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some-bunniii · 9 months ago

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— self indulgence time, say howdy to my hellaverse oc! [+ a fic]

Kokabiel, one of Hell’s original celebrities and fashion icons [art by mamma_hisa]

I have a 6k word fic that’s been sitting in my drafts for awhile, and i worked long enough on it so i think it deserves some sunlight

i wrote the first chapter to a lucifer x oc story in an AU where Lilith leaves when Charlie is a baby and Kokabiel accidentally becomes her maternal figure, and it was going to be long but then I never touched it again ☠️ she was made originally made for the fic but she’s so gorgeous and mommy i spent days fleshing her out as my main bbyg.

working on a few things so take this for now to get a taste of her and some morningstar love! no romance, just introductions.

“Charlie, please go to sleep” The pearlescent figure next to the small bed begged the toddler, who was trying to scramble out of his grip and away from the covers that were wrapped around her waist.

The man’s platinum-blonde hair was disheveled, dark bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep that was quite evident on his features as he tiredly pulled the girl back onto the bed, holding her still as she whined against his hands.

His mouth opened in a wide yawn, his shark-like teeth glinting in the soft light that emanated from the bedside lamp next to him. He blinked slowly, trying to rid himself of the exhaustion that was trying to overtake him, his eyelids beginning to droop even as he continued to wrestle his daughter.

Charlie shot her father a nasty glare, brows furrowed as she frowned deeply. The bright red spots that graced the chub of her cheeks lowered as her lips curled downward. They were one of the many features she shared with the pale man before her, including those soft, sun-kissed locks and snow-bathed skin.

She also shared the same tired eyes that met hers sternly, but her mind was too active to allow her body those much-needed hours of rest.

The rest her father, Lucifer Morningstar, also needed.

“I know you’re sleepy, sweetheart! Just lay still so daddy can get some shut-eye too, hm?”

“No!” Charlie whined, lips puckered in distraught as her strength began to wane. Why would she sleep when she could be playing with her stuffed goats instead?! It just wasn’t fair!

“Yes!” Lucifer commanded, before he growled softly and lifted a finger towards the small child, a glint of golden light lit on the tip of his claw as he pressed it softly against Charlie’s forehead.

For a moment it flickered against her pale skin, and Lucifer removed his finger as Charlie froze at the sudden tingling sensation.

Her mouth was in the shape of a small o as she tried to get a look at whatever her father had placed on her, but the only clue in her vision was the twinkle of aurum light. A warmth began to seep into her skin, emanating from the magic blooming across her face.

Like a firework launching into the night sky, the tiny orb shot from her forehead up towards the ceiling, before it burst into a flurry of sparks that glimmered in the darkness, casting the walls with their vibrant hues.

The golden light danced above Charlie’s head, her eyes wide and in awe as the golden sparks began to melt into rippling waves that spiraled across the ceiling.

Lucifer flicked off the bedside light, the room darkening slightly as the magic above basked the room in a subtle warm glow as it pulsed rhythmically.

He still sat beside the bed, hand resting limply against Charlie’s chest as the interest in her eyes soon turned to sleepiness, and her eyelids began to droop.

Lucifer watched with a small smile as a magical display began to lull Charlie into sleep, and it only took a few more minutes before her face relaxed into a peaceful expression and her breathing swallowed.

Roughling rubbing a hand down his face with a sigh, Lucifer stood from the floor. His fuzzy pink robe drooped from his shoulders just enough to expose his bare, finely chiseled chest.

Quietly, he tip-toed across the bedroom, stepping over dolls, stuffed animals, and other trinkets that littered the floor. As long as he was careful, he wouldn’t risk waking the child.

Lucifer’s fingers wrapped around the door handle, before he waved his hand in the air, and the golden light dispersed, showering the room in shadows once more.

Cracking open the door just a tad, he slipped into the hallway. Lucifer’s back hit the door’s solid, oak frame as he exhaled a sigh of relief. The fallen angel felt like he could slide down onto the plush red carpet and hibernate right there, but he was the King of Hell, he had too much self-respect for that.

Raking a hand through his disheveled hair, Lucifer began to drag his feet down the hall, fatigue gnawing at his mind as he passed by the large paintings that hung upon the dark red walls, a perfect backdrop to the fair-skinned figures that posed elegantly inside the gold-framed portraits.

A man, his apple-red cheeks practically brushing against the edges of his face as he smiled brightly. A woman stood tall beside him, a dark purple dress hugging her curved figure as she posed regally. Her fingers entwined with her counterpart, their intimacy evident.

Lucifer would take that down, eventually. It only ever reminded him of painful memories, of that violet, sultry gaze through which she would send him as they basked in the warmth of the large fireplace in the large lounge in their castle.

Wine glasses emptied again and again as the King listened to her gentle humming, her fingers laced with his as she pulled him closer. Her lips left wet, sloppy kisses against his chin. The faint trail of black lipstick as her mouth connected with his in a passionate embrace of body and soul, intertwined.

Lilith, the previous Queen of Hell. Lucifer’s ex-wife, Charlie’s mother.

How long had she been gone now? Lucifer knew the exact day, he practically memorized the minute and hour when she left. When Lilith had sent him one last look from the open front door, her gaze unreadable through the black shades on her face, her honey-colored hair flowing like water around her figure as the two lovers locked eyes for the final time.

“Goodbye, Lou,” Lilith had whispered, her voice like silk against his ears even in such an anguished moment. Strands of hair covered her features as she spoke, shielding her expression as she turned her head, her back facing the fallen angel as she stepped through the threshold.

Out of his home, out of his world.

And, Charlie’s too. It’s hard explaining to a child that their mommy went on a very, very long vacation. He’d have the courage to tell her… eventually. Except, that meant she might one day blame him, too.

What could Lilith have been feeling, happiness, sorrow, anger? Lucifer would never know, he had tried so desperately to even understand why she had left in the first place. Had there been signs? An argument of some kind he had forgotten? What had he done wrong, that his first love and the mother of his child, would leave him to care for Charlie and the realm, all alone?

It was Lilith who held most of the influence when it came to the lower-classed demons, her words and songs enlightening the residents of Hell, cultivating the realm like a garden as she watered the needy and uprooted those with dark intentions like invasive weeds.

To the people of Hell, Lucifer was the epitome of complete, ultimate power. The embodiment of pride, and the reminder of who would always have control.

He was rarely seen in public, especially in his own Ring, full of the very demons he despised the most. Sure, he had his covers on magazines and face plastered all over LuLu World, but that was where it ended.

Instead, the King kept his duties strictly to those most loyal and most powerful. The rest of the Deadly Sins, the Ars Goetia family, and once in a while joining on an overlord meeting.

As long as they understood who not to cross, the safety and security of his family would never be at risk, if one could even try and pose any threat to one of the first creations. The Morningstar that shone before Lilith, before Earth, before everything.

In all honesty, Lucifer didn’t really do… anything, when it came to his subjects.

It was Lilith whose appearance was imprinted into the minds of her subjects through her many concerts and powerful political influence. It was she who had given them the confidence to defy Heaven, to stand against their exterminations that plagued the Pride Ring once a year.

Now, Lucifer was left to hold up face, to keep the realm from divulging into chaos, as the stability of the hierarchy of Hell slipped slowly and slowly through his fingers. No matter how many demons he could smite with the snap of his fingers, the sinful on Earth would always be sent to him as punishment, for the both of them.

He needed to keep them all in line, as respectfully as possible.

Which meant Lucifer was alone to take care of Charlie, who was insanely active and needy for attention, like any demon her age. She couldn’t stay out of trouble, and Lucifer had to juggle her, his own volatile emotions that had been causing him to skip more and more meals, and the piling events that always filled his days this time of the year.

The annual gatherings with the Ars Goetia that he had to attend symbiotically to keep their unwavering loyalty, the meetings to make sure the rest of the Sins were keeping their rings afloat, and flaunting a little bit of his power to the Overlords in Pentagram City that liked to stir trouble in his own ring.

Hell needed a future so that his daughter would have something to rule over when she came of age and wisdom. No matter how he tried to push the thoughts of his little girl growing up and leaving him, sooner or later, the fledgling would have to leave the nest.

Lucifer could see it, clear as day, his spirit and creative spark deep in her gaze when she listened to his many ideas and visions of what could have been and what surely will be. The way she giggled quietly as he presented her toys of his creation, her soft gaze looking at each little trinket with adoration and inspiration.

If she was anything like the man Lucifer used to be, that meant she would no doubt rebel against his views of Hell and his subjects, and that scared the King.

Lucifer continued to pass more portraits, dimly lit by the warm glow of the wall lamps dotting the hallway. Pictures of his daughter, the other Sins, and the grand opening of LuLu World. The final portrait next to his bedroom door was a small painting, an almost-perfect recreation of the only Heavenly creation he still held close to his heart.

The Morning Star.

The large ball of bright, white light illuminated against the oily-black backdrop that was also speckled with smaller, glittering stars. Some shone in vibrant, multi-colored hues that lit the painted night sky with a soft celestial light.

Except, none of those stars shone as bright as his star, the star specifically created for him by a face whose familiarity had been long lost in time. A face that still gnawed at the edge of his mind every time he stared at that painting, those long-buried memories slowly crawling from the depths of his soul.

Maybe, one day, he’d have the strength to remember.

When the door to his room was pushed open softly, Lucifer’s eyes hit the digital clock on his nightstand. It was one in the afternoon, and Charlie would only nap for a few hours before she awakened with renewed energy.

The toddler has grown restless lately, anxious to see a new face, to take a peek outside of the confines of their large home. No matter how many magical displays Lucifer presented the child, she always grew bored, and that frown was becoming more permanent on her lips as the days passed.

It must be tiring waking up and practically seeing your reflection almost every minute of your day.

There was no one Lucifer could trust in the presence of his daughter, though. No one he could see fit enough to care for her, not even himself. He struggled, being a father, for his little apple pie.

Parenting was not easy, especially when you had no idea what you were doing. It was especially hard when you were too afraid to upset your daughter with stern words and an authoritative voice, which meant the toddler ran the house.

