whatever he had planned would go far beyond just giving her an amplifier for her sake.

You sighed and moved around on the armchair again, trying to convince yourself those were the reasons you couldn't sleep, that Alina's position in this mess was why your mind wouldn't shut off, but who were you kidding, it was her and him. For starters, she called Aleksander by his name. The second the word left her mouth, your blood ran cold.

__

'Is he not here?' Alina looked to you from over her mug, eyes scanning the room.

'Who?'

'Aleksander, is he away at Kribirsk again?' Your smile faltered and your grip on your own mug loosened. But Alina waited for an answer.

'Oh umm, I don't know.' You did but the shock caused your mind to blank completely.

__

You had known Aleksander for years before he even told you his true name, you had to earn it. She spoke of her General with a fondness, at one point even speaking of him as if he were more than just her commanding officer.

__

'Do you miss the First Army Alina? I know you left friends behind, not just Mr.Oretsev.'

'I suppose I don't feel at home just yet, it's a lot to take in, this whole division of orders thing doesn't help either... But he assures me I am not alone, that I have an equal in the Palace.'

An equal?

__

The heat of the fire was doing nothing to calm down your rising rage. Apparently Aleksander was doing more talking with Alina than you'd thought, even sacrificing his own true name, one only spoken by you and his mother, for her to utter as if it was just another name. So what if you were in his chambers, making use of his office and sleeping in his bed, he clearly had his eyes on two prizes or maybe just one.

You felt sick now, be it from the heat or the anger, you got up and opened a window. The cold and dark night was a stark contrast to the licks of the flame. It made you feel at peace, but only momentarily. You heard voices outside, slowly growing louder. You rested your head against the wall, begging for one last moment of stillness, but alas the door was yanked open and his boots echoed throughout the room. You cursed yourself for deciding to spend another night in his quarters. You thought he'd be gone longer than just 4 days.

'I do hope you made yourself comfortable' His voice was as smooth as the kvas you had downed after Alina left. You wanted to turn around, but the anger was still there and all hell would break loose if you let your emotions run wild again.

'I did thank you. At least you have a desk'

'I'll get you one first thing in the morning'

'No need, I already requested one' Your voice was void of any emotion. Don't start a fight.

'Are you alright?'

'Just tired, being diplomatic is hard work' It sure was right now.

'Might I suggest actually getting into bed then?' His hand slowly came around your wrist and pulled you in the direction of the bedroom but ironically at the simple touch, your anger grew, when it usually has the opposite effect. You saw out of the corner of your eye that he had a genuine smile on his face, one that tended to make you melt but not now. You shrugged him off and walked in the direction of the door, leaving him utterly confused.

'Y/N what's going on.

'I'm tired, I'm going to bed' You tried so hard to act normal, not in any way pissed.

'Y/N look at me'

'Goodnight Aleksander' You couldn't help it, the mockery of his name just came out. There goes the diplomacy.

You heard him quickly walk towards you and tried to get to the door first to escape the tense atmosphere you created but he got there first, blocking your way.

'What?' You threw your hands up in exasperation not yet looking at him.

'Did something happen whilst I was away?'

'No'

'Then what is it'

'Nothing'

'Don't lie to me Y/N'

'Oh but it's okay for you to lie to me' Your eyes finally bore into his.

'Excuse me?' His expression read baffled; annoyed; pissed.

'Move away from the door Aleksander'

'No! You're going to be mature and have an actual conversation with me for once' He asked for it.

'Alright fine, Let's start with Alina''

'Y/N'

'I had a lovely little tea party with her today. Sweet thing. She loves to talk once you get her going. She told me a lot of fascinating stuff, including your name! How interesting don't you think.' Your voice was so cold it even made you shiver.

'I can explain'

'I'm not finished.' You felt that pull in you, that pull that comes before you put your fire or shadows to use but crammed it down with all your might. 'Her best friend hasn't been replying to any of her letters and I can recount there are many of them. Guess what I found in one of your drawers? They are all very poetic don't you think? I'm all for helping her adjust, but that's not help, that's manipulation Aleksander.'

'She won't let him go, It's dragging her down.' He said through gritted teeth.

'Dragging her down or away?' The double meaning in your words didn't go unnoticed by him.

'Y/N all I want to do is go to bed right now, I've had a long day, please.' His hand reached out for yours but you scoffed and moved away.

'You wanted to have this conversation, General, don't shy away when your actions are questioned.'

'Fine' He unblocked the door and crossed the room, throwing his cloak and kefta on the floor with a heavy thud. 'Is there anything else you wish to accuse me of Y/N dearest?'

'Look at you, so bitter but I haven't heard you deny any of it'

'You may go now if you like.' He picked up a decanter of whiskey and poured himself a generous glass

'Since when are you this childish Aleksander. Have I missed something in my 100-year absence?' You mocked.

'You left me with all of this' He gestured to the palace. '-That's what happened.'

'Don't turn this around on me, and I told you that wasn't a choice.'

'The Y/N I knew would have come back and not hid like a coward'

You stilled and waited for any sign of apology, but it never came. He meant it even though he knew how much such a simple statement would hurt you. You turned slowly and walked to the door.

'While I'm gone, at least have the common decency to change the sheets before you bring Alina in here' you shut it loudly behind you and heard the breaking of the glass, no doubt thrown at the door as you were leaving.

What a day.

Taglist

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204 @houseofdupree @oberonpascal @eireduchess

Ok so idk if people can see this but I posted this like a week ago and apparently nobody seen it so here it is!!!!

Part 13

Here's my masterlist!!

[rafecameron]

dancing on my own

request: Angst with no happy ending? How abt *insert actor/character* getting married and their ex (the reader) kinda 'forcing herself' to go to the wedding bc she really wants to see their mutual friends again but like doesn't wanna see the wedding. And reader just watching the love of their live get married and be happy with someone else and their heart silently being ripped apart? Too cruel?

pairing: ex!luke patterson x reader

word count: 2.1K

warnings: heartbreak, no happy ending

a/n: here you go cruel anon. turns out im not that great at heartbreak but hopefully this makes your heart crack a little bit. (also idk if people read authors notes but my requests are currently closed!) 

Y/N thought back on all the times she could have turned around. When she was getting into her car. When she reached the airport. When she queued to board the plane. When she checked into her hotel. When she began to get ready. Now she was facing the very last time she could turn around. Stood outside the venue, all dressed up with no one to walk her inside. But just like the times before, she didn’t turn around, she pushed on. Her heart breaking a little more with each step, she knew that surely by the end of the night there would be nothing left but crumbs. She had promised herself two things before this trip. Number one; she would not speak to him. Number two; she would not cry. She wasn’t entirely sure she would be able to keep either of the promises to herself, but repeating them in her head made her feel that little bit calmer.

She situated herself beside a table lined with drinks, helping herself to a flute of champagne. She was anxious for the doors to be opened so she could find a seat, somewhere in a corner at the back would suit her just fine. Out of sight of anyone who would surely recognise her, she had no intentions of engaging in conversation until the reception. But seeing as what was happening today she should have known it would be her unlucky day.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” a voice speaks beside her and she turns, landing eyes on someone she had not seen for far too long. His suit was tailored perfectly to his body, his long hair tied in a bun at the back of his head. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.” He pulls her into a hug.

“I wasn’t sure I would either,” she admits as she pulls away, “I wasn’t going to, but I wanted to see everyone...most people.”

Willie laughs softly, “I’m glad you’re here, sit beside me?” He asks, motioning with his head towards the doors that were being pulled open.

“Oh, I was just gonna sit in the back,” she stumbles over her words as Willie takes ahold of her hand, “Aren’t you going to sit with Alex?”

“He’s preoccupied.” Willie states simply, ignoring her protests as he pulls her towards the front of the room to take a seat in the front row.

She sighs as she sits down beside him. The sick feeling in her stomach growing as the room slowly became more and more full, people lining up on the benches and getting ready to watch the ceremony.

Willie reaches down and takes ahold of her hand again, giving it a light squeeze and offering a comforting smile, “You don’t have to stay.” He whispers.

“I do.” She nods, “I want to see everyone, I won’t stay all day but I need to at least say hello now I’m here.”

Willie nods his head, squeezing her hand one last time and patting her knees before turning back to face forward, the ceremony would be starting any minute and she found that her eyes were glued to the pattern on the floor.

For the entirety of the ceremony she didn’t look up. She didn’t want to risk meeting his eyes, didn’t want to see her friends sympathetic looks and definitely didn’t want to see the bride looking beautiful in her white dress. She tried her best not to listen, she couldn’t stomach hearing the vows and knew if she heard the words I do in his voice she’d cry. So she thought about anything else but what was happening in front of her.

She finally looked up when the couple was safely past her line of sight, eyes instantly meeting that of an old blonde friend. He gave her a wave, she was sure the smile was supposed to make her feel better but she just felt more pathetic. Why was she even here? She’s sure the invite was out of politeness and not an actual invitation to come. And if her friends were going to be tiptoeing around her and treating her like a porcelain doll she wasn’t sure she could cope. The nicer people were to her about this the more likely it was she would break down.

