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touyaismycomfortboy · 2 months ago

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♡ how can i call myself a man?

a/n: i'm rewatching mha and i'm going thru season four and the kirishima episode got me missing my boy i need to write him :((

word count: 3.3k

synopsis: you and kirishima are doing your work studies together, you went out on patrol alone and were cornered by a villain. it tried to attack kirishima and you blocked the attack, getting severely injured in the process, now kirishima is blaming himself for your injuries.

pairing: ejirou kirishima x fem prns!reader

genre: a little angsty hurt comfort oneshot <3

warnings: violence, injuries, cussing, blood, passing out, kirishima sad :( biggest warning of all methinks, also not proofread

"Alright, I think you both have learned enough to patrol on your own now."

You and Ejirou were beaming at Fatgum's words, you were doing your best not to jump up and down with excitement and tried to keep a professional appearance, but Ejirou didn't care and simply pumped his fist up in the air. "Hell yeah!"

You giggled at your boyfriend's excitement, looking at him and then back at Fatgum. "Are you absolutely positive? You really trust us that much?"

Fatgum nodded, shoving a takoyaki in his mouth. "Of course, you guys are doin' really well." He smiled at you both. "Nothing much really going on today, plus Suneater and I will be out patrolling as well so if you need anything you can give us a call." He winked, shoving more food in his cheeks.

You glanced over at Tamaki in the corner, his forehead was pressed against the wall and his hands were shoved into the pockets of his hero costume, but he took one of his hands out to give you guys a thumbs up. "Y-You got this."

You and Eijirou calmly walked out of the room, then as soon as the doors closed were giddily freaking out, you were jumping up and down and he was punching the air excitedly. "Alright! Let's do this!" His gravelly voice called out as he punched the air once more, smiling at you before you both exited the building.

It was a beautifully sunny day, a little hot but not unbearable, and you kept water on the belt of your hero costume so you and him would stay hydrated. "So, Red Riot," You started, trying to keep your giggles to yourself. "How does it feel to be doing fully fledged hero work?" You held an imaginary microphone to his face.

He "grabbed" the imaginary microphone out of your hand and grinned, speaking into it. "I just have to say, IT'S HECKIN' AWESOME." He didn't mean to be so loud, he was just so excited he couldn't help it! He "threw" the imaginary microphone on the ground and looked back at you. "We gotta stay focused though, because like you said, we are doing full-fledged hero work, we can't let Fatgum and Suneater down!"

You nodded in agreement, keeping your eyes facing the streets and giving cursory glances in every direction to see if you could catch anything suspicious. "Of course, this is a pretty good area of town though. I doubt we'll see anything besides petty theft."

"Yeah, but still, true heroes will keep their eyes and ears open no matter if it's a good area or the worst area! Villains are everywhere!" Eijirou said passionately, looking forward very attentively as he scanned the area.

You smiled at how serious he was, and obviously you were serious about this too, you wouldn't have applied for hero studies if you weren't, but there was something so special about Eijrou and his drive, you really admired how badly he wanted this.

Your thoughts of admiring your boyfriend were quickly interrupted by the sound of a window shattering from around the corner, you and Eijirou quickly looked at each other, then bolted the sound of the noise, quickly turning the corner.

You saw a villain step out of the corner store with a bag around his shoulder. Didn't look like anyone important, just a nobody trying to make a quick buck. Eijirou immediately turned his body rock hard and turned into a human shield and instinctively stood slightly in front of you, you activated your quirk as well and scowled at the villain. "Hey, you! Stop right there!" You shouted, taking a step forward.

The scum villain stopped in his tracks and looked at you both, his body relaxing when he saw you two? "HAH! You think you high school kids can stop me?" He cackled, dropping his bag of money on the ground. He turned towards you both, and your knees got wobbly. Usually, you have a pro hero with you during times like these, but now it's just you and Eiji.

You heard the screams of some bystanders and he took a step towards you both, hearing the bystanders run in an opposite direction. You had a pager in your pocket that connected to Fatgum and Tamaki, you subtly pressed it before stepping to the side of Eijirou, both of you collectively blocking this direction of the narrow street.

"Robbing a Mom n' Pop shop? That's low," Eijirou frowned, stepping towards him while his body was still rock hard, already in a fighting stance. "That's not manly at all!"

The villain clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "I don't care, boy. I need a quick buck." The villain bent over for a moment, it looked like he was somehow activating some kind of quirk of his?

You looked around once more and made sure most bystanders had fled the scene, any that were still there you shoo'd away quickly and took a deep breath, taking a step back just in case his quirk was long-range.

The villain seemed to cover his body in little triangle knives… they almost looked like arrowheads. He cried out and stood up straight, the arrowheads shooting in every direction. Eijirou quickly covered your body with his, the arrows bouncing off his hardened skin.

You and Eiji worked so well together because he was the shield and you were the spear, once the rain of arrowheads had ended you stepped away from him and shot your quirk at the villain, doing your best to knock him out but not kill him. You know, heroes' laws and all that.

The villain roared at your attempt to attack him, dodging your quirk with ease and you gulped. This wasn't just some random street thug, come on Fatgum, where are you?!

The villain got on all fours and looked like it was ready to pounce, and started to run towards you both.

And just like any hero, your body moved without thinking.

You lunged in front of Eijirou instinctively, your mind a complete blur, your only instinct was to protect and no thoughts entered your mind after you jumped.

It was like everything was in slow motion, Eijirou tried to reach out and shove you out of the way while you lunged, but it was too late.

The hero rammed into you with intense force and you were knocked to the ground a few feet to the side of Eijirou, the wind getting knocked out of you. You didn't even have a chance to catch your breath though, as soon as your head hit the pavement you were out, completely unconscious.

Eijrou stared in horror at your limp body lying on the ground, his attention being forced away from you as the villain roared once more. Eijirou was so taken aback by what you did he hadn't even noticed he had lost focus on his quirk and was back to normal, the villain started to run towards him again and he hardened just in time for the villain to clash with Eijirou's arms that were in an X above his head, small parts of his arm cracking and a few bits crumbling and falling to the ground from the pressure the villain was putting on his arms.

Eijirou's brows were furrowed and his jaw was clenched, grinding his teeth through the pain as he tried to withstand the pressure that the villain was putting on his body. He couldn't give up, he couldn't go limp, what would this villain do to your unconscious self if he didn't persist?

The pain was getting to him, tears welling in his eyes as the villain was able to use his force to push Eijirou back slightly, his feet digging into the ground beneath him and leaving a trail of broken concrete.

Eijirou felt his arms faltering, his strength wouldn't be able to handle much more, and his body was giving out from the constant pressure. He saw your limp body in his periphery, and saw red pooling underneath your head… he lost focus immediately once he saw the sight.

The villain shoved Eijirou to the ground, he fell onto his back and looked up at the villain above him. The villain formed an arrow within his palm, he aimed it at Eijirou's neck and was going to shoot-

SHHLP

Tentacles wrapped around the villain tightly and swung him into the air before throwing him into a bright yellow and plush figure, Eijirou immediately sat up.

Suneater… Fatgum…!!

He saw the villain be absorbed into Fatgum's stomach, he wasted no time running over to your limp form and placed an arm under your neck, lifting you up slightly.

"No, no, no, no, no-" His arm felt warm as he lifted your upper body, blood. "Fuck, no, no, y/n, please wake up-" He placed two fingers on your pulse, his breath getting more shallow as he felt weak heartbeats.

He looked up at Tamaki and Fatgum, expecting to see them in the distance, but Tamaki was already right above you both as Fatgum was handing the villain over to the authorities. Eijirou looked up at Tamaki, his eyes welled with tears.

Tamaki knelt down on the ground, some of the blood on the concrete getting onto his white hero costume as he also quickly felt the pulse on your wrist. "Q-Quickly, move her up more so I can see her head…"

Eijirou wasted no time lifting up your torso more, his movements ginger and delicate. A staggering juxtaposition to his ragged breaths and frightened eyes. Tamaki examined the back of your head, and before he could get a good look, Eijirou saw ambulance lights near the police.

Eijirou stood up, carrying you bridal style and ran towards the ambulance, not caring about the blood that was dripping onto his arm and down to the ground as he ran.

"H-Help… help, please!!" He shouted, and the EMTS rushed to your side. "She got hit… she fell and hit her head on the concrete, she hasn't woken up since, please help her, please-"

They quickly pulled out a stretcher. "Lay her down." They instructed, opening the back of the ambulance so they could load you up. "How long has she been out?"

Eijirou delicately laid you on the stretcher. "I-I don't know, maybe two minutes? Just please, please help her-"

The EMTS loaded you into the ambulance faster than Eijirou could think, a few staying behind a little longer to ask more clarifying questions and check on his condition as well. He started to feel numb, his mind mostly empty as they wrapped bandages around the exposed skin on his arms from the cracks, all he could think about was the feeling of your warm blood against his arm, he didn't even want to think about how bad the gash must have been for you to have been bleeding that much.

He looked at the stain on the ground as they taped the whole area of the corner store with caution tape as they investigated the crime scene. That was your blood, yours.

And it was all because he failed to protect you.

He couldn't sleep for the next few days after that, he couldn't even eat. His classmates tried to coax him out of his room, tried to shove food underneath his door for him to eat, and most of it ended up going cold and in his trash can since it was no longer edible.

He had called the hospital every day, and right now your condition was bad enough that only immediate family were allowed to visit you.

All because he couldn't fucking protect you.

He punched his punching bag. How could he fail to protect you? He was supposed to be your shield, he failed his one goddamn job and now you're paying the price for it.

He should've already been standing in front of you, he should've had a hand on you to make sure you couldn't jump in front of him, he should've been fasted so he could move you out of the way. He could've taken the villain's attack, you can't.

He was your boyfriend for god's sake, even if he didn't have a defensive quirk it was still his job to protect you, how could he let this happen?

He punched the punching bag harder and faster.

How is he supposed to be a hero if he can't save the ones that are most important to him? If he can't even save them how he is he supposed to save innocent bystanders? He's not even a pro hero yet and he's already failing his one job. How was he supposed to call himself a man? Even a boy would've done a better job protecting you, what if you died and it was all his fault? What if you'll never be the same? What if-

Knock knock.

Eijirou was torn from his thoughts, looking towards the door. He looked down at his knuckles, guess he hadn't realized how hard he was punching his punching bag, his knuckles were bruised.

"No, Mina, I don't need any more food." He groaned, sitting on his bed with his head in his hands.

"This isn't Mina." The voice was deep, tired. He recognized it. Aizawa?

Eijirou suspiciously walked to the door and opened it up, looking at his teacher before him. "Mister Aizawa, what are you doing here?"

"I got a call about y/n's condition."

His heart stopped.

"Is she okay? Is she awake? How bad are her injuries? Can I-"

"She's awake, and you're the first person she asked for. You're allowed to visit her now." Aizawa said calmly, not sure how Eijirou would react to the news.

Eijirou didn't stop to think for even a moment, he immediately ran out of his room past Aizawa and ran downstairs to the common area. He was in his pajamas, and his hair was lying flat on his head, but he didn't have time to think about or even fix those things, he could only think about you.

His classmates were shocked to see him downstairs. "Hi Kiri, what's the big rush?" Tsu asked, sitting cross-legged on the couch.

Eiji didn't respond, he had to see you. He quickly ran out of the building, running straight off campus to the nearest train station. It took a couple of minutes, but it was the fastest he had ever run to the train station before. He ran inside of it, holding on to one of the standing bars as he anxiously tapped his foot against the ground.

He wouldn't sit, he couldn't sit. If he sat down he'd be able to feel the churning in his stomach a lot easier, he was so scared to see you.

After what felt like the longest train ride of his life, he was the first one to run out of the train. He ran straight into the hospital doors and right up to the front desk, anxiously tapping his foot once more as he gave the desk lady his information.

He was told what room you were in and immediately went to the nearest elevator, making sure it was empty so he wouldn't have to wait for anyone else and quickly pressed the button for what floor you were on.

He wasn't sure if it was the movement of the elevator or just him, but his stomach felt so queasy, like he could throw up. What if you weren't the same? What if his mistake has ruined you forever? What if you were no longer able to become a hero and it was all his fault?

The elevator dinged and he froze, staring as the doors opened and looked down the hallway, he could see which room had your number.

He took a deep breath, before speedwalking to your door, he didn't want to run and disturb all the other patients, but he could barely wait another moment to see you. He walked up to your room, walked through the door and passed the curtain and-

He saw you. You had IV fluids going into your arm and bandages wrapped around your head. It looked like your arms were bruised from where you landed, and you were wearing a blue hospital gown.

Despite the IV and the bandages, and your injuries that looked to be very painful, you were sitting there peacefully eating your lunch. Like nothing was wrong with you.

You looked up at Eijirou and smiled innocently. "There you are!" You grinned, setting your place to the side. "I wasn't going to make it another second without you." You beckoned him towards you with your arms.

Eijirou stayed silent, he bit his lip and his eyes welled with tears. He quickly ran towards you, gently engulfing you in a hug and squeezing you gently.

You smiled when he hugged you, completely oblivious to your tears. "I missed you too, Eiji, I-"

"It's all my fault." He croaked, his voice was barely a whisper. If he talked any louder, his voice would crack and he would start crying. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…" He squeezed you a little tighter, but his grasp was barely tight at all, he was so scared of hurting you. "It's my job to protect you, I failed, I'm so sorry…"

You gasped, your heart shattering into a million pieces at his words. Your chest started to ache, had he really been blaming himself like this the whole time you've been unconscious?

You squeezed him as tightly as your injured arms would allow, shaking your head quickly. "No, no! It's not your fault Eiji," You ran your hands through his hair. "I chose to jump in front of you, my body moved before I could think," You pushed him back a little to look into his eyes. "I'm sorry that your quirk isn't telepathy, but there's no way you could've known I was going to do that. I didn't even know I was going to do that, this isn't your fault at all."

"I should've done more…" Eijirou's body was wracked with a sob, but he did his best to hold in his cries. "I should've been standing in front of you, not to the side of you, I should've had a hand on you to make sure you wouldn't move, I should've-"

You cupped his face. "Eiji," You looked deep into his eyes. "I'm okay, no more what if's. I'm right in front of you, that's all that matters."

His eyes were full of tears, a few of them had streamed down his cheeks. He looked into your eyes, then gazed at the bandage on your head, his mind flashing to the image of your blood covering his arm and…

He tried to shake the thought away, looking at your smiling face now. You were right, you were okay, and you were here with him right now. But he would never forgive himself for this even if you insisted it wasn't his fault, even though you were okay how much pain were you in? How much of it was all his fault? He will never stop thinking about it.

He didn't want to argue with you about this anymore, didn't want you to waste what little energy you had bickering with him, so he just nodded for now, looking downward.

"Can you cuddle with me? I've missed you so terribly…" You asked, your eyes pleading.

You didn't have to ask him twice, he immediately crawled into your hospital bed and curled up next to you, wrapping his arms around you gently as he nuzzled your neck, and you both stayed like that until you both finally had the first good sleep you have had in days….

#my hero academia #bnha #carmen writes bnha #mha #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #drabble #oneshot #kirishima eijirou x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #eijiro kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro #eijiro kirishima #eijirou kirishima #kirishima eijirou #x y/n #x reader

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ghouljams · 2 months ago

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Sin Summer (Price) Rating: E Words: 6.2k Tags: Price x f!reader, Under communicated Kink, Dom!Price, sub!Reader, Spanking, rope bondage, Captain kink, forced orgasms, edging, improvised gags, vibrators, pussy inspections, drooling, boot licking, floor licking, breath play, nipple play, slapping, unconventional interrogations, knife play, squirting, sub drop Summary: You finally meet the Captain, and get a taste of why you'd been kept secret so long. <part 6 ao3

Ghost is sound asleep when you wake up. Fuck you’re starving. You didn’t realize you’d fucked through dinner until you were drifting off to sleep, but now you’re positively famished. You don’t know how Ghost is sleeping through it, big guy like him probably eats the army out of house and home. Doesn’t matter, you suppose, you need a snack. You know there’s a kitchen sort of thing in the rec room, Johnny pointed it out when he and Ghost were showing you around. You doubt anyone will notice food missing, and they’ll just blame it on a recruit if they do.

You nod to yourself, plan settled, and begin the process of extricating yourself from Ghost’s arms. You nearly fall out of bed just trying to untangle your legs from his. You’re forced to offer a quiet “need to pee” when all your struggling wakes him. He grabs a pillow and slips back into slumber with a grumble of something; you give yourself a thumbs up for not eating shit trying to get up.

You check that the hall is clear before heading towards the rec room. Ghost told you no one was likely to bother you, or really be in this section of the barracks, but it still made you a little nervous thinking you could get caught. As much as you enjoyed Gaz’s lesson in knocking, you’re not sure you want a recruit trying something similar. Best to make sure the coast is clear. Satisfied with your surveillance, you make your way down the hall.

The tile sticks to your bare feet, making your footsteps echo through the empty hall. It’s also: super cold. You should have worn socks. You’re regretting your choice in sleepwear. Honestly Ghost is a fucking radiator, the man puts out heat like it’s his fucking job, so you’ve been forced into shorts and a tanktop to avoid overheating. Now, however, you realize the British special forces must be trying to ice out any night time guests. This place is cold as hell. You miss your giant radiator.

You stop in front of the little galley kitchen, arms wrapped around your torso to keep warm, and take stock of your options. You could try the cabinets, but there’s no guarantee you’ll find anything on your first try, and too much rummaging around might alert someone. Fridge it is. You crouch down and tug the door open, scanning the populated shelves until you land on a box of fruit cups. Perfect. You grab a random cup, close the fridge, and find yourself in the all too familiar position of being on your knees in front of a strange man.

“You think I don’t know what’s going on around my base sweetheart?” He asks, tipping his head. The heady scent of tobacco lingers around him, his body filling the entrance to the galley kitchen. He’s got a neatly trimmed beard, and an air of authority that you think you should probably find more intimidating than you do sexy. You peel open your fruit cup and try not to slurp the juice from it too loud. Daddy vibes. Oh shit this is mandarin orange, sweet.

“-Havin’ a pretty thing comin’ and goin’ as she pleases-” he’s still talking, “-this isn’t a hotel-”

“Or a brothel,” you finish for him, fishing out an orange slice from the little plastic cup and dropping it into your mouth. You suck the juice from your fingers with a pop. The man hums, his eyes narrowed on you.

“Need you to fill out a few things,” He tells you finally. Your eyes drop to his crotch. The way he stands… you bet it’s heavy. Yeah, you can think of a few things he could fill out too.

“Like what?” You ask, fishing for another orange slice.

“Visitor logs, NDAs, might even send you to medical for a work-up.” You can feel his eyes roaming over you, watching you lick sugar water off your fingers. You hum, considering his request.

“Or what?” You grin, “You’ll punish me?”

That earns you a long silence. The man’s jaw working through the glint in his eyes as you finish your snack on your knees. At least he’s kind enough to reach up and turn the overhead bulb on, momentarily blinding you when you tip your head back for another orange slice. Better looking with some light on him. He’s big like Ghost, and you’ve never been one to turn down dark hair. You wonder if the thick hair on his arms is any indication of what he’s got under his shirt. You take the last dredges of sugar water like a shot, and push back onto your heels to stand.

The man’s hand catches your arm, and takes the little plastic cup from you, leaning to toss it into the trash. His face is impassable, unreadable, but his fingers are warm and firm. They hold you in place with no care for resistance.

