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The pungent odor of cigarette smoke made his nose crinkle slightly; his mother used to smoke, years and years ago, but gave it up when Naji was in high school and she became pregnant with his younger sister. There was a part of him that still associated the scent with his mother, dredging up the deepest memories of when it was just the two of them against the world, in their little apartment unit over in Seal Harbor. He didn't really yearn for the past, liked the way things were now for the most part; but he couldn't help but wish it was all simpler for everyone in his life, just like the days when his mom Julie used to puff on Marlboros.

"Yeah, that's fair, I used to be nosy all the time too back when I lived in an apartment," Naji admitted freely. It was hard to keep your business to yourself when living in close quarters, which was even worse when he had to share housing with teammates—and now, when he had to share a bunk room with fellow firefighters. "Yeah, um, there was a death last night—pretty obviously a murder? They're still investigating, obviously; so you might get a knock on your door later from the cops asking if you saw or heard anything. The victim was a lady named, uh..." He frowned slightly as he tried to recall the name of the decedent, not exactly his strong point, "...Eliana? Her last name started with an M. If you knew her, uh—I'm sorry about the loss." The bottle blonde looked around, feeling antsy from staying in one place. "Folks are, uh, kinda shaken up right now, which, understandable, y'know, they're worried about a murderer still running around here. So me and some others from AFD are here because, I guess, we help a lot of civilians feel safer," he punctuated with a shrug of broad shoulders.

The commotion had eventually roused Romi from her bed and out into the hall where she'd quickly realized that a fucking crime scene was unfolding right before her eyes. So, like any normal person would, she grabbed her cigarettes and headed outside to see if she could get the scoop about what had happened. Once she was on the ground floor, she lit her cigarette and took a drag, letting the smoke billow into the cold air. She was simply just people-watching, trying to piece things together, when she came across a firefighter. No, I don't know anything more than you do. Damn, okay. Maybe let her speak first? Then again, this is precisely why she didn't do a job like this--she didn't really deal well with people once they got on her nerves and she was certain that firefighters and first responders in general had to deal with a lot of stupid people a lot of the time.

I'm really sorry. Do you need a buddy to walk with you? Romi couldn't help but snort with laughter. Was this guy serious? Cocking an eyebrow, she said "Do I need a buddy to walk with me?... No, I'm good, thanks. I'm a not a child. I'm just being a nosy fuckin' neighbor." She took another drag of her cigarette and secretly wondered if firefighters hated cigarettes because they started fires occasionally. Gesturing to the yellow crime scene tape, she said "Is someone dead?" For just a moment, her mind darted to the thought of Bandit, the only other friend she had in this apartment complex, but she shook the thought from her mind. Couldn't be. Then again, maybe she should go knock on her door later...

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when: 27 january, evening with: @snowkisses, mark where: giant foods

Finish 48-hour shift. Pick up Bronwyn from Debate Club. Pick up Mark from work. Drop Bronwyn off at home. Pick up Callie from her grandparents' house. Go grocery shopping. Playing the part of the dutiful family man came natural to the firefighter, humming to himself while driving around and chatting with his passengers even after finishing a long shift. Exhaustion was beginning to creep into his periphery, with sleep over the past couple of days being confined to the unforgiving bunk mattresses at the firehouse; but Naji still had energy left to give to those who mattered most. Now, he stood just within the grocery store with Callie hitched up in one bronze tattooed arm, his and her jackets both draped in the front section of the shopping cart where the child would typically go, and Mark being given the duty of pushing said cart (allowing him a sense of stability as they walked around the store, a conscious effort by Naji).

"So," the bottle blond started, slinging his free arm around his boyfriend's shoulders, pulling him in close to Naji's side, "what do my little Baes want for dinner?" He looked between them expectantly, pretending to weigh even an answer from Callie though she still lacked the communication skills to help plan out a dinner; all she knew was that Na was here, which she was always excited about, and that he was coming to stay the night. "At least let's start with a protein, and then we can go from there?"

