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#I think about that at least once every month
hannieehaee · 23 hours
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DOES HE KNOW ? (teaser)
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18+ / mdi
summary: after being friends with lee chan for a good portion of your life, the boy you considered nothing but your best friend suddenly starts acting different, making you slowly fall for him. problem is, you have a boyfriend.
content: friends2lovers!chan, reader has a bf, almost cheating but not actually, afab reader, smut, oral (f receiving), wet dream (this is actually a huge point in the plot lol), masturbation (f receiving), dry humping, more oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.
(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)
wc: 1k (teaser); 9.8k (full fic)
release date: april 17th
or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!
a/n: rewrote this so many times but finally finished it!! i love writing channie so i hope u guys enjoy<3
masterlist
support me through a one time tip<3
Something was clearly wrong with you.
Was Lee Chan hot?
Nothing made sense anymore, and it had been the case for a while.
You could date it back to some months ago, at one of Soonyoung's usual gatherings. This had been where it all began, or more so, where it all ended.
For some reason unknown to man, that was the day in which Chan began courting you (his words, not yours).
After years of a solid friendship between the two of you, a not-so tipsy Chan cornered you at aforementioned party and began dancing with you. This was a common occurrence between the two of you. Despite having been taken for the past few months, you were still quite liberal about your touchy relationship with your best friend. However, what happened next what was truly out of the ordinary.
"Hey," he had whispered against your ear.
"Yeah?", you giggled, entertained by the boy.
"Wanna know a secret?"
"Sure."
"I've never wanted anyone as much as I want you," and with that, the dam had broken.
You froze against his arms, eyes widening. Though he could not see, as you were holding each other far too close to make eye contact.
Maybe he was drunk?
He interrupted you before you could respond. Chan pulled away from you to look into your eyes with a fully sober look in his face.
"I'm not drunk, and I know you have a boyfriend. And I know you only see me as a friend. But give me a few weeks, and I'll change both those things," was the last thing he said before giving you a peck on the cheek (yet another common thing in your relationship) and walking away with a confident sway in his step.
Ever since then, you had been bombarded by romantic gestures from your former best friend – former because you truly had no idea how you felt about him by this point.
Chan bought you flowers, – even when it was raining – had your favorite beverage at hand any time you so happened to see him, tied your shoelaces should they ever come undone, plucked loose eyelashes from your cheeks, tucked your hair behind your ear, placed his hand at the small of your back before crossing a street, walked you to and from home, looked at you with an indescribable sweetness in his eye, he ... He did everything any girl would need to be completely swooned (and then some).
You were beyond confused as to when this change had come about. As far as you knew, you were nothing more than best friends. When had Chan even begun liking you? What had changed?
"Oh. He's always had a thing for you," was what your mutual friend Soonyoung said when you first brought it up.
"What do you mean? We've been friends for years, he's never-"
"Yeah, duh. You never showed interest, what was he supposed to do? But yeah, he's crazy about you," added Seungkwan, sipping his drink nonchalantly.
You had decided to meet up with some of your mutual friends while Chan was at work. You needed at least five minutes with your other friends without Chan getting in the way with his flirting.
"It's kinda sick, actually," interjected Soonyoung once more.
You remained quiet for a while, thinking back to every interaction you'd ever had with Chan that may have revealed his feelings for you. Unfortunately, you kept drawing blanks all the while Soonyoung stole fries from your plate, disregarding your confusion at the situation.
"But why now?", you finally asked, slapping his meddling hand away from your food.
He shrugged, "Maybe he got fed up of watching you with that guy."
"He has a name, Soonyou-"
"None of us really care enough to learn it."
That much was true. None of your friends were fans of your current boyfriend. Or of any of them, to be quite frank. You had certain lack of skill at picking them, though this time around you felt confident about your current relationship. He was nice and respectful. Maybe a little bit of a square, but you liked to think you brought out the fun in him. This was also the longest relationship you'd ever had, giving you the grand total of three months in a exclusive relationship and a month and a half of a very prolonged talking stage that took place before he ever asked you out officially.
"Is this because I've been taken for longer than usual?", you tried to assert.
"Oh! That might be it, huh?", Soonyoung agreed.
"Well, I guess he didn't want you to break your streak of failed relationships," chuckled Kwan.
With a slap to his chest, you dropped the subject, deciding to ignore the slight acceleration of your heart any time you thought about Chan's crush for too long.
At first you found it to be a bit of a joke, but his affections quickly began to wear you down. It also didn't help how blatant he was about it, constantly flirting up a storm around your friends, not caring for their amused smiles at your flustered half-rejections of his advances. The only times in which he held back were the rare occasions in which your boyfriend would join your friend group in their outings. He could be reserved at times, not really clicking with your loud friends, so his presence was not a common thing.
Being honest, you felt kind of bad at the genuine excitement Chan's crush gave you. Though you weren't sure of your feelings for him at this point, his interest flustered you tremendously. You'd always known him as a pretty and charming guy, despite never really acknowledging such things. You understood why he got so much attention from girls, though you never thought too much of it. He was your best friend, you never had any motive to consider anything further than platonic feelings for him. But now that you were questioning your feelings, you felt as if you were kind of betraying your boyfriend.
Not to misunderstand, you had no desire of pursuing anything with anyone while you were in a committed relationship. You were just not that kind of person. But the mere thought of blushing at the words of a guy who wasn't yours (all while actually having a guy of your own) made you feel ashamed. Specially considering that you already had a very grand preexisting fondness for the guy in question.
God damn you, Lee Chan.
...
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shanastoryteller · 1 day
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ROSES ARE RED, AND THIS IS BEDONKS
CAN I PRETTY PLEASE HAVE SOME PERCY AND TONKS 🌹💖
“What’s going on with Percy?”
Kingsley looks ups from his paperwork to find Amelia looming over him. Not exactly a common occurrence, since he’s well over a foot taller than her. “Brooks?”
“Merlin, don’t speak to me about Percy Brooks,” she says, pulling a face. She’s the one who brought him up! “Weasley.”
He blinks several times, rolling through Arthur’s children until he lands on the appropriate redhead. A bit uptight, considering his parentage, but Molly can fret with the best of them up until she gets fed up and settles matters with her wand. “I could get Tonks in here, if you want.”
“Do they know each other?” she asks in interest. “They were in different houses, and a couple years apart.”
How does she know that? He knew that, but it was against his will. “Tonks is dating him. Or trying? I’m not totally clear on the specifics despite her best efforts.”
He hadn’t anticipated how much work it would take for him to dodge a trainee determined to complain to him about her love life. It speaks well of her future in the field, at least. Or poorly of his own abilities, but he’s fairly confident in those, so he’s comfortable giving her the credit here.
“Great, a harassment case waiting to happen for our department,” she says dryly.
He rolls his eyes. “The only person he’s complaining about it to is Tonks. Who takes it as encouragement. Which, considering the cause and effect, it very well might be.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Amelia says. “What’s what this kid?”
Kingsley is lost again. “Can you get a little more specific?”
“Crouch’s department has become efficient, and dare I saw, effective over the last couple months. It’s certainly got nothing to do to with Crouch, since he’s been useless for nearly a decade. The only thing that’s changed is Percy. Who attends every meeting, claiming Crouch sent him to take notes, and then memos and policy get signed and sent out of Crouch’s office when I know for a fact Crouch is too busy harassing me to do his damn job.”
He tries to avoid the obvious answer because it’s the most ridiculous. “You think it’s him?”
“Who else?” she returns.
Well. “Do you… want me to arrest him?”
“What good would that do?” she demands. “The department is operating smoothly for once. I want to know what his deal is. Is he loyal to Crouch? Plotting against us? Just really passionate about bottom thickness?”
Not according to Tonks.
Uhg.
If he was alone, he’d bang his head on his desk until he’s unable to remember what Tonks’s voice sounded like and then maybe he’d know peace.
“Everyone’s got to start somewhere,” he says. “You’re noticing. Maybe that’s what he’s after.”
“I’m noticing because I notice everything. He’s taking significant steps to ensure people don’t notice. How’s he supposed to get promoted that way? Or transferred?” She shakes her head. “He’s doing it for a reason. Do me a favor and find out.”
Why can’t she ask him something simple, like hiding a body or burying evidence?
Now he has to spend his lunch break listening to Tonks talk about her not-boyfriend.
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greynatomy · 3 hours
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confessions and accidental meetings
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ona batlle x reader
prequel to soft launch. requested here
———
Arriving at your favorite coffee shop, you swing the door open only to feel some resistance on the other side.
“Oh my god! I am so sorry!” You’ve not even looked at the person, but grabbed as many napkins as you could to start wiping her down. “I am such a klutz.”
What you don’t notice is the person smiling widely at you, entertained at how you’re wiping her down and apologizing nonstop. She reaches out to grab one of your wrists to stop your panick.
“It is okay.” She tells you once your eyes reach hers.
You swear you could’ve melted right there and there. The hand she isn’t holding is stilled on her shirt over her stomach where you were absolutely sure you felt some indentations.
You couldn’t look away, opting to just nod as words aren’t able to properly come out of your mouth.
Ona was loving every second of this interaction, loving how you melt to her touch, a complete stranger’s.
Despite being soaking wet, Ona sat down with you at a table, attentively listening to to whatever you had to say. It was a bit difficult to understand, but all she knew was that she didn’t want to stop talking to you.
“Can-can I get your, uh, number?”
You gave it to her without hesitation, telling her that you’d be her tour guide of Manchester. You brought her to your favorite places, Ona making a mental note about everything you’ve said and shown her.
In the three months since you’ve met, your jobs never came up, relishing in the bubble you two have built around yourselves. There was an understanding that you both very much liked each other more than friend’s, it was just a matter of who has the guts to take it to the next level.
Seeing as you weren’t going to do it, Ona dragged you out of your apartment, taking you to all of your favorite places. You loved how she remembered everything you’ve told her, everything being highlighted on this day.
Last but not least, you’ve both made it to the coffee shop you’ve both met at, always feeling nostalgic whenever you step foot in it.
“I, uh, wanted to ask you something and I thought it’s good to come back here to do it.” You nod, telling her to continue. Ona squirmed in her seat, avoiding eye contact, she stammered, “Um, so, I’ve been thinking… I mean not-not that I think about this all the time, but uh.”
You raise an eyebrow, curiosity peaked. “It’s just me Ona. Spill it.”
Ona took a deep breath, “Well, when we are together, I-I have this weird feeling in my stomach. Not like, not like a tummy ache, but what is it people say? Cockroaches?”
“Butterflies?” You correct her.
“Yes! Uh, yes, butterflies. And I-I like you. More than a friend.”
You blinked, trying to process her words, then broke into a bright smile. “That was the most awkward and adorable thing I have ever experienced. And I also have butterflies in my stomach whenever we hang out. How could I not?”
“Really? Uh, wow.”
“Well, first, let’s stop being awkward and acknowledge that we both like each other. And then… maybe you could come over here and kiss me.”
Ona, seemingly getting all her confidence back, walks around the table to where you sat. Hands cupping both sides of your face, she dips her head down, pulling you into a passionate kiss.
You’ve been together for a good six months now and everyday has been full of laughs, adventure and comfortability. When she found out who your sister was though, she looked like she’s seen a ghost.
“You don’t have to be scared of her, baby. She’s just a big giant teddy bear.”
“She could probably beat me up.”
“Don’t say that! She’s all soft and cuddly.”
Ona didn’t believe you. She’s played against Lucy before and it’s safe to say your sister scares her a bit.
One day, Ona had just finished training and decided to go and surprise you after not seeing each other for a week with both of your busy schedules. She picked up your favorite flowers and favorite take away and made the journey to you apartment.
She doesn’t bother to knock, using the spare key you’ve given her.
“Mi amore!” She calls out, taking her shoes off by the front door. walking further into the apartment, she’s met with one Lucy Bronze sitting on your couch. “Uh, hello.”
“Ah. So you’re the one my sister is seeing.” Lucy gets up from where she sat, stalking closer to Ona.
“Uh, sí. It is nice to meet you.” Ona gulps, nervous say how Lucy was looking down at her.
“You’re technically the enemy, so I wouldn’t say this is anything but nice.”
They were both staring down at each other, unaware that you’ve walked back into the living room.
“What are you guys doing?”
They whip their head towards you, like they’ve been caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar.
“Just getting acquainted with your girlfriend here.” Lucy says, placing a hand on Ona’s shoulder, squeezing a bit making Ona wince, but tries to hide.
“Lucy, don’t scare my girlfriend please.” You grab Ona’s arm, pulling her away from your sister. “I would like to keep her alive forever.”
“Fine. But just know, I’m keeping a close eye on you. Hurt my sister and I hurt you.” Lucy flexes her bicep, making you let out a laugh.
“You are always flexing, I swear.”
“I promise to not hurt your sister, at least intentionally.” Ona pulls you close, placing a kiss on the side of your head.
“Good. Good. Now, what kind of take out did you bring? I’m hungry.”
