#but this is what i wore to run some errands and buy myself a very decadent slice of cake from a local bakery | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starsbegantofall · 3 months

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diy handmade wardrobe

You may remember, or not, it was a while ago, that I mentioned I don't really wear a lot of the clothes I've sewed for myself. Excepting the cosplay garments which are not everyday wearable pieces unless they were closet cosplay pieces with no or minor alterations, I really only wear my pajama pants and altered t-shirts multiple times.

I have worn a few handmade lolita dresses once or twice after the first time I wore them, but definitely not frequently like pajama pants and t-shirts. Firstly, I don't really wear dresses or skirts on an every day basis in my entire adult life, not even much as a kid. While I do commute to the office once in a while and could wear lolita there since I have a desk job, I mostly wear business casual with jeans/slacks and the occasional j-fashion blouse or cardigan (skirts have to be midi-length or longer and those are not very convenient for a short person to wear). I rarely go out on the weekends due to pandemic and lazy, so I would just run errands and dresses are not conducive to errands. So even if I did sew the cutest, most comfortable casual j-fashion dress, I would wear it maybe a few times in my entire lifetime. In the end, it's not worth the time and money invested into making it.

Read more about my plans here

The next obvious pivot would be to recreate the pieces that I do wear often, buuuuuutttt those are impossible for a home sewist to recreate. How do I sew jeans on my Hello Kitty sewing machine? I can't, the machine is much too small and weak to handle denim or even regular bottom-weight fabric. I don't have a serger so sewing knits like tops or casual athleisure would be a pain and look sloppy and would fall apart in the wash.

Okay, so the next obvious pivot after that is buy an industrial strength machine to sew denim and pants and a serger to work with knits. That would cost about... $2000 for medium quality machines. Maybe more with inflation. So I would have to make $2000 worth of clothes, or 100 hours of sewing (generously) just to break even. I'd have to sew every weekend for 6 months. Not counting the cost of fabric.

Which is the next issue. You can't really buy comfortable cottons or semi-natural fashion fabrics at the craft store chains anymore, it's mostly quilting cottons and synthetics and canvas. I am lucky to live near a big city with a fashion district so I could go there if I really want to for a variety of wearable fabrics that my skin would not reject the feeling of. That would not be cheap (well, idk, I haven't been to the fashion district in decades but judging from online prices, the stuff on clearance is on clearance for a reason) and I doubt I'll get the exact prints or colors I want even at full price. Thrifting bed sheets (aka the most comfortable cotton you can get cheaply) is.... probably not what I want to sell to others...

With all of these barriers, I have not been able to accomplish my goal in 2022/2023 of sewing handmade j-fashion inspired pieces for both myself or my etsy shop which was named "atelier" but doesn't sell clothes, and used to only have jewelry. My day-job also prevents me working on stuff lol, but as one of my goals was to retire early, I kinda want a head start on my atelier just in case I need to. I hopefully will have saved enough money to retire that I don't need to desperately work on a side hustle, but I like having back up plans. And also, I feel guilty not having any clothes in an "atelier" lol.

Because I'm lazy and don't want to do real business which is the downfall of society, my ideal plan would be to sew a few big/medium pieces, then a handful of coordinating or thematic small pieces, including doll clothes, and also some artwork or whatever, then release 2 or 3 times a year like how actual fashion companies do for the seasons. But with the resources I have, I just can't think of anything I can sew that would be good/sturdy enough to sell for price that equals the amount of time I put into sewing, and that anyone else would buy when they can get it cheaper elsewhere.

So my final idea is to either create very trendy items that I am fairly taobao companies will not make very well, or that American patrons would prefer to buy from a small artist in their country instead, or make fandom inspired items but fashionable like Super Groupies style. I think this is the way to go for me, tbh, that way I know I have made something unique and that I will enjoy making even if it never sells, so I would wear it myself lol. I did make jewelry in this style 2 years ago and jotted several notes of what to sew/craft for my shop in the meantime, but as mentioned before, the few items I made was not to the level of quality to be sellable (even though I personally love them and they're sturdy enough for my use of course) and I doubt I could do much better. But I have to work on leveling up my skills now or I will be too arthritic and blind later, so I have no choice but figure out something asap.

If anyone else has ideas other than buying new machines which probably I need to do anyway, let me know! Again, I'm not interested in making a profit, I'm not a capitalist nor scum of the earth, I am already a doctor, but I do want to be compensated fairly as an artist yet make good quality value-priced items attainable for everyone in these tough economic times. That's not easy, but I still want to try this year.

Anyway... back to more pajama pants for me.

#home sewing #handmade wardrobe

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smolbeansthings · 2 years

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Since my last post about my boss walking in on me mid change inthe bathroom a great many of embarrassing incidents has happened at work that I think is worth sharing because it's kinda funny in hindsight. As I mentioned before I'm not the best at hiding my diapered state. I take precautions but they do not always help. I know for a fact the some of my co-workers know I'm diapered or highly suspects that I am diapered. The first incident is fairly light in comparison to my other incidents but it is very important leading into an few other incidents that causes one of my coworkers to heavily suspect me.

This day in particular I was recovering from diaper rash and had worn some ABU little kings to work since they are cloth-backed. I went to work in this diaper not thinking it'd be a big deal. That day i worked with one of my favorite workers who for the sake of privacy will be called Will. Will was the type of person who had a horrible sense of humor that I found endearing. On top of that he's a prankster so often he's untying my apron or chucking pieces at and on many occassions putting them down my shirt. This not particularly fun when I'm wearing a onesie because there's not way for me to get the ice out without looking sus and it always ends up in my diaper. Anyway this day went about as normal and at one point he told me I should fix my pants because my "underwear" was showing off my cute little prints and a lion. I must've show several customers before he said anything and before I could fix it one of my other favorite coworkers took a look out of curiosity and mentioned how cute they were. I blushed and was quick to fix my pants before I drew more attention.

This next incident also includes Will as well. To give context here, my work is very degenerate (I'm the cause of it mostly). We are very open talking about sex kinks, what have you and my butt is constantly being slapped and in one case groped. It happens very often and some of my coworkers make passing comments about how I never flinch when my butt was slapped and some occasions I wouldn't even notice. Well this day Will and I was making dirty jokes and I mentioned how I loved being smacked in the ass. He took this as a challenge and with all his might smacked my diapered ass in which 2 things became clear. One, a loud THUD sound echoed throughout the work area that could not be ignored. To make the incident more embarrassing I let loose and messed my diaper literally just before impact and as he made contact he mushed my mess into my bottom. I tried to play it cool as I excused myself to go to the restroom but I'm not confident that I did a good job at that. To make matters even worse I had to run to the back and get my backpack since it had my changing supplies and spare diapers and haul it with me to the restroom. within that time frame I soiled myself some more and even had a panic attack in the bathroom because I had soiled myself even more whole setting up my changing mat. I wasn't sure if it was safe for me to change and with how unpredictable my incontinence can be I was very likely to mess myself mid change or even in my freshly changed diaper. I willed myself to change into a clean diaper and of course mess myself again not too long after.

This final bit did not happen at work but rather at a Van's store. This day I went to go hang out with one of my littles friends. I wanted to wear something cute that day so I put on my kawaii modokawa green shirt with my blue jean shortalls from tykables with the snap crotch for easy checks and changes. I also double boosted my Rearz Alpaca diapers and wore my Lilo bow that was gifted to me for christmas. I had to run some errands before I headed over to my friends house so my diaper was gradually becoming more more wet but nothing that warranted a change, especially since I had double boosted. When I arrived to her house we decided to venture out and buy some Velcro strapped shoes because they are perfect little shoes and because I don't tie my shoe laces. As we ventured off I noticed my diaper bulging out of my shortalls. I was sure that my diaper should've lasted longer but it was possible that I overestimated how much liquids I took. This became clear after we arrived to the store and I got out of my car, I spotted a dark wet spot in the driver's seat and my diaper was extremely heavy. I also waddled a bit as I made my way to the door the door that felt very noticeable. We asked the worker if they could bring us the shoes we wanted in out individual sizes and went to try them on. I sat down to put mines one which felt awkward with how thick my diaper was at this point. I stood up from my seat and caught a glimpse at where I was sitting and to my embarrassment a wet spot right were I was sitting. I t wasn't big but fairly noticeable. To add insult to injury as I bent over to take off the shoes my shortalls buttons unsnapped themselves from the weight of my diaper fully exposing how wet it and massive it was. I hurriedly snapped them back into place, luckily no one saw but my friend but from that point on I was very cautious with how I moved.

#ab/dl community #ab dl #ab/dl blog #ab/dl lifestyle #incontinent little #ab/dl #diapered #cg/l blog #cg/l community #cg/l lifestyle #diaper kink #diaperlife

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 years

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Love is a Bundle of Contradictions.

This artwork was a piece I commissioned from @shimmeryspark!

... There is no explanation for this other than my friends encouraged me to write Valentine’s Day Raven and Jade fluff, since the main saga is a bit lot of angst right now. (Special thanks to @twstpasta since they let me borrow their twstsona for plot reasons :9)

Imagine this...

“You WHAT?!”

“Ehehe~ Sorry...!! I guess I went and made a bad decision, heehoo~” Mac stuck out their tongue and lightly bonked their own head with a fist. “Silly me~”

“Making a deal with Azul is the very definition of a bad decision,” Raven groaned, slapping a hand to her face. “I... I cannot believe you. Dare I ask what the conditions were?”

“I gave him my taste buds! He said he’ll give them back if you help out with stocking up on supplies for the Mostro Lounge.”

“That’s... suspiciously simple. And you really just handed over your taste buds just like that? You can’t taste your beloved cheese anymore.”

“I know!” Mac pouted. “It’s so sad, so you’ll help this rataroni out, right?”

“I find it odd that Azul is demanding my assistance, seeing as how I am not the one that made the deal with him to begin with. However... I cannot turn my back on a friend in need. I will lend you a helping wing—er, hand.”

“Sweet, sweet!!” Mac clasped Raven’s hands happily. “Just remember to show up this Sunday afternoon. Meet up’s in the town square. Oh, and be sure to wear something cute!”

“Something cute? Why would...”

“It’s part of the deal—so you just gotta, okay? That’s what Azul said!” Mac paused, before adding, “Oh, oh! And bring some homemade choco in a heart-shaped box!! That’s another contract condition!”

“Oh... O-Okay...?”

Raven leaned back against a lamp post, anxiously winding a finger around the string of small pearls at her collarbone. In her other hand was a bag, and in that bag, a heart-shaped box of homemade chocolates—just as Mac had told her.

A silver heart-shaped charm dangled from the necklace, lying still against her real hammering heart. Rarely did she venture out into the local town—and, standing there by her lonesome, the raven felt out of place and awkward.

An addendum to a story that had already been penned.

She watched as her silver charm caught a wink of sun and guided the light down its curve. Reflected back in the charm’s surface was the raven herself.

Today, her inky hair was cast up in a high pigtail and secured with a cobalt ribbon. She had traded her usual outfit for a pale blouse with billowy puff sleeves, white stockings, and a high waist skirt in a plaid pattern—cobalt, like her ribbons.

I hope this satisfies the conditions of the deal.

Raven checked the time on her phone; any minute now, Azul would be showing up, and they’d get this over with. Then she could return to her attic to roost, and Mac could return to feasting on cheese and inhaling poison—

“Oya. Do my eyes deceive me, or is that you, Miss Raven?” a silken cadence called out to her, rising above the hustle and bustle of the town.

“... You,” she responded flatly, narrowing her eyes at a certain eel as he parted from a crowd.

Ah.

Jade, too, had abandoned his typical uniform in favor of casual comfort. He wore a pair of dress pants and a grey turtleneck—and over it was a brown trench coat, unbuttoned to show off how snugly that sweater fit against his lean, muscular body.

Raven squinted. His earring was slightly different today as well. Rather than three diamond shaped sturgeon scales dangling from his ear, there were heart shaped ones. Blue and glassy, like the calm sea after a storm.

His hands were polite folded behind his back... hiding something. Whatever that something was, petals of pink, red, and yellow-orange were poking out.

If she didn’t know any better, she would have said he looked handsome—and innocent—enough. But she did know better.

“What are you doing here?” Raven demanded, no longer playing with her necklace. Her hands went to her sides, curling into balls.

“Fufufu. The town is a public space. I am free to come and go as I please, the very same as you.” Jade tilted his head to one side. “Although today, I am here on an errand. The Mostro Lounge is short on centerpiece supplies, you see. I have been sent to restock.”

“What a coincidence. I’m also here to help the Mostro Lounge restock,” Raven said, a bit of bitterness slipping into her voice, “as per a contract.”

Jade attempted to appear sympathetic—but he allowed a cruel chuckle to escape him. “I see now. I was not aware that you were the one indebted to Octavinelle, Miss Raven. Had I known sooner, I would not have hesitated to summon you to fill in for Kon-san’s morning shift.”

“I’m not a waitress for you to order around.” Raven jutted out her chin defiantly. “I’m here strictly on business, so if you would kindly leave me be...!!”

“I believe you said you had to assist the Mostro Lounge. Would it not be prudent, then, to go about tending to that duty rather than standing about and looking like a lost lamb?”

“Sh-Shut up! It’s not my fault that Azul is running late...!!”

“You were waiting for Azul?” Jade said, his brows pinching together briefly. “You are terribly mistaken. It is not Azul who is assisting you with the restock, but myself.”

“... Beg pardon?”

Wear something cute, bring homemade chocolates, Mac had said. And it has to be you, Raven, not me! But why? Slowly, slowly... The pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

A thought dawned on Raven:

I’ve definitely been tricked.

“Well!! That’s all fine and dandy, but I think I shall be on my way home now. I really must be having a chat with a friend of mine,” she babbled, turning on her heel. They’re going to be buried in tomato sauce when I get to them.

“How cruel of you to abandon those in need, Miss Raven. And to think that Mac-san shall be without their taste buds... and I, burdened with the task of restocking by my lonesome. What a tragic way to spend Valentine’s Day,” Jade exhaled deeply and wiped at an imaginary tear. “Shikushikushiku...”

Raven’s left eye twitched. “Don’t you paint me as the bad guy here...!!”

“Aren’t you?” Jade challenged, a smile still plastered on his face despite his mocking tone.

“Grrr...!!” She whipped around, thrusting an index finger at him. “Listen here... Leech!! The only reason I am even here was to help someone out of a contract your shady boss roped them into!”

“If you are as selfless and loving as you claim to be, then you should have no issues with shopping with me,” Jade countered smoothly. “After all, they say that actions speak louder than words.”

The little bird vibrated with irritation, her cheeks puffed out in a pout. Her stomach coiled tight, uneasiness brewing. As much as she hated to admit to it, he was right.

Raven clenched her teeth and sent a glare his way. “Fine...!! But I will be keeping an eye on you to ensure that there is no funny business!”

“Then by all means, ‘keep an eye on me’, and do not let your gaze stray for even a single moment,” Jade chuckled, somehow sneering through his smile. “I welcome it.”

The eel held out a hand to Raven. “We’d best not be separated while on our errand.”

