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Hi I was wondering when requests may be open again?:)
tbh i'm probably gonna full clear the request list and redo how i accept requests so i can start taking them again. there are a lot of characters i don't have any inspiration for anymore.
Hiii I love your stories and I was just wondering if you could write something for Will from Good Will Hunting? Preferably an x reader fic with fluff in it as well
When the sun shone through their windows and assaulted their eyes with its intense rays, nearly all in the Weasley household were awoken. Ginny grumbled and covered her head, curling up into herself. Once she remembered that she wasn't alone, however, she quickly stood to head downstairs. Fred and George each flipped over to avoid the light, determined to remain in bed longer. Harry's eyes opened and he looked around, nostrils flared like a madman. Arthur found Molly's hand in the covers and brought it to his lips, giving it a feather light kiss. That lightened her mood significantly, and she stood for the restroom.
Ron was the last to wake up. He yawned widely, like a lion, and stretched his arms over his head. He'd found sleep an elusive beast; his mind wandering to, by his consideration, their unwelcome house guest.
“You still here, Harry? Didn't get snatched up by Death Eaters, then?”
Harry, after putting on his glasses so that Ron didn't look like a smudged water color painting, shot Ron an unreadable look. He had conflicting feelings about the night before. He wanted to reply sardonically, but his mind was blank. All he could think of was the blood, and the indescribable feeling of seeing the girl who'd joined in on bullying himself and his friends looking to be on the verge of death. He was worried about her, yet angry that she were there at all. “No, no snatching. Unless we're both dreaming right now.”
After wasting as much time as they could, they all trudged lazily downstairs. Molly, her hair in a tangled mess, looked to the twins. “Boys, go ahead and get breakfast going.”
Fred and George, looking the most neat of all, acquiesced and went together into the kitchen. The clanking sound of pots and pans ensued, following by the two jabbering at each other about who would do what.
Meanwhile, Arthur prepared himself to meet with Dumbledore. He changed quickly into a pair of faded gray slacks and an old blue pullover. He had a warm wool jacket around himself, and brown shoes that didn't quite match anything else he had on. His spectacles were neatly on his nose, and he went into the fireplace. “Back by breakfast,” he said cheerfully before he disappeared in a swirl of green smoke.
“Ron, I want you to write to Bill to let him know not to come until Monday.” said Molly.
Ron murmured to himself and marched over to a cabinet, withdrawing a quill, ink bottle, and parchment, then drug himself to the table at the center of the room, plopping down on the floor with his legs spread out far and his shoulders slumped over.
“I'm done,” Ron called after a suspiciously brief time of scribbling. Molly picked up his letter and examined it.
'Bill,
Mum says to come Monday. There's a bloody Death Eater in the house.
Cheers,
Ron'
Molly frowned and looked down at her son. “Ron.”
“What?” he asked grumpily.
“Write it again.”
In a state of dramatics, Ron grabbed a new piece of parchment with fervor and set it down roughly. When he reached for the ink, he did so with too much effort, knocking the bottle over. It lolled back and forth on the table, spilling its contents into a pool that slowly made its way to the edge. It dripped onto Ron's pants, sure to stain both them and his skin.
“Ron, clean it up!” cried Molly.
Ron rolled his head back, staring miserably at the ceiling as he pushed himself off of the ground. He went to the pantry the room over to find a towel. He drug his feet with slouched shoulders, his slippers scratching against the floor. He did the table first, swirling the towel around lazily until it was mostly clean, then knelt down to the floor. He twirled the rag, putting as little effort into the action as possible. It dyed the wood, but he thought it looked good enough. When he was satisfied with his work, Ron went back into the other room, using his backside to open the door, and tossed the rag in the waste basket. After that, he squished himself between the twins to wash the stains from his hands.
“I'm going to change.” said Ron, not to anyone in particular.
He marched pathetically up the stairs and into the room he and Harry shared. He rifled through his drawers to try and find a clean pair of pants, but found nothing. All of his had been wadded up into a corner the day before, and taken down to the laundry bin. He let his head hit the top of the dresser with a thud. “Come on.”