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withleeknow · 15 hours
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Can I req something for the milestone event with lee know using this prompt „time passes slower without you.”? ✨
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navigation / masterlist / ko-fi
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patience is a virtue, everybody knows that.
you know it too. the only issue? patience is a virtue that you don't have.
you're an impatient person by nature, born with an inherent restlessness within your bones that keys you up more often than you'd like to admit. in school, you were always thinking about your next degree. with work, you're always thinking about the next big thing, the future position you'll hopefully land once you gain enough experience. you're always waiting for something else, constantly looking forward to the days ahead instead of living in the now. it's a personal flaw, you're well aware of this.
it happens when it comes to even the most mundane things. what cafe should you try next weekend, even if you're not even half done with the caramel macchiato you're holding in your hands? what movie should you watch next, even if the one playing on your tv screen hasn't gone into its second act yet?
your impatience already flares up on a daily basis, but it's even more amplified and unbearable whenever minho is away. it doesn't help that he's often gone for weeks, if not months on end. you're always counting down the days until he's back before he's even out the door.
"just one more week, yeah?"
his words hang heavy in the silence of your bedroom. your phone is on speaker, set against the pillow next to yours so you could pretend like he's here with you when you close your eyes. you try to facetime every day even if it's only for fifteen, twenty minutes. just to catch up on each other's day and at least see each other for a while before you go to sleep. it's bittersweet, being able to look at him and hear him talk but only from the digital void of your phone.
even though you tend to hide from him how you really feel, how much you actually miss him and wish for him to be back by your side, you think it must still bleed through from time to time. be it the subtle way your voice drops during conversation or how your eyes glaze over with sadness just a little bit when you stare at his handsome face for too long on video call.
you know minho is trying to comfort you. he wouldn't be a very good partner if he can't tell that his own girlfriend is having a hard time without him, would he? and it's not like you bitch and moan any chance you get. no, you always try to hide it from him because it's not his fault that he has to be away sometimes, not like he's choosing to leave you just for the fun of it.
you know his gentle reminder is meant to mitigate your ache, but it only makes you be more aware of how time doesn't seem to pass when he's not here. the clock stops ticking the second he's gone, and you feel like you have to drag yourself through every minute of every hour and repeat the process for days and weeks and months.
"one week is too long," you say quietly. "time passes slower without you."
seven days. one hundred and sixty eight hours. ten thousand and eighty minutes. it's practically nothing compared to the time that has already passed, but that doesn't mean that you get to miss him any less even though it's only a two-hour flight away.
minho doesn't really reply directly to what you said. instead, he tries to distract you with anecdotes of his day - like a funny looking pigeon he saw on the street earlier or a cute photo of soonie that his mom sent him. it works a little. he considers it a success when you crack a smile and giggle at his theatrics.
he keeps the conversation light until you're biting back a yawn and he knows it's time to let you get some rest. even when you're saying your goodnights, neither of you mention what day it'll be tomorrow. you're sure that in the morning you'll wake up to messages from him - not entirely poetic because it's not his specialty, but they'll still be infinitely and wonderfully sincere. you don't bring it up in case he feels guilty, and you think he doesn't bring it up because the reminder that he won't be here might make you sleep restlessly tonight.
you fall asleep with a little bit of a heavy heart, and wake up when the sound of your doorbell ringing fills your apartment at precisely 7:06am. the other side of the bed still cold and devoid of your minho, but it's not the first thing that you notice like you do every morning.
no, the first thing that you register today is the vivid discomfort of having your peace disturbed so early on when it should be a day that you get to spend feeling nothing but comfort and contentment. or at least, as content as you can get without minho here. you carry that irritation with you all the way to the front door, wild bedhead and all.
the door swings open.
you're a deer in the headlights and suddenly your displeasure is vanished, gone in a second like it was never there to begin with.
"surpriseee!"
a sheepish greeting.
you rub your eyes, then pinch yourself on the arm.
you're not really sure what happens next. it's all just a blur of tears and ugly sobbing as you launch yourself into his arms, almost making him knock into the suitcase that's still perched right beside him. the bouquet of peonies in his hand becomes an unfortunate victim as it falls to the floor after the impact, but minho leaves it be, in favor of holding you as tightly as you're holding onto him.
his fingers tangled in your hair, your arms wound around his neck securely like you're afraid you're still dreaming and he'll disappear if you let go. you don't question why he's here; you just accept that he is.
minho peppers warm kisses to your cheeks, your jawline, your forehead and your lips. it's graceless and it's damp from your tears but neither of you could bring yourself to care. he murmurs with an upward quirk of his mouth where he's pressing his smile to your lips, all affection, all love. "happy birthday, baby."
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all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 28.03.2024]
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belladonnadawn · 3 days
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Borderline
“We're on the borderline, caught between the tides of pain and rupture.”
Isaac x reader
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“It’s adorable how focused you are, pickle.” Isaac chuckled as he observed you. There’s a glint of adoration in his eyes as he looks at you, one that makes you fall for him even harder.
“I should be, this is an interesting case.” You responded to his teasing with a smile.
The study was peaceful, perfect for a long night like this. The soft sounds of paper, the quiet clicks of keyboard, and the occasional teasing between you two made the tedious investigation bearable. You were assigned to a new client whose goal was to reveal her husband's infidelity and substance addiction. All she needed was evidence strong enough to prove that he wasn’t able to fulfil the moral clause in his inheritance, and that was your task. So far, you're happy she had a good standing; but you can't help but be concerned about the man that she was associated with. “What a corrupt and evil man.” You muttered under your breath, shaking your head.
Leaning back on your seat, you reached out for your cup of coffee. You sighed as you noticed that the cup was empty. “Isaac, I’m getting a refill. Do you want some?” You offered.
“I’m good for now, pickle. But you could get us some snacks if you like?”
“Okay, wait here.” 
You hummed as you walked towards the kitchen to brew yourself a fresh cup of coffee. You have grown familiar with the house. After months and months of living here, cleaning every crevice and rooms, you easily navigated yourself to get the task done. At first, the thought of it terrified you; living in a spacious mansion with furniture older than you seems like something out of a horror movie. Thinking about the house, you can’t help but wonder if his parents or his grandfather watches you both. An occasional ‘if you’re here watching move a cup’ lingers in your mind– a joke that you never told Isaac. But it’s better than before, at least you’re not in a life and death situation everyday.
The sound of the coffee brewing along with your occasional hums filled the room. You leaned at the counter, recalling the information on your ongoing investigation to occupy your mind from thinking of sleep. Suddenly it hits you, a looming fear in your stomach, you hugged yourself. After years of living– or barely surviving, you learned that once your guts scream, you listen. And you did. You stopped your tracks, sensing anything unusual. But you heard nothing. You sighed, blaming it on paranoia, reminding yourself of how secure the house was. Isaac was meticulous when it comes to security, not a single detail out of place would pass him and you thank him for that. It somewhat assured you, helping you battle those thoughts. 
Then it hits you again, a persistent feeling that doesn’t seem to go away. Tonight, it’s different. You’re not stupid enough to know that it’s different. And you heard it, faint scratches and movements seemingly just outside the house. You silently walked towards it, investigating where it came from.
Bang!
You fell back at the explosion, immediately covering yourself. Your heart was beating out of your chest as you tried to process everything. The nauseating fear crept in your stomach, it felt as if life snatched you back to that day– the one that you longed to escape. A life filled with exploitation, violence, and malevolence. 
Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.
“[name]?! [name]!” Isaac’s panicked voice brought you back to reality. You opened your eyes trying to look through the smoke, only to see him at the door of his study, a gun holstered on his waist. It wasn’t the first time you saw Isaac with a gun. You remembered the time he came to your aid after a nightmare, with the same panic stricken expression. But this time, it wasn’t a nightmare, not an alarm or a simple shrug will bring you back in his arms safe and sound. You had to face what torments you every night. You had to make a move, so you did.
Without wasting any time, you ran towards him. A pain filled moan escaped your lips as you felt a tight grasp on your hair, along with sharpness pressed against your neck. Thousands of curses ran through your mind. You were disoriented, scared, and terrified of how quickly everything unfolded. You felt a low rumble behind your back, seemingly a chuckle. Any attempts to squirm out of his grasp failed as they seemed to push the knife deeper in your throat the more you tried.
Isaac had his gun pointed at the man behind you. His face filled with anger and worry as he witnessed everything. “Let them go.” His voice is firm and commanding.
The man chuckled, “I don’t think you have the leverage to command me.” He tightened his grip on your hair, “I’m here for one thing and one thing only. I know you’re working for that bitch that I call wife, and I know you sons of bitches were onto me. You think I'll let you deliver to her whatever bullshit you found?” You groaned as his grip tightened. 
“You don’t have to hurt them, just tell us what you want.”
‘You’re that asshole that my wife hired, huh?!” The man screamed, pointing a knife at him.
“I am.” Isaac stated with such conviction. Your eyes widened as he stated a lie– a blatant lie.
The man pulled you back, causing your body to hit the floor. As you tried to regain yourself, you felt a kick in your stomach causing you to fall once again. Isaac tried to come to your aid, but he was met with a punch from the man, causing him to stagger. He tried to draw his gun, only to be kicked in the guts, falling with his weapon.
Your eyes wide as you watched them fight, tackling each other with all their might. A painful groan came out as you tried to pull the man back from Isaac only to be backhanded from him. Pain filled your body as you slammed to the floor. You desperately searched for anything to help your case. Then you saw it: the gun. 
Wasting no time, you immediately grabbed it. You feel your heart beating out of your chest, you know how to use a gun, but your lack of skill in aiming might be the death of you, or him– or Isaac. A lump formed in your throat, you silently cursed yourself, wishing that you were trained to do this. But there’s no time for regrets and contemplation, you must act now. 
With shaky hands and short breaths you tried to aim for the man. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Closing your eyes for what’s about to come, you pulled the trigger.
Silence.
A soft thud from the corp– body followed. For years of not having faith, you found yourself praying to God once again. And this time, you wished that he could still recognize your voice and answer your prayers.
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“I’m sorry, Isaac. I’m sorry.” You sobbed, choking at your own words.
He gently caressed your cheeks, “Shh, there’s nothing to be sorry about. You did what you did for us to survive.” Isaac pulled you close, for a brief moment his embrace was enough to make you forget the horrors that you just went through. 
Your eyes landed on the unmoving cold body once again, a choked sob leaving your lips as you realize what you’ve done. After the smoke cleared you saw everything clearly; the debris, the wounds, the blood, and the corpse. It was nauseating, too much for you to bear. 
“I can’t believe they bombed the door.” Isaac sighed, shaking his head. “I’ll just hire a clean up and find a replacement for the door.”
You only nodded, tears still streaming down your face. “I-I didn’t… I just want to protect you.” The realization that you killed a man sinks down further, and the fact that it was your client’s man made you sob harder.
Isaac nodded, “I know and I understand. Please don’t beat yourself up. I know that it wasn’t your intention to kill him, right?”
You nodded.
“I believe that intentions hold more weight than action itself. At that moment, we were in a dire situation where we needed to do everything to live another day. It’s not your fault that you wanted us to survive.” He placed a soft kiss on your forehead. 
Leaning towards him, you let yourself be engulfed with his comfort. You’d hope that once time passed you’d be able to come to terms with what happened. And maybe you’d understand that your action was out of bravery– out of love.
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banjjakz · 3 days
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Seven Days at Granny Orimoto's Flower Shop ; Yuuta x F!Reader
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My name is Okkotsu Yuuta. I am a recent graduate of a martial arts vocational school. I just completed a year-long internship abroad in Africa. Due to my recent re-entry into Japan, I am still in the process of setting up my phone and internet. I apologize for the inconvenience and I am extremely sorry for the burden. As a supervisor and business, you may benefit from the set of skills that I have to offer. I can lift upwards of 25kg. I am neat and detail oriented. Due to past life experiences, I am a fast learner and quick to adapt to new surroundings. I am accustomed to taking orders and delivering results. It is my utmost goal to ensure the comfort and satisfaction of those around me. I am eager to be of service. Please think of me kindly.
Or: An odd boy shows up every night begging for a job offer. Did you mention that he gives you handwritten letters? Do you have to report a workplace romance if the only other employee is your boss, who is currently dying? Asking for a friend.
notes: commission for the lovely mielle! thank you very kindly for 1) commissioning me!!!!!! and 2) putting up with my compulsion to surpass any and all word count specifications
warnings: general off-putting vibes, casual discussions of child death, implied stalking (at the very least), unethical(…? maybe ethically gray?) necromancy, etc. y'all know what's about to go down
♡‬ read on ao3 ‪♡‬
Life as a florist is every bit the dream that you’d hoped it would be.
The thought of working from nine to five in some cubicle for the rest of your life was enough to drive you out of university before even completing the feeble attempt you’d half-assedly made at a degree. While the path to your current state of employment had not been linear, easy, or even recommended, you cannot imagine ending up anywhere else.
You’re lucky enough as it is that Granny Orimoto was willing to take you on – perhaps, at first, out of pity – as a shop-hand. That day, all those months, is still as clear as unmarred waters in your mind. What a pitiful image you must have made: underfed, poorly clothed, with roving, vacant eyes.
Nevertheless, you adjusted quickly and gratefully to your new place of employment. Within months, your sense of self and purpose in life had been restored, watered and nurtured underneath the guiding light of Granny Orimoto’s flower shop. Like a corpse risen again, your days were once more filled with hope and aspirations.
Eventually, Granny Orimoto began bestowing upon you more and more responsibilities. You tend to think of your daily tasks as privileges more than anything else. You’ve graduated far beyond merely ringing customers up on the till – at this point, you’re somewhat of a budding horticulturalist. Or, at least, that’s what you’d like to think on your good days.