“Ghost may tolerate brats,” He rumbles, his voice low and dark, it slips through you like a shiver and settles warmly between your legs, “but I don’t.”

Brat? Well, it's not exactly new but most men would probably call you charming or funny. They wouldn't spin you around and lean you bodily over the counter. Which actually-

"Hey!" You yelp, feeling his hand against the waistband of your sleep shorts. The calluses on his palm make you shudder as they brush over your skin. He hums, a deep throaty thing that seems too pleased to stay in his chest. Somehow it makes you clench, makes your hips twitch as he slips his hand lower.

"Girl like you," He reasons, "must know her colors." The unspoken understanding that shivers through you makes you drop your head. "So where am I sweetheart?" You can almost hear his smile. Can reason that he's taking in the change in your posture as proof of your deviance.

"Green," You breathe. His fingers toy with the waistband of your shorts, brush just under the elastic, teasing your skin with short touches before retreating. The push-pull of feeling leaves your mind racing to catch up, to make sense of the situation. You're in the kitchen still, aren't you? And there are people on base, people that might walk in on you, right?

"How long have you been here, love?" He asks, his voice low. He leans over you, lets you have a taste of his weight as he settles a big hand next to your head.

"Few days," You murmur, "Ghost and Johnny-"

"Got one of my sergeants too, eh?"

"Both of them," You sigh, feeling his hand grip your ass, "Sir." You add on, eager to see how he responds. A man that knows his colors, you reason, probably likes to keep his authority around pretty things like you.

"Garrick too?" He doesn't seem surprised. There's a quick movement from his hand, the callused skin scraping against your softer skin before he's ripping your shorts down. The hand beside your head pushes hard and fast against your shoulders to keep you down when you attempt to regain some of your modesty. The deep chuckle you earn is almost worth the way his finger traces over the sharpie drawing still sticking to your ass. "There she is." The man confirms.

He spends a long moment just tracing the shapes, waiting on you to start squirming. It's intolerable, standing with your ass out while this man holds you down. Even worse knowing that your pussy is starting to drip at the inspection.

"When'd 'e fuck ya?" The man asks.

"Um," You try to think, "This afternoon."

His hand comes down hard on your bare ass. Pain shoots through you, sharp and stinging. His hand clamps over your mouth, muffling your yelp almost as quickly as it leaves your mouth. You take a sharp breath, and feel a second spank land right on top of the first. Heat presses against your eyes, your skin burns, your pussy throbs.

"Though you knew your manners sweetheart," The man says, his patronizing tone edged with a predatory delight, "What happened to 'Sir'?" You can't speak around the hand holding your lips closed, his fingers slipped under your chin to hold your jaw shut, his thumb teasing against your nose. You wonder if he intends to cut off your air. His hand smooths over the sting on your ass, fleeting comfort before it raises again. "Maybe you'd prefer something else." He reasons, his hand coming down hard in punctuation. "Tried Sir-" spank "-could be Master-" spank "-but a pretty thing like you-" the last spank hits you hard and he yanks your head back with the hand over your mouth, “-always wanted one o’ you ta call me Captain.”

You whimper behind his hand, the title and the pain sending a wave of humiliated heat through you. Your pussy clenches, tingling with warmth at the lingering sting as his hand slides soft over your stinging cheek. There's something absolutely perverse in the silence, in the wetness that sticks to your lashes and threatens to fall over his fingers, in the way his fingers trace over the swell of your ass. He kneads and squeezes at the soft flesh, pulling it apart to get a better look at your holes. If you lean forwards a little more, push your hips up a little higher, for him, well, who could blame you? Especially when the movement draws such a deep relishing hum from him.

"There you go," it's shameful what the growl in his voice does to you, "know exactly what to do, don't you?" His fingers slip between your legs, sliding between your slick folds to drag back up and circle your ass. Up and down, up and down, each hole teased until your hips are shaking with the effort of keeping still. "Such a good girl presentin' your holes like the bitch in heat you are." He clicks his tongue, admonishing, and heat flushes through you. It drenches you, makes you clench just as his fingers are skimming over your cunt. That draws a low chuckle from him, and a twitch of pressure, not quite pressing into you, before he's trailing back up your ass."Too bad ya gotta take your punishment first."

As if the fresh sting of his hand didn't remind you. You choke on the sob you let out, and find yourself unable to draw in the next breath as his thumb pinches your nose. Your eyes go wide, and you flinch away from the next strike of his hand. Your brain mixing the pain and pleasure and fear into some sick concoction that numbs the tips of your fingers. Your ass hurts, the water on your lashes finally breaks free to tumble down your cheeks as your chest constricts and burns for air.

Your ears ring, your fingers scramble against his wrist, you dig your nails in and he strikes you twice for it. If he expected you to keep track of how many spanks you were given you sure as shit can’t now. You were too focused on the way the heat traveled between your legs, the way your vision was going fuzzy at the edges, and the way you (against all odds) were pushing back into him.

His hand leaves your mouth just as your head lolls forwards, slipping to cradle your forehead and stop you from banging it against the cabinet as he lowers it to the counter. It's not just your vision that's fuzzy as you suck in air, your head is too. Cottony, your thoughts stick to each other like flies caught in spider silk, you're too tangled in the soft fuzzy feeling to register the way he twists you at the waist, angling your hips to bring his hand down hard on your other cheek. You flinch, our already battered cheek burns with the tingling memory of his hand, as he works through whatever arbitrary number he's set. Somehow it hurts worse building up that ladder a second time.

The sharp sting of his hand, the rough drag of his calluses over your soft skin, the building heat that drowns out your other thoughts, you have to bite your lip to keep from sobbing. His skin against yours cracks so loudly in the small kitchen, ricochets off the cabinets and rings in your ears. You wiggle your hips a little, rocking towards the counter, pushing your body further against it. Are you trying to escape, or trying to arch your back more? You're not sure. It's good, the pain bleeds into warmth that sweeps over your skin, but it still stings.

The man smooths his hand over your ass, working out some of the sting. Finished, you think. "Come on then," His voice is lower, more throaty, "let's see those manners."

"Thank you Captain." You mumble into your arms. Just saying it aloud makes you feel hot, but you like the noise it pulls from the man behind you. Something rumbling and pleased, that makes warmth throb over your cunt. Or maybe that's from the way his ringers rub against your slit. Thick and dexterous. You can feel them sliding between your folds, parting your slick heat to expose your hole to the cool kitchen air. One of his fingers pushes inside of you, sinks in to the base, before pulling out and pushing a second in beside it.

He leans over you, covers your back with the warmth of his broad chest. His fingers pump in and out of your hole as his beard scratches your neck. You wonder if he's trying to test his leverage or if it's just to make sure you know how outgunned you are. You squirm under him, try to, at least. Your hips make a valiant effort to wiggle even as he twists and thrusts his fingers. Like Ghost he has a knack for hitting exactly where he needs to, working you up with quick jabs against that spongy spot inside of you. Heat courses through you, tightening like a spring almost as quickly as it starts. You can't squirt in the kitchen, you can't, you can't, you can't.

You shake your head, find yourself stuck between his fingers and the counter, nowhere to run and nothing to do but make it harder for him to hit the right spot. He pins your hips with his own, holds you in place and keeps you there with his weight alone. He picks up the pace, forces his way past the way your pussy clenches and wraps his hand over your mouth a second time when you wail on his fingers. You feel the sudden give in your pelvis, the sudden rush of warmth like a snap. Your core releases, orgasm squirting from you and slicking your thighs. It aches, like wringing a towel out. Slick gushes from you and you hear it drop onto the floor like a bell tolling.

The man's fingers pull from your cunt, and the hand around your mouth slides to grip the hair at the back of your head. You're pulled up off the counter, and just as quickly as your legs shake at the effort of keeping you up you're dropped onto the tile floor. You can feel the puddle under you, see the shine of it.

"Look at the mess you made," He clicks his tongue, "clean it up."

"You already spanked me," You whine, maybe you are a brat. The hand in your hair forces your face towards the floor. You know exactly what he wants from you.

"Got a week's worth of punishments pup, so hop to."

Your breath ekes through you, shuddering into your lungs as you tentatively stick your tongue out and drag it over the tile. It's cold from the night air, and the grout rolls against your tongue strangely, but you lick it. The man's hand doesn't leave your hair, doesn't give you a second to think about raising from the bent position. Your knees hurt, your neck hurts, but at least the floor doesn't taste too dirty. Perks of a military base you suppose. You pull your tongue through the puddle your squirt left, and find a leather boot shoved under your mouth as well.

The taste of it makes your stomach squeeze, clean polished leather mixing with the watery slick. You back off his boot to lick at the puddle, feeling the pressure on your head as he crouches down, watching you intently. You drag your tongue back to his boot, flick your eyes up to him. The shadow he casts over you seems to swallow you, darkness weighing down his gaze as it scrapes over you, the air pressure making your movements feel sluggish. You trace the laces on his boot with your tongue, feel the cold metal rivets, the canvas scratch, seeking out the barest hint of dirt. If you can't clean up after yourself, maybe you can clean up after his day.

He moves your head back to the tile, doesn't say anything when your eyes drift close, your tongue lapping at the spare drops of your orgasm still shining in the overhead light. Your head feels fuzzy, compressed, too heavy to lift yourself. You don't even make a sound when his grip on your hair tightens and he pulls you up to look at you. You hold your tongue out for him, let him check your work in the drool that drips off your tongue and onto your covered tits.

"How about you an' I take a little walk?" He asks, voice as smooth as smoke. He doesn't wait for an answer, just nods your head for you and drags you to your feet. His hand slips from your hair to hold the back of your neck, and you get the distinct feeling of being put on a leash.

The name plate next to the door he opens says "Cpt. John Price." You'd pay more attention to it, maybe even make a remark on it, if you didn't stumble over your own feet trying to follow his quick, dragging, pace. He tosses you into the room, and you have to catch yourself on the edge of his desk to keep from falling to your knees again. There's a wooden chair on either side of you, crisp slotted backs that wrap around to the arm rests, God you hate these chairs.

"Pick one," John tells you, you give him a look that you mean to be sassy but you're sure comes off as confused, "Five, four, three-" You look between the chairs as panic washes over you, sitting quickly as he hits "-one." You let out a breath, your ass fucking hurts. You'd give anything not to be sitting right now, the pain throbs through you with each shift of your hips. "Good girl," John hums, his hand is in your hair again, forcing you to lean back in the chair with a hard tug, forcing your head back to look at him. "Stay." He tells you, as if you could go anywhere else.

He walks around you, around his desk, to a closet door. You try not to move too much, but your eyes stay trained on him even as he leaves your periphery. You just want some... assurance, some knowledge of what's to come. You feel off balance, out of control, unsure what to expect. He comes back with rope, and you nearly lunge from the chair. One big hand presses to your chest and pushes you back into the chair.

"Now, now," He chastises, "I’m not gonna hurt you, just need to make sure you're not gonna run off back to my lieutenant," You try to get up again, feel the quick loop of rope around one of your arms to keep you down, "wouldn't want him takin' your punishment, would you?"

You very much would. You don't even know what your punishment is. You're not tugged so deep down that you can't put up a bit of a fight but that doesn't mean-

"Color?"

Right. You sag back into the chair, a gentleness in the way John ties your arms to the chair suddenly striking his every movement, careful to avoid nerves and pinch points- "Green," you reply without thinking.

"Told ya," He grumbles, tightening the rope and looping it around your back to catch the other arm, "not gonna hurt you,” He pauses, and shakes his head with a chuckle, “least not permanently."

That does enough to settle your stomach that you can tip your head back and close your eyes. You try to measure your breathing as he ties your other arm to the chair, finding your comfortable position and easing yourself back down into that soft headspace. You’re actually a little surprised that this guy has jute rope in his office, but you’re not exactly up to date on standard military equipment. You wonder if he has a gun. Probably.

Nothing permanent. That’s reassuring.

It doesn’t stop the way your try to keep your legs squeezed together when you feel his hand on your knee. You open your eyes at the mirthful huff he lets out. It thrills you, sends a shiver down your spine, to see him grab your knees and wrench them apart. You keep them spread for him, flashing him a smile when he glances at you. He shakes his head and wraps a length of rope around your calf.

One knot is followed by another and another, circling a ladder down your shin and keeping your leg held against the leg of the chair. Your other leg is given the same treatment. It’s rather pretty when he’s done, neat and technical but pretty. You’re-

Ok you may have been a little too into the way he was manhandling you to fully realize he was tying you to the chair. Like, you knew he was doing it but now that it’s done you’re realizing that you are fully tied to this chair. Trapped and not given any indication of what’s going to happen to you next.

The Captain tugs down the neckline of your tank top, fishing your tits out to rest over the stretched hem. It feels more naked than if he’d simply stripped your shirt off. Your nipples pebble in the chill of the room, and his thumb rubs over one. You try to ignore the way his rough hands groping your tits makes your pussy clench. It’s objectifying, his grip punishing as he squeezes your tit in one massive paw and moves to the other, rough calloused skin dragging against delicate flesh like he’s trying to check which he prefers. You tip your head to watch him pinch your nipple, rolling the bud between his fingers before pulling his hand back just enough to deliver a quick, harsh, slap to your breast.

You bite your lip at the dull pain, the shiver of something lascivious making you arch into the sharp touch. He does it again with a hum. The shock of it loses some of it’s sting when you can see it coming, so you tip your head back and close your eyes. The chuckle he lets out is pure mirth, low and vibrating over your skin before you feel the sharp slap of his hand again.

“Can see why my boys brought you back to base,” The Captain squeezes your breast hard, and your fingers curl tight around the armrest you’re tied to, “and why they worked so hard to keep you outta sight.” You open your eyes to look up at him and try to keep your breath from hitching when he hits your other breast. “Didn’t want me breakin’ their new toy.”

“Breaking?” It’s half a question, half a confirmation of what he’d said. Your mind swims with possibilities. If this didn’t count as breaking, what did? If hitting you wasn’t good enough, what was?

He grabs your face, squeezes your cheeks with rough fingers and shakes your head. “Manners sweet’eart.” He lets go only to slap you across the face, hard enough to shock you but- but you don’t think it’ll leave a mark. It’s practiced, controlled. He hits your cheek again, just barely lighter than the first time. Then he’s got your face in his hand again “You don’t want me havin’ to put you through basic, do you?”

Your head feels fuzzy, your eyes struggle to focus on his, you blink to try and clear them with little luck.

“No Captain,” You mumble when he shakes you again.

“You be a good girl while I finish setting up, yeah?” He hums.

You blink up at the Captain and nod. He offers you a mirthful huff, and straightens to turn back to his closet. You hadn’t realized he’d had to bend over to put himself in your field of vision. But the more you thought about it the more you realized how wholly he’d encompassed it. You hadn’t been able to look anywhere but him, and he’d held you in place to make sure your attention stayed exactly where it needed to.

He pockets something, you catch a glint of metal and it’s gone. More ropes follow. Deep black cording wrapped in tight bundles that fill his heavy palm. You’re not sure what else he could possibly tie down. Until you spot the wand in his other hand.

You tug desperately at your bindings, trying to get free, or at least put up a good fight. Maybe if he hadn’t already tied your legs down you would, but in your current state the best you get is trying to arch your hips away from the head of the wand as he nestles it against your cunt. The Captain loops the rope around one thigh, then the other, tying the wand in place as you try to get away. He knots and double knots, braiding the ropes together into taut strands that you have no hope of squirming away from.

“No, no, please-” You beg “-don’t I’ll be good.” The Captain clicks his tongue, shakes his head.

“This isn’t a negotiation,” He pulls the rope tight and you feel your clit bump against the head of the wand even through your shorts, “it’s an interrogation.” Your eyes snap to him as he turns the vibrations on.

“Wha-” Your hips itch against the vibrations, your cunt already primed and wanting from everything else he’s done to you. Your eyes flutter, at the feeling of the wand tickling your clit. It’s almost dull. Dimmed is a good word for it. The feeling is dimmed, something you have to focus on to enjoy. The Captain watches your reaction, and clicks it up another level.

That you feel. The quick pulse of the vibrations rub your shorts against your clit in a way that’s almost pleasurable. It’s enough to make you want to grind your hips forward at least. Another click, another level higher, and your fingers flex tight on the arms of your chair prison. You’ll get rug burn on your clit if you stay on this level too long, but it’s good even through the uncomfortable rub of your shorts.

A third click, but the vibrator doesn’t change. You glance at the Captain’s hands in time to watch him upend a bottle of lube over your shorts, drizzling the slick substance between your legs and over the head of the want. It soaks the cotton of your shorts immediately, sticking the fabric to your cunt. It eases the feeling of rub burn, but only so much as it forces you to contend with the wet stretch of cotton against your already wet cunt. It’s not pleasant.

“What?” The Captain asks, taking note of the way your nose scrunches, “not comfortable?” You nod. “You want me to make it better?” It’s patronizing, warning, the sort of devil’s bargain that makes you think agreeing would be worse than putting up with your current situation. But you’re nothing if not willing to play along, and also, you fucking hate being uncomfortable.

“Yes please,” You whine, he raises a brow and you tack on a sickly sweet, “Captain.”

“Alright,” He agrees, “How’d you meet Ghost?”

You give him a look of complete confusion. “Tinder?” You offer. What is happening? Wait, did he say interrogation? He slaps your breast hard, hard enough you jerk and let out half a yelp before you can bite your lip to keep quiet.

“How’d you meet Ghost?”

“Tinder, Captain.” You correct, trying to keep your breathing even, the sting of his palm still radiates over your skin, biting warm into your flesh and tingling.

“And he brought you home to meet Soap.”

It’s not a question, but it is wrong.

“I met Johnny in Glasgow.”

“You make it a habit of fucking special service members?”

“Only recently.” You joke. It’s the wrong answer because he slaps your face this time. Your head spins, and coupled with the vibrations against your clit the radiating pain makes your cunt clench. You wish he’d hit your tit again. At least that let you think clearly.

Although you suppose thinking clearly is relative at this point.

“Didn’t know he was army,” You mumble, trying to blink some of the stars from your vision, “thought he was just some slut, Captain.”

The Captain snorts, and you see the flick of a knife opening in his hand.

“He is.” He jokes, bending to settle the tip of the knife against the seam of your shorts. He presses the tip against the wet fabric and you hold your breath. It feels so dull and so pointed at the same time. Dangerously hidden behind the damp cotton and yet just a hair away from slicing right through. The Captain looks up to meet your gaze. “Who’re you workin’ for?”

There’s an evenness to his tone that leaves no room for argument, that tells you he already knows the answer without you telling him. You doubt a man like him leaves anything up to chance, the same way you doubt he wouldn’t have killed you on the spot if he thought there was any way you could be a threat to him and his men.

“I’m unemployed, Captain.” You tell him, an embarrassed wobble in your voice.

“Good girl.” The praise pulses through you, but it’s the knife you feel. The single press and slice of his blade cutting through the seam of your shorts and splitting them open, leaving your drenched skin exposed to the cool air of his office. You shiver, careful not to push against the intense vibrations from the wand when the flat edge of his knife is sliding over your cunt.

“Now, I have to write these muppets up for hidin’ you away, so you’re going to sit here-” he taps the chair with his knife and you nod, as if you could go anywhere, “-and tell me exactly what you’ve been doing with them the last week.” He tips your head back with the tip of the knife, his eyes flashing and his smile all teeth, “In detail.”

