#she was great when it came to sewing

[blissfali]

see when i was a kid i was so creative with names that every stuffed animal i got was just jeff. i have/had the memory of a fucking peanut so by naming every inanimate object i owned there was nothing to keep track of. for a brief moment when i was 14 i put a list of a bunch of different names of my stuffed animals on my wall and then i tore it down because i got embarrassed and i just changed all their names to jeff. one of my earliest memories is from when i was 4-8 and i won this galaxy chameleon at the fair. hes jeff. cant remember if this is from the same fair but i also won this zombie plush. he is zombie jeff. had a turquiose owl my dog ate he was also jeff. i have this little pink lamb that ive had for as long as i can remember. yeah thats right her name was lamby fuck you

[hamletthedane]

I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.

What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.

What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.

What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.

The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.

And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.

But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.

I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.

[criibibi]

Synopsis: After losing so much, Spider-woman learns to just keep moving. Only for her to end up somewhere far from home. Her first agenda is figuring out where she is, and how to get back. The only problem is that she ended up somewhere fictional (to her). Playing hero with Batman was not in her bingo cards this year. Hopefully she will be able to make it back home before she catches unwanted attention.

Masterlist: Prev; Next;

Chapter 2 - Spider Luck

Morning came quickly despite the shitty sleep you received that night. The constant tossing and turning, the constant fear and anxiety of getting caught or broken into, really you couldn’t catch a break. 

Despite that, you did get some sleep, even if the sum total was like three hours. Still, it’s not like the nightmares would have let you sleep regardless. All your failures would consume your thoughts and drown you, reminding you of your losses. 

Sure you moved on, but it’s not like you had forgotten. Uncle Ben’s wisdom, Aunt May’s lessons, and Peter Parker’s kindness. You vowed to honor and cherish those memories, but here you are, in another fucking world, with a high possibility of you breaking some laws just to get out.

Desperate people do crazy shit, and you aren’t that sane to begin with.

Luckily this motel has a shower and you plan to use it. Making sure to clean yourself with what you have (unfortunate) and pick up the necessities that you desperately need. 

Taking your time (since you paid for it) you get yourself ready, making sure your mask, gloves and (stolen) wallet are secured inside the hoodie’s pockets. Suite nice and tucked underneath the turtleneck and leggings. First order of business is shoes. Maybe that should have been your first mission yesterday- oops. 

You definitely should have followed the young spiderlings example and fight crime with shoes. Well if you ever meet them again, you will…

When you meet them again. You will. You have to. No matter the cost.

And then your stomach rumbled. “Great! Time for cheap food. Wonder if that knockoff Wack-Donld place is open. 

Oh that’s a nice plan. But you forgot one thing, genius. Where is it? How would you know where it is? You can’t even map it since you also don’t have a phone. 

About to unlock the door, you realized something. It already was unlocked… “Hmm…” Well, it was good that you webbed the door then.

“Fuck.” Leaving the motel keys at the front, you skedaddled your way back into the streets, looking for either a bodega or a shoe store. In order to keep yourself somewhat sane, you start softly humming music you recall Miles shared with you.

After some time of walking around aimlessly (you avoided asking others for directions, gods know gothamites unwritten rule is to mind your fucking business), you found a thrift store.

Guess what you realized while browsing for shoes. If you buy and fight crime with shoes, and (as of right now) are your only pair, you will get found out. So crocs it is!

Black ones, because white gets dirty too damn easily.

Finding your size and other clothing necessities, face-mask, a backpack and a portable sewing kit, you were good to go and all for a cheap price! God you love thrift stores. You used to go to as many and as often as you could with Peter. Ya had a bad spending habit and Peter certainly never discouraged you. He was your terrible financial buddy.

Not now! You can’t reminisce right now, not until you found a way home. Asking the cashier for directions while also subtly declining their phone number (your excuse is that your phone got stolen) you made it to a corner store. Hurray!

Making sure to stock up on snacks, since- let’s be real, this will be your food source for a while, (no income, remember, silly) you stand in line to pay before your spider sense goes off.

Behind you. There’s a man, hoodie on, looking down, covering their face, hands buried inside their pockets. You’re betting it’s either a gun or a knife. 

“Don’t move or I’ll shoot.” Oh, it’s a gun. How original.

The cashier seemed to clock in to what is occurring and subtly reaches under his counter. Not subtle enough because the man behind you yelled, pulling out his gun and pointing at the back of your head.

What the fuck spider luck.

You quickly assess your surroundings, making note that there is only one exit, two normal people not including you but including the gunman, and the room feels tight and too small to do anything.

Conclusion? You’re fucked. 

“I said don’t move, hands up! Give me the money, all of it!” From the corner of your eyes you can see just how fidgety this man was. Probably trigger happy if you do something stupid.

“He-hey man, I don’t got much in here.” The cashier had his hands in the air, trembling and freaking out. 

“I don’t care, give me the money! Yours too, bitch. Now!”

How rude. “Alright, I’m going to get my wallet. Don’t shoot.” You made slow movements of reaching into your pocket for the wallet.

“Hurry up! Both of you!” The thug yelled impatiently. You could practically feel how sweaty and anxious this guy is.

You watched the employee open up the cashier and take the money out. The assailant motioned for you to place your wallet on the counter, which you do and step to the side, getting out of his way. Just as he goes to grab the money you quickly grab the wrist with the gun and twist it, making sure he dropped it before smashing his head onto said counter, money flying everywhere. 

Both you and the cashier watched the assailant fall to the ground, nose bleeding and out cold. “Um,” The cashier looked at you, spooked. “I panicked.”

Hey look at that, no shots fired baby! Ya still got it! You are a pro-fess-io-nal~!

“Hey man, no-um no sweat. You saved me.” He replies with a tremble in his voice.

“Cool, cool, I also didn’t want to get shot. How much for my stuff?” You asked, picking up the money on the floor, handing it back while placing your snacks on the counter..

“What stuff? I see nothing. Just go. I already called the cops.” Oh, so he wasn’t reaching for a gun (corner stores usually have one under the counters) but a buzzer or something? Nice, cool, great.

“Thanks buddy!” Hey man, free food is a blessing. Picking up your wallet and bag of snacks, you step over the knocked out guy, (pick pocketing any cash he had on him,) picking up the gun with your sweater sleeve and placing it at the counter. “Here, for the cops.”

“Thanks so much, again for everything. Hey, can I get a name? For the next time you come and…buy stuff.” He shot his shot.

“I appreciate it man, but I don’t give out my name like that. You know?”

And he missed.

“Ye-yeah…” He looked like a kicked puppy.

Just as you stepped out you heard the sound of a motorcycle nearby and your senses went off again.

“Stop right there, not another step.” A third party voice joins the fray.

What the fuck, spider luck?!

Instantly you recognize the vigilante in front of you but regardless you are not taking any chances today. 

Taking a step back inside the store, making sure to close the door on the guy. “Um, hey not to alarm you or anything but there is a guy with a mask standing outside.” Bringing your hands up (again) you back away from the entrance, snack bag swinging around with your movements. 

The employee nods pulled out the pistol from the counter (what the fuck, why would you grab that with your fingers my dude?) and aimed.

Well at least he doesn’t hold grudges for being rejected.

The door swung open and there stood a masked vigilante, but a familiar bat symbol on his chest caught the employee’s attention.

“Oh thank god it’s not another one.” Putting the pistol again he sighed in relief.

“Ah!” The yellow vigilante turned his focus onto you, (who backed up so much you tripped over the k.o.ed dude, fucking embarrassing) hands still in the air and snacks littering the floor.

Some professional you are. Fuck you spider luck.

“I didn’t steal anything, I swear.” God, you're embarrassed and stressed.

The vigilante ponders for a few seconds, taking in the scenario, glancing at the employee who nods and turns his attention back. “Sorry about that. Here.” He extends a hand out towards you and to not be suspicious you hesitantly take it, your body tenses on instinct, pulling away immediately.

“Thank you.” you mumbled silently cringing at your embarrassment over spilled snacks.

“What happened?” He still faced you but you knew that question was for the other party member. And even if it was for you, you’re silent.

“That dude tried to rob us and they knocked him out. Oh,” The cashier looked at his hands. “This is his.” And placed the pistol on the counter.

This looks like the perfect time to poof away so you do. Right after you pick up your snacks. Signal sees this and silently aids you. “You both aren’t hurt, right? Need medical assistance?”

No you fucking don’t.

Holding out the bag as Signal placed the last snack in you as you shook your head. “I’m a-okay. Thank you though.” And you walk out for the second time. You could still feel his eyes on you until the door closes.

And guess who shows up.

The men in blue.

“Hold it right there.” Bro, you just want to be left alone, is that so much to ask? This time instead of bringing your hands up (for a third time), you instead clutch your bag to your chest, mask down and point inside, making sure your voice matches your facial expression.

“In there, he stopped him there.” meek, timid, nervous.

It seems to have worked as the pair of policemen entered the store and you didn’t think twice and booked it (in a non suspicious manner- if you run, they might chase). Passing by a yellow motorcycle you take a glance back and see the vigilante stepping outside the store, looking somewhat bothered in the presence of the authorities. 

Sucks to suck, bud, you know that feeling very well, not your problem anymore.

As if feeling your eyes on him he turns his face towards you, your eyes meeting a mask. Oh fuck! You felt your hair stand up. Holding his gaze for a few seconds before turning away (any other abrupt movement would definitely make you look suspicious) you continue on your way.

Forcing yourself to not tense up and fight the urge to shiver at his cold gaze you round the corner and you feel somewhat safer again. But it’s a false sense of security, because you know you’re slowly losing your mind.

Hopefully you won’t run into him or any of the other bats.

-

Duke Thomas was patrolling his territory, the Narrows, when he got a notification.

“Signal, there’s a robbing occurring five blocks from your location. The corner store Convenience. Know it?” Oracle’s voice spoke through the comms.

“I know my way. I’m checking it out now.”

“Checking the cameras- there are only three people inside. The assailant, a civilian, and an employee.”

“Got it-”

“Oh wait. Huh, well look at that.” Disbelief could be heard through the comms.

“What is it?” Did things escalate too fast?

“The civi knocked the guy out. Basically one move.” Color Oracle impressed.

“I’m here, anything else I should know about?”

“I’m scanning what I can see of their face, but I’m coming up blank. I’ll let you know if anything.”

Duke didn’t reply, instead as he pulled up he saw someone coming out of the store. “Stop right there, not another step.”

He watched the figure (gender unidentifiable with the oversized hoodie) freeze before making eye contact with him-er his visor. Despite the hood being down, he could not see their face completely with their mask, only their eyes and hair. Just a normal civilian, who apparently knocked out a guy with a gun.

Then silence and no movement.

Until the civilian backed away, closing the store door.

Stunned for a moment, Duke could hear Oracles snort through the comms. “Think they’re scared?”

“From what, me? They took down a guy with a guy and I scared them?” 

“Careful, gun pointed straight at you inside.” warned Oracle.

He moves towards the front door, pushing it open to see the civilian from earlier backing away still, hands up before turning his attention to the employee with a gun. “Oh thank god it’s not another one.”

“Ah!” A yelp caught his attention and it seems the civi tripped on the knocked out guy he just noticed. They immediately spoke, catching his eyes,“I didn’t steal anything, I swear.” 

Duke holds in a snort before glancing at the employee who nods in confirmation before he focuses on the fallen person. He calmly walks towards them, taking note of their discomfort and reaches his hand out. “Sorry about that. Here.” 

Despite his covered eyes somewhat obscuring his vision, he couldn’t will them away from this stranger’s visible face. 

Duke watched their hesitation but placed their hands in his, and he swore he felt a spark that sent shivers down his spine. How curious. He pulled them up, noting just how light they felt in his hold.

“Thank you.” Their voice was soft, but audible.

They quickly pulled their hand away, the warmth gone. His hand held its place for a couple of seconds before he let it fall to his side. “What happened?” He still faced the civilian, both unmoving. He already knew what occurred, Oracle told him everything, but he wanted to hear them talk more.

Only the employee replied. He took note of their lack of eye contact. 

“That dude tried to rob us and they knocked him out. Oh,” Duke glanced as the cashier placed the gun on the counter. He’ll leave that for the cops to pick up if they don’t get here before he leaves. “This is his.”

His attention is once again stolen as the civilian in front of him kneels to pick up their half empty bag. Standing above them, he notes the tips of their ears are red, how cute.

“You good there, romeo? You kinda have a staring problem.” Oracle’s voice snapped him out of his trance.

Duke cleared his mind (he hoped he didn’t look weird or creepy, yikes) before leaning down as well and helped pick up the tossed chip bags.

Though he did take his time, just to squeeze a bit more time with this civilian that he has yet to identify. “You both aren’t hurt, right? Need medical assistance?” He mostly directed this question to them than the cashier behind him. He wonders if Oracle figured out this civilian's name. 

Placing the last snack inside the plastic bag he watches them straighten up before shaking their head. “I’m a-okay. Thank you though.” His eyes couldn’t seem to leave their figure as he watched them walk out the door.

“Cops outside, Signal.” Oracle once again breaks his attention. 

“Got it.” Duke turns his attention to the guy on the floor, sitting him up as two officers enter the store. One takes the guy off his hands while the other questions the employee, taking the gun.

A slight restless feeling took over him and he made his way outside, the one carrying the passed out guy following. Duke quickly takes notice of eyes watching him and he turns to see the complete unmasked civilian from earlier. 

This time, he really felt like he had a staring problem. He drinks up their appearance like water. Their nose, lips, face shape, everything. He didn’t know how to explain it, but he really couldn’t look away this time. Everything around him suddenly felt silent. He felt his body shiver.

