#dis is a little short but! i am planning to make up the other fics normally and still attach them to my kink tober :3
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kinktober âౚৠentry #4 ; brat taming w shuji hanma .á
dear diary âĄ,
i hate hate hate shuji hanma so much! god, he makes my life unbearable -- walking into that office everyday is like a form of torture! he's always teasing me, making fun of me non-stop, and every time i walk into his office completely fine i come out a huge, frustrated mess! and it ruins my entire day too, god. why does he have such a huge impact on me? it's so frustrating . . . anything he says to me or says about me will stick for at least a week -- he doesn't even seem to stop pestering me when i get off of work. how long will i last in this stupid office before i break? ugh! that would be so embarrassing . . . ironically i'm writing his from work so i better hide this away before hanma catches me! i'll see you later diary :(
"little lady, come in here." hanma commands with a lithe finger, pointing a low finger at your trailing body outside of his office. you had tried your best to sneak by his office and back to yours without being seen by the man, but the tall glass panes that are only see through from the inside of his office are of no help. you cringe, the hairs on the back of your neck standing frozen when you hear the familiar, sultry grime of his voice, walking defeatedly into his office before gently shutting the door behind you.
"yes, sir? what can i do for you?" you grin subtly, hiding your distress with fiddling fingers behind your back.
"so formal today? you're in my office wearin' a skimpy little skirt and a sheer shirt that barely covers your nipples, hun." he grumbles with a laugh, setting his arms down against the marble desk.
you scoff â dropping your previous dear little secretary act with a subtle roll of your eye. "shut up, hanma. you're not any much better than me . . . having sâsex with all those workers on this very desk." you point to the marble stable in front of you, mumbling a soft 'gross' under your breath â the least bit repulsed that you're standing in the same space as this satyriasis you call your boss.
"are you jealous, little lady? he laughs.
"nânever." you huff, tugging your skirt down out of habit. the atmosphere is tense and warm, and you can feel his glare boring into the side of your skull. he takes a sudden move, leaving his original seating and making his way towards you. he fumbles with his sleeve, fixing the crease slightly before stepping before you â nearly chest to chest. âyou're so weird, hanma."
hanma leans low, lips inches away from your ear. it's disgustingly seductive â how close he is. itâs even worse when you find yourself not minding the intimate position.
âdon't call me that name, doll. no need to be so formal, remember?" he turns his head to grin besides you, but soon moves back to his original position to whisper again, "by the way, i can see your cute little nipples, doll."
you scramble away from the man, arm defensively coming to cover across your chest. âperâpervert! âs cold in here.â you cry with a heavy blush that paints your face. you're met with a smug grin with no means to punish you for your indecency, but rather low glinting eyes with the opposite intent. "come here, girl."
âčâ Ëâ§ïž”âżâàšà§ââżïž”â§ Ë ââč
it hurts. everything does â your thighs are sore, red streaks left across your bare tits, and your cunt aches despite shujiâs spent stuffing you full.
âsâshuji,â you cry. youâre met with a soft hum besides your ear, the sultry noise making you wince. his slender fingers force the small of your back against the table, arching you nicely before taking his cock head to your pussy. ânânâmoreâŠâ
âhmm, sheâs holding all my fuckinâ nut in so well.â he groans, dragging his cock head through your spent folds. the action causes cum to dribble slightly, warm cum coating your clit and dripping onto the ground.
âcâmere.â hanma lifts you from where you had been bent over previously, switching positions with you. his back leans against the table, hoisting you onto the slant of his lap and forcing your naked body to face the glassed windows of his office. youâre quick to panic, whining and you fumble in his grasp. itâs especially terrifying when you see one of hanmaâs hookups walk past, pointing at hanmaâs office to her co-worker â and giggling.
her glare looks directly into yours, twisting your body to face hanmaâs as you hide your face in the crevice of his chest. ânâno, shuji !â
âdoll. you know they canât see anything, right?â hanma chuckles. âwhat, you donât want her to see you like this?â
you whine, looking up at hanma with large, watery eyes. âdonâ wanna face the glass, pâplease.â
he hums at your request -- but faces your body outwards once again. he lifts you onto his lap once again, but this time, slotting you on top of his cock and dragging you down his length by your arms. you're quick to squeal, filled up by shuji's heavy dick yet again in mere seconds. he groans at the feeling of his own nut painting his cock once he's inside.
"shuji!" you quip when another co-worker passes by -- what if the glass were to suddenly malfunction and everybody could see your naked body? you spiral. not to mention, your naked cunt lodged onto your boss' cock? what ifâ
"need to show you and your pretty pussy off. how these office sluts can't take me like you can. you're perfect, damn it." shuji moans, pumping roughly into your sore cunt. "you're câcreamin' all over me, little lady."
"s--shut up, shut up.." you cry, body damn hot. his hands feel as if they're burning against your skin. âgâcum âgainââ
âmhm, yeah you are. âcause youâre a little slutttt.â hanma moans, stifling when he feels your gummy walls clench at his crude words.
ânânot a slut ! shuji, shujiâ !â
âthatâs impossible, slut.â
#sorry friends </3 yv has been so tired#have been so stressed#dis is a little short but! i am planning to make up the other fics normally and still attach them to my kink tober :3#shuji hanma x reader#hanma smut#hanma shuji#hanma x reader#tokyo revengers hanma#shuji x reader#tokyo rev smut#tokyo rev x reader#tokyo revengers smut#tokyo revenger x reader#tokyo revengers#shuji hanma#hanma shuuji x reader#tokrev hanma#tr hanma#drabbles ââ
Ëâ#kinktober 2024
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Hi!
3. A kiss on the foreheadđ
helloooo dear anon!! i am sorry this took so long i could not for the life of me figure out to write but then ! i wrote this on the 4th and i realized it could work... maybe... sorta. this may not be what you were expecting/wanting but there's forehead kisses in there.... somewhere đ«Ą also, if u are not american i apologize for giving you a july 4th fic đ but the holiday is relatively inconsequential here like theres no patriotism it's just a backdrop if u know what i mean.... anyway, i hope u enjoy <33
you taste like the 4th of july
di leon s. kennedy x fem reader (no use of y/n)
wc: 3.5k
18+ | cw: mentions of drinking | tw: thoughts about death and dying
tags: established relationship; fluff (i guess??); slight changes to canon to suit author's headcanons
read on ao3
a/n: for the past few months i've been working on this very insane multi-chap post di leon fic đ”âđ« this was written with that in mind But does not have a place in that story... probably.... idk!!! either way, i think it can be read as a standalone just fine
additionally, there is a scene in here where leon picks the reader up. i would just like to say like... he gets thrown into concrete walls on a biweekly basis and gets up and walks it off without issue so i think he can lift anyone no matter their size or shape!!
not beta read or proofread - sorry if any of it is gibberish i've had a wicked migraine the past few days... will maybe attempt to proofread once i can see correctly again đŹđ§ââïžregardless, all mistakes are my own
i do not own leon or any other resi character mentioned, etc etc, please don't sue me <3
please do not use my work to train any sort of AI chatbot and/or writing generator.
-----
"It was a good day, wasn't it?" Leon asks, wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as you stand over the patio table, cleaning up the abandoned plates and platters.
You hum. It was; a beautiful, cloudless July 4th, spent with Leon's friends in the backyard of your home. The only ones missing were Ashley and Ingrid; the former having a standing family commitment and the latter planning to spend her holiday on the beach, away from the country and your fiancé.
Typically, Chris hosted the Independence Day cookout, but Leon offered up your new home as this year's venue, citing your in-ground pool and the plenty of extra space you have for guests to stay. In reality, he just wanted the chance to out-grill Chris - he'd been preparing since Memorial Day; testing different spice and sauce combinations as well as stocking your freezer full of large cuts of meat.
He'd started before you were even awake, chopping and seasoning in the kitchen, slowly loading up the smoker. You'd joined him on the patio a few hours later, watching from your pool floaty as he poked and prodded at various things.
You don't even eat meat, didn't know the whole thing was so involved, but you did enjoy the view; worn blue jeans hugging his frame as he crouched to check a thermometer.
You had taken a short break from the water, tying up lights and setting a few little decorations around before your guests arrived. Rebecca was the first, tucking her jugs of pre-made cocktail and platter of deviled eggs into your fridge before joining you on the patio.
Chris wasn't far behind, unloading two coolers filled with beer and containers of homemade potato and pasta salads. He'd handed one off to you, grinning, "Claire made one just for you this year."
You'd thanked him, making another attempt to get him to share his family's recipes with you. It was futile, you probably couldn't even waterboard it out of either of them.
Claire had arrived on her motorcycle shortly after, pulling a bundle of fireworks out of her saddlebags. "Sorry I'm late," she said - even though she wasn't - dumping the pile on the ground, thankfully far away from the grill. "Had to stop for these."
Leon had crouched down to inspect them, listening intently as Claire told him about all the different varieties she'd purchased while you relaxed back into the pool.
Sherry arrived next, Jake trailing behind her. She'd left both him and her bags of chips at the table, giving Leon and Claire quick hugs before immediately joining you in the water.
She'd slipped in right beside your floaty, grabbing your hand to get a look at your engagement ring - she'd yet to see it, having been so busy with work. Her eyes widened at the ring as she pushed her sunglasses up to rest on top of her head, "Leon picked this out? Our Leon? Leon Kennedy? Are you sure?"
You'd giggled at her astonishment, "Ashley helped him out; took him to one of her favorite jewelers."
"I should've guessed," She nods. "For my 20th Birthday, he bought me this crazy cute pink tennis bracelet and I was like, 'no way you picked this out alone.' He fessed up that he got a little help from a friend named Ashley.
"At the time, I thought it was just some girlfriend - or hoped, I guess. Back then, I spent a lot of time hoping that Claire and Leon weren't just⊠working; I liked to think they were taking time for themselves, that they were happy," she had trailed off then, looking off to the tree line behind your house for a minute. Blinking the mist from her eyes, she shrugged, continuing on, "Anyways, I'm thankful to Ash for that bracelet, it was there with me though⊠a lot. And I'm thankful to you for making him happy, like I always wanted him to be."
With that, you slid off the float to give her a hug, holding her tight as you whispered your thanks. You had worked to bite back your tears - if she didn't cry, neither would you.
Luckily, Jill had walked in a few seconds later, providing a distraction in the form of the most ridiculously large watermelon. "Hey, Kennedy," she shouted, pulling Leon out of his conversation with Claire as she gestured to the melon tucked under her arm. "Can't burn this, can I?"
Leon had thrown his head back with a laugh - in previous years, Jill had always brought boxed brownies with extra crispy edges and Leon invariably had to make a comment about them. "I don't know," he had shrugged, "When it comes to you, Valentine, I'll never say never."
Jill had reared the watermelon back, acting as if she was going to throw it at him. Leon had thrown his arms up, shielding his face, causing everyone to crumble into laughter at the scene.
"It was nice," you agree, reaching to pick up the barong machete he had given Jill when she asked for a knife to cut the melon. "We do have kitchen knives, you know," you scold mockingly, gently waving the blade around.
"I know," he says, releasing you to reach around and pluck the machete out of your hand. "It's good to exercise these every once in a while, though."
You roll your eyes at him, "It's a machete, Leon, not a horse."
He waves you off, slipping through the patio door to wash the blade in the kitchen sink. You take the opportunity to speed clean, knowing it'll be a much harder task once he returns and wraps his arms back around you.
Thankfully everyone had taken care of their own plates and cups - they'd tried to stay and do more but you had ushered them out of the backyard, wanting Chris, Sherry and Jake to depart before the traffic picked up with the crowds leaving the city following the fireworks shows. Jill, Claire and Rebecca had taken up on your offer to stay, at least, piling into your guest rooms. You were glad to have them, secretly plotting to drag them to brunch once you all woke.
You finish piling the platters as Leon makes his way back outside. Before he can get his hands on you and derail your progress, you point to the stack, "Take those inside."
He frowns, "Can't it just wait until tomorrow?"
"We'll get ants; come on, five minutes and it'll be done."
He sighs, but doesn't protest further, carrying the heavy plates inside as you follow him with the utensils. You stack everything by the sink before turning to him, "Is there any of Becca's cocktail left?"
He cocks his brow, tilting his head, "You really want to try that again?"
It's a valid question - you had given it a go earlier and despite everyone's warnings to take it easy, you had thrown back a large mouthful right off the bat. You ended up wincing in pain, "Fuck, that burns. What'd you put in there, Becca?"
She'd shrugged, "Oh, you know, a splash of this, a splash of that. And," she teased, drawing out the vowel, "A bit of my own creation."
"Your own creationâŠ" You had muttered, trailing off before it hit you, "Test tube alcohol?"
She had giggled, grinning, "Takes some getting used to."
You had tried another, much tinier sip. You were able to enjoy the sweetness of the juice for a moment before the burn kicked in again, causing you to curse once more, louder.
Leon had shifted his attention from Chris to you at your exclamation. Seeing the jug of Rebecca's cocktail in front of you on the table, he quickly pieced together what was happening, calling over to Rebecca from his place by the grill, "You trying to kill my fiancé, Becks?"
"Absolutely not; that'd be a stupid thing for me to do," she'd shot back. "She's the only one who can keep you in line, and we kind of like you like that."
"Well," you start, rolling the word around your mouth, "No. But yes - there's gotta be some sort of trick to it, right? Everyone else drank it just fine."
"The trick is," he starts, voice low, reaching out to grab ahold of your hips, "To not drink it. Let me make you some tea instead."
"Fine," you pout, relaxing into his grip, not bothering to argue - tea won't make you hate yourself in the morning.
He moves his hands from your hips, sliding his fingertips along your spine. "Go wait outside," he says, releasing you with a featherlight kiss to your forehead, "I'll bring it out."
With a brush of your lips against his cheek in thanks, you slip away from him, heading back out to the backyard and pulling off your shorts, settling onto the ledge of the shallow end of the pool. The air has cooled with the setting of the sun, becoming a comforting warmth instead of an overbearing heat. You dip your legs into the water, thankful you insisted on having a pool when you and Leon were house hunting.
Someone is still setting off fireworks; they're a few miles away, though - you can hear them more than you can see them. Resting back on your palms, you close your eyes, imagining what bursts of color may be accompanying each sound.
Leon joins you a few minutes later - just after the fireworks had died down - sporting his swim shorts and carrying your tea. He bends, setting the mug next to you with a kiss to your temple, nosing at your hair. "Earl Grey," he reports before drawling, "How terribly unpatriotic of you."
"You going to arrest me for treason, Agent Kennedy?" You laugh, reaching up to squeeze his thigh below the hem of his shorts. "You're the one who made it; they'd nail you as an accomplice."
He falls into a crouch, leg muscles bunching under the pads of your fingertips as he shifts closer to touch his lips on your cheek. "They can hang us together, then," he remarks, voice a bit too serious for it to be just a joke. "Side by side, off the same branch."
You sit back just enough to get your eyes focused on him, reaching your other hand out to thumb at his bottom lip. "Dulce et decorum est pro cor mori," you whisper, tacking on a hum in question.
He cocks his head at the unfamiliar words, nipping at your nail playfully, "English please, baby."
You consider him for a moment, the translation of the true phrase running through your mind; how sweet and honorable it is to die for one's country. The old lie, it's come to be known as - fittingly.
It's a similar sentiment to one that's grown to become your fear; that he'll die for the sake of the country, under orders from the government, believing it was his duty.
But you think your spin on it may be true; would be willing to find out.
You don't want to weigh him down with the thought, though, choosing to reel him in for a kiss instead. "I love you," is the answer you settle on, laying the words down right on his tongue.
He seems content with your translation - the method of delivery likely having something to do with it - humming into your mouth. He kisses you back lazily for a long, languid moment before he pulls away, "As much as I'm enjoying this, I've been wanting to get in there all day," he says, nodding his head towards the water.
"Go," you chuckle, giving him a gentle push away from you with the hand still resting along his face.
He lays another quick peck against your lips before standing, padding around the edge to the steps. He pauses for a moment to pull his shirt over his head, skin honeyed under the soft glow of the lights you'd hung around the patio.
A second later, he slips under the surface without hesitation; kicking off the steps, moving quickly to the deep end. He almost shimmers as he glides along the floor of the pool, the rippling of the gentle waves he'd created making him seem like some sort of mirage as he passes by you.
He comes up for air once he hits the far wall, tossing his hair back, smoothing the water from his eyes. He doesn't rest long, though, beginning to swim short laps across the width of the deep end.
You observe him, sipping your tea slowly, appreciating the way his back and arms work with each stroke. He continues long enough for you to nearly drain your cup, stopping short when another trio of fireworks set off in the distance.
Setting your mug down, you eye him, preparing to slip into the pool to soothe him if you have to, but he relaxes once he connects the sound to the flashes in the sky. The tension that had flooded the line of his shoulders drains into the water as he shifts to wade backward, moving closer to where you sit.
You finish off your drink as he starfishes out across the surface of the water, floating just a few feet in front of you. You wonder if you could use him as a floaty, pinning up a note in your brain to try it out sometime.
"I'm glad you insisted on a pool, sweetheart," he sighs, breaking your companionable silence.
You hum, pleased, kicking your legs out gently and causing the water to lap against his skin. More fireworks sound out; he doesn't tense this time, but he does get his feet back under himself, moving to where you sit along the ledge.
Sliding his hands up your legs, he pillows his head in your lap, wet hair fanning out across your thighs. You shift your weight back onto your right hand, laying the other along his jaw. His eyes flutter closed as you brush your thumb along his cheekbone and the scar that runs beneath it.
He picks at the tie of your bathing suit absentmindedly, tugging at the strings when you slide your hand into his hair, scratching at his scalp. "Sherry said something to me earlier."
He makes a noise urging you to elaborate, not bothering to open his eyes.
"She told me that when she was younger, she hoped that you and Claire were living your lives; that you were doing more than just working, you know? She said she wanted you guys to be happy," you explain, working to keep your voice even.
He cracks his eyes open, picking his head up to watch you as you continue. "She thanked me," you swallow thickly, "for making you happy, like she always wanted you to be."
