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cloveroctobers · 22 days ago

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santa, doesn’t know you like i do — 2. OBX [Winter Prompts: Multi]

A/N: Only episodes 1-6 exist to me! It’s the season of joy and that’s exactly what I’m attempting to bring with this! Happy reading!

WARNINGS: Language + gender neutral friendly! & Cleo’s is unfortunately the shortest.

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE! + I’m using: 014. sitting down to exchange and open gifts, anticipating what gift you may get. is it something cool or just another pair of socks? + 010. in the kitchen making the deserts for the big day, and perhaps even making a mess too! + 017. in the trenches of snow forts, amidst a war of a snow fight! who will win? & 019. traversing the treacherous conditions of icy pavements. will you laugh as they fall or lend them a hand and go down in solidarity?

<- read my previous winter anthology prompt here if you’re about it.

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~ JJ MAYBANK ~

• I can make you fall too. So, tell me what's on your wishlist? I wanna make it come true 🎶

“…and this one is for…JJ.” Sarah reads off the personalized tag, picking up the last gift from the makeshift tree he managed to find at a sketchy tree farm.

Pope called it the ozempic tree and majority of the time, JJ spent his Christmas’ with Big John and John B (occasionally the Heyward’s too once they were up for JJ’s sparkling behavior) since it used to be his favorite holiday when they were kids. Now he was hosting Christmas’ on goat island, not to show off what he did with the place but simply because he could now.

“What?” JJ called over the music, standing by some huge stereo that he probably paid too much for.

He should have focused more on furniture like you tried to tell him but he didn’t care about that. All of the furniture in here was in good condition in his eyes—no matter the dust and the pieces he’s surfed on and broke—he would fix them in due time because he didnt need to get rid of what belonged to his blood family. He wanted to keep what was left, which stopped you from bringing up furniture talk.

This was JJ’s home and he deserved a good one for once.

Kie scoffed as she held onto her ukulele, “It’s for you idiot, open it!”

“And for the love of the most high, can we please play something else?!” Pope jumped up from the chair, almost knocking Cleo off the arm of it, making him quickly apologize, his hands going to her hips as he pressed rapid kisses to her cheek, before trading places with the boisterous blond.

JJ was tipsy, shades toppling out of his feathered hair, as he plucked the gift from Sarah’s hand then he plopped down by your legs on the floor to rest against the front of the couch. You were all proud of him, limiting his drinks to only special occasions, something JJ came up with all on his own.

It was the little things that still mattered.

He was a constant work in progress, take him as you will.

After the crap that was of last year, he wanted nothing more than to put that nightmare behind him. Time was still on his side and now JJ finally got to live it, day by day but with more warmth this time.

“I didn’t think I was on the secret santa list, since you know I’m the hostest with the mostest.” JJ winks at all the friends who groan at him.

You were all just glad he wasn’t wearing that crown on his head anymore from earlier, when he greeted you all at the front door in a terrible mix of a British or Australian accent.

Cleo shakes her head, “The holidays done made you soft, rude boy.”

“Sue me, Clee!”

“For money? I can just steal it ya know?” Cleo wiggles her fingers at her friend with a dimpled grin sent his way.

JJ quirks up a brow, “That’s not a battle I want to get into tonight. It’s all about,” he clears his throat, “Be of good cheer! It’s the most wonderful time of the year! It’s the hap-happiest time of the year!” He belts out.

“Make him stop, John B.” Sarah whines, covering her ears while John B sends a lazy smile at the friend that he was happy to call his brother.

All John B can come up with is, “Open up your gift already man, aren’t you curious?”

JJ flings one hand in the air with his cup of wine, yes red wine, this stuff was pretty good on a winter night, shout out to PawPaw Wes, but he stops short once he almost splashes some of it onto the carpet. When he looks over at you, who has their attention on their phone he nudged your knee with his elbow, “Be a peach and hold this for me, will ya?”

“Please?”

“Please, dollface?” JJ pushes his bottom lip out, leaving you to roll your eyes as you take the green plastic cup into one of your hands.

He goes to mumbling as he tears off the festive gift wrapping, “…It’s probably just some socks.”

“What’s wrong with socks?” Kie questions, “the fuzziest of socks are the best kind to keep your feet warm, skin soft-

“Blah, blah, blah.”

Kiara sucks her teeth, “okay, fuck you then.”

Which earns laughs from everyone as JJ reveals a box. He goes to shake it, noticing some tape keeping it together.

“Don’t shake it.” You say, making JJ’s blues turn to you, “It could be something fragile.”

The friends all shared a glance at this. The secret santa was Sarah’s idea and although they were under the influence, everyone seemed to be keeping track of who got who. John B got Kiara, Kiara got Sarah, Sarah got Pope, Pope got John B, JJ got Cleo, Cleo got you, and you guested it, you got JJ.

Everyone except JJ was keeping up.

“Alright, fine. You’re probably right,” JJ nods before turning back to the box while you visibly relaxed.

He’s using his teeth now to pull off some of the tape before yanking open the box. “Oh whoever did this, did a superb job. There’s even tissue paper! And it’s scented! Wait a minute…this smells a whole lot like…”

His eyes are in slits now and he wants to turn to you to confirm his suspicions but he’s also curious about what this gift is. Tossing the tissue paper any and everywhere, JJ pulls out this vintage toy bronco.

You exhaled, not sure what your friend’s reaction was as he sat beside you on the floor, “I know it’s not much but…you used to talk about owning one of these and how you used to have one kind of like this when you and JB were kids—

“Before my dad—Luke beat it up with a bat and chucked it into the garbage disposal. The damn thing spit back out and split his brow. Me letting a laugh slip out wasn’t my best move but he deserved that.” JJ told, making the room fill up with numerous amount of emotions at what a younger JJ would soon start to face on a regular.

You nod sitting on the edge of the couch now, “I got it personalized for you and everything: your favorite number on the hood, name on the side, and check out the license plate.”

JJ shifted the gray bronco to its back, letting a grin split over his lips, “PND-4L. That stand for what I think it does?”

“Uh huh.”

JJ drops his head, pinches at his brow and sniffs before lifting his head and letting out a deep sigh from his lips. He turns to you, eyes glistening in the dim of the Genrette home, “This is the best got damn gift I’ve ever received, bring it in you thoughtful thing you!”

Kiara quickly reaches out for the plastic cup, just as JJ doesn’t give you time to move afterwards, locking his arms around your waist and burying his head in your lap.

That was enough to make anyone’s heart swell, your hand going to his head as you lean to place a kiss right on top. “Glad you like it, J. Merry Christmas.”

“Like it? I love it! It’s going right on my bedside table.”

“And maybe it’ll be more motivation to actually get your own fucking car instead of stealing the Twinkie?” John B comments, rubbing at his eye.

JJ scoffs, “The Twinkie is a family car. This right here is part of the dream.” He holds the bronco up into the air before bringing it to his lips to kiss, “But I’m sure I’ve already got it.”

He mumbles that last bit as Pope puts on some r&b Christmas music instead, pulling Cleo up to dance while Kiara finishes off JJ’s wine before getting up to join the couple while strumming her ukulele and humming beautifully to the music, Sarah and John B share a tender kiss as they continue to lounge against each other, and you begin to comb your fingers through your friend’s hair.

“You’re probably the best gift giver here but sssh, don’t tell the others I said that.” JJ says, getting up to fully rest his head in your lap now.

He rests the car on his chest as you both go into your own hushed conversation, focus solely on each other as you continue to fall for each other, being the true definition of a slow burn.

| CLEO ANDERSON |

• He won't bring you somebody that loves you more than me, yeah 🎶

You’re yanked into the new and improved yet slightly messy wooden home as soon as Cleo set her brown eyes on you. You were careful as you tried to avoid a patch of flour and egg on the floor that was made into a smiley face before you then turned to an antsy Cleo. You could smell the sugar as soon as you stood on the steps of the old Maybank residence. Everything honestly felt unreal, something that you were all able to put together and work on as a family was back in your hands and a reality? It still didn’t feel real at times, being back at the home that was almost gone thanks to Luke’s snake ways and this place used to hold only darkness but the constant goal was to fill it only with light from now on.

Until your friends try to warn you otherwise before you entered the home.

“She’s worse than my military influenced uncle when it comes to the kitchen.” Pope mumbled to you, massaging the palm of his hand.

You frown as you held onto the ingredients in a reusable bag (that Kiara once gave you) that you were asked to bring on your back, “C’mon guys it can’t be that bad? We’ve been in the kitchen together before…had plenty of dinners together and Cleo’s always been fine.”

JJ scoffs as he plops down on the steps of his childhood home, “That’s just regular dinners y/n. The holidays makes people whackadoo!” He whistles a cuckoo tune before quickly glancing over his shoulder to make sure Cleo couldn’t hear him, “And Cleo is our own personal version of the bear when it comes to these desserts.”

Kiara snickers as she attempts to give JJ’s shoulder a comforting squeeze, “We were only allowed to focus on the dinner portion. The desserts are a whole new ball park and Cleo doesn’t want any of our help.”

“Only y/n’s.” John B grumbled, also appearing defeated.

You frown, sending a questioning glance to the brunette who’s leaning over the banister, glaring out at the view.

Sarah sighs, “John B got a nice scolding from Cleo…now there’s a delay with whatever last dessert she’s trying to make? Which is why—

“You guys needed me to bring the extras.” You confirm with a nod of your head before letting out a sigh, “Well I better not keep the lady waitin.”

John B scoffed, “She’ll hold off her venom a little when it comes to you.”

“I told you not to put the raisins in there, man.” JJ muttered with his elbows digging into his knees.

“Oh you think you have all the answers don’t you, Bobby Flay?” John B mouthed off, “When have you ever baked anything decent?”

JJ snorts as he squints looking away from the shifting sun,“I know raisins don’t belong in potato bread.”

“…well with some recipes in the Caribbean, does include raisins.” Pope spoke up with a light shrug of his shoulders.

John B holds his hands out to the brainiac in a see motion, “Thank you!”

JJ scowls, “Hey Pope, hey! Whose side are you on?”

As the boys bickered, Kiara and Sarah both rolled their eyes and snuck off around the wrap around porch just to get away from them, while you took the chance pushing the doors open to enter the revamped home. You can’t even blink before Cleo’s yanking at your wrist, pulling you into the (second) very open kitchen.

“Where’ve been? I want everything to be done by sundown and I’ve got to start this madness over because of freakin’ John b.” Cleo’s moving around the kitchen at lighting speed.

You nod, “I was just told…I also heard that you have other desserts too?”

“Yeah!” Cleo answers, “Guava Duff and pineapple upside down cake. It’s best to have tree options…especially with the way these fools eat.”