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How to Make a Sanji Sour with Taz Skylar | ONE PIECE | Netflix

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when: 22 or 23 january, evening with: @anchoragestarters (no cap!) where: entrance of the marionette

Another tragedy, another calamity. When the news broke, Naji was one of the selection of firefighters who offered a few more hours of their time to contribute to the safety of the community—even if it was of no more significance than being a security blanket. Leaving behind a pouting boyfriend at home, he donned his casual uniform to identify himself as someone trustworthy: all navy blue, with a shield on his shirt belonging to that of Anchorage Fire Department; and it was now his turn to post up near the entrance of the apartment building, to offer a sense of security to the residents, to walk someone up to their apartment if they felt unsafe, any of that that comes with working for the community.

Toned arms, like bronzed scrapbooks of flash tattoos from all over the world, crossed against his chest as the bottle blond did his best to appear as the role of community protector, a duty he loved so dearly. "No, I don't know anything more than you do," he spoke as someone approached, seemingly with a question in their eye. "I'm really sorry. Do you need a buddy to walk with you?" He wouldn't be surprised if they didn't even live here: there would always be nosy onlookers sniffing around for information or a glimpse of a scene.

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when: 31 october, late with: @morphemeta where: the pumpkin patch, all hallow's evil

Un-fucking-believable. The storm currently raging in Naji’s heart was difficult to understand, even for himself, a dizzying mess of regret, affection, annoyance, grief— Seeing Mark in a matching costume to his, literally the love interest of the character he was masquerading as, after the screeching halt Naji had put to their torrid affair weeks ago was shocking, to say the least. And paired with the sound of Mark calling out to him as Naji stormed away, dodging through the swells of the crowd, professing a need to talk? God, Naji wished he could just go to his car and drive home; but he was stuck here until his younger sister and her friends decided they were done.

His own words swirled around inside his head for the umpteenth time in weeks as he stalked over to the pumpkin patch, which looked clear enough at the moment to walk around in and take a breather. You need to decide if you actually want me, because I'm not gonna let you use me as a rebound. Was the Megara costume his best friend donned an act of contrition? A confession more candid than the steamy nights they'd shared? It was all far too much for the self-admitted simple mind to parse, especially in such a crowded, public area. Living his own life, practically raising his own sister, and then holding up his friend's mental health was becoming too much even for the strong-willed firefighter; the resurfacing of Addisorn was supposed to lift some weight off everyone's shoulders, but nobody was expecting them to turn up in such an unfortunate state.

Pulling off his bright orange wig and feeling the cold Alaskan air hit his sweaty scalp, Naji stopped and stared into middle distance as he gnashed his teeth, using the hairpiece as a stress toy—squishing it between his hands, and then pulling it apart. It would require an act of God to rescue this thing for future use, though he wasn't much certain about being cartoon Hercules again. With all of this skin exposed, his artificial knee and tibia were beginning to ache from the cold seeping in—and he still wasn't a huge fan of the long surgical scar running down his entire knee and half of his shin, which was on full display all night. Would his sister be ready to go home soon?

“Is that thing…making noise?” Naji half-mumbled, lured from the chaos of his own thoughts, rattled from hearing such a strange sound coming from a pumpkin. He crouched down to hear it better, dark brows furrowing as he leaned in and listened. “Tell me that's not fucking…sizzling, like…like bacon in a pan,” he spoke incredulously, casting barely a look towards the presence who'd just halted near him. “You hear that too, right? It's not just my tinnitus acting up? It doesn't sound like ringing or buzzing or electricity."

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Having feelings for somebody but insisting on some time apart made for a confusing mess inside of one's head. Luckily, among the throngs of people populating the area, Naji had yet to spot Mark, so he didn't have to reckon with anything just yet. He was still trying to keep a distance from his teenage sister and her friends so she didn't lash out at him for hovering, but every once in a while he would try to track her down just to check in. Too many people here, too much potential for something bad to happen.

Trying to occupy himself in the meantime has been a mixed bag. Naji could be considered by most, including himself, to be a grown up kid, so there was some entertainment to be had in the activities spread out; but they only held his interest for so long. Milling about was probably closer to what he was doing now, and sampling the selection of concession offerings. His blood ran hot by nature, so sitting by the fire or drinking hot beverages wasn't totally necessary, even in what could be considered a minidress exposing considerable skin. The hot cocoa was always too good every year to pass up on though...