She didn’t want to think about it, about him, sure she was at his wedding but that didn’t mean this day had to be about him. She wanted to have a catch up with her friends, avoid her ex the whole night and then go back home, cry with a bottle of wine and forget this whole thing ever happened.

“I’m glad you came.” Alex says as he reaches her, pulling her into a hug, “It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah, it’s good to see you too.” She responds truthfully, “Can we go to the reception? I think I need a drink already.”

Alex laughs, taking Willies hand in his own and leading the way towards the after party. The amount of people that were there she was sure she would be able to avoid the groom for the night. She found herself situated on a table with her friends, helping herself to a glass of wine and making sure the bottle was kept close to her.

No matter how excited she was to see her friends she found that now she was here she was finding it hard to hold a conversation. The group around her were still familiar with each other, still seeing each other and having things to talk about, she felt a little like a spare part. But still she smiled along and listened to their conversation. Something about a recent party they had attended where Reggie had drank a little too much, she laughed along with them unsure of what else to do. The more they spoke and tried to involve her in the conversation the more she realised she didn’t really know the people around her anymore. Sure she had good memories with them and she would always consider them her friends, but she didn’t really know them.

The best thing about weddings it that you can be invisible if you wanted to be. The bride and groom were always busy, everyone wanting to talk to them and congratulate them, and the drunker the guests got the easier it was to slip away from conversations and merely watch the scenes unfold. Which is exactly what she did. She watched her friends get drunk and progressively louder, not noticing anymore if she wasn’t joining in their conversation. If the night continued this way she was certain she would make it out in one piece.

She thought she was doing a pretty good job of avoiding the one person she feared seeing the most. But halfway through the night a hand landed on her shoulder and a familiar scent filled her nose. She felt her skin ignite where his fingers touched and she begged the butterflies in her stomach to go away, to fly away and disappear forever.

Turning in her seat she finally meets his eyes for the first time that night, forcing a smile onto her face as she stands up and allows him to pull her into a hug. Her heart hammers in her chest and she uses every ounce of will power within her to not shed any tears, she felt the epitome of pathetic. Wanting to cry at a wedding like she was in a bad romcom movie. Only if this were a movie she’d get the guy, or a second guy would come sweep her off her feet and make her forget the first one was ever there. She didn’t see that happening anytime soon.

“Thanks for coming.” Luke smiles, “You look great, that colour really suits you.”

She returns his smile with a tight lipped one of her own, “Thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself.” She attempts a light hearted laugh.

She looked away, she couldn’t stand looking into his eyes any longer, his gaze intense and stirring way too many different emotions inside of her. She wanted him to be horrible to her, to tell her to leave and never come back, not to tell her she looks great. How was she ever supposed to get over him when he was nothing but nice to her all the time. She wished he had done something at the end to allow her to hate him. Cheat on her maybe, or tell her he never loved her, then maybe she’d stand a tiny chance of getting over him and moving on with her life. Instead he was selfish and kept her at arms length because he knew he always could and that should have been enough for her to stay away, but she just couldn’t.

“Congratulations,” she looks back at him, eyes settling just above his to avoid his gaze, “You seem really happy, I wish you all the best.”

“Thanks,” he smiles and it’s genuine, something which breaks her heart a little more.

Of course she wants him to be happy, but a bigger part of her wants him to be happy with her and not anyone else. She knows that’s selfish, but that doesn’t stop her from trying to wish it into existence no matter how futile she knows it is.

“Have you met Jess?” He asks, placing a hand on her shoulder as though about to lead her somewhere.

“Oh, no I haven’t but she looks busy,” she quickly shrugs his hand off, the bride she could see from the corner of her eye, laughing at something another guest had said, “I’ll introduce myself later.” She lies.

The only thing she could think that would be worse than this wedding was having to actually meet the bride. To meet her replacement, the better version. The one who had stolen his heart and been worth enough to keep it forever. She forces a smile and excuses herself to the bathroom.

As she reaches the bathroom she can feel her eyes stinging, shutting herself in a cubicle she fans her face, determined not to let a single tear fall. She had made a promise to herself and the least she could do was keep it. She leant her head back against the door, letting out a shaky breath to compose herself.

Once she was sure she wouldn’t cry she exited the bathroom again, thankful to see that he was no longer at the table she had just ran from. She took her seat and no one asked where she had been or if she was okay, she was glad for that at least.

As the night wore on she thought she was doing okay, one little hiccup but no tears since, she’d even found herself genuinely laughing at a couple points. He’d spoken to her and she hadn’t thrown up on his shoes, he had no reason to try and speak to her again.

But then it was time for the first dance and she felt her chest tightening. Her calm composure being over taken by a sinking feeling of dread. She watched for a minute, watched him hold her close and smile. Watched him lean in to kiss her gently before spinning her under his arm and pulling her back in. She wished more than anything that it was her in his arms, her who he still looked at like the world shone behind her eyes. But it would never be her again, and his bride she was sure was far more beautiful than she could ever hope to be.

She watched as more dancers joined the floor, her friends among them. She tried to smile, but the sight was too much for her. Her friends laughing and dancing with their loved ones while she sat on the side lines and watched feeling like a stranger. The slow music a melancholy soundtrack to her emotions, reminding her of something she could never have.

She stands from the table, dragging her eyes over each person she knew, lingering on Luke for a moment longer before she turned and walked out of the room. She knew that this would be the last time she ever saw him, because she knew seeing him happy with someone else would be a slow form of torture. So she walked away, from him, from her friends forever, leaving whatever little pieces were left of her heart behind. By the time she exited the building she felt nothing more than a hollow shell and she finally let the tears fall.

tags: @lovesanimals @makebank @chrlsgillespie @crybabyddl @marinettepotterandplagg @caitsymichelle13 @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @alexpjoyner @meangirlsx

[kindest-way-to-say]

okay so. i’m just gonna rant. about some pain i’ve been experiencing for a while. like, we’re getting into it

if anyone would like to put in their two cents, feel free. im kinda just yelling about my problems into a void, but im definitely not gonna stop people who might know what this is from giving me advice.

idk. my brains shutting down a bit.

TDLR: my left arm has been in constant pain for three days. it’s probably nerves or something. i’m very addled rn. i hate the world i want to sleep for a millennia. i also have had similar, smaller pain issues over a course of 4 months. i hate it here. i would very much like this to not be a thing, please.

so this story starts the mid may. my last month of school. i’m suffering through just to end this bullshit. but i notice that p much every time i have to do some slightly more than normal walking, some random body part of mine will just be in this sort of dull pain.

and i just kinda go. huh. okay. ow. and brush it off. this continues. it’s pretty minor, (like barely a 1/10 on a scale) but enough for me to be mildly annoyed by it on occasion.

go to two weeks before my school lets out for summer.

i get appendicitis and have surgery for it. i’m fine. that situation went better than expected, i was just not the most comfortable.

appendicitis pain traditionally presents in the lower right quadrant of the abdomen. right next to a shit ton of nerves. and the pain i’m going through starts to affect my leg. can’t really walk without alarms going on.

it gets better. i’m not like. comfortable, but i’m just taking ibuprofen a few times a day and managing decently. 3.5/10 pain level average.

but then, as i start going out and living life as a teenager in the summer (hanging out with one person semi-regularly, and doing weird family lunches), i start to notice that most times i leave the house, i’ll come back home with some pretty decent pain in assorted parts of my body.

like my back will hurt, which i just blame on my shit posture. but then it’ll be a weird muscle connected to my ankle or some shit when i am very well known for hating any and all sports except for hockey. which i don’t play.

so i’m not doing things to pull muscles, but i’m feeling twinges of pain kind of a lot. which sucks.

but i brush it off, now consciously keeping an eye on it and taking ibuprofen when needed.

pain levels steadily rise over time, but it’s still at about a 4/10 for the most part. there’s the occasional spike to a 6, but that’s not frequent.

keep going on to mid-july. every time i leave the house, i’m feeling dull ache/twinges in multiple places and my knees feel really fucking off a lot of the time. almost like if your knees were crooked or something?? idk.

but it’s still 5.5 on the worst day. so i just kinda hesitantly mention this to my mom. who’s used to me complaining anyway, but i make it clear that it’s been going on for a while, and it feels like somethings wrong.

and she says “oh yeah we can think about seeing a doctor.”

and i just. okay! cool. fun. rad. sick. vague pain. that’s my favorite activity. i love everything about this.

but i just grit my teeth and bear it. still doing the ibuprofen thing when my ignore it and distract yourself strategy doesn’t work.

now, end of july. trucking along. i’m at least in mind discomfort pretty much all the time. sucks. hate it. i’m concerned.

go to the 31. i pull a crazy all-nighter because i have chemical imbalances in my brain and shit just happens. i stay up for like 44 hours. wild. i sit at my desk for a while, drawing and i notice “wow my left shoulder doesn’t feel that great. huh. i have been sitting here for a while.”

so i go do something else but it doesn’t feel fantastic. almost like a buzzing in parts of my back and my upper arm. on my left arm. i am right handed. don’t know what that’s about.