Such a pretty face, this civilian caught his breath regardless. He’s not one to lose himself by a pretty face but it seems this one was an exception. He felt mesmerized, entranced, and tongue-tied. Something about this person had a strong lock on him, and he couldn’t help but feel somewhat excited then put off. It felt like a very tight leash, and he doesn’t mind one bit.

Three seconds. Ever since he caught their gaze, they made eye-contact (despite him wearing a mask) before she looked away and left, turning the corner. (Their features look pretty feminine so he’s going with her). 

“Anything Oracle?” He mumbled, still a bit lost.

“No dice. How strange…”

Bummer. He mounts his ride and drives off to finish the rest of his patrol. He’s tempted to drive in the direction the civilian went to, but he wills himself to not do that. God it’s like he’s down bad. Really bad.

Hopefully he gets to see you soon, it seems you’re staying in the Narrows which increases his chances to see you. As much as he curses himself internally, he hopes he can save you next time something dangerous happens again.

Something formed in the pit of his stomach, and he doesn’t know if it’s desire or obsession.

Regardless, he embraces this feeling whole heartedly.

Prev; Next;

I struggled really hard, like REALLY hard. Duke is new to me (i only learned of him because of the webtoon) Now I'm reading issues he has been in and I don't know his character well but there is a SEVERE lack of Duke fics and I made it everyone's problem. So now he's down bad.

Updates are random and spars, no update schedule and don't plan to make one. This is my hobby not my obligation.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Mama Munson made Eddie’s Halloween costumes from scratch every year. She said it was because it looked cooler, but as he got older, he realized it was because she used scraps and cheap fabrics to make them and that’s all they could afford.

But his costumes were always great. Every year was better than the last.

When he got too old for trick or treating, she used Halloween night to teach him how to sew.

“For that jacket you wanna wear so bad, baby.”

It took a lot of effort, and a little bit of help for the thicker patches, but he managed to finish it in a few weeks.

That year for Christmas, he made her and Wayne battle jackets with their favorite bands and singers.

It became the thing he gave to important people.

Shortly after Vecna, when he was stuck in bed for nearly a month healing, he had his mom run to the store in Indy and start grabbing patches. Wayne found denim jackets from the donation store, surprised anything was left at all with how much people needed right now.

Eddie made all the kids jackets, even Max, who would probably think it was stupid in the same way she thought Lucas holding her hand was stupid (not at all).

He made Robin one, with a hidden rainbow flag patch on the inside pocket.

Nancy got one, even Argyle and Jonathan got one.

Steve didn’t.

Eddie didn’t know how to make it a friendly gesture, how to not make it look like he was screaming from the rooftops that he’d fallen hard for the guy who almost single-handedly saved his life. He was certain that giving him the jacket he made would be the end of the daily visits, the joking around, the fun.

“Baby, you think he don’t know?”

Eddie’s mama was trying not to laugh when he unloaded on her while he stitched the last patch to the front.

“He visits you every day, sometimes for hours, sometimes has to be dragged out by nurses, and ya think he don’t know?”

As usual, she had a point.

So Eddie was brave, gave Steve the jacket the next day when he stopped by.

Steve was silent as he took in every patch and pin, even the section of glitter glue Erica had insisted he add. Eddie played with his bare fingers, wishing now more than ever that he had his rings back.

Finally, Steve looked up, watery smile pointed right at Eddie.

“I love it. And you.”

Mama Munson slapped the back of his head gently later while Steve slept in the chair by his bed.

“I told ya so!” Her whisper was enough to make Steve shift around, his grip on Eddie’s hand tightening momentarily. “May have lost a nipple, but got yourself a boyfriend. That’s the Munson way.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

“Oh, Wayne never told you about losing his nipple in ‘Nam? Flirted with the medic and blamed it on blood loss, but wouldn’t ya know? The medic was a little light in his loafers, too!”

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Wayne didn’t lose a nipple. You’re makin’ shit up again.”

“I ain’t never lied to ya! You ask Wayne tomorrow. There’s a reason he don’t ever go shirtless at the lake.”

And sure enough, the next day, Wayne lifted his shirt and showed Eddie where he had nothing but a scar where his nipple should be.

“So what about the medic?”

“Oh! Grant.” Wayne smiled. “We still write to each other sometimes. He’s married, got a few kids.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We wouldn’t have worked anyway. He lives in Maine. Can’t imagine dealin’ with moose.”

Mama Munson just raised her brows from her chair and smirked.

When Steve came by after his shift, he was wearing his jacket and the biggest smile Eddie’s ever seen.

“Anything new?”

“Nothin’ really. Just found out I’ve got a lot more in common with Wayne than I thought.”

[foldingfittedsheets]

Delighted by my morning errand! My nana has… some hoarding issues. A year or so ago my mom and I tried to go in and help her clear stuff out. I was listing piles of stuff for sale for her, she made a ton of cash off it.

But my mom was so rude and judgemental during the process that my nana called it off and told us to stop coming. Most of the stuff we excavated from her garage is still sitting out in her carport.

One of the pieces that didn’t sell was this absolutely stunning old Singer sewing machine. It came in its own table and was in absolutely pristine condition. The machine itself is black with gold accents, really sleek and beautiful.

I mentioned it offhandedly during a one shot to a friend and he asked if I had pictures. I did, and when I showed him he asked what I listed it for.

I shrugged, “I asked 200 for it. It’s in great condition and besides being an antique those things never break. All the same machines on eBay were going for $400-500. But it was too pricey I guess.”

There was a little break in conversation and I saw the wheels turning in his head. “Do you want it?”

“200?”

“My nana will be thrilled, let me set up a pickup.”

So today we met there and he looked it over. It’s just as pretty as I remembered and when we plugged it in it hummed happily along. He was glowing with delight and my nana was thrilled to be making some cash.

I hope he adores it, but I’m mostly just happy it’s going on to be used rather than sitting unloved in her mountains of tchotchkes.

[irndad]

hii dollface, would u write smtg abt hotch being jealous?

like he's trying to hide it from making the team notices when he saw some officer flirting with r?

no pressure in writing, lovey. change it however u want or ignore it if u dont feel like writing it (i completely understands u 🤍)

my love this has lived in my brain so relentlessly <3 i hope you love it!!!! thank you for requesting!! wc: 1.7k

It is incredibly easy to like her.

She’s charismatic in a way that’s almost universally appealing, and he’s memorized the shape of her wide grin. She smiles with her whole face, and Aaron hasn’t really spent too much time trying to make people smile. He’s had success in some ways, but when she smiles at him there’s something in his chest that burns in achingly lovely way. 

At first, he had assumed her kindness was a way to win him over. In her first week, she had noticed there was a rip in his tie (which he’s not sure how could even happen) and she’d whipped out a pocket sewing kit, repairing it. 

He tries not to think about the fact that she’s beautiful. She is, though, in spirit and in appearance. He’s an expert in controlled presentation, but to some extent she must know that’s he’s fond of her. 

When they’d first met (which he can still picture in his minds’ eye- her oversized sweater tucked into her tailored pants, the purple lipstick adorning her beautiful smile) he’d tried to keep his distance. It’s easy to romanticize her, and being her friend felt a little impossible when seeing her as more felt so inevitable.

This plan did not go well, and Aaron had officially tossed it when one day, the babysitter for Jack fell through when he was halfway around the world. She’d picked him up from school and tended to him, and Aaron had come home to a blanket fort on his kitchen floor, and a happy little boy who wanted her to come over every day. 

So it's a little hard to ignore how much he adores her. 

She doesn’t normally want to come out to the scene and they usually don’t require it, but they’re going out to a place she spent most of her twenties, and she knew people in the local PD, so Aaron had asked her to come. 

She’d done so without complaint, although he knows she doesn’t sleep well on the jet. No one knows where the nicer pillows and blankets came from, and Aaron would prefer it that way. 

Anyway. 

The bullpen of this department is chaotic and a certain caretaking is living at the edge of Aaron’s consciousness, a protective desire to keep her from the loudness and violence that she’s typically protected from. 

He’s still thinking this, when he hears her voice over the chaotic hum of the department. 

“Oh my god, Logan!”

Her voice is joyful, and when Aaron turns to see who she’s looking at, it’s an agent. He can tell that he’s not a police officer for many reasons- the fact that he’s got a long, shaggy haircut and a 5 o clock shadow and a leather jacket on his shoulders. The local police would be too strict, and he must be some kind of different authority to be allowed to be here.

He hears the stranger call her name back, and they hug. 

It’s a quick thing, but imbued with deep fondness. Aaron’s not sure he’s ever hugged her for more than a second- just a congratulations when his commendation came in. She’d smelled like roses. 

Now, she’s hugging Logan. 

“Hotch,” she says, a smile still in her voice, “This is Logan! We went to graduate school together. He’s brilliant, I can’t believe he’s down here.”

Her voice is seeped in admiration, and Aaron feels an ugly amount of what can only be described as jealousy. 

“Great to meet you. You’re the unit chief, yeah?”

“SSA Aaron Hotchner,” he offers the man a curt nod, “Have you met the team?”

He goes through the motions of introducing him to the team- he greets Reid with a warm smile and tells him that he’s read his papers. Logan compliments Emily’s shirt, and Morgan’s watch. 

He’s incredibly charismatic.

Is Aaron charismatic? He doesn’t think so. His team, who probably adore him as much as anyone could, still note that he can be harsh, prickly. He never smiles, he knows. He lacks expressiveness. Logan is all fluid movement and easy conversation, and when he takes the jacket off, Aaron sees a great deal of tattoos on his forearm, his sweater sleeves slid up. 

He’d smile for her. 

What should be a good thing, but hurts- Logan is an excellent consultant profiler. He’s thoughtful and helpful and she has an easy rapport with him. Aaron- he’s so bad at talking to women. 

She makes Aaron feel like he’s good at it though. When they drive together, the conversation is easy and feels nice. It’s like sunbathing, basking in the light of her attention and intention. 

With the help of the man that Aaron has decided he hates, the case is finished up quickly. 

He can’t shake the thought they’ve probably dated. It’s not his business- this crush, although this word feels inadequate for the intensity of the way she makes him feel. It’s a private thing he’s never going to act on- he’s older and her superior, and besides- 9 stab wounds and a lifetime worth of issues is a million times less appealing than someone like Logan. Young, exuberant probably not too afraid to ask for what he wants.

“Drink tonight?” Logan asks the team, and a chorus of yes’s and please’s echo through the emptying bullpen. 

“Raincheck,” she says to Logan, “I’ll see you next time I’m in town, yeah?” She beams at him, hugging him in a quick-but-too-long-for-Aaron’s-taste motion, and the string in Aaron’s chest that feels like it’s been pulled all week threatens to pull him under.

After everyone files out, she offers to help him fill out paperwork in his office. It’s just like her, so kind and sweet. Spending her free time filling out reports to make his workload go easier.

About a half hour of amenable silence passes, before Aaron chooses to speak.

“So, you and Logan.”

“He’s great, right?”

Regrettably, Aaron agrees.

“He seems very kind.”

“Yeah, he and his fiancee are really fun. They travel all over, kite-board and do tons of adventure stuff, he’s pretty awesome.”

A moment passes.

It’s like a balloon losing air, the feeling of relief taking the place of panic.

“I thought you two were romantically involved.” He doesn’t know how to verbalize things casually. If he lets it up, he might do something dangerous like tell her that he wants to be someone who romances her, wants to be the person who kisses her after dates and holds an umbrella over her head when she’s caught in the rain. He wants to be what she comes homes to, and it’s a confession living in the back of his throat, threatening to escape at every moment. 

She sucks in a harsh breath, and he wonders if it’s a misstep to have told her- it’s not a confession, really. It sounds like one though- why would he care? What makes it his business?

“Not that that’s relevant to me,” he stammers, “You’re free to engage with whoever you’d like-“

“I know, Hotch.” She doesn’t grace him with his first name, but her voice is fond and warm, her doe eyes meeting his. He likes it, he decides. 

“I’m not seeing him,” she continues, her body shifting to face him, “I think he’s a little…casual for me.”

He thinks of Logan’s leather jacket and unshaven face, rugged appearance and compares it to how he presents himself- clean cut and sharp lines, his suits tailed to fit him like a glove. 

“You prefer something a little more…dignified?” He hears himself say with more confidence then he feels- her implication is clear, but he wonders if he’s mishearing it. 

She tips her head back and he hears her lovely laugh ring through the air like something sacred, and he waits to hear her response. 

“I don’t know, I just know that I’ve been liking this guy for a while,” she muses, looking down at her fingernails, “But he hasn’t seemed to pick up on any of my hints.”

On one of his braver days, he’d told her that he liked that purple lipstick. He hasn’t seen her without it since. She’d always been so kind to everyone that it was hard to notice when her treatment towards him was special, but he thinks it might be. How quick she offers to help with Jack- gives away a Saturday evening to spend with him, even though she sees too much of his face at work.

Her friend from grad school offered to get drinks, and she’s here, telling him what she looks for in a guy.

He tries to be logical about the whole thing, but it’s a bit hard- she’s funny and warm and Aaron loves being around her- loves her company enough to maybe ask for more of it. 

“If this ‘guy’ did like you,” he murmurs, intentionally not meeting her gaze, the precision of which is boring a hole into the side of his head, “How would he go about that?”

He’s not sure what the point of being coy is now, but he can’t seem to stop. He does look down to her and meet her eyes. 

“I think I’d probably corner him,” she says breathlessly. They’re quite close together, now. He wonders if she likes his aftershave. She tugs a hundred through her hair, a nervous but incredibly attractive gesture, “Y’know, if everyone we worked with went to get drinks, and it was just us. If he was amenable to that.”

“If he was amenable to that.”