The most powerful being in Hell would have to put his foot down to his little girl… eventually. After this quick nap, maybe.

The large bed, much too big for only one person, beckoned Lucifer with an irresistible invitation. His legs moved with renewed strength before he fell face flat into the soft, cool duvet that welcomed him kindly. His muscles relaxed instantly, his feet dangling limply from the end of the bed as he finally opened his mind to the idea of sleep.

Slowly, Lucifer’s consciousness began to ebb, and his snores echoed around the room as his mind stilled into blackness.

What he wasn’t aware of, as the fallen angel sunk deeper into the plush, red blankets, was that the small bed on the opposite side of the hall was empty. Its previous inhabitant was currently tottling towards the door to his workshop that had been slightly ajar just across from her bedroom.

With wide eyes, Charlie scanned the room as she poked her head through the crack in the doorway, her little button nose twitching as she drank in all the little knick-knacks and prototypes of fantastical ideas that would never see the light of day.

It was dimly lit, save for the faint red glow pouring in from the large circular window above the desk across the room. There was nothing of interest on its smooth, wooden surface to the tiny awe-struck eyes. Instead, it was the soft, chromatic light that caught her gaze on a low shelf right next door.

Floating elegantly above a short, circular pedestal were seven glowing rings, stacked above each other a few inches apart with zero gravity. Each held a unique hue, from green to pink, as they lured Charlie with their ethereal glow. If she could lift her little body just slightly onto the chair against the desk, she could reach them.

What could they be, so pretty just floating like that? They looked just like glow-stick necklaces! Would Daddy think she was pretty if she put them on and showed him?

With a large smile and slightly unsteady steps, Charlie crossed the room, her tiny feet pitter-pattering against the soft carpet as she beelined for the colorful display. When she reached the wooden chair, her chin barely grazed against the cushioned seating as she placed her palms gingerly against its plush surface.

With a mighty heave and a sharp inhale of breath, the toddler began kicking her legs wildly as she tried gaining momentum to hoist herself onto the chair.

Charlie sputtered for breath as her grip loosened due to her sweaty palms, but then her leg hooked onto the seat railing, which gave her momentarily support to pull herself farther up until her knee grazed the top of the cushion.

Placing one arm underneath her for support, the toddler reached the other out towards the ring. Her fingers splayed out, the whites of her eyes glowing red as they reflected the ring’s vibrant hue.

Charlie held her breath, beginning to tip over just as her index finger grazed the very edge of the ring’s surface. Red energy shot down her spine, sending her hair to stick out with static

The girl barely got a squeak in before she vanished in a burst of lightning that barely resonated a sound as it zapped her away.

The red ring flickered once, faltering above the rest for only a moment, before it stilled into place.

And the room was empty once more.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀🤍🤍🤍

On the outskirts of the Pride Ring was a small, white villa nestled against a rocky cliff face, surrounded by tall, black fencing that ended in sharp, spiked ends. Purple magic sizzled off of the tips, a clear warning to anyone who wanted to enter: They would not be welcome.

Inside the powerful barrier, was a large garden filled with a surreal combination of beauty and decay. Vibrant flowers bloomed amidst twisted, blackened trees that seemed to reach out with gnarled branches like skeletal fingers.

The floral scent that wafted from the blossoms permeated the air, mixed with the slight tinge of sulfur of Hell’s odor.

Nestled among the dark purple bushes and other hellish flora, were tall snow-white sculptures of men and women, their stone eyes staring lifelessly across the garden’s expanse.

A diverse cast of figures, short and brawny, too tall and lanky. Each unique from the rest.

Except, for their facial expressions, in which they each held a similar look of terror. As if they had been frozen in place during a time of anguish, of a terrifying encounter that left them to rot inside their pretty stone casks.

They were positioned across the lawn in a perfect, meticulous manner. As if someone spent day in and day out holed up inside the black fencing, with nothing to do but continuously cultivate their blooming garden.

One particular statue, which held the image of a goat-like man, staring up at the sky as if in one final prayer, was currently being inspected by a gracefully poised woman standing before it. Painted on his frozen cheek, was a small black lipstick-stained kiss.

From a distance, you’d think she was human. The silky, black dress that hugged her curves was reminiscent of ancient Greek fashion. Her shoulders were fully exposed, garment held up by a high neckline that tickled at her throat as she leisured, a glass of alcohol in her hand.

Her rich, deep brown skin stood out among the pearlescent, marble statues. Practically shimmering against the red hues that basked her home with the midday light.

An ethereal radiance seemed to seep from her skin, giving her silhouette a faint, golden glow that made her skin shimmer like light on morning dew.

Her hairstyle was similar to a ponytail, a partial updo that sat at the top of her head like a bun, before the long, white locs cascaded down her back.Along with two large strands that framed the sides of her angled face.

The big differential between her and a woman strolling down the street? The horns that graced the top of her head. They curved to end just above her forehead, a black crown that cemented her place as another resident of Hell.

Travel a bit farther down her figure, and you’d find those large, white tendrils of hair that swished as she turned slightly had a funny texture to them that most would mistake for thick braids.

Except, braids aren’t made of scales, are they?

At her ankles, a multitude of snakeheads stuck out their tongues, tasting the air as their beady red eyes scanned across the grassy scape.

They twisted around each other, curling into themselves to keep a tighter form as they wriggled against the woman’s back, interest peaked at their surroundings as their tongues flicked in and out.

Once in a while, a head would spot some small, hellish critter skittering across the yard looking for food. And, before one could blink, its jaws would open wide as it shot forward, pulling slightly at the woman’s scalp as it clamped its maw around the tiny creature.

It would slink back near her ankles, trying to gulp down the tasty delicacy as the other snakes around it poked and prodded for a taste. They hissed and snapped at one another, fighting for a morsel.

The woman turned her head, shooting the reptilian mass a glare as they wrapped around her legs. Milky white pools met multiple red, glowing eyes as they slunk back slightly at her scolding, giving time for the one snake to finish gobbling up his snack without fuss.

The two smaller serpents that framed her face weren’t as long as the rest of their siblings, instead reaching to her breasts as they lazily rested on the fabric of her dress.

Tenderly, the woman lifted an arm, and her shorter serpent curled delicately around her hand, until its head rested gingerly on her palm.

Gently, she brushed a thumb along its snout, and it hissed softly with pleasure, its eyes closing shut as it nestled farther into her warm skin.

“Jameson, another margarita, please.”

“Yes, Lady Kokabiel,” a small imp butler bowed, his cropped, curly white hair bouncing slightly as he lowered his head.

Turning, the imp trotted towards a shaded area underneath a weeping willow tree, its low-hanging branches that grazed against his shoulders were dark red, shielding the large mixture of alcohol from the heat of the day as he poured another glass of the blue liquid.

When Jameson returned, Kokabiel handed him the empty glass before plucking the margarita from his grasp. She sent him an appreciative smile, her white freckles sparkling like starlight as they curved with her lips.

She swirled the alcohol in the glass, watching the small vortex for a few moments, before lifting it to her lips and taking a sip.

That’s how Kokabiel spent most of her days in Hell, nowadays. Getting a buzz off of fruity liquor and fawning over her snakes, as she lounged in her garden with no one to bother her.

It had been a long time since she left the spotlight, previously a fashion and sex icon, Kokabiel had flaunted her good looks and curves to promote all kinds of products and events, dominating the biggest runways. She even starred in a couple of A-list movies, growing her until she reached the peak of stardom.

Kokabiel had earned her place at the top of the pyramid, right next to many older, successful celebrities in the industry. Lilith was a big name, even bigger than Koko’s with how beautiful of a singer she was, pulling in fans like a siren with her honeyed voice.

Even with such cutthroat competition, Kokabiel never felt that she was fading out of the audience’s vision with how fast her mailbox would fill with writings from her fans

Fanart, declarations of love written in sparkly pink ink, and invitations to large parties and prestigious events. Even now, she still received fan mail here or there, although they were usually left unanswered.

She had never wanted to retire in the first place, her plans for the future only confining to grow bigger by the day. Until one night, during a party hosted by the overlords of the city, was Kokabiel confronted with an ultimatum.

“I know your secret,” he had smiled devilishly. That flat-faced, know-it-all smirk the man sent her one evening, as he confronted her in the darkness of a hallway.

“What secret?” Kokabiel laughed dryly, shooting him a question glare.

“Oh, you know,” his pixelated eyes lifted to the darkened sky through the ceiling-high windows nearby, Heaven’s white glow cascading through the panes, “The one about where you really came from, not the Lust Ring lie you like to spin to the audience.”

The alcoholic buzz in Kokabiel’s system faded in an instant, and her snakes coiled against her back, hissing loudly as she shot him a deathly glare. It had seemed he had chosen to give the news from a safe distance, too far for her snakes to reach. A smart man.

How did he find out, and what did he plan to do with that information?

That smile of his had only widened further, giddy at the fact he had her in his grasp. He could pull the strings, keep her away from his industry. This secret, that he had only stumbled upon accidently, was going to make sure she stayed gone.

Kokabiel had never caused trouble, never flaunted her power to rise up Hell’s hierarchy, never made any public displays of how easily she could rip demon’s souls out of their bodies if they got too close.

Nor did any demon claim to be owned by her, as they were too busy being decorative pieces to tell their tale.

Kokabiel’s presence was a mystery to her powerful counterparts. Her aura was too clean, too ethereal to be a sinner or an average hellborn. But, she had never actually said the words ‘Yes, I’m from Heaven.’

She didn’t need to, anymore. After that little conversation, the talking TV had made a deal. Keep that pretty face away from the cameras, and his lips were sealed for eternity.

Kokabiel had announced her retirement a day later, not answering a single question about why or where she was going. Those cameras and microphones that had gotten shoved in her face received no words as received hurried into her limo.

How could Kokabiel, someone whose face was once plastered onto entire sides of buildings, fall so hard because of some up-and-coming overlord with the intent to control the masses? She’d had bigger spats with the paparazzi on the side of the street than this!

Now, she didn’t have to worry about those annoying flies anymore, with their constant flashes that always anguished her snakes and the peppering of questions.

