#how many tags can char fit on a post

[crepesuzette2023]

Hi! Because someone just asked me, I'd love you hear your Top 5 favourite McLennon fics!

You made my day! Nothing could have made me happier than this ask.

I'm not going to evade your question. I will post my top-five, even though it hurts to choose. But you inspired me to finally write a longer (okay: very long) post about some (not nearly all!) of my favorites, which will be under the cut.

(Sorry for not knowing every writer's tumblr, by the way. Please feel free to let me know, so I can tag authors where appropriate. Thank you!)

My Top 5:

MIRACLE WORKER by @scurator. What can I say. Every time I need my heart broken and to feel an inkling of what grace truly means, I go to this masterpiece about Paul and Robert Fraser finding each other again at Cavendish in 1981.

COAST STARLIGHT by bookofapril is "Miracle Worker's" cosmic twin. The sun to its night. Paul and Robert Fraser on Fire Island in 1974. Nothing I can say will do it justice, so I won't try. This is the "other world" conjured in "Tug of War," so powerfully and joyfully imagined, it's real. (I'm always thinking of this story, but I did so extra hard when I came across a prompt recently: 'They aren't each other's first love, but they're each other's true love'.)

SAME AS IT EVER WAS by RedheadAmongWolves. My favorite Outsider's POV. An ageing newsstand owner from Liverpool remembers John and Paul as boys and young men. There's something magical about the relationship coming alive in these glimpses. A story filled with tenderness that reminds me to always look closely.

AN ORGASM OF SOUND by @pauls1967moustache. The insanity of John and Paul in 1967 got the tribute it deserves. I sleep easier since I read this story. It feels cosmically right that it exists.

PLANT A SEED by @eveepe. Paul in his slutty sailor outfit in Miami. He and John are into each other, and happy, and fuck slowly. Afterwards, Paul has an idea for a new song. That's it. Tender, glorious, hot perfection. Apply at least once a week for best results.

For more thoughts about some of my favorite stories, sorted into very much defined-ad-hoc categories, read under the cut.

Young Love:

I love the myth of their first meeting, and stories that speculate about the sexually loaded creative fireworks/gritty jealousies/tentative hand-holding/topping and tailing during the first years. Here are some faves:

Paul finds music, and John, and his life is changing. In STREETS OF OUR TOWN (@with-eyes-closed) you can taste the upheaval and promise of first love and growing up. Deeply sensual, even without on-page sex. The shaky, sweet, and all-consuming fire of John and Paul’s first kiss is immortalized in ALL I KNOW SINCE YESTERDAY (RedheadAmongWolves). In NON NOBIS SOLUM (@downtothe-lastdrop), art student John simply has to know how far grammar school boy Paul will go to please him. But Paul matches him play-by-play. In THE CAST IRON SHORE (@m1ssunderstanding) Paul earns extra money through music and sex. John finds out. They fall in love, and hide their mutual pining behind transactions—but in the end, they man up to pair up, and get their band back on track. (The first part is finished; I can’t wait for part 2.) John and Paul’s ’61 trip to Paris has been honored in fiction many times; WHEN YOU ARE YOUNG THEY ASSUME YOU KNOW NOTHING (@lilypadd23) is a slow-burning, blessedly long story that blossoms sweetly. DON’T THINK ABOUT IT is the concept by which Paul measures both his pining for John and their deeply satisfying (but surely not really queer?!) sex life. Perfectly realized Paul POV by @merseydreams. Finally: I NEED YOU DARLIN’ (verse) (by @beatlessideblog) would have fit many categories, but I put it here, because in the end, it’s about young John and Paul becoming friends, making music, having sex, and falling in love. No more, no less. Embedded in a late 50’s/early 60's Liverpool omegaverse in which there's a place for their bond. But, surprise (?!): It’s still complicated. I can’t overstate how charming and satisfying and funny and hot this work is.

Old John and Paul:

Is there anything as lovely as imagining John and Paul growing old together?

In HERE TODAY (@herspecialagent), John and Paul found happiness with each other in Scotland. On 8th December 1980, they invite friends for a party, and fight an inexplicable sense of doom. A reminder that our other lives can be closer than we think, and to keep our loved ones even closer.

GROW OLD WITH ME (@inherownwr1te): Old farmers and husbands John and Paul enjoy domestic bliss, deal with a broken arm, and make sweet love.

HAVING COFFEE (@feathersandblue): John Lennon and Paul McCartney, “one of the most iconic gay couples in history,” look back on their early love, the Beatles, and being outed in the 80’s, in this oh-so-glamourous, well-written 2020 portrait…

Magical re-tellings of J/P and/or the Beatles Story:

No matter where you come down on the blessed vs. cursed continuum—they were living through something magical.

In KISSING THE BLARNEY (@zilabee) the Beatles draw love and music from kissing Paul, and each other, until the stupid world interferes. But fear not, all ends well. How to tell the truth through whimsy: this story demonstrates it.

In WE ARE ALL TOGETHER (also by @zilabee), John and Paul switch bodies. It helps.

I WAS A YOUNGER MAN NOW (THEN) (POST HOC) BY @fingersfallingupwards: Paul is a time traveler and braids his life together with John’s, out of order, through the years. And yes, they do grow old together—but not without losing each other first. I’m in awe of this story.

A darker time-traveling story is A MATTER OF TIME (D12Fan), in which John and Paul love each other, over and over, and never manage to make it work—but Paul won’t give up.

FOR THOUGH THEY MAY BE PARTED (@downtothe-lastdrop): The misery of the 'Get Back' sessions and memory-stunting technology imported from “Severance” are not enough to kill off John and Paul’s attraction and longing for each other. Again, this is basically what happened, so.

John and Paul without the Beatles?

Yes, please! Sometimes, the best way to dissect and celebrate (and fix?) this mesmerizing and exasperating partnership is to lift it from its context and drop it elsewhere. Anything goes.

WHATEVER FATE DECREES by @dailyhowl: A gorgeous, finely spun, securely handled, self-contained vision of how John and Paul could have worked as artists in love, without a band to 'legitimize' and constrain their bond. I love this homage to their deep and complicated love that needed trust and breathing room.

1967 by @walkuntilthedaylight: What if John and Paul had gone to Spain together and not come back? This story not only explores their relationship layer by layer, it also dives into the the feelings of those who knew them 'before' and who now meet them again, as a couple. A fascinating alternate history. Not a fluffy one.

TOMORROW I'LL MISS YOU (@pauls1967moustache): Paul abandons John in Hamburg—or John stays behind without bothering to write, depending on who you ask. This "Before Sunset"—AU reunites them, years later. They ride a bus and write a song, and the love and tension are sweet and painful.

DOUBLE FANTASY (by @javelinbk): Modern AU in which John and Paul meet at John's flower shop and manage to ignore and creatively re-interpret their feelings for one another for a surprising amount of time, before fate has mercy. I love how their sweet, well-matched eccentricity makes the world a warmer place for both of them.

WE ARE STARDUST (Unchained_Daisychain): AU. John and Paul meet at Woodstock, fall hard and fast for each other, and have to decide what to do with it: Paul's life is back home in England...except...

Angst, darkness, and courage:

Pain, fear, grief, and other dark emotions are part of the real J/P story, so it makes sense to honor and harvest them in fiction. One of my favorite brands of McLennon angst is the one triggered by their feelings for each other, and the thing they become once they're together™. When they're scared of how much they need each other, and of what will happen next.

ONE AND ONE AND ONE IS THREE and MANAGING EXPECTATIONS (both by @pauls1967moustache), for instance. The first is a terrifying threesome with Yoko (at John's instigation, of course), in which trust is never rewarded and sex resolves nothing. The second is Paul wondering, in thoughts both messy and crystal clear, whether he exists independently of John. He turns to Brian for answers. They fuck. It feels like a human thing compared to what is going on in Paul's mind. Just astounding.