There’s something about having to go through every sexual encounter you’ve had in the least week that works you up. Or maybe it’s the vibrator. It’s probably the vibrator. That doesn’t mean having a man behind a desk ask you in detail how Ghost ate you out, or Gaz fingered your ass doesn’t make your cheeks heat up. In fact going through the finer details and having to find a way to describe how it felt having your ass, your throat, your cunt, stretched around the (frankly impressive) cocks that made up the Captain’s task force would’ve made you wet even if you weren’t contending with the mind numbing rub of the wand against your clit.

And you do mean mind numbing. Every time you go to think of one of the mens’ next move, the Captain clicks the intensity up or down and your brain goes blank. You shudder and buck your hips against the head of the wand, trying to find a way to rub your needy clit against it harder, trying to find that perfect spot that’ll have you at the edge faster than fingers can get you. You writhe and shiver and try to hold your hips up only for the Captain to turn the intensity all the way down and leave you whining.

Goosebumps prickle over your heated skin. Your clit throbs, overworked and underserved at the same time. Your cunt pulses and tingles on the next edge. You’re getting closer to coming every time he cranks the vibrator back up. Closer to coming with each detail. Running your tongue up and down Johnny’s cock. Feeling Gaz press the vibrator into your cunt. Ghost licking into your mouth like he wants to taste what you had for lunch. Fingers pinching your clit, rubbing you, dipping into your cunt and searching out all of your soft spots. You’ve never had so much sex in your life, at least not good sex, and it’s a miracle it hasn’t broken you yet.

You babble about fucking Ghost for too long, your lips moving as you drool your praise for his cock, for the way he touches you, how gentle his is, how his calloused hands seem to care even when he pushes your head down his cock. The Captain keeps flicking the levels up and down, up and down, fucking you in a rhythm better suit for a cock.

Christ you feel so empty. Your cunt spasming and trying to clamp down on nothing but empty space. You’re actually starting to get close to tears. It hurts. The constant refrain of need hurts.

The Captain taps his pen against the paper and stands. You brace yourself as he moves closer. He kneels, and tugs a loop on either ankle. Your legs are suddenly, blissfully, freed.

Only to be caught by the Captain’s hands and pushed up towards your chest. You glance at where his cock strains against his fatigues. There’s a damp spot on one side that makes your heart swell with barely contained pride. The vibrator moves with your legs, changing position to press down onto your clit, right off center. You don’t care, not when he’s unzipping his pants and tugging a heavy cock free. No, the only thing you care about is how quickly that thing can get inside of you.

“Did good,” The Captain tells you, “good girls deserve a reward.”

You preen, doing your best to keep your legs up as he guides his cock to your sopping entrance. You don’t think you’ve ever been wetter for a man, the same way you don’t think it’s ever been so easy for one to press into you. The hand at the base of his cock grips tight, wiggling his tip inside you. It makes you mewl, feeling that horrible emptiness finally being filled.

He has to bend his legs to push into you, meet you where he’s tied you, but once he does, he fills you in a single gut punching thrust.

You suck in a breath as your back arches into his hold. His hand finds the back of your knee again and presses you down, folding you in half. He grinds his cock into you, hitting something deep and aching that makes you see stars. He pulls out, and presses your legs together, forcing the vibrator back into position as he fucks into you hard and fast.

You’re sure the scream you let out must wake the whole barrack, but you don’t care. You can’t care. Not when he sends you hurtling over an edge he’s kept you at for hours. The only thing you care about is the shockwave of pleasure that hits you deep in your stomach and courses through you. You shake under his grasp, your thighs vibrating as your muscles spasm and release, your clit throbbing and your cunt clenching tight around the cock still fucking into you.

Fuck he’s still fucking you, still got you pinned between his cock and the vibrator.

You’re shoved back over the edge with a whine, your stomach clenching hard as you squirt on his cock, all of your muscles tightening and releasing so quickly you barely have time to register your first orgasm before your second is crashing into you.

The Captain isn’t far behind you, his cock twitching and spilling its hot load into your cunt only to have it dragged out, white and frothy, by his cock. God. You wonder how long it’s been since this man had someone to unload in with how long it takes him to slow his thrusts. You squeeze around him just to hear him groan low in his chest.

Your pussy feels raw when he finally pulls you, the vibrator rubbing like sandpaper against your clit.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” The Captain offers.

Something pathetic noses its way to the front of your mind as you stare at him. You can feel the pout that forms, just like you can feel the pleased smile he gives you.

“I want Ghost.” You pout.

“Course you do.”

divider by @/cafekitsune

#cod x reader #x reader #captain price #captain john price #captain johnathan price #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #captain price cod #captain price mw2 #john price x reader #john price cod #john price mw2 #price x reader #price cod #price mw2 #f!reader #sin summer

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rubyin-wonderland · 3 months ago

Text

Cupcake

opla!Sanji x gn!reader

Summary: During some late night baking, your flirty crewmate decides to keep you company.

WC: 1.9k

Warnings/tags: traditionally feminine adjectives (pretty, gorgeous, beautiful) but no gender is explicitly stated, fluff, self deprecation, lots of compliments, self indulgent

Note: first attempt at a Sanji fic because branching out is important

Night has overtaken the ship. It's calm, and stars blink in the sky, twinkling for the world to see. The soft rocking of the water has lulled nearly everyone aboard into a sweet, lovely sleep.

You were the only one awake, settled in the kitchen, a pile of various ingredients surrounding you as you prepared to bake. There was no reason behind your choice of late night activity. No anniversary or debt in need of repaying or any special event that required baked goods. It was just a calm enough night, and you couldn't sleep, so it seemed like a proper course of action.

As you began to measure out the ingredients, separating them into bowls for organisation, you heard a creak, followed by footsteps. Somebody else was awake, and was coming closer.

You watched as the door opened, revealing Sanji, yawning, before noticing you, and stopping dead in his tracks, surprised at the sight of you, hard at work this late at night.

"Well, good morning." He gave you a quick smile before stretching a little bit. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Kind of." You watch as he approaches you, inspecting the counter and your little process. "What are you doing?"

"Making cupcakes." You answered simply, dropping the flour into the bowl, a cloud of white rising as the flour settled.

"So late at night?" "Maybe I'm really early. How about you?"

He smiled. "I was going to get a glass of water." You gestured behind you. "Go on, I won't stop you."

He passed by you to grab a glass. "So, baking all alone?"

"Yeah. I find it relaxes me." He nodded, then took a careful step towards the door. "Well, if I'm bothering you-"

"You're not."

The words came out quick, and you had hoped you hadn't sounded desperate. You doubted the chef could ever be a bother to you, and you truly hoped he would stay to accompany you while you worked.

"Oh. Well then, could I stay? And watch you bake?" He moved back to the side of the island, standing opposite you, looking hopeful that you would say yes to his request. "Only if you promise to stay out of the way." You said, trying to push back a little after your small outburst earlier.

He nodded and pulled up a chair, sitting down to watch you work. You moved swiftly, pouring the ingredients into their proper bowls, making sure the measurements were just right.

"So," he broke the silence between you. "Do you bake often?"

"I used to. It was quite the hobby back at home, but I haven't had the chance to do it here yet." Sanji nodded. "What do you like to make?"

You smiled, thinking back to the copious recipes you had backed up in your brain. "Where do I start? Cookies, breads, pastries, pies, anything really. And cakes." You gestured at your handiwork. "Cakes, of course."

"Are they your favourite to make?" Sanji asked. "Oh yeah. Used to spend all day decorating them with my mom. Icing them with my favourite colours and absolutely drenching them with sprinkles." You smiled at the memory. "Sounds nice." Sanji smiled back. "She'd like you." You said suddenly.

"She would?" He asked, a little taken aback.

The look on his face told you that you might have messed up again, possibly treading a little too close to the knowledge that you liked him. But it was too late to backpedal.

"Yeah. She'd probably call you a sweetie, invite you to dinner, and insist that you leave the house with a pair of newly knit socks."

"Your mother sounds lovely." You nodded. "She is. I hope she's not lonely without me to keep her company." "I'm sure the people of your village take good care of her." Sanji comforted.

"I'm sure too. Maybe I'll write her a letter sometime. Maybe she'll even write back. One can hope."

"I'm sure she'd be happy to see you sharing your talents with your crew."

You nodded your head in thanks. "Oh, you flatter me."

"You are quite worth it." He smiled at you, something you had taken a liking to. He reminded you a little of what you imagined princes looked like in fairy tales. Handsome, charming.

The conversation went cold as you continued working, focused on the process ahead of you.

You stirred the batter, carefully adding the dry ingredients to the mixture, combining the two.

You were focused, making sure not to spill anything as you worked carefully.

"You're really pretty when you're focused."

The words slipped out without warning. Even Sanji seemed a little surprised at his comment. He'd flirted with you before, but it had always been so worked up. An act. Over dramatic and at least to you, unserious.

You had never taken his compliments seriously. At best, you thought he was trying to make you feel better about yourself. You figured it was just an act he put on to humour you, and you enjoyed it, even if it didn't boost your confidence all that much.

Admittedly, you liked Sanji. Far more than any of your other crewmates. If he were to feel the same, you would be delighted, but you were almost entirely sure he wasn't. He also flirted with Nami, and so many others who would likely be much better matches for him.

You could stand having his pity flirts to tide you over while he found someone he truly liked.

However, this was no typical flirt. There was no quick wink or smirk on his face. Just honesty. And that was so unexpected you nearly dropped your bowl.

You managed to set the bowl of dry ingredients down without spillage, trying to calm down the incessant fluttering in your chest.

"I mean, you, uh, I was going to say, I only meant that..." he was unable to say anything coherent. A man with a thousand lines backed up in his brain, suddenly rendered speechless.

You backed away from the counter, trying to ignore the warmth spreading across your face. Your jaw went slack as you watched him try to come up with something, anything, to save himself.

"I'm sorry, I should just go." Sanji was as red as a tomato, taking his glass and shuffling towards the door.

"Wait." Your voice commanded him, and he turned around to face you again, looking rather ashamed of himself.

"Did you mean that?" "It just slipped out, don't be uncomfortable, I just-" "You really think I'm pretty?" You didn't believe it, but maybe you could humour him for once.

He almost laughed in disbelief. "Of course I do! Who wouldn't?"

"Plenty of people. Lots of men. And I mean lots." Sanji scoffed. "Forget them. They're nothing but trouble. You're gorgeous."

You could sense it returning. The typical flirting. His overdramatic way of trying to comfort you.

"Oh please, like you haven't been playing with me all this time too." You swatted your hand at him. "You and your over the top flirting, I know what you think of me."

Sanji frowned, confused. "And what do I think of you?"

"Not much. You notice me and don't want to hurt my feelings by ignoring me so you flirt anyways. I know you don't truly think I'm pretty-" he practically gasped at your statement. "-but I promise I don't hold it against you. It's nice that you try to get me to think I'm pretty, but I know I'm not. That's okay. I have other skills."

"How could you possibly think that?" Sanji looked more than horrified. "I have never flirted with anyone I have found less than stunning."

You laughed, getting back to your baking, mixing the dry ingredients with the wet. "There's a first time for everything."

Sanji looked absolutely distraught. "You don't seriously think I say everything I do to you as a joke? As consolation?"

You shrugged. "I mean, yeah? You just always put so much effort into your flirting, I thought it was a joke. I never knew if you meant it or not. I figured you didn't."

He walked forward, looking you in the eye from across the island, trying to convey how truthful he was being.

"I promise you, you are beautiful. Any old fool could see that. You are pretty when you're focused and I have never been more enchanted by someone in my life. And I mean that."

You laughed awkwardly, face still blazing hot. "Okay, you don't have to prove it. You can stop it, Sanji."

He circled the room until he was stood right next to you. The last of the dry ingredients fell into your batter and you set the bowl down, not mixing it yet.

"If you do not believe it tonight, I will tell you tomorrow, and the day after it, and the day after that, for however long it takes for you to believe it."

You chuckled softly. "Okay. I gotta finish these cupcakes." Sanji gently reached out a hand, resting it on your shoulder so that you would look at him.

"You are pretty, whether you believe it or not." You gently shrugged him off, though treasuring the feeling of his hand touching you. "Okay, whatever you say."

The two of you did not speak after that. He returned to his spot on the other side of the island, and the two of you spent the rest of the baking process in silence, until the last batch of cupcakes were removed from the oven.

"I'm gonna get a bit of sleep before the sun rises." You said quietly, waking up your companion, who had been napping on the countertop.

"Of course, cupcake." He said, clearly tired and a little delirious. The mix-up was clear, and yet, it had sounded like a pet name. And you giggled. The second the noise left your mouth, you turned red, and ran from the room, scurrying back to your bedroom to get a few blinks of sleep before the next day's adventures.

When you awoke, you did not feel well rested at all, but at the very least, you could sneak a tasty cupcake in at breakfast, as long as Luffy hadn't found and finished them all as soon as he saw them.

The kitchen was lively with early morning chatter, and you noticed a plate of neatly decorated cupcakes on the counter. Iced with your favourite colour, drizzled in sprinkles. Each one prettier than the last.

You looked over at the chef, who was caught between two pans of scrambled eggs and bacon, trying to see if it was him who had decorated them.

He looked up from his work briefly and smiled at you.

"Good morning cupcake." Your face burned under his eyes. Of course he had heard your giggle, and of course he was holding it against you.

"Did you do this?" You asked, pointing at the cupcakes. "Yes, I'm sorry but I figured you'd like them nice and iced. Like you said earlier. I left most of the rest for you to decorate, if you want."

"I didn't know you knew my favourite colour." You said, picking up a cupcake, admiring it.

"Of course I do. Someone so pretty deserves to have things remembered." You rolled your eyes at his not-so-sneaky attempt at flattering you. "Nice try, Sanji, but I'm not a fool." You took a bite from your cupcake.

He sighed. "I'll have to try harder next time."

"You don't have to do this. I'm fine, I promise you."

"I'm not doing this because I have to, cupcake." He grinned at the flustered look on your face. "I'm doing this because you deserve it."

#one piece #one piece live action #opla #opla sanji #opla sanji x reader #sanji x reader #sanji x you

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626es · 1 year ago

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Y'all, im so proud of this one. Idc the pics aren't great, the finished item wasn't so perfect either. But I had so much fun making this one. Story of the piece first, then pattern info below

This project has tons of meaning to me n I figured I'd share the story here.

I made this project for a friend who also crafts. We chat regularly about our crafts and she often makes art for me and everyone in my apartment. We have some creative overlap, but not a ton. Historically, I've not been so great at crafting for others and hadn't made anything for her yet.

In any case, we chat with each other about crafts we see that we are excited about or think the other may be excited about. One day when she was over, we were chatting crafts again and she mentioned she was seeing lots of temperature blankets in her feed n wondered if I'd ever thought about making one.

Truth be told, I'd never made one for myself and couldn't see myself wanting to make one. I let her know this as well. Not for any particular reason, just never felt the need to. It was a pretty casual conversation and we moved onto other topics.

Fast forward a bit and we are chatting again and she lets me know her partner had proposed. She said yes and they had set a date for two years in the future for a special date for them.

It clicked maybe a month later that this time frame, their engagement period, would be perfect for a temperature blanket. I had doubts at first if I wanted to make it, but started getting thoughts on how to work it all out. The only thing I had for certain was fall pallet for the colors as it's their favorite season. I talked it over with some other friends who also know her, and after many many many reassurances, I decided to go for it.

Honest, this is the most I'd ever planned for any project. I researched types of temperature blankets, typical temperature ranges for our area, how to divide the time frame and temperature range, I swear, it's a whole spreadsheet with many tabs of research and planning. In the end, I decided on 9 colors with about 7°F increments where each chevron represents the average temperature for one week of their engagement. I also made a knitted scale (not pictured) of the colors in order from coldest to warmest and wrote on the card for the gift how the scale lines up to actual temperatures just so she and her family could look back and get more info from it if they ever wanted.

It was helpful to tell myself during the process that she would never see it coming as I'd previously mentioned I wasn't interested in making one. And if she didn't know I was working on it, I could ditch it at any point if it wasn't turning out.

I managed to keep the whole project a secret as I worked on it. Making sure I got advance warning when she would come over so I could make sure it was hidden away, sometimes even just making decoy projects to keep her off the trail. She would definitely suspect something if I all the sudden stopped talking about crafts. It was honestly incredible as it expanded my ability to work on multiple projects at once, which I was definitely not so comfy with when I first started crafting.

As common for gift projects, there was a clock and oh gosh was it a race! I barely had it blocked before I wanted to give it to her (yeah, I know the deadline was only enforced by me), but I wanted to give it to her as an additional wedding gift. I ended up being able to gift it to her at the rehearsal dinner, so really just in time!

I'm so happy with how it turned out, and had so much fun playing with the process and planning for this project. I definitely learned a lot and would have done a few things different if I could go back, but overall I'm super proud of it 😊

Pattern is Frankie Brown's Ten Stitch Zigzag

#blocking doesnt fix everything #knit #blanket #temperature blanket #engagement #wedding #wedding gift #craftblr #knitblr #knitting #finished piece #finished wip #WIP #fall colors

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 8 months ago

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You're Special to Me

Can you write a fic where Remus keeps on comparing himself to roman (negatively) and the other sides also doing it, albeit unknowingly. It’s alright if you can’t, no pressure! – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-esteem issues, self-doubt, remus has some abandonment issues

Pairings: platonic creativitwins

Word Count: 3761

The others have a nasty habit of comparing Roman and Remus. It starts to get grating after a while. Good thing Roman's always thought his brother was the best.

“Remus?”

Remus pokes his head out from under the whale carcass, adjusting the brim of his rain jacket to see Logan wading dubiously through the trail of viscera from here to the door. “Oh, hey, Pocket Protector, whattya need?”

“We had a brainstorm scheduled to start five minutes ago.”

“Oh, yeah, I was wondering when you were gonna show up.”

“Yes, so if you wouldn’t mind—wait, ‘show up?’”

He tosses a chunk into the piranha tank and the water froths up. “Yeah. You asked to have a brainstorm with me, so I was waiting for you.”

“Ah, I see. Typically brainstorms are held in the study or the living room.”

“Yeah, Ro’s are.”

Logan blinks. “Hm?”

“ Roman’s brainstorms with you are in the living room or the study or whatever. That’s ‘cause he can do the whole write-stuff-down-talk-it-out thing. I gotta be doing something.”

Logan dodges a spray of…something Remus isn’t going to name but rhymes with a really frizzy hairstyle, clutching his notebook to his chest. “Would you opposed to having a brainstorm in one of those locations if you bring something to do?”

“Peachy keen, Lolo, but there’re rules about me bringing my projects to places.”

“That is true,” he mutters under his breath, “is—so I take it you would prefer to have the brainstorm here as you…work?”

“Yep.” When Logan doesn’t say anything for a moment, Remus lowers his bone saw and glances over at him. “Is…is that okay?”

“Well, I’m going to have to change my state of dress, and take audio recordings that I’ll have to transcribe later, but yes, I believe that is acceptable. You’ll have to give me a moment to change.”

“Yeah, sure, go ahead.”

Logan nods and weaves his way carefully around the mounds of blubber starting to grow around Remus’s work station. Remus watches him go, a chunk falling slowly off of his shoulder, before he looks back at the carcass. He still has a few hours of work to properly strip it to where it’s usable, and this kind of work is nice for brainstorming ‘cause it’s mostly rote at this point, but there’s a sudden greyness to everything. Like if he raised his tools and tried to keep going the whale might turn to paper in front of him.

He sits there amidst his carnage, the faint sound of the piranhas nibbling away in the sloshing water behind him. He looks down at his hands, at the calluses and old scars. The bone saw lies limply across his knee.