go to sleep sunday night, i wake up to it just being worse. (also i have some weird circulation problems because of genetics. just random shit. no pain whatsoever. just funky.)

like wtf that’s a 4 right as i’m waking up. what the actual fuck. don’t like that.

but i was raised catholic so none of us talk to each other. so i just joke about my body organizing a shitty coup d’état to a friend and chalk it up to a fucked up muscle. but it’s like kind of moving?? a bit?? weird as fuck. don’t like it. still dull pain, but certainly something that pops up into my conscious mind like 10 times a day.

i didn’t do anything would result in a pulled muscle (trust me. my school is really intense about theatre and show choir. hard core choreography in everything that i practice 3 times a week during school+whatever play/musical) so i’m really just making excuses to soothe my brain and i know it. full denial.

i took ibuprofen the first and second day. can still tell it’s happening, but it sucks less.

yesterday i play a shit ton of guitar, and i can feel my upper arm cramping up and shit (which. oW. 5.7/10. WHAT THE HELL.) even though there is no strain on my left arm except for pressing my fingertips into some strings. no shoulder shit going on.

so i try to stretch out. no help.

and then the adhd medication instead of sleeping medication debacle happens and i don’t go to bed even though i actively tried to multiple times. i write a poem instead.

hurts mildly the whole time. it starts kind of limiting the functions of my arm. which. what the actual fuck. stiff, a bit seized up in especially bad pain moments.

i get focused on writing a poem and shit i only 20 minutes to get ready to leave for my appointment.

i forgot to take any ibuprofen, and it was already reaching 5.85 levels from sitting in my room.

in the car and in the orthodontist office, my left arm is completely fucking useless to me. half of my brain at all times is focused on like “oW OW OW OW OW” because it’s reached a point where i can’t really ignore it. it’s just there now. moving it isn’t great, it sitting in place isn’t fun either.

i’m at 6.5 levels. from the round trip of like 20-ish minutes, it’s raised that much. a lot of internal dialogue about it.

on the way to the orthodontist, i’m talking to my mom about it. she, sounding kind of annoyed, asks “what, do you want to see a doctor?”. i say “honestly? yes. it’s been 3 days nonstop. steady rise. there’s something genuinely wrong. i’m concerned about it.”

it feels like someone is poking around inside my arm with electricity or some shit. whole arm. shifting localizations and slight fluctuation in pain level. rapid escalation even just today.

i explain what it feels like in less wordy terms. and she says “that’s sounds like it could be nerve-related.”

it’s been three days. i’m exhausted. this has already taken a pretty significant mental toll, let alone discomfort level.

i have a high pain tolerance. i only started actively complaining about appendicitis pain the night before it exploded. that shit festers longer than overnight. i had been i pain for half the week before i said shit. and i just kinda sucked it up until i felt like i couldn’t walk without needing hella support.

but it’s really fucking getting to me. shit ton of weird tension, buzzing. just. constant painful buzz moving around.

i express this. “it’s a non-stop pain bad enough to be something i am fully aware of at any given second. if i stare off, im probably thinking about my arm.” and she kinda dismisses it.

it’s been like an hour, and i’ve gone up to 6.8 levels multiple times. based on patterns, it’s not just gonna stop any time soon, and i’m really good at working around weird problems like this.

like i said. pain every time i go out.

i’m good at hiding when i’m not 100%, but this is beyond me. it’s like someone’s just stabbing me with tacs over and over again. on my entire left arm and on the rare occasion, part of my leg.

i’m so genuinely uncomfortable, and i would this to not be a thing anymore.

[honeypiehotchner]

Trust -- part thirty-five

It’s been a moment, hello! My mood took one of worse turns it has in a while the past couple weeks, but I think I’m back on track now (go to therapy, kids).

Also! I move into college in three weeks, and I won’t have as much free time. My goal is to finish this story before I move, though, so this is your warning that the end is near. Love you guys xx.

(Listen I don’t really like this part and idk if it’s my brain still in the weird mood or if it genuinely does suck, so be gentle lol)

“Sherlock,” you call, tucking your legs underneath you on the sofa.

           “Hm.”

           “When was the last time you went out?”

           He gives his violin a strange look – he’s tuning it before he plays – but you know that look was meant for you if he wasn’t preoccupied. “What do you mean?”

           “A case,” you clarify for him. “When was the last time you and John went out on a case together?”

           “We just did a case last week.”

           “No, that wasn’t a case, that was a small outing and you solved it in five minutes,” you reply tiredly. “I mean an actual case.”

           “Oh,” he hums, lifting his violin to his chin. “I don’t know.”

           “I thought you didn’t like not knowing.”

           A glare is the next expression sent your way as he picks up his bow and begins to play. He’s been working on a waltz for John and Mary. He’s told them (promised, more like) he’ll play it for their first dance at the wedding, which, again you try not to think about the dreams you had. But it’s incredibly hard when life is appearing to imitate them in the smallest of ways.

           “I’m just saying,” you speak over his playing. “I think it’d be good if the two of you got out and did a case together.”

           The violin falls from his neck as he gives you a pointed stare. “What’s wrong?”

           “Nothing’s wrong,” you chuckle. “I just don’t want to be the reason you’re stuck in this flat for the rest of your life.”

           “You’re not,” he replies firmly, lifting his instrument once more. “If I wanted to leave, I would. My brother’s security won’t be reason to stop me.”

           “I know that,” you breathe. “Speaking of, if you were to go out, I’m sure Mycroft would send an extra guard. Or I could ask Mary to come over. Speaking of Mary, what time did they say they were coming over?”

           “Noon,” comes Sherlock’s short reply.

           It’s barely ten now. This is one of the rare mornings where you and Sherlock are actually awake in the morning.

           “Well,” you heave out a sigh, standing to your feet. “I’m going to get dressed. Try not to make the waltz minor. I can hear it drifting that way.”

           You’re not trying to annoy Sherlock necessarily, but you’d be lying if you said you aren’t trying to push his buttons a little more.

           He’s been cooped up in this flat with you for two weeks now. Yes, you’ve gone out occasionally, but after one instance of cameras swarming the two of you in a café, you’ve kept the outings to a bare minimum. The “case” last week was less hectic, you’re assuming because reporters didn’t want Lestrade arresting them, but it was short lived.

           You’ve both become somewhat of a celebrity couple since returning from the hospital. It became known that Sherlock and his girlfriend – that’s you, even though, again, you and Sherlock still haven’t discussed labels – investigated and brought down a religious cult right here in London.

           The case alone was intriguing enough for people to praise Sherlock, but throw in the fact that this seemingly emotionless human being has a romantic partner? Everyone is all over that now, and it hasn’t died down like John had hoped.

           Which is why Mycroft still has security stationed at the bottom of the stairs, and eyes all on Baker Street at all times. You’re – meaning you and Sherlock – are no longer allowed to take cabs. Mycroft has a driver – his name is Ed, he’s nice – for the both of you and that is how you are supposed to get around. You think the only reason Sherlock doesn’t protest is because he knows how much of a concern your safety is – especially to him.

           But still. You and Mary have been talking. Even John is a little antsy. The wedding planning is in the final stages, and the last thing really to tackle is seating and fitting for the bridesmaid dresses. Mary has her wedding dress, John has his tux, as does Sherlock, but the bridesmaids – you included as Maid of Honor – don’t. You’ve got the color, at least.

           The point is, you and Mary have seen that both of your boys need to go out and work a case together. Just to get them out. And to give you two some girl time, but that’s irrelevant. You need to get them out of the house again, like they used to do.

