#even the mention of the power rangers i used to love them when i was child lol

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Pretend It's Someone That Came for You (18+)

pairing: coworker!wonwoo x fem!touch-starved!reader

genre: coworker au, office au, strangers to lovers, angst w a happy ending, smut (MDNI!!), fluffy fluffy fluff fluff

description: you're lonely. you're so lonely you think it might actually kill you. but when wonwoo transfers to your office, he might just change that fact.

warnings: unprotected sex (do NOT pls my babes), soft dom!wonwoo, sub!reader, v loving sex, praise (f. receiving), confession of love, riding, fingering (f. receiving), pussy rubbing tihi, pet names (pretty girl, good girl, baby, darling, etc), VERY angsty beginning, yn is truly v sad so DO NOT READ THIS if u fear it will make u sad!!, they say i love u unrealistically fast but i had to do it, yn uses sex to feel less lonely/ends up feeling more lonely, relatable yn frs, slightly dramatized symptoms of touch-starvation (?), kinda boring plot but idc bc its CUTE AF

quotes from my creative director (@joshibambi): "finally!!" (she was fed tf up), "stanley is the most stanley man ever. i hate him but i love him.", (more r coming she actually didnt have time 2 read this and i didnt want to wait with posting.)

wordcount: 10.0k

a/n: this story was supposed 2 have more angst, like it was supposed to have this whole misunderstanding, but it just didnt feel right, it made me sad, so instead this is a short n sweet love story xx

Sometimes you think that the loneliness might kill you. 

You weren’t always like this. You remember being a sociable, joyful child; half-broken bikes and teddy bears and booster seats. You remember pigtails and popsicle sticks and Power Rangers, and what came after that? Being a moody teenager, became being a moody adult. High school became college, and college became an office job that served to keep you alive, even if it didn’t feel like being alive. College wasn’t that bad, you remember, so at what point had you mistaken isolation for privilege? And at what point had you gone too far into that tunnel-hole to turn back? 

 You must’ve been cursed, you think, putting on your outfit for work in the deadly still apartment. Dust dares not move, dares not give you hope that you are not alone. 

You must’ve been cursed, you think, coming into work to a string of half-hearted, mumbled greetings. Your office is off-white and black and gray and everyone inhabiting it is also off-white and black and gray, and their skin is faintly oily and sickly and their faces are dragging down as if the very earth was reclaiming them and you think that you fit in here better than anywhere else. 

You must’ve been cursed, you think, when you spend your day writing emails and organizing documents of information into different formats to send to huge corporations. Sometimes you fantasize about the other end of the transaction. Maybe their office is warm and brown with an accent of blue, and maybe people put hands on each other's shoulders, when they tell one another they’ve done a good job. 

Yes, there’s no other explanation, you think, and can’t even muster the energy to feel bad when you blame some old hag from your hometown. You think she must’ve conjured up the worst ingredients, something cartoonishly evil, and a spell befell you, sunk into the crevices of your skin and dug into your pores.

You lie on your couch with a glass of wine and the television going, but you’re not really listening. You don’t think anyone has touched you in six months. You’re not even sure you’re real anymore. You swear, you could live with no one hearing you out, because you’re not sure you’d have anything worthwhile to say, but you just needed someone to touch you. To reach out a hand and confirm, you’re real, you’re right underneath my fingertips, and I’m squeezing your shoulder, and I see you, and I feel you right here.

Sometimes you think that the loneliness might kill you.

Lying physically very still, you still feel like you’re scrambling, fighting the clutch of the curse, and tugging on metal chains. Maybe that’s where all your energy goes. 

What do normal people do when they feel this bad?

Sometimes you leave open the window, and when the wind tugs at your door, you pretend it’s someone that came for you. 

Tug, tug, tug. The door rattles against its hinges when the fatally empty sky brings to you, in outstretched palms, the wind interlaced with glimmers of hope. 

There’s never anyone at the door.  _____________________________

This particular day starts like any other. You wake to your alarm and you put on clothes and you get ready and brush your teeth. Then you trample down to the bus stop. The sky is smothered by a duvet of heavy rain clouds. The rain hasn't come yet, but you know it will. Your fingers become stiff and hard, where they adhere to the polyester strap of your bag, massaging it. The bag is cold and dead.

The bus ride is by far the greatest part of your day. It’s quiet - early enough that you’re only accompanied by a few other souls. You rest your head on the window, vibrating gently against the curve of your forehead, and watch the people in the street. 

 The bus hums a gentle tune and snakes down the streets. Then you’re there, and whatever solace that it offers you under artificial light and mediocre, felted seats is gone. 

Your office building is maybe the most depressing place on earth. It’s no glamorous feat of architecture. It is but a large, orange-y, puke-y, brick square, and the building is shared between yours and the Forester company. You don’t talk to the Foresters, but you know they eat cream cheese bagels on their breaks and throw birthday parties and once you saw the branch manager squeezing a salesman’s shoulder and telling him he had done a good job. His fingers squeezed down and the movement of the fabric revealed a shoulder pad built into the suit. You remember thinking it was a shame that it blocked the real touch. 

Today, you walk up the stairs with heavy steps and you idle into the office building, eyes cast down to the dirty, gray carpet. You begin the long trek into the back of the building where your desk is located.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Tina.

“Morning, Tina,” you mumble back.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Gerard. 

“Morning, Gerard,” you mumble back. 

“Morning.”

“M-”

Wait a minute. 

Your greeting falls short. You don’t recognize that voice. Stopping in your tracks, your shoes scratch on the rough carpet, and lift your head to see him. 

The first thing you notice is that he’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. He looks like he jumped out of an underwear commercial; he’s all strong jawline, sharp eyes, round glasses on his pretty nose, neatly trimmed, short dark hair stretching down the planes of his face. He’s wearing a button up (usually you wouldn’t even register the clothing your coworkers adorned, but something about how he wore it was noteworthy), a tie draping over the dress shirt, and formal slacks hugging his thighs. 

He smiles at you sheepishly, hands nervously smoothing down his thighs. 

“I’m Wonwoo” he says curtly, nodding to you. “Just transferred from the Wallingset branch.” 

You nod. “Right. Wallingset,” you nod more. “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/n.” 

“Nice to meet you too, Y/n.” 

Something about your name on his lips makes your heart flutter. It’s pathetic, you know, but his peregrine being in his office chair, spilling your name from his pink lips makes you feel a little more real. You look at him and then you nod again-again, kicking your legs into gear again and walking the last stretch to your desk. 

You can see the back of his head from your orange-wood desk. Papers and sticky notes are scattered among the desktop. The monitor watches you accusingly, all big and square and black, waiting for you to open it up and begin working. Your eyes linger on him for a moment. Then you work. 

A few hours pass on emails and translating information from a company into a comprehensive sheet. However, today you’re having a hard time focusing on work. 

This is not new. 

Sometimes you briefly talk to a man at the grocery store, and your mind will wander to him for next week, wondering if he’s thinking about you too, imagining yourself cuddling with him, watching movies, imagining him telling you it’ll all be okay. Sometimes you briefly talk to a man on the street, sometimes it’s even a date, but whatever the case you obsess and you dream and you always end up alone. 

Today the victim of your depraved mind is Wonwoo. The guilt is easy to push away. You feel sorry for yourself. You think you deserve this. You think you can’t survive without this. And so you imagine him hugging you, stroking your hair, and you imagine him falling in love with you, and you imagine not being alone. Your fingers rest on your keyboard. It’s old and mechanical. You think it’s from a yard sale, probably an old woman whose children moved away. It’s plastic, and it curves inwards underneath the pads of your fingertips. The keys are cold and dead. 

You fully zone out, eyes blearing into the back of his head, but you don’t really see it, your mind has traveled elsewhere. You guiltily imagine his hand between your legs, on your chest, straddling him, kissing him. And it’s not rough, it’s loving, because in this world he loves you, and he’d do anything for you, and you don’t have to be alone again.

You don’t love Wonwoo. It’s not some magical love at first sight, it’s not a romance book, it’s real life. You’re lonely. You need this to survive. 

“Hey, Y/n?” 

You snap your head up. Maybe you were still daydreaming. But you recognized the voice well and true, and it was Wonwoo, leaned over your desk, hands in his pockets.

“Oh, uhm, hey-” your voice is shaky and you quickly rush to compose yourself, hands moving frantically and uselessly to glide papers over one another and, then, realizing that there was no point to your movements, stilling and looking up at him, cheeks flushed. “Hey.” 

Wonwoo smiles gently. “Uh, you know, I was wondering,” he looks around the office, as if surveying the area. “If you knew where to get a good lunch? I don’t know this area at all, so..” 

He trails off, looking at you expectantly for an answer. Now that he’s standing before you, it’s much harder to ignore the guilt you feel. You wanna gnaw at your nails until they’re nubs, you want to crawl under your desk and cover your eyes. Does he see how red your cheeks are? 

“Uhm- well- I don’t- I eat a packed lunch, so I’m-” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I’m, uh, no expert,” you giggle awkwardly and watch his gentle smile drop into pursed lips. “But! Uh- I hear the- the hot dog stand, uh, just a little down the street is good!” 

“Really? Maybe I should try it,” he contemplates, smile returning to his lips. “Would you mind showing me this mysterious hot dog stand?” 

“Uh-” 

Just seconds before you were thinking of his fingers in your pussy, and his hands caressing you, and him making you feel loved. He’s standing before you and he’s a totally normal guy, and you feel like shit. You feel like shit for using this fake image of him to comfort yourself. You can’t be around him, can’t convince yourself that maybe this’ll turn into something more - not when you always end up alone. Your brows furrow in determination.

“Actually, I have to, uh, get this done, so-” you gesture vaguely to your monitor. 

“Right! Yeah,” Wonwoo seems embarrassed, biting his lips and nodding. “It’s, uh, just down the street?” 

“Yeah, to the right when you walk out the building.” 

“For sure. Thanks,” he doesn’t even look at you then, just waves you off half-heartedly and starts trailing down the office. His shoulders are incredibly broad and his belt wraps tightly around his small waist.

You feel like shit.  _____________________________

Why is no one else cursed? 

You look out of the window, lying on your bed after work. Everything is very still and unmoving - your whole apartment feels like it’s knotted in strings, tightened until everything is snapped into place, and if you move the wrong muscles, the invisible hands will let go and everything will fly and hurdle through your home, and you can almost hear the sound, like the hard, empty sound of throwing a bowling ball and getting a strike. 

No one else is cursed. People crowd the streets with friends, family, partners, and they’re talking and laughing. You rest your head in the windowsill, a lone spectator in the window. The glass cuts you off from the streets. 

The afternoon after daydreaming the way you did about Wonwoo is always hard. Your apartment seems intent on suffocating you. Your daydreams serve as a reminder that you’re alone, that you truly have no one, and the act itself is so humiliating, you sulk into a glass of red wine and sometimes you cry. What do normal people do when they feel this bad, you wonder again, sobbing in your bed and spilling wine on your nightie. 

Nighttime falls early while you’re crying. You weep on and off, hug your knees, eat a microwave dinner and watch TV, light casting onto your pathetic form on the couch.

And in your most vulnerable state is when you most easily slip into your old habits. 

You press an old contact in your phone, one you’d tried to steer away from recently. You wipe mascara from your reddened cheeks, you wear pretty lingerie, and you lie, completely empty, void of any warmth, on your bed, awaiting.

It’s the first time he touches you in months. When his hand finds your shoulder, you shudder terribly. Sorry, he says, and he seems taken aback. Just ignore it, you plead, just ignore it. He does so, unsurely, and every time his hand grazes over your body you shudder and sob and every time he hesitates, asking if you’re okay, you cry at him to continue.

It feels good while it’s happening. Skin beneath your fingertips, hands on you, a face close to yours. You and him are the only thing moving in the apartment, synergizing on your bed, conjoining and writhing, and for just a moment, you don’t feel so alone. 

When you’re done the anonymous man stands back up, sliding on his pants in the late hour. He says it was great and you hum. But then he looks around, hesitating on every old piece of furniture, on every photo on the walls, and lastly on you.

“What?” you ask, lying naked in your bed. He grimaces at you, as if signaling that he can’t quite figure it out himself. 

“I don’t know,” he says slowly, hands on his newly-clothed hips and surveying the corners of the room, where shadows pool. “It feels haunted in here.” 

He leaves. 

When the warmth is gone, the bile rises in your throat. Old habits die hard, you think, and you feel totally empty. You couldn’t go on like this. It was nights like these you began to feel like a martyr - sacrificing yourself for a brief escape. Because when the door is closed with a click and you’re alone again, you feel yourself trembling and your heart is glowing red in the empty astral plane. Brief, easy forms of pleasure are often the most harmful.

It feels haunted in here. You remember his words, and before you finally fall asleep, you wonder one thing. You wonder if you’re already dead.  _____________________________

The next day is a pain to overcome. You’re slightly hungover, slightly sore, and very uncomfortable. But you comply with your routine, and you enjoy the bus ride, and when you get to the office everyone greets you. 

 “Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Tina.

“Morning, Tina,” you mumble back.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Gerard. 

“Morning, Gerard,” you mumble back. 

“Morning, Y/n,” Wonwoo says. You look up from the carpet carefully, flashing him an apologetic smile. You hope he can read its intention: Sorry about being weird yesterday. You think he got it.

“Morning, Wonwoo.” 

And then you’re landing yourself at your own desk and beginning work once more. It’s boring, but today you ward off the daydreams and you focus, and you’re getting an exceptional amount done. 

The clock on the wall (off-white, but yellowing near the top) reads 12:28 when your boss, Stan, approaches your table. He’s half bald, and his suit is much too loose, and he has a ladder of wrinkles climbing his larger-than-life forehead. 

“Hey, N/n!” he calls, so loud that a couple of heads turn at the commotion. You’ve asked him several times not to call you that. 

“Stanley,” you breathe, tapping a stack of papers on your desk to neaten the pile. You wonder if you were in trouble, but if his smile is anything to go by, you’d guess not. 

“My favorite woman in accounting!” 

“Hehe,” you laugh half-heartedly. You catch the eye of Wonwoo, glancing over his shoulder with a small, teasing smile. You smile back. 

“I have a big- oh wait, wait, new guy, uhh, Jeon? Come over here real quick!” Suddenly his solid fingers waft the now scared Wonwoo over. The spectacled man’s shoulders hunch up as he moves off the chair, nodding respectfully. Wonwoo stands beside Stanley at your desk, and you focus your attention on Stanley, hoping to not get too lost in the idea of Wonwoo again - you were doing so good today. 

“I have a big job for you, and I thought you could work with Wonwoo on it,” Stan moves his hand up to cup the side of his mouth, as if telling you a big secret, “seeing as he was a bit of a star over in Wallingset.”

Shit. The guy you were daydreaming about was working with you? Wonwoo laughs, embarrassed, but you hardly have time to catch it. You can’t do this. Yesterday you were thinking about him fingering you while looking at you lovingly!

“We have a massive, new client! Just dropped a big competitor of ours, and they want us to do their six month report!” Stanley seems genuinely excited about this, so you can’t help feeling a little guilty that you’ll be a gobbering, slobbering mess, sitting beside Wonwoo on this. 

“That’s great-”

“I know! So, my two star members in accountancy, I’ll hand this off to you. The data should be coming into your emails soon,” without letting either of you react, Stanley hunches over, like a coach does before a little-league baseball game, wrapping his arms around both of you and Wonwoo. “You got this, troopers!” 

Stanley claps his hands on both of your backs, so hard you jerk forward at the movement, and then he bounces off to the elevator at the far end of the room. You sigh heavily from the interaction. It’s quiet for a moment, while you fiddle with the papers in front of you.

“What a guy,” Wonwoo muses finally, thin fingers resting on the edge of your desk. You giggle, unable to look him in the eye for fear that you might remember how you’d thought about starting a family with him. “Yeah.”

You and Wonwoo settle into an unoccupied meeting room, and it’s all very professional. Markers and post-its, trying to find the best way to structure the report, excel sheets to categorize and overlook data, double check numbers. 

However bad you think it’s going to be, you’re wrong. Wonwoo is easy to talk to - he’s quiet, but he’s intelligent, and he understands how to bring on conversation, even when you fold in on yourself like a used napkin. 

“Yeah, we used to steal signs from our neighborhood,” Wonwoo admits halfway into a conversation about your hometowns. “I don’t think that’s gonna fly anymore.” 

“Why stop now? You’re letting societal rules hold you back,” you joke, and the two of you laugh, and it’s so pathetic, you’re certain you haven’t laughed this much in years, and the conversation has lasted maybe 20 minutes. 

“Well, I could show you the craft, you know, it’s a delicate process-” 

While Wonwoo talks your phone buzzes and you absent-mindedly pick it up, reviewing the notification.

Your grin drops. Faintly, you hear Wonwoo stop talking. He tilts his head to study the way you frown at the screen. “What’s up?” he asks. 

It’s the guy from last night and he’s asking if you’ll be available again tonight. 

Maybe it’s how you could almost forget it - how you let yourself into positions that would hurt you, just to feel seen and heard and touched. Maybe it’s the dichotomy of that encounter and now, talking to Wonwoo, and having the laughter steal away the loneliness. But you’re reminded so terribly of your position. You’re reminded that this, too, will end, and that the loneliness will return. You’re reminded that once the shift ends, you’re alone again. 

Suddenly you’re a thousand daggers all pointing out. You shield yourself. 

“Uh,” you trail off, putting the phone down again. “Just some guy.” 

Wonwoo’s eyebrows raise. “Boyfriend?” 

“No!” you say quickly. “No, he’s, uh. Just some guy.” 

A pause. 

“Okay,” Wonwoo says. You don’t even remember where you left off the conversation. You bite your lip because everything is all agony. The table is cold and dead beneath your hand. 