He looked for an alternative, and decided he only had one option; Harry's pajamas. He'd wear them until his were clean. The pair he found were dark plaid and about four inches too short. He felt like Neville, with his matching pants and shirt that were both just a touch too small. Ron hardly even bothered to put all of Harry's things back into his bag. He'd drug everything out to find the garment and laid it all messily onto his friend's bed. He used force shoving everything back in. 'I hate today.' he thought to himself, dropping the bag onto the floor.
As he made his way back to the living room, Ron paused at Ginny's room to take a peak inside. He could see her on Ginny's bed – the witch was still sleeping. He stared at the unmoving lump for a moment. He didn't know what he was waiting for – what he was watching. Maybe for a sign of life? Perhaps he wanted her to attack. He wanted it to be a ruse – an excuse to hex her for the nasty things she'd said and done. No, he knew that wasn't true. He didn't want to harm her. Not right now, anyway. He couldn't bare to think on it any longer, and quickly closed the door. He looked around for something to place in front of it. An alarm system, if you will. He found it in a brown vase covered in flowers of different colors that was held on the wall by a shelf, and placed it as close to the door as he could get it.
When he came back down, Ginny snickered at him. “Nice pajamas.”
Ron glared at her, then went to retrieve a new ink bottle. He plopped down beside Harry and started working on his new letter. The quill scratched the parchment roughly, as if he were in a hurry to send an S.O.S. overseas.
“I'm done!” he called to his mother.
She came and lifted it up from the table, looking down at Ron and shaking her head.
'Bill,
Mum asked me to tell you to wait until Monday to come over. We got a surprise last night. You'll see when you get here.
Cheers,
Ron'
“Better?”
“It'll do.”
Ron sealed up the letter and gave it to Pig, not trusting the older Errol. Bill wasn't set to arrive until late afternoon, so it would most likely reach him in time. Ron stretched his arms over his head and could feel the draft on his lower calves. He tried pulling the borrowed pants down as much as possible, but it didn't help much. They were so low it was almost offensive, and still the skin over his ankles was exposed.
“Are those my pajamas?” asked Harry.
Ron didn't answer, and Harry couldn't stop himself from chuckling.
Satisfied that what was taken care of could be, Molly headed upstairs to check on the girl. She kicked the vase when she opened the door, staring down at it in confusion. “What on earth?” She returned it to its spot on the shelf and headed inside.
Molly didn't want to disturb her too much. She knew that her body would likely need a lot of rest. She was alive, and breathing steadily. Her brow was furrowed in her sleep, and she clutched onto the covers as if they'd float away if she didn't. Molly placed a gentle hand on her head, lightly running it back and forth to soothe her as she'd done so many times with her own children. “There, there. It's only dreams.” Molly watched as her face settled and her grip loosened before she left, closing the door feather-light.
After some time, a call came from the kitchen. “Breakfast is done.”
The children all scurried to grab a plate. The smell inside was... overwhelming, to say the least. Spices, herbs, cooking oil, something burnt, and the sickly sweet scent of something rotten all blended together and assaulted their nostrils.
When Molly got in, they all moved aside to let her get the first serving. Toast, eggs, bacon, and beans were at their disposal and they were all in need of the nourishment. In the sink, there were pans and plates piled high. The things that had been made and discarded, it seemed.
“Should we wait for dad to get back?” asked Ginny.
“No, dear. I don't know when that'll be.”
After their plates were prepared, they sat themselves down at the table and dove in. The only sound that filled the room was the scraping of utensils and the gulping of juice.
When they were done, the dishes washed themselves in the sink while the others covered the remaining foods to keep them fresh until Arthur's return.
While they waited, Molly sat down to knit and listen to the radio, Ginny, Fred, and George went outside so that Ginny could practice some Quidditch moves, and the boys went into their room to have a discussion about the girl sleeping close by.
“Dahlia Archdaen....” began Ron. “I can't believe Ginny slept in the same room as her.”
“I know. She's the one that offered it, too.” said Harry.
“I mean, has she forgotten everything Dahlia's done? Might as well let Malfoy in there.”
Harry was reminded of something he'd been meaning to talk to Ron about. Actually, he meant to speak with a lot of people over the subject. “Speaking of Malfoy....”
“You're sure you heard Snape talking to Malfoy?” asked Ron after Harry had recounted the conversation he'd overheard after Slughorn's party.
“If you ask me that again, Ron, I'll-”
“I'm only checking!”