“So you want to remake the potato bread?”

Cleo placed her hands on her hips and deeply exhaled, “Yeah man, John B screwed it up mixing those turds into the batter! Not a fan! Coconut was just fine and you’re gonna love it.”

“I’ve actually developed an allergy out in Venezuela.” You admitted, “I’ll take your word for it though.”

Cleo frowns, “Huh? But the coconut lentil stew in Morocco? I thought—

“No don’t get me wrong, it was delicious and I didn’t want be too picky when we were all scrapping just to find a solid meal. I begged Sarah not to say anything when my eye swelled up later that night. Let’s just say…Kie and I had an adventourous time on the hunt for some inflammatories.”

“And you guys had rude boy to distract me,” Cleo fills in the blanks, “It all makes sense now.”

You offer a small smile but Cleo just shakes her head. She was too tired to realize then and think too much about what was going on. Cleo wouldn’t beat herself up too much about it but she wanted to make up for it.

“Could have told me ya know?” She takes the ingredients from the bag and starts putting them in the correct place but not without stopping to dump the contents in the bowls out into the trash again, “That’s cancelled.”

“What? No, the potato bread’s been the talk of the day…you should see it through.”

Cleo claps her hands, shushing you, followed with a wag of her finger, “No can do love…matter of fact, what’s your favorite dessert? I can make something with what we’ve got.”

There wasn’t a “maybe” in front of that statement at all. If Cleo had a plan, she was always going to see it through. Her brown eyes twinkled as they settled back on you, brow raised as she awaited for you to say anything that came to mind.

Once you revealed what your favorite dessert is, it only took the wavy haired girl a few moments to think if she had enough ingredients to whip it together for you.

“Well don’t just stand there, get over here and be my sous chef.” Cleo waved you over, “Make sure you scrub those hands in my kitchen.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You nodded and tossed in a joke, “wouldn’t want a repeat of JJ and Kie’s homemade corn dogs from the fourth.”

Both of you share a equal shudder as you stood shoulder to shoulder. Your eyes connected and Cleo sent you the sweetest smile, where both of her dimples easily appeared in her cheeks before she put her game face back on.

This was about to get hectic but you’d tolerate it because with chaos came love and you were certain that’s what this house would only be based on from this point on. Also if Cleo was going through all this trouble just for you?

Had to mean something…right?

| BARRY |

• I've been there through the good and bad, Know how to make you laugh, Kiss all your tears away, babe. Ooh, only I can do that 🎶

Snow in the Outerbanks wasn’t common but when it did, Barry liked to take advantage of it. He had the bright idea to start chucking snowballs at random people, specifically people coming out of their homes. He wanted to have a laugh whereas you wanted to build a snow fort.

He only went through with that because it would be your cover once your target tried to search the area for their culprit. The both of you were up to no good and it showed. The plan started off at the trailer, building forts on both sides of Barry’s land, which included Barry sneaking up and trying to stomp your fort out but not without a fight, before you shoved him back to his side.

“Anybody tell you your aim is trash, sunshine?!” Barry yells over his own fort, he’s been shit talking since the both of you started your first round at his place.

And frankly? You had enough so as soon as Barry lifted his head to look in your direction, you popped up with the swiftness and started windmilling two balls in his direction. The first ball hits Barry in the shoulder and the last? Clunks him right in the eye that had him doubling over.

“Bear?” You stopped celebrating as soon as you saw him holding his eye.

Barry huffed into the air, “Got damn! Did you hide a rock in there or sum?”

Cautiously you made your way over to the dark haired jack of all trades, wanting to be prepared that he wasn’t trying to sneak you as soon as you got close enough.

The way his eye had a nice pink ring around it was enough to tell you, he wasn’t joking.

“Oh shit.”

“Oh shit is right, I didn’t know we was fightin’ dirty, dawg.” Barry tried to peek at you through the injured eye.

Giving a grimace you admit, “That ball did seem kind of hard.”

Barry snorts, “And here I thought you liked my ass but you really tryna to take my shit out, havin’ me walking around this bitch like popeye.”

“I’m sorry,” you tried to grip his face and hide the laughter that bubbled in your chest but Barry dodged your hands, “You know I’d never purposely hurt you.”

Barry scoffed but still said, “I know I know but now I got to take my frustrations out with my original plan.” He rubs his hands together, “Yeah…let’s take a ride out to figure eight.”

Suddenly now that didn’t seem like the best idea.

“Nah, stop them gears.” Barry pointed at you, which made you roll your eyes, “You owe me this.”

“Fine…but no snowballs that have undercover ice in them.”

Barry sent you a look, “Oh now you want to check for that shit for the sake of them uppity kooks instead of for the safety of your man? You know that shit don’t sound right to me.”

“I said I was sorry!”

Barry just hums.

Which leads to you two heading out to Rafe Cameron’s new residence. The both of you snuck around the back, thinking it would be easier to attack from.

“Look at country club, done leveled up.” Barry snickers to himself after he dusted off his hands from building yet another fort for the both of you to hide behind.

You shrug, finding that all these beach homes looked the same, “How do we even know he’s home?”

“He’s home alright, probably up in there stressin’ over stupid shit when he’s got it made.” Barry comments.

You’ve seen their relationship play out, the good and the bad—mostly the bad and still found it interesting that the both of them chose to pop back into their lives whenever they felt like it.

Barry’s got the binoculars spying on the home, while you got tired of standing around for what felt like forever. Choosing to pick at your nails and sit on your knees until they started to lose feeling in them. Just as you’re about to announce that you’re ready to go back home, Barry yanks on your wrist to get you back into a squatting position.

“There he go!” Barry whisper-yells to you, as you peek over the lopsided fort to indeed see Rafe on his back deck, staring out at the view towards his right.

Barry’s got a wicked dimple of a smirk on his face, hands skillfully rolling a ball together before he pops up, “Merry Christmas, Abercrombie!”

He should have been a baseball player with the way he cocked his arm back, putting in extra strength to launch the ball into the air and landed it right in between Rafe’s furrowing brows.

Barry is a laughing mess while you watch Rafe swipe the show from his irritated face. His head snaps towards you two, hand going to his forehead to block out the specs of sun that shines through the gray clouds. Your eyes go wide at being caught, your hand grabbing Barry by the elbow, to set off into a run after you spot Rafe moving around his deck to head down towards you two.

“Ain’t nobody scared of, Rafe. Baby, slow down—

Barry tried to say just as you slipped on a patch of ice. Your feet go right up into the air, fingertips slipping from Barry’s puffer jacket, eyes closing as you wait for impact.

It happened in slow motion for you but quickly for Barry. He can’t help but to laugh at your cartoon ass fall, before he hears Rafe yelling from behind. Barry scrambles forward, hands attempting to grab you up by the pits but ends up slipping over your body, head first into a bank of snow that was pushed up on the sidewalk.

A mocking laughter from Rafe echoes into the sky from behind the both of you while you feel like you’re stuck in place.

“I dunno what you laughing at, country club! Ain’t shit funny!” Barry roars, after lifting his head from the snow, middle finger raised right in the air.

Rafe is snapping pictures now but keeps his distance, “That’s what y’all idiots get! Trying to fuck with me.”

“Ever heard of salt?” Barry sits up with his elbows pressing into his knees.

“Nah, now I’m definitely not paying anyone to do that around here if it keeps you two off my property.” Rafe says before motioning to Barry’s damp appearance, “You got a little something all over.”

“Yeah you talkin’ real tough.”

Barry stops his bickering with Rafe after he picks up on some sniffing. His head snaps to you, “Hey…” he starts moving over to you.

He’s trying to help you up but a scream, makes both twenty something year old’s stare at you in alarm.

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Barry ended up kissing your tears away the whole trip to urgent care. It helped some but the muscle relaxers, and some weed really did their thing. The both of you are seated on Barry’s couch, he’s got an ice pack pressed right against the ring around his eye (given by you) that officially bruised up, and he cradled a beer bottle while the both of you sat in silence watching some sitcom on a old tv set that belonged to his nonna.

You’re now sporting a neck brace, thanks to a sprain and suddenly catch each other’s side eye, before erupting in laughter together.

“Told you you’ll never get bored with me, huh, sunshine?” Barry winks at you, gold grills gleaming at you while you hold onto the brace, to subside the slight ache while you laughed.

Barry rests his head back against the length of the couch, letting this position hold the ice pack for him now, before sliding his hand over to squeeze your thigh, with your hand resting right on top of his.

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un-lawliet · 1 year ago

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“Present.”

— in which Dazai wants to kiss you

part two here <3

“Osamu…”

Dazai lifted his gaze, his eyes narrowing at your figure.

It was cold.

The Summer, having prolonged its stay, pliantly welcomed the first cool breeze of Autumn, inviting the ember shafts of the moon a little earlier, cutting the day shorter and introducing the night before the clock struck nine.

And Yokohama appeared to come alive at night.

The streets bustled with crowds, lively and impeached with an alacrity one would expect to see when the sun was much, much higher in the sky.

Dazai found himself outside the Lupin Bar, leaving a half empty glass of sake idle on the cracked confines of the bar top, the crisp air steadying his somewhat dizzy state, un-fogging his senses and clearing his head.

Leaning against the bar wall, his hands in his pockets, an indiscernible look in his eyes as he watched the ever moving city around him.

It was moments like this when you knew his mind was elsewhere, reminiscing over memories in which you did not know, memories that left you except and puzzling over the glimmer of recognition in the depths of his eye.

Breaking his trance he regarded you with quiet solidarity, as if debating weither or not he should throw up his defences or continue to stare, an eyebrow raised in subdued acknowledgment of your appearance.

He didn’t seem shocked at your return, having been on a mission at the other side of Yokohama for a few days, you feel a sickly indulgence of disappointment in his lack of reaction, your shoulders dropping as you approach him slowly.

He probably knew of your return, he has a habit of knowing seemingly every action and it’s equal reaction before they are even taken, it’s a habit that leaves you uneasy at best, and terrified at worst.

Sighing, you join him against the Bar, leaning your head back against the bumpy surface of the wall.

He looks at you for a moment longer, and it’s as if you can feel him back away, creating an insurmountable distance between the pair of you.

In reality, you know he does not move, but at the sight of an ill placed smile stretching his face, you have never felt so immeasurably far from him.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” He grins, and it’s ugly for a man so devastatingly beautiful in your eyes, you hold back a grimace.

“I’m back.” You say simply, unable to look at him anymore, the footpath suddenly becoming the most interesting thing you’d ever seen before.

A street lamp flickers, the light momentarily dies leaving the pair of you in the dark for a split second before the light returns, Dazai glances upwards to look at it, you don’t even notice.

