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fairyysoup · 7 days

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it will come back

part one

a.k.a. sever the blight (eddie's version)

pairing(s): werewolf!eddie munson x fem!milkmaid!reader

summary: You don’t go into the woods. You don’t talk to strangers. And you don’t, under any circumstances, approach a wolf. Unless one shows up bleeding at your door.

cw: dark themes, mature content, animal cruelty, animal death mention, gunshots, physical abuse, reader is a servant to an abusive master, misogyny, suggestive themes, fairytale au, some kind of historical fantasy period, inspired by The Company of Wolves by Angela Carter, eventual smut (in later parts)

a/n: hiiiiiiii :) so remember when i said i'd stop posting fic on tumblr? well one mental breakdown later i decided that was literally making me miserable and ruining my hobby! so i'm back. it's me, hi, i'm the problem it's me <3 this is a reupload

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

There are things they tell you about the woods from the time you are born, weaning you on them just the same as you are weaned on milk. Don’t go into the woods on a full moon. Don’t talk to strange men. Likewise, if you see a strange man alone in the pines on the full moon, run and don’t look back. And don’t, for any reason, approach a wolf at any time. They’ll kill you before you turn the other cheek.

In your twenty-some-odd years, you have never seen a wolf. You’ve heard them howling, distantly, so deep in the forest that you don’t even feel the need to be frightened by it. They exist in there, somewhere, going about their business as wolves do.

Sometimes you hear about the wolves wandering into town. Old Mr. Thatch, from just over the creek, said his pigs were slaughtered in the night. He’ll have to spend a fortune to get a few more. Torben Plack from the end of Warder’s Row saw one drinking from the horse trough outside the inn last month.

There are whispers of wolves when a baby is missing from its crib. There are whispers of murder in the night. There are accusations that some of the townsfolk themselves are wolves in disguise.

Nonsense, the lot of it. Or, that’s what you believe. That’s what you choose to think about it– even though you’ve been told time and again that a pretty girl doesn’t think, a pretty girl believes and does what she’s told. She doesn’t go into the woods. She does her chores and she says her prayers and she marries a boy with a healthy income and lives quietly, rearing children until she can’t anymore.

(You don’t believe that, either.)

You don’t have the luxury of making any other choices, though. You are a servant, a milkmaid in the employ of a rather cold Master– you have no time for philosophy or discerning what you do and don’t believe about the local folklore.

You milk the cow. You chop the firewood. You feed the chickens. You harvest the cabbage and you don’t complain. You sleep on your bed in your shack– or, servant’s quarters– behind the grand house and you don’t, under any circumstances, question the Master or his wife. You wash the bedsheets after he sloppily takes his wife to bed, and you try to hide your disgust.

You usually do what you’re told. Usually.

On a night when the moon hangs round and full in the sky, lighting the stretch of land beyond your small shack in a milky blue haze, you’re building a small fire in the fireplace when you hear it. The howling. It’s so much closer than you’ve ever heard it, almost as though the wolves are just beyond the treeline that backs up to your master’s land.

You pay it no mind. Normally, the wolves are on the hunt for something– small animals that titter through the woods, unassuming until it’s too late. The howling will be distant soon, and you’ll be able to sleep soundly while the rest of the town frets about the dangers of the wolf-men, locking their windows and bolstering their doors.

Just as you thought, the howls drift away slowly. You snuggle down into the covers of your bed, and you barely flinch when Mr. Thatch fires off a pistol over the creek, ringing through the dead night louder than hell. These things mean little to you. You’re more interested in what the land of dreams holds for you tonight– it’s one of the only reprieves you get from your long days of work.

It isn’t until ten minutes later, when you are mere inches from sleep, that you hear a soft whining outside your cabin door. At first, you think it’s the wind. Then, when it gets louder, you wonder if you’re imagining it.

And when it turns into a soft howling, well. That’s not your imagination.

You wrap a woven blanket around your shoulders and leave the door open when you step out into the chilly night. You don’t have a candle– you could always knick one from the Mistress, but that might risk getting caught, and you don’t love that idea. So, you contend with the little amount of light that spills out of the open door from your small fireplace, and you squint into the dark toward the source of the sound.

It takes shape in the form of a wolf. A big one, covered in black fur and curled up beneath the gabled roof, as though attempting to make itself smaller. It shivers and whimpers miserably, tucking its paws close to its body.

You shrink back in the doorway, drawing your blanket closer around your shoulders. The hum of crickets in the bushes and in the grass across the pasture covers the shakiness of your rapid breathing. You don’t know what to do. You couldn’t possibly be expected to bother the Master this late at night– even if it is a wolf, the barn is shut up and the animals are safe. You’d probably be expected to just stay put in your little cabin and wait for it to go away on its own. Maybe in the morning the Master will find it and skin it for the Mistress’s bedquilt.

The image makes you shudder. This poor thing– even if it is nearly as big as you, even if it’s a nasty predator in the eyes of everyone else– is clearly looking for some sort of reprieve. Just the same as you do at the end of the day. You can’t let it be skinned alive just for searching for safety.

“Hey,” you whisper softly, and you know the creature hears you, because it flinches badly. Almost as though it may bolt away in a panic. “No, no… don’t be frightened.”

You lower yourself down towards the ground, tentatively inching forward as the creature turns its head to blink up at you. Water brims its dark eyes, sparkling in the low light from your open door. Streaks of tears flatten the fur on its snout; the wretched thing lets out a noise like a sob, hanging its head like it doesn’t have the energy to stand you off.

“I’ve never seen a wolf cry before,” you tell it quietly. You’ve never seen a wolf, period, but you don’t need to tell it that. You’re not sure that it can understand you, anyways, but you keep talking like it can. “Are you hurt?”

The wolf snorts, sneezes loudly, and then trembles. There’s a high pitched whining, a heart-shattering noise that cuts deep into your chest as the beast cowers away from you. The whine turns into a low growl when you move a bit closer, but it doesn’t sound like it really means business. More like it doesn’t know what to do with your closeness.

“Hey,” you say again, more insistently. You inch your way forward, crouched low to the ground, holding your blanket around you with one hand as you reach the other out toward it. You’ve never tried to approach a wolf. You don’t know if it’s similar to trying to gain a domesticated dog’s trust– hold out your hand, let it catch your scent. Show it that you mean no harm, allow it to come to you. “I’m trying to help you, okay? Let me help.”

The wolf growls for a moment longer before finally relenting, and reaching its head forward to sniff curiously at your hand. You don’t know what you expect– perhaps that it would drop its head again, or back away cautiously. Instead, the wolf surprises you by pushing its head into your outstretched palm like a sad puppy.

“Oh,” you coo, stroking the wolf’s soft head as it trembles. Its ears twitch against your fingers, and it snuffles a few times, its body shaking with each, like an all-too-human fit of sobbing. “Okay, baby. Let’s get you inside.”

Again, it’s a shot in the dark. You back slowly away from the creature, whose watery eyes blink up at you, and then you stand, and open the cabin door wider. The wolf doesn’t move, still continuing to shake with its uneven breathing.

You take a step into the door, and watch as the wolf slowly struggles up out of its cowering position. On all four legs, it seems to be favoring its right front leg, lifting its left paw limply upward. When you take another step back into the cabin, and it follows, it shudders a breath and limps badly on its left leg.

“Good job, honey,” you tell the wolf gently as it tentatively follows you into the cabin.

You don’t know whether to leave the door open or to shut it; you’re not sure if there’s any wisdom in shutting yourself in close quarters with a wild animal, but you also don’t want the Master to find it come morning. You suck your teeth and swing the door shut, quietly latching it and hoping the damned thing doesn’t suddenly decide it’s too hungry.

You turn, and take two steps before dropping to your knees in front of the fireplace, where the most light hits the ground. You drop your blanket to the floor, and pat your lap as you look at the creature shivering a few feet away. “C’mere. Lay down.”

As far as you know, wolves don’t normally lay down and play lapdog for strange humans, but this one does. You wonder at it, remarkable in its size and beauty, as it flops down tiredly onto your floor and rests its head in your lap. Through your cotton chemise, the wolf’s chin is warmer than the heat of the fire.

You pet the wolf’s head again gently as you examine its left leg. It doesn’t seem to have any major wounds except for a spot of wetness on the side of it. When you lift it, the wolf in your lap whines loudly.

“I know, baby,” you coo at it, trying to pet its head as soothingly as you can while you look over the mangled leg and paw. Through the fur and dirt, you see a patch of pink skin matted with bright red, and your own hand comes away smeared with blood. There is a bad gash, enough to still be bleeding.

You don’t want to jostle the animal now that it’s relatively comfortable, so you bend backwards and sideways to reach the cup of water on the shelf at your bedside. It’s what you have on hand to clean the wound– you suppose you could sneak into the grand house to steal some soap, but just the same as the candle, you’d rather not risk it. You take your time in pouring cool, clean water on the wolf’s wound, rubbing dirt and blood away from the gash. In your lap, the beast huffs softly in response.

“I don’t know what you’re doing out of the woods,” you tell it as you tenderly clean its wound, expecting that you’re only speaking to settle your own nerves, “but you ought not to come around here too often. The men here are bloodthirsty. Don’t want you getting any more beat up.”

The wolf heaves a sigh. For what it’s worth, you take that as some sort of acknowledgement.

“I can’t do much else for you besides this,” you continue softly. The wound is clean now, the fur gone wet enough that you can pull it aside and peer at the gash itself. It’s quite deep, straight, and slices from the middle of its leg upward at a diagonal. It continues to ooze even as you examine it, painting your fingers red. You tip a little more water onto it.