A rush of emotion licks up his spine- it’s fun, flirting with her. The creep of warmth on her cheek, how her fingers are brushing hers. 

“I think he might be.”

Purple lipstick, rose perfume mixing with the scent of expensive aftershave- he thinks he might be able to kiss her, now. He’s never been good at knowing when to take the jump, but this is something he can do. He can let her know that he wants it. 

She reads him well enough, it turns out, and she kisses him. It’s a surprise and he is so rusty at this and yet- his hand stand on the small of her back, pulling her in and he can feel her lovely smile against him. She’s warm and joyful and she’d kissed him, and all he could do was lean in-

“I think he might be too.” She says, significantly less color on her lips, and more on his, he imagines.

She doesn’t have to wonder, though. When Aaron kisses her again, he decides- he will make her incredibly certain of his affections. 

[codenamesazanka]

My prediction on what was Scissors-kun's deal ended up being pretty correct: he was indeed abused - horrifically so, being tied up and locked away - and then abandoned by his family during the war because of his quirk. Except Horikoshi actually exceeded my expectations and revealed that it wasn't because of behavioral issues (not that it would've justified it! Never. but I was imagining a parallel to Toga), it was only because his quirk was a random mutation, and also his family sewn his mouth shut.

Because thing is. The set up for something like this was here all along. I predicted it based on things that were already happening in the story. Continued fear of 'abnormal' quirks; horrific domestic violence enacted due to this; Heroes never catching wind of this because this was from a family that weren't consider 'Villains', so this was Scissors-kun's normal. And this normal broke and the dark secret got revealed only because something extraordinary happened - the country collapsed. Scissors-kun family left him, so he was able to escape.

But... none of this is apparently going to be addressed. The happy ending is Scissors-kun being found and helped, instead of any widespread, far-reaching, systemic change that would prevent shit like this. No, 'but it's obviously going to be addressed off-screen' doesn't count. The story brought up on-page and explicitly that quirk discrimination is a thing, that abusive quirk counseling/treatment is a thing, that abuse and abandonment of children is a thing. I expect the solutions to be on-page and explicit as well, and not just 'if I reach out when it's not my business, then...!'

(Also. it is their fucking business. They're government employees. Their job is to save people and guarantee the welfare of all citizens. it is very much their business.)

I'm not upset that Scissors-kun isn't Shigaraki; never really expected that in the first place. Shigaraki died. Deku fucking failed. I've come to terms with it. I'm not upset that Shigaraki wasn't saved, but this kid was; not even in the meta-, story-, character-sense, because, fine, he's replacement goldfish Tenko, but I'll take the 'we'll do better next time', it's a good thing this kid gets saved, it's what Shigaraki would've wanted, it's what the League fought to destroy for. It's even good that The Old Lady has become a better person.

What baffles me is that this save occurs pretty much because of nothing except the purported 'What Deku Showed The World That Day (When He Killed A Man)'. This save isn't because Heroes and civilians have more awareness of victims. This save isn't because society is promising to stop quirk discrimination. This save isn't because Ochako learns of Toga's abusive parents and so sets out to tackle this issue of quirk-related domestic violence. This save isn't because Deku has lead a new movement to stop bystander inaction. (Moreover, about 'bystander inaction' - Scissors-kun lists 5 other people outside his immediate family of Dad/Mom/Sis who knew about him... and did nothing. His uncle, his aunt, his grandparents, his great-grandfather - if they didn't directly help sew Scissors-kun mouth shut, they still turned a blind eye and never alerted authorities. (Tenko explicitly states this as one of the factors that led to him lashing out, but I guess the story forgot about it long ago, so. Even with the memories sharing of Chapter 417 and 418, Deku never sees this.))

As I said above, none of the issues that lead to Scissors-kun being in the circumstances he was in has been addressed.

This save isn't because any random civilian has decided to help - because any rando can and should help! This isn't even because Old Lady came to the guilt-ridden conclusion herself to do better.

This save is because Old Lady, carrying the burden of guilt, watched Deku kill the kid she didn't save all those years ago (tho she doesn't know it) and is apparently inspired by this act of "I can't help but do something" to finally take action (as helpfully narrated by Hawks). It's not because civilians have done any deep thinking about the rot that permeates their culture; it's because Deku was a hard-working murderer on TV. There were dozens of other people on the street. Real change should've been a whole crowd of people seeing Scissors-kun and wanting to help - someone giving him a blanket or offering him shoes while another calls for an ambulance???

But whatever. I just want to state this: the first thing that truly saved Scissors-kun was Shigaraki's destruction. Without it, his family would've stayed in that house and kept him locked up. It's really only because of Shigaraki's destruction that Scissors-kun even got the opportunity to find freedom and get his hand held.

[tiredfox64]

Hellooo! First of all, I love your fics, especially Tomas's. They are very entertaining and the way you write is just great ^^

This is more of a question than a request, although you can develop it further if you want.

How would the linkuei trio react to a s/o who says "I hate men... except you"

It came to me out of nowhere and I thought it was funny 🙃

There Are Exceptions

Prior notes: Hehehe I throughly enjoyed writing this. Also I forgot to say this with other people’s requests who gave me compliments but thank you so much for liking my writing! (*´∀｀*)

Pairing: Lin Kuei Bros x Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: Men

Bi-Han

These dim witted, nitwit goobers who serve your husband are too much to handle. All they know how to do is punch and kick. They have no other survival instincts that can save their asses.

It’s so tiring being the one to try to help them with whatever. A woman can only do so much.

You tried teaching them how to sew only for them to say something stupid like it’s a woman’s hobby. Forget about cooking. You have never seen someone screw up scramble eggs so much that it doesn’t even form. How the fuck does it stay watery? And why are you the only one who knows how to fold clothes? Screw steaming out their wrinkles.

Your last straw today came in the nighttime when one of the clansmen came up to you and ask the most stupidest question you have ever heard.

“Uhm, some of the men were telling me that a woman’s period was when she peels her skin every month. Is that true? Cause if it is you hide it well.” This clueless assassin…oh goodness.

You just stared blankly at the young man. It had to be a joke, right? They can’t be that stupid. Actually, you don’t want to know if they are that stupid. You walked away briskly with one thing on your mind and you had to shout it out. The moment you walk into your bedroom you slammed the door shut and screamed,

“I hate men!”

Bi-Han was already in bed, waiting for you to come around. He stared at you with that grumpy expression he always has before folding his arms in front of his chest. A low grumble was being emitted by him.

How can you say you hate men when you are married to one? One that treats you like the queen you are considered you are the grandmaster’s wife. He is also one who pleasures you till you are fully satisfied. Course, it’s more like you have to go on until he is satisfied.

“…except you.”

“Mhm, that’s right. I should be the exception here. I am the grandmaster, I deserve your full respect.” Bi-Han reminded you of his role as if he doesn’t do so every day.

“And you are also my husband,” you walked up to him and placed a kiss on his forehead, “Now would you mind spooning me for tonight.”

“After that outburst, I am unsure if you deserve it.” Now he’s just being petty.

You pouted as you changed into your sleepwear. If Bi-Han looked for at least five seconds he would have caved. But he looked away immediately to prevent himself from changing his decision. You huffed as you slipped into bed. You went on your side and pretended like you didn’t care. You did because you always lost the idgaf war.

“Please, I love you.” You said over your shoulder.

Bi-Han let out a groan before turning over and wrapping his arms around your waist. Haha you win.

You may not like men but you love this man. You like this man because he’s your man.

Kuai Liang

Why does no one think of the logical answer to something?

You go out to the market all the time so you could help feed the Shirai Ryu. It helps lessen responsibilities for your husband. But even this simple task is made difficult and stupid because of some of the venders. More specifically the men.

You asked for watermelon and they hand you plastic containers with the funkiest bits of watermelon. They are discolored and are definitely past their ripeness. Yet they all tell you it’s fine. It’s not fine! It’s not good quality! Why even cut the watermelon in the first place you can do it yourself!

You want some mangos? Well you can’t fucking have any because they don’t got it. Oh what’s that? A BUNCH OF FUCKING MANGOS RIGHT BEHIND THEM! And they tell you that those are honey mangoes you didn’t specifically ask for those. They told you no because they thought you wanted Haden mangoes. Just give the woman a fucking mango!

You’re so over those male venders. They never even help you pack the carts up.

You’re too tired went you get back to the temple. You let everyone else pack the food away without helping out this time. You can’t be bothered. You take your shoes off, step into the temple, and sigh heavily.

“I hate men.” You groaned.

You didn’t realize Kuai Liang was coming up to you to greet you. You looked up and saw his face. He stared blankly with a bit of concern.

“…except you.”

You wanted to make it right so you ran up to him, giving him many kisses and hugging him.

“What has made you so hateful, my love? Did someone at the market bother you?” He asked with concern.

Kuai Liang was not at all mad at what you said. He found it odd which meant there was something wrong. His hands went up to check if maybe it was something physical. He would hate to find out you were hurt while out. What kind of husband would he be if he can’t protect his wife?

“Many people bothered me at the market today. Some people are unfortunate stupid.” You replied.

“Perhaps you can tell me all about it in bed. I’ll make you some tea to help with the stress.” He took your hands as you both walked to the bedroom.

Kuai Liang is the kind of man you need in your life. If only the men at the market had his intelligence. Though you do like being cared for when there is any sign of distress from you. It makes you feel like a princess.

Tomas

To help train the Earthrealm champions is like trying to train a seal, a kangaroo, a bison, and a Komodo dragon to leap at least a meter out of the water. One will succeed, another will jump but not reach it, another one won’t try to jump, and the other will be too busy trying to mate with you.

They are all nice in their own way but Johnny is the worst of them all. You tell him you are happily married and it’s in one ear and out the other. Just because his marriage failed doesn’t mean yours has to.

Kenshi is alright he just has stubborn. He believes it’s nerves that wins fights. If that were true why does he keep failing to you. And when he is not going against you he’s going after Johnny’s throat. You get it, Johnny won’t give back Sento. But now is not the time to bust his ass.

Kung Lao just gets on everyone’s nerves. You have never seen a bunch of monks ready to implode and strangle someone. Don’t forget that you almost lost your head because he flung his hat in the wrong direction. All you got back was a small ‘sorry’ before he took his hat and ran off.

And Raiden…he’s fine. He’s done no wrong.

Yet no matter what you always have to return and help the fools. You give and give and what do you receive? Hell!

You are exhausted when you return home. You don’t talk to anyone you just go straight to your bedroom. You let out a groan the whole time and when the door closes you let that groan become words.

“I hate men.”

Tomas was already waiting for you in the bedroom. He was walking up to you to hug you until he heard those words. He looked concerned and even a little sad.

Well he’s a man, do you hate him? Did he do something wrong? He hopes he didn’t, he doesn’t want an unhappy wife.

Your attitude immediately went away at the sight of Tomas.

“…except you.”

You ran into his arms and hugged him tight. You could never hate a man like Tomas. He is your husband after all. You picked a good one compared to all the other men that you have seen.

“I’m guessing they upset you again.” He asked.

You nodded. The day is already over you don’t feel like talking about every single stupid thing that they did. Tomas understood and hugged you tight.

“Do you want me to beat them up?” He whispered jokingly in your ear.

For once today you laughed. He always manages to bring a smile to your face. You wish you could let him but that would be a bad decision. Though it’s funny to think about. He was just happy to hear that wonderful laugh of yours. It just shows that he’s a good man to you. He can turn a frown upside down and make you see the good in men. Or at least the good in him.

After notes: Can you tell I got pissed off with Kuai Liang’s part? That shits a little too true. Those instacart tik toks be crazy. Here’s a little experience of when I hated men: one didn’t take no for an answer for YEARS. He still can’t take no even from other girls. But most of the men I know are good. Alright enough yip yap I must march on. Adiós!

[russellsppttemplates]

Uh oh, I'm falling in love (Lando Norris)

Y/N and Lando both have jobs that require good sight and attention to detail and yet they're oblivious to their feelings for eachother

Note: english is not my first language. I'm in a very fluffy mood, so I got really excited when I got this request! This also makes my expectations even higher and calls me single in about seventeen different languages at once...

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions a needle (for sewing)

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Hey guys! How's everyone?", Max said to the camera as you made sure the set up was right, the screen showing his and Lando's faces on one screen and the table on the other like it was supposed to.

"As per your many, many requests, we have brought our graphic designer at Quadrant, Y/N", Lando announced as you appeared on camera, sending a very awkward first wave to the camera, "today's stream is little different than our usual programming, but it was the only way she agreed to be in one! You guys really wanted to see her, so we had to be creative!", Max said as he moved the friendship bracelets making kit into view on the table.

"Hey, Queen Taylor said we should make the friendship bracelets, so we're just following her!", you chuckled, looking at all the coloured threads and colourful beads, sorting them out and grabbing a pen and paper so you could draw your ideas.

"Since you guys wanted to get to know Y/N, can I tell them to send in questions?", Lando questioned you, "sure, I'll answer them to the best of mu ability", you smiled.

You were picking the letters you needed for the bracelet you were making when Max spoke up, "first one: how did you start working with Quadrant? I'd love to work on the team when I finish my degree!".

"I saw the job offer, and I must admit at first I didn't really know much about the company. I looked it up, looked cool enough and I sent my CV and portfolio in. So keep your eyes peeled for any offers, I guess? We have them now on the website, which was my doing, so you can check them out there if you want to be part of the team", you offered.

"I need help, guys", Lando said as he fiddled with his bracelet, the orange and grey beads with his initials sliding on the elasticated material, I can't do the closing knot on my own", he pouted as you placed your bracelet down.