Recently, Granny Orimoto has even begun to entrust you to manage the shop on your lonesome for several days out of the week. It used to be the case that she would require you to work only hours that coincided with her own availability, so that you might fall under her constant supervision. Of course, this was back when you could barely keep a plant alive. Nowadays, things are quite different.
Quite different, indeed.
On this slow, Monday evening, managerial status finds its way to you once more. Closing the shop used to feel weird, without Granny Orimoto there to lay into you about your posture, or your clumsiness, or your naturally shy, stuttering nature. Now, it’s starting to feel eerily more and more like business as usual.
When the bell above the front door rings, you don’t think too much of it – this town is a bit of a tourist trap, so there are quite a few out-of-towners who aren’t used to respecting closing times. Usually, you’re too nice to shoo them out, but the weight of the day bears heavily upon your apron-clad shoulders.
But when you spin around on your heel, the polite-yet-firm “we closed four minutes ago” withers on your tongue like dead leaves crumbling away upon the unrepentant, earthen ground.
The most disturbing thing is not that he’s exactly your type of handsome: tall, gaunt, malnourished, with a strange, lost look in his wideset eyes. It would be easier, somehow, if your immediate and arresting attraction to the gangly stranger was the most of your worries.
Perhaps what unnerves you so, is the fact that you are powerless to do anything but devote the entirety of your attention to the odd young man. The terra cotta pot once in your grasp has suddenly been placed on the nearest shelf. The gardener’s gloves on your hands have now been stripped away and flung carelessly to the ground, the delicate flesh of your fingers on display for the world to see.
“Are you hiring?” He asks. The lights flicker. Granny Orimoto should really stop fighting you about calling an electrician – they aren’t that expensive.
No, is what you should say, because you don’t have the authority to answer this question and also the thought of having to train someone else when you are just barely getting the hang of your newfound managerial status is a terrifying prospect.
And yet, what ends up leaving your mouth is:
“Yes.”
His black hair is overgrown and in dire need of a trim. The bangs are in a liminal state: too short to part, too long for comfort. It dangles limply in his eyes. Those eyes. Big and glassy and dark, like a dead doe gazing up, unseeingly, at the sky.
“Okay,” he says. “Is there an application that I could fill out?”
Is he not cold? The weather chills significantly at night, and his layers look rather thin. Or maybe that’s just the way the clothes hang off of him. “No, it’s alright. You can just – um, you’re good.”
“I’m…?”
“You’re good,” you repeat and then you have to fight for control over your own body, so that you can turn around and break eye contact before it actually kills you.  “When can you start? Do you have a phone number? Um, so we can get in touch with you about scheduling and training and verify your location and such and so forth.”
Okay, that last sentence was hastily tacked on. You’ll be the first to admit that much. But what kind of girl would you look like, asking a random stranger for his number out of the blue?
You hear more than you see him shuffle his feet, still lingering awkwardly in the doorway. “Um, no, sorry. I don’t have a phone.”
“E-mail?”
“Ah..no…would communication via letter be alright?”
What is his problem?
He shows up, four minutes past closing, poorly dressed and clearly in poor health, as well, to inquire about a job opening, and doesn’t even have a phone or any form of contact to provide other than handwritten correspondence?
Is this a prank? Are you being pranked, right now? You pause your fastidious, frustrated handling of today’s arranged bouquets just to surreptitiously scan your surroundings for any hidden cameras.
It’s like the man of your dreams has walked through the door. It’s almost too good to be true. You know you have eclectic tastes—and this is exactly why you’ve never had a boyfriend, before.
Because what living man could possibly compare to the fictional freakshows you stay up late at night reading about? Who would be worth fawning over, when you are already well equipped with a wealth of off-putting – and, quite frankly, disturbing – characters of ill-repute? Never has there been a living, breathing vessel capable of catching your jaded, heavy eyes.
Until now, that is.
“Sure,” you say, allowing the brain-rot to take control of your faculties. “Give me one second to write down our mailing information.”
But before you can cling desperately to another excuse to evade his magnetic presence, the strange boy speaks up, alluring you with the unsettlingly tranquil timbre of his voice: “That won’t be necessary. I can hand deliver the letters every day, around this time.”
You blink, sizing him up once more. Any normal human being would find this situation incredibly odd and even worth of a police report.
However, you’re comfortable in your own skin and are able to recognize that the screws you’ve knocked loose over time have, for better or worse, permanently altered your threshold for “red” or “green” flag recognition. For all you care, the flag could be purple. You aren’t thinking about flags right now. You’re thinking about his murky bangs, dark and deep, a rich obsidian, metastasizing over the smooth expanse of his alabaster forehead like a natural disaster.
“Okay. I’ll be waiting at this time every night, then.”
For the first time this evening, his gaunt face split into a tender grin, pink lips parting like spliced flesh. Somehow, he’s able to make the act of smiling something gory, something haunting. Your eyes are glued to the bone-white of his teeth. It’s like watching a car crash. You want, desperately, to look away. You cannot.
“I’m glad,” says the strange boy. “I’ll be here every night, right on time.”
A soft breeze stirs outside, just restless enough to tickle teasingly at the windchimes which dangle from the shop’s awning. Usually, the barrier of the front door dulls the melody. Tonight, you can hear the bells loud and clear.
Before you can think to demand (beg) that he reveal additional identifying information about himself – like, say, his name – the boy has all but disappeared from sight. Incredulously, you whirl around on your heel, scanning every visible inch of the shop for any possible clue as to where he went. But your searching is all for naught. It seems that he is, both in presence and absence, a complete mystery to you.
Well. There are certainly worse things that have happened to you. At least you got to chat with a cute, creepy guy for your trouble.
;
The next day, Granny Orimoto abstains from work yet again. Her modest apartment sitting atop the flower shop has kept her out of sight for many days, now. You’re no stranger to her fits and bursts of ill health, but you cannot recall the last time the brusque, full-hearted old lady has been bedridden for such a prolonged length of time.
You almost consider trying to drop by unannounced to bring her some soup and vitamins, but the thought dies immediately upon arrival. Memories of the last time you’d tried to caretake for her and were subsequently thrown out with indignant, irate gusto are enough to curb your momentary sympathy.
This means that you are effectively head of shop, once more. Over time, it gets easier to deal with the random accidents prone to any small, self-run business: leaks, clogs, jams, flickering lights, disappearing items, strange sounds at odd hours with an unlocatable source. All of it, you handle with def improvisational methods.
Even the spontaneously shattering bathroom mirror is no match for your handywoman capabilities! Really, Granny Orimoto should be lucky that it is you who happened to show up on her doorstep just as her health began to take a dive.
These are the kinds of thoughts buzzing around your skull as twilight descends upon the horizon like flies to a carcass. The death of the day is, as usual, a bloody affair: hues of bright vermillion spill across the sky, setting everything in the shop a brilliant, flagrant shade of fresh-burning red. The terracotta pots seem almost to be radiating with internal heat.
Night comes soon enough, bringing with it a brisk chill in the air. The wind rustles the windchimes, a forewarning of what is to come.
And sure enough, at 8:04 P.M., there he is, lingering in the doorway, daring to take not one step past the threshold, just as he’d done yesterday, that first night.
“Good evening.”
Clutched in his fingers is a wrinkled letter, wrapped in plain stationery. He offers it to you with both hands, politely.  
The space between the both of you evaporates in the fraction of a second it takes for you to cross the shop and greet him back, accepting the letter with greedy hands and a greedier heart. “Good evening. Thank you for the correspondence.”
“Thank you for receiving it,” he replies, scratching the back of his head in a stupidly endearing self-conscious gesture. “I know the manner of communication is a bit unconventional… sorry about that…”
“It’s okay.” And it really is. You, of all people, are no stranger to unforeseen and harrowing life circumstances. That the young man does not possess a phone or email address is not so uncommon, anyways – you’ve had time to reflect on the situation, and for all his off-putting looks and strangely formal manner of speaking, he could easily be a country mouse who has recently relocated to a more urban area. Who are you to judge?
“Shall I have a response waiting for you tomorrow night?”
He bows, then, for a bit longer and a bit deeper than what is normally appropriate for two virtual strangers. “I’d be grateful. Thank you for the trouble.”  
Once more, he evaporates seemingly into thin air, leaving behind not even the faintest trace of his existence. He appears to possess an uncanny ability to slip out of sight just as your eyes fall shut in the millisecond it takes to blink, to breathe.
Taken in stride with his dark-circled eyes and general aura of mysterious tragedy, the whole schtick is a little bit sexy, you have to admit. His vibe is that of a haunted family heirloom: beautiful, priceless, stained in generations of blood and cursed to doom those who dare to draw too near.
Your eagerness is almost feral as you tear apart the seal to the envelope in your hands, greedily pawing at the innards. What awaits you is a handwritten letter, complete with smudged pencil marks obscuring some of the more intricate kanji scribbled onto the page. Some of his radicals waver, lines bending or sprawling in odd and abnormal ways, as though he’d been shaking when we wrote it.
 As though he’d been nervous. So nervous, in fact, that upon handing you the thing, he had to immediately abscond from the premises without another word.
Cute.
To Whom it May Concern,
Thank you very kindly for your willingness to take me on as an apprentice to your shop. Please allow me to introduce myself.
My name is Okkotsu Yuuta. I am a recent graduate of a martial arts vocational school. I just completed a year-long internship abroad in Africa. Due to my recent re-entry into Japan, I am still in the process of setting up my phone and internet. I apologize for the inconvenience and I am extremely sorry for the burden.
As a supervisor and business, you may benefit from the set of skills that I have to offer. I can lift upwards of 25kg. I am neat and detail oriented. Due to past life experiences, I am a fast learner and quick to adapt to new surroundings. I am accustomed to taking orders and delivering results. It is my utmost goal to ensure the comfort and satisfaction of those around me. I am eager to be of service.
Please think of me kindly.
Upon reading the very last word of the very last line, you discover that your bottom lip has been bitten so severely that a fine trickle of blood is descending down your chin.
There is no resume or CV in sight – just this handwritten, strangle little letter in which he divulges some most interesting truths.
Is he playing mind games with you? “Accustomed to taking orders”? “Eager to be of service”? Is he trying to tell you something? Outside of the hiring process, that is.
The note itself is perfectly polite and proper. It’s you whose mind succumbs hedonistically to the gutter. Oh, for shame.
 At night, the shop tends to turn into a gnarly jungle of pots and leaves and vines and poorly-placed smatterings of soil; you wade through theses trenches, aided by no more than the moonlight attempting to feebly infiltrate through the shutters – as the lights are out, again. Should probably call someone about that.
In your frantic haste, it’s a miracle your hands aren’t sliced by a spare pair of shears lying forgotten on some counter or another. Before injury occurs, you’ve already located what you’ve been searching for: a usable pen and some clean, uncrumpled paper.
The matchbox in your back pocket proves useful as you strike up a flame and light a nearby candle, paying no mind to the potential danger of the wobbly column of fire in a room full of fauna.
Like a woman possessed, you feverishly scribble away at your reply. It takes you longer to draft this one particular letter than it had to complete your college entrance exams.
But it’s alright – the candle beside you burns throughout the night, neither the wick nor the wax diminishing even a wink.
Dear Okkotsu,
Your eagerness to work hard is clearly evident. Color me impressed.
As fate would have it, I am in dire need of some help with running the shop. The owner has been absent with illness for quite some time and the workload is starting to get unmanageable. The addition of a strong set of arms is more than welcome. Even when it was the two of us putzing around, we still wouldn’t have been able to do some of the heavier lifting.
I’m curious to hear more about your passion to serve. Was this instilled in you during your time at vocational school? What does “being of service” mean to you?
While we are ultimately a public-facing shop, the stream of customers is slow, and your daily tasks will often look like physical labor and horticultural activities. But, from your letter, it sounds like this will pose no object.
Overall, your enthusiasm is appreciated and your hard-working attitude is attractive to future employers.
You could start as early as tomorrow.
Please do respond at your convenience.
It was rather quickly with only a slight bit of panic running through your veins that you tacked on “to future employers.” Even while reading it back, you cringe a little bit. Too forward? Oh well. It’s written in ink and it’s much too late to go for hunting for another clean piece of paper in the shop’s opaque blackness.
Speaking of which… you really should call an electrician. And a plumber. And some sort of handy man, to help you clean up all the broken glass from the shattered bathroom mirror. And maybe it may also me a good idea to get in touch with a security footage company and inquire about their installation rates. It certainly can’t be normal; how many things go missing so frequently. Although you’ve spent most of your waking hours with an aging elderly woman up until very recently, you’re quite sure that dementia isn’t contagious.
Ah, well. These are all things to take care of tomorrow. Sighing, you tuck away the letter into your back pocket for safe keeping before you go about locking up.
You try not to think too hard about the lingering gaze you feel on the back of your neck. If anything, it feels better than being completely alone.
;
The fragrant scent of okayu fills your nose as you climb the stairs to reach Granny Orimoto’s apartment.
Usually, you would not dare to trespass inside her abode, despite it’s close proximity to the shop. She is a grouchy old lady who does not take kindly to meddling. And yet, you couldn’t ignore the seed of worry in the pit of your belly, which had blossomed over the course of the past few weeks into full-blown concern for her wellbeing. Besides her once-daily text message in the evening confirming the status of shop operations, you have not seen or heard from the old woman in what must be almost half a month at this point.