You grab one corner of the blanket you’d used to wrap yourself, and rip a strip off along the grain. The light pink fabric looks almost comical when you wrap it around the wolf’s leg, tying it and tucking the tails in gently so that it won’t fall off too easily. You figure, eventually, the damn thing will come off while the wolf goes off on its merry way. You don’t delude yourself into thinking you’ve got a pet, now.

“I wish I could give you more,” you tell the beast, petting your hand down its mane, feeling the silken fur slide through your fingers like the plushest finery that you’ll never be able to enjoy for yourself. “But, I suppose, you can rest here tonight. If you promise to stay polite.”

The wolf doesn’t fuss when you slide a stiff pillow under its chin, and slip back under the covers of your bed. You gaze at it, curled up in a big black mass on your floor in front of the hearth, and you wonder why on earth a wild animal would be so well behaved.

You wonder how a wolf is capable of crying.

You wake in the early morning light expecting to find a big black wolf sleeping in front of your hearth. Instead, when you rouse and rub the sleep from your eyes, you find that the wolf is gone.

In fact, there appears to have been no wolf at all. No blood on the floor, no black fur on the pillow that has inexplicably reappeared on the foot of your bed. Your water cup is full. And the door to your cabin is latched, just the same as it had been last night, after you let the wolf in.

By all appearances, nothing happened last night. There was no wolf. You half expect that you dreamed the entire thing. And you would continue to believe so– but, the end of your pink woven blanket is still torn, missing a strip from the end, frayed along the grain.

You slip from your bed and fling open the door to your shack, emerging into the cool morning air. You look down at the nook beside the door where the wolf had huddled in the dark, seeking shelter away from harm. There is nothing there to suggest that it had been there last night.

But you know it to be true. You know it.

How could a wolf, a four legged creature with full use of only three of them, manage to unlatch your door, step out, and then relatch it from the other side? How could your water magically refill itself? It’s a mile to the well in the town square, and it’s not like the wolf could have done it.

Broken from your thoughts, you hear a shriek of your name. You lift your head to see your Mistress, fully dressed, feeding the chickens. The daily chores have already begun.

“What are you doing outside in your underclothes?!” your Mistress yells, flinging grain down at the birds. “Go inside and dress yourself this instant, you wretch! And begin your morning duties!”

You jump, darting back behind the door. You hadn’t thought anyone would be out yet. “Sorry, Mistress!”

You rush to grab your stays from the end of your bed. You’ll pay for that one, you think.

There are a million reasons why you prefer doing your chores out of the house.

One, the Mistress isn’t around to rag on you over every little thing. Two, you don’t have to be watching over your shoulder to make sure you aren’t in the Master’s way. And three, you can take all the time you want to do other things as well, as long as you get done before dinner has to be served.

Your skirt is filthy, but it’s a beautiful day, and the creek that separates your Master’s land from Mr. Thatch’s land is babbling quite a bit, and it makes doing the washing up much easier than it otherwise would be. Which you’re happy about, since your arm is so badly welted you can barely curl your fingers.

You sniffle and lift your apron to wipe your nose. Then you wring out the Mistress’s petticoat– of which there are far too many for one woman to reasonably have– you whine at the strain on your injured hand, and you move to the basket of other soiled clothes. You think about blowing your nose in the Master’s linen shirt, and you’re about two seconds from doing it, too, when you hear a splash nearby.

“Shit,” says a man’s voice. There are a couple more splashes around the bend, and then yelps, and then there’s one enormous splash, and a laugh.

“Hello?” you call, trying to peer around the bank of overgrowth beside you. Then, there’s a cacophonous amount of splashing, which makes you screw up your face, and a man emerges from around the bank of greenery.

You pause, holding your Master’s laundry in your hands over the water like you’re wondering whether to dip it in or not. Really, you’re just shocked to see a strange man on your Master’s property at all. He’s out of breath, rosy cheeked and soaking wet from the chest down.

“Um,” is all you can say.

“Hello there,” the man says with a rakish grin that flashes sharp teeth at you. You blink a few times, just to make sure he’s really there. And when you do satisfy yourself with the fact that, yes, he’s very real, you then have to acclimate yourself to the idea that he’s also absolutely beautiful.

His very pretty face is framed by long, dark hair, and his eyes are strikingly dark. There’s something on his skin peeking out of the open collar of his burgundy blouse, but to look at that from this distance means to look at the way his shirt clings to his body, and then his trousers, and if you weren’t already struck dumb, now you are.

“How– how are you– um.” You wave your hands around, gesturing to the general area around you. “Whatareyoudoinghere?”

“I think I was going for a swim, of sorts,” the man laughs, holding one arm out a bit to indicate his damp appearance.

“Who are you?”

“Now, there’s a question for the ages.” The man tromps forward through the water, splashing along gracelessly and with exaggerated steps, like he’s trying to make you laugh. “Generally speaking, no one really cares who I am, just what I want.”

“Okay,” you snap, irritated by the man’s jovial attitude and his need to speak in riddles. “What do you want? Why are you on this land? What business do you have here, and with whom?”

“Whoa, hey–” the man holds up his hands, and grimaces like it’s painful to do so. Then he recovers with a flashy smile. “I don’t mean you any harm, princess. I have no business anywhere, I was just following the creek and seeing where it leads. Guess the time got away from me.”

“I’m not a princess,” you grumble back at him.

He tilts his head, his smile lingering as he looks at you. “Just an expression, no need to be nasty.”

You scowl down at your master’s clothes, and then plunge them into the water like they personally offended you. “Following the creek from where?” He points his thumb over his shoulder, towards the trees. “You came from the woods?”

“Thereabouts.”

You squint up at him. “What’s your name?”

“Eddie Munson, at your service.” He bows dramatically and takes another step towards you. “And may I ask who you are? Or shall I just call you ‘My Lovely Lady of the Creek,’ for time immemorial?”

You tell him your name flatly, and turn your face away as he gets closer, suddenly very invested in getting sweat stains out of your Master’s linen blouse using a cake of lye soap. “You should know not to go into those woods alone. There’s wolves.”

“Oh, I think I can handle myself in the woods, sweetheart.” Eddie smirks down at you. “Anyways, who wants to be in the trees on a day like this?”

You grunt. You don’t think the man will be going away anytime soon, which is bad news for you, because the closer he gets, the more inclined you are to look at him. Then, you’re more inclined to talk, and you’ve already been punished once today. You don’t think you could handle another.

The man, Eddie, sits himself down on a large rock jutting out of the water next to you. He watches you for a moment, scrubbing with one hand at the cloth on the board in the water, and then he points down at your arm. His billowing sleeve flashes red in your peripheral vision, along with the silver of the rings on his hand.

“What happened here?” he asks softly, his voice losing its humorous tone.

You look down at the welted skin. It stings, but the cold water numbs the pain just a bit. Now that he’s brought your attention back to it, your eyes prick with tears again, and you sniff. “My Mistress caught me outdoors in my chemise.”

“She should count herself lucky. It’s a sight to behold.”

“What?” You blink up at him. From this angle, him looming over you on a boulder, the sun rings his head in gold like a halo. “How would you know?”

“I’m… supposing.” Eddie bites his lip, staring off to the side for a moment, as if suddenly at a loss for the right words to say. “You’re a very… beautiful girl. I can only imagine.”

“That’s forward of you.”

“Besides, it doesn’t answer my question,” he rushes out. He scowls back down at your arm. “What did that to you?”

You heave a sigh. “Well, the Mistress told my Master. And the Master is very heavy handed with a cane.” A small sob constricts your throat for a moment, tears pricking your eyes again so badly that you have to stop working and close them. Your sinuses burn from the effort of holding it in.

“You were beaten because you went outside without a petticoat?” Eddie remarks incredulously, “That’s ridiculous.”

“Well, I… I was also late to start my chores,” you admit in a wobbly voice. “So I suppose I got off easier than most would…”

“It’s cruel. I’d love to see how he would take it, if the tables were turned.” Eddie’s dark eyes flash dangerously when you look up at him; there’s something in the set of his jaw and the steely expression on his face that makes you think of the growling wolf last night. After a moment, he softens towards you again. “Why were you late to your chores?”

“I…” you trail off. You think about telling him about the wolf, but you wonder if he’s the kind of person who will go into town and yell about the wolves trying to steal women in the night, and you could do without the embarrassment. “I had a nightmare. Slept too late.”

Eddie clicks his tongue and rocks backward a bit. “A nightmare,” he repeats, considering the word like it’s a part of life’s philosophy. “What about?”

You don’t respond for a few moments. You’ve moved on to washing a pillowcase now, which is significantly less soiled than your Master’s blouse. “Why do you care?”

“I care because I hate to see My Lovely Lady of the Creek in distress. Even if she is completely vexed by the sight of me,” He says lightly, as you tilt your head down to hide the way your cheeks burn. He reaches up his right hand and produces a silver coin from behind your ear. You stare at it in puzzlement as he hands it to you. “What was your nightmare about?”

You hesitate just a moment before taking the silver coin. “Is this bribery?”

“Absolutely,” Eddie announces with a wry smile. “For your thoughts.”

You sigh. You could use the coin, you’ll admit. Maybe you could buy yourself a new robe, or a loaf of bread from the baker, or any other of the myriad things you’re in want of.

You tuck the coin down the front of your bodice, where it slides down and gets stuck between your ribcage and your chemise. Eddie’s eyes follow the path that it takes between your breasts with a hungry glint in them.