SUNDAY DRIVER (@boshemians) dives into the theme of Paul and John being afraid of themselves in the aftermath of Paul's accident (moped, sexual) with Tara Browne. This one, like "Managing Expectations," ends on a lovely grace note.

MACABRE (@dovetailjoints). Lennon and McCartney go too far.

OPEN HEART (@paisanas). Paul drinks John's blood. John lets him. But Paul starts to hate himself for how much he needs John, which John feels as rejection. I love how this story ends on Paul embracing his need. You can see the painful, bare bones of their malnourished love under the lush sensuality of the vampire sex. Raw and rich.

SILENCE (@ohjohnnysblog). Short and piercing. If there is someone you love—tell them. Don't wait.

THE LATE, GREAT JOHNNY ACE (@midchelle). Reeling with grief, Paul is recording an album in 1981. George and Ringo are there. John is not. But in the end—he is. And they touch. I've always admired Paul's resilience in the face of having to perform or "prove" his love of John in public, and this story showed me, without sugar-coating, where this resilience comes from.

Light, hope, and fixing things:

There is also much lightness and brightness in McLennon, because John and Paul were ridiculous, and horny, and weird. And also: they deserve a laugh. They deserve the fluffiest of happy endings. They deserve high-quality, life-affirming smut. They deserve silly, because silly is what they were. You know their names, look up their number.

1980. John is in BERMUDA (@scurator), Paul visits. Paul comes prepared, John just comes. Sometimes, it can be this simple. This story always leaves me in such a good mood. Paul is the (more) experienced one, and it...really works for me.

GOT TO GET DOWN (@eveepe): In praise of John's obsession with Paul's...precious. His small and perfect prick.

ADVENTURES IN TOTAL HONESTY (@merseydreams). Pithy and sexy, and, I quote from the tags: #Excessive Margarita Mixing.

ANINUT (@pauls1967moustache): The Beatles heal, together and separately, after Brian's death. Once more, I quote the writer: "The Beatles did not follow any of the Jewish mourning traditions, and frankly, they should have."

The unhinged weirdness of the Mad Day Out, with John and Paul escaping and Francie, Yoko and Mal not missing them...much, is rightfully celebrated in one of the insaner stories I read: JOHN, I'M ONLY DANCING (@skylikeaflame)

FAIR'S FAIR (@javelinbk): John and Paul are being silly during a press conference, resulting in acute arousal requiring John's skilled intervention. I love the unexpected care and tenderness in this one!

WHERE THE POETS WENT (RedheadAmongWolves): Tender and enchanted story in which Paul and John go to a bookstore, where they're not as famous as everywhere else. As delicate as the chiming doorbells and the pages murmuring around them.

TAKEN AWAY (@crumblingcookies) Extraterrestrial Intelligence intervenes to reunite John and Paul.

CAN I TAKE MY FRIEND TO BED? (manhattanvalleys). Paul fucks the band in sequence and gets off in the end, as is his due. This is a story like Prince's KISS. No filler, all effect.

THEY SAY IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY (@ohjohnnysblog). Warm and nostalgic phone sex in the 70's.

KEEP THE LIGHT WE'RE GIVEN (@backbenttulips). Amidst the rise of Beatlemania, Paul and John expect their first child. This is Paul's 1962 diary.

More Outsider POV's:

STILL MATES (@pauls1967moustache): in 1968, Peter Asher takes the leap to act on his feelings for his sister's spiraling ex fiancé. This isn't about Paul as much as about Peter, and who he wants to be. Gutting character study. It made me love Peter.

ANOTHER GIRL (@boshemians): Astrid reunites with the Beatles during the making of AHDN and registers their words and deeds with the same stark objectivity as her camera. I love how she seeks the shelter of obscurity while they are being dragged into the limelight. But she sees them, wherever they are. J/P in this story feels incredibly real to me.

WHY BUY THE COW (RedheadAmongWolves). The milkman sees everything on his early morning rounds: the arrival of a nice new family, the McCartneys, the mother's illness, the sadness after her death...and the arrival of a new love in the older son's life. He shouldn't approve—should say something, in fact. But a small inner voice holds him back.

SLEEPLESS IN WALES (thinkpink20). Mike overhears Paul and John whisper in bed. He doesn't understand everything they say. I do. Adorable.

Not each other's first love, but each other's true love

THIS YEAR'S FOR ME AND YOU (@skylikeaflame): After a long life, after deep and loving partnerships with other people, John and Paul, encouraged by their grown-up children, finally meet their mutual love head on. A festive story about waiting the perfect amount of time.

THERE ARE ALWAYS FLOWERS (tarenas): The Beatles are in the past; John and Paul's love is in ashes. Paul, who is fragile and bereft, lives with George, who is content. The four ex-Beatles unite for the second wedding of Mike McCartney. At times, the aching grief in this story is almost unbearable. But the love between George and Paul is unusual and real. This is unfinished. I'll keep waiting for the final chapter.

Beyond J/P

WANT ME WHEN I'M NOT THERE (@backbenttulips): Linda catches Paul cheating on her with John. She divorces him. Finally: a story that puts her most likely reaction front and center, with no mercy for the messed-up geniuses.

In the Rebecca-AU LOVE LIKE GHOSTS (@backbenttulips), Yoko becomes Mrs. Lennon. Soon, she discovers that her husband is haunted by the ghost of his first love. It's pleasing how well this re-telling matches the events as they (alas) (almost) happened. The ending is chilling. Genuinely horrifying. I love seeing Yoko as the sensible one and as the focus of empathy.

THE BASS LESSON (@aquarianshift). Paul and Stu fool around without letting go of their mutual resentment for even a moment. And it works. "Let's never do this again." I don't think so.

TELL ME ALL MY LOVE'S IN VAIN (@midchelle). Forget about quote unquote platonically obsessed male rock stars: This about about Maureen and Patti through the years. The web weaving continues.

SPOTLIGHT ON JOHN AND STU (@dailyhowl) A love story in letters—too brief, like Stu's life, but sounding as if the writer transcribed their dictation. Some of the best descriptions of what it must have been like to play on stage with the Beatles during the mania are in NO I IN THREESOME (@with-eyes-closed). George finds himself in the beam of attention between John and Paul, and nearly loses his mind. But he's determined to stay and become part of them. Paul is daddy and "fucks like music" as seen through George's eyes. The whole story is vicious and hot and uncomfortable—until there's the love and quiet at the eye of the storm.

Not for the faint of heart! WHAT THE CIGGIE CARTON SAW (@waveofhand): Paul McCartney having his way with cigarettes.

This is getting out of hand...but I'll stop here. There are so many more stories I love. And I can think of many other categories that would deserve their own post.

So, who knows: To be continued?

#fic rec #mclennon #mclennon fanfiction #mclennon fic #asks #fic recs #overall favorites fic recs

[cantsaythetword]

Yay new prompts!! ❤️❤️

30. “Sure, go ahead and run. I’ll catch up to you anyway.”

For Nick and Charlie with Lee!Nick? Charlie is a fabulous runner and Nick knows he stands no chance in a chase against Charlie, but yet he still provokes Charlie anyways…

Run Boy Run

~A/N  ~ It has once again been a WHILE since I posted something but wassup here's another heartstopper fic for yous :D

Also there isn't really any tickles in this one just the build up cause I figured it worked better with the ending. So hope you don't mind!

- Enoy! ~

Tag List: @mysterious-marvel

Masterpost Link 

"CHAR!" Nick pounced, arms wrapping around Charlie's body from behind and scaring the hell out of the poor kid.

Charlie had been waiting at their usual after school meetup point for almost half an hour - something that was practically a routine by now. His last class of the day was far closer to the exit than Nick's, not to mention the absolute cluster fuck that was the school corridors once the bell rang. So, more often than not, Charlie would hang around at the gates to walk home with his boyfriend.

After a sharp yelp at the jump-scare, Charlie laughed softly.

"A little warning would be nice next time." He leaned back into his boyfriend's violent hug, letting his hands fold over Nick's. "How was Biology?"