She stared hesitantly. Her eyes flickered between his eyes and the hand he offered. Subtle changes in her expression occurred in rapid succession—the raising of her lids, the tremble to her lower lip, the tinge to her cheeks.

“... Yeah. We’d best not,” Raven finally agreed, her grip on her bag—the bag containing her chocolates—tightened. “Which is precisely why I will follow you at a safe distance.”

“Ah, but that would ruin the surprise.”

“What, the bouquet? You’re not exactly doing a masterful job of hiding it.”

“Nor are you doing well to hide your little surprise, Miss Raven.”

“I was deceived. This chocolate is not meant for you.”

“I didn’t say that it was, now did I?”

“... I’m going to eat them myself, then. That’ll show you!”

“Do with it what you wish, for selfish purposes or not,” Jade laughed, revealing his bouquet—all the colors of the setting sun. “These flowers, on the other hand, are meant to be gifted...”

He pushed the bouquet toward Raven. Up close, the flowers seemed even more vibrant and beautiful. Their warm hues enveloping the raven, enchanting her senses. Mesmerized, she reached out to accept the flowers—when Jade suddenly clicked his tongue and pulled them away.

“But alas—not to you,” he teased, pressing a finger to his lips. “Do try to keep up with me now, Miss Raven.”

Jade turned and dove into a sea of townspeople, leaving a trail of sunset-colored petals in his wake. And, like the fool that she was, a fuming raven stormed after him—chocolates still in hand. Heart quivering.

Terrariums—the flowers were meant for terrariums all along.

Jade had taken his sweet time leading her down a winding path and to an art supply store tucked away in a corner, and even longer to observe the shape and feel of each terrarium container. Spherical, cuboidal, prismatic... Holding up the bouquet every so often to compare how the flowers would look in each.

In the end, he had gone wild with his purchases, electing to buy a selection of shapes, along with other supplies—just to keep himself amused. Jade had paid with a platinum card embossed with Octavinelle’s logo. Mostro Lounge Master Cash Card, it read. Azul’s property; do not steal! Sign the loaning form if you must borrow.

It was all for the terrariums, for business as usual.

I should have realized sooner. Stupid, stupid, Raven scolded herself.

She grunted, struggling to carry the bagful of terrarium supplies that Jade had saddled her with, while he carried one of his own without any trouble. The eel cast her a mocking glance over his shoulder.

“Are you in need of a break, Miss Raven?”

Bite me, she wanted to snap back—but a bark of pain shot up her arms, silencing her defiance. “... M-Maybe.”

He sighed in an exaggerated fashion. “Very well. I see a café up ahead. We can rest there for a few moments, though it may require the purchase of a food item if we wish for a table.”

“Sounds peachy.”

Together, they swept through the café doors. The duo was immediately greeted by the smell of sugar and the hum of the other patrons, many of them couples.

Raven stiffened at the sight, turning a deep shade of red. Suddenly, she was very, very aware of how she—and Jade—looked.

“I think I changed my mi—“ Raven was cut off when he grasped her hand and held fast. She jolted back, her skin turning clammy. “Eeep! Wh-What are you...”

“Table for two,” Jade requested of an employee. “We do not intend to stay for a large meal, so just an ice-cream parfait will do.”

“Certainly, sir. Right this way.” The server quickly seated them, and with a bow, departed to retrieve their order.

“... You can let go of my hand now,” Raven hissed, attempting to free herself. To no avail, initially. She tugged again, and finally broke free, aggressively rubbing at her hand to ward off the residual eel cooties.

Jade chuckled, tucking his strand of black hair behind his ear. His earring glimmered in the afternoon sunlight pouring in through wide windows. “Play along. You are aware that today is Valentine’s Day, yes?”

“Yes, but I do not understand what that has to do with... physical contact, especially seeing as how we are not engaged in that kind of a relationship.”

“It is simple.” He laced his fingers together, resting his chin on them. With the most serene of smiles, Jade purred, “We should take advantage of the couple discounts being offered at eateries such as this. An excellent way to save on spending, especially after that particularly large purchase made on the Mostro Lounge’s coin.”

“You’re a shrewd one.”

“Why, thank you.”

Raven’s hands curled in her lap. Her lips pursed, she found her gaze trained on the white lace of the tablecloth, rather than on her dining companion.

Time and time again, she has been tricked today, told white lies. Teased and deceived. It was simply how he was—and though it did irk her in some ways, it also never made a moment dull.

Hot and cold. Push and pull. Bitter and sweet. That was Jade Leech.

“Your parfait is here!!” The server from before popped up in her periphery, startling the raven from her thoughts. They set it down and stepped back. “Here you are—enjoy your date!”

“Thank you. We certainly will,” Jade reacted before Raven could and dismissed the server with a wave. “... Well, let’s dig in.”

“You didn’t correct them.”

“We won’t get the discount if they don’t believe this farce,” he replied calmly, nudging the parfait and a spoon toward her. “Now then, less talking and more eating. You need your strength if you plan on helping me haul all the supplies back to campus.”

She let out a huff, but dug her spoon into a frozen mound. The parfait was massive, composed of several scoops of pink, blue, and green ice-cream, flanked by chocolate wafer bars. With a smattering of sprinkles, a crown of whipped cream, and a maraschino cherry on top, the dessert looked absolutely picture perfect.

Raven steadily brought a spoonful of pink goop into her mouth, allowing a sweet bubblegum flavor to spread across her tongue. Her eyes cut to Jade, who had not bothered to sample any for himself. He smiled back, gaze half-lidded as if recalling a fond memory.

“Have some, too. I feel weird eating it alone—and you must be hungry too. I know how big your appetite is.” Raven pushed the parfait glass toward him.

“If you insist.”

The head of his spoon sunk into a green scoop with shards of chocolate chip weaved throughout. It pulled away cleanly with a large mound, which was soon consumed. Then another bite, and a third, a fourth... Before Raven knew it, a good third of the parfait was missing.

Jade patted his mouth with a napkin, eyeing her expectantly.

“Are you still hungry?” Raven asked, eyebrows raising. She retrieved a scoop of blue this time—vaguely flavored like a medley of fruits.

“Perhaps... though I do not plan on taking more of the parfait for myself. Were I to, there would be none left for you.”

The fruit seemed to sour in her mouth. It was true that she was hungry, yes—but at the same time, she did not wish for Jade to be left dissatisfied.

She frowned, setting her spoon down and reaching into her bag. Seconds later, she produced a heart-shaped package and shoved it at him.

“Here, chocolates. They’re yours now, since I have no other use for them,” Raven mumbled insistently. “You can eat them now, or save them for later. Just hurry up and take them before I change my mind.”

“Oya, it is rather bold to profess your undying love to me in such a public space.” Jade teased, chuckling lightly into his hand.

“B-Be quiet...!! We... We can’t get that couple’s discount if one of us passes out from hunger.”

“Fufufu. I doubt that either of us would.” His mismatched eyes twinkled with mirth. “... Thank you for the sweets, Miss Raven. I will be certain to savor every last bite.”

The town became even busier in the late afternoon, filing with the sound of street performers and spectators. A monkey in a vest and a small hat barreled by Raven’s feet as she and Jade exited the café, nearly causing her to double over. A chorus of children’s laughter chased after the monkey—and she, the raven, stumbled on her recovery.

“Perhaps now would be a good time to reconsider my offer,” Jade suggested, a hand on the small of her back to support her. That same hand trailed around and tickled the back of hers. “It would be a shame if we lost one another in this crowd.”

Raven regarded him with a pointed look, but slipped her hand into his without further resistance. “... Only because I have to.”

“Of course, of course.”

Together, they braved the bustling streets.

A new world unfolded before Raven’s very eyes. Costumed performers of all kinds paraded about, garnering attention from passerbys. Some tossed confetti and candies, others brandished instruments. Brass, strings, percussion—all their notes floated up into the festive atmosphere.

There went a dancer, leaping like a lithe deer, limbs outstretched and the flowy fabric of their uniform like a curtain of smoke. And here was an artist perched on a stool, sketching the outline of a woman posed on a wooden crate. A young man jingled a tambourine, trying to catch coins in his cap.

A number of food carts patrolled the roads, calling out their wares. Crepes, sandwiches, sodas... Families, friends, and couples lining benches, exchanging bites.

Love was truly in the air and oozing out of every pore of the community.

Raven couldn’t keep her head still. She turned this way and that, trying to soak up every last sight and sound. Her golden eyes sparkled with wonder.

Jade, of course, took note. “Excited, are you?”

“It’s very different than Night Raven College,” she replied shyly. “Almost like a magic kingdom.”

“Magic kingdom? You can be rather melodramatic at times.”

“Yeah? So can you and Azul and Floyd, with all your fake tears...” Her wandering eyes caught something bright red as she spoke. “Oh...!! Look.”

Raven tugged on Jade’s hand, urging him to a halt. Her gaze was transfixed on a lamp post with a multitude of red strings. At the other ends of those ribbons were heart-shaped balloons, as red as blood.

His eyebrows pinched together in mocking sympathy. “You truly are fascinated by the simplest things. Is it true what they say? That ravens are attracted to shiny objects?”

Her mouth flew open to protest, but she was interrupted by a woman by the balloon-bearing lamp post “You there!! Sir with the earring and ma’am with the blue ribbon! Care for some balloons?”

“Er... What are they for?” Raven asked.

“For love, of course,” the woman laughed. “Today’s all about appreciating one another, right? This is my way of spreading love.”

She separated three balloons from her bundle and offered them with a flourish. Raven eagerly accepted them, staring up in wonder at their floating bodies.

“Oh, and one more thing!!” The woman produced a red ribbon from her jacket pocket and nodded at the duo. “Your pinkie fingers, please!”

Raven held out her hand as directed, letting the woman secure the ribbon in a neat little knot. The balloon bearer extended the length of the ribbon, glancing to Jade. Raven, too, looked at him expectantly. Jade expelled a quiet sigh and allowed the red ribbon to be tied to his pinkie.

“There you go!” the woman declared triumphantly. “You’re all set now! Enjoy the rest of your Valentine’s Day, folks!”

“Thank you!” Raven shouted over her shoulder—even as Jade started to lead her away. The woman waved and waved until she was out of sight.

“... It has been a while since I have seen you this enthusiastic,” Jade remarked with a glance to the balloons. “I do suppose it is a departure from the monotony of daily life, but to think that such little things bring this amount of joy...”

“It reminds me of a story a little birdie once told me,” Raven chirped with a small giggle. “The story of the Red Thread of Fate.”

“Oh?” Jade raised an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

“The Red Thread of Fate is said to connect ‘destined people’. It can tangle, twist, or stretch, but it can never break. From the moment you are born, you have an unseen thread flowing from your pinkie finger, tying your fate to that of the person on the other end,” Raven recited, her tone turning solemn—her storytelling voice.

“Someday,” she said, “you will cross paths with the one that shares your thread, and your lives will be forever changed by the encounter. It could be a meaningful battle between rivals, the loss of a loved one, the promise of marriage... but the course of their stories will never again be the same.”

“How sentimental. And what, pray tell, does this red thread of ours mean, Miss Raven?” Jade questioned, lifting his end of the ribbon—the crimson shining in the sunlight.

“How would I know? I’m not a god,” she huffed. “It’s just fun to imagine the possibilities.”

“It is, indeed. Even so, surely there must be one favored conclusion to the story of the Red Thread of Fate in that pretty little head of yours.” He brought a hand to his mouth, yanking Raven toward him.

She glanced up with a glare. “I’d have to have a bird brain to tell you that.”

“Is that not the duty of a storyteller? To stand on stage and tell the tale until the curtain closes. Your adoring audience awaits.”

“You’re being booted from the metaphorical theater before you get to hear or see the ending.”

“I would like to see you try.”

Jade slowed to a stop, Raven following suit. They were back in the town square, by the lamp post where they had met up. Ending where it had all begun.

He pulled out his phone and consulted the time. Jade unlocked his device, quickly wrote up a message, and tucked it away again. “I can take it from here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Besides,” Jade cast a pitiful look at Raven’s trembling arms, “I doubt you would be able to haul those supplies the remainder of the way, and certainly not in an efficient manner.”

“... Then what was the point of stating in the contract that you needed a helping hand?”

“I am afraid that even I am not entirely privy as to Azul’s intentions,” he chuckled, gently prying a bag from her hands. “I will be certain to let Azul know that Mac-san’s end of the contract has been fulfilled.”

“Eh...? But—“

“You have our thanks for lending the Mostro Lounge your time. You are free to go now, Miss Raven. I’ve already summoned Floyd in your stead to assist me.”

“Th-The ribbon, you fool! I can’t leave if I’m still bound to you!”

“Oh? You don’t say.” His singsong held no concern whatsoever, only amusement.

“S-Stop playing dumb! You know very well what you are doing!!”

“You said it yourself, Miss Raven. Our lives have been forever changed since our encounter. There is no going back now.”

“Stop manipulating the narrative to suit your needs.”

“I haven’t the faintest clue what you mean. Jade smiled, feigning innocence. “You’ve resigned yourself to spending the rest of the day with me—at least until Floyd arrives to relieve you of your burden. Ah, but given his moodiness, who knows when that will be.”

“Just because your surname is Leech doesn’t mean you need to suck the life out of me like one,” Raven snapped. She reached for the red ribbon, intending to undo it—

—only to be met with a bouquet a second time. Flowers the color of the sunset, smelling like the drip of sunshine and a cut of meadow.

“For you—no strings attached this time.”

“Those are for the terrarium centerpieces.”

“I can easily replace them,” Jade insisted, “and I must repay you for your kind chocolate gift. Consider this... ‘favors for favors’, so that neither one of us is left indebted to the other.”

“... Alright. I’ll take them, but only because they might be useful for brewing some new inks.”

“I’m glad to see that you are being agreeable.” Jade slipped the flowers to her. “Take good care of them.”

Raven leaned against a lamp post, cradling the large bouquet in one arm. Her heart fluttered, and her limbs felt as light as air. Warm and floaty, like the balloons in her hand.

Favors for favors—but it still counted as a gift from Jade, and that very thought sent her mind spiraling. She took a shaky breath, and focused on the confetti and laughter in the distance, the song and dance of the street performers.

Waiting and waiting for Floyd.

“Miss Raven.”

“What now? Haven’t you bullied me enough for today? Are you still not satisfied, you sadist?”

She dared to lift her eyes to meet Jade’s—and her heart stood still, for he looked back. His sharp eyes soft and shrouded by long lashes, his lips pulled into a tender smile.

“Contract or no, I always enjoy my time with you—I enjoyed today,” Jade murmured. “I hope that we are able to do this again sometime.”

“... Shut up. J-Just shut up already, i-it’s embarrassing listening to you speak...!!” She buried her head in the flowers, concealing her pink face. Still feeling floaty, like a balloon, high on happiness.

“Fufufu. Happy Valentine’s Day, Miss Raven.”

#twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #Jade Leech #Raven Crowley #Jade Leech thirst #something no one asked for

189 notes · View notes

babbysquid · 3 years

Text

Not A Whiskey Drinker Pt. 4

Author’s Note: Okay so I got a bit carried away with this chapter but I couldn’t help myself so it’s about twice as long as previous chapters. This is where things really start to get more plot based so the story will really get moving from here. The way I’ve planned out the plot so far though it’ll be several chapters long so get buckled up!