           And you’ve got a plan.

~~~

“Need to work on your half of the church, Mary. Looking a bit thin.”

           You roll your eyes at Sherlock’s statement as Mary answers him. “Ah, orphan’s lot. Friends, that’s all I have. Lots of friends.”

           You reach over and squeeze her hand gently, earning a small smile. Mary’s past has always been a sore subject, and one that isn’t brought up often – except by Sherlock, in moments like these.

           “We should have the organ music to begin at precisely 11:48—”

           “But the rehearsal’s not for another two weeks, just calm down.”

           “Calm? I am calm. I’m extremely calm.”

           “Sherlock, love,” you chime in, ignoring the way your brother’s eyebrows raise at your use of the word love. “I’ve never seen you more stressed. Just – take a deep breath.”

           “Let’s get back to the reception, come on,” Mary suggests, ushering him over.

           You nod your head, urging him to join her. You sit curled up in his chair with a book, planning to help Mary after Sherlock and John leave, but of course neither of them know they’re going to be leaving just yet.

           “John’s cousin, top table?”

           Sherlock scrunches his nose. “Hm. Hates you. Can’t even bear to think about you.”

           “Seriously?”

           “Second-class post. Cheap card. Bought at a petrol station. Look at the stamp. Three attempts at licking. She’s obviously unconsciously retaining saliva.”

           “Aw, let’s stick her by the bogs.”

           “Oh yes.”

           You watch at Mary discreetly looks over her should, clearing her throat before asking, “Who else hates me?”

           And of course, Sherlock being Sherlock, he hands her a list.

           “Oh great, thanks.”

           You snicker at Mary’s way of dealing with family troubles, not that John cares either way. He’s been scrolling through his phone the entire time.

           “‘Priceless painting nicked.’ Looks interesting.”

           “Table four?” Mary continues.

           “Done,” Sherlock replies quickly.

           John chuckles. “‘My husband is three people.’”

           “Table five?”

           “Major James Sholto. Who he?”

           “Oh, John’s old commanding officer. I don’t think he’s coming.”

           Your ears perk up at the mention of him. You’ve always known John was in the military, but he never talks about it all that much. And he’s especially never mentioned an old commanding officer before.

           “He’ll be there,” John speaks up, so he’s clearly listening.

           “Well, he needs to RSVP, then,” Mary counters.

           “He’ll be there,” John assures her once more, still gazing at his phone.

           Sherlock looks about as confused as you feel. He’s clearly curious about this and you’re almost certain you’ll find him Googling Major Sholto later.

           “‘My husband is three people.’ It’s interesting.”

           You give John a strange look.

           “Says he has three distinct patterns of moles on his skin.”

           “Identical triplets. One in half a million births. Solved it without leaving the flat,” Sherlock speaks quickly as he suddenly stands and floats (as you like to say) down to the floor. “Now, serviettes. Swan or Sydney Opera House?”

           “Where’d you learn to do that?” Mary’s excitement and surprise is clearly written all over her face as Sherlock proudly displays the napkins. You even crane your neck to see.

           “Many unexpected skills required in the field of criminal investigation—”

           “Fibbing, love,” you call out, shaking your head.

           He sighs. “I once broke an alibi by demonstrating the exact severity of…”

           “We’re not John, we can tell when you’re fibbing,” Mary interrupts.

           “Okay, I learnt it on YouTube.”

           You snicker. “That’s more like it.”

           “Opera House, please,” Mary chooses, satisfied that she got the truth. “Oh, hang on, I’m buzzing.”

           Your eyebrows raise slightly. That’s the first code phrase.

           “Oh, hi, Beth!”

           And there’s the other.

           You close your book, standing and following Mary into the kitchen. Sherlock is too busy folding serviettes to notice you’ve gone, and you smack John lightly on the shoulder as you pass.

           “Yeah, yeah, I don’t see why not,” Mary continues the act.

           You stand over by the kettle, actually putting it on because you would like some tea, which gives you a plausible excuse for being in here.

           “Actually, if that’s Beth, it’s probably for me, too. Hang on.”

           John walks into the kitchen a second later, giving both you and Mary a tired look.

           “He knows we don’t have a friend called Beth. He’s gonna figure out that it’s code.”

           “He’s YouTubing serviettes,” Mary hisses.

           “He’s thorough.”

           “He’s terrified!”

           “Of course he’s not.”

           “He is,” you mutter from the kettle, looking up to John. “He is.”

           “Right, you know when you’re scared of something, you start wishing it sooner just to get it all going? That’s what he’s doing.”

           “Why would he be scared that we’re getting married?”

           You leave the couple to continue bickering, part of you wanting a small private moment with Sherlock while they’re occupied.

           You walk over to Sherlock where he’s quickly folding, and you make him pause, your hand smoothing over his shoulder. He turns his head to look up at you, his free hand bringing your knuckles to his lips.

           “Would you fold me a swan?” You ask.

           “Of course,” comes his reply, and you didn’t exactly mean for him to fold it for you right then, but he does, and a few seconds later, he’s handing you a swan.

           “Thank you,” you chuckle. “I love it.” You carry it gingerly over to the mantle and place it next to where he’s got something stabbed onto the wood. “What is it now, love?” Upon closer inspection you see it’s a note. “Another one?” You ask.

           Sherlock barely nods and hums.

           You sigh. “And how long has this one been up here?”

           “Two days.”

           “Where did you get it?”

           “Homeless network.”

           “Someone in your homeless network handed you a note with ‘I O U’ written on it? Are you joking?”

           “No,” Sherlock replies. “But Mycroft has them now.”

           “So, your brother knew, too,” you mutter. “Lovely.”

           “Don’t be cross. It’s only out of—”

           “Sherlock Holmes,” you turn around to glare at him. “If you tell me you’re trying to protect me, I’m going to throw you out that window.”

           He smirks as he stands, ushering you to come over to him, which you do. He’s like a damn magnet, this man.

           “No need to throw me out the window,” he murmurs, tilting your head back to look in his eyes. “I only didn’t want you to worry.”

           “You realize to me it seems like you’re keeping things from me.”

           “I apologize.”

           “Hm,” You fight back a smile. “Not good enough.”

           He hears what you’re implying, so he leans down, pressing his lips to yours. “Better?”

           You nod. “Better. One more.”

           He grants your wish, pressing a kiss to your lips once again, pulling your body up against his in a way that would promise something more if John and Mary weren’t in the kitchen.

           But they are, so you pull away, grinning. “I forgive you.”

           “Seriously?”

           “No,” you shake your head. “But you are a good kisser.”

           He hums again, getting interrupted by Mary practically shoving John out of the kitchen. Your older brother stumbles into the room, giving you and Sherlock a weird – but not disgusted for the first time – look.

           “Uh, kettle’s just boiled.”

           You nod. “I’ll go help Mary with the tea.”

           Leaving Sherlock and John in the living area, you disappear into the kitchen to help Mary with tea. When you round the corner, she’s sitting at the table, sipping tea and looking through a newspaper.

           “They’re talking,” you whisper. “Fingers crossed.”

           After a few minutes, Mary taps you on the arm. Time to see if they ever decided on anything.

           You wrap your hands around the warm mug, raising your eyebrows expectantly as Sherlock and John fumble through an explanation on where they’re heading.

           “Why don’t you go with socks?” You ask.

           “You’ve gotta get the right ones,” Mary adds, earning a serious nod from both men. “It’ll take a while, right?”

           “Yeah, my coat…”

           “In there,” you nod. You flash Sherlock a smile that he returns. “Have fun.”

           “Text me if you need me.”

           “Mary is going to be here with me, Sherlock. Go out and have fun. And don’t come back for a while. We need some girl time.”

           “Okay. The guard is just downstairs, and Mycroft—”

           “I know!” You laugh. “Now get out of here.”

           Sherlock and John disappear down the stairs for what seems like the first time in absolute ages. You and Mary let out of a shared sigh of relief as the front door closes.

           “Now,” Mary begins, giving you a look. “Now that he’s gone, I have to ask, how are you doing?”

           “I’m fine,” you reply, sipping your tea as you sit down on the couch. “Why do you ask?”

           “Well, with all this marriage talk, I just wondered how that head of yours was dealing,” she moves to sit next to you. “Have you mentioned it to him?”

           “No, God no,” you laugh. “We haven’t even talked about whether or not we’re ‘dating,’ which sounds ridiculous. The papers say I’m his girlfriend, but he and I haven’t even talked about it.”

           “I think it’s safe to say he is your boyfriend.”

           “It sounds so primary school when you say it like that,” you grimace.

           “Well the two of you act like you’re in primary school because you haven’t talked about it!”

           “Okay,” you give her a look. “I don’t mind that we haven’t talked about it.”

           “You don’t want clarity?”

           “Maybe?” You shrug. “And maybe when I do, I’ll ask him, but right now, I’m happy with where we are. I’m content just being with him.”

           “Alright,” she pats my leg. “I can tell he makes you happy. And I think John is coming around.”

           “I think so, too,” you smile. “Or I hope he is, at least.”

           “No, I think he is,” Mary nods firmly. “I’ve talked with him about it and I think he sees how protective Sherlock is and he values that. John wants someone that’ll keep you safe. And Sherlock does.”

           “I feel safer than I ever have when I’m with him,” you admit quietly. “I felt safe with Tony, sure, but never like this.”

