#i wrote it like a starter just in case you wanted to continue o:

[vartouhix]

[ 𝐟𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 ] : receiver is taking care of sick sender. // from @impishsensei o/

desperation ; accepting ; for @impishsensei

Jangmi reached forward towards the door handle, fingertips enveloped in the black-and-teal flare of cursed energy as she used her technique to pick the lock of Satoru's apartment. Yaga had let her know that he was sick, and luckily she had no law school classes of her own that day of the week, so she was able to take his place for the day. She'd texted him directly before starting the first class of the day, letting him know she'd be by later to check on him. Jangmi hadn't received a reply, but she figured she'd given him plenty of notice.

When the lock clicked, she dropped her technique to open the door, peeking inside. "Satoru?" she called as she leaned further in, hair spilling past her shoulder in a pink curtain. She heard a moan coming from the direction of his bedroom, and pursed her lips. It crossed her mind that he could have lied about being sick to play hooky, and hook up with a girl. Maybe that was why he hadn't replied?

Her heart clenched painfully at the idea of catching him with another woman, but she crossed the threshold to come inside anyway, closing the door behind her as she slid her oxfords off. "I'm coming in~ You better not be faking or I'll tear you a new one."

When she arrived at the foot of his bedroom door, her eyes softened at the sight of him buried deep in his covers and pillows. Even as cocooned in them as he was, she could tell he was shivering, and could see a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. Jangmi came to the side of his bed, kneeling down on the floor next to it to set down the plastic bags she was carrying. "You poor thing," she cooed, reaching out with gentle fingertips to brush back the locks of hair that had plastered to his pale skin. "Fever?" she asked. She watched as he nodded with another groggy groan, and she placed the palm of her hand on the top of his head.

"I have medicine for the headache you must have. And I brought some ingredients for spicy Korean soft tofu soup." She pet his hair softly. "You should drink some room temperature water, too." Jangmi paused, waiting for him to sit up, to tell her he was ready for all of that. When he didn't, her brows ticked up, deducing that he didn't want to move. Maybe a little incentive was necessary? "If you're a good boy and do as I say, I'll get naked and chase those chills away with my body heat." Her tone was soft and playful, but the look in her eyes was sincere. If he was really so miserable being cold even under all those covers, she would help him in that way, too. "So what do you say?"

[seekforwarmth]

in honour of @bottomlouisficfest’s final writing party, i decided to share the snippets of the two fics i wrote for the fest. i’m a bit late but there were some ppl who tagged me in different things; thanks to @allwaswell16, @disgruntledkittenface, @boosbabycakes28, and @wemadethishome for tagging me! i’m tagging you all back in case you want to share something. <3

1. “Cold Spring”, coffee shop au, owner louis/writer pedro pascal

“So you and Pedro,” Sam started when they were cleaning the shop before closing.

“What about it?” Louis thought that the best plan of action was to feign innocence because he had a feeling what Sam was going to say.

Louis’ dating life was…nonexistent, for lack of a better word. For starters, he was extremely busy running the coffee shop, it took pretty much all of his time, and he wasn’t willing to leave his business unattended just for the sake of a relationship. Second of all, he was a young gay man—a very attractive one if he said so himself—living in a small village; everyone and anyone who he could have a relationship with had already been ruled out.

“I’ve never seen you this smitten with someone since, I don’t know, ever,” she stated. And it was probably true considering she had started working at the café about four years ago, and by that time Louis had given up on dating altogether. “And I feel offended that you’ve never served me a glass of water when I show up at work hungover.”

Louis chuckled. “That’s your fault for not measuring your alcohol.” He closed the drawers where they kept the cloth napkins after checking all of them were there. “Look, there’s nothing going on there so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t speculate about my relationship with the man, or lack thereof more like.”

“But why? He seems quite fond of you as well, haven’t you noticed?” Sam spun around with open arms, letting out a long sigh. “It’s so romantic if you ask me.”

Louis shook his head at his employee’s antics. “Well, I’m not asking you. And we should hurry up before it gets darker outside, come on!”

2. “could start a cult”, a/b/o breastfeeding au, hl as parents

Harry set the dried corn leaves previously wet to make them flexible on the table and brought out two cake icing scrapers that he usually used for when he baked. “Okay, love, what do you say if you make the pork tamales and I make the chicken ones so we save time and effort?” At Louis’ nod, he continued. “You just need to take a leaf, cover it with enough dough like this, and then add a spoonful of salsa.”

“Is this too much dough?” Louis showed him a corn leaf with the perfect amount of dough—not too much for the tamal to turn dry, not too little to have more filling than dough.

“It’s perfect, baby. More than perfect, actually, just like you.” He kissed Louis, just because he could.

As they poured water into the pot, Harry kissed Louis. As they put the tamales in the pot, Harry kissed Louis. As they started washing the dishes they used for the preparation, Harry kissed Louis. As Harry poured them wine while they waited for the tamales to be ready, Harry kissed Louis.

The alpha couldn’t contain the happiness that meant having the omega by his side. Ever since they had started dating, he knew his life would change for the better, and now he knew for sure. Louis made everything softer, kinder. He couldn’t fathom the idea of not having Louis in his life, be it as a lover or just as a friend, the omega had become an essential part of Harry’s heart, and he just knew that he wanted to hold onto that feeling forever.

Harry tried to imagine how it would feel to ask Louis to officially bond, picturing the perfect date maybe at their favorite restaurant. He knew the omega didn’t need a big gesture to be asked in marriage, so maybe if they could go away during a weekend, the two of them alone, Harry could plan something nice for his boyfriend. He smiled just thinking about it.

“Marry me,” Harry blurted out. So much for waiting for the perfect date.

[mooshs-crack-headcanons]

Hi! Could I ask for Shanks and Benn Beckman and JQY?

Also, happy Valentine! I hope you are comfy and having nice day!

Please, dont forget to drink water and eat some yummy food!

Take care~

Hello, I hope your having a nice day as well my apologies this is late but I finally managed to finish this! I hope you like it!

Edit: I made a mistake and write A instead of J, so I wrote J in this reblog that you can read here.

Shanks 

A :  AFFECTION.  How does your s/o show affection?

It's Shanks, he's a very physically/touchy touchy kind of guy, when he's anywhere he's always going to have some kind of touch on you whether it be his surviving hand entangled with yours or placed on your shoulder or head or your ass, his chin tucked either on your shoulder while you sit on his lap at the loud bar or/and if he taller than you the top of your head while you stand out together on deck, and most commonly his arm around your waist so he can hold you close, thinking it's absolutely adorable when you lay your head on his chest or shoulders depending on your height. 

All forms of physical affection he absolutely craves and it keeps him grounded and constantly reminds him what's important, you two live in a dangerous world and with both his occupation as an Emperor and the Era shattering times you both currently live in the targets on his back grow larger every day endangering the lives of you and the rest of the Red Haired Crew - something even when he's the most wasted ass on this side of the Grandline he's actively aware and he is more than ready to defend and fight for his family when the need be. 

Q   :  QUESTION. How would your s/o ask the big question?

Well, to many factors (most of them tied to the World Government) 'real' weddings and marriages are often viewed as pointless in most pirate's eyes (unless you're Big Mom who does it for every other reason except love) If you love someone, you love someone and you have their backs until death and there's no 'official' step to get to that, the pirate life is dangerous and especially given recent years you'll never know when you'll see the next sunrise with someone again and that's why you fight and make each one count. Shanks loves you and thinks there's no point in it if the two of you already love each other and came this far and going strong and his mind doesn't change until he finds out that you're interested in getting married and that he stands back and looks at it from a different point. 

Well for starters, this is something you're interested in so doing it would make you happy which he always loves to see. Next, it might be 'pointless' but hell out of everything the crew has fought it deserves a handing of pointless fun (Shanks your crew literally drinks out a whole bar every time you go to a new island) and you know that wedding ceremony is going to be one hell of a party, one that'll get even Hawk eyes sloshed under the table. Finally and most majorly, what really gets his heart to rattle in his chest is thinking and imagining you be walked down the island clad in your fancy wedding attire tailored specifically just for you with his connections and how breathtakingly stunning you look, an image he daydreams for weeks a he debates with himself if he should ask you or not - a daydream that in the end finalizes that decision. 

Y   :   YOURS.   does your s/o get protective/possessive easily?

Yes, but not in the 'jealous' sense. Again from his occupation, connections to Roger, and all sorts of various knowledge and causing like I said in A many targets on his back so he kind of has to. Every person on his ship is there for a reason even if you can defend yourself with no problem and he knows it, hell not even with just you even with Benn or Yasopp who are masters with observation to see when danger is coming he can't help but to be aware and on standby in case that anything unpleasant rolls in, something that's clearly too much to handle and he can be ready to quickly jump in and get you out of there or to use a conquerors blast to knock out the threat. Occurrences like these are very rare to happen given the fact that majority of his crew can handle themselves and most people know not to actively with a Yonko crew unless your dumb enough you have a death wish or want to lose a limb (*cough cough* Kid *cough cough*) 

So whether you're at bars or just chilling out on any islands in the New World that's why your spot is either on his lap or in the spot next to him for reassurance which might come in the form of lots of grab ass and kisses. 

Benn Beckman 

A :  AFFECTION.  How does your s/o show affection?

Benn isn't really that much of an openly expressive individual so he isn't the type to openly initiate affection. He doesn't hate it, absolutely not he just rather be on the receiving end so that you can do what you feel comfortable with doing and he's just happy you're with him and that you keep him company. When in private he might open up a little bit by holding and kissing the palms of your hands before holding them up to his old worn face whispering the sweetest words imaginable and letting you lay on his chest and play with his graying hair before falling asleep together ready for another day on these dangerous seas. 

Q   :  QUESTION. How would your s/o ask the big question?