Nick let out a breath. "My brain hurts - too many things to remember."

Charlie gave a sympathetic noise and, after waiting a moment, he pulled away from the backwards hug. Placing his hand in Nick's, he gave it a gentle tug to begin the journey home.

~

After a few minutes worth of walking and discussing the less boring details of what happened during their classes, the two were just about to pass the halfway point between school and home.

And at this halfway point there is a particular house. With a particular resident. One with four legs and a very loud-

*BARK BARK BARK*

Charlie let out a screech, pulling Nick's arm across him in some sort of seatbelt-protection-shield.

Nick chuckled softly. "You are such a scaredy cat Char!"

Charlie glared playfully. "I am not!"

Nick laughed, wrapping his free arm around his boyfriend and giving him a squeeze. "Says the one who jumped when I hugged you earlier."

Charlie gave a huffy laugh, hands gently holding Nick's forearms. "I still don't know why you do that."

"Because..." Nick squished his face into his boyfriend's cheek. "You get all cute when you're spooked."

Charlie gave an indignant gasp.

"And when you're on edge I can make you blush ten times easier!"

"Bold of you to assume I'm on edge." Charlie muttered, testing the waters of how far he could play the suave confident card.

Nick pressed a kiss to Charlie's neck. "Oh we're in a brave mood today huh?"

Charlie gave a cocky shrug, "I suppose I am."

There was a pause, one that lingered slightly longer than a moment.

"This really isn't getting to you?" Nick asked, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

Now Charlie had two options here. He could come clean, return to his comfortable usual flustered self and let Nick tease him in the way that made his whole body feel warm. Or he could continue messing with his boyfriend and maintain dominance over the conversation - leaving Nick chasing his desired response.

And for today, Charlie decided to be bold.

"What's the matter Rugby King?" Charlie teased. "Losing your charm?"

Nick released Charlie from his grasp and let out a noise halfway between a gasp and a scoff. Partially in surprise at the boy's attitude, but also readily meeting the challenge of Charlie's playful banter.

"Oh please! I'm the pinnacle of physical fitness." Nick announced. "My charm is in full effect."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Riiiiight..."

"You know my charm better than anyone." Nick winked, continuing to walk once more. "You've been head over heels since the day we met."

Charlie had to use every ounce of willpower in his body to suppress the blush rising eagerly to his cheeks. Damn Nick knowing exactly what buttons to push.

But somehow, he saved it.

With a roll of his eyes, Charlie laughed out, "Like you weren't the same!"

"Hey, at least I've got a reason for it." Nick smiled, bumping his shoulder into Charlie's.

"And what would that be?"

Nick stopped in his tracks, slowly panning around to look at his boyfriend. "You really don't know?"

Charlie shook his head, playfully keeping his eyes away from Nick's with a grin on his face.

Charlie rolled his eyes for what felt like the tenth time that day.

"Well..." Nick grabbed Charlie's hand. "For one, you're adorable."

"And you're my favourite huggable dork." Nick smiled, demonstrating his point with a cuddly sideways bear hug.

"You're walking a fine line Nick." Charlie couldn't help but laugh.

"Plus how ticklish you are." Nick smirked, scratching his hands over Charlie's stomach for emphasis.

Charlie squeaked, catching Nick's hands with his own.

"Oh you are really asking for it now." Charlie warned.

Nick, pushing his luck even further, nuzzled his neck into Charlie's and sighed. "Like you could do anything about it, short stack."

Something needed to be done, and it didn't take very long for Charlie to come up with a plan for retaliation.

"I have hands!" Nick wiggled them for emphasis.

"Oh trust me I can." Charlie grinned. "Plus you can't even defend yourself!"

Surely enough Charlie's arms had wrapped around Nick's, practically locking them in place. Of course, with a big enough tug from Nick's strength they could be freed rather easily. But Charlie wasn't planning to rely on strength...

"I have hands too," Charlie smirked. "Wanna see what they can do?"

“Sure, go ahead and run." Charlie smirked, raising his eyebrow. "I’ll catch up to you anyway.”

Not even considering sticking around to find out (though he was pretty certain he knew what Charlie was implying), Nick took off with a laugh.

"You'll have to catch me first!"

And the chase was on.

#prompt fic #anon #anon prompt #heartstopper #nick x charlie #nick and charlie tickle fic #heartstopper tickle fic #mine #mini fic #fic #ask

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by @winterandwords to uh... talk about a WIP I guess? :D

I'll pass on this tag toooo... @starlit-hopes-and-dreams (as always <3) but I'm not sure who else, so if you feel like talking about a WIP, consider this an open tag.

Oh boy, which to pick. There are currently only 2 projects where the P in WIP actually stands for "progress" (for the others it stands for "procrastination".)

I think I'm gonna pick Till Death. It is the one I am currently obsessed with, and the only one I am writing, not editing.

Here's the blurb:

Finnian is a wandering healer down on his luck. When one of his patients dies, the village turns against him, beating him half to death and leaving him for thirst and scavengers to finish what they started.

Eilis lives deep in the forest, hiding from the world. When she finds him, impaled on a tree and barely alive, she can‘t leave him to his fate, even if it means upending the peaceful life she has built for herself.

As Finnian slowly recovers, days filled with quiet companionship make the prospect of him staying less daunting than either of them had expected. But he carries too many scars, and Eilis too many secrets, threatening to destroy their fragile relationship as the shadows of the past draw closer. When everything falls apart, will they save each other, or will the price be too high?

You see, in April I finished the last chapter of all my ongoing stories, which left me in a very weird mood. For 1,5 years I always had something to work on, and suddenly, there was nothing started. Sure, I had a few outlines, but nothing really called to me, with the added problem that for those, I have to figure out bullshit like politics. I needed something new. New chars I didn't know yet, a fresh story - and 🌟violence🌟 :)

I've been talking about wanting more gore with happy end, but sadly, existing OCs are so fragile, I can't even break all their bones without them dying 🙄 So it was time to fuck up another healer.

For a few weeks, I threw concepts against a wall like cooked spaghetti, grabbed whatever stuck, and then I just started. It's the first time in a year that I actually write a story without posting as I go. I can leave a little note "this sounds weird, fix later" or remember "shit, I forgot this injury" or change a name halfway in. I know. That's how a draft is supposed to work 😅

I'm at over 60k words, and it's looking good. There's a few 'first times' for me, a lot of things I love and a lot of things I am excited about. I have a rough outline of events still to happen that leaves me enough freedom to go wild. And wild I go; half of the scenes are gratuitous pain and suffering, and there will be more - but it's also a story of love and finding a place to belong. Which brings me to the next point:

I'm tired. Tired of feeling like I don't belong anywhere. Of having no genre and being "just whump" because it fits nowhere else. Of being "not enough whump" while still finding myself on every squick list.

So this one's written for a target audience of some very close friends - a target audience for which I don't have to write CWs at the top of each chapter, a target audience who doesn't grow bored at the first calm moment, a target audience who will call me a bitch while asking for more pain.

I love you, pocket friends 💜

Here's the start of the book (unedited, rip):

Finnian hated dealing with sick people.

Considering the fact that he earned his money with healing, that was rather unfortunate. If he didn’t want to starve to death, he had to grit his teeth and ignore the stench of sweat and blood while taking care of coughs and aches and fever.

Sometimes, he wished he had learned something else after it had become clear that this wasn’t the right profession for him. Then he wouldn’t be sitting here, explaining to a grown ass woman that when he had told her to keep the wound clean, that included keeping the bandages away from dirty water. And that yes, it fucking hurt, because now it was infected, and if she didn’t plan on losing a finger or two, she’d better keep her hand dry and clean this time. And that perhaps, just perhaps, that was a bit more important than cleaning the windows.

Unfortunately, he had not learned anything else, so he left the house half an hour later with barely enough coins in his pocket to make up for the supplies he had used. Most roots and herbs he could gather himself, but bandages and tinctures didn’t grow on trees.