Warnings: mild cursing, suggestive language, Jack “Whiskey” Daniels needs his own warning

Length: 2,586 words

Not A Whiskey Drinker Masterlist

------------

“She almost broke the man’s arm Champ!” said Whiskey, phone to his ear.

“I don’t care. If you’re exaggerating this skill of hers she’ll be a liability.”

“She won’t be a liability!” Whiskey was seething at this point. Yes it had only been a few days, but somehow he had become protective over you. Seeing you twist the man’s arm back at the bar lit a fire somewhere deep inside his stomach. Whiskey heard a sigh through the phone.

“Fine. You’re training her and she’ll be your responsibility. Don’t fuck it up Whiskey.”

With that Champagne hung up. Whiskey was buzzing with excitement. With the combination of your quick wit and your apparent hand to hand combat skill you were definitely capable of becoming an agent with the Statesmen.

The ding of the elevator stirred Whiskey from his thoughts. Strutting out of his office he quickly caught up to you.

“Whiskey.”

“Mornin’ Y/N. How’s my lovely little lady today?” you rolled your eyes and shook your head, continuing towards your office. Along with your normal bag you had also brought a tote bag that contained some office necessities. After setting your bags down you pulled out an electric tea kettle and made your way towards a shelf to find a spot for it.

“Y/N think fast!” came Whiskey’s voice as he threw the mug that sat on your desk. You quickly spun around and caught the mug before it could smash on the floor.

“You’re the absolute worst.”

“Not a coffee drinker either?” Whiskey said, eyeing the variety of teabags you pulled from your tote.

“Nope. Coffee is a slap in the face. Tea feels like a hug.”

Whiskey gave his standard full body laugh.

“You really are somethin’ darlin’.”

“Out.” you said, ushering him out of your space. “Come back if you need me.”

“Ya know if I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re the boss and I’m the assistant.” Whiskey leaned against the door frame as he said this.

“Whiskey…” you said with a grumble, trying to push him from the door, but the man wasn’t budging. Bending down he whispered in your ear,

“I am a mighty fan of switching up the dynamic every once in a while.” he said and you could almost feel his smirk against your skin.

“Out!” and you shut the door on his face.

‘I swear to god this man will be the death of me.’

------------

The rest of the day was fairly standard. Random errands Whiskey needed, picking up lunch, sorting through notes, etc. The only difference between today and the previous was the fact that Whiskey kept throwing things at you any chance he got.

“So I organized these files and highlight all the—“ Before you could finish your sentence you looked up as a pen, a baseball, and a full bottle of whiskey were flying at you. Quickly you caught them all and managed to keep the files you were holding in your hands as well.

“Whiskey what the fuck?”

Initially it felt like Whiskey’s standard teasing, but at this point it was ridiculous and was getting on your nerves. If you didn’t catch the whiskey bottle it would’ve made a huge mess and you were most likely the one who would have to clean said mess.

“Wouldn’t have thrown ‘em if I knew you weren’t gonna catch ‘em.” said Whiskey from behind his desk, propping his feet up on the wood and stretching his arms behind his head.

You were too focused on the files when you entered his office that you didn’t realize Whiskey had taken off his blazer and tie. He was wearing his standard white dress shirt and some suspenders. He had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows and you couldn’t help but stare at his tanned arms. You didn’t realize how much muscle the man had. You shook your head.

“Why do you keep throwing shit at me?”

“Oh darlin’,” Whiskey stood up and pulled the bottle of whiskey and the baseball out of your hands, set them down on his desk and leaned on the wooden table. “just testing your reflexes and reaction time.”

“Ginger was right.”

“Hmm?” said Whiskey, pulling his suspenders off his shoulders and popping open the bottle of whiskey. You stared as he brought the bottle to his lips. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he took a swig. He licked his lips and you felt a shiver run through your body.

“I’m waiting darlin’.” he said with a smirk. He knew you were staring. He had made sure you were staring.

“She said you were a character.”

“I have been called larger than life.”

“Uh, anyways here are the files.” Reaching out to hand the files to your boss, his hand met yours and once again the two of you froze. The only movement coming from the room was the rise and fall of your chests and Whiskey’s thumb making slow circles on the back of you hand.

“Jack I— oh.”

You immediately moved your hand and Whiskey took the files from you at the sound of Ginger’s voice.

“Sorry.” said Ginger, giving you an apologetic look. “Champ gave me some…” Ginger paused, looking for the right word. “updates — classified updates — that you need to hear Jack.”

“Guess that’s my cue.” you said, making your way out of the office.

“Get home safe Y/N.” said Whiskey giving you a smile. Your heart fluttered in response.

‘Stop. You cannot have feelings for your boss. Especially Whiskey.’

------------

It was finally Friday after work and to say you were exhausted was an understatement. The rest of the week had been pretty straightforward minus some odd behavior from Whiskey. He continued to randomly throw things at you or ask seemingly random questions.

‘How quickly can you run a mile?’

‘About 7 and a half minutes.’

‘Ever got in a fist fight?’

‘No, but I’ve prevented some from starting.’

‘How flexible are you?’

That question you decided to ignore. There was one question, however, that kept replaying in your mind over and over again.

‘Have you ever shot a gun?’

When he asked the question you stopped in your tracks. Sure he was from the South so he most definitely had experience with firearms but you? Nope. Frankly, guns scared the shit out of you. Why did he want to know?

‘No. My dad and brother would go to shooting ranges occasionally but never took me. But if they asked I would’ve said no.’

You pondered his reasoning for all these questions as you took a shower. The questions could’ve been an attempt to get to know you better but they were nothing along the lines of ‘where did you grow up?’ ‘do you have any pets?’ or ‘what’s your favorite color?’. You were stirred from your thoughts by a knock at the door.

Parker.

“One second!” you called, stepping out of the shower and pulling a towel around yourself. You rushed to the door leaving a small trail of wet footprints behind you.

“You really had the audacity to knock while I was—“

“Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes.” came a thick accent. Your eyes widened immediately and you swallowed.

“Whiskey?”

“You gonna let me in darlin’?”

You were too shocked to do anything other than follow his request. Stepping aside to allow him to enter you shut the door behind you.

“Nice place. Nice getup too.” he said with a wink.

You were suddenly hyperaware of the current state of your appearance. Your hair was dripping wet and you were naked other than a much too small towel wrapped around yourself. Your boss (your very attractive boss) was in your apartment and you were essentially naked.

“One second.” you said, and ran back to the bathroom to change into the clean clothes you pulled from your closet before. Throwing on your sleep shorts and a large shirt you stormed out of the bathroom to confront Whiskey.

“Firstly, how the hell did you get my address and secondly, why the fuck are you here?”

“Firstly,” said Whiskey, putting his hands on your shoulders attempting to make you calm down. “I told you we did a background check. And secondly,” he guided the two of you over to your small couch and placed a plastic bag on your coffee table. “I brought dinner.” You narrowed your eyes and glared at him.

“What is it?” your voice still tinged with anger.

“Sushi.”

After a minute you responded.

“Okay fine you can stay.”

Whiskey took several boxes of sushi out of the bag and all your favorites were there. Your mind was doing flips to figure out much all this costed. Sushi was not cheap, especially from the restaurant he got it from.

“How’d you know sushi is my favorite?”

“Background checks.”

“Okay now I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.” Whiskey just gave you a smile and dug into the food. The two of you ate in silence. While scarfing down your sushi as politely as possible, it had been a long time since you had your favorite food, you observed the man next to you. He still had his black Stetson and black cowboy boots, but his slacks and blazer had been replaced by some tight fitting jeans and a matching denim jacket. The same camel coat he wore when you first met was hanging on the hook on the back of your door.

“Those gears in your head are turning darlin’.”

“Why’d you actually come here? I doubt it was just to buy me dinner.”

“Straight to business sugar? I do have to admit you’re not wrong about my intentions.” Whiskey pulled off his hat and sat it down on the coffee table. A hand went up to smooth his hair down and he turned to face you directly, a serious look on his face.

“As you’ve probably noticed Statesman Brewery is… different. We are a brewery but we’re also something more. First and foremost we are a secret independent intelligence agency.”

You choked and almost inhaled the gulp of water you were swallowing.

“I know it’s bizarre darlin’ but please don’t hurt yourself,” he said, placing a hand on your knee. “even if I wouldn’t mind doing some CPR on a catch such as yourself.” You gave him the standard look you gave him when he said these types of comments. “I wasn’t just throwing shit at you to scare you and those questions I asked? Bit of a verbal test if you will.”

“Okay now tell me the actual truth.”

“I’m serious Y/N.” his eyes darkened slightly. “You have the makings to be an agent.”

“And you think that because I caught some random crap you threw at me and because I can run a mile slightly faster than the average person?” you leaned against the couch, arms crossed. Whiskey seemed serious about what he was saying, but you weren’t fully convinced yet.

“You were at The Parking Lot on Tuesday.”

“Okay what the fuck are you stalking me now? More ‘background check’ stuff?” you said, making air quotes with your fingers.

“That was pure coincidence. Promise on my late mama’s soul.” Whiskey raised a hand and traced an ‘X’ over his heart. “I saw that ungodly man try to have his way. Was close to stopping things myself before I saw you twist his arm around his back. You were faster than a jackrabbit.”

“You saw that?”

“Sugar, the whole bar saw it. But even if the bar didn’t, I still would’ve. The second I saw you and your friend walk in, well, let’s just say I wasn’t interested in watching the football game anymore.”

Whiskey had been watching you. He saw you act fast and save yourself from that dick at the bar. Subconsciously you pulled your shoulders back and your heart swelled with pride.

“You showed him who’s boss.” Whiskey winked, repeating the phrase that seemed to keep coming up.

“Okay okay so let me get this straight. You’re some sort of secret agent, whose coverup is a business man in the alcohol industry.”

“So far so good sugar.”

“And you’re suggesting that I join this secret intelligence agency?”

“Not so much suggesting as I am insisting but other than that you’re right on the money.”

“Did you hire me as your assistant with the intent of offering me a position as an agent?”

“That, darlin’, was all you. You impressed me that night. Spoke to Champ and Ginger about it and convinced them that you’d be a good agent.”

“Champ and Ginger are agents too?” Your eyes widened. “Is Sara the receptionist one too?” Whiskey laughed at this question and your curiosity.

“No Sara is not an agent. Only a handful of people in the New York and California offices are agents. The rest of them are at the Kentucky branch.”

You paused thinking about your next question and looked down at your hands. You couldn’t help but fidget, anxious about how Whiskey would answer the next question.

“And what if I say no?”

“That’s not really an option.”

You swallowed hard and looked back up to meet Whiskey’s eyes. He had a serious look, but that seriousness slowly melted into something softer. Hope? Encouragement? Something else? He shifted on the couch so his knees touched yours.

“I have seen what you can do. You’ve got reflexes like a cat, almost broke a man’s arm.”

“He deserved it.” you grumbled.

“No arguments there darlin’. You have what it takes. Sure you’re gonna need training and whatnot but you’ll get the best of the best at Statesman. Besides, you’ll have the top teacher we have to offer. Me.” There was that million dollar smile again.

“Okay initially I was on board, but after hearing that I’ll have to spend more time with you? Kill me or dispose of me or whatever the ‘not option’ option is.” You jumped at the intense laugh that came out of the man in front of you.

“Darlin’ you’re breaking my heart.”

“And you’re breaking my sanity.” you rolled your eyes and started to put away leftovers from dinner. When you closed the door to the fridge you heard Whiskey’s voice in your ear.

“You haven’t said no.”

You turned around, practically chest to chest with Whiskey.

“Doesn’t really feel like I have a choice cowboy.” giving him a smirk. Whiskey reached around your waist to grab a pen that was on the kitchen counter. It felt like he was cornering you, but something inside you welcomed it. Whiskey scribbled on the notepad that sat next to the pen, ripped the page off, and pressed the paper into your palm.

“Pack your stuff for a week long trip. Meet me at that location on Monday morning at 6am.”

With that Whiskey turned and grabbed his coat and hat, making his way to the door.

“Sweet dreams darlin’.” he said, tipping his hat and closing the door behind him. You glanced down at the paper. His handwriting was much nicer than you were expecting. All that was on the paper was an address located in a really nice part of the city and a phone number. You could only assume it was Whiskey’s cell phone number. The only other thing on the paper was a small heart with a ‘W’ inside it. You didn’t want to acknowledge it, but seeing that doodle made warmth spread across your chest.

taglist: @absurdthirst @space-daddy-owns-me @agentwhiskeypussyindulgence @littlemissoblivious @agingerindenial @mack4676 @loveforminato @thats-one-tender-foot @xwingsandohs @purplepascal042 @harami-mami @nova646 @lesbianlena @computeringturtle @cassandras-nest

#NAWD #not a whiskey drinker #jack daniels #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you

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dreaming-gamer · 4 years

Text

Magic Touch – Nero X V Chapter 3

Firefighter Nero x Massage Therapist V

The smell of oil and tires hit Nero’s nose the second he stepped into Devil May Drive, to find V’s piece of junk car suspended by a red car lift and Nero’s best friend checking its underside. Nico wore a yellow overall, the sleeves rolled up for the world to see her tattoos and oil coated her clothed fingers.

The front of the small car might be looking a bit steadier since last Nero had seen it, two days ago. Work had kept him away, but at least he was free today. And hoping for a chance meeting with a certain massage therapist.

“You can stop checking around, he ain’t here.” The mechanic stated, but she flashed Nero a grin. “So, I wanna hear all ‘bout it. Ya get another session or something?” She winked.

“Did you sniff too much gasoline?” Nero retorted. “I gave him a ride, nothing else.”

“At least ya got his number, right?” Nico teased, only for her eyes to widen as Nero hesitated just a second too long. “Yer shittin’ me! Are ya the worst person in the world when it comes to flirting or what?!” She demanded, both hands on her hips.

“Kyrie and I didn’t need flirting! This is just totally different, alright?!” Nero exclaimed, but quickly lowered his voice, stepping closer to his best friend. “Kyrie and I were friends for the longest time! I’ve met this guy twice! I tried asking his number! …but the timing was all wrong, he got out of the car without hearing me.”

“Uh huh… ya know, ya could ask yers truly and I’ll give it to ya, as a special order.” Nico said, her grin returning full force. Maybe she was taking pity on him. Nero wasn’t sure he wanted it or liked it.

“And what would that cost me?” He deadpanned.

“A favor to ask for whenever I please, no matter the cost?” Nico grinned, her eyes alight with glee. “Magic always comes with a price, dearie.”

“You quoting that show of yours again? And this isn’t even magic! Aren’t you breaking customer confidentiality if you give it to me?” Nero pointed out with a huff.

“Aww, does that mean yer worried about my job? Dante wouldn’t mind me helping his nephew, lemme tell ya!” Nico teased.

“You’re NOT telling him about this!” Nero exclaimed. Her teasing, he could put up with. If his uncle found out that Nero was starting to take fancy in someone, he would never hear the end of the Dante’s comments! Or the attempts of ‘advice’. “And if I’m going to get V’s number, damn straight I’m getting it myself! I’m not gonna sit around like some deadweight and get it handed to me!”