Same logic as with Shanks' part, 'real' weddings and marriages are viewed as pointless in the pirate world and like with Shanks it's only when he overhears that you're interested in getting married that he considers it and thinks it over for about a month or so and talks to Shanks to get in his opinion on the matter as both his captain and friend and opens about any worries he might have if this wedding would cause any unwanted attention that might ruin the day for you. Of course Shanks is supportive and excited for his first mate (as well for the wild party the wedding will bring) and he clears his mind of his worries, they're a Yonko crew if anyone is going to want to cause trouble they'll be more than ready to take care of it and continue the party like nothing happened before you know it. 

So, shortly after that discussion it isn't long before Benn has a ring box tucked in his back pocket and standing in front of your door, gathering himself together and the words he's going to say before giving the wood a couple of knocks before hearing your muffled response from the other side that you'll be there in a second. With a deep calming exhale from his nose, the first mate drops to one knee ring in hand and waits for the door of fate to swing open. 

Y   :   YOURS.   does your s/o get protective/possessive easily?

Again, being on a Yonko crew in the most dangerous waters in world he kind of has too always keep an eye out for any off guard catching dangers coming your way and greet them with a bullet (or rifle butt swing if he's feeling generous) Unlike with Shanks, Benn doesn't get too worried about any targets on his, yours, and the rest of the crews heads. Of course he isn't ignorant to them and he can clearly recognize the look in someone's eyes when they want him and the rest of the crew dead, but he has confidence that whatever threat can come that the crew can and will take care of it - even with a threat with someone like Teach and the evil his captain told about him, he might be powerful but as long as the crew can be careful when dealing with him together they can bring him down. 

But in the meanwhile Ben is fully confident in your abilities and he does trust your thinking but still that won't stop him from keeping his attention on you from the back of his mind, ready to jump in whenever necessary to help you out of harm's way. 

If you like what you read please consider reblogging! It means the world for writers and artists!

Tagging list

No one for Shanks and Benn currently

How to be added the tagging list + additional info

[devildamn]

Well If I Can’t Have You

(A conversation between Lucifer and MC before the harem is official. They/them pronouns. second POV mixed with Third. Oof it’s a mess, idk how to write for ambiguous mcs lol im so new at this ;w;

Nobody gave me any prompts but I so badly wanna write for this fandom before I lose interest, so I just wrote the first idea I had -^-” Asks are still open and appreciated <3 More personal thoughts at the end.)

He asked you to be his,

With a confident smile and a relaxed pose, his eyes never wavered. His request was more of an insinuation to a predetermined conclusion.

Of course, you immediately declined.

This made him stiffen. He furrowed his brow.

"What possible reason could you have to deny me?"

Well, he was quite rude for starters. And those death threats never helped. He's sadistic. Controlling. Everything about him romantically rubbed you so wrong.

At the many insults, he was quick to bristle. You strategically reign in your list of things you dislike, to paint a bigger picture.

You know he is the most powerful of the brothers. You know of his achievements. He's responsible, dedicated, and sometimes, he shows a sweeter side that could melt anyone's heart.

Just not yours.

You already have a favorite.

Lucifer released a sigh. He moved from his spot to take a few steps back. He already suspected, but this was still a blow to his pride. To lose to someone else. To lose to him, specifically.

He couldn't accept such a thing.

So, he'd suggest a compromise instead.

"You may keep your favorite. Or try to. You see, it’s not that simple….”

It’s your turn to cross your arms.

What was he talking about?

“As you may have guessed by now... Our family is quite close. We’ve lived together for so long, after all. We argue, we fight, we make up, we… share. "

Alright, and?

He grins and stands before you. His hand brushes your cheek.

"You'll never be left alone. Not if you chose any of us as your partner. We are not just a family. We are a body. We’ve never been apart for long because we know we’d never be whole if one leaves. We’ll always seek them out and bring them back.”

You narrow your eyes. You know where this is going, and you hate it. It makes Lucifer smiles wider.

“How unfortunate for you, to love one of us. But it’s not too late! You haven’t confessed anything yet, right?”

You’re pretty sure your feelings are already clear to the other person… but nothing has been out in the open yet. Lucifer continues with a laugh.

“Then you have two choices still. You can confess. We’ll all know immediately, and… surely you know everyone well enough by now to know what their individual reactions would be.”

You’ve pictured it plenty of times before. You know how messy their moodiness would be.

“Yes, it wouldn’t be good for us now would it? Cause rifts perhaps. Brawls might even ensue. Can you blame us, when you so effectively had us wrapped in your finger?”

You scoff. It wasn’t your fault everyone read more into their interactions with you than what you truly felt. Lucifer shrugs.

“In the end, they’ll be governed by their feelings of betrayal. The body will implode… but it’s nothing new. We are demons. We live for so long. We’ve fought longer for less. Your lifetime will pass and our bonds can mend. But is that the life you want? An uneasy one? I can guarantee some of us would make it our mission to find ways to abduct you. Each more elaborate than the last. Your safety… your sanity… Well, you haven’t seen the worst we can do yet.”

The threats. You always know one will work itself into a conversation with Lucifer, but still, they make you grimace. Not because they make you scared… but because they’re so annoying to deal with. To be reminded of the reality of the danger demons have on your humanity. To be reminded you’re ultimately a plaything.

Alright, next option.

“This one is simpler. Harsher. You bury your love for him. You leave the House before any bridges get crossed. You don’t come back.” Lucifer stepped away, his gaze heavy.

You both know he dislikes that option. You dislike it too.

You shake your head. You tell him those are shit options. He agrees.

You tell him to give you the third option you know he’s leading up to, already. Lucifer gives another sigh.

“I already mentioned it. We are a body. We like to share.”

Your eyes widen. You bare your teeth at his bold insinuation. No matter how much they treat you as such, you are not a toy! You have preferences. Emotions. Sure, you like some of the other brothers, but there are also some you can’t stand. To be forced into something with them?

Disgusting.

Lucifer growls at your use of the word. Even if you were entitled to your preferences… having his brothers called such a word was aggravating. He continued to push.

“All or nothing. That’s the only way there can be peace…”

But-

“What’s truly wrong with this option? You get to keep your favorite. You get to try things with others you like. You don’t have to force yourself to love the ones you don’t… but to tolerate their presence at least. To keep some peace. Besides, who’s to say they won’t grow on you?”

You know yourself enough to know that could never be the case.

“I digress… One little human and seven powerful demons. You’d be crowned the luckiest of your kind.”

He released a curt laugh.

“You have to admit, there are worse fates than being loved too much.”

You don’t appreciate your serious position being mocked. Lucifer gave another shrug.

“This is it. It’s up to you…”

He turns around.

“You’re free to go now. Mull it over in your room.”

You rush out his door. You’re close to slamming it.

Lucifer glanced as the door shut and goes to his desk. He still has things to do.

But the letters to the contracts weren’t enough to keep his interest. He still had fantasies he had to let go of.

To live alone with the human.

Maybe if they had chosen to be his, such a thing could've been achieved. With Lucifer's power and connections, he would find a way to hide them. Maybe fake an accident to leave behind no trail. His brothers were already attached, but a mortal was still a mortal. And if they ever got close to the truth... Lucifer could plan for that too. He could leave behind everything, run forever from his meddling siblings with his human in his arms.

Truth be told he already had a map of places that would work to shield them for a year or two before he'd move to the next.

But, as was common with his tendency to over plan, those countless hours of his mind drifting away and spending breaks thinking things through had only been a waste.

How selfish of the human.

(I hope I wrote him well enough :,o Yeee, this is a bit of a ‘how things went’ for me in my playthrough. I love Mammon. He is my dude lol. And like, I can go on on how this all happened, but ultimately, My first few chapters, I was just getting less interested in everyone and more charmed with Mammon. And I kept expecting there to be a deviation in the story where I’d get more of a concentration in charming the demon I chose, like any other dating sim does. But nah. The story kept ENCOURAGING harem choices, even with demons I DID NOT LIKE. So I made this explanation. I had to. I view it as ‘they really are just a package deal and Im forced to deal with it lol.’ And of course Lucifer would be the one to make that clear. Uggh. -v-

[confusednarcissistwrites]

Teenage Dirtbag PT.3 (K.S.)

Sorry for the delay guys! I should really get a more regular posting schedule for this, but for now it’s just as I get parts written lol If anyone would be interested in being added to a taglist, let me know! Enjoy some building angst 😉

(suggestion of smut, mentions of alcohol, cursing)

You and Kyle were jerked awake by the sound of banging on the door.

“Wake up and get dressed!” called a voice, making rounds to clear out their house of all the overnighters.

It took you a second to gain your bearings through the hangover. You were naked in a room you didn’t recognize with your ex-boyfriend who was also naked. Fantastic.

Kyle groaned and rubbed his eyes harshly, clearly on the same page. Avoiding eye contact, you both got up and searched for your clothes that were thrown about the room. Though the tension was nearly unbearable, the thought of talking about what had happened made your already nauseous stomach so somersaults.

“Do you need a ride?” You were surprised he was the first to speak. You looked up at him, watching as he pulled his shirt over his head. You hated how attracted to him you still were.

“No, I drove with- oh shit.” Missy. You’d completely forgotten. You snatched your coat up off the floor and pulled your phone from your pocket hurriedly. Thankfully, there was a text from her last night:

‘Getting a ride home from Kelly, hope you’re okay xx’

You sighed in relief, holding your aching head for a moment. Everything was spinning.

“You don’t look too good. Maybe I should drive you home,” Kyle pressed, spinning the ring on his thumb, a tick of his you’d come to recognize.

“Okay.” You really didn’t want to, but you also knew he was right about you not being able drive safely like this.