#salad-tag #WIP Wednesday #wip: till death #not in the best place lately can you tell #it's too warm i am ~stressed~ #and between staff changes and uh general focus on this site #it's all just very discouraging

[titconao3]

13, 19, 40 - for the writer/fanfic ask :)

For this set of questions ^_^

13. What is your planning process? Eeeerrrr. i'm more of a... plantser, i think is the technical term ;-) i know the general idea and end point, but little details that turn into bigger plot points happen as i write, so i can't really plan much - it's the writing itself that will give me the meat. When i start off, i only have the general stick figure of the story, as seen from afar in the dark without wearing glasses ;-)

This is also why i write linearly: one little thing, a little detail (idk, the colour of char A's socks) will come up again and become #meaningfulTM later, and i can't foresee that early on in the process. Planning stuff would be pointless, because the story grows organically and will ignore what i plan anyway (it's a big reason why i dislike detailed scenario prompts: i think my brain chugs in the background and suddenly pops an idea at me on the page all by itself, but i'm not conscious of it until the words are Right There in front of my eyes; if i have to follow something another brain plotted, then mine just freezes and sulks and whines "what's the poinnnnnnt" ;-) Okay, yeah, sure, i do go back and add sock colour later on to tighten a plot point/foreshadow etc, but the idea is that a tiny word-butterfly will create big word-storms later on :D This is also why i don't post WIPs: something that comes up may need me to edit previous bits.

If i have extra notes, ideas, scene outlines, mid-way beats to hit, or bits of dialogue for a later part, i just jot it all down at the bottom of my document (i write in a word processor that's synced with an online drive, no fancy Writing Software For Fancy Writers for me. i'm basic ;-). i don't write out the entire scene / dialogue in advance, because it would be futile; by the time i get there i'd need to rewrite most of it anyway. And i might get bored and not feel like connecting the prewritten bits ;-) especially if it means rewriting everything as i go because it doesn't fit as well as it would if it had flown more organically from one part to another. (i've tried it, and it's not for me; it works for others!)

19. Dead or overused tropes? Oh my, there is no such thing as a dead or overused trope :D it's all about what you do with it! Play it straight, have a coffee shop AU but IN SPACE, take a common fanon characterization and twist it just so... i'll even sometimes take tropes i don't really like just to see how i can do them in a way i can stomach (one day, one day, i'll do a Soulmates AU. i find the premise a bit creepy when it's played twu wuv 4realz, but one day i'll play with that). (no shade on Soulmates AU lovers; kink tomato and all that!)

It's not like storytelling hasn't been using and reusing Coming Of Age, Revenge, Hero vs Fate, Fuck You God(s), etc patterns since, uh, forever. It's not the fact they're used that makes something enjoyable or not. *slaps Star Wars' hood* this baby can fit so many tropes in there! (This example is Just For You, Beguile, because i'm not much into SW ;-)

And, look. You'll have to pry hurt/comfort and whump from my cold dead hands ;-)

The only times i find something (trope, pattern... call it what you will) overused are when i see the themes, rhythms, expressions, words, obsessions that come up again and again in my own work. i see them only too well, and i fight them, and they always win in the end. They probably say too much about me, too! And then i angst about being predictable (@vulnerasanenturmyprince KEN FOLLET), boring, etc. (And then i go read fics that hit the buttons i want hit again and again)

40. Do you have any rituals before uploading a fic? Uh, rituals... it's usually fretting around the title, tags, and summary ;-) i rarely have the title early on, and i think for the summary it's happened... once? (out of, as of the time of answering this, over 160 published fics). No special underwear or whatnot for me. And fretting about how it's The Worst Fic Ever and how i Can't Write Anymore and Should Just Stop but i just need to chuck it on the good ole AO3 so i stop tinkering and quite possibly making it worse.

i try not to worry about feedback because it's pointless, which means i worry about feedback - by which i don't mean Comment Or Else, but that i write and publish (and organize events) to be part of the fandom community and squee with my fellow fen: as my AO3 profile says, to me, fandom is connection!

Thank you, @beguilewritesstuff :-)

#writing #my fic

[businessesconsultant]

4 Powerful Twitter Marketing Tips can Help Your Business Grow!

Summary: Twitter is an excellent place for businesses to grow. But with things moving so quickly on this platform, can you promote your brand on this platform? 

Do you know what the average lifespan of one tweet is? 18 minutes. Yes, that’s it. Every second around 7,000 new tweets is sent across the world. 

This is why your marketing strategies for Twitter have to pack a punch to get people`s attention.

If you are an entrepreneur and want to promote your brand through social media, you will have to find a perfect strategy. You can also hire a business coach for guidance and support. 

Here are four powerful marketing tips for Twitter that works: 

1.      Pick the Right Handle, Right Picture, Header Image

Recognizable, easy-to-remember, and short- your Twitter handle should have it all. Having a simple but relatable and catchy Twitter handle means people can easily remember you and tag you. You will be easily searchable, which will eventually result in increased followers. 

Keep your names consistent across all social media profiles. Using a different character from your brand or company name might confuse followers or make your page hard to find.

If you’re just getting started, choose a Twitter handle that is as close to your brand’s name as you can get. Avoid picking irrelevant numbers or any punctuation marks. 

With a short Twitter name, you’ll be more likely to get @mentions from other users and brands because people are less likely to mention businesses with long Twitter handles due to the character limit of each tweet. You can also work with a business mentor who can help you build a more powerful and engaging brand image. 

2.       Showcase Your Brand`s Personality via Optimized Bio  

Can you showcase your brand in just a 160-char space? If yes, start creating a kill bio that will be visible to the entire world, including your potential customers, right below your profile image.

However, make sure that it is simple and easy to read. Just tell the entire world about yourself, your brand, and your vision in short, sweet sentences. 

Factors you must include into account:

a). Tell people precisely what your brand is.

b). Incorporate some personality or humor. Say something original. Don’t be afraid to use your wits.

c). Brag a bit. If your brand has some outstanding accomplishments under its belt, let people know.

d). Write a bio that will attract people who fit your target audience.

e). Add relevant hashtags so that people can find your account when they search for those terms.

f). Tag other brands you may be associated with within this space. 

3.       Tweet During Peak Hours 

Every time is a good time- while this might be true in various other aspects of life, it is undoubtedly not applicable to social media. There are certain days of the week or times of day when users are more active on Twitter, meaning they’ll be more likely to engage with your posts. There are many tools through which you can schedule posts. Some of them are available online for free.   

By identifying those hours and days and posting during them, you’ll gain more impressions, boost engagement, and get tons of clicks. For Twitter, if you post tweets on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, they will have higher CTRs than those posted during the other days of the week. 

4.       Use Hashtags Sparingly 

Tweets with more than two hashtags receive a drop in engagement by 17%. Using hashtags in your post is essential but overusing them can backfire and do more harm than good. 

Wouldn`t it be nice that your target customer is looking for your product or services every second? Twitter is a platform where you can easily reach and find your target audience. All you need is a powerful marketing strategy. 

You can also work along with the best business coach for expert guidance. If you are struggling with business challenges, you should read our article on how a business coach can help your business grow? 

The idea of managing a business is more straightforward said than done, and we agree with you. This is why to help you move forward with your business goals, we at Bada Business offer an exclusive Problem Solving Courses that comes with Foundation courses, specialized courses, and value-added courses. 

Source: https://news.badabusiness.com/marketing/4-powerful-twitter-marketing-tips-can-help-your-business-grow-10547.html

#TwitterMarketing #MarketingTips #ProblemSolvingCourses #BusinessCoach #BadaBusiness #MarketingStrategy

[kirathehyrulian]

Non-Challenge Art 🧱Another Brick in the Wall🧱  Art Master Post

(right click, open image in new tab images for better quality view) (Please do not edit/alter. Feel free to reblog, but please do not repost. At the very least please give me credit.)