Finally away from any prying eyes and those awful, bright flashes that plagued every step Kokabiel took out in public. Here, she could do and say anything, without someone waiting to jump at the opportunity to sell a shitty, non-contextual picture to the highest tabloid bidder.

Solitude gets boring, though. Even with her snakes to crawl over and her garden to tend, one could only vent to the marble figures for so long before they felt their sanity slipping.

That was until an imp had squeezed his way through the thick pickets of her fence, those short white curls singed at the tips from the magic that stung him.

Whatever was chasing the small man was more dangerous as he continued to beeline toward the bushes that could shelter him.

The imp had turned his head, catching the sight of his pursuers as they reached the fence. Three burly, tall shark demons roared as his tiny frame sped off.

That only led him to meet horns first into the stomach of the owner of the fence, and the land he was currently trespassing on. With an oomph he landed on hit, gaze darting at the being standing above him.

Kokabiel had quirked a brow, unamused as she wiped the dirt from the front of her dress. It wasn’t until one shark demon rammed into the fence, did she lifted her head and a dark frown played on her lips.

He had seen it, the power behind her gaze, when the loan sharks blew up one of her favorite rose bushes as they broke through the gates.

“How dare you,” she had hissed, her white gaze boring into the thugs, glowing with a much fiercer intensity as she bared her teeth, “Get out!”

The imp had flinched, but Kokabiel’s anger was not directed at him as she stepped right above his quivering body, and he could feel the soft grazing of scales against his raised arms before he turned to watch the woman continue to meet the loan sharks halfway.

“Not without our little friend there,” one sneered, his teeth glinting as he gave the woman a silent warning of his strength.

“Unfortunate that you aren’t the one making the demands,” she retorted, putting herself between the sharks and their prey.

With a loud, collective hiss, the bodies of her snakes lifted, encircling her head, and they opened their maws with extended fangs, displaying their own grim warning with bright red eyes.

The aggressor didn’t like that so much, as he opened he pulled out a large, glowing steel-laced ax and charged right for the duo. The imp squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the killing blow.

The Kokabiel’s pupils shifted from that starlit glint into black pools of emptiness, and the air sizzled with a powerful energy right as the shark-faced man swung his weapon to connect with her shoulder. At the last moment, the fallen angel ducked and backpedaled, right as one of her snakes lashed forward, jaw wide to reveal twin, deadly fangs and struck the demon right in the eye.

The scales of her snakes pulsed with a golden shimmer, and the demon’s mouth opened in a painful scream as his feet took on an ivory color, hardening to stone.

The other sharks near him tensed, the rage on their faces instantly draining as their comrade's feet cemented to the ground, that stone plague creeping farther up his waist as he writhed in place, clutching his eye as black blood seeped from the large gash.

They took a step back, then another, and another as the only blubber left on the struggling man was his large head. His teeth gnashed in mixture of anger and pain, but his good eye only showed fear, right as it was glazed over by white stone.

After that, the rest of the loan sharks had fled, huffing and puffing as they tumbled through the broken fence.

Then, the snake that had bit the demon began to convulse, writhing with an open maw like it had something stuck in its throat as black blood from its victim landed on the grass below.

Like some hellish form of mitosis, the scales of the serpent began to stretch and split, revealing a mirrored version of the reptile that began to take form and separate from its twin.

With wide eyes, the imp watched the two snakes finally , this new, fresh face shaking its head in confusion, before the rest of the scaly follicles began to surround and inspect their new friend with flicking tongues.

Kokabiel only watched the demons scurry off, before she sighed and adjusted her dress. Pivoting, she turned to face the imp, her arms crossed as she regarded him curiously.

The scrawny demon gulped as he stared wide-eyed. Was he next?

“What’s your name?”

“W-what?” The imp replied hoarsely.

“Your name. You have one, don’t you?”

“it’s… Jameson, madam,”

“Thank you, and I assume they’ll kill you if you try and go back into the city?”

Jameson nodded slowly, rising tentatively from the ground to look up at the woman.

“Well, it seems you are out of options, Jameson,” Kokabeil had quirked a brow, a small smile on her lips, “but, it appears I’m in need of a butler. What do you say to free room and board in exchange for your services? I’ll let you keep your soul, I promise.”

He had looked at her, suspicion in his gaze as his eyes darted to the snakes that coiled around her, shooting him hungry glares. How could someone with power like that be so… nice? If it were any overlord back in the city, they’d have taken his soul and his free will.

But, the offer didn’t sound too bad, and she didn’t look crazy. Just… lonely. Maybe, staying here would be so bad.

That’s how Jameson had begun working for the retired celebrity he now called master. Weirdly, he didn’t do many things a butler would do.

Sure, he cleaned and was at her beck and call most of the time, but Kokabiel did most of the things on her own. She cooked, tended to her garden which was slowly growing by the day, and kept up on the juicy rumors that circled the city.

Usually, Jameson spent the day as entertainment for her. As an ex-clown in the circus, Jameson had a few tricks up his sleeve he’d showcase for the fallen angel, and she seemed to eat it up with amusement.

Kokabiel’s thoughts towards him? He wasn’t exactly sure. Obviously, she was much kinder to him than anyone else he’d worked for, but her zipped lips on anything related to her past or what kind of demon she was made him unsure.

There were times she got… sad. That was the best way to put it. Jameson never saw her cry or have a tantrum, but sometimes she’d get so sullen even her snakes seemed rather depressed.

And, once a year there was a day that Kokabiel would lock herself away in her room, and would not call for him at all the entire day. Not even for food to feed her snakes. What could make her so depressed for that one day? A lost loved one? Her death day, perhaps?

She rarely mentioned her influential era as one of the largest fashion icons and models Hell had seen, although she didn’t need to with her collection of the seductive, sultry gazes she on the many ripped out pages of magazine covers she had framed on her walls.

The few times he did go into the city, heavily disguised to run errands for Kokabiel, he’d pick up the newest tabloids or fill her ears with the latest gossip circling the entertainment industry.

“That’s what that old fart is up to now?” She had chuckled about an old acquaintance as she moisturized her snakes with a scale-safe lotion, “He used to be an A-list actor, and now he’s selling retinol cream? Ha!”

The snakes had hissed with a chuckle-like sound, mirroring their mother as she coddled them. They still made Jameson nervous, even after all these years, they had a mind of their own, each individual one it appeared. But, they all seemed to have the same thoughts when it came to him: hungry.

Watching the snake finish its snack made Jameson a little uneasy as Kokabiel turned away from the statue and she took another sip of her drink.

“I’m getting tired, Jameson. I think I'm going to go inside, maybe take a nice, warm bath to relax.”

“Would you like me to get the water heated?”

“No, thanks. I can do it myself.” She said, beginning to walk towards the patio doors.

Jameson’s eyes flicked past her shoulder, at the very moment the statue began to sizzle with a powerful energy that even made his curls stand on end.

Red sparks erupted from the front of the statue, right on the pedestal it was standing on which raised a few feet in the air. Jameson could only stare in disbelief as the sparks began to swirl like a vortex, until they burst and sprayed like confetti and a figure materialized an inch off the marble surface.

The tiny stranger landed with a quiet oomf, before she stood on her feet with a slight wobble, her little hands held out in front of her for balance.

Jameson’s eyes flew open at the sight. It was a child! Her platinum-blonde hair disheveled, and her large eyes were darting around the area with confusion and fear.

When her eyes landed on him, she took a tiny step back, her eyes growing wide as she stared nervously at the new face.

“M-m-madam!” Jameson finally croaked, his finger pointed towards the girl with a slight quiver as he tried to get the words out.

“What..?” Kokabiel quirked an eyebrow at his stammering figure. Jameson’s eyes never left the strange girl, and she slowly followed his gaze to the statue.

The toddler and the fallen angel locked eyes, before Kokabiel’s mouth fell open and she stood there silently for a few moments. Charlie’s eyes widened, and she pulled her arms to herself in comfort at the shocked faces.

“What…. is this?” Kokabiel finally spoke slowly, eyes trained on the little being standing awkwardly on the statue. Her snakes lifted their heads slightly, tongues flicking the air as they tried to get a scent of the girl.

“It’s a child, madam,” Jameson whispered.

“I know that! But, how did it get here? What’s the point of having a magical fence if everybody can just walk right through it?!”

“She didn’t get through the fence, madam!” Jameson squeaked, shaking his head furiously as he explained, “She just… appeared here, like out of thin air! I saw it all!”

How could that be possible? There’s no way a child could harness such strong magic. It must be some kind of illusion, trickery by a powerful demon trying to use her empathy to get the best of her!

“You!” Kokabiel pointed an accusatory finger at Charlie, taking a small step forward “How did you get in my garden?”

“Um…” Charlie started, but her words—of what little she had—died in her throat. She only took a step backward, trying to escape from the attention

“You’re trespassing on private property!” Kokabiel continued to stalk forward, she was only a few feet away now, her snakes becoming antsy as they curled around her, hissing softly.

“Oh…”

“Who are you?”

Charlie took another step back, her hair grazing the leg of the marble figure. Where was she?

“…Char—eep!”

Charlie’s heel hit the foot of the statue, and she tripped, her back hitting its leg as she slid awkwardly sideways. Her tiny fingers grasped desperately at the smooth, white stone, but to no avail, as she tumbled right off the edge of the pedestal.

Jameson squeaked in terror, before throwing his hands over his eyes to protect him from any grisly sight. He heard Kokabiel gasp, but no sickening thump or terrible crack of bones meeting the firm ground.

Slowly, he splayed his fingers and lowered his hands, his eyes widening. He stood there gobsmacked at the scene, mouth agape in silence.

Yes, Charlie had been unable to save herself, falling helplessly in the air…. right into the arms of a shocked Kokabiel.

Kokabiel stared wide-eyed at her own reaction to the split second of instinct that propelled her to catch the child. Charlie was tightly secured in her hands, being held at arm's-length as far as possible.

Charlie blinked, before her eyes met those glowing white pupils with a slowly growing smile. She had one hand wrapped around the wrist of the taller woman, as she lifted up her free hand and sent a small, shy wave.