He unblocked the door, and you followed him out. The house was trashed. People were passed out on the floor while others stepped over them trying to clean up half empty cups of liquor and the remnants of a silly string war.

He was parked in the back where the band had performed the night before. Only then did it dawn on you that that was why he was at the party. You climbed into the passenger side of his old beater, wishing like hell that you could just drive yourself home. Too much had happened in that car for you to not feel just the slightest bit disgusted with yourself for finding yourself right back there again.

He flicked on the radio, his favorite jazz cd filling the silence between you. All the little things you thought you’d made up in your mind to make him more endearing in your memories were right there in front of you. You fought so hard to hate him, to remember all the pain he’d put you through. Yet, you still ached for him to reach over and hold your hand like he used to.

‘God, Missy is going to kill me.’

Pulling up in front of your dorms, Kyle put the car in park and looked over at you. He spun his ring, looking down. Never before had you seen him look so shy.

“I uh..”

“Thanks for the ride. I’ll give you a call and we can talk later, okay?” you interrupted, sparing you both from his struggle to find words.

“O-okay. Sounds good,” he replied, looking up to meet your eyes. You sat looking back at him for half a second before climbing out of the car and heading into the building, not looking back. To say you felt shaken was an understatement. You hurried to your dorm, trying to slip in quietly in case Missy was still sleeping. Should you be so lucky.

She sat cross-legged on her bed sipping from a mug of coffee and staring judgmentally at you over the brim. “Coffee is still hot if you want some.”

You hung up your coat, not saying anything as you poured yourself a mug and reached for the aspirin, awaiting the incoming ass-chewing.

“Kyle Scheible. Again. Because it went so well the first time.”

“We just fooled around, Missy. It didn’t mean anything. We were both drunk,” you said defensively, though you weren’t sure who you were trying to convince.

She sighed. “Look, I’m not your mom. I’m not going to lecture you. Just think about it.”

“Nothing to think about,” you deflected with a little shrug. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

You gathered up your things, saying a quick goodbye as you left the dorm to go wash last night’s events from your skin and hopefully ease your headache. Fortunately, the showers were almost empty this late in the morning, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Glimpses of the night before came back to you as you slipped out of your clothes. The less you wore, the more bruises and scratches you found. You felt.. wrong. It felt wrong that no matter how much you over thought the events of the night before, you didn’t feel much regret for what had happened. Stepping under the hot stream of water, you let out a contented sigh, feeling your tense muscles relax. ‘What do I have to feel bad about?’ you rationalized. He had initiated. You tried to fathom what his game was. Perhaps there was no game. Maybe it was just sex. You washed away what little remained of your makeup, feeling a bit deflated. You decided to rest that afternoon, and then decide whether or not you would call him.

However, when you got back to your room and checked your phone, there was already a text from him waiting for you:

“Let’s meet at the park instead. Hate talking on the phone. 8 work?”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Yeah, that’s fine.” You should have known you were going to get out of this that easily.

++++++

After spending the afternoon in bed relaxing around the dorm, you got up and got dressed to go out and meet up with Kyle. Needless to say, you’d been thinking about it all day. Would you guys be able to finally talk about things, or would this just be another screaming match? Did he even want to talk? What was his endgame? You had no clue. Even worse, you weren’t sure what you wanted out of meeting up with him. You looked into the mirror, tugging your high collared shirt a bit higher to try and cover the dark marks he’d left. After slipping on your shoes, you wrote a quick note to let Missy know you were going out once she got back from her class. You spared details knowing they would just make her worry. A deep breath and then you were out the door.

When you arrived at the park, you spotted Kyle’s car tucked away behind a grove of trees. You rolled your eyes, parking next to him. You never did understand his paranoia over people knowing where he was. He watched as you hopped out of your car and into his passenger seat, a hand-rolled cigarette hanging from his lips.

“Hey,” you exhaled, your anxiety flaring. He was even harder to be next to when you didn’t have any alcohol in your system.

“Hey,” he replied, exhaling smoke out his cracked window before offering the cigarette to you. You took it, cracking your window and taking a pull. The tobacco he used always tasted so much better than the cheap Malls you bummed at parties. Kyle had been the first to introduce you to it all. You felt your nerves easy slightly, handing it back to him. He tapped it in the ashtray, looking over at you expectantly. “You wanted to talk?”

You voice caught in your throat. Shit. It had been you who had said you would call. “I-I mean I didn’t.. really have anything to say. I just.. thought we should.” You wiped your sweaty palms on your ripped jeans, avoiding his ever-intense gaze.

“About?”

You shot him a look, sensing him toying with you. He just looked right back at you. “Well, I mean the fact that we slept together last night, for starters.”

He cleared his throat, stubbing out the butt. He stayed quiet, reaching out and pulling your collar aside slightly to see the pink, purple imprint of his mouth. You watched his eyes darken. “It was good.”

You swallowed, drawing your knees together slightly. You wanted to ask him if he regretted it, but you knew that was never Kyle’s style. If it brought him pleasure in the moment, then it was always worth it no matter the consequences. “Yeah,” you breathed, distracted by his fingers brushing over the mark. You knew full well that what you had done was not “good,” but, God, it certainly had felt good. Feeling a bit panicky under his touch, you reached for the cigarette and took another pull. Your eyes met as he watched you carefully. You couldn’t miss the way his eyes drifted to your lips as you exhaled, smoke swirling gracefully between you and curling around his face.

Suddenly his hand was at your nape and his lips were on yours. Without the filter of alcohol this time, you were able to feel every ounce of his need for you. No matter why it was there, it made him absolutely magnetizing, and you just couldn’t resist. You kissed him back for no logical reason other than the fact that it felt so damn good. His free hand found your thigh, making you gasp softly and allowing him the chance to invade your mouth with his tongue. Your hands tangled into his curls. You noticed his hair was longer now. His hand tightened on your thigh, eliciting a soft whimper from you.

He pulled away, his eyes blown with lust. “Backseat?”

You didn’t even hesitate.

+++++

When it was all over, you were tucked under his arm and you were both covered by a thin blanket he’d had in his car for emergencies. The windows were fogged over, and you were both still trying to catch your breath. You couldn’t fathom how on earth you possibly had ended up back here again so easily. Sitting up, you began to pull your clothes back on.

“Y/N,” he called softly, halting your movements. You turned to look back at him, and he sat up, his hand sliding along your jaw as he pressed a lingering kiss to your lips. “That was so good.”

You couldn’t help but blush, a ghost of a smile on your lips as he continued peppering kisses along your neck and face. “Kyle.. I need to go,” you giggled ticklishly, lightly pushing him away. When he sat back, you were able to see he was smiling too. A wave of emotion washed over you, and you promptly realized how fucked you were. Your smile faded, and you hurried to finish getting dressed. Once you were fully dressed and he was decently, you popped open the door and slid out. You looked back to him, hesitating only a moment before you closed the door behind you and got back in your own car.

It wasn’t until you were almost home that you felt the tears falling down your cheeks.

[maaaaaatryoshka0325]

As Above, So Below - Kim Seungmin Paranormal Investigator AU Part 1

(Next Part ->)

I’m finally posting it ya’ll! :D

The reader's abilities are based off of those of Lorraine Warren's. She and her husband, Ed, were paranormal investigators. If you need an insight on her abilities, watch 'the conjuring'. It's great movie, hands down one of my faves.

“These pictures were taken during the exorcism last year." Seungmin's voice rang throughout the large classroom.

Kim Seungmin, the well renown paranormal investigator, stood before you in a classroom in your town. You watched his videos all the time, followed his social media. He was a big inspiration for you, someone you knew would understand you.

You have a gift, you see. One not many people would understand. You had gotten into a car accident when you were younger, leaving you not only with PTSD, but with an unnatural gift. You could see and hear things no one else could, you could be brought into almost another dimension, the other side showing you things from the past. You were known as a clairvoyant.

You watched Seungmin’s presentation in awe, excitement filling you every time he showed something new, something you didn’t see on his blog. Your eyes kept meeting his, but every time they met, the girls behind you would squeal, especially the one in the middle. 

The girl in the middle used to be your best friend, until a few years ago. Kim Eunmi , now one of the most popular girls in your college/university. She always walked around with two other girls, Lim Hyuna and Song Inhye. They were your “bullies” if you’d call it that. They wouldn’t say much to you, usually a sly remark here and there, but they would always openly giggle behind your back or whisper almost loud enough for you to hear; and it all came from an incident a few years back, the incident where Eunmi abandoned you as a friend then spread rumors about you, making your high school career a living Hell. You were labeled a “freak” and spent your high school years by yourself.

“Here is another slide from the case of Go Jinjoo, the man who was possessed and kill thirteen women in a span of three months.” Seungmin’s voice broke you out of your thoughts, your eyes landing on the pictures of the man on the screen.

He had blood covering his shirt, his teeth grit and blood splattered across his face. His iris’ were completely black, his veins popping out of his face and neck. He looked possessed, to say the least. Your eyes searched the picture, your eyes sensing the dark aura around him. Your eyes scanned every detail you can, and you felt someone’s eyes on you.

You peeled your eyes from the screen and made direct eye contact with Seungmin, his eyes staying on you longer than you could never believe. You heard a squeal behind you, and your heart dropped, thinking he could’ve just been admiring Eunmi. Eunmi was very attractive, with her silky dark hair, large eyes, and beautiful face. She was much more to look at, or that’s what you thought at least. You remembered all the boys would gawk and stare at her when you two would hangout, and it got worse in high school. You tried not to pay attention to it, but it was hard when every time you went to your locker, which was straight across from hers, a guy was either trying to confess or give her something. You were shocked and disappointed when Seungmin ended the presentation, cursing yourself for not paying enough attention. Oh well, there’s always a next time. Seungmin looked at you, and your heart fluttered, then quickly dropped as you felt someone bump your shoulder, and realized Eunmi was walking down the stairs. Her eyes were mocking towards you, and you knew she was going to purposely try to flirt with Seungmin right in front of you. Eunmi knew she was naturally pretty, and she flaunted it a lot. You never understood why she wore the amount of makeup that she did, she was effortlessly and naturally stunning. She bat her false eyelashes at Seungmin, pressing her arms closer to her chest to make her boobs pop out more. You rolled your eyes and packed your notebook in your bag, having had taken notes while listening.