“Yes, Snape was offering to help Malfoy.” said Harry, dully. “He said he'd promised Malfoy's mother, made an Unbreakable Oath or something.”
“D'you mean an Unbreakable Vow?” asked Ron, stunned. “Nah, it couldn't be.”
“Yes, I'm sure. Why, what's it do?”
“It's just... you can't break an Unbreakable Vow.” said Ron.
“Funnily enough, I'd worked that part out on my own. What happens if you do break it?”
“You die.” Ron said flatly. He then went into a story about how Fred and George had tried to get him to make one when he was very small, and when Arthur had caught them, he'd been “as angry as Mum,” according to Ron.
“Do you think she knows? Dahlia, I mean - what Malfoy's up to?” asked Ron.
“Maybe. I think I need to ask her, anyway.” said Harry.
“Yeah that'll go over smoothly.”
“It's worth trying. She does owe us a lot. I'm going to talk to your dad first and see what he thinks.” Of course, Harry knew that it was likely Arthur would defend Snape, saying that he was offering help as a rouse to get information. But he still had to try.
“Either way, I've got your back, Harry. I'll ask her with you.”
“I don't think that'd be a good idea, Ron.”
“Why not?” asked Ron, offended.
Harry sighed and picked that moment to bathe himself and get dressed, leaving Ron to yell at him as he left the room, “Oh so now you're not gonna answer me, are you?”
Around eleven thirty, Arthur emerged from the fireplace tailed by Dumbeldore, and to Molly's surprise, Snape as well. He carried with him a handsome black leather case that clanked lightly when he walked.
From upstairs, Harry and Ron could hear the arrival of their headmaster and quickly jogged down. Everyone that remained inside throughout the morning had gotten themselves ready for the day; bathing, dressing, brushing their teeth and hair. But when the twins and Ginny came inside, they were dirty and breathing heavily. They'd been outside all morning.
“Good morning, Molly, Harry, Ginny, Ron, Fred, George. Good to see you all.” said Dumbledore, taking a moment to look at each of them, smiling happily.
“Good morning, Professor.” They said in unison, completely on accident.
Harry caught sight of Snape and furrowed his brow. He'd have to wait for him to leave before he could say anything to Arthur; and if he and Dumbledore left at the same time, he'd have no chance of speaking to the Headmaster until he returned to school.
“Professor Snape has brought with him a few potions that should help to coax the young lady awake. Molly, would you take him to see her?”
“Yes, of course.” she sat down her knitting and gestured for Severus to follow her. He kept his eyes forward and marched with straight posture up the stairs.
“While we wait, I hope you don't mind if I have a seat.”
“Of course not. Go ahead.” said Arthur.
“Dad, there's some breakfast in the kitchen.”
“Thank you, Fred.”
“Would you like a cup of tea, Professor?” asked Ginny.
“Why, yes. That'd be delightful. And some sugar, if you please.”
“Do you know what happened to her, Severus?” asked Molly.
“No.”
Snape had sat himself down on the bed and with Molly's help, turned Dahlia onto her back. He worked more gently than Molly expected to ease the potions down her bruised throat. One to restore her blood loss, one for pain, and one to assist the healing.
“Is that it, then?”
“For now.”
“She had... well, she had some wounds on her back and I'm worried she might have some internal issues.”
Severus bent down to dig through his wares, plucking an orange looking vial from the case. He guided that one down, then replaced it back with the others.
“If she isn't internally wounded, she's going to have cotton mouth for the rest of the day.” said Snape blandly. “Anything else will have to wait until she's awake.” Severus was not going to perform a full examination on a sleeping girl. If anything were broken, it would be evident soon enough. He stood, and the two went back downstairs.
“She'll be awake within the hour.” said Snape as they entered the living room.
“What'll we do until then?” asked Arthur.
“You'll have to wait.”
And wait they did. The entire party sat awkwardly quiet together. If it weren't for the radio, they'd be able to hear the grass grow.
After a while, Molly went into the kitchen to make lunch. She even prepared enough for Snape, Dumbeldore, and Dahlia for when she woke. The eating silence was almost worse than the sitting silence, and all except for Snape crowded into the dining room.
“How is your business going, Fred?” asked Dumbledore. “I hope with our recent outbreak of boils, your sales don't suffer, George.” He looked through his glasses at the two, his eyes twinkling knowingly.