So, you’ve bitten back your pride and prepared a meal to personally deliver to her.
You are moderately concerned when there is no response to your three separate attempts at knocking on the door. Granny Orimoto hadn’t responded to any of your text messages, so you’d naively assumed she’d been asleep and hadn’t seen them. But is it possible to sleep through the ruckus that you’re creating?
The tension in your body only heightens when you try to the doorknob and realize, in shock and slight horror, that it’s open.
“Granny Orimoto?” You call out, haltingly yet loudly – loud enough to reach her wizened ears. “Granny, I’m sorry, I’ll be coming in now! Pardon the intrusion!”
Taking care not to jostle the still-hot bowl of rice porridge in your hands, you slip off your shoes at the Genkan and make your way inside of the apartment. Although you’ve only been here once before – and it had been an extremely brief stay before Granny Orimoto had shooed you off the premises – it still doesn’t feel all that unfamiliar to you.
It’s a traditional set-up, that much is for sure. Not much has changed, either. Same old floral blankets folded in various assortments and piles around the tiny room, same old plastic draining rack laid across the kitchen sink.
And, of course, there is that strange pair of guest slippers by the front door.
A bright, childish pink with the width and depth to accompany the foot of a young girl no older than six, these slippers had given you pause the first time you’d set foot in Granny Orimoto’s apartment. As far as you know, the old lady doesn’t have any living relatives with which she maintains contact. She spends every holiday alone, in her room, and refuses any offers of companionship between the two of you. You’ve always assumed something tragic must have happened, for a woman this advanced in age to have no one to visit or host during the New Year.
So why, then, does she keep a pair of children’s house slippers by the front door?
Although they are neatly placed and carefully aligned, the heels of the slippers face the direction of the household – as though they’ve been recently taken off and exchanged for outside shoes. Like someone has been here and left. Were they in that position when you stopped by before? Perhaps Granny Orimoto set them that way during her last cleaning.
Shaking yourself out of your reverie, you move past the entrance area and towards where you know the bedroom awaits. There is no overt stench of death and decay, so you aren’t afraid of walking in on her corpse. You’re, like, 85% sure that you could mentally recover from handling that situation, but it would be unfortunate and would likely mean an endless night for you and the poor EMTs who would be dispatched to the scene.
The bedroom door, too, is slightly ajar, and when you push it open all the way, you’re greeted by a sight that hits you squarely in the chest, knocking the wind from your lungs, stealing your voice, marring your eyes with shock and sympathy.
Granny Orimoto lies on her back, skin so pale that it is a near perfect match to the futon covers draped around her frail body. Even from this distance, you are able to clearly track the pathway of her veins as they course across her, the deep blues and greens standing out abnormally against the thin, alabaster flesh. Her hair, significantly grayer than the last time you’d seen her, has escaped from it’s usual, customary low-slung bun. You’ve never seen Granny Orimoto in any other kind of style – in fact, you’d begun to think – somewhat mischievously – that her hair had been surgically arranged to the nape of her neck.
But now, it sprawls around her skull in scraggly spirals, spilling across the pillow like leaking liquid. Thin and brittle, you’re sure that if she tried to gather it into a bun as she once had, it would split and break into a million fine pieces of ash.
“So, you’ve come.”
That hoarse voice snaps you out of your trance. You hadn’t even noticed that she was awake. One moment, you’d been gazing at her motionless body – and the next, you find her entirely unchanged except for the fact that her eyes are now open, peering at you. Unblinking. It’s disconcerting.
It looks like the effort pains her, to lift one hand and pat weakly at the comforter. “You came all the way here, silly girl. Might as well sit.”
You aren’t being kicked out?
Wow. She really must be dying.
Gingerly, you fold your legs beneath you and linger at the edge of the futon. “Granny, how are you feeling? I brought okayu. If you are feeling up to it, please eat. You must take care of your health.”
“Alright then,” says Granny Orimoto, mildly. “You’ll have to help me.”
“Of course.”
There is ultimately an insignificant amount of spillage down the front of her shirt, in the end. Still, you take it as an opportunity to encourage her to take a bath and change into fresh clothes, which you expect she has not done in far too long. This, too, requires your assistance. You don’t mind it at all. In fact, it brings you peace – to be able to care for the woman who had most probably saved your life by taking you in, all that time ago.
When it’s all said and done, Granny Orimoto lays back in the bed. The sheets could use some washing and the futon itself should surely be hung out in the sun to dry, but you recognize that this might be a bit too much excitement for her today. Having eaten and bathed, Granny Orimoto appears ready to return to her slumber.
You decide not to push your luck by overstaying your welcome. “Please rest well, Granny Orimoto. I will come back soon.”
It is when you are almost past the threshold of the bedroom door that you hear Granny’s whisper, faint as smoke and so soft it almost doesn’t sound like the stubborn, strong-willed woman you once knew:
“You remind me of my granddaughter.”
As though you’ve been struck by lightning, your body is immediately paralyzed, muscles helpless to do anything but twitch in confusion, overstimulation. “Oh…? I hope she is well…”
“She’s dead,” says Granny Orimoto. “The stench of death follows you.”
Ironic, coming from a woman who is quite obviously preparing to approach the far shore herself. “I see.”
“Whatever is hanging around you, get it taken care of. You’ll stink up the shop and the plants will wither.”
“Yes, Granny.”
“Are you taking care of my zinnias?”
“Yes, Granny.”
“Better be. How can you own a flower shop if you can’t take care of zinnias…”
You want to whip around and ask her what the hell she means by that, but the rumbling of her soft snores fill the space before you can get another word in edgewise.
As you make your way downstairs, Granny’s words continue to marinate in your mind – and not just her implication that the shop would be left to you. That she thought it fit to tell you that you remind her of her dead granddaughter was certainly an event that occurred in your life. But what exactly had she been on about, telling you that you smell like death?
In absentminded thought, your hand fiddles around in your jacket pocket with the latest letter from Okkotsu. You can’t stop thinking about his response to your last letter.
To You, Whom it Concerns,
Are you taking care? The seasons are changing during this time, so I hope your health is faring well.
I’m glad that my enthusiasm comes across as clearly as my physical capabilities.  Sometimes I struggle to convey my intentions and inner thoughts. It seems like we can understand each other well, even while communicating through letters, which makes me happy.
To me, being of service means unobstructed and clear-minded dedication of the self, body and mind, to another’s fulfillment. Not dissimilar to pure love. This “pure” element is important to me. In fact, I believe total service is a form of pure love. Would you agree?
Maybe this is a bit strange to say, and you might hate me for it, but you remind me of a girl I once knew. She is long gone now. It has been nice to see some of her, again. Of course, it has been even nicer to get to know you.
Regretfully, I cannot begin formal employment just yet. The country re-entry procedures are taking longer than expected and things are a bit complicated right now. It is burdensome, but if you could please kindly allow for some additional time I would be very grateful. I’m sorry to trouble you.
In the meantime, it’s fun to chat together, like this. I’d be happy if we could continue.
Take care not to catch a cold.
The first time you’d read it practically had you squealing into your hands like a schoolgirl. Pure love? Expressing concern for your health? Expressing his desire to continue exchanging letters, even if he can’t formally start the training process?
At this rate, you’re on track towards a confession.
Which, of course, is the ultimate goal. You could never forgive yourself for letting the physical manifestation of all your wildest fantasies slip away. No, you’ve got to reel him in. You’ve got to ensnare him in a web of infatuation, so convoluted and intense that he won’t be able to find his way out. You’ve already decided that he is yours. It’s only a matter of time before things fall into place.
As has become customary, Okkotsu drops by the shop at precisely 8:04 p.m. and not one moment sooner or later. You’ve grown to anticipate the tinkling of the windchimes which herald his otherwise soundless arrival. Like an apparition, his visage manifests in the front door.
There’s something different about tonight: uncertain, he chances a foot past the threshold. “Could I trouble you to come inside?”
Oh. Oh! Are you finally past the stage of contactless letter exchange? You could cry tears of joy. “Please come in.”
“Pardon the intrusion…”
When he breaks past the entry area, it’s as though a wave of heat pulses throughout not just your own body, but the entire shop, as well. A light sweat breaks out at the crest of your brow. Is this seasonally appropriate? You aren’t sure if there is any season wherein a heatwave past sundown is normal.
Okkotsu looks at you like a lost puppy, floundering at what to do, what to say next. You yourself are no less awkward, but you take on the burden of breaking the silence first:
“It’s funny, you mentioned in your letter that I remind you of a girl you once knew. Today, my boss said that I remind her of her dead granddaughter. Wouldn’t happen to be the same girl, huh?”
You’re trying for lighthearted, but the joke falls flat when Okkotsu pales, white as a ghost.
Damage control, damage control! “Oh, I’m – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“No, no, it’s alright,” he cuts you off, raising a hand. “I should’ve been forthright from the beginning. You aren’t too far off from the truth.”
Huh?
Okkotsu continues, “When I was a little boy, Mrs. Orimoto’s granddaughter and I were best friends. Her name was Rika. When she was six, Rika died in a car accident. I was with her at the time and failed to do anything to stop it from happening, or to save her. I’ve always been very sorry to Mrs. Orimoto, who raised Rika from a young age. By working at her shop, I hoped to repay some of that debt…”
You blink once, twice. Time seems to fall apart and reconstruct itself in the space it takes you to conjure up a response. What can you possibly say, to a story like that?
“You don’t, er, have to say anything,” mutters Okkotsu, as though he’s read your mind. “I know it’s heavy. But that’s the truth…”
“Okkotsu,” you say, voice tinny and faraway to your own ears. “You have a good heart.”
His downcast face shoots upwards, wide eyes seeking out your own with a desperate sheen to their dark, bottomless depths. “Huh…?”
“I mean it,” you press on, stepping closer as you do. He doesn’t even flinch or waver. You know this, because your senses are acutely aware of every fiber of his being. “Not many people would be that brave, or honor that sense of duty. You’re an admirable man. Has anyone ever told you that before?”
It seems you’ll be staying well past closing tonight to mop up the puddle that Okkotsu is about to melt into. His ears burn such a bright red that they almost glow in the dim lighting of the shop.
“I- I--!”
“So that’s the depth of your service,” you muse, your toes stopping just shy of his own, “or your ‘pure love’?”
Okkotsu’s eyes flutter shut. The sound of his gulp echoes like a gunshot. “Ah… er, miss manager, I—”
“Call me by my name. I’ve written it to you for a reason.”
Obeying your direct command, he feebly whispers your name, invoking you like he’s scared of what he’s about to summon. It sets a live wire alight at the base of your spine. Sparks fly throughout your body and it’s all you can do not to pounce on him then and there in this very shop, sleeping Granny upstairs be damned.
“Good. It seems you really are skilled at taking direction.”
His eyes are still closed when you nods, face flushed. Cute. You can’t help but want to tease him more, push him further. “Good job.”
His head all but hangs, now, as he resolutely refuses to make eye contact with you. In front of him, his hands are clasped suspiciously in front of his crotch – a detail which you take in ravenously, hungrily.
Curbing the overwhelming desire to do more, you settle with pushing your sealed envelope into his firm, solid chest with both hands, letting your fingernails press lightly into the muscle. “Here’s today’s letter. Read it and respond well.”
“Yes, I understand,” he says, eyes still shut, head still hung.
It requires you to stand on your tiptoes, when you try to lean into his ear and whisper: “You deserve a chance to make things right. Let me help you with this.”
You let him go, then, because you’re sure he’s about ready to burst at the seams. The last thing you throw his way is yet another bit of praise, because you’re a little bit awful: “I admire your idea of pure love, Okkotsu.”
Before tonight, you’ve never seen a grown man walk straight into a windowpane. Okkotsu reels back, nods and bows to you in acknowledgement before hightailing it out of the shop so fast that, as usual, you fail to actually see him go through the motions of stepping out and leaving. He’s always in such a rush. An odd one, he is.
Good thing “odd” just your type.
From that night onwards, Okkotsu starts making himself more available outside of his usual 8:04 p.m. haunting. Now, he’ll drop by early enough in the afternoons for his shadow to be visible against the door. Still, he resolutely avoids any times when current customers are present. You tease him, lightly, for this, asking how he plans to work partially as a sales attendant if he is afraid to interact with the customer base.
His response?
“I want to work here for two reasons,” he’d stated simply. “For you, and for Rika.”
Normal women would probably find an issue with their ideal man likening them to his dead childhood sweetheart. Fortunately, you are not normal. It’s flattering, even.
Clearly, Rika was another manifestation of his pure love. That you can even approach that category, let alone be mentioned in the same breath as her, is, to you, a vibrant green flag. You must be doing something right here.
So you continue intertwining yourself deeper and deeper with Okkotsu Yuuta: the letters are a constant in both of your daily lives, as well as his visits become more frequent. As an interesting development, he’s started to bring you homecooked food. Usually, it is you who does the caregiving. The first time he shows up with an obento made specially for you – complete with a heart made out of specially cut seaweed set atop the fresh rice – you almost start crying.
Admittedly, it’s all moving very fast. Hasn’t it only been four days, now, since he’d first darkened your doorway, pitifully asking for a job with no form of communication? And now, here he is, feeding you the food he’d prepared for you to enjoy as you go about your closing shift.