Logan didn’t seem angry that he’d misunderstood what he wanted, but he did seem disappointed. Like he really wanted Remus to not be doing this and come to the study to do the brainstorm. Like Roman. But Roman’s process wasn’t Remus’s process and Logan had asked specifically to brainstorm with Remus.

The familiar sound of rain boots squishing through viscera brings him back, glancing over to see Logan wading through toward him with a recorder in one hand and an umbrella in the other.

“Whoa, cool jacket.”

“Thank you, I had Virgil help me design it after the one you made for him.” Logan brandishes the recorder and eyes the whale corpse. “Well, shall we get to it?”

“I’ve already got a few ideas.”

Remus bounces up and down on the balls of his feet, barely resisting the urge to flap his hands. This is it! He’s finally been allowed to join in on the communal baking day where everyone gets to make their own dessert for movie night. He stayed up late last night thinking of all the delicious things they could make and finally, finally got his list down to just five options. He’s really leaning toward the strawberry fruit tart but the lemon squares look so good but the pumpkin spice cookies would be so much fun to decorate—

Something shoves him gently into the wall and he grins as Roman ruffles his hair a little too hard.

“Roro!”

“Hey, Re, you look excited.” Roman chuckles as Remus chews excitedly on his costume collar. “You ready?”

“I’ve been waiting all day for this!”

“Roman? Is Remus there?”

“He’s all yours, Padre.” Roman winks and ruffles his hair again. “Go get ‘em.”

Remus bounds into the kitchen, startling Patton a little as he sets something on the counter. He reaches into his pocket for the piece of paper—he even wrote it on paper this time to make it easier—and opens his mouth to explain his options, when—

“Good, I wondered where you were. Could you go ahead and measure the white sugar out for me?”

Remus pauses. Patton looks at him expectantly, holding out the cup. He takes it slowly, glancing at the containers and bowls already amassed on the counter. “Uh—what?”

“The white sugar. Granulated sugar, if you’d prefer. It’s in this one over here—“ he indicates a white paper bag— “and it just goes in that bowl there.”

A bit of grey flickers across his vision. “But we haven’t chosen what we’re making yet.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t tell you. We’re just gonna be making chocolate chip cookies.”

He frowns. “Ro said we get to choose what we make.”

Patton’s smile twitches a bit. “Oh, I just figured it would be—since we always have chocolate chip and it’s your first time—the others have already made their choices, they did it yesterday—“

Patton keeps talking as the list in his hand slowly greys out. They did it…yesterday? And didn’t tell Remus? But Ro said that he could pick…

“…so I figured this would be the easiest.” Patton’s still talking. “But if you really, really want to make something else, then—“

“No,” he grits out, shoving the list in his pocket and going over to the sugar, “I love chocolate chip cookies.”

“Oh, good. I’m glad, I love them too! Yeah, so that just goes in there.”

As they bake, or as Patton tells Remus what to do and watches him carefully as he does it, he can’t help thinking that this isn’t at all what Roman said it was like and how he doesn’t…really want to do it ever again. But at least he can eat as much of the cookie dough as he wants while Patton isn’t looking.

“…hey, Snakey?”

Janus looks up from his book with the patented what-did-you-do-how-much-of-your-mess-am-I-going-to-have-to-clean-up expression and Remus squirms under it. He raises an eyebrow.

“Would you teach me how to dance?”

The expression morphs into one of surprise in an instant. He sets down his book. “Certainly, I can teach you. What for?”

”There’s a, uh, thing in the Imagination next month that me and Ro are putting on and we, uh, part of it’s a ball thing.”

“Mm. Will the rest of us be invited?”

“…I think so? I dunno, I need to talk to Ro. We, uh, no one else knows about it yet.”

“Ooh, a secret, I do love those.”

“Are you gonna help me or not?”

Janus chuckles, getting to his feet and holding out a hand. Remus takes it and blinks as Janus takes them to a room in the Imagination he’s never seen before. Which in and of itself isn’t all that weird, because there are plenty of things that Ro makes that he never sees, but this one feels…familiar, almost. Like he’s seen it in a dream or something and only just now actually being able to picture it clearly.

At the very back of the theater, hidden in the shadows, some of the red seats look a little faded.

“Alright,” Janus says, “we’re going to learn a very simple waltz.”

“Okay. What do I do?”

“Well, you’re part of Thomas, and Thomas knows how to do a box step, which means most of it is already in there somewhere.” Janus taps the side of his head. “So, put your arms around me—no, no! Remus, put me down.”

“You said put my arms around you.”

“Not like that, like this.” Janus takes one of his hands and puts it on his waist, holding the other one out to the side. “Don’t—we’re not about to charge someone, Remus, relax.”

He goes all noodley and Janus sighs, making him stand back up with his arms not held out like he’s brandishing a weapon. Once they’re standing in a way that he approves of, he starts explaining how the steps work.

“Can you show me your box step?”

“While I’m holding you?”

“Good point.” Janus takes three very large steps backward and folds his arms. “Go ahead.”

Remus does his box step. Janus looks at him with his head tilted and sighs again. Every time he sighs a few more seats get a little greyer.

“I suppose it could be worse. Now, here’s what I’d like you to do: hold onto me, yes, like that, and do your box step. I am going to do an opposite box step and we are going to just try that, okay?”

Remus nods, looking down to make sure he doesn’t step on Janus, and starts his box. Janus moves back but he’s moving in a way that makes Remus have to let go.

“Hold onto me.”

“But you moved.”

“We’re dancing, Remus, we’re going to move.”

“But you—okay.”

Despite Janus’s patience—and fond exasperation that sometimes isn’t quite as fond—Remus can’t help but get hot behind the ears at how his body just doesn’t seem to want to do any of this. But every time they turn to face the back of the curtain, he sees memories of Roman dancing effortlessly in the big palace ballroom and he grits his teeth.

The curtains have gone grey by the time Janus calls an end to the misery of a lesson.

“C’mon, Emo, you can do it…” Virgil’s next inhale is almost a whine. “Shh, shh, it’s…it’s okay, just…just try and breathe.”

“It’s not working.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re panicking—“

“I know I’m panicking! Knowing I’m panicking doesn’t help!”

Remus winces as Virgil almost shoves him away, He goes, because when someone’s having a panic attack and they let you know you’re making it worse, then you leave. But he can’t pull away too much because Virgil is hurting himself and that’s why he got summoned in the first place.

“Little spider,” he tries again, and Virgil lets him shift a little closer, “I’m…I don’t know what to do.”

Not the thing to say when someone’s having a panic attack. Virgil sobs again, curling up even tighter, beginning to make small hitching noises whenever he can draw breath.

“Remus? Virgil? What’s—oh. Oh, no.”

”Ro?”

Roman hurries toward them, falling to his knees next to the shaking pile of Virgil, immediately pressing a kiss to his head and going to wrap his arms around him.

“Wait, he doesn’t want to be…” Remus trails off as Virgil immediately clings to Roman, latching on like a limpet and refusing to let go.

“Hey, shh, it’s okay, Stormcloud, I’m right here. Shh, shh, shh, you’re alright, you’re safe, nothing’s gonna hurt you right now.”

It’s not fair of him to be jealous when Roman gets Virgil to calm down almost right away. It’s not fair of him to be resentful that Roman’s who Virgil wants when he’s upset. It’s not fair to be upset or offended by what someone needs to come out of having a panic attack. That’s not cool, it’s not right, it’s not fair to Virgil or Roman or himself.

But Remus watches Roman cuddle Virgil and press gentle kisses to his forehead, and he looks down at his own hands that still have some Kraken slime on them from when he got summoned, and he sinks out before Virgil’s feeling all the way better.

He hates himself a little more for it, but not as much as he hates himself for not being the person that Virgil wanted.

It would be easier if Roman were shitty about it.

If he made a point to hold it over Remus’s head, or if he tried to help out of pity or pushed the others into including Remus when it was obvious that no one really wanted to, it would be better. But no, Ro doesn’t even seem to know it’s happening. Which is shitty in and of itself, but the others don’t even realize they’re doing it sometimes and it’s never where Roman is anywhere within earshot. It’s just glaringly fucking obvious that Remus is not Roman and everyone else fucking knows it.

It would be better if they weren’t both Creativity. It would be better if Roman and him weren’t constantly lumped together. It would be better if he was actually capable of truly hating Roman.

But he can’t. Because Roman’s his brother and he loves him more than he hates himself.

He doesn’t hate himself, not really. He loves his energy, loves his drive, loves his willingness to do whatever, explore whatever, be whatever, he wouldn’t want to be like anyone else because then who would be him? But he hates the way that the version of himself he wants to be is the exact fucking opposite of everything he has to be in order to not be always a little bit worse than Roman.

Even his fucking Kraken prefers Roman.

He’d shown up to Ollie’s pond with his favorite chum and the ball with the holes big enough for his arms so they could play catch, but Ollie had sniffed around and seen that there was only one of them—and it wasn’t Roman, and he’d drifted off into the corner of the pond to sulk. No amount of coaxing or bribing had been able to make the Kraken do anything more than half-heartedly chuck the ball not even halfway across the pond.

Remus left before he started crying and went to the dark underwater sea cave deep underneath the black tower’s subbasement. He shifted enough so he could breathe underwater and curled up in the thick kelp forest where no one would be able to find him unless they poked around with a flashlight. The kelp dissipated the sound waves of his sobs, a tentacle in his mouth to muffle them even further. Along the bottom of the cave, tiny tetra fish nibbled at his scales.

He’d stayed there for at least an hour before he realized that no one would come to look for him, so he’s been drifting ever since. Every so often the tears return, the kelp absorbing them as readily as ever, at least until they taper off again and he just floats there, in the water while the fish nibble the dead skin away from his scales. There was something comforting about the greyness of the water, how smooth and quiet it was, how easy it was to just look at the shape of the kelp and the movement of the fish and just drift…alone.

Yeah, it’d be much easier if Roman was shitty about it. But he isn’t, and that’s just another way that he’s better than Remus.

+1.

Remus doesn’t even have time to lie down and close his eyes before someone’s grabbing him around the waist and sinking him into the Imagination. They crash into a pile of pillows and he gets a mouthful of one, spluttering.

” Ro!”

”Hey, you always do it to me! Payback time!” He barely gets himself free before Roman’s throwing a pillow at him. “Now arm yourself!”

“What—“ he dodges Roman’s swing— “hey!”

“No talking, only pillow fighting!”

Remus manages to get the big green pillow up in front of his face just as Roman launches himself off another pile and come barreling down at him. He rolls onto his side and swats Roman across the face. Roman yelps and laughs and swats him back.

“You’re not winning this time!”

“I didn’t win last time! I— ack!”

“C’mon, Re, I know you can do better than that!”

“Oh, it’s on.”

The two of them turn the pillow piles into a war zone, launching projectiles and themselves from various places until Roman gets Remus’s arms pinned and he can bap him lightly in the face over and over and over.

“ Ack—ppth—Ro!”

“Do you yield?”

“Yeah, yeah, you— pffthp— I fucking yield.”

Roman chuckles and presses a big smacking kiss to Remus’s cheek, rolling off of him and sprawling out across the pillow carnage with a contented sigh. Remus winces, pulling himself into a sitting position, grabbing one of the plushier pillows to hold.

They’re in one of the higher tree canopy tents, he realizes as he takes in their surroundings without the distraction of plush warfare. Overlooking the massive waterfalls with the help of the full moon and the soft glow of the amber lanterns overhead, he can spot a few of the others in trees surrounding the falls as the rush and roar of the water fades soothingly into the background. The soft sweet smell of fresh water wafts upwards, mixing with the cool night air. He curls up a little more, hugging the pillow, watching the water rush by.

“So,” Roman grunts as he sits up a few moments later, “are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“What? Nothing’s wrong.”

“Mhm.” Something pokes his side and Remus yelps. “You sure?”

“Yes! Yes, I’m sure, I— eep!”

”You really sure?” Fingers keep poking and kneading his sides and trying to get under the pillow. “You really, really sure nothing’s wrong?”

“I said no!”

He moves without thinking. One second Roman’s sitting next to him and the next he’s sprawled near the other side of the tent. A horrible itchy guilty mess starts building in the back of Remus’s throat and he looks away before he can watch the shutter fall over Roman’s face.

Because that’s why Roman did all this, isn’t it? He noticed Remus was upset and because he’s a good brother, he took him to their favorite sleeping spot and had a pillow fight with him and asked him if he was okay. Because Remus isn’t like Roman and he didn’t appreciate any of it and then he just shoved Roman away when all he was doing was trying to help and he really is just the worst brother ever, isn’t he?

”I could’ve done that better,” he hears softly before the gentlest arms wrap around his shoulders and there’s a warm chin on his left one, “I knew better, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it worse.”

“You’re fine.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Re, I just—I’m worried about you.”

“…you are?”

“Yeah. You’ve been—you’ve been kinda grey lately, you know? I’ve tried asking the others if they know what’s been going on, but they don’t—whoa, hey, hey,” Roman whispers when Remus starts to sniffle, “hey, c’mere, let me cuddle you, hey, talk to me, what’s going on?”

“‘M sorry, it’s not your fault, promise—“

“Hey, hey, uh-uh, none of that, you’re okay.” Roman pulls him into a weird pretzel ball of limbs and hooks his chin over his shoulder. “Does it have something to do with the others?”

“…it’s not their fault either.”

“Now I think we both know that might not be entirely true.”

“‘S stupid.”

“It’s making you upset, Re, it’s not stupid.”

“But it’s true!”

“What’s true?”

“You’re—you’re better than m-me.”

Roman goes very still for a second, then he pulls back and cups Remus’s face in his hands. “What the hell do you mean, ‘I’m better than you?’”

And just like that, the whole sorry story comes driveling out of him. About how Logan didn’t really want to do the brainstorm, about how Patton didn’t let him pick what he wanted to bake, about how he couldn’t comfort Virgil properly, about how hard trying to learn how to dance was, even how Ollie didn’t want to play with him. And Roman looks at him and his face falls and then he’s shaking his head and squishing Remus’s cheeks a little.

“You’re not worse than I am and I’m not better than you. We’re different, and that’s fine and good. Who gives a shit if Logan got a bit messy, you’re the one who can multitask way better than anyone else here. You have the discipline to actually train with all of your weapons and you can fight with all of them. And who the hell does Patton think he is that he can regiment who can bake what? I’ll bake with you next time and we can make whatever the hell you want. And as for Virgil—you know he only started coming to me because he missed you, right? I’m serious,” he continues when Remus’s eyes almost bug out of his head, “he said that your energy was really comforting when he was growing up and I have a similar one so he started coming to me. Don’t tell him I told you that, though.”

“I won’t,” he mumbles, but he’s still too caught up on everything else.

“I don’t give a shit what they all think, you hear me? I think you’re incredible and you’re my brother. I’m the only one allowed to start our stupid sibling rivalry shit.”

”What about me?”

“Fine, you can start it too. But only us, okay?”

Remus sniffles. “But then why didn’t Ollie want to play with me?”

“Because you don’t sneak him treats when you play Toss.”

”Wait, you what?”

“Uh, I mean—“

Remus grabs a pillow and thwacks Roman over the head with it. Roman bursts out laughing and half hugs, half tackles Remus to the ground.

“You’re fucking great all on your own, Re, you don’t need anyone else’s approval.” He leans up a bit. “But you always have mine, okay? I’m always gonna think you’re the greatest.”

“Even when I put slime in your bed?”

“I’ll get you back by putting dragon splines in yours.”

“You better not.”

“Don’t put slime in my bed, then.”

Remus gives another sniffly little laugh and Roman ruffles his hair. They both lie down to look at the waterfall, arms wrapped around each other.

“…hey Ro?”

“Mhm?”

“You’re the best brother ever.”

“No,” Roman says, booping Remus’s nose, “ you are.”

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

#sanders sides #dragonbabbles #fic #roman sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #janus sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders

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ask-the-royal-absol · 1 year ago

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Meanwhile…

Felix: It’s really interestin’ talking with spirits, findin’ out about their struggles and what prevents ‘em from movin’ on. I remember the first time I helped someone. It was right after Destino had- well, somethin’ happened which led ta a Pokémon both Destino and I knew very well dyin’. I saw her spirit and talked through everything she was feelin’ and she ended up bein’ happy knowing all of her business was goin’ ta be taken care of. I saw her spirit glow with a golden light and then she disappeared, looking as peaceful as I’d ever seen her. It’s what inspired me ta go into that line of work. It made me happy knowin’ I’d helped someone, ya know?

Hope: Wow. I’m sorry about your loss.

Felix: It happened ages ago. Don’t worry about it. I’m just used ta the idea of death now since I work so closely with spirits.

Hope: And these spirits only appear for ghost types?

Felix: Most of the time. They usually appear around pokemon who were close ta them. Sometimes they can manifest around other Pokémon but it takes a lot of the spirit’s energy ta do that.

Hope: Oh. So if someone dies, they could appear for you?

Felix: If they choose ta. But it’s quite rare unless-

…

*Hope could see Felix looking past her. She turns towards the spot, confused by what made him pause mid sentence. Nothing. Just the wide mountain range in the back. Maybe he was looking at that? Possibly. She doubted they had those down underground.*

Felix: Oh, erm, yeah. Sorry. Somethin’ caught my attention is all. Yeah, it’s rare for a spirit to appear unless there’s a ghost type around. Our connection ta the dead and all.

Hope: Does anything happen if these spirits are not dealt with? Well, not dealt with but helped to moved on or whatever.

Felix: It depends on the spirit. The majority of them can cause problems if they haven’t been allowed to move on but there are the odd few that just wander around their family, waitin’ for something. Whether it be seein’ a family member do somethin’ that the spirit wanted ta happen or perhaps some sorta revenge, spirits will linger until they feel satisfied. Ghost types tend ta make the process of them movin’ on go faster.

Hope: I see… So, can you see spirits which have been dead for a long time?

Felix: Yeah.

*Felix notices Hope’s eyes slightly twinge with sadness.*

Hope: … And that means you can talk with them?

Felix: Yeah.

Hope: Alright. Interesting to know. You ghost types seemed to have gotten all of the really unique abilities. Talking to the dead, going invisible. Possessing objects. Much more interesting core abilities than what I can do.

Felix: I’m sure ya have powerful abilities. Ya a fire and fightin’ type, right?

Hope: Yeah. Though I’d say I’m a lot stronger with my fire type core abilities than my fighting ones.

Felix: I don’t really have any context for what ya can do.

Hope: Ah yeah. Well, I can control fire. I can absorb a large amount of fire into my body and use it to strengthen my attacks. I’ve been doing a lot of training on this as well as being able to control reasonably sized flames.

*Hope’s eyes change briefly to a fiery reddish orange and her body emits a slight glow. Suddenly appearing before the both of them is a small flame hovering in the cool night that gently lights up the area around them. Felix stares in awe at it. Hope smiles. The orange flame flows towards Hope, being absorbed into her body.*

Hope: And my fighting abilities are more focused on finding out the fighting potential of a Pokémon. And…

*Hope’s eyes flash to a brownish red and she stares deeply at Felix. The ghost types looks awkwardly towards her, not quite knowing what she was doing.*

Hope: It seems you’ve not had much fighting experience. You’ve barely got any EVs. I’m not sure whether you specialise in physical or special attacks but perhaps you should get some training in.

Felix: I dunno what an EV is but I’m not really one for fightin’ unless I need ta. Trainin’ just ain’t for me. Though I’d be interested in seein’ how Destino stacks up.

Hope: Considering how noodly they look, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve not had sufficient training.