"Huh." Brilliant blue eyes blinked at the unoccupied stand. "Maybe this was the only chance they had so far to take a break? They've been pretty overrun the whole time, so maybe it slowed down finally and they took a breather?" He adjusted his orange wig, feeling his scalp sweating underneath. "You ever had hot cocoa with booze in it? The stuff here would fucking slap with some Bailey's in it. It's a good thing they're not offering that considering I gotta drive my sister and her friends home and I gotta go to work tomorrow."

OPEN STARTER - @anchoragestarters ( 0 / 5 ) location: bonfire

Pesor's whole outfit smelled like smoke. And they were certain that the hot chocolate they'd gotten - they'd refilled twice - wasn't just hot chocolate. They'd barely paid attention to the horror stories, completely engrossed in the fire and in their own dreamy world where nothing could ruin this night because they were with Dorothy.

As the storytellers did a swap, Pesor stood, coughing from having inhaled too much of the bonfire's smoke, and holding the empty cup against their person. They walked back to the hot chocolate stand, finding it completely deserted aside from another patron waiting either for their first free drink or hoping to buy a refill.

"Oh, that's strange. I don't think I've seen this place unattended before," they said, as they rubbed their stingy eyes.

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when: 3 october with: @snowkisses, mark

Word travels fast when you work in emergency services and so closely with law enforcement; Naji wasn't on the engine that was dispatched to Winterwood, but he quickly found out the situation: a body found in the opulent bathtub of a millionaire. He'd heard of cases like that before, and rich people thinking they could get away with anything as long as they paid off the right people. From what he heard, the homeowner had come home after a night out and claimed to have just found the decedent there in the tub, which was patently insane in Naji's eyes. Who was supposed to believe that?

The curiosity about the case morphed into a lump in his throat when he heard who the body had been identified as, his best friend's former partner and the birthgiver of their child. From the moment he heard Adisorn Tayen's name in connection with the death, he knew Mark wouldn't be doing well; quick communication with other members of the Bae family confirmed that he was catatonic.

Fuck this overwhelming sense of duty Naji felt, fuck the feeling of obligation to take off work and go care for his friend.

He couldn't quite leave early, but he did manage to secure a few days off longer than the usual three days; and in the morning after completing a 24-hour shift, he was still dressed in his casual uniform as he drove to Mark's parents' house, not feeling fully rested after having to force himself into shut-eye on the uncomfortable bunks at the firehouse. He was so tired, so he had a plan in mind, and he hoped Mark would be willing enough to go along with it.

"We're gonna hit up your place first so you can pack some clothes," Naji started once he had Mark loaded into the passenger's seat. "I'd let you wear mine but they'd be too big. We're gonna go to my house—you can use my stuff to shower, wash your laundry, whatever you need—and I'm gonna get out of these fuck ass clothes 'cause I just finished a shift. I'll probably take a shower, but you're gonna lay down in my bed. And then we're gonna go to sleep for a little while. Sound good?" He'd already taken off towards the trailer park, brain on autopilot as he drove. "We can talk later if you want; but right now, habibi, we both gotta get some actual rest." He reached over and patted Mark on the thigh, completely at odds with what to say, especially when he was this tired.

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naji harper as hercules of hercules (1997)

*solo costume!

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𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙺 𝚂𝚃𝚁𝙸𝙺𝙴𝚂 …

 happy 30th birthday dearest NAJI HARPER  ,

come drop your presents & send wishes if you may                             find out more about character birthdays here !

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Chewing on his lower lip in thought, Naji tilts his head back once more, again looking at Min upside-down like some kind of toddler. "So what you're saying...is that I have to sweet talk you into sweet talking me?" Pearly whites flash in a playful grin, the same one that labeled him as a heartthrob during his pro footballer days (and had more than a few moms wishing for a hot firefighters calendar)—perennially incapable of being serious, it seems, with the desire to turn everything into a joke or a challenge. Min (probably) isn't about to fire him as a client just for being a bit obnoxious, so Naji never tones down the playfulness: somebody's gotta keep Min on his toes, after all, right? So why can't it be Naji?