“Would you ever want to go out?” You blurt, and then pause, mortified at the overtly forward implication to your words. “Like! To a restaurant! Or a café! You always bring me stuff. Let me treat you.”
“Hmmm…”
Okkotsu’s wide, dark eyes roll upwards in thought. “But I really like staying here. I like eating here. No one else gets to see your pleased, comfortable face while eating except me. I don’t think I can share that. Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” you respond, dizzy. “You don’t have to.”
This is the right answer. Despite his soft, youthful features, the ginger grin he offers you is undercut by the ominous glint in his intense gaze. “I don’t have to share?” He gathers some pickled plum in the chopsticks, bringing them to your open, waiting mouth. “It’s all for me?”
“I am,” you say, and accept the bitter, delicious fruit on the tip of your tongue. It is pungent. It is sweet. It is overwhelming. You almost aren’t able to swallow.
Time spent with Okkotsu makes life seem so fantastical that it almost blinds you to the world of the living. That night, you cannot find it within yourself to leave the shop and go home after closing, instead opting to chat with this gaunt, ghoulish boy until you are startled awake in the morning by your phone’s automatic alarm.
When you come to, you discover that you’d all but passed out behind the front desk, where the two of you had sat, talking, for hours into the night. Okkotsu is nowhere to be found, but in his absence is a crisply folded piece of paper lying innocently upon the desk. Hastily, you scrub at your eyes and smack your lips, trying to wake yourself up as much as is possible before you unfurl the letter and dive into its contents.
To You, Whom it Concerns,
Do you have any idea how difficult it is to be apart from you?
If I could have, I would have stayed with you all throughout the night. I’m sorry to have left you by yourself. But you aren’t really alone. If you ever feel lonely, in the shop, please remember that I’m always there with you. Watching over you. Can you feel me?
Thanks for listening to me last night. It was a heavy story to tell, but now that I’ve confessed it, I feel so much lighter. And you accept me! Words can’t express how I feel, so please allow me to keep showing you.
Also, since Mrs. Orimoto isn’t well these days, can I ask that you don’t share with her that I’m here? The shock may worsen her condition. When she is no longer bedridden, I will tell her myself that I wish to remain and work in the shop. You shouldn’t be caught in the middle of my situation.
As always, I can’t wait to see you again. I miss you so much already, and I haven’t even left the shop yet. I’m writing this as I watch you sleep. Did you know that you snore a little bit? It’s cute.
Please think of me often.
On the one hand, you want to bury your face in your hands and scream and cry and maybe roll around and die a little bit. A love note! It’s a proper love note, this time. The thought makes your insides feel as though they’re being set alight with a bright, brilliant, inextinguishable flame.
On the other hand, Okkotsu’s mention of Granny Orimoto has brought to mind the fact that you haven’t heard from her in what is now two days. Usually, she’ll send you a message or two at the end of every day, making sure that things are in order and that you haven’t burned down the shop yet. But the last time you’d spoken to her had been when you brought over the okayu to soothe her sickly stomach…
Inexplicably, a chill overtakes your body.
Operating on autopilot, you pull yourself together – running a hand through your hair, smoothing your wrinkled clothes – and make your way out of the shop, to the external set of stairs running along the west wall.
With haste, you climb the steps, nearly tripping over yourself to reach the front door which has been left, once again, unlocked. The sense of wrongness occupying your faculties only heightens when you realize this must mean that Granny Orimoto has not been up out of bed since you’d last visited.
When you stop to toe off your shoes at the genkan, you notice that the bright pink pair of children’s house slippers are nowhere to be found, absent from their perpetual perch by the front door, as though someone – or something – has stepped inside.
Mind whirling a mile a minute, you push into the apartment and immediately reel back at the offensive scent of pure, unadulterated rot.
Oh.
Oh, no.
It could be the spoiled ingredients in the fridge, you think, desperately, as you hustle towards the bedroom. It could be anything. Anything but what it is you’re most afraid of.
Dazed, confused, scared, and still freshly woken up, your clumsy limbs somehow manage to collide with one of the low-sitting tables filling the living space. The abundance of knick-knacks and keepsakes cluttering the surface clatter in indignation, making an obscene ruckus as they fall over and to the floor. Upon closer inspection, you realize, to your horror, that it is an altar which you’d disturbed.
The only things left unshaken by your blundering blight are two framed photos: one of which displays the portrait of a young girl, no older than six, with long, dark hair and a serene smile. She seems to peer at you through the barriers of the picture frame, through the barrier of time. Her gaze hooks into your soul and invites you to step closer, to look harder. The longer you stare, the higher the gooseflesh on your skin raises in alarm. It’s an uphill battle to slide your gaze over to the picture beside her, which displays the likeness of a young boy close to her in age – presumably unrelated to her, given their distinct features, and yet, he is placed next to her on what is surely a memorial altar meant to honor and house the deceased.
While the personal effects and other supplicating items have all been disrupted and thrown off by your collision, the incense in front of the two picture frames still burns brightly, steadfastly. Oddly, it does nothing to quell the horrid stench of decay in the apartment. If anything, the altar seems to be exasperating the smell, which brings involuntary tears to your eyes and a pucker to your lips.
It's less so that the stench itself is what drives you to such a reaction; rather, the sensation invading your olfactory senses fills you with an abominable concoction of violent emotions: rage, pity, sorrow, envy, despair. You are drawn follow the source of these feelings, and your feet lead you to the bedroom, hands trembling underneath the sheer weight of all that you are experiencing as they push the slightly ajar door all the way open.
A gasp escapes you, unbidden. There, in that same, white futon adorned with layers and layers of her signature floral blankets, lies the corpse of Granny Orimoto. You can tell she’s dead because her skin has started to sag and bloat in strange and inhuman ways. This is the least surprising thing before your eyes.
Next to Granny sits a little girl – the spitting image of the girl in the portrait you’d glimpsed mere moments ago. Her gaze had once been trained steadfastly on Granny’s body, but now she looks up at you, unblinking, all-seeing.
“Hello,” says the girl, with a little girl’s voice.
“Hi,” you respond. “Do you live here?”
“Yes,” says the girl. “This is my granny.”
You remind me of my granddaughter.
She’s dead.
Granny Orimoto’s parting words to you echo in your head, rattling your brain, fizzling your consciousness.
“It’s nice to meet you, Rika. Granny Orimoto told me about you.”
Slowly, cautiously, as though you are approaching a spooked animal (ironic, given the fact that it is you who is shaking like a leaf), you crouch down and kneel on the floor, sitting on your haunches in a polite manner, mirroring the girl before you. Granny Orimoto’s body is the only thing separating you as you both sit, face to face, hands clasped in your laps, peering curiously at one another.
“I know,” says Rika. “Yuuta told you about me, too.”
Of course she would know about the conversations you and Yuuta have. This also might as well happen. At this point, after all you’ve just witnessed – first, the fresh corpse of your former employer, and now, the physical manifestation of a girl who died over ten years ago – there is very little left that could happen which would truly shock you out of your wits.
“Yes, he did. Have you been hanging out in the shop? Have you been lonely?”
The girl sticks out her bottom lip. “Yeah. You guys didn’t pay attention to me. Even when I was really loud, or turned the lights off, or broke the mirror. Sorry for breaking the mirror. I was mad.”
“It’s okay to be mad, but we mustn’t break things, or hurt others. I’m sorry for not noticing you sooner. Do you like plants and gardening? Like your granny?”
Rika nods. “Mhm, yeah. But Granny never lets me into the shop. Granny says all I do is mess things up. Granny says I’m no good. Granny says people died because of me. Did you know my dad is dead, too?”
“I’m sorry,” you say.
“It’s okay,” says Rika. “I wanted him to die.”
You blink. “Did you want Granny Orimoto to die, too?”
She takes a moment to contemplate before answering. “Granny had to die if I was going to play with Yuuta again.”
“What do you mean?” You ask, desperate to understand. When she begins to explain, you lean forward, forgetful of the fact that it is an old woman’s corpse which lies beneath you.
“Granny has already lived for so long. I wanted to come back. I died before my seventh birthday. Yuuta and I were supposed to spend it together. Yuuta never forgot about me. Yuuta talks to me every day. Yuuta went to Africa. Have you ever been to Africa? I went with Yuuta because he made a shrine for me there. Now Yuuta is back in Japan. Yuuta promised that we would play together again. Yuuta said he needed some time to prepare things. Yuuta is good at things like that – Yuuta can fight and do magic. Yuuta does jujutsu. Do you know jujutsu?”
“I know it,” you tell her.
“Yeah, Yuuta has powers. Yuuta knows a lot about dying and things like that. So, anyways, Yuuta said he would use his powers to help me come back so we can play together again. Yuuta said that me and granny have to switch places. I said ‘OK, Yuuta!’ and then Yuuta said he needed seven days. What day is it today?”
Somehow, you know the answer, even without looking at your phone’s calendar. “Monday.”
“Oh, so it’s been seven days. Yay! We can play together again. Do you want to play with us, too?”
“I would like to play together, yes.”
Abruptly, Rika unfurls from her graceful little seated position and makes her way over to you, crawling over Granny Orimoto’s corpse. You try not to think too hard about the graphic squelching that occurs underneath the childish palms of Rika’s tiny hands.
“Yay! Let’s go downstairs. Maybe Yuuta will be there.”
You don’t have the heart to tell her that Yuuta only swings by when the sun is out of sight. Her arms raise, clearly indicating that she’d like to be carried, and you are content to oblige her, as you scoop her up in your arms and make good on her direction. You exit Granny Orimoto’s apartment with Rika in your arms, her little feet dangling from your hip. The bright pink pair of slippers almost fall off as you make your way down the stairs, and you take care to remind her to make sure not to lose them.
When you get back to the shop, you must admit that you were mistaken in thinking Yuuta would not be there. As though he’d been anticipating this – which, you realize, he absolutely was, as this marks seven days from the first time he’d set foot in the shop – Yuuta stands by the front desk, wringing his hands before him nervously, sweat visible at his temples.
The both of you lock eyes, and he smiles, warm and fuzzy and entirely ill-fitting for the increasingly absurd scenario in which you find yourself. But you have little time to interrogate him about what the hell is going on – for Rika leaps from your arms and hits the ground running, screaming at the top of her little lungs, Yuuta!! Yuuta!!!, excited and so full of life, in only the way that children can scream in pure joy. Pure love.
He crouches and readily meets her, scooping the little girl up in his arms and sweeping her into the air, spinning round and round with Rika in his arms. Rika-chan!! Rika-chan!!! he cries – literally cries, that is, as you cannot help but spot the stray tear or two running down the swells of his flushed cheeks.
It is right as you are starting to feel a bit voyeuristic that Yuuta slows to a stop and finds your eyes once more. He comes to you, then, with Rika still perched on his hip, a chafingly tender smile splitting his face into two.
“I knew it was you,” he whispers with charged intensity, voice potent with unspoken feeling. “I knew you were special. I’ve always known. You never judge me. You always listen. You accepted me. And you accepted Rika, too.”
Have you? Accepted them, that is.
You shock yourself when you realize that you really have accepted all that’s transpired. Granny Orimoto saved your life when she’d taken you in and, for that, you must always be grateful. But from what Rika shared with you about how she’d been treated as a small child, and from what you’ve observed from Yuuta’s generally traumatized disposition and extreme reluctance to come face-to-face with the old woman, you realize, now, that there is a reason why Granny Orimoto had no living family to speak to or rely on when she was in her final days.
Whether or not her death had something to do with Yuuta’s apparent preternatural abilities (you remind yourself to ask about that later), it remains clear that she’d been in ill health long before you’d arrived at the flower shop. With no one to talk to. No one to care for her. You’d always felt pity. But, now, you realize that it may have been a situation of her own doing.
How could you argue with the living, breathing testament to that fact, who stand before you in fresh-faced, smiling glee?
“Of course I accept you both,” you say, earnestly, and mean it. “Rika is too cute not to love!” The young girl giggles, bashfully burying her face in Yuuta’s neck.
“And what about me?” Yuuta’s brows are quirked, his smile dipping into something a bit more cutting, a touch more heated than his simple joy from moments ago. “Am I cute enough to love, too?”
The answer is simple and requires no effort on your part: “I love you, Yuuta.”
You had more to say after that, but it proves a bit challenging to monologue your undying devotion to this man while said man is currently enveloping your mouth inside of his own. He kisses like a black hole: devouring, dark, impossibly comprehensive, and providing you without hope for possible escape.
He really is your type.
;
After those first seven days, Yuuta finally begins training at the shop. And Rika joins in, as well.
The three of you make an odd, adorable little family unit. After Yuuta had taken care of cleaning and renovating the apartment space upstairs, the three of you moved in without further delay. Your days are filled with home-cooking, raising Rika, maintaining the shop, and working alongside the man who has quickly made himself to be your life partner in every endeavor.
In fact, so much of your life is consumed with this newfound domesticity that there is little reason for you to leave the shop in the first place. Whenever you stray too far outside, you are prone to headaches, dizziness, fatigue, and even fever. It’s best to stay where is familiar, you reason. And Yuuta’s cooking is too good for you to want to eat anywhere else. He makes sure you eat three times a day, at least, and insists you finish your plate every time. Perhaps this is why you can’t stand life outside of this four, cozy walls – where else could you possibly find contentment such as this?