He smiles at your words, and it's a beautiful thing. You still get all twisted up inside with how gorgeous he is; neurons overclocking themselves with the thrill of being the subject of his attention.
"I owe you a thank you, too, baby," he starts, pausing to nose at your wrist.
"You don't owe me anything, Leon," you tug at his damp strands still between your fingers, highlights catching the yellow glow from the lights around the patio.
"I do," he says, the words sending a jolt through you. You never intended on getting married, yet here you are now, eager to hear the phrase on the altar.
He kisses the thin skin of your wrist, lips lingering as if he can feel the thrum of your heartbeat; knows that the pace has picked up under his affection. "All this," he pulls back, taking a hand off you to gesture to the pool; the backyard; the house; to you. "It's something I never thought I'd get.
"Sherry's right - you're behind basically every bit of happiness I have now, sweetheart; I owe it all to you." He reaches up, untangling your grip from his hair, thumbing gently at the ring he put there, "Thank you."
You can't respond verbally, will burst into tears if you do. In lieu of speech, you lean forward, pressing your lips against his insistently.
He seems to get the message; understands that the pleasure is all yours, that you'd give him anything and everything you can - knowing he'd do the same for you.
He gets his arms back around you, continuing your kiss as he lifts you from the edge of the pool and into the water with him. You wrap your legs around his waist, safe and secure in his hold.
His teeth catch along your bottom lip and the neighbors down the street set off fireworks, the bright bursts of color painting your backyard in reds and blues and greens and oranges. The sparks reflect off the surface of the water as he slides his nose against yours and not for the first time, you think this may all be a dream. Maybe you died four years ago and this whole thing has been some sort of afterlife; you aren't sure you'd done anything worth this treatment, though.
Maybe it's more supernatural in origin; an intricate hallucination weaved by a Djinn that's got you chained up in some dark, damp basement as it feeds off your blood. Or maybe you just went crazy and the pool is actually a padded room, Leon's mouth against yours a product of your mind working to distract itself from your reality.
Whatever the case may be, it certainly feels real when he shifts his hold on you, hoists you up higher to get at your neck, laying kisses up and down the column of your throat, nipping at your jaw.
But before he can venture much further, the neighbor's fireworks show grows into an extravaganza, the relentless popping and bursting becoming a nuisance, shattering the illusion of your teeny-boppy movie moment.
"Jeez," Leon mutters, breath hot against the saliva cooling on your skin, causing you to shudder. "Did they buy out a whole tent?"
"Did you check that Claire actually went to bed?" You ask, shaking yourself free of his hold. "She could've joined them; brought everything I wouldn't let her set off here."
He hums, letting you down into the water, considering your words - even though you said it as a joke, it certainly is a possibility. You seem to come to this realization at the same time, eyes narrowing at each other as the spray of fireworks continues overhead. "We shouldâŠ" He starts, nodding towards the stairs.
"Yeah," you agree, already beginning to move.
You pause to grab your towels, wrapping your own around yourself, throwing the other over Leon's shoulders when you catch up to him at the patio door. Stepping inside, you hear someone knocking around your kitchen.
Luckily, it's Claire. She steps back from the cabinet she'd been rifling through to face you and Leon with a frown. "Isn't this shit ridiculous?" She remarks, pointing to the ceiling in reference to the fireworks.
"You're one to talk, Claire," Leon shoots back. "Didn't you just set off about five hundred dollars worth of them in my backyard a few hours ago?"
"Yes, a few hours ago," she reiterates. "Nothing should be set off after the show at the Capitol is finished - after that, you're done; you missed your shot; better luck next year."
"Exactly," you nod in agreement at her reasoning, "They should put you in charge."
She grins at your words, moving to continue on, but Leon cuts in before she can start; "What is it that you were clawing through my cabinets for?"
She sighs, displeased with his interruption, setting her hands on her hips. "Where do you keep the ibuprofen?"
Leon shoos her out of the way, padding across the kitchen to get the medicine himself. Claire relents without argument, attention immediately shifting back to you as she leans over the counter. "So," she wiggles her eyebrows, "It seems like that pool was a good investment, huh?"
You bite at your lip, ears burning with embarrassment that she'd seen you and Leon necking in the water like teenagers - even though you shouldn't be flustered; it is your house, after all.
Leon sets the bottle of ibuprofen and a glass of water down in front of Claire, annoyance evident with the way he uses a bit more force than really necessary, causing the items to clack against the marble.
"What?" Claire questions, glaring at him. "It was cute."
Leon huffs in response, unable to hide the flush that crawls up his neck at her words. You can't help the giggle that bubbles out of you, enjoying the way they bicker like siblings.
Claire leaves Leon to stew, tossing you a grin as she collects the bottle and glass, bidding you goodnight once more before she leaves the kitchen.
You move around the counter to Leon, steps careful in an effort not to slip on the water that has dripped off him and onto the tile. The neighbors must've ran out of fireworks while you were distracted by Claire as it's silent when you wrap your arms around him, tucking your face into his neck. "Still a good day?" You ask, voice muffled against his skin.
He slings an arm around you, fingers fanning out along the small of your back, "Still a good day."
#if anyone would like to see the ring i literally had a mockup created#because im crazy#its not exactly what i was thinking so i may have another one done.... we will see#also if my latin is incorrect just ignore it pls#its been over 4 years since my last latin class#my hs latin teacher would be mortified to know i had to google declensions#and still probably fucked it up#sorry mr. d.....#(inbox)#(writing)#leon kennedy#leon s. kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#leon s. kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x you#leon s. kennedy x you#what is The leon x reader tag#i've yet to figure it out
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Hello im rlly interested in all these time travel things.
im wondering if you have more of felix/clemensia timetravelling?
i didnât, but your ask did get me thinking about both felix and clemensia being sent backâŠ
(more below the cut)
also highly recommend the following if you havenât already:
@felixravinstills wrote this response about felix landing back at eighteen as well as made this post about felix landing back at five (right after his parents die). also i have a oneshot about felix time travelling from dillâs pov.
@meekmedea has an entire masterpost for their time travelling clemmie au where she lands back at eight-years-old. but also wrote a fic where clemensia ends up back at eighteen right before the tributes arrive. and i have a pov swap from reaperâs perspective for their fic.
anyway, onto felix and clemmie in the past!
thereâs a couple different ways i could see this going, but iâm going to assume in all these cases that they died around their 30s (probably coriolanus, for different reasons- clemensia was likely a risk for him since they were friends and he didnât want anyone who knew him that closely to potentially turn on him, and felixâs family name gave him a political influence that coriolanus wanted to get rid of). anyway:
i. back to the games
i think theyâd catch onto each other pretty quickly in this case. with so little time before the tributes arrive, if they want to gain any kind of favor, itâs going to have to be pretty distinct. clemensia was just planning on going to the train station to meet reaper, when she finds out that everyone is heading to the station on account of felix insisting that it be made a class trip, if mentoring the tributes is meant to be a class assignment.
clemensia puts it together quickly after that. thereâs likely going to be some debate on whether she reveals to felix that sheâs also a time traveller, and eventually decides itâd be more advantageous to loop him in. besides, since theyâre mentoring the same district, it wouldnât be odd to see them together âmaking plansâ as it were.
so she does. felix hasnât actually realized that coriolanus was the one to get him killed yet, but thatâs mostly because coriolanus kept himself more distanced when he killed felix. clemensia fills him in with her suspicions though, and after a quick panic over worrying there might be other time travellers among them, they start to make some plans.
short term plans include being better mentors & keeping any of their classmates from dying with clemensia handling the former since sheâs more personable (felix objects to this, claiming heâs plenty charming, but he doesnât win that argument) and felix dealing with the latter (because if thereâs one thing that he can do by throwing his name around, itâs getting better security measures put in place).
it is much harder than expected to get dill the medicine she needs, and it ends with getting most (if not all) the tributes some better conditions out of âfairnessâ (i.e. food, water, medicine, etc.) but doesnât help with the fact that theyâre all still in the zoo. except...it kind of does, because investing more materials also leads to many of the mentors investing more time, and somewhat growing pretty attached - not enough to do anything as drastic as actually speak out against the games, but enough to âconveniently not noticeâ when a mysterious scuffle draws the peacekeepersâ attention away during the preparation for the tribute interviews and about a third of the tributes are gone by the time thereâs a headcount.
thereâs some talk about this being planned, but felix throws a fit about how dare you and what are you implying and this never would have happened if you knew how to do your jobs properly and donât you know who i am?? they back of pretty quick after that.
security around the zoo gets tighter in the days following, supposedly. mostly itâs just gaul heading announcements about what a threat the escaped tributes are. itâs not helped by the âtighter securityâ being found unconscious one morning and the zoo enclosure completely empty. it throws the general capitol population into a bit of a frenzy. there are rumors and complaints about how the quality of peacekeepers have gone down drastically, though no one knows where they started (it was clemensia).
their original plan was nowhere near this, but with how little time they had to plan things out, theyâre basically just manipulating everyone around them to turn a blind eye - the tributes arenât stupid, they can tell which mentors are sympathetic enough to rely on. not trust, exactly, but that they know wonât get them punished.
with the chaos of the tributesâ escape being a huge distraction for most of the capitol higher-ups, felix and clemensia have to finally confront coriolanus - not about the murdering them in the future thing, since he wouldnât know about that, but about his attitude (since heâs has been pretty upset and confused about clemensia being more distant with him lately for seemingly no reason). felix is all for going full spite and making sure he never gains any sort of power ever again. clemensia agrees, but itâs also a lot harder for her to separate herself from coriolanus considering she had considered him a pretty close friend right up until she had gotten killed.
realistically, things probably wouldnât go this smoothly, but itâs more fun to think about the various shenanigans they get into undermining coriolanus & aiding the tributes while â100% definitely not involved whatsoeverâ with the escape.
ii. back to eighteen (start of year)
sneakiest of the three options - theyâre old enough to properly use their familyâs influence, but also have more than enough time to make more gradual change. it starts small: some comments here and there, testing the waters to see how much they can say and still have people agree.
clemensia starts to drift away from coriolanus, whereas felix grows openly antagonistic with him. clemmieâs main goal is to undermine gaul though - she has not forgiven gaul about the snakes and would not like a repeat of being bitten, thank you very much. since clemensia and felix arenât close friends anymore (they were closer when they were younger), it takes a while for either of them to realize that the other is different.
sure, theyâve noticed some changes, but had attributed different attitudes to their own influence. some changes, though, they couldnât explain, and it only really starts to make sense when they come to the âoh, youâre here tooâ realization. felix is on board with the deplatform gaul plan, but itâs still a pretty difficult endeavor considering gaul has a close relationship with the president. felix might be his great-nephew, but he doesnât think he can undermine her that way.
coriolanus throws an extra wrench into things by assuming that, with felix and clemensia spending more time together, that felix is the reason clemensia is pulling away from him. it turns into a mix of high school drama and political subterfuge, where somehow the former is much more difficult for either of them to deal with.
iii. back to their childhood
in the case where they land back in war times, their experiences are pretty different. felix is mostly doing family bonding time because he now has the perspective to actually connect with his much older cousins. clemensia, on the other hand, is majorly lamenting having to do childhood all over again. she was an adult! with independence! and she has to do primary school again!
also, since iâm so fond of inky_dreamâs trio of clemmie, felix, and iphigenia - they are definitely childhood friends. they havenât gotten a chance to meet as much around the war, so interactions are pretty brief during those years, but once the war is over, clemensia and felix start to get odd feelings that things are much more differentâŠ
clemensia: wasnât felix more of a brat at this age? felix: i feel like clemensia was less forward at this age⊠clemmie & felix: wait a minute-
iphigenia is pretty sure her friends have a crush on each other and is internally giggling at all their interactions. whatâs actually happening is clemensia and felix trying to subtly test out if the other is actually a time traveller or not without actually saying it aloud. it comes to a head when sejanus ends up moving to the capitol and clemensia befriends him.
felix essentially goes âyeah, no. actual-eight-year-old clem wouldnât have done that.â and confronts her in private. clemensia has her âi knew itâ moment and now theyâre on the same pageâŠexcept theyâre also physically eight and there is a limited number of things they can realistically do being this young. people are hardly going to listen to the opinions of not-even-pre-teens.
it does help that iphigenia has roped sejanus into her plan to get her friends together because anytime they need to privately talk to make plans, iphigenia and sejanus are more than willing to cover for them so they can âhave some time alone ;)â
basically, itâs nia and sej being silly kids. buuutâŠfelix and clemmie donât realize that iphigenia and sejanus have made that misconception and assume the opposite.
iphigenia & sejanus: aww our friends have crushes <33 nia & sej: we should give them time alone nia, aloud: oh nooo - i just forgot that i have to do something far away from here sej, aloud: um, me too! iâll join you. far away. ;D felix & clemmie: wow, iphigenia and sejanus must really like each other if they keep trying to leave the two of us to they can be together. thatâs cute. and it gives us the chance to get some private time to plan!
this oneâs a mix of fluff and angst - lower stakes since theyâre much younger and have more time, but also theyâve pretty much lost everyone they knew. if they change things, all the people they knew will grow up to be different people. similar, maybe, but not the same. and as much as they try to forget that, itâs not easy seeing those familiar faces and realizing that the differences they create are shaping different people too.
i do like to think everything works out for the better though ^^
(these were all written with felix & clemmie as a friendship, but they could easily dip into a felix/clemensia romance - especially for scenario #3 where they really only have each other to talk to since everyone else is treating them like children.)
thanks for the ask! :D
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For the writing prompts
obikin and 18 or 22 or 45, whichever you like more! đ
Hi Anon!
SEND ME A SHIP AND A NUMBER AND I'LL WRITE A SHORT FIC
18. waking up with amnesia au
this is a direct continuation from this Sith AU, as in, this picks up a couple of weeks later. I strongly recommend reading the linked snippet first, and in general all the little snippets I wrote for this AU before reading this one.
That being said, let's go
The light bothered him enough that Obi-Wan opened his eyes with a frown. He was on a bed, a thin white sheet covering his body. Everything hurt and he groaned as the world slowly shifted into focus, his surroundings filled with bacta tanks and medical beds. A machine beeped close to him on regular intervals, and there was a line connecting his right arm to a serum bag.
A body shifted, a young Mon Calamari with a holopad who took in the sign of Obi-Wan being awake and checked his vitals before greeting him gently.
âWhere am I?â Obi-Wan asked, barely repressing the urge to snap the line out of his arm. The Mon Calamari muttered as he typed on his pad. âThe patient shows signs of disorientation corresponding with a long period of unconsciousness. Keep under observation in case the symptom persists.â
Finally, he looked up towards Obi-Wan. âYou are at the medic bay in the Jedi temple. My master will join us shortly and make sure everything is going well with your recovery.â âJedi temple? What happened to me?â âYou got stabbed by a piece of debris that punctured part of your lung and stomach. Lost quite the amount of blood and oxygen levels turned worrisome low. Would have died if they hadnât brought you here.â
Just as he finished speaking, a Togruta entered the room and smiled at the Mon Calamari before turning to Obi-Wan. âNow this is a sight I thought Iâd never see again. How is our patient doing?â âSo far his recovery is going according to plan, Master.â âExcellent, the Council will appreciate this information. Has he shown signs of aggression?" âNot so far, mostly confusion.â
Irritation filled him. It wasnât enough that he had woken up in an unfamiliar place, being talked about as if he wasnât there was pissing him off. The Togruta turned towards him and leaned forwards, turning on a small lantern and cheeking his eyes. âYour reflexes seem to be doing great. Iâm gonna ask you some questions to help you ease back into the living world. You almost became one with the Force!â
Obi-Wan grunted as an answer. âAlright. First things first: do you know who you are?â âIâm Obi-Wan Kenobi-â âHavenât heard that name for years,â interrupted the healer, only confusing him more. âOther names you identify yourself with?â âNo.â The questions continued, getting more annoying and more confusing as well.
No, Obi-Wan did not know who the main general of the Separatists was. No, he did not know Count Dooku personally. No, he had never met the Jedi Council before. He did not know who Qui-Gon Jinn was. And most importantly, he did not understand why he had ended in the Jedi med bay to be treated after his injury. The Mon Calamari took notes of everything he answered and exchanged a quiet look with his master once the questions were over. âI will notify the Council immediately.â The Togruta master said. âIn the meantime, make sure our patient doesnât get too overwhelmed with outside stimulus until we can figure out how to fix his memory loss.â
The Mon Calamari nodded and then hesitated. âUh, what should I do if Knight Skywalker visits?â The name tickled something in the back of Obi-Wanâs brain, like an unanswered question that escaped him. âYou let him in, of course, and take notes of everything they talk about.â A couple of hours later, as a healer brought him lunch and a holopad with a novel to keep him entertained, the doors opened and someone walked in.
At the healerâs sigh, Obi-Wan looked up from the holopad to see the most gorgeous man he had ever seen. The man looked up from where he was glaring at the floor and his expression eased, making Obi-Wanâs heart jump, the machine he was connected to betraying the effects the man was having on him. He ignored as the Mon Calamari frantically tried to understand what was happening as the man finally reached the bed and sat down near him. âHi,â he began softly. âItâs nice seeing you awake.â Obi-Wan did not exactly know who this man was or why he was glad he was awake but he didnât particularly care, happy to have his lovely eyes fixed on him.
He did not appreciate the Mon Calamari approaching the man and leaning down to whisper something to him, and he actually frowned when the manâs face went from curiosity to confusion to⊠grief? He wasnât quite sure and forgot to ask the moment the man took his hand between his. âHi, Obi-Wan, you may not remember me right now but Iâm Anakin.â He looked at him with earnest eyes, and the name made something inside Obi-Wan warm with familiarity. Even then, the name did not spark any memory, and he simply smiled politely to Anakin. Something inside him, though, screamed at him that Anakin was important, that he needed to make a good impression. So, he sent him a smouldering look and said: âHello there.â
He did not expect Anakin to burst into laughter, startling the Mon Calamari. But his confusion over the reaction didnât stop Obi-Wanâs heartbeat from accelerating again.
Thank you for sending me this! I hope you enjoyed it!