“I’m thinking we group these together,” you say, eyes now tuned to your screen and fully submerged back into your work. Work. That was all that could cover your beaten down, cursed self. 

The rest of the shift you feel Wonwoo looking at you carefully, as if he’s trying to read you. You don’t talk about yourselves anymore, no more banter, no more witty comments. You structure the report, and try to ignore how his eyes laser you open. You don’t like it. You feel like he can tell you’re a pathetic, lonely woman and that you have nothing and no one. You feel like he can sense the curse upon you. 

This would be torture.  _____________________________

It is not torture. 

The next day, to your surprise, Wonwoo is nowhere to be seen. You wait 5, 10, then 15 minutes in the meeting room you’d camped in, before you begin working on your own. It’s slower without him, but you manage. 

You can’t help but slightly worry about him. It feels stupid. You know you’re putting too much emotion into a person you’d known for two days, but you can’t help it. You wonder if he’s gotten hurt or injured, or if maybe he hates you and has transferred back. You think even Excel finds you pathetic. 

You sit there for three hours, among the ruins of paperwork and your open laptop, running your hand through your hair and typing in sentences that mean nothing, and the wallpaper is off-white and yellowing at the top, and the blinds are closed to the meeting room. 

Around 1 PM the door to the meeting room is opened, wood smacking against the glass that surrounds it, and Wonwoo stands in the doorway, slightly out of breath. You snap your head up to him, like the jerk of a lifeless doll, suddenly interrupted from a very disorganized Excel sheet.

“Hi, shit, sorry,” he gasps, slinging his bag off of his shoulder to sit down next to you. 

“Are you okay?” you ask immediately, and Wonwoo nods blindly, pulling his laptop out of his bag. “Yeah,” he says, cheeks slightly flushed and licking his lips. “My cat- my cat needed surgery, she got sick last night, it was an emergency.” 

You nod in understanding, “it’s okay-” 

You can hardly get the words out before Wonwoo rolls his chair back, wheels resounding hollowly on the floor, so he can look at you clearly. “I’m really sorry about this, it was not nice of me to leave you alone with this.” He gestures vaguely to the scattered papers, and you shake your head.

“It’s okay, Wonwoo, I get it,” you say reassuringly, peering up at him through your lashes. “You don’t need to worry about it. You’re here now.” 

Wonwoo seems less intent on personal conversations today - it’s probably because he was so late, and now is trying to make up the time. But it’s okay, in fact you’re somewhat relieved, because it dampens the false hope that blooms in your chest, whenever he asks you about your life. 

Even if you and Wonwoo work hard and quietly, you slip into the late hours of the night in an attempt to keep on track for your schedule. Outside the windows that separate you from real life, the sky turns orange, and then dark, muted blue, and stars begin dotting its impressive stretches. People begin to leave around five, and by the time you and Wonwoo finish all your work, you’re the last ones left on your floor of the office. 

Wonwoo lets out a loud sigh when he finally finishes the second segment of your report, and the both of you slump back in your seats. 

“It’s so fucking late,” Wonwoo limply throws his hand in the direction of the window. You smile a little, looking out. Smaller buildings spawn geometrically from the ground, and every once in a while someone walks by with their dog, spotlighted by the stretch of street lamps that stand outside the parking lot. “I really am sorry about this, you know. Really ruined your night,” he says quietly. 

You shake your head. “It’s fine, I had nothing to come home to anyway.” 

There’s a pause.

Wonwoo looks at you intensely. Oh shit, you realize, was that too obvious? Was that too pathetic? Has it just clicked that you’re a loser that no one wants? You nervously look back at him, but there’s no malice in his eyes. A totally unreadable expression adorns his features, where he’s leaned back in his leather chair, legs spread invitingly. You look away, feeling dumb. 

“At least we followed our schedule!” you say. Wonwoo snorts.

“Yeah, thanks to you. If you hadn’t completed so much before I got here, it would’ve been hopeless.” 

Now it’s your turn to scoff, blushing lightly and looking at the linoleum flooring. “I don’t know about tha-” 

“Seriously, Y/n, just take the compliment,” Wonwoo reaches a hand over, and you watch its movement.

It’s like time slows down, not like the movies, no, like you can stop time with the heavy weight of your gaze, pinning his muscles in place. But you can’t, and it lands on your shoulder with a soft thud. Fuck. His hand is warm and alive on you. 

“You did so well today, I-” Wonwoo cuts himself off, because suddenly you’re trembling. 

He feels your body shuddering and jerking under his hand, like the wind rattles your door when you leave it open, and he can’t see your face behind a curtain of hair, but he hears you gasp, and, fuck, you look like you’re sobbing. 

The man from last night had become so hesitant when you reacted this way. When your body trembled and shook and when you cried, but Wonwoo seems to understand. He peers at you from above the rims of his glasses, and his hand stays put right there on your shoulder. 

“Y/n,” he whispers, so sincere it causes a pathetic squeak to escape you. What must he think of you? The thoughts spiral and you can’t control a single one of them, they dance like freed souls in your head, and you can’t stop the spasming of your muscles, and you know you look so pathetic beside him right. “Y/n, look at me.” 

You don’t. You can’t. You can’t because there are tears spilling from the rims of your eyes, and rolling down your cheeks, wet and glossy. Besides, you’re an ugly crier. 

“Look at me,” he says seriously, finger tightening on your shoulder. You try to steady your breath and calm your tears, before you obey and begin to turn your chair. The simple motion requires so much effort - it’s like the air has become so thick, that the friction against your leather seat slows you down. 

Finally you turn to him, eyes first resting on his knees, then, carefully, traveling up to his face. He’s frowning. 

Your face is reddened and your eyes are puffy, your cheeks are shiny and you chew your bottom lip in a futile attempt to keep the tears at bay. 

Wonwoo looks genuinely devastated. The hand on your shoulder softens its grasp, then begins petting your arm, rubbing up and down. The action has you choking out gasps, trembling even more in his hold, and Wonwoo feels the need to roll his chair closer to you, so his other hand can grab yours. His thumb rubs over the back of it, and he lowers his head to look at you. 

“Shh, relax, relax, Y/n,” he whispers, and you try to nod, but it’s so overwhelming; being touched, being seen, being heard, all at once. For months, maybe years, no one has touched you like this - as if they care. Now the feeling is foreign, so scorching hot on your arm and your hand, your body can’t take it anymore. You’re stuck between wanting to lean into his hands, wanting to feel how real you are, and how physically true your existence is, and wanting to shy away. What must he think of you? 

“Y/n,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut to banish the sigh of your sobbing. “When was the last time someone touched you?” 

You hiccup painfully. “Uhm- I- I don’t, ” your eyes are bleary and your lashes are wet. Your lip trembles and your whole body shakes when you try to breathe. 

Apparently this was enough of an answer for Wonwoo, because he suddenly stands, somewhat harshly tugging you into a standing position too, and pulls you directly into the harbor of his arms. 

Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his torso. His chest is pressed flat against yours, so, so warm, when he nudges your head into the crook of his neck, and presses his face against its side, sighing softly into you, and breathing warm air onto your hair. His palms push you into him, soothing your trembling body, and holding you like an anker. One hand travels up to your hair. 

“W-Wonwoo, you don’t have to-”

“Shh,” he quiets you immediately, voice the softest wind of a peach tree. “Just let me take care of you.” 

You do. Wonwoo holds you until you stop crying, and though it must’ve been twenty minutes or so, it feels like no time at all. Standing in his space, breathing in his dark cologne, and letting his heat thaw your dead heart is a totally timeless act. Joy and serenity flows from the places where your bodies touch. When you stop crying, Wonwoo holds you for longer. 

Eventually, he lets you go. 

You step back sheepishly, now much calmer and the red in your face faded. You wipe your tired eyes shyly with your sleeve. 

“Thank you, Wonwoo,” you mumble, voice thick and garbled. When you look up at him, he smiles softly, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says softly, arm extending one last time to squeeze your forearm. Then it falls limp again. 

“I, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” 

“Of course.” 

When you return home, you’re buzzing. Your entire apartment buzzes along with you, things seem to clatter and beam along with the bright, glowing of your heart. You snuggle into bed and nothing is still and even when you’re drifting into sleep, your nerve endings spin in joyful circles, and your feet are a static hum. Suddenly you are very, very real. _____________________________

You’d think the next day would be tense and awkward, and maybe it is at first, but soon enough you’re talking again, more intimately than before even. 

This is Wonwoo’s doing - you know this. You know he’s smart and you know he doesn’t want you to feel bad, so he makes conversation and builds trust between the two of you. You know he hopes you don’t feel insecure. Every word he says and every flick of his eyes is riddled with it. 

The conversation decidedly slows down your progress, so Wonwoo once more suggests staying overtime. You look at him for a moment before agreeing. 

You can’t tell what his end goal is. A chamber of your heart has been revived and rebirthed, and you’re more chipper, more bouncy, but the rest of your heart insists: you’re still cursed - eventually it’ll go back to how it should be. You listen. You try not to get your hopes up that Wonwoo really cares about you. Why should he, really?

Although when you’re done for the day, about an hour after your usual 5 PM, you stand up and begin to pack your things, laptop sliding into your bag and clustering pens in your hand. It’s gray outside, but the sun comes in a single strand through a gap in the smog and the clouds. The wind hoots by the windows, and it smells like the indian you ordered for lunch together. 

You stop your packing, feeling a set of eyes in your back. You twist your head to see him.

Wonwoo is sitting completely still in his chair, slack-covered legs spread open, and he makes no move to collect his own things. He just stares. 

“What’s up?” you quip. You’re slightly nervous. Just before it was all silly childhood stories, college and weed and life before the dead-end job. Now Wonwoo has that unreadable expression on his face again. 

He slowly lifts his hands from the armrest, eyes locked with yours, and claps his palms on the tops of his thighs. 

Your eyebrows furrow. 

“Wha-” 

“Come here,” he says simply. When you stand completely still, like a deer in the headlights, Wonwoo scoffs and rolls his eyes. “What? You think you’re cured because someone hugged you once?” 

“Cured?”

“You’re touch-starved, Y/n,” Wonwoo states matter-of-factly, “you need to be touched.” 

“Touch-starved?” you echo, a bewildered expression on your face.

“We can also just hug, like yesterday,” he suggests calmly. You envy his collectedness. “I just don’t want you to feel bad. So please. Come sit.”

To emphasize, Wonwoo pats his thighs again, patiently. You step away from your bag with hesitating steps, pursing your lips. Your cheeks blaze when you look at his thighs again - they’re so long, and the folds in his slacks stretch down and centralize on his crotch and- You’re being a pervert. 

“Okay,” you squeak and Wonwoo tuts. Why is that hot, you think, why the hell is that hot?

“We can just hug if you-” 

You feel bold.

Without letting him finish, you swing your leg over his, and plop down, straddling halfway down his thighs. You thank God you put pants on this morning instead of a skirt, when you look down at where you rest on top of him. 

Wonwoo is a little taken aback, but when you’ve settled on him, his hands find your waist and he looks up at you with a hum. Your breathing is a little shaky. Once again his hands provide a pumping of golden joy into your body, and more of you comes alive and becomes real, and you smile. 

What had Wonwoo been talking about? Touch-starved?

“What’s, um-” your question is cut off with a gasp, when Wonwoo uses his hands on your middle to tug you closer. You rest on the highest point of thighs that you can without sitting on his dick. Cheeks red and eyes squeezed shut, you hear how Wonwoo hums, pleased. “What were you talking about? Touch-starved?” you whisper, keeping your eyes shut. 

Wonwoo sighs, and once more, like the movement is entirely replayed, his hand finds your hair and pushes your face into the crook of his neck. You sigh against it, enjoying how his arms protect you and hide you from the evil of the world. 

“If you don’t touch anyone,” Wonwoo begins, his voice low bass in your ear, “you become touch-starved. That’s why you reacted the way you did yesterday.” 

His hands run up and down your sides. 

“But- but I’m not crying today,” you say quietly into his neck. Wonwoo hums.

“No, that’s good,” he says. “We can stop if you really want, I just wa-”

“No!” your voice squeaks immediately, and, as if he were running from you, you fist his shirt to keep him close. 

“Okay,” there’s a smile in Wonwoo’s voice. You can’t see it but you can imagine it. 

Comfortable silence. Wonwoo traces patterns on your back and you breathe deeply against the skin of his neck. The two of you function as one living thing, the only living thing left in the office. Chairs are turned halfway, a couple lights are left on. The desks betray the past presence of humans. 

“Wonwoo,” you pip. 

“Mhm?” 

“You don’t have to do this, you know? I don’t want you to do it if you- if it’s just.. Pity.” 

Wonwoo sighs, and you feel the way his torso deflates underneath you. He trails his hand up from your back to tap your cheek. You move back and look at him. 

Your faces are very close, you can feel how your exhales collide and then scatter, hell, you think you could count each of his eyelashes from here. 

“I already told you. I’m doing this because I don’t want you to feel bad. I-” he hesitates for a moment, pursing his lips. “I’ve been there. So I know what it’s like.” 

The thought of Wonwoo feeling like this, like you, is sickening. Genuinely sickening, you feel your insides turn to rot and mold and you frown so deeply, you think your lips might forever lock in that position. 

“I’m okay now,” he reassures, reading you immediately. His hand finds your cheek and he almost cries out at the way you lean into it blindly. 

“How did you-.. I- I always thought it was, like, a lifelong curse,” you say.

“A curse?” Wonwoo grins, thumb stroking over the skin of your cheek. It makes you happy, it makes you feel like your heart will burst. 

“Yeah. I guess I just blamed some old woman from my hometown,” you giggle, blushing a little because, yes, it did sound stupid when you weren’t just echoing the theory to yourself, like playing a team sport alone. 

“You’re not cursed,” Wonwoo promises, tucking your head into his chest. “I’ll help you, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you from now on.” 

He does take care of you. 

Every day you work overtime, and every day when you’re done with work, Wonwoo slides you into his lap and holds you, while you curl up in his chest. Then you talk and you laugh, and you listen to each other's music. His hands run warm up your back and in your hair and on your hips, gentle caresses, deeply intimate. For two weeks you and Wonwoo indulge in this nighttime ritual. 

You have not felt lonely since that night. And Wonwoo can tell. Your skin is warmer and brighter, you smile wider, your eyes twinkle, and there’s energy in every movement. Your body thaws under his warm hands every night, and sometimes when you smile, he gets so happy he could kiss you. 

You realize you like Wonwoo one particular night when you’re falling asleep in your bed and you can still feel the ghost of his arms around you and it lulls you into a deep, dreamless sleep, and when you wake up you smell a little bit like his cologne. That’s how you realize. You like how considerate and how gentle he is, you like how sweet he is to you, you like how he looks when he smiles and when he laughs and you like how much he loves his cat. You like how his arms feel wrapped around you. 

And you like him, and suddenly your apartment is a song that you dance in, and every photo on your walls is smiling and your bed is always warm and so is your heart. 

There’s nothing dead in here, you think, when you cook a delicious meal on the stovetop, sauce bubbling in a stainless steel pan. Nothing haunted about your home or your heart. _____________________________

“We’re almost done.” 

“Mhm.” 

“I can’t believe we’re almost done!” 

Wonwoo looks up, bemused, lips made small and pointed. You’re staring at the almost-done document, scrolling up and down through long and arduous paragraphs. It’s nighttime again - not that you had to stay late today, it was a choice - and the city glimmers brilliantly in the coolness. You and Wonwoo wear sweaters to keep warm. 

“Feels like a lifetime,” Wonwoo murmurs, same smile upon his beautiful face. His cheekbones point out from beneath his skin. 

“Yeah,” you breathe, leaning back. You won’t put your fingers back on the keyboard. Not when it could be done so soon. You look at him, all snuggled up in a brown sweater. “What if..” 

A pause. He tilts his head.

“Well, are we still gonna talk?” you chew your lip dejectedly, feeling a little sad and desperate, but Wonwoo only laughs. It’s a beautiful sound, it’s one you associate with joy. 

“Of course,” he says, as his laughter quiets down. “If you want to.” 

A shy smile forms on your lips. You turn to look back at the computer, but you hear the now-familiar sound of Wonwoo patting his thighs. You flit your eyes back to him, teasingly scolding.

“We’re not done.” 

“We don’t have to be done now,” he shrugs, an equally teasing smile on his lips. You roll your eyes, but, unsurprisingly, you shift over to him, sitting down in his lap. He immediately tugs you closer, fingers searching for stimulation on the seams of your jeans. There’s something different about Wonwoo today, you realize, his touch is more feverish, his fingers dig deeper into the fat of your hips and he looks up at you like you’re a diamond-encrusted chandelier, hanging from the ceiling, all glittering jewels. 

“What’s up?” you giggle nervously. It’s becoming hard to breathe with the way he paws at your hips. 

There’s something in the air between you, but maybe you’re imagining it. Maybe it’s your mind playing tricks on you, concocting the magnetic pull that lingers between you, the thicker, heavier air, that urges you closer. 

He sighs heavily, as if he was dreading this. All of a sudden composed, cool, icy Wonwoo is chewing his lip and avoiding your eyes, looking instead down where your fat gives way for his needy fingers. 

“I, uh, I really like you, Y/n,” his voice shakes. “Would you. Maybe. Want to go out some time?” 

At the last syllable his gaze locks on to yours, and you watch him visibly relax, because you’re fucking grinning. 

Not maliciously, not crudely, not a dime or a dab of evil, only genuine joy. 

“I-I would like that,” you control your smile, pointing your lips in the same way that Wonwoo does and blushing all over. Wonwoo grins too and it’s unbearably boyish. 

“Okay,” he says, as if he can’t believe it. “Okay. Great.” 