“Hi!”

[art i commissioned for the chapter by ruspettaa]

woahhh nice little(ha!) introduction to my oc, with some cute art of charlie! If I were to ever continue writing this fic, the relationship would be more focused on charlies than lucifers, at least at first. Slow-burn/co-parenting kinda thing bc Koko can def exist without being a relationship with our handsome king. she’s sipping margaritas free as a bird rn.

kokabiel is a loosely based version of the biblical figure with the same name who created the stars and constellations. One of the reasons she fell was for teaching humanity astronomy. A few others fell with her too, but she instead melded into demon society instead of her heavenly counterparts.

the only people that know of her true identity are Hell’s royalty, and Stolas probably has a signed autograph of hers somewhere around his office seeing as his duties are closely bound with her creations.

she’s a business woman too, though i am trying to figure out whether she sells snake-skinned accessories as a fashion line or diluted venom that’s a psychedelic drug which makes you feel all euphoric and stuff. l

I also have no idea who her voice claim is 😭 i imagine it being smooth and buttery like Beyoncé, but i’m sure there’s other voices similar to hers that I haven’t found yet.

i’ve got a comm [by wkyarts51243] in the works that will be styled closer to the show, so here’s a sneak peak i guess ☠️ I’d say her height is slightly shorter than charlie (not counting her horns lol), but I haven’t settled yet.

i have more art (one of her and luci hehe), which i might share either. but you can have the full version of the first art pic, with an extra piece from the same artist 🤭

also making this post so i can cement her backstory and stop changing it up ☠️ it’s its writing officially now yall

anyway, enough rambling, back to writing!! have a great weekend 🤍

#kokabiel 🤍#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel oc #helluva boss oc #look at her so yummy #a literal goddess #hazbin hotel au #hellaverse #lucifer morningstar x oc #that one fic forgot #yes her snakes are souls #they have the same personality as before but cuter

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superprincesspea · 1 year ago

Text

Courted by the Dragon

Chapter 2 - A Court of Sharks and Dances

Aemond Targaryen is both the cause and witness to the greatest humiliation of your life. You would rather die than see him again. Yet summer at court and the precipice of civil war have other ideas.

Masterlist

~~~

Several weeks after your meeting with Aemond, a raven arrived at Storm's End, inviting your family to spend the summer in Kings Landing at the bequest of Queen Alicent.

The letter marked an unexpected turn of events for the Baratheon family who had never been favoured by the Queen and, though you were quietly suspicious of Aemond’s involvement, you couldn’t be certain.

Either way, your father certainly was pleased by the request. Spending the next month boring you all with the rules on how he expected you to behave at court and how it was high time his three eldest daughters found a suitable husband.

You, on the other hand, were more concerned by how this invitation would lead you straight into the dragon's den and path of the very man you’d been trying to avoid.

Vhagar had been spotted more than a handful of times gliding over the bay these past few weeks, and you had certainly not ventured down to the beach in all that time. No, you had hardly left the castle walls, and mortification had stuck to your skin like a blemish only you could see.

So, when the time arrived for you to leave for Kings Landing, you were not in high spirits. Not that your family noticed. Too busy with their own thoughts on the power and position which could be gained from a friendship with the crown, they barely listened when you feigned illness or tried to make excuses to grant you leave from the journey.

Afterall, refusing such an invite would be akin to madness. No, in your mother's opinion, nothing could make a girl feel better than a summer of opulence and splendour in the Red Keep.

Jousting, dancing, feasts and handsome young knights. The upcoming festivities should have been the stuff of dreams for an unmarried high-born lady such as yourself. But you were descending into what felt like the beginnings of your own personal hell.

Unlike your sister Cassandra, you were not accomplished in music or the arts. Nor were you fun and vibrant like Maris, who was always the epitome of charm and wit.

Defiant and sour was how Septa Orella had often described you and that was on the days when you’d tried your best to behave like a lady instead of muddying your dresses. Though you were older now, you supposed not much had changed since then. If it had, Aemond would not have caught you splashing in the waves like a naughty child.

But it was too late to do anything about that now. Aemond had seen you that day and, if Septa Orella was still alive, you were certain she would have enjoyed knowing you were finally getting your comeuppance. Not that you would have dared to tell her your reasons for wanting to avoid Kings Landing. That was a secret you hoped to take to the grave, yet you had the terrible suspicion it would soon be revealed for all to hear.

It took over a week for your family's carriage to finally make its way through the bronze gates of the Red Keep. You supposed this moment was inevitable, yet it still came as quite a shock, your nerves frayed, your stomach churning. The only comfort was the cover of darkness and the late hour which provided you one last night before you had to face the other courtiers and, of course, Aemond .

You were met by a servant who had been standing by for your arrival, and he escorted you all to a suite of well-appointed chambers which had been readied for your stay. You even had your own room. A large four poster bed commanding its centre, curtained with heavy green brocades which matched the sumptuous quilt and feather pillows. On the nightstand, there was a stack of leather-bound books, and the window was furnished with a velvet chaise on which to read them.

Everything was perfect, and you would be quite comfortable here if it wasn’t for the gnawing dread which squeezed your insides every time you thought of a certain dragon prince. And there was no remedy for that . Only resignation, though you did not want to accept the idea of actually having to see Aemond until he was standing right in front of you.

In the morning, breakfast was brought to your family's chambers on gilded trays along with a roll of parchment which summoned you all for an audience with the Queen.

Again, you tried to make an excuse which would allow you to stay behind, but Borros Baratheon had no interest in the complaints of a daughter. So, when breakfast was cleared away, your stomach only filled with nerves, you had no choice but to follow your family into the Red Keeps imposing hall.

You were announced, one by one. Your father, mother, Cassandra, Maris and then you. All presented to Queen Alicent who seemed as uninterested in your arrival as her son, Prince Aegon, who was standing by her side.

Princess Helaena, however, was very excited by the appearance of three young ladies and was quick to greet you all. Without having to ask, she explained that Aemond was not in Kings Landing at present.

He was hunting with Vhagar in Dorne and, though the thought of him racing through the sky on dragon back made you shiver, you were suddenly free, and a whole world of opportunity seemed to open up before you.

Perhaps you would not see Aemond at all, what an enticing thought that was, even if you knew it wasn’t true. Still, you would not see him for a while and that felt like long enough.

When you were allowed to leave the great hall, you joined Helaena and your sisters for a stroll in the rose garden and you were surprised by its beauty.

Roses clambered and sprawled for as far and wide as the eye could see. Every shade of pink imaginable punctuated by froths of lavender and bright purple spears of salvia. It smelled divine and hummed with the buzz of a thousand bumble bees.

Accompanying you through the turns of the garden were a gaggle of wealthy suitors, who were like sharks in the water at the smell of fresh young blood. Yet even they did not deter from the roses.

You’d brought a book from your room to allow you an excuse to avoid eye contact with Aemond. Now you had every intention of reading it under the shade of a good tree, but Tyland Lannister had other ideas.

“May I join you, Lady Baratheon?” he asked gallantly, sweeping his long golden cape over his shoulder as he knelt on the grass before you.

Though much older than yourself and of no interest to you personally, he was master of ships and favoured by the royal family, so you had no choice but to smile and say, “of course, My Lord.”

He sat a little too close, his expectant eyes waiting for you to entertain him with small talk and flattery as young ladies are trained to do. But you were not as well-bred as your sisters, nor did you have any interest in the men at court.

You held his stare, your fingers quietly itching to open your book, but he was not deterred.

“I trust your journey here was pleasant?” he said.

“As pleasant as can be expected, my Lord.”

“And you find your quarters here to be suitable?”

“Indeed.”

“That is good. Will your family be attending the dance this evening?”

“I believe so.”

He smiled, satisfied and not at all deterred by your clipped, formal answers. In fact, the conversation continued like that for quite some time. Even when you made haste to escape from the shade of the tree in favour of the sun. Lord Lannister took it upon himself to escort you around the grounds with a keen interest in everything you had to say, and he was not the only one.

After a while, you were joined by Lord Karstark and Ser Harrold, all three of them vying for your attention in a manner you were wholly unaccustomed to. Your fathers banner men would never be so bold in their pursuit of his daughters, and you had never been outside the boundary of the Stormlands before now.

You were relieved when your mother finally called you to tea and disheartened some hours later when it was time for the feast and the first of the summer dances.

Still, you had no choice in the matter, though you would rather stay in your room and make good use of the chaise and your stack of books. It wasn’t just Aemond you wanted to avoid; it was court. It didn’t seem to call to you like it did to Maris and you envied her excitement and her gown.

Hers was new, the prettiest shade of sage green velvet while yours was honey yellow silk. You loathed yellow. But that was the price of being a third daughter. It had been a beautiful dress on Cassandra, now it was too old and unstylish for the eldest of the Baratheon girls.

You had complained of such maltreatments when you were younger. But your mother had always said ‘your face was your bauble’, and it had meant as little to you now as it did then.

The saving grace was your shoes, and they were beautiful indeed. Black velvet pumps which Cassandra had painstakingly embroidered with dainty flowers and vines while hers were plain.

So, deciding to at least try to enjoy the evening, you entered the hall, which was bursting with life and vibrance and, when it came time to dance, you were certainly not without partners.

In fact, you were spoiled for choice though Tyland Lannister seemed determined to commandeer your hand at every opportunity. If you were to be honest with yourself, you enjoyed the attention, and the twists and turns of each dance with greater pleasure than you’d hoped to achieve. The music was merry, and the elderflower wine drank like sugar syrup before swirling happily in your veins.

And that’s how it was for almost two weeks at court. Fun and Frivolity.

After the first few days, you’d almost forgotten the reason you didn't want to come here in the first place. You enjoyed all the lazy afternoons in the garden and looked forward to the evening entertainment with as much excitement as your sisters.

Ser Harrold, a knight of the realm and the second son to his father’s modest estate, had quickly become your favourite dance partner. Though your hand was still very much pursued by the master of ships. So much so, that your father had begun to imagine Tyland Lannister might even propose. An idea which gave you a new dread in the pit of your stomach.

So that night, some thirteen days after your arrival in King’s Landing, it was Tyland's attention which you were trying to avoid. So preoccupied with evading his advances, you couldn’t be certain just how long Aemond Targaryen had been witness to the whole scene. Only that when you noticed him, lurking in the shadows at the edges of the room, you could hardly look away.

The wine had begun to make you feel as light as a feather, but Aemond’s presence seemed to ground you to the floor like a boulder. The dance no longer feeling as merry and Ser Harrold’s arms becoming little more than a prison for Aemond’s scrutiny.

When had he returned?

Why did he look at you like that?

When the dance with Ser Harrold was finally over, you said ‘goodnight’ and retreated to your room without sharing a single word with another soul and certainly not the dragon prince.

Then in an act of self-indulgent madness, you tried to fool yourself into thinking he might have forgotten all about that day at the beach. Or at least forgotten the finer details, yet you could remember them all.

The way he had looked at you, the curve of his smile and the soft commanding sound of his voice.

You had never hated someone until then and you hated Aemond Targaryen more than anything.

Why couldn’t he have stayed away?

The next day, the routine was practically the same as every other. Breakfast in your chambers followed by an afternoon in the gardens. Only this time, the men who had been begging for your dances, could barely look you in the eye. Even Lord Lannister had no interest in the usual small talk and left the gardens almost as soon as you arrived.

You couldn’t stop the knot which formed in the pit of your stomach. Or the gnawing realisation, that while all the other young ladies were flirting and laughing with suitors, you were cast aside. A solitary figure in a crowd of couples with only your book to keep you company until it was time for tea, and you were certainly ready for it.

You’d never spent such lonely hours in the company of so many people before, and you were certain it was no coincidence.

Had Aemond told the men at court of your indiscretion?

Would he shame your family for your actions that day on the beach?

What was worse, you had nobody you could ask without risking exposure. No, better to hold your head high and remain as calm and unshaken as possible in the face of utter social annihilation.