#obikin#Obi-Wan Kenobi#Anakin Skywalker#Star Wars#SW#The Clone Wars#TCW#Prequel trilogy#Sith AU#Star Wars AU#asks#anonymous#ask game#prompts ask game#Tomi's fics
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Zhuming Family headcanons ROUND TWO!!
I have more Zhuming family headcanons! I am ever so happy to provide because I love them so much
A mix of headcanons for each of them individually (Yingxing, Huaiyan, Ardens Regia, and Baiheng) and for them as a group/different dynamics within that little family group
This is actually a headcanon I have been considering for a while especially while trying to write the opening scene for the Yingxing fic, but I think Huaiyan, while he has a lot of experience with different weapons types both from a warrior and a craftsmanâs standpoint, primarily fights with a tang dao that he crafted for himself a long time ago.
Huaiyan calls Ardens Regia âsalamanderâ and heâs done it so much for so long that all of their subordinates know who he means when he says that. Flat out refuses to call him by his title, refuses to call him by his name most of the time. Itâs just âSalamanderâ sometimes something insulting in front of it.
Ardens Regia has his own affectionate nickname for Huaiyan! Itâs usually some form of âmoronâ or some other insult
Yingxing in the future ends up taking a bit after Huaiyan with âLizardâ being a nickname he has for Dan Feng that annoys him to no end
Jingliu ends up on the Zhuming, a bit after the Foxian pilots once most of the fighting has died down and communications are happening between the Yaoqing and the Zhuming for future plans. Baiheng ends up being the one who introduces Jingliu to Huaiyan and Ardens Regia as she and Yingxing lead Jingliu there. I donât know how better to describe Huaiyan and Ardens Regiaâs behavior than think of when you have like uncles or aunts who keep giving each other knowing smiles and looks while asking very vague questions⊠in very teasing voices as if they can 100% see whatâs up. It absolutely embarrasses Baiheng while Jingliu and Yingxing have no idea whatâs going on
Poor Yingxing will eventually experience that in the future and finally understand
Iâve talked about how I think Ardens Regia gives them all little trickets he makes in his free time. Before Yingxing leaves for the Luofu after he turns 18, Ardens Regia gives him two hairpins. One is more decorative and for special occasions with delicate glass pieces and overall very beautiful as the glass has a mix of colors to match the purples and blues in his eyes. The other is a simple silver hairpin with a flat portion near one of the ends that is engraved. Ardens Regia says itâs evidence that Yingxing is one of his people, one of their (The Zhuming, Huaiyanâs, etc.) people, no matter what anyone in the Luofu may say.
Baiheng takes time she has free over the years to visit the Zhuming for short amount of time before she eventually transfers over the Luofu, and the first time she leaves the Zhuming, Ardens Regia sends her off with a metal pendant with a lot of details, with the primary theme behind it centering around the moon. He sends her off with a few different things that end up more decorative, but her favorite out of everything is the pendant.
Huaiyan has SO many things from Ardens Regia over the centuries. He does get most of the rejects and the first attempts for practicing for projects AR usually ends up giving Yingxing, and Huaiyan makes a big show of complaining and acting all pissed off. But any belief in his anger being genuine fades away when you can see he keeps every single one, even the ugly, the lopsided, and half melted ones, all around his office. Some on his desk, some on his shelves, some in his drawers and on tables. Even a few in his personal quarters.
At some point, Yingxing wants to try glass blowing. And I mean, AR is happy and he believes in Yingxingâs ability to learn well and fast given what the kinds of methods and approaches to new forms of creation heâs been taught. But see⊠it goes so disastrously bad that Yingxing is afraid to ever try it again and when Huaiyan ends up hearing about what happened, either from AR or as a report because Yingxingâs lesson resulted in some minor property damage, he canât stop laughing
I have more hcs, but itâs 1 am for me and Iâm a bit tired so those will have to wait for another time!! Anyways, I love the Zhuming family they fill my heart with joy I adore them! I hope yâall enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it :D
#baby yingxing and his familyyyy#i have a lot in store for them#more zhuming family coming soon when my creative skills finally return#hsr#honkai star rail#hsr blade#yingxing#baiheng#huaiyan#ardens regia#yanting-jun
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Knowing too much [FNAF, Renegade AU]
Artwork: https://www.deviantart.com/paigelts05/art/Knowing-too-much-FNAF-Renegade-AU-1088095083
AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23843413/chapters/148389664
Published: Aug 18, 2024
I am back again with another drawing of my AU's main phone guy, Krasnyy, for the phone guy month event that I have been running on Tumblr this August.
This drawing and short fic is for prompt 30 - "You know too much".
Honestly, Krasnyy has always known too much, weather he wanted to or not. Sometimes it bites him in the neck, and other times, he has an escape plan.
°*°âąÂ°*°âąÂ°*°âąÂ°*°âąÂ°*°âąÂ°*°âąđčâąÂ°*°âąÂ°*°âąÂ°*°âąÂ°*°âąÂ°*°âąÂ°*°
"You know too much."
Krasnyy had grown numb to those words; he'd heard them too many times from too many people.
He shouldn't have been scared of those words anymore. But it's hard to not be when you've just been stabbed in the abdomen.
Krasnyy was more in shock than anything else as he staggered and fell backwards, dropping his camera in the process. He tried to inch further away, but with the hall corner being a dead end behind him, he knew that there wasn't much more space that he could retreat into.
And he needed that space.
"If it were up to me, you would have died after overhearing what you did the year after I made the mistake of hiring you. It's a pity that nobody else was suitable for making those recordings. And who am I to go against Afton's word. Even though you knew too much far sooner than everyone else, you were still needed for one specific task: you were still needed to train our staff one last time. And you couldn't even die like the others once you outlived your usefulness like you were supposed to." The vitriol in the voice of his former boss, Daniel Discord, was palpable. "And now you have the gall to come back here and snoop around? I know you've probably pulled some strings so that you aren't trespassing, but as you've already experienced, I prefer to deal with intruders my OWN way."
As the man finished growling, Krasnyy saw him reach into his waistcoat and pull out a pristine white handkerchief to wipe the blood off of his knife: a sign that the old manager was rearing to use it again.
He'd have one shot at this.
As the old manager strode closer and reeled his arm back to take a slash at Krasnyy's mind throat, Krasnyy used what little space that he had left behind himself to roll back, raise his legs, and boot the old manager square in the face.
Krasnyy heard a sickening crack and saw the old manager stagger backwards with blood pouring out of his nose; this was his chance to escape. Krasnyy grabbed his camera as he clambered to his feet, and ran.
The robots paid him no mind, though Freddy did seem to smile at him. Ferdinand, the ghost possessing the bear, had been rather passive after the body pit had been found. His mind flashed back to that day; to how Ferdinand took a protective stance over Vincent, detecting that Gerald Taylor still had some sort of influence seeded in Krasnyy's mind. As he mulled it over, he figured that it had to have something to do with his inability to remember the final night that this Freddy's location was open: Krasnyy only remembered the deadguard helping him find a way to thwart Gerald's control, talking to Vincent about the then upcoming memorial service for the 10 year anniversary of the MCI, and using the only language that Gerald seemed to understand - violence - to show him that he wasn't going to sit around and take abuse as his 'Voice' anymore. That was a chaotic night, and he was glad to have had his purple bear plushies with him, but he couldn't remember anything that happened after he sat down in that office chair.
Ferdinand had made some vauge reference in regards to him and Felix being able to stand up to Gerald, but naught more than that.
"YOU BASTARD!!" The old manager's voice echoed from the corridor, and heavy footfalls followed.
There was no time for reminiscing or investigation.
With nothing to show for this investigation, Krasnyy fled the building. But as he did so, he planned his return: maybe if the animatronics were in a docile mood, he'd ask them more about why they continued to hunt even though they knew the identity of their killer. They'd already told him that it was because any guard that was not Vincent Taylor was in the way of Faz Ent putting Vincent Taylor on the night shift, but Krasnyy felt as if there was another reason; one that they hadn't told him, even after Gerald had turned him into their 'Voice'.
As the cold morning air hit his face, Krasnyy decided that maybe he didn't want to know the answer.
Then again, he already knew too much: what was one more thing?
°*°âąÂ°*°âąÂ°*°âąÂ°*°âąÂ°*°âąÂ°*°âąđčâąÂ°*°âąÂ°*°âąÂ°*°âąÂ°*°âąÂ°*°âąÂ°*°
#2024#art#artwork#fnaf#fnaf au#renegade au#fnaf renegade au#renegade au guards#fnaf fanart#phone guy#fnaf phone guy#five nights at freddys#five nights at freddy's#phoneguymonth2024#30 - âYou know too much.â#blood#the drawing contains a tiny amount#so little that I forgot there was any#but in the fic Krasnyy boots a guy in the face and makes his nose bleed
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Request for Help
Hey guys. In compliance with AO3's policy, I'm posting this here on my private blog for this fic. I ask that if nothing else, you read and share!
So, this is not only embarrassing but also extremely difficult and saddening on my part. Unfortunately, I don't have a chapter update for you, but I am reaching out publicly to ask for help. Please read this whole thing before you dismiss this because I am in seriously bad shape here and am rapidly running out of options.
To hear a fuller story, you're free to reach out to me personally. If nothing else, if any of you can share that around, it would be a huge help.
Here's the low down, and some of you who have been with me from the beginning know some of it. So, in short order over a span of a little over a year: covid hit, I lost my job, I lost my house, my mother got extremely sick (not with covid), my sister, her family, and I move in together to help take care of her and to financially support each other. Turns out my sister's husband is a complete asshat, and it was a very abusive home for the year I lasted there. Shortly after I moved out, my mother died, my dog died, and then my grandmother died right before Christmas. Both my mom and my grandmother were my two biggest maternal figures of my life, so you can imagine the blow. Add to it, I was just staying with a friend, was making shit money, and spiraled into a bad, bad depression.
That's why I was gone for a year lol. I tried to pick myself up and became roommates with another friend. We had grand plans to move to the city and start great lives. However, it didn't work out. Suffice to say that neither of us were who the other thought we were. It ended on friendly terms, and thankfully, we hadn't made the jump to the city or I would have been fucked, man.
Things were looking up from there, but my depression wouldn't go away. I ended up staying too long at that shit job, then moved to factory work, and now I'm working two fucking jobs day in and out. I'm burning at both ends, and it's just not enough to cover the bills I'm still paying off for those two horrible years, my mother's funeral and burial, not to mention medical bills.
Right now, I can't pay my rent. I can't afford food, and I've been struggling to get on food assistance. I can't pay my therapist or doctor. And now this month, thanks to coming to head with some of the earlier mentioned debt (ie, my mother's gravestone), I don't know how the hell I'm supposed to pay my electric and phone bill, let alone afford the gas to get to my second job. I was so, so close to getting ahead of everything, and I just can't get over that edgeâŠ
I want to make this very, very clearâthis is not me soliciting in any way. That is to say, this is not in any way, shape, or form requesting payment for anything I do on here. It's just my way of trying to reach out to anyone wanting to help a dude out.
I do want you guys to know I have no plans on abandoning this fic. Just the other day, I made time to pick through chapter six, adding in an extra ghoul scene for you. Also, you guys are hilarious. I give you an awesome adventure into Muggle London with Draco sodding Malfoy, and you guys were just like "i love the ghoul!"
Don't blame ya. I love them too. Don't worry, I had originally planned on the ghoul having more scene time in this than canon. Anything creature related, you know Hellion's going to be all over it lol.
If you took the time to read all this, thank you. It's embarrassing, having to ask for help, but I'm officially at the begging strangers position. Please, please, help if you can, even if it's just a dollar or sharing this.
For anyone interested, my paypal is paypal@deanjharrison or https://www.paypal.me/deanjharrison
Or this one: https://www.gofundme.com/f/dean-and-pets-recover-financially
Thanks, you guys! I appreciate you just taking the time to read this.
#harry potter#harry potter fandom#harry potter au#hellion#i need help#this is not my personal profit
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HI HI HI HI NESS IM BACKKFJFKSMSOS so first of all tumblr hates me why is that the FOURTH ask of mine u answered that i wasnt notified of should i just die
anyways im eating lunch rn
healthy girl era did not work out i took a 6 hour (?) nap yesterday so!!
trying again today
N E WAYS
today the teacher told us her old students were too non che lent (nonchalant!!) so they failed the exam (wat.)
and my friend wanted to laugh about it w me but i wasnt looking so she yeeted my OTHER friends eraser at me
but it
it hit (near?) the teacher..
she was sooo mad omfg
giggling i hate her
like basically i answer all her questions out of spite now like YEAH BRO I KNOW THIS ALRđđ
Also i swear i dif this math problem right but the teacher said it was wrong (wat.) and my friend did it too and we got the same answer (wat.)
i wrote fanfiction at school âïžđ it has already been digitalised but like i DID write it
and tjen my friend read an original short story (? 1.2k words) i wrote which was basically me projecting and she almost cried so like Uh
slay???
dude i love talking so much u have no idea actually
ALSO THE THING ABOUT THE ENRGY LIKe I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY OMG SO I GET EXCITED YK
n e ways..
i was watching american psycho last night but i got distracted..đ ALSO IM SO EXCITED ABT ONICS LIKE EUSHEPSHAPSJXOSKAJDKAAKKDKD
>tries 2 normal
>fails
OK SO!! HRU AND WHATS GOING ON IN UR LIFE AND IF U EVER NEED TO HIRE A HITMAN IM HERE FOR U â€ïžâđ©č as the hitman btw â€ïžâđ©č
U SHOULD NOT DIE!!! TUMBLR SHOULD DIE HOW DARE THEY!!! i am so confused at like what is happening at tumblr hq đđ like there are problems that need to be solved!!!! and i feel like they should be pretty simple to fix!!! but instead they're like "NO LET'S MAKE TAGGING USERS GO BLUE AND COMMENTS UGLY"
but anyway!! i hope your lunch was good!! AND A SIX HOUR NAP SOUNDS AMAZING AND JUST AS PRODUCTIVE AS WORKING OUT!! it's hard to balance everything so definitely don't stress too much about it!! you have your whole life ahead of you to like do something like working out so not doing it one day is totally okay!! (yk?? i hope that made sense and i'm sorry i hope it's okay to say that đ)
??? nonchalant -> failing exam???? i do not see the correlation??? đ YOUR TEACHER IS VV SPECIAL!! IS THIS THE ONE THAT TEACHES ENGLISH BUT ISN'T....ACTUALLY....THAT GREAT....AT ENGLISH??? đ OR MAYBE IT'S UR MATH TEACHER BC U ALSO SAID SOMETHING ABOUT THAT BUT THE ERASER ALMOST HITTING YOUR TEACHER IS CRAZY I WOULD'VE DIED ON THE SPOT đđ
also math teachers love to like??? tell u ur wrong and then not explain how to correctly do something??? so i think u should just blame them for everything!! that sounds fair <3
I'VE ALSO WRITTEN FANFICTION AT SCHOOL LMAOOO i remember being on my computer during french class and my guy was just so boring i pulled out the doc and started writing but LUCKILY it was like an oc fic so it wasn't as scary to write as a x reader UNLIKE WHEN I WAS MAKING TONIC PFPS AND MY DOCUMENT WAS LITERALLY CALLED LIKE yn & atsumu and for some reason all of my friends wanted to COME UP FROM BEHIND ME AND HUG ME!! OR LOOK AT MY SCREEN!! and i was just đđđ but i have no shame so oh well
THE ORIGINAL SHORT STORY SOUNDS GOOD!! ESP IF IT ALMOST MADE YOUR FRIEND CRY?? đ I HOPE YOU'RE DOING ALRIGHT THOUGH <3 AND I LOVE HEARING YOU TALK!! PLEASE TALK AS MUCH AS YOU WANT I WILL READ EVERYTHING YOU TELL ME <33
I'M SO SO GLAD YOU'RE EXCITED FOR TONICS!! I AM TOO <333 I'M SLOWLY PLANNING IT OUT LIKE ONE CHAPTER AT A TIME AND I'M LITERALLY SHAKING WITH EXCITEMENT OMG OMG OMG <33
THANK U LINA!!! I WOULD LOVE FOR U TO BE MY HITMAN <33 I MAY NEED ONE JUST TO GET THRU SCHOOL BC MY HALLS FR ARE SCARY SOMETIMES YK?? like too many scary girls who look me up and down in their little crop tops and shorts and nike air forces and are like "why are u wearing pants in the summer" BC I CAN?? AND I DON'T LIKE SHOWING THAT MUCH SKIN THANK U?? (sorry this probably makes no sense i think my brain has short circuited today </33) BUT I'M DOING ALR!!! i'm stressed about my theatre duties starting up very very soon đđ but i'll let u know how that goes once they start!!! I HOPE YOU'RE DOING WELL TODAY!!! AND EAT SOMETHING GOOD <33
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Fic ask
4, 13, 20!
HELLO MY FAVORITE PROFESSOR ELM STAN THANK U FOR THE MEMES!!! hey actually these are all ones i havent thought about so made me put on my THINKIN CAP. and hey actually actually this got really long really fast so im PUTTING IT UNDER A READ MORE!!!
4. a story idea you haven't written yet
Ok so like. I've got these two ideas kicking around in my head from time to time that I'm like. Still kind of workshopping. One is a fanfic and one is an original fic. But basically I've had in my head since forever (10 years of Big Thinking) about a big Digimon sort of odyssey that originally started as a Pokemon x Digimon crossover where I took the Rocket executives and shoved them into the digital world. I have a whole world built for it already and a central sort of issue/theme revolving around a power struggle between the Demon Lords and the Royal Knights. The Royal Knights control HUB City, which is the major settlement in the continent, the Demon Lords control the Dark Lands, and kind of like usual they all want to wipe each other out. There's eventually a viral sort of glitch that starts to deteriorate the digital world and jumps to the real world.