Felix: Roy and Hershel have tried but Destino doesn’t like ta put much effort into it. They believe they’re already strong enough and don’t need to work hard.

Hope: That doesn’t surprise me at all. I can’t wait to kick their ass when we head home. Give them the wake up call they need.

Felix: A part of me doesn’t want ‘em ta get too hurt but another part of me wants ta see ‘em realise how wrong they’ve been. Don’t go too strong on ‘em. As much as I want ‘em to learn, I don’t wanna end up havin’ ‘em all bruised and beaten.

Hope: I’ll tone it down somewhat. Having a type advantage will make things super easy. I’m definitely looking forward to giving them a taste of what it actually means to be strong.

*Hope and Felix are available for asks*

#pokemon ask blog #pokemon #pokemon askblog #pokemon oc #ask blog #ask the royal absol #pokeask #ask #Felix the gengar #hope the Blaziken #chapter 3 #story tag

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darkx-the-dragon-kn1ght · 3 months ago

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Chapter 42- Part 9

Alright, whatever, Amnesia should still be able to mitigate whatever damage-

Hyper Beam. Hyper Beam, that's the move it uses? Not even a Psychic attack?

Okay, well- actually, I can see how to get around this. Start by sending in…Glare, I guess.

Due to Hyper Beam, we have a free turn to revive Crater-

And on this next turn, we'll get Crater back to full, sacrificing Glare in the process…

That's even better! I thought it would use a Psychic-type move, but this works out even better!

Now we have a guaranteed turn to Amnesia, which should help Crater's survivability.

That was not necessary, but I appreciate the hustle. So now, I guess we can try Earth Power, unlike Eruption its power won't be reduced as Crater's HP goes down-

It- It still one-shot!? Even at +2 Sp. Defense!? Yet again I ask- why does Abra need to be at Lv. 75!?

Well, I've…got no way of lowering its Sp. Attack, so…wait, hold on, I have an idea, I just need to reset.

Abra wants to spam Hyper Beam? Then let's bring in a guy who doesn't take any damage from Hyper Beam!

Defensive Ghost-type, baby!! Jack's second chance at action after getting slapped during the Connal fight! And as for the other half of my strategy…

My last Synthetic Seed for the time being- but the Sp. Attack boost and guaranteed critical hit will be worth it.

Now, here's hoping Abra doesn't use an attack much stronger than Hyper Beam…and let's fire off that Shadow Ball!

Oh, of course it has a move for Ghost-types, great-

Okay, no, I know how to do this- and I'm just gonna reset again instead of wasting a Revive, the plan is very simple.

Bait that Hyper Beam!! And for the heck of it, I'll have Crater use Eruption, just in case Quick Claw decides to-

Again, completely unnecessary, but Crater is a madlad as usual- she knows she's going down, but she really wants to do as much damage to Abra as possible before then.

Now we can bring in Jack…

(Future edit: I realize in hindsight I probably could have just pivoted to Jack to take the Hyper Beam, Abra would still need to recharge after (I think), and Crater wouldn't have needed to faint.)

Well now Shadow Ball should DEFINITELY kill.

I doubt that Eruption mattered, +1 critical hit Shadow Ball probably would have one-shotted, but I appreciate it anyways.

(Future edit: I actually went and checked after this session using a special Reborn damage calculator (and I had to be VERY careful where I was looking so as to not spoil myself on future Fields, but my curiosity about Jack's chances to one-shot compelled me to use it despite the risk), and I discovered...no actually, Jack wouldn't have been able to one-shot. Despite the Synthetic Seed boost, guaranteed crit, STAB, and a Sp. Attack-boosting nature, the only way Jack would have been able to one-shot would have been if Abra's HP was at least at 45-46%. So...yeah, Crater's Eruption actually did matter, legitimately. Thanks, Crater, I guess?)

(This is also how I discovered PULSE Abra has three Hyper Beams in its moveset- so its only moves are Hyper Beam and Dark Pulse, no Psychic- or Steel-type moves at all. ZEL, what were you on when you made this??)

Well, sucks for the PokéMart…and the train…and that one guy's house…

…So we didn't really fix anything, huh?

Okay nevermind, we fixed the bare minimum, that's…better?

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roseofithaca · 1 year ago

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"Depressing af way to end. :(" yes! when the six said it was final i didn't expect THIS. again, especially after 5x06! alison reaffirmed that the ghosts are family! mike and alison love living at button house! julian--JULIAN!--gave a speech about being glad they found each other. and i know selling the house will have them set for life, but not once did they talk about getting jobs after the gatehouse didn't work out??

i feel a bit (ok, a lot) that a very important part of the ghosts' (after)lives were stolen from them. and sure, alison can't live forever. and yes, being a hotel now that lots of people will visit, i'm sure the ghosts are going to occasionally come across someone who can see ghosts. but those people aren't going to LIVE there, let alone going to become a family. and i doubt those people will want to talk to the ghosts--i mean, look at kylie's reaction lol. she doesn't even want to do a concert at button house, let alone stay for holiday. unless someone dies at the hotel (bound to happen) and stays as a ghost (less likely), other than each other, who knows when the ghosts are going to have found family again. and with a living? never, probably.

i just. i knew since before s4 that s5 was probably the end, so by the time they confirmed it was, and by the time i finished s5, i wasn't like, devastated or anything. but the xmas special is, as you said, depressing af. it ruined it for me. it feels OOC and the whole thing with betty was just so irritating, and not even in a funny or humorous way like barclay can be. which is why i've said it's dead to me, i have to ignore it exists as much as possible.

anyway lol

Feel free to rant to me anytime! Putting my further rants under a cut because oh boy.

I keep having to process how I feel about this finale because it's hardly Game of Thrones or Sherlock level bad. But it's also coming off wrapping up Fourteen and Donna's storyline in Doctor Who which was - *chefs kiss* - perfect found family / platonic soulmates ending. So that did set the bar quite high in terms of wholesomeness.

And yeah sadly it failed to meet it, at least in my opinion.

Thing is when people describe it as bittersweet, for me it's so bitter that the sweetness is barely noticeable. And most of it comes down to how much Alison was sidelined and downplayed in her own show, the finale at that. Having Betty be the major character that took up so much time was a huge mistake and took away from the chance of us seeing happy moments between the ghosts and Alison and the baby etc. And as you say, she wasn't even a fun annoying character like Barclay.

I really don't have a problem with Alison and Mike needing to sell and move out, I just think it should have been executed in a far less rushed and melancholy way.

For starters I think they should have had Alison make the decision to leave at the end of S5. But asserting that it has nothing to do with what Julian did, it's purely because they simply can't afford to live there anymore. And for everyone saying the point of the finale is the Ghosts "let her go" as a gift - Julian already stated that it's HER decision and they won't stand in her way. He wasn't begging her to stay as much as asking forgiveness so they didn't part on bad terms. I feel like her needing to be persuaded to leave (which she doesn't even fight them on) almost takes away her agency, in an episode which doesn't allow her to do much as is.

I see a lot of people, including the six idiots, compare it to parents packing their kids up for uni or their own place. Here's the problem - the ghosts are not her parents. And that house is HERS. It was HER dream to turn it into a hotel but she has to give up on it and leave her found family because, ho hum, baby. And there's nothing wrong with motherhood or characters being mums...it's just a trope we are so tired of seeing where everything has to be tied up because Baby! Or people have to move out because Baby! Let's ignore the fact we have a character who emphasised the benefits of raising kids in a community.

I think my problem was that, and clearly this wasn't what the idiots had in mind, I read the ghosts as almost an analogy for those with chronic illnesses or disabilities, things that limit us and often leave us feeling shut in and unable to interact with the world. Alison did things for them at the start purely for alliance of convenience - but then she did them because she chose to, because she loves them and wants to help them the same way you would help someone with disabilities who you love. So the idea of "now I have a baby, that's my priority and I have to leave you" when there are so many other ways they could have worked around that has left me very uncomfortable.

Again, I'll make it clear, I don't think that was their intention at all. But sadly it's why I felt so attached to it. Visiting once or twice a year just doesn't put enough sweetness on to sooth the pain. How about instead paying to rebuild the gate house and they bought that to live close but also have their own space? How about Barclay died and they take his house? Or even just a montage showing us how often Alison visits and happy times bringing Mia, that the ghosts did get to watch her grow, maybe even seeing Alison die and FINALLY give Kitty a proper hug as well as the others!

The coda was sweet but it was far too brief and though I see what they were going for revealing so little to us, it left me feeling cold and like we weren't welcome in on their lives anymore as we're not allowed to see them. We shouldn't have had to listen to Jim on the podcast to know the ghosts would learn to like the hotel. Show don't tell.

*sigh* it is what it is, I just feel like there was so much missed opportunity for it to be something truly amazing but sadly it is always going to be my least favorite and possibly a skip whenever I do a rewatch.

#bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts christmas special

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gregor-samsa-said-i-could · 5 months ago

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Writing piece

So I got this assignment in a writing workshop I went once and it was supposed to be a friendly duel that never really took place. They gave us a line with a plot and you were supposed to make a short story out of it. Mine said: "A story narrated by Death in wich no one actually dies" and since I was brainrotting about necromancy and psychosis those days this was the result. As I said, never did anything with this short story so I thought maybe I'll post it here.

Clearly English is not my first language and this was a very uncoordinated work of translation made by me and chat gpt so yeah, sorry bout that.

The death of the necromancer

With a tired sigh, Death glanced at the crumpled piece of paper that had the address he was heading to. His long, slender fingers held, with little delicacy, the small yellowed sheet where the marks of constant folds barely allowed the writing to be read. Even so, it was still possible to read what he had written down a couple of days earlier. Judging by those directions, it was there. No doubt about it.

He confirmed it when he looked up. The number written on the paper was the same as the one carved into the wall of that secluded cabin. It was a small, single-story house that almost served as a threshold to the dense forest that loomed behind her, as if its worn wooden and rusty wires fences were, in some way, a barrier that the thorny bushes and thick pines dared not cross. Reaching that place had taken him almost an hour of walking from the city, climbing up the poorly paved roads that ascended towards the mountain and wound through the pine forest that covered the green slopes. However, the landscape changed drastically around the cabin. Everything looked dead there, from the weeds in the garden to the plants on the terrace, forgotten in their terracotta pots. Grayish walls and pale tiles, both worn by the rains that had likely battered them hundreds of times since their last maintenance.

But the most striking thing about that place was not the neglect or the contrast between the land surrounding it and the rest of the countryside. No. It was the smell.

A putrid stench of death seemed to sneak out and mingle with the clean air of the forest, becoming more noticeable as he approached the house, across the garden. Step by step. Until he reached the cabin door.

Death was perfectly familiar with that smell. It was one he knew deeply: the scent of rotting flesh and dry bones; of skin and hair deteriorating in the absence of life. Yes, just the smell he expected to find there.

A smile spread across his lips as he raised a hand to knock on the door. Several days of inquiries had led him to that place. The process involved a couple of questions here and there, blending in among humans as one of them, pretending to be less curious than he actually was until he finally found that place. After all, this was a matter that required his special attention.

It all started just over a week ago, when a warning arrived instead of the usual and very uninteresting monthly compliance certificate. His superiors had shown disbelief at the numbers in his reports, which did not match the records they had. For Death, someone who always did an impeccable and careful job, the fact that there were inconsistencies between his reports and the final numbers was unthinkable and, more that that, unacceptable. For short: Fewer souls were arriving than those reported as sent, and this, if not proven otherwise, would be taken as a blatant lie on his part. Centuries of perfection and regularity could not be thrown away like that. So, without thinking twice, he set out to find the cause. A cause that, as he suspected, would lead him to a place like that.

How many hundreds of years had passed since the last time he encountered a vision like that? A place that seemed to repel all forms of life? Perhaps it wasn't that many, but it felt like a lot in his mind.

His first knocks on the wooden door were fruitless. He could hear a radio murmuring on the other side and the irregular clatter of restless human footsteps. He knocked once more, a bit harder, causing his knuckles to raise some dust from the hollow wood, which had been eaten away by moths who knows for how long.

With that second attempt, a tired voice seemed to grumble from within the cabin and the footsteps drew closer. Death tucked the paper into his pocket and adjusted the reading glasses he wore on his face. He took a moment to tidy up his somewhat disheveled appearance from the short journey, then pulled his cap down, almost covering his eyebrows. In his clenched hands, one could sense a certain contained emotion. Who could be behind that door? Could it be a powerful and fearsome wizard hiding in that forgotten place, far from everything and everyone? Or perhaps a young witch filled with rage and hatred, plotting some kind of revenge? Or maybe not. He licked his lips, growing more expectant. Perhaps it was a virile and energetic sorcerer preparing, in those lands, an army of the undead, loyal to him, that would help him bring chaos upon the peaceful modern world.

He just couldn't wait to see.

The door finally opened, and with barely contained emotion, Death tried to keep his expression as neutral as possible. He couldn't allow that glimmer in his eyes —the one that showed his interest. After all, he was Death; who has ever seen Death get excited like that?

However, he didn't need to force himself much to pretend, as his anticipatory excitement quickly faded into intense discontent as he saw the person standing on the other side of the door.

That was definitely not what he expected to find in necromancer's cabin.

In front of him, holding the door as if it weighed heavily, a young man, perhaps nearing his thirties, looked back at him with a mix of fear and anticipation. His eyes, a dull green, seemed to be trying to figure something out as they gazed back at him. From head to toe, the man's vacant stare scanned his figure, taking a long time to utter his first words.

"Well, damn. My hallucinations sure are getting better"

The voice, absent of life and energy, seemed to match everything about that man. His hair, a pale and dull blonde, fell over his forehead, sparse and brittle-looking, almost brushing his shoulders from behind, getting tangled in the hood of a worn and tattered sweatshirt. Death also looked him up and down, noticing the dirty and worn-out pants, the mismatched slippers, and the extremely pale skin, where thin blue veins could be easily spotted.

"I'm not a hallucination" he answered, pulling down his cap a little more ", I came to talk to you. You're the necromancer, right?"

His words were enough to make the uninterested expression on the man's face change into one that was filled with fear and curiosity.

"So... Is it you? I knew someone would come, would confront me about the shit I've been doing and that would be the beginning of my end. Is it you?" A smile twisted his thin and dry lips , "Are you here to punish me?"

Death let out a barely perceptible sigh and placed his fingers on the door, pushing slightly to open it a little more than the narrow crack that barely allowed the cabin's owner to peek out.

"Can I come in?" Was more than a question, an imposition.

"Oh, yeah, yeah, sure... Come inside" The necromancer's thin body moved away lightly, despite how painful every single one of his steps looked. He made way, rushing to the dinner to tidy up a bit one of the chairs. Death looked around. Yeah, that probably was the only place where he could sit down.

In there, where only a little light filtered through the heavy curtains, bones were mixed with takeout containers. The decor seemed to consist of a myriad of disorganized and broken objects, dead rats everywhere, and hard wax covering the floor. Death didn't even move a muscle in his face at that sight. He already knew about the habits of necromancers. He knew them as isolated and morbid beings, always surrounded by death and that unique, putrid smell as they worked to make their magic more powerful and cruel. However, he did not remember any necromancer like this one, so young and destroyed. A paradoxical being who could control life and yet was allowing himself to be consumed by it.

It was such a shame.

He waited for the man to finish scurrying around, moving things from one side to the other to clear off the table and two chairs. Without any rush, he took almost five minutes to look around before finally taking a seat, leaving his cap on the table after shaking out his jet-black curls a bit. The man waited patiently.

"How did you know I was coming?"

The man's bones cracked when he sat down across from him. A little grimace in his face.

"I saw it" he said, simple.

"You saw it?"

"On that old lady's guts, yeah... A few days ago I brought her back because her family wanted to clarify something on her will. They're easy to control when I bring them back, 'u know? It's like the can't think..." he smiled when he said that, looking away to the wall across the room for a second and then turning back to face the dark eyes of his visitor. "Sometimes I see stuff in the corpses. I read it in their guts and it's true almost every single time. Like some sort of guts crystal ball. That time they told me you were coming" that unsettling smile again. "So... Who are you?"

"Death" he said, also simple, without being really impressed by that information. He already knew. The premonitory abilities of the necromancers were not foreign to him in the least, even if the crude and unrefined manners of this particular one were somewhat uncomfortable to hear.

"Oh..." the man stretched his armas over the table, grabbing one of his hands, allowing him to notice the cold fragile skin. "Let me shake the hand of the competition then"

"You won't even get a little surprised?" Death raised one of his eyebrows, without taking his hand back.

"I've seen dead people raise from their graves with just mere words of mine. I've seen rotten bodies walk and talk to me with their own voices. Damn, I even hear them when my magic is no longer affecting them, telling me stuff, mocking me, warning me, praising me... Do you think I'm gonna be surprised if someone that looks like a crackhead comes to my place and says he's Death? I'm beyond that at this point."

Death glanced over the table, noticing all the medications scattered there. Broken pills and half emptied bottles alongside old receipts and fast food coupons.

"I assume their voices have been bothering you quite a bit"

"They're always there" the necromancer took away his hands and his index against his temple, looking sad all of a sudden, "they say horrible things sometimes. Is it because I shouldn't have played with them? Are they mad? You tell me... They won't answer when I ask."

"What have you been doing exactly?" Ignoring what almost sounded like ravings, Death grabbed one of the pill bottles, reading the label with little interest. Even if those voices were not from the dead and just a meter product of a decadent mind, pills won't make them go away. He placed the bottle back where he took it and stared at the man through his glasses. It was noticeable if he look carefully. That man was far too consumed by dark magic, any attempt to save his body or his mind was pointless.

But maybe...

"Are you trying to create an army for the undead?" He leaned closer, showing complicity on his voice, "Zombies? Immortal corpses to follow your orders to achieve some malevolent plan?"

The man did not change his expression, he only stared back at him with those dead-fish eyes that seemed to be paying attention to several things at the same time.

"An army? What for?"

Disappointed, Death scoffed, leaning back against his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Then, were you bringing dead people back to give the living the joy of seeing their loved ones again? Where you after that noble purpose?"

The man smirked, rapidly growing to a loud laughter, as if that comment was the best joke ever heard by him.

"The hell do I care about someone else's loved one?"

"Then why were you raising dead all over the place? Why deteriorating your own mind and body while doing so? There's got to be a reason for it."

For a moment, the man's opaque green gaze seemed to light up, as if that question had touched upon a passionate cause, the only thing that seemed to give any meaning to his existence. Death also felt a thrill at seeing him change for the first time since he had arrived. He waited eagerly for the great revelation. There had to be something behind that renewed spark, something that justified all the troubles, something that made sense.

"Why wouldn't I do it? If I can, I will. Do you think a man with a gift like this wouldn't use it? It's inevitable. I always knew there was something different about me. Since I was a child..." He placed one of his bony hands on his chest, almost proudly. "I was always alone, always fascinated by the dead and by those bodies that life left behind when it departed from them. I always knew there was something there that called to me, something different and powerful... I was the chosen one. I am the chosen one."

“And that was the best you could think of? To play with that power until it consumed your insides?” Death clenched his fist, unable to contain his growing frustration. “You could have done so many things… You could have dominated the world, gained wealth and respect. You could have made yourself immortal and been a god among men, but instead, you're here, in a dead and stinking cabin. What sense does that make?”

"I don't like people," was the man's simple response. "I don't need to be their god or their king, but I don't hate them to the point of wanting to destroy them either. What the hell do I want to have those big ambitions for if they won't give me anything I might want? I just want to do what only I can do and have fun with it."