You don’t know why you even sought him out, your feet seeming to move on their own after Kunikida grumbled that Dazai had headed to Lupin’s Bar just after his shift at the agency.

You have a gift for him from your mission, you tell yourself, attempting to justify your foolish actions, ignoring the voice in your head that reminds you that you would have seen Dazai at the agency at some point the following day.

“You’re back.” He mimics, and he’s back to looking at you again, trying to understand your actions, trying to comprehend why you were currently standing outside in the cold, cold night with him.

“The mission was successful then I suppose?” His smile seemed less indulgent now, and if you were to look up you would surely notice how his body swayed slightly, a testimony to the tipsy feeling resonating in his chest.

You don’t however, your eyes staying downcast as you nod; mumbling about how it was more boring that anything, you hear him laugh at your admission, you hate how empty it sounded.

“Is everyone at the agency ok?” You ponder, clinging to the tail ends of a conversation you were slowly losing.

“You didn’t visit them before you came to see me?” Dazai questions an undeniable tease in his voice, you feel yourself flush.

“I did, it’s how I-” Found out you were here.

The words die on your tongue, refusing to go into detail of how you actively asked for his whereabouts about five minutes into your return.

“Hm?” Dazai coaxes you, although you’re certain he knew what you were about to confess.

“Nothing.” You mumble, your hands clammy, “I uh did, but I only saw Kunikida and Yosano so..” You trail off.

“Ah” He muses.

And in the back of his mind, he wonders if you were simply here because you felt like it, that you had no alterier motives, internally frowning at himself for his suspicions despite knowing you were part of the ADA, critiquing himself silently for falling into old habits that should have died when he left the mafia.

He supposes that maybe you just wanted to see him.

The breeze falls over you both and he’s moving to leave, you look at him again, your head cocked, holding yourself back from questioning, restraining yourself from clinging onto his hand and begging to follow him, indulging yourself in the warmth of other human.

The bar door opens, and for a brief moment you hear the drunken giggles and exclamations of careless patrons, before the door swings shut again, muffling the voices. It grounds you.

Dazai takes a few steps and then turns to face you, his face unreadable, before he tilts his head gesturing for you to follow him, you think your heart soars.

“You coming?”

And you’re pushing yourself away from the wall, nodding.

He doesn’t wait for you to catch up, and you find yourself walking at a pace slightly behind him, your hand subconsciously tracing the box in your pocket.

You wonder if you should give him his gift now, or if you should wait.

When you can’t decided you stay silent, choosing to speed up to level the distance between you both.

You have no idea where you’re going, simply following a man who’s actions you couldn’t begin to understand. He makes no effort to inform you of the destination and so you make no effort to ask.

Dazai likes to think when he walks, constantly scheming, devising ways in which he could encourage Atshushi to grow, or better yet, another way to end his life, and fail, over and over again.

A bitter cycle that infringes upon his thoughts like a bullet.

Tonight however, his thoughts circle back to you, and your silence, and how your face seems to glow in the dim light of the night. And he blames the alcohol that’s coursing through his blood, the last of his drink finally hitting him as he walks, dizzying him and rendering him in a state of concealed vulnerability.

“So.” His voice comes out steady, despite his tendency to slur his sentences when under the influence.

You look at him, gently urging him to continue.

“You’re hiding something.” He states, and you curse him for his intellect and damn observation.

You grip your coat tighter, eyeing the bulge in your pocket, defeat already coaxing you to reveal your intentions.

“I suppose.” You whisper, concluding to yourself that there was really no reason to hide the present from him, after all it was just a gift shared between two work colleagues, there was no need to plaster it with a hidden agenda.

Reaching into your pocket you timidly lift it out, his gift was wrapped, just like everyone’s gift from the agency, a pretty ribbon tying it all together in a clumsy bow. You feel foolish.

“I brought you something from my mission.” You explain, your eyes trained on his face.

And Dazai pauses, his steps slowing to a stop as he stares at the box in your hand, and you scramble to explain yourself, eyes wide.

“I-I got everyone from the agency something!” You stammered, “I just��wanted to give it to you.”

He doesn’t move for a second, his eyes moving between your flustered face and the present.

A car drives past, it’s headlights cause you to blink.

“Do you plan on giving them their presents in such an intimate manner as well?” His voice was softer, as if he himself is unsure of your answer.

His question makes you freeze, feeling as if you were caught in your own actions.

You whisper a tiny “No” and Dazai just nods.

And you hate how you don’t understand.

His hand brushes yours as he picks up the box, his hands are cold, you try not to shiver under his calculating gaze.

“You don’t have to open it now.” You mumble, willing yourself to look him in his eye.

Truthfully you hope he doesn’t open it in front of you, unable to cope with the silent weight of the consequences to your actions.

Dazai finally breaks eye contact to look at the bow, his finger going up to play with the flimsy material.

You brought him something, you had thought of him. Dazai, was unable to fathom how you could be so pure and act so well intentioned to someone with his past.

Did you not believe him to cruel? A man desperately trying to patch over his history with the excuse that he had changed. Changed from the eighteen year old who’s presence struck fear in those unfortunate enough to know his name. Who’s presence alone caused the death of the only person who-

Bitterly, he reminds himself that you had thought of everyone at the ADA.

Without a word he pockets the gift, that same ugly smile rippling his features yet again.

“How kind of you to think of me!” He exclaims, his voice far too loud for the quietness of the gesture, clapping his hands together in an enthusiastic display of himself.

The distance between the pair of you stretched for miles and you shake your head.

“I think about you plenty.” Your voice is hushed, edging on exasperated, because (although you would rather die than describe your complicated feelings for Osamu Dazai out-loud) you don’t appreciate being pushed away.

The moon appears to hide behind the clouds, leaving the street lights to fend for themselves. Their glow emphasising your features as he looks at you.

And Dazai wants to kiss you.

It’s a desire that materialises amidst the acutely awkward silence that follows your admission, it breathes down his neck and forces him to lose any and all words that might escape his lips.

He smiles, a bandaged hand reaching up to cup your cheek, your eyes squint; confusion, admiration and need seeping out from their sockets and onto your face, and Dazai, for once, is grateful for his ability to read people, to read you.

He wants to kiss you, but he doesn’t.

You lean into his hand as his thumb gently draws circles across the area just below your eye, your lips part, a question you will never ask bubbling in your throat.

The pair of you look at each-other for another brief moment before Dazai removes his hand from you and turns, hiding his expression.

“You’re cold.” He states, starting to walk, “You should go home.”

And you watch him go, your feet refusing to move, body overcome with a melancholy you only ever seem to experience around Dazai.

The moon peaks out from behind the clouds again, as if to ask if you’re ok. Illuminating both you and your surroundings like a blanket.

And you feel exhausted.

masterlist <3 or part 2 here :)

feel free to leave a request !

A/N: this was supposed to be fluff idk what happened- i think i started thinking of chapter in 109 half way through, i’m sorry ANYWAY hi bsd fandom ily ily ily and thank you for reading !!!

#dazai x reader #bsd dazai #bsd season 5 #bsd manga #bsd #bungo stray dogs dazai #bungo stray dogs x reader #hurt/comfort #angst #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs manga #dazai osamu #dazai smut #dazai x reader comfort

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whats-she-gonna-post-next · 5 months ago

Note

If you have time feel free to write whatever you want, I like fluff, hurt/comfort and AUs but feel free to do with that what you want

Also when I recieve your gift, I'll write you one two if you want

I have given up on the concept of a drabble, I am terrible at them. This one got away from me like... big time... it was the worst attempt yet at drabble yet... just... please enjoy the 1.7k words I ended up writing. It's Flower Rancher (or well... Ranchers with a future Flower Ranchers agenda) and both an au and hurt/comfort... I might continue this in the future. We will see.

Tango and Jimmy were just having a quiet night in when there was a knock on the door. They trade a look, eyes furrowed. They were off duty for the night, nothing short of something world ending should have need for them, and they hadn’t ordered any takeout.

As two of the cities biggest superheroes - Tek and Solidarity, respectively - Tango and Jimmy very rarely got nights completely off. Usually they were on call to some extent, but it had been more or less quiet, and so the two had requested just a single night to not get called away. The city had other heroes who could take care of things.

With a sigh, Tango pulled himself off the couch, waving away Jimmy’s attempts to get up with him.

“I’ll grab it. With any hope, it’s nothing important.”

It was the work of less than 30 seconds to make his way across the house, half regretting the fact that they lived in hero appointed housing - they should have just gotten the cute farm house in the country he had seen in the paper the month before.

Peaking out the peephole revealed nothing, but the motion lights on the porch were turned on. Maybe some kids playing nicky nicky nine doors, or something similar. It’s not a common occurrence, but it happens on occasion.

He debates just leaving it at that, but something in his gut tells him that he should open the door.

In the end, he goes with his gut, pulling open the door to be met with a shock of cyan hair. He pulls back, like opening the door had burnt him - a funny metaphor since that would be near impossible - and pulling in a gasp of air.

"Smajor!"

Smajor was his and Jimmy's biggest rival, a menace with ice powers and one of the few people who could just completely counter his fire and Jimmy's water, and always following at the heels of his partner in crime Xornoth, as they tried to take over the city every other week.

But something was... Off.

He felt more than heard as Jimmy came up behind him in the narrow entry hall, looking over Tango's shoulder to see the villain on their porch.

Smajor, for his part, was hunch over, leaned against the door frame in a way that Tango wouldn't have seen through the peep hole, but it didn't seem malicious, in fact, it looked as if he had simply leaned on the nearest available surface. He wasn't in his villain costume, gone were the flowing white and blue robes and boots. He had on not a single piece of jewelry, the gold antler crown wasn't nestled among the cyan waves of his hair, long gone were the gloves that covered his hand. He was in a pair of black leggings and a deep blue shirt that seemed to be torn, his left arm was pulled tight to his chest, his right hand gripped tightly to the doorway, light blue painted nail chipped and scratched, and as his hand move, Tango could see there was a bloodstained left behind.

After a tense moment, Smajor lifted his head. There was no mask on his face, just a mess of bruising and cuts. Bright blue eyes seemed dull and lifeless, the left ringed in fresh dark bruises, on his right cheek was an older bruise, yellowing around the edges. He swallowed, tongue darting out to wet split lips, revealing blood stained teeth. Lower, Tango can see rings of overlapping bruises around his neck in various stages of healing.

When he speaks, his voice is shot.

"I'm sorry-I just-I didn't know where else to go."

And Tango-

This could be a set up, Smajor could have people waiting around to catch them unawares, to take then out, but Tango barely gives that a passing thought, moving to bring the injured villain into their house.