Part of my problem is I've wanted to make it a comic or at the very least an illustrated fic and part of the problem is I'm trying to decide if I want to keep it as a crossover or just slap some new names onto the execs bc i gotta be real, the pokemon world and other pokemon characters. do not feature. at all.
its really just an excuse for me to give petrel a digimon.
anyways they all have full evolution lines planned, i've got a few major story beats, plot points, and the major final twist decided on. i also have 5 amvs that i play in my head on a loop when i drive to and from work.
also in this fic some digimon are gay (stingmon and flamedramon makeout sessions when) and trans (crusadermon, trans queen) ive decided
i think ive posted old art before extending the au to some characters and for my perfworld mutuals if youve seen my sycamore + dukemon art before that specific dukemon is also from this au. ive also got a fic i did publish where i workshopped a little bit of HUB city & a few side characters
i am now realizing i meant to also talk about the original fic i have planned and that one is a short story about a serial killer who murders hitchhikers picking up a hitchhiking serial killer and that one is less planned out but i know they sloppy kiss in the end
13. a fandom you're thinking about writing for
so like besides pokemon and tiger & bunny & digimon there's none i actively have fic ideas for, but some fandoms I think I'd like to revisit are Sonic and Zelda. Actually I had a Zelda fic I abandoned back on FFNet that I'd like to take another crack at one day where the premise was it was a modern setting based on the OOT/TP Hyrule (mostly OOT) where magic and fairies and such are regarded as superstition sort of the same way they are now, and the wondrous races (Goron, Zora, Kokiri/Korok, etc. even the Sheika to some extent) had all died out, leaving pretty much just the human races like Hylian, Terminian, Gerudo, etc. (In this case Termina is legitimately a neighboring kingdom/country and not limbo/purgatory ok??) And the kicker was Link was like. a hardcore atheist. but i think i remember people getting mad at me bc i made his legal name "Mahas" which I MUST IMPLORE YOU. THIS IS CANONICALLY HIS NAME AS OF SKYWARD SWORD. BELIEVE IT OR NOT THERE WAS AN ATTEMPT TO BUILD A PSEUDO LANGUAGE IN SKYWARD SWORD. WE KNOW HIS NAME IS MAHAS BECAUSE IN THE BEGINNING WHEN FI IS JUST CALLING HIM LINK AND NOT MASTER LINK HER VOICE LINES ARE EVER ONLY MAHAS. ONCE SHE BEGINS CALLING HIM MASTER LINK ANY TIME IT APPEARS ON SCREEN SHE SAYS "MAARI MAHAS." SO IM RIGHT OK FUCK OFF IM RIGHT. DIE MAD FFNET. DIE. MAD.
ahem.
im normal now.
anyways yeah i'd like to write for elder scrolls again too i think but like. something more original than the supernatural/TESIV Oblivion retelling crossover i tried once.
You can find that one on my ao3 but im not linking it.
20. in what year did you publish your first fic?
In the year of our lord 2005 (pensive emoji)(raised fist emoji) I published a... fic of some kind to FFNet.
You won't find it anymore, I deleted it a long time ago! I'm not sure if it was 'Rocket Road Trip' or 'The Rebellion,' but it was one of those. I used to write a ton of OC team rocket fics, and this was back in the day when the Rocket Executives had no name so you either thought there was 1 guy exec and 1 girl exec or you thought each exec encounter in GSC was a different person, and that was me. So I gave them all names and threw them into a truck together and i think in the very first chapter they were leaving the Team Rocket HQ and they ran over and left to die the OC who would later go on to be repurposed into Proton except his name was Steve then and he was a special classification of trainer class that I called a "Random Rocket," and the thing about Random Rockets was they all had very generic names (Steve, Bob, Juan, I think there was a Nancy once but she never got to show up in a fic or rp?) but the OTHER thing about Random Rockets was no one knew what they looked like because canonically their faces were all censored with a big ass mosaic effect (this was written, not draw.)
anyways farla cussed me out on 3 or 4 different fics back when she used to cuss out literal children so I deleted all my fics from 2005 - 2008 and then I deleted more of them when I went to college.
don't be like farla.
edit: self-plugging my old FFNet account for the lulz. yes it is i, the original author of Slowpoke Tails and Koffing Fumes.
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Become a Patron of The Feast is Life podcast!
For a mere 5$ a month you get tons of extra Fannibal goodness!
So what do you get with a five dollar a month patreon donation? Well, first of all you get to listen to our companion show Table Scraps, which features all the good shit from the cutting room floor that didnât make it into the episode. So for each main episode, you get a bonus episode of more DB and Dream shenanigans. The other tasty treat is the ability to make fic requests! Now I canât write anything short, so even though I said theyâd be like a thousand words, the first one I wrote was like six thousand words. The way it works now is that you make your request, and I put those requests in random order, then I work through them until everyone has gotten their wish fulfilled and then we start the process over again. These fics are available ONLY on patreon. They are not on Ao3. Iâve written two so far. The first one is called âSomething Blueâ and itâs about Hannibal proposing marriage to Will using a murder tableau. Hereâs a snippet:
Will knows.
He has to know.
Iâve ordered the fires extinguished in his brain. As I picked up the phone to tell Dr. Sutcliffe Iâd changed my mind, I knew I was setting events into motion that could end with my death or lifelong imprisonment. I also understood that taking such a risk was imperative, as it may be the key to the greatest happiness Iâve ever known. The one certainty I clung to as I foiled my own plans was that Will would know me. See me. What he would decide to do with that knowledge is impossible to predict.
But now, sitting in Jackâs office, I canât be sure heâs received my messages. Understood the scope of my declaration.
I supervised his care during his recovery, driving him to his appointments when it wasnât safe for him to be behind the wheel, picking up prescriptions and groceries. Cooked him proper meals, meant to nourish and calm the inflammation as well as delight the senses. I fed his dogs, paid to have his lawn serviced and the house cleaned and the hounds groomed.
It was in his nature, of course, to refuse help. Willâs father raised him to reject charitable offerings out of pride. Pride, also, insists he must be self-sufficient; alone and lonely so long, he wears fierce independence like armor. But I am nothing if not patient and persistent, and he folded long before I thought he would.
The desire to be taken care of crumbled that pride like a faulty dam springing leaks before collapsing. Iâd like to think I had something to do with it. Not only care, but care from me.
Once Will recovered from his encephalitis, we resumed our therapy and our friendship. Both flourished, a well-tended garden, roots deep in the soil and blossoms unfurling in the sun. We discussed killing the way others might discuss art, poetry, music. He invited me to fish with him and cook the catch after. I invited him to dinner. Itâs become our routine to linger in my office for hours after his session is supposed to have ended, drinking wine by the fire. He let me sketch him once, his face in profile, illuminated by the flames.
One night, three months ago, he put his hand over mine on the arm of my chair. Gave it a tender squeeze.
And that is when I decided to reveal myself to him, come what may.
The other is called âA Previous Entanglementâ where I was prompted to write a fic where Will and Hannibal are in an established relationship before the pilot episode. Itâs called âA Previous Entanglementâ and hereâs a little bit to whet your appetite.
If Jack notices that Will makes eye contact with me â an anomaly from his perspective, to be sure â he makes no indication. If he notices my smile is laced with a petty sort of satisfaction, one that says, perhaps, this is what happens when you refuse to acknowledge what we mean to one another he again masks any sign. Iâm surprised at myself. Up until this moment I hadnât realized Iâd harbored any resentment regarding Willâs insistence on discretion. Keeping our affair a secret has benefited me in several ways, the least of which is ensuring I wouldnât be a suspect, should Will disappear or be found in another of the Ripperâs tableaus.
But I do resent it, with a strength that borders on fury.
I slam that particular door in my mind and force my heartrate back into a comfortable zone, chastising myself. This meeting is the culmination of what began a year ago on this day. I am now a friend of the FBI and privy to its secrets. Jack already said heâd show me the Chesapeake Ripperâs file, a scrapbook of my treasured memories.
âWill Graham. Meet Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Heâs a friend of Alana Bloomâs. I asked him to join us today to take a look at this case â add another layer of insight.â
Will strips off his jacket, tossing it on one of Jackâs office chairs near the door. He fiddles with the collar of his shirt, deliberately not looking at me. How I long to see him in something that fits him well and wasnât selected from Landsâ End or Eddie Bauer. His figure would be devastating in tailored trousers. Jack glances at me apologetically with a miniscule shrug. Donât say I didnât warn you.
Jackâs administrative assistant pops his head in. âMr. Graham, can I get you a coffee?â
Black, with two sugar packets.
âBlack,â Will says over his shoulder as he pauses in front of the board Jackâs assembled, surveying the bland faces of the victims. Iâm sure they all would have made lovely real estate agents or business majors. âSugar. Two of âem.â
The assistant returns with a black mug, placing it on the front of Jackâs desk across from the empty chair that Will must soon occupy. Across from Jack and right next to me. He takes it reluctantly after a time, unable to avoid proximity any longer, as Jack begins the meeting. âIâve filled Dr. Lecter in on the details, and your observations at the Nichols house. We were just getting to all the false confessions coming into the tip lines.â
âMaladjusted teens and the mentally ill,â Will grunts, emptying sugar packets into his mug and stirring them with the black plastic stick provided. âInfluenced by the media coverage.â
I get to my feet just to pass behind him, get a lungful of his scent, clean and crisp like the woods around his home, carrying soft traces of his dogs and the remnants of engine grease under his fingernails. Leaning toward the board, Jack at my side, I pretend to study the map and its connecting lines. I can feel Willâs eyes on me with a kind of agonized betrayal. Iâve certainly knocked him off balance â god. âTell me then, how many confessions?â
âTwelve dozen, last time I checked. None of them knew the details. Until this morning. Then everyone knew the details.â Jack resumes his seat. I stand at the board, looking at him, feeling the waves of irritation as they roll off Will like smoke. âSome genius in Duluth PD took a picture of Elise Nicholsâ body with their phone and shared it with their friends. Then Freddie Lounds ran it on Tattlecrime.com.â
âTasteless,â Will mutters half under his breath. He might mean Ms. Loundsâ journalism practices, but I think he means my surprise appearance at his place of work. Again, I feel the base satisfaction of having rattled him. Forcing him to reap what heâs sown, his own shame and discomfort transferring to me by proxy when he insisted we keep our secret, hiding it like our relationship was something rotten that needed to be buried, decomposing out of sight, out of mind.
âDo you have trouble with taste?â I ask, softly benign. My therapy voice. Will hates it.
âMy thoughts are often not tasty.â I do love watching him squirm.
And if that wasnât enough to make you wanna pay those five measly dollars to us instead of Starbucks once a month, the next patron request is⊠an X-Files AU. I found the script for the pilot episode and Iâm using it for the bones of the story. Except this time it isnât Mulder who lost his sister to the aliensâŠ
These fics are available only on Patreon, so sign up today!
The feast is life, fannibal family â eat it and live!
#hannigram#hannibal#fannibals#hannibal nbc#fannibal family#murder husbands#will graham#hannibal lecter#podcast#thefeastislife
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Request for Help
Hey guys. To remain compliant with AO3's policy terms and to keep them, me, or my fic from any trouble, I'm posting on here about this.
So, this is not only embarrassing but also extremely difficult and saddening on my part. Unfortunately, I don't have a chapter update for you, but I am reaching out publicly to ask for help. Please read this whole thing before you dismiss this because I am in seriously bad shape here and am rapidly running out of options.
To hear a fuller story, you're free to reach out to me personally. If nothing else, if any of you can share that around, it would be a huge help.
Here's the low down, and some of you who have been with me from the beginning know some of it. So, in short order over a span of a little over a year: covid hit, I lost my job, I lost my house, my mother got extremely sick (not with covid), my sister, her family, and I move in together to help take care of her and to financially support each other. Turns out my sister's husband is a complete asshat, and it was a very abusive home for the year I lasted there. Shortly after I moved out, my mother died, my dog died, and then my grandmother died right before Christmas. Both my mom and my grandmother were my two biggest maternal figures of my life, so you can imagine the blow. Add to it, I was just staying with a friend, was making shit money, and spiraled into a bad, bad depression.
That's why I was gone for a year lol. I tried to pick myself up and became roommates with another friend. We had grand plans to move to the city and start great lives. However, it didn't work out. Suffice to say that neither of us were who the other thought we were. It ended on friendly terms, and thankfully, we hadn't made the jump to the city or I would have been fucked, man.
Things were looking up from there, but my depression wouldn't go away. I ended up staying too long at that shit job, then moved to factory work, and now I'm working two fucking jobs day in and out. I'm burning at both ends, and it's just not enough to cover the bills I'm still paying off for those two horrible years, my mother's funeral and burial, not to mention medical bills.
Right now, I can't pay my rent. I can't afford food, and I've been struggling to get on food assistance. I can't pay my therapist or doctor. And now this month, thanks to coming to head with some of the earlier mentioned debt (ie, my mother's gravestone), I don't know how the hell I'm supposed to pay my electric and phone bill, let alone afford the gas to get to my second job. I was so, so close to getting ahead of everything, and I just can't get over that edgeâŠ
I want to make this very, very clearâthis is not me soliciting in any way. That is to say, this is not in any way, shape, or form requesting payment for anything I do on here. It's just my way of trying to reach out to anyone wanting to help a dude out.
I do want you guys to know I have no plans on abandoning this fic. Just the other day, I made time to pick through chapter six, adding in an extra ghoul scene for you. Also, you guys are hilarious. I give you an awesome adventure into Muggle London with Draco sodding Malfoy, and you guys were just like "i love the ghoul!"
Don't blame ya. I love them too. Don't worry, I had originally planned on the ghoul having more scene time in this than canon. Anything creature related, you know Hellion's going to be all over it lol.
If you took the time to read all this, thank you. It's embarrassing, having to ask for help, but I'm officially at the begging strangers position. Please, please, help if you can, even if it's just a dollar or sharing this.
For anyone interested, my paypal is paypal@deanjharrison or https://www.paypal.me/deanjharrison
Or this one: https://www.gofundme.com/f/dean-and-pets-recover-financially
Thanks, you guys! I appreciate you just taking the time to read this.
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Will you be adding more queer characters and relationships to your rewrite?
First: I do want to let it be known: I don't have plans for a fic rn (I've contemplated it but it'll take a lot of time and work) and a comic rewrite isn't something I could theoretically do. But if you guys have questions like this or want to know other specifics I'd love to answer!
Short answer: for ships I'm staying pretty close to canon. I view most of the cast as queer myself and have a few specific identities in mind for some characters.
Longer answer under the cut
When I write characters more often than not my motto is "queer unless otherwise stated." I'm on the spectrum myself but don't exactly have a solid label and largely for a good portion of characters I write them with that similar mindset.
For canon queer characters in my rewrite:
Yang, Blake, Sky, STRQ, Sun, and Neptune are all intended to be Bi. I view them all as characters who aren't limited by the gender of their partners.
Coco I believe in actual canon is a lesbian and I'm content sticking with that. Weiss I'm not entirely sure but Sapphic in some way, the unsure nature is whether I intend her to be a lesbian or bi.
Clover I personally view to be a gay man, though he has more limited screen time.
And for Trans characters the only one I'm set on is Russel 100% is a transman. I don't have any characters I fully am intending to be trans from the early cast beyond that but I'm also open to hearing opinions on characters that can change that!
Outside of that I don't have any set sexualities for characters. Maybe if I one day really dig in and properly write it I'll have more opinions but largely my mind keeps going "idk" so viewer discretion is what I'll say for now for the rest of the cast. (Like personally I've always viewed ruby herself as Ace, most shounen protags tend to read that way to me but I also am not noting it down as law because I can see arguments for her being Sapphic or otherwise.)
Relationships wise I'd want to focus on deepening the romances we have in canon. I'd want to make Jaune and Pyrrha's romance more complex and actually give it time in canon to happen a bit before Pyrrha dies so that her passing can have a lasting effect on Jaune more than anyone in the friend group.
Ren and Nora I think are handled pretty well in canon and I'm generally a fan of them so they're happening. I don't have much to say other than that I want more content with them at beacon showing their life before beacon.
And the Bees would be built up from the beginning with more angst added in during the separation and reunion. Though I can't say I'm not tempted to add in some Yang/Weiss since I've always had a soft spot for them (I won't go into details but there is another Weiss ship that is creeping up on me that only works in my rewrite. If I go for it it'll be interesting.)
Honestly, before I can consider if there's any other romances I'd write in, I'd have to properly plot out the entire story and see what dynamics I'd want to shift in that direction. I think with the way rwby is written and how early episodes had very little platonic bonding, it makes shipping characters a bit more difficult for me. I need a base to work off of.
I hope this answer works for now! My main focus so far has been friendship dynamics.