~~~

Thank you for reading! So many people found this story so quickly which is exciting. I wrote most of this story at the start of last year and I wasn't sure if I was going to publish it but I'm glad I have. Hopefully I'll be able to post another chapter or even two before I return to work and real life in a few days. But what do we think so far? Has Aemond revealed all? Or something else?

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell #romance #female reader

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estellan0vella · 7 months ago

Text

Beauty In Simplicity ❀ Choso Kamo Masterlist

You step into the quiet, dimly lit entrance of the aquarium, the gentle hum of filtration systems a soothing background noise. Beside you, Choso Kamo, tall and imposing with his distinctive facial markings and somber demeanor, looks around with a mix of curiosity and reserve. This date is your idea, a chance to show him the simpler, beautiful side of life. His life has been filled with chaos and pain, and you want to offer him a moment of peace and wonder.

As you walk through the arched glass tunnel that leads into the heart of the aquarium, the first display catches your eye. Neon-lit jellyfish drift gracefully in their tanks, their bioluminescence creating an ethereal glow. You glance at Choso, watching his usually stoic face soften slightly in the soft light.

"Look at these," you say, pointing to a particularly vibrant jellyfish. "They're like living art, don’t you think?"

Choso nods, his gaze fixed on the drifting creatures. "They move so slowly, like they're dancing."

You smile at his observation, feeling a small victory in seeing him appreciate the beauty. Moving further, you reach the main attraction: a massive tank that houses a diverse array of marine life. Schools of fish dart and weave through the water, while larger creatures like rays and sharks glide effortlessly. Choso stands beside you, his eyes wide with awe.

"It's incredible," he murmurs, almost to himself.

You lean closer to him, feeling the warmth of his presence. "It really is. Sometimes, we forget how amazing the world can be."

His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the weight of his past seems to lift. The two of you stand there, side by side, simply enjoying the scene. You decide to take him on a tour of your favorite parts of the aquarium, starting with the coral reef exhibit.

The tank is a riot of color, teeming with life. Tiny clownfish dart among the anemones, while vibrant corals sway with the water's gentle currents. Choso seems particularly taken with a pair of seahorses, their tails entwined as they float together.

"They mate for life," you tell him softly. "Once they find their partner, they stay together."

He nods, a contemplative look on his face. "It's...nice to know that kind of bond exists in the world."

You reach out and gently squeeze his hand. "It does. And it's worth finding."

As you move to the next exhibit, you guide Choso towards the touch tank. It's filled with various sea creatures that visitors can gently touch under the guidance of the staff. You can see the hesitation in his eyes, but you give him an encouraging smile.

"Come on, it's safe. You'll like it."

He watches as you reach into the tank, your fingers brushing against a starfish. His reluctance slowly fades as he follows your lead, tentatively reaching out. The look of surprise on his face when he feels the starfish's rough texture is priceless.

"It's...different than I expected," he says, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

You laugh softly. "See? There's so much to discover when you take a moment to experience it."

Choso seems more relaxed now, the rigid lines of tension easing from his posture. The next stop is the tunnel that passes through the shark tank. As you walk through, sharks and rays swim overhead, their sleek bodies casting shadows on the floor.

"These creatures are so powerful, yet they move with such grace," Choso observes, his voice filled with wonder.

"Yes," you agree, "they're perfectly adapted to their environment. It's a reminder that strength and beauty can coexist."

He nods, his eyes tracking the movement of a particularly large shark. "It's a good reminder."

As you continue through the aquarium, you share stories and facts about the different species, each one bringing a new spark of interest to Choso's eyes. You can see him slowly opening up, his usual guarded demeanor giving way to a more relaxed and curious side.

Eventually, you reach the final exhibit: a tranquil tank filled with glowing, bioluminescent creatures. The room is dark, the only light coming from the soft glow of the organisms in the water. It's like stepping into another world.

Choso stands in the center of the room, mesmerized by the sight. "This is...breathtaking."

You stand beside him, taking in the beauty of the moment. "It's moments like these that remind me why life is so precious."

He turns to you, his expression softening. "Thank you for bringing me here. I didn't realize how much I needed this."

You smile, your heart swelling with warmth. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. Sometimes, we all need a reminder to slow down and appreciate the simple things."

As you leave the aquarium, the sun is setting, casting a golden glow over the city. You walk side by side, the experience of the day leaving a lingering sense of peace and connection. Choso reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours.

"Today was...different," he says, his voice thoughtful. "But it was good. Thank you."

You squeeze his hand gently. "Anytime, Choso. There's so much more to see and experience. Life can be beautiful, even in its simplest moments."

He nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I'd like to see more of it. With you."

Your heart skips a beat at his words. "I'd like that too."

As you walk together into the evening, you can't help but feel hopeful for the future. Today was just the beginning, a small step towards healing and discovering the beauty in life. With Choso by your side, you're ready to face whatever comes next, one simple, beautiful moment at a time.

The next weekend, you plan another simple outing, a picnic in the park. Choso arrives punctually, as always, but there’s a noticeable difference in his demeanor. He’s carrying a small bouquet of wildflowers, his awkward attempt at reciprocating the kindness you showed him at the aquarium. Your heart melts at the gesture, and you thank him with a kiss on the cheek that makes him blush.

You find a quiet spot under a large oak tree, its branches providing a cool shade. Spreading out the picnic blanket, you unpack the food you’ve prepared: sandwiches, fresh fruit, and homemade cookies. Choso helps, his movements careful and deliberate, as if he’s still getting used to this new normalcy.

As you eat, you talk about everything and nothing. You share funny anecdotes from your childhood, and Choso listens intently, occasionally sharing a rare laugh. You notice he’s becoming more expressive, his smiles more frequent and genuine.

After lunch, you suggest a stroll around the park. The air is filled with the scent of blooming flowers, and the sound of children playing in the distance adds a joyful background to your walk. Choso seems more at ease in this natural setting, his steps lighter and his gaze softer.

You lead him to a small pond, where ducks paddle lazily and lily pads float on the surface. Sitting on the grassy bank, you both watch the tranquil scene. A mother duck leads her ducklings in a line, their tiny bodies creating ripples in the water.

"Look at them," you say, pointing to the ducklings. "So small, yet so determined."

Choso watches them, a thoughtful expression on his face. "They remind me of you," he says quietly.

You turn to him, surprised. "Me?"

He nods. "You’re small, but you have a strong spirit. You lead with kindness, just like that mother duck."

His words touch you deeply, and you reach for his hand, holding it tightly. "Thank you, Choso. That means a lot to me."

You sit there in comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other’s presence. It’s moments like these that you cherish, the simple beauty of life that you’re helping Choso discover.

As the months pass, you and Choso continue to explore the simpler joys of life together. You take him to a local farmer’s market, where he marvels at the variety of fresh produce and homemade goods. You spend afternoons at the library, getting lost in different worlds through books. You even introduce him to the joy of baking, his serious concentration on measuring ingredients a source of endless amusement for you.

Each experience brings you closer, the bond between you growing stronger. Choso begins to open up more about his past, and you listen without judgment, offering support and understanding. You can see the change in him, the way his eyes light up with curiosity and his smiles come more easily.

One evening, after a particularly enjoyable day at a botanical garden, Choso surprises you with a question.

"Why do you do this?" he asks, his tone serious but gentle. "Why do you show me these things?"

You take a moment to gather your thoughts before answering. "Because I care about you, Choso. I want you to see that there’s more to life than pain and struggle. There’s beauty and joy in the simplest things, and you deserve to experience that."

He looks at you, his eyes filled with an emotion you can’t quite decipher. "Thank you," he says softly. "For everything."

You smile, reaching out to cup his cheek. "You don’t have to thank me. Just promise me that you’ll keep looking for the beauty in life, no matter what."

He covers your hand with his, his expression earnest. "I promise."