"You have to flip it like this, here. Just put it on your wrist and I'll do the rest", you ushered him, your fingertips gingerly touching his hand and wrist as you quietly laced it, "this way we don't get frilly bits out and it looks pretty, see? Pretty!", you smiled, modelling his wrist for the camera.

Pretty, that's what he often thought about you. Not only pretty, but it was one of the first physical traits that came to mind.

"We should all have matching ones!", Max said as he completed his bracelet, impressively on his own, revealing the colourful beads with Quadrant spelled in white round beads with black letters, "I'll make one for each of you", he said as he watched you show your own, pink beads and a lyric he assumed was from a Taylor Swift song.

"I'll make Y/N's, she helped me after all", Lando said as one brave fan sent a comment into the chat.

He's so giddy to make Y/N a bracelet, it's a shame it will snap because of his lack of skills

Am I delusional if I say that they'd make a great couple?

If you're delusional, then what do I call myself? I still think they're making heart eyes at eachother whenever they catch the slightest glimpse!

We're joining forces, I think it's a noble pursuit!

He's a dork, Y/N, but you should give him a chance

Have you always known you wanted to be a graphic designer?

"I thought about different careers before I settled on this one, for now at least", you explained, "engineering was in the running up, but then I figured out that I was curious about how things worked, but that didn't mean that I wanted to be the one working on it. And this was a way to express my creativity, my strategy planning as well, and at the moment it's been quite good", you smiled as Lando grabbed your wrist softly, "I need to make sure this fits", he interrupted, "and it won't snap because I've learnt how to do it, thank you very much", he blushed. So he, too, was reading the comments, choosing not to dwell in them.

"Look, this way you always have a lucky charm with you everywhere you go, even if we're not together. We're eachothers lucky charms!", Lando announced as Max mafe a fake gagging noise.

.

"Are you all ready?", you said as you and Tara walked inside the room, clasping your watch on your wrist and hoping to find the boys ready.

Quadrant had been invited to a gala dinner that celebrated the companies in the same line of business, inviting five people to take part in the meal. After some team members politely declining the invitation since they had things booked already, the group ended up being Lando, Max, Callum, Tara and yourself.

The dress required everyone to up their usual style, hence the long dress you were wearing. Even though it was far from your usual everyday attire, you felt beautiful in the dress you ended up with after browsing the online shops for a while. The cut was simple, the skirt widening from your waist down and complimenting your curves as the sheen from the midnight blue fabric looked soft and sweet against your skin.

Lando seemed to think the same, trying his best to not let his mouth hang open when you and Tara walked inside their room, heels clicking on the wooden floor as you hurried them, "does it really take that long to put on a suit? I had to help Tara with the laces on her back and we still got ready faster than the three of you?", you asked, shaking your wrist to check if the dainty watch wasn't going to fall and that it wasn't too tight either.

Looking up to meet Lando's eyes, you were sure you physically and audibly gulped. No one should look that good in a plain white shirt. The cuffs were still unbuttoned, but the shirt itself was tucked in his black pants. He didn't have any jewellery, so his tanned skin caught your eye as it contrasted with his clothes.

"Lando has a problem with his shirt and we are trying to solve it", Max said, a little bit too antsy given that, at the naked eye, there didn't seem to be a big issue with the piece of clothing you had been inspecting quite closely.

"There was a loose button, and I tried to fix it, but I made it worse", Lando said as he pointed to the button on his hand, the slight movement showing you the place where it was supposed to he holding the piece together and closed.

"Three people in this room and no one thought about grabbing the sewing kit from the amenities?", Tara suggested, looking for it in the box that was the same as it was in your room, "see? Simple as that! Can you sew it, Y/N? My hand isn't fully healed yet, I can't quite grasp something that small yet".

Tara had injured herself earlier on in the week, prompting her to ask to tag out of the gala until you pleaded her to go so you wouldn't be alone, so she couldn't do it. None of the other guys seemed to even know how to pull the thread through the needle, so you grabbed the kit from Tara's hand, "sure, I'll do it", you said, "if that's okay with you, that is", you looked over at Lando.

"Sure, anything to solve this. Do I keep it on or should I take it off?", he questioned, wanting to slap himself straight after at his offer. Why would he volunteer to be shirtless in front of you? It certainly wasn't the way to go, shoving himself like that.

"On should be fine", you muttered, missing the snickers going on behind you as you wet the thread with your tongue, careful to not transfer any of the lipstick on it and ruining the piece without point of return for good, easily looping it through and adjusting the size of the ends.

"Button", you put your hand out so Lando could place it in your fingers, "I will do my best not to poke you, let me know if I do so accidentally", you mumbled at the closeness to him you found yourself in. It was the third button from the top, and as much as you loved the sight of the shirt slightly undone, the dinner required his shirt to be done up. Looping the thread on the button a few times, you moved to pierce the crisp white fabric so it would be secure, your hands dangerously close to his skin as you could hear his laboured breath. Lando still remembered and thought constantly about your fingers touching his hand and wrist when you did the friendship bracelets video for the YouTube channel, and right now, it only added to his predicament.

"It's done, all good!", you exclaimed, looking up as you cut the thread and seeing Lando's eyes on you. The intensity nearly threw you off of your balance as you stood the tiniest bit crouched down on your high heels.

Scrambling to further the distance between your bodies, you smoothed out the non existent wrinkles on your dress, storing the supplies back in the kit as Lando managed to utter out a thank you, too stunned and intoxicated by your scent to say anything else.

"I sewed a button as neither of you look any more ready that you were when we got here? We're going to be late!", you hurried, sitting next to Tara and ignoring her smirk as you scrolled through your phone.

.

"That shoot will have to wait since Lando won't be back here soon, then", you said, moving things around in the online shared calendar, "when did you say you could again? I'm sorry", you asked, rubbing your forehead and squeezing your eyes, adjusting your glasses and looking at him through the screen.

"The first weekend of the next month", Lando assured, "are you okay, Y/N?", he asked. The bags under your eyes didn't fool anyone and you looked tired. And sick, he guessed by the layers of clothing you had on.

"I had a pretty shit day, actually", you admitted, "I had to go with the guys from storage because there was an issue. The supplier sent the samples and we wanted to get things moving so I could have some ideas for the description and the social media team also wanted to prep the draft for the whole story telling, but it all went under. I also think I caught some bug, so it's been a fun day", you exaggeratingly smiled, mocking your own misery.

"You look like you need a hug, Y/N. Do you need a hug?", Lando asked as you nodded, "Actually, that would be pretty good, but I live alone. The neighbours would think I'm pretty weird if I went around like this asking for one, too", you reasoned.

Even though he wasn't next to you, Lando still managed to pull a smile out of you as he got up from the chair he was sitting in, hugging his laptop, "did you feel that hug?", he loudly wondered, "it's full of Get well soon fairy dust!", he smiled charmingly.

"Fairy dust, mate?", Callum wondered, reminding you of his presence in the videocall, "you try and spend more than a few hours with a little girl and you let me know. Mila has taught me all about fairy dust and princess magic", Lando added.

.

"How will we get out of here?", you wondered, starting to regret joining Lando, Max and Pietra when they said they were going to watch a football game. You loved the sport and you figured it would be a nice distraction after a work loaded week, but now, things were looking less than a distraction.

"We will let them space out once the game finishes, free up the roads as well because getting out of here will be a pain, too", Lando suggested.

The game granted your team a win and three points in the championship, the crowd going wild as they clapped, whistled and waved their scarfs, slowly leaving the stadium.

"Should we make a run for it now?", Pietra said, holding her boyfriend's hand as she allowed him to pull her away.

You followed Lando, thanking his choice of a colourful hoodie to wear today as it made it easier for you to spot him, "go in front of me, I'll back you up", he switched positions. You weren't having too much trouble until you were met with a ramp, people carelessly shoving others as they tried to leave as quick as they could, all with the same intent of avoiding traffic and crowded roads.

"Here, Y/N", you heard Lando as he grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers in his and pulling you along, excusing you two as you approached Max and Pietra again, "we're here", you tapped the blonde woman's shoulder with your free hand.

"Goodness, that was and adventure", she said once you reached the stadium car park, the crowd clearing up significantly as there was maybe another ten people headed the same way as you were now, "is everyone alright? I think someone stepped on my foot quite a few times, or many people stepped on it at various different times", you reasoned, walking alongside Lando still.

"Don't we need to hand the bracelets back?", Max said as he looked at the sign, taking his bracelet off and depositing it in the box in the booth, Pietra doing the same as you seemed distracted.

"Are you okay, Y/N?", Max asked, seeing you and Lando were still holding hands and, because of that, not taking off your bracelets.

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?", you scrunched your eyebrows, "we need to hand the bracelets back in, so I kind of need to have yours, too", he teased, looking at your hand still entwined with Lando's.

Removing your hand from Lando's as if it har started burning all of a sudden, you removed the bracelet, apologising quietly to the stadium employee as you thanked him, "shall we go now?".

"Dinner out?", Lando gulped, getting into the driver's seat, "Good idea, yes", Max added, sitting in the passenger's seat as you and Pietra sat in the back, your hand rubbing your other hand that had been laced with Lando's own one for a long time. Uh oh, you were falling in love.

.

The launch was finally over after an amazing response from the fans, leaving your heart happy and warm with a sense of mission accomplished.

"Is everything packed into the van?", you asked Tara, "yes, it's just this box. It has fragile things, so do you think you guys can take it in the car with you? It probably only fits at the front, so you'll have to squeeze in with the boys on the back", she smiled apologetically, "it's fine, we'll keep eachother warm like penguins do", you chuckled, holding the door open as she set the box safely.

Saying goodbye to her and the rest of the team, Max and Lando joined you, "You sit in the middle seat", Max pointed at you, opening the door ao you could scoot closer to Lando and he could get in.

"Could you tell me how long we have until get back?", Lando asked the driver, "with traffic at this hour, I'd say around 90 minutes", he smiled, turning on the blinker so he could leave the car park.

"Plenty of time for me to catch up on sleep, then!", you cheered, making yourself comfortable in the space you had, folding your scarf into an impromptu travel pillow, closing your eyes.

"Are you a snorer?", Max asked, making you blindly swat his thigh, "only when I'm sick, and lucky for you, I'm in presteen health, no blocked nose", you grumbled.

It didn't take you long to fall asleep. In the last week, all of the nights combined, you probably slept less than thirty hours, so your body was indeed in need of rest.

"And there it goes", Max said as your pillow undid itself, Lando lifting his shoulder in reflex so your head wouldn't drop drastically, landing on top of him, "Good thing she isn't our engineer, hm?", he chuckled, looking at how his bestfriend was looking at you like you hung the stars and the moon.

"I think I'm in love with Y/N", Lando whispered after he took your appearance in. You had forgone wearing make-up today, so he could see all your moles and scars, your pouty lips and the darkened skin under your eyes. It took everything in him to not bend down and kiss your forehead.

"Congrats on being the last one to find out, mate", Max added, shaking his head, "I genuinely thought you had some issue processing information, I'm glad to find out you don't.

"Now you just have to act on it, which is going to take you, what? Two, three more months?".

[youlikefanficdontyousquidward]

By moonlight

Adar x Fem!Elf!Reader

Part one, two Three- My heart

Summary: Adar steals moments from his Sunset before heading to battle.

His Andúnë remained, her soft light illuminating the depths of Adar's heart. She stayed far from the tunnels edge, away from the men who swore their loyalty. He missed her warmth when there and found himself often trudging through the uneven mud to the children's tents.

This day she lay on their soft bedding. Spread like he had been on the breaking wheel. But there was no pain to be had here. Instead each limb had one or more Uruklings curled around them. Atop her breast lay the baby she'd saved, drooling into her clavicle. He smiled gently down at them, leaving her to rest.

He walked with her when he could. Into the sun to watch over her while she gathered herbs. He knew he didn't need to, that the Uruk scouts in the trees would've protected her. Still the stolen moments were irresistible to him. Her hair catching the light, her laughing with the children. Sweet as bird song. He longed for her to look softly at him. To bend her lips into that perfect smile just for him.

It was a foolish dream. He was a broken and twisted thing. She was not bound to him and never would be. Her light was meant for someone better.

...

You felt Adar's presence for a moment before that shadow passed. You couldn't move, so covered in the Uruklings as you were. It was warm, suffocating even but pleasant. They all slept in a pile together when their parents were gone. It seemed they felt the cold more keenly than their mothers.

Uruk women were hard working. None would dare put in less than their men. A deserved pride, you saw how strong they were yourself. You admired them greatly. You'd been a passive thing in your home. Never given the same opportunity for greatness as your male kin. Your small skill with a sword had been behind your father's back.

Glüg's mate, Vusha, and other pregnant women stayed with the children and the wounded. Still there were no idle hands here. They worked mending and healing alongside the children. Building supports and covers if their stomachs weren't too swollen. Vusha swiped the tents flap open. She chased the little ones off, with a bark of laughter and brought you out to the tunnels beyond for the day.

Vusha was a brash, vulgar tongued women and you liked her greatly. Often her jokes and stories brought a fierce blush to your ears. Of late she'd focused much of her energy on your own lack of relationship experience.

"Far too pretty a thing not to get a little messy in your bed roll." She said with a wink. You'd buried your face behind the tunic you'd been sewing.

"What about the men-folk. Not too bad to your eye I'd imagine." She nodded to the group beyond.

You followed her eye to the men. They came from a village that Adar had taken a day ago. Most were barely out of their childhood and the ones that were, tended towards harsh and unfriendly. One looked to you both with a curled lip.

"I think not." You said, drawing your eye to the baby. He was large now, able to toddle on fat little legs between you and the other children.

"Suit yourself." She huffed and you breathed a sigh of relief. "You know Glüg's brothers' meant to be a good ride?"