The window slams shut, the spell is undone by his hand, the dead defy their only law to bow to his necromancy. Wonwoo is alive and warm underneath you, and you are alive and warm on top of him, thighs pushed up against his and tugging at the fabric of his shirt. Your balloon of heart pops in your chest, and the bone-cage of your chest is filled with helium, that has you floating. Rosy and shiny, your heart beats at twice its normal speed.

There’s a lull in the conversation. It would’ve been a more comfortable silence, if you couldn’t see by how Wonwoo looks down and purses his lips, that he’s itching to say more. 

Sparked by his confession, you confidently snake your hand up to tap his cheek lazily. He turns to you with a loafy smile. “What is it?” 

He breathes out unsteadily.

“You’re-” he closes his eyes. “There’s so much I like about you. It- It makes me feel really bad that you weren’t feeling well, so I-” 

He cringes at himself, one hand pushing away his glasses to rub the eyes underneath them. 

“Can I make you feel better?” he asks vaguely. 

You huff out a laugh. “Are you trying to ask if I want to have sex?” 

He laughs too, behind his big hand. “No. It’s not the same, I want it to be about you!” 

You laugh more, and Wonwoo’s face reappears as he lowers his hand. He looks up at you adoringly, dotingly. He’s smiling.

“I’m being serious,” he says quietly, when you finish. He seems less embarrassed now, more so smug. “I want to make you feel good.” 

He’s paying an awful lot of attention to your hips, which he has not let up massaging and squeezing roughly. 

“Can I..?” he begins, eyes fixed on your hips in his lap. “Can I make you cum?” 

Then, slowly, Wonwoo lifts his hands and gently places them around on your face. His touch is always as soft as a hope-laced wind. He’s warm and he’s alive and he’s holding onto you, and you see it in his eyes: you’re real, you’re right underneath my fingertips. 

“Please.”

That’s all he needs, before he presses his lips against yours.

The kiss is everything you want it to be; because it’s loving. It’s slow, it’s deep, it’s gentle, there’s no tongue, just the soft, warm, real, alive flows of his lips against your own. His hands on both of your cheeks caress your cheekbones gently, and warm air is spilled in the small space between you. He pulls away, panting. 

“I don’t understand it,” he mumbles, before he’s pressing his lips back to yours hungrily. You let out a confused hum, and you have to gently push at his shoulder to back him off again. “What do you mean?” you ask.

“Why you were so alone,” he breathes, transfixed on your lips. “I want to be with you all the time.” 

Before you can respond, Wonwoo grips the underside of your thighs, lifting you and himself from the chair and placing you on the desk. You gasp at the impact when the glass table meets your bottom, and Wonwoo is standing over you, suddenly so tall and so broad, and slimming at the waist. His narrow eyes become hooded behind the reflection of his glasses. His head is tilted down to meet yours.

“Can I take off your clothes, pretty?” 

You don’t answer, only grip the edge of your shirt, tugging it over your head, so your bra-clad chest is exposed to him. He groans at the sight. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles, nimble fingers dancing across your back to unclip the bra, sucking in a harsh breath the fabric becomes loose, sliding down your arms. “Such a pretty girl.” 

“Stop,” you whisper, face warm and red. Your heart has never beat this way. It’s utterly unbearable and addicting at the same time, it’s without rhythm or class, it’s wild. And it’s because he’s looking at you and it’s not just lust. It’s adoration. There are deeper strings to the make-up of his eyes, there are lines connected to his heart, and he’s all flushed.

“What?” he asks. “I’m just telling you the truth.” 

Wonwoo throws your bra on the floor next to him, hands finding the hem of your pants. “Can I take your pants off?” 

You nod, still so shy and abashed, because Wonwoo’s eyes feel like a pink spotlight, and you are bathed in its warmth. He unbuttons your pants and you gently slide off the table to work them off your legs. 

“Your panties are cute,” Wonwoo remarks (it should feel lewd, but he has a hand on your hip, that brushes the bone and he smiles at it). “Thank you,” you breathe, before you’re taking them off too.

Wonwoo doesn’t need to, but he still insists on gently lifting you back onto the table, and he kisses your nose when you’re sitting before him. He’s standing in between your legs, and then he’s looking down at where wetness drips onto the glass table. 

His hand slides down your stomach, resting on the fat of it. He’s smiling, he’s so gorgeous, because he’s smiling the most gentle smile at how wet you are and how it leaks onto the table and his hand is so warm on your stomach, doing nothing, yet turning you on even more than you’d ever been before.

He sighs like he’s carrying the greatest burden on his broad back. “You’re so pretty,” he says, almost exasperated by it. He pinches some of the fat of your stomach between his fingers lovingly. “I can’t believe I get to have you like this.” 

Then the hand on your stomach slides down further. His large, veiny hand cups your pussy, the tips of his fingers just barely teasing your hole. You whimper against him, hands finding his biceps for support. Wonwoo studies you, craning his neck down to peer at your face, while his fingers begin swaddling your folds. 

“You’re so wet, baby,” he mumbles, trying to catch your eye where you bury into his chest. One finger dips into your hole, penetrating slowly and settling knuckle-deep. 

“Wonnie!” you cry out, squeezing your eyes shut. 

“Mmm, clenching down on Wonnie’s finger so hard. My beautiful girl.” 

He begins pushing his finger in and out of you, pace slow and torturous. His other hand slides up and down your body, squeezing your waist then your thigh, then coming right back up to fondle your chest. He pushes your back flat against the glass, so you’re all splayed out for him and you watch him from there, eyes hooded and legs spread to accommodate him. He breathes in shakily at the sight of you. 

“Shit, Y/n. What were you doing hiding all this from me?” His finger picks up the pace, as another finger slips in alongside it. You’re moaning and panting, lips red and hair mussed, unable to focus on his words, when his fingers curl against that spongy spot inside you. Apparently Wonwoo expects an answer though, because he speaks again, voice lower and rougher. “Hm? You didn’t want to go have lunch? What, was it that guy?”

“W-What?” 

“Just some guy,” Wonwoo echoes your past words, emphasizing with a harsh thrust of his fingers. 

“N-No, I- Hng!” you cry out, when Wonwoo’s thumb presses onto your clit. He rubs it torturously. “I-I was embarrassed because I- I was thinking about you!” 

“Oh?” this catches Wonwoo’s attention, as he diligently works his hand within you, staring down at your naked form, fully clothed and tall. “Tell me what you were thinking about, baby.” 

“This!” you cry out, too high off the pleasure to really feel embarrassed about it.

“Pretty, sweet, dumb baby. You were thinking about you whimpering and writhing while I fuck you with my hand, hm?”

“N-No,” you mumble, cheeks aflame. “W-Was thinking about you l-liking me.” 

At this Wonwoo hastily leans over you, pressing his lips onto yours again, and this time his tongue pries open your mouth, wet and warm in the cavern of your mouth. You moan into the kiss, hips canting into his hand. There’s something so desperate about him then, something so eager in the way he crooks his fingers, and how he kisses you, panting and covering your face in warm air. You feel a tight knot in your stomach.

“Cum on my fingers, please, pretty, sweet, baby, darling,” he mumbles into your mouth, rushing out the words before he’s sealing your lips again. 

“God, I think I might fall in love with you.” 

That makes you cum. You cum so fucking hard, clenching around his fingers like an air-tight seal, and your cum spills onto his fingers and his name spills into his mouth. The curse comes out with it, escaping like the air that spills out from an ancient, rediscovered chamber, and dissipating into the night. Your heart is beating and you’re breathing into his mouth, nose brushing his. 

“Good girl,” he breathes, finally releasing your lips and letting his lips fall heavy and wet on your cheek. 

He pulls out his fingers, unbearably wet and slick, and you think for a second that he’ll let you calm down and then maybe he’ll put his dick in you, but as soon as the fingers are out of you, they’re settling back on to your clit, rubbing heavy-handed circles.

You whine, arching your back off the table and wiggling your hips at the overstimulation. His other hand catches your hip and he shushes your cries softly. 

“You can cum again, can’t you, baby? You can take it,” he says, so nonchalantly, while his slick fingers rub you. You cry out. Your legs are shaking. “Think you can cum again from just this?”

“Y-Yes,” you sigh and when you look down, his entire hand covers your pussy, as he pets your clit in circles. He smiles at your words, pinching your clit teasingly. It causes a squeak to escape you, hips struggling against his hold, where he pins you to the table.

“Good girl,” he praises, purring. “Letting me use your pretty pussy like this, letting me make you feel good.” 

His body in front of you prevents your legs from closing, but, God, do they try, knees pinching his thin waist, and hair bunching up on the glass when your face scrunches up in pleasure. 

“A-a-ah!” you cry out. Your hips involuntarily begin to inch away from him, but Wonwoo pulls you back with one strong hand, tutting. 

“Don’t do that,” he mutters, pouting. “You need to be touched, remember?” 

The whole thing is so heart-achingly intimate. The way he stands, still fully clothed and with a huge fucking tent in his pants, simply rubbing your pussy and looking at you with heart-eyes. Seriously, eyes swimming with adoration for you, teasing words slipping from his mouth unable to mask the genuine wonder he feels, at how you gasp and you arch and you clean and you jerk from the simplest of his movements. And your pussy is so warm and wet under his hand, and his body between your legs is so warm, and you cum again from just that; from how much love he looks at you with, and from the fingers crooking to pinch your clit again, wet and swollen underneath his glistening fingertips. 

“W-Wonwoo!” you cry out, cumming again, and your body convulses around his, when it oozes out of your hole. Wonwoo’s fingers gently work you through it. His gaze on you is so intent, so careful and insistent, you can’t bear it, the way he sees you totally lost in the pleasure he brings you. 

“There you go,” he whispers gently, fingers letting up and disappearing from your pulsating pussy. 

“Wonwoo,” you mewl tiredly, pushing yourself onto your elbows to look up at him. He looks at you, so sweetly, so attentively, hands immediately finding your back to stabilize you. “Can I please have your cock now?” 

“We don’t have to-” 

“I want to!” you interrupt him, brows furrowed and lips in a pout. Wonwoo grins at that and though he may deny it, you don’t miss the red that twinges his cheeks. 

“It’s just if you were too tired..-” 

“I’m not,” you say decidedly, and Wonwoo nods. 

“Okay. C’mere then.” 

You’re confused when Wonwoo sits back down in the office chair, fingers working his slacks open. He doesn’t answer to your grimace though, only manages his pants unzipped and in one lift of his hips, peel both them and his boxers down. 

His cock springs free, and your confused grimace is replaced with one of awe. It’s pale and veiny, the head is red and thin, white liquid oozes from it, like melted candle wax. And it’s huge.

You’re too slow to mask your amazement, it seems, because when your eyes return to his face, he’s already looking at you, smiling smugly. 

“Come ride me, baby.” 

You don’t need to be told twice. You slide off the table eagerly, lumbering over to where he’s relaxed against the back of the chair. He looks up at you, all naked and pretty, with a grin. 

The top buttons of his dress shirt are unbuttoned, but he must’ve given up halfway. Either way, the milky plates of his chest are exposed, shining gloriously in the warm office light, and he discards his glasses, face fully exposed to you. He’s beautiful, and you think to tell him.

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper, planting each leg around his, so you’re straddling him. Like your ritual, Wonwoo grips your middle and pulls you closer, but this time it’s even closer than normal. Your stomach meets his dick, all heavy and hot on your skin, and your breath hitches at the sensation. 

“You’re beautiful,” he teases, looking up at you. You smile. 

“Can I put it in?” you ask. 

“As if the answer was ever gonna be no?” 

You snort out a laugh, raising yourself by your thighs and gripping the base of his dick to steer him inside. He hisses at the feeling of your hand grappling with his impressive size, and he hisses once more when the head of his cock buries into your heat. 

His hands on your waist anchor himself while you slowly sink down, until he’s so fully sheathed in you, you think the tip of his cock must be brushing your heart, because it feels like it’s swinging in your chest. 

“You’re so big,” you whimper, clutching his broad shoulders, and scrunching the fabric on top of them. 

“Don’t say shit like that, I’m gonna cum, babe,” he grits out, fingers bruising your waist. You mewl, clutching his shirt. Then you begin to bounce. 

Your thighs flex on either side of him as you heave up and down his cock, the both of you gasping into each other, and clutching each other for stability. 

“Shit,” he pants out, genuinely out of breath. “Fuck, you’re the loveliest girl in the world.”

You cry out, pressure already welling in your stomach and burying yourself in his neck like you’ve always done, and it’s so intimate and he’s warm, and, fuck, he wants you. You can feel it in his grip, in his cock, in his words; he wants you more than anything. The thought makes you wanna cum. 

Wonwoo is not quiet at all. He grunts and whines and his words are strangled and garbled, but frequent, showering you in affection and praise, while you bounce eagerly on his huge cock. 

“You’re so pretty, baby.” 

“Your tits are so perfect, shit.”

“Pretty girl.” 

“Loveliest, prettiest, sweetest girl, bouncing on my cock, fuck.”

Praises spill from his lips in purrs, one after another, and when you cum you can’t help but return it tenfold. 

“Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonnie, fuck! Gonna- fucking cum, I think I’m- f-falling in love with you”

You and Wonwoo come alive. Cum spurts from his cock and into your pussy, and you both cry out, entangled and completing one another in the space where you meet. 

And it’s true, falling in love with him is so easy. And falling in love with you is easy too, you realize, because the second he’s spilled his cum in you, he pulls you from his neck to kiss you so deeply, so thoroughly, you think your lips might never unpuff from his hasty, bitten kisses. 

His cock, now soft, still inside you, his warm chest against yours, his nose nudging yours, his eyelashes fluttering against your skin, the kiss is totally perfect, and you’re warm, and the windows are all closed and fogged up and there’s no curse other than the most fatal and most perfectly tantalizing of them all: love. 

You are not alone. You’re sitting in his lap and you think if you give it a day or two more, you might want to spend the rest of your life with him. 

You catch your breaths. 

“You’re really good at that,” you say finally. He grins again, perfectly undone, hair tousled and cheeks flushed. “Yeah?” he asks. You hum. 

After some minutes of keeping him inside you, kissing lazily, running your hands over his pretty chest and arms, you pull back, beginning to flex your legs to pull him out of you. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, hands wafting to still your movements. You furrow your brows, confused. 

“Am getting your dick out of me?” 

His hands sink down on your hips heavily, fully encompassing his dick again. You sigh at the feeling. 

“Don’t do that, silly. You’re touch-starved, remember?” 

He tilts his head teasingly. 

“So why don’t you just sit snug on my cock, so you can get all the closeness you need?”

[omgkalyppso]

BG3 Act 1 asks

I am intentionally putting the number of the inquiry at the end of each question also because I have a pet peeve that when you copy paste questions into an ask that the number doesn't carry over.

Tell us about your Tav! Name, class and subclass, race, pronouns. Do you have a headcanon for where they're from? Their family? Are they a Dark Urge? Or did you choose an Origin Character? Was it an easy decision? (1)

Was there something about the character creator that just couldn't capture your Character? Please tell us about their hair, facial hair, tattoos, piercings, disabilities, their trans or intersex body, or anything else you're comfortable sharing. (2)

Has your Character been using their illithid powers? (3)

Do you remember in which order you recruited your companions? Which companion introduction would have felt the most familiar / like home to your Tav / Character? (4)

Do you remember the first humanoid enemy your Character killed? Was it the first person they've ever killed, in your opinion? Would they have been bothered by it? (5)

Were you able to save everyone when the goblins stormed the gates at the Grove? (6)

Did you enter the Grove? (7)

Do you have a favorite member of the Druid Circle? Is it the same as your Character's? (8)

Do you have a favorite member of the Tiefling Refugees? Is it the same as your Character's? (9)

Do you have a favorite member of the Goblin Camp? Is it the same as your Character's? (10)

Do you have a favorite member of the Act 1 Githyanki? Is it the same as your Character's? (11)

Do you have a favorite member of the Zhentarim? Is it the same as your Character's? (12)

Do you have a favorite character from the Underdark? Is it the same as your Character's? (13)

Do you have another NPC you loved from a faction not mentioned above? What about your Character? (14)

How did the situation with the Grove, the Tieflings and the Goblins turn out for your Character? (15)

Did you save Halsin? (16)

What does your Character think of Withers? (17)

How did your Character deal with Wyll, Karlach and Mizora? (18)

Did your Character spend a night with a companion either the night of the party or earlier? Is it someone they have a continued interest in? (19)

How did you deal with The Artist - Oskar Fevras? Did you even encounter him? (20)

What are your Character's thoughts on the strange artifact that was in Shadowheart's possession? Did it jump to your pack because you changed her out of your party? (21)

How did your Character resolve the situation with Sovereign Glut, if you met them? (22)

What are your Character's thoughts on the dream visitor? (23)

Was your illithid tadpole empowered by anything in Act 1? If so, how does your Character feel about that? (24)

Did your Character take the mountain pass? (25)

What was your favorite enemy? Did your Character have any memorable fights or moments in combat that were ripe for headcanons and interpretation? (26)

Who ended up in your Character's most used party? (27)

Did you recruit Scratch the dog? Did you encounter him at all? (28)

Did you adopt an owlbear? Do you have a name for your child? (29)

Do you have other pets as a ranger or in headcanon? (30)

Does your Character have new or old phobias or superstitions that affect their story? (31)

What's your Character's experience with and opinion of Volo? (32)

Has your Character allied with the cult of the Absolute? (33)

How did your Character resolve the situation with Nere and the gnomes? (34)

Has your Character done anything that they regret in Act 1? (35)

Did your Character find the Adamantine Forge? Did they use it? What did they make? (36)

Did your Character find the Necromancy of Thay? How are they handling it / planning to handle it? (37)

Did your Character meet Barcus Wroot? How's he doing? (38)

What does your Character think of Raphael? (39)

Is your Character used to strange dreams from before the events of the adventure? (40)

Is your Character accustomed to being on the road from before the events of the adventure? (41)

Has your Character been to the Underdark from before the events of the adventure? (42)

Asker has a question not from the list. (43)

Asker wants Blogger to choose a question from the list. (44)

I love your oc's! I hope you're enjoying the game as much as I am!