Jimmy seems to have the same idea, not even saying anything as they move further into the house, clearing some clutter off the dinning room table and heading towards the first aid box they keep in the bathroom. Tango has to support Smajor most of the way, energy seeming to be gone and limp in one leg leaves him mostly unhelpful, but he is almost concerning light. He sits him gently in one of the dining room chairs, immediately moving to get a bowl of warm water from the sink and some rags to go along with it, bringing it back to the table and moving seamlessly with Jimmy, who had returned with the first aid box, to clean up Smajor. They work in tandem, wrapping cuts, trying to minimize bruises, quietly soothing the villain when he flinches from their touch,

Finally, when he seems to be more bandage than cuts, they pull back. Jimmy moves to make tea, and Tango pulls out soup from the night before to hest up, both of them keeping an eye on the slightly shivering form at the table, who seems to be mostly out of it.

He seems to startle out of it when the tea and soup is placed before him.

"You," He clears a rough throat, "You don't have to do that."

"Nonsense." Jimmy counters before Tango gets the chance, voice gentle but firm in conviction, "Have some tea and est up. At the very least, your throat could use it."

Smajor opens his mouth, likely to argue, but seems to decide against it. He sips slowly at the tea and manages to eat about half the soup before pushing it away. Tango purses his lips at that a little, given that he hadn't given him a ton to begin with, but he doesn't say anything about it.

"You're probably wondering why I'm here," Scott begins, head hung low. refusing to make eye contact.

"You said you had nowhere else to go." Tango replied, "That paired with those injuries are more than enough for me to understand that whatever it is isn't good, and that's enough for me."

That seemed to get something of a smile out of him, his shaking, which had never stopped, seemed to pick up some more.

"You heroes. Always too nice for your own good."

Tango notices the tears that fall down his cheeks now, and he wants to reach across and take his hands, but he stops himself. One look at Jimmy proves, however, that it's a mutual feeling.

"Honestly, I just needed to get you information. Xornoth, they-" He cuts himself off with a shiver, choking back a sob, "Somethings gone wrong. They've gone off the deep end. Their plans aren't-"

He stops talking, shaking in his seat with his eyes closed tight. Tango doesn't know who moves first, but both he can Jimmy are out of their seats and comforting Smajor.

"We had rules," He forces out, "I only followed along because they're my sibling, and they asked. They swore to me we would follow my rule, but now they-"

Tango felt his heart drop. He'd always gotten the feeling that there was something else going on with Smajor, while he had dutifully followed Xornoth and helped with his plan, he always did seem more preoccupied with fighting Jimmy and Tango, keeping them off of Xornoth. He'd never known they were sibling, however.

"I told them no," the words were a mere whisper the two could only hear due to the new closeness they had, "I told them they were taking things too far and they-"

"I told them I'd have no part in their plans and they didn't like it."

Tango hadn't thought his stomach could sink any lower, but with his mind filling in the blanks, he realized he was wrong.

He tried to remember when the last time he'd seen Smajor.

A week or two at least.

Had this been happening the whole time?

The idea of it make Tango feel sick. Sure they were enemies - or had been, up until this evening - but for all the villainy and the trying to take over the city and such, he would never wish thos on him, even if he was completely evil.

"You don't have to worry anymore," Jimmy said, meeting Tango's eyes. No words had to pass for them to completely understand each other, "You've got us protecting you, and we will stop Xornoth's plans as well."

Smajors finally looked up, meeting first Jimmy's eyes, then Tango's. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he seemed to find it, finally relaxing into the seat with a whoosh of breath.

"Thank you," the words were sincere, more tears welling in his eyes, but Tango saw nothing but relief beneath it, "Thank you do much, I can- I'll tell you everything I know, I promise, I just-"

"Need rest," Tango cuts him off, guiding him out of his chair, and towards the guest bedroom, "You can tell us more when you don't seem like you're two seconds away from passing out."

"But I-"

"Tango's right," Jimmy jumps I'm, not letting Smajor get a word in edge wise, "Give yourself a moment to rest, you can tell us more when you wake up."

Smajor doesn't try to fight anymore, a likely testimate to how tired he is.

"I'll be right back, Tango," Jimmy says as Tango supports Smajor, peeling himself away for a couple of minutes and coming back with what looks like one of his own shirts and a pair of Tango's joggers - both of which will likely be large on the other man - meeting them as they get to the room.

"Here you are Smajor, so you can put on something fresh."

"I- Thank you guys, really, I don't- I don't know what I would have done without you two."

"Just happy to be able to help, Smajor," Tango replies, "We'll leave you alone. Get some rest, and if you need anything, just call."

The couple turns to leave, plans to talk and probably contact people in their near future, when Smajor's voice stops them.

"My name's Scott, by the way. It's a little better than Smajor."

They turn back, smiling at him.

"Alright then, rest up, Scott."

#flower ranchers #scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #tango tek #tangotek #trafficshipping #Ren's Writing

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orestes-is-dead · 6 months ago

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retconning stuff into existence should be allowed actually!!

now hes not a villain, matt mercer should be permitted (nay, encouraged!) to change his mind about why essek floats

hes such a complex character that i feel like by the time the mighty nein knew him well enough to ask why he floats he wouldnt really have fitted the disabled villain stereotype anyway

((honestly as a certified Essek Fan i dont even think he was particularly villainous at any point in cr2, even at the height of his fucked up shit, he was very very morally grey))

anyway i just think hes neat and matt should reconsider!! besides yk. i feel as though it would be a great place of solidarity for ashton to find out that this powerful, helpful person theyve been travelling with has similar struggles

like yeah dude he has level nine spells and a stable relationship and a group of friends that love him, and he also is a complex person!!! who has his own difficulties!!!

also!!! it wouldnt even be retconning in the canon sense!! essek revealed very little about his floating, just that it has been "expected of him" since he learned how to do it!! the gifted disabled child to closed-off overachieving adult pipeline is real and it is dangerous!!! if anything it speaks to the disabled experience even more, the pressure to appear normal, and if you cant do that, to appear profoundly Different in ways that distract from your disability!!

also!! dynamic disabilities do exist! as ashton has shown us! just because essek can stand (which he has only ever done very very briefly in canon (see: the party at which he was floating despite being in disguise)) doesnt mean it is comfortable for him or that he can do it for very long! he floats when it would be far more convenient not to!! that speaks to need more than want if u ask me idk

ive articulated this very very badly nobody come for me

give me more disabled4disabled friendships PLEASE

#essekposting #disabledposting #critical role #this is a long one many apologies #essek thelyss #the mighty nein #bells hells

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emerald-technologist · 3 months ago

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Why Am I Nonhuman?

1,747 words; estimated 11-14 minute read

A preface to this essay: This essay was written stream-of-consciousness as a method to sort out my thoughts on the subject, and then edited into a form more accessible to the public. If it feels a little odd or wandering in places, that’s why. I didn’t want to remove the portions that are my sorting-through of my thoughts; it felt important to the final conclusion that they be part and parcel with it.

Othercon 2024 was host to a panel run by two dear friends of mine, Goratrix of the Draconic Wizard Workshop (@goratrix-betrayed on Tumblr) and Chaiya of the Treehouse System (@treehouse-headspace on Tumblr). The panel in question discussed the idea of nonhuman personhood, how nonhumanity and inhumanity can give us insights upon personhood, and whether personhood is something we should, or indeed can, reject. It also, being run by two vampire fictives, one of whom identifies himself as human and the other of whom does not, touched on the nature of humanity as opposed to the nature of personhood - which got me thinking about my own feelings on humanity, and why exactly I reject the label of human.

Some vocabulary for those unfamiliar with the World of Darkness setting, so that I don’t have to stop and explain words mid-essay multiple times:

Chantry: the building where (typically) all the vampires of Clan Tremere living in a certain city reside and work

Childe, plural childer: a vampire created through the Embrace — the childe is the progeny of their sire.

Clan: the group of vampires one belongs to by blood, which determines which powers come naturally to them and, to at least some extent, their culture

Embrace: the process of turning someone into a vampire by draining them of blood and then feeding them some of the sire’s blood (capitalized when written)

Ghoul: a mortal who drinks vampire blood on a regular basis, granting them immortality (as long as they continue drinking vitae regularly) and a modicum of vampiric power

Sire: the person who turns one into a vampire (the person a vampire turns is their childe)

Tremere: the clan of vampires I belong to, a highly unified and organized clan of blood sorcerers who rely on intra-clan solidarity and adaptability as defense against our enemies (we have a… rocky history with many other clans; it’s a long story)

Vitae: vampire blood, sometimes also called ‘the Blood’ with a capital B

With that aside:

Some background on my history and the circumstances under which I became a vampire (or Kindred; I will use the terms interchangeably) is required to really explain where I’m coming from on this. Back in source, I was Embraced into what I recognize now was essentially a cult, run by my original sire (I have since been adopted by another), a man who I recognize now was extremely manipulative and abusive to all of us, but perhaps especially his childer and his ghouls. This cult, this chantry, contained Kindred, ghouls, and mortals who had not yet been judged worthy to be let in on the secret of the supernatural. Generally, how it works is that one is invited to the meetings of an “occult group” as a mortal, which is of course run by the ghouls and Kindred without revealing who they are, and typically observed for a period ranging from several months to a couple of years. If they pass certain tests and the general judgements of the Kindred in charge of the occult group, then they are invited to commit themselves more and more over time, until eventually they are invited to take blood from the Kindred, and be fed from in turn, for the first time (not necessarily in that order). This is a show of trust, of proving yourself; being made a ghoul is a privilege to earn - the ghouls are elevated above their peers by the gift of the Blood, brought closer to vampirism. Many ghouls remain ghouls forever, but almost all hope to one day earn the Embrace - most who are Embraced go a decade or two before being chosen, and spend it proving themself worthy of more and more trust, more and more power granted. Of course, the Kindred must constantly prove themselves as well, must constantly compete for rank both official and social - but to be Kindred is to be inherently above the ghouls and mortals, inherently more than them. To be Embraced is not just to be immortal and powerful, but to have your very mind opened to understand the world better, more deeply, than a mortal or ghoul ever could, even an elder ghoul.

Perhaps, dear reader, you begin to understand why I now have to sit and question why, exactly, I have rejected humanity, and whether I am right to have done so and continue to do so. I’ve unpacked all this enough to realize that if my reason is because it feels degrading to be called human, because it feels lesser, then… that is probably not a good reason.

And yet, even as I reconcile with the fact that I am not, in fact, superior to the mortals and ghouls around me for being Kindred, calling myself human still feels wrong. I worked hard to earn the right to drop that name; to pick it up again feels like discounting that effort and that victory. Moreover, I just… don’t connect with it anymore. Vampire affects who I am, how I think, and how I act more than human ever did. Vampirism is important to me; humanity was always merely circumstantial.