When night fell you felt a shadow pass by the tents. A familiar shiver ran up your spine and you fought the smile threatening to split your face.

"Andúnë." Adar's gravely voice spoke. You turned still crouched by the children. He bowed his head to you his bare hand over his heart. He did this each time and still it made your heart flutter. He greeted you so softly, like you were a Lady and not a lowly Elleth in the muck.

"How are they." Adar spoke, turning to the tent and away from your gaze. You blinked, shifting your own too. You hadn't realized how intensely your stare must have been. You cursed how awkward you'd become in front of him now.

"Well, my Lord. The baby has a tooth now." You smiled, rubbing your ankle absent mindlessly.

Adar turned back to you, his brow furrowed a moment before he reached his hand to you. You savored the roughness of his skin against your own.

"Ah yes, fret not." He rasped as you stood. His hand left yours cold. "They set one another right in time."

You watched where he did. The baby toddling, falling and crawling quick after giggling children.

"Their skin is tough, yours however..." Adar turned back to you. You pulled your lips tight, he had broken skin but it was healing well. Likely to scar however given your resources.

"I am fine Lord Adar." You said.

"If you won't tell me truthfully, I'll check myself." He hummed.

You didn't respond right away. His gauntlet shifted on his swords pommel and Adar dropped to his knee. You frowned, his hand touching the torn edge of your dress. Adar's rough fingers barely touched your ankle when your mind returned to you. You shrieked, skipping back as your heard the children laugh. Staring back at Adar's wide eyes you flustered.

"I'm fine! I swear!" You urged.

"Are you in pain?" Adar's rough voice spoke gravely. Your heart thundered in your chest. His eyes darkened, baring into your own as he stood.

"No! No, no. I just." You fumbled, fingers tightening on your dress as he approached. The room felt silent as you cast your eyes from his. That soft meadow green that felt like it could swallow you whole. He paused, before you saw him bow in your peripherals.

"Please, forgive me." He whispered. "I didn't mean to... impose."

"Oh, please my Lord rise." You gasped, placing a hand to his armored shoulder. "I'm well, everything is well."

He rose, your hand slipping from where it had rested on his chest plate. You felt your heart in your throat, your face was so hot. There was tightness in your chest that felt for all the world like it could crush you. Your eyes left his, traveling over his scared skin. Your finger tips buzzed, a desire so deep in your soul to reach out. Too feel him beneath your hand, beneath you.

A sudden giggling shout broke what spell had been cast on you. Adar too stiffened his face turning to the baby as his nails dug into your skirts. Your face burned as you stooped to him, lifting him up to your chest.

"I must go." Adar rasped, rushing out before you could speak a word.

...

There was much at hand. The last of the Southlanders gathered in the Eleven watch tower. The hilt among them, the key to his Uruk's home. Adar couldn't let his mind wander, couldn't imagine her flushed face, the heat of her skin on his fingers.

He gripped the pommel of his sword tighter in his hand. Even through his gauntlet he could feel the spiked end digging in. The sharp bite to his skin grounded him in the moment.

He laid out the plan ahead to his most fearsome warriors. Glüg had been disappointment not to be amongst them. Adar hadn't thought less of him as a fighter, he merely wished he would stay to look after the others. He was sure at least his mate would be appreciative of his task and there were few others he trusted his Andúnë to.

He wished to see her. To ensure she was well, to see if he was truly forgiven for his trespass. Adar cursed himself. It was a foolish act, a bold move he'd intended as playful fueled by a fear she was actually injured.

Adar also wished to look upon her just in case. If he were to fall this night, he wished to do so with her face in his minds eye. He was so certain she held no real fondness for him but he swore he saw something. Just a glimpse when their eyes met. A flicker that could be fanned if it weren't for his ruined form. Her eyes had moved to his scars and he'd bit back hope.

Instead Adar dug his fist into the dirt. Softly planting seeds and covering them with care. Tomorrow his children would have a home.

...

You waited with the children, with the pregnant. You felt an anger rising in you, burning behind your eyes. How could he leave without saying anything? Without giving you a chance to raise a sword. You didn't relish the idea of taking the villages lives but to protect what you had?

"You named him yet?" Glüg spoke from your side. He sat on the hill with you, looking towards the tower.

"Gurbaur. Though it feels wrong for it to be my choice." You spoke softly. He rested in your arms, his scars paler and pinker than the ashy complexion of his skin. They'd shift with age, maybe it wouldn't cover so much of his face then.

"He's yours now. Far as any are concerned. Gurbaur? Vusha give you that one?" Glüg asked.

"She's been teaching me yes and she said it meant stone son. Thought he deserved a strong one after all he's survived." You smiled despite yourself.

"You see far too right?" Glüg asked again.

"Beyond the horizon if I like." You answered. Elven eyes were keen and yours were focused on the village now.

"Do you see him." Glüg said, leaning forward to try and look himself.

"The fire in the village there..." You pointed, sure he could see the glow at least. "Lord Adar is there, he walks towards a large building at the center."

You watched still as the sun began to rise. Glüg wordlessly took the your Gurbaur before the sun could reach him. You watched still as a shadow of a fear began to grow in your mind. Something was wrong, something was very wrong.

...

Adar sat in the barn, bloodied but alive. The chains kept him to the post, kept his wrists together. Outside his children huddled under cover, guarded by the men from the sea.

If that man was true to his oath, if he wouldn't be discovered, it wouldn't be long now. He was far closer than he'd imagined, not nearly in a safe path. From what he'd read the mountain's peak would explode. Rock and fire would rain upon the land and a great smoke would blot the sun for millenniums to come. He closed his eyes, Adar could rest. His work was almost done now.

He didn't do so for long. There was a creak on the boards above him, the hayloft. Some man to slit his throat no doubt, taking a hidden entrance to do the deed. He prepared to counter, to kick out their legs. He would see his children's new home, this would not be robbed by the likes of them.

"Adar...?" A soft voice called. Sweet and filled with a fear that cut through him.

He opened his eyes. Past the rays of sun and dust floating in the air. She was here, his heart, Andúnë. Perhaps his wounds had been worse than he'd thought. That something beyond had taken pity on him and sent this vision to guide him into the darkness beyond. His eyes slipped closed, ready for her to take him away.

"Adar... zo zemar. Come back to me." Her voice grew closer, a soft warmth encompassing his cheek.

"My heart, I am with you." Adar rasped in return to her black speech. The apparition was so real, so soft. Even past the horse he could smell her, her scent so close it had him dizzy.

Adar opened his eyes again. She was knelt between his legs, her face close and tight in concern. Against his chains Adar lifted his hand to her, brushing his knuckles against her temple and down her cheek. Her face broke into an uneven smile, real and more beautiful than any sunset. Tears like stars glistening on her lashes.

"How are you here?" Adar breathed. She was real, solid in his vision. She wore a soldiers cloak, stolen and pulled over her ears and an had a hatchet in hand.

"I saw from the hill. I cannot leave you here. Oh what have they done to you." She fretted over him. Her hand came away from his cheek to run across the river patterns on his armor.

"Nothing that cannot be mended but..." Adar paused. Your face turned to the sound, a great cracking and rumble. He saw your face pale, fear setting in as the rumbling grew near. You took your hatchet to the metal, swinging down at the chain that bound him. Adar didn't think you had it in you but your strike was strong and true. It hit a weak point and broke away.

"Lay with me, listen." Adar sighed. He shifted to the wooden boards, ear pressed and hearing the water rush bellow. You followed, facing him as you did so. He saw your brow furrow at the sound, laying so close to him. He felt your breath against his cheek and smiled.

"Come, we must move." He said. Again you followed him, hands at his elbows to brace him as he stood. He didn't need your support but he let your hands grasp him. Let an arm wind around his middle and take his injured hand in your own.

Adar let you guide him to the doors, you moved ahead pulling with a grunt to open them for him. Chaos sounded, a clamor of soldiers rushing past not even paying either of you any mind. Adar pulled you back to him, a hand wrapping around your arm.

Your eyes were far, fixed on the mountain. A great clap sounded out, louder than any thunder. A bright light erupted with it and a force rushed out. Adar turned then, taking the blast to his back with you pressed now against his chest. You yelped but covered your mouth quickly, looking up to him through your eyelashes.

Adar kept his arms around you, turning back to the great mountain as it spewed ash and rock into the sky. His children cheered and yelled, breaking free and running to him. Great rocks, flaming and bigger than houses soared through the skies.

"What... what is this." You whispered.

"Home." Adar answered.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Country Rose 1

Warnings: age gap, power dynamics, creep behaviour, other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

The train ride leaves you stiff and sleepy. You couldn’t sleep on the long trek, your eyes devouring the scenery as it shifted from urban to rural, from the grim hues of morning to the pale tones of a stolid afternoon. Time and distance skews together and you step onto the platform thoroughly disoriented. If you can call it that. 

The country dust tickles your nose as the lazy winds stir. The station is old, its wooden panel outdated and crooked, and the slats beneath your feet are splintering. You’re the only passenger to depart at that outpost. You’re not surprised. 

What surprises you is that you’re all alone. The station is empty and the landscape is flat and sprawling. The train chugs away without a care. You give a sheepish cringe and look back and forth aimlessly. Well, then. 

You take out your phone and shield the screen from the sun. You’re a bit paranoid you got the wrong stop. You turn this way and that as the bars in the corner flicker. Great, no signal. 

An engine rumbles from afar and you squint as you lower your cell. Down the grey road, rolls a large blue pickup truck. As it pulls up, you spot the scatter of dirt across the paint and the dents in the bumper. It’s a farm truck if you ever saw one. 

You stare at it as the gears crank and the vehicle shakes as it idles. A man pokes his head out the window and calls your name. You bat your lashes as you perk up. His dark hair is neatly trimmed yet the lock at the front can’t help but spiral over his forehead. His blue eyes compete with the shining coat on the truck. 

“That’s me,” you hitch up your pack and cross the dirt. 

“Sorry, there was a cow in the road,” he snorts as he hops out and approaches, hand out, “I’m Clark.” 

“Right, Clark,” you smile as you shake his hand. When your aunt said he was her friend, you expected someone older. Especially with that name. 

“You’ll have to call Jeanette when we get to the farm,” he says as he stops before you, staring expectantly, “I’ll take your bag.” 

“Oh, right, thanks,” you swing it off your arm and hand it over. He takes it effortlessly and carries it to the bed of the truck. You’ve heard that farmers are wellbuilt but damn, he’s huge. “So, how did you know my Aunt?” 

“Funny, I bought a quilt off of her. She came down this way with a quilting show. You know, I have a bunch my ma made me,” he drops your bag over the side into the back of the truck, “but she’s got arthritis and can’t do much sewing anymore.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you say. 

“Not your fault,” he rounds the hood and beckons you after him. He’s as old-fashioned as everything else around here as he opens the door at your approach, “she’s doing well otherwise.” 

“Hm, well, thanks for... having me,” you grab onto the door and lift yourself into the cabin, “oof, uh,” you fall into the seat and look at him, “I know it’s kinda of... awkward.” 

“Stars align is how I see it,” he shrugs. “My farmhand took off to get married to some gal in the city and you need a job.” 

“Well, that’s a nice way of putting it,” you snicker. 

He smiles and nods, “watch yourself.” 

You tuck your limbs in as he shuts the door. He strides around to the driver’s side and gets in easily. He shifts into gear and spins the wheel to back away from the tracks, “well, what’s the not nice way of putting it?” 

“Ah, uh, I... my parents told me I need to figure out what to do with myself and Aunt Jeanette overheard so... guess you got the call.” 

“No school?” He wonders as he straightens the wheel and steers back to the road. 

“Not anymore,” you exhale, “I liked it, really, but my grades weren’t... exceptional.” 

“Don’t need school to make a living. Not if you can find a good skill,” he assures. “I got a journalism degree, you know? Lotta good it does me on the bookshelf.” 

“Journalism?” You echo, “that’s... exciting. I was trying to do biology but think I may have done better as an arts student.” 

“Biology, wow,” he comments. “Well, you know, you’re young, you got time to figure it out.” 

“Yeah, I hope...” you murmur, “so, ahem, what exactly am I doing? I don’t know if I’m built to throw hay bales.” 

He laughs, “you leave that to me. As long as you’re not afraid to get your hands dirty, you’ll do just fine. I mean, if you came all the way down here, I take that as a good sign. That’s dedication. A step in the right direction.” 

“That’s very optimistic of you,” you give a brittle chuckle. 

“You city girls, you’re all so cynical,” he muses. “Take everything so serious. Things don’t move fast enough to be serious around here.” 

“Mm, I guess not,” you sniff, “so, erm, your mom, she live with you?” 

“She does,” he answers, “she needs a lot of help. I’m sorry, er, did Jeanette not explain--” 

“Explain? She said I’d be helping out with your farm.” 

He smiles, tight-lipped as he drives into the sunlight, “you will be, yeah. Mostly, with my mom, she needs company.” 

“Makes sense,” you nod. “That’s fine. I mean, I’m kinda relieved. I don’t know about horses. They look like they bite.” 

“They can,” he scoffs, “just keep your hands flat.” 

[cozage]

Zoro, Luffy, Sanji, Law, and Ace with a fem slave S/O with lots of scars, injuries, and more. She’s so sweet and quiet and great at cleaning and cooking and sewing and practically their future housewife on deck!

A/N: Thank you Anon :) You gave me something I didn’t know I needed. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Characters: F! reader x Zoro, Luffy, Sanji, Law, Ace

Cw: lots of PTSD, trauma response, angst, scars, injuries, etc. 

Total word count: 1.5k

A New Home

Zoro

He always announces his presence when he enters a room. There was one time he didn’t announce it when he came into a room and it scared you so bad you started crying. Never again.