[l-in-the-light]

I love the Heart Pirates 🥰♥️. Would you write sth for the relationship Law and his crew (especially Bepo🐻)? Does Law love his crew just the same as he loves Cora?

Sure, this will be that post :D there isn't that many Hearts Pirates scenes in the manga, so it will probably end up being more Hearts appreciation post than strict analysis :) but I will do my best! Also I will use some neat quotes from the novel, in case you want to skip those they're all written in italics so it's easy to avoid them!

Also really sorry it took me forever to get to this ask!

Let's introduce our power rangers Sora-fanboying crew. That idea probably got born all the way back in the North Blue, when Law, Bepo, Penguin and Shachi were living together as children and sharing stories and talking into late night hours before falling asleep.

First of all, Hearts Pirates are strategists. All crewmates know their roles they have to play in a battle. There's always someone responsible for the Polar Tang, usually it's Hakugan (taking care of the ship so it doesn't get damaged is essential, because that ship is not only their means of travelling but also their home). There are people responsible for providing cover (Shachi and Penguin, Law's most trusted guys besides Bepo). There is a bodyguard - Jean Bart (or should I call him a tank? :D), making sure Law doesn't get hit when preparing powerful counterattacks.

Second of all, the biggest strength of Heart Pirates isn't their individual feats, fighting skills or not even their ace in the sleeve - the overpowered captain. Their true strength lies in their teamwork. They always work like a team, supporting each other and cooperating to help Law win his battles.

Hearts are apparently very strong in sea battles. Seems their usual strategy is to go for sinking the enemy's ship (very sly and effective). They're also good at fighting in the water, which is refreshing in comparison to many other crews depending solely on devil fruits powers.

Also RIP Polar Tang :(

Bepo has actually the most jobs to do, surprisingly. He's the navigator, he's the main attacker who often plays support for Law, but he also uses his mink/animal senses to track down enemies and instruct where each crewmate is needed! He's definitely very reliable.

“Sorry, I got nothing. If only I was a smarter polar bear… I’m no use, I should just disappear.”

“Hah hah! Just having strong legs doesn’t make you the best at peddling, Bepo. Man, you really are clumsy. You were so wobbly I thought for sure you were going to crash. It was scary just watching you!”

“Hm, you’re right. I wonder why I can’t ride a bike to save my life… I’ll just leave and figure my life out then.”

Despite Bepo's poor self-esteem, he's a really good fighter. Bepo's kung-fu (bear-fu? :D) fighting style is so unique too. Law often trusts him to "take care of things". Bepo has also one more powerful ace up his sleeve, his sulong form, though apparently he can't control it at all. It's only thanks to Chopper's rumble ball that Bepo was able to control his form for the very first time, without even a full moon visible in the sky.

Of course Bepo is also a very outstanding navigator. I mean, I dare you all to try to draw a better map with those huge paws! They're not exactly suited to hold a pen!

I do have to mention though that Law had a momentary pause before finding their current location ("around here") on this map, haha. He would never admit it though. He's so proud of his navigator! Also, keeping that map with him must have made Law happy, because he got reminded of Bepo even when he wasn't with him.

It's so tattered too and needed some tapes ;-;

Bepo is also, sort of, second in command after Law. He's responsible for new recruits who work directly under him. That gives us some sort of insight in how the hierarchy works in Hearts crew. There is Law whose word is absolute, then Bepo, then Shachi and Penguin, then the rest, then the fresh recruits.

It's not quite like in Strawhats where everyone is more or less equal in their positions. Even in the novel Law sometimes calls them friends and sometimes underlings, but in Punk Hazard and Egghead he instead calls them "nakama" (his crewmates, companions), so that apparently has changed at some point as Law grew up.

These two are my subordinates! I won’t let scum like you call them “things”!

I let out a large sigh. I have to keep it together. I have to protect my underlings. My friends.

Bepo, Penguin, Shachi. I told you to be my underlings, so I have a responsibility as your boss.

As much as Law treats his Heart Pirates as equals, his responsibility over them makes him take a higher position over them. But he doesn't interfere much in how they organize things around each other. Bepo took it on himself to be the second in command and Law never protested or questioned that. Basically their importance in the crew is based on the order in which they joined.

“Hold on, both of you ate three pieces and I only had two! You guys are new here, so you should be putting me first!” (Bepo complains while Law thinks to himself:) I should have just given them all equal portions to begin with instead of piling everything on a single plate; that’s what I think as I quietly shovel my fourth piece into my mouth.

Law himself is a bit sneaky, he might think he should make sure things are more equal around his crew, but at the end of the day he just doesn't do anything about it. They're free to do whatever they want. That's the type of captain he is.

When Wolf is out of the house, the four of us work on the farm, go fishing, clean, and do the laundry. During free time, each of us will focus on the things we want to do. I spend most of my time reading medical books and learning how to use my power. Bepo uses his time to study navigation. Penguin and Shachi simply have a desire to get stronger. But since their way of doing things didn’t allow them to improve, I had to borrow weapons from Wolf and teach them swordsmanship and gunnery. Seeing someone I'm teaching getting better at it is more rewarding than I thought it would be. Whenever I see how happy Penguin or Shachi are when they hit the bullseye, I can’t help but smile.

Law also trained them all by himself.

But back to Bepo. He's also a bit of a silly bear who needs to be looked after. He doesn't stand the heat very well, he's a bit of a slow thinker, he also panicks very easily and often calls out to Law to save him or stay with him. And that feeling is usually mutual, because Law also wants to take care of him:

“Don’t worry, Bepo. Even if you get injured and covered in blood, I’ll fix you up at the clinic.”

“Assuming I do get injured! Aye-aye!”

Hah hah. What a goof.

Bepo is a bit like a younger sibling to Law, he can be strong but also very clumsy and silly, and it for sure appeals to Law's protective side. He kinda stepped up (it was probably subconsciously) to be a temporary older brother figure for him in absence of Zepo. He was ready to throw away his Wano's raid plans just because Bepo had a stomachache and asked him to stay by his side. Bepo is also the only person Law has any sort of physical closeness with. Those two grew really close with each other.

But Bepo is dependable when it matters. He was also a guardian of Whale Forest back on Zou, so Law isn't the only one who recognizes that quality in Bepo.

“Law, I brought you some hot tea. It’s made with tea from the old man’s garden. He said it helps calm nerves.”

“Thank you, Bepo.”

“No problem. You’ve been having nightmares a lot lately.”

“I know. I must be worrying Penguin and Shachi too.”

“You don’t want to talk about it?” Bepo asked with an earnest look on his face.

“No; right now, I can’t get my own thoughts together, sorry.”

“It’s fine. But I’m here if you ever want to talk about it.”

Law is close friends with Penguin and Shachi as well, but it seems it's Bepo he confides in most of the time. It might be because Bepo shows his concern and care very openly, making it especially hard for Law to refuse or dismiss it. And it's a good thing, because Law really needs someone openly caring and loving like Bepo in his life.

Bepo is clearly higher in command than Penguin and Shachi, and they both respect him despite the rocky beginning of their friendship:

“That's what you thought while they beat you?”

“Yes. I thought if I let them do it, maybe we could become friends.” Friends. It’s a word I hadn't heard in a long time. I no longer have any. They were all burned in a fire. (…) As my mind wanders, I begin to wonder why a polar bear is here, alone. Actually, if I think about it, he’s probably just like I had been before. I've become a little more interested in his situation.

Law's crew respects him and looks up to him, but they also voice out their own opinions and approvals or lack there of. They also occassionally allow themselves some really lewd comments, like in the picture above :D I bet you anything they would also call out Law on acting cute if they saw him with Chopper strapped to his head.

Damn, Penguin even looks like he's a bit jealous of Chopper's position. They fanboy Law so much despite being slightly older than him!

Shachi and Penguin are Law's intel and watchers. Penguin seems to be the smarter one out of the two of them, basing it on the rational comments he makes. But Shachi's skills in the water are also nothing to sneeze at! And as a bonus skill, Shachi apparently cuts the hair for others in the crew.

“Hey, you two.” I call Shachi and Penguin calmly. “You have nowhere to go, do you? I know you can't go back to your relatives' house either.”

“That is the only place we would never return to.”

“Alright; then you won't. Be my subordinates. And for now, you can live here.”

The four of us—myself, Bepo, Penguin and Shachi—have experienced immense loneliness in this world, and somehow managed to overcome despair.

I think it's possible Law recruited everyone in his crew in similar fashion (of course his first three friends remain special regardless). He seems to have easier time to relate to people who know how despair feels like and he wants to help them leave that feeling behind, to see things from a different perspective, to show them that no matter what, there are still probably other ways out, and if there aren't, he will make one happen.

Heart Pirates are also responsible for lesser tasks so that Law himself doesn't have to do it, like keeping an eye on Luffy.

Some Hearts, like Clione, Uni and Ikkaku even disagreed with the idea of the alliance. At first I thought Law told his crew that they don't have to get along with the Strawhats, because he respected that some might feel uncomfortable doing that, but nah, in the end it was just payback for Luffy not introducing Law to his own crew properly.

It's not the only time Law's crew complained to him so directly. When they were supposed to enter the New World, Law told them they need to wait and that they need to shut up and listen to him, because they should trust his plans. Despite his crew's big enthusiasm and competitive spirit, they were actually a bit scared to enter the New World, because when they saw beasts in the calm belt they definitely panicked a bit. So Law's decision was probably the right course of action.

Bepo also isn't afraid to scold his captain, when Law stares at yonko instead of escaping Marineford or when he chooses to drop down the waterfall in Wano. Law always seems to win each and every time tho. They also have no fear on calling him out for showing off ;)

Let's not forget that despite the fact that Heart Pirates can voice their complains openly, they were still kinda left in the dark and learned about the alliance from the newspaper. Ouchie, Law :D Nami might have a point when she said Law is just like Luffy.

They're very loyal, not only to Law, but to each other as well. They also share their duties on Polar Tang, like cleaning or maintaining the submarine, all together.

“You… no, the lot of you can really help others without asking anything in return, huh.” (Wolf about Law, Shachi, Penguin and Bepo)

Shachi, Penguin and Bepo always accompany Law wherever he goes.

His whole crew protects him whenever they can.

And of course they love him so much. Law might be a grumpy captain, but he for sure returns the love he received from them, in his own way. Let's not forget Bepo, Penguin and Shachi were there for him when he lost everyone again, after what happened to Cora-san. They basically supported each other in their biggest time of need.

Despite some of them protesting, they all get along with Strawhats in that alliance in the end :) Hearts are also very fun loving people, who definitely like to party :D

Law might be quite overprotective about his crew, but he does trust them enough to take care of themselves and pick their own battles in the Onigashima's raid. Hearts also worry for Law a lot and cheer him on and celebrate his won battles ❤

“Hmph. Well, alright then. It’s just that when you’re not feeling well, the rest of the lot are out of it too.” (Wolfe said this to Law, suggesting that whenever Law is feeling under the weather, it affects his friends)

I have to act strong. I have to act cool. If I stay gloomy in this situation, the other three will continue to live in fear. I can’t let that happen. (Law to himself)

At first Law didn't think much about his responsibility over his crew, he learned that along the way and thanks to Wolf's guidance. He decided to do everything he can so he can protect his friends and show them that they can rely on him, and they make sure to return the favour.

Now let's take a moment to celebrate Penguin and Shachi being little horny perverts ;)

In the end, I'm the only one scolded by Wolf. Bepo and the other two look at me like they are sorry, but I know that tomorrow things will be exactly the same. Since we’ve been living together, I’ve learned that these three will forget their transgressions in a day’s time.

This is probably another reason why Law chooses to ignore most of Hearts antics :D

I gotta say Shachi is certainly having hots for Penguin, basing it on this image ;) or at least he would be even more into him if he had, well, bigger tits.

Now we all know Law left his crew on Zou so that Doflamingo doesn't use them against him in the fight. But did you ever wonder why Law recruited Jean Bart into his crew? Saving a slave is one thing, but taking him into his crew is another. I think Law cares for his crew so much that he recruited someone strong and experienced as a captain who can take care of them in case Law can't (in time of need when he's missing in action, but also in case something went horribly wrong and they would be left without a captain). Recruiting Jean Bart was a strategic move and I believe it's to make sure someone takes care of the Heart Pirates in Law's absence.

“I definitely want to see my brother," Bepo said after a long silence. “It’s fun living here with everyone and all, but sometimes I think of him. I wonder if he’s doing okay, or if something happened to him. That’s why I’ve continued studying navigation since I got here. I’m terrible at it, but I can finally draw maps. So I definitely want to set out to find my brother some day, I think.”

This is one of the reasons why Heart Pirates ventured into Grand Line, besides Law's motivation to fullfill Cora-san's wish. He actually made sure to fullfill Bepo's wish before his very own one!

And finally, to answer your second question in the ask: does Law love his Heart Pirates as much as he loves Cora-san? I will allow Law to speak for himself, quoting the novel:

What was Cora-san for me? We had no blood relationship, and we didn't even know each other that long. Yet somehow, we were family. A love that could be felt without even putting it into words. I was wondering if I could love someone like that again. If I stay with Junk-ya and the bear, can I come to love them? Or will it continue to be a give and take relationship, as the old man says, where we just use each other?

After Wolf signed his name, we all followed suit. Seeing all our names next to each other on the paper, it’s strange. It is almost like we were a family.

Actually, we all looked happy, myself included. This place is definitely irreplaceable to me, I realized once again.

I can’t keep looking backwards; I have to move forward. Together with the happiness of being with friends, no matter how much I waver.

I found some salted fish that was on sale, so I bought it. In my head popped the pleasantly surprised faces of Bepo and the old man, and the expressions I imagined soon became my own.

Two months have flown by since the five of us started this life together. Eating meals, bathing, thinking of games to play, and bullshitting together under the same roof. It's the type of life I had never experienced until now.

But I have friends now—I have people who can allow me to forget the pain and the rage by distracting me with stupid things. That’s all I need.

And in case you wonder how did Law ask them to become a pirate crew together, here you go:

“I'll be leaving the island in a week. What do you want to do?” I ask them the question, trying to stay as natural as possible. “I will not force you to do anything. You can very well continue to lead the same life, to eat with the old man by exchanging jokes and get on with your job in town. Only, if… if you ever… wanted to come, then… that… that would help me a lot.”

(and after they all enthusiasthically agree:)

“Alright, I know I can count on you. That's all I'm saying.”

And from that moment on, Law gives them a name: Heart Pirates. Because they're a crew that belongs to Law, but also to Cora-san, and that's the meaning behind the name. If Cora-san lived, Hearts would be *his* crew as well. In some alternative reality, they could all be happy together sailing the seas.

So I guess, my final answer is: Law loves them because he found friends in them, his new family, and he wished he could share this happiness with Cora-san as well. I doubt there are many people out there who would get that privileage! Heart Pirates are definitely irreplaceable to him.

[amomentsescape]

hey, how are you doing?

I would like to ask for a one shot (Victor Zsasz x Female!reader) where the reader is kidnapped and used as a bait by some guys that wanna kill Zsasz.

Risk and Protect

Victor Zsasz x Female! Reader

Summary: Victor goes on a mission to save you after past enemies decide they want revenge on him.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, death, and Victor's scars

Word Count: 1,525

A/N: I've always loved fics like this. And I'm doing great, thank you for asking! I hope you're doing good too!

Victor has a lot of enemies. It only makes sense for someone who kills random people for a living. But he never really worried about it for a while.

He was a lone ranger of sorts, only working with the Zsaszettes in a professional manner. And after letting himself get close to Falcone and feeling that pain of losing him, Victor promised himself he wouldn't let his own attachments get in the way again. It was for the best.

But then you happened. Of course, you walked into his life when he least expected it.

And although Victor is a smart man, he couldn't logically find a way to let you go. His heart won, but he always worried that this would end up being a mistake.

And today, he really believed it was.

He quite literally had eyes on you 24/7. If it wasn't his own, then it was a couple of the Zsaszettes. He knew that there were people out there to get him. And no matter how hard he tried to hide you away and keep you safe, he knew that he could only do so much.

Victor had a lot of hits today, so he assigned a couple Zsaszettes to watch over you while he was out. He promised you he'd be back that night to spend time with you.

And you were really happy with this arrangement. You had actually befriended a few of his workers, enjoying the random conversations you would have with them. Plus, they made you feel safe to be around. They may have been pretty faces, but they were incredibly skilled and powerful as well. They felt secure.

But unfortunately, they weren't ready for 15 armed men to burst into the place on such a gentle evening. Even Victor couldn't predict just how far his enemies would go, ganging up to increase their numbers and their chances that they could catch you.

The Zsaszettes did the best they could to hide you before the men got to you. They managed to hold them off for a bit, but sadly, it only ended in bloodshed.

A few of the men were killed upon entry, a few others were injured. But the girls were out numbered, and they ended dying to protect you. They cared about following Victor's orders of course, but they also cared about you. Your safety was their priority as much as Victor's, and they sadly gave up their lives for you.

You were choking on your sobs as you tried to hold them back, watching the scene unfold in the hidden away room near the back of the apartment.

But with one wrong movement, you had bumped the wall with your elbow, and the remaining men froze.

Your eyes widened as you watched a couple of them walk towards your hiding area, ripping open the door.