But the thought of asking V, well… it made his heart race again. A lot. First of all, he needed to actually meet the guy again, preferably here and hope with all his heart that V would maybe, maybe be interested enough in him to exchange numbers so Nero didn’t need to rely on chance meetings anymore. Sometimes he replayed V’s quote of poetry in his head, not that the poem meant much to him, but that voice…

He missed it.

“Pardon me.”

Oh great, Nero was even imagining it now, more vividly than he’d managed before, right behind him.

“I see we have run into each other, yet again. Good morning, Nero.”

Nero’s mind ground to a stop. There was only one pair of lips that made his name sound like more than it was.

No. Way.

He turned around to find the poet standing just a few meters behind them, a silvery cane in one hand, dressed in a black leather vest that gave off a strong gothic vibe but fit him amazingly. And the smirk on V’s face was quite amused. Either he had… heard Nero’s announcement. Or he was happy with gaining Nero’s attention, with his attire.

The tips of Nero’s ears turned red, whichever the case.

“M-morning!” He said quickly, dammit, what else was he supposed to say?! Had V heard him or not?! And if he had, was he totally fine with giving up his number?! Nero’s heart sped up, thundering in his chest while it felt like he had soaring butterflies in his stomach…!

Nico snorted, trying to hold back a laugh, making Nero turn quickly to face her, anger sparking in his eyes.

Her mirth said it all, she’d seen V come in. And not told him.

Nico just gave him a grin before seemingly taking pity on Nero, as she greeted her customer.

“Yo, yer early! Gonna take a few more hours to get this beauty completely fixed!” She announced, gesturing to the suspended car.

“Ah, my apologies. Your message specified today, so I was hoping…” V smiled politely. “I suppose I will have to return later then.”

“Come back at lunch and it’ll be greeting you with a roaring engine!” Nico grinned. Nero wondered if that car engine could roar at all, since… well, it looked way too old.

V chuckled to her statement.

“I will look forward to that then.” He smirked as she went back to her work. Nico flashed Nero a meaningful grin, like a silent “Come on, jackass! Ya scared?!”

Nero grit his teeth, he wasn’t going to back down from that challenge! Fighting the urge to put his hands in his pockets and instead act natural, he approached V, putting a grin on his face.

“So, since the car’s gonna be a while… you wanna go grab a coffee? Brunch?” Nero offered, his heart beating fast in his chest. The pounding could almost be heard in his ears.

The second V looked at him, his lips turning into an apologetic smile, Nero knew what the answer would be. It made his heart sink, like a stone to his stomach.

“My apologies, Nero. As pleasant as your offer sounds… I have somewhere to be, right after this. I just came by… in hopes of finding the car finished early.” V replied.

Nero stumbled for a natural reply, with his previously soaring hope now crushing to the ground, within the same hour, it was hard to not seem affected.

“Yeah, no worries man, never mind that—“

“However…” V’s calm voice cut him off. “…if you would like to join me for a walk, to my destination…”

Nero’s hand, that had just been on it’s way to the back of his head, paused. His eyes widened, his tongue felt tied in his mouth. He was quick to nod.

“Excellent, shall we be off?” V suggested with a pleased smirk, taking the lead out of the oil-smelling shop. Nero kicked his brain and legs into following, feeling as if that hope he couldn’t let go of was currently on a rollercoaster. It didn’t stop the grin from appearing on his face. Nero let V take the lead, falling into step with the massage therapist.

Sunlight greeted them and despite the lack of sleeves on his clothing, V was dressed all in black leather. Wouldn’t he get really hot? Nero’s tongue seeming more willing to cooperate now, he opened his mouth to ask as he noticed another detail.

V had… sandals on.

For real? They didn’t really fit in with the rest of his look at all, they just didn’t! But V’s way of walking, as if they were the most appropriate thing in the world to wear… kind of made it work? It was rather confusing, to be honest.

V seemed to notice his staring.

“Is something the matter?” The massage therapist wondered.

Nero considered, for a moment to ask what the deal with the sandals was… but since they didn’t really know each other that well yet, he settled for another question on his mind.

“So why the cane? You need it or is it just to strengthen the goth look?” V stood out like a sore thumb compared to him, Nero was dressed in regular jeans, t-shirt and a short sleeved blue hoodie, perfect for the weather.

V graced him with a devilish smirk, that kind that made a shiver go down along Nero’s spine.

“I suppose… it is for aesthetic, rather than function. These days.”

“’These days’?” Nero asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes.” V replied, holding the cane just under the head in an easy grip. It certainly didn’t look like he needed it to walk, since there was no limp to his steps, just a bit of slouch to his back. V didn’t seem inclined to elaborate. Like he’d rather keep it a mystery, or perhaps it was something he’d rather not speak about. Nero couldn’t really tell which, but he didn’t push it.

“Looks good, anyway.” He simply said, because it was true. V wielded the cane gracefully, as if it was an extension of his tattooed arm.

V’s devilish smirk remained.

“Why, thank you. What was your errand, at Devil May Drive? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Nero felt the tips of his ears change color again. V’s tone was teasing and he wondered, again, had the massage therapist heard him or not? Proclaiming he wanted V’s number…

“I just hang out there sometimes.” He tried for, it wasn’t a completely white lie. Nero did hang around, sometimes, since Nico worked there. And meeting his uncle from time to time was cool.

And I was kinda hoping to see you again. The words were in his mind, right there, ready to be said. And he opened his mouth to let them out, but they just wouldn’t come. He struggled, swallowed to buy himself time to try again. His heart rate was picking up again, whoa Nico must be right, he was the worst when it came to flirting!

“I see.” V didn’t seem to mind Nero’s difficulties. “I’m afraid… our walk seems to be coming to an end.”

Are you kidding me?! This time, I am getting that number before you— Nero put a brake on his own thoughts, when he realized just where they were. Sure, they have started to walk down a very familiar road, but still… This street was where he lived! On both sides of the road, apartment buildings loomed over them, the sun hitting the southern windows making them glisten. He’d expected they were just going to pass through, but V meant that they were almost there?

“Why are we here, exactly?” Nero’s mind was trying to catch up. Was V visiting someone? Or…

Did he live here, that close to Nero? His eyes fell upon a blue moving truck, parked outside the apartment building across from his. The movers stood just outside, discussing the best course of action, just before they opened shutter to the truck’s storage unit.

“I am moving to this new apartment, today.” V pointed to the moving truck with the head of his cane. “I’m afraid that’s why I’ll be too busy to…” The black-haired man paused as he noticed Nero’s wide eyes. “Is something the matter?”

“You’re moving in, acrossfromme.” Nero blurted the words out, too quickly for them to be really heard. It felt like his thoughts were tying themselves into knots.

V gave him a quizzical look.

“…pardon?”

“I live there.” Nero tapped V’s arm with his hand, then pointed it out for him, the first window on the third floor, facing the street as well as the opposite apartment building. “And you’re moving in…”

“Third floor, facing the road…” V’s eyes widened slightly, in that expression Nero had started to see as V’s attempt to hide his surprise. It took mere moments for his expression to smooth out into that devilish smirk.

“Well, we appear to be running into each other a lot recently.” V noted, sounding amused.

“I think this one is on you.” Nero said with a cocky grin. It felt like his heart was going to start breakdancing. Was this luck even real?

“It would seem that way.” V agreed, that amused glint not leaving his eyes. Nero just couldn’t believe this. He knew that an apartment across the road been empty for about a month now, the party animal that had lived there having finally moved on to someplace closer to the city center and the partying he had so adored. Either that or he had been evicted, for disturbing the neighborhood so often. But that didn’t mean that he could have imagined, in his wildest dreams, that V would be the one moving in.

Two men in blue clothes, the same color as the moving truck with caps on their heads exited the apartment building and climbed into the opened storage unit to start lifting a black leather couch between themselves. Nero could see a lot of boxes in the storage unit as well and he briefly wondered if V’s apartment would be the same size as his, with two rooms and a kitchen, or any other size. The question was on his tongue, but V beat him to it.

“Well then, I suppose I must assist.” V said, gesturing to the moving truck with his cane. “The walk might have been… short, but I enjoyed it. Thank you for the company.” V’s voice was that silken tone that sent shivers down Nero’s spine.

“Hey, no need for thanks. Seems like we’ll maybe see more of each other from now on huh?”

“It certainly seems that way…” From the way V smirked in amusement, Nero felt hope soar inside again. “Good luck with the move. I’m off work today, so just knock if you need help with something, deal?” He grinned, still not quite believing his luck.

V chuckled, that smirk on his face ever present.

“Perhaps I will. Good day to you, Nero.” V said, walking towards his new residence with that slight sway to his hips and waist. Nero tried so hard not to stare. And failed pretty miserably.

“See ya! G’day to you too!” Nero barely knew what he said as he waved and walked towards his own apartment building.

He’s moving in, on the other side of the road. It felt like Nero had wings on his feet when he climbed the stairs to his own apartment, one or sometimes two steps at a time. And V didn’t sound like he had anything against seeing each other again! The grin on Nero’s face couldn’t be wiped off by anything now!

It wasn’t until he stepped inside his own home, kicked off his shoes and pulled off his jacket while simultaneously pulling off some steps to the sound of the electric guitar in his head, that he noticed that his phone had gotten a message. With a flick of his thumb, the message screen greeted him.

“So how did it go? Got that magical number already?” The message was short, but had plenty of emojis a la Nico, including some he barely understood. And why a devil emoji? The words were what made Nero stop in his happy dance around the kitchen though.

V’s number…

The sudden reveal of V’s new home had made him completely forget!

“Fuck!”

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

@la-vita and @thedyingmoon

#devil may cry fanfiction #devil may cry #nero #v #nerov #nero x v #fanfiction #dmc5 nero #dmc5 v #au #magic touch #chapter 3 #my fic #my writing

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enchantedxrose · 4 years

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The Monster of West End: Chapter Five (follow the link to read on AO3)

A retelling of the fairy tale set in the early Victorian Era.

Viola Weston is desperate to pay off her family's debts. Stubborn and self-reliant, she would rather look for work than seek an advantageous marriage. She is utterly unprepared for her eccentric new employer's beastly appearance--but quickly charmed by his warm heart and cheerful disposition.

Albert Carlyle is lonely: cursed from birth with a monstrous form, but coldly tolerated by society for his wealth. People are afraid of him, no matter how hard he tries to make himself agreeable. He has resigned himself to a quiet life collecting butterflies and ignoring judgmental whispers--until Viola upends his comfortable, complacent existence.

Can Viola set aside her pride long enough to accept his help? Can Albert find the courage to make his affections known? Or will the cruelties of the world tear their budding relationship apart?

The next morning, with a bank-note from Mr. Carlyle clutched in her fist, Viola prepared to run her errand. She chewed on her lip as she tied the ribbons of her bonnet, torn about whether to take a cab. On a bright spring day, a brisk walk to the shops would have been pleasant, but on a wintry morning with the biting wind on her face—especially on her return journey, when she would be laden with packages—it was a daunting thought.

Mr. Carlyle paused in his progress up the stairs. “Are you going out, Miss Weston?”

The practical voice in her head hissed, He is your employer, it’s perfectly reasonable for him to pay your travel expenses. Just ask! Meanwhile, the fragile and proud part of her rankled at the thought of having to ask for a few pence.

She nonetheless kept her tone light and even. “I was going to visit a few shops on Yaxley Street for a few odds and ends.”

His face brightened. “I’m actually headed in that direction myself today; I’ll drop you off.”

“That’s very kind of you, sir, but you don’t have to—”

He waved a hand dismissively. “No sense in hiring a carriage when my curricle is going to the same destination,” he said with a shrug.

Viola was grateful he framed it this way: he was being sensible, rather than kind. It was only practical. That quelled much of her discomfort, and she managed a genuine smile.

“Thank you, Mr. Carlyle. I suppose you have a point there.”

He pulled on a heavy winter overcoat, but no hat—she supposed it would be an awkward fit between his antlers—and he still wore no shoes. His wide splayed toes probably gave him good traction in the snow, like snowshoes, but did he not get cold? She shook herself, breaking off her stare. It was rather impolite, not to mention improper, to be pondering her employer’s curious physiology.

Her eyes widened at the sight of the sleek, lightweight curricle that awaited them. It was drawn by two handsome white horses. She had never envisioned traveling in such an eye-catching vehicle.

Mr. Carlyle misread her hesitation. “Do you suppose you ought to have a chaperone? It’s an open carriage, but perhaps it’s still a bit improper…”

Viola snorted. “Sir, I’m not a lady. I am your servant. You needn’t worry about my reputation.”

The rules of behavior for fine ladies did not apply to working women of her class, she knew that much. But a small part of her was touched by his consideration, all the same.

He offered a hand—a paw?—Viola wasn’t sure what to call it—to help her into the carriage, but she studiously ignored him as she climbed in unaided. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his face fall a fraction.

Color crept into her cheeks as he settled into the seat beside her. He flicked the reigns and the horses lurched forward. The two avoided each other’s eyes, pretending to be fascinated by the narrow brick houses slowly rolling by their windows.

Viola’s heart shriveled with regret. What must he be thinking of me now? He was only trying to be a gentleman, and I rejected the gesture. From his point of view, it had surely appeared she was disgusted or afraid to touch him. How could she explain her own stubborn distaste for accepting any kind of help? She scrambled for a way to salvage the situation.

Eventually she chanced a glance at her employer. Mr. Carlyle smiled at her, but it did not reach his eyes. He had curled his free hand into a fist over his knee, hiding the sharp claws in the folds of his coat.

She tried to apologize by starting conversation.

“So, Mr. Carlyle, did you—did you grow up here in the city?” Her voice cracked in her attempt to sound airy and unconcerned.

“No, as a matter of fact, I was raised in a village to the southeast. I’ve only lived in London for three years now.”

She thought of the wildflower motifs on the furnishings in his home, and wondered if perhaps he was homesick for the countryside.

The customary inquiries about his family stuck in her throat. Could she ask him that? She was certainly curious about his origins. Were his parents…like him? But she didn’t want to cause him even more discomfort than she already had. What if his past was a painful subject?

“Miss Weston,” he said gently, not taking his eyes off the road, “anything you would normally ask a new acquaintance, you may ask of me. You have been honest with me about your own history—it would be only fair of me to return your honesty in kind.”

She exhaled a gust in relief. “I just didn’t want to be impertinent.”

“That sounds a bit out of character for you,” he observed.

She shot an indignant glare up at him—even when they were seated, he towered far above her—but the twitch of his lips told her that he spoke in jest. The tension between them broke as they began to chuckle.

“Very well, sir, I shall proceed to be impertinent,” Viola said, smirking, “since apparently that’s what you expect from me. Are your parents still living? Do you have family nearby?”

“I never knew them,” he replied evenly. “I was a foundling on the vicarage doorstep, so my blood relations are quite a mystery to me.” He held up his free hand to stop her from interjecting. “And please don’t be sorry. The vicar and his curate took me in and raised me as their own. They are upright and goodhearted men. I could not have asked for better guardians, truly.”