"I did have, like, neon pink once during my pro career," he posits thoughtfully. "Like, I'm talking flamingo." He was known as a menace on the field, often spoken of as an obnoxious but extremely skilled annoyance; so having such a loud hair color was totally in-character for him, and had made supporters of other clubs just hate him even more. Whatever. As long as they were hating him for being so good at his job, that was fine. "So I'm, like, not a pro at complementary colors or whatever the fuck goes together good, so I have no idea if this would look decent on me or my skin color; but what about, like, a smoky teal? You get what I'm saying? Maybe it would look good with my eyes!" Yet again, he tilts his head back to look at Min, and bats his dark eyelashes, framing the pretty blues in question. "If you can't do that, then maybe, like, a black cherry would look pretty sickening."

Min had been busy nudging his tools into as straight a line as humanly possible and internally screaming every time he knocked one out of place in the process until Naji had gone and said something that confused Min to the point of knocking him right out of that loop. There were a few issues to consider here; firstly, Min was not convinced he, as a stylist, went nuts for that kind of thing. Secondly, Min and sweet weren't exactly words that complemented each other all that well, nor had he ever lived up to the ideal of the chatty hairdresser. If anything, his clients had taken to venting to him, purely because they appreciated his blunt remarks. (He supposed it must be cathartic to bitch about someone in your life and hear your hairdresser call them a sad little freak. Maybe the accent helped. Something about dry British humour, blah blah blah...). "I don't do sweet talk," he said, surprised. "You should've worked that out by now." Min pulled on his disposable gloves one hand at a time, giving the wrists a good tug to ensure the fit was right and letting them snap into place. He'd always worn gloves while he worked, ever since he started hairdressing. It was rather an unfortunate trait for someone in this industry but he had always hated touching others' hair. He hated touching a lot of things. This is what it took to keep him scrubbing his hands until they were red raw at the end of every work day.

"We can do the fun dye job if you want but the colour's up to you," said Min, a hint of mock-warning in his voice. Sweet talk did not come naturally to him, sure, but he could still play along. "I have a hard enough time making decisions for myself. Making me choose is an upcharge." Of course, this was a joke. Not that its being a joke stopped Min from briefly considering whether or not he would accept compensation for the struggle but, in the end, he wasn't that uptight. At the end of the day, he did like to try and encourage people to try new things; for some people, finding a new look, even if just for a little while, was a big deal and it was nice to help them along that path. "So, what do you say?" muses Min, pleasantly. "You gonna go for it?"

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"See, but we all know that the place is haunted, right? It's, like, common knowledge at this point, I think? I dunno, it was common knowledge back when I was a kid. And I'm not disputing the evidence that it's haunted. When I was in middle school, one of my friends went to go take a leak during a movie, and he said literally every sink in the bathroom turned on at once even though he was in there alone. And another one of my friends saw a bunch of those promo standees in the lobby fall over without being touched. So, like, we all know it's haunted; and I think somebody's using that to their advantage because they'd be confident that we'd all think it was ghosts and shit." Being a firefighter was rooted in all kinds of easy to back physical science, the cause of most blazes confidently sleuthed through the ash left behind in its wreckage. Outside of that, though—as well as everything that went into being an athlete—Naji was more than prone to falling to suspicious whims, indulging in many an urban legend back in his pro career, and gobbling up TV shows about ghost hunting and cryptid hunting. Call it foolish, but he preferred seeing it as having a sense of whimsy about the world. "I dunno if knowledge gained via Ouija or seance or anything like that would hold much water in a court of law these days. Maybe in, like, the 1800s or something. But if they did take it, what if the ghost didn't know how to read or write so they couldn't spell their own name, and it ended up being a case of mistaken identity?"

"Like... a conspiracy?" Mystified, Esteban took stock of what his longtime friend was laying out for his pea-sized noggin to wrap around. "...Huh." The filler hung between them as he filtered the knowledge through the net of his middle-ear and computed it. ( It was not dissimilar to when Farah would go on one of her infamous three-hundred-minute pillow talks, where about ninety-five percent of their conversation was a resonating hum from the mechanic and the occasional verbal acknowledgement that he was still listening while laying in bed with her and piecing together his latest miniature Lego set. He didn't have to do a lot of talking in their relationship, if he didn't want to, which was especially consoling in their early stages when he was frequently exhausted of his mental capacities by grueling odd jobs in retail and customer service, of sorts. ) "Wait," he started to roll up the magazine in hand, "So you don't think that one of those shadow people could've just... lifted it out of Slashback and decided to drop it in the movie theater? I've heard of poltergeists playing tricks before," he wondered aloud, running with the thought as he continued on a separate tangent, "And I've heard the popcorn machine in there pops all by itself — and what it's someone they, you know, edited to look like that woman? What's that called?" Needless to say, Esteban wasn't tech-savvy, before the great internet black-out, worldwide. If anyone was clinging to their ethernet, more power to them. He and Farah had never been incredibly attached to their phones on an emotional level, anyway. "...Do you think you'd have to get a Ouija board to look up the ghost's name to sue them? They could sue the estate. I think."