And with that promise, you know that you’ve made a difference. Choso is beginning to see the world through new eyes, finding hope and beauty in the everyday. It’s a journey, one that you’re both on together, discovering the simple, beautiful side of life one day at a time.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk smut #jjk x y/n #jjk fluff #jjk #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #choso x reader #choso kamo #jjk choso #choso smut #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x you #choso kamo x y/n

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sociavoidance · 8 months ago

Text

A Tribute to Cho Gi Seok

Having used Cho Gi Seok in numerous presentations and assignments, I believe it is a crime not to have written a blog post about him. So here's my appreciation to my favorite photographer and muse:

Admiration at First Sight

Nostalgia #2, Cho Gi Seok, 2020

While browsing Pinterest, I came across a photo of a girl in a school uniform. She was adorned with a series of small fish or shark figurines that seemed to flow over her head, across her face, and towards her shoulder. It was one of those photographs that gave me a "aha" moment as I stared at it for hours, amazed by the idea of combining a human figure with unconventional prop, unlike the typical table or still life objects seen in other photographs and paintings. I found myself wondering whether these fish were computer-generated, hand-drawn or crafted. Another intriguing aspect was how the girl was framed, with her face seemingly divided or "sliced" into two by the diagonal flow of the fish, revealing only one of her eyes and her mouth. Despite its simplicity, with a plain white background, the photo exuded a sense of movement and life. This was my initial encounter with Cho Gi Seok's work, and it sparked a deep sense of inspiration and admiration within me.

Cho Gi Seok: Biography

Cho Gi Seok, Photographer

"I think flowers are the easiest thing to find that anyone around us can think of as beautiful, It’s like taking a portrait for me. By transforming and recombining them, I try to express my own thoughts through them.”

Born in 1992, the South Korean photographer aspired to be an art director from a young age. Before pursuing photography, he had experience with graphic and set design, which he incorporates into his work and techniques. His photographs depict abstract themes, combining human figures with unusual props. He grew up in an internet generation, so he draws inspiration from technology and its advancements, which sets his work apart from the rest.

Gi Seok's Visual Archive: My Favorite Collections

The following are my interpretations of some of my favorite collections and photographs. These are not entirely accurate to the photographers' intentions, but rather my own.

Not Alone, Cho Gi Seok, 2021

This collection of images portrays the sensation of feeling trapped or targeted by judgment or bullying during high school. The subject, positioned centrally, is accentuated by accusatory fingers or phones aimed at the subject. The close-ups and portrait-style shots echo the traditional yearbook photos, and the attire reminiscent of school uniforms adds to the overall theme. The flower prop serves as a symbol of innocence or vulnerability.

The title of the collection therefore imply a dark meaning, indicating that the subject is "not alone" but rather accompanied by dominating forces, accusations, and intimidation. It depicts the isolation experienced when one deviates from societal norms or stands out as different from others.

Alone, Cho Gi Seok, 2022

In contrast to the previous photographs titled "Not Alone", these photographs depict the relationship within a society. Cho utilizes technology as props to symbolize our connection to our phones or digital devices. Despite being closely positioned within the composition, each subject gazes in different directions, mirroring the way individuals search for cellular signals or internet. In instances where Cho omits props, he maintains consistency with his concept and theme through lighting techniques. For instance, in the second photograph, where the heads of the individuals are framed diagonally, a vibrant blue light illuminates them, resembling the glow of phone screens or theater displays that illuminates our faces.

These photographs not only convey their message visually but also capture the sensation of being without a smartphone in a sea of people who possess one.

Both of these collections, in my view, are not only semiotically rich but also visually engaging as photographs. Before I conclude my interpretation, I want to express my appreciation for my favorite collection:

Different, Cho Gi Seok, 2023

These series of photographs hold a special place for me; I find myself revisiting them time and again on Cho's Instagram. The way Cho utilizes props, framing, composition, and colors never fails to captivate me and serves as a source of inspiration. Cho skillfully conveys the notion of being different, drawing parallels with Franz Kafka's depiction of dehumanization and alienation through the symbolism of the bug in "The Metamorphosis." This connection underscores the theme of feeling looked down upon and met with disgust. The muted grays and greens evoke feelings associated with anxiety or dysmorphia, further enhanced by the use of paper-cut eyes that portray the sense of being judged and scrutinized. I've added it to my to-do list to capture a series of photos resembling Cho's "Different" collection, using his ideas and techniques.

Final Thoughts:

Cho Gi Seok truly stands out in a sea of photographers by skillfully capturing complex emotions and exploring unconventional, abstract themes. His work contributes to building a valuable visual library for both amateurs and beginners. While his style may not resonate with everyone, there's much to learn and appreciate from his captivating images.

#cho gi seok #photographer #photography

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mychlapci · 7 months ago

Note

Sick Eel Anon

Before socializing Sick Eel Starscream had to undergo multiple surgeries before he was deemed fit.

- Several of his teeth were not aligned right and had to be pulled/some infection. On top of some teeth growing wrongly piercing his cheeks.

- His voice box needed both external and internal repair (readings showed external was caused by constant claw marks/strangulation, inside was damaged by a combination of toxic water and consuming non edible things)

- His digestive tank was full of inedible material which had to be removed.

- His spine needed to be drained as there were large quantities of fluid buildup due to blunt force trauma.

- His wings needed repair due to nerve damage and tears.

- His claws needed to be clipped as they were splintering off and curling wrong. His nails were stacked on top of each and weren't falling off.

- His helm had several foreign objects and tissue build up that needed to be pulled, one even damaging his optics.

- His scales had to be treated as he was experiencing Sand Down Syndrome (scales are basically rubbed off due to dragging across dangerous terrain)

Getting the DNA results back it revealed Sick Eel Starscream was not a pure eel but several different species ranging from

Eels

Sea Dragon

Snake

Piranha

Lion fish

Pufferfish

Anglerfish

Shark

Land mech (specifically seeker)

Along with several unidentified matches.

He was a mash up, made to look as unsettling as possible with all the medical downfalls

Starscream's spark beat was highly irregular, his hormones were immensely off balance, and his Energon readings were dangerously high.

He had to go through physical therapy (regaining his ability to use his wings)

Food therapy (due to his mixed DNA and lack of nutrients on a special diet, on top of teaching him how to hunt)

And sleep therapy (his paranoia and anxiety left him in a constant state of sleep deprivation)

Researchers carefully document Starscream's recovery.

When Starscream's colors do come back his obnoxiously bright with mismatched patterns.

He looks like a sparkling's art project.

Starscream is mixed about his new transformation.

He doesn't feel or look scary anymore which is something he took pride in.

But he does think it's nice to not look like a piece of Megatron's scale that fell off and came to life.

His still horribly insecure about his appearance but still shocked by it.

On a rare day they can catch him examining his claws, tracing his now vibrant cockpit, carefully touching his wings.

It takes a long time for him to get used to his appearance. He used to scare himself whenever he saw his reflection.

Oh lord poor Starscream... i suppose this means he was bred in captivity solely for the purpose of being a freak show. The amount of problems he has from all the mixed coding and neglect is immeasurable...

#merformers #tf hc's #texty

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nickeverdeen · 15 days ago

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Hey, I was wondering if I could request match ups for arcane and horizon forbidden west. Preferably male characters and romantic match ups please :)

I’m 5’7” and gay. I use he/they pronouns.

I enjoy art and painting. I like to read and listen to music. I’m a history nerd and I’m good at math. I love animals and insects.

My favorite colors are orange and yellow. I love sharks and vampire squids.

My favorite sports are no contact sports. I especially enjoy archery and swimming!

I like to shoot my target in my free time.

Your Arcane match is…

Viktor

Viktor would often sit and watch you paint, fascinated by how you bring life to a canvas

He might even request a piece of artwork for his workspace

He’d enjoy watching you practice archery, occasionally helping to adjust your aim, even if he’s not an expert himself

Viktor’s love language would be acts of service, like bringing you tea while you work or subtly suggesting ways to enhance your paintings

Viktor would share in your love for animals and would surprise you with books about rare creatures or tales from the natural world

He’d take you to museums in Piltover, sharing quiet moments admiring historical artifacts or pieces of art.

Viktor would admire your skills and always encourage you to push your boundaries, whether it’s trying a new art technique or learning about a new subject

He might create a small, mechanical insect companion for you, knowing how much you love them

Viktor would find peace in your shared silences, often sitting together with books or enjoying the sound of your brushstrokes

His dry humor would surface occasionally, teasing you playfully about your love of sharks or quirky hobbies, always with a fond smile

Your Horizon Forbidden West Match is…

Kotallo

Kotallo would often practice archery with you, offering tips and admiring your skill, though he’d never shy away from a friendly competition

He’d take you to hidden places in the wilds, knowing how much you appreciate the beauty of nature and the thrill of exploration

Kotallo would secretly treasure any paintings you create for him, displaying them proudly in his personal quarters

Kotallo would watch with quiet admiration as you swim, seeing it as a testament to your strength and grace

He’d surprise you with unique items he finds on his travels, like vibrant dyes for your art or small tokens that remind him of you

Kotallo would love joining you in observing wildlife, often sharing stories of machines he’s encountered that resemble your favorite creatures

He’d instinctively know when you need comfort, offering his steady presence and a strong shoulder to lean on

The two of you would enjoy peaceful evenings together, him listening to your stories or watching you paint by firelight

Kotallo would be fiercely protective of you, but he’d respect your independence and only step in when absolutely necessary

He’d encourage you to challenge yourself in both art and life, while your empathy and creativity would help him open up emotionally

#request #matchups #arcane #arcane x reader #horizon forbidden west #viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor arcane #kotallo #kotallo x reader

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retrowave-racer · 8 months ago

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Coaster Maynia 2024 Day 9 - MANTA

“Before humans, there was many species that inhabited earth, Flora Fauna being one of them. A magical race that walked on land. But before the Flora Fauna came another people, those who lived in the sea. Modern day people referred to them as Fish Folk, but each species had its own unique title. Many human in shape, but had traits of sea life, Shark Folk like Briony’s father being one of them (Briony herself being half Shark Folk with the power to turn into a shark folk) Another commonly found race was the Mantas as they were referred to in human language , having traits of manta rays. While the Manta’s typically hid from humans, and widely disliked them, there was some that were curious about humanity. One of those Mantas was a young prince that often swam quite close to humans, despite his parents warnings. His fondness for humanity got him into trouble one day, when a cruel group of shipmen decided to practice their harpoon aim. The Manta Prince was alive, but injured. Fortunately, a human with a kinder soul found him, patched him up, and returned him to the sea. When he returned to his parents they were furious, swearing that any human that invaded their seas would be attacked or driven away, despite their son’s pleas that some humans were good. His parents didn’t believe him, nor did they want the risk, making the message to humans clear. The Manta Prince is now on a search for the human who saved him, to prove to his parents that there is good in humanity.”