Viola absorbed this for a moment, struggling for a response that didn’t sound pitying. “The son of clergymen…I would not have guessed that.”

“I think John—the vicar—had hopes that I would follow in his footsteps and take orders,” Mr. Carlyle said. “But somehow, I don’t think I could inspire much confidence in a congregation. Public speaking is not my forte.”

“Now that doesn’t surprise me,” Viola said dryly.

They arrived at their destination much quicker than Viola anticipated. She hopped out of the carriage, eager to warm herself by walking around. The snow drifted lazily onto their shoulders, meandering in the air before coming to rest in clumps on her shawl. She buried her hands more deeply into her sleeves.

She had wondered what it would be like to walk alongside him in public. To her dismay, it seemed some of her concerns were justified.

A woman laden with baskets of fruit widened her eyes and crossed to the opposite side of the road to avoid passing by them. Several children pointed and stared, open-mouthed, until their mothers ushered them away with nervous haste. A lamp-lighter froze halfway up his ladder as they approached, not seeming to notice he was off-balance until he toppled sideways.

Viola glanced sidelong at her employer. Ought she to say something? Or would it be best to pretend not to notice the stares they received? He kept his gaze determinedly fixed forward, features arranged in a pleasantly neutral expression.

But one of his paws, she noticed, was worrying a loose thread on his coat sleeve.

“What shop did you wish to visit first?” he asked her, in a tone that was almost theatrical in its lightness. “The haberdasher’s? Or perhaps the curiosity shop on the corner?”

The shop window to her right caught her eye—a china-shop displaying painted porcelain sugar bowls and teapots. She was particularly transfixed by the blue willow pattern, so like the plates her mother had once displayed in their china cabinet. A lump rose in her throat. She remembered how those dishes had mysteriously disappeared, one by one, from their cupboard—she had not understood until years later that her mother had been pawning them as their circumstances grew more desperate. How it must have galled her mother, to sell her beloved comforts for a pittance.

Viola had once dreamed of buying them back someday, to bring a smile back to her mother’s grave countenance. Now it was far too late for that. And they were only plates, after all.

Mr. Carlyle’s voice broke into her reverie as if from a great distance. “Would you like to look around in there first?”

She laughed. “I do not need any dishware at present.”

“There’s no harm in looking. It can be amusing to simply look at pretty things.”

“Well…just for a moment, perhaps. Just to get out of the cold.”

He made no move to follow her to the door.

“I think I shall wait here, Miss Weston,” he said with a sheepish smile. “I do not trust myself in a small shop full of breakable items…I suppose you have heard the phrase ‘a bull in a china shop.’”

“Will you not be cold out here, sir?”

He waved aside her concern. “My winter coat keeps me quite comfortable, I assure you.”

It took her a moment to realize he meant his shaggy fur, not his woolen overcoat. She wondered if he even needed to wear winter garments at all, or if it was merely a gesture of propriety. Yet another audacious question to add to the long list building up in her mind.

Despite her misgivings, she did enjoy quietly wandering the shop and looking at the ceramic curios on every shelf. The shopkeeper must have correctly surmised that she could afford to buy nothing here—her plain work dress spoke volumes—so she was left to her own devices. When she exited the shop, Mr. Carlyle was gazing longingly into the next window, which displayed a variety of men’s hats.

“I’ve always wanted a top hat for evenings,” he told her with a wistful shrug, “but nothing will fit quite right with these.” He gestured impatiently to his antlers.

“It’s a pity I know nothing of hat-making. Perhaps you will need to hire one of those next, sir.”

He chuckled as they moved on.

It was at the haberdasher’s that Viola obtained what she had come for—a pair of long, sharp scissors suitable for cutting heavier fabrics—but she was reluctant to end their outing. Mr. Carlyle’s company was pleasant, and far from overbearing. She felt so far from her usual troubles and anxieties, as if a physical burden had been lifted from her shoulders.

She might have invented excuses to continue window-shopping for another hour—had she not seen him.

Over the course of the morning, the streets had become more crowded. Shoppers bustled to and fro with their packages. Children in shabby clothes darted ahead of pedestrians to sweep the mud and snow from their path in exchange for a ha’penny. Gigs and hackney coaches rattled by. But through the chaos, on the opposite corner, Viola glimpsed a familiar figure.

A chill run through her bones.

No—she could very well be mistaken—surely it wasn’t him. The face had disappeared into the crowd so quickly that she could not be sure. Yet she could identify that receding hairline, those greedy, glittering eyes anywhere.

Even if it was Mr. Beecham—what was terribly extraordinary about running into an acquaintance in a popular shopping district, purely by chance? It did not mean he was following her. Perhaps he had not even noticed her!

And yet, she swore she had glimpsed a flicker of recognition mirrored in his eyes.

It was childish to avoid Mr. Beecham thus. He was not a villain out of a penny dreadful, with preternatural powers. He was just an unpleasant man who had ruined her family. Yet he had an uncanny ability to make Viola feel powerless, feel like resisting his plans was a futile struggle.

The only thing that gave her courage to face him was that he was contained: she sought out his counting-house under her own power, and his presence did not bleed further into other aspects of her life. The thought of confronting him with Mr. Carlyle at her side, the idea that he could taint this new chapter of her life simply by inserting himself into it, made her queasy.

“Mr. Carlyle,” she said, fighting to keep her voice steady, “would you mind terribly if we turned back towards home?”

“Of course. Is everything alright?”

She forced a smile. “Oh, yes. I’m just rather tired, that is all.”

“If you’d like to wait here, I can have the carriage brought ‘round.” There was a faint note of concern in his tone.

The notion of being left alone on a street-corner sent an irrational shiver of panic through her. “No need, sir, I can walk with you. Although, if—if it is not an imposition, could I avail myself of your arm?”

He blinked. “Yes, of course,” he said, recovering from his surprise and offering his elbow to her. As she linked her arm through his, she noticed a lightness in his step.

I hope I’ve redeemed myself for my earlier rejection of his civility, she thought.

She glanced backwards at the teeming street, but there was no sign of Mr. Beecham. She released a sigh of relief and tightened her grip on Mr. Carlyle’s arm.

#my fiction #beauty and the beast #monster of west end #yes! another update! look at me being productive!

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xialing-gf · 4 years

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rainbows and rompers

summary: the chronicles of carol and wearing different colored clothing (week 23 of my 30 weeks of prompts challenge: rainbow clothing)

read on ao3!

wc: 1580

Many people often ask you if your parents are fashion designers because you have always been obsessed with clothing ever since you were young. Your parents aren’t fashion designers so you never really know how to explain why you grew with an interest in clothing. Somewhere very early on in your childhood, you just started picking out what outfits you wanted to wear to school and eventually, your parents started taking you to clothing stores so you could choose what clothes you wanted to wear.

This probably connects to why you’re so independent today. Your ability to determine what exactly you wanted seems to stem from the choices you made about your clothing.

Your independence and love for fashion drove you to decide to pursue the career of a fashion designer. Your parents didn’t want you to dive into the world of design without experience so you chose to study fashion design at a university in New York, which would definitely help you with your entrance into the fashion industry.

While New York is known for being a prominent center for the fashion industry, it is also known for its frequent encounters with extraterrestrial life. For some reason, you didn’t consider this fact when choosing to study in New York and only remembered this when you witnessed an alien attack firsthand.

It was a normal day in New York and you were walking down the street with your earbuds in. The chilly fall weather couldn’t bite your skin through the layers you wore to protect yourself from the cold. The heat from the cup of coffee you held between your hands seeped through your gloves, warming your palms and fingers. You glanced around you as you took a sip from your cup of coffee, scrutinizing the outfits of everybody around you.

So far, there were only a couple of intriguing outfits you had seen in your few weeks spent in New York that inspired you to create a look based on it. You were eager to see if anybody around you would be the next to inspire you but before you could get a proper look at a mildly interesting coat somebody was wearing, a chunk of a building fell off and landed right next to you. Fortunately, it didn’t hit anybody but naturally, it caused people to panic, scream, and run away.

Confused, you glanced up at the sky wondering why part of a building suddenly fell off and almost killed a crowd of unsuspecting citizens. Then, you saw green laser beams in the air and you didn’t bother to look twice before running. You had no idea what was going on but you knew that whatever was up in the sky was definitely not human. As you sprinted down the sidewalk to get to safety, you didn’t consider looking up to make sure that there wouldn’t be another part of the building that could fall down so you had no idea a chunk of the roof was falling towards your head until you heard somebody shout, “Look out!”

When you looked up and saw the giant mass fall straight towards your face, you were certain you were doomed so you instinctively crouched down into a protective ball with your hands on your head, hoping to somehow lessen the damage. You shut your eyes, bracing for impact, but nothing hit.

You opened your eyes to see a woman lifting the mass away from your head with both her hands. She had beautiful golden locks that seemed completely unaffected by the dust from the debris and she wore a dark green bomber jacket that made your jaw drop. You had never seen such a simple yet stylish jacket in your life. Your first instinct was to compliment her jacket and your second instinct was to thank her. Thankfully, you acted on your second instinct and thanked her for saving your life.

“No problem,” She replied before tossing the debris aside as if it didn’t weigh more than a human before she flew towards the laser beams that were still firing in the sky. You watched her disappear and wondered if you would ever see her again.

Shockingly, you saw her again at a coffee shop in New York a few weeks after. She was wearing a plain red t-shirt with a small logo on the front (again, simplistic yet stylish) and you almost stumbled over your feet as you walked over to her to talk to her.

“Hey! Thanks for saving my life a few weeks ago when the aliens were firing laser beams near C Street,” You grinned and the woman’s face lit up with recognition when you brought up your last encounter. You considered adding that you really admired her shirt but pressed your lips together, silently willing yourself not to speak.

“Oh, right! Yeah, that was no problem at all really,” She reassured and she held out her hand. “I’m Carol by the way. I don’t think I’ve properly introduced myself.”

“I’m Y/n. Nice to meet you.” Just as you finished your sentence, your phone started ringing and you saw that the alarm you set for ten minutes before your first class just went off. You turned off the alarm and sheepishly apologized, “Sorry, I have to go to class. Hopefully, I’ll see you around!”

“Bye!” Carol waved and you rushed to class with a stupid, lovesick grin on your face. Only when you got to class, you realized you forgot to ask for her number. Still, you trusted in fate to make everything work out and a couple days later, you met Carol again at the same coffee shop.

This time, she was wearing a cropped yellow hoodie with floral patterns and you couldn’t hold back your thoughts anymore so you blurted out, “I love your style so much. The clothing choices you make are always so stylish and go together so well! I absolutely adore your outfits. Can I buy you a coffee?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you. And I’m humbled by your compliments. I don’t think much about what I wear but I guess my wardrobe is rather diverse,” Carol chuckled and continued the conversation. You talked with her for such a long time at the coffee shop about New York and you almost forgot about your class once again. Unlike last time, this time, Carol insisted on walking with you to your class even though she didn’t know where you studied and probably had errands to run.

You found her gesture really sweet and gave her your number as a thank you gesture. If the snap didn’t happen the next day, she probably would have called you. However, the snap happened and she seemed to have disappeared. You survived, living your life while half the universe disappeared. Even in the absence of some of the professors, you finished studying in school and found a job in New York in the fashion industry. You didn’t see Carol for another five years when everybody came back.

She was at the same coffee shop you had met her at five years ago and she was wearing a blue jean jacket decorated with assorted pins. Carol still had her bright smile, seeming to be unburdened by the snap. You gathered your courage, crossing your fingers that she would remember you as you walked over and greeted, “Hey Carol! How are you doing? It’s been so long!”

“Oh my god! Y/n! So good to see you again! I’m good, how are you doing?” Carol didn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around you in a warm embrace and you hugged her back, recalling how wonderful her hugs are. “It’s almost like the universe is trying to tell us something after all these years.”

“Yeah! Do you want to get dinner together sometime? You have my number, right? You can just send me a text when you’re free,” You cheerfully suggested and Carol nodded, seeming to also be on board with your idea. “I have a meeting to go to but I really look forward to catching up soon!”

“I will definitely text you when I’m free!” Carol gave you one last hug before you left the coffee shop to attend the meeting. Later that night, Carol texted you a date and location, asking if you were free then. Luckily, your schedule was empty during that time so you agreed.

At the restaurant, Carol was wearing a wonderful purple dress that made your jaw drop. You swore you spent half of the time just admiring her dress. Admittedly, it was a little awkward at first since you both sort of silently agreed that this was a date but the ice was broken by the easy flow of conversation that started.

One date led to another and one day, you decided to ask Carol to officially be your girlfriend. You two were sitting together outside the coffee shop under the warm summer sun and she was wearing a soft tangerine-colored romper with a pair of sunglasses on her head when you turned towards her and asked, “Would you like to be my girlfriend?”

“Is that even a question? Of course!” Carol placed her hand on yours with a supportive smile on her face. You let out the breath you had been holding in and she suddenly gasped, which caused you to slightly panic again.

“You good?”

“Yeah, I just realized that everything had come full circle. I’ve worn different colored clothing every time we’ve met and now I’ve worn every single color from the rainbow. The universe really wanted our gay hearts to be happy, huh?” Carol laughed and you joined her, unable to stop yourself from finding her revelation adorable and oddly symbolic. If the universe truly wants you and Carol together, you hope that there will be many more rainbows and rompers in your future with her.

check out more marvel fics on the marvel page on my blog! and comment to join the carol danvers taglist

Carol Danvers Taglist: @retrobhaddie @mystic-ender @just-your-local-history-nerd @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @aesthetiff @imgayandilliterate

#marvel #sam's 30 week prompt challenge #carol danvers x reader #captain marvel #carol danvers imagine #carol danvers x fem!reader #carol danvers x you #captain marvel x reader #captain marvel imagine #fluff #fanfiction #mcu #marvel fanfiction #women of marvel #x reader #imagine #rainbow

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casualcatte · 4 years

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RP Journal: 08/04/2020

Third Eye Sushi was an amazing venue, beautiful and welcoming, with staff that were attentive to every need. I was looking forward to the performance by Haurche-fe! And they were brilliant, of course. The best thing about it was the food, I had the best gyoza and yakisoba I’ve had while I’ve been in Kugane. And the plum wine was sweet and refreshing, my glass never running dry!

[ Courtesy Cut for Length! ]

While I was there, I spoke with an elezen woman named Loksia who seemed very kind and congenial. We spoke with a young courtesan who seemed particularly worn out by his clientele. I couldn’t help but tease a bit about it, suggesting foods for stamina, or that another sort of client might be needed. Gods, I think I might be hanging around Edgard too much.

Lorrendor arrived not long after, to say good-bye he said, but Loksia and I both insisted he at least sit a while with us and have a drink. Well, /they/ had a drink. I ate, drank, and enjoyed the concert. Lorrendor didn’t seem to enjoy it much, though. I saw him glare at the stage more than once, as if the noise and music irritated him. Even people dancing near him seemed a bother. Again, we spoke of the hunt and its dismality with Loksia, the woman -- who was also a hunter -- volunteering to go along with us the next time we went. Lorrendor said it was up to me to decide.