The twins grinned. “Yeah, it's going alright.” said Fred.
“And that's too bad about the boils. It's a good thing our dear Ron hasn't suffered form them.”
“Yeah, we don't know anything about them.”
“Nothing at all.
“We sell party gags mostly. Punching telescopes,”
“Spell checking quills,”
“Love potions,”
“Pygmy puffs,”
“Puking pastilles,” added Dumbledore.
“Puking pastilles,” They each went silent, and their cheeks flushed.
“Actually, I've quite enjoyed them. The taste is superb, although the after effect is less than desirable.”
After they were done, Molly set aside two plates of food; one for Dahlia and one for Snape, too, if he happened to change his mind. The mess was cleaned, and they went back to waiting; Molly to her knitting, Fred, George, and Ginny upstairs to clean up, and Harry and Ron to the floor, where they played a game of chess.
Upstairs, Dahlia slowly drifted back into the world. She kept her eyes shut, but she was awake. Somewhere soft, warm, and nice smelling; orchids or lilac - very light but pleasant nonetheless. She knew it wasn't where she'd left the night before. She could see the sun shining through her lids and wondered how long she'd been asleep. Was it through an entire day? Or had she really woken up the next morning? That would only be possible if they'd used strong potions. But that meant she was inside a magical household. If that were true, she'd be incredibly thankful. She was worried she might've ended up with Muggles, and they would discard her wand thinking that it was just a stick.
She opened her eyes slowly, allowing herself time to adjust to the light; and time between being so comfortable to the questions that were soon to come. She stretched her limbs a little at a time so as not to cause herself distress, and sat up slowly while moving the covers aside. Every part of her ached, though it wasn't nearly as bad as she might've thought.
Dahlia looked around the room. Posters hung on the walls, one of the Hollyhead Harpies. She smiled to herself. This was definitely a magical household. But whose was it? By the look of it, the room belonged to a young girl. Possibly around her age. A dark wood dresser with a mirror over it was settled nearly directly across from her, a matching side table beside a bed that sat to her left with a lovely white candelabra resting atop it, knickknacks and jewelry were scattered here and there, and on the dresser was a fluffy pink ball rolling around of its own accord. It was a cute room, much different from her own. She could see the door to a closet to her right. Leaning against it was a broomstick. It was tidy, organized, easy to move around in. Much different from her own room at home; a large and opulent space, filled with sterile elegance. Everything had a place; nothing mismatched. Even her clothing was placed evenly spaced in her closet. This room looked lived in. Though it was clean, it was full of personality.
She turned to the side and set her feet on the floor, resting her hands on the bed and hunching her shoulders forward. They'd changed her clothing. Gone was her navy gown – replaced by a cotton night dress. It was loose enough to be comfortable, but it didn't seem like it were the right size.
Dahlia stood and wobbled uneasily. She waved her arms out to catch herself, took a deep breath, then started to walk. She found that she had a limp to her left leg which didn't come as a surprise. She went to the dresser and the mirror that sat above it. She looked herself over with a grimace. At least she'd been cleaned off a bit. There was still makeup smudged beneath her eyes but she decided to leave it. It wouldn't matter to the darkened skin on the right side, and the left would grow red if she applied pressure and scrubbed the stains off. Her hair was a ratty mess, and she did her best to rake her fingers through to smooth it down.
The fluff ball rolled in front of her, squealing happily. She looked down and studied it, beady eyes meeting her own. A pygmy puff. She couldn't help but smile. It really was cute. And then it rolled too far and fell onto the floor with a squeak.
She took that moment to make her way out. She stopped at the door and held the knob, shutting her eyes. With one last squeal from the pink fluff at her feet, she opened it, slowly, and stuck her head out to get a look. She didn't see anyone coming down the hall, and could plainly hear a radio from the floor below. She tiptoed around the door and shut it even slower than she'd opened it.
She ignored the pictures on the wall. She wanted to see the person, or people, who'd saved her in person first. She walked slowly down the stairs, holding onto the railing firmly for support. Going down the steps hurt much more than walking. Although she'd been bandaged, the skin on her back was burning uncomfortably, and all around the wounded flesh was sore and throbbing. Not to mention the ache at her side that she'd felt from the moment she sat up. But she didn't slow, or turn. She stayed exactly how she was.