           “And that’s what I like to hear,” she smiles brightly. “Now, what’s for lunch?”

           You sigh. “I might be able to convince the guard to let us out.”

           She grins, a bit mischievously. “Let’s do it.”

[shall-we-imagine]

Loosen up. (Bodyguard!Klaus Goldstein x Reader)

Requested: 66. "I like you. You're different." + 73. "You couldn't handle me even if I came with instructions." From the promt list.

Genre: Fluff/idk if this also counts as suggestive? Only if you're very innocent I guess? And if you're on tumblr then you probably aren't so nvm 😂

A/N: sorry for being so inactive lately I've been busy with studying and such so I generally couldn't find it in me to write so yeah :/ (I have a trial tomorrow so like idk pray for me 😂) but here I am! ヽ(゜～゜o)ノ Also yes I'm aware this isn't how Vincent acts and he's not filthy rich but for now we're gonna let it slide okay? Cool. 😂

(Second Person Point of View)

"That's when I decided it was time to buy my fifth car; I mean who attends their first day of college with the same old cars, right?" The man laughs. You suspected that if he stopped boasting for longer than 2 seconds, he'd suffocate and die. You kind of hoped to witness that.

It'd been 2 hours already, yet you weren't allowed to leave the party until your dad says you could. You'd even tried to convince your bodyguard to let you leave without your father knowing anything of the incident, but Klaus was far too strict and responsible; he'd never do such a reckless thing.

Yeah, sure, it's good for your dad to have found such a trustworthy employee, but when you've been stuck talking to these blatantly boring and arrogant people that only viewed you as a good deal to obtain more wealth, well, let's just say: it makes you sort of wish Klaus cared less.

However, that was not the case. In fact, while all bodyguards waited outside, Klaus remained inside -only a few feet away from you at any given time. He also seemed to always be giving you a look that could only be describe as the look a mother gives when you have people over, and she's daring you to mess anything up.

Now, you weren't the stereotypical bratty child that refuses to take over their parents' company. You knew your responsibility and always hoped to make them proud; you just weren't a big fan of the world surrounding all the important people in business. Therefore, it made you yearn for messing around from time to time.

Today was one of those days. You so desperately hoped Klaus would get off your back for even just a few moments, so you could escape the exhausting setting. But he continued with the angry-mother-glare; it almost seemed like he'd gotten the expression tattooed on his face after the endless times he had to get you out of trouble.

There was definitely a bright side to that extra attention, though. You suspected Klaus had a thing for you. After all, he was known to be very good at his job; he could easily quit and get a job less demanding with an equal pay or even a bigger pay if he wanted, but he didn't. He decides to stay with a teenage girl that enjoys pushing his buttons. He was professional, so he wouldn't say anything or let it show, but you had this feeling in your guts that he at least felt intrigued by you.

And, surely, you were ready to use this to your advantage.

You glance towards the blond at the corner of the room, ensuring he was still staring (threateningly, but still staring nevertheless). His eyebrow arches slightly, sensing you were about to do something dumb. You could almost hear him think God, what is it this time?!

You focus your attention back on the man whose name you'd forgotten about 2 seconds after he introduced himself.

"So, I heard you're staying at the hotel here for the entire duration of the event." You smile sweetly.

"Yeah, I am." He takes a sip out of his drink.

You begin flirtatiously twirling a strand of your hair. "Well, how about you take me to have a look upstairs?"

Startled by the unexpected implications of your request, he chokes on his drink and starts coughing. You try your best not to appear disgusted, giving him a smile when he's done with his coughing session.

Sure enough, he agrees and links your arms together, leading you towards the exit of the section the party was held in.

"Miss (Y/N)," Klaus speaks through gritted teeth. He wore a smile and kept his voice quiet, but there was no denying he was ready to scold you. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Upstairs." You smile, playing dumb.

"What do you mean up-" after losing his calm for a second, Klaus cuts himself off to take a deep breath and let it out before proceeding. "Would you please excuse us, Mr. Knight?" Klaus bows lightly before dragging you to an empty corner.

"You think just because you're leaving with a guest, I'll allow you to go?" Klaus whispers in annoyance.

"What? Are you jealous?" You wiggle an eyebrow at him, knowing well enough that wasn't the reason (well, not the main one, at least).

Lips pulled into a pained smile, Klaus glares. "Are you asking for an insult? I think you're abusing that service I provide for you a hundred times per minute."

"Come on, Klausie; loosen up." You poke his chest with your index finger. You knew the redhead -or Mr. Knight- was probably still waiting for you, but you couldn't care less. You wanted to stretch out the process of bugging Klaus as long as possible, since it was the only way to spend time with him. It was also fun watching his nose scrunch and his eyebrows furrow in such anger. He would try to mask his frustration, but it was obvious he had a short temper when it came to you. To put it nicely, he was done with your shit.

"Don't, under any circumstances, call me Klausie." He threatens. "And I don't need to loosen up; you need to stop being so careless!"

"Sure." Rolling your eyes, you step away from him.

Before you could take two full steps, Klaus had already grabbed your arm. "Going somewhere?"

You pull your hand away. "The bathroom. Am I not allowed to answer the call of nature either?" You raise an eyebrow questioningly.

"Touché." He raises his hands in defeat, but once you begin walking away, he follows.

"Where are you going?"

"Just ensuring you don't get any funny ideas." He shrugs.

Huffing, you decide to ignore him. Thankfully, he was only planning to stand near the door; it didn't seem too strange imagining Klaus walking in for "safety measures": the guy was crazy when it came to his job.

"Man, another pretty dress gone to waste." You sigh, looking into the mirror. The sparkling violet fabric clung onto your body till your waist then flowed freely, reaching to merely graze the floor. It was one of the dresses you really liked; you loved the way it showed your shoulder blades and only a portion of your back; it was sexy yet classy. The glittery purple was certainly your colour too! Alas, your dad would scold you for rewearing a dress more than he would scold you if you were to kill a person (as long as you've hidden the evidence well, that is). Murder can be covered up, but 'horrible fashion choices' cannot be hidden, according to your father. Sometimes you went against that, but most of the time, you just complied, even though it's an absolute waste of money.

"You're taking too long, you know that?" Klaus calls from outside, impatience clear in his voice.

You bite back a response when you realize there's something much better you could do. Quietly checking the stalls, you ensure you're 100% alone inside.

"Could there be a valid reason you're not responding to me?!"

Ignoring his question, you just scream in response. "Klaus! Klaus, help me!" You screech frantically.

The door bursts open, and Klaus steps inside aggressively. Before he could realize what's happening, you push him back against the door, slamming it behind him.

Smug about catching him off guard, you smirk at the taller male, whose body was closely pressed against yours. "Were you worried?" You tease.

"About losing my job? Yeah." He scoffs, turning his head away from you but not bothering to push you away.

"Why is it always about the job?" You tilt your head to meet his eyes again.

"Because I'm at work?" He states with a raised eyebrow, as if it sounded stupid for you to even ask that.

You run your hands gently over his chest; even through layers of clothing, you could still feel the firm muscles concealed by the black suit. "Well, maybe it's time for a break." You grin innocently.

"You do know you can't fool me, right?" He takes one of your hands away from him but doesn't let go of it.

Rolling your eyes, you move away from him. "I'm not fooling you; I want us to have fun! Neither one of us is enjoying this anyway." You cross your arms.

An unexpected response sparks excitement within you. "Well, what do you suggest we do?" You knew he was only being sarcastic, but it gave you a pathway for more methods to push his buttons and witness his reactions.

Closing the distance between both of you once more, you stand on the tip of your toes as you wrap your arms around the back of his neck. "Oh, I have a lot of suggestions." You whisper in his ear, feeling him flinch lightly at your suggestive remark. You could tell he was trying to hide it and pretend he wasn't phased, but you'd already noticed it, and he knew it.

"You're gonna get me fired." Cheeks slightly red, he turns his head away and gently parts your bodies from each other. "God, why is it so hard to handle you? It's like dealing with a troublemaking child."

"You couldn't handle me even if I came with instructions." You stick your tongue out at him. "Plus, father won't know anything if neither one of us told him." You point out what seemed to have escaped Klaus's perception of the situation.

"You want me to lie to your father." He laughs in disbelief.

"Mmhm, not quite. More like not telling him the full truth."

"That's exactly what lying is."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"No."

"Yes."

"Okay, stop! Fine, lie! I don't know!" You fling your arms in the air out of frustration. A novel sound catches your attention, immediately flushing away the frustration. Klaus was laughing. Not sarcastically. No, a genuine laugh was echoing across the bathroom.

"I suppose it wouldn't be the worst thing if we talk a walk for some fresh air and come back." He smiles. "Just this time though!"

An uncontrollable grin spreads across your face, and you immediately throw your arms around Klaus. "Thank you!"

"You gotta stop..doing..this.." He awkwardly pats your back, careful not to touch your bare skin.

"No promises!" You shrug, before grabbing his hand and rushing outside, making your way to the exit.

"Miss (Y/N)?" You freeze in your spot. "Where are you going?"

"Oh, um.." you stutter, not expecting to have to explain yourself to your companion from earlier.