“There was a wolf,” you tell him quietly, going back to your work. “It came to my door bleeding. I brought it inside and nursed it. But when I woke, there wasn’t a wolf. It was just a nightmare.”

“Oh,” Eddie hums amusedly. “I wouldn’t call that a nightmare. I’d rather call it a dream.”

“A dream?” you echo with a scoff.

“Yes. A lovely dream, with a heroine and a lonely beast in need of kindness.” He leans towards you, his hands on his knees. “But, you know what they say about wild things.”

You huff with indignance, but humor him, because you’re curious in spite of yourself. “I don’t know. What do they say?”

“You shouldn’t show them kindness,” he whispers, so close to your ear that you can feel his breath on your neck. “They’ll keep coming back for more.”

You startle, standing up with a noisy splash of water as you yank the last of the laundry from the creek. There’s a flush under your bodice that you don’t like, sticking to the coin that’s going hot against your skin as you think about it even being there. That it was produced by his hand. The more you think about it, the more you imagine it as an extension of his body, touching you just beneath your breast.

Eddie snickers to himself as you hurriedly, shakily, smack the last piece of laundry into the basket with the rest, and pick up the washboard from the water. With a frustrated huff, you stand and rest the basket of laundry on your hip. You gaze out across the creek, and then away towards the trees, and finally, when you’re sure you can form words, you turn back to him.

“Goodbye, Mr. Munson,” you say stiffly, so that you don’t trip over your own tongue. It comes out icily as a result, and you turn away to hide the way that you blush.

“Until we meet again.” Eddie presses his lips together, as though he’s stifling a laugh. Then he says, in a slightly bossy tone, “Take care of that arm for me, princess. Don’t want you getting any more beat up.”

You whirl around to ask him to repeat that– what the hell did you just say?– but when you do, the man is already gone. Along with any trace of his presence by the creekside.

Except, the coin he bought your dream with still grows warm against the heat of your skin, under your bodice.

#teaser for what's coming. if you even care #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #werewolf!eddie munson #werewolf!eddie munson x reader #stranger things #werewolf!eddie #roses*

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inbarfink · 7 months

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I'm pretty sure my very first post about 'Fionna and Cake' was about pointing out this line in "Fionna Campbell"

Is a reference to "I Remember You", where Marceline said that very same line to Ice King

At the time I just took it as another little bit of Foreshadowing for the connection between Fionnaworld and Simon.

But now that we've established a bit more about Cake's plights, and I started thinking more about this... I wonder if this line is meant to highlight the ways in which Simon's struggles under the Curse of the Magic Crown and Cake's struggles after having her Magic taken away from her kinda mirror each other.

You know, turning into Ice King took away Simon's mind and ability to reason (by pumping his brain full of Madness and Sadness) and his ability to communicate (by tanking his already-kinda-awkward communication skills) and even kinda took away his body.

And becoming an ordinary cat did all of these things for Cake as well - took away her mind and ability to reason (by giving her an intelligence closer to a regular housecat) and her ability to communicate (by making her unable to speak or even comprehend human speech)

And taking away her voice and the Stretchy body that is clearly the one she feels most comfortable with.

And ... so what happened in that scene back in IRY is Ice King, in the middle of writing a love song about Princess Bubblegum, suddenly has a moment of Clarity about how lonely and miserable he is. Enough Clarity to know that he's unfathomably sad and that there's something Wrong with him that's sabotaging all of his relationship - but not enough clarity to know what it is. So he just... has a total breakdown

Lashing out and throwing ice magic anywhere. Then Marceline, uncomfortable and worried about Ice King's behavior, tackles him and says the Line.

Meanwhile, in the first episode of 'Fionna and Cake'...

Both Fionna and Cake feel like there's something off about their lives, But Fionna can at least articulate it better as like, general ennui or a quarter-life crisis, rather than Cake's little housecat mind not really comprehending or capable of fully expressing what she's feeling at all.

Leading to concerning behavior such as her apparently not eating for the last three days.

And suddenly, she has her moment of Clarity. She sees these Portal Sparkles and she seems to know on some level that they'll do something good for her. Especially as she tries to shove her head in the ice

And later is shown obsessed with ice in general - even without the sparkles directly being around.

On some level, Cake understands the mechanics of the Portal Sparkles better than Fionna does - but on all other levels she's still a housecat and probably has no idea what is going on with her own mind as well.

And from Fionna's perspective she's just acting weird and spreading ice all over the house and lashing out at her in her confusion over her own feelings.

I think, perhaps whatever part of Simon's subconscious has subtle control over Fionnaworld noticed the similarities between Cake's situation and his own memories of being the Ice King - and thus, Marceline's old words coming out of Fionna's mouth.

The similarities don't end there, either. Cake and Simon both have to go through a lot grief with people still treating them as their old selves. General folks in Ooo treating Simon like Ice King

And Fionna's tendency to be overprotective of Cake even though Cake is now an incredibly OP shapeshifter and Fionna's still just an athletic human

And to speak for her even though she can speak for herself now

And sometimes kinda condescending to her about her own judgement

All make Cake feel, and not unjustifiably so, that Fionna still sees her as her old self, as a Housecat. She literally says so in the same episode where Fionna and Cake's friendship is tested the most.

And Cake's anxious desire to bring Magic into her world even after it was confirmed that she can at least stay as herself in Fionnaworld, I think that's also a mirror of Simon's anxieties. Simon felt like he, an ordinary non-magical man, could never truly fit in within the wacky and magical world of Ooo

And Cake might've been afraid of the same being true in reverse about being a Magical Cat in the least Magical world in the whole multiverse. At the very least she must've been worried about being forced to pretend to be a non-magical cat again like Simon tried to make her do back in Farmworld.

(Remember how her failure to pull this off almost got her eaten?)

And in the end, the resolution to both of these mirror dilemma was... kind of the same? Well, sort of. Fionnaworld now has a bit more of the Magic and Weirdness in it but it's not like Simon made Mainworld Ooo less wacky. But even with that extra bit of Multiverse Wackiness going on in Fionnaworld now... if the Normal Guy can get along among the strange and magical creatures

The Magical Cat can get along with all the normal and mundane people.

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lilsedge · 1 month

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Girl I just had my first day of school and I'm in pain I done sweated my eyelashes off and everything please just give me a short story about tjd and y/n where she has a whole mental breakdown cause trust I did

I Didn’t Make Them Proud

TJD x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Mental breakdown

It was all becoming too much. The cheating, the pressure, being overwhelmed all the time. Y/N’s life was horrible, and it was only a matter of time before she just breaks down.

She was currently backstage, waiting for her time to try to win a title for the second time. The creative team screwed her over the first time. Told her last minute that she was losing. Y/N couldn’t believe it. Her fans were rooting for her and when she lost. She felt like she disappointed them so much. Looking at comments on WWE social media posts. They were disappointed. This was her chance to make them proud.

This time, creative had no say in who was winning. She had a chance. This was a big chance. All she could do was pace back and forth.

“You’re gonna burn a hole in the floor if you keep pacing,” a voice says.

Y/N turns around. It was her lovers. She didn’t reply. All the girl does is walk into Finn’s arms. He immediately wraps his arms around her. The others note how she’s acting and know what to do. They don’t question her. She’ll talk when she’s ready.

“What if I don’t make it?” She asks.

“What do you mean, love?” Rhea questions.

“Like what if I don’t win? I’ll disappoint them again,” she says.

“Hey, it’s okay if you don’t win,” Damian reassures. “Don’t even worry about them either, because if they are disappointed in you for not winning, they are not genuine fans.”

Y/N nods and turns as someone else calls her name. “We need you in the gorilla.”

“I’ll be right there,” she replies.

The four give Y/N individual hugs, squeezing her extra tight. She waves bye to them and takes a deep breath. The girl did last-minute stretches and waited for her theme song to play. She went out there with a smile on her face, tapping hands. The nerves started to hit as she walked up the steel steps.

Iyo Sky comes out with her team. Y/N had no one, so they thought this match up was easy.

They were right. Towards the end of the match, they got the ref distracted. Asuka got Y/N with the mist and Iyo got her with a pin. All Y/N could do was try to blink to see if she could at least get some sight back. She stopped when she realized this was her last chance at winning the title for a while. She’s now back at the bottom and getting to the top is difficult.

Two people from the medical team helped Y/N make her way backstage. She felt someone pick her up and take her to a room.

“Love it’s us. We got water and a towel,” Rhea says.

“Let us hold open your eyes,” Dominik says, taking her hands away from her eyes.

It was quite a process to flush Y/N’s eyes out. Now Rhea was just cleaning off her face. Y/N tried so hard not to, but she couldn’t help but cry. First it was tears welling in her eyes, then it was full on crying. She just couldn’t stop the tears.

“Hey, hey it’s okay.” Rhea says.

The boys look up from whatever they were doing and see her crying. They keep their distance for now. Watching as Rhea picks the girl up and sits on the couch with her in her lap. Rhea doesn’t say anything to the girl. She just holds her. Rocking her a bit.

“I didn’t make them proud,” she says.

“Who?” Finn asks.

“The fans. They’re gonna hate me. Oh my god,” Y/N says.

“Hey. If they don’t like you after you tried so hard, they’re not genuine fans,” Damian says.

Y/N nods her head, but the tears don’t stop. She just knew that there was going to be hate comments toward her. She doesn’t get why they hate her for losing.