They each took an arm and dragged you out of the room, a quick hit to the head forcing darkness upon you.

***

Victor rushed home just 30 minutes later when both Zsaszettes didn't pick up his calls. He even reached out to you, only to be met with your voicemail.

When he stormed into the apartment, he lost his breath. Two of his most loyal workers laid dead on the ground. The whole area was trashed and bloodied, and Victor could only hope that none of the red liquid was yours.

He searched around for you frantically, but all he managed to find was your phone, all of his attempts at calling and messaging you still listed on your lock screen.

But the latest message on your phone was one he didn't send.

You know where to find us. You have 1 hour.

He had a hunch that someone was after him these past few weeks, but he didn't know that they would drag you into this. But this would prove to be their biggest mistake.

He knew where you were. And although he didn't care to know who these men were, they would all end up dead just the same.

***

Victor smirked when he saw the building in view. He had to give them some props to be honest. They did pretty well staking out their own assassins in the area. But he couldn't expect anything less.

He was Gotham's best, so they knew that they had to prepare for him to arrive. They were wanting his head, after all.

But they clearly weren't as smart as they thought.

He had a few of his Zsaszettes set up on the opposite side of the building, their guns already beginning to fire blindly at the men.

This caused all of them to turn towards the shots, the rest of the men beginning to rush to the area.

With their backs turned, Victor began to take down each assassin, his own gun completely muffled from the chaos.

Each shot was like a silent blast of air, and men's bodies were hitting the ground without anyone noticing.

But by the time they did catch on to what was happening, it was too late. There were only a couple men left, and they were met with a bullet to the head before they could even spot where he was.

But Victor knew his battle wasn't over. You were still inside, and he was certain the "boss" and the rest of his men would be there too.

The Zsaszettes were ready for his call, but Victor wanted to finish the battle alone.

It was almost humorous for him in a way. They would have been stupid to mess with Victor in general, but to put your life in danger too? That only made his next plan even more enjoyable.

Victor walked into the building innocently, knowing they weren't going to kill him immediately. These men were too prideful for that. They wanted to toy with him, torture him, maybe even hurt you to make his own suffering worse.

The thought made him sick, but he kept his cool.

"Gentleman," Victor greeted, his eyes not leaving yours.

It pained him to see you strapped to that chair, your eyes full of fear. What made it worse though was the fact that he knew you weren't scared for yourself- you were scared for him. He never wanted to worry you like this ever again.

And thankfully, you looked unscathed. Your shirt was a little wrinkled, and your mascara had smudged, but there were no cuts or bruises anywhere Victor could see. He felt relieved.

"Victor!"

His eyes finally left yours to look at the brute man before him.

"You're gonna pay for what you did to my brother!"

Victor sighed. "Brother? I kill dozens of people a week. You think I care about what I did to your brother?"

The man was seething and ready to burst.

"But, if I do recall," Victor rolled up his sleeve. "I think he was probably... this one, right here." He pointed to a scar near his elbow.

Suddenly, the man let out a loud scream, beginning to charge at Victor.

His two men continued to stand next to you, their hands already beginning to reach for their guns.

You watched as Victor dodged away from the man, managing to slip in a swift punch to the gut.

The man spun back around and landed a sharp kick to Victor's shin, causing him to collapse.

You let out a muffled scream at this, worried that would be the end of the battle for your partner.

However, Victor took advantage of this new viewpoint, quickly grabbing the small gun from the man's belt.

With two loud bangs, both men beside you collapsed to the floor, not even able to fire off their own weapons in time.

Another two loud shots resounded as you watched the boss fall beside his fellow partners in crime, yelling and screaming at Victor.

You could see a bloody wound in each of his knees as a pool began to form around him.

Victor jumped to his feet and made his way towards you, helping you our of your binds. All the while, he continued to apologize and tell you just how worried he was.

"This will never happen again. I'm sorry I-"

"Victor," you softly smiled. "I'm okay. We're going to be alright, yeah?"

He quietly sighed and brought his lips to your forehead, silently agreeing. Even in the most chaotic moments, you were able to bring him a sense of peace that he never knew existed before.

Once he knew you were okay, he dragged his attention back to your kidnapper.

"As much as I'd love to see your entrails splayed across the floor, I have some other matters to attend to."

And with that, a single shot was made in the center of the man's head. You watched as his head lulled to the side and his eyes went blank.

You squirmed away a bit, but you felt Victor wrap his arm around your waist.

"What were these other matters you have to do?" you asked, looking up at him.

He smiled back down at you. "Our date night, of course."

[hellonearthtoday]

3, 5, 7, 14

Thank you 😌I needed a break from this damn drawing

3. Who is your favorite character outside the main 7?

This is kind of harddd man 😭 born to say Cherry forced to say Curly. Cherry's a character that we actually saw more of, but I have this idea of Curly in my head that's so perfect to me...he's like half my oc...I'm superrr attached to Cherry but I do have to be real w myself cuz whenever I see Curly's name mentioned in any fic or any post it's like a wild lion sighting i get sooo hype

5. What are your favorite ships?

this is NOT hard. My favorite ship is purly I'm an evil purly shipper. I don't typically do shipping because I'm that aroace who is romance repulsed not just for myself but in the media I consume too, but idk something about their dynamic I've half made up in my head abt them...I guess I just really like the dynamic of 2 bros who are friends who might also fall in love We dont know

MARBIT. I really like couples who just giggle together. Couples who justtt rock w eachotherrr something about them....Also they got that forbidden love thing going on and idk the power of laughter could save them. But other than that I'm a platonic power ranger

7. What are your fave non-romantic relationships? (This can be close friends, familial, enemies or even just acquaintances)

This thang is about to get so long. I love non romantic relationships sooo bad I'm romance's biggest hater.

TBH can i say purly here too....they got a friends to lovers thing going on I'll shut up abt them for once this time though.

Johnny and Pony are really the best friends ever, and my idea of them might be fandom crutched more than what's shown in canon, but It don't matter anyway that book came out a bajillion years ago.

Johnny and Dally. I know the jally nation is huge and unstoppable and I can kindaaa see where you're coming from even w how I am...but in my head they aren't brotherly or romantic they're a secret third thing. No labels no nothing. They have something that none of us can touch and it's not romantic to me but they're tgt in every universe

Dally and Ponyboy idk they're funny to me. Like 2 cats put into a fighting ring and one is evil and one just want to sleep and go home idk

CHERRY AND PONYBOY I START CHEWING ON THE WALLS WHEN I SEE THEM PIT AGAINST EACHOTHER IN FICS OR WHEN CHERRY IS BARELY THERE goddd i msis them so much there's something so special to me about an opposite sex friendship that prevails even though it's not seen as a normal thing people do at the time.

14. Tell us five of your headcanons you basically see as canon

POC shepards. It's just kind of real man. I like seeing all the different versions the fandom comes up with but they're a black latino family to me <3

Johnny and Curly hating each other so bad. I think it's the funniest thing ever. Especially if they just don't like eadchother solely off of vibes ...or Curly doesn;t like Johnny bcz Johnny doesn't like him and he's like wtf 😕

It's never said outright but Johnny has anxiety disorder to me.

Ponyboy has low empathy and he just does things out of the kindness of his heart and not bcz "treat people how u want to be treated" bcz whatever LOL! he's autistic to me whatt who said that

PB talks really casually but also somehow rlly awkwardly, and u think he's just chill like that but he's just autistic. He could hate your ass but he talks like some unsocialized forest nymph so you dont know bcz he sounds so docile

[the-red-butterfly]

Not-Yet-Written-Fics Game

Tagged by @fishing4stars to reveal my not-yet-written fics.

This is fantastic actually the amount of things I have on the back burner is HUGE I'll have to pick and choose, oh dear.

For Your Life Hate Me (Twilight) As story about Carlisle and Jasper (very self indulgent) where they get kidnaped by María and forced to fight (like in Jasper's old days). To keep Carlisle alive Jasper is forced to do some not nice things that horrify Carlisle but he'll do them to keep the man who took him in safe, even if Carlisle hates Jasper in the end.

The Adventures of Young Man Henry Winchester and his Violent Grandsons (Supernatural) Henry Winchester survives his death by Abadon! And now he has to get used to modern life without his family. It is extremely painful and sometimes his grandsons are no help. The start of their relationship is very rocky but it'll eventually lead to better days. I'm very fond of this one.

It's The Ashy Taste Of Sacrifice (One Piece) Sanji and Zoro get turned into animals and (spoilers) in the end Sanji has to bear the brunt of this happening and suffer a life as a fox. The premise is silly but I promise you the contents are not. I am making this boy SUFFER and that is just a universal constant. Full of platonic friendship and hurt/comfort ✨And Zoro being a better bro to Sanji.

To Look Like Her (One Piece) And to keep up with the point before. This is a story about Sanji self sabotaging his body because he realizes that when he's sick he looks like his mother and he wants to KEEP that look. It does not end well for anyone. The Straw Hats get rightfully very pissed and concerned about this.

Mending The Tears One Spoonful At The Time (Sam Rami Spider-man) This is just a whole ass ploy to better the friendship between Peter and Harry. Harry realizes something is off with Peter when he notices his friend is ALWAYS hungry. When Harry offers help Peter's pride gets in the way and Harry has to devise ways to secretly help Peter.

Homeward Bound From The Sea (Frozen) Frozen AU where Agnarr survives the shipwreck but is lost for some years in an island until he's eventually found by a fishing-ship. He gets rescued and returned home but things are hard for father and daughters equally. Full of Agnarr!whump and everyone having to adapt to this new reality. Kind of non-verbal Agnarr in this one.

When Doriath Fell (Silmarillion/Tolkien) AU where Dior and Elured and Elurin survive BUT actually Dior did die he just came back wrong. So Dior raises his children as a feral creatures in the forest surrounding Menegroth. But Elured and Elurin sort of have to take care of their father as well because the man is not well. Of course, this thing is full of angst what did you expect?

The Price Of Freedom (Sandman) Hob rescues Dream from the fishbowl of doom and Dream thinks he needs to repay him with devotion and love (just like he did with Alianora). Surprisingly shippy but not really? HobxDream is not endgame at any rate, but Dream is convinced that's how he needs to repay his friend for saving him. Very angsty, the sky is blue, next.

Reverse 'Verse (Firefly) Another AU (of course) where instead of River being taken and brainwashed it is Simon who becomes the mortal weapon/assassin. And in turn it is River who has to take care of him and escape. Lots of sibiling feels.

I have so many, so so many, but i better not drag them up into the surface less I get tempted into working on them XD but here are some honorable mentions of ofter fandoms I have wips in: SPD Power Rangers (don't laugh), Batman, Hocus Pocus and a ton for Criminal Minds.

If you feel like asking about any of these drop me an ask and I might feel inclined to doodle something about it 😂

No pressure tags: @arlenianchronicles @slightly-crimson-tornado @bad-at-names-and-faces @loonysama @byrambles @i-did-not-mean-to

[kairuio]

Kendall!DarkEnergem AU

Considering Snide almost touched her with the dark energem, this is necessary.

What if she was touched with the dark energem? What if Heckyl didn’t make it in time?

There is mentions of Ivan/Kendall 🤩 (they’re my main ship yall 😭 but if yall see this AU with your favorite ship I have no issues with that.)

I would imagine Kendall would have a black mark on her neck and a crack in her energem that glows purple. Around the black mark on her is a clear burn scar.

Plesion would also be effected, like he grows more aggressive and you can visibly see a crack over his eye. (Plesio is her zord who is basically her child)

Unlike Zenowing and Heckyl, Kendall doesn’t have another half like them. This is because Snide didn’t have enough time to fully let out a darkside, however when Kendall is angered her eyes will turn purple, her tattoo will glow and the stripe of purple that’s in her hair glows.

There isn’t much of a change in Kendall’s personality however you can see that the side effects of the dark energem are slowly eating her alive mentally.

She can still transform, however not for a long time.

The dark energem now has a connection with the purple energem. Which is not a good thing.

Heckyl blames himself a lot for not making it on time.

How does this affect the rangers and their energems?

The bond between all 10 energems are no longer in balance, when one energem is not at peace. All 10 cannot use their combined power, this breaks the ties of the power of the Past, Present, and Future. Which means the rangers never went to the past to fix everything, however Earth is still there and now they need to stop Snide and his monsters and fix the purple energem.

The rangers do not blame Kendall at all for this, however Kendall blames herself for not being strong enough.

They all are doing everything they can to find a way how to fix the purple energem and how to break its ties with the dark energem, even Keeper doesn’t know because this has never happened before.

Okay time for the lovey dovey side of this AU

When it comes to Kendall’s relationship with Ivan, it doesn’t get affected at all. Still madly in love lol, however let’s get to some bullet points about these two.

Ivan notices that Kendall has more trouble sleeping then normal, she always had a rough sleeping schedule but now she doesn’t even sleep at all sometimes. The bags under her eyes are more visible, these leads Ivan to often cuddle up with her (which he already did) to make her go to sleep easier, he does enjoy his cuddle time with her. But it breaks his heart how much she is suffering because of Snide.

Ivan also has a stripe of purple in his hair like Kendall does, he finds it pretty cool but unfortunately it was under unfortunate circumstances.

Overall their relationship still the same, madly in love, love to cuddle, spend a lot of time together, the usual.

This makes for some amazing Kendall!Dark Energem angst 🥹

Okay imma go draw the Shira Rangers now-

[nugulover69]

I too am a member of the Taiya-hater club and every episode I question why I'm not dropping this show until they show me scraps of Mira or Agent Shirabe or the Three Idiots, but I think from now on I'll be fastforwarding through new eps just for them. My only sentai are Zenkai and halfway through Donbros so being forced to watch Boonboom Red as the main character is like beibg fed cardboard after a pizza.

Oh man. if your only sentai experience is zenkai and donbros, two very experimental and Not A Typical Sentai sentais, yeah boonboom must hit a real sour note since its a return to basics lol

I personally wouldn't call it bad so far, a solid B+ imo, but Taiya is def the weakest character, and his blandness is only more evident whenever an episode is focused on him

I can suggest some good sentais that are more typical in structure for you to watch in the future:

Gokaiger- the core team is phenomenal here, bursting with personality and incredible chemistry between each of them. this IS an anniversary sentai, meaning past rangers are constantly showing up to be apart of the plot, but you do NOT need to have seen their shows to get the gist and have a fun time. you're following the gokaigers and their character arcs are always the main focus. plus they're aliens (space pirates even) that don't know jackshit abt Earth, so you and them are on the same level of knowledge lol

Idk why folks don't recommend this as a starter sentai more often. it was my first ever sentai and I picked the next sentais I watched based on how entertained I was by a past characters appearance. its how I watched go-onger and carranger (and liveman but I don't wanna talk abt that)

Also Marvelous is best red. this is an objective fact we as a community all agree on, even if he's not our own personal favorite red

Speaking of go-on

Go-onger- the canon, main strength of this team is their stupidity. VERY CARTOONY, heavy on hijinks, light on serious plot (it was written by a veteran kids anime writer and boy can you tell). if you like loud genki kinda assholeish shonen protags than you'll love the red Sosuke. if you don't...perhaps skip this one lol. Sosuke is a biiiig make or break of someone's enjoyment of go-on. the villains are great tho, very team rocket, kinda like the Sanseaters in boonboom

(and its a much better car sentai. Speedor is there all the time. boonboom only has Speedor for one episode. I rest my case)

Zyuohger- if you need an animal sentai under your belt, this is the best one. the red, Yamato, does get more focus than the rest of the team (many more power ups as well) but he's a likeable character played by a guy who can actually act. GREAT VILLAINS, they evolve over time as well and I can't say much w/o spoiling things, but I'll just say Genis caused his own demise

Also I haven't seen donbros but I know the donbros sixth is deranged, so if you need more deranged sixths in your life you should watch zyuoh for Misao

Gekiranger- if you really love serialized story telling and characters growing and changing and all that, I cannot recommend geki enough. in a lot of sentai, the weapons are usually just found or given, which isn't inherently a bad thing but I can see why someone wouldn't care for that. every weapon and power up the gekis get is always earned thru them overcoming some obstacle, literal or figurative, so its that much more rewarding when the new Marketable Touy is used

Also they're kung fu fighting cats. did I mention they're kung fu fighting cats. the red was raised in the woods and literally acts like a feral animal most of the time. he does mellow out over the course of the show, but honestly if someone doesn't like Jan from the jump I don't trust them (he has CRAZY yaois with the main villain Leo btw)

[changingplumbob]

Woods Household: Chapter 1, Part 1

In this part Reece and Samir settle into their dusty murder shack home, discuss their secret mission plan to get the file on the Hadji deaths, and have their first encounter with chief of corruption Sheriff Captain Greenway. (Yes the stuff crossed out is Reece's opinion)

Low level content warning: Some sim spice and mentions of death

The sun dawns illuminating the dusty murder shack in Moonwood Mill. The inside is scarce, and the lot has yet to be hooked up to water or power, but Reece is too in love to mind. On an airbed in a room lit by lamps he cuddles up close to Samir.

Samir: Are you trying to wake me up

Reece: I’m just getting comfortable. But you know, if you wanted to play some ping pong (their code for woohoo)

Samir: I told you blondie, no more getting off until your birthday. Some of the folks here can be a bit... backwards

Reece: My birthday is tomorrow and you’re only two years older than me, it’s not like you’re taking advantage of a minor

Samir: Your birthday is tomorrow so practice being patient. Get up, give me a kiss, then let’s go make breakfast

Reece: You got it boss

...

Samir: I like it here, it’s quiet

Reece: Nature is great. What? What’s that look for?