The business is re-named to “Rika’s Flower Shop,” which all three of you find quite agreeable given the current state of affairs. More customers than ever flow in, attracted by the colorful designs hand-painted by Rika herself on the building exterior. You generate enough revenue for additional renovations to be made on the shop. There is enough room in the budget to hire some part-time shop hands – local university students in the area looking to support themselves.
Everything is coming to fruition. For once, you truly feel as though life is blossoming.
And you can attribute all of it, every last bit of happiness, to them: Granny Orimoto, Rika, and Yuuta. The happiness is so overwhelming that you don’t ever want to leave their side, not even to run to the konbini, or to visit the post office. Why would you need to leave, when everything you’ve ever wanted is right here?
You have a family, a home, a life. You’ll remain in this shop with your loves until the day you grow as old and sickly as Granny Orimoto, and you’ll likely die upstairs, lying next to Yuuta, the both of you wrinkled and gray, curled together atop the futon, exactly where Granny had wheezed her last, bitter breath.
You wonder if Rika was there to watch it happen. You wonder if Rika will be there to see the both of you off, too.
You hope so. You really, really hope so.
You’re sure death will be every bit the dream you’re hoping it will be.
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hobbylobbyy · 18 hours
Note
Okay! How about a Lucifer x male (or gn if you’re more comfortable) reader in a platonic fic? Reader is like a servant who helps Lucifer through depresso days
A/N: This sounds like a really nice friendship dynamic, I’m rlly happy I get to write it!
Also btw you’re an imp for the sake of not knowing what a duck is
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Coping Methods
Summary: It’s been a few months since Lilith left Lucifer and he’s been taking it about as well as you think he would. He can barely get out of bed until you manage to coax him into a fun activity to ease his mind.
Platonic Lucifer x Male!Reader
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Nobody expected Lilith to leave. Maybe that’s what made it worse when she did.
She didn’t leave anything behind either, not her clothes, not her shoes, not even a single letter.
Every being in that castle fell into a deep depression, it just felt so gloomy without her there. Though, it hit the Morningstar’s the hardest.
Charlie had moved out nearly a month after Lilith’s disappearance, claiming she wanted to find herself and have her own independence rather than rely on her father for the rest of her life.
Lucifer, however, barely even left the castle, let alone his own room. Very few people were allowed near him at the time, only his personal servants, and you just happened to be one of them.
Today was one of those days where Lucifer couldn’t even bring himself to get out of bed, so you found yourself outside his door, hesitating to knock.
You couldn’t deny that you were terrified, but you had to make sure the king was okay, it was your duty as one of his personal servants.
You took a moment to collect yourself before knocking a few times.
It took a moment before he answered, “Who is it..?” The way he sounded so fragile almost broke apart of you, not once in your thousands of years of working for him have you heard him sound so vulnerable.
“It’s me, sir.” You replied, twiddling with your thumbs.
The door creaked open with a blur of golden magic, no doubt his own.
You stepped in and closed the door behind you, knowing that he’d prefer if nobody saw him in this state.
“Why are you here?” He asked, not looking at you as he curled into a ball on his humongous bed.
“Nobody has seen or heard from you all day, sir,” You started, making your way over to the edge of his bed but not daring to step any closer, both out of respect for him and fear for your safety, “We needed to know that you were still alive.”
“Alright, well, you’ve seen it now, haven’t you?” He asked rhetorically, “Just leave and take the day off for all I care, I-I just want to sit here for a little bit.”
“Sir..” You started, keeping your voice firm, “As your servant, I respect all your wishes, but as your friend… I will have to deny you this one.”
Before he could respond, you continued going, “In fact, I’m going to have to request that you stand up for me” you knew you were definitely going to get in trouble for this, whether by him or by one of your superiors.
“A-Are you trying to command the king of hell?” He asked, “You are nothing but my servant, I.. I don’t have many friends right now..”
You weren’t going to stop so soon though, your persistence was what got you this job in the first place, “Sir, I’m not trying to command you, I am just asking that you at least sit up and look at me”
It took him a second but he groaned in defeat as if he was a small child. He sat up, letting you see just how much he’d been crying. His hair which was usually neat was now a mess of curls and his face seemed redder than usual.
“I’ve done what you asked.. Is this all you wanted?” He asked.
“No, I actually wanted to request that you.. Uhm…” You had to think of an excuse for what you wanted to do first, “Could you accompany me to your workshop for a moment..? This is the only time I’ll ask you to do this, I just… N-Need to know where you’d like everything to go so I can clean!”
You commended yourself for being quick to think of an excuse, you knew how much the king liked his neatness.
“…There’s no need to clean it” Well, that stunned you.
“S-Sir?” You stuttered, “It definitely needs to be cleaned, just.. please?”
“I already know where everything is, just leave it be” Lucifer waved his hand dismissively before flopping back onto his bed, gripping a nearby pillow.
Well this won’t do. You needed him to get out of his bed. You needed him to actually do something.
“Sir, please, just accompany me to the workshop and I’ll leave you alone” You pleaded.
He sat still for a moment before shifting his head towards you, “…You’ll leave me alone for the rest of the week if I accompany you, do you hear me..?”
You nodded enthusiastically, “Yes sir! I-I can totally do that!” Not only did it give you an excuse to just do nothing for the rest of the week, your plan might actually work.
“Alright, just let me get ready first” He yawned as he sat up and threw his legs over the edge of the bed.
You quickly left the room for his privacy, as much as you loved your gracious king, you didn’t love him that much.
He left the room almost immediately, not having bothered to clean up his hair or the bags under his eyes. He knew that nobody in their right mind would point it out anyway.
“Just so you know.. I’m going to leave as soon as you’re done in there” Lucifer said.
“That’s alright with me, sir,” You flash a grin, “I’m just glad you got out of that messy room of yours”
“Watch it.” He rolls his eyes.
You chuckle softly as you approach his workshop, but you’re surprised once you open its doors.
The workshop that was usually a mess with his inventions and dreams and even dioramas of his theme park was now barren, only holding the pictures on the walls and his work bench.
“Wow, would you look at that..” Lucifer started, “Guess you don’t need me anymore, I mean, no mess to clean up!”
But you’re not gonna let him off the hook so easily.
“Uh, sir?” You smirked, “Could you at least spare me one request before I stop bothering you for the week?”
Lucifer groaned childishly, obviously not wanting to spend another moment out of the bed that he once shared with his love.
“Fine, fine, I guess it’s the least I could do since you so desperately wanted me over here” He conceded, walking with you to his workbench.
“So, what do you want?” He asked.
You grinned before pulling out some supplies from your pockets, “So, you know how made that thing on Earth before you fell? What was it called… Cuck..? I-I don’t know, but it made that quacking noise”
“A duck?” Lucifer cut you off.
“Ah, precisely!” You nodded.
“What.. What does that have anything to do with this?” He asked.
“Well, Mr. Lucifer, my request is that..” You paused for dramatic effect, “You recreate that! I wanna see what it looks like, and you seem to have pride in the fact that you made them, so maybe it’ll make you feel better!”
Lucifer paused for a moment before laughing. It might’ve been aimed at you rather than with you, but you’d gotten him to laugh at least.
“A-I’m sorry- Is that really all that you want me to do? Make a duck?” He said as the laughter died down.
“Yup! That’s what I want!” You nodded, making him chuckle once more.
“Alright, alright, fine” He sighed, “I’ll make you a duck, but then you let me wallow in self-pity, mkay?”
“Sounds fair!” You responded.
He didn’t say anything back to you as he started to work. You could see sparks flying as he melded metal together, shaping it into the form of a small creature.
“Pass me my yellow paint, would you?” He asked, pointing in the direction of his paints.
You hummed, grabbing his yellow paint for him and setting it down next to him on the table.
“Oh, and the black paint too” He said.
You huffed, “Couldn’t have told me that while I was getting the yellow?” But you got it for him regardless, wrapping your tail around it and ignoring the cold paint as it splashed on you when you brought it over.
He didn’t respond, too focused on painting it perfectly.
Then, the sparks and painting stopped, he smiled softly at his little creation.
“Here it is,” He said, picking it up with gentle hands, “This is what a duck looks like”
You looked at it in awe. It looked so.. cute. It looked so different from all the life in Hell, like it didn’t pose any threats at all.
You took a moment before nodding, “Alright, that’s uh… All I wanted” you smiled before standing up.
“I’ll lead you back to your room and you won’t have to worry about me for the rest of the week” You continued to speak before he cut you off.
“Actually…” He said, “Stay, I think I might need your help grabbing supplies for me while I make some more of these”
You took a moment to process what he said before your eyes lit up with excitement, “Really?!” You had actually been successful in getting the king to enjoy something!
“Really” He chuckled.
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A/N: I hope this lived up to your expectations. I noticed too late that the reader doesn’t really have a gender specified but I guess that just means you can depict them however you want to!
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Look at him :)
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goldielia · 3 days
Text
girlfriend?
a part of: call it what you want au
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everyone’s kind of distracted today. it’s the day of the hockey east championship game and the locker room is eerily quiet and simultaneously buzzing with energy.
it’s pretty frustrating from allys point of view, nobody answers unless she repeats herself at least once, the boys all seemingly already on the ice with at least half their brain capacity. she doesn’t blame them, it’s an important game after all, but it’s also not exactly easy for her.
when she’s offered every player new equipment at least once, she retreats back into the comfort of her equipment room, busying herself with preparing the blades and sticks she’ll take out to the bench with her.
after she’s hauled everything out rinkside and sorted it the way she likes, ally finds the locker room to be in a much better mood. their usual hype playlist blasts through speakers and slowly but surely the boys look like their usual confident selves again.
“gimme a sec, you can wait for me at the station”, she says to will when she passes by him to her locker and he’s already holding his tape out to her. she doesn’t have a stall but for christmas the boys got her her own little locker and a jersey because they pretty much viewed her as part of the team anyway.
she was at every skate, practice and game, spent her spare time in their little hangout area and went through loss and win with them so a jersey with her lucky number 7 and her last name was the best gift they could give her.
it had become a habit for her to tape will’s stick for games so as soon as she’s unzipped her sweater jacket and thrown it into her locker, leaving her in her wine red v-neck and black suit pants, and thrown her hair up into a messy bun she makes her way to the equipment room, not knowing she leaves behind a confused bunch of hockey players.
“was she wearing a 2 on her necklace?” “i thought i imagined that” “why’s she wearing a 2? eamon, you got somethin’ to say?”
their captan only shakes his head, knowing ally definitely would not wear his number. “it’s not because of me, but i don’t know what else it would be.” nobody notices gabe and ryan exchange an amused look.
the team go back to getting ready for the game quickly, everything too important for gossip right now. when eamon gets up to get himself a gatorade out of the fridge he’s disappointed to see his favourite flavour’s out.
knowing ally keeps spares of most flavours in a mini fridge in the equipment room, being the saint that she is, he stops in the doorframe to call out for her and can hold himself back just in time.
at the station he sees ally sat on the workspace, will leaning his hip on it next to her, head on her shoulder and hand around her waist as she tapes his stick. eamon’s surprised to see will’s eyes closed - he’s usually very particular about his tape job.
then it hits him though, he hasn’t seen will tape his stick himself in weeks, maybe months, and ally looks confident and practised, nails painting blue stripes in his vision with how fast she’s taping, seemingly knowing just how to move without disturbing will on her shoulder.
they’re whispering quietly to each other, his hand resting on the sliver of skin between her pants and shirt. it looks intimate in an almost casual way, and eamon can’t quite bring himself to interrupt or look away, even though he should.
ally finishes up the tape job by writing something on the tape quickly and he watches will open his eyes and stand between her legs, discarding the stick to the side.
it all dawns on him when will softly taps the dainty 2-necklace resting on her neckline, that will wears number 2 originally. and then he remembers that will, gabe and ryan were driven to the rink by ally before the game today. and that he thinks he saw ally and will cuddling on the bus after a loss a few months ago.
and that’s when his self control runs out and he clears his throat, lifting one eyebrow when they both jump like they’ve been caught doing something forbidden.
“jesus, it’s just you” ally breathes, hopping off the workspace and putting the tape away, all back to business withing seconds. “what can i do for you?” she asks eamon. “first of all, why’re you wearing that necklace? boys think ‘s ‘cause of me” he gestures at her necklace.
“’cause she’s my girlfriend” will answers confidently and eamon’s surprised to see ally blush, he’s not used to seeing the usually so nonchalant brunette show much emotion on her face.
“so, who knows about this” he points back and forth between her and the blond boy vaguely, his eyebrow rising even higher when will answers. “gabe, leno and olivia. and you, apparently”.
“not for long, boys saw your necklace” he warns ally. “that’s okay” she smiles, and eamons knees almost weaken with the intensity in her eyes when she looks back at will.