But what does that even mean? What is humanity, really? It’s not merely the circumstance of being physically human, alive and breathing; after all, many vampires still consider themselves human. What makes one vampire human, and another not? What makes me no longer human?

In many cases, at least in my world, it comes down to morality - Kindred have codes of morality called Paths of Enlightenment, or sometimes Roads of Enlightenment, and those who have adopted one instead of continuing to follow the tenets of the Road of Humanity, which is essentially what most humans can be assumed to be “following” (avoid doing harm, avoid violating other people, generally hold compassion and kindness for others, etc.), are often considered the “inhuman” vampires. But I’ve never been drawn to another Road. Indeed, I still walk the Road of Humanity; I’ve never seen a reason to leave it. Community serves me well, and compassion, connection, and consideration for others all serve community. Community and compassion are not unique to humanity - just ask the werewolves of home, or for that matter the alterhuman community here - and especially as part of Clan Tremere, where community and solidarity are highly prized, I don’t feel that they have to make me human. I can walk the Road of Humanity without being human, just as one can walk the Road of Kings without being a king.

Perhaps it’s the fact that ‘human’ and ‘vampire’ are often treated as inherently contradictory labels - that many vampires who insist on calling themselves ‘human’ do so as a rejection of what they have become. And, indeed, they do feel as though they fit into the same ‘slot’ for me, and trying to wear both at once feels wrong in a way that’s hard to articulate. But I know that that’s not inherently true either. I know people who are both human and vampire - Chaiya, as mentioned above, is one of them. Being human doesn’t have to mean rejecting what you have become, or pretending to not be what you are.

Perhaps it’s simply that while vampirism isn’t superior to humanity in general, it has been infinitely better for me personally. The Embrace is one of the best things to ever happen to me; before it, I was next to nothing, with little real hope of making something of myself. Vampirism gave me power, immortality, the chance to be part of something greater than myself, the chance to make my mark on the world. I could never have been what I am now if I had remained mortal. Perhaps it’s also that I’ve been considering myself no longer human for so long that picking up the label again feels wrong. I pulled it off, grew without it, and now it no longer fits when I try to put it back on. Perhaps it’s the very discarding of the word human that made me become something that can no longer be called human accurately, even though from outside inspection I might be mistaken for one. Perhaps. Perhaps that doesn’t mean anything at all; there’s nothing material to that.

But my friends have pointed out, as we’ve been discussing this, that perhaps the mere fact of the choice, and of being happier for it, is enough. That even if there’s no hard line between the two, that doesn’t mean which one (or ones) one chooses to use isn’t personally meaningful. After all, to borrow the analogy one gave me, is there a hard, definitive difference between a man and a woman? If there isn’t, should someone who is happier being a woman feel that she can’t call herself that because she was born a man and there’s no definitive difference? I’ve lived around enough trans people to say no, of course not. That would be ridiculous.

Ultimately, I think that is what it comes down to. Humanity as a social and philosophical concept is such a broad, nebulous thing that it’s virtually impossible to define with hard edges, as philosophy is wont to do. But… vampirism is something I chose, something I wanted, something I worked for. Humanity was only ever a matter of circumstance. Vampirism has helped me, made me a better person, made my life a better life. My life as a human was never what I wanted; maybe it could have been eventually, maybe not, but I don’t think I ever could have been as happy or fulfilled as a human as I am now. Humanity was ultimately simply not right for me, and while once it fit correctly at least as a matter of circumstance, it no longer fits even in that capacity. The Kindred aren’t above humanity, I know that now, but we don’t need to be to be other than. Vampirism is not inherently better, but it is better for me. I chose to be a vampire, and I chose to discard humanity.

Perhaps, in the end, that’s enough.

#alterhuman #nonhuman #fictive #vampire fictive #plurality #endo safe #journaling #community writings

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captainzigo · 10 months ago

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since I have been making my little pony comics for the past few months, I have basically forgotten what every single one of my duckverse comic prompts means. I had a big list full of one sentence prompts for duckverse comics that I was going to make, and I was reading through it yesterday, because I thought about making one. I was surprised to find out that I have no idea what any of them mean. instead of just deleting the list, I have decided to share with you. For what good it will do you. Think of this as a little shout out to the people who followed me for duckverse content. i havent forgotten about you. it’s also a little peek in my twisted mind. my horrible creation process. a behind the scenes look from hell. the list of prompts is below the break

max college fund

launchpad rescue hero

costco 22¢ per bite

house of mouse

door to darkness

because i’m hispanic?

donald cousins catch and release

fish wife

the greatest skateboard trick in the seven seas

backyardagins movie

evil versions boy band

gladstone gay moms

the poor part of town

private army of freaks vs my boys

you own the town. you are politics - what do you think taxes are for - not gladstone bail - id be doing everyone a favor

kids table is great actually

donald cry gold swim

beautiful gold moon

villains table

these lovebirds

gladstone can’t read

gladstone hyper specific thrift store shirt

louie seeing anyone right now?

managed my uncle’s finances

june dolls episode

may louie webs spy episode

house of mouse christmas hdl want to come

propeller cap start to turn. big wind. its a helicopter landing. thanks babe

double gay batteries

daisy likes donald snoring

if you can understand anything he says then yeah!

sora. quack pack. bald monkey

i respect your pronouns. i dont not respect YOU scrooge

why are you friends with my rival’s girlfriend

we’re sisters now too???

The dancing hacker - do you know how hard it is to lucid dream

are you guys playing dancing hacker?

how did you do that? Those dice were rigged i mean.

you guys were supposed to prepare a musical number every session

Lady in pink but with a knife

girl boss? No girl lady. But not a girl.

sephirof at the door. never seen Donald that serious in my life.

I have a superhero alter ego - like super Grover?

louie x robin the frog

daffy: i’m getting you a job in Hollywood, kid! You gonna make big times. Why? uh… i’m friends with your mom.

Duckburg community college is the only community college that does dance scholarship

duckberg community ducks, and the Duckburg University geese

in helicopter: you ever going to get tired of having our dates like this? no never.

donald take responsibility for our son! panchito what

babe your costume is terrible. why are you still in a sailor hat

tasha austin gay lesbian solidarity

hey webby! *glittery hands*

webby diary

shake for trust? glitter on hand. body slam

why did t you tell me your girlfriend is a pilot? tasha said i shouldn’t tell you because of what happened to you pilot ex. he’s still alive!

pablo: sleeper agents be like time for my next mission

CHRISTMAS GIFTS

WHATS UP T-BOYS?

donald’s boyfriends what does gladstone have against gay people

donald you should wingman for me. i thought you were gay

dugan duck is your secret kid isn’t he

huey ponytail

donald has three boyfriends why can’t i have two

woops i mexed up their super powers - let’s go, t boys! i didn’t make them trans! they were like that before, right?

your brother donald has like five partners. yeah and i’m not my brother donald. you’re right. i should date your brother donald

dewey damn girl your ass phat what are your pronouns. katy nun/ya

tying normie trans girl to a chair turbo pablo

don’t worry. the promise ring is just a tracking device

punch buggy gets steadily more and more violent

dewey’s many licenses

duck twins cobwebs

beaks: help! #911

katy can not entertain in her tiny trailer

uno gaydar donald i finally give you a job and you’re being gay on the clock??

when mom comes in and you have to hide your DS under your pillow

HDL Tulin

HDL chart

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #donald duck #dt17 #duckverse

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deepdeanvsweston · 5 months ago

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Trans Alex headcannons <3

- actually Daisy who gifts her her first dress, a silky blue number she wore for an exeat weekend one time thrown onto Alex's bed with a note that reads 'i didn't want it anyway'

- (Daisy is less than pleased when Alex comes in and gives her a huge hug)

- Alex learns to plait her hair from George, who of course just already knows how to do it

- following this, she orders in fancy hairstyle instructions from women's magazines, which Daisy and George pore over trying to work out how they do them

- she is of course also autistic, and stims by swishing her skirts round her legs

- Alex really likes the way heels look on her, only they hurt her when she wears them and this makes her cry because she WANTS to wear them > Hazel stops wearing heels in solidarity

- George is a little bit more excited than he'd be willing to admit at the opportunities that half the Junior Pinkertons being a girl now presents

- she used to dislike dancing as she felt she was too lanky and awkward, but LOVES it now as she's the one being led around the dancefloor and can twirl her legs and skirts as much as she pleases

- Alex and George are embarrassed that they had to ask Hazel how to put on a bra >

"No, Alex, I think women clip it up at the back..."

"How? Surely there's an easier way..."

- she eventually comes out to Harold (he is like a brother to her at this point) and Alex can't tell if he's truly ok with it or not until he asks her to dance at some party, him leading > she glows with joy all evening

- hates mirrors but loves what she looks like in shop window reflections as if she moves quick enough she looks just like a Woman On Business

- hates tights and thinks they should die a fiery death

- now she's come out, Alex feels like she's 'allowed' to do and have all the things that were period-typically reserved for girls, so she starts to decorate her room differently, with embroidered flowers on her sheets and at least 2 music boxes

- (Alex likes that the teeny ballerina inside one of them looks like her)

- pyjamas make her really dysphoric, even if she's wearing her new Girl™ pyjamas, so she wears George's instead > partially because of comfort, but also because it relieves her dysphoric feelings as in her head it explains them away by it being someone else's clothes and not her thinking she just looks bad in her own

- you may have noticed she keeps her own name > just genuinely likes it, and also she couldn't get used to a different name

- Daisy starts calling her a shrimp because it's her 'first year' at being a girl

- just really loves skirts trust me when I say this

- Alex both despises and adores the beach > despises it because you wear a swimming costume and adores it because you wear a swimming costume

- (has a complicated relationship with swimming costumes as it's like the one thing she was most jealous she couldn't wear as a boy but also they give her major dysphoria)

- all Alex's toys as a child were girls, and made her brother pretend they were Nancy Drew and her friends on a case when they were younger > she of course played as Nancy Drew

- her favourite lipstick colour is pink, and she purposely tries to leave a lipstick mark on all her drinks glasses and mugs simply because it makes her happy to see

- idk I just love her so much

#murder most unladylike #mmu #daisy wells #hazel wong #george mukherjee #alexander arcady #trans alexander arcady

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sunthyme · 11 months ago

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Let's go!! Part five, baby! I'm literally having so much fun with these omg. Y'all are so sweet every time, istg I'll cry. If y'all draw my ocs, I WILL cry ong. Also, be warned, this post will have a LOT of characters lol. Welcome to...