Samir: *chuckles* Mr can talk, will talk, and all you have to say is “Nature is great”

Reece: I was taking a leaf out of your book, you know, silence is golden

Samir: Your voice is golden

Reece blushes and Samir smiles, he loves making him blush. Reece may have confidence in spades but Samir can always seem to take his breath away when he wants.

Reece: So are you going to tell me more about the secret mission

Samir: Calm down blondie, there’s no secret mission

Reece: Well excuse me for thinking “I need you here” is code for, of course I’ll involve you in my secret mission shenanigans when we're not busy playing ping pong

Samir: I want to know why my parents died but I don’t think we need to mount a whole secret mission

Reece: Too late, if I’m in then I’m in all the way

Samir: I can’t talk to people but… you seem to enjoy talking. I figure things will go smoother if you’re here. Plus, you know, I love you

Reece: Good, because I love you and to show my love-

Samir: No ping pong

Reece: *sighs dramatically* But who would even know

Samir: Blondie we need to get on the sheriff’s good side

Reece: If they’re the kind of sheriff to get upset over consensual fun then they clearly need an attitude adjustment

Samir: Look, I- I don’t like to talk about what happened

Reece: I'm sorry, I know you don’t

Samir: And my brain has suppressed some of it... I think. We need to get the file from the sheriff. That way, you can know what happened without me having to… get stuck there again

Samir: I’m hoping they’ll let us have it since I’m family but I really don’t know. I didn’t live here long but from what I remember most of the community is pretty closed off. Plus I don’t know if the sheriff will even be the same one

Reece: Even if they’re not, they’re bound to still have the info somewhere. You don’t just chuck away old unsolved cases

Samir is silent for a while, looking like he’s on the verge of saying something but can’t manage to string the words together.

Reece: Hey, talk to me Samir. What are you thinking

Samir: Technically it is half solved

Reece: Wait what?

Samir: They wouldn’t tell me much, I was only 5, but they said it was a bear attack

Reece: A bear attack? We don’t believe them because?

Samir: Blondie you don’t have to believe everything I believe

Reece: I know but you feel like that’s not what happened, so tell me why

Samir: Well... when did you last hear of a bear breaking into a house? I think whoever killed my parents made it look like an animal attack, so it could be written off. Plus…

Samir’s voice drops to a whisper, as though he is somewhere else entirely.

Samir: If it was a bear, it would have taken us for food. Whoever did it just left us, and assumed I was dead

Reece: Shouldn’t the rangers have told the sheriff this? Seems like a big thing to miss

Samir: You… actually believe me?

Reece: Of course! Plus, there are no bears in Moonwood Mill

Samir: How would you-

Reece: I read up on the area while I still had internet. Apparently no large predators have settled here, which is really weird because with the wildlife there should be something above them in the food chain. But no predators and no prey overpopulation, a weird pairing

Samir: *chuckles* of course my genius boyfriend looked up random facts, good boy

Reece: Hey, I love the outdoors. I’m interested in this kind of stuff

Samir: Thanks. It really helps having someone in my corner

Reece: Is the food nearly ready? I’m starving

Samir: Patience. I thought we were working on that

Reece: Yes but you taunting me when I’m desperate for you is different to when my stomach is growling uncontrollably

Samir: *chuckles* Fear not, it’s ready blondie

Reece: Thank you for cooking

Samir: *through mouthfuls* Good boy, you remembered your manners

Reece: How come I should have manners and you can shovel food in

Samir: *still eating* Because you have to be a good boy, I don’t

Reece: Oh I know you’re not a good boy

Samir: *chuckles* If you make me laugh when I’m eating I could choke you know

Reece: Maybe you should slow down then, watcher knows you have no problem going slow when you feel like it, despite my protests

Samir: Don’t pretend you don’t love it, or I’ll stop

Reece: *blushes* please don’t. I… I do like it... you taking control of me

Samir: See now, was that so hard to admit

Reece: Not to you but… I don’t know, people would probably think I’m weird for being a submissive when my confidence is like…

Samir: You could see your confidence from the moon

Reece: Exactly! Yet I’ve also got, what did you call it? A praise kink?

Samir nods, still focused on his food.

Reece: But also a slight degradation kink? It must seem bizarre to others

Samir: Then isn’t it good we’re the only ones in our relationship blondie

Reece: Yeah, I suppose...

Samir: Hey, look at me, I love you *blows kiss*

Reece: *smiles* And I love you back

Samir: I meant what I said before you moved in, I’ll keep you safe here

Reece: From the non existent bears

Samir: From whoever is out there. You can trust me to look after you, okay

Reece: I know, besides have you seen your muscles? I’m pretty sure no one could mess with you even if they wanted to

Samir: The dew collector should be delivered by now, so we can get water. Then it’s just a bit more work to set up power. Here, leave me your dishes, I’ll take care of them before I have my run

Reece agrees and heads out to the front where he’s set up a couple of garden beds. He’s got some produce from Charlie that he can plant, and he’s sure he can order some more to get them a small income. He’s lost in thought in when a loud voice barks at him. And not from the person he likes to hear giving orders.

Man: ENOUGH

Reece: Wh-what?

Man: I know you teens like to squat here on a dare but moving in a dew collector? Planting stuff? You need to leave, this is private property

Reece: Oh. I think you may be confused. Let me introduce myself-

Man: I am Sheriff Captain Greenway and I am never confused

Reece: Wait... your first name is Captain and you became sheriff

Sheriff: I don’t need your lip son, we don’t know you here. Move on and be a hippie elsewhere

Samir comes outside, having planned on starting his morning run, but freezes when he sees the argument.

Reece: Sir, my name is Reece Foster and my boyfriend here actually owns the house

Samir: *sternly* We

Reece: Right! He put me on the deed, he's the best. I keep forgetting, we do actually own the house together

Sheriff: Do you now? Then I assume you can tell me its proper history and present me with this apparent joint deed

Reece: Who the heck carries their house deed on them? Look, it’ll be inside somewhere, but Samir did live here when he was little. You probably know of his family, the Hadji’s

Samir nods and the sheriff rolls his eyes.

Sheriff: Everyone knows that urban legend, doesn't prove you are who you say. You expect me to believe the boy found half dead in his house wants to come back and live where his parents insides were-

Reece: Look, you need to stop! Clearly you’ve never lost someone like that or you wouldn’t be so insensitive. And if you haven’t then who are you to possibly follow how he thinks. Please leave, we can find your office and bring you the deed later

Sheriff: Look I-

Samir: Vomit

Sheriff: What?

Reece and the Sheriff both look at Samir wondering what he's talking about.

Samir: You. Vomited on my toy

At this recognition comes across the sheriff’s face.

Sheriff: Look, I was just a deputy back then, I’d never seen something like that, of course I puked my guts out, anyone would have. Your toy was a write off anyway... to much blood. I don’t know why you’ve come back but... fine, I’ll accept it’s really you

Reece: How kind of you

Samir: Reece asked you to leave. Leave

Sheriff: Fine, but you two better watch yourselves. We have enough nature manic people around without importing more

Reece: Thanks for backing me up, I know confrontation isn’t even close to your favourite thing

Samir: I may not be a wordsmith blondie, but I’ve got your back

Reece: So that cop spewed on your toy?

Samir: Yeah, I dropped it when… Anyway I was half awake after but I wanted to pick up Babbit-

Reece: Babbit?

Samir: *smiles* Was a soft toy rabbit. But before I could talk a uniform vomited, and it got on Babbit. I remember his face. Look, I need to go run but um…

Samir trailed off and bit his lip.

Samir: Will you be here when I get back

Reece: Yeah, I’m not feeling like running today, I’ll stick to yoga. Now go on, I’ll be fine, I promise

After watching Samir head away from the house, Reece turned his attention back to the garden. He couldn’t get the sheriff out of his head though. Samir hadn’t spoken about the gore that the Sheriff seemed to claim there was. Did he not remember, or did he not want to burden Reece? Reece hoped to the watcher it was the first option.

Samir’s run around the woods gave him an odd sense of déjà vu. Pieces of memory swam up, but before he could focus on them they would drift away like a dream at sunrise. He couldn’t keep them. However fleeting they were they helped settle his rage at the sheriff, and he found himself smiling as he felt the memory of being loved by his parents.

Before turning to yoga, Reece tried getting his thoughts out. Samir needed the case file on his parents. Places this small kept files for ages, so there had to be a paper copy somewhere. Where? It had been almost 15 years ago, so it’s not as if the sheriff would have the file on his desk. Records! It would obviously be wherever they kept records of all the crime that happened. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be many “bear attacks” to search through.

Reece: You’re back!

Samir: Yeah. It was good to clear my head but I do enjoy watching you be flexible

Reece: I mean... you don’t have to just watch

Samir: It’s one day blondie. You can survive one day without playing ping pong

Reece: *sighs* you're the boss

Samir: Yes I am

Reece: So I was thinking about Captain, you know, the sheriff

Samir: Wait... his name is Captain, and he became a sheriff

Reece: That’s exactly what I said! It’s weird right

Samir: That’s like if we had a kid called Scooter who ended up building motorcycles

Reece: You want to call our future kid Scooter

Samir: No, it was just an example

Reece: I mean… do you want kids?

Samir: One day… yeah, I do. But I want to be able to give a kid stability, and we couldn’t do that right now. Do you want kids?

Reece: Slow down boss, ask me again when I’m a young adult

Samir: *smiles* Fair enough. So you were thinking about the sheriff… nothing explicit I hope

Reece: No! I wouldn’t-

Samir: I’m just teasing blondie

Reece: Oh, right. I don’t think I think as well when my head is upside down

Samir: *chuckles* we can work on that… tomorrow

Reece: OMW this is the longest day of my life!

Previous Part (Pancakes) ... Next Part

[ryuki23]

Don Kaito Is The Zenkaiger Arrow: A 100% Serious Theory (No Really I'm Not Lying)

Now that the Donbrothers finale has come and gone without giving us any answers about what the FUCK is up with Don Kaito (and I'd expect nothing less 10/10 no notes), I'm finally free to explain all about my most beloved theory/headcanon without fear that it will be disproved in the next week!

Basically, I think Don Kaito is something like what AkaRed is for Red Rangers, but for ALL rangers, and/or the idea/ideals/will of Super Sentai as a whole.

In his own words,

Background Info

AkaRed is the embodiment of the spirit of all Red Rangers, although the specifics of what that means and how it works isn't super elaborated on anywhere, he mostly just shows up occasionally to be a weird slightly cryptic guide to other Sentai. Much like another character I could name... 🤔

The possibility of an AoBlue/AkaBlue is jokingly brought up once in a Zyuohger special, but other than that nothing and no one else like AkaRed is ever shown or mentioned. EXCEPT...

*DRAMATIC GASP* Goran no Sponsor???? (no joke this is exactly how I reacted when I got to this part jkbjsdfgf)

So, in the penultimate episode of Zenkaiger, they're fighting the Big Bad, who has absorbed all the other Super Sentai's worlds and can use their powers. The Zenkaigers seem completely outmatched, and the Big Bad's final attack knocks them out of henshin and breaks their Sentai Gears so they can't transform again. But they get up anyway, declaring their resolve to fight even untransformed to save the worlds the other Sentai fought to protect. And then, this happens:

All the previous Sentai's powers respond to this and leave the Big Bad, lending their power to the Zenkaigers to make them new Gears. While this is happening, the Zenkaigers are transported to this place, where all the symbols of past Sentai float around the Zenkaiger Arrow, which they seem to be forming.

Basically, these powers have their own will, and all of them together are symbolized by the Zenkaiger Arrow. Which, I might add, is frequently shown in the rest of the series reacting to comedic moments and interacting with other characters.

So why do I think this arrow and Don Kaito are one and the same?

Well, because it's a fun idea to think about mostly! Honestly, it just came to me out of nowhere in the middle of the night and that's it. But the more I thought about it, the more things that happen in canon I found that could support it.

1: Hitotsuki and Sentai Gears

Hitotsuki that are based on past Sentai seasons drop Gears when defeated, no matter who defeats them or how they do it. And most of the time, regardless of who defeats them, the Gear ends up in Don Kaito's possession. That kind of makes it feel like this phenomenon is unrelated to his position as Admin of the Donbrothers.

2: "True Hero"

Jin Momoi shows A LOT of deference to Don Kaito. He's like. The ONLY person Jin is ever unfailingly polite to. Jin is surprised and shocked that Don Kaito would be working in a cafe. Jin KNEELS to this guy. I am rattling the bars of my cage. What do you KNOW, Old Man????

Anyway, "True Hero" and "Forever Hero" sure sound like the kind of titles one might give to the physical embodiment of the spirit and ideals of all Super Sentai.

3: Don Kaito Knows Santa Claus

Yeah him and Santa go way back.

So like, it seems like Don Kaito is NOT a Normal Human Age. And although Himitsu Sentai Goranger is only from the 70s, there are a lot of Sentai shows where the backstory has a Sentai, a similar team of warriors, or the source of the Sentai's power existing hundreds, thousands, or millions of years in the past.

In Conclusion:

I fucking love this concept, and as a bonus, it fits with some of the weirdest stuff about Don Kaito.

In my mind, Don Kaito got involved in the story of Donbrothers because of whatever is up with the Sentai Gears that is causing them to turn people into Hitotsuki and in order to get them all back, and he set up Cafe Donbura so the absolute disaster group that is the Donbrothers would have an actual Home Base, because god knows they would never have come together by themselves. And also to support Tarou when he was fighting alone while Jin fucked around throwing darts at the city to choose Donbrothers.

And he looks like Zenkaito because uhhhh he thinks Kaito is pretty cool 😊

The End

[foxydivaxx]

Okay so more info on the Vinsmoke Sentai theme. It will be similar to Ohsama Sentai King Ohger. I am yet to come up with a Sentai team name for them but they will not call themselves that name till later.

So the five kingdoms that the Vinsmoke kids will later rule were once part of the Germa Empire. Judge stole those territories from Avalon and annexed them to his Kingdom.

Sora wants them back and the only way to get that is via her kids and herself fighting together. Sora herself has Ranger powers. So the other Vinsmoke kids are critically injured and Sanji is thankfully alive but still emotionally traumatised.

Like I mentioned in a previous post, Sora reaches out to Sanji after Avalon gets attacked by the Germa army and Judge, forcing the Strawhats to rush to her aid. Sora transforms for the first time that day. The other Vinsmoke kids awaken and together alongside Sanji transform for the first time together.

Their Ranger suits are different from the Raid Suits in the sense that they actually wear helmets whereas the raid suits show their faces but they all wear glasses plus their new Ranger abilities are their way of disowning the Vinsmoke ideology.

Just like the King Ohgers, they use swords to transform. Their henshin phrase is the same as used in that show: Ohgai Busou (Royal Arms)

Ranger colours:

Sora: White

Sanji: Red

Ichiji: Black

Reiju: Pink

Niji: Blue

Yonji: Green

Their motif is Animals because the island kingdoms are governed by animal beast spirits which are the zords they pilot into battle

Sora: Swan

Sanji: Lion

Ichiji: Wolf

Reiju: Falcon

Niji: Shark

Yonji: Bear

There is one extra sword and that one is given to Zoro once he and Sanji get married. Zoro’s animal is a Tiger which makes sense given his personality and the fact that he is Sanji’s Royal consort.

- Sanji wears the most revealing outfits of the bunch due to him now accepting and embracing his sexuality

- Of all the boys, Ichiji is the quiet one whilst Yonji is the loud one

- Niji and Sanji bicker a lot because Niji annoys him at times and Niji annoys Sanji out of love. He wants to get to know his little brother a lot better

-Sanji is the leader instead of Ichiji or Reiju though Ichiji is second in command and takes the lead when Sanji is not there

-Ichiji was the one who suggested that Sanji take over as the leader as a way of making it up to him for his past bullying and also because he trusts him

-Zoro's ranger colour in the future is silver

-Nami becomes the gold ranger later on and her animal is the cat

-Sora always smiles whenever she sees her kids together even though the boys tend to bicker a lot

-Judge fears Sanji the most because unlike before, Sanji now will not hesitate to kill him. Sanji terrifies everyone due to his temper and crazy antics

[always-a-joyful-note]

So because I want to record my progression of where I am in the story, I'm posting my impressions of the units so far. (Disclaimer: I haven't read many of the stories, and about half the knowledge I have is from osmosis and spoilers. The other half is actually reading wiki entries and the actual stories. So if these takes are inaccurate, that is probably the point XD)

Without further ado....

fine - unit of 2 rich kids who are sort of trying to be slightly less evil but kind of still are evil, one (1) theatre kid who is just there for the ride and his crush, and a butler with the face of an angel and the threatening aura of a ezekiel-accurate angel in disguise. Also another impression I had of it was one chronically ill idol stan with three of his idol crushes. But they're solid, if slightly flowery; not exactly my style but their songs are good.

Trickstar - literally my sons. Traumatised idiots who choose to continue to see the bright side with a slice of anarchy. They're all so dumb. Their leader looks straight laced but is more insane than his co-leader who is perpetually wearing the ^u^ expression (except when trauma slapped). The other two members are a camera-phobic gamer boy who is also a model and a guy who exudes reliability and sanity but is also kind of an insane workaholic with inferiority issues. I'm adopting them all and their songs are like…both generic but SO sincere you can't hate it.