After a few minutes, Y/N could get off of Rhea’s lap, but the tears of course didn’t stop. Her breathing settled. She packed up all her things and got ready for the hotel. She just wanted to go to bed at this point.

“You ready?” Dominik asks.

Y/N nods, she picks up her bag and wipes her eyes. She just couldn’t believe that she’d lost. It wasn’t really her fault, but it was. She knew Asuka was going to pull the mist out at some point.

That’s all Y/N could think of the whole time going back to the hotel and getting ready for bed. The Judgement Day has never seen her like this, so it was weird. Then again, they were all like this at one point in their life, just not as bad or worse.

The poor girl couldn’t really sleep that night and when she did, it was of exhaustion. Every time one of her lovers woke up, they’d make sure to look at her, but every single time they’d notice her tear-stained cheeks right away. It just broke their heart.

#wwe x reader #wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #dominik mysterio x reader #the judgement day #damian priest x reader #finn balor x reader #rhea ripley x reader #wwe

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emmettworld · 1 month

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hello, my beloved whump community. this is Emmett. but you probably know me better as this blog:

or you may remember the blog before that:

you may have even been here since this blog:

...i'm not taking you farther than that. xD

my account was terminated without any warning today. March 25, 2024. all of my blogs are gone and i have lost everything i have on them. you won't even be able to see any comments or reblogs for me on any of your posts.

if you have commissioned me over Tumblr DMs and not Discord, please contact me here. i did not have a copy of my commission list saved. i do not know who hasn't paid and who already has. i do not remember who was on the list. i do not want anyone to be cheated out of their money.

i have no idea why this happened. i was not doing anything that could justify my account being terminated with no warning or explanation. i'm so paranoid about it that i won't even type the blog names; that's why they're images instead.

but at this point, most of you know the type of whump creator i am. one who creates whatever he wants, no matter how disturbing or explicit it may be. one who loves creating whump and content in general of the Not Safe For This Website kind.

getting one of my blogs flagged, and now losing everything, is not going to stop me. i'm not going anywhere. but i am going to be changing my approach to posting content.

this is my Language Key. i will be using a system of emojis for tagging instead of words, so please read this before you go on my blog and know which tags you need to block.

if you need to block my blog for any reason, go ahead. i don't want to disturb anyone by showing up in the tags.

all of my artwork that is Not Safe For This Website will be linked to an external storage website, MEGA. it is completely free to view and you do not need an account. there will be no cropped previews unless they are 100% Safe For This Website.

all of my writing that is Not Safe For This Website will be linked directly to where i post it on my AO3. it is completely free to view and you do not need an account. there will be no writing put under a read more unless it is 100% Safe For This Website.

trust me, i'll have a better pinned post up at some point explaining who i am and my multiverse of AUs, series, and OCs, and links to my commission page, and my Ko-Fi...and i'll do my best to finish the masterlists and, once again, build myself up from the ground up...

but i'm exhausted. i never saw this coming, and it's made me realize just how unsafe i am. i lost so much content that was only posted on Tumblr and not saved anywhere else.

believe me when i say that i am fucking devastated.

but i'm not going anywhere. i will die with this site when it eventually goes down, and not because it tried to kill me.

that being said, you can find me here on Cohost, which is where i'll migrate to when this place dies or where i'll communicate if i happen to get IP address banned (probably without warning) or something that prevents me from coming back.

if you don't want to refollow me here, i totally understand. i can't say how grateful i am to everyone who does, but like...i get it. it's tedious having to refollow me all the time, never knowing when a blog (or full ass account) is going to suddenly disappear. if you want to get off this crazy, unpredictable ride now, i don't blame you.

and if you decide to stick around, for however long, thank you. this day has been one of my worst nightmares and i don't think i would be handling this with nearly as much grace if it were not for my friends and everyone on my Discord server (which, by the way, is the only safe place where i share everything uncensored).

they were my first line of communication. they helped me get the word out. they rallied for me and kept me from having one massive breakdown over this, so my heartfelt thanks go out to them.

i'm using the whump community tags in hopes that more people will see this. i had hundreds of followers on my last blog, more than a thousand on the blog before that...i know this isn't going to reach everyone, but i hope it will reach some people.

thank you so much for reblogging this to help spread the word if you do. and thank you for reading. ❤️

#whump #whumplr #whump community #whump art #whump writing #whump creators #whump blogs #emmettworld

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shayyprasad · 3 months

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right next door // part two | peter parker

summary: summary: you move in right next door to a cutie, problem is, he isn't much of a talker. or anything at all. but it's okay, because you're dead-set on getting him to warm up to you.

warnings: none, maybe cursing?

pairing: post-nwh!peter parker x fem!bubbly!reader

word count: 2.0k+ words

series masterlist!

full masterlist!

ask to be added to the taglist!

you yelped, and in panic, threw down the dish towel onto the fire, hastily trying to get rid of it. you nervously glanced up at the alarm, sighing in relief when it didn’t go off.

well, that relief?

it lasted two seconds.

the loud blaring sound made you jump, and you whined.

“are you kidding me? you have to be kidding me. seriously, i mean, it’s my first freaking day here and i’ve already messed it up. everyone’s gonna freaking hate me. i’ll have neighbors that hate me! and then they’ll kick me out and arsenate me and-”

you cut yourself off, realizing that you had to get out of the apartment.

“screw you, stupid oven!” and for good measure, you threw the measuring cup at it, only slightly wincing at the loud bang.

sighing, you exited the flat, dreading what was yet to come. there were already people out in the hall, cursing and grumbling under their breath. you paused in front of the elevator before realizing that wasn’t going to pass. you slipped into the crowd that was already down the stairs, checking the time on your phone.

you didn’t bring anything else but that, knowing that it wasn’t an actual fire.

you know because you’re the one who set it off.

it was 10:47pm, so not everyone had been sleeping, but there was also a large chuck of people who were.

several people were dressed in their pjs, including yourself. all you had on was a black satin shirt, paired with matching shorts.

…which were definitely short.

you tugged them down as far as you could, biting down on your lips. you were on the literal verge of a mental breakdown. how did everything go so south, so fast?

were you really that incapable of taking care of yourself?

you needed to be more responsible, you thought.

you exited through the front, and the cold air hit you like a brick, making you shiver. to say it was cold outside was an understatement.

it was absolutely freezing.

blowing out breath, you watched as the white cloud dissipated. out of the corner of your eye, you spotted peter. mustering up all the courage you could, you walked over, hugging your sides to warm up.

“um, hi. again.”

he looked over at you, tilting his head slightly. your heart was racing, thudding against your ribcage so loudly you could hear it in your ears.

you held your breath, afraid that he’d hear your racing heart.

no, you scoffed in your head, that’s impossible.

“hey,” his voice was slightly raspy, mussed with sleep.

you shivered again, but not just because of the cold. your brows knitted in guilt, you must’ve woken him up as well.

“some idiot, huh?” you blurted.

“what?” he asked, recoiling slightly, as he straightened up.

“who bakes cookies this late?” god, you needed to shut up. now.

“uh, cookies?”

“well, you know. you can start a fire by baking cookies,” you stammered, trying to amend what you’d already said.

“yeah. i guess.”

you rubbed your arms harder, watching the firemen inspect the building.

“here,” you turned to see peter thrust something towards you. squinting, you realized it was a jacket.

“oh, no, it’s okay, really.”

“you’re cold,” peter said bluntly.

“yes, but-”

“just take it. you can return it later if it’ll make you feel better.”

“are you sure?”

“if i wasn’t sure, i wouldn’t be giving it to you.”

“oh, um, okay. thank you.” reluctantly, you slipped it on.

it smelled like pinewood and… peter, you supposed. you clutched it closer, inhaled the scent. was it weird that you instantly felt so comforted?

“it’s not a biggie.”

you smiled at him anyways, and he quickly looked away.

one of the firemen walked up to the crowd, throwing his hands up. “we’re good. just some dunce set it off. no fire or anything.”

you forced out a laugh, “yeah. what a dunce.”

waking alongside peter, you went back up to your room. standing in front of your room door, you smiled softly at him, no less bright than the one before.

he pulled out his keys, and you opened your mouth, “have a goodnight peter. sleep well.”

this time, he looked at you. for the first time, he actually held eye contact.

he really looked at you.

“you too,” peter murmured, before slipping into the darkness of his room.

if you were being honest, you weren’t sure if he liked you or not. truly, you couldn’t tell. last night, and he didn’t even really do anything, but it seemed like there wasn’t pure annoyance in his voice.

that was a start, right? i mean, that had to count for something? right?

right?

probably. most likely? you didn’t know.

honestly, you didn’t know anything when it came to him. you were trying to talk to him, but he kept brushing you off.

oh, well. you’d make it work.

you had dough left over from last night, and you really wanted to put it to use. “i can’t waste it,” you murmured, biting your lip. “but, god, i don’t need a part two of last night. that would be terrible. there goes any hope of peter freaking parker liking me back. as a friend, duh. for now. maybe.”

pulling it out of the fridge, you grabbed some cookie cutters and a baking pan. you clipped off the top of the tupperware box, tearing off a small piece of dough. it tasted like home.

you’d used the same recipe as your mother, in hopes that it would cure some of your homesickness. but standing here with raw chocolate chip dough in your stomach, you felt rather opposed to that.

sure, you didn’t have the best relationship with your family, but that didn’t mean you didn’t love them.

you did.

they were overbearing, and that was alright. they were just more careful given… given what happened.

it was reasonable. after all, you were all they had left now.