"We got an emergency call; we'll be right back." Klaus, in his usual composed state, 'explains' to Mr. Knight.

"Ah, I see." Red head may be an idiot, but he wasn't stupid. He could tell something wasn't right, but he either chose to let it slide or he just didn't care. Regardless, you were thankful. "I'll be waiting for your return then." With a smile and a bow, he left and disappeared into the crowd.

"You'll catch a cold." Klaus states, watching you twirl and run around in the chilly October weather.

You weren't cold, or maybe you didn't dislike being cold. It wasn't the type of cold to make you unable to take a few proper steps and force you to do an awkward penguin walk; rather, it was the type of cold to merely caress your skin, decorating it with goosebumps. "Don't worry; I'm alright."

"Just take my jacket. Your back and shoulders are exposed; you must be cold." He spoke with such certainty that it almost made you rethink for a few moments about whether you actually felt cold or not.

"Are you worried or are you just intimidated by how sexy I look?" You strike a pose far from seducing.

Klaus, who had his jacket held out for you, resumed walking as he put his jacket back on. "You know, on second thought, it might be a good thing if you catch a cold and stay at home for a week or so." He passes by you, leaving you and your sexy pose alone.

"Hey! That was mean!" You catch up to him.

"Nothing new, then." He shrugs, a slight smirk forcing itself onto his pink lips.

You speed up a little then turn around to face him once you're slightly ahead of him; you remain walking, but backwards this time, allowing yourself to look at him during the conversation. "How could you be mean to such a beautiful lady?" You pout.

"What beautiful lady?" He looks around, pretending to search for something.

You let out a dramatic gasp. "How could y-" Your sentence was inconveniently cut off by your stumble; or perhaps, it was a slightly convenient situation when you think about it from a different perspective: Klaus, as sharp as usual, was able to grasp your arm, preventing you from falling.

"Uh, thanks." You breathe out, nodding slightly. Once you begin to straighten yourself up, Klaus lets go of your arm, only to watch you fall to the ground immediately after. "I think my heel broke.." you frown, staring at your left shoe, now with its heel lying a few inches away.

"You think?" Klaus earns a glare, urging him to put aside the sarcasm and help you up.

"Those were such a cute pair.." you sigh, placing your arm around Klaus's shoulder for support. Your arms were already hurting due to the height difference; it was like hanging from a cliff but not quite.

Klaus places an arm around your waist. "Well, I can buy you another one. You need another pair to get back to the party anyway."

"What if I don't?"

"Don't what? Get back to the party? That's not what we agreed on! Your father-"

You cut off his rant, "We'll get back there, and I'll call dad and inform him that my heel broke; he'd immediately allow me to leave. It's already late anyway."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

######

"Yes, Klaus, I'm sure he'd let me go home if I tell him my heel broke! Of course, Klaus, there's no way he would have some other plans for me!" Your bodyguard mimicks your voice and tone (terribly), as you sit in the back of the car your dad sent with a brand new pair of shoes.

"How would I have known he would do this?!" You complain, tightening the straps of the new shoes around your ankle.

"Well, hurry up, knight dude is probably waiting for you." Arms crossed, he taps his foot impatiently. You merely groan in response.

"I can't believe he didn't even tell me he booked a room for me at the hotel! And that I have to attend the same event tomorrow too! I didn't even bring any change!"

"Um, Miss (Y/N), your father asked me to hand you this too.." the driver quietly places a small suitcase on the back seat next to you.

"There you go; he packed stuff for you." You weren't sure if Klaus was trying to tease you or comfort you, but either way, you just let out a sigh.

After a long, mentally and physically exhausting night, you were finally allowed to leave. And boy, were you delighted to recieve the news.

"This one." You pause in front of the room that had the same number on the keycard. Klaus had already placed your bag inside earlier, but it was your first time viewing the room. "At least the room is pretty." You shrug.

"Didn't think you'd admit it." Klaus chuckles. "Well, I have to go; so, good night, Miss (Y/N); I'll be back here tomorrow." He bows.

"Wait!" You stop him before he steps outside the room.

As I have reached the 100 block limit, I'll complete this in Part 2...which I'll literally post now and it'll be shorter than this cuz it's just the ending 😂

[carrowe]

AMYCUS CARROW is A DEATH EATER in the war, even though HIS official job is as A CURSE BREAKER & HIT MAN the TWENTY SIX year old PUREBLOOD is known to be PATIENT and RESERVED but also VIOLENT and TWO FACED. some might label them as THE DEVIL IN DISGUISE. fc: ryan gosling 

ANTHEMS:

feel it still - portugal the man // devil like me - rainbow kitten surprise // dead man’s arms - bishop briggs // fever pitch - rainbow kitten surprise // devil eyes - hippie sabotage // dark side - bishop briggs.

pinterest board (x)

BACKGROUND / FAMILY:

Amycus Abigor Carrow came crashing into the world screaming for his sister. Born the eldest to the Carrow dynasty, he was expected to eventually mount the role as the heir to the family legacy, but Amycus quickly proved himself to be Quite the Disappointment. 

As a young child, Amycus was soft spoken, easily intimidated and quiet ( main inspiration for baby Amycus: Radu from And I Darken tbh ). Mostly clung to the family’s staff, always crying, always craving closeness. For a while, he was just as angelic as he looked. 

Never saw much of his parents while growing up. His father was a successful businessman who only had kids because he was supposed to ( to carry on the blood line ), and wanted nothing to do with him. Instead, Amycus was left in the care of his grandfather.

His grandfather was FUCKED. An absolutely terrible man. A Death Eater before his time. An actual demon. Can’t say enough bad things about him, ya feel.

Either way, his grandfather was absolutely disgusted by Amycus, who could never fit into the mold that had been created for him. Thought his grandson was a poor excuse for a Carrow and thought he could change that through pain and violence. So, lessons were drilled in using corporal punishment, and the emotional and physical abuse he suffered eventually turned him into something colder and darker. What had once been soft, turned harsh, rough around the edges. A shell of a boy was left behind, not a trace of that sweetness left behind once they were done with him ( but were they ever? ).

Amycus basically became filled with resentment against everyone in his family, with the exception of Alecto. She has always been there, from the day they were born. She was the one to dry his tears, the one to hold his hand, the one to tell him where to hide. The one constant, his safe haven. They come as a matching set, and Amycus would kill ( and definitively has, too lbr ) for her.

Gained a definite rebellious streak pretty early on, which only became more aggressive as he got older. Once he reached his teenage years, he’d do ANYTHING and everything to fuck with his father & grandfather. Kinda stopped caring about the punishment, so used to pain that he stopped fearing it. Almost stopped feeling it.

Definitively grew up in his sister’s shadow, and was always the lesser Carrow.

When he turned fifteen, he moved out and never looked back. Decided to make his own future, and just never spoke to his family (Alecto is always the exception we all know this) again. Because fuck y’all, basically.

SO. His family’s plans had been for him to finish his education at Hogwarts, and then follow in his father’s foot steps and take over the company and the family name. Amycus had different plans though, obviously. 

His family were... so angry with him. But they definitively pretend ( because can’t have Amycus ruining their good reputation, am I right ) that they were the ones to encourage Amycus to find his own path in life and become a curse breaker.

Though, Amycus was never denounced as a Carrow ( because they didn’t wanna air their dirty laundry to the world, ya know ). Most pureblood families have noticed though that Amycus isn’t exactly... close with his family. I mean, at pureblood parties, he literally pretends that he can’t see them. 

AESTHETIC / VIBES:

old gramophones, blood stained mirrors, broken glasses, bleeding fists, standing in silence for hours, chipped teeth, unwavering loyalty, unhealed scars, getting home at the crack of dawn, red wine, eyes too blue to be trusted, long showers, god complexes, the color of dusk, messy hair, blood soaked suits, always cheating death, a rebel just for kicks, dried crimson on dull blades, half smiles, just beating and beating until the world stops, no conscience, half empty wine bottles, impersonal offices, a face that doesn’t quite match his demeanor.

HOGWARTS YEARS:

Was a hat stall between Hufflepuff and Slytherin. 

patience/loyalty/dedication vs self preservation/resourcefulness/dedication mostly.

At Hogwarts, Amycus felt in power for the first time. Ended up becoming the aggressor, finding solace in pain and violence. Found that he was good at inflicting pain, and liked being good at SOMETHING. Had never really felt that before. :/

Eventually got a taste for blood, and started getting into fights with other students, each run in more violent than the next.

STILL, did not end up in detention, because for a while, the teachers couldn’t believe that someone like Amycus ( who was mostly known for being very quiet and looking sweet ) would hurt another student. It would take for him to eventually get caught in the act, until that perception shattered.

Was that kid who used bugs and insects to practice unforgivable curses on. Eventually progressed to torturing students as well.

Excelled in charms, and can do wonders with a wand when he puts his mind to it. Most other grades were pretty shit though. 

AFTER HOGWARTS:

Once he graduated from Hogwarts, he was meant to take his place in the Carrow dynasty ( grandfather somehow STILL believing that he would come to his senses ), but fuck that. So he basically left the country as fast as possible, and became a cursebreaker.

Which just made sense, because he has always been good at inflicting curses, and breaking them isn’t that different. He is very good at what he does.

First few years were spent working in ancient tombs abroad, mostly. That kind of work fit him really well, because he could wear whatever he wanted, didn’t have to talk to people too much, could do his own thing. Was also always someone around to beat up.