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when: late one afternoon post-clappy with: @hevrtbrexkqueen where: seal harbor

A phone call from an unsaved number had interrupted Naji's conversation with his younger sister as he'd been driving her home from volleyball practice. He'd ignored the first one; but when the caller rang again, he'd answered it in a huff, being greeted by an irate-sounding Pixie, someone he only knew via work—specifically the calls from their apartment building to the fire department; and it sounded like that second-rate security system was still acting up.

When he dropped Izzy at home, he apologized for not being able to cook dinner just yet (to which the teen insisted she'd live), and headed over to the apartments as quick as he legally could. He and his mom had lived in Seal Harbor when he was a kid, so returning there always felt like the strangest dé·jà vu. There'd been some renovations over the years, so the halls didn't feel quite the same upon immediate survey, but then turning certain corners had the memories hurtling back towards him.

He still knew it like the back of his hand, and yet, these days, he always felt like he wasn't supposed to be there.

Skipping the stairs down to the basement, Naji recalled which apartment he was looking for, remembering leaving his personal phone number behind in case the occupants didn't want to get an entire firetruck out there again. Spotting Pixie, though, standing outside of their apartment very much helped matters. "Came as fast as I could, was picking my sister up from school," he explained, then peered at the door. "You try the debit card trick already yet, or did you call me out here for nothing?" The words weren't malicious, but merely the teasing candor with which he expressed many things.

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The wide hand toting Mark awkwardly smoothed over his back. "Cool it, habibi," the fireman soothed, "gimme a sec and I'll put you down, alright?" Keeping his grip on his friend as best as he could, Naji toted him to his car; then set the collection of shopping bags on the pavement, and used his newly freed hand to carefully lower Mark to the ground, gingerly letting his feet touch it. Still wanting to make sure the other didn't topple over, Naji offered his entire body as a support beam, raising his hands, palms out, to ensure Mark didn't topple over from his perspective being swapped abruptly.

His expression scrunched up in disbelief. "Your fuckin' raviolis? Your priorities, dude..." Naji shook his head. "I'd be more worried about your personal safety—someone robbing you or even hurting you for whatever reason—before your raviolis. But if they were in one of those bags you left next to you, then they're there; I got 'em all." He popped the trunk and gathered the combined bags once more to load them up, then did a quick little hunt for raviolis to soothe Mark's mind, certain it was probably still pretty scrambled. He made a little triumphant noise when he found them and held up the container for his friend to see. "They're here, see? You good now?"

Closing the trunk, he made his way to the driver's side door. "Get in. I'll drive you home, alright, habibi? And before you say anything: don't fuckin' worry about it. It's fine." He was used to the other putting up a bit of a fight when offered favors like this, but to Naji, it was nothing. He never expected anything in return, doing things like this was a simple fact of life. If he had something else time-sensitive to do, like pick his sister up after volleyball practice or run a soccer practice (being a little late to the firehouse would have been fine, he wasn't the only firefighter; but letting Izzy or his little team down was out of the question), it would have been different; but as it stood, Naji was more than happy to spare some time to help Mark out.

he was like a toddler resisting sleep, marcus bae. as the world hummed around him, his body betrayed him, slumping on the public bench. the gentle hum of pedestrian traffic and distant chatter blended into a lullaby determined to pull him into slumber. his eyelids drooped, fluttering as he blinked furiously, trying to keep them open. it was a futile struggle, as the tide of exhaustion swept over him in relentless waves. a yawn escaped his lips despite his efforts to stifle it, stretching through his entire body, muscles loosening in surrender, while his mind remained stubbornly alert, refusing to concede.