Who am I to decide who he spends his time with? I’m not his keeper or his secretary. If he wants to go on a hunt with Loksia, he can bloody well ask her himself! Not that I mind her going at all, but I’m not about to ask a total stranger to entrust me with her life and fortune. She and Lorrendor seemed to have a previous friendship, so why shouldn’t he be the one to ask? He finally did, inviting her on one of his underground cave-spelunking forays, to which she agreed. For a few minutes, it was like I didn’t even exist. Just a kid sitting at the grown-ups table.

Lorrendor finally decided to ask me to join them, but at that point it just felt like an after-thought. I don’t know if there’s something going on between the two of them, but I certainly didn’t want in the middle of it. Loksia offered to go on a stag hunt in the Shroud with me sometime, just the two of us, “no men” she said, which made me laugh. Maybe it /would/ be a good idea to have a night free of masculine company. It seems like that’s all that I’ve been surrounded with lately. The conversation wore on until the concert ended and the restaurant began to close, so I paid our tab and took my leave. Lorrendor and I walked back to Kugane, while Loksia went in search of a friend.

This was Lorrendor’s last night in Kugane, his things already at the Airship Landing, so he asked me to walk with him there. I didn’t see the harm. As we went, he spoke of how much he’d miss me and how much he’d enjoyed his time in Kugane. I’m not altogether certain of that, given that he hadn’t seemed happy or content since the first night before Edgard had arrived. After that, he seemed moody and… emotional for the lack of a better word. Like everything either worried, scared, or irritated him. I tried a few times to get him to talk to me about what was bothering him, but he always insisted he was fine or just tired.

The misery of the hunt only seemed to make it all that much worse. I somewhat feel bad for yelling at him about it, but his over-protectiveness is stifling. I don’t know that I can ever get him to treat me like a grown woman capable of doing things for herself and accepting the consequences of her actions. I’ve jokingly taken to calling him ‘Dad’ whenever he frets and fusses over me too much.

Which is why it surprised me that he got all misty eyed when we got to the Airship Landing. Like he was never going to see me again. Maybe he plans to go back to Ul’dah and forget all of this, no matter what he claims with his voice. I don’t know. I’m not sure what to think. He’s so mercurial.

I certainly didn’t know what to think when he kissed me. Only on the cheek, mind, but it was still entirely out of left field. I tried to keep it in the perspective of a father or uncle kissing his daughter or niece good-bye. Something chaste and without intent. After all, he said he wasn’t interested in that sort of thing, so there’s certainly not anything more to it. Oschon’s Tattered Maps, I’m never telling Edgard about this. He’d read /far/ too much into it and I’d never hear the end.

No sooner than he kissed me though, he was gone. Just like that. He didn’t even wait for me to react or say good-bye to him in return. He just left. What is it with people, me, and these really weird and uncomfortable good-byes? Can’t I ever have one that’s just nice and congenial?

The one on the Airship Landing in Ul’dah with Edgard doesn’t count. He’d been a complete fool all night and he just didn’t want me leaving continuing to think he’s a fool. Purely self-interested in motive, like a lot of what he does. He did come to Kugane later to buy me dinner and make up for it, but I don’t think that quite counts either.

Speaking of Edgard, when I finally got back to the Bokairo he was half stumbling out. I don’t know if he’d just fallen out of bed or if he’d just gotten that drunk the night before. Either way, he was thoroughly impressed with the dress I’d worn to the concert, which, I don’t really blame him. I thought I looked /damn good./ In typical style, he tried to make it out like I’d done it to impress him, but I cleared that misconception up by telling him about the concert.

As promised, I took him on the tour of Kugane, working backward from my route with Lorrendor since we started at the Bokairo. Pointing out the sights to him, he noted that for as much time as we spent together, he still knew nothing about me. I found it curious that he was interested. I also found it curious that one of the questions he peppered in amongst “where are you from” and “what are your hobbies” was also “what do you look for in a man” -- no doubt intended as more fodder for him to pick on me with.

We only got to the halfway point before I needed a break. I’d eaten way too much at Third Eye and it was catching up with me. So, I sat on the railing, the very same railing that Lorrendor had chastised me for getting on, for fear of me falling. Edgard did no such thing. He hopped right on up there with me.

As we looked over the city, glittering like a pile of jewels, watching the moon rise… Edgard and I had a real and honest conversation. Or as close to honest as Edgard might ever get. I know there are still things he hides, still things he keeps to himself, but he still talked to me like I was a person for a change, instead of a pretty face he was intent on swooning. I told him about Tailfeather and growing up there, about my parents, and a little about my Hunt for the Saurotaun.

Vengeance, he called it, though I suppose he’s not far wrong. Part of it is to avenge my parents, but another part of it is to finish what they started and to end the monstrosity’s reign of terror. I know there’s a part of me that should be afraid. A part of me that should think this is a fool’s errand. It killed not only my parents, but the full Hunt party that had gone with them. What could I, a lone hunter, hope to achieve that they couldn’t? I can’t just put it aside, though, I can’t just forget about it and go on with my life. If I did that, it would be like I gave up on my parents and fed them to the beast myself.

It’s not in me to abandon a hunt, no matter how difficult. I’ve overcome some pretty long odds before, so why not this? The Saurotaun has had over fifteen years to get fat and complacent, or even dead. I don’t even know if it’s alive at this point, but all the rumors I’ve heard lead me to believe it’s still out there.

Anyway, Edgard. He told me he’s going to Ishgard after we complete the hunt I promised him; he has oaths to fulfill that require him there. Naturally, I understand that he has to go. I’d do the same if the Hunt called me elsewhere. Still, with him gone and Lorrendor, Kugane will become a quiet place once again. However, he invited me -- after a fashion in his Edgard-y roundabout way -- to visit him there, which I could, given that I still have my cabin in Tailfeather. I’m not sure I’d want to give him the satisfaction. He’d just use it as another barb for how infatuated I am with him.

Idiot. Why can’t he just let this be a nice friendship without trying to make it out to be something more? Or is having me as a friend too much of a vulnerability for him that he has to keep it teetering on the edge of ‘we’re fine” and “I’ve had enough”?

Maybe next time, it’ll be his turn to answer some questions.

#[ Journal: Rhythm of the Night ]#Aultena Sephimiri #FFXIV #FFXIV RP #FFXIV Roleplay #Balmung RP #Balmung Roleplay #Balmung Roleplayer #Crystal RP #Crystal Roleplay #Crystal Roleplayer #Character Journal #Lorrendor Hauland #[Friendship: Hunter-Kin]#Edgard Beaumont #[Friendship: Pathfinder]#Third Eye Sushi

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kristallioness · 4 years

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Hey, dear followers! I hope you're all doing okay. 😁 I just wanted to write down some thoughts after the amazing day that I had this Friday. Long story short, in October, I took 3 vacation days (all of them on Fridays), and the outcome seemed to become better and better with each passing week:

The first vacation Friday was an utter failure, cause the day before I'd apparently caught my dad's cold (managed to avoid this for 1 year and nearly 2 months since the last time I was sick in 2019), so my throat was really getting on my nerves. 🤧 It wasn't as sore as it usually is when I have a cold, but still it bothered me enough that I wasn't in the mood to do anything. The good thing was that I did get to have a vacation, cause I would've been even more grumpy if I had to work (and talk a lot during meetings).

The second vacation Friday, as most of you could probably make out from my last personal update, I spent on watching and crying over Avatar-themed AMVs on YouTube (totally worth it), as well as finally continuing my rewatch (fingers crossed I'll continue this cycle this weekend.. the rewatch, I mean). 🤞

But the third vacation Friday was absolutely SPECTACULAR!!! 🤩 I accomplished so many things within a day and got to travel and see so much after a while...

I needed to go to Tallinn to run some errands at my nest (i.e. rented home) and at work. So in the morning, I took the train (I saw so many animals and birds along the way: 4 roe deer, an eagle, some horses, tens and tens of sheep grazing in the woods, a squirrel climbing on a tree..) and used public transportation for the first time after this emergency situation started in March (it ended in May, but I avoided public transportation like fire up until now). I really missed riding in them (the train and trams), but once I did, it suddenly felt familiar and like a regular day, as if nothing bad had ever happened.. 😌

Except that I wore several masks to protect myself (and everyone else around me), so I wouldn't catch or unintentionally spread the virus (Estonia hasn't forced people to wear masks anywhere yet, only recommended it). 😷 I had 2 notable, and completely different reactions: the conductor lady on the train gave me a bit of a suspicious look when she came to check my ticket (like, why would a healthy young woman like me be wearing a mask?), but another lady on one of the trams grinned when she saw my adorable Paw Patrol-themed mask. (Btw, I hold no grudge against the conductor and laughed about it later. 😄)

Why was I being extra careful? Simple: it's because I had to visit the health centre at the campus where work is located (and later visit my office, too), to receive my flu vaccination for this year. 💉 The visit with the kind nurse went really well, I got to explore around the new location of and the rooms inside the health centre (they moved some time ago, but now I know what it looks like and what to expect, so I won't be too nervous when going to my health check next time in 2021, I believe). 🩺

Afterwards, I went to visit my colleagues at work and had such a wonderful time chatting with them face to face. 🥰 Like I told them: it truly felt as if I was coming home as soon as I walked in, and I loved that feeling very much and I look forward to the day when we can all feel safe enough to come to work again. Also, I had some neat and very practical little gifts to pick up.. 😏

Once I left work, I quickly went through a shopping spree in the nearby mall and bought a small toy I'd written down in my notes of things to keep an eye out for / buy asap: the 1/43 model of the WRC Toyota Yaris that Estonians Ott Tänak and Martin Järveoja drove with throughout 2019, when they first won the championship. 🏎️ Some time ago, I was searching the internet for a possibly bigger model, but I don't think there are any, so I decided it's a YOLO-type of situation and I knew I'd want at least one (1) model for myself before they completely ran out (there were like 3-4 left, in 2 different malls).

What made me feel even better was that the shopkeeper looked so happy when I walked in and asked to buy that specific item. 😊 Considering the price (60+ €) and the type of items they sell in that shop and the current pandemic situation, most people wouldn't walk into a store like that daily to buy such expensive stuff. I hope I helped boost their sales even by a little bit, and I sure made that nice lady's day.

Fast-forward to the evening when I was already back home, I couldn't contain myself, so I had to skim through "Katara and The Pirate's Silver". 🌊 But as I was following Katara's storyline, I ended up reading through the whole thing a bit later. And.. I.. LOVED IT!!! Will definitely write my review / notes down later, cause there were so many awesome things that stuck out.

All in all, I haven't had such an adventure-filled day in a long time, and as I said in the beginning, I had so many positive emotions throughout. The third vacation day was a complete success in so many ways. 🥲

#personal #shards of Kristal

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angryhausfrau-writes · 3 years

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You Can‘t Cross the Same River Twice - Chapter 20

“Boy, there's enough red, white, and blue around here to make even old Ferret Face happy.” Trapper's looking around the park with an expression somewhere between awe and contempt. “Don't remember it being quite so...” He gestures vaguely at the flag bunting and the kids waving sparklers and tiny flags.

“What, it wasn't like this last Fourth of July?” Hawkeye finds it hard to believe that America would have been less patriotic during the death throws of the Korean war.

“I didn't go anywhere near any of this shit last year – got stuck with a twenty-four hour shift in the ER.” Trapper sighs. “Between the noise from the fireworks and all the kids coming in with powder burns, I coulda been back at the front.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

The clinic has seen its fair share of kids with burnt fingers – though fortunately nothing worse. And Hawkeye hasn't had the most restful week of his life, either. The constant barrage of fireworks brings back memories of artillery shells and he keeps dreaming about Korea. Just hazy impressions of blood and khaki, but unsettling enough to make him toss and turn half the night.

Trapper nudges Hawkeye out of those thoughts with a brief press of his shoulder. “Course, you were actually over there last year, so I tried not to wallow in self pity too much. I'm sure the coffee you were drinking was way worse than the shit in the ER staff room.”

Hawkeye laughs despite himself. Feels himself relax, despite the crowds, despite the dozens of screaming children – shrieks of laughter so, so close to shrieks of terror and agony. Despite what day it is.

He isn't in Korea. No one is going to die today.

Trapper knocks gently into Hawkeye's shoulder again, clearly reading his change in mood. “It gets to be too much and you wanna go home, just lemme know. Ok?”

Hawkeye smiles, small but genuine. “Thanks, Trapper. But I'm ok, really. And Cathy would never let me live it down if I missed her softball game – I'd lose my standing as favorite uncle.”

“That's true enough, Cathy's absolutely ruthless when crossed.” Trapper grins. “She pretty much single handedly whupped St. John's Episcopal in the interfaith league cuz they wouldn't let a girl play softball.”

“She an adorable little terror. You must be so proud.” And now Hawkeye's grinning too.

By this point, they've managed to fight their way through the crowd to the metal bleachers of the baseball diamond. It's crowded here too – apparently the Fourth of July little league games are a longstanding tradition – but it's a more orderly chaos. The hordes of children are being at least somewhat corralled by their impatient parents.

Except for Becky - who comes barreling out of the ballpark and right into Trapper, managing to knock him backwards a few steps with the force of her momentum. While Trapper's still getting his wind back, she flings herself at Hawkeye in an exuberant hug. He hugs her back, a little bemused – she's not normally so affectionate.

“Thank Christ you're here!” she exclaims when she finally lets go of Hawkeye.

“Don't cuss, Becky,” Trapper admonishes her. Though he's pulled her into another, less violent hug – and it's not like he has much room to complain about bad language.

“Sorry, dad,” Becky says, not looking very sorry. “But we've been here for hours! And all mom and Rob want to do is gossip about boring stuff like who's having babies or what some lady wore to church. At least you two talk about interesting things.”

“Speaking of your ma, she know you're running around loose?”

Becky looks guiltily at the ground and Trapper sighs.

“You better lead us to 'em before Louise sends out a search party. Don't want her to think you've run off to join the circus – though your human cannon ball act is pretty good, just about bowled me over.”

“Sorry dad, Uncle Hawkeye.” This time Becky does look contrite. But she brightens up when Hawkeye and Trapper each hold out a hand for her to take. And then she's tearing off towards wherever Louise and Robert are sitting – the two of them trailing in her wake.

They come up on Louise and Robert a little ways away – though the crowds are thick enough, it takes longer than it should to reach them. Leaving plenty of time for Trapper to watch them as he approaches.

It's still kinda strange for Trapper to see Louise out on the town – especially with a guy who ain't him. But they're friendly enough with one another, if mostly focused on the girls whenever they talk. And Robert ain't a bad guy, even if Trapper finds him unbearably boring. He cares about the girls a whole hell of a lot, and that's worth sitting through him talking about bird watching or the stock market or whatever the hell it is he's talking about now. Proper barbecue technique, by the sound of it.

No wonder Becky ran off.

Even Louise looks glad to see them, her smile a little fixed as she goes to kiss first his cheek and then Hawkeye's. And she's very quick to pull Hawkeye into a conversation about her latest knitting project – apparently Cathy's interest had sparked her own and they all trade knitting patterns now. Trapper smiles as he listens to Becky describe the plot of her latest Nancy Drew novel.