“nope. no. think happy thoughts. we think happy thoughts.”

no matter what though, you couldn’t help but reminisce about the times when you’d get scolded for eating the dough uncooked. you and… her.

“happy thoughts, y/n. ohhh-kay. where are those instructions?”

you didn’t really want to do this, but you also did. and didn’t (you had serious ptsd from that incident). after being indecisive a bit longer, you decided to make the cookies. hopefully, you wouldn’t burn them this time. first, you preheated the oven.

“okay, okay, i got this.” you glanced back at the phone, just to make sure you were doing this right. grabbing a rolling pin, you flattened out the dough (tearing off one more piece, just to… just to make sure it tasted the way it should. [it did.]). you picked up a cookie cutter before pressing it into the dough, sliding it around a bit to make sure it went all the way through.

you repeated the action a few more times, and then peeled away the excess. doing the same with what was left, you stepped back and admired your work, feeling confident.

“oven time!” sliding them in, you shut the door. you picked up your phone once more, setting a timer for 15 minutes.

maybe you could trial and error it?

since you had some time, you decided to get ready. you planned on giving peter the freshly baked cookies, and you didn’t want to show up in ratty, old pajamas.

you opened your closet, humming. you weren’t planning in going outside, so perhaps you could throw on a casual dress. filing through the racks some more, you settled on a light blue dress, once with short, puffy sleeves.

it was casual, but it was cute casual. you slipped it on, putting on some light makeup and brushing your hair. by the time you were done, you thought it looked quite presentable. you grabbed a random jacket from the corner of the bed and threw it on.

you moved back into the kitchen, checking in on the cookies. sure, they seemed a little misshaped, but they looked almost like how your mother used to make them. they were a soft, golden-brown at the edges, the chips melted into soft circles of black. you put on an oven mitt and pulled them out.

hesitantly, you picked one up and took a bit of it.

“it’s… not bad? it’s not terrible.”

and it wasn’t. it tasted relatively like one’s that would be made at home. “…kind of.”

oh, well. you didn’t have anything else to give to peter, so why not?

you grabbed the tupperware and set the dessert inside carefully, trying to fit them all in (except for a few for yourself). taking a deep breath, you swung the door open, locking it behind you. actually, you weren’t sure why you locked it, you were literally walking two feet away.

“new york is getting the best of me,” you muttered. new york was also getting you to talk to yourself more often.

it was deeply off-putting.

you paced for a couple minutes outside of his door, contemplating what to say. “hey, peter. you’re hot and i wanna smash you, but i need to have some courtesy first.” you paused.

“yeah, no. what about ‘i really like you and i have the biggest crush on you, despite the fact i don’t know you at all, but i need some friends before i totally lose it and i need you.’?”

you groaned, “that’s definitely worse. y’know what? i’ll wing it. i did improv in freshman for, like, three months. i’m basically a pro. how hard can it be?”

you inhaled and, after a moment, knocked. there was some shuffling and crashing on the other side, and instinctively, you leaned into the door, pressing your ear to it. not even a second later, the door opened and you went tumbling into someone.

well, not someone.

peter.

if it weren’t for him catching you, you would’ve face-planted. his arms were around your waist, and your hands were pressed against his chest. he smelled… like peter.

it was silly to describe it like that, but he had a certain comfort.

it took you a moment to process what just happened, but once you did, you pulled away quickly. “oh my gosh, i’m so sorry! i didn’t mean for that to happen at all!”

he raised an eyebrow, “i doubt you would.”

“um,” you dropped your eyes to the box, sighing in relief when it hadn’t opened when it hit the ground, “i just,” picking them up, “-here.” okay, so improv was harder than you thought.

you thrusted the cookies into his chest.

“cookies?”

“yes, uh, yeah… like a… thanks for being my neighbor?”

“i didn’t have a choice in the matter.”

“oh. right. okay, how about… thanks for the jacket?”

“the one you have on currently?”

“what?” you looked down, and as soon as you did, you turned bright red. “i honestly had no clue i was even wearing this! i-i just grabbed a random one, and y’know, i didn’t look-”

“relax. it was an observation.”

“okay. uh, okay. i’ll get this washed.”

“like i said before, no biggie.”

you fiddled with your ring, pressing your lips together.

“i thought you burned the last batch.”

you looked up, “sorry?”

peter shook the box lightly, “the last batch of cookies. didn’t you burn them?” there was a ghost of a smile on his face, and you felt your heartrate pick up.

“i don’t…?”

“i could hear cursing and a buncha noise. thin walls. and… you weren’t so subtle ‘bout it last night.”

“oops. sorry.” you rubbed the back of your neck, “that was me. sorry again. really, especially if you were sleeping. i’m seriously so sorry about that.”

“it’s fine. i wasn’t sleeping.”

when you glanced at his face, you saw how he looked torn. like he really wanted to say something, but he didn’t. “uh, thanks for these.”

“of course!” you winked at him playfully, “and if you ever need anything, i’m right next door.”

taglist!

@whatsupstark @ell0ra-br3kk3r

#tom holland x reader #tom holland #peter parker #spiderman #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #fluff #angst #tom holland x you #peter parker imagine #right next door part two #right next door

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ladyyatexel · 4 months

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Hey, what's up, hello, I'm Xel, I truly have Donald Duck levels of bad luck and yet I do not have the rage button that makes things work out if I throw a tantrum, which feels like yet another failure of media, what is the deal with this.

The deal is:

Temp job had to let me go instead of make me permanent because the economy scared the 5 people over 65 in that department out of feeling safe enough to retire

None of my applications are getting interviews and I don't know what I'm doing wrong. Donald Duck tantrum did not assist me in this realm.

Holy shit seasonal depression I can't get out of bed like.... A Lot.

I have a convention to go to in February where I am selling art in the art show and where I will see many of my friends the only time per year.

I'm scared of everything haha wow 😬

I'm am an artist who just feels too upset and worried to art

I'm having trouble getting everything together and maybe will feel better with some level of stability? I need to do a lot of paperwork. It is proving hard. I have the Tumblr popular suspicions about my level of neurodivergance. (Fun story: I told members of my my family that I have thought in the last two years especially that I might have ADHD or Autism or something, and my cousin said, "Oh, honey *just the last two years?*" Obliterated.)

My abusive dad recently joined a cult and my grandmother thinks he'll try to contact me after 15 years and I'm fucking scared of him and that is Affecting Me in A Way boy howdy.

I do not have the money to pay rent even a little bit! I'm trying to get January and February taken care of maybe? So I can try to exist for this period of time and maybe not have a breakdown or get evicted or something?

Some real not awesome medical junk happening also because why not.

SO, I'm doing Tumblr's favorite thing and being a starving queer artist with brain worms who needs help. If you are interested in helping me out and making a donation to the "Why don't my Donald Duck tantrums solve my problems" fund, I would be Really Grateful.

I am on Ko-Fi, which is really just a funnel to PayPal, over here.

$2500 would keep me on solid ground. I'll try to keep a tally here in a read more along with a expenses tally if that would help you feel better about me! I know I've had to ask frequently in the last few months, so I understand thinking I'm full of it.

I have a commission to finish currently and a few buttons and things that need to be mailed. You could also ask for button and commission, but I am doing prep work for my part of the art show in mid February, so I'm not available until after then for that!

My grandfather used to do a Donald Duck impression that was really good and it convinced me that either he WAS Donald Duck or that old people all knew how to do this because they all talked like this in the era Donald Duck was from.

Here is Ko-Fi again. If there's something you'd like to see me post or unearth in atonement, let me know. If you'd like other places to aim your dead green American presidents, I can give you that too.

Thanks for reading and/or reblogging! Tell me how Donald Duck's freakouts impacted you. Take care of yourselves!

Rent is $710/month, so 1420 is January and February.

65 for the internet, 130

65 for car insurance, 130

65 for electric unless I can get the assistance plan up again, same 130

250 to survive at the con maybe?

Also just like food until i can get the foodstamps stuff sorted??

Gas???

Anyway, that's an idea of what and why, if that is helpful.

Jan 8:

We are at $460!

Thanks!

#mutual aid #help #donations #charity #i feel real ashamed to have to do this! :D

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thehusbandoden · 1 year

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I Love You- Bakugou x Reader

635 words

Hey sorry for the silence. I've been dealing with some stuff, but hopefully I'll be posting a more frequently soon. Oh, this is old writing so I can't guarantee the quality. 😅

Angst-fluff

Bakugou and you get into a nasty argument, and after realizing what hard time you were having Bakugou apologizes and makes it up to you.

You were having a terrible time. You dropped down to the fourteenth place, some extra getting ahead of you, your mom was nagging you about your husband "not being good enough", your brother tried to kill your husband for a fight you started, and one of your best friends started talking smack about you.

You and your husband Katsuki have been fighting constantly, just because he was extra irritated because he "wasn't good enough". Welp that helped your insecurities, your husband was currently the number five pro hero, and was quickly escalating, but it wasn't good enough for him.

You two got into a fight last night because you asked if he could cuddle and watch a movie. You were really, really upset and on verge of a breakdown. But your husband was stubborn, he kept on telling you that it was a "waste of time" and that he had to practice. You just quietly nodded, tears threatening to emerge, but you decided to wait for your husband to leave before you breakdown, he would just get irritated.

Things would've been fine if he stopped there. But no, he just had to nag that you never did the laundry today. You snapped. You defended your mistake, you were working full time, just like him. He jabbed that he was working longer, and harder, and that's why he was number five when you were number fourteen.