Closer she drew, and heard a voice talking. A man, by the sound of it; old and speaking gently. It sounded incredibly familiar and she stopped to listen in. He was telling a story, but it was hard for her to catch. She walked further and heard another voice, a boy, less familiar than the one before but still her mind attempted recognition.
'Is that... Dumbledore? Couldn't be.'
She was a little worried over who she'd face at the bottom. Would it be someone she knew? Someone she went to school with and their family? Her stomach flopped, making her nauseous.
Down to the bottom she went, then turned to see those that had helped her.
“Hey, she's up.” said Fred.
“Hello missus,” said George.
“Ah, hello Miss Archdaen.” It was Dumbledore. And the Weasley family, Harry, Potter and Professor Snape. She tried to hide it, but seeing him immediately caused her to panic.
Harry and Ron looked up and instantly had daggers for her while on the other side of the room Arthur and Molly looked both worried and frightened while the twins and Ginny met her gaze. She kept her face passive and tried to focus solely on the Headmaster.
'Oh, good. A house full of people who hate me, and a man who will likely give my location away. No reason to fret.'
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
you receive a box at your doorstep. in it, is your greatest desire. literally, ANYTHING you want.
*brad pitt accent* --- WHat's In tHe bOx???
WHAT'S IN THE BOOXXXX
(If this isn't too much of a total cop out) I'mma have myself a couple of fairies that'll grant any wish I have without any of that aha but we twisted it to make it bad type nonsense. You know what I mean? Like if I say I wish I could tolerate lactose they wouldn't go okay but now you can't tolerate *anything else.* I don't need that shit.
A = Attachment (How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?)
He puts his entire trust in you. You are the only one privy to his innermost thoughts and feelings. That’s how he shows his love.
B = Blood (How messy are they willing to get when it comes to you?)
He prefers to keep things clean. It would be easier for him not to go to the trouble of cleaning up your messes, so he’d likely be done with you if you caused him too many issues.
C = Clingy (Do they require your attention at all times? How do they act when you ignore them?)
He’s a busy man, so he certainly doesn’t require your attention at all times, but when he wants it, you better not ignore him.
D = Dependent (Are they codependent? Do they want you to rely solely on them for your care/protection?)
Petyr definitely sees himself as your protector, but as long as there is someone out there keeping you safe for him, he’s not going to bitch about it.
E = Excess (Would they spoil or pamper you? To what extent?)
He likes to spoil you a bit, giving you pretty things and tokens of his devotion to you.
F = Fatal (Would they kill you? Kill for you?)
He may kill you, though it would break his heart to. And it would be no skin off his back to have someone killed for you if you wished it.
G = Give Up (What are they willing to sacrifice for you?)
His privacy. Petyr is a very private man, and to share the part of himself that he is when he’s alone should be considered a great privilege.
H = Harsh (How do they take to you mouthing off to them or saying something they don’t want to hear?)
He won’t like it, may even raise a hand to you, but he ultimately won’t hit you. The threat of it he feels is enough.
I = Inseparable (What are they like when you’re not with them? Do they check in on you constantly, or feel lost without you?)
He checks in on your whereabouts when you’re not with him, and as long as you’re not in bad company, he largely leaves it at that.
J = Jilted (How do they act when met with rejection from you?)
It will likely only make him more determined that you are to be his. He’ll double his efforts to win your affections.
K = Kidnap (Would they ever abduct you just to have you to themselves for a while?)
Personally, no, but he would have someone do it for him and have you brought to him.
L = Lines (Do they cross lines with you? What ones? Is it something they know they’re doing?)
Probably, but he really doesn’t care, as long as he’s careful not to cross the wrong line. Though he does like to toe the line from time to time to see how much he can get away with.
M = Manipulation (Would they manipulate you? How? And would you realize that’s what was happening?)
Yes, but he’s so skilled at the art of manipulation that it’d be hard for you to tell he was until it was too late.
N = Naive (Do they like you pliant or do they prefer you to challenge them?)
He doesn’t mind some challenge. That only makes you more alluring to him, but be careful not to push him too far.
O = Ownership (Do they feel possessive of you? How do they act when you’re around others?)
He’s very possessive of you. You are his and only his. He’ll be polite about it in front of others, but angry when it’s just the two of you. He won’t blame you, but the anger will simmer in him for a while.