#ask#anon#rwby rewrite#it took me like a decade before i had solid sexualities for my own fully original characters#any content i consume is consumed through a queer lense#moltenrambles
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đïžđïž
Soooo this is Samson đđ
Half Sun Elf
35 years old
He/him
Lawful/Neutral Good
Grew up in a small village called Elmwood which Iâm headcanoning as fantasy Ireland so Iâm justified in giving Sam and his dad Irish accents lmao
Heâs a doctor (or at least wants to be but too poor for med school), learned everything he knows about practical medicine from his mom (sun elf) and learned how to care for patients by taking care of his chronically ill dad (human)
His dad died when he was 7 and his mom took her own life when he was 11, he was supposed to go live with his aunt and uncle in Calimport but they sucked so he stowed away on a ship when he was 12, became a part of the crew, and then left when he was 15 and they docked in Waterdeep
He was homeless in Waterdeep for a while until my other tav Odette (duergar monk she/her) took him in and basically adopted him as her little brother. Years later when Sam is 30 he finds Wren (my human sorcerer tav they/them) beat up in an alley and takes them to the flat for treatment. They also have no place to call their own so, with a lot of pleading and puppy eyes from Sam, Odette agrees to let them stay
5 years later they all get snatched up by the Nautiloid
Hereâs just a bit better description of his appearance since character creator only does so much
Heâs a 6â4â beanpole, tall and lanky as hell
He has decent upper body strength from working on a ship and in a bakery most of his life but a pretty slim lower body
Absolutely covered in freckles
Has curly hair that he likes keeping trimmed short in the back cuz of hair on neck sensory issues
His right eye (your left) is a rich brown color while the left eye (your right) is a gold hazel color (you can kinda see if you zoom in on some of the pics)
He always wears glasses my guys blind as a bat
He has a scar on the lower left side of his abdomen and back from where he got ran through with a rapier in a pirate attack while he was sailing
And hereâs just some more fun facts
He canonically romances Gale and is monogamous but Iâm planning to make OOC stuff of him myself so go crazy go stupid aaahhh
The only thing I wonât do OOC for him is hetero stuff cuz if I had to label his sexuality it would be demisexual homoromantic and Iâd feel weird having him be with someone who isnât a man or masculine nonbinary
Heâs a Verse / Switch but usually prefers topping
Heâs circumcised (I made his parents both retired clerics just to justify it lmao)
Will enthusiastically demonstrate all the knots and rigging skills he acquired from his sailing days if his partner is up for it *wink wink*
Gives the best aftercare (he is a doctor after all)
He cares a lot about others, usually more than himself, which makes it hard for him to see when heâs being taken advantage of
Can be very perceptive in other situations though (knew Nettie was up to something when she grabbed a plant he recognized as dangerous, didnât drink Jaheiraâs drink cuz he could smell the herbs)
Heâs ambidextrous and can sometimes lock in on a task and be found illustrating a surgical exposure with one hand while writing a description with the other
He doesnât drink alcohol (doesnât like the taste or how it makes him feel plus has bad memories associated with it) but he does smoke a tobacco pipe when heâs stressed
Apologies if this got long Iâve been obsessed with this OC of mine since before I even got the game lol he means so much to me â€ïž
I am planning on writing a Gale x Rolan x Samson fic soon thatâs gonna be post Lorroakan defeat and include some hurt/comfort, sappy confessions, and then Rolan getting sandwiched between Gale and Samson as he receives the most tender love and care that probably makes him cry⊠if youâd be interested in reading something like that I can tag you when itâs done đ
It might take a little why for me to get around to it cuz my chronic illness is still acting up and Iâm still recovering from being in the hospital and having to go back to work so apologies on that đ«¶
Also love Rackal what a beefcake
I wanna draw some spice because I got a good long weekend ahead and need some silly things to draw between bigger projects. I also really wanna practice more spicy stuffs.
Some quick facts about my Tav for your consideration:
Rackal Orro:
-52 years old
- Captured on the Nautiloid alongside his twin sister.
-Half Drow (human mom, drow father. Mom was a Barbarian, dad a former cleric turned simple shopkeep. All the height/muscle comes from Mom.)
- former fighter turned paladin (Oath of Devotion). Smashes his Oath while saving the tieflings, specifically one grumpy one in particular (honestly, good riddance; it was getting in the way of getting shit done)
- Former Flaming Fist turned mercenary/adventurer prior to events of BG3; been out of the Fists for 5 years
- Burn scars from failed Fist mission 10 years ago, wherein he lost his longterm lover
- Romantic life has been meh since; a couple of relationships, none lasting more than a couple months. Ends up in slow burn with Rolan and falls HARD.
- Chaotic Good
- Service Dom/Top
Persona: Comes off a bit stoic/too serious at the start of the adventure/until the Grove party (though, to be fair, heâs just trying to keep his sister alive and is constantly assessing an increasingly disastrous situation, realizing fairly quickly that there is more going on than the tadpoles. Also, it doesnât help that his dead lover is haunting his dreams telling him to eat even more tadpoles.). After a breakdown, mellows out, but still maintains a pretty serious attitude. Rather impulsive, especially in situations he perceives as a threat. Loyal, wary, does not forgive easily. Scratch is one of the few things keeping him sane.
- Volo Lobotomy Status: signed right the fuck up after downing a quarter bottle of whiskey. It was perfect timing; the moment Volo suggested it, Rackal had experienced:
Surprise vampire in camp; now his sister is a bloodbag.
Laeâzel trying to kill him.
Shadowheart and Laeâzel trying to kill each other.
Laeâzel fucking his sister, which he couldâve ignored if it DIDNâT WAKE UP THE CAMP
Dead lover jumpscare
All within 48 hours.
He was genuinely thinking â FUCK IT TAKE ME OUT.â
Ref pics:
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Do you perhaps have time travel fix-it fics where Stiles takes over his old body?
And thanks for maintaining this blog, you're a godsend <3
AND
Anonymous asked:
hi! I love your page sm!! Thank you for all you do! Do you know any time travel fics? Time travel is my absolute favorite trope đ. Thank you! đđ
AND
Anonymous asked:
Absolutely adore you and your blog!!!
Can you maybe recc me some stories where Stiles or Derek travel back in time to save the Hales?
Please and thanks love you
AND
Anonymous asked:
hi! i love your blog and thank you so much for everything that you do! â€ïžâ€ïžâ€ïž
do you know any sterek fanfics that have pre-fire derek? whether it's time travelling or flashbacks, just anything with Derek before his family died. thank you!đ
I sure do!
...Baby One More Time by killjoywhatsername
(1/? I 1,712 I General I Steter)
A spell gone wrong brings a younger Peter Hale to the future. Stiles tries to get him back to his timeline before the now younger Hale can enact his own version of The Parent Trap.
According to plan by FeelingsDusk
(1/1 I 16,363 I Mature I Steter)
The plan was very simple: go back in time, kill Kate, kill Gerard, never ever make contact with his parents, try to find a place within the Hale pack or not, but either way, live the rest of his life displaced and without the people he loves.
Of course, as it always is with him these days, nothing goes according to plan.
I Don't Want to Say Goodbye by i_might_be_in_over_my_head, Shadow_Impala
(4/4 I 16,789 I Mature I Stetopher)
They were gone. They were all gone but he was gonna fix it, he had to fix it. Hauling Peterâs lifeless body up, Stiles laid him out on the Nemeton. He looked like some kind of human sacrifice, well not human, but whatever. He was covered in blood, ripped to pieces and it was all Stiles fault. Didnât matter, none of it mattered because he was gonna fix it.
They were everywhere, the bodies of his pack. Ripped and torn apart by a stupid witch and her super powered pack. Stiles hadnât even known there were spells like that. Hadnât known that spells like that had even existed. Heâd find them, make sure he was strong enough to use them when he fixed this mess.
Settling on the stump cross legged he positioned one hand over Peterâs heart and the other over the heart of the Nemeton, âOne chant, one little chant.â He mumbled to himself getting ready to try and pull off something that he had never done before. Using more magic than he was sure he possessed. The book said he got three shots if he did it right. If he couldnât fix it in three shots then the timeline was permanent and that just wouldnât work for him. Stiles refused to live in this timeline alone.
lean on me by thoughtsandthings
(16/? I 28,051 I Teen I No Pairing)
Stiles and Scott havenât been friends for a decade, not since Scott made the mistake of believing Theo and pushing Stiles out of the pack. Now twenty-seven, they get into an argument and wake up in the past, back to a time when they only had each other.
-
in short, a time travel story about friendship
Fly a Little Faster by mirrorkill
(1/1 I 32,052 I Teen I Sterek)
Everyone knows when you go back in time, you shouldn't step on an ant, just in case you accidentally kill your own grandparent or something. But what happens when you go back in time and, uh, accidentally interrupt the one event that apparently made the Grumpiest Alpha in Town into a ball of mindless manpain?
Well, if Marty McFly can do it, so can Stiles Stilinski. All he has to do is get Derek and Paige to fall in love before he gets pulled back to his own time. And before he makes anything worse. That's easy as pie, right? Right?
Burning House by 1jet2unknown, nottoolateforthegame
(15/15 I 41,007 I Explicit I Sterek)
âWhy am I here? What was the point of showing me all that? Itâs not like itâs going to change anything!â
You can change it.
âHow?!â
You can change it if you go back.
âThen take me back!â
Stilesâs stomach lurched as the world tilted and stretched sideways.
Now as Ever (All That Is and Has Been) by venis_envy
(16/16 I 52,270 I Explicit I Sterek)
Stiles can't remember what happened to rearrange the time-space continuum, or how he ended up being pulled into the past. All he knows is that he's there now, in 2003 Beacon Hills, with a teenage werewolf and a possibly-crazy veterinarian as his only allies.
There Are Many Names In History (but none of them are ours) by GoddessofBirth
(33/36 I 169,131 I Explicit I Petopher)
Stiles is driving in his jeep when the horrible, no good, very bad thing happens. In which 17 year old Peter Hale and Chris Argent materialize in present day Beacon Hills and things become awkward very, very fast.
Hunting Pains by Ragga
(29/29 I 230,137 I Mature I Steter)
It was a sad day when one had to resort to time travel because things were just so fucked up. Stiles should know. He went back to undo the whole âBeacon Hills is a death trapâ thing but for now he would just settle for knowing where the fuck he was. Even the year would be a nice start. Someone? Anyone?
Or, the one where Stiles travels back in time, karma comes to bite him in the ass, and he ends up as Kate Argent's hunter mentor. He didn't take Peter Hale into account either, and he definitely didn't sign up for everything that came after.
His life.
#teen wolf#sterek#stiles stilinski#derek hale#time travel#anon#steter#peter hale#petopher#chris argent
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OnePiece x Y/N Secret Santa 2022!
đ Sanji x reader for Wurm-food đ
A/N: Itâs finally time! Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas! I participated in the @onepiece-blorboexchange Haha yes itâs me unveiled! I, am your secret Santa @wurm-food , itâs been me all along! (FixedSpeech is my alt lol) I lowkey stalked your blog and was inspired to write this after I had already drawn up the sketch so you technically get 2 presents! I might have gotten a little carried away but I hope you enjoy them! Also small world I read your fic âSet Ablazeâ on Ao3 a back in October đ© đ Good shit!
Summary: You decided to finally confess your feelings to your best friend ! Although on a busy day at the shop it was harder to find the opportunity to do so. You just wanted some alone time to spill your guts but who knew the weather would be your greatest wingman.
Tropes: Modern/Cafe/Bakery/Coffee shop AU, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Friends to Lovers
đ Word count: 3,902 đ Oneshot (originally I planned for smut but thought this ending was cuter...might still write it later when Iâm less busy tho đ)
It was always lively at the cafe you worked for. The Thousand Sunny was well known around town and was attached to the base floor of an apartment complex. It was a popular spot during the rest of the year but you notice people go apeshit for holiday drinks and pastries. Not that the day had been overwhelming or anything. You loved your job and your coworkers to death but on busier days like today you barely got to see the man of your dreams, your big time crush and the head chef in charge of the whole place, Sanji. Your heart swooned just thinking about the blonde but on days like these Sanji was pretty much confined to the kitchen. Sanji didnât seem to mind much; he was swiftly gliding around the kitchen with that cheery grin that youâve come to love but you wouldnât be able to admire him from your spot at the register as customers begged for your attention. Currently it was you, Nami, Robin and Sanji handling the afternoon rush. Over all the noise you could faintly hear the phone go off as you rang up the next customer handing them their long awaited pastries. The line was seemingly never ending today.
âCan someone get that? My hands are kind of full at the moment.â Sanji hollered from the other room as Nami picked up the phone, relieved to have a short break from the demanding crowd. You switched off of the register with Robin to give her a breather too. You were faster at preparing drink orders anyhow. During the much missed downtime before the holiday season you asked Sanji to help you with your drink making skills. In all honesty it was your lame attempt at asking him out on a date but who could blame you. You both had naturally flirty personalities. It's hard to distinguish the line between being close friends and something more. Not to mention the way he worships women in general. You got scared that your feelings were unrequited and panicked. So instead of asking if heâd like to go get coffee with you sometime, you asked if he could teach you how to make coffee sometime. In the end you still got to spend time with the cook so it wasnât that much of a trainwreck but ever since then you had been trying to come out and profess your love to him. Sanji may be one of your best friends but that makes it all the more confusing trying to figure out if he likes you the same way you do. You were dragged out of your thoughts when you heard Nami shout.
âWhat do you mean they told you your flight was canceled, do they know who you are!â
You tried to focus on bringing the line down faster. Twirling around the selection of machinery and syrups like it was second nature. You learned from the best after all. As the waves of people died down Nami updated everyone on the situation. âApparently Viviâs flight was canceled due to bad weather predictions and unless someone can pick her up sheâs going to be stuck at the airport all night. The next open flight isnât until this time tomorrow.â That sucks.
You looked at the clock youâd be getting off shortly but you werenât about to drive through that traffic hellscape and to the airport no less. You hummed as everyone was thinking over who they could call that would be able to pick Vivi up. It was going to be difficult knowing everyone's schedules didnât line up this week. You glanced back at Sanji who was quickly clearing down the counter while he had some time before he started prepping for the next wave. Thatâs when you got an idea âNami, you close today right? Iâll just cover for you instead! That way you could pick her up.â As long as you could be around and useful to Sanji you felt like you could do anything. Even if that meant you'd be working another few hours. It would at least give you a chance to say whatâs on your mind. Fingers crossed.
Her eyes lit up as she jumped up and down hugging you âYou're a lifesaver! Iâll tell Vivi Iâm on the way.â you hugged her back as Sanji bounced over to you with heart eyes presumably to see Nami off. You were caught off guard when Sanji casually hugged you from the side. âThatâs our sweet (Y/N)-chwan as selfless as ever!â you blushed at the gesture. Sanjiâs touch lingered around your waist for a brief moment before heading back to the kitchen. Robin looked at Sanji and then looked back at you softly chuckling in her knowing way as you all got back to work.
The hours flew by with the sheer amount of customers coming in and out but as the night came the heavy traffic seemed to still. You assume it was due to the snow. People often don't want to brave the weather, especially not at night. You and Robin had about half an hour left before you properly closed when Sanji suggested you all leave before the weather gets any worse. Robin seemed eager to leave, asking if you didnât mind finishing up by yourself. Of course you didnât but something was weird about the smirk she gave you as she said her goodbyes. After you swept and mopped you went to check on Sanji. It seemed like he was getting started on the baked goods for tomorrow. You couldnât help but watch the way he kneaded the dough. There was just something about the way his fingers delicately rolled the pastry that made you wish that you were those cinnamon buns and that Sanji would cover you with his icing. This is not what you should be thinking about right now! Not when you're in public and definitely not while he's a few feet away from you. Unfortunately it was already too late, you could feel the small amount of blood dribble down your nose. You just had to think about making Sanji cum for you.
You gasped unintentionally, causing the blonde to look over at you. Your face heated up as your eyes met. How were you going to explain yourself? You were so embarrassed. Sanji on the other hand rushed over to you grabbing a clean towel to delicately hold against your face. â(Y-Y/N)! Are you okay? Youâre bleeding!â staring into his eyes you start to stutter.
âA-ah um, t-t-the weather! Yeah sometimes if itâs too cold outside my nose just b-bleeds?â you wanted to perish that just sounded stupid. Entirely possible but stupid. Although it didnât seem like Sanji even heard your explanation as he picked you up and put you on the counter to help wipe the blood off of your face. Such a gentleman he was always so attentive to your needs. Itâs one of the reasons you fell in love with him.
Sanji cleared his throat âI thought you went home with Robin?â Sanji was glad you didn't leave without saying anything. He was confused when only Robin said her goodnight. He was afraid he did something to upset you but seeing you, the beautiful love of his life, stay behind to give him his own private farewell filled his heart with so much glee.
You tilted your head down slightly, unable to meet his gaze taking the towel from his hands. Your heart pounded faster in your chest as your fingers brushed his. This was your chance âActually I wanted to," you trailed off. No, it didn't feel right you already made a fool of yourself with the nose bleed you didn't have the confidence to confess right now. At least you could come up with something else. "I wanted to ask you if you needed any help! Yeah! I know you always prepare all the pastries the night before.â That was a better idea. Honestly you missed hearing his praise and flirty remarks all day. At least now you could get your daily dose before you go back to your sad cold apartment.
Sanji loved how thoughtful you always were but if the weather was supposed to be bad enough to cancel flights he might want to say no just so that he could make sure you got home safe. As much as he would love to spend more time with his angel your safety was his first priority âThatâs sweet of you but I couldnât ask that of-â
You eagerly cut him off âYou wouldnât be asking, I'm offering to help. Besides, we sold our last gingerbread house today. I was hoping we could make some together.â
Sanjiâs eyes widened, his goddess wanted to bake with him. Just the two of you he felt blessed. How could he say no to you like that. He gave you a soft smile as he helped you off the counter bowing his head "What kind of man would I be to refuse such an offer from my princess." He winked at you for good measure. If only he understood how flustered he truly makes you.
Sanji couldnât help the fact that your joyful enthusiasm took his breath away, from the way you hummed while you mixed the ingredients to the way your laugh filled the room whenever a gingerbread man didn't quite come out of the cookie cutter properly. Even now as you vigorously mixed creams and icing with an intensity that had small flecks fall in your hair, all he could think about was running his hand through that soft luscious hair and capturing your lips with his. His heart felt like it was going to burst as you accidently wiped some icing on your cheek and tried to lick at it to get it off. The consistency, the color, that's when his mind went elsewhere and suddenly it was Sanjiâs turn to be embarrassingly red faced on the floor with a nose bleed.
"Oh god, Sanji are you alright! What happened?" One moment Sanji was watching you making icing and the next he was on the floor. What did you miss?
He coughed bringing the corner of his apron to his face as he stuttered out "Y-your cuteness was just too much for my heart to take." It wasnât entirely a lie but he definitely couldn't tell you the truth.
His words made your legs weak as you gracefully knelt down next to him pulling a handkerchief from your pocket to help clean up the blood, blushing at the proximity you both were in. If you wanted too, all you would have to do was lean forward and kiss him. Then he would know how you felt about him but do you risk it. You didn't have time to think about it as the oven chimed signaling the batch of gingerbread was done.
You both composed yourselves and shuffled the trays onto drying racks in silence as you continued preparing other pastries while you waited for the gingerbread to cool. You and Sanji made a good team. You were surprised how little you had to communicate to know what the other needed. Now if you could apply that to your romantic feelings then you were all set.
By the time you were finished baking and decorating it was much later than you anticipated it being but your apartment wasn't too far of a walk. You should be fine, you hope. As you walked back into the storefront you noticed that the âbad weather predictionâ was no joke. More than half the length of the door and windows were covered in white barely showing the outside world. You looked at each other both coming to the same conclusion. You were snowed in. You couldnât get home like this or well you probably could but you'd have to climb the wall of snow and then hope you could access the door to your apartment complex.