It broke your heart, you didn't need him to tell you that, you told yourself that daily. You broke then and there, and he left you. He yelled that he was going to Kirishima's because he couldn't deal with your shiz. (Yes I meant to write shiz.) You just sat there, crying on the floor, for hours.

You awoke to a warm hand rubbing your shoulder, shaking you gently. You blinked open your eyes to see Katsuki, his eyes soft and worried. You blinked slowly, about to wrap your arms around his neck, but then you remembered last night and you frowned. "S-sorry Katsuki... I'll get your breakfast..." You apologize, quickly sitting up to his disappointment.

"No. Don't worry about it. Instead tell me what the he-. What's wrong with you." Bakugo demanded, frowning at your exhausted form. "Umm..... I don't know what you're talking about..." You reply, not really wanting to be made fun of by your husband for your insecurities.

Katsuki just stared at you, and he didn't stop until you gave up. "Okay fine... I'll tell you." And so you did, Katsuki had picked you up and brought you to your shared bed and laid there with you, your head on his chest as he slowly pet your head.

You spilled everything, the stress of your mother -which he never knew about- your brother, your hero ranking, and finally how touch starved you were from his distance. Katsuki felt terrible. You were going through all of this, and all he did was whine about not progressing fast enough.

Biting his bottom lip he squeezed you tighter, moving your head up towards his. "I am so, so sorry. I should have never said those untrue words to you, no matter if you were feeling insecure or not. That was uncalled for, and childish. I am truly sorry. I love you." He whispered in your ear, causing you to shiver.

Katsuki rarely apologized, he would ony do so if he felt like he did something wrong, and if he cared for the person greatly.

Katsuki giving you such a sincere apology was heart warming, so you just wrapped you arms around his neck and brought your nose to his, foreheads touching. "I forgive you, but only if you give me lots, and lots of cuddles!" You exclaim, kissing your husband's nose tenderly. He just smiled and squeezed you tighter.

Masterlist

Tips <3

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way, minus reblogging.

#mha #mha fanfiction #mha fluff #bnha #mha x reader #mha comfort #comfort #gn reader #fluff #mha bakugou #Bakugou Katsuki #angst #mha angst #bakugou x reader #angst to fluff

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20dollarlolita · 8 months

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If anyone is wondering, this tutorial to make this skirt is still a method that works. Both those links are from wayback machine captures from a time before Photobucket betraying us all and deleting pictures.

Yes, I'm still mad about that.

Anyway, in the spirit of seeing if budget lolita was still doable in 2023, here we go with a cost breakdown:

>Main skirt fabric was a $10 walmart 4-yard precut; enough fabric to make waist ties not pictured here >Skirt is fully lined with a polyester bedsheet I got for $1 at a surplus store >The bow lace was part of a bulk purchase, ended up costing 21cents a yard. Skirt probably has 6-8 yards of lace on it. The little vertical strips were scraps from another project. Back shirring on skirt is 1/4" elastic, which covid conveniently made super cheap. >I didn't have the zipper on hand, so I had to buy one for $1 at walmart. As anyone who has been on Wawak knows, that's massively overpaying for zippers.

This skirt is 3" longer and a few sizes larger than the one in the post. I had to make a new cutting layout for the skirt, and it took a fair bit of additional fabric. In addition, to save on fabric width, the "side seams" on this are actually a little bit farther back than the side of the skirt. I cut the back of the skirt to full fabric width, and then added the adjustment for the fullness into the side front pieces. Clarice, who wrote the original tutorial, mentions that the person she made it for was very small, so I sized it up a little bit.

I make sketches like this as I go for personal reference, but maybe it'll be helpful.

In the spirit of livejournal, I "clarified" my sketch by making it more confusing in GIMP. (Your pieces you need to cut will be back: 44"x19.5", cut 1. Side Front, 22"x19.5", cut 2. Center Front, 15"x25.5", cut 1. Frills, 5.5"x44", cut 9 or 10).

So, when we get into it, yeah, if you have a good design (or can copy a good design) and you're willing to put some time into it, you can still do a budget lolita skirt for under $20 of materials, if you're careful. I'm mostly making this post to save which archive.org captures are the ones with working pictures.

(It also helps if you don't mess up on the waistband so many times that it slowly shrinks into a 1" waistband.)

Fun fact: the trim on the ends of the waist ties may or may not be because I hemmed them sloppily and the hem came up bubbly, and zigzagging some lace onto the bottom handily covered up the bubbling. One of the advantages about knowing a decent amount about lolita fashion is that you can look at things and go, "Yeah, if I added x here, it'd be fine," and knowing enough about sewing to go, "yeah, if I do x cheat here, it'll look better" and being able to put the two together and go, "hey, if I cheat here, it'll still look lolita!" It's a good feeling.

Anyway, if anyone else has ever used Clarice's tutorial to make a skirt, I'd love to see it! This is my second time using it, but the last time was almost a decade ago at this point, and I think I've improved a lot since then.

#20dollarlolita #lolita fashion #budget lolita #diy lolita #handmade lolita

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astrodoll2 · 2 years

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🎡RANDOM ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS PT 4.🎡

Idk what’s been going on and why all of us have collectively felt so drained, like I have no had motivation to post any observations in a minute but I’m back ig🫠

Lilith square jupiter: a lot of tension with beliefs and morals against explosive temper, also believing in things outside of the box to be different, known for having abrupt breakdowns and going off on people when angry. Literally the type to see red when angry and doesn’t think about the consequences. May have trouble with self control.

Lilith conjunction Mercury: may feel as if no one really understands you or your way of being which is why you have a hard time taking accountability for your actions or how you may affect others, your mind likes roam all over the place, very creative, good memory and attentive to detail, gets bored easily especially in conversations that don’t catch your Interest, self taught in things you enjoy. But also your words may get you in trouble a lot or be held against you. Very good at spotting lies as well.

Lilith square neptune: you really have to think what it is you want from relationships and how deep you’re willing to get because you may fear commitment due to it threatening your freedom, you also may have a hard time viewing things truthfully and just take the parts you like and believe in those rather than the full picture leading you to accidentally deceive yourself. If you believe in spirituality you may only like taking the parts you like and leaving the rest behind especially the ones that make you feel restricted or have too many rules you don’t want to follow.

Lilith sextile moon: persuasive, charming, mesmerizing and able to manipulate other easily if you wanted to, you may be a bit emo, you could either be attracted to the bad boy/bad girl or that is you. You’re not afraid to explore your shadow side. And apparently you could be good at witchcraft.

Lilith opposite Juno: this doesn’t have to just apply to marriage but in general long term relationships may be scary because you don’t know how long they’ll last and how long you want to be tied down to something, you hate feeling stuck and for this reason you have a “my way or the highway” attitude and be overly picky of suitors as a form of rejecting others and hiding this noncommittal energy as simply high standards because you’re afraid. You may want to get married when you’re older like in your 40+ so you can experience life to the fullest without restrictions.

Lilith conjunction venus: very attracted to unconventional out of the box people, you’re highly seductive and sensual. People often see you as a siren or femme fatale. You may have a high sex drive and have a lot of sex appeal. Probably into sex magic or rituals for manifesting, you may be a diva and like things your way but when it doesn’t you may become vengeful. Very attractive people and for that reason are easily able to charm people into getting what they want. Very good sense of style and can be very creative/artistic individuals.

Lilith sextile Uranus; you may enjoy stirring the pot or shocking people by saying controversial things, you like being different and don’t care to be accepted, people appreciate your independent nature. You don’t care for others opinions and people can’t put you in a box or tell you what to do because you want to be your own person with your own individual views.

Lilith square mars: you may be very intense and it can be hard to control your anger or making impulsive decisions that aren’t good, you may also feel the need to overpreform or do too much in order to get others approval or attention. You may also struggle expressing yourself and can be sensitive when people question your direction in life so it’s important to just assert your ego and stop caring what others think. You hate people overpowering you or trying to interfere or judge your ambitions, passions, or sexual interests and may have explosive anger.

Lilith trine Chiron: aren’t afraid to explore your shadow side and past traumas in order to heal them, embracing your dark femininity may be very empowering for you as well. Once you heal you may be seen as an inspiration to others.

Lilith sextile ascendant: overtime you will develop your Lilith qualities and start showing them to the outside world, your expressive with your taboo side, very sensual and magnetic, very open about your sexuality and uniqueness, you don’t like to stay in the box and you appear very confident in your individuality.

Uranus Trine Ascendant: unconventionally attractive, but people are easily intrigued by you because “you’re different”, very independent and creative, doesn’t like to take orders from others, a bit stubborn but it’s just because you can’t learn from other peoples experiences you have to go through it yourself to learn, eccentric, probably felt like an outcast or odd ball out growing up but then you’ll learn to embrace it and may even go out of your way to continuously try to separate yourself from the crowd and be seen as original.

Chiron Opposition Ascendant: you may do a lot of projecting onto others when you’re unhealed, you must learn self love and acceptance of self so you can take off the fake facade of confidence which is only ego, but once you do you have the ability to be a healer to others and teach them from your own experiences how you outgrew these insecurities and inferiority complex and turned it into genuine confidence and a positive outlook on self.

Moon trine ascendant: you may wear your heart on your sleeve and people can see your true self very early on in the relationship, very expressive face. Honest and caring and you like making others feel understood since that’s what you want in return. You exude a very warm energy that automatically makes people feel safe, secure, and welcomed around you.