“Hi Seungmin-ahhh!” Eunmi greeted him in a sweet voice.

“Oh, hello.” He greeted with a pretty smile.

“I’m Eunmi, and I’m a huge fan. That presentation was something else!” She giggled.

“Ah, thank you! I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He said with a polite bow.

“Now Seungmin-ahhh.” She giggled, leaning close to him.

You wanted to snap your pencil in half. Eunmi knee how much you had loved his documentaries, you had started watching his videos when you were in middle school together, and she always told you it was lame. Seungmin has the gift since he was younger, and you had admired him ever since your accident.

“Saw you looking at me this whole lecture.” She purred, fixing the buttons on his white button up. “Is there something you wanted to say?”

You quickly made your way out of the room, and Eunmi watched you walk out with a smirk, but another set of eyes were on you as well.

“Actually… Uh… That girl that was sitting in front of you, what’s her name?” He asked.

“Who? Y/N?” She scoffed. “Just some weirdo. She thinks she can see and sense ghosts. She just does it for attention.”

“I see. Well, it was nice meeting the three of you.” Seungmin said with a smile before grabbing his bag and walking away.

“Wait, Seungmin!” Eunmi called, grabbing his shirt sleeve.

“Weren’t you looking at me?” She asked, her eyes big.

“You’re very pretty, but it wasn’t you I was looking at. And I don’t look at petty women.” He said casually, pulling his sleeve out of her grasp. “Have a nice day, ladies.”

You walked into the courtyard, the pink trees of the garden glowing in the soft spring sunlight. You sat on the stone bench and opened your notebook, going through the notes you took and sighing.

“I should’ve paid better attention.” You groaned, dropping your head into your notebook. “Stupid stupid stupid.”

“I think you’re pretty smart, actually.”

Your head shot up at the voice, your nose almost brushing Seungmin’s. Shock was in your eyes as he smiled down at you.

“Mind if I sit?” He asked, pointing to the empty spot on the stone bench.

“Oh, sure!” You said in a voice a little too high pitches for your liking, making you almost cringe.

He sat down beside you, his eyes going to your notebook.

“You took notes on the session?” He asked, his eyes full of admiration.

“U-Um yeah… I love what you do.” You said shyly.

“I see… You seemed very interested in the whole thing. Almost like you knew how it felt to have these abilities.” He said, looking directly at you.

Although he had such a sweet looking face, his eyes held a ferocity that you have never seen before. It was breathtaking to look into massive orbs you’ve only ever saw on a screen.

“I… I guess you can say I have a gift.” You said lowly, your eyes not leaving his.

“What kind of gift is that?” He asked, his eyes still searching yours.

You slid him the notebook that you had written your notes down in. He looked at the notebook and slowly went to the first page, reading what you wrote and drew sketches of, all of your experiences on the finely outlined pages. His long finger tips followed where he was reading, his eyes quickly scanning the pages as he continued to flip through it. He stopped at one, an amused smile on his face.

“So you know, huh?” He asked.

“What?” You asked.

“Most of the episodes of Ghost Hunters is staged and acted out.” He said with a light chuckle.

“Even if I didn’t have this ability, it’s painfully obvious.” You pointed out, scrunching your nose in distaste. 

“How else do you know? And how can you tell when it isn’t staged?” Seungmin asked.

“Well, for starters, their reactions. When it’s fake, you can tell when they over dramatize it, like it’s too much. I also don’t see anything when it’s fake.” You said.

“See anything?” He asked.

“I can see shadows… Morphs… Whole spirits.” You said hesitantly. 

His eyes searched yours, seeing the sincerity in them.

“You can just see shapes and figures?” He asked.

“No…” You said lowly. “I can see them… Usually when they just want to be seen.”

“What if they don’t want to be seen?” He asked.

“I can see their shapes and figures, and I can feel them.” You responded.

Silence fell over the two of you, Seungmin’s eyes going back down to your notebook and flicking through the pages, stopping at a certain one.

“What’s this?” He asked.

It was from the last night you and Eunmi had spent the night together as friends. The night she got scared away, the night she held a grudge against you for. You slid it out of his hands and closed it, a sigh leaving your lips.

“An experience I wish I could forget.” You sighed.

He went on to say something, when you gave him a sad smile.

“They show me things.” You said.

“They show you things?” He asked.

You nodded and played with your fingers.

“They show me what happened to them… Or what could happen to other people.” You whispered.

His eyes were soft as he laid a gentle hand on your shoulder, giving it a soft rub.

“You’re a clairvoyant Y/N.” He said.

You nodded and sighed when he lightly grabbed your chin and turned your head towards him.

“There’s nothing wrong with that, nothing at all. I know what it’s like to have a gift no one understands, I know it’s lonely, but I’m here for you now, okay?” He said with a bright smile.

“You’re only in town for a couple of days.” You giggled with a small blush.

He fell silent for a moment, biting his lip and thinking.

“Why don’t you come for an investigation? We’re also here to investigate a house about an hour away from here.” He suggested with a smile.

“Will that really be okay?” You asked.

“Of course!” He laughed. “It’s just me and three other people.”

“O-Okay.” You nodded with a shy smile.

“Perfect! We have to leave in an hour, do you need to get changed or anything?” He asked.

“No, I think I’m okay.” You laughed. “Why? Is my outfit bad?”

“Not at all, just don’t want you to catch a cold.” He laughed.

You put your notebook back in your bag as he stood up and stretched his hand out to you, a smile on his face. You smiled back and lightly took his hand as he helped you up, and you felt something in that little touch. It was like a spark, a small fire emitting itself in through your hand and all throughout your body, warming your heart as you walked step for step beside him. His light brown hair caught the sun in a beautiful way, his hair shining brightly. He glanced at you, giving you the whitest smile you’ve ever seen, and you swore it could blind anyone with how white his teeth were.

He lead you to a small, hippie fashioned Volkswagen (if ya’ll know, ya’ll know.) Two men and a woman were standing outside of it, and the one turned and gave you a friendly smile.

“Hi there.” He greeted you.

“Hi.” You greeted him and the others with a polite bow.

“Seungmin, who is this?” The woman asked.

“This is Y/N, she’ll be joining us today.” He said, introducing you.

“I’m Hyunjin.” The one who smiled at you said.

“I’m Felix.” The other said with a big smile. “And that little ball of sunshine over there is Haru.”

You looked over at the woman, who scowled at you and Felix.

“Why is she coming?” Haru asked.

Wow, rude.

“She has talents that we need.” Seungmin said, putting his stuff in the back.

Haru scoffed and eyed you up.

“And what talent is that? Taking up space?” She asked.

“Haru, stop being so rude.” Hyunjin gasped. “Seungmin doesn’t invite just anybody.”

Haru went to open her mouth, when Seungmin shot her and look, making her purse her lips.

“She’s a clairvoyant. I’m curious about her, and she’s welcome to come with us. Don’t make this hard on her, she doesn’t deserve that.” Seungmin said, his voice serious.

Haru rolled her eyes and turned away, stalking towards the back of the SUV. Felix gave you a friendly smile and took you to the front seat.

“You’ll ride up front with Seungmin so you won’t have to deal with our little ball of sunshine in the back.” He said with a smile.

You nodded and slid into the front seat, catching the glare from Haru. Eunmi was already a lot to deal with, but now this girl? You only have known her five minutes! Seungmin sat next to you, flashing you a smile as he pulled out his GPS.

“So, what exactly is going on at this home?” You asked.

Haru scoffed in the back seat, and Felix elbowed her.

“A couple has been hearing strange noises around their home, and we’re just going over to see what exactly is happening.” Seungmin said.

“Most likely nothing too exciting.” Hyunjin said, getting the camera he had in his hands ready.

“Do you record before you even find out if it’s haunted or not?” You asked.

“Of course, I wanted to start a vlog where we post the most stupidest encounters and how goofy the residents look when they realize their house isn’t haunted.” Hyunjin giggled.

“Why didn’t you?” You asked with a laugh.

He pouted and looked at Seungmin. “Seungmin said it’s unprofessional.”

“And it is.” Seungmin said as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“I don’t know, I’d love to watch them.” You laughed. “It might attract more viewers.”

“We’re not doing this for viewers.” Haru snapped.

“Lose the attitude Haru.” Hyunjin said, looking at her. “The more viewers we get, the more recommendations we’ll receive.

“People like horror and humor, if you give them both, they’ll be all over you guys.” You said.

“Or attract people who just want the attention.” Haru said.

You fell silent, not wanting to say anything else. Seungmin flicked a look at Haru through the rearview mirror and she huffed, shoving her headphones in. 

“I’m sorry about her, she doesn’t take to people easily.” Seungmin sighed.

“It’s okay, it’s no big deal.” You said with a small reassuring smile.

When you pulled up to the house, you noticed the roof looked a little caved in, probably from the recent storm. You followed Seungmin out of the SUV and up to the house as the other three grabbed their cameras and setup. The couple who owned the property came out, and you noticed the two of them were fairly young.

“Mr. Im, Mrs. Im.” Seungmin greeted both of them with a bow, and you followed suit.

“We’re so glad you’re here, we haven't been able to sleep for days.” Mrs. Im sighed.

“What seems to be keeping you up?” Seungmin asked.