Artist: @kirathehyrulian | Ao3 | LJ Author: @road-rhythm​ | Ao3 | Storylink: Ao3 Pairing: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester Fic Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Word Count: 19,898 Summary: When Sam vanishes on a case, it feels like every nightmare Dean's had since he got his brother's soul back is coming true. Waking up buried alive doesn't exactly make it Sam's favorite day, either. The Winchesters will do anything to save each other: that’s almost a natural law. But in nature, everything has a cost, and Sam and Dean have a bad history of not examining the price tag.

For more art from me please check out my “myart” tag here on Tumblr.   👇(Artist Notes, Bonus art and Spoilers below the cut) 👇

Artist notes:

“A room in darkness. In the middle of the floor, a thing on fire. Sam came near. It was a heart. The heart burned, but did not char. The flames licked along the surface of the organ in blue and orange, but the flesh within was fresh, perfect, wet, and red. Underneath the fire, the heart pulsed. He took it in his hands, in awe of its beauty. He trembled to touch it. It seemed he had never seen heat or light before now, and in the logic of dreams, he knew what he had to do with it. He was always going to do it. He raised it to his mouth. When he ate, he felt it burn all the way down.Then he woke.” - Another Brick in the Wall Chapter 18

Months, this art project has been in the works for months. If I look back at the text logs, it was all the way back in May, this year, when I started trying to crack down on it. Part of why it took so long was because I felt so drained in a lot of different ways. But, hey better late than never, right?

Normally, I have more things to say in this section, but because this set was stretch out over months I don’t remember everything off the top of my head. So, I’ll just go with a few bullet points that come to mind: •I know I started out wanting to do something more abstract but that went out the window when I started drawing. What can I say, I prefer defined art. I did try there at the beginning, though, I promise. •Sam’s green because first of all he’s dreaming of the sewer he’s trapped in (and sewers to me mean green atmosphere) and it’s supposed to be otherworldly/strange because it’s a dream. I promise it had nothing to do with the Grinch or Kermit. Though that was a funny happenstance. •The heart was originally going to be red surrounded in flames, which was closer to what the text described, but then I saw a reference of a heart on fire that looked like it was lit up like the sun. Which I think still fits the dream’s description still. So, I switched tracks on that part because that was like bright sun heart. •Originally what the blue and orange flames description meant just a single flame with the blue color as a core and the orange flame at the tips. Think of the type of flame you’d see on the stove top. But I thought it meant separate orange and blue flames, and once I had that idea it was hard to accept in my head. Plus, a lot of references of things on fire didn’t incorporate that combination. So, that’s how I end up doing what I did. •The hardest part was probably trying to figure out the heart/fire, runner up or alternatively how to draw an open mouth Sam. Thank god for the many Jared/Sam pics easily accessible out there. •I’ve been listening to a lot of Doja Cat lately, the main song was the one I linked below but really it was the hour long vid version, several times. •I made the title card last because I completely forgot about it till the end. So, I quickly made it mostly within a day. My favorite part about the process for the title card was deciding the font with author. We tried out four, one was a joke font, but I said I was going to try them all out and I did.

Idk, if anyone has any other questions they want to ask send me an ask or reply or reblog I’ll try to get back to you.

Bonus:

These pieces just show a little bts of the art. I removed most of the fire and the blood and took away the black filter so you can see the foundation of the work that was built upon. The fire covers up some of Sam’s face and I was proud of some of those profiles which I had to sacrifice for the fire in the final pieces, lol.

🎶Musical inspiration or just music I was listening to during (watch/listen at your own risk):

#wincest #wincest art #sam/dean #dean/sam #samdean #cw: cannibalism #cw: blood #eldritch moods #shirtless!sam #symbolism #sam winchester appreciation #dean winchester appreciation #myart

[xxtraord1nary]

POV

Fandom: Open Heart

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x f!mc (Charlotte West)

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Constructive criticism is always welcome! No hate please and thank you for reading reblog and comment if you enjoyed.

Summary: A very naughty and heavily pregnant Charlotte much prefers her handsome lovers point of view.

Warnings: Strong Language, Fellatio, Sex, and a tad of dark humor. If that makes you uncomfortable please exit stage left because you’ve been warned. Overall vulgar.

Tag list: @katkart122 @missmiimiie @openheartfanfics

“Tobias, I am not playing with you get that damn camera out of my face! It's way too early for your shit.” Charlotte snapped whilst swatting at the pest she called a husband as he continued to record his very moody wife with his old camera he found a couple a months ago when Char ordered him with a broom in hand to go “clean that damn garage” or he could sleep on the couch for a month, so that being all the motivation he needed Tobias got to it with vigor.

“You're really good at this whole black mama thing Charlie.” he teases with a shit eating grin plastered on his stupidly perfect face. “Keep it up and I’ll be a single black mama if you don’t quit.” she grunted while taking down her plaited kinky tendrils that in the morning tended to have a mind of their own.

“Now why would you say that?”

“Because I’m going to kill you” she said whilst continuing to grumpily apply toothpaste to her electric toothbrush.

“Really talking like that when I’m recording, then the police will immediately know who to be held responsible in the case of my untimely demise, Charlie.” he further ribbed while shaking his head playfully behind the lens.

“Screw you and the police Carrick.” she spat.

“Babe, you know all you have to do is corporate and let me get my daily picture of you and our little Tiny Tia. So get with the program.” he chided with a small but genuine smile as he further gazed at the love of his life and their little one growing inside her very pregnant belly.

“Alright two things: that name is super cute and I’m surprised you came up with that yourself.”

“I’m good for something, see?” to which she answered with a ‘meh’ and shrug of her shoulders.

“I’m offended.” and again another answer in the form of shrugged shoulders and a hard roll of the eyes.

“Now for two, why on earth do you need a picture every day?” she whined with tired eyes.

“This is our first child out of many, I need to capture every moment. Now lift up your shirt!” he confidently proclaimed.

She didn’t want to burst his little bubble but if he thought for a second she was pushing another of his big headed babies out of her lady parts he was sorely mistaken. ‘What the hell is “out of many” anyways?’ she pondered with a perplexed expression. “Absolutely not, I look like a gross ragamuffin.”

He sighed, “Charlie lift up your shirt or I’m gonna hold out.” he asservated pleased with her shocked expression. “Oh yeah, hold out what exactly?” she challenged with raised eyebrows. He knew the denial of sex would be the thing to do it for her. Already she had an insatiable sexual appetite hence here they were here six months pregnant, but pregnancy hormones only amplified that. “You really don’t wanna play those games with me Tobias, or you’ll find yourself handcuffed to bed and taken by force.” she lightheartedly fired back. “I’m quite intrigued as long as I can return the favor.” he huskily dropped an octave and whispered to her. She shivered and scoffed “You a silly little freak.” with a laugh.

“Honestly Charlie, all this is unnecessary as all I wanted was my pictures and could have been going about my business by now but someone refused to get along with the picture. Pun heavily intended.” he sighed.

“Okay I’ll bite, but what are you even doing with these pictures?”

“Well, if you must know. I take your picture or video then I pleasure myself.” he sexily drawled “then upload it online to make a virtual scrapbook.” he happily finished. “Why am I not surprised?” she chuckled as she shoved his laughing form. “Wait, you still masturabte?” she inquisitively questioned.

“Well, yeah sometimes you're in a horrifying mood and I’d rather work with what I’ve got than you ripping my head off, do you?”

“Actually no, not since I met you at least.” she truthfully noted, as her hands just didn’t do the job since Dr. Tobias Carrick waltzed into her life with his devilishly handsome face and rocked her world.

“I’m doing my job right then.” he pressed with a smirk. “Mhm, too right if you ask me.” she quipped pointing to her very round and beautiful stomach adorned with barely visible glittery stretch marks that only magnified her beauty and strength. “What’s on your mind now?” he pried while she poked at her bump in the mirror. “Me and Sienna, Aurora, and Jackie are going out to Carson Beach and I can’t decide whether to wear a two or one piece.”