Venus Sextile Ascendant: very social, charming and attractive so you may be popular because of this. You’re graceful and have a very aesthetically pleasing sense of style, you may dress very well and love accessorizing with pretty jewelry, even if you aren’t conventionally attractive you have this inner acceptance and good sense of worth and that others feel and are attracted to. Very easy going personality.

Venus Square Ascendant: you may be very hyper focused on your appearance trying to always fix something about yourself and not being satisfied, you may struggle with low self worth because you don’t feel beautiful but eventually when you work on your inner self esteem and forget about standards you set for yourself and just accept and love yourself as you’re, you start to see yourself as beautiful and that’s what will make you very magnetic.

Mercury Sextile Ascendant: energetic and youthful, you may be seen as mischievous even when older you don’t lose that childlike spark in you. You may be very tall, long or thin? Nice hands as well, very social and easy to get along with, people enjoy your presence. And if you’re really extraverted you may be seen as the life of the party or the really fun friend. Witty and funny.

Eros in 1st house/leo/conjunct the ascendent love being complimented and also shown off, they love when people express how attractive they are to them and they may sometimes be the definition of “I love you because you love me” since they enjoy feeling adored and admired they may end up only liking a person because they like them

Saturn in the 1st house; is usually restricted in some type of way in their childhood, this is seen in the charts of those with overly strict parents sometimes.

#astrology #astro observations #witchythings #astro community #astro notes #lilith asteroid #lilith aspects #lilith astrology #ascendant #ascendant aspects #random observations #moon aspects #venusian #venus aspects

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babypudge · 7 months

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Pudge’s “Good Boy Calendar” 2023 - September Update

Another month gone by means it's time for another diaper training calendar update!

“Diapered all day” happy faces: 28 (27 needed to avoid punishment)

“No sticky diapers” gold stars: 26 (25 needed to avoid punishment)

"Healthy boy" red apples: 25 (25 needed to avoid punishment)

I think I did pretty good this month, though there is a shameful red frowny face sticker on there from a day where I took a pull-ups break that wasn't for a social or work event, which instantly disqualified me from a happy face that day. Hopefully, that's the last one we'll see this year.

This was the first month where I needed 25 red apple stickers to avoid punishment, which signify that I worked out for at least 30 minutes and generally watched my food intake for the day. I'm not being too strict about my diet at the moment, since getting into a workout routine is where I really needed a push. It's going to be a slow road, but I'm already noticing improvements, even if they aren't evident on camera just yet.

There are only 3 months left to go, so things should be returning to normal around here pretty soon (well, except for my bladder control) and next year will see more of my usual style of posts on this account. Lately, every time I get the urge to make a post, I either need to shoot one of these updates or I've posted a bunch on my side account @diapercheckpudge and I forget that I'm not updating here. I still plan on keeping the program going next year - and already have the calendar ready to go - but I'll mostly be doing it privately. I don't want to jinx anything, but I should probably mention that I've got a crib on-order at the moment, and it'll hopefully be here before the end of the year(!)

If you’re not familiar with the calendar program, I’m pushing myself to wear diapers as much as possible this year - click here for the full breakdown.

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atlabeth · 8 months

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between colleagues - anthony lockwood

part 2

summary: besides, what's a bit of fake dating between colleagues anyway?

a/n: i have missed him!!! there is just something so fun about writing for l&co and anthony specifically i truly love their world and i love him!! this was originally going to be the entire thing in one fic but i decided to post this on its own and test the waters with you all because i am TIREd of writing long fics. free me from my prison. this is literally my third fake-dating fic bc i never get tired of the trope but lmk if you want to see more

wc: 3.1k

warning(s): fem!reader, mentions of: canon typical job stuff, a child dying (mentioned in passing. literally half a line), and a good ol fashioned breakdown. but this is almost completely fluff bc that's all in the background

You groaned as Lockwood pushed the door open, working through the knot in your shoulder while you all walked inside. You tossed your rapier into the umbrella stand, not even bothered by the clatter, and began unbuckling your belt.

Winter was the worst season for ghost hunting. As if it weren’t already freezing enough dealing with Visitors and their effects, your most recent job was almost fully outside. You considered it a miracle hypothermia didn’t get you before any sort of ghost-touch.

“What are you groaning about?” Lockwood asked, glancing back at you. “I think tonight went rather well.”

He’d removed his jacket, and his white undershirt was dirt-stained and damp with sweat. Though he looked unaffected as ever on the surface, the quickened rise and fall of his chest said, in his own way, he was just as exhausted as the rest of you. You raised an eyebrow, but Lucy beat you to the punch.

“You think every night goes well if we come back alive,” she said wryly.

“It’s not the best measurement,” George added. He tilted the iron charm over the door back into place then set his bag on the floor. “Tonight was rough, Lockwood. Even by your ridiculous terms.”

Lockwood looked at you. “Anything you care to add?”

You grimaced as you rubbed your shoulder. “I’m never breaking down a door for you like this again.”

You did feel a bit like an action hero in the moment, but you regretted it soon after. Even more so when it didn’t even matter in the scheme of things—the source ended up being buried by the locked shed, not in the shed itself. At least you were now last in the rotation of opening suspicious doors.

“You offered to,” Lockwood defended.

“Because you said you would handle all the supply calls for the next week,” you said dryly. “And it looks like that may need to happen soon.” You held up your belt—once packed with salt bombs and magnesium flares, you’d emptied it completely trying to save all your lives. It was a sad sight.

He frowned. “Even the flares?”

“Even the flares,” you said.

“I’m all out of them too,” George said. “Surprised we didn’t start a full-on forest fire in the backyard.”

“I thought those would last longer.” Lockwood’s frown deepened. “They were quite expensive.”

“At least we got paid a fair bit,” Lucy said. “And we did indeed get away with our lives.”

“Barely,” George grumbled, kicking off his boots. He tossed his rapier haphazardly to the side, not even bothering to deposit it into your umbrella stand, and dropped his belt on the ground, still boasting a whole two remaining salt bombs. Your lip curled at the trail of chaos. “I’m going to bed. No one bother me for at least fifteen hours.”

Lucy smiled, shaking her head as he walked off. “Dramatic, but he’s got the right idea. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

“See you, Luce,” Lockwood said.

“I’ll be quiet when I come in,” you assured, and she gave an appreciative nod. Lucy dropped a stack of envelopes on the kitchen table before she went upstairs—it was her job to pick up the mail, and you were honestly surprised she remembered after all this.

“You’re not mad at me,” Lockwood said, glancing at you as he went over to pick up the mail, “are you?”

“No,” you sighed, and you flopped onto the couch, “just dramatic. More so than George tonight.”

He chuckled and leaned against the counter, making deft work of the envelopes as he sorted them into piles. One for the never-ending junkmail that graced your door, and four others for each of you. “Good. I can never handle you being mad at me.”

A smile tugged at your lips as you stared up at the ceiling. “You’re off the hook this time, so don’t worry.”

“And I appreciate your mercy immensely,” he said. Another glance over at you. “You look exhausted. Are you sure you don’t want to turn in?”

You shook your head. “Our post-job detox is the most important part of all this. I can hold out for another hour.”

It was hardly a detox, but it had grown to become a necessity for you and Lockwood, sitting together and talking through everything in the wee hours of the night.

One extremely tough case left you reeling harder than usual—children always got to you, and the girl’s death was particularly grisly—and apparently, Lockwood could tell.

It took a couple days of gentle prodding, but one night, after being completely out of it in the archives with him that day, you broke—completely. Full on sobbing. Wholly embarrassing to do so in front of your boss, especially when he, George, and Lucy didn’t seem half as affected by it all.

It turned out he was just better at covering it all up—Lockwood understood it all a lot better than you thought. He just sat with you in the living room and talked with you, talked you through it. There was a lot of crying, a fair bit of permanently swearing off ghost-hunting, and more than a bit of hatred against the entirety of the United Kingdom.

By the end of it, though, after you’d cried yourself into a headache, gone through a quarter of a box of tissues, and actually worked out your problems with Lockwood’s help, you felt far better.

Lockwood thereby forbade you from holding in your feelings until they burst, and so it became a routine—it was cheaper than therapy, and most therapists, save for the few former agents working in the field, couldn’t understand it anyways. You usually slumped on the couch, Lockwood usually leaning against the counter. Sometimes with tea, often with tears, always with slightly morbid jokes.

“How’s your shoulder feeling?” Lockwood asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“It’ll heal,” you said. “It’s mostly just sore. I’ll stay away from my rapier for a few days, sleep on my other side for once, and everything’ll be fine.”

“Good.” The ruffling of paper stopped for a moment, and his voice was slightly sheepish when he spoke again. “Are you still up for that meeting with the Caldecotts tomorrow, then?”

You groaned and screwed your eyes shut. “Lockwood, it is three in the bloody morning. You scheduled the Caldecotts for eleven.”

“I didn’t know that this job would go on for so long!” he defended. “The last few have all wrapped up before midnight. It’s not my fault this Visitor was particularly elusive.”

“I am drenched in sweat, Lockwood,” you said. “Half of my coat is burnt from plasm and the other half is frozen solid. There is still dirt under my fingernails, my boots are covered in spiderwebs, and I haven’t slept in twenty-three hours. And you want me to be ready to deal with Lorena Caldecott, the most annoying woman I think I have ever met, in eight measly hours?”

“Yes,” he said brightly. That just got another groan out of you.

“They made you in a lab, Anthony Lockwood,” you mumbled. “That’s the only explanation for how you’re still going.”