Sanji cleared his throat "You could stay the night. I don't mind. Not like you can get home like this anyway." you only nodded. You didn't trust your voice to not betray you and you were too busy blushing to realize that he was just as flustered in this situation. Sanji's inner monologue was running rampant overjoyed at the prospect that you'd be sleeping over. He would be the last thing you saw before you went to bed and he'd be the first person you'd greet in the morning. He smiled at the thought of seeing you all cute and sleepy when you woke up tomorrow. After he locked the Sunny, you followed him up the stairs and into his apartment.
It was small but something about it being Sanjiâs made it feel warm and cozy. As Sanji stepped in closing the door behind you he gestured to the couch "Make yourself at home, I'll see if I can find you something to wear. Would you like a bath? Are you hungry? I can make you something!" He needed to calm himself down before he makes you uncomfortable but he couldnât help it. He giddy wanting to pamper his princess for always being so good to him. Before you could answer any questions he disappeared into his room. When he came back he brought you some of his clothes to wear and ushered you to the bathroom for your shower. Your head was spinning thinking about using his soaps and body wash. You were standing where Sanji has stood many times naked, as you are now. If you close your eyes you could almost imagine it. At least if you got another nose bleed you were still in the shower but still you didn't want to make too big of a mess. As you finished up it finally dawned on you that you would be wearing Sanjiâs clothes. It would be like he was hugging you from all angles. You lift the shirt to your nose. Of course it smelled clean but there was a hint of something uniquely distinguishable as Sanjiâs scent embedded in the fabric.
Meanwhile in the kitchen, Sanji cursed under his breath looking at the contents in his fridge. Go figure the one time you finally come over is the one time he's low on everything he envisioned cooking for you. To be fair he didn't have a lot of time to prepare anything impressive like the wine and dine he had in his head. He knows you would be fine with something simple but Sanji still wanted to make it special. This was the first time you would be staying the night and he didn't want it to be your last. He lit some candles to set the mood as he rolled up his sleeves to get to work. By the time you emerged from the other room he had just finished setting the table. He was awestruck looking at the way his clothes fit on you. Sanji couldnât help the "adorable" that slipped past his lips. He beckoned for you to take a seat pulling out the chair for you like the gentleman he was.
It was all so romantic it felt like a dream. Almost like this was naturally how it should be everyday but reality is a cruel mistress and once you both finished eating the power went out leaving the candle to dimly illuminate the room as you stare into each other's eyes with shock and surprise. The weather was a force to be reckoned with.
"I guess we should turn in for the night." Sanji said, picking up the candle and offering you his hand. Your heart was racing with how warm he was to the touch. You were glad the candle was your only light otherwise the blonde would see you blushing profusely. As you made your way to the bedroom Sanji let go of your hand to open the door. He gestured to his bed.
"You can take my room, I'll be on the couch if you need me-"
"NO wait!" You cut him off grabbing the edge of his sleeve. The moment your actions register you recoil shyly nudging your fingers together. "You'll be cold on the couch without the heater on, you should stay an- and keep me warm!" Stumbling over your words aside, you were proud of yourself for not chickening out at the declaration. Even if you can't mentally rally your bravery to profess your true feelings, maybe your actions will speak for you.
Sanjiâs heart clenched. Of course how could he leave his angel at a time like this. "As you wish, my princess." He practically moaned at your request hoping you couldnât tell how sensual his thoughts were becoming at the notion of you âsleepingâ together. You both got under the covers as he blew out the candle. You laid facing each other trying to focus on your breathing but the blood was rushing to your ears. Your heart was doing back flips while your mind was doing summersaults. You should confess now but the words were stuck in your throat. It wasnât until his hand brushed yours that you even remembered how to breathe properly.
"(Y/N) are you cold?"
You nodded slowly "A little, are you?" He only hummed before he spoke in that mellow sultry voice that puts butterflies in your stomach "Turn around for me?" Oh god did he even realize the words he was saying, what he was asking of you?
Mesmerized with the idea you did as you were told. You felt him shifting closer to you feeling his warm breath on the back of your neck. You bit your lip to suppress a mewl. You became hyper aware of the space between you but the arm draped around your torso made you dizzy. His touch was so loving, you felt safe. "That better?" Sanji asked unsure how comfortable you were with his arm around you. The tension was killing him but the fact that you didnât push him away immediately was a good sign right. He was torn between the two voices in his head. His more perverse side was egging him to shoot his shot. The worst that could happen is you say no but then you might lose all respect for him and he didnât want that either.
Meanwhile to answer his question you wanted to say no, you were still a little cold but you wanted him to pull you closer. Instead of answering vocally you had a better idea. Taking full advantage of the situation you muster up the courage to lean back into his touch catching him off guard as he stutters for a moment not quite forming full sentences. You were going to be the death of him. You pressed yourself against him letting his warmth envelope you before he inevitably pushed you away, or so you thought but he never did. You laid spooning drowning in your thoughts. Sanji was doing the same, neither of you spoke, both enjoying the moment. Time passed but you werenât capable of counting the minutes.
You were too busy trying to sort the words out in your head that you didnât notice Sanjiâs almost anxious nervous shifting. Without thinking about it you moved closer barely catching a muffled grunt. Thatâs when you notice something pressing against you that wasnât there before. You blushed, gasping at the sensation. Sanji wanted to die. He tried to roll over pulling his arm back to hide his shame but you held on rolling over with him incidentally being pulled into his lap. You were straddling him when you finally let go of his arm. You both were seemingly shocked at the others actions speaking at the same time.
âSanji I have something to-â
âIâM SORRY!â
He covered his face spewing out a stream of apologies mixed with compliments of your beauty and how that's no excuse for his actions. The bottom line was that he wasnât listening to you when you were trying to tell him everything that was on your mind. You swallowed, it was now or never and you felt you had a good chance. Grinding down on his hard on you manage to pull a groan from his lips shutting him up. Sanji threw his hand over his mouth embarrassed over his body's reactions. His mind was racing, brain short circuiting with the position he was in. His princess was grinding down on him; surely this was a dream. He let out another whimper as you finally stilled your hips. A soft pant escaping your lips from the movement. Sanjiâs eyes were blown wide, taking in the image of his goddess in the moonlight. The blonde was worried that if he blinked heâd wake up from this fantasy of his.
The friction between you felt just as good to you and seeing Sanji this disheveled was doing things to your head. Youâve barely touched him but you wanted to see how much of a mess you could turn him into. You guessed now was a good time as ever to get the weight off your chest. "Stop apologizing, I've been thinking about this for a while but haven't found the right time to say it." Sanji slowly moved his hand from his face. Even in the dim lighting you could tell it was a deep crimson. Your face was warm as well but it comforted you enough knowing you both were on the same page. At least thatâs what you were going to assume.
You took a deep breath to calm your nerves as you continued "When we are together every compliment, every smile, every lingering touch sends me reeling and it feels like my heart is going to burst. You're my best friend and you mean the world to me but I've fallen in love with you and I can't hide it anymore. Sanji I love you."
â(Y/N)â Your name died on his lips as you slowly crashed yours against his. Sanji pulled you closer, reveling in your soft touch melting against him as his hand wandered your body to hold you lovingly. You put your hand on his chest as you pulled away. This was it, the moment of truth. Both of you were panting with lust filled eyes as he slowly rolled you over so he could be on top. Gently grabbing your hand he kissed each one of your knuckles taking the time to place kisses up your arm watching you flush as he was mere inches away from your face smiling at you like he's waited his entire life for this moment.
âYou are my world,â he kissed your forehead. âMy goddess,â he kissed your cheek. âMy angel,â your other cheek. âAnd if youâll let me, my lover.â He looked at you eyes full of adoration, almost waiting for your approval before saying âI love you, most.â Sanji finally met your lips, cherishing the way you met him halfway. He shifted ever so slightly, placing him right against your entrance. You moaned into the kiss pulling him closer as you rolled your hips up matching the pace of the kiss, hot and slow. You both had all the time in the world and Sanji was going to make sure you savored the moment.
#one piece x reader#sanji x y/n#sanji x reader#x reader art#one piece x reader fanart#black leg sanji#secret santa#OP x Y/N secret santa#oneshot#one piece secret santa
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⥠đđđđ đ
đđđđđđ đđđđ đđ đđđ đđïżœïżœïżœïżœđ đđ
đđđđđ âââ park jay
synopsis âââ at seven years old, heather brown finds a friend in jay jeongseong park. at ten years old, she realizes that she found a lifelong partner in him. at eighteen years old, she wishes that she had told him she loved him for the first and last time (she does notâcould not, of anythingâ and it's all because she can't live a life without daniel yeonjun choi).
starring âââ daniel yeonjun choi. heather nabeom brown, a female original character. jay jeongseong park. additionally, beomgyu choi, sunghoon park and heeseung lee.
genre âââ angst, childhood best friends to almost lovers, drama, hurt/comfort.
length âââ 10,019k words (part one)
warnings âââ mentions of hospitals, illnesses and death, some minor scenes depicting familial issues.
author's note âââ (heads up not edited whatsoever we die like newt.) damn. this has been brewing in my docs for exactly two years and i have rewritten it countless times and waz unsatisfied each time and couldn't finish it. im sort of very tired of it just sitting there, so here i am, posting this in a few installments so maybe i can get the motivation to finish depending on your reactions haha. make note that although the romance is still there, it's not as prevalent as the pure bond between the three protagonists. i have so many feelings bottled up in my wee lil heart for this fic because heather, jay and daniel are my babies and i love their bonds so much and i have so so much planned so yeah i hope y'all enjoyed what i have so far and we'll see. maybe you can read the second part next spring lolol. also heather and her thought processes are totally me lol
taglist no. one âââ @junityy @jeonqquk @leavethemonsteralive @iuwon @envirae @i-luvsang @rae-blogging @jitaros @jdyunvrs @kdyism @yourlocalhotgf @mark-lees-world @99outros @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @tyongishs @yutaalove @yangianwon @icywhatim @sunshine-skz @sooblvr @whoe-dis @injanggarden @90sni-ki @wccycc @sunfics @woo-minhee02 @yyxy27 @bigsobforskz @soobin-chois @jaysbestie @ni-kiii @jungwonerz @sunoosbestie @95sjcc @ja4hyvn @ant-ton-ya @stealanity @pshflrts @norifilms @shekllls @eternallyhyucks @yjwfav @luvningkai @youreverydayzebra @mosviqu @w3bqrl @candysofthours @moontines @rielleluvs @lebrookestore
reblogs and feedback are super appreciated y'all !!
âHello! My name is Jeongseong Park, but you can call me Jay!â she blinked twice, clutching the hems of the older womanâs skirt. The short-statured younger boy leaned to its side, his head tilting curiously. âIs she shy?â
She chuckled, affectionately running her fingers through her daughterâs soft locks of light hairâ well, lighter than his, at least. âShe really isnât most of the time, dear. Maybe she just doesnât feel well right now.â
She held the chubby hands that tighten around the fabric on her waist, crouching down to the little girlâs height. Her frown seemed evident by the way her brows narrow, big and bright eyes hesitant on meeting her mother. âCome on, Heather. Donât you think that itâs a little rude to not greet the young man?â
âI donât want to.â She had a higher voice than Jay was used to, but that was only because he had been hanging around older people all the time, excluding the other boys his teacher had introduced him to in his new class last month. He took slight offense to that statement, however cool his outer kiddy demeanor covered it.
Without wasting a single moment, her mother beats him for a response. âYou have to make friends, darling. Donât you think he seems nice?â
The unintentional innocence that radiates off her peer takes Heather off guard. He did seem nice enough with his doe-like eyes focused on the tropical mix capri sun, struggling to poke through the plastic with his thin, orange straw. He seemed like he liked to feed pigeons with his bread even if he himself was hungry.
She liked thatâ he didnât look like those older kids who always drew on the walls behind school. Heather hated those third graders with a passion, but Jay seemed nice enough. He didnât wear those black ripped jeans and shirts and he didnât sport their messy hair. All of those kids did and they were mean towards even the teachers.
She wondered if their clothes and style were the problem, but maybe that would be a little shallow of her. Daniel always told her not to judge anyone by their face, body or clothes, so she would always trust his judgement and come to the conclusion that it wasnât the clothes that made them seem rude.
Daniel was always right, he was probably the only person that told her that, thoughâ he was the nicest person Heather knew of in her six years of life. He told her that she needed to be nice and accepting of everyone. He was older than her, almost ten years old. That was, in her mind, ancient enough to be considered as good as an adult like her mother and father.
She took in a deep breath, reluctantly letting the silk between her fingers go and came out into the open. âFine,â she mutters underneath her breath. Daniel would be very proud of her, âMy nameâs Heather. I will be seven years old on the twenty-first of March. I hope we can be good friends.â
The young boy takes a look at her extended hand, thinking about how odd of an introduction this whole thing was. But he accepts the very formal shake of hand anyways, his smile lighting up the room within seconds. âIâll be seven after you will, then! My birthday is in April.â
Nodding, she leaned back to inspect his attire. He had weird hair, she noticed. âYou have weird hair.â Her mother gasped, âLittle lady, that is not how you speak to people.â Though her mother reprimanded her, to which she took no caution to, she was a tad bit taken aback by the quiet snort that had escaped the odd boyâs lips just now.
âItâs okay, I hate it, too.â He did? âMy dad thinks that all boys have to have this hair at least once in their life, so he made our hairdresser cut it this way. I like those hairs that they show on television, though! The ones where they cut it short until here and leave it long on top.â
Did he mean an undercut, Mrs. Brown scratched her head with wonder. She shook her head, accepting defeat and patted Heatherâs shoulders. âI have to attend to my work, Heather, so why donât you go off with Jay here and play with him a little bit until Johnâs father comes to pick you up for your music class later this afternoon?â
She didn't like John, nor did she like his father.
âBut, I told you that I donât like classical music. Do I still have to go?â She tugs at the hem of her motherâs crisp white blouse, an unhappy look etched onto her childish features. She supposed she didnât look all that intimidating, but she liked to believe that she was either way, however intimidating her puffy cheeks and pigtails could be.
âHeather Brown, you will attend these classes for as long as we tell you to. You must grow up to be as refined as possible, understood? Donât you think that it would be nice to be able to play the violin well? Look, even Jay here takes piano lessons! And I heard from his mother that he is an excellent student.â The six year-old gave the poor fellow a side glance, backtracking on her older thoughts for a moment.
Scratch that, maybe she did dislike him just a little bit now.
Resigning to her fate, she pulled away, âOkay, Iâll do it for you.â With a satisfied nod, the older woman took her silent leave and Heather watched as the tall doors click closed, leaving her alone with her new acquaintance in a large hall surrounded by glass windows, the bright twelve p.m. sun peeking through the thin grey sun blockers.
âMy mom tells me that itâs always good for you to wear sunscreen,â Jay took notice of the way she seemed stuck on the way the beams of light escaped through the cracks. He pulls his miniature version of a duffel bag out of the large cupboard from the back of the office, navigating his way through the leather seats surrounding the oval oak table to accommodate for large meetings.
âDo you want some? I was told that you have to apply it every two hours.â You stare at the uncapped orange bottle, a tiny bitâ pea sized, if she had to give it a relatively accurate description of the amountâ of the creamy substance already on the back of his palm.
Why was their first conversation alone about the many effects of under-protection from the harmful rays of the sun, Heather never knew. Though he might have been a little odd, she supposed he wasnât that bad of a kid. As far as she could see, he was just her motherâs husbandâs friendâs son who had a knack for knowing the most random of knowledge that no six year old usually could know ofâ he also liked dancing, but she wasnât about to tell him that she liked that small bit of fact.
Heather made her first friend the same age as her at seven years old. She didnât like his haircutâ and neither did heâ but he was nice enough to let her draw stars on his cheeks with face paint on the first day he met her.
âĄ
For her entire life, all Heather knew of were three things: she hated bullies, she hated music, and she hated the way Jay was having a growth spurt when she was stuck in the same height as before. She was ten years old nowâ mind you, she was older than him, however much a gap of a single month was worthâ and she was now shorter than Jay Park.
âAre you not bored of always staying in this hole?â Heather whispered into his ear, mindful of her volume with all of the overbearing adults in the office. Although, to be fair, this âholeâ that she had been talking about was a 25 stories high corporal building made of expensive glass windows and tall ceilings adorned with chandeliers everywhere she looked if she craned her neck just a littleâ it was the furthest thing from being a mere hole that they had been stuck inside together for the past three years.
Jay nodded, âI asked my dad if we could just stay back at home, but he said no. He thinks that we will be in danger as soon as we are out of their direct sight, even if the staff are there to clean the house.â Being the only children of two business giants did come with its disadvantages, Heather could only cry in silence.
âSurely, they wonât notice if we go out to buy ice cream, right?â she nudged the pondering boy, urging him to respond. The mischief swimming inside those familiar brown eyes was an exciting thing to witness.
He glanced at the busy adults, all gathered to sit around a table for a long discussion. âWe can go to the store next block and then run back here, how about that?â Heather muttered in a low tone, almost too quiet for him to pick it up, but he did.
âFine, but if they notice and get angry, youâre the one who is responsible, okay?â Jay took her little block of rosin from the intricately made coffee table, storing the object away in her violin case, carefully clasping the two sides shut together to pick it upâ when he had grown into the habit of carrying the large black container for her, he didnât know for sure, but she always left the instrument behind, so it was up to him to tuck the bow and violin away securely, lest Mrs. Brown reprimanded her daughter for protesting against her music lesson again.
Slinking out of the adultsâ way was easy of a task, you only had to be quiet and tuck yourself away behind the walls and just keep on moving before someone actually decided to check the odd moving shadows behind the long blinds. What was difficult, however, was pulling off a maneuver like escaping through the front entrance where security guards were always planted.
âAre you ready?â Heather wrapped her arms around his shoulders, taking notice of how much wider they seemed to have gotten in the two years she had known him. She had stashed her case away in one of the empty offices on the fourth floor where all of the marketing workers were stationed.