He likes to just sit in the silence with you while you work. Sometimes he watches you, but most of the time he naps. He loves that you don’t mind the quiet space, that he can come to you for a moment of solitude. 

He never asks you to fix his torn shirts. He doesn’t feel right asking you to, but when he finds them sewn back together perfectly and folded neatly in his drawer, he gives you a soft kiss as a silent “thank you”.

He is FIERCELY protective over you both in social settings and in battle. He is always yelling at Luffy for being too loud or scaring you, he pulls out a sword against anyone who tries to make advances on you in public, and god forgive anyone who even thinks about hurting you in battle. 

He gives the best massages. He has perfect control on pressure and knows exactly where to press to comfort your aching muscles. He loves to massage your shoulders, your hands, your feet. Afterwards he’ll lazily trace his fingers across your skin, sometimes tracing over scars, but he never asks about them. He knows you’ll tell him when you’re ready. 

Luffy

He works so so hard to get you out of your shell. He just wants you to try new things and have new experiences!! He wants you to live life to the fullest!! 

New adventure? New food? New friend?? He’s introducing you to it all. It’s a bit overwhelming at times, but you know he means well, so you try your best to embrace it. 

He used to ask you about your injuries and scars whenever he saw a new one, but he’s learned to stop for a multitude of reasons. Sometimes the memories are so bad you cry, and he holds you and rocks you to sleep. Sometimes you tell him the truth, and he gets so angry he needs to go punch something and scream at the sky. Sometimes you’re not sure how you got it, and you get lost in thought for hours trying to remember what memory you’ve forgotten. 

You are always cleaning up Luffy’s messes, helping Franky repair the worn sails, stitching up torn clothing from everyone. You have a way with fabric, and can make an old shirt brand new again. Luffy deems you the “Clothing Captain”, since you can get rid of any stain, mend any cloth, and create the best outfits from scratch.  

He watches you really closely to make sure you aren’t working too hard. Sometimes you just get so caught up in getting as many tasks done as efficiently as possible that the whole day passes and you haven’t sat down once. Luffy keeps an eye on you and makes sure you are still having fun. The life on the Sunny isn’t supposed to be hard work, it’s supposed to be a fun family where everyone chips in with what they’re best at and what they enjoy. He knows you’re still working to understand that fully, and he works to support you the best way he can. 

Sanji

The first time you ate his food, you cried. You had never had anything better in your life, and you praised his cooking ability for days. It was the most you had spoken since joining the crew, and it was all for him. Sanji instantly fell for you, of course. 

He cooks constantly for you. He’ll spend hours over the stove trying to get the recipe just right. You never citicize his cooking (because it’s always the best thing you’ve ever had), so he learns your body language instead. He learns your favorite ingredients, and watches your reactions to his cooking closely to figure out how to perfect it just for you.

He talks your ear off, which you love. He knows you're not much of a talker, and he makes up for the empty space. Neither of you ever mind, you love hearing about his life, about their time on the sea. You asked him once where he first fell in love with cooking, and he got quiet for a long time. “My mother.” He finally said, and you knew that was all he would say on the matter. You realized that he had a past he didn’t like to talk about as well, and you didn’t push him to say anymore. 

He's extremely defensive of you, and keeps you away from prying eyes and questions. Luffy asks something insensitive? “Mind your own business, Luffy!” Zoro says something boneheaded? “I’ll kill you for that Mosshead!” Anytime you’re feeling awkward or uncomfortable, Sanji is there to step in and tell people to back off. 

He picks up on your PTSD warning signs super fast. He watches for the nervous flicks of your eyes, trembling fingers, twitching hands. As soon as he sees a sign, he’s there in an instant. He asks you what you need, refocuses you in the moment, makes sure you know you’re safe. He holds you and lets you cry and scream into his shirt. No matter what you do or what you need, he’s there for you. 

Law

The first time he sees all of your scars, he’s enraged. He clenches his fists and grits his teeth and does the best he can to help you with your current ailment without showing outward anger, but you can feel his rage. It scares you, and when he realizes his emotions are upsetting you, he works to keep them in check in the future. 

He studies up on all the medicinal herbs to heal aches and pains, and tries to find ways he might be able to help heal any injuries or long-lasting pain with his Ope-Ope fruit. 

He watches closely to see how you navigate being on a ship with new people. Some big milestones he notices:

The first time you speak without being asked a direct question

The first time you offer to mend Bepo’s outfit that’s been torn

The first time you fall asleep without crying

The first time someone touches you and you don’t flinch

The first time you laugh

The first time you initiate a kiss with him

There’s many more, but those are his favorites 

He gives you weekly checkups to make sure you’re not overworking yourself and ensure your health isn’t deteriorating 

He loves to kiss each one of your scars, starting at your fingers, moving up your arms and then down your back. He knows he can’t take away the pain, but he can try to mix in a few good memories with them as well. 

Ace

He knows that you question your worth a lot, so he gives you constant reassurance. “You’re doing amazing” and “I’m so proud of you” are some of his favorite things to say to you. They’re your favorite things to hear, too.  

At first, he wants to include you in everything. He wants to show you off. He wants the entire crew to get to know you and realize how great you are. But the big party scenes are overwhelming, and you get a panic attack at one. He quickly realizes that while his intentions were good, he misread the situation, and he apologizes profusely. After that instance, he prefers watching the stars with you in the crows nest as opposed to the party scene below. 

Occasionally he’ll still join the party and ask if you want to join, but he never pressures you to go. Every now and then you’ll go with him, and he keeps you close to him the whole night. When you’re ready to go, he always leaves with you, and makes sure you have time to process the event and decompress before you go to sleep so you don’t wake up anxious the next day. 

He gives you the equivalent of a hot stone massage with his devil fruit powers most nights, trying to coax your muscles into relaxing before bed. He tries his best to ignore your scars and your tattoo as he massages your back. He brings up the idea of you getting the sun pirate tattoo, but at the thought of the pain you begin to shake, and he doesn’t bring it up again. He talks to Marco secretly about the extent of the phoenix fruit abilities, but unfortunately the doctor can’t be of much help in healing the old wounds or the mental ones. 

You love Ace’s friends quietly. You make them snacks, and bring them drinks on hot days. You mend their clothes after battle, and help tend to their wounds when Marco is busy. You don’t always speak, but when you do, Ace’s friends brag about it for days. It’s an honor to be spoken to by you, and Ace loves that his friends love you too. 

[sunshine304]

FTH Fanbinding: "Concord" by Deastar

@youhideastar won my FTH auction and gave me a great gift: She wanted me to bind her CQL fic "Concord" including the thorough author's commentary she'd done. I was so happy when she chose this fic because I'd loved it so much and had pondered doing a fanbinding of it at some point anyway. 😄

Now that the book has finally arrived (spending two days in the air even, I guess, at least when one looks at the tracking info 😆), I can show it off here!

I tried some new stuff on this bind and also some things that I'd only done once before and that definitely need some, uh, perfecting. 😅 But overall, I'm very pleased with how this book turned out, as it's pretty close to what I'd imagined when I started it.

The fic is set in Cloud Recesses and Dea and I agreed that the colour blue should be prominent in the design, as it not only fits the setting, but also is of significance in the story itself. As the rules and traditions of the Lan sect also are quite important, I wanted a very clean, simple style for the case, a bit reminiscent of traditional Chinese bindings.

I did the title as a cut-out and used Japanese transparent paper for some extra flavour. The paper shows up inside the book as well early on and I liked the recurring motive of it. I'm also really pleased how well the hot foil came out on it! I was a bit scared that it might rip or something, but it's quite sturdy, after all.

I thought about doing a faux stab binding with red thread to get even more of a traditional feel, but then decided against it as I'd wanted to use two different blue book cloths and I felt that it might get too busy. Instead, I used the red ribbon as a nod to Wei Wuxian.

The little cloud illustration is used several times in the typeset and I like how it comes out in the title. I didn't even mess up this title, yay! (Mine's got a few tiny blotches but uh well, better mine than Dea's!)

I painted the edges with metallic watercolours - the second time I tried painting edges, but this time with several colours and trying to do a little illustration as well. Big thanks to @zhalfirin who quickly answered my question about how to get the paint to actually stick. 😆 I'd read several posts about how awesome water colours are for foreedge painting, but none mentioned that this kind of paint just rubs off again (I am no artist and have no knowledge of different kinds of paint). Zhalfirin told me to mix in glue and also wax the edges afterwards, which I both did and I think it's fine now. At least my fingers didn't turn blue. 😅

I really love how the shading came out on the head/tail; it could've been better on the foreedge and it looked great while the paint was still wet. Steep learning curve, this thing. I also died trying to sand the edges and I didn't get them completely smooth, but at least smooth enough to work with. That also needs some more work, I guess.

First time I sewed endbands with four different colours! I think they came out quite well! I also forgot the second row of dark blue on Dea's book and had to unravel half the endband again when I noticed at the very end... 🤦‍♀️

Nice marbled endpapers. For the title page spread, I used part a very famous Chinese painting, as it not only reminds me of the Gusu mountains but also, again, is very traditional. I played around with the colours to give the picture a bit of a bluer tinge.

The typeset itself was very straight-forward. There's the fic without commentary, and then the second part with it. I used a grey background for the comment parts to make it stand out from the actual story.

I had lots of printer issues with this fic (my copy actually had even more issues because the printer treated every page as an image for unknown reasons and therefore it not only took forever, it's also a tiny bit blurry. Hmpf.) and the greys tended to have a bit of a blue tinge, which was not my intention. But at least it works with the overall theme, I guess! 😅

I also did an extensive Appendix with all the meta links mentioned in the commentary as well as cut scenes and a little "praise for the author" section.

Last but not least, I decided to try making a slipcase for the first time! DAS_Bookbinding on youtube has good tutorials on that and I used one of them. It worked well on the first try. The second try, I used sturdier cardboard and should've added a few millimetres to the width, because the book didn't fit - the ribbon got stuck and I feared that it might get damaged. So I had to redo the case and then it was perfect.

I used wallpaper as cover material. 😄 The one you see on the outside? That's my living room wallpaper, a light blue with a lovely pattern and soft shimmer to it. My camera unfortunately is refusing to get the colour right.🤷‍♂️

The assembling process went well, for the most part. I'd forgotten to shorten the endpapers a bit which I only realised after I'd started casing in my copy. I carefully separated the textblock from the case again and then, in a moment of complete mental blackout, tried to cut the wet paper. 🤦‍♀️ That didn't go well. I managed to salvage it, mostly, and of course didn't repeat the mistake with Dea's copy, but ugh. 😆

This was a super fun project and I'm very happy with it! Thank you again, Dea, for your faith in me and your super generous donation! 💙

Materials used:

Printed on Clairefontaine DCP 100g

Case and endpapers:

booklinen Colibri cornflower

booklinen Paradise aqua

marbled paper 120g

transparent Japanese paper

Hot Foil (Memory Keepers)

Slipcase:

fleece wallpaper Newroom Nisa lightblue

fleece wallpaper grey glitter

[eydi-andrius]

Soldier Down (Harvey x Reader)

Synopsis: After the heart wrenching experience of rejection from the last flower dance, you decided to skip it on year 2 making your newfound friends worried

a/n: the idea is all over the place... maybe. i just wanted to write something for my husband of two years, which was Harvey the town doctor. sorry, i got is so bad for him 😭

tw/cw: badly edited... it's 3AM, i wrote it after some idea boost, fluff, mild angst, happy ending

divider: @/cafekitsune

“What do you mean you're not going to participate in this year's flower dance?” Emily almost flipped the sewing machine over when out of the blue you confessed your desire to not join the spring flower dance, an event in which everyone was looking forward to participating, except George who hates the look and smell of the flowers.

Meanwhile, beyond Emily’s shoulder, you watched as Haley, who was in the kitchen, minding her own business, turned her head slowly, frown plastered on her forehead, as she stared at you. Are you for real?, was written all over her pretty face. Haley loves the flower dance. In fact, you know she makes an effort to look the prettiest on that special day. The look of disbelief is so strong, that you found yourself clenching the glass of orange juice you're holding, trying to look small behind it. Wishing that it can hide you from the shame that's slowly creeping in.

Gulping the sweet and sour orange liquid in one go, you prayed that even without alcohol, the citrus would give you courage not to stutter and look like an idiot trying to explain your plan to skip an important event in the valley after experiencing a silly little rejection. Everyone gets rejected here and there. There is no way one rejection left you that traumatized……right?

“Well…..Uhmmm…. I just don't want to. I- I don't feel like joining.” Great. What a plan. And you practiced the reason in front of the mirror way too many times before finally having courage to share this big decision.

Palm sweaty, you tried clenching the evidence of fear on your denim pants, rubbing and squeezing, in hopes that it will help dry your hands. But, it did nothing to calm your nerves, absentmindedly, your right leg started shaking. Head hot from a million thoughts running inside your mind, scared that Emily and Haley will judge you the moment they found out that even after a year, you still can't get over how Harvey declined your offer to dance with him. At that time, when he mentioned that he was working on his courage to ask someone out, it gave you false hope that he may be referring to you. It may sound like a stretch but you thought there was something blooming with your relationship with him. It seems that way….. or so you’ve thought.

In your first year, as an early riser, you always meet the doctor at his clinic. Most of the time, you just see him by his window, sitting in front of the reception, waiting for any of the townsfolk to ask for his assistance. Your interaction started off with shy glances, which turned into a curt nod of acknowledgement, a nod turned into small smiles, smiles became hesitant waves of your hand, and a wave evolved into a morning routine of exchanging pleasantries and coffee before you two start your long day at work and doing your respective responsibilities.