It's funny that it took divorcing his wife for them to find some kinda equilibrium with each other.

And Trapper ain't glad it happened, by any means. Mostly cuz Louise deserved better from him than being a distant shadow of the man she married – and a cheater who'd bedded anyone who'd have him over in Korea. A man in love with his best friend, even if it took him a while to realize.

But he don't mourn the man he used to be. Or see much point in regretting his mistakes. What's done is done – all that matters is the here and now. And this here and this now – a clear summer day, his one daughter sitting next to him and the other waving frantically from the dugout, Hawkeye happy and laughing and here with him – is pretty damn good.

Cathy wins her softball game and they all go out for ice cream after. They still woulda gone if she hadn't'a won, of course, but there's a special air of celebration about it on account of the victory.

After they all mob the ice cream cart – along with about a hundred other families - they cram onto a couple of park benches. The girls are talking all in and around and over each other in their excitement. And Louise is attempting to get them to take turns talking – a lost cause in Trapper's opinion. Even Robert is smiling and cracking some pretty terrible jokes. They're loud enough, some of the people walking past are giving them the evil eye.

But Hawkeye is just sitting there. Silent. With ice cream dripping down his arm.

Covered by the loud chatter of the rest of the family, Trapper leans in and says quietly, “You ok, Hawkeye? You wanna cut this short and head home?”

“Nah, I'm fine. Just thinking.” And then Hawkeye laughs quietly. “You know something funny, Trapper? That first week back home I went out and bought knitting supplies and a gossip magazine and an ice cream cone – strawberry, like I'm eating now.”

Hawkeye pauses to lick ice cream off his wrist and Trapper has to look away.

“It felt like – like this forbidden thing, you know? To go out and buy ice cream. Ice cream! It's not like I was breaking the law or anything – I wasn't even buying booze or a nudie mag or anything questionable – but it felt like I was going to get arrested by the cops for being out without a pass, you know? For daring to buy an ice cream cone without orders.”

Trapper nods.

For all that the army was s'posed to bring freedom to Korea, it was pretty damn thin on the ground – for soldiers and civilians. It had taken him a while to get used to the lack of military restrictions when he got back home, too. A while to get used to feeling like a real person again, able to make decisions for himself, able to set his own schedule.

“I had to remind myself that I was a grown adult,” Hawkeye continues, “capable of running errands on my own – going where I wanted when I wanted, without written permission or a curfew.”

Trapper nods again. “It's funny what a guy can get used to, I guess. What starts to feel normal.” He grins wryly. “Not that you've ever given two shits about being normal.”

Hawkeye laughs. “True enough.” And then he bites into his ice cream cone.

They get invited over to Louise and Robert's house in the suburbs for a Fourth of July barbecue. And the girls are so excited to show their dad and Uncle Hawkeye their rooms and toys and neighborhood haunts that they can't really refuse. So Hawkeye finds himself standing on Robert's meticulously manicured lawn, chatting with a slew of pastel-clad, pearl-wearing housewives while their husbands congregate around the grill to talk about cars and vacations to the Grand Canyon and other boring things. Trapper, meanwhile, has practically disappeared in a pile of roughhousing kids – occasionally breaking free, only to be pulled back under by the teaming mass. And Louise flutters at the edge of Hawkeye's little entourage – pouring drinks and setting out side dishes.

Hawkeye had offered to help – he and Trapper both had – but she'd said they were guests and ought to take it easy. Hawkeye doesn't know that he feels easy, exactly, in this world of matching bungalows and matching skirt sets but he does his best to relax.

It had helped when the women had gathered around him and started gossiping. All he'd had to do was listen and ask leading questions and he could be almost totally silent without looking bored or inattentive – a trick he'd learned on the boat home, back when he didn't really talk all that much. Back when he felt like he didn't have anything to say that was really him talking.

He doesn't feel that way anymore, but it's still a relief when they all sit down to eat and he can rejoin Trapper. Talk about something other than church functions, PTA meetings, and children's play dates. Even if they're sitting at the kiddie table and his time is mostly spent trying to keep the kids from putting potato salad in each others' hair.

It helps settle something in him to be able to see the kids alive and happy and alive. Helps drive home that he isn't in Korea and today isn't going to end like it did last year. And it helps that Trapper is sitting next to him, pressed against him, real and solid and here.

Trapper presses closer to Hawkeye under the pretense of the table being crowded. And there are a whole lotta kids crammed onto one picnic bench. But more than that, Trapper needs the comfort and familiarity of Hawkeye next to him.

Cuz it's strange, being here at Louise's house. Seeing her and the kids having a life here. Seeing them have a life here with Robert and without him.

Don't get him wrong, it's not any kinda life Trapper'd want to live. He ain't jealous or nothing. But it's strange, being here with the people he used to be so close to - but as an outsider to their lives.

At least Louise seems happy here - with her nice big house and her nice boring husband and her nice gossipy neighbors. Trapper's glad Louise is living the kinda life she wants – the kinda life she'd grown up with, grown up wanting. Glad she can have the kinda life he hadn't been able to have with her.

But he's really fucking glad when the night is over and he can go back home to his own life with Hawkeye.

#mash #piercintyre #fanfic archive #you can't cross the same river twice #chapter 20

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thebarefootking · 4 years

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Food

As with many autistic people, my childhood was rife with battles at the dinner table over what I would and would not eat. (Or, in my case, the bar. Our trailer didn't have a dinner table, per se, and I ate on a tall chair in the kitchen, facing across the bar toward the living room TV, while my parents sat on the couch.) Some foods were fan favorites, some I wouldn't touch with a ten-foot fork. Tomatoes, I hated (and still hate!) One of my earliest memories is of a preschool teacher, so much bigger than me, coming up behind while I picked at my food.

"Don't you like tomatoes?"

"No. They're gross."

"Have you ever tried a tomato?"

"No. They smell bad and they're mushy."

"Well how do you know you don't like it, if you haven't tasted it?" she asked, ignoring the fact I'd just told her. "Try it. For me?"

"I don't wanna."

"Just one bite?"

"I don't. wanna."

"You need to try the tomato."

Of course, when I finally gave in to her badgering, I 'learned' what had already been apparent to me: tomatoes were gross.

Some foods, more interestingly, were one-day delights, preferred a couple times and then hated thereafter. Eggs, for example, were always a trial. A nice scramble was always accepted, at least for my youngest years, until I learned more about where eggs came from. After that, I swore I could taste the chicken embryos, and I didn't eat eggs for a good, long while. When I repented of my folly, fried eggs were the dish of the day, but only one way: cooked hard, with the yolk unbroken. That way, I could peel the egg white away and eat it, and leave the whole yolk on my plate to be disposed of or, more frequently, eaten by one of my parents.

For those of you who cook, you may know that this is a particularly difficult way to prepare eggs. Either the yolks stay runny and burst on the plate (bad), or they burst in the pan from heat and overhandling, and mingle inextricably with the white (worse). Dad claims it took him months of practice to figure out how to do it, and years to get really good… by which time I'd gone off eggs again, preferring a sweeter breakfast (probably for the energy boost it gave me. By the time 4th-6th grades rolled around, school was causing me to work up an intense appetite.)

Although I didn't have a very broad spectrum of preferred tastes, that didn't stop me wanting to experiment in the kitchen. Indeed, it was one of my favorite things to do! Unfortunately, I could rarely get an adult to allow it (partly because we, in our poverty, could not afford to waste ingredients. Partly because, again, due to poverty, everyone was just too damn exhausted to supervise something that potentially dangerous.) Instead, I usually ended up sneaking and doing it on my own, which invariably led to trauma of one kind or another.

One incident occurred one of the very first times my parents dubbed me old enough to stay home on my own while they went out to run errands. Having recently seen a news spot on dyed salt for those seeking to reduce their salt intake, I sought to replicate the stuff in my own kitchen. How hard could it be? I thought. Just add food coloring to salt.

Only, food coloring has water in it.

All the salt (and I do mean all the salt in the house) was now a dark blue-green color, and the texture of wet sand. I needed to dry it out! But I wasn't allowed to use the oven or stove unsupervised. What could I do?

I decided the best option was to microwave the salt. I spread it out on a large plate, and nuked it in batches until all the salt was dry. Unfortunately, for the first batch, I failed to realise how VERY FUCKING HOT the plate would be after several minutes spinning away in the microwave. I pulled it out barehanded, screeched in pain, and tossed the Perry-the-Platypus-colored salt all over the kitchen floor and microwave cabinet.

Not good. I was already beginning to worry about what my parents would think about all this business with the salt. Now I had a mess on my hands to boot. I tended to my (thankfully minor) burns, and then began swabbing the floor and cabinet with damp paper towels...

… which spread the food dye EVERYWHERE. Now the salt was teal, the floor was teal, the cabinet was teal, and I was teal.

And I had no idea when my parents would return!

I cleaned frantically, microwaving salt on the side the entire time. And somehow (perhaps Lot's wife was smiling upon me?) I got it all managed. My parents came home to a nice, clean kitchen (if you didn't see the small blue spots in the crevices at the very edge of one cabinet), and a calm, collected child (also slightly spotted, but only on the palms, easily hidden). Nothing of note occurred until dinner time.

"LAUREN!!"

Apparently, Dad did not like that all of his salt was turned 'blue'. My reasoning appeased his anger, but he was still pretty displeased. I was temporarily banned from using the microwave without permission. And they were far more cautious about leaving me alone, after that.

(These days, Dad frequently apologises for this. He says it was a creative and thoughtful act, and he shouldn't have gotten mad. I agree, but I'm also not mad anymore. The whole thing is rather funny in retrospect.)

A much more traumatic food event, much later, but still involving the microwave, was the first time I tried making microwave mac 'n cheese. It was around the inception of Easy Mac, so the idea was quite novel; it wasn't as if I had a backlog of knowledge on what not to do…

I followed the instructions exactly, with the single differing point of adding some dried parsley before cooking.

AND LET ME TELL YOU.

If you are going to add parsley to your Easy Mac, do it after cooking! Cooking amplifies and alters the flavor so that it tastes like you added some sort of cooked leafy vegetable, like spinach, except somewhat more like an inedible plant. The flavor permeates every nook and noodle, and even the cheese sauce can't mask it.

It was inedible. Beyond inedible; it was sensory overload of the worst kind.

And my parents, who had watched the whole thing, and warned me of putting anything in my food that I didn't 100% know would taste good, made me eat it.

At first, there was a screaming match, until I wore myself out with tears and begging. Then, I just sat there, defeated, thinking of ways I could get out of eating it. Maybe if I intentionally get choked on the food? Maybe if I shatter the glass of the coffee table, and then hurt myself with it? Something to make them care about something other than me eating this food. Anything to make them see how much eating the food was bad and wrong and how much it hurt me.

I was never, in my entire childhood, a willfully disobedient child. Well, small things, here or there, a child's innocent inability to self-regulate their impulses or understand the rules. Never did I knowingly and intentionally go against my parents' commands when I now feel like I had another real choice. But there were times, like these, when I didn't have a choice.

I ate three bites before my body rebelled and I threw up. Mom didn't follow through on her threat to make me eat the vomit and finish the food.

Instead, I got grounded for two weeks.

Incidentally, I've never gotten an apology for this little incident, despite it being the one I'm still angry over.

None of this is to say I was too picky to be fed, or that I ever went without (excepting that one night with the poison mac). If anything, I ate more than plenty in an attempt to offset the lacks in nutrition my pickiness inevitably led to. I'm sure that I was malnourished at times, despite eating more than my necessary share of calories.

And boy, was I aware of what that share was! My parents were and are avid yo-yo dieters, always on one plan or another to lose the weight they gained off a diet of poverty foods. All the while, frustrated by my pickiness, they fed me on breakfasts of whole packages of off-brand cinnamon rolls or apple turnovers. My lunch was usually whatever snack-foods I could convince the lunch ladies to sell me for the same price as a school lunch I wouldn't eat. With both parents either busy or exhausted, dinner was Taco Bell nearly every damn weekday.

It was inevitable that I would gain weight, with the genes, environment, and diet all inclined toward it. I was ten or eleven the first time my parents mentioned including me in one of their diet plans.

Not likely, I thought. I had long since decided that healthy food was gross, like school lunches and boiled vegetables and limp salads. And I wouldn't, couldn't cut my portions; not when I had to stay alert and concentrating while hauling all my books all around the school without a bookbag (which, after the Columbine shooting, had been banned at my school, lest we ten-year-olds have a place to conceal a weapon). I was already battling undiagnosed ADHD. I didn't need low blood sugar on top of it.

Still, if it gave them an incentive to buy more fresh fruit, I wasn't going to complain.

(And I didn't complain at all about any of their diets, until the one that consisted almost exclusively of boiled cabbage soup that stank the house to high heaven. I didn't even entertain joining them on that one.)

What it all added up to, though, was someone who, by the age of eleven, already had enormous issues with food and body image. And diet, for that matter, for we still hadn't found a healthy variety of foods that I would eat. By the time I was in high school, I was eating Cheetos and Little Debbies with Mountain Dew for lunch every weekday except Wednesday (chicken nuggets and mashed potatoes day in the cafeteria! Hell yeah!) I was also being (mildly) bullied for my weight.

Adulthood came after, with blessings and curses. When I moved out on my own, I had more opportunity (and income!) to explore what I liked culinarily. I got to employ the whole backlog of tips and tricks from cooking shows that I had watched for years. (At one point, during high school, I had wanted to become a chef. I gave up the idea when I realised how ill-suited I was to the job, but the education of the time stuck with me.)

I got to learn my favorite ways to cook food (pan fried, not baked. Baking unseasoned meat is not 'cooking', Dad.) I got to play with spices and flavors.

Or, I did for a while.

Very soon, my work at McDonald's caught up with me, and I found myself too tired to do much cooking. (Sorry, Dad! I understand, now!) More and more, my meals were eaten at work, from work. Over the next year, my stress increased, and my eating habits faltered along. And then, I began passing out at work.

Now, I needn't tell you this is a very dangerous situation, what with all the hot oil and ovens and lamps and such in a kitchen. I was sent home more than once, and it was becoming a danger not only to me, but to the state of my employment. I got in with a doctor as soon as I possibly could, and they determined that I had iron deficiency anemia.

No one was particularly surprised. I have a family history of the affliction, and I had basically been living off yogurt cups, Sausage Egg McMuffins, and chicken biscuits with cheese for months. My doctor suggested diet changes and high-dose iron supplements.

(One of these two turned my poop to black sin slime from a hell portal in my bowels. It was not the diet.)

Immediately, I switched over to a high-iron, high-protein, low-carb diet. And you know what? I felt fucking fantastic. I had energy for days, my mental acuity was improved, and my mood was better. I fell asleep faster and slept more soundly.

For three months, I kept it up. But then the financial burden became too much. Turns out, it's damn expensive to eat home-cooked meat every day when you're picky as hell. I was easily spending at least two to three times as much as I was when I was eating only fast food (on employee discount, admittedly). And soon, between the stress, the financial concerns, and my health problems, I had to move back in with my parents.