"What could you possibly want? To live weak and mad? Only accompanied by your hallucinations and the pain in your bones? That's something horribly boring to do when you have such a short existence."

"That's precisely it... my existence is short... Isn't it better to do exactly what I want?" The man looked directly into his eyes and, for the first time, seemed not to be slightly distracted by any of the inventions of his mind. "The guts of that old woman were not wrong; you have come to confront me for my audacity... However, I thought you would scold me for reviving the dead. But it seems that what bothers you the most is that there isn't an exciting reason. Maybe the one with an unbearably boring existence isn't actually me after all.

Death cleared his throat, looking away severely.

"You make unnecessary assumptions. My duty is to eliminate the cause of the imbalance. By reviving those spirits, you are depriving them of their rest, pulling them away from the path that has been established for them. That, as you must understand, is unacceptable."

The man's laughed again, looking entertained.

"And what are you going to do ... Kill me?"

"I suppose..." Death's voice sounded hesitant, and that seemed to amuse the necromancer even more, making him laugh even harder than before, slamming his hand on the table until his laughter turned into a fit of coughing, and the cough became foamy, bright blood sliding through his fingers.

"Although you seem to be taking care of that by yourself already" Death added, looking disappointed.

The man remained cheerful while catching his breath, cleaning his face with the back of his hand and then in his pants.

"I'm very curious about what's going to happen when I die. Go ahead..." He spread his arms. "If you have to, then do it. No one's gonna miss me anyway"

Death looked into his eyes, then looked down to the foamy droplets of blood on the floor. Even if he did not killed the man, his days were counted.

"No" he said, and it sounded more like a personal resolution than an announcement. "I won't."

He got up in a bit of a hurry, putting his cap back on his curly, messy hair as if staying there any longer would change his decision. The man lowered his arms, looking genuinely surprised; however, his expression quickly softened into an understanding smile.

"I understand" he nodded, standing too. "Maybe I get myself a little platoon of zombies, there's no harm in trying."

Death remained silent. He just walked towards the door, again pulling down on his cap almost covering his eyebrows.

And, without anything more to add, he left the cabin, retracing his steps back to the city, descending the wild path he had taken before, not allowing the excited smile hidden beneath the dark brim of his cap to be seen.

"I gave you a warning. What you decide to do, is up to you."

#creative writing #writing #writing inspiration #prompts #writing prompts #short story #fantasy #necromancer #i like my mysterious characters

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halt-kun · 7 months ago

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My Hero Academia Chapter 427 - Who was Togura Shigaraki, really ?

Should I be working on my PhD ? Maybe

But I also need to read that chapter

Anyway

Okay so a tv special on Shigaraki

well, he did kill a lot of people

I wonder where this is going

Because if I ever watched a documentary on some random murderer dictator-wannabe and they ended it with "but he was a misunderstood child with trauma", I would riot !

But let's see what's the angle there

OOOO SPINNER CHAPTER

I'm HYPED

the guy with an unrequited crush

what happened to the quirk AFO gave him ?

Thanks Doctor

clearing things up, pleases me

Well that's a bit ironic considering what Shigaraki did to mostly random civilians that weren't actively against him but yes Deku is a murderer technically.

Even though he just gave AFO what he wanted, his quirk

Well now he's calming down

Spinner really gives me the same vibes as Sensui and Itsuki

Well I'm crying, this hits home a bit with the rise of the far right in France (though we (the left) won). My brothers long for destruction in a similar way because they feel rejected by the system (even though they're ciswhitestraightdudes)

So : CAN Deku save Spinner ???

This could destroy me

Spinner really gives the black incel from the countryside vibes

Deku is calm

Spinner, he was your hero of course, and at least for someone who would probably be akin to some alt right geek, at least, your "hero" was rooting for you and thinking about you.

Not just using you for your money because you think you're a loser who won't amount to anything worthwile

Shigaraki's last words to spinner in an alternate dimension : "you should invest in crypto bro, you'll get rich and have women"

I'm noticing now that I don't know enough about the japanese political system to really understand what is represented here. Spinner and Heteromorphs were definitely supposed to mirror the civil rights movement from the US and yet, did he really try to represent somealt right incel there.

Or is it just a byproduct of Spinner character he didn't realize would come to be ?

To my knowledge, Hikikomoris can share this aspect of incel geeks in japan but I don't really know how it's been lately.

I thought my cultural background was closer than that between US and Japan but it's true I've followed US politics more lately

Let's continue though

Well it hurts Spinner, I understand

But you'll have to move forward and accept his legacy, he didn't only affect you but a lot of other people too and not just "positively"

You'll have to move forward at some point, if not for you, for him.

He's not here anymore, take the time to process your grief, but you need to becomes your own hero from now on.

I truly hope you can fight on your own and take part in the reconstruction of Japan toward a better country.

YES

VERY GOOD

YES I KNEW HE WOULD GET IT

You can be a hero Spinner, to yourself but also to others

you have to begin with yourself too

will you join us ?

And save all the Shigarakis laying in wait, ready to succumb to despair ?

Hahaha nice Deku

but yeah, he won't forget about Shigaraki for as long as he lives

TEARED UP AGAIN

yay Shoji, the GOAT, he saved you too in a sense

Oh shit, does it mean Chisaki interacted with Eri ???

Not a good idea, how'd it go ?

Well, even them will work toward redemption it seems

I doubt Eri will forget too

she's traumatized and it's probably lying somewhere, repressed very deep into her psyche.

Thanks Tsukauchi, but a good psychiatrist would be a better idea, she already has a good support system

she needs professional help to complement it

if needed

Oh first years already !? Too bad they'll get expelled in a matter of hours

Oh god no please

fangirls

and Mineta

kill him right now if he even dares to go back to his perverted mind

Is there even a guy in there ?

Anyway, very good chapter

Is MHA going to have one of the best conclusions among mangas (especially big WSJ mangas) ? I'm starting to believe it !

#mha 427 #mha liveblog #mha manga #mha spoiler

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fallowhearth · 1 year ago

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Review - Dan McCrum, Money Men: A Hot Startup, A Billion Dollar Fraud, A Fight for the Truth, 2022

Yeah, I was always going to love this one. I've watched the docu, listened to the interviews, integrated poodle-shaving into my vocabulary when discussing economics. This was more of the same, just with more detail. For anyone who isn't interested in reading a whole book, I do suggest giving the documentary a go. It's a good watch. I made two friends watch it with me and they also enjoyed. (one of them repeatedly tried to get the concept of short selling through my thick skull, as did the doc, but I still don't really understand how it works)

In short, Wirecard was Germany's hottest rising tech giant. It had expanded from its initial business model of processing risky transactions (from porn, gambling, etc) to processing payments for mainstream businesses all over the world, earning a hefty fee from each transaction. The money was rolling in, the share price could only go up, and it was even in talks to merge with Deutsche Bank. And for six years some annoying British journalist kept publishing hit pieces in the Financial Times accusing it of being a bunch of scams, cooking the books, lying about its business model!

Each chapter in this book goes something like this: Dan gets a lead -> a whistle-blower provides incriminating and/or bizarre documents at great personal risk -> Dan does legwork in some part of the world Wirecard allegedly operates -> Dan writes up a story and sends the incriminating facts to the German regulator (BaFin), Ernst & Young (Wirecard's accountants), German prosecutors, literally anyone who could do anything -> all those responsible institutions take a long hard look at the evidence of crime, and decide that Corrupt Foreign Journalists are trying to undermine our Beautiful German Company and sue the FT.

Meanwhile we also get a narrativised account of the goings on at Wirecard during that point in time (obviously using evidence and interviews that came up later after the trials). The book strikes a pretty good balance between revealing the mysteries as Dan discovered them, and providing enough context of what was actually happening so that you can understand the significance. It's a sometimes terrifying window into the lives of extremely rich people.

It also really humanises the whistleblowers, who are the true heroes of the story. In a story that is so often about powerful people circling the wagons, it was nice to get to know the ordinary people with integrity who brought the whole thing down. Special shoutout for the Indian-Singaporean lawyer and his ex-banker Mum, who were the first major ones. (His Mum emailed out the info for him because she got sick of his dithering, lol)

If I have any criticisms, it's that sometimes the structure of the book encourages emotions too akin to those experienced by McCrum over his years of obsession with Wirecard. It becomes a real slog as year after year BaFin does nothing, Ernst & Young give out another rubber stamp apparently based on firm handshakes and vibes, Wirecard's lawyers send threatening letters, and the German prosecutors pursue criminal proceedings against Dan. Like come on. It's darkly funny how much the entire German state fumbled this one.

On the upside, Wirecard's fall is incredibly satisfying. It ultimately took Dan revealing that 1/3 of their business was entirely falsified, for a different accounting firm to be called in to settle the doubts forever. Surprise! Not only was 1.9 billion euros missing, it never existed at all! The book was entirely cooked! This whole saga had an incredible amount of fallout. BaFin cleared house (turns out a bunch of BaFin employees owned Wirecard stock! How was that not disallowed already!?). Ernst & Young is splitting in half and several responsible persons might be criminally liable. Jan Marsalek is hiding out in Russia, unclear whether in an oligarch's house or in several oil barrels.

There's still some mystery around how much the CEO, Markus Braun, actually knew. Bellenhaus, one of the top guys, who flipped to the prosecution during the trial, of 'my grandfather was a Nazi and it's good enough for me' infamy, claims Braun was the architect of the whole scam. Braun maintains his innocence and claims he's a victim of Marsalek's conspiracy. He's either a great actor or an absolute credulous moron. Could go either way.

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justagalwhowrites · 11 months ago

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Hi Kit!

First off, I've really admired your writing, Lavender is one of my favorite things I've ever read. I even made a Lavender friendship bracelet so I can have Lavender Joel with me whenever I want.

Second, I've been getting into writing FF lately, starting with a Jackson Joel story. I'm about 12K words in and I've been struggling a lot with thinking my writing isn't suitable for posting and a lot of self doubt. I was wondering if you have any tips you wish you had known before you started writing FF, or even how the heck do I find someone to be a beta reader? Do you have an editor or beta reader, is that something I even need?

Thanks Kit!

OMG Hi Bestie!

I'm so sorry it took me a bit to respond to this. I wanted to make sure I thought about it before replying. You are so so kind to say such lovely things! And a LAVENDER FRIENDSHIP BRACELET?? That's AMAZING! I love that this story meant so much to you that you want to carry it with you out in the world!

I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE that you're writing! Jackson Joel is so special, he's such a gorgeous character and I'm sure your writing is doing him justice in exploring these sides of him.

Self doubt is a BEAR, I tell you what. I'm riddled with it, personally! Every day I'm on this site or on AO3 and reading things that are better than what I write and I spend a LOT of time comparing my work to other people's in my head. It's part of why I don't really reread my own work, I think. I know I won't be as happy with it as I am with other people's writing and it'll just get me down. But... I share it anyway! It's hard sometimes, especially if a chapter feels really good or really personal, and I always have this underlying fear that "this is it, this is the chapter where everyone who reads my work wakes up and realizes that I'm shit, actually, and they decide to let me know it." But that's never happened.

Part of fic, for me, has been pulling me out of that shell creatively. I've written stories for years - decades! - and I can count on one hand the number of people who have read them before I started writing and sharing fic. These stories just live in my computer or in notebooks in my basement and that may be all they ever are. Overall, people are remarkably kind and supportive and it feels really, really good to share something I made with other people.

I think some things I wish I knew is 1) that the sharing part of writing can be a really fun - if anxiety inducing - part of the process and 2) negativity isn't the end of the world. While almost everyone has been insanely lovely (probably kinder than I deserve tbh) I have gotten a few negative comments and whatnot and yeah, they definitely sting. But ultimately, it's just one person's opinion. It doesn't change the satisfaction I felt writing these stories or the fulfillment I found in telling other people about these characters and the lives they're living inside my head. People can dislike what I made - you can't please everyone! - but it doesn't take away from how it felt to create and share it. I think, as long as you're telling stories because you want to explore those characters or themes or what have you, you'll be satisfied in it and readers will, too.

As far as beta readers and editors go.... I don't really use either one! My process is write the chapter, read it to make sure there isn't anything too egregious, share it. If I sit on it too long, I go back and rework and rewrite and it'll never see the light of day. But that's me! Everyone is different, I don't think any two people have the same process. And if you're interested in connecting with other writers and are comfortable, feel free to DM me! I'm happy to help and there are some Discords I'm in that have other, fabulously lovely writers who do things like beta for each other and give feedback on plot points and all kinds of beautiful collaboration that I'm so lucky to be a part of.

I do have some tips for editing, as a former copy editor, though! I recommend reading the chapter twice, once for overall story and flow (basically, does this chunk of the story make sense?) and then once for the nitty gritty stuff. Highly recommend the second read be done out loud, as silly as it might feel. It will force you to slow down so if you left a word out, you're less likely to gloss over it, or if a sentence doesn't make sense, you stumble over it and have to think it through again. Stuff still definitely slips through - it's bound to when you edit what you write! - but it's helpful.

Anyway, I hope this answers your question!! I really really hope you share your story with us. It's always great to see the community grow and give more people outlets to share their stories with us!!

Good luck, Bestie! Love you!!!

#fanfic #send asks #kit answers #writing

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writtenonreceipts · 2 years ago

Text

First time really writing Emerie and first CresseidaxEmerie, so I’m not sure about this…but here we are…

On mobile, so no tag list <3

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

The Girl With the Shop

Bright sunlight filtered through the wide windows of the shop illuminating the set of tables full of merchandise and a small couch pushed up against one wall for casual seating. It wasn’t anything special, Emerie knew. She’d spent the last few weeks scouring thrift shops and yard sales for unique decorations that would give her own venture its own style. Given the fact that her own merchandise was a bit lacking right now, she worried that the shop would fall apart before anything began.

It was only the second day of being open, but it was easy to get caught up in thoughts of failure. Emerie glanced at the potted plant resting on the register counter. Nesta brought it by on opening day, the small cactus was a surprising source of strength to her at that moment. According to Nesta, the cactus was a symbol of endurance, though she wasn’t convinced.

“It’s going to be a good day,” she told herself.

The door opened for a young woman to enter. She had white blonde hair that hung in loose curls well past her shoulders and framed a slim face. She was beautiful. Her flowy sundress danced around her lean form as she swept into the shop.

She was the first customer of the day and Emerie had to push aside her own doubts for the day.

“Welcome in!” She greeted, suddenly self conscious about the simple braid she’d put her hair in. Like she did every day. “Can I help you find anything today?”

The woman flashed her a smile. “Hi, you know, I’m trying to find a present for my cousin. He likes collecting books…I don’t know if you’d have anything that might work?”

“Yeah,” Emerie said, she stepped away from the counter and immediately went to one of the back displays she’d first set up. “Just back here.”

The table in question was full of leather coverings she’d outsourced from another local business that processed both real and faux leather. Emerie purchased the covers and decorated them herself with special carving equipment or she did some burn art into the leather. She might not be the best artist, but there were a few designs she was proud of. Feyre, Nesta’s sister, had even volunteered to design a few. Though, Emerie was already thinking she’d completely outsource the actual artwork.

“These can be used as protective covers for books or journals,” Emerie said as she grabbed one of the covers. She’d done this one, inscribing the Adriata coastline along the front and adding some embellishments along the spine. It was one of her favorites. “Or, these journals can be used as reading trackers here. And then those display blocks there.”

Emerie had always loved reading, it was the one thing that had connected her to her two best friends and led her to finally opening this shop.

The woman reached over and took the leather covering. Her slim fingers traced the careful lines Emerie had carved.

“Adriata?” she asked looking up. Delight danced in her warm, brown eyes as she eyed Emerie.

“Yeah,” Emerie admitted with a small smile, “I went there once, briefly, but I loved it. I’ve always wanted to go back.”

“You designed this?” the woman asked. When Emerie nodded the woman practically glowed as she smiled. “It’s beautiful. I’m from Adriata actually.”

“Really?” Emerie felt a foolish little spark in her chest at that.

“Yeah, I came up to Velaris for a work opportunity.” The woman nodded as she continued to run her fingers along the different markings over the cover. She glanced to the window where the sun continued to slant through the windows. “It’s not the same though. Are you from Velaris?”

“My whole life,” Emerie said, “I’ve never been able to do much traveling. Other than that one trip.”

Between the way she grew up, catering to her father, and then trying to get back on her own two feet--Emerie had been pulled in so many different directions she sometimes didn’t know which was up. The only reason she’d gone to Adriata was to celebrate her father dying. It was the one thing she could do for herself that she knew would make her the man spin in his grave.

“Well,” the woman chuckled, “I’d say you have excellent taste in travel destinations.”

Emerie felt a bit of heat rush to her cheeks at that comment.

“I think I’ll take this and one of those bookmarks,” the woman said.

“Perfect,” Emerie took the requested items back and gestured to the front. “I can ring you up.”

“I’ve never noticed this shop before, how long has it been hiding here?” the woman asked. She brushed an errant strand of hair over her shoulder. She leaned across the counter as Emerie wrapped the leather cover and bookmark in tissue paper.

“I actually just opened yesterday,” Emerie admitted. “The space used to be a record shop.”

The piqued the woman’s interest. She raised a brow. “Owning your shop? That’s pretty incredible.”

“I guess,” Emerie laughed. “It’s strange…I mean, this isn’t what I was expecting to do, you know? But now that I’m here…”

She let herself trail off, not sure why she was talking so much about things that she’d never really spoken about before.

“I think we’re our own worst enemies when it comes to stuff like that,” the woman said. She passed over her credit card without a second thought. “It’s so easy to doubt ourselves that we don’t see all that we’ve accomplished.”

She shrugged a delicate shoulder.

It made sense, really made sense. And if Emerie were being honest, helped offer her a new perspective in her situation at the moment.

“I can see that,” she said, the thought made her smile, if a bit. She walked around the register with the bag of purchased items. “You’re all set.” She paused a beat. “I’m Emerie, if you ever find yourself coming back.”

“Cresseida.” Another bright smile that could rival the Adriata sun. “There’s a lot you have to offer here. I’ll see you around, Emerie.”

Cresseida took her purchases and with a glance over her shoulder, left the shop.

Exhaling slowly, Emerie leaned against the counter and watched as Cresseida passed the front window before disappearing again.

She glanced at the cactus. Well. Maybe she could endure just a little longer.

#acotar #emerie #emerie of illyria #cresseida #emerie x cresseida

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leo-dooley-lab-rats · 2 years ago

Text

I Never Meant For You To Leave (Lab Rats One-Shot)

Because I was trying to protect my friends. And I'm still gonna protect my friends. That's right. You wanna send them away, you have to go through me first.

“You doing okay,” a voice asks. Chase looks up and sees Leo standing next to him.

“Oh yeah, I’m great, Leo. My best friend Sebastian turned out to be evil which makes both of my best friends turning out to be evil. So, why wouldn’t I be okay?!”

“Okay, I’m seeing it was a bad question, but I was checking up on you.” Leo sits down next to Chase.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Not all of your best friends have turned out to be evil, you know.”

“Both Marcus and Sebastian are both evil.”

“I’m going to pretend to not be offended by that remark because your hurting. I was talking about me, Chase. I’m not evil and we are best friends.”

“But your my brother. I’m not sure that counts.”

“Why wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t know, because your family.”

“What does that have to do with anything? In case you forgot, before we were brothers we were just friends.”

I'm the one who showed you the real world, Chase. I taught you what it means to be a brother.