“i was actually looking for some blue gatorade, you got some back here? big fridge is all out” he states his original request. “oh yeah, for sure. one sec” she answers before she squeezes past an unmoving will with her hand on his bicep, handing eamon his bottle moments later. he decides to get back to his game day routine, but he has to chirp at them just once before he leaves: “no funny business in the facility though. i mean it.”
just before he’s out of the room he catches one last glimpse of wills stick, sees the small heart drawn on the bottom stripe of tape there with the tiny A next to it.
he’s barely out the door when ally turns to will. “girlfriend?” she asks shyly. will smiles, not used to seeing her without her confidence, pulls her into his arms. his smile widens when she rests her chin on his sternum so she can look up at him. “well yeah, you’ve been around for some time now and you know me really well, if you wanted to leave you already would’ve so i’m awarding you that title as of today” she grins up at him, presses one last peck to his lips for good luck before she pushes him back out into the locker room.
now that he knows about ally and will, eamon really doesn’t get how he could’ve not known. gabe and ryan are pretty obvious, whispering about them and exchanging glances everytime someone mentions a girlfriend or love or will. olivia’s kinda obvious, too. the social media girl always waiting until ally’s out of shot to take the picture, probably having been told to not show them together on the hockey team’s socials.
the most obvious though are the couple themselves. if any of the boys openend their eyes they’d definitely notice the love there as well. eamon can’t unsee it now.
it’s in the way allys eyes sparkle when will does well on the ice, in the way will sends her a tiny wink at the end of the high five line every time he scores.
it’s in the way he hugs her for a little too long when it’s game and he got his first hatty and they’re hockey east champions. in the way he has olivia take pictures of the two of them with his mvp trophy, in the way he smiles at her in some of them because she looks angelic under the lights, her eyes bright with pride.
it’s in the way they disappear for a little bit during the celebrations, eamon’s not sure if he wants to know where to or what they’re doing.
it’s in the way will convinces ally to come with to some party the upperclassmen are throwing, her having to leave her car at the rink and going to pick it up tomorrow. it’s in the way she can’t help but agree immediately when he flashes his puppy eyes at her.
it’s in the lighthearted competition of who gets more cups during the beer pong game at said party, in the joint cheer when they win and in the way will pulls ally onto the porch to kiss her privately but not secretly anymore.
and it’s in the way will grimaces but takes it when the boys pat (read: hit) him all over his back and shoulders, in the way he pulls ally right back in front of him when they’ve let up, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder.
it’s even in the way will scrunches his nose up in half-fake-disgust while ally giggles uncontrollably, head thrown back onto his shoulder, when cutter jokes “smitty, no wonder you’ve been playing so well, gettin’ your stick taped by a pretty girl before every game”.
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mercurial-cool · 3 days
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💜Ambrosia Progress Update 💜
Hello lovely Bloodweave community! Since my last post was me nearly four months ago saying that a new Ambrosia chapter would likely be coming by the end of the year (lol), I just thought I'd pop back in here to give a quick little "proof of life" post and reassure anyone still wondering that, at least in theory, it still has not been abandoned -- I just took a little time away from working on it for various reasons.
[That's the important part of what I wanted to share, but I'm inserting a cut below for some additional self-indulgent rambling for anyone who wants a bit more context.]
One reason for the hiatus was that my job got crazy towards the end of the year, which both took away from my writing time and also my BG3-playing time, making it harder to jump back in and capture the characters' voices as accurately as I felt I could when I was playing more regularly. And the other, more recent and much sillier reason is that I accidentally and unexpectedly stumbled into an obsession with Formula 1 and had some writing ideas for that fandom that my brain demanded that I act on immediately... so, if you subscribed to me for Ambrosia updates and get a notification soon that I've de-anoned 45k words of (AO3 member-locked) Formula 1 RPF, I am so sorry for the possible bait-and-switch lmao. (But congratulations to the, like, three other people who might exist with me at the center of the Venn diagram of those two fandoms haha... I'd love to know if you're out there!)
I'll admit that I've felt guilty for doing that other writing while Ambrosia was still unfinished. I've never had anything I've written come anywhere close to the level of popularity that Ambrosia has reached, and it was something I've truthfully found a little overwhelming at times. At the very least, it's prompted me to feel quite a bit more anxious and perfectionistic about whether any new chapters I put out "live up to" the bar that's been set by how much people have enjoyed the previous chapters. None of that is to diminish how unbelievably appreciative I am of the people who have taken the time to read and comment on Ambrosia -- I still read and am grateful for every single comment that comes through, even though I've done a shit job of responding to them lately (another source of no small amount of guilt).
But I think I needed to take some time to do some writing that didn't have the self-imposed pressure of quite so many eyes. And now that I've done that, I'm excited to return to Ambrosia refreshed and with a healthier perspective. I know better than to actually try and give a timeline this time around for when the next chapter might be out, but just know that I'm once again actively working on it, and I'm very excited about some of the writing that I've already completed. :)
Thank you (and/or I'm sorry) to anyone who bothered to read this far, and hope you're all doing well. <3
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golden-golem · 19 hours
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My mother had passed away just a few days after the launch of Guild Wars 2. I was struggling with a freshly re-diagnosed mental illness and was adjusting to the new medication. I would be reassessed and given new psychiatric medications every few months for the next couple of years. It is something I still struggle with. Guild Wars 2 was the only place where I felt, at least for a time, that I could forget about the things that were hurting me so bad in real life. Sometimes this was bad, and sometimes this was good. In those first few years there were some really messed up encounters out of character. Sometimes other people messed up with me and sometimes I messed up with other people. We can unknowingly cause a lot of anguish and harm. I still think about what damage I might have caused, and how I have lost touch with people so I am unable to apologize, or explain, or thank them for the good things they did for me when I had been unstable. While I no longer interact with people the way I once did, I treasure those memories. When I talk about Xam, I am also speaking about the experiences I had a few years ago. He's just a character, the roleplay might have just been a story created by multiple people but I was also on a recovering journey with him. It is strangely so personal. But I want to share it, and I hope you don't mind.
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melloianv2 · 2 days
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Have a Good Night Sleep, Dogday AU
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Alternative:
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Finally, after an month and an half of month, am finally finished.
Before I start i wanted to take back both things I said in my WIP.
When I said its cartoon world, i actually meant was its mostly take place in the cartoon world. it really an Imagination world, as you'll see what I meant during this post.
What i actually meant about its not a shipping au, its not a shipping au between Dogday and CatNap specifically. well there is no couple pairing of the critters existing, just crushes. but its never important at all (besides it only 2 critters.)
Now there is some things that are related to the bigger bodies however it has nothing to do with bigger bodies dogday nor catnap at all. it just about the cartoon world. So not even worshiping prototype exists here.
and I apologize for any grammar mistake I miss.
Anyway on to the post!
About:
About Have a Good Night Sleep, Dogday or HGNSD AU
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In a nutshell, it basically two children created entire storyline about Dogday trying to find a way for CatNap to turn back to normal. At least what Dogday thinks because if there was a way to strengthen Catnap (dark essence bottle), then there has to be a way to get him back to normal.
The previous storyline before the brother came was just smiling critters just doing normal activities.
Originally the au was post to be slightly similar to 2016 stuff, but I think it not really "2016" like anymore. This series is post be animated on youtube only, but i have no idea if i should since i need motivation and still have to practice my animation skills.
Just note, some characters personalities are the same, but just altered a bit or a lot. Then the other altered completely
Anyway lets start with the characters that no one will cares about first!
Welcome to the Yearwoods Family.
Family Photo Link
It was- I mean is a happy family! The family are Christians. The family consists 2 children and a sphynx cat
All names of the family are: Mr. Yearwood, Mrs. Yearwood, Amber Yearwood and Kevin Yearwood. (the parents are nameless)
the cat name is pinky. (its a girl)
Out of the 4, Amber and Kevin are the important ones.
Amber and Kevin
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Whenever Amber goes to school, she's bullied. She hates it as it ruins her self esteem. But she claims that she's fine and she don't need any help.
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Amber and Kevin gets along. Though, Kevin likes teasing and playfully making fun of his sister a lot. Amber usually ignores him or just pretty much says its not funny. Overall, they love each other as siblings.
Every day they play with the smiling critters toys before their mom tells them to go to bed. Amber sleeps with catnap toy or sometimes craftycorn.
Amber and Kevin playstyle is different. Though at the end, they're both obviously equally immature.
Amber's Playstyle:
Amber plays a CatNap, not shocking.... She sometimes play as the other critters (most likely CraftyCorn), but she mainly plays CatNap. And i mean main, she doesn't even let her brother play CatNap for once.
Amber is good with crafting an story, but very very bad at power scaling.
usually when she plays the other critters, they act bit more mature. However when she plays a CatNap, she either being serious or being a joke. there is no in-between.
One of the running gags of the Au is CatNap's powers. He keeps gaining new ability every time. Amber is doing that deliberately so she can win, and counter her brother every time. However when her brother starts winning, she gets annoyed and slightly mad when she starting to lose. But its the entire fact she wants CatNap to win entirely. by going as far as weakening the other critters.
She also pull the "nuh uh" or miss despite the attack was obviously undodgeable.
Kevin's Playstyle:
Whatever Kevin plays the critters, its more jokes and being unserious. sometimes he be serious but then its ruined with an joke. He mainly plays Dogday but he do play other critters. He gave Dogday powers because he thinks its more fair to have everyone with powers. Despite Kevin joking a lot, his powers are usually kind of balanced (expect for the fact Dogday is kind of op not as op as Catnap.) Dogday gains powers too but only if he learns something. The brother often wins.
Kevin likes overdramatizing fights, dark scenes and using powers, mostly because he watch too much action tv shows.
Now that's done, let get to the real AU.
Welcome to Sunnyville!
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(i literally had to compressed the file omfg, this stupid image lags so hard everytime i open it..)
Here's a better close up version
Sunnyville is the brightest and cheerful town around! This is the main location where the Smiling Critters resides in. The positivity and good vibes came from Smiling Critters themselves.
There's more than one groups as the known ones are Smiling critters, Nega Bratzz, The Quacking Sisters, and The Ordinarys
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The town is mostly nice however there are bullies (Nega Bratzz and The Quaking Sisters), but it doesn't quite override the sheer amount of positivity. Smiling Critters has a reputation in this town, often for their upbeat attitude. Outside of the critters group, Dogday is well liked by adults, awhile children thinks KickinChicken is cool. Not all though fine with their upbeat attitude, especially Nega Bratzz.
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The houses are altered but Every single Night, Catnap's house changes.
Well not the exterior, But just the interior does.
The interior becomes an nearly endless mansion with whole bunch of halllways and rooms. turning back around doesn't get no better. Once enter his house, the doors are shut tight enough for no one to escape.
The inside of Catnap's house is described as an dream world or illusion world. Once entered here and manage to end up falling asleep or become unconscious, it would be treated as if the critters was dreaming the entire time. That's because when the sunrises, the interior turns back to normal. Any injury is also gone.
example:
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The "illusion house" is quite dangerous, due to it being unpredictable unknown danger. Some rooms are safe, awhile others are not. Some could be neutral awhile other could be a trap. The critters will never know.
Aside from catnap's house, DogDay's house been redesigned in this au too.
Smiling Critters Section
Enough explaining everything else but the critters!
The story mostly revolves around Dogday and CatNap. KickinChicken is an major character. The other critters are very important too, but not as much.
Once wholesome positive team, is now a distressed team. Smiling Critters has to work together to solve this mystery of Catnap and the happenings that are caused by him. Awhile they try to solve Catnap awhile balancing their routines.
At day, Smiling critters just do their normal routine, get ready, eat, play, eat... But as soon as its Night, that's the where the real kicker is. Majority of the events that happens in this AU, takes place at night. At the moment, no one but outside of Smiling Critters area knows what's going on with Catnap.
They try to gather clues and research CatNap to get understanding on what their facing.
The Critters acts like their description.......somewhat. its altered a bit.
About the Other form i mentioned on the about, what was the so called form am I talking about? Well its called Enhanced Form. Enhanced forms are magical forms that gives a smiling critter powers. In order for an Smiling Critter to be enhanced, Dogday must enhance them, as he the only one who is able to do it.
Enhanced forms are strong, at least strong enough to fight the CatNap.
In order for an Critter to transform into Enhanced form, Dogday must use his powers to enchant the pendant (on the necklace). Then, the critter can either grabs the pendant tightly or smack it, causing them to transform into enhanced form.
Dogday can change at will, but he does not have enhanced form, but rather just a stronger form. Though, Dogday don't even need to transform, he can still use half of his abilities without it.
When a critter transforms, their pendant changes too.
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An Critter can de-transform by either de-transforming willingly or when they become unconscious.
I will now talk about the Smiling critters separately.
Dogday the Guardian of the Sun:
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Makes sense to start with the titular character of this AU.
Dogday is the main character of HGNSD.
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Other things that I didn't add due to space:
Dogday is an early bird, he tends to wake up everyone to get the day started. Excluding CatNap, He's the last critter to go to sleep.
full content (but also not) of how Dogday gained his powers: Dogday was slammed multiple times by Catnap (due to the fact he rebelled, fight back and took the risk of letting himself be the one getting the punches instead of his friends), before tossing him to a deep pit. The pit had spikes at the very bottom. Despite Dogday was clearly about to die, he still had some hope and determination left...causing gain powers and fly upwards in result.
Dogday is more powerful than any other critters. He can even sometimes surpass Catnap's powers. Dogday's powers deals with the sun aka light. Dogday's powers are 2x stronger at day but at night, its normal strength of the power.
The AU name is post to be ironic (really just an bullying title since dogday cannot even go to sleep properly because of CatNap) but at the same time, its foreshadowing something.
Dogday is traumatized, but he doesn't show it.
He was horrified at the state of Catnap tall self. But after dealing with him for so long, he's desensitized to it. doesn't means that's a good thing though.