After a while, he started missing his sister, and returned home, where he found work at the ministry of magic. Today, he works for the removal of curses, jinxes and hexes office, which is a subdivision for the improper use of magic office. 

Really likes his job? BUT. Also has a #second job.

On the side, he’s sort of a gun ( wand ) for hire, and will kill anyone who needs to be killed, for a price. Gives zero shit about the money though ( but the client needs to be rich, ya feel ).

Most of his clients are members of the sacred 28, who somehow always seem to want SOMEONE dead.

Honestly, I haven’t 100% figured out how he conducts this business because obviously he wants to remain anonymous. He probably has some sort of dramatic way of getting people to give him names that need to die idk. #to be determined

Joined the Death Eaters mostly because of his sister? But their agenda also really fits him, because violence? Bigotry? Death? Sign him tf up.

He isn’t the most invested in the whole pureblood supremacy thing ( but would he ever admit that? that’s a no ), but overall likes Voldemort and what he stands for.

Though he’s also lowkey intimidated by / afraid of Voldemort and is quite pleased with the fact that he doesn’t have to report directly to him.

For the Death Eaters, Amycus mostly works as an information gatherer, which is basically just a euphemism for him being one of their main torturers, who will torture people until they tell him whatever it is the Death Eaters want to know. He usually works together with his sister and they are disturbingly good at what they do.

AS A PERSON:

Cares very little for most people and is so so so selfish.

Lacks most of the finesse of his sister, tbh.

100% neutral evil. Kind of has a moral compass, it just points in the wrong direction at all times? Mostly just does whatever is best for him and Alecto though, and has zero interest in any righteous bullshit.

Does he think that he’s doing the right thing? Nope. He’s well aware that he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing. A bad dude.  Does he care? Also no.

Might just be the most private person you’ll ever meet? He seldom reveals anything about himself, and when he does, it’s usually not true.

Will also lie about the dumbest and smallest of details.

SO self disciplined. Always in complete control, and it’s very hard to get a genuine reaction / rise out of him. Also so so so patient, and is happy to wait for whatever his current end game is.

Drinks and smokes heavily, but doesn’t personally think that he has a problem.

Mostly just a dumb asshole.

SO COLD.

Thrives off violence and is a total brute tbh.

Never fucking does what anyone tells him to do. 

Someone: pls do this Amycus: *does the exact opposite*

Bisexual !

Pretty good at hiding his death eater ties since he’s… paranoid as FUCK. And also keeps to himself. Always wears a mask. But some people probably suspect… stuff anyways, if they’ve like. Spent longer than two hours with him. Listen if Amycus wasn’t such a fucking asshole he probably could get away with it (/scooby doo villain voice). But then again, others will probably think he’s just cold af.

Looks a lot nicer than he is, which works to his advantage most of the time? Like he just looks like a nerdy, good dude. Is a total demon, but looks like an angel. 

STYLE / FASHION / APPEARANCE :

Wears glasses (x), but somehow manages to fucking break them ALL THE TIME. The only thing keeping them together is magic.

Wears mostly wizard suits for work ( bc he has to :/ ), but will wear those long black robes in his free time. Think a vampire cape, flying in the wind. Ultimate drama. He really is THAT guy.

Will also wear stupid wizard band t-shirts a lot when working.

Keeps his hair short.

Like 70% of his wealth is probably spent on buying new clothes, because he keeps fucking ruining them by getting blood on them? Or just having them ripped to shreds in a fight, that works too.

Looks like he’s wearing the same exact shoes every day but actually has like... 200 different pairs. They all look the same.

Eyes appear either blue or grey, depending on the lighting.

Has some tattoos, and a half sleeve on his right arm, going from his shoulder to his elbow.

CHARACTER INFLUENCES :

caleb haas ( quantico )- the snark. the assholery. the background. the black sheep.

clay haas ( quantico ) - just the right amount of polished. the style. the general aesthetic. the hair.

angelus ( btvs ) - the disregard for human life. the darkness. the occasional brooding. the quips. 

holden ford ( mindhunter ) - the scheming. the hidden ambition. the slyness. the resolution.

lucifer morningstar ( lucifer ) - the smile, the general vibe, the quips, the mannerisms, the darkness.

eric northman ( southern vampire mysteries ) - the confidence. the general dumbness. the stubbornness.

demon dean winchester ( supernatural ) - the occasional charm. the being an actual demon-ness. the blood lust. the bad jokes. the weakness for a pretty face.

wolverine ( x men ) - the violence. the moodiness. the hatred. the occasional gruff demeanor.

takeshi kovac ( altered carbon ) - the violence. the fucked up moral compass. the buried anger. the instinct to fight.

elian ( to kill a kingdom ) - the rebel prince. the angry heir. the sarcasm. the dialogue.

radu ( and i darken ) - amycus as a child. the softness. the sweet face. the loyalty to his sister.

hannibal lecter ( silence of the lambs ) - the calm. the politeness. seems so civilized, so nice. isn’t though.

FAVORITE CHARACTER TROPES :

DISSONANT SERENITY - someone smiling gently in the middle of death and carnage, seeming almost enlightened as they slit throats left and right.

THE BERSERKER - throws himself into battle with such reckless abandon, that it seems like he wants to die. never, ever retreats.

FACE OF AN ANGEL, MIND OF A DEMON - looks nice, is a demon.

DEVIL IN PLAIN SIGHT - obviously up to no good, but few people seem to take notice.

EVEN EVIL HAS LOVED ONES - loves his sister.

BLACK SHEEP - the family screw up, someone who rejects their role in the family.

DARK AND TROUBLED PAST™ - something terrible happened in the past. tragic backstory. yada yada.

EVEN EVIL HAS STANDARDS - or at least his own moral compass.

MAN OF WEALTH AND TASTE - turns out evil has quite a lot of money and excellent fashion taste. most of the time.

PRAGMATIC VILLAINY - only does evil things when it serves him or his purposes tbh.

VIOLENCE IS THE ONLY OPTION - must fight.

OPPORTUNISTIC BASTARD - doesn’t really have a plan, totally winging it.

[convenientalias]

ALL TWELVE OF THE INTIMATE FANFIC ASKS

HOLY SHIT OKAY.

1. what’s your all-time favorite fic? why? could we get a line or twofrom it? 

This question is like asking someone their favorite book. Except worse,because at least you usually have a couple books prepared for that question, acouple standard books. No one ever asks you about fics so you only have likethis really sloppy conglomeration of faves that you have never criticallycompared to each other. Yikes.

So tbh I can’t name a single fic as my favorite, but two of myfavorites are The Finer Shades of Why by Yesac, and The World on His Wrist bybendingsignpost. I will give you a maybe kind of long excerpt of each.

TheFiner Shades of Why (Chapter 30) Fandom: Star Wars

"What are you hoping to gain?”

Again, Dooku stops, this time just at the perimeter of Obi-Wan’s lineof sight. Any further and he’ll be off down the hallway, striding past otherempty cells where Obi-Wan won’t be able to see him.

In the back of his mind, Obi-Wan finds himself wondering just what partof the detention area of the temple he’s in.

"Gain?” he asks slowly, and although Dooku’s back is turned, Obi-Wan canalmost imagine that he sees his lips slowly forming the syllables, like he’sphysically chewing them as he mulls the concept over in his mind. “It is notwhat I stand to gain, Master Kenobi. It is what I stand to lose. You cannot, willnot, give me anything. You have made that clear. But you will find that you canno longer take either.”

The WorldOn His Wrist (Prologue)Fandom: Sherlock

The early days are hard. He has but one watch then and uses it only totell the time. When it begins, it begins like this: First, he is shot in Afghanistan. Second, he wakes to a phone call in Chelmsford, Essex. The call is urgent, a summons to Broomfield Hospital. Car accident on themotorway, massive. He responds in the affirmative, rising out of habit,dressing automatically. He knows the hospital, can’t place this house, andaccepts it as a dream. He has yet to realize he will never dream again. Twenty hours later, focused past any danger of confusion, he settles down.Limbs were lost, lives were saved. Most lives. He drinks his coffee and optsfor a nap before he drives home. Third, he wakes to Bill’s voice and face and more pain than he has ever known.He passes out.

2. what’s your go-to lazy sunday morning fic, the story you like to readunder fluffy covers with 11 AM sunshine slanting through the windows?

I’m hoping this is supposed to be a type of fic and not a specific ficbecause I have never read fanfic under such circumstances, but extrapolatingthat it’s supposed to be a low-key feel-good fic I would say I would probablyread some Teen Wolf fic focused mainly on romance. Possibly a stupidly tropeyAU.

A good example would be the fic Fireman Derek’s Crazy Pie [CheeseburgerBaby] .

3. which trope makes your heart go absolutely weak at the knees? 

This seems to indicate epic romance which is not really my thing. So it’shard for me to come up with anything. Ummm….identity reveals in fics where themain conflict has been secret identities. Are nice. Idk if that qualifies.

4. what trope are you most embarrassed to like? 

Probably definitely non-con.

5. what’s your favorite gross guilty-pleasure pairing? 

Prooooobably Hannigram. You can never quite escape the fact that one ofthem is a cannibal and the other is a mentally unstable FBI profiler. And thatthey try to kill each other and are genuinely obsessed with each other. I mean,I’ve seen it played out in less gross ways and more gross ways but even if youcover your ears and hum really loudly it is still pretty bad.

I enjoy a lot of other guilty pleasure ships but none of them are aspurely, as consistently gross and terrible as Hannigram, so I give Hannigramthe award.

6. is there a setting or time in your life that you strongly associatewith reading a certain fic? (ex: reading star wars slash on a specificvacation)

Not really. Strongly associate it with my desk. Other than that since I am currently at that time in my life I can’t get the nostalgia out of it, I guess.

7. what image or place do you remember from a fic most vividly? whathas left a lasting impression on you?