“Two pieces of course so I can enjoy the fruits of my labor.” he smiled proudly.

“Four minutes hardly constitutes at “labor” she mocked with air quotes. He smacked his teeth in annoyance, “If you loved me you’d do this for me.” he pleaded. And now it was her turn to kiss her teeth, “Fine!” she huffed. “But leave my face out of it, I look icky in the mornings.” to which he eagerly disagreed and pecked her lips but not before muttering something along the lines of “stunning”.

“Alright, I’ll give you your little video but you have to do something for me.” she suggestively proposed. To which he readily agreed as he loved her ‘just been fucked’ afterglow. He then turned off the old camcorder and attempted to put it away but she fingered the loops of his jeans “Uh uh turn it back on.”

He was sure his eyes were completely bulging out of his skull and managed to mutter a “Charlie a-are you serious?” in his daze. She nodded and sunk down to her knees as she slowly tugged down his boxers and elicited a low groan from him.

In the lens of the camera she expertly handled his member with care and tenderly began to stroke him giggling at his floored expression. “You ready for me, Tobias?” she tantalizingly asked not ceasing her stroking. Receiving an eager nod and thumbs up from the camera she smirked at her success in making the talkative bastard speechless. Expertly she teased his large in girth and lengthy member with the tip of her tongue before guiding him into her mouth as she had done tons of times before sucking her mans dick like a woman starved.

“Oh god, slow down baby.” Tobias pitifully groaned while screwing his mind down as the love of his life expertly worked him. “You wanna be inside me, baby?” she whispered in a sultry tone against the head of his member cursing a pleasant shiver to rack his body. He didn’t answer but instead made a gesture behind the camera for me to turn around. He thanked the heavens above for the easy access and the fact that she was wearing one of his shirts and abandoned underwear long ago. She hissed as his large strong hand cam crashing down on her bare ass, and soothed the pleasant sting with a soft rub. “Perfect.” he murmured as he continued his caressing of her more than generous backside. “How’s the view?” she asked with a wink through the mirror.

And with a quick and brutal thrust he was inside leaving her panting mess on the cold surface of the bathroom countertop as she moaned slowly.

“Amazing.” he quickly answered before he began his unrelenting deep thrust. “Deeper” she moaned out in the air. Resting on her palms and easing away from the countertop she made eye contact with a chipper Tobias as he violently thrust into her and she had to brace herself. “Where are you going Char?” Tobias teased as she stood on her tiptoes desperately in an unsuccessful attempt of creating space between them.

“Damn I know I told him deeper, but now he's just showing out for the camera.” she thought while groaning as he hit a spot inside her making let out a loud guttural moan. He made the most out of his opportunity reaching to rub her clit. Moaning even louder he soon used one hand to grip her shoulder as he angled the camcorder downwards to catch sight of his pelvis meeting her dripping cunt. Closing her eyes for some reprieve she opened them to meet Tobias’s eyes in the mirror to find him damn near gnawing through his lip to hold back his loud groans.

Her release soon crep up on her and she moaned loudly, “Baby, I-” to which he cut her off as he sped up his tireless thrust, “Me too. Don’t wait for me.” and with that she came harder than ever and fell back on the counter, a panting mess and sweating bullets and winced as he pulled out of her. She mistakenly thought he was going to clean her only for him to zoom in the camera to get a close up of her used pussy with his milky cum dripping out of her.

Once he caught his breath he chuckled “That was amazing and it wasn’t even my birthday.” to which she rolled her eyes with a dazed expression and a small smile on her face since enjoying the after effects of their morning activities.

“Yeah yeah you better delete that.” she warned turning on the shower.

“Uh-Uh Charlie we just made a porno, I’m downloading this to my USB and keeping it in my safe.” he remarked while being transfixed at the camcorder in his hands causing her to snort with laughter.

“Whatever, if it gets leaked I better get paid for it.” she declared while leaving to her shower leaving Tobias in a cheerful fit of post orgasmic laughter.

Fin.

A/N: That was nasty and you read it so you’re nasty too.

#tobias carrick #open heart #tobias carrick x oc #PB #choices #one shot #tobias carrick fic #tobias #carrick #poc #black woman #black lead #bwbm #spotify #f!mc

[sketchfanda]

Rate the Champions

Based off of and inspired by @gale-of-the-nomads and @nerdasaurus1200 rate the akuma,for @beebeebombam Lady Fairy AU,or in this case,the blind butterfly girl herself and her champions. According to wha I’ve learned from posts in bee’s posts on the tag,many of the champions like Alya as Lady Wifi,Max as the Gamer,and Nate as Illuscreator aren’t all too different from canon in tems of their abilities and design. mostly just my way of giving some attention and notice to this AU,which for a guy like me who’s pretty recent into coming into this fandom,but coming to know enough,it’s a fun and sweet AU especially for the fact it gives poor Nooroo much better than what he’s got in canon.

serously,poor little guy,and this is like the only gif I ever find for him. So let’s begin with the blind butterfly princess herself

Marinette Dupain-Cheng,blind but as in canon,a girl with a big heart and a deep sense of empathy,wielder of the moth/butterfly Miraculous,Paris’ maker of heroes Lady Fairy

Design: A+ it really plays up th butterfly theme and motif,her mask being a blindfold is a very nice touch that serves to highlight and remind of her condition. The shades of purple and indigo work well to give a outfit that is as graceful,elegant and posied as the animal its based on and suits her name,coming off like a figure out of a fairy tale plus such glitter and sparkle

Powers: A,it’s the butterfly/moth brooch,as in canon it grants the wielder the ability to empower others and make them superheroes. Of course in this AU it’s made to be used as intended,unlike Gabriel’s selfish,wreckless evil purposes. Especially as unlike Hawkmoth,lady fairy serves more to focus on her champions’ positive emotions,guide them and motivate them rather than force control and obedience into being her puppets and twist and manipulate them at their lowest points. while it’s stated that the moth miraculous can utilise both positive and negative emotions,I feel focusing on the positive makes for a better contrast to how Hawkmoth always seeks out the negative. Bee of course adds a sweet touch to how the wielder can see through their chosen’s eyes,allowing the blind marinette to see the world she normally wouldn’t be able to due to her blindness,giviing her a growing appreciation and love for her city,her loved ones and the colours of life.

theme (As in their gimmick):A.the name,motif and design of the outfit all work together,making her seem like a figure from a court of nobility from a fairy tale

Effectiveness:A.when all seems grim,always know if you have a strong heart,this sweet soul will give you the means to do what’s right,because she believes in you. as a true butterfly wielder should.

Personal enjoyment: A I’ve seen maybe one or two,if not near half a dozen fanarts based on kwami swap with Mari as the butterfly miraculous wielder. This is my personal favourite of the bunch in terms of concept and design.

next we come to the villain of the story,grand iceking douchebag and shitty parent,the socially reclusive bastard Gabriel Aggreste,aka Le Paon,wilder of the peacock miraculous,which I assume isn’t as damaged as it is canon Design- A,very sinister and classy,but different and unique compared to his hawkmoth outfit,but just as enigmatic. has a somewhat sens of style and class to it,which makes sense given peacocks and their natural flamboyance and Gabriel’s status as a fashion designer

Powers- A.as in canon,the peacock brooch is similar but different to the buttefly in that rather than use someone’s emotions to empower them,it takes a partciular emotion they’re feeling and gives it a shape and form,granting the wielder a soldier they can command and control. making it range and very in terms of its shape and form. And unluckily,one needn’t be willing for gabriel to create a sentimonster,not that he cares,fitting given his self serving goal.