“There’s this terrible creaking sound that usually happens at night, and it sounds like there’s footsteps coming from the attic.” Mr. Im said, his eyes wide.

“We’ll take a look.” Seungmin reassured them.

He beckoned you to follow him, Hyunjin coming in directly behind you both with the camera on the both of you. Seungmin stopped at the top step, turning towards the camera and smiling. He bumped you with his elbow, and you turned and smiled as the camera started rolling.

“This is Seungmin back with another video, and today we’re investing a couples house. Mr. Im says there’s been strange creaking and what sounds like footsteps coming from the attic. Today we have with us a new friend of mine, Y/N.” He said, giving you a smile.

You bowed to the camera and smiled brightly as you followed Seungmin up the stairs. Your eyes scanned the hallway and rooms you passed by, hoping to catch something on this case.

“I’ll show you guys the attic.” Mr. Im said.

“Stay here for a moment.” Seungmin whispered to you as he walked up behind Mr. Im, Haru walking by you and giving you a petty smirk as she did.

You rolled your eyes and turned to see Mrs. Im, a small smile on her face.

“Are you new?” She asked.

“Um- sorta? I mean, I was at one of his sessions and he invited me to come here.” You said with a smile.

You turned your head and saw a picture on the wall, Mr. Im holidng Mrs. Im up in the air, the both of them smiling brightly.

A scene of the two of them running through the autumn leaves filled your vision. Mr. Im tackled Mrs. Im in a hug and they toppled over into a big pile of leaves. They both laughed like crazy as Mr. Im covered Mrs. Im in kisses, her bright white smile glistening in the sunlight. Another flash and he was on one knee, a beautiful ring in a carefully crafted box in his hand.

“What a beautiful fall day to propose.” You said as you held the picture in your hands.

“What? How could you tell?” Mrs. Im asked in shock.

“It’s called an insight, you get to see little pieces of someones life.” You said with a smile.

You heard something and turned to see Seungmin standing there, a smile on his face.

“Was she right?” He asked.

“She was.” Mrs. Im breathed, her eyes full of curiosity. 

His smile grew wider as he walked over to you.

“Why don’t you come upstairs and help us get this figured out.” He said.

You nodded and followed him up the stairs and into the attic, scanning the room. You couldn't’ feel or detect anything, it felt normal.

“And we just keep hearing THUD THUD THUD THUD!” Mr. Im explained to Felix and Haru.

“Seems like you’ve got an annoying one on your hands.” Haru said, then turning to you and arching brow. “And what do you think, little miss clairvoyant?”

“Not sure yet.” You said flatly, looking around.

The place wasn’t haunted, obviously. But you needed to show them that it was something else. You pressed your foot on a board that looked worn out.

THUD.

Bingo.

“I found your ghost.” You said.

“Who is it? Is it an old man? A woman? GASP! Is it a little girl?!” Mrs. Im squealed.

“No, no, and no.” You replied, pushing on the board as it thud.

“Was that the sound you were hearing?” You asked.

“Oh my god, it was! But doesn’t that mean something had to be stepping on it?” Mr. Im asked.

“By the looks of it, you keep that old rocking chair on it.” You said, tilting your head to the rocking chair in the corner.

“The wind or draft push the rocking chair, which creaks.” You said, moving the chair over top of the board.

You rocked it, and it thumped and creaked. Sighs of relief left the couple, then embarrassment washed over both of them.

“We are so sorry for wasting your time!” Mr. Im gasped.

“It’s okay!” Seungmin laughed. “Usually these places aren’t haunted, there’s always a logical explanation, and it looks like Y/N found it.”

“I’ll get that old board fixed right away.” He reassured everyone and his wife.

The couple walked you both out, and Mrs. Im held your hand.

“Thank you so much, you really impressed me with that insight. I hope they keep you.” She said.

“No, thank you for that experience! I’ve always loved Seungmin’s adventures, and being on one was a dream come true.” You said with a smile.

“I hope you get to stay. You really are talented.” She said, waving goodbye to you.

Seungmin drove to a small diner as you all sat down to eat.

“I’ll cover yours.” Seungmin said.

“No its fine-”

“Listen, that investigation went so quick because of you. And that insight? You’re very talent Y/N.” He said.

As you ate, you kept feeling Haru’s glare, and it was starting to make you uncomfortable.

“Haru, look at your food.” Felix said, glancing at her.

She slammed her fork into her food and continued eating, chewing angrily.

“I need to use the restroom.” She said, abruptly getting up and walking away.

“She’s just made because she believed it was haunted, and you knew it wasn’t and proved her wrong.” Hyunjin reassured you.

You nodded awkwardly and Seungmin rubbed your shoulder.

“You were amazing back there Y/N.” He said.

“Thank you, it was nothing really.” You bowed with a blush.

When Haru got back, you all ate quietly then left. Before you made it to the SUV, Seungmin turned to you, Felix and Hyunjin smiling brightly. Haru narrowed her eyes, anger on her face.

“No.” She growled.

“This isn’t your decision.” Seungmin said.

She stormed off to the SUV, slamming the door. You looked at them in confusion, and Seungmin gently held your hand.

“Y/N, I have a huge question.” He said.

Your heart hammered through your chest as he smiled at you.

“Will you be apart of our crew?”

[slytherhell]

Send these to your favorite Authors and let them blab! What is your total word count on AO3? How often do you write? Do you have a routine for writing? What’s your favorite kinks/tropes/pairing? Do you have a favorite fic of yours? Your fic with the most kudos? Anything you don’t like about your writing? Now something you do like! Send it to some of your favorite Authors to spread some love

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Total word count on AO3 : 60634 ( and this is with the 3/4 of my fics still not updated since being posted. i’m not sure how it’s this much already, the word count, that is. the most amount of words i’ve written - for a total fic - was about 5k words; then it went up to 16k+ after the food fair entry . just think of how big my total word count could be when i get my writing muse back! )

How often I write: I used to update regularly, back in about 2015. Every day, I would have a new chapter for my fics (on Wattpad, because that was my first main writing platform, but Wattpad’s dead now so we’re here.) 

In fact, I used to have a full writing plan; I had about ten hp fics on my account. I picked out the top ones I had the most muse for - which was three, two drarry and one wolfstar - and told myself I would update those fics whenever I felt inspired to. 

In the end, I ended up updating those fics three times every week for a good two months, and I had about 24ish chapters for the drarry fics, and close to 20ish chapters for the wolfstar ( I started that fic at a later time than the other two. )  

I kept this pattern up, and made sure that everyday after school, I would clear a writing space for myself on my bed so I could write. That helped me a lot and I had so many creative juices...it was insane how much I wrote.

Now, however, I write only whenever I feel inspired to and have enough time + energy ( aka, when I don’t pass out from exhausation and not working on too many things in school - I had and still have a lot of /art/ projects. )

I try my best to write all of my ideas down, but I usually don’t have much inspiration to turn them into longer fics, or anything beyond a simple idea, so most of those get chucked and forgotten.

The ones I do manage to keep around, I usually scribble down the idea on a piece of paper, and write a starter line and/or paragraph to see how it would look if I were to continue it as an actual fic, then determine what I do with it when I get home.

There’s no true definition as to how much I write. I would just say I write depending on my current mood and situation.

Writing Routine: 

It used to start in either a swivel chair in the corner of my room, or at the wooden dining room table with a hot mug of fruit-flavored tea. ( It now varies from sitting upright on my bed with music blasting out of my headphones, on the living room couch with the low murmur of the t.v. in the background, or laid sprawled out on the floor with a Kubz Scouts video in the background. )

I try to take a few minutes to write the beginning paragraph on paper, or at least attempt to outline the story ( this usually lasts for about five minutes because I CANNOT sit still, and I’ll fidget a lot if I’m required to sit still for a while. ) 

I’ll usually look up fics of the similarity to whatever I’m writing, and get further story inspiration from them ( I’ll usually keep those fics up in a seperate tab to read back over when I need help and/or a burst of writing  inspiration )

If it’s something I‘m not quite sure about, or something I’m not properly educated on, I ALWAYS do a good bit of research before even remotely writing about it. ( This is something I do NOT skip over, like at all. )

I’m almost always blasting music or video audio through my headphones whenever I write ( I search and listen to music when I write, depending on the theme and the feel of the story. If I’m writing fluff, you’ll probably catch me listening to beautiful piano music. If it’s a dark story - gods, I love dark stories - I’ll be listening to dark music, be it dark piano versions of songs, ambient horror music. And lastly, if I’m writing something emotional, I’ll usually stop by songs that made me cry and sad as child, or that cause me to zone out of reality in present day. )

I try to set a timer whenever I write. ( While it intimidates me, it also pushes me to write more because me eyes are constantly flicker over to the timer, and the closer I see it move down to zero, the faster I write and edit. I kick in about a good twenty words at the very start of the countdown. )

( And unless you wanna hear me rant about how much I get off task and procrasinate writing whenever I can’t figure out how to make a scene work or something of the sort, then this is pretty much it. Oh, and I do a few read-overs and editing when I’m done with the first rough draft. )

Kinks in Fics:

I really like a good ‘ol leather kink in a fic ( specifically when the second half of the pairing, *cough, cough* draco in a drarry fic* is pulling on and stretching on leather gloves, and I blame @mzuul for that because the minute I saw her Draco Malfoy Bad Boy series art, that kink was developed and I’ve loved it since. ) 

Another one, this is gonna sound really gross + suprising for those that know me, but watersport kink. ( This was first developed when I read my very first fanfictions, and I found a few good drarry fics with this in them so this kink is here to stay )

Hair pulling kink. ( It started out with reading fics fics where Draco would either accidentally or deliberately tug on Harry’s hair, and Harry ended up loving it - but now, I read fics were both Draco and Harry have this kink because it’s actually really good. )

Praise Kink ( Started out with only Harry, but I also like fics where Draco has this kink. I blame @goldentruth813 entirely )

Hung! Harry ( Hung! Like! A Horntail! - this, this fic, is all i’m going to say..) 