🪻Pomefiore🪻

This dorm is so unfairly pretty, wth... Also, despite having 4 freshmen, there is only one second year 😭😭😭. Enjoy!~

First up, our queen in all her glory,

💅Vil Schoenheit💅

(she/he/they) Genderfluid (leaning towards fem mostly) - Panromantic Demisexual

Not me simping for my own design with this one oml.

- I've seen quite a few people headcanon Vil as Desi and I agree. I also view her as technically genderfluid but she normally presents very fem and is on occasion like, "Hm, masculine pronouns today."

- I was going to keep the blonde and make her have some root colour showing but it wasn't looking right. To be honest, she's slaying with the darker hair though.

- Made his eyes a deeper, purple-y blue and their earrings were a gift from Rook as they match her eyes almost perfectly.

- Totally a mother hen, keep in mind I literally have hardly seen her yet but I /think/ that's canon lol?

- Fashion nerd and could list the eras of different fashion trends and famous designers off the top of their head.

- Not a fan of physical activity, just does it to be in fit shape. She actually really likes to read nonfiction and love art history as well.

- Met Rook as first years and they bonded immediately. Probably the first person that Vil really clicked with.

Speaking of...

🏹Rook Hunt🏹

(he/they/she/etc. Doesn't really care lol) Unlabelled Gender - Pansexual

Quick comment: Why does he look so fcuking weird w/out his hat in-game??? I have his ceremonial robes card and if he didn't already scare me, he definitely does now. I think my version looks a little less weird. Anyways, side tangent over.

- I kept his fuck-ass bob, it's simply too iconic, though I gave it a bit more volume and shape. You can decide if he's a natural blonde or not lol.

- I headcanon him to be Chinese and French, and he grew up bilingual. Has a hell of and accent and when he gets upset, they just swap to either Chinese or French, it's a fifty-fifty depending on the day.

- They're not super visible but the bow and arrow earrings were a gift from Vil to celebrate Rook winning an archery competition. I think it was pretty early in their friendship but that's when Rook registered her feelings for Vil.

- For as open as Rook is about finding others attractive, it gets nervous to directly compliment Vil to her face. This is more obvious with saying "I love you," which he doesn't mind tossing out to most people, it's just really personal toward Vil so they avoid saying it lol.

- Most of the compliments that Rook gives Vil are things Vil is already aware of so Rook doesn't chance bringing up all the things they love about Vil. (Can you tell I love them?)

Enough about RookVil. Time for my boy!!

🍎Epel Felmier🍎

(he/him) Transmasc - Gay

*Breaks out the southern accent* Y'all thought the others thus far have been long, hoo boy... Y'all are in for a real treat.

- Firstly, my boy is transmasc. I feel like that's pretty widely accepted 'round these parts but I figured I should shout it out anyways.

- I made him mixed, Scandinavian? and Japanese and gave him some brown eyes to boot. Kept his face real dainty but gave him broader shoulders and a farmer's tan 'cause y'all know he's working at his parent's farm every summer.

- He's styled in like, the southern goth aesthetic and I added some green to his hair 'cause the 'poison' part of 'poisoned apple' wasn't coming across enough. By the way, his grandma dyes her hair in solidarity with him. She's cool. Be like Epel's grandma.

- When he first arrived at NRC, he only had his lobes pierced, then he saw Jade's piercings and was like "I want that,". Jade directed him to Cater, who gave him all his other piercings (not at the same time lmao). Everytime he got a new one, Vil would have a minor heart attack lol.

- I think he'd also actually really like cute things, one of the reasons he lets Vil doll him up for so long, but hates bringing it up 'cause people call him 'girly' or 'feminine' for it. This is another underlying factor for my Jack/Epel dynamic but I'll save that for later.

- Speaking of Savanaclaw, I think he has plans to transfer at the beginning of sophomore year. Also, because he hangs around Jack so much, they kinda consider him a part of the pack. In particular, Epel also really looks up to Leona and approached him in Spelldrive Club about transferring. Leona agreed and took notice of Epel's admiration and if he puts a little more effort into practise afterwards, that's no one's business. (I think he's be like, "Goddammit, these kids keep looking up to me... I should at least give them something worth looking up to." Only the MC would know, and probably Ruggie would notice just having know Leona.) Also, Epel saw Leona's chaps and immediately wanted a pair. Leona took him out to get some and when they got back, Vil was horrified lmao.

I love Epel/Savanaclaw dynamic sm omg but onto my ocs... (Also, I really hope y'all read that with a southern accent, I think it's hilarious lol)

💋Calendula Dame💋

Third Year - (she/her) - Sapphic Aromantic

- She's twisted from Mother Gothel, who, can I just say, SLAYED in her movie ong. Though Disney really needs work on their representation, specifically the fact that her character is very Jewish-coded (I don't think she's canonically Jewish but please correct me if I'm wrong) but is portrayed in an anti-Semitic way, feeding into negative stereotypes. I'm not the most knowledgeable person to speak on this issue and I know it's been throughly discussed by others so please feel free to research it. I did have a friend who is Jewish help me make her character and I hope I did her justice!

- I made her Jewish, specifically Ashkenazi and conservative. I'm not quite sure yet how this would translate into Twisted Wonderland but we'll see.

- She's all about makeup products and she and Vil compare skincare routines in a sort of friendly competition.

- Another fun nod is she loves gardening. Namely flowers but occasionally crops and herbs. She's got her own little plot in the greenhouse and she and Epel discuss gardening tips together.

- She's also a nail artist and quite skilled at that. She has a small 'business' and is especially booked around school events.

Now for one some of y'all have wanted to see for a bit...

🦚Tupac Huamani🦚

Second Year - (he/him) Transmasc - Pan-Demiromantic

The one man I've made this whole time lmaooo.

- Tupac is my Yzma twist! His name is Incan, ironically meaning 'royal', as I figured out The Emperor's New Groove is inspired by Incan culture!

- He's the most flamboyant twink to ever walk the earth and I love him for that. That being said, he and Rocío are my token 'heteros'. They've been friends since first year and get along extremely well. He's got book smarts but literally no common sense. She has no common sense either and so they j st get into silly shenanigans together. I love them sm my little sillies.

- He's more into dramatic makeup and loves to do Rocío's because she's not into makeup and doesn't really know how to do it lol. He's also made her get a nice skincare routine which she follows diligently as she likes routines.

- Probably a part of the Boardgame Club, though I'm not sure how well he does. He probably just enjoys hanging out with the people and the banter rather than the games themselves, though I think he'd be very good at chess and other strategy games.

Up next is...

🐈‍⬛Chaisee Noi🐈‍⬛

First Year - (he/she/it) Genderfluid - Asexual Aromantic

- The first of a set of twins twisted from the Siamese twins in Lady and the Tramp (I think that's what they're in, it's been a hot sec lol). I made them mixed, Black and Thai as Siamese cats originate from Thailand.

- Onto Chaisee specifically, I think he's the 'black cat' personality out of the two of them. She's on the more reserved side and is more blunt and to the point than his sibling is. Also autistic and has particular issues with loud noise and food textures. Not a fan of physical contact and hates being touched without permission.

- He like to fluxuate between masc and fem styles a lot (with the fem pictured here) and enjoys suits for formal wear.

- While it's into fashion, he likes to be more of a rough sketch and designer than actually doing the sewing. Her designs are quite avant-garde and lean into lots of floral patterns.

- She and Nasira work together to come up with different floral arrangements, both for Chaisee's designs and for Nasira's dorm.

For the other twin...

🐈Churai Noi🐈

First Year - (they/them) Nonbinary - Pansexual

- Churai is the 'tabby' cat energy one. They're very affectionate and full of energy. They love to help out others and are constantly doing things with other people.

- A hands-on person, Churai loves sewing and is a part of the sewing club. They tend to be the primary person to work on their sibling's designs because of the level of detail needed.

- ADHD and has to be doing something at all times. Because of this, they have a TON of hobbies, ranging from scrap-booking to fishing to reading about random topics. Gets along incredibly well with Kalim and they love hanging out with him. Also a very touchy person, loves hugs and cuddles!

- Their style is more on the feminine side and they love making cute dresses to wear. Definitely takes a lot of inspiration from the gyaru and harujuku fashion scenes.

⚡Corentin Benoit⚡

First Year - (she/her) - Asexual Aromantic

Last of my Pomefiore characters and second of the triplets, Corentin Benoit!

- The technical oldest of the triplets and she holds that over their heads. She's was both happy and not to be in a different dorm than her younger siblings.

- Looks up to Hestia a lot and wants to be like her when she grows up (as if Hestia know what she's doing but yk).

- She's particularly interested in the poison aspect of Pomefiore and is keen to eventually become housewarden. As such, she's asked for Vil's help to learn as much as she can about making them.

I don't have a lot for her yet but god, this has taken so fcuking long to write omg. I hope y'all liked it! Ignihyde is next!~

#fanart #god save me i’m in twsted hell #twisted wonderland #digital art #art #twsted oc #twisted oc #pomefiore #vil schoenheit #vil twisted wonderland #rook hunt #rook twisted wonderland #epel felmier #twisted wonderland epel #sunthyme

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ettawritesnstudies · 6 months ago

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Since I couldn't accept all the applications for interviews, I wanted to shout out a couple of the titles that didn't make the cut! These don't quite fit my target audience but that being said, I think the indie community should have solidarity regardless of age category and genre, so I still want to help y'all with promotion however I can!

If you want to support some cool authors, you can check out their books here, and if you want to support me, you can watch through my playlist backlog of interviews. My channel isn't monetized yet but the watch hours certainly wouldn't hurt lol

If you want to see the lineup for the rest of the year, you can sign up for my newsletter! I'll be sharing the list at the end of the month!

Oak King Holly King by Sebastian Nothwell @nothwell

queer romantasy; historical fantasy; adult

Shrike, the Butcher of Blackthorn, is a legendary warrior of the fae realms. When he wins a tournament in the Court of the Silver Wheel, its queen names him her Oak King - a figurehead destined to die in a ritual duel to invoke the change of seasons. Shrike is determined to survive. Even if it means he must put his heart as well as his life into a mere mortal’s hands. Wren Lofthouse, a London clerk, has long ago resigned himself to a life of tedium and given up his fanciful dreams. When a medieval-looking brute arrives at his office to murmur of destiny, he’s inclined to think his old enemies are playing an elaborate prank. Still, he can’t help feeling intrigued by the bizarre-yet-handsome stranger and his fantastical ramblings, whose presence stirs up emotions Wren has tried to lock away in the withered husk of his heart. As Shrike whisks Wren away to a world of Wild Hunts and arcane rites, Wren is freed from the repression of Victorian society. But both the fae and mortal realms prove treacherous to their growing bond. Wren and Shrike must fight side-by-side to see who will claim victory - Oak King or Holly King.