Theme- A,sinister yet classy looking individual,with an ability to enforce his will on others,much like he enforces and exerts control over his own’s son’s life. it’s one thing when hetting akumatised twisted you into being evil,but one can barely imagine the horror of being taken advantage of at your emotional low,watching as your anger,or sadness,etc are given the form of a monster that will tear all of paris apart to fulfill a mad man’s goals

Effectiveness - A. like in canon,gabriel is just hiding away,unseen by all of Paris as he keeps his sense tuned for someone at their emotional low,looking to control them much like how he controls his own son’s life. because what he believes in and thinks are right matter most,and for the ones he loves,or passes for love,all of Paris will suffer long as he gets what he wants

Personal enjoyment of the akuma-Be it the moth or the peacoc,Gabriel is as he will always be,a cold distant selfish man whose misguided sense of love and family will burn the world.

Nathalie Sancoeur,personal assistant to the villain himself,in this Au for the heroes day battle,wielder of the ladybug,which garbriel has in his possession. yes he’s halfway to this goal,which raises the stakes Design- A,similar but different to canon,a more villainouse edge thanks to the black sections,and seems to hide nathalie’s identity

Powers- A,it’s the ladybug miraculous,one can only shudder to think hw it works when not wielded by a non heroic wielder.

Theme- Unlike in canon,this is not a heroic ladybug. I’ts Nathalie doing what she thinks is right,which is helping her boss achieve his goals. not helping that she seems to love him and all

Effectiveness - hard to say as we will only see her once in the finale arc,but the ladybug miraculous on the side of devils? weep for paris

Personal enjoyment-n/a

Sabine Dupain-Cheng,Mari’s wonderful mama,aka Scilla Design- A,an elegant look and design that fits and suits the motfi of her daughter,fitting given what her powers in this form do.

Powers- A. simple but effective,she can boost and enhance others’ powers,in this case able to increase Mari’s Miraculous’ abilities as catalyst did with scarlet moth,enabling her to create multiple champions. from a lady to a queen fairy,now able to lead and command her warriors on the field of battle.

Theme- A,really plays to the sparkly classy fairy tale motif of her daughter

Reason for Akumatization-Aor championisation in this case,as bee establishes Sabine’s always known her daughter has been a hero,and given the situation in heroes’ day,how could she not want to help

Effectiveness as an akuma- A,the results speak for themselves

Personal enjoyment of the akuma-A,compared to Nathalie and Hawkmth,it’s a nice little take in reminding us how like in canon,Mari has a wonderfu bond with her parents.

Luka,Kagami,Rose and Juleka,aka Distorter,Riposte,Princess fragrance and Monster Witch

Design- A+,very more heroic takes or twists on Luka,Kagami and Rose’s canon designs,while Juleka’s is very suiting and fitting for her given her goth vibe and motif,with the eyees of coruse referencing Reflekta. makes sense esp as reflekta was more about standing out and getting attention.Rose’s and Luka’s looks are tweaked just enough to not seem like palette swaps whie Kagami’ is less silver samurai,more superheroic samurai knight

Powers- A,Riposte’s hardly needed changing or tweaking compared to her design.Distorter meanwhile is more about using sound as a weapon which can have some unique applications. Juleka’s abilities obviously needed an overhaul,as there would’ve been no way of making a heroic take on reflekta’s powers. here of course it’s more about a means of combatting a sentimonster that creates its own army,while Rose’s is more about helping out and aiding others,akin to healer type chars in rpgs and games like overwatch and team fortress 2

Theme- A,you got a heroic samurai magical girl,a disney princess with a perfume gun,a musician who can truly make music a weapon,and his perky goth sister witch,what’s not to love

Reason for Championization-can’t rate per se,but given this Au and the nature of th buttrfly,Marinette wouldn’t pick just anyone to be her champions

Effectiveness as a champion- A,chat is lucky to have this backup no doubt

Personal enjoyment of the champions-A,be it simle tweaks and overhaul of the designs,to whole new design and powersets,creative aspects like this are what I love about this AU

Nino,Alix,Sabrina,Ondine,Ivan,Mylene,aka Bubble Boy,Timestealer,vanisher,syren,stone warrior and braverator

Design- A,Nino’s is a very welcome change of pace compared to the sentient popsicle blowup clown doll from canon and play to his own personal music hobby,Alix’s is more heroic take on her canon form that still playsup the futuristic rollerblader,Sabrina and Ondine’s hardly needed much changing,though Ondine does have some tweaks here and there,like an additonal fish feature or accessories. Ivan’s livesup to the name,making for an opposing contrast as Stoneheart,while Mylene obviously needed something different,as Horrificator is likely more sentimonster material design wise.

Powers- A+,bubbler’s design was whack,but the powers as seen were definitely something,vanisher and syren’s hardly needed much adjusting either. Stone warrior of course,basically takes his stoneheart’s powers and applies them more to a heroic means.mylene’s of course is very suiting for her,an inverse to how horrificator gained more pwer and size from others’ fear of her,she takes others’ fear and inverts it into bravery.which as bee mentions,is very handy for heroes’ day. Alix’s powers of coruse,are more about taking someone’s speed to add to her own,rather than taking someones life to able to go back in time.

Theme- A,vanisher needn’t be said,but the rest are either simple but effective tweaks and adjustments on familiar designs,or something more original and memorable in its own right

Reason for Championzation-see above for previous champion pic set.

Effectiveness as champions- same as above

Personal enjoyment of the champions-same as above

Doll Angel,the Lady fairy Au’s equiv to the Collector,combining aspect of the Puppeteer akuma.

Design- A,it plays to the same soft color palette and elegant classy fairy tale design of Mari’s outfit as Lady Fairy,minus the butterfly motif. Which makes sense of course as the goal of this form is throw off any traces or connection to her secret identity. The wand of course adds to the theme,and like with her lady fairy outfit,the masks adds a nice hint of mystery and highlights as a reminder of her blindness in this au. Given this is her equivalent to collector,it does the job.

Powers- A. As bee states,it’s similar but different to puppeteer,as well as her miraculous powers. It has the personal touch of utilizing a set of items that are very personal to Mari,in many ways representing how much she cherishes and values the friends in her life,many of whom have been made her champions,so unlike puppeteer it doesn’t force them into their forms and be controlled by her. But rather uses the dolls themselves,who serve as her sort of,rpg companion team. The detail of being able to see brought her dolls’ eyes serves a nice callback to how as lady fairy she sees through her champions eyes

Theme- A,as mentioned in design,it plays to the fairy tale motif,but like collector  it’s different enough 8n terms of ability and design in throwing off the fact she is the butterfly miraculous wielder.

Reason-A,obviously as well as helping out her favourite cat,the reason for making herself a champion is key to throwing off that feathered bastard off of her scent. After what Gabriel pulled in canon as the collector,what’s good for the goose and all…

Effectiveness - A. Like with the collector,it clearly serves its goal and purpose.

Personal enjoyment of the champion-A+ the sweetest design for the sweetest girl in all of Paris.

#miraculous #lady fairy au #lady fairy #butterfly marinette #butterfly!marinette #kwami swap #nooroo #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous ladybug #beebombam

[moonsofmars-writes]

From the darkness below (life can still rise)

Fandom: 七つの大罪 - 鈴木央 | Nanatsu no Taizai | The Seven Deadly Sins - Suzuki Nakaba (Anime & Manga) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Diane/Fairy King Harlequin Characters: Fairy King Harlequin, Diane (Nanatsu no Taizai) Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, One Shot, king feels guilty about lots of stuff, diane doesn't like that, king and diane dancing!, Dancing, Romantic Fluff, Zine, written for the SPECTRUM zine

Summary: King visits the ruins of the old Fairy King's Forest for the first time in years. The last time he went there he was a criminal and racked with guilt, and he couldn't do anything to save the forest. But this time, Diane is with him. And this changes everything.

Notes: here’s my piece for the Spectrum zine @spectrumnntzine​ ! I got the prompt “black” and wrote some Kiane. King suffer a little here but luckily, Diane is with him. 

Enjoy! 