Parseltongue Kink ( When! Draco! has! this! and! Harry! somehow! still! keeps! his! ability! to! speak! Parseltongue! and uGH,, THIS IS SO GOOD. ) 

Tropes in Fics:

Legitimate! Enemies to Friends to Lovers

sLOW BURN

Sectumsempra angst

Bi Harry

Pansy is a lesbian

Draco finding out how the Durshleys treated Harry and becoming absolutely lIVID at the news

Dark! Drarry

BAMF! Harry

BAMF! Draco

When they cross paths after a few years and get to know each other + proper character developement + when they clash and they have their ups and downs, causing people to wonder how they’re even comptaible but in the end, they make it work and are able to settle down with each other and enjoy the rest of their lives.

wHEN! THEY ANIMOSITY! STAYS!

Long-haired! Draco

Bearded! Harry

aUROR PARTNERS

Raising a kid together ( tEDDY-! )

pINING

mUTUAL PINING

Sassy! (Canon) Harry

Flustered! Draco

When they’re equally sassy and equally ruthless + being able to get their shit done, and staying on top of their game

When their kids become friends and that forces them to become friends as well and hang out with each other more often

When their kids wants their dads (Draco and Harry) to end up together and make it happen

when it’s hella fluffy

when it’s hella aNGSTY ( haha, chaotic neutural )

Top! Harry!

Bottom! Draco ( I can see them both as either or both being versatile but I really love when Harry tops )

Realistic first times 

Their friends setting them up ( I love when Draco, Pansy and Blaise are best friends in fics like this !! )

The constant switch of calling each other by first and last names, depending on the(ir) mood

When they are eQUALS

When they still have bANTER AND STILL ARGUE BUT W/O THE PREVIOUS HATE

When their relationship is real and raw that you can pratically feel it

hURT AND COMFORT ( real heavy on the hurt, just a bit on the comfort bc not drarry all fics have to have happy endings )

Anything involving them both working on a case together

Auror! Harry x Unspeakable! ( or even Healer! ) Draco

Jealous! Draco x (Still) Oblivious! Harry

Oblivious! Draco x Jealous! Harry

Protective! Harry ( Protective! Draco as well )

Beauxbatons! Draco x Hogwarts/Gryffindor! Harry

fORCED PROXIMITY

Multilingual! Draco

French speaking! Draco

Wandless magic ( for both )

POC! Harry ( This is my number one things in fics...I just love POC! Harry

Proper mention and represenation of Harry and/or Draco’s PTSD; following the war

Power couple! Drarry

Pairings:

Drarry ( OTP )

Pansmione

Linny

Blaico 

+ a few hundred more ( for all of them, but the kinks in general ) , but you’re probably gonna have to ask off anon bc i don’t wanna lose to remainder of friends i still have left on this site, over this post. ( i keep forgetting that not all drarry accounts follow me - i have some rpers, general artists, people following me with their main acounts + multifandom blogs and i feel like every time i get started up about anything drarry, they just...regret their decision to have followed me xD but you can kinda get the gist of my kinks, right? )

Favorite Fic ( of mine ) : While I constantly dog on my own writing skills, I actually do have some of my fics that I love. But my most favorite?  I’d have to say ‘(Fuck A) Silver Lining’

It’s a Draco Malfoy redemption fic I began writing earlier this year ( and yes, it was inspired/influenced by the P!ATD song. )

I mean, I haven’t updated it since I posted it - I began writing it on old Wattpad before I left that hellsite, then I later posted it to my ao3.

It’s my favorite because I really got to explore and go more in depth with Draco’s character, unlike J.K. R*wling.

And I basically filled in all the pieces that led up to the part of Draco’s life  we witness ( well, y’all, bc I never read it, ha ) in C*rsed Ch*ld 

I basically combined in every post-war Draco headcanon I ever thought of into one whole fic and while it takes you into his mind and shows you just how much the war has changed him, it is actually wholesome. I mean, we’ve got angst, hurt/comfort, finding love, and I even had a few scenes that were so fluffy and pure that I was crying as I wrote - which is why I haven’t updated. Other than dealing with shit irl, this story gets me really emotional and I just love it so much..

Fic with most Kudos:

‘just the right addition’ with 65 kudos.

summary :

harry has a leather kink. but draco didn't know that when he showed up on the field in a leather jacket, and suede leather gloves.

What I don’t like about my writing: 

I really don’t like how I transition from scene to scene in my fics. I feel like they’re extremely sloppy and really ruin the story; especially if I had a really good idea/path for the story. ( I also don’t like how I constantly compare my writing, then try and force to change my writing style so it sounds half as good as the author’s writing style of the story that I’m reading )

What I DO like about my writing:

Um, I really like how I start most of my fics off with dialogue. I like how I have a lot on the page, but it still blends in well to get its point across. And also, if it’s a one shot, I like how I have a beginning, middle, and end for the story.

Beginning: Introducing the prompt, and what’s going on with it

Middle: What the characters actions lead to, kinda showing you where it’s going to be heading soon

End : the general idea of the ending/aftermath of it + something like an epilogue, wraps things up in a way.

/////

Thank you so much for sending me this, anon!!

Again, thank you so much, and I hope you’re well!

-Teia

[friendshipcampaign]

An Illuminating Conversation

Some downtime between Ditto and the Necromancy Book.

As the others prepared to return to the castle, Ditto hung back. She'd join them eventually, but she wasn't nearly ready to close up and move on, now that they were only just getting somewhere.

“Hey, can you hear me when I talk,” she asked the book, “or does it need to be written?”

The book didn't respond. She shrugged and cut a bit of paper from the roll she'd gotten from Kriv.

“Fair enough,” she said out loud, dipping the end of the quill in ink.

Okay, book, she wrote, we've-

Ditto paused, then crossed out the word “we've.” She continued.

Hey, can I call you 'Book'? Do you have a name?

She tossed the scrap of paper into the book, which snapped shut. It chewed the paper for a moment. When it opened again, the swirling ink began to coalesce into words.

You may call me the Tome of Mynskay.

Ditto looked at the name, silently grateful that she wouldn't have to try and say it out loud.

Okay, Tome of Mynskay, she wrote, we've dipped our toes in it, gotten a feel for the temperature. Now let's dive into the real stuff. Show me how to resurrect the dead.

Her handwriting looked awfully thin and sketchy next to the heavy blackletter writing the book “spoke” in, but she doodled a couple of skulls around the word dead, in case that helped a little.

The book responded, I can explain the ritual to you. But beware! Should you attempt it and fail you will doom both body and soul forever! You won't even get a cool zombie servant out of it.

“Yikes.” Ditto said. “No pressure or anything...well, we won't get anywhere if we don't take a look at least.”

Understood. Explain the ritual to me, she wrote

Wait, the book said after a pause. Aren't you a wizard? I'm pretty sure you said you were a wizard.

...Yes. Ditto wrote.

Wizards can't raise the dead. You know that, right? Or am I the first knowledge of necromancy your pitiful eyes have ever beheld?

"I knew that." Ditto said out loud as the ink continued to spiral and swirl, forming more words. She folded her arms. "Probably. Maybe. Shut up."

I can teach you how to animate the dead, the Tome said. How does that sound? A nice zombie, maybe work your way up to some ghouls? Creeping claws are a nice place to start if you've got a handy supply of murderers. Mwahaha! Handy! You see, that was a . . . oh, never mind.

Ditto winced at the mental image of what the Tome was suggesting. She was glad she was writing and had a little time to think about what she wanted to say. If she seemed too squeamish, it might close her out again.

I get it, claws, good one. And thanks but I've really got my heart set on a bona-fide raising. But I don't have to do it myself....

She considered what she knew about raising the dead, besides vague theory. The only real-life instance of it she'd ever witnessed was when the someone, a duke or something, that lived near where she was staying got killed in a street brawl, and all the local clerics were fighting over who got the honor of bringing him back.

...We don't have a cleric, though. Ditto wrote.

"I mean, there is a cleric" she muttered to herself, "but getting her involved is probably a non-starter."

The book replied, Have you got a bard? Or a paladin, but they'd have to be extremely powerful. I can't imagine anyone with that sort of skill would associate with riff-raff like you.

Ditto frowned, annoyed. Not for the first time, she wondered whether this book took her seriously enough to really show her the good stuff, or whether it was holding back. Maybe she needed to act more...necromancer-y. Show a little edge.

Sticks and stones will break my bones but candles will burn your pages and they're almost as easy to get. Ditto wrote. Anyway, we've got a bard. She can do some pretty cool stuff. One time she blew a note so well it healed a bunch of us and changed her outfit.

The book seemed to consider--the ink swirled for longer this time before resolving into words.

Well, it's a start. Oh, and don't bother threatening me. I really don't care what you do to me, but let one lick of flame touch me and I'll shut up for good and then you'll have nothing to work with at all. How would you feel knowing that you had a chance to bring back someone you loved and you threw it away for the sake of a petty temper tantrum? How long would you keep refreshing that spell before you gave up and let them rot? It's all up to you. Like I said, I don't care either way.

Ditto stared back at the reply, and made a mental note to never be edgy again.

I wouldn't ever burn you. She wrote. I mean. Even if you weren't alive, burning a tome filled with hidden knowledge of magic is one of the most horrible things I could imagine doing. It occurred to her that aside from maybe snapping at her with those teeth, the Tome of Mynskay probably couldn't defend itself if it really thought she meant to harm it. No wonder it got so upset. She added, promise and underlined it to show her earnestness.

She took a deep breath and got a new scrap of paper out.