P = Petulant (Are they moody? Easy to anger? Or are they patient and forgiving around you?)
He can be moody, but he tries to only be sweet to you. He wants you to think he’s the perfect man.
Q = Quit (Would they quit any of their behaviors for you if you asked?)
He’d quit them, but only around you. You may be able to change how he acts with you, but outside of your interactions, he’s a tough man to change.
R = Rules (Would they have rules for you? Brainwash you? Teach you the right way to be theirs?)
He’d pretty much let you have your freedom, but slowly things would start to creep in and change, offering you less and less freedoms.
S = Stalker (Would they stalk you? How far would it go?)
His spies would. He wants to know your routines, what you like, etc. He has to get to know you to get you to love the version of him that he’s crafted to be perfect for you.
T = Target (What do they wish to do to you? How twisted are their ideals?)
He just wishes to possess you, to get you to love him fiercely and devotedly.
U = Utopia (How much effort do they put into making you happy?)
A considerable amount. You’re not going to love him if all he does is make you miserable. So your happiness is a priority for him.
V = Violence (Would they ever be violent with you?)
He’d very much try not to be. He doesn’t want to hurt his love, but sometimes his frustrations boil over and he has to remind himself of that.
W = Will (Would they ever do anything against your will?)
More than likely. If you have to be mad at him for a bit to end up at his ultimate goal of getting you to be his, so be it. He’ll find a way to get you to come around.
X = Xoanon (Would they revere or worship you? To what length would they go to win you over?)
He goes to great lengths to win you over. He doesn’t quite worship you, but it feels like something akin to that.
Y = Yowl (Do they ever make you cry? Do they enjoy your tears?)
He doesn’t, or tries exceptionally hard not to at least. He doesn’t like tears, as they tend to anger him. They show weakness and he doesn’t want you to be weak.
Z = Zenith (Would they ever break you just so you’d stay with them?)
Possibly, if he wasn’t keen to give up on making you his, but you simply wouldn’t learn any other way.
A = Attachment (How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?)
Expect a lot of gifts, backhanded compliments and lingering touches. It will get quite intense and you damn well better be appreciative.
B = Blood (How messy are they willing to get when it comes to you?)
She doesn’t like mess. She certainly won’t dirty her own hands. And you can expect punishment if she has to clean up after whatever sort of mess you’ve made.
C = Clingy (Do they require your attention at all times? How do they act when you ignore them?)
She won’t put up with you ignoring her, not when she’s made the time to be with you. She doesn’t require your attention all the time, just when it suits her.
D = Dependent (Are they codependent? Do they want you to rely solely on them for your care/protection?)
She doesn’t want you straying, but she doesn’t really want to be the one to take complete care of you either. That’s what servants are for.
E = Excess (Would they spoil or pamper you? To what extent?)
She will pamper you to excess. Fine clothing, pretty decorations for your room, etc. And you better like what she gives you. If you don’t, you better be good at faking it.
F = Fatal (Would they kill you? Kill for you?)
Neither. It’s too much of a hassle, even if she had it hired out. She’d much sooner turn you loose in the woods than kill you. But she will make threats to those that would see you taken from her.
G = Give Up (What are they willing to sacrifice for you?)
Her daughters, though really, once you get to know her, you realize it’s not much of a sacrifice for her at all.
H = Harsh (How do they take to you mouthing off to them or saying something they don’t want to hear?)
She won’t like it, and depending on how much you anger her, you can expect a swift slap to the face and a stern warning to never speak like that to her again.
I = Inseparable (What are they like when you’re not with them? Do they check in on you constantly, or feel lost without you?)
She checks on you when she can. When she’s with you, you’re her priority, but when she’s not, she will often hardly give you a thought.
J = Jilted (How do they act when met with rejection from you?)
She’ll anger very quickly if you’re to reject her. She’ll tell you that you better change your attitude and start being grateful that she even takes time to care for you.
K = Kidnap (Would they ever abduct you just to have you to themselves for a while?)
You’ll already be in her home, she has no need to kidnap you. You’ll be locked in your room as her captive though, for sure.
L = Lines (Do they cross lines with you? What ones? Is it something they know they’re doing?)
If she does, she doesn’t much care what the lines are, nor what you have to say about her crossing them. You’re hers, and you better start acting like it.