he awaited public transportation to take him home. the cool metal of the bench pressed against his back, uncomfortable yet comforting in its solidity. marcus glanced at his watch, the seconds ticking by with excruciating slowness. a twelve-minute wait felt like an eternity, time elongating and warping around him, trapping him in this sleepy limbo. his thoughts drifted in and out, snatches of dreams mingling with reality in a confusing blur. he shifted in his seat, rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, and tapped his foot rhythmically, the soft thud against the concrete a grounding sensation that kept him tethered to the waking world. one moment he was in the present, the next transported into a dreamscape, the bench beneath him fading into nothingness. he drifted through the veil of fragmented thoughts, fleeting memories and half-formed ideas.

then the world rushed back to marcus in a dizzying blur of colors and sounds, a jarring transition from the dreamscape. one moment enveloped in a gentle haze, the next aware of a firm grip around his waist and the sensation of being hoisted into the air. disoriented and confused, he tried to make sense of his surroundings, his mind still half-lost in the remnants of a dream unremembered

the first coherent thought that cut through the fog of sleep was mild panic. "what’s happening? why am i moving?" his senses slowly caught up with reality, as he realized he was being carried across the parking lot. his eyes focused, catching a glimpse of the concrete and asphalt beneath him, then shifted to a familiar fireman’s ass. recognition dawned, a mixture of relief and embarrassment washing over him as he registered the playful voice of his rescuer.instinctively, he squirmed, trying to regain his bearings and reclaim some sense of dignity. a faint flush colored his cheeks as the absurdity of the situation sank in. "naji," he muttered, his voice still thick with sleep. “you can put me down…. i can walk."

then worry sets in, "my raviolis." he fears that they have either been left behind or stolen from him while he rested his eyes. 

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when: august 21, morning with: @becameundone, min where: coyote hair salon

Sitting in a salon chair long enough for any work to be done had always been difficult for Naji, hence why he'd bleached his hair on his own for a long time, or let teammates buzz it down for him. But, uh, it never looked great, no matter what he tried to tell himself in those days. So, begrudgingly, he'd gotten into the habit of going to the salon ever since he'd settled back in Alaska. He didn't have enough time to get it fixed up before the trial, which had irked him considerably, and now he was starting to feel like a shaggy fucking dog. He preferred keeping his style cropped quite close, allowing just enough length on the top to let his natural curl pattern say hello; and he liked it white blond, a far cry from the dark brown that grew naturally from his scalp.

If it got too long, it would get disheveled, and it would be half blond and half deep brown, and overall a fucking mess. Which he felt like now as he sat in Min's chair and stared himself down in the giant mirror. Naji made a face at his reflection, and then tilted his head back, looking at Min upside-down. "Same as usual, chief. Although, if you talk real sweet to me, maybe you can convince me to do a fun color on the blond this time." His dark brows waggled once; he'd been told before that his thick hair was fun to play with or whatever. "I know stylists go nuts for that kinda shit."

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when: some point after the trial with: mark, @snowkisses where: giant foods

Who the hell falls asleep outside the grocery store? Well, aside from unhoused people, Marcus Bae, apparently. Heading out of the store with his own bags in hand, Naji spots the familiar, slightly slumped figure on a bench under the awning, shopping bags set on the pavement near his feet. The bottle blond would be a little more disturbed if this wasn't the first time he'd ever found the other man in a similar predicament, or if he didn't know the medical reasoning behind it. Saddled with an insurmountable sense of duty, Naji rolls his eyes and alters his course.

"Alright, up and at 'em, Sleeping Beauty," Naji quips, halfway to himself, as he stands in front of his friend and sets his own bags down, then assesses and plans his course of action. From the position Mark is sitting in, and with the back and arm of the bench in the way, the best method is probably just to lift him from the middle and carry him over Naji's shoulder; and luckily for everybody, Naji is very consistent about all his workout days and strengthening his upper body. Crouching in front of the prone figure, he takes Mark by the waist and pulls him over his shoulder, holding him up in place with that hand while gathering all of their bags in the other hand.

The movement undoubtedly has to stir Mark from his spell, especially as Naji makes his way across the parking lot to his own car. "AFD fire and rescue," he announces playfully, wondering if Mark would recognize him by the view of his ass or the heels of his shoes. "You're so lucky you have me around."