Okay, okay. So. We have a bard. Will you show her the spell if I call her in? She wrote.

I can certainly explain the requirements, the Tome wrote.

Ditto didn't feel like getting up or leaving the book, so she stood on the table, cupped her hands and yelled "HEY VOSKI! CAN I TALK TO YOU?" She then sat back down and went back to writing. Voski'd come in her own time.

Great. Good. Sorry about the candle comment. She paused, nibbling on a now ink-stained fingernail. Let's say, hypothetically, this turns out to be a little out of her league...is there any kind of...shortcut we can take?

You already said no to zombies, said the book, its pages drooping at the edges. It was a little hard to tell, but Ditto thought it might be sulking.

An idea occurred to her. She went to a drawer and got out a few candles. She set them on the table a safe distance from the book and light them one at a time, then covered the window, hoping that made for a spooky enough atmosphere to improve the book's mood.

If it helps, she wrote, we've got the soul handy. I mean, really handy. On a hand. Cause it's in a ring? So we definitely know where it is!

That's one complication out of the way, the book conceded. Many a resurrection spell has failed for wont of a free and willing soul. The power requirements, however, are quite fixed. You won't be able to override them that easily. And of course, there is the matter of the material components. How many diamonds do you have?

Ditto winced. Right. She vaguely remembered an acquaintance of hers back in that city where the duke was raised saying it was such a waste to lose a jewel so precious just to bring back another useless noble.

Uh...currently? She wrote. As in here and in our possession? I'd have to count to be sure but I'd say...probably...none. None exactly.

Of course, said the book.

It didn't have a face, of course but Ditto was sure she could picture the expression it would have made if it could at that.

Well, you'll need one, and a large one at that. The cut doesn't matter, but it must be a single diamond worth at least five hundred golden coins. And you must accept that it will be destroyed without trace when the spell is cast.

...Well, the good news is I think we can manage that. Between the six--

Ditto frowned and crossed out "six"

Five of us we can probably beg, buy or steal one of those. Well, not beg. Buy or steal, those are our options. That's at least a hurdle we can get over.

Probably an easier hurdle to make than the power issue. I mean...Voski might be more powerful than she seemed. A lot of people were. And she probably wasn't as interested in magic as Ditto was, and that might be the only reason Ditto hadn't seen her casting any of the really powerful spells like what she suspected this one was. It might be this would be as simple as Voski spending a little time memorizing the spell and then casting it. But if it wasn't...they could be waiting on months of study. Or years.

Ditto took a deep breath. Maybe teamwork could solve this problem.

Okay, she wrote I'm just...call this brainstorming but, plenty of people've made new spells building off other people's research before. We need to get Erwyn's soul from the ring to his body. We need to make sure that body's healed up and working. And we need a spark of life in it.

I'm pretty good at conjuration, which is all about moving stuff from one place to another. Kriv's good at healing. And Voski...she's able to heal people and bring them close to her, and she's all about the spark. And you've got all this brilliant necromancy knowledge. What if we did sort of a...fusion cuisine sort of thing?

She drew a couple stars around Voski's name to really sell it, and more skulls around the edge of the paper too. She felt pretty clever. Pooling different schools and types of magic to make a whole more than the sum of its parts? It didn't sound half bad.

The book's response when she tossed in the paper wasn't encouraging—it ruffled its pages in a decent impression of a sigh. A reply started to form, and though she couldn't make out any of the words Ditto was certain they were snarky and unhelpful. But the ink quickly blurred and swirled back into the center of the page. When it cleared again, a different message formed.

Who is this person you're so intent on resurrecting?

Ditto is quiet for a little bit, remembering when Tavra asked if he had any family...and she'd had to say they didn't really know.

My friend. His name is Erwyn.

The Tome was slow to respond. This time when it opened, Ditto could see the brown ink of her message swirl and sink into the pages.

Creating new spells is risky at best, it said at length. It might work. It might destroy his soul for good. It might deliver the whole lot of you to the Raven Queen. It might do nothing at all. So I have to ask . . . is that the kind of risk you're willing to take?

Ditto stared at the words, each one she read seemed to add its weight to the pressure pushing down against her chest. They spelled out the finality of their consequences in so much black and white.

It wasn't fair—no, no that wasn't it. It was entirely fair. You try to do magic that's too much for you, and bad things happen. The Tome of Mynskay was just telling her the facts. It was life that wasn't fair.

She took a deep breath, then another one, then she wiped her eyes and picked up the quill. She wrote something down and crossed it out. She tried again.

I'm not willing to take stupid risks. If there's a slim chance of success and a good chance of getting all of us killed, or his soul destroyed, or worse, then no. If this is-- she wrote something, scribbled it out, tried again. If it's something that's just beyond us, I'm not willing to make things worse. I'm not going to risk Erwyn's afterlife or all our lives just because I really, really want to fix this.

She paused and looked at what she'd written for a while. She nearly tossed it to the book as it was, then she put it down and added to it. She crossed out her first sentence, and her second one. The third stayed.

I don't expect bringing someone back to life to be easy or safe. I don't. I'm not stupid. If we made a plan, and it was a good, solid plan, and we had very, very good reason to think it would work, that the chance of failure was slim and everyone involved knew the risks...Then, she wrote one word, crossed it out, and replaced it with many words. I think I would be willing to try. But I won't risk all that on a stupid plan if we don't know what we're doing. And I don't know if we know what we're doing.

She wrote the words “I know I don't,” and scribbled them out so violently that she felt the tip of the quill break off. She stared at the paper for a while. Then she took out a knife, re-cut the tip of the quill, and dipped it in the inkwell again.

...Do you think...this is futile? she wrote, then tossed the whole thing in.

The Tome snapped the paper up, then seemed to ponder for a while. A long while...apart from the description of the last day of her apprenticeship, this was the longest message Ditto had fed it. She wondered if there was a word limit. She wondered if it could read all the things she'd crossed out. Mostly she wondered what she would do if the Tome answered "Yes."

When it finally opened again, it read.

Not futile. No. We'll see how powerful Voski is. And if she's not ready yet, we'll see how powerful we can MAKE her!!!

There were some marginal stars around Voski's name, as if it was mimicking Ditto's style of writing, and after a frankly excessive number of exclamation points, it added, Do you think she'd be good Dark Lord material?

Ditto breathed a sigh of relief. Everything from the words, to the stars peppered around Voski's name made hope rise in her again.

I bet her eyeliner skills are fantastic, she wrote.

She smiled and made to toss the paper into the Tome's waiting maw again, but hesitated. A thought occurred to her, and she sat back down and started writing again.

Tome of Mynskay? Can I ask you a personal question?

I hardly see how I could stop you, the Tome replied

You could ask me not to. I wouldn't ask it if you did. Ditto wrote.

Go ahead. This conversation is the most interesting thing that's happened to me all century, so I'll tolerate a bit of nosiness.

Do you...like being in that library? I mean, it's all dark and spidery, so I guess the aesthetic is good, but it's been locked up for so long, and no one comes in to talk to you, plus if no one's ever maintaining it there's probably a bigger risk of mold and that sort of thing. Do you...want to be there?

What an odd question, said the Tome.

Ditto watched as the ink swirled and shift, half-formed phrase almost coming into existence and dissolving again. It didn't seem to know how to respond.

Because, when this is over, I could take you back there. Probably. I mean the logistics of that might be complicated, but let's not think about them right now. I could take you back there, but I don't have to. Not if you don't want to go back.

And where would you take me instead? It asked.

...Dunno. Ditto wrote. You could stay with us. I don't know if traveling is any fun for you, but that's an option. Or maybe I could try to find a library that people actually use somewhere and bring you there. I even know a Lady of the Fey, and she had a bunch of guests the last time we were in her hall. I bet at least one of them has a pile of skulls or a tower filled with bats and ghosts. I guess it would depend on what felt right to you.

Hmm. It considered. Well, I suppose I don't mind remaining with you for a while. The other books back at the library were terrible conversationalists.

Ditto nodded, then took a last scrap of paper, drew a grinning skull on it and tossed it in.

[colorguardian10]

Response to Mike Rose’s “Blue-Collar Brilliance”

I said I wouldn’t share this if another post didn’t show enough interest, but @yoursinfulsister asked to see it and I didn’t really need a strong excuse anyway.

For my Writing Seminar course, we were supposed to write a five-page response to this article. He wrote about how a lot of workers in low-class jobs are considered to not have intelligence, and about how it’s a gross misconception. I recommend reading it for the full context of this paper. Here was my response to his article:

Mike Rose speaks on the concept of most jobs fitting into one of two categories: the intellectual or “white-collar”, and the physical or “blue-collar”. Hearing these groups, examples come to mind: accountants, lawyers, teachers propped up against steelworkers, construction workers, or plumbers. We immediately categorize work differently in order to treat it differently. I’m not sure my first job could have been a more fitting example of this divide.

While I was in high school, my school district decided to try something new. Every student is given a laptop assigned to them to help with schoolwork and develop technology literacy skills, and every summer, they hire a few professionals to deal with the hundreds and hundreds of computers needing maintenance over the break. This year, they planned to hire a handful of mildly tech-savvy, and cheap, students instead. They also knew that they were short on janitors for cleaning each building while the students were out.

So, in the main library, applications were put out: you simply checked which of the two positions you were applying for, why you wanted to work there, and how many hours you would be available.

This turned out to be a grave mistake on their part. For starters, through some form of miscommunication, 12 “technology interns” were hired for the five open slots. For another, not a single person applied to be a janitor. Having relied on a boost of students to fill out their gaps, they were now even more short-staffed than before.