You were so happy, and you admit at that time, you're grateful that despite the doctor being a bit awkward and shy, you two clicked and are forming a bond, and you usually don't admit your feelings easily, but you know deep down that you're starting to like him. He was so sweet and caring afterall. How could you resist him?

So when the rejection came on the day of the event, when you asked him politely to be your partner, then he awkwardly looked away and kindly said no. It felt like a bucket of ice cold water was splashed on your face. Your body went rigid, a chill ran down your spine, until it turned into a scorching fire of shame. After a mess of mumbling apologies, wishing that a hole would open up and swallow you down, you half walk and run as you left the forest and did not watch the whole event unfold. You were so glad that at that time, your tanned skin, after days of being under the sun farming, had hidden your embarrassment well from their naked eyes.

You involuntary flinched, when a firm hand held your shaking leg and effectively stopped the movement. Blurry eyes start focusing on Emily’s face, her eyes reflecting your ashen appearance, pity and worry were mixed on her gaze, and you admit that you feel small and vulnerable in front of her……and Haley, who held your shoulder and squeezed it to give you comfort. You did not notice her coming close at all. It says a lot on how you must have looked in their eyes. They must have been worried sick.

“Sorry. We don't want you to remember anything awful that may have happened that day. But maybe the doctor has his own reasons when he rejected you. It was your first month after all. Doctor Harvey is known to be very awkward and shy. Maybe he was just shy???” Your blue haired friend shrugged as she tried her best to reason out and make you feel better. A scoff was heard from Haley as she disapproves of what Emily said, or so you thought.

“I can't believe I am defending a man but my sister is right. Doctor Harvey is far too much of a softie to purposely play with your heart and reject you after giving you motives.” She tuts. “I bet he was feeling a bit overwhelmed that someone asked him for a dance. You know…. Choosing to dance with him, while the other younger bachelors were around.” She continued as a matter of fact.

You watched as Emily glared at Haley’s sharp tongue and the blonde just shook her shoulders with no care. Chuckling nervously, you twiddle with your thumbs as you process what they’ve said. It is easier said than done. You have been in this headspace for a year, that despite their words being reasonable, you just can't believe it to be true. Doctor Harvey probably has his eyes set on someone smarter. You are quite bright but not as smart as Maru.

“I- I don't know.” Unsure, you look at them, lip on a thin line. Now that you're on the hotseat and being grilled about it, you hope to steer away from the conversation. It's just childish to you, even though the sisters never called you anything similar to that. You felt childish. You were grateful when your phone alarm went off, screaming and screeching, signaling that the gold bars you processed are ready for harvest. After that, you have to go to Jodi and give it to her to finish her request and get some gold coins, which you have to use to save up for summer crops. Still far away per say but better saved up than use your dwindling savings again if something disastrous happens. Just like the last time where your crops suddenly died despite being taken care of.

Also, you just don't want to bawled your eyes out. Knowing Emily and Haley, they will try their best to cheer you up. You know you can't stay here with them trying to boost your confidence without crying. And you don't want to cry. It's too cliché. So with an obvious rush on your steps, you almost jump out of their door and run towards the nearest way to your home, which was near Marnie’s barn.

“Do you really think the doctor is not playing with her heart?” Emily sighed as she watched the door, you almost closed way too loudly, as you obviously rushed towards it, with an intent to run away from the conversation you started. She would lie if she says she’s not worried. Despite the farmer being known to be strong-willed, both physical and mentally, she's also an empath and a softie. You feel things way too strongly. This is why Emily likes you a lot. She can be vulnerable towards you because she knows you’ll understand better than anyone in Pelican Town. And with that, she hopes that only good things come your way.

“Remember the story Abigail told you on your shift? After the accident with the farmer fainting inside the mines, Abigail rushed her to his clinic, barely alive, and he was waiting and ready. Remember that before that, he would often be seen to have his lights on at night, way past his usual bedtime, especially, on days wherein he knew that the farmer was inside the mines. If that isn't love, I don't know what that is?” Haley sighed as she flopped herself on the nearby couch. 

“He is the only town doctor, Haley. That's to be expected.” She doesn't want to be the party pooper but that needs to be addressed as well. 

“Emily…..usually, it would be you defending someone. But weirdly enough, I am doing it this time. So okay, let's make it our mission to help the doctor and the farmer to choose each other in this year’s flower dance. Doctor Harvey is a man of routine, however, when the farmer is included in the equation, he would go out of his way to accommodate her. I just have a good feeling about this. I bet they'll get married this year.” Haley shrugged before she pulled out her phone texting for reinforcements. 

“Luckily, this Thursday is my annual check-up.”

“Remind me again why you two are at my farm?” You blinked as you watched Sebastian and Sam sit at your porch after they showed up earlier while you’re tending to your livestocks.

“How many times do we have to say that we came here to practice? You’re not sensitive to loud sounds. Your farm is huge. We can all jam here together.” He explained.

See…that's the thing. Sebastian, you would understand he’ll come here. He loves the quiet of the farm and would often help you out as a thank you for letting him stay and relax, here and there. But Sam? Sam hates the smell of animal manure. He also hates ducks because as per his story, he was chased down by them when he was a kid. Something is not right but you can't quite pinpoint where it was coming from.

Your suspicion may be written all over your face because Seb shrugged and sighed at his best friend's awful excuse.

“Sam just wants to see Helios.” Seb spoke.

As if on cue, upon hearing his name, a loud bark was heard from afar, and you heard his paws hitting the soft soil before you saw a brown dog, wearing a red collar, rushing towards where you three were standing. Like a giddy kid, Sam's eyes widened and he excitedly kneel and open his arms, waiting for Helios to go towards him. Helios, the smartest pup, went towards Sam without hesitation, knowing he’ll get good treats and pets from him.

You don't want to spoil Sam’s delusion that he was your pup’s favorite, but you and Helios know that it was Harvey he liked the most. Even your old rescue, Helga, the big orange grumpy cat, purrs at the doctor when he visits the farm. Helga isn't nice just to anyone. Even Seb took a long time before Helga finally purred at him. Yet, Harvey was loved at first sight. It was obvious that it was because he is very gentle towards them. You also witnessed a time where he was talking to them. Retelling stories of his childhood where his parents hated pets because they are dirty and a source of diseases. Their obsession and hatred towards the baby animals made Harvey anxious and avoided adopting any pet, not because he thinks they were a handful, but he feels conscience, that he wasn't able to do anything to save the cats and dogs his parents threw away after trespassing in their property.

You bite your lip when you realize that you're thinking about him again. The pang in your chest grows more painful as the day passes by, and the spring flower dance is getting closer, and no action was taken on your end. You want to dance with him. You want your intention towards him to be clear. However, the fear and doubt takes over and you crumple like a coward.

“Hey, you should ask the doctor about this upcoming flower dance.” Out of nowhere, Seb suggested. And there was something that clicked in your head.

So that….was the reason why they are here.

“Oh god no!” You grimaced and shook your head in refusal. Emily or Haley must have told him about what you’ve talked about last time.

“Emily told you?!” You asked, exasperated.

“She doesn't need to. It's a small town. Eventually, everyone will know.” He corrected your assumption and leaned towards the armrest of his seat. Your response was only a sigh, as you focused your attention on Sam and Helios, who was now playing fetch with a ball.

“Sam didn't know about this?” Putting your arm around your chest, you clarified.

“Nah. He does. He got distracted.” He shrugged. Internally, you heavily sighed.

“Then tell me how you found out?” You pry him some more.

“Should I tell you? I mean…it seems like you told Emily and Haley, and not me, your best friend. It kind of sucks.” He pouted.

You playfully slapped his shoulder at that and he only rolled his eyes.

“Fine. Fine! I’ll spill!” He raised his hand in surrender.

“Haley texted me.” He admitted with a grin.

“You are the worst!” You slap him again, but this time, you made sure it will hurt.

“I’m sorry! Hey! I said I’m sorry! Hahahaha!” Sebastian used his arms to shield himself from your attacks, and he had the audacity to laugh out loud from your hits.

When his laughter annoyed you more, shame and frustration mixed together, you made sure that some of the playful punches actually hit him quite hard. He yelped when he finally felt that you meant it, and used his strength to stop you from your continuous onslaught of him. He grabbed your hands and chuckled at your pouting lips and frowning brows.

There was a pause and you watched as something flashed in his eyes before he smiled.

“Don’t be scared. There is nothing wrong inviting and asking him again. The fifty percent chance of him saying no, is still a fifty percent chance of him saying yes. I mean….if he ever said no” He paused, his face morphed thoughtfully.

“I can always dance with you to the flower dance.” He continued.

You felt warmth from that, and you cannot help but smile.

Sebastian was like a brother to you. It was weird. But the moment you two met each other, there was this bond, that was akin to being siblings that was created.

He always looked out for you, and you always looked out for him. Robin being fond of you was probably one of the main reasons why your sibling-like relationship with him strengthened.

He is like a baby brother that you never had. However, you know that Sebastian always thinks he is the eldest brother which was a lie because you are two years older than him.

Seb’s sincere smile suddenly changed into a cheshire one, and you kind of got a hint that he will make fun of you.

But before you two could banter, a loud, intentional coughing was heard behind you and you froze when the source spoke.

“I- Hi! Sorry for interrupting.” He started with a stutter.

You suddenly realized the position you were at. Sebastian holding both of your hands, your faces inched closer from arguing. Embarrassed, you pulled your hand away from his hold, and like the speed of the lightning, moved farther from Seb, clenching both of your fists. Your face and ears, hot to the tips.

“Hey, doc! What are you up to?” Sebastian casually asked. And you gave him a deadly glare. He only smirked at your reaction.

You panicked as you watched Harvey look in between the both of you, and was about to open your mouth to explain, when the doctor smiled, although forcefully, as he continued.

“Well…uhnnnnm..I replenished the tonics I have at the clinic. I was wondering if you would like to buy some?” He asked, but he was looking down while offering.

“Didn't know you’re selling house to house now, Doctor Harvey?” Seb teased.

Your eyes widened at that, and you mouthed a threat at him, in which Sebastian only replied with a shrug.

“I-I usually don't. But the farmer was always in the mines so..I thought…uhm…I” Harvey’s face turned into a tomato, and his eyes were wide, as he stammered, and tried to explain why he was at your farm. He was caught off guard from the younger man’s question. He felt awfully shameful, the red was even creeping up to his neck.

“Harvey, it's okay. Seb was just teasing you.” You tried to deescalate the situation, and you stepped down from your porch, to come closer to the reddened Harvey.

Deep inside you are panicking for him. His red face, and embarrassed stammer, makes your heart beat faster, infected by his shame. You feel like your heart will jump out of your ribs.

Out of nowhere, Sam suddenly came into view, and tapped the doctor on his shoulder to say Hi.

As if the action woke him up, Harvey flinched, and he suddenly bid his farewell but with reminding you to come to his clinic if you ever needed a tonic when you mine and combat monsters.

You watched his back, as he rode his bicycle away from your farm, watching him slowly going away left a pang on your chest.

When he was out of view, your attention however, was now back to the culprit. With no person to stop you, you removed one of your slippers and threw it at Sebastian, who crouched down to hide, but was still hit straight to his head. He yelped in pain, but soon you heard his laughter.

Sam was oblivious and frowning, when Sebastian’s laugh boomed and he tried his best to apologize and breathe at the same time.

You cannot sleep.

Yoda, forgive you for picturing Harvey’s downcast face when he saw you with Sebastian.

It was an image you do not wish to see. But every time you close your eyes, you see it oh so perfectly.

You don't wish to see Harvey sad or misinterpreting your relationship with Sebastian.

Yet, you have no strength to stand and go to him to explain or clarify.

Because….what if you're just assuming things? What if he wasn't really sad but just surprised? What if? Yoda! Too many what ifs!

You ruffled your hair from frustration, and you kind of forgot that Helga was sleeping beside your head. You profusely apologize when the old cat hissed at you, before jumping down, and comfortably sitting on the jacket Harvey lent for you to use. It was raining, and you were soaking when you visited him at his clinic.

At that time, you insisted that you are okay. That the rain will make your farmer body stronger. But he only pouted at that reasoning, and you cannot help but accept his offer anyways, because he looks so cute when he cares. Technically, he looks so cute in everything he does.

Those memories are precious to you. And you have this feeling that if you let this go, it will be the end of your relationship with him.

You have to make it up to Harvey. Whether he likes you or not. You cannot live knowing he misunderstood. Out of all the people in Pelican Town, you don't want to be perceived wrongfully by Harvey.

After yelling on your pillow, for courage, you stood up, wore your scarf, and started walking towards the clinic. With renewed vigor, you did not think things through, and you found yourself just standing in front of his door. Not knowing what to do.

Thoughts were on a haywire, you were breathing heavily, trying to force yourself, remind your head, why you were here in front of his door at 12 AM.

The courage that gave you strength earlier, slowly diminishes, and you realize how cold it was. Your teeth were chattering and you were shaking involuntarily from the bone chilling wind. You hugged the scarf tighter hoping it gives you enough warmth ... .as you walk back to the farm again. Feeling cowardly when it hit you how stupid you must have looked walking on an unmarried man’s house way past midnight.

You looked one last time at his mahogany door, deciding that whatever good idea you had was probably bad, as you stepped back, retrieved your hand, that was ready to knock, finally ready to just go back home and forget this…

When his door opened, revealing a disbehelved Harvey, glasses crook, hair was everywhere, white shirt soaked from sweat and breathing heavily from probably running from upstairs to downstairs just to meet you.

You were about to open your mouth, was about to ask him how did he know that you were in front of his door, when he explained himself after he was able to breathe.

“Your glow rings. It was only you who wore glow rings in Pelican Town.” Your cheeks heated at that and you involuntarily looked down on your fingers and in there, you were indeed wearing one of your glow rings you use for the mines. It was an automatic response. Wearing your glow rings at night, to see the dimmed pathways better.