Spirits and Sunflowers by A.D. Armistead @adarmisteadwrites

MM adult contemporary fantasy romance

Devastated by the recent death of his husband, Adrian has been relying upon his necromantic gifts to try and bridge the gap between the living and the dead, feeling more and more like a ghost himself with each failure. After a young girl named Tula with an uncanny ability approaches Adrian on a visit to the cemetery, he begins to hope that the husband he lost may still be within reach. Over time, he falls into an easy friendship with Tula’s father, Lucas Halpern. As Adrian is drawn into the orbit of the handsome, mysterious single father, Adrian begins to emerge from his grief, wondering whether it’s possible to find love again. Together, in a contemporary world laced with magic, Adrian embarks on a journey in recovering from loss, building trust, and finding love and family where they are least expected. Spirits & Sunflowers is the first book in the Maligned Magic series, a group of cozy queer romances set in an alternate version of our world. There, magic is tightly regulated by a distant and inflexible organization. All stories can be read as standalone novels, but benefit from reading the previous books in the series in order.

Hills of Heather and Bone by K.E. Andrews (@/k.e.andrews on IG)

Fantasy, adventure, cozy dark fantasy

Hills of Heather and Bone The bones of the dead hold stories.

On the fringes of Errigal, Morana longs to exchange a life of hiding for a peaceful one with her husband, Percy. While Percy's bloodgift lets him grow plants and heal broken bodies, Morana's a boneweaver, despised and feared because she can hear bones and raise the dead. Morana doesn't want to be seen as a villain from the old stories and instead spends her time gardening, writing the stories of the dead, and fending off a spiteful chicken.

Morana and Percy's lives are shattered when a group of Failinis tasked with capturing boneweavers and rogue bloodgifted find them. On the run and battling the elements, ancient creatures, and the loss of all they called home, Morana and Percy search for any sanctuary left in Errigal. Morana must choose between the call in her blood or the family she holds so close to her heart if she and Percy are to survive.

Please be aware that this book contains some scenes of violence, death, depression, mentions of miscarriage, birthing scenes, suicidal thoughts, suicide, and cannibalism

Keep Me Breathing by U.R. Holm

Soft Sci-Fi/Subterrainean/Adult

Keep Me Breathing

Fubuki has no reason to leave the comfort of her home. No desire to see the cave system outside.

Sakura has no desire to stay put. Even as a single mom, she brings her son with her on her travels. But when her son goes missing, Fubuki joins her across the cave system to find him.

The pair is joined by Alexandr, the alternative drummer, and Casey, the fraud who insists he wants to help.

In the search for the boy they all have to face their own personal struggles and insecurities. And while they travel to find the boy, the boy is fighting his own battles against his captors and in a world between adults and children.

While Keep Me Breathing is a novel with fantastical elements, it's even more a novel about friendship, love and familiar bonds.

#etta rambles #writeblr #other people's writing #writeblr community #love you romantasy gang #you're so creative and cool and I love what you've done for the indie publishing space as a whole #but as an aroace middle grade writer #I simply cannot keep up 😅#You are like the cool kids clique in the high school cafeteria and I'm busy catching flies in the bathroom to feed my praying mantids #true story

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ducks-and-stuff · 1 year ago

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Wings

Trigger warning for blood

Grian no last name provided opens the door to the sheriff’s bedroom at 8:25pm with a slack jaw and something unreadable darting around his eyes.

He’s not supposed to be there- obviously, because no one invited him and there’s no big teasing Jimmy get together but the Hermits are visiting and he opens the door and-

Jimmy Solidarity is stood in the middle of the room, mid-anxious pace, with two ugly feathered things that should definitely not be there according to the established lore protruding from his back.

Grian’s hand is still wrapped around the brass doorknob.

The window is still open.

Grian does not have mixed feelings about the snow.

“Jimmy you’ve-“

He begins because someone has to and, finally- finally looks up to meet his eyes

“Got wings”

“No”

Jimmy says on instinct, and because that is most obviously a lie even for his standards,

“Maybe”

Grian inches forward rather than responding. Softly padding across the floor while gently flapping his own multicolored apendeges in intrigue and Jimmy backs away.

It’s understandable, he reasons, because Grian is being weird and nice and a multitude of other out of place things that they should chuck in the garbage along with the bandages. It’s understandable, except Grian pauses and trills softly, something Jimmy recognizes it as something along the lines of ‘you are totally cool and alright and safe with me my dude’ and Jimmy doesn’t say anything back because he isn’t and doesn’t speak bird.

He doesn’t back away this time either, when he gets closer, when he runs his fingers along the not-feathers completely transfixed and mumbles,

“They’re beautiful”

Which is only a little weird because Grian is usually known for his good taste when it comes to things like builds and details and color pallets. “oh Jimmy these are beautiful!”

and Jimmy doesn’t say much, because he doesn’t know which exactly of the million of things he should say in response to that:

‘They might be evil’

Is to confusing

‘stop touching them’

Is not the type of thing best friends say to each other.

‘they aren’t wings idiot- I know that they have feathers and all but- don’t look at me like that I don’t- I don’t know what they are, and it scares me, and I think they might’ve been a gift or a curse or something in-between but you weren’t around to ask and sometimes when you look at me like that it scares me’

Is maybe a little bit too honest, so Jimmy doesn’t say anything, and Grian asks about a washcloth.

I- what?”

He responds, Grian slowly pushes him down onto the mattress in the middle of his room. The mattress is connected to a bed by the way and everything it’s just-

“a towel”

Grian repeats, studying him carefully, like he’s the one doing something wrong here instead of the guy who goes around breaking into other’s houses.

“you- the blood Timmy, and the pain you- you just grew wings.”

“What?”

The only sane person in a hundred meter radius repeats, and before he has the chance to explain that, ‘oh no don’t worry the blood he’s currently drenched in isn’t actually his’ Grian takes the time to incorrectly figure what has happened is that his best friend has gone into some sort of wing related shock.

“Hey Tim, Tim look at me, it’s going to be alright, okay? I know this might be a lot right now but trust me, we’re gonna get you all taken care of, want me to call Joel or someone for you?”

Except Joel would laugh because he doesn’t know Martyn’s stupid canary joke had been rooted in some sort of truth this entire time. So, ‘no’ would be the answer there, probably, because Jimmy is the guy who smiles and can take a joke and deals with his very concerning problems all alone.

“I’m going to call Joel”

Grian decides after he is given no answer which is a fair thing to do, even if it really doesn’t feel like it.

“I’m going to call Joel, and then we’re going to get you a towel okay? Just- sit tight, alright, I don’t- you- you just grew wings Jimmy!”

and it’s all a bit frantic when he first says it, except then he pauses, and smiles, and repeats:

“you grew wings!”

Like this is something they’re all excited about. Like Jimmy hadn’t been twenty and almost gone and completely and entirely alone when it happened, and the window isn’t open, and Joel isn’t coming over to laugh at him.

Grian never notices the binding in the garbage. Jimmy doesn’t point it out.

Nobody is supposed to have mixed feelings about the snow.

Hiii, so this is like, an au of an au I guess? Like everything I’ve written so far on this site is snippets of the whole Jimmy and the Importance of Saying Goodbye story (I don’t know how to put things into like a section based on hashtags) and the backstory Jimmy slides to is definitely part of what happened but I don’t suppose this version of the present would be possible in that universe. I don’t know, Tumblr is a weird place. Also Joel would not laugh actually he would totally immediately panic and try to help.

#jimmy solidarity #grian #empires smp #wing fic #evo smp #fandom #mcyt #mcytblr #creative writing #Jimmy and the Importance of Saying Goodbye

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grace-williams-xo · 7 months ago

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hey hey hey I saw your post!!! any good fic recs for white collar? :) anything is appreciated, I'm not picky!!!

thank you!!

Sure thing, White Collar fic recs coming right up! I have more in the folder if you want more/different, but here’s a mixed selection. I also have more similar fics but the list is already quite long enough, and some of these have sequels.

Always A Surprise: Neal/Sara, 1.7k, explicit, dom/sub, femdom. Neal is good little sub for Sara, but also wants Peter to fuck him—she knows and encourages his fantasies.

It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year: Peter & Neal, Peter/Elizabeth, Elizabeth & Mozzie, 3.8k, general, post-canon, reunions. Neal gets back from Paris and meets baby Neal at Christmas, also feat Diana and Theo.

Perspective: Peter/Neal/El, can be read as friendship, 5.2k, mature, kidnapping, hurt/comfort. Neal gets kidnapped and develops ptsd related to restraints ie his anklet, but Peter and El are doing everything they can to make him feel safe again.

Once Upon Another Time: Neal/Sara, Neal & Mozzie, 25k, mature, mpreg (not mpreg from Sara). Neal is a government breeder with no choice in the matter, and Sara is looking for her art thief at the same as the FBI—Sara finds Neal before Peter does.

The Last Con: Neal/Sara, 33k, teen and up, post-canon. Neal gets to live his life after canon, moving to London to be with Sara and work as an insurance investigator, but then he doesn’t anymore.

L’art pour l’art: Neal/Gordon Taylor, 834 words, general, fluff. The soulmates being fluffy in Paris.

Blown Up: Neal/David Siegel, 5k, explicit, character death, grief, suicidal thoughts. Very angsty sad fic with briefly happy Neal because Neal never gets to be happy.

The Island: Neal/David, 5k, explicit, character death, emotional hurt/comfort. Neal gets to fall in love, but it’s in secret, and he can’t be okay when he has to pretend it never happened.

Built on sand: Neal & Diana, 4.3k, teen and up, undercover as a couple, MLM WLW solidarity. Neal saves Diana from having to flirt with a guy on a mission, and Diana doesn’t realise how okay with it Neal is.

The Way You Make Me Feel: Neal/OMC, 6.3k, teen and up, bisexual Neal. Neal was in a nude painting for an ex boyfriend, then said painting ends up in FBI’s white collar division.

This Isn’t Where I’d Choose to Be (But Maybe it’s Where I Should Be): Neal/Peter, Neal/Matthew Keller, 666 words, general, AU canon divergence, not canon compliant. Peter, Neal and Keller get stuck in an elevator, prompting discussion and reenactment of the last time Neal and Keller were stuck in an elevator.

Our Secret to Keep: Neal/Peter, 2.6k, mature, semi-public sex, exhibitionism. Neal is underneath Peter’s desk with a gift, the gift is himself.