I really love the design and colours for this guy! Was nice to use a really vibrant colour palette this time around. I really want to try using more vibrant and bright colours in the future, I feel a lot of my art ends up having very earthy colours and I worry it becomes a bit muddy? Always hoping to push myself though!

Today was a fun one but I am SO Excited to share tomorrows…..

#original character #oc #character design #coastermaynia #personified rollercoasters #coaster maynia #coaster maynia 2024

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66sharkteeth · 1 year ago

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Hey there, 66! Hope you're doing great. I have been going through your account for the past few hours (this reminds me of that one time I stayed up till 2 am as I appreciated all the artworks on your Instagram) so I know you've heard this several times, but I wanted to say it myself too: your work is wonderful. Believe me, I absolutely love it!

I found City of Blank years ago, during its first season. I read it all, and was quite impressed with the concept, intrigued by the plot, and in love with the characters. But before the next season started, I dropped out of reading Webtoons completely, as far as I remember. Long story short, I revisited Webtoon recently, read a few episodes of City of Blank, and was hooked. Yep. I binge-read the entire rest of the episodes in... three to five days?

So I want to commend you on your amazing concept, beautiful and eye-catching art, plot that keeps me reading late into the night (and at the dining table, between my studies, every single chance I get), the characters (really, they're very well-written — please don't doubt that — and unique, with different stories and personalities, I just love them), and the themes too (incorporated nicely, and it does make me wonder what it means to be a human). The way you write grey characters is one of the best things in your story, I feel.

(I feel like I should give you specific examples of what I like, but I have a tendency of talking too much, as you can see, so this will get way too long, I think... and sorry about the already huge chunks of text. but I hope this make you feel happy somehow)

Alright, now onto my actual questions. They're actually not related to the webcomic itself, since I really can't think of anything interesting... But your story is really good, so here are some queries I have about writing in general.

Do you have any tips for thinking of ideas? About concepts, plot, whatever; how to really get your brain in that mode, you know.

How do you create such vibrant characters? My characters are so similar... there are at least three pairs of nearly-identical characters. And how do you make them flawed yet still so likable?

They are pretty general questions, my apologies. It's just that, you know, since I'm getting to interact with the creator of one of my current favourite stories, why not learn something from them? You can just answer with your personal processes or whatever, I just wished to know how you do it.

I'm really looking forward to the next episode (but take your time, I'm okay with waiting). Pretty sad that this is the last season though. I'll miss it. Could you maybe tell me the estimated date of return and how many more episodes we'll have? Just a rough idea will do too.

That's all. (At this point it'll come as a relief to you 😂) Have a wonderful week ahead, lots of love, and know that there are lots of people who genuinely enjoy your work, you adorable shark! ❤️

(also, don't know why I'm telling you, but this is my first ever interaction on Tumblr with literally anyone) (cool site, I like the easy formatting)

(If you've read this entire thing, thank you. Did I bother you too much? I hope not.)

Hey there! Gonna do my best to answer this since it's been in my inbox for a while, but apologies if it's not the most coherent as my head's still in a bit of a fog from a cold.

First off, thank you for the kind words. I remember they made my day when I first got this ask, but they made it again as I'm waking up w/ a throbbing head ache and coughing my lungs out from the NYCC 2023 Con Crud™.

Anyway, gonna answer your questions the best I can, especially because I'm not entirely sure what the best way to answer these kinds of questions are-

Do you have any tips for thinking of ideas? About concepts, plot, whatever; how to really get your brain in that mode, you know.

I think one thing I like to shape a lot of my concepts around is making something unordinary ordinary. I've talked about it before, but one of the inspirations behind blanks is shadow people, like the ghosts. They're so horrifying and creepy to me, and I thought it would be neat if I made a world where the most creepy and scary thing to me was just...super ordinary and mundane. Like a world where you go into your living room and you're like "Man, that shadow person is still standing in front of my tv. How obnoxious."

A lot of my upcoming ideas kind of focus around this concept too. What if we lived in a world where demons were just every day citizens that went to work and school with us? What if we lived in a world where nobody feared death and was excited for it? What if we lived in a world where half the population was in prison? I can't say every single story idea I have falls into this, but I'd say a lot of them do and I find it's often a kick off point for a lot of my ideas.

How do you create such vibrant characters? My characters are so similar... there are at least three pairs of nearly-identical characters. And how do you make them flawed yet still so likable?

Do I make them likable? Sometimes I can't tell when I look at characters like Lyss haha. Because I think she's a victim of how I write characters, which is just... I dunno, write them like they're real people. Everybody is mad at the decisions Lyss made but... I'm sorry. I'll forever die on the hill that everyone are hypocrites and 90% of people would have done the same thing in her shoes. Only a flawless, benevolent, and frankly kind of stupid, person would have just...let Rex go in those circumstances, evil other half be damned. He was still a danger who proved he couldn't control himself, and the same way you'd probably report your best friend who was driving raving drunk after he just smashed into someone, she reported a dangerous person. Even if people hate her for it, I wrote what any person would have done in that situation. And that's how I try to write all my characters, for better or for worse. A lot of Rex's stupid decisions are dictated by his anxiety and depression, and I know from firsthand experience how being in that state of mind can influence your decisions and overall outlook on life and the people who love you, despite what you may think. I guess my advice is just to give them human flaws. A lot of people don't like Nia because she's manipulative, but I write her as a character who 100% practices what she preaches. Yeah, she "gas lit" Rex into joining Blan Corp, but she also 1000% believed it was the best thing for him.

Desmond probably comes off as the more "flawless" characters, but his own self-loathing and... catholic blank guilt is a big part of what pushed Rex away. In the time when Rex was questioning and hating himself for being a blank, why would he ever go the one person who hates himself for being a blank more than him? When he could go to the person (Nia) who celebrates him being a blank, and reminds him he can be loved for being one.

Anyway, that's enough rambling for now. Hopefully that gives you some to chew on.

#city of blank #rex #desmond #lyss #nia

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aphrosephone119 · 7 days ago

Text

first fic of my 'series of Jiara one shots'

(link to my fic at the end)

Kiara was 5 years old when she met JJ for the first time. She was currently in her second week of kindergarten, and was yet to make any friends. There had been a few kids that she loved playing in the sand pit with, and there were a few she'd always sit with at lunch, but they weren't really her friends. She'd spend a lot of her day alone in the corner with the books and art and crafts table, occupying herself as she glanced around the room and saw all the other kids playing together without her.

That was, until a young blonde boy came crashing into the corner one day. He'd been playing soccer inside with one of the other boys, and wasn't watching where he was going before being taken out by the plastic red craft table that Kiara was currently sat at.

The boy groaned, pushing himself off the floor, rubbing the back of his head as he looked up at Kiara. She glanced back at his wide, vibrant blue eyes, and noticed how his face was smudged with dirt. His hair was also sticking up in all directions, and he had a sheepish grin that revealed a missing front tooth.

Kiara blinked at him, dropping the green crayon she’d been using to draw a picture of a turtle, and stood up from her seat, kneeling down to help the boy up.

"Sorry! I didn't ruin your drawing did I?"

Kiara shook her head quickly. "No, it’s fine," she said softly, helping him stand. "Are you ok?"

The boy dusted off his knees and grinned, unbothered by the crash. "Yeah, I'm all good. Thanks." He looked at the picture on the table. "Woah, is that a turtle?"

Kiara nodded, a small smile creeping onto her face. "Yeah. I love turtles."

"Cool! I like sharks. They’re like the tigers of the ocean. But turtles are cool too, I guess," he said with a shrug, as if he had to qualify the statement. Then, as if realizing he hadn’t introduced himself, he stuck out a dirt-streaked hand. "I’m JJ!"

Kiara hesitated for a moment before shaking his hand. "I’m Kiara!"

"Kiara," JJ repeated, like he was testing it out. "That’s a cool name. Hey, wanna play? I was playing soccer with Charlie. You can be on my team!"

Kiara blinked, surprised. No one had ever invited her to play before. "Me? But I don’t know how to play soccer."

JJ grinned even wider. "That’s okay! I can teach you. It’s easy. You just kick the ball and try to get it past Charlie. I think you’ll be good at it."

Kiara hesitated, glancing back at her turtle drawing, but JJ was already bouncing on the balls of his feet, waiting for her answer. Something about his enthusiasm was contagious, and before she knew it, she was nodding.

"Okay," she said, standing up. "But I might be really bad at it."

JJ shrugged. "That’s fine. I’ll still be your coach. Let’s go!"

Kiara followed JJ across the room, her nerves tingling with a mix of excitement and uncertainty. The other boy, Charlie, was waiting by the ball, his arms crossed and an impatient look on his face. When he saw Kiara, he frowned.

"She’s playing too?" he asked JJ.

"Yup!" JJ said confidently. "She’s on my team, and we’re gonna win."

Charlie rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. JJ handed Kiara the ball and said, "Okay, just try to kick it past Charlie. I’ll help if you need me to."

Kiara bit her lip, staring at the ball. Her small sneakers felt awkward, and she wasn’t sure she’d even make contact, but JJ gave her an encouraging nod. Summoning all her courage, she swung her foot, and missed completely, her leg swiping through the air as she stumbled slightly.

Charlie burst out laughing. "She’s so bad!"

Kiara’s face turned red, and she looked down at the floor, embarrassed. But JJ stepped in front of her, his hands on his hips. "Hey! Don’t be mean, Charlie! She’s just learning."

Charlie groaned but didn’t say anything else. JJ turned back to Kiara and gave her a grin, the kind that made her feel like maybe she wasn’t so bad after all. "Don’t worry, Kie. You’ll get it."