M = Manipulation (Would they manipulate you? How? And would you realize that’s what was happening?)
She would, but subtly. She’d be extra nice sometimes, lulling you into thinking she’ll let you go, or change her ways, but don’t count on it.
N = Naive (Do they like you pliant or do they prefer you to challenge them?)
She prefers you to be totally pliant. She doesn’t want to fight you, she only wishes to have you enjoy when she comes to see you.
O = Ownership (Do they feel possessive of you? How do they act when you’re around others?)
She is entirely possessive of you. She blames you if others get too close or too friendly.
P = Petulant (Are they moody? Easy to anger? Or are they patient and forgiving around you?)
She’s very easy to anger. You better be all smiles and sweetness when she sees you, otherwise you’ll sour her mood quickly.
Q = Quit (Would they quit any of their behaviors for you if you asked?)
If you agree to be good for her and prove it, then she’ll consider going easier on you.
R = Rules (Would they have rules for you? Brainwash you? Teach you the right way to be theirs?)
Be nice and stay put are her two primary rules. Follow those and you’re golden.
S = Stalker (Would they stalk you? How far would it go?)
Before you became hers, she wouldn’t really stalk you, per se, but she’d definitely keep an eye on you to see if you were right for her.
T = Target (What do they wish to do to you? How twisted are their ideals?)
She only wishes for you to be hers, to love and obey her.
U = Utopia (How much effort do they put into making you happy?)
A good amount. She tries, she really does. She wants you to be happy with her and with what she provides you.
V = Violence (Would they ever be violent with you?)
If you step out of line and anger her, then yes. She very much would. She wouldn’t leave you battered and bruised or anything, but if your cheek is red and stinging for a bit, so be it. Maybe you’ll learn.
W = Will (Would they ever do anything against your will?)
Of course, but she’d expect you to take it as a privilege. She’d keep you captive, but it’s for your protection. That sort of thing.
X = Xoanon (Would they revere or worship you? To what length would they go to win you over?)
She doesn’t think you need to be won over. You just have to learn to like how things are. You’ll come around if you know what’s good for you.
Y = Yowl (Do they ever make you cry? Do they enjoy your tears?)
She doesn’t like to see you cry. It’s weakness and if you’re doing it to appeal to the goodness in her, you’ll quickly learn that it’s not going to work.
Z = Zenith (Would they ever break you just so you’d stay with them?)
Yes. 100%. If that’s what she has to do to get you to cooperate, then that is what she’ll do.
For @arianadevareux
Lady Tremaine: @deessecathell, @speedytimetravelgalaxy, @jona-lea, @caffelattte, @thenazwife
Helloo!! Oh my gosh, I love your Ana Mitchell OC!! She's honestly living the dream and I'm here for it. The bit about her foresight is so clever! Can you imagine how that would play out in the LOTR universe??? She'd be pretty odd! Is this just an OC HC or are you thinking about writing an accompanying fic? Either way, I'm totally here for it!
Love your blog!! xxxxxx
Thank you! I also love her! I think she's gonna have a wild time. There's eventually gonna be an accompanying fic! I don't think the main story is going to change too much from canon, but I haven't got it fully plotted out yet.
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Hi, how are you? Can you do an headcanon about one of Keanu's earliest roles, Tommy Warnecki from the movie Flying/Dream to Believe (1986), you can find the movie on youtube, can you do an headcanon about Dating Tommy Warniecki, please? <3
I'm not bad, how about you?
My requests are currently closed, and I haven't seen this film. Anything I write for is on my fandom list.
About: Ana is the epitome of a bimbo (positive.) She loves animals of all kinds and is the type to pspsps at a wild cougar. She laughs loudly, cries openly, and tries to see the best in others whenever possible. She's a sensitive person, and will always come to the defense of others.
Romantic Pairing(s): Boromir, Haldir
Key Friendship(s): Legolas, Eowyn, Arwen
Plot Summary: Ana gets isekai'd into The Lord of the Rings while she's on her way to meet friends for a vacation. She read the books in school and watched the movies a couple of times, and because of her vague knowledge it's assumed she has some sort of foresight abilities. She's sent with the fellowship to Mount Doom armed with her Hello Kitty taser and the skills she learned from her self defense class.