Ryuseitai - Me when first meeting them: Awww! A power ranger themed unit! So cute! Me, after hearing stuff about the two senior members' lore and how they recruited their youngsters: (clutching my heart, trying not to sob/lose my mind) Aww! A power ranger themed unit! S-so cute! I would die for literally all of them…WHY. Such silly happy sincere tunes sung by such silly, devastating characters??? Found family, to me

Alkaloid - everyone here believes they are holding everyone else back with their psychological problems (Mayoi), disability problems (Tatsumi), ability problems (Aira), or culture shock problems (Hiiro). And yet they're the unit whose songs have mostly all been ones I absolutely loved. Which means the assembly machine factory idols Eichi's got going on are working and idk how I feel about that

Eden - A bunch of guys with severe family issues who probably have never read the bible (well, maybe Nagisa has). So, like, tw inaccurate depictions of the bible? Anyway, deranged quartet of a softie obsessed with cool rocks but really he has sort of a god complex, a guy with a perpetual :D who is as smart as he thinks he is but is also kind of oblivious to all of his other skills and flaws (and thus is a combo of terrifying snake and kind of someone you're sort of humouring because he's funny), a spoiled princess who might have a bit of a savior complex, and a dude who kinda just got swept along for the ride but is actually really fond of them. And it shows in their music.

Valkyrie - Just….theatre kids, who put the drama in dramatic and the intense in intensity (that's definitely not how the expression is used). They also have a very strange thing going on even though they're trying to be healthier, but I'm too afraid to ask. Unfortunately, though, they have some killer compositions and so many references to Classics and Things, not to mention their songs are genuinely good for those who want that quick theatrical vibe

2wink - Adorable twins that I was lured into thinking were the normal mischief twin duo trope but what in the actual ensemble were the writers DOING? They deserve at least half the cw/tw tags. Also, one of them is kinda like Trickstar (just wants to make things brighter) while the other one has schemes and will not hesitate to destroy you while giggling, yes. All that angst but they have such cheery tunes. Like, boys please….

Crazy:B - I mean, with a name like that….listen. You think it's the guy with the metabolism-related medical condition who has a dad implied to be accused of cannibalism and his freeloader who is a literal prince but also constantly broke that would be the most insane. But, no, we also have a fifteen year old assassin who has definitely killed and a guy who is literally both committing identity theft AND helping in witness protection. But, yes, their songs are fun, as is their dynamic. Also…Amagi brothers. Ough.

Undead - This is just…four urban fantasy love interests thrown into a unit. I'm not exactly sure what urban fantasy race Adonis and Kaoru are (though sometimes I'm inclined to think adonis is the protagonist who just kinda got swept along for the ride except he does have the vibe sometimes (aka casually kidnapping HiMERU)) but a vampire and werewolf are very obviously there. Really do love their rock and roll style, like come on (though I sometimes do think it'd be cool if they let Rei's love for jazz into their songs)

Ra*bits - Look. I love them. It really is just a single dad with one of the most messed up backstories doing his best. But like, also, leave them alone please?? The writers really just made them the damsel in distress character that makes Subaru go "oh, I have to take this revolution stuff seriously" and that's not even mentioning all the other stuff they seem to go through??? Like they do not belong in whatever genre Enstars is going for but they make it work but….let them rest. Songs not my style but they fit their vibe of "smile and spread joy" which works cause I do feel joy. Like Trickstar without the revolutionary goals.

Akatsuki - TBH, I'm still kind of wondering why these three (a warrior, a mangaka, and a tailor who used to be a delinquent) are still idols. I mean, they do have talent and traditional aesthetic is fire, and they're definitely sort of found family, but why still idols guys? That said, again, songs not my style but they definitely capture their aesthetic and vibe and that's always cool to me. Also, one of the members was raised in a Buddhist temple and helped with funerals, and I do not know enough about Buddhism enough to say if they portray a Buddhist accurately but given how they portray everyone else's quirks, it probably still has a giant dose of deranged on it.

Knights - HAHAHAHAHA. They're all insane. But they have talent and earned their place in the big three. But that does not make them less insane. That's all because I will go a bit barmy if I think about them too much. Silly, insane knights who enjoy hobbies like kidnapping (affectionate) and dancing/singing (will kill you in a duel)

Switch - Look….at heart, I can't hate these fantasy game isekai themed group. I enjoy their music because I do like the electropop remix/edm thing they have going on. And it DOES kill me that the only two 3-people units (Akatsuki and Switch) both have the dynamic of "a couple of parents and their beloved and most treasured cinnamon roll of a chaotic son." But like Valkyrie, I don't know what's going on with the senior members and am too afraid to ask, especially since they seem fine with it while their son with synesthesia cheers them on.

MaM - He is literally a cowboy. I - is there a thing with Japan and cowboys? And did someone at the writer's table see that samurai, Victorian thief, cowboys, and pirates post? Because somehow, the only member of this unit is all of them. A very stark contrast against his weirdly cheerleader/mom friend songs. I know he has mommy issues (mafia thing, I think) but.....son, are you okay?

Double Face - Yeah, okay, I love them. They might be the murder unit and I still have no clue to their formation but I love it. Put the Victorian cowboy thief samurai pirate and the child assassin together and you get secret agent type music that sounds like it could be in an old spy flick? How can you not love it?

[evita-shelby]

Two souls bound for hell

Or I rewatched Black '47 enough times to give Martin O’Feeney (played by James Frecheville) a happy ending of sorts with none other than my favorite oc ever, Eva, or as it would be in Irish, Aoife.

Cw: mentions of death, abuse , murder, the Great Famine, abuse of power, 19th century social mores about bastardry and abortion

For @kotylynnemerrill

Before he enlisted, he used to spend his days wooing the apothecary’s daughter, a pretty freckled girl whom he loved since he was boy.

His Aoife who used to meet him under a grove of trees on those nights her mother wasn’t busy tending to the pregnant or infirm of their village. His Aoife who had healing hands and would know how to mend him better than anyone.

Last Martin O’Feeney had seen her had been when he asked her to be his wife and took her virtue under the stars. They had said their vows and made up their future together before he went off to fight in foreign lands under the King’s name.

He had been given leave to bury his father, comfort his mother but no leave to marry his Aoife. That had been nearly ten years ago.

It had been spring then.

The boy who married her then had died long ago in a muddy battlefield under a false English name because he was too good at killing.

Feeney wonders if his Aoife is even alive or still the girl who couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving Ireland without tangible proof of her love and devotion to him.

Everyone else was dead or not long off, little Roisin was all he had left by the time he’d escaped the barracks. He had meant to come see Aoife sooner, once he knew his brother’s family was safe and fed, but he hadn’t expected them to be evicted so soon.

He hadn’t wanted to come empty handed either, nor reeking of death and smoke, but here he was knocking on the backdoor hoping no one would see who he was.

His Aoife is cautious, a kitchen knife in her hand ready to attack whoever was at the door. But once she recognized him, he was being pulled inside as she threw her arms around his neck as if no time had gone by.

She is thinner, her dark eyes sunken and her clothes threadbare and yet her kisses felt exactly the same as they had done years ago. They stop when the pain of his injuries and Roisin’s presence prevents them from going any further.

Aoife remains as skillful as he remembered. She had fared better as well, her skills as a healer had ensured she never went without even after her family died and left her alone in the world.

Roisin sleeps in the straw bed in the nook by the fireplace with the ragged curtain shut tight while he took the cot she had for when her patients needed a place to stay and moved it to the back wall in between the doors ready for anything. Martin had intended to stay in the barn on the other side of the wall, but she refused, claiming they’d be in more danger if he wasn’t inside to protect them.

He shouldn’t have stayed. If they had the right information, they would know Aoife and what she means to him. But he had, accepted the food she had to offer after she mended his injuries and didn’t stop her when she crept under the blankets to join him.

Martin cannot remember a time when he has won an argument with his Aoife.

“They said you had been killed this morning.” The witch burrowed into his chest as she admitted her fears for him. He told her about his plans to leave for America, that he had enough coin to cover her fare as well. He doesn’t tell her she and the girl will likely go alone.

“They’ll wish they did when I am done with them.” Martin couldn’t leave without avenging his kin. He’d make sure those skills he learned as a ranger would finally be put to good use. “We will go to America when it’s over, I will marry you like we promised.”

“I couldn’t bear it if you left me again, Martin.” Her hand lingers on one of his scars, one where a bullet came close to finishing him off. She’d been careful with all of them, kissing them knowing how close to death he had been.

“I won’t, Aoife. Never again.” He promised cradling her face like he had all those years, thinking of how he had unknowingly left her with child all those years ago. Ellie had told him Aoife had been wed to a man in town to cover up their sin, but Aoife had been resourceful enough to make herself a widow.

The man had called her a whore to all who would hear when she refused to have his children after forbidding her from seeing her own child even under the guise of being her godmother, but no judge nor constabulary could prove that she did it.

“Ellie told you how Roisin came to be, didn’t she?” she asks, stealing glances at the little girl tucked away on the other end of the cottage. Blood had called out to blood, which was why he’d asked the girl to come with them when they visited his mother’s grave.

Despite how sacred that night had been to the two of them, it was not a true marriage. The punishment for a child out of wedlock would have spelled death for both Aoife and the child even before the famine.

His mother and hers had only done what most would do in their situation. Roisin was raised as his brother’s child with Ellie and Aoife wed to a man who died soon after.

“I figured it out myself, she told me what happened when I left.” The ranger should’ve just deserted them, saved them from the wretched life both had lived after that night.

Roisin was born the same year he left, took after his brother and mother more than Ellie so much so that Martin suspected of it from the moment he saw her. She had attached herself to him so quickly and so strongly that by nightfall, Martin O’Feeney was certain the girl was his own child. Aoife had said their firstborn would be a daughter as she read his fortune that night, a daughter that took after his mother more than them.

“She thought I cursed her for refusing to give her back to me when your mother died, came begging me to make it stop and told the child the truth before she left.” Aoife revealed with a heavy sigh, hating how she’s blamed for everyone’s misfortunes even if she didn’t have the power to curse like her mother had.

Aoife hadn’t caused Ellie’s suffering, she was too soft hearted to do it, he tells her so and his woman shook her head with a bitter laugh.

“I murdered my husband for calling me a whore and regularly unburden women of their unborn children, even the Protestants refuse to offer me the soup, Martin.” And with that she tells him, not ask or suggest, that she will be helping him avenge his family. “If you’re bound for hell, so am I, dear husband.”

A day after Beartla O’Naughton and the judge pays for their crimes, and shortly after the priest declares them married in truth, Aoife and her daughter are served the best portions of the soup by her husband. They do not need the soup, between Aoife’s coin and his they had better at home, but they sup on it to the Reverend’s anger.

He had called his now wife a witch, a whore and a murderer when they recognized her. Martin had made them take back their words with his fists daring them to speak ill of his wife again.

Aoife had laughed, a beautiful sound he had almost died fearing he wouldn’t ever hear it again, as the reverend’s wife begged for mercy they wouldn’t give. So many dead because they played judge with people’s lives.

Please, please, I will do anything! Same words Aoife had said when she begged her for food and the woman had denied her saying her sins were too unforgivable to receive it. Aoife smiled like an angel as she repeated the words they had said to her, “What you did is unforgivable, even God cannot help you.”

It was the best wedding any bride could’ve asked for; his wife had said after giving into their desire for each other. Couldn’t have a proper wedding night without a good fuck, he had to admit.

Martin’s next acts do not require her, the last one will. She could get close to Lord Kilmichael and help Martin evade his guard. The girls who worked for him visited her for the tea that expels his bastards from their wombs, or their fathers and husbands did, or so he learned. One of them was bound to help them get close enough to kill the man.

She takes Roisin on her rounds, wears a knife at her belt for her safety and lies about his whereabouts when asked. Martin leaves no sign he was ever with her and yet takes his place between the doors most nights.

Only it does not fool the Englishmen.

“He married me to stop Roisin and the next one from being bastards, left before dawn and I have not seen him since.” She puts on a good display of appearing disdainful of her husband knowing they wouldn’t believe a word she said. The witch could almost hear Martin snorting at her words.

But Hannah knew better than to catch her on the lie and kept assuring the blond Captain she was harmless on account of being a woman. Martin spoke well of him; he had been the one to vouch for him when it was discovered his identity was false.

After saving Hannah in Kabul, he had given command of his own section as a Corporal, the highest rank an noncommissioned soldier could achieve. When Hannah was made to retire, Martin’s commanding officer decided Martin’s loyal mick had to go as well.

He had been a Corporal, commanding his own men and paid almost three shillings a day. Martin was told he would be given permission to wed her and take her to India with him before his commanding officer revealed his true colors. Martin O’Feeney has never been a man to hold back his anger and deserted before he could be arrested and hanged for breaking the man’s jaw.

As long as Hannah is there, Captain Pope cannot do anything to them. She will rest easy when he is dead, and they are far away from here.

Martin doesn’t come that night, keeping his distance for their safety. Aoife feels his absence as she prays his seed takes root in her once more.

He had taken her last night again and then this morning against the barn wall while Roisin slept in. She wanted another child, wanted the motherhood denied to her the first time.

 “They’ll be four of us next winter, husband.”  Aoife had then kissed him goodbye as he went off to kill the land agent.

Only Lord Kilmichael remains on their list.

Once he is dead, it is over.

Days pass as Martin bides his time and the anxiety of not knowing when he’ll return to her has her watching the flames in hopes of deciphering their meaning.

After Cronin’s death, Pope sends men here thinking Martin would be foolish enough to come here. They do not bother her, something she attributes to Hannah’s meddling than Pope’s supposed good nature.

She lays on the straw cot exactly where Martin had put it that night and those after careful to keep Roisin from knowing they are in danger. It gives her a good sight of the fireplace where she watches her own future hidden in figures and symbols dancing about the flames.

Aoife doesn’t see hear him come in from the door separating the cottage from the barn, barely sees him enter as silent as a shadow despite his burly form until he is lying with her on the bedding with only his shirt and breeches on.

“What do you see in the flames, witch?” his beard tickles the skin of her neck as he tried his best not to disturb her in her trance.

Her concentration broken and too distracted by the need for him, the witch turned her face and kissed him in greeting. “Pick a name for our son, come next autumn you will be a father once more.”

There is hope for them, something he doesn’t believe anymore and pretends he does to keep her from worrying.

“Kilmichael will be in Pope’s room at the inn, if you go back for Hannah, it is you who will find death that day.” She adds seeing a noose around the inspector’s neck.

He'd die to save the man; he saved his life once and would do it again even if it means going out on a blaze of glory. Especially because he thinks he is already damned.

Still, she gives him a good enough sedative to put Kilmichael under and newly mended plain clothes and a thick coat to match. Most who had heard about Martin’s deeds, had agreed to help in what ways they could.

One of them used to have a son about as tall as Martin, a son who was hanged by Bolton as well. The old woman had wished them well and thrown her own crucifix in a pocket for good luck.

Only time would tell of Martin Feeney could cheat death one last time.

With Aoife’s aid, Kilmichael’s kidnapping goes better than expected. Hannah had known where he’d go, and Martin wastes no time in offering a chance to escape with him as he refuses to shoot him.

His horse cannot fit more than two riders, but Martin had managed to free Hannah’s mount in the time it took him to break through the defenses Fitzgibbon had laid out and reach Kilmichael’s room. Hannah had known he’d make a fool out of Pope and yet didn’t shoot. After all, Feeney had saved his life in Kabul, a life debt isn’t something you could easily set aside.

Aoife says death will come for him should he return for Hannah. Same Hannah who knew a firing squad is what Pope and Fitzgibbon will pay him for his service in the morning.

His former comrade is as tired as he is of this life, and yet Martin refuses to let him die for him. Just as Aoife refuses to let him give up on thinking he has a life waiting for him in America. Martin had made his peace, said his goodbyes and accepted the clothes anyways.

Aoife would do better in America without a husband to weigh her down, she was practical, and her trade assured her a job anywhere. Her gift of foresight would pave the way for a better life without him.

Or with him, he thinks as he changed out of his clothes and forced Kilmichael to don his coat at gunpoint.

The clothes included a leather vest made from a blacksmith’s apron. The young man who once wore the coat the old woman gave him had been a ribbon man, one who had read of the man in Dublin devising bullet armor by the looks of it.

It wouldn’t stop a bullet but slow it down enough to give him a chance. Even the old woman who’s name he can’t remember wanted him to live as badly as Aoife did, as Hannah did as well.

Martin O’Feeney has never won an disagreement against Aoife for as long as he can remember. If she said there would be four of them next autumn, then there would be four of them next autumn, the man can’t help but smile knowing even know Aoife refuses to accept defeat.

They speak English in America; she had said when he told her of his vow to never speak English for the rest of his life. At home we will not speak a lick of English, she had amended his promise before sending him on his way.

In the ensuing fight the next morning, he starts to believe she might be right.

The bounty hunters turn against Fitzgibbon once Kilmichael is killed in his place, Pope cannot rally the men to keep control and go after him and Conneely has no loyalty to them anymore than Hannah did.

Then Pope gets that last shot at him, a fatal blow he knows from experience. The leather cannot keep it from penetrating his side, and these sorts of wounds are difficult for even the most experienced medics. Aoife’s healing hands may not be of use here.

And yet she is there, runs to him when he collapses on the side of the road. He can’t stop her from trying to save him, she won’t listen anyways.

“They'll come for you now. Don't fight them. Go to America.” His injury makes it impossible for him to speak and yet he spends his last words on entrusting his wife and children to Hannah. If anyone would care for them in the new world like he would, it was Hannah.

Martin O’Feeney lets himself rest knowing he will be able to answer for his sins with his head held high. Expecting hellfire when he next wakes up, Martin O’Feeney finds he’s been unjustly rewarded instead.

Aoife’s words come true a year later when three month old Michael Feeney only stops his fussing when his father sings him to sleep after a long work shift. The Feeneys do not speak English the moment the door shuts behind them, Martin and Eva Feeney are adamant that not a word of it is said in their home.

Hannah, who most believe is Martin’s father to the point they no longer fight it, is the only exception to that rule.

A/N: someone in December 1847 mentioned in a Cork newspaper about wanting to create a bulletproof vest, its plausible for a makeshift one to come into Feeney’s possession.