Audio Drama: Neal/OMC, Neal/Peter, Peter/Elizabeth (mentioned), 2k, mature, exhibitionism, professional ethics re consent. Diana, Peter and Jones have to sit in the van listening to Neal get a blowjob and then Peter confronts him about it and it ends about as you’d expect.

Fox Among Hounds: Neal/Peter, 11k, teen and up, pre-relationship, escorts, protective Peter. Neal pretends to be an escort for an undercover mission, and when it starts to go pear shaped I guess Peter was the only possible person to get him out of it.

A Gentleman’s Guide to Suits, Ties and (White) Collars: Neal/Peter, Mike Ross/Harvey Spector, Donna Paulson/Clinton Jones, 29k, teen and up, matchmaking, first kiss. Mike is on a mission to make Peter and Neal realise that they love each other via the most crazy crossover dinner party.

The New Boss: gen, crossover with Chuck, 14k, general, Neal Caffrey and Bryce Larkin are the same person. Hughes still gets pushed out as ASAC but maybe the CIA replacement isn’t who they were expecting.

Never Recognised A Purer Face: Blaine Anderson/Sebastian Smythe, Cooper Anderson & Blaine Anderson, 3.3k, teen and up, Cooper Anderson and Neal Caffrey are the same person, Seblaine high school sweethearts. Cooper Anderson faked his death, but now he has to protect his little brother from said brother’s criminal boyfriend.

#fanfic rec #white collar fanfic #white collar #neal caffrey #fanfics #fanfiction #crossover fanfiction #suits fanfic #chuck fanfic #glee fanfiction

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teehee-vibes · 1 year ago

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In the Pokémon XY(Z) anime, I think that Tierno should have been the Pokémon performer out of the Kalos friends. I think he should have been Serena’s rival, instead of or with Shauna.

On one hand, Shauna’s great and fine, ya know? She was alright! But just Fine. I would like her more if she was there more.

On the other hand, Tierno’s personality is dancer. He is literally a DANCERRRRR. His Pokémon are DANCERS. It was his entire thing in the games (the source material) and even in the anime because of his battling style. And I get it, girl power and stuff. I loved the female solidarity in the master class, ya know? Girls supporting girls, even when competing, which is why I sorta would still like Shauna there (or give the other girls attention, god bless /lh). But as far fetched and/or impossible as it is for the anipoke writers (/lh again), I would have adored seeing a boy in that setting. A boy unabashedly passionate about performing in a sphere that’s female dominated and being just as supportive and positive. Being totally unashamed. I think that would be so cool.

It would have made his crush make more sense too, honestly, or just add some more charm to it. It wasn’t hindering the show because it didn’t come up often, just hindered his character because it came up when he was there. But imagine it developed as she grew into being a confident performer. Don’t even make the crush reciprocated, it still could have been cuter this way.

AND WHILE IM AT IT, because I just thought of this while writing, if I were in charge of the writing with my current mindset and understanding: Change up the counterparts for the trios.

Make Tierno and Serena each others’ counterparts, and change the others along with it.

I think it’s safe to say Trevor and Clemont were kinda~ counterparts, just the least developed of them (brainiacs, both seem to have some type of anxiety, not neurotypical IN THE SLIGHTEST, etc.). I think that Trevor and Ash could have been fun. Trevor was the member of the Kalos rival trio to master Mega Evolution, and he also battled in the League. In the games, he has a crisis about his own strength and doubts his abilities as a trainer because he has end goals different from other trainers. I just KNOW Ash would have been the best rival and friend to help him through that. Trevor has an affinity for taking photographs of Pokémon, pointing out the differences and rarities in them, and seeking out the legendaries Ash has met and battled before. And Ash, mister nomad with such love for the world around him, I think, would find a lot of interest in that and support it. Plus, Trevor has Charizard. Ash’s ace used to be Charizard. They could have bonded, they could have been incredible.

And that leaves Clemont and Shauna. And what do ya know?? Clemont and Shauna are EXPLICITLY FRIENDS in the games! It didn’t click with me until I started ranting about Tierno and Serena, but CLEMONT AND SHAUNA ARE CANONICALLY BUDDY BUDDY IN THE SOURCE MATERIAL (I get that Shauna is super friendly with Serena in the games as well, but you know what I mean). The device Shauna uses to break into the final chamber of Team Flare’s secret lab was a gift from Clemont. In the beginning of the game, Shauna knows little to nothing about being a trainer, but when she gets to Lumiose City and sees the gym leader and his little sister outside the gym, she recognizes them by face and exclaims “Those two are my friends! :D” It would have been fun seeing an unlikely friendship develop between the scientist who thinks he’s got his future figured out and the trainer with no set path who’s striving to love life as it is in the present.

Do you see the vision?

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captainderyn · 2 months ago

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[Fictober24] Day 15: "Let's try this."

Prompt: "Let's try this."

Fandom: LOTRO

Pairings: Wulfwryn/Raenor, Faewryn/Eldarion

Warnings: Mentions of parental death, grieving.

Summary: Wulfwryn began the idea of a candlelight vigil for those she'd lost on her journeys across Middle Earth. Faewryn continues it in honor of both her father and mother. She vows to finish one of her father's songs in his honor, though grief is proving a difficult mire to wade through.

Candles burned down to the base of their wicks, a flickering sea of soft yellow light along the wall around the White Tree. The waning lights reflected in pools of wax collecting in jars, softly dished plates, whatever people thought to carry the candles in.

When Wulfwryn had started the vigil, just between her and Raenor, to remember those they’d left behind on their journal across Eriador and beyond, it had been a candle per person they’d lost along the way. It had blossomed the first year after the War of the Ring, when Wulfwryn had introduced it to the denizens of Minis Tirith, to include a candle for the people lost to them too. It had never been centered around the Citadel, candles instead were set up in homes, on the walls spanning the levels, until the White City was aglow.

For years now, Faewryn spent a long night in reflection, first one, but now two candles burning staunchly in front of her, surrounded by the growing reminder of Minas Tirith’s grieving and solidarity. The city mourned the passing of not only this own kin, but two of its heroes.

Three years and the wound of laying her mother to rest still ached. Sometimes she still caught herself looking up when the guard patrons rode back in through the gates, or listening for her mother’s commanding voice when they ran their morning drills in the courtyard. She still could not look at her mother’s portrait without her heart wrenching agonizingly in her chest.

Her ada had tried for two long, miserable years to stay for Faewryn. The phantom feeling of the last hug she’d given him, his body itself feeling like it was wasting away with his heart and spirit, on the docks to the sea. She remembered the soft fabric of his tunic, wet with her tears as she’d pressed her face against her father’s chest, his grip on her tight as his apologies and love washed over her.

He would have stayed to see his daughter grow older, that much she knew. But alongside him left the last pocket of elves he’d known in Rivendell to bear him safely to the West. Watching her father succumb to grief and waste away would have broken Faewryn beyond repair. Elves were not made to bear the agony of mortal grief, especially those who’d already experienced so much suffering in their years as her father had.

So a candle burned for him now too, and in the waning hours as dawn crept closer, she plucked the strings on a lute painted by his and her hands together over the years. The lute he’d borne for many years, since he’d returned from Edhelion, sat above their mantle, age worn and weathered and having played enough songs to earn its retirement.

The instrument in her hands was one of the last crafted by the woodworkers of Imladris, gifted to her the first time her parents had brought her to walk the paths of Imladris as a child. She played it absentmindedly, wrapped up in her own mind as she spun words from half-remembered pages and hummed melodies. Her voice, soft but clear as a mountain stream, wove her father’s and mother’s tongue together.

“I think this is the most people who have shown up yet.” Eldarion eased down next to her, his shoulder brushing hers. She leaned her head into the crook of his neck with a sniffle, the shoulder-length mess of his hair tickling her nose. The part of his sentence he’d cut off—since the first vigil for Wulfwryn—hung heavy in the air.

She wanted to put all the gratitude she should feel into her voice, but all it came out as was exhausted and flat. “A lot of people sat with me for hours.”

“Wulfwryn and Raenor are still beloved in memory.”

Such a simple statement shattered Faewryn to the core. She hadn’t cried the whole vigil, not the guards who had trained and served under Wulfwryn approached her like family, not when the local musicians came up to tell her they missed her ada’s music.

Now, she cried. Heavy, fast-flowing tears that felt like they had no end.

“I promised ada I’d finish this song.” she whimpered.

Eldarion rubbed his hand up and down her arm, drawing her close, “Which song is it?”

Faewryn wiped at her eyes, though it didn’t stem the tears. It felt like nothing would at times.

“He was writing it for mama.” she faltered as her voice broke into another sob. Eldarion let her breathe through it without pressing, his arm a steady weight around her shoulders.

She gestured wordlessly to the bundled papers she’d set down beside her, tucked into a leather-bound cover.

“I can’t make sense of his notes.” she said helplessly. “Half of it calls to her prowess in their journeys and tells of their adventures, part of it cries his love to her. Yet still, other fragments are just his grief pouring through.”

She didn’t mention that trying to read Raenor’s inattentive, rushed handwriting when his hand had simply been an extension of the swirling ideas in his mind, and translating it presented its own issues. She was too ashamed to admit that despite being raised to speak and understand her father’s tongue, some of his shorthands eluded her.

Eldarion contemplated, then stood. Faewryn followed his movements, eyebrows drawing together as she resisted the urge to reach out for him.

“So soon?” she asked, sounding pitiful to her own ears.

Eldarion held his hand out to her, making a grabbing motion when she did not take it.

“I have an idea.” he said.

Faewryn took his hand and let him pull her to her feet, though she looked at the sky, then at the candles burning low.

“It isn’t dawn yet.” She checked the sky again. “Dawn is still a ways off, yet.”

“I think your father would appreciate us working on his song more than he would sitting in mourning.” Eldarion countered, tugging her along with him.

Faewryn dragged her feet, still not convinced, “I don’t see how leaving will help.”

“You said his notes are a mixture of all manner of feelings and memories right?” Eldarion turned them down a side street, putting their feet on a familiar path. They’d walked this hundreds of times--her, Eldarion, and her parents--on their way down to the bustling market. “Let’s try this--if we walk and talk not only in a place so heavy with grief, maybe the pieces will start to fall together.”

Faewryn followed reluctantly, though she supposed it wouldn’t hurt. The hours of stagnation on her attempts to finish the song had left a dour feeling over her.

“I suppose it's worth a try.” she sighed.

Anything to finish her ada’s song.

#fictober24 #lotro #lotro fanfiction #oc: Raenor #oc: Wulfwryn #oc: Faewryn #faewryn/eldarion #not 100% sure this is canon for the family #its what I keep going back to but I still dont want to commit to the angst of it all

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