The quiet stalking they had done from the twentieth floor all the way down to the firstâ all the while still going unnoticed by the hundreds of personnel frantically buzzing through the hallways like bees to their nestsâ had proven to be the most exhilarating part of this sneaking out ordeal.
She peeked a head through the small gap between the door and its frame, allowing Jay to slide a small head through the same gap as wellâ they looked like characters from cartoons, comically peering at something they shouldn't with heads stacked above each othersââ only to speedily hide back inside the small closet filled with cleaning supplies after seeing her fatherâs secretary dashing their way with a phone held next to her ear.
Once they heard the click of her low heels fade away into silence, Heather turned the handle of the door to slide it open, gesturing at Jay to follow behind. âLook, Freddy is going away to get a drink now. Letâs make a run for it, quick.â Freddy, the tall and grand security personnel who looked similar to the Five Nights at Freddyâs animatronic bear that had given both of you a good amount of nightmares after deciding to play the game together during one of your many stays here in the company building.
Jay took a hold of her hand, fingers wrapped around her palm with a tight squeeze and they sprinted off towards the automatic sliding doors and bursting into the sunlight. A few onlookers took a brief glance at the two children panting as they rounded the corner of the building, hiding away in the comfort of the crowded sidewalks, the tall structure of the enterprise looming over their small bodies that sped through the roads of Washington D.C.
âThat was wicked!â The taller one of the two eased them both into a jog, not noticing the fact that their hands were still intertwined, tightly wrapped around each otherâ neither did Heather, for that matter, too caught up in the adrenaline rushing through her veins.
The cars honking at the ones in front of them did not bother the children at all, not when they were tasting the first bite of freedom they had ever gained. It was a hot summer day and middle school was about to start in a few weeksâ dreadful, they knew.
The sad, sob-worthy trek back towards the building was to be expected not even ten minutes after their grand escapade. They had forgotten to bring money to buy their ice creams.
But everything was okay, though. They might not have gotten their cold treats, but their way back inside had gone by as silently as their adventure outside had been. No one had noticed a single thing, save for the one staff member monitoring the security cameras.
Heather had just finished fourth grade when she broke the rules with her best friend for the first timeâ it felt good. Jay was taller than her now, sure, but she still could put him in a chokehold if she wanted to and that was all that really mattered.
âĄ
âDaniel?â The older boy hummed, looking up from his extremely important job that was meticulously peeling bananas to make them smoothies. She settled herself on the tall leather bar stools to watch as the fifteen year old threw in a handful of frozen strawberries from the large freezer inside the sturdy blender with a splash of milk to add to the silky smooth texture of the cold drink.
âYouâre not leaving, are you?â The solemn look on her face forced him to turn the machine off for a moment. He examined the way the edges of her eyes seemed to redden by the second, glazing over to signify the oncoming wave of salty tears.
Yeonjun sighed, making his way to her side to cradle her in his arms, leaning her head against his chest to run his hands through her hair. He didnât say anything even if he heard the muted sniffles or the thick in her voice.
"You know what ììí means?" She shook her head, "Well, flower, it means eternallyâ forever. I promise youâ cross my heart and hope to dieâ that I will be with you until the end of time, okay?"
Her mother was leaving, but at least Daniel was staying. She wouldn't know what to do if he left, too.
Daniel was funny. He was always the one that had pretended to be an ox to chase her around the empty complex when her father was glued to his chair in his office at the top floor and her mother was occupied by her endless meetings that she never understood what the need was for.
She knew him ever since she could think back in her memories, maybe he was secretly her brother. That would make a lot of sense, wouldn't it? Or better yet, maybe he was her dadâ or her mom. He felt like one anyways, he was always the one that took care of her.
Eleven year old Heather knew that he couldn't be her parent, he was extremely young to be so, so maybe he was either her long lost brotherâ she didn't understand why her parents never told her, though. That is, if he was actually her older sibling hidden awayâ or an angel disguised as a fifteen year old middle schooler who liked to teach her to be nice to other kids.
Daniel was nice, he got that from his mother who was working as her own family's cook for the past ten years. Mrs. Choi was always smiling and she never scolded her whenever she snuck into the kitchen to steal all of the freshly baked cookies one by one.
In all honesty, ten year old Heather really did think that she was the stealthiest living being while crawling her way towards the kitchen island. The woman had always managed to find her slipping away through the sliding doors with a half munched cookie in her hand, melted chocolate smeared all over her lips.
Why did she never get angry? She always gave her a small plate of them after wiping away at her messy face, she always had the kindest eyes as well. Why?
She supposed that was why Daniel was so patient. He was the nicest person Heather knew and she would forever stand by the fact that Daniel Choi would be the most perfect person in all of mankind.
He was nice.
Her mother was leaving, leaving her to her fatherâ was he even her real father? Heather didn't think that she had a single ounce of similarity to him in herself. He had the yellowest hair she had ever seen. Even the pale kid from her old fourth grade didn't have hair as saturated as his.
Heather had smooth brown hair, she was a brunette, and yet he had the curliest of blond hair ever. Her mom, on the other hand, had the silkiest of rich black hair. How did biology work again? What if she wasn't related to any one of them? She had eyes that looked like her mother's milky coffee, very light brownâ Mrs. Choi always said that her mother never knew what actual coffee tasted like, always mixing it with soy milk to the point where it was more of a coffee flavoured milk.
Her dad had blue eyes, they were prettyâ not to say that her mother's dark eyes were not, but eleven year old Heather was just saying. What if she was adopted? She really needed to pay attention to her biology classes. The short quiz about how genes work was closing up on both Jay and her, but her best friend didn't have anything to worry about anyway.
He had always been smarter than her, but that was fine. She could always be the brawn of the duoâ or the cutest one that got all of the attention of the adults to distract them while he slid out of the room to buy a pack of Mentos candy from the nearest vending machineâ it was always ten stories below his father's office, but that was fine. Jay was fastâ so that they could try to make a bottle of Coke explode out in the garden.
Her thoughts were muddled up yet again, mind running at incredible speeds, remaining unexhausted from hopping on one train to the other. Where was she again?
Ah, yes, Heather wiped her tears away with the back of her sleeves, noting the way Daniel looked much older than before as he looked down at her with a concerned frown.
She wanted a cat.
âDanny?â
âYes, flower?â
âDo you think mother is leaving because she doesnât like dad anymore?â
âI donât know, flower. Maybe.â
âWill you ever decide to leave if you donât like me anymore?â
âNever. I will die before that could ever happen.â
âOkay, Danny. I believe you.â
âGood. Now, letâs drink our smoothies before they get warm.â
âĄ
âBlue?â Heather whispers, the vast ceilings of her dark room didnât scare her like it used toâ now that she had him, she didnât think she would ever be afraid of the empty and lifeless room ever again. The baby dolls her mother had bought for her when she was five years old were still lined up on her window sills all across her walls. The moon wasnât coming out of its hiding place tonightâ it was a rarity these past few months, shrouding her room in the darkest of shadows.
She wasnât afraid of the dark, though. She had Jay, he would hold her hand and tell her funny stories that had happened during the day and he would lead her to sit on the velvet stool with him to play a little song for her on the grand piano that her father had made the staff set up.
Thirteen year old Heather still despised classical musicâ she wondered why she hadnât dropped out of her tutoring sessions yet with her mother not around anymore. Perhaps it was a sense of duty towards the older woman, the same way she kept the hideous dolls around. She still lingered aroundâ the ghost of her had never left, she sort of hated it.
She hated a lot of things, Heather had long before accepted the fact that she was just a petty person in general, she hoped that Jay did as well. She abhorred the smell of watermelons, same as the taste of tomatoes and the sound of her violin when she played another piece composed by Sibelius or Paganiniâ why couldnât she play whatever she wanted? Where was her freedom?
Strangely enough, though, perched on the cushions of the mahogany stool next to Jay, she didnât hate the way his fingers softly stroked the keys to lull her to sleep with Berceuse in D flat major, Op. 57â or as they liked to call it, Bercy. For Heather, this was Jay in his core.
Park Jay had a beautiful heartâ the sweet tone of the melody sounded different when he was the one playingâ she loved listening to him. For an older Heather, one that was not a six year old brat anymore, music sounded nice when it was Jay the one playing for her. She liked music only when it was Jay playing for her.
âYes, Heather?â There he was, calling her by her name again. Her mother always used to call her little lady, her father only used her korean name, ëëŽ Nabeomâ the only one to do so, oddly enough. Her teachers didnât call her by her name either, were they scared of it? What reason would they have to call her dear?
She didnât have friends, thoughâ she didnât need them anyway, they were all terrible little liarsâ Jay was all she needed, all she ever wanted. Jay liked to call her by her name, just like Daniel often did, save for the few endearing terms he usedâ mostly about flowers, given her name, Heather, but she liked them all. Anything Daniel said to her, she liked them all.
âHeather? Did you want to tell me something?â He played with the thin bracelet wrapped delicately around her wrist, the one he had made for her when he was twelveâ admittedly, not that long ago, but enough to wonder about why she hadnât taken it off yet. The warmth of her hands was like a reminder of her existence to him.
Do angels exist? He didnât know the answer to this question, not even after the countless visits to the enormous church, but maybe, it was lying right next to him all this time. Maybe angels did exist in the form of a lonely thirteen year old girl who had hugged him tightly after he had won first place in yet another competitionâ it was memorable for a reason, he had never been hugged for any of his achievements before, big or small.
A clap of thunder stripped her of the bravado she had guised herself behind, she felt her limbs frozen in place, unable to find a good emotional foothold to hide away from the next set of thunder booming behind her glass windows.
Jay did not say anything else. Instead, he opted to let his closest friend find solace in the way they linked their arms together, pulling the covers over their heads akin to a comforting cocoon. This was enough for Heatherâ just her and him together, hiding from the stormy weather underneath her thick white blanket. This was all it took to calm his best friend down, to be there for her.
Just hold her hand.
âĄ
Niccolo Paganini, her worst nemesis following the likes of Bach and Sibelius, was the sole reason for her months spent cooped up in her room, going over each one of his rigorous pieces with great care. Oh, how she would have liked to tear those stark white and black sheets with the most disgusted of scowls smeared on her faceâ right in front of her motherâs scrutiny, might she add.
The years and years of practiceâ as far back as her mind would allow her to rememberâ lead up to this one moment of battle between her and the devious fourth caprice in c minor she could barely fly over, never mind the twenty fourth. It was vomit worthy if you asked Heather herself.
Despise was the only word she had for the pieces given to her by her instructor. Why did she not give this up yet? Eleven yearsâ nine of them by her mothersâ wishes, two more she had decided to continue on her ownâ she had spent cooped up either in a damn skyscraper or a closed off mansion to run through the counts by herself.
Why didnât she just stop playing? Everyone knew how much she loathed her time playing her instrument. Was it to remember and keep a piece of her mother with her?Maybe, but she remembered that they didnât even have the best of a parent-child relationship in the first place. Was it really because of her mother?
Jay.
Maybe the only reason she had not quit yet was her very own Jay. He always did play beautifully, coaxing her to join him if she so desired to. And how could she ever say no to him? Park Jay, she never knew how much of a hold he held on her, not even years later.
Indeed, maybe she didnât quit yet just to keep an even ground with her childhood friend. Soon, she would leave her violin case behind forever.
âĄ
Heather could not keep even grounds with her childhood friend anymore.
âAre you okay, miss?â A worker asked her with concern evident in his eyes. She blinked up at him, his form all but a blur going in and out of focus as she desperately tried to come to herself and shake the ringing out of her ears.
A few strands of her hair slipped out of her neat bun tied on top of her head. She tried to push herself back up on her feet, swaying as her knees buckled under her weight once again. The suited man from her fatherâs office stabilized her by her shoulders, leading her to one of the leather seats pushed against the crisp white wall.
âIâm okay, thank you.â Heather really was okay. It was probably just the fatigue growing on her after the hours of practice she had endured, or the fact that she had forgotten about her breakfast on the counter and lunchbox near her bag. She had to be okay, so she would continue believing that it was nothing, that everything was just fine.
He nodded, unconvinced but not prying any further, âIf you say so. Be careful, okay?â
So she would do just that, but alas, even with great care, fate would continue running at its own pace and it would forever continue to break and build lives. It had done it millions of times before and it would do it again and again.
âI canât believe you keep tripping over nothing, honestly. Watch your own feet, Heather.â Jay ruffled her hair, effectively destroying her long minutes of hard work at putting her hair together that morning. He always liked to do that, she noticed. Jay liked to systematically mess with her hair and then tuck the strands back behind her ear at least once every single day.
Every day, huh. How many days had it been since they had first met? How old was she even? They had probably spent more years together than without each other being by their side, well over six years sheâd say, maybe even eight. Funnily enough, she remembered his long hair as a child as if it was just yesterday.
âWatch your hands, Jay, or else Iâll be the one to keep them in check for you.â she deftly slapped his hands away from cupping her cheeks, puffing out her lips like a fish. He only sniggered at the irritated pout on her lips, âHow scary, Iâm running for my life.â
âShut up, Iâm older than you.â
âOnly by a few months at best. Thatâs not much. Iâm way bigger than you, how about that?â His noticeably taller frame towered over her, if only by a few inches, but he still liked to take every opportunity to bring the difference up to her just to get her riled up time and time again.
It was somehow oddly cute.
âI will break your kneecaps, how about that?â her raised feet, ready to strike at any moment, made him take a cautious step back. âOnly if you can catch me, but thatâs hard because your legs are way too short to catch up to me, shorty.â
âThat is it, Jay. Youâre so dead.â Her roar of indignation did the trick to make him burst into a sprint for his life with an excited howl, heart beating in his throat. The sparkling floors make his brand new shoes squeak with every impact on the surface. âCatch me if you can, Heather!â
And without a single glance at the girl chasing him, he darted off into the hallways with various workers scattered throughout, all letting a noise of surprise out when they saw the boy bulldozing his way between them all, âJay? Be careful!â
Unhearing of the words from the adultsâ mouths for the time being, he dashed left into an open meeting office, countless wheeled armchairs set neatly next to each other around a heavy oval table. Heather ran straight inside, fearsome and glowing with determination to tackle him into the next galaxy, âDonât think you can escape from me, Jay!â
âĄ
âSweet sixteen, Heather.â Jay brings the small cake closer towards her, urging her to make a wish and blow the sixteen individual candles away. He looked older nowâ he had shoulders that had grown wider by the day and his baby fat was slowly, but surely, melting away to reveal his strong jawline, his roundish features now prominent in their shape without the softness that came with being a child.
He had gotten rid of that god awful haircut as well, giving himself a brand new and welcome lookâ his undercut dreams had come true and Heather admitted that it suited him extremely well. He always did have that underlying promise of a handsome future, but now it was clearer than ever. Jay had the prettiest smile.
Much to her dismay, she hadnât gotten around to beat his height, not when he was half a head taller than she already, or was it more than that? She didnât know and ten years into their friendship, she didnât really care anymore. The last time she had asked Daniel to measure their height was two years agoâ the lines and dates lining up her door frame would gladly serve as proof of that.
Speaking of Danielâ she looked at the much older and much taller twenty year old across the room filled with just the three of themâ he was still there.
Daniel liked to sing, he loved it and he loved to stand in front of hundreds and thousands of people to just let his voice out and perform to his heartâs content. He was good at it as well, she was not envious of his gift, thoughâ not in that way. She was never jealous of the amount of praises and compliments he would get from people all around the world that had come to watch his concerts.
Big people with big names that wanted to take him away to bigger places than the good old Washington D.C.
Heather was never jealous of the love he had always received, even as a young middle schooler. No, she was never ever green with envyâ in hindsight, she would always tell others that she was probably the one person proudest of him next to Mrs. Choi. Would thatâ could thatâ ever change?
No, absolutely not. Heather still was a strong believer of the extent of Daniel Yeonjun Choiâs perfection. If anything, she was just downright petrified that one day, he would break his promise of five years that he would never leave her behind in this cold world. That new friend of his seemed all too eager to do so.
What was his name again? Ah, yes, Beomgyu Choi. He was a pretty guyâ now, that she was jealous of. Daniel was pretty, too, wasnât he? Pretty people deserved other pretty people. Was she willing to let him go just yet, though? Not a chance.
Maybe she would, maybe she could, she thought as she looked at the sixteen flames illuminating Jayâs pretty face. Why was everyone so pretty?
âCome on, Heather. Blow it out or else the wax will drip all over the icing!â There it was, his signature whines that would never cease in her presenceâ which, technically, meant that he complained all day, all night. That was, if the term in her presence was taken literally.
âHappy birthday, flower. Youâve bloomed beautifully.â Jay let out a snort, a quiet ew right after. âDo you have to be so cheesy all the time?â
The man playfully jumps on the younger oneâs back, quick tempered with his siblingsâ they were not real ones, but the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb, right?â pulling Jay in a chokehold.
Heather had learned that move from him years ago, not even Jay had been around at the time. Heather was five years old when Daniel had come up from behind her and put her head between his arm and torso, lightly giving it a squeeze. Enraged, she demanded he teach her how to do it. An hour later, mrs. Choi would enter the room to find her eldest son being choked out by a five year old little girl as he lay limp on the marble floors.
"Stop flailing around, I'm blowing it out now." The two separated themselves from each other, eagerly waiting for the dessert to be cut into slices for them to enjoy. Deliberately, she gave the older male a larger piece, finding joy in the way her two friends started bickering again over the unfairness of it all. She let them fight it out for a while before giving Jay a smaller second slice to even things out.
âYouâre an adult, Daniel. I think itâs embarrassing for you to fight me like this.â Jay quipped from Heatherâs bed, stuffing his face with the smooth icing. The girl eyed the cream in disgust, nibbling on the sponges cake instead. Sheâd never understand why bakeries preferred a seven to three ratio of cream to cake.
âIâm not technically an adult yet. I live with my mom.â Daniel retorted from his seated position on the carpet. Heather sat next to him as always, succumbing to the natural gravitational pull whenever the older male was around. She always felt the safest when next to him, then Jay, but sheâd never tell him that. Who knows how he would react if he heard it from her own mouth that she liked him just as much as Daniel. He would never let her hear the end of it.