“No. What I meant to say is that, Leo, you’ve always been more than just a friend… you’re different than other friends… you were my first friend… and Adam and Bree’s first friend too. Before you, we didn’t really have anyone besides Davenport and Eddie… it was pretty lonely before you showed up.”

Come on, Chase. I know my brother's in there. Where is he, Chase? Where is my brother?

“Your special to me too, you know. I never really had many friends or any before I met you guys. Mom was always working and I never met my real dad. I guess what I’m saying is that I was pretty lonely too before I met you guys.”

***

Maybe quitting your team wasn't enough. Maybe I need to quit being your brother, too.

Leo left the academy. That isn’t right. Leo doesn’t leave. He stays… always. It’s too quiet without Leo. Chase missed Leo. Well, everyone misses Leo.

“Was I too hard him? Yeah… probably was…” Chase ponders. “If I believed in him… If I didn’t doubt him… would he still be here?”

“Missing the kid,” Douglas asks.

Douglas sat down next to Chase. Chase is sitting alone the training room.

“Yeah… it’s my fault he left,” Chase starts, “I should have more faith in Leo.”

Leo, you're not ready to be a mentor, so stop complaining and start getting to know your fellow students

Douglas wouldn’t go so far as to blame Chase alone. Douglas has kept an eye on the kid for long time and grown to be very fond of him. Douglas has noted a shift on the kid’s behavior since coming to the island. Douglas put it down to the kid not being a mentor like the rest of the family. Douglas saw the matter deeper as just Leo’s ego and saw the matter as Leo wanting to just be his family’s equal. Douglas knew the feeling.

Douglas had foreseen Leo pint-up feelings that were bound to show up sooner or later coming for a long time now. Unfortunately, that Taylor kid got hurt in the process. It’s never a good thing to hold things in.

I got so frustrated, I punched the wall.

I can't believe you, Leo. Not only did you damage my brand-new academy, but you lied to me and betrayed my trust.

Douglas didn’t know who the blame when it came to Leo leaving. Maybe Donnie? Or Adam, Bree, and Chase for sidelining him? Douglas didn’t know. He wished now he had voiced his concerns for the kid to Donnie. Better yet, he should have told Tasha. That woman was force to feared when it came to her kids, especially Leo.

I'm very disappointed in you, Leo. But you took responsibility and you didn't leave Spin on the hook. You've learned a very valuable lesson today. As a student.

“Chase, its not your fault… not fully anyways.”

“What do you mean, Douglas?”

“You never noticed how upset the kid was these past couple months?”

“No… I should have.”

Douglas wondered if anyone here noticed how Leo was feeling. Douglas hasn’t even known the kid as long as the rest of them and he noticed. Did anyone pay attention to the kid on this island?

“Look, Chase, I’m not good that these kinda of talks… I do know this Leo hasn’t been the happiest since he’s been here. Leo never told me exactly why, but I know he wouldn’t want you sitting around here blaming yourself.”

“I’m his brother, Douglas! Leo should have told me. Why did he come to you and not me?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he did tell you and you didn’t listen. I don’t know. Now calm down. Getting all worked up isn’t going to help anything.”

Don't worry, Big D. We got this. Now, what exactly will I be teaching?

Nothing. You're a student.

A what? But you gave me a mission suit. You said I was part of the team!

Did Leo tell him that he was unhappy and he didn’t listen? How could he have missed that? How? Chase remembered that Leo was disappointed at not being a mentor at the Academy. Was that the reason Leo was unhappy? Chase thought Leo worked through that. Sure, Leo threw a minor temper fit after finding out he was student, but Leo seemed to okay with being student after that. Chase had noticed how hard Leo was training and was proud of him. Plus, it’s not like Adam, Bree, or Chase treated him differently because he was a student and he still got to go on missions. What was the problem?

Chase has had always thought Leo would happy not matter where he was and what he was doing as long as their family is together. Chase was wrong. “I guess I was wrong…” Chase thought. “I’m the smart one. I’m suppose to know what to do.”

“I’m his brother. I should have known.”

“Being brothers doesn’t mean know knowing everything about each other. Take Donnie and me, for example, he doesn’t know I’m banned from Vegas three time over for card counting. Don’t tell him. It’s best he doesn’t find out now.”

“How do you get banned from Vegas three times?”

“It’s better you don’t know.”

You should've stopped when I told you to. This just proves you're not ready to lead your own team.

I am more than ready. And maybe I wouldn't feel like I need to prove that to you guys if you weren't always looking down on me.

Chase thinks overs all the things he said to Leo the days leading up Leo departure. Was the award ceremony the start of all this or was this deeper? Did Leo really believe that his family looked down on him? And did his family look down on him?

Chase realizes that there was a lot of truth in what Leo was saying. They did look at Leo as just their little brother yet they still let Leo jump in the line of fire for them over and over again. Chase thinks back to all missions where Leo saved his life or Adam or Bree. Other times, Leo saved all of them at once.

Leo just saved our lives. That was supposed to be us.

He didn't need bionics to be a hero.

Did Chase and everyone else just take Leo being there for granted? Leo had always just been there since he stumbled into his life. Now he left. That wasn’t right. Chase began to wonder for the first time ever if Leo had a life before meeting Adam, Bree, or himself. Chase was starting to realize just how little he knew about Leo, his own brother.

Leo, we don't look down on you.

Yeah, we have total respect for all of your shortcomings.

When are you guys gonna stop treating me like I'm an idiot?!

Maybe when you stop acting like one.

“Did I really call Leo an idiot? I mean if anyone in the family is an idiot then it’s Adam,” Chase wonders. “How could have not seen how unhappy Leo was? Am I am bad brother for not realizing it?”

Chase looks over at Douglas who was still sitting next to him. He begins to wonder just how close his biological father was to his brother. The brother who he wasn’t related to by blood rather related to by friendship, love, and bond. How could he been so blind to Leo’s pain and troubles?

“Hey Douglas, did Leo ever tell you how he was feeling?”

“Once or twice, yeah… but Chase— Leo isn’t one to make his needs known. Don’t feel too bad about it.”

“I still do…”

“I know. I know… If it helps, I feel bad about it too.”

***

I'll tell you what's up with me. I am tired of everyone treating me like some kind of non-existent bionic hero.

“I would ask how you are doing, but I can tell by all your faces that your not okay,” Donald Davenport says to bionic trio.

Adam, Bree, and Chase are in their private mentor quarters. Adam stood over Chase and Bree. Chase and Bree were sitting on the couch. Chase had his arm around Bree. It’s only a day or two after Leo left. This was a strange new Leo-less world was not okay in any one of the Davenports’ mind.

I'm going back to Mission Creek. I don't belong here anymore. I'm quitting the academy.

“Why would we be okay?! Leo left,” Adam practically shouts.

“Take it easy, Adam. I’m sure Leo will be back before we know it,” Bree says trying to comfort her brother.

No one wanted to believe Leo would stay away forever. This was Leo. Leo didn’t just leave. Somehow… everyone in their little family knew this was different. That maybe… Leo wasn’t coming back.

No. Chase was right. I'm not cut out to be a leader.

I never meant for you to leave.

Chase meant that. He never meant for Leo to leave. He never wanted to Leo to leave. He wonder, not for the first time, if drove his brother away. Douglas seemed to think that he didn’t, but Chase wasn’t sure. Leo seemed so heartbroken when he last saw him.

Part of being a leader is making mistakes. You learn from them, and you move on. I mean, look at Chase. Think of all the mistakes he's made as mission leader.

“I don’t know guys… Leo seemed pretty upset. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this upset before,” Chase states.

“Yeah…” Bree adds. “That didn’t mean he had to up and leave.”

“Yeah! We could have helped him through this like we should have been doing this whole time,” Adam almost shouts.

But his never hurt anyone. Taylor has to live with my mistake for the rest of her life.

So you're just gonna give up and leave? What about our team?

Logan, you deserve a better team. Or at least a better leader. I'm not gonna put you or anyone else here in danger ever again. Here. Give it to someone more deserving.

Leo, I'm not gonna let you--

Yes, you are, because it's not your choice. It's mine. Bye, guys. Sorry I let you down.

“I hate to say it, but Chase is right. Leo might not come back,” Davenport adds.

“He has to come back,” Adam mutters, “he has to…”

Not too long after that was said, Davenport had to leave and deal with stuff on the island. He had given the kids the rest of the day off to just deal with this. He understood how much they missed their brother, because Donald Davenport misses Leo too.

After their father had left, the bionic trio sits in silence until…

“We should have listened to him,” Bree says.

“Yeah…” Chase absently agrees. “If only we had treated him better… Do you think we drove him to all of it?”

“Yeah, I do. We never really respected Leo…” Adam, in one of his rare moments of wisdom, says.

I told you Marcus was evil. "Leo, he's a nice guy", "Leo, give the guy a break". Wool, eyes, pulled over.

Look, Leo. We're sorry we didn't believe you.

“I hate to say it Adam,” Chase starts. “But you’re right. We never did respected him. And we took for granted the best friend we’ve ever had. Now he’s gone.”

Sometimes, you say something very personal before thinking and don’t even realize you’ve actually said it. Chase just did that and luckily for him Adam and Bree didn’t notice either.

I wanted to tell you, but he threatened to report your secret to the authorities.

That makes sense. He was just looking out for us.

“Leo’s not dead. He just left the island…” Adam says, trying to lighten the mood. “But I know what you mean. It’s not right without him here.”

“No, it’s not,” Bree agrees.

Leo, what is he doing here?

It's okay. I brought him. He's the only one who can help you.

I don't know about this.

We don't have a choice. Do you wanna be bionic or not?

Bree thinks back to the time Leo brought Douglas to help her get her chip back. Leo was the only who thought to even ask Douglas. Leo didn’t even seem to care about consequences of doing so. Bree never thought much of what Leo did that day until now. She wished she had now.

He tried to warn us about Marcus and we ignored him.

How often did the Davenports ignore Leo when he tried to tell him something? He tried to warn them about Marcus and they didn’t listen. His family didn’t listen back then. How little has changed in past few years?

“Guys,” Adam break the silence, “do you think that Leo would come back if we said we were sorry?”

Was Leo leaving a chain of events or just one of Leo temper fits? As much as everyone wanted to believe that it was the latter, it was really former. If it was just one of Leo’s fits, then he would come back after apology.

“Adam, this feels deeper than something an ‘I’m sorry’ can fix,” Chase says.

“Then what do we do?!”

“I don’t know, Adam, I don’t know. I wish I did.”

You can break up the team but you are not breaking up my family.

Chase remembered when the team broke up and the three of them stop speaking. Leo became a bit of peacemaker between them. None of them even had to ask Leo to do this he just did it. Chase never thought about it much until now. Now that Chase thinks about it, Leo tended to that. He stood by them without needing to be asked or did things for them without being asked. He ran into the line of fire to save them all the way back to that party he threw for them or jumping to save them at the garage dump.

What did Adam, Bree, and Chase give in return to all of Leo’s kindness and friendship/brotherhood? Nothing is the answer Chase came up with. Chase realized Leo never asked for anything when he help them. He just did it. Chase wasn’t sure he understood completely why someone would do half the stuff Leo has done without gaining anything.

I remember your first days out of the lab. So young, so naïve. You needed a strong hand to guide you.

Yeah. But all we got was you.

Leo was the first real friend that any of the Davenport kids ever had, and only now did they start to realize just how good a friend is. Leo became more than a friend. He was their brother after all. There are very few friends or even brothers who give up their spare time to do half of what Leo has done.

Chase never really thought about how unique of a friend Leo is. Marcus and Sebastian made Chase feel bad and rethink his friendship with them, but never rethink the other people in his life. Now that Leo has left, Chase started to think why would Leo leave. It wasn’t like him to leave. Chase never expected Leo to leave… no one did.

You're the best surprise brother we've ever had. No offense, Leo.

Yeah, we still like you. You're just old news.

“Is that how we repaid Leo with? Calling him old news? I really am the worse brother in the world…” Chase thinks.

Chase wonders if maybe he was better brother and better friend then maybe he would still be here. Maybe if he believed in Leo more or trusted him more. Why did he have to drive Leo away?

***

Adam, Bree, and Chase have tried multiple times to try and get Leo to come back. He keeps saying no. Leo is just so stubborn sometimes. Adam has also started carrying around cardboard version of Leo. “Like that is good replacement for our brother… I wish… oh never mind,” Chase thinks.

Adam, get rid of that thing.

No! When real Leo watches from home, I want him to feel like he's still an important part of our team.

Have you lost your mind? This is not our brother, it's a piece of cardboard.

To make matters worse, Adam wants to bring that cardboard out of Leo off the island and into the real world. Chase wished that Adam would just get rid of that thing. Chase missed Leo too, but cardboard Leo is not a solution. Chase just wanted to have the real Leo back. Well, everyone wanted the real Leo back.

***

The past few weeks have been difficult and hard being away from Adam, Bree, and Chase. This is the longest they’ve been apart since they met. Leo knows he made the decision to leave and he stands by that decision, but that doesn’t mean living with that decision any easier.

When Taylor had called, Leo was glad to hear from her. He is still carrying guilt for what happened. He had hoped to hear how she was doing not that his family was in trouble.

I know you quit the team, but your family needs you.

If there is one thing to know about Leo it’s that if his family needs him then that’s exactly where he’s going to be no matter what it takes. Even though, he doesn’t feel worthy of being on the team right now, but that doesn’t matter. His family is trouble and needs him.

***

Leo, you have to let go or it's gonna take you with it.

I’m not letting go.

Chase wonders for a brief moment if the reason he wants Leo to let him fall was out of guilt for everything. Chase knows that stupid reason and he might need to talk to professorial if that really is his way of thinking. If he actually makes it out this.

When Leo finally reaches out and pulls Chase out of the limo, Chase feels like he finally sees Leo properly for the first time. In that moment, when Leo saves him, he doesn’t see his little brother, he sees a hero. Before, when Leo did something heroic Chase always saw his little brother acting as hero, but never as a hero. Chase wonders why out of all the times Leo has save him and their family is this the time he sees Leo differently?

Leo, you did it. You saved my life. Sorry I ever doubted you.

I'm just glad you're okay.

Leo meant what he said. He is just glad Chase is okay, not approve or anything else. That’s really matters right now, at least for now. Leo looks over at his brother. It’s the first time they’ve seen each other in person since he left the island and he almost had to watch him die.

Chase looks at Leo. He wants to tell Leo more than ‘I’m sorry I ever doubted you’. He wants tell him how much he regrets not being a better brother and friend to him and how he will be one now. He wants to tell Leo that things will be different now. He will respect him and will listen to him like he should have.

There is so many things that both Leo and Chase want to say. So many regrets and apologies that need to be said, but not now. For this moment, these two brothers hug. Its quick, but it means the world and is a silence message of ‘it’s all okay now’.

***

Not only is Leo back at the island, but because of his bravery and leadership on the bridge mission, I have officially made him a mentor.

Couldn't be prouder of you, buddy

After party/ceremony of Leo’s grand return, Leo found himself sitting alone in a random room of the island. Strange how much can change in so little time.

“Hey Leo,” Leo recognizes the voice as Chase’s. “Do you mind if I join you?” Leo shrugs and Chase sits down next him. “I know we haven’t had a chance to talk since you got back, but there are some things I want to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. It’s okay.”

“No. It’s not okay. That’s the point.”

“What’s this about?”

“Leo, when you left the island, I did some thinking… and I realized that I should have been a better brother and a better friend. I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay. Chase, I let my need to try and prove myself get the better of me… and I got Taylor hurt. We both made mistakes. It’s over now.”

“I was still a terrible brother. I should have realized how much you hated being just a student and none of us taking you seriously.”

Leo is a little surprised to hear those words out of Chase. He didn’t think that Chase would even remember how much that bothered him. “I should have been better at telling what was going on sooner, but that’s all the past now. Forgive and forget?”

“You’re not mad?”

“No. Being honest, when I first got the island I was mad and I guess I didn’t stopped being mad until after I left this place. I was mad at you guys, Big D, this place— Well, you get it. I don’t think I ever truly stopped being mad I never really dealt with it and just let it fester until you know… I didn’t even realize how mad until the ceremony came up. The point I am making is that I am done being mad. I’m sick of it.”

“I am still sorry for everything.”

“I know and I forgive you. I should told you guys what was going on.”

“And we should have been willing to listen.”

“Looks, we could past the blame all day, so lets just forgive each other for everything and promise to do better?”

“Sounds good… so we really are good?”

“Chase, for crying out loud, you are my brother! That means I love you no matter what you do, so get used to it. Meaning we are good! You are forgiven!”

Chase and Leo laugh, then hug. Things have difficult these past couple weeks for this pair of brothers, but now it’s things are starting to look up. Leo is now a mentor and his three bionic siblings have newfound appreciation and respect for their brother, Leo. Every now and then, through life’s worst tragedies brings about some of the greatest the changes.

Author’s Note: This is first fanfic I’ve ever written diving into Chase mind. This fic started out as a short conversation with Leo and Chase after the rebellion, but I sort of got carried away when I thought what if On The Edge happened and we see them fall out and come back together. I have also long since had a document with Quotes from the show for photos edits and other stuff, so I just pulled from that to add the quotes in. I thought the quotes would be a fun way to further tie in Leo and Chase’s friendship throughout the show along with their falling out in On The Edge. The quotes are best view as the characters reflecting back on their own memories as that was my intention when I was writing. Yes, I did put references to Daniel’s episode due to Leo still being a student in that episode. I had also planned on dealing more with Leo, but didn’t as the fic was already so long. I know I also dealt with On the Edge another One-Shot not too long ago, but I just felt like making this. As y’all can tell On The Edge is a special I’m sort of obsessed with as I see as the big hooray of Leo and finishing of character arch. I honestly wish that was final of the show. Anyways, I hope y’all enjoy my LONG fanfic.

#lab rats #leo dooley #donald davenport #chase davenport #bree davenport #adam davenport #douglas davenport #leo #leodooley #labrats #one shot #fan fiction #fan fic #fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot

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cato-of-blamesociety · 1 year ago

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32 Weeks Tracklist/Song Picks pt. 4 (weeks 25-31)

How/Why did I choose/chose to use the songs I did

*Full breakdown, updated in real time(weekly)*

25. Mood 4 Eva x Beyonce ft. Jay-Z, Childish Gambino, Oumou Sangare

Yooo!! We have arrived to the final videos of the project. I don’t know how you feel, I hope that you feel…well idk understood?? If you are of my flesh and blood family, I hope you feel heard, validated, celebrated, and overall loved. If you are a follower, I hope you feel connected to me and my work. If you are a person who just happened to stumble upon this…(yeah right), but if so 😉, I hope you visit, and revisit all the aspects of this project and find that you are just like me; human AF!! I had to do one for my mama y'all. So this will sort of a shout out to film by Beyoncé, “Black is King”. Now for those that don’t know, or haven’t had a chance, the movie is basically like it’s own telling of “The Lion King” but with amazing colors, outfits, nod to spirituality, highlights of life, and more. I fell in love with the story/narrative that we are “Simba” finding our way, and even though we get lost, our ancestors, loved ones, and elders are guiding us, covering us, and wishing the best for us. On a another level, I view it as Beyoncé's love letter to her son, but I also interpret it as a metaphor that the Divine Black Goddess(not Beyoncé) but the spirit of life/love/nurture/nature, BIG feminine energy is here for me and always has been. Each visual has amazing imagery, and the music is phenomenal. The African artists, and influences make the album feel like its our DNA. With that being said, I knew after writing to “Cuff It”, I would return to another Beyoncé track. I was leaning towards something off "Renaissance", "EVERYTHING IS LOVE", or "The Gift". "Renaissance" had so many picks, but really, none that I really attached to, and could write something meaningful. "EVERYTHING IS LOVE", well….actually, never mind that for now. We will be back to talk about it in about 5 more posts (I really didn’t think I was going write to anything on that album). “The Gift” had so many bangers. Initially I attempted to create something to “BIGGER”. The actually song moves me to tears when I think about; how much my wife does, and more recently, how I’m endlessly exhausted being in this process. I hummed some sh*t, but nothing actually stuck. “Find Your Way Back” was another that I could freestyle to, but nothing that I thought I use for #32weeksMixtape. OMG…”Already”!!?? I couldn’t…I just couldn’t disrespect that mf like that haha. “Waters”, “My Power”, and “Scar” are all inviting but for whatever reason, “Mood 4Eva” just felt more like me. As soon as I gave myself to idea of it, the words came to me. I knew it would be about my amazing mother. She has gotten even more full of grace over the years, more understanding, and I would dare say, more loving. Anyway, Mama, I highly doubt you will ever see this, but I want to say it again just in case. I love you so much. I sincerely appreciate your guidance, your light, and commitments to the development of your children.