Honestly, I still haven't found peace with food and its place in my life. Coming to accept what my sensory needs mean for me has been difficult, and working around those needs in a productive way has been nearly impossible, especially with my other disabilities in tow. I feel that I'm learning to be kinder to my body emotionally speaking, but I could still be much kinder to it physically.

If only I could figure out how.

I wish I could be that little kid who loved experimenting in the kitchen, again. But I'm not, and I can't. So I'll have to find another way to take care of me.

#a year of writing #01062020 #self harm #school shooting mention #diet talk #child abuse #vomit tw #medical stuff #actuallyautistic #actuallyadhd #long post #this one's kind of long and disjointed #sorry for that lol #and lots of warnings on this one!

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wonhosmistress · 5 years

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My Type

Length: 1,597 words

Warnings: None

Summary: A couple of days had passed after she had gone to the beach and the reader ends up bumping into Keanu which results in her embarrassing herself.

A/N: This took me more than two weeks to complete and even then I’m still not satisfied with it but I’ve been working on it for too long, so here it is I hope y’all enjoy it! Also, I know this chapter doesn’t seem like much but I’m hoping to make the next chapter even better.

A giant thank you! to @sojournmichael for dealing with my annoying ass while I continuously kept getting stuck on this godforsaken chapter.

(This is Chapter.1 you can find the prologue here this is going to be an ongoing series with the same name just have different titles for each chapter which connects to a playlist I’m working on.)

* indicates time jumps

Italics indicates texts

It had been three days since y/n had gone to the beach with her best friend and still had a couple of days left until she went back to her regular work schedule which she was dreading. She had remembered the day at the beach so clearly because she genuinely enjoyed it. However, something that kept bothering her was the fact that her friend had left something for the older man she was staring at the beach. When she had asked her about what she had left, she didn’t bother pushing the question but rather just brushed it off and the more she thought about the more she had regretted not knowing because it was gnawing at her.

She walked from her living room to her kitchen in bare feet sensing the cold floor instantly. She opened the fridge door scanning over the few items inside her fridge and sighed in annoyance at the thought that she had to take a trip to the grocery store. She usually bought a good amount of groceries for herself but when she hung out with her best friend she helped herself more than she would like. It wasn’t that y/n was trying to be greedy. She had bought that food with her hard-earned money, so yes It frustrated her that every time she came over she would have to take another trip to the grocery store.

Slowly roaming down the supermarkets’ aisles she came into a halt avoiding being in other customers way, she looked over her list one last time to see what she needed. Thinking about her best friend and how there was a possibility that she might come over again before returning to work making her add a few more items to the list.

“She owes me,” she mumbled under her breath as she entered a new isle that carried coffee, sugar, tea, and flour.

Placing her cart against the wall of the aisle she looked over the various brands of coffee making her feel overwhelmed at the different options to choose from. Having to pick from; Decaf, French Vanilla, Columbian, Starbucks, Dunkin Donuts, Nescafe, Folgers, Arabica, Mexican Chocolate? Every time she took a trip to the grocery store her frustration jumped out over again. After finally narrowing down all the brands and flavors she finally got the coffee of her choice making it slip out of her soft grip and fall softly on the floor; she crouched down to grab it and just as she was getting up she bumped into a stranger. Quickly getting up, her continuous apology made the stranger laugh. There was no doubt that reaction came from a man. She looked at him and a sudden blush came over her when she noticed the man from the beach.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize so much.” He reassured her.

“Are you okay?, I hit you fairly hard...” she told him trying to make sure that he wasn’t hurt. He looked at her with a very concerned expression and his mood went directly to being concerned about how worried she was towards him.

“I’m really fine, don’t worry about it! I honestly didn’t feel you bump into me.” It took him a while for his brain to register the surprise note he had received at the beach. “You seem familiar, are you y/n?” She looked directly at him not wanting to but she had frozen at the sound of his strong voice saying her name. It also didn’t help that he was wearing a casual white shirt with a brown jacket hanging over his shoulders and some dark jeans. She tried her best to not stare for a prolonged amount of time but his appearance was making it difficult, the way his medium-length disheveled hair fell down to his shoulders left her in an awe state. Even though his outfit wasn’t skin tight nor could she see the outline of his muscles through the jeans he wore, she knew that they were there and she was daydreaming which left a lot to the imagination.

“Are you okay?” He asked with concern spread across his face. Her mind returned from its dream-like state as well as her blurred vision, she scanned her environment and looked back him. Feeling the sensation of a warm liquid trickling down her chin and quickly wiping it clean. Making her pupils dilate at the sudden realization of what had just occurred and immediately felt the blood rush to her face.

“oh my god...I-i’m sorry about that.” She said as she fidgeted with her fingers trying to avoid eye contact with him, she had completely forgotten where she was and the reason why she was there. Until she turned to see the shopping cart next to her.

“That’s so embarrassing... I’m so sorry you had to see me like that. It wasn’t my intention and to answer your question, yes I am.”

He laughed lightly trying not trying to seem rude. “It’s really okay, you don’t have to apologize so much.” “But did you leave me a note a couple days ago?” He asked trying to understand what had happened at the beach a couple of days ago. She looked at him with a dazed expression and only to recall the day at the beach that her friend had left something, her eyes traveled from the floor to his masculine features.

“Please don’t tell me that it had my number?” She asked sheepishly at the act that her friend had done and mentally shook her head at the thought. He smiled at her and nodded in response and from that moment on she knew she was screwed-she was really embarrassed by the situation but who was she kidding? Her friend knew her well enough that she wouldn’t even attempt to interact with an older man even though deep inside she knew that they were eye-candy from far away. However, right now? Right now she was low-key thanking her friend.

“I wasn’t trying to be weird. That piece of paper was my friends’ mischievous way of getting you to talk to me, I sincerely apologize on her behalf.”

He looked at her as she was shuffling in her spot. She took the product she was going to buy and placed it in her cart.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t introduce myself, My name is Keanu.” He held out his hand and shook it feeling a spark but ignoring it. “it’s nice to meet you Keanu, “I’m y/n” She smiled at him and noticed he was alone. “I’m not trying to be a creep and I hope you don’t mind me asking but what happened to that kid that was at the beach with you?”

She looked at him with a curious expression and he smiled at the thought of his son being brought up. “No, you're fine. He is actually with the babysitter because I have some errands to run which I’m actually running late, so should get going. Have a nice day y/n.” He smiled at her as he walked off and continued his shopping. She watched him walk off and stood in the same spot for what it seemed like forever but in reality, she couldn’t wrap her head around what had just occurred. The fact, that she saw him..the last place where she thought she would bump into him.

He looked at her one last time as the curiosity remained in her face. He smiled at her as he said his goodbye and walked off to grab one last item he needed. The way that she tried to avoid direct eye contact as she kept her soft gaze on the floor while her feet shifted slightly further away from him. Keanu chuckled softly and blushed at the thought of y/n being embarrassed causing him to bring his right hand towards his face only to cover his mouth.

Snapping out of his thoughts he made his way towards the cashier setting his basket down on the conveyor belt taking out his groceries as the cashier took the basket to set it down underneath her.

She walked into her room and sunk into her bed as she finally rested her aching back from carrying heavy bags all day. Her phone pinged, her blank stare going from the ceiling to the dimly-lit screen on her phone as she raised it to her face reading her friends' text.

“Has beach daddy texted or called you?”

She rolled her eyes at the text she had just read and sighed in frustration.

“Um..no. I bumped into him at the grocery store which I honestly didn’t expect and I embarrassed myself in front of him. BITCH I was literally drooling...”

Her phone pinged several more times after she had sent her last text but she wasn’t in the mood to text her about the embarrassing situation she had experienced earlier. She wanted to be alone more than anything. The scenario kept replaying in her head causing her to let out a frustrated cry which only annoyed her more because she had made a dreadful first impression. If she could go back in time to redo her interaction with Keanu she would but that’s not how life works.

She had to live with the thought that he had seen her in such a shameful state and that was probably the first and last time she would ever see him and had to come to the conclusion that he would never come in contact with her, which made her heart-ache.

Tagging: @sojournmichael @lvngdvns @beyond-antares @stairway2mars @pkg4mumtown @dragonstorytelling @contanto-que-voce-me-queira @derangedcupcake @bbblackmamba @itsteph13

#keanu reeves #john wick #Keanu Reeves #keanu reeves x reader #john wick 3 #john wick x reader #Keanu Reeves smut #john wick smut #john wick imagine #Summertime Sadness

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taylorswiftstylequestions · 5 years

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TAYLOR SWIFT STYLE: WHAT I WORE THIS WEEK, VOLUME 1

Many of you requested, so I have provided. Here are five lewks I wore last week and that I feel encapsulate my style: Classic, feminine neutrals with a bit of an edgy twist. I’m a working professional in a fairly relaxed/casual office environment. But I still like to feel put together and presentable.

DAY ONE

I feel this is an excellent place to start because it lays the ground rules for what a lot is to follow - and you’ll notice some hardworking repeat pieces established here. Cat eye sunnies, a silk cami, a leather jacket, and leather ankle boots. All things that are in constant rotation basically year-round given that I live in the Pacific Northwest where rain or clouds are imminent 9 months out of the year.

I have worn this exact outfit while travelling in Amsterdam, only to swap out the cami for a white one, lose the leather jacket, and change from leather boots to gladiator sandals and I was ready to conquer the heat of Athens, Greece. I am all about pieces that are versatile and can work in multiple environments (both literal weather and time/place that may require something dressier or casual). I wish I had bought this skirt in all the colours I could.

I’ve worn this exact to the office, while travelling (as mentioned), and would dress it up for a party by swapping the boots for closed-toe pointed pumps and a clutch.

Jacket: H&M, old (similar)

Sunglasses: Le Specs (Duchess of Sussex exact!)

Necklace: Mejuri

Cami: Express, old (similar)

Skirt: Uniqlo, old (similar)

Boots: Michael Kors, old (similar)

DAY TWO

I am a classic pear shape: Small bust, small waist, wide hips, thiq thighs. It’s something I’m constantly battling insecurity about and as a result have been fearful of culottes or the current wide leg crop pant trend that is happening. Skinny jeans and fit-and-flare dresses have been my saviour. But no more. I love that these pants cinch at the waist. But here’s a reminder that not everything you wear has to be flattering or designed to make your body shape more comfortable to be viewed by other people. Sometimes fashion isn’t flattering. Sometimes it is FASHUN. And that is okay. Because experimenting is fun. And wearing what you want to wear and what makes you happy is funner.

Here’s another classic trick of mine: all the stripes, all the navy. Plus a pop of honey courtesy of modern loafers that make every look (even something as swingy and fun and comfy as these culottes) a little more polished. Worn to the office, obvi.

Cami: Express, old (similar)

Sunglasses: Le Specs (Duchess of Sussex exact!)

Necklace: Boutique in Amsterdam

Culottes: Zara, old (similar)

Loafers: Everlane (on sale, Choose What You Pay)

DAY THREE

re: That earlier body flattering comment. My thiq thighs aren’t doing a great job selling these pants, but they are very good and they are Everlane. And I now understand what damn good denim is. I have been a jegging wearer for a decade and I’m now only realizing that there is denim out there that you can wear on your body and that you don’t have to tear out the belt loops to pull up over your hips. There is denim that is stiff and body confirming that will STAY UP. Who knew? Not me.

Speaking of fashion fears, white denim was always one of those for me. But ... like what was I afraid of? I wear black denim almost religiously in the fall and winter. Here, I remixed items that I would easily wear on a cool fall day with black jeans and paired them with white denim. And bam. Suddenly it is crisp. It is fresh. It’s bright. And easy. And cool. And perfect for spring/summer. Life changed.

Please note the same black cami from Day One. I told you it was a closet staple and versatile af. Please also note the leopard flats. Which, imo, leather is a neutral. I bought these ages ago and while I would buy another pair of leopard flats to better suit the stage I am at in life now and how my style has evolved (a new pair would be sans trim, sans bow, and a pointed toe) it seems absurd to throw out something that is still in great condition ... only to rebuy basically the same thing. So here they stay. Just try and picture that perfect other flat that I described, mmkai?

Cami: Express, old (similar)

Sunglasses: Le Specs (Duchess of Sussex exact!)

Necklace: Boutique in Amsterdam

Vest: Forever 21, old (similar)

Watch: Daniel Wellington

Denim: Everlane

Shoes: Payless, old (similar)

DAY FOUR

Have you noticed a pattern yet?

Step 1: Invest in simple, base neutrals Step 2: Wear them 234987239487239847 times, in countless different ways. Because you are a creative and resourceful human.

Same cami. Same shoes. Same necklace as Day One. Different day. But totes different.

Speaking of versatile neutrals — I love me a blazer. As a working professional, I could totally wear these with a pair of slacks in grey or navy or black or olive or rust if I’m feeling feisty. And I often am. Layered over top of a collared button up and whatever shoe I feel like that day. Good to go for business casual. But if I’m feeling even more laidback but wanted the tailored lewk of a blazer — this is my fave combo. If I had a pair of distressed jeans, I would be wearing them here. If I wanted to make this look even MORE casual I would go with distressed jeans and some kind of slim sneaker or Converse. For a weekend brunchy brunch or errand running situation. But I was at the office this day and my office is fairly laidback, but I still like looking naice.

Enter: Silk cami. Silky fabric is instance luxe. Blazer is instant profesh. Jeans are instant casual. So what you have is a luxe professional casual lewk. The clouds part. You are comfy. You look gr8. If this was winter, the denim would be black. But this is spring/summer — so a light blue wash it is.

Blazer: Gentle Fawn

Cami: Express, old (similar)

Sunglasses: Le Specs (Duchess of Sussex exact!)

Necklace: Mejuri

Watch: Daniel Wellington

Denim: AE

Shoes: Everlane

DAY FIVE

Oh. Oh oh oh. Can you tell I’m feeling myself? Because I am. This day I had to run right from work to a dance rehearsal. Dance rehearsal for show is a long evening affair where I don’t get home until midnight. And when I do I am exhausted and my body is sore and I’m sweaty and gross and cranky.

But when I’m wearing socially acceptable pajamas that look chic af? I’m happy. I’m very happy. To break this down, I’m wearing an INCREDIBLY soft ribbed bodysuit which has a turtleneck (chic) but is sleeveless (summer chic) with a woven blend pair of joggers I could easily wear for a night out with some heels. Head to toe black + leopardisaneutral = I am very in my zone here.

Pulling my hair back into a loose Duchess of Sussex-approved low pony, I wanted to up the ante with some black and gold accessories. Including a Taylor Swift pair of pearl earrings-with-an-edgy-detail, my go-to watch, and a signet ring. A red lip seals the deal and makes these glorified PJs v chic.

Bodysuit: N:Philanthropy (c/o)

Joggers: N:Philanthropy (c/o)

Sunglasses: Le Specs (Duchess of Sussex exact!)

Earrings: Pearl Collective, old Taylor exact (similar)

Watch: Daniel Wellington

Ring: Mejuri

Shoes: Payless, old (similar)

... And that is that on that.

Did you have a favourite lewk? Feedback on my style? Is a Volume 2 necessary?

Thank you for checking out this post!

#sarah styles it #personal

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