He chuckled. “Alright, alright. I’ll phone them first thing tomorrow morning—well, later this morning, I suppose—and see if I can push it back another day.”

“And if not, you’re doing this on your own,” you said, finally opening your eyes again to see him walking over. He handed you your stack of mail—hardly a stack, really, only consisting of four envelopes—and smiled, irritatingly pretty even with smudges of dirt on his face. There was a reason he got away with so much, and that smile was half of it.

Lockwood said your name cloyingly. “Come on. You know I do interviews best when we’re together. You keep me on track.”

“I knocked down a door for you, Lockwood!” you proclaimed. “Is that not enough to get me out of this?”

“I took the supply calls,” he said, “and I’m pushing back the meeting. We’re even now.”

“Fine,” you said, extremely grudgingly. “But you’re getting them to push it back at least until tomorrow, because once my head hits the pillow, I don’t think I’ll be up for at least twenty-four hours.”

“Promise,” he said with a nod.

You sighed, finally righting yourself so you could look at your mail, and glanced up at Lockwood as you picked them up. “You get anything interesting?”

He shook his head. “Unless you consider a letter from Fittes begging me to buy the newest edition of their manual interesting.”

You hummed and looked back down at yours. You slipped your finger under the seal and tore it open, chuckling a bit when you took it out.

“How about you?” Lockwood asked.

“25% off my next Dorothy Perkins purchase,” you said, holding the coupon up. “Very thrilling.”

“Incredibly so,” he nodded. “When’s the last time you even got something from there?”

You huffed a laugh as you worked open the next envelope. “I bought a dress for my cousin’s graduation last year. Haven’t worn it since.”

“So doubly thrilling,” he said.

You’d opened your mouth to shoot back, but instead you frowned as you pulled an embossed card out. You skimmed through it quickly enough but got the meaning all the same.

“Huh,” you said. “My cousin is getting married.”

Lockwood raised an eyebrow. “Dorothy Perkins cousin?”

You shook your head, still frowning. “No. Maternal aunt’s son. Dorothy Perkins was paternal aunt’s son.”

“Ah,” he said dryly, “how could I have made such a mistake?”

You didn’t even have the energy to retort back as you stared at the letter. “I suppose I’ll need to pull out that dress again. It’s an invite.”

“Congratulations,” Lockwood said. “Are you going to need time off?”

“I don’t even know if I should go,” you mumbled, leaning your head against the side of the couch.

“Why wouldn’t you go?” he asked with a frown.

“Because I haven’t seen my family in a while,” you said, “and I haven’t seen this side of the family in an even longer while.”

Lockwood shrugged. “Then it’ll be a nice reunion.”

“Lockwood,” you said, “I’ve lied to them.”

“…Okay,” he said slowly. “About what?”

You winced. “They think I have a boyfriend.”

He still seemed lost. “Strange thing to lie about.”

“You don’t understand.” You sat up, putting the letter to the side. “My family’s from Liverpool, right? We’re all so busy that we never really have time to meet up, but I make it a point to call my mother a few times a month so she knows I’m still alive.”

Lockwood nodded. “Yeah, I know. You usually call her after every rough case.”

“Right. Because my mum hates my career,” you said. “I thought she was going to have a heart attack when I told her I’d scored my first job with Tendy’s. I thought she would actually pass away when I told her I quit Tendy’s for you.” You glanced at Lockwood. “She thinks you’re a lunatic, by the way.”

He shrugged. “Many do.”

You smiled and shook your head. “She hates that I’m an agent, but so long as I stay alive, she says she can deal with it. But she has a rule on our calls that I can’t talk about our jobs—says they give her nightmares. So instead, she talks about every facet of my personal life.”

Lockwood’s eyes finally flashed with understanding and he nodded. “Hence the boyfriend lie?”

“Hence the boyfriend lie,” you echoed. “She will not stop bothering me about it—apparently the dating life of her daughter is more important than anything else. So on our last call, I just lied and told her I had one to get her off of my back.”

Lockwood actually had the nerve to laugh. “And how did that work out for you?”

“It worked fine,” you said, “and it was going to continue to be fine. But then Will had to go out and get engaged, the dolt.”

“So just go on your own,” he suggested.

“I can’t show up alone,” you grumbled. “Not only would it be completely embarrassing, but the questions would start up all over again.”

“Then don’t go.”

“I can’t not go!” you exclaimed. “Will’s a lovely cousin.”

“You just called him a dolt,” Lockwood said.

“I call you a dolt all the time,” you said. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like you.”

Lockwood chuckled and shook his head, and that was when an idea came to you. There was a slight furrow in his brow when he glanced back at you.

“I don’t like that look.”

“Come to the wedding with me,” you said suddenly.

Lockwood’s expression sobered even further. “You can’t be serious.”

“It’s the perfect solution!” you exclaimed, moving to the edge of the couch as you clasped your hands together.

“You want me to be your pretend boyfriend,” he deadpanned. When you nodded, he shook his head in disbelief. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“Why would I be joking?” you asked. “You’re quite possibly the best candidate for it all. We’re best friends, we know each other well— God, I’ve talked about you enough in general to my mum that she won’t even be surprised that it ended up being you.”

Lockwood’s eyebrows rose. “Won’t they look down on you dating your boss?”

“You’re hardly my boss,” you said.

“I pay your salary,” he said. “You live in my house. My name is on the door.”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” you said. “Besides, you owe me after tonight!”

He frowned. “We just agreed that we were even.”

“Well, I lied,” you said. “My shoulder is in excruciating pain from knocking that door down, and the only way for it to heal is for you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

He gave you a wry look and said your name. “Come on. This is an awful idea.”

“It’s a brilliant idea,” you said. “You get a chance to dress up and charm an entire family—you live for that sort of stuff, Lockwood. I finally get my family off my back with some actual proof and I actually get a break for once.”

You saw the uncertainty on his face and you huffed. “Don’t give me that look. This is the exact sort of plan you’d come up with and try to force on me if it meant we’d get a hand up.”

“I know,” he said grudgingly, “that’s why I don’t like it. It’s dangerous when you start learning my tricks.”

“Please, Lockwood,” you begged. “I’ll do all your chores for the rest of the month. I’ll shake Lorena Caldecott’s hand with a smile on my face.”

“That is tempting,” he said wryly. “I can never fold my dress shirts the way you do.”

“Wrinkle-free dress shirts,” you said with a gesture. “And— and, I will cash in my favor with Arif. Discounted doughnuts for the next three months.”

Lockwood’s eyes widened. “You’ve got favors with Arif?”

You shrugged. “I helped him out a couple times with ghost things.”

He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “You really are something.”

“Discounted doughnuts, Lockwood,” you continued. “Discounted doughnuts and wrinkle-free shirts and my best behavior for the Caldecotts, no matter how sleep-deprived I am.”

“…This really means a lot to you,” Lockwood said after a moment, “doesn’t it.”

You nodded. “My family— my mum—will never lay off if I show up alone. If you’re on my arm, you talk a bit about yourself and compliment me a few times and charm them with literal ghost stories, then I’m off the hook for good.”

Lockwood pursed his lips, his arms folded across his chest as he thought it through.

“Please,” you said. “It’ll just be one night.”

After another moment, he let out a sigh almost as dramatic as your earlier ones, but his lips quirked up at the corners.

“Fine,” Lockwood said. “I’ll go with you.”

Your eyes widened. “You will?”

“Yes,” he said with a laugh. “It— it’ll be fine—you’re right. We’ve been living together for the past year and a half—we know each other well enough to sell it. And with half the agency going out for it, I can write off any hotels or dinners as business expenses.”

That got a laugh out of you too, and you shook your head. “You are my savior, Lockwood. Truly.”

“Just means we’re back in your court on favors,” he joked. “And you know what? I think this could actually be fun.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he nodded. “Besides,” Lockwood smiled wryly at you as he stood up from his spot against the counter, “what’s a bit of fake dating between colleagues anyway?”

You huffed a laugh and finally managed to pull yourself back up into a sitting position. You cracked your neck and rubbed your shoulder, grimacing a bit at the soreness but thankful that it wasn’t worse. “Can we work out the rest of the details later? I’m exhausted, and I know you’ve got to be running on fumes.”

His smile softened and he nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Later today, I suppose.” He frowned as he looked at the clock. “God. It really is late.”

You hummed in agreement as you unlaced your boots, trying your best to avoid the spiderwebs when you took them off. That was your number one question about the Problem—why the hell did spiders have to gravitate towards ghosts?

“Get some sleep, Lockwood,” you said, setting your boots with everyone else’s shoes. That mess was an issue for another day. “You’ve got to be refreshed—those supply calls aren’t going to make themselves.”

Lockwood rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t completely bite back his smile. “Best behavior for the Caldecotts, love.”

“And nothing less!” you exclaimed without turning around, pointing in the air as you continued up the stairs. You heard Lockwood laugh behind you, and the sound brought out a smile of your own.

It was now nearly four in the bloody morning. Your shoulder still ached, your coat was beyond repair, and you would have to scrub beneath your nails for at least ten minutes before you settled in tonight. But somehow, Lockwood still had you smiling and feeling better about the whole experience.

For god’s sake, you fought ghosts on a daily basis. You’d been training with a rapier since the tender age of eight. Your skills rivaled some of Fittes’ and Rotwell’s best—who cared what your family had to say about you?

You were right. This wedding would be a piece of cake with Anthony Lockwood by your side.

#anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #lockwood x you #lockwood & co x reader #lockwood & co #x reader #reader insert #sadie writes

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