A solution was reached: the interns would rotate between the job they had applied for, and being janitors, to help even out the balance in each. Anyone unwilling to accept this could leave. (One quit, one threatened to sue for the position, and an additional two were later fired for committing crimes at work.) As much as I wasn’t happy with the arrangement, I knew that the administration was doing its best in an unusual situation, and certainly preferred it to not having a job at all. I stayed.

Working as an intern was repetitive, but concerningly easy. Our first task was to update the software on every laptop in the school and set up the school’s network (a process called “imaging”), which required first wiping them of personal data as a matter of policy. We simply had to memorize a series of hotkeys and administrator passwords and wash, rinse, repeat. All the interns of the day did for weeks was sit at a desk with two or three laptops in front of them:

ctrl + alt + D / ctrl + alt + D / ctrl + alt + D

Are you sure you want to reset to factory defaults? If so, provide credentials and press enter:

qu@k3r / qu@k3r / qu@k3r

Do you wish to download the latest software?

yes / yes / yes

You are using a private network. Please log in as a network administrator to continue:

qu@k3r# / qu@k3r# / qu@k3r#

Put them back in the computer carts, pick up three more from the “unimaged” cart. Repeat.

Certainly, it required basic computer skills, but it was pretty obvious why they didn’t bother to ask for previous experience on the form. Later, we were tasked with fixing broken hardware, which at least required the ability to unscrew the casing, identify and replace sensitive parts, and put the casing back on in one piece.

On the other hand, being a janitor was exhausting. Every summer, the entirety of every single building is cleaned from top to bottom: every desk, every chair, ceilings, walls, and cabinets alike. Furniture has to be removed so that all floors can get a new layer of wax. Outside maintenance is done, too. I was spared by only having to fill cracks in the tennis court with wet asphalt in the summer sun for just a few days. I was “accidentally” placed in the rotation for twice as much time as any other intern, though, so maybe not. I became very familiar with Laura, my immediate supervisor in this department.

I said it was exhausting. This was in part due to the fact that they were still short-staffed, and a quarter filled with unwilling teenagers to boot. I never got to stop. We had our 30-minute lunch break and two exactly-fifteen-minute breaks. The other eight hours were nonstop, moving, scrubbing, mixing solutions, lifting desks and slate tables, carefully picking up lamps, and putting everything back exactly how the teachers left it - they might complain about having to shift the desks again, I was told. Third floor to bottom floor, stripping the wax floors and re-waxing every room and hallway as we went. I could barely even interact with my family when I got back home from how mind-numbing it was on top of barely being able to move. I was given the “easy” jobs because I was young, and a student, and the other workers didn’t want me to “break something”. Laura had been working at my school longer than either of my parents have been alive. Despite this, I had never even heard of her.

My personal experience would support the notion that jobs come either physically taxing or mentally taxing (or perhaps physically or not at all). I might even have argued against Rose’s claims that they’re not so divided, but I have the sense to see that my examples are pretty far on either end of the spectrum, and that one came with very different pressures than the other. I know that the majority of “physical” jobs, such as a waitress like Rose’s mother, do require mental effort as well as physical.

Mike Rose mentions the complexities of something as externally simple as taking orders, one of many basic skills of a waitress - “Waiting on seven to nine tables, each with two to six customers, Rosie devised memory strategies so that she could remember who ordered what. And because she knew the average time it took to prepare different dishes, she could monitor an order that was taking too long at the service station.” (47) He goes on at length about the massive cleverness needed to keep your head on straight in the restaurant business.

Even being a janitor, which I’ve already stressed the physical effort of, came with its tips and tricks: solution #20 for the desks and the walls, #8 for the windows, but dab some #16 on first for stickers. Zizz-O® gets off permanent marker and mop in that white gunk to strip the floors – but if you actually touch it head straight for the chemical shower. And by the way, pour in some extra #20 in your bucket, here’s a bottle we popped with a screwdriver - the mixing machine dilutes it too much.

You might take Rose’s statements and counter that, obviously, waitressing must be a strange exception that really requires knowledge rather than endurance. He prefaces these remarks by describing her additional efforts simply navigating the restaurant, describing her as walking “full tilt through the room with plates stretching up her left arm and two cups of coffee somehow cradled in her right hand” and “weaving in and out around the room” when not holding dishes as a constant part of her work, “flopping” into a booth to take a break with him (Rose 46).

However, while I do solidly agree with Rose’s argument that the perceived division of jobs is untrue, I do not agree with the way he makes it. He states that physical jobs include a mental aspect as a way of giving them value. I believe they should deserve it regardless. Certainly my experience would suggest giving even more respect to physical work.

I do not agree with the notion of intelligence garnering respect, and the corresponding notion that roles not requiring it are not worth respect. To again apply it to Rose’s thinking, I agree that jobs are often divided into mental and physical, but I believe that this is an applied devaluing of jobs in the latter rather than a quirky misconception with side effects. Work not requiring a formal education is frequently devalued based on not requiring “intelligence”. Rose applies this to waitresses and argues that they deserve respect by showing that they need smarts to do their job well. I believe that he is trying to rise something up with an idea used to bring it down, and accepting his argument completely, to me, simply leads to the same problem he is addressing - just for other people.

The superintendent told us we might be getting paid less while janitors - for the same qualifications, for the same hours, technically even for the same job title! Why? Because it was “unskilled work”. So what kind of “skills” are we really talking about when considering pay scales? Rarity of required skills, and compensation of effort in gaining said skills, may be one factor, but who decided that removing an LCD screen was harder than removing an entire classroom? While certainly some work is worth more than others, efforts to funnel money out of working people’s hands has only been hitting those least able to get it back, resulting in a drastically unfair imbalance. Instead of trying to help each other, our society climbs over each other to get at the precious “fair” work left, and people who can’t compete with one-dimensional standards get work that’s even less valued. It’s not about “skills” or “effort” at all. It’s about your rung on the ladder.

Rose does make good points. He clearly shows through his examples that stereotyped categories of work (he also includes “pink-collar” or creative/empathetic work in his comparisons) are defective and out of touch. He gives examples of foremen and waitresses having aspects that obviously contradict the social divide. He even admits that intelligence doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with formal education – and then says that many jobs require intelligence even if they don’t require formal education. Even Rose can’t seem to separate himself from the root problem enough to denounce it. Most likely he is not conscious of this – few people knowingly perpetuate issues – but that doesn’t mean that I can suddenly agree with the underlying notion.

I believe that we should hold ourselves accountable when we notice ourselves keeping harmful ideas alive, at the most basic levels we can. That means, yes, don’t belittle work based on the perceived intelligence needed, but it also means don’t belittle work based on the actual intelligence needed. The original purpose of jobs and specialized work is so that everyone can provide for the needs of the populace. Roles are needed because no one can be their own doctor, and banker, and cook, and technician, and janitor. People simply can’t independently fulfill their own needs in modern society. We work to help each other. If someone is working in a position socially lower than you, then they are doing you a service. Respect them.

“Respect them.” What does that even mean? I know what I think that looks like, but I grew up in a rich neighborhood. I have more concrete examples of what respect for workers doesn’t mean. Do you remember Laura? I never even knew she existed until I had met her. When people are giving their time and effort for the sole purpose of making your life easier, we should appreciate that. Instead, we say these roles are “insignificant” or “low-level” and push them under the rug.

Have you ever had to wait in line at a fast-food restaurant because the service is slow? Think about this instead: the people behind that wall are working even harder than normal. Service isn’t being slow, demand is simply too high to keep up with. You have to stand still for a few minutes. They can’t stand still until everyone in there is gone, and probably haven’t for a while. I know far too many people who take a situation like this and complain, or leave pitiful tips. After all, you had to wait a long time to receive food you normally don’t have to wait for. To me, it always seemed that it meant the people serving you are doing an even better job working to fulfill your needs.

Part of recognizing that all roles aren’t divided into definite categories, as Rose and I argue against, is recognizing that work also can’t be categorized into quantifiable worth. The person making your Starbucks, the person making your sandwich, and the person wiping your floors are all working at least as hard as you are, and to your direct benefit. Treat them as such.

You may disagree with my earlier ideas, that work exists to help others. Isn’t everyone just working to provide for themselves? That’s how American society at least frames it. Rose shows his mother acting very differently. He says that many customers came in with a desire for human contact, and describes how she changed her behavior to suit that. Though he also says it was all to get a higher tip, this is an outlook we disagreed on from the beginning. One of the founding principles of a capitalistic society is that everyone has to compete to “earn” their right to live freely. And so, payment is phrased as points in some great unwinnable game and not as acknowledgement for doing your part. This is where the faults lie. We can’t ever be compensated properly when our compensation doesn’t treat our work as work. Beyond that fact, not everyone can “compete”. Certainly not everyone can compete in a system where your worth is measured by a singular quality. Waitresses have intelligence? Great. Why weren’t they respectable without it?

Again, I wish to state that Rose made a valid argument. I saw his article as halfway to getting at the true problem, but for many his view may be the first time they’ve seen it that way. I can think of a couple people back in my rich neighborhood who could have used the worker’s perspective. Maybe the girl who rented a stadium for her birthday, or my mother, who thinks that most of the janitors made minimum wage because they’re too lazy to get a degree. She can carry the accursed solid slate chem room tables for decades - then she can tell me what “lazy” is.

My experiences may be extreme, and my views radical. But I said above that it is necessary to prevent ourselves from perpetuating harmful ideals. That includes calling these ideas out when we see them. I know that the teenagers typing in passwords were placed at a higher worth than the full-grown adults working themselves to death. I saw Mike Rose’s criticism of a system that put those two forms of work on different pedestals, and I wanted to express what I meant by saying that this divide is unfair. Seeing so-called “white-collar” and “blue-collar” workers in different lenses is something we should recognize, and we should also recognize why we made that divide. Rose argued how inaccurate this difference is, and I argue that the difference shouldn’t even exist.