Sixteen year old Heather finally quit music. She cut it out of her life, the motion done as quickly and soundlessly as her mother had a few years ago, leaving her behind forever as she ran back to Korea. Heather wondered where sheâd be in life right now if she didnât have a Jay Park or Daniel Choi with her.
Lost, probably.
Itâs March 21st, Heather turned sixteen at last, safe and sound with Daniel right next to her as she smiled at her best friend sitting on her bed in front of her.
âĄ
The next morning, she made her way to wash her face, slowly slinking out of her soft bed and trying not to wake up the boy snoring next to her. Sheâd slid a pillow under his arm to replace her. Planting her feet on the floor, however, did not come to her as easily as before. Almost instantaneously, her knees buckled beneath her, knocking the breath out of her lungs as she groaned in pain after the impact on her palm registered. Sheâd reached out blindly, using her hand to brace her body.
âHeather?â The ruckus woke up an exhausted Jay, who still looked incomparably better than her even with an early morning puffy face. He smoothly kicked the blanket off of his body to help the newly turned sixteen year old back on the bed.
âHey,â brushing away the few strands of hair that had escaped the braid Daniel had put it into the night before, he held her arm, concern etched all across his face, âAre you okay?â
âDamn it.â The brunet winced at the few tears that escaped Heatherâs eyes, stomach dropping at her sniffles. She covered her face with her palm, the other clutching the fabric of her sweatpants.
âThis sucks.â
He tucked her in his chest, running his fingers through her hair and waiting till she calmed down from her abrupt meltdown. Looking at her tightened fist, he gathered her tighter in his arms, putting a warm hand over hers, slowly making her release her clothes. âYouâre okay, donât worry.â
Heather sniffled, trying to regain a steady breathing and pulling in deep breaths to soothe her hiccups. Jay kept smoothing a hand through her soft strands, patiently waiting. âI donât know what came over me, Iâm sorry.â
Jay shook his head, pressing a kiss on her temple, âWhy apologize?â
âI donât know,â she sighed, wiping away the last drop of tear that slid down her cheek, âI just couldnât hold it in. It didnât even hurt. I guess I just felt disappointed.â
Jay hummed in understanding, bringing the pad of his thumb to swipe away the moisture around her eyes, âIt can happen sometimes, I get it. Come, letâs wash up your face. You look prettier when you donât have snot all over your face.â
The comment made her chuckle, giving his shoulder a friendly punch, âYou donât tell a girl that sheâs ugly, especially when sheâs crying her soul out. Thatâs super rude.â
âAm I supposed to lie, then?â Jay retorted, taking Heather gently by her arm and leading her carefully to the bathroom on the other side of the large space. Truthfully, Heather could never be ugly, not in his eyes at least. No matter how much he liked to tease her about the minor flaws in her appearance here and there, nothing ever seemed less than perfect in his eyes when it came to his closest friend.
Close to two years ago, Jay realized that Heather Brown was prettier than the angels his mother told him all about when heâd been younger. The purest beings, breathtaking and beautiful, those were traits Heather held as well.
Even with eyes bloodshot, nose running a river and cheeks flushed from exertion, she was prettier than ever.
âI think we should tell uncle about what happened.â He quipped from behind as Heather patted her face dry. He was leaning against the doorframe, frowning at something she couldnât see on the floor.
âItâs getting too frequent. You literally fell over while doing nothing yesterday too.â
Heather stayed silent, assessing his words, âItâs getting worse, Heather. Iâm just worried about you, your dad too.â
So many words were left unsaid, they both knew that, but with Heatherâs insistence on keeping the progression of her disease a secret from her already busy father, Jay swallowed back his thoughts of concern and let her be.
For how long heâd let her live a life of lies, however, he didnât know. Three years ago, their life had turned upside down with the few words of a man in a crisp white coat and this was the only way he could keep Heather Brown happy.
Just stay quiet, and let her be. He couldnât possibly shoulder the heavy burden of being the one who insisted she stay locked inside a room surrounded by white walls, unwilling to be the one who ripped her away from her happiness. For now, heâd just let her be and do as she said.
âĄ
Winter came quicker than expected that year, heavy clouds creeping over the lifeless buildings of Washington D.C.
Heather never expected her last Christmas break before she graduated high school to be spent cooped up inside a room that made her feel lonelier than her own one did whenever she was left to her own. The only thing accompanying her throughout her days was the large, framed picture of lilacs on the wall to her adjacent, the monotonous monitor to her side, a leather white couch next to the tall windows and the nurses whoâd occasionally come and go.
Daniel Choi was busy these days, too. She hadnât seen the older male in two weeks, quite the record for someone whoâd talk to him face to face almost every few days. If not face to face, then at least on the phone where heâd tell her all about his day. He would always complain about something his friends had done, affectionately calling Beomgyu an annoying gum that was relentlessly stuck to him.
She heard that name a lot more often since the first time heâd introduced him to her almost a few years ago. Beomgyu this, Beomgyu that, Beomgyu here, Beomgyu there. It seemed like he lived and breathed by that name, not that Heather was jealous at all.
It was nice seeing Daniel befriend someone closer to his age. What was not nice was the fact that she felt like he was slowly drifting away. He wouldnât pick up her calls when she missed his comforting voice, only answering hours later at times when even she wasnât awake.
Daniel felt so far away, more so than heâd ever felt like.
What happened to her Daniel whoâd nag her to eat her meals on time, scolding her for not drinking enough water? Where was he, the one whoâd drive away all of her worries with a single smile, a lame joke? With a sinking feeling in her gut, Heather realized that Choi Beomgyu was stealing the most perfect human being in this world from her.
The thought brought a certain heaviness in her chest, the walls enclosing in on her. Her hands trembled, heart racing inside her ribs and her lungs felt like they werenât getting enough air. Fear had her in a merciless clutch as she curled into a fetal position, cupping her hands over her ears, not even taking the presence of the nurse next to her in.
Daniel was leaving her and it was all Choi Beomgyuâs fault.
âĄ
Nighttime crept over the sky, for once the moon reflecting light over those on the streets, illuminating the city in a soft glow.
Heather felt better, good enough to wander down the halls of the large hospital in hopes of finding herself some entertainment, having already slept the day away. Energized for the night, she skipped down the empty corridors, careful to avoid any workers who might recognize the dreadful hospital clothing sheâd been forced to put on when she first arrived last week.
âSnacks. I need snacks, lots and lots of them in fact.â She muttered at no one in particular, tracing an unending line on the wall as she went, taking a ninety degree turn to the right after confirming that her chances of getting caught were minimal.
The automated machine stood proudly at the other corner of the corridor, as she found out after an unnecessarily lengthy trip around the quiet floor, lost in the maze while trying to follow a random blue line that led her to nowhere in particular, not that she knew of. Snickers or KitKat? She weighed her choices, fishing out a few coins out of her frankly quite shallow pocket.
And then she saw black.
Rubbing her forehead in defeat, she pushed herself up to sit on her knees, half having the mind to let out a string of less than pleasant cuss words as she massaged the area that throbbed. Her momentary blackout had led her to collapse right before the vending machine.
Heather pinched the bridge of her nose, reaching out to wipe away the small droplets of red with her sleeve. She hoped her nose didnât look too bad for wear, âGreat, just great.â
With a grunt, she made an effort to stretch her legs out to stand. Thatâs odd, wait, giving up on trying to hold a hand over her nose, she put out both arms and flexed, wondering why her legs didnât seem to be functioning properly. I canât feel anything, she tried reaching out to grab the handle of the sitting bank just an armâs length away.
Her fingers strained as she clawed the air, hoping to get a grip on the metal bar. Tears of frustration welled up behind her eyelids while she dragged her limp feet with the help of her upper body, strength quickly dwindling as she had to handle all of her body weight. This cannot be happening, not now, she begged for a semblance of power to return to her muscles.
Please, a stray tear slid down her chin as anger rose within her. âMove already.â She slammed a closed fist over her incapacitated limbs. What a joke, cursed to a life of being a burden to everyone around her. âJust do as I say, why wonât you?â
Cursing, she harshly bit down on her lip, making a grand effort to slide her body and carry herself over to sit on the metal bench. Her heart pounded against her ribs, the adrenaline that had allowed her to will herself up slowly ebbing away. She laughed, a reaction forced out of her as she laughed and laughed.
She didnât feel the traitorous tears trailing down the side of her face for the nth time that week, she didnât recognize anyoneâs voice as people started approaching her. Heather laughed at the injustice of it all, wondering what she had done wrong to go through and struggle with something most people did on a minutely basis.
She laughed, bitter and tired of everything.
Nurse Willows sat her on a wheelchair, a kind smile ever so present on her face despite the late hour and exhaustion probably wearing her down from the long day of hard work. âCome on, letâs get you back to your room.â
She liked Ms. Willows too, something about her giving her the same feeling of comfort that came with Mrs. Choi, Danielâs mother and her cook. She had traces of age where her smile creased, but she still looked youthful, lively. She was just as kind as Mrs. Choi as well, sheâd rejoiced at having someone nice to talk to when she would inevitably grow bored sitting around on her stiff bed. Heather barely saw her around after their first encounter, though.
Tonight was the second time she got to interact with Ms. Willows. Albeit the less than pleasant conditions, Heather fell back asleep on her way to her room as the older woman pushed her forward, pleased that it was Ms. Willows and not anybody else.
Tomorrow would be a better day, she hoped. It was Christmas after all.
âĄ
Finding a snoring Jay next to her the next morning was the best thing that she could have ever asked for.
He stirred in his sleep as she watched in awe, taking in his peaceful face like she always did. It had been months since sheâd properly gotten to see him this close. She slowly smoothed over his cheek with the back of her fingers, barely hovering over his skin. Despite her best efforts at being subtle, his eyes fluttered awake anyways.
The sunlight was nowhere to be found at ten thirty-four am, right when Jay found himself staring into the eyes of his best friend. The room was dim with the only light coming from the hallway beneath her closed door. With what little brightness came in through the open blinds, shades of blue covering the sky behind the large glass panels, he took in her tired features.
Brown eyes never looked as good on him as they did on Heather Brown. Something about the way she looked at him felt like home, though to be fair, everything she did felt like home to him. There was no one in his life as clearly defined in who they were as Heather. His father, sure, along with his mother, but the person heâd wholeheartedly bellow the name of into the wind when asked who felt like home to him, was his one and only Heather, the girl peering right at him through the curtain of her lashes like he was her everything.
Like he was her everything.
And he was, to a certain extent. Heather thought back on the past ten entire years of her life, recounting the times Jay Park had proven time and time again that heâd always be the one person she could call her everything.
âYouâre up.â Jay whispered, tracing small circles on her back with the hand heâd slung over her waist. He rejoiced in the way she fiddled in her position, feeling ticklish by his subtle pokes here and there where he knew she felt the most tickled by. Giggling at his onslaught, she quickly snatched his soft cheeks with her fingers and stretched the skin wide in an awkward grin.
Moving his cheeks around and bringing her hands together to make his lips puff out like a fish, she replied, âWho said you could invade my bed like this? Itâs probably against the rules.â
Despite his hammering chest, he pulled her closer to himself, âItâs fine.â He could barely utter the few words through his squished face. âYou wanna go out?â
Blinking, she strained her neck to spot the folded up wheelchair next to her small closet. Jay pushed himself to rest on his elbow, âItâs totally okay if you donât feel like it, I just thought itâd be nice to see the snow.â
âItâs okay, letâs go. Help me up.â She stretched her arms forward, making a give me motion and pointed at the transport device she swallowed her pride and sat on with his help. âPush me as fast as you can.â
âWe didnât even notify the nurse or anything. You wait for like, a second, and Iâll be back in a minute.â After setting her down, he faced his body towards the door, rubbing the sleep quickly out of his eyes. He stopped when a hand pulled him back.
âWait, why are you here anyways?â
âWhat do you mean?â The boy feigned innocence, half heartedly pulling his arm away from her loose grip. Heather steeled her expression, âI swear, Jay, if you pulled some funny business, then Iâm sending you right back.â
It was at the beginning of year ten of school when Jay had decided he wanted to dance professionally. It was also in tenth grade that heâd finally convinced his father to let him audition, nearly spending the entire year coming up plans with her for the older man to finally cave in and let him quit the orchestra.
Heather had watched him dance for hours and hours on end, audition and then fail twice in a row before getting accepted into a small group. She had watched him pour his blood, sweat and tears throughout the past two years, every moment that would lead up to the big event not even a month away now.
There was no way heâd ditched going to the practice sessions just to take her out for something as mundane as a walk. âIâm actually gonna call uncle, Jay. I know how important the performance is, you shouldnât be blowing off Sunghoon like that.â
âChill,â He chuckled, flicking a finger over the bridge of her nose, âThe regular meet up was postponed to tomorrow, because itâs a holiday and people have to be at home, exchange gifts and all of that jazz. The studio is closed for the day.â
âIt better be.â
âĄ
âI donât have a gift for you.â Heather crossed her arms, looking at the small box resting on her lap. It wasnât any bigger than the size of her palm, neatly wrapped with a white polka dotted paper, contrasting with the red background and glittering green ribbon tied around it in a typical festive fashion.
âI donât need one.â He replied, sitting on the comfortable sofa across her as Heather fiddled with the small box. âGo on, open it.â
With great care, she unfolded the colorful wrap. âIâm gonna flip if itâs what I think it is.â She commented offhandedly, trying to cover up the glee seeping out of her voice. The velvet box felt familiar to touch, something sheâd held in her hands once before, but never got around to bring it home with her.
âOh, you bet it is.â Jay hopped off of the couch, flipping on the switch to her room. âI didnât have the time to do anything special this year, but I know how obsessed you are with this, so yeah, sorry for the last minute surprise.â
âWant me to put it on for you?â Heather nodded at his offer, moving her hair to the side to allow him to clasp the dainty chain around her neck, the small pendant resting pretty on her dĂ©colletĂ©.
âThere you go,â Jay stepped back to rake his eyes over her appearance, âYou look very pretty.â
And indeed she was. Jay, for all of his life, prided himself in the fact that he had never once lied to anyone about anything. He wore his heart on his sleeves and kept his words simple and honest, truthful in everything he said or did. At times, his frank words hurt those who hadnât heard what they wanted to from him, driving quite a few people away with the bluntness in his words.
Everyone wanted to hear pretty white lies from him, turning their backs once they didnât receive what they thought they would no matter how not unkind his delivery was. Honesty and sincerity, thatâs what Jay prided himself in the most. Jay never lied, Heather knew that better than anyone else.
And so whenever he called her pretty, she felt like the most beautiful being in the world. If the words came from him, sheâd take them to the bottom of her heart and encase it in a fragile glass container, cherishing it for a long, long time, because it was Jayâs words and Jay never lied.
For that night, she would truly feel beautiful, because he made her believe so.
âĄ
July 21st only a couple of years ago, a summer day she remembered with every detail. Daniel had graduated high school just a little while ago and had decided to stay around, continue to make music on his own with his small group of friends, working small part time jobs in his other free time.
Heather had nothing to do that day with Jay away with his father on a trip and her own dad as busy with his business as always. It was Daniel whoâd pulled her out of staying cooped up in her room all day. Heâd dragged her out of her lonesome and taken her to a small ice cream shop next to the skatepark where kids mostly around her age usually hung out.
âYou should try this mint chocolate one.â Heâd begged her to try the minty flavored ice cream, to which sheâd adamantly refused, knowing how he was aware that she hated it all the way to the depths of hell. Daniel could be annoying like that from time to time whenever he decided to shed his role of the ever loving, wise older brother.
âSuit yourself.â Heâd replied with a sulk, typical Daniel fashion.
The heat rose from the asphalt, visible in the way it distorted the view of the park in front of the shop. She wondered if an egg would cook if she dropped it on the ground. It sure seemed like it was a possibility. Just like everything else however, she threw that thought behind, opting to enjoy the moment and her very delicious, very non-mint-chocolate ice cream.
The older male jumped right into step with her as they wandered out into the street, mindlessly wandering through the crowd of families and friends. He had an arm slung over her shoulder, chattering away about his plans for the next week. âYou know what would be nice?â He piped up, nibbling on the cone in his right hand.
Heather didnât reply, tilting her head to lock eyes with him as though she was questioning him. âWhat if we go on a little trip to the amusement park with Jay this Saturday? Itâs been a while since we all went out together.â
She knew what he meant, the underlying message in between the lines. Still, she decided to ignore the unpleasant feeling, dropping her faux displeasure at him to contemplate on the suggestion. It had been a while since theyâd had fun together, all three of them. âIâll have to ask my father for permission, though.â
In a typical Daniel fashion, his lips curled into a lopsided smile, âIf thereâs anything I know about Mr. Brown after all these years, itâs that he wonât say no if Iâm there to be your babysitter.â
âFirst of all, I donât need a babysitter, much less someone like you.â Heather jeered at the older boy. âAnd secondly, remember that one time you almost let me drop from the fifty-first floorâs window when I was eight? And that one time you almost slipped down the wet stairs and dragged me down with you last year? Iâd hardly consider you a capable sitter.â
She didnât mention the time heâd gently held her while she mourned her motherâs departure, or when heâd patched her knees up when sheâd fallen down from a tree branch while she and Jay were playing hide and seek at the park, or when Daniel had built them the biggest blanket fort the two younger ones had ever seen and have a movie night just because theyâd both gotten great grades in their exam, or the time when heâd carried her on his shoulders because she couldnât see the artistâs perform at the local music festival, or the time heâd trimmed her hair for her after sheâd very unsuccessfully tried to give herself a new haircut.
She didnât need to mention any of those instances where heâd been the angel taking care of her because he knew. Through her vulnerability with the boy she considered to be family, her constant little praises she liked to shower him with, her pulled back play-punches when heâd annoy her. Daniel knew that she saw him as the one that could do no real wrong, that he was her ever-loving and caring guardian.
Daniel knew, so when she said he wasnât capable, he didnât take the words to heart. He was so much more than just capable. Heather is an easy person for him to see through despite how others claimed the contrary.
Daniel knew that he was her everything, though it would be him in the end that would shatter her world.
© KOISHUA 2022, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
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