Dogday gets insulted a lot, he gets upset a little but it doesn't really effect him completely. The only thing that effects him is the fact his best friend is even like this at all.
Other Critters
Now the main character is out of the way, let's talk about the other critters (expect for Catnap). They will be ordered from most important to the least important.
KickinChicken the Guardian of the Stars:
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(i added the bottom beak on purpose)
Let's start with kickin'
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Other things that I didn't add due to space:
KickinChicken is most likely the one who defends his friends from bullying.
KickinChicken powers deal with stars and light. He is almost as strong as DogDay.
He often sacrifice himself in order for his friends to escape to find safety. If Dogday is almost there to being killed, he jumps in to prevent it. Because of his sacrifices....he almost had access to change into form at will permanently.
He was able to change into his enhanced form twice without Dogday's assistance. But it happened in two different circumstances. not to mention sudden change, but it was in a necessary moment.
KickinChicken and Dogday works together sometimes.
No matter how much an critter insults KickinChicken, it doesn't bother him. In fact, he will twist the insult into a positive one.
He considers Hoppy Hopscotch his best friend. They both have an friendly rivalry when comes to any game. They get a bit too competitive....almost destructive sometimes. They always doing the "am better than you" attitude. If one of them lost, they take the lost but still cocky.
KickinChicken usually compliments himself and looks at the mirror in his bathroom.
Kickinchicken secretly can sing. He didn't tell anyone because he wanted it to be personal for him only. Until catnap exists and ruins everything. There's concept designs of kickinchicken in his singer outfit design, but i hadn't finalized it.
CRAFTYCORN the Guardian of Colors:
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Other things that I didn't add due to space:
More info about her own magic: she has an specific book to learn her own abilities. She tries to learn her own magic, but it pretty much hard for her too. She struggles to use her magic, when it successful, its usually something small. In her enhanced form, she able to use her magic like she trained for years.
Sometimes Craftycorn's magic is successful either under concentration or distress. And sometimes it fails. She also the only critter who can create her own form without Dogday's help. Though it isn't an enhanced form, but rather a different form.
Craftycorn one day wants her art be display in a muesum
In her enhanced form, she has the powers of creation, unicorn magic and color. Making her quite strong. She only has on specific healing ability called Revival. she can only use this on one critter awhile focusing, and if she gets distracted, the progress will fail.
Craftycorn sometimes ends up finding out some stuff before anyone else.
Craftycorn one time was able to beat Catnap without help.
Craftycorn has a crush on Dogday, she didn't at first though. She was saved by Dogday, causing her to gain a crush on him since then (omg its almost like proto-). She been drawing a lot of pictures of him closed doors.
Sometimes she plays chess with Bubba Bubbaphant. She loses mostly.
Bubba Bubbaphant the Guardian of Intelligence:
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Other things that I didn't add due to space:
Bubba Bubbaphant has the power of vision, intelligence and detection. He is able to rewind to able to see an vision from the past. Since he most likely using his powers for investigating, making clues and ideas for any sign for an cure.
When bubba bubbaphant is targeted, he sometimes gets it the worst than Dogday, simply because "he's smart". For example, everyone else will get tied up in one way, but bubba bubbaphant will have 15 different ways of being tied and caged to make sure he doesn't try to strategize to escape at all.
Bubbe Bubbaphant pacifism caused injuries. He never try to switch sides, he's still standing his ways.
When Dogday first gain his powers, He went to Bubba Bubbphant to figure things out. Though Bubba Bubbaphant obviously could not answer how to deal with his powers. So instead he tries to study both Dogday's and Catnap's powers.
Bubba Bubbphant had try to to keep up with Catnap's powers, but he clearly wants to give up at this point because its way too much. Its stressing him out
Hoppy Hopscotch the Guardian of Energy:
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Other things that I didn't add due to space:
Hoppy Hopscotch powers are lighting, super speed, super jump and energy. She can charge herself by simply running.
Hoppy and KickinChicken are friendly rivals mostly competitive in games. Though Hoppy is usually the one ends up making it more destructive then it originally is. She usually try to win, by doing things faster. She also view kickinchicken as her best friend.
Extension of the trained fighter: When using her fighting skills, she usual attacks fast. Awhile Hoppy was teaching Dogday, she accidentally gives him bruises in the beginning...
She can be just as cocky as kickinchicken sometimes without using the better than you phrase.
When she is being insulted, she usually insult back.
Even when its fighting with Catnap, she still wants an challenge.
Here an example of one of her sports form
Bobby Bearhug the Guardian of Love:
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Other things that I didn't add due to space:
Bobby Bearhug have the powers of healing, enchantment and love. She is able to heal multiple critters at once or strengthen them. Her attacking ability is life drain. She discover this by accident.
Due to Bobby Bearhug's pacifism, she gets injured too but not as bad as Bubba Bubbaphant.
She's has been bullied a lot, despite it all she still wants to show love. She don't really judge anyone, despite people judge her.
She does care about Dogday's situation, at the same time she just feel sympathy for Catnap.
Bobby Bearhug can cook, she mostly bakes though. Her food is delicious.
PickyPiggy the Guardian of Food:
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Other things that I didn't add due to space:
PickPiggy have the power of food and mixing. That's it. She's considered the weakest critter out of all the powers. At least she can create certain foods that isn't possible.
She is not a cooker at all, despite having cooking related powers. Instead, she just be the first one at the table when the food ready. Getting large portions of foods....no wonder there's no leftovers in the fridge. (no she doesn't eat the ENTIRE cooked meal, she does let her friends get a plate too.)
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CATNAP SECTION
Now....Catnap.. well now you saw how everyone views catnap or at least treat him. Its only right to finally show him now, yes?
He needs his own separate section.
Catnap is the main antagonist of the story.
Catnap....:
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Other things that I didn't add due to space?:
Truly everyone is guessing what happened to Catnap, cause no one has no clue.
Catnap powers are either the most strongest or the most weakest... I cannot pick, blame the kids. Catnap has so many powers, even god give up. His powers are the negative versions of dark, psychic, moon, and dreams. He also can send more smokes in his nightmare form, which is from his spores that's on his back. The advantage he has over everyone, his powers at night are 10x stronger....so he can take down all the critters. However the massive downgrade, at daytime, all of his powers goes bye bye, he cannot even turn forms either. He stuck back to just Catnap. Only power he can use is transporting from dark areas. So when the sunrises, he slowly turns back to normal size.
Lunar/Third Quarter Form is usually what he changes into the most, its a mix between the regular form and Nightmare's powers but not having all of its powers. This form is somewhat comic relief. This is where most the jokes be, in this form.
Nightmare form is the most strongest, as he usually do not talk in form. He either wants to put fear or he was extremely angry to change into this form.
Out of all the critters, he believes bobby bearhug is the most insane, ironic.
Catnap at first hated the boot like socks in Lunar form, but ends up being fine with it because it was comfortable.
Unlike the canon og Catnap, catnap committing evil is a complete mystery...or the fact the kids never planned one. who knows.
He has the able to put critters inside a cocoon-like substance, to make them live inside their own nightmare. The victim actually has to find the way to break out of it..somehow
He got the name Boogeyman due to teleporting underneath hoppy's bed and kidnapping her.
Catnap likes pretending to be an magician.
Past Catnap usually likes being around areas that was calm and peaceful. any interruption would startle him.
Past Catnap used go to Bobby to talk about private stuff. Not things that between Dogday and Him though.
He's the only critter in the smiling critters group to not have an enhanced form
Catnap can change his eyes at will. but nightmare form he cannot.
He owns the Lair, which the lair only appears at night. its no where to be seen at day. He got an lair later in the story because he wanted to craft his plans far away from the smiling critters sometimes.
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Now for last one its relationship between Dogday and Catnap (also my last picture i can even post i reach my limit :()
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Other things that I didn't add due to space:
Catnap equally insults Dogday, calling Dogday "DogStupid" because he believes that Dogday is actually stupid. Catnap actually insulted Dogday first.
Rarely, Catnap doesn't attack Dogday on certain days, as he sometimes target someone else.
Every since Dogday gained powers, Catnap been obsessed with trying to gain his powers. Mostly because he wants to torture him so that Dogday wouldn't be able to defend himself or enhance anyone no more.
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End !! now for the extras and Concepts! sorry no images.
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Concepts/Removed:
Originally there was going be humans in the cartoon world. Because how care bears and the old MLP had humans. There was 2 humans that was along with the Smiling Critters, Oliver and Maxwell. Oilver would have blond hair pigtails and pink overalls and Maxwell had brown hair. Oliver was the confident feminine girl awhile Maxwell was a curious boy. She and Maxwell would've helped the smiling critters. Oliver would've try to fight Catnap but Catnap wouldn't even attack her, but rather put her somewhere safe.
In continuation of the humans concept, there was going be a castle way up in the sky, as the only way to access it is through a magic beanstalk. The castle had a princess named princess balloobow. She is a human with powers. She would've attempted to cure Catnap's evil but it would failed. She also would've been the one who taught Dogday on how to use his powers properly.
lastly of the human concept, in some epsiodes, The smiling critters would've travel all over the world to find the cure. having an adventure and meeting new people or critters. Catnap still would've been a villain during those adventures. They would've have got clues about the cure, the origins of Dogday's abilities, an hint about what happen to Catnap and the mystery of the current Catnap. However during those travels, Catnap would've slowly become stronger...due to collecting stuff. Dogday would've also become stronger, from looking at the ancient stuff. Sometimes in their travel, they would help people or other critters.
Catnap would've an fourth form called Disenchant form, being the opposite of enhanced form.
The original name of this au was called Nighttime with Catnap. it was also called Smiling Critters and Shenanigans.
Dogday and Current Catnap was originally considered frenemies.
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Origin of this AU
This start off as an one-off joke where Dogday staying up all night playing videogames with Kickinchicken. Dogday was trying to keep himself awake until he fall asleep. As soon he woke up he was chained up on his own bed, just to find Catnap smiling at him. Catnap says he's about to punish him because he surpass his healthy sleeping schedule and decides to punish him by forcing him to watch Megamind 2. Dogday beg for mercy but Catnap turns it on, causing Dogday try to struggle to escape and scream.
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Extras
Pickypig is the only character to even question why don't they just attack Catnap at daytime because he's basically weak. (the reason is because the smiling critters do not want to cause commotion and attract large attention from the people in the town)
Possessed Dogday exists in this au, but ill talk about it on another post. Just so you know, He did not get his body controlled in the same way the bigger bodies Dogday was.
Amber first ever toy was the poppy playtime doll. every single smiling critters came out, she abandoned her, but she still in her room.
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End of the actual post ! ! this took too long, and i might forget to add certain details as usual. anyway i hope you enjoy the post, see ya
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whoslaurapalmer · 3 months
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okay. out of curiosity
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sometimes the alex rider books make me feel like shit about myself.
like the constant harping on how no one believes that alex keeps getting sick because "no one gets sick that often" so he must be lying.
some people actually do get sick all the fucking time. for example, me.
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oakfern · 4 months
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why does consuming content destroy me. i am so bad at this. why can't i just read books and play video games like a normal person
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skitskatdacat63 · 5 months
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— Emperor Charles VI's diary entry on Count Althann's death
[text: "My only heart, my comfort, my most faithful servant, my soulmate, who loved me dearly as I did him for 19 years, [we] had a true friendship, we were one heart and one soul, and we never concealed anything from one another. He will always be in my heart, [my] beloved friend..I. have lost everything."]
#this is like. incredibly niche.#but also hopefully a quote one can look at without context and still feel emotional damage about#idk. i think about this quote probably at least once a week and then have to stare at it and cry a bit#its just GOD. yknow??????#theres this one paper(which i linked) that i originally read as research for the AU#but i go back to it probably twice a month to reread it bcs im so !!!! abt it#i think its cause charles vi is just not that relevant but is relevant to me so to have this paper abt his personal relationships is very !#its both nice as ref for the au but also very interesting to hear about historical queer relationships/dynamics#the sections about him and his wife are very endearing as well#but god like him and count althann. im literally so invested in this 300 year old relationship#this is obviously from his death which is incredibly depressing and heart wrenching to me#but the other things he wrote about althann in his diary are very sweet to me#they were inseparable to the point of often sleeping in the same bed and charles called him his 'eternal love'#AND ON ALTHANN'S DE WIKIPEDIA PAGE IT LITERALLY CALLS HIM THE EMPEROR'S FAVORITE#anyways literally every part of this quote absolutely destroys me but especially how he refers to althann and then the ending#and its interesting to me bcs apparently his diary entries were usually pretty to the point#but when various people in his as althann died he would write these extremely emotional entries that are so </3#if you have any questions abt their dynamic pls i will talk abt them 🥰🥰 i find it fascinating#theres a book about his diary but its in german and 500 pages and kinda hard to get hold in but maybe one day!!!#also in AU contexts: althann and charles vi would be mark and seb so take that as you will 🤭😭#as i said this is great for ref but also made me sooooo fucking invested in him#i have no idea how to tag this#historical#holy roman empire#emperor charles vi#catie.rambling.txt#historical quotes#habsburg#habsburg monarchy#ah wow if only my german prof could see me now. fucking...habsburg posting. why am i like this
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People on tiktok saying you should never walk off the path in the forest how does it feel to be little red riding hood's mom-coded
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