Ummmm...There’s an NCIS fic called The Window that is really, really effective as a) a kidnapping fic, b) a fic about isolation and mental instability and c) a hurt/comfort fic. The first chapter is terribly long and it takes place over a couple months in a single, mostly empty room, and it’s brutal.

8. have you ever had a shameful experience involving fic? whathappened?

At the end of last summer I was in a restaurant with two friends, a guy and a girl. The guy asked me what I hadd written over the summer because he knew I wrote fanfic. I said I’d actually tried writing some slash and femslash, warning him not to judge.

He said he didn’t judge but he thought “he at least had the right to an explanation.”

It was completely humiliating.

So I told him I had been questioning my sexuality and writing was part of how I thought through things. But now I kind of regret giving him an excuse. Because frankly it was none of his business. It’s not like I was doing anything wrong.

9. if you could meet your favorite author irl, would you? what wouldyou say to them? 

Megan Whalen Turner? I would kind of like to. Probably I would just saysomething typical like, “Your books are amazing.” Actually I sent her fanmailonce so I would probably just reiterate something like that.

10. name a fic that you’ve read more than once. or maybe five times. orten. 

Keep Throwing Things and Slamming the Door by Traincat the basic starter Spideytorch fic, probably the first or second Spideytorch fic I ever read. SECRET IDENTITIES.

Also A Stalking Surprise by Lucifer Rosemaunt, the best of her three Erik/Raoul oneshots with werewolves, just imo. (Yes, she wrote three Erik/Raoul fics with werewolves. I agree, she’s amazing.)

11. what fic do you wish you had written?

 Can’t think of anything off the top of my head. Usually, if a fic is that good, either I take it as inspiration and I write something similar, or I just enjoy its existence because now I don’t have to write it because it already exists.

12. tell me a short story about how fanfiction has intersected withyour life.

Once one of my irl friends dared me to write a fic where Eugene from the movie Gattaca took up throwing knives as a hobby.

I wrote it.

He never actually read it, though. To be fair it’s about 7000 words long. Which is pretty long for a crack prompt. BUT HE WAS ALSO THE GUY FROM QUESTION 8 SO I GIVE HIM ZERO LEEWAY ON THIS.

Anyways this has been a very long answering session, I hope you’re satisfied.

[dreadhaus-literature]

{A/N} Back to Basics.

Somewhere along the way last year, I lost my ambition and desire to be an author.

Which is ironic, considering 2019 was the year that I aspired to write more and be more productive and as I covered in my end of 2019 posts, for a while I did that. But it fell apart, and rather than fight, as I have been for a few years now, to keep things moving, I gave up. I lost the will to fight to keep things and I just let it all go.

I can tell I’ve let things go because I don’t fantasize about things like I used to. I think that’s partly why things have been so hard for me to deal with lately. I’ve let FL go and I’m no longer losing myself in fantasy so it’s just reality all the time, now.

Some things I still have. I went back to fandoms and have just been using those to cope in small bursts, when things get really bad--or when my mind wanders and I’m daydreaming, because that’s kind of...all the time, for me. I’m by myself a lot, and I’m single, so I’ve got to supplement that with fictional people. It’s something I’ve done since I was a kid, and it’s still serving me. I don’t think I’ll ever lose that, even if everything else around me were to happen to fall apart. That’s just who I am as a person and to be honest I wouldn’t want to change or lose that.

But some things are different. I’ve let go of some aspects of FL and the Family, and a lot of that wasn’t my conscious choice. Looking back, I just did it without thinking, because 2019 was a year of ups and downs and when things failed, again, I was too tired to pick them back up or try. I was really disappointed writing didn’t go the way I wanted it to go, and that was on me. I could have kept going and I didn’t.

I’m going to try and make 2020 different. I’m trying to make it better.

Something I didn’t anticipate fading with FL was my desire to be an author. I should have, but I didn’t realize that if I let go of imagining, fantasizing, playing pretend...that the voices would stop talking to me. That I would stop imagining wonderful places to escape to when reality got to be too loud, and by the time Halloween rolled around and I wanted to write, I found I couldn’t. The will to write, especially for Family-centric stuff, was replaced with the pessimistic question of “Why? What’s the point?”

And that question has haunted me ever since...if you’ll excuse the Halloween/horror pun, there.

It feels pointless to write. I didn’t anticipate that if 2019 failed to be the year writing came back, that FL came back, that I would give up. I was so optimistic at the beginning that I didn’t consider the let-down of another year passing by with more of the same and when it did fall apart, when writing stopped and FL ground to a halt again I just threw my hands up and said fuck it. There is no point, and I gave up.

And slowly, everything faded and I lost it all.

For me, personally, it was jarring to wake up a few months ago and not imagine someone with me, not wake up in a fantasy life. All the sudden I was waking up Ashley, alone in bed, going to a job I don’t particularly like, my head empty and just...shades of gray, where before I had sprinklings of FL. I used to imagine going to work and doing things in FL but when I gave up, that went with it, and so did everyone else.

But I don’t know who I am if I’m not that person. If I’m not Dot, if I’m not the daydreamer, the writer who is constantly making up scenarios in my head because I have an overactive imagination.

I have never felt so lost.

I’m admitting here, for the first time, that I gave up, so that I can now get back up. I tried it for a while, thought I’d just shrug and find something else to focus on since FL and writing was gone but there isn’t anything else. What, am I gonna stare at the TV and color for the rest of my life?

I am a writer. That is who I am.

And so now that I’ve let everything go, and I’m standing here with my hands empty, it’s time to start over. It’s time to get back to basics.

I’ve never really had a plan, I’ve just had a lot of feelings and ideas and I just ran around with them, like a kid painting on walls. So now that I’m starting over, that I’m trying to stand on my own and realize a dream, I’m over-whelmed and when that happens...I have a bad habit of giving up. But that’s what got me here in the first place and I’m unhappy here. So why should I stay here?

Best place to start is the beginning, right?

Writing is near impossible right now because my emotions are all over the place about it, so that’s not the solution, right now. I’m not ready to dive into writing, so I gotta go back even further and that brought me to character creation.

I’ve never been one of those authors who has a million OC’s. Anyone who has known me should know that, I’m a quantity type person. I had a smaller Harem, I play the Sims conservatively (family-wise), I tend to create solely what I need at that given time and I focus on that. My Sim playing is actually a super great indicator for how I create--I don’t create a million families, but the families I do create, I invest in long-term.

I only have a handful of OC’s, but they’re OC’s that have reappeared in my writing for decades.

But I genuinely feel like I’m starting over. I don’t know what to write about, I don’t know who to write about, and I can’t write about a what if I don’t have a who. So I’m going to be focusing on character creation for a while.

What does that mean? ...Your guess is almost as good as mine.

What it doesn’t mean is that I’m scrapping any of my current OC’s. My Family and the Triquetra are still here and around, they’re not going anywhere--but I don’t see a point in working on them, either. A few years ago I was all pumped to do so, but I don’t see a point in working on the Family anymore, it never seems to go anywhere or mean anything, it constantly starts and stops and I’m discovering part of the problem with my inspiration dying is that I feel like I’m breathing life into these bodies sitting dead in the water. If something changes there, awesome, I’d love to do something with them if the time ever comes.

But any new OC’s will of course be around and integrated into the Family, that’s just...how it goes. I know I don’t mention my OCs much, like the Dastardens or, haha, Gladwyn (who I am still incredibly proud of, tbh) but it just doesn’t seem...idk, pertinent? I’m not a very forceful person, not one of those “look at what I made/did” types. Unfortunately for Monica, she’s gonna have to openly admit to wanting to see any of them before I’ll believe she wants to. ( 〃．．) Otherwise I won’t believe there’s interest there and they’ll stay quiet.

MY NAME IS DOT AND I DO NOT BELIEVE IN MYSELF. (ง ˙o˙)ว

I just wanted to sort of...clear the air about some things, I guess. My head has been so full this past week or two, trying to make sense of how I feel about writing and what I want from life. Talking about this, I can still feel I’m excited about what I could still create, what I could offer, but I think I’ve just let myself get too tied up in FL and it’s constant start and stop. I don’t function well in that environment and since I rely on FL 24/7, I need to get it back to being that for me. I let it die but I shouldn’t have, and I need to get it back. Even if getting “it” back just means doing something else creative until life sorts itself out for me and Monica. I know where I’m coming from and what I want, but I’m only half of FL and the Family. I can only control myself and that’s what I’m doing, here.

I’m working on figuring out what sort of weekly writing schedule I want to do. I’m still going to keep up the weekly collection I started with Monica, I think that’s important, but I’m going to be doing some other stuff, too. I’m not sure what that’ll look like yet, but you’ll see that post going up hopefully by the end of the weekend. We’re already moving into the middle of January so time’s a-wastin’!

As I always say, anything I get up to, feel free to join in and participate, but regardless...I’m not giving up this year.

If there’s hope, optimism, a belief that anything is going to get better, I know part of that has to come from me making it that way. I spent my 20′s starting and stopping, giving up on myself and letting others influence that about me, too, but 30 has to be different, or this struggle has all been for nothing.

I gave up but I’m not ready to quit. Not yet.