Kiara blinked. "Kie?"

"Yeah," JJ said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Kiara’s kinda long. Kie’s shorter. And cool. Just like you."

For a moment, Kiara forgot all about missing the ball. No one had ever given her a nickname before. She liked the way it sounded when JJ said it, like she was someone special.

"Okay," she said, smiling. "I like it."

"Good," JJ said, nudging the ball back toward her. "Now try again. Kick it hard, and on the inside of your foot. Not your toes.

Kiara nodded, her confidence boosted. She pulled back her foot and swung again, this time hitting the ball squarely. It rolled past Charlie, who wasn’t ready, and JJ cheered loudly.

"Yes! Well done, Kie!"

Kiara laughed, the sound bubbling up out of her chest. For the first time since starting kindergarten, she felt like she belonged.

From that day on, JJ always called her Kie. The nickname stuck, and so did their friendship. Whether they were kicking soccer balls, drawing turtles and sharks, or just sitting together at lunch, Kiara and JJ were inseparable.

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

By the time Kiara and JJ were in 3rd grade, they had kind of drifted apart. It wasn't something Kie had wanted to happen, but her parents' whispered words of JJ being a 'troublemaker' and a 'future prison inmate' had gotten to her. They had done everything in their power to keep her away from him, hoping that it'd stop her from following down the same path he'd ended up on. If she was in charge though, she'd be with JJ all the time. After 2 weeks of being ignored by her at school, JJ had sadly taken the hint and moved away. He was heartbroken, of course, but if Kie wanted nothing to do with him anymore, he couldn't exactly force her.

Though, luckily, only a few days later, Kiara had seen that JJ made a new friend. A boy in his class named John B Routledge. A boy with curly hair, a face full of freckles, and a smile so big and bright it lit up the room.

Kiara watched them at recess and lunch, wanting nothing more than to run over to JJ and pick up where they left off, but she couldn't disobey her parents.

She thought, at least he wasn't on his own. At least JJ had someone else in his life after such a long time of it being just the two of them. And if she was honest, it looked like he and John B seemed to be even closer than she was with him. He looked happy, and that's all she wanted for him.

By 5th grade, Kiara couldn't help but wonder what life would have been like if she’d ignored her parents and stayed friends with JJ. She often saw him causing mischief around the neighborhood with John B and, later, another boy named Pope Heyward, who was known for being one of the smartest kids in their grade.

The three of them were always together, laughing, running, and getting into trouble. Kiara admired them from a distance but never had the courage to approach. Not after what she did to JJ back in 3rd grade.

When the 2nd year of middle school rolled around, Kiara’s attitude towards her parents started to change. She fought against their demands, called them out when she thought they were wrong, and spent a lot of time sneaking out of her window to meet her friends at the beach.

She was 13 after all. A teenager will always be a teenager, no matter what the parents try to do to contain them.

Due to this sudden defiance she'd developed, Kiara thought back on those things her parents used to say about JJ, and now his friends, and she decided that enough was enough.

Kiara was done letting her parents' opinions dictate her life. She was tired of watching from the sidelines, wondering what her life could've been like if she hadn't listened to them all those years ago.

She was especially tired of pretending she didn't want to be part of something bigger, part of the group that seemed to have so much fun, even if it meant bending the rules. Her friends now were great, and she loved spending time with them, but all they wanted to do was spend time in town, when all she wanted to go to the beach and hit the waves. Something JJ and his friends did ALLLL the time.

One sunny Saturday afternoon, Kiara made her way down to the beach, her heart pounding. She knew where JJ, John B, and Pope usually hung out, near an old abandoned lifeguard tower. She clutched her surfboard tightly as it dragged in the sand behind her, trying to summon the courage to walk up to them.

As she got closer, she could hear their voices carrying on the wind. JJ was laughing loudly, and John B was trying to explain something, though his words were barely audible over Pope’s protests. They were wrestling over a can of beer JJ had probably stolen from his dad's fridge.

13 and drinking beer, definitely something Kiara had heard her parents talking about with hushed voices when they saw JJ hanging out at the docks with John B and Pope.

But their antics were always so carefree and lively that Kiara couldn’t help but smile.

“Hey,” she called out, her voice shaky but determined.

The boys froze, all three heads swiveling to look at her. JJ’s eyes widened slightly when he saw who it was, but his surprise quickly morphed into furrowed brows as he bit the inside of his cheek.

“Well, well, if it isn’t little miss ignore and abandon,” JJ said dramatically, leaning back against the tower like he wasn’t fazed. “Long time, no see.”

John B and Pope exchanged curious looks. “You know her?” John B asked.

“Yeah,” JJ said casually, though his tone had an edge of mischief. “We used to be best buds. But then she ditched me. Right, Kie?”

Kiara winced at JJ’s words, her heart sinking. She’d expected him to be mad, but hearing the accusation aloud stung more than she’d imagined. She took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice steady.

“I wasn't trying to ditch you, JJ,” she said softly, though she knew it wasn't really true. She took a step closer. “I was... I was just listening to my parents, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

JJ’s posture stiffened for a moment, his blue eyes studying her like he was trying to figure out if she was being sincere.

“Sorry doesn’t really cut it, Kie,” he said finally, kicking at the sand. “You just stopped talking to me. You let me think I did something wrong. Do you know how that felt?”

“I know,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “I know I messed up, but I’ve been thinking about it for years. I hated not being around you, JJ. I missed you.”

JJ looked away, clearly torn. John B, sensing the tension, decided to break the silence.

“Okay, so this is awkward,” he said with a half-smile, stepping between them. “Hi, I’m John B. And that’s Pope.”

Pope gave her a small wave, though he looked just as unsure as John B about what was happening.

Kiara smiled tentatively. “Hi guys... I've seen you both around school, and hanging around JJ at the docks. It’s nice to formally meet you.” She glanced back at JJ. “And I really mean it. I missed you, JJ. And... I want to make things right, if you’ll let me.”

JJ crossed his arms, thinking over Kie's words, but he still couldn't help but feel hesitant and betrayed. He shifted in the sand and slowly got to his feet, his eyes still fixed on Kiara. The breeze picked up, tossing his messy blonde hair around, but he didn’t seem to notice. There was a long silence between them as Kiara stood there, her heart pounding, waiting for him to respond.

John B and Pope exchanged another glance, sensing the heavy atmosphere, but neither of them said anything. John B had known JJ long enough now to know that it takes a while for someone to earn his trust. It had taken John B 3 weeks of nagging for JJ to finally talk back to him, then it took another 2 months before JJ felt comfortable around him.

With Pope it was longer. You see, John B was in the same classes as JJ, he was with him everyday, so it was easier. But Pope was in the higher classes, being a cleverclogs and all, and it was actually John B who'd introduced JJ to Pope after the two of them had met in the school library.

JJ was so closed off for a long time, but overtime, Pope grew on him and it got to a point where JJ couldn't wait to get to school so he could spend time with the pair.

So as you can see, distrust is something that's built into JJ. It's something that John B now realises may have been caused by what this Kiara girl did to him a few years ago. And if it took him and Pope THAT long to earn JJ's trust, God knows what it'll take for Kiara to earn BACK his trust after betraying it.

JJ finally broke the silence with a small, almost sad sigh. “You think just saying sorry is gonna fix everything, Kie?”

Kiara bit her lip, looking down at the sand. She could feel the weight of his words, the years of distance between them. She had never meant to hurt him, but she had. And now, the damage was there, lingering between them like a cloud.

“I don't know,” she admitted, her voice quiet. “But I want to try. I know I can’t change the past, but I can make up for it now. If you’ll let me.”

For a moment, JJ didn’t answer. He just stared out at the ocean, his bright eyes distant, as if searching for something in the horizon. Kiara could see the muscles in his jaw working, like he was trying to hold back the anger or hurt that had built up over the years.

Finally, he let out a soft chuckle, though there was no real joy in it. “You really are something, Kiara,” he said, turning back to her with a small grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re standing here acting like nothing ever happened, like we’re just gonna pick up where we left off.”

Kiara flinched. She knew he wasn't wrong. She had abandoned him, and it wasn’t something she could erase in an instant. “I know,” she whispered. “But I want to make it right. Please give me another chance?”

JJ’s eyes softened for a brief moment, but the guarded look quickly returned. He glanced at John B and Pope, then back to Kiara. “You’ve got a lot of catching up to do, Kie. But... I’m willing to let you try. I can’t promise everything will go back to how it was, but I’ll give you a shot.”

Kiara felt a rush of relief. It wasn’t the reunion she had imagined, but it was something. She nodded earnestly, her eyes shining with determination. “I’ll prove it to you. I’ll be here, no matter what.”

John B, always the one to break the tension, grinned and stepped forward. “Well, now that that’s settled, how about we all go for a surf? The waves are perfect today."

JJ shot Kiara a look, his eyes still wary but less hard than before. “You know how to surf?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked down at her board.

Kiara smiled, finally feeling like herself again. “I’m getting there. You gonna teach me?”

JJ shrugged, his grin widening. “Guess I could. But don’t expect me to go easy on you. I'll be your coach."

Kiara laughed, the sound of it echoing in the salty air. It wasn’t the same as it used to be, but maybe, just maybe, they could start over. She joined the boys, walking toward the water with them, feeling the sand between her toes as they all headed toward the waves.

As they waded into the surf, JJ reached out, pulling her board toward him, and with a mischievous smile, he shouted over the sound of the crashing waves, “Just don’t wipe out, Kie. We’ve got a reputation to uphold!”

Kiara grinned, feeling a surge of excitement. “I’ll try not to!"

She thought back to that first day she'd met JJ, and how he'd taught her to play soccer after launching himself into the craft table.

"Hey Jayj!" She called out, smiling as he whipped his head round towards her. "Sharks really are the 'tigers of the ocean' aren't they?"

JJ bit his lips together, staring down at his board as the memory played in the front of his mind. He looked up at the girl by his side, his gaze meeting hers before replying.

"Yeah. Turtles are cool too, I guess."

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