“Oh Yoda! I’m so sorry for waking you up!” You panicked, and apologized profusely when you understood that you interrupted someone’s sleep again due to your glow rings. You remembered how the Mayor scolded you to make sure to remove or darken your ring once you walked past the town, on your way home to the farm.

“You didn't wake me!” He countered. “I cannot sleep.” He admitted face was red.

“Oh.”

Was your only response before there was a pregnant pause that swallowed the whole conversation to a full stop. You bite your lip, thinking of many things to say to change the awkward silence. But truthfully, you don't know how. You watch him as he just stands there, cheeks red, hands on his neck, and shyly looking away. The crickets were loud, and you watched as the moths danced around the light post. Although the silence was loud…..it was weirdly comfortable.

“Would you like some tea?” He offered. Breaking the ice.

You nodded, not trusting to open your mouth, afraid to say anything that may sabotage whatever was starting.

You followed him up to his room upstairs, and he guided you to sit on his two person dining table. He apologized for how small his place was and you assured him it was okay, and it was you who was imposing.

While his back was turned on the kitchen preparing the tea, you looked around, and you cannot help but smile on seeing the familiar wallpaper of his room, and the posters of different planes plastered on his wall. You swore, it looks fuller now. It seems like the space for his planes are bigger than the ones for his medical profession. You chuckled at that.

“Care to share?” He playfully asked as he sat the steaming mug of chamomile tea in front of you, its aroma filling a sense of calm and familiarity, which you liked.

“You're building a new model plane again? Looks fun.” You nodded on the new wooden pieces on his work bench. He followed your eyes and smiled sheepishly at your attention and observation.

“Ah..yes. I was hoping to show it to you. Invite you over earlier when…” He paused and looked at you. When you felt his eyes on you, you stared back at him.

You felt like that was the perfect moment to say something.

“Sebastian is like a brother to me. Nothing more.” You explained, gripping the warm and comfortable tea cup, nervous of what he may tell you.

Maybe it was the warm cup, or the shift of energy in the air, that made you feel vulnerable and open as you blurted out a confession.

“Harvey…it was only you I like.”

At that moment, you have forgotten your dilemma that maybe he doesn't like you the same. At that time, you just felt that it was the right time to confess. You thought it was now or never.

You watched as his brown eyes widened, his mouth agape, he looked surprised, face blank from any emotions of rejection or happiness.

You were hopeful until you weren't. His none response jarring your confidence.

It took a couple of seconds before you felt the shame coming back, he was just staring at you, quiet, surprised, not saying a word.

You feel so bad, ashamed, that when he doesn't say anything, you started rapping, telling him he is not required to respond right away, that it wasn't your intention to drop a bomb to him late at night, that it was just you being silly, or probably just from the lack of sleep.

You were mouthing off a hundred and thousand of reasons and explanations, to get yourself out of the embarrassing moment, when you suddenly felt soft lips enveloping yours, warm calloused hands caging your face, moving in the direction in sync with his lips.

It was gentle and soft. Like a warm breeze in the field of flowers. Trees swaying, fallen leaves dancing, and air sweet as a honey.

You were never kissed like this before.

Most kisses you had were inexperienced, aggressive, and wild. This one…you liked it.

No, you love it.

You never thought that kisses could be felt like this. A warmth pooling in your stomach as you place your hand atop his, deepening the kiss, lost in the feeling.

There was only you and Harvey. And you think…. that wasn't such an awful idea to have. You feel lucky and blessed.

You slowly opened your eyes when Harvey let go of your lips, hands still in your face.

“Would you dance with me? This spring flower dance?” He asked. His whole demeanor changed. He felt much relaxed.

“I cannot think of anyone dancing with me that day.” You smiled, leaning closer to his hand. Happy that everything feels like it is in place.

The moment was beautiful and solemn, until a flash was directed on the window where you and Harvey were standing. Both of your heads snapped from its source and you cannot help but guffaw when your friends push against each other, as they fight off getting away first from being caught after they took a photo of you together.

[saint--claire]

When I was a little child, there was a particular library book I checked out week after week, endlessly renewing it as much as I was able. The book, How to Raise and Keep a Dragon by John Topsell was a quasi-nonfiction guide to, as you guessed, rearing different species of dragons. I loved it. Tiny-me had plans.

As an adult, I tried to buy it a few times. No dice. The book was so old that no mainstream bookseller stocked it. Even when I tried niche websites recommended by various booksellers and librarians, I still couldn't find it. It was sadly lost to time, apparently not popular enough to make it into the archives.

But.

My best friend had a copy of that book. We're going to call her G, for several reasons not relevant at the moment. I was discussing my search with G one day, for some reason I can't remember now. She got a funny look on her face, asked me a few questions about the cover, listened to me do a very poor job of explaining with my hands how the hardcover copy had included a real gemstone in the dragon's forehead, and then went off to fish it out of her bookcase.

I was Gobsmacked.

I should not have been, given that the history of shared childhood books between us both would have made a circle with ragged edges, more so than a venn diagram, but I digress. The book came home to live in my house for a few months, and I was delighted by the chance to read it again.

Do people remember those type of books? Dragonology, Egyptology, The Stone Age - a way of introducing children to non fiction. They very earnestly spoke about the responsibilities needed to raise dragons, the practicalities involved. There was a record of registration you could fill out, if you had carefully considered the information to your self and felt you were responsible enough to to go through with adopting a dragon.

I vaguely remember filling out some of the riddle and puzzle questions in the Dragonology books. I would never have written in John Topsell's book, it was a library book.

But.

When I re-read G's copy at home, smiling over the familiar artwork, I was surprised to turn the page and find the painstaking, somewhat-wonky handwriting staring back at at me. Baby G, with her name spelled out in freshly-joined but still-not-quite-got-the-hang-of-this-yet cursive lettering. Baby G had filled the registration out in her best handwriting, in glittery green gel pen to denote the importance of the document. This was compared to the earlier, less important checklists done in plain black ink.

I read the registration certificate. Smiled. Smiled some more at the names listed for G's dragon, her dam, and her sire - Eragon was also a great book. Go off, Christopher Paolini.

Breed; standard Western Dragon. The box 'miniture' was ticked, to show that G's dragon was of the minature specic variety, rather than a full size dragon. This was, as she would later explain to me, chosen on the basis that baby-G felt it was the more financially responsible choice. Also so she could keep her dragon in her house with her, but we're not there yet.

I looked at that certificate. Looked at it again. Looked at the calendar, and then looked at the sewing machine I had just been given for Christmas.

G celebrates her birthday in January.

The template came first. I studied the different images of the standard western dragon through the book, picked my favourite, and re-drew it to a significantly larger scale.

Inking the design to the fabric, four times over probably took the longest.

I very subtly asked G the next time she was over (after hurling all dragon-related materials in a panic into the depths of my wardrobe) what type of colour dragon she would have, should it come up. As G later said, that type of question from me truly did not register as anything other than a question asked from theoretical interest. I transitioned the topic as discreetly as I could after she answered, and delightfully, my sneakiness went in one ear, out the other, and she forgot I had ever asked until several weeks later.

I enjoyed painting them.

Don't ask me how many mistakes I made through this process. So many. I do already know how to sew, but it's been a long time. I'd been meaning to get back into it for a while.

Given that various aunts and grandmothers and my mother had a knack for calling when I was up to my elbows in either paint or pins, it became a family affair. Each of them peered at the project through face time and offered their advice.

Some of the advice I took, some I didn't. No regrets about sewing it in pink thread. Considerable regrets about accidentally slicing one of the feet in half and having to fix that.

In the end though, she was finished.

I carefully pinned on her name tag, with the name baby-G had chosen with a little blue ribbon. A collar was unacceptable, this is a dragon, people, come on. Dragon's don't wear collars.

I put the book in the box, open to the registration certificate, and put the dragon on top. Wrapped the whole thing up with a bow and then refused to touch it before I sent myself mad trying to fix details that didn't really need to be fixed.

A bit late for her birthday, sure, but there we are. We'd gone for a trip off to nowhere for a weekend, to go try wine made out of blueberries and hike up a waterfall. (And climb on it. And swim in it. It was a very good waterfall).

I gave her the box, informed her she wasn't allowed to keep the box, just the contents (it was the only thing I had that was big enough for me to keep all of my A3 portfolios in, it had only been temporarily-repurposed as dragon housing), and then left the next bit up to the gods.

A surprise, sitting un-awaited for some 15 years in amber, to catch up to baby G and adult G together.

Happy Birthday, baby and adult G.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Ann Sheridan (I Was a War Male Bride, City for Conquest, The Man Who Came to Dinner)—she was called 'the oomph girl' and i think that deserves a vote

Marlene Dietrich (Shanghai Express, Witness for the Prosecution, Morocco)—its marlene dietrich!!!! queer legend, easily the hottest person to ever wear a tuxedo, that hot hot voice, those glamorous glamorous movies.... most famously she starred in a string of movies directed by josef von sternberg throughout the 1930s, beginning with the blue angel which catapulted her to stardom in the role of the cabaret singer lola lola. known for his exquisite eye for lighting, texture, imagery, von sternberg devoted himself over the course of their collaborations to acquiring exceptional skill at photographing dietrich herself in particular, a worthy direction in which to expend effort im sure we can all agree. she collaborated with many other great directors of the era as well, including rouben mamoulian (song of songs), frank borzage (desire), ernst lubitsch (angel), fritz lang (rancho notorious), and billy wilder (witness for the prosecution). the encyclopedia britannica entry im looking at while compiling this propaganda describes her as having an “aura of sophistication and languid sexuality” which✔️💯. born marie magdalene dietrich, she combined her first and middle names to coin the moniker “marlene”. she was a trendsetter in her incorporation of trousers, suits, and menswear into her wardrobe and her androgynous allure was often remarked upon. critic kenneth tynan wrote, “She has sex, but no particular gender. She has the bearing of a man; the characters she plays love power and wear trousers. Her masculinity appeals to women and her sexuality to men.” in the 1920s she enjoyed the vibrant queer nightlife of weimar berlin, visiting gay bars and drag balls, and in hollywood her love affairs with men and women were an open secret. she was an ardent opponent of nazi germany, refusing lucrative contacts offered her to make films there, raising money with billy wilder to help jews and dissidents escape, and undertaking extensive USO tours to entertain soldiers with an act that included her a playing musical saw and doing a mindreading routine she learned from orson welles. starting in the 50s and continuing into the mid-70s she worked largely as a cabaret artist touring the world to large audiences, employing burt bacharach as her musical arranger.

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

"ms dietrich....ms dietrich pls.....sit on my face"

"First of all, there are those publicity photos of her in a tux. Second of all, I have never been the same since knowing that she sent copies of those photos to her Berlin lovers signed "Daddy Marlene." Not only is she hot in all circumstances, but she can do everything from earthy to ice queen. Also, she kept getting sexy romantic lead parts in Hollywood after the age of 40, which would be rare even now. She hated Nazis, loved her friends, and had a sapphic social circle in Hollywood. She also had cheekbones that could cut glass and a voice that could melt you."

"Did a bunch of humanitarian work during ww2, pretty sure a shot of her from Shanghai express was the inspiration for one of queens album covers and also her in the suit in Morocco (1930) CHANGED LIVES. I’m sure she’s already been submitted but I wanted an opportunity to submit one of my favourite pictures of her for the poll"

Bisexual icon, super hot when dressed both masculine and feminine, lived up her life in the queer Berlin scene of the 1920s, central to the 'sewing circle' of the secret sapphic actresses of Old Hollywood, refused lucrative offers by the Nazis and helped Jews and others under persecution to escape Nazi Germany, the love of my life

Her GENDER her looks her voice her everything

“In her films and record-breaking cabaret performances, Miss Dietrich artfully projected cool sophistication, self-mockery and infinite experience. Her sexuality was audacious, her wit was insolent and her manner was ageless. With a world-weary charm and a diaphanous gown showing off her celebrated legs, she was the quintessential cabaret entertainer of Weimar-era Germany.”

"The bar scene in Morocco awoke something in me and ultimately changed my gender"

"Her manner, the critic Kenneth Tynan wrote, was that of ‘a serpentine lasso whereby her voice casually winds itself around our most vulnerable fantasies.’ Her friend Maurice Chevalier said: ‘Dietrich is something that never existed before and may never exist again.’”

"Songstress, photographer, fashion icon, out bisexual phenom (notoriously stole Lupe Velez and Joan Crawford's men, and Errol Flynn's wife, had a torrid affair with Greta Garbo that ended in a 60-year feud, other notable conquests including Erich Maria Remarque -yes, the guy who wrote All Quiet on the Western Front- Douglas Fairbanks Junior, Claudette Colbert, Mercedes de Acosta, Edith Piaf), anti-Nazi activist. Marlene was a bitch - she had an open marriage for decades and one of her favorite things was making catty commentary about her current lover with her husband, and her relationship with her daughter was painful- but she was also immensely talented, a hard worker, an opponent of fascism and the hottest ice queen in Hollywood for a long time."

"She can sing! She can act! She told the Nazis to fuck off and became a US citizen out of spite! She worked with other German exiles to create a fund to help Jews and German dissidents escape (she donated an entire movie salary, about $450k, to the cause). She looks REALLY GOOD in a suit. If you're not convinced, please listen to her sing "Lili Marlene". Absolutely gorgeous woman with a gorgeous voice."

Gifset link

"Bisexual icon and Nazi-hater. Looks absolutely stunning in the suits she liked to wear. 'I dress for the image. Not for myself, not for the public, not for fashion, not for men'."

"would you not let her walk on you?"