I also amended as to why he was in Afghanistan and India when the Connaught Rangers were in Malta and the West Indies, and yes soldiers had to ask permission to get marriee and on average were paid a shilling a day and had to pay for their food and clothes etc from their own paycheck. As a Corporal (the highest rank a nom commissioned soldier like Feeney could ever have) he was paid about 2 shillings a day.

[aranhilelemathir]

Tolkien OC Week, Day 2: Canon-OC Relationship

Word Count: 2070 Words

---------------

Aranhil Elhanan Elemathir. The second son of Arathorn son of Arador. From a mere Dúnedain and ranger, to be the Lord of Núrnen and Harondor. But this story is not about it- It's all about his relationship with the future Steward of Gondor, Faramir son of Denethor, from another person perspective

@tolkienocweek

Ithilien, 24 November 3015

Although winter at South is not as cruel as at North, but November is still the peak of winter wherever anyone lives. It could be cold, but it will never being so cold like at North. That's what Faramir believe untill this day, even though he couldn't remember anything about the northern part of Middle Earth. But Mithrandir used to tell him about how Middle Earth looks alike outside Gondor.

Ferendir who told him if he born in Eriador, also tell many stories everytime he got a chance. Faramir, as the one who has a power among many rangers in Ithilien, insert that green eyed ranger into his patrol team, so he will listen to the straight haired ranger when he is chirping like nightingale and tell many stories to him. He told everyone in the team about the beauty of Lothlorien, then how majestic elven palaces could be, although one palace had been deserted for many centuries since The Battle of The Last Alliance ended with many tears on tow.

Ferendir also taught Faramir to draw only with a charcoal pencil and rubber. Untill in his spare time, the Captain of Ithilien Ranger will not only read or write a poem. But he will take his sketchbook and pencil, then draw something under the green foliages of the forest. Ferendir became like a brother for many rangers in Ithilien, and Faramir put that childish ranger in his heart as his older brother, just like how he used to treat Boromir in his heart.

Faramir would die for both of them if it's needed. At least it happened untill Denethor decide to banished Ferendir from Gondor six months ago, and the Steward told his youngest son if the cheerful ranger will be executed if he set his feet in Gondor again. Denethor's word feels like a death sentence to him. But Faramir really has no power against his father.

He is not Boromir. Even Faramir could sense his father's hatred towards him long time before he joined the army. Beside his strained relationship with his father, Faramir's love for his father is unconditional, just like his loyalty to Gondor. He is patiently waiting for the King to come and reclaiming his long deserted throne in Echtelion Tower, although his situation has worsened after Ferendir leave him alone in Henneth Annun. He feel so lonely in his fight against Mordor since then.

But the presence of his guests sparked a little hope in his fragile heart. Rian told him if both of Faramir's guests, one of them is Bertrand who Faramir knew already, is a Ranger of the North. Their sudden visit elevate his soul and hope. Bertrand know Ferendir already, and Faramir put a great hope to the Ranger of the North, since he think this ranger know something about his Brother Feren.

After Rian lead his guests into his study, Faramir's gray eyes looking to his guest intently. The blue eyed ranger put Star of the Dúnedain on his left shoulder of his black cloak, and greet him in traditional Elvish way. Faramir stood up and reply it in the same way, before his right hand signalling for his guests to sit on the wooden chairs before he sat back on the exact same chair in front of his guests.

"Please forgive me for disturbing you again, Captain Faramir," Bertrand said before he bowed his caramel haired head, "but i come here with Findegil for a tracking necessity."

"Tracking?" Faramir raised his left eyebrows, totally can't grasp anything from what the skin-changer mentioned before, "why it should start from Henneth Annun, if any of you may grant me with one important information here, please?"

"Because it's our zero spot, Captain. Gondor was where it start."

"Where it start... Please don't tell me if both of you are asking me about Ferendir's whereabout."

Findegil and Bertrand turned their head and looking to each other. They did so for a pretty long time untill Faramir decide to stood up. Findegil and Bertrand did the same thing and nod their heads before Faramir pull Findegil's arm and walking outside the base behind the waterfall. The gray eyed Gondorian feel something disturbing in his mind. He can sense many questions flooding his conscious, since Faramir is certain if Ferendir is really an important person.

Although he know if the Northern Dúnedain is just a few in number now, but his father got an important reason why he decide to drop an unusual decree on a northerner like Ferendir. Faramir pull Findegil's hand untill both of them enter the forest. Faramir glanced to the left and right, trying to make sure if nobody followed them. Findegil and Bertrand respond remind him if Ranger of the North got one strict culture for their chieftain, and how Ferendir used to move also remind Faramir to elven grace.

That green eyed ranger never told anyone where he used to grow. But as the one who met with elf sometimes, Faramir is certain if Ferendir is not an ordinary person who grow together with another man like him or many rangers here. Faramir stop to pull Findegil's hand when they're under the old aspen tree. His gray eyes trying to grind on Findegil's blue eyes. But he can see Findegil's eyes scream a lot of loyalty. Faramir smiled and tapping on the black haired ranger's shoulder for some times.

"We are close to each other," Faramir could feel if Findegil's blue eyes darted to his gray eyes, "he teach me to draw, and i lost my interest in drawing many months ago."

"I could imagine it, Captain. You are wise and gentle like King Theoden," Findegil intentionally cut his words, "but now i could see why he decide to didn't blowed his disguise to you."

"Hold on, Brother Feren was in disguise at that time?"

"His real name is not Ferendir, Captain. It's northerner custom to hide his identity really well."

Certainly Findegil only told Faramir a half of the truth. Since it's not only Ferendir, but also Thorongil. But what is important right now is Ferendir, since that cheerful ranger promised to everyone to go home, both Lothlorien and Eriador, in this winter. But everyone in Lothlorien only catch his feral reddish chestnut horse around five months ago, and everyone in Dúnedain camp immediately know about a letter which tell about Lord Celeborn's suspicious on Ferendir's whereabout.

"You got a nice brooch, Findegil," Faramir said while he leaned his back on the tree and sit there. His eyes fluttering when a cold wind caressing his face, "what is his real name then? I promise i will protect this secret with my life."

"Aranhil," Faramir's eyes already bulging on this kind of name. The King's Heir, "Aranhil Elemathir, to be precise. That's his real name."

"Only one lineage which used that pattern, and that name... Sound so heavy."

"It is, and i'm glad you can guess his parentage. I feel too lazy to reveal if Aranhil is the heir of Isildur."

Faramir turned his head away from Findegil and nod his head. The blue eyed ranger sat close to the Gondorian, make sure he got his time to digest this fact. In the other hand Faramir stare blankly to the foliages, feeling surprised and scared at the same time. Because he know exactly what happened at the day before Ferendir vanished, since he is the one who accompanying Ferendir to the Echtelion Tower.

He was there when Denethor spat to Ferendir's face and banished him. But what make Faramir feel not so comfortable now is because he remember if his father bring the Stone of Anor at that time, and now someone from the North come to him and ask about Ferendir's whereabout. Faramir remember when Mithrandir explained about palantir to him.

It's a really useful device, since anyone may communicate in two way as long as that person has a palantir. But he know if there are only three palantirs in Middle Earth, and Gondor is the one among those three. But unfortunately Faramir doesn't know where the last two are. What the gray eyed ranger could recall now is Ferendir's pain when Denetor throw the clothes which covered the palantir.

"Gracious Valar, no way!" Faramir murmured in a slightly scared tone. Findegil turned his head to the light brown haired Gondorian, "i guess i know where he is now."

"Are you certain with that, Captain?" Findegil asked. Faramir stare straightly to Findegil's blue eyes before asking about palantir, "is the Steward use it before?"

"He did, and will always. I remember Lord Denethor make one spot at the top of the tower to put the palantir."

"This is really the worst possibility. Thank you for your information, Captain. Me and Bertrand should create a new plan for this."

Findegil stood and whistle, then a tiny gray owl flap it's wing in front of the blue eyed ranger. Faramir also stood up and offer to lead the way back to his base. With a tightened jaw Findegil nod his head and walking back to the base behind the waterfall with the youngest son of the Steward. Everything is really messed up, and probably Findegil need to rode back to Eriador alone just to inform what his intuition told to everyone.

In the other hand Bertrand will transformed into his tiger form and catches and questioning anyone who approaches or leave the Black Gate before killing it. The plan sound so good, and probably the best one in this situation. Findegil doesn't want his comrade to wait longer than this. He can't afford Ferendir, or Aranhil to wait for another month. That childish ranger could face anything now, especially after Faramir asked him about palantir.

But it's better for Findegil to not spill anything about his plan to Faramir right now, since Findegil can't trust the Captain of Ithilien Ranger now. His loyalty to Gondor could lead everyone in a wrong way. Findegil simply hope if Faramir could figuring things out later, after he and Bertrand could retrieve his friend from anyone right now.

When both of them arrived at the base, Findegil barked to Bertrand if they will go immediately now. Rian look surprised with Findegil's behaviour. Faramir grasping for Findegil's right wrist, and that make the black haired ranger to stop his feetstep and turning his head to him. Faramir could feel if the northerner Dúnedain has tensed in a really short time, and he thought if something bad will approached everyone.

"What possibly would happened in four or five years?" Faramir asked. Findegil sighed, his blue eyes stare to Bertrand who stood behind the Captain of Ithilien Ranger, "please tell me. I also speak Sindarin if you don't want to reveal your secret."

"Another two palatir are in Sauron and Saruman's hand. The Steward will spoke only with those two if he used the palantir."

"Ah Valar, i hope he will forgive my father."

"Even Ranger of the North doesn't know the answer. Aranhil is a really complicated person, but i'm sure about the wrath from three elven realms if they thought your father also take his part in this accident."

"Three? How could that possible to happen?"

"Because he spent his times not only in the wilderness. He grow in Lothlorien and close to many high ranked elves from Rivendell and Mirkwood, including the Elven King and the supposed to be the High King of the Noldor."

"This is the most disastrous year for him then."

"Then if you will excuse me, Captain. I can't afford him to wait for another cycle of moon."

Faramir deliberately let his grip loosened. He could hear Findegil talking with Bertrand. The skin changer heavy but low growl could be heard clearly in Faramir's ears. He got his right to feel angry, since in the end Bertrand decide to bring his sister to live in Lothlorien before they lives like any Ranger of the North.

They were practicing their animalistic side there, and getting drowned by Lady Galadriel wisdom about emotional control. They grow stronger because of Aranhil's offer to them, and now only guilt which burdening Faramir pure heart. But asking for his forgiveness through someone else is really not his style. Faramir silently pray so he could properly ask for Aranhil's forgiveness about Denethor and himself once he could meet with him.

[an-au-blog]

One more ask about the East Blue Asylum AU! I saw you mentioned Germa 66 and that was something I thought about a lot as well! Whole Cake Island is my favorite arc, so please do talk about those Vinsmokes we all love and hate ^u^

Okay, well in my mind the Sora Warrior Of The Sea are fiction. They're like Batman or Superman but ig maybe more of a magical girl version of the power rangers???

I wanna say that WCI has to be one of my fav arcs as well I live it to bits! And that's one of the reasons I honestly don't know how to do it lol

I have a little post in my drafts about Zou but WCI I haven't really made up my mind. The two posts are kinda intertwined so I'll tey to post it right after this answer.

I did try to shower-think it and I came up with a few ideas but idk if I like them enough':)

At some point, Judge had started getting bad press for having a son he abandoned and is now in a mental hospital. He didn't know how the word got out, but it did and he decided that he'd get him out and treat him in some private place but it was very obvious that he didn't want to go and since he was a legal adult, he could decide for himself. (Even if he wanted to leave, the doctors were the only ones who could dismiss him after he signed himself in.)

About his brothers - They look a lot like the heroes from the Germa comics and act just as uptight and heartless as them. Subconsciously, Luffy must have mistaken them for "The Warriors Of The Sea". But in reality they're just brats who used to bully their brother - mean little kids who grew up to be even worse adults. Sanji's sister, however, I imagine has visited before, only this time she wasn't dressed like she was in hiding. The Vinsmoke family (in my head) is a bit like the Rockefellers - everyone knows who they are and it's hard to drop their name in a casual conversation and not get some kind of reaction.

In regards to his past - Sanji still got abused and beaten up by both his father and brothers. But instead of being a failed experiment, he was just a nice little boy who didn't like sports and competing in things, he just liked stereotypically girly things like butterflies flowers, cooking, and pretty things. His father didn't like that, as he believed that all his dons should be manly men who won chess tournaments, so soccer games, basketball matches or martial arts competitions. If they weren't the strongest, smartest, most handsome men in their circle, then they were no sons of his. And Sanji didn't meet that criteria. He didn't care for sports or competing, he just wanted to have fun and to have friends. Don't get me wrong, he was still smart. But wanting to be a cook is not exactly a good look if all of your family is just CEOs and multimillionaire company holders. Or at least in Judge's eyes. So when Sanji ran away at 12 (I'm making him older to make it more realistic), Judge just closed his eyes and reported him missing in the wrong region so he couldn't be found and so the investigation could declare him dead after the appropriate amount of years.

The golden bracelets were real, but they weren't exploding, Judge just used them to yank Sanji when he got mad at him and threaten him. "I'll cut them off till wherever they reach!" he'd say, so Sanji would wish to be skinnier so if they slip off, then maybe he wouldn't cut his hands off? That was his child logic at least. That's how his questionable relationship with food started, but later on he'd just starve himself to feel like he still has control over something in his life. Anything. That or as a punishment to himself, more than often he wouldn't believe he deserved food or he'd think that there are people with bigger needs than him. So he'd lose appetite and maybe feel sick enough to throw up. (Him having bulimia is one of the many reasons why hates himself and thinks he doesn't deserve food, because why eat if he'd just throw it up?(Zoro hates that he thinks that way btw and he tries feeding him every once in a while because he'd notice that Sanji could scarcely say no to him. Plus he likes taking care of him))

[kimberlyannharts]

Mm. Yeah. That sucked! Sidelining Tommy to lift up M/tt in unprecedented ways! I don’t even know where to begin with this. We fridged Grace TWICE for this? Arguably Coinless Trini and Kiya too? Tigan by definition I guess wasn’t fridged but I still hate it! At the same time I wish I knew more about the character to have feelings about it beyond “that sucks!”

Also I know we talked about Rita and Chloe’s mom already but you know what? Remember Coinless Zack (and to a lesser extent Skull)? I sure thought they would be relevant! I would’ve cared more about Adam and Rocky and whatever that was if they had ever bothered to give Adam an arc, and actually spent time with them this event! Also Tommy giving up his powers to help people he largely doesn’t know uhhh sucks. How was Tommy more important in Shattered Grid, he was DEAD. I was really hoping we would get M/tt relinquishing the Green coin but that would’ve meant actual development and reflection on his part and not being the writer’s best boi. If M/tt had stayed a civilian supporting character I could actually see him having a role in the civilian army plot (which by the way why didn’t we just call in the Eltarian army ages ago. I think they said something about Eltar being attacked but who cares.)

The last note I’ll end on is part of me wants to look back on Ryan’s writing a little kinder now, but at the same time it’s the shitty decisions of villainizing Kiya and Death Ranger and M/tt’s rangerhood that got us into this mess in the first place! At least Coinless Trini/Scorpina yuri real. And the Gravezord shoutout felt like it was meant for you personally. I’m sorry this is so long, and I hope Prime has nothing to do with the main book. We are free.

= I probably should have felt more triumph at that panel of the MMPRs morphing together but it was literally ruined by how Tommy wasn't there and instead M*tt was basically in his spot (even positioned so he was slightly ahead of everyone else. good lord. was it not enough coddling that you literally erased the ONE bad thing he did in this storyline, which was murder Grace?) He should have died instead of Tigan. I know I'm partly saying that because I hate him but it's so unfair that that asshole gets to survive EVERYTHING and end the series with TOMMY'S COIN but Tigan only existed to die. It actually would have been impactful because like it or not, M*tt has been around for so long while Tigan was only here for.....three issues?

= Candice had checked in with the Command Center to report Aquitar fell and then in a later issue it was mentioned they hadn't heard from her for days, leading them to believe Eltar had fallen too. Honestly it doesn't even really matter because her return was clearly just supposed to be a reward for Skull doing the civilian soldier plot (because as the more conventionally attractive one of the comic relief duo, he gets the passionate, committed romance while Bulk just gets to weirdly call Taylor hot.)

= As much as I still do love the Coinless book on its own, so much of it never meant anything to the book or outright contradicted it. Dark Specter took over that whole world with evil lava goop, why didn't he do that in the prime world? The book explicitly states that the White Coin can't be split, but they just do it anyway in this event? I GUESS we can just assume that world turned out fine when Dark Specter was defeated, but we don't even get a panel where we can show Coinless Zack and Skull and maybe even Jason okay in their world?

= Going along with that, Scorpina calling for Alt-Trini is probably the only other time besides the Tomberly scenes that I felt genuine emotion in this finale, because damn they really just took out Scorpina's loved one AGAIN. And for literally no reason lmao (why did shattering the Grid delete Alt-Trini and Kiya but not Billy? Obviously he was present for the blast too)

= I did like the Gravezord shout-out so you're right about that

= And yes, a lot of the problems with this event can be pointed to Ryan refusing to give a proper ending to his concepts and storylines (something he has said that he likes about comics; that they can go on indefinitely. which. uhhhhh) - so Melissa felt she had to tie up all of the loose ends that were left. I think that was unnecessary for some of them - for instance, I really wasn't wondering where Dayne was. The guy's a mercenary for hire so it's easy enough for me to believe he wouldn't want to be associated with jobs involving Rangers ever again and went on to parts unknown - but she was clearly trying to put away the toys that Ryan had left out