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26. Calling x Metro Boomin ft. Swae Lee, NAV, A Boogie wit da Hoodie

Sooo, just a reminder and to avoid redundancies, please 👉🏾check out the blog posts for weeks 17-24, specifically week22👈🏾 to get background info on my search throughout the "METRO BOOMIN PRESENTS SPIDER-MAN: ACROSS THE SPIDERVERSE SOUNDTRACK". I want to jump right in. "Calling" was written after my youngest sister, Neisha, confided in me about a dilemma. I want to say(can't remember for certain) she was very embarrassed or at least wanted to keep that dilemma confidential. I thought based on prior info, that the situation had changed for her, but basically she made it known that it never did. I wanted her and my other sister, Deonna, that I was one that can always be trusted with any info, because I know the value of being that special ear, and heart for others. That's really what the track is about. The original line opening the verse was; "I'm your brother, your motherf*cking brother...' but I felt that was too aggressive and since it was a spider track, I wanted my children to be able to hear it. When I say, "I truly get it, I get to my core..." it's a reference to understanding how hard it can be to tell the people we love the most, the truth about who we are. For me, it was telling my mom after over 20years of going to church, that I no longer believed /followed Christianity. It was big deal for Mama. She thought she did something wrong but as a person who is seeking truth, and wanting to find freedom in this life, my beliefs and journey took me down a different path. The line about wearing a mask to cover shame...whew chile!! That one carries so much weight. Shame is something we all try to avoid, and as a fellow(rather former) mask wearer, I know when people have those barriers up. We think they protect us(THEY DON'T), but really embracing that shame, or confronting it(by being open, honest, and vulnerable) we learn to let it go. When we let shame go, we become stronger. Gwen Stacy takes off her mask(honest, confronts shame) and it literally saved her and her father's life! As a person who is trying to become a better version of themselves, I recognize that it takes time for folks to attain that level of honesty. Sh*t, there are things I still need time for as well. I think I touch on this in the video description, but, I wanted the video to show Peter B. Parker as the 'brother'. Gwen bonded with him and Miles (and the other spider people) in the previous movie. Peter is the OG, who taught Miles, but in the end, learned from him. He becomes a father, he is a great friend( to even Miguel, who is obviously hurt in ways that can't be seen) and overall when Peter enters the room, you feel the sigh of comedic relief. I see myself as Peter and my sisters as Gwen. Peep the video where I say "I'm the one that you can trust" and it's a quick reminder that Peter has felt the same way Gwen does. At the end of the film, Gwen appears outside of Peter's window...she is literally "Calling" him for help. Deonna and Deneisha, if you see this, I hope you know you can call me WHENEVER, for WHATEVER! I hope you enjoy the visuals and the song!!

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27. Rebuke x KAYTRAMINÉ

Ok, so I will attempt to keep this one brief! Going back to phase 1, I lay out how Kaytranada was new to me(week5). Well after writing to "Grey Area", I knew I wanted to use another Kaytranada instrumental. The issue was, I didn't know where to go. I put it on the back burner...and then..some time went by and I find out that Kay and Aminé teamed up for a collaboration album; self-entitled: "KAYTRAMINÉ". Aminé is cold in so many ways. For me, I think his voice and the way is vocals come out to crispy clean get me each time. One of my favorite tracks he did was "Invincible" for the "Into the Spiderverse" Soundtrack. When that song comes on, and I am actively listening...I get goosebumps and teary eyed as f*ck. Needless to say, a full album by him and Kay had me amped. Even the first track "Who He Iz" comes in hot. Kay's production is so catchy, but makes you move, but is always f*cking weird...idk how to describe it. I just know I love it. "letstalkaboutit" is another one that I had on repeat...lets see; here is the last of my favs: "Westside", "Master P", "UGH UGH", and of course "Rebuke". I think "Rebuke" stuck with me due to its lightness. I originally had been in a place (while writing #32weeksMixtape) where I wanted to write more about my wife and I's relationship. That verse ended up in week 17: "Don't Let The Devil". The original opening lines to "Rebuke" were "Giving up? I refuse/I'm not enough? I rebuke/Letting in those types of thoughts will only sink the cruise". I go on a run about the Rugrats movie, Tom(Tommy) Crusie/Nicole Kidman and religion...and then compare our relationship to Bey and Jay....Then something at work or life in general wasn't moving as planned and I really needed to talk to my homies. I outline in the description of "Rebuke | remix" video how for a week no one I contacted picked up, called back, or responded to my texts. I know that seems dramatic, but literally I took that feeling and began writing what now is Week 27; "I been trying to keep a plus sign, but these minuses keep adding up..." Side note: During the process of recording #32weeksMixtape I did have strep. I want to say that's when this verse was written. You can hear the strain/change in my voice on week 20: "RUN | remix". This verse was so much fun. The singing of "f*ck you" just has so much power in it lol. Anyway I hope you enjoy! I hope that the video gets remixed and memed up.

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28. Wings x Mac Miller

Before I starting typing this week's blog post, I wanted to go back and revisit week 9's post first. Week 9's message, the song and the post, are fairly identical to this one. At this point you should know I am a big fan of Mac's and still bump is music on a healthy rotation. I mentioned before that "Faces" was very cringy for me but has become sort of a pacifier for my panic attacks of being overwhelmed in this process; seemingly not receiving any recognition for the work/effort/time/vulnerability I put in this project. The intro to "It just doesn't Matter", which is Bill Murray's monologue from the movie Meatballs, makes be tear up each time. The idea that I can do all this work and possibly reach that level of satisfaction I have been searching for (finding financial freedom from the music I create), or remain a broke artist that no one cares about...doesn't even matter. It really has become my mantra when I feel myself judging myself for not getting enough likes/listens/views/f*cking attention for a post or track! "Cato," I tell myself, "none of this sh*t matters anyway!". I then... and please understand this literally happened on the day I released week 28(1/18/24)...write a post on here reminding myself that I am my favorite rapper and that is a huge accomplishment. I then threw on my visuals on my tv and watch the beautiful work I had took time to create. I cried...like ugly cried. But it felt so good to remember what I have done so far. Today(1/19/24), sitting in my car before walking into work, I record a message reminding *myself* that I am dope, and that the validation is from within, not external (added to the aforementioned post). Y'all, I had to release that negative burden! Let me tell you why. Again, 28 was written to remind the homies that them not helping me out/supporting(which is all perceived through my own perspective making this feeling a distorted thought; who knows how they were actually supporting/helping me?) and that I was at the point to say "If you don't/won't/can't be here with me, for whatever reason...i am ok with it. I won't push you, I won't argue, I won't beg. Like I get it, you have other priorities." Soooo...as you recall, week 9 drops, and leading up to that release P passes. I had agreed to continue my project because I know he would appreciate the work. P understood my craft, he knew how dope of a writer I am, just like I know how dope he is. I made it a mission that when I hit week 28, I would dedicate to him. It only makes sense because once he died, that mf song sounded like I wrote it on his personal behalf. So with all that mind, I used as much footage as I could find/that I had/and others sent me. I f*cking cry while putting it all together. I post it, and...wow, crickets! I felt like on social media especially, I wasn't getting any digital love. I thought for sure that this video and subsequent snippets, because of its sentiment would at at least attract more attention because his family and friends would want to see it...right? 🤷🏾‍♂️ At this moment, I was wrong. So back to "It just doesn't matter". I froze in my tracks(1/18/24) and remembered that my brother appreciates this and that's who it was made for. That's when I re-watched my prior videos, starting with week 28. I can get swept up in the addictive feeling of being validated through social media just like the next person. Today, I know to feel what I need to, but then get my ego/pride/self out of the way. I told myself I will not drop another teaser for this video....at least for awhile, so that I can be sure my selfishness of wanting to be recognized as an artist doesn't take away from the fact that a man has died and his family/friends will never be the same. P, I love you. I'm sorry that my hat didn't come soon enough for me to wear it at your ceremony like we talked about. I wore it in the video for you. ~LLP🕊💙💙

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29. 2010 x Earl Sweatshirt

So, spoiler alert (not really) I am fairly new to Earl. I never got on board with Odd Future back in the day. I didn't understand the vibe, and felt they were too weird. So far, I regret that narrow-mindedness because I mess with Tyler for real now, and I have (listened to The Internet, Steve Lacy, and Frank Ocean) and realized I missed an era. <;<I just watched "Oldie" and now I get it. That last verse sums it up>> Either way, my intro to Earl I believe came from Mac Miller's Watching Movies. Earl is featured on "I'm Not Real"(one of my favs from that album). I then heard "Wool" I think slide across my Spotify when I had Vince Staples on random. For some reason Earl's line about " Fifties in my pocket falling out like fucking baby teeth..." had me hooked. Earl's feature on Faces: New Faces v2 is what really had me feeling like I needed to check him out seriously. The homie Brandon was also invested in my Earl education. I believe that during the #32weeksMixtape writing era, I did actually vibe through "Sick!". I don't think I had any issues with it. Earl's flow is so strange to me. It lowkey reminds me how Nas' skills are. You think they are going to rhyme a certain way, but then the bar is syncopated, or the rhyme/word you thought they would use doesn't come immediately, or at all! Earl even has this, almost slur type of delivery that I did have to get accustomed too. I got into Frank Ocean about a year and a half ago (I know...leave me alone) and that was hugely due to Dissect Podcast that I have mentioned before. Anyway, the host goes into detail about Earl's perfectly delivered verse on "Super Rich Kids". This was another reminder that I needed to check him out. Back to Sick!, On the Podcast...I can't remember which episode, it could be in the Mac Miller (s9) when they breakdown "2009". They tell the listeners that Earl and other friends of Mac's had made songs in the same manner as 2009. Earl's was 2010. SICK! by itself is fire but given the reason behind the track, and the challenge of attempting to rhyme on a weird Earl beat fired me up to write to 2010. This one is special to me, and I know I say that about all the songs on 32weeks, but this was another one I played for Paris that last day I saw him. He was f*cking with it. I had fun coming up with the string of metaphors...and my favorite one is the lines about going to outer space. I start it off with "on a rocket ship.." heading to build a colony...which is my way of saying B.L.A.M.E. will be what I said it would be. I then relay that to setting a table and even though you may not be here with me right now, it's ok if you join later..."I will save some space for you..." This line really is for Tyson. He really doesn't/didn't believe after all the times I told him, I want him apart of the movement. Take ya time, I have a place for you, and a plate for you [at the table]. "Imma add another leaf[as in add another section to the table to extend/make it longer], to make room for some New Faces. Cause back in '09..." This is what makes love this track. I tie in Mac's New Faces v2 from his Album Faces...which of course features Earl...but I also bring up 09...which is from Mac's Swimming which is why 2010 was inspired...you see the layers...but also notice that in Earl's 2010, and Mac's 2009, they are reflecting on how life wasn't as great, it was darkness before the light and the same relates to me. I was arrested in 2008, and due to how it went down, I was banned from school campus and activities. I couldn't attend my prom or my graduation. So taking all of that frustration and using it to move forward is a form of strength to me. Anyway I hope you enjoy the track and visuals.

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30. ADHD x Joyner Lucas

Ok first off, It's been a hell of a week. I have literally felt like sh*t since dropping week29. Like all the symptoms that I list in the song hit me like that morning! Like n*gga, I was sick on my mf day off! On top of that, I am writing this on a Saturday afternoon vs my Friday evening because my younger son also got sick. I express on week 24 how Elijah is energetic af. He never stops moving. When he gets sick though, he is still as a rock, and it f*cking breaks my heart. I hate when anyone in my house gets ill, but Elijah with no energy is just depressing. Today(this morning), my elementary school's basketball team I was coaching, season ended. We made it to the 2nd game of the tournament but didn't win and couldn't move forward. We ended the season with 3W-4L. I really hoped they would push all the way to the championship...there is always next year. Lastly, I have been meaning to find a way to work in updates about weight....I know "Cato why tf would we want to know that??". Truly it's for documentary purposes. I believe I already shared that #32weeksMixtape is just a leg of the process. Next project with 32weeks is the book. Everything that happened in these 32weeks is up to be discussed, my weight included. Around September, I noticed that my weight was going up...slowly but increasing nonetheless. I usually hang around 215lbs as my baseline. My true goal weight is 200lbs(which, may be impossible lol but I refuse to quit). The closet I have gotten to that goal was 207lbs. As we rolled through 2023's cold season holidays, I realized my workout regiment wasn't as consistent and I wasn't giving my all when I did workout. I definitely wasn't getting enough sleep, and my eating/snacking was out of balance. By 1/1/24, I was up to 233lbs. That's a big jump in a small amount of time. I started freaking out the first week of the new year, but then I reminded myself, "We have done this before!" I have. I started to chill with the snacks, getting back to upping my water intake, lowkey ate an apple every morning, and a granola bar for breakfast/morning snack, and have been packing my lunch with filling but low cal foods (i.e. homecooked leftovers(that hasn't changed), carrots + mini naan breads with hummus(delish), and a smaller portion of my salty bbq chips with a fruit cup/applesauce. Today, 2/3/24, I am at 223lbs! Yeah, that's right, I am down 10lbs. The last change I did was actually weighing myself each morning, and recording it. Tracking my weight is like a reminder, "Bro, we have a goal, lets not deviate."

----Ok now back to the music! This song was written when I didn't know what to write. I had already mentioned that in week 25, Joyner's ADHD album is filled with bangers. This one, just had the vibe that pulled me in. The singing I do at the beginning, "I think my pen is like eyes..." wow! That was what came to me quickly. I know I had to use it. I really did shed tears while writing alot of these songs, and the idea like Jay's "Song Cry", where he is telling you he can't see himself crying, so he has to make the song cry for him, is the premise. In the visuals I utilize Master Jiraiya because he is a renowned legendary ninja, who plays a significant role in inspiring his village and his mentee. In the end he writes his last message which is a warning for his village. That to me had me tears. RIP Master Jiraiya. I start the verse by saying, "Maybe it's my nerves, wrapping up these verses. The most I've ever written. Lately, feeling more coerced." This is truly how I felt. I felt like I had given all that I had, and that at this point I am pushing out bullsh*t. But nevertheless, the process is the process. There is a hint about my album to come in the song, "I been talking about magic, alchemy, and how I've changed, love is magic, making gold bars outta spare change". The album is inspired by my favorite novel, but I use the concept to show that we can change our world/life with love and introspection...among other things. The string of lines where I say I'm not trying to make a hit....everything in those lines tell you that type of artist I want to be to you. Allow me to be the soundtrack that drives you. Lastly, I want to end this post with a shout out to Joyner. I still don't know how involved he is with his visuals, but they are so cool. Check out his video for ADHD, and then look at how they made that sh*t. I respect Joyner's hustle out here. To the person reading this right now, I hope you know that you are loved, and I hope you never give up, no matter what your goal is!

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31. LOVEHAPPY x The Carters (Beyoncé + Jay Z)

Man...we are one away from being all done! Ok so how to describe what is going on in this song. 🤔Well, let's start with the concept. First off, this truly was the last verse written. I was thinking and reflecting on what instrumental to use. I was playing with some ideas like; Rich Flex x Drake & 21 Savage, Crazy Mood x Grind2Hard Osh'a, East Point Prayer x Vince Staples, like 3 tracks off of 'Kids See Ghosts', and Dreaming of the Past x Pusha T. But then something crazy happened. Just as the week 31's verse says, I was meeting with Tyson. It was a long drive to him but it was worth it. I was able to see his face, chit chat, share some of the new tunes (esp the last track/32). We were discussing the importance of connecting with people and having accountability for what we do. We talked about goals, and the project. I leave, and literally about 1 exit away from home I change the song on my phone(it was clicked into the phone holder on the dashboard). I look up, my exit is coming up and I was about to miss it. Had I been thinking, I would have stayed on the highway and turned around hopping back on the highway at the next exit.---Mind you, there had been a lot of construction on this portion of the highway and so there were a lot of those tall/skinny orange/reflective white cones lining the road. I swerve to make my exit. I turned too hard, and then overcorrected hitting one of those cones. It caused my driver side mirror to close into the the driver's window. The mirror shattered, the casing broke, and there was other slight damage.

The first thing I want to say is I am grateful that I didn't roll the vehicle, hit another vehicle, or injure myself. Here's the sad part that just shows how ridiculous my thinking was. Erin had been reminding me over and over for weeks to stop engaging with my phone while driving. I ignored her warnings. This happens, and I began to freak out. I don't want to let her down, but what I do next was a lame a** move. I began looking up estimates to fix the mirror...because we were supposed to take my car to Chicago for a couples getaway and to see Beyoncé live in concert(Renaissance World tour) like within the next 3 weeks. During my freak out I call her to see where she is. She says she isn't that far. I know that I was supposed to make dinner. I realized that some of the ingredients I needed, weren't in the pantry. I ask her if she could stop and grab some black beans. *I know stupid and hella manipulative*. She denies and tells me to pivot to a different meal. I couldn't tell you what I ended up making. I should have told her right then what happened...but I didn't. Fast-forward, she gets to the house and immediately begins asking what happened. I tell her then and that's how the final verse was thought up. We had a long talk about other areas I was slacking in around the house. The reason was mostly because I was deep in writing, recording, and building the concept of #32weeksMixtape.

I am so grateful that I was able to find a damn near matching full mirror and casing for under $100(and that's with the express shipping), grateful that Big Bro Dave was able to install it for me, and especially grateful that Erin still saw my heart. The line about her saying she would leave me is true. It would either be from me not listening to her(as in taking her warnings for me/her/our safety serious) or for constantly making expensive mistakes that lowkey re-traumatize her. With all the other references to us being like The Carters(week 17 for instance) I knew this verse would be written to a "EVERYTHING IS LOVE" song. There were a few contenders: "SUMMER", "BOSS", "FRIENDS", and "713". I love them all, but the way Jay Z is still lamenting about his mistakes, and tells how he had to make things right, plus the tempo and style of "LOVEHAPPY" had my brain spilling out the lyrics. My favorite lines are the quotes. Those were my takeaways; Listen and apply, just communicate when sh*t happens, make better choices or lose it all(my family or my actual life), and family comes first. I hope you don't make silly, careless, and dangerous choices like I did. I pray that you take care of yourself and live your life fully with a person whom you call your soulmate and the you experience LOVEHAPPYness. If no has told you today, I love you, and always will. Thank you for taking the time to read this. 💙💙💙

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