When he lands, a cloud of ashes and dirt rises from the ground. King clenches his mouth as dust covers his shoes and pants with a thin dark layer, then starts to fall, slowly, to the earth. Around him, the ground is covered with black mud and rubble, all that’s left of what were branches and leaves. King shivers and forces himself to look around, letting his eyes wander over the desolation surrounding him. The burned forest hasn’t changed since last time he was here. Somehow, the trees still stand, raising their slender branches to the sky. The wood is dark and dry, and King feels like it would crumble into ashes under his fingers if he touched it. Below, the twisted roots sink into the arid ground. Dirt and cinder cover the earth, almost obscuring the spider-web of cracks stretched across it. In his mind, the resemblance is disturbingly fitting. After all, this wasteland is a place of death and misery - death of the vegetation that once ruled it, death of the wildlife that made its home here, death of the Fairies he failed to protect. The place is the rotting cadaver of his beloved forest. Nothing but a monument to his own failure.

“Harlequin?” Diane’s voice is as soft as the gentle touch of her hand on his cheek. He breathes in and looks down to meet her eyes, loosening his grip on her. He was holding her tighter than he realized.

“Sorry,” he mutters as he buries his face in her hair. It feels nice and smells like flowers and hills, and it gives him an excuse to look away from the grim landscape around them.

Her head shakes slightly as she answers, “I’m fine - are you alright?”

Continue on AO3

He swallows before glancing around again. The scrawny trees look back at him like a jury of the dead. There used to be colours in their bark - light and dark brown, red, grey - sometimes almost invisible under the green mass of moss. There used to be colour in the earth where their roots sink - the light green of the grass, the hundreds of shades of the flowers; and in the air too, where butterflies flaunted their vibrant wings and birds flew from branch to branch with a beat of their vivid feathers. Nothing is left. King imagines them melting together as the fire consumed the forest, leaving behind only this nauseating, burned black.

“Yes,” he answers slowly, looking away, “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

Diane raises an eyebrow but says nothing as he lets her go. She eyes her surroundings, a hint of uneasiness in her violet gaze. Not for the first time, King wonders why she insisted on coming with him. He told her it wasn't necessary, that the sight was hardly worth the trip, but he knows better than pushing her when she makes up her mind. She can be very stubborn, he thinks, a faint smile curving his lips.

Truth be told, he doesn’t know why he wanted to come here. The new Fairy King's Forest is home now. He knew nothing waited for him here. Yet the desire to return had been growing in the back of his mind since the war ended until it was impossible to ignore. Maybe, he admits to himself as some he takes hesitant steps between the trees, he hoped something had changed. When he last came, he was still a traitor, wanted by the kingdom for a crime he didn't commit. Even to him, it feels like ages ago. It was easy to convince himself that it was worth visiting if just to check whether some semblance of life had returned. But on the ground he sees no sprout, and on the trees, no leaves. The entire place looks frozen in time, framed in the aftermath of its destruction. King clenches his jaw as he approaches a tree. After a moment, he finds the courage to touch its trunk. It doesn’t crumble under his fingers as he feared, but he can feel no life within its burned shell. It’s only a matter of time before it rots, leaving no trace of its existence but ashes scattered on the ground.

“We should leave." His voice sounds stiff and low, but he is grateful it's not trembling.

“Oh? But we just got here!” He hears Diane’s approach behind him, her soles crushing tiny pieces of burned wood. “Didn’t you want to take a look around?”

He shakes his head. “It’s useless. I … I was hoping that I would have been able to fix this, now that my wings have grown,” he admits, finally turning towards her. "But this place is ... well, look at it. It’s dead. If anything survived, if only a single bud sprouted, I could help it grow, but I can't bring what is dead back to life.” If he could, he thinks bitterly, he wouldn’t have lost so much, would he?

With his foot, he traces a line in the dirt. It stains his shoe with sludge, black like the charred wood and the burned bones he knows he will find if he looks well enough between the roots. Some are so tiny and thin and can’t come but from small animals. Others are bigger and King doesn’t even want to think who they belonged to.

"It was foolish of me to come here - and to bring you with me,” he mutters. “I should know by now that I can't erase my mistakes."

Diane gasps and King closes his mouth, pressing his lips together, though he knows he can’t take his words back. She hates it when he speaks like that about himself. He glances at her and tries to find something to say as he waits for her to berate him. But she doesn’t speak. She stands silently instead, her head tilted and teeth sinking in her bottom lip; she stares at him with thoughtful eyes, then, suddenly, she moves. King's brow furrows as he watches her walk around, eyes fixed on the ground. Near a tree, she stops and taps her foot on the soil, once, twice, making the dust lift and float. King hesitates, unsure how to ask what she is doing, and his eyebrows rise suddenly when she crouches and reaches for the earth with her hand.

"Diane! You shouldn't touch -"

"Of course you can't erase your mistakes," she says without looking up, "that's not how it works."

King sucks in air and closes his mouth, baffled. That’s … not how she usually answers him, when the argument comes up. The change doesn’t quite upset him, though he feels his stomach clench. She loves him, but if she starts to see how much a failure he was -

"But you can't deny," she continues, pressing her palm against the dark soil, "that you’re trying. You are doing what you can to be a good king, and you are Harlequin. I, our friends, your people, everyone thinks so. Yes, you made mistakes in the past, but you’re trying to make sure nothing like this will happen again. This is the only thing you can do, now.” When she turns towards him, a little smile has formed on her lips. “And anyway, you’re wrong. You can help this forest.”

King frowns. “No, I can’t."

Maybe she can't feel the sense of death that filters through the cracks on the trees' bark, but she is not blind. Her bond with the earth must be telling her there is no hope for this place.

"You know I can't revive these plants," he says through his teeth. "There is no life left inside them, I ... checked, the first time I came here." Those moments are etched in stone in his mind - fear and disbelief taking his breath away, his mind refusing to process what he saw, to acknowledge it was real. He looked for his sister first, then for the other Fairies, and when he couldn't find anyone he had examined the plants, stumbling from one to the other, desperately looking for something alive. "Nothing survived the purgatory fire," he finishes, bitterly.

Diane hums softly before beckoning him with her hand. "Come here,” she orders.

King frowns as he walks towards her, curious to see what caught her attention; as soon as he is close enough, she grabs his hand and pulls him to crouch at her side.

“You have to stop blaming yourself for everything that happened here,” she whispers. “It’s distracting you.”

“How can I?” His eyes drop to the dirt that now stains their shoes and calves. "I was the king of this forest and I left it unprotected." He smiles bitterly, shaking his head, "I can't even bring myself to regret it. I couldn't abandon Helbram and - and leaving led me to you," he adds softly. "No, I could never regret my decision. But when I remembered, when I realized that I abandoned my people for centuries, I chose to stay away. I thought it was for the best to surrender myself to the humans and take the blame for what Helbram did. The truth is that it was an easy option.” He swallows, feeling like there is dust in his throat. “One that didn't require me to face my people after I failed to protect them, after I left them, after what I let happen to Helbram -"

“Harlequin.” Diane’s grip on his hands becomes tighter. “Look at me.” Reluctantly, he meets her gaze. Her eyes burn like violet flames. “You know you had to stay. You told me.”

"If I came back -"

"You would have had to fight a war against humans. Many people would have died - more than the ones who lost their lives in the fire. You would have brought death here,” she gestures at the forest around them, “to your people, and to the humans who would have fought you. You saved lives when you decided not to come back.”

“But I should have been here to fight that Demon!”

“You couldn’t know about the Demon.” She squeezes his hands tighter, so abruptly that he has to hold back a groan. “You did what you had to stop what was threatening your home. You acted like a king.”

He wants to object, to insist he should have done better, he should have found a way to keep everyone safe and give the humans the justice they demanded. It takes just a moment to realise that he can’t. Diane is right. It’s not the first time he’s thought about this and reached the same conclusions, but this time they feel more … real. Not like simple excuses he is trying to make up to absolve his crimes.

“I … know”, he whispers, “but my sister died because of my decision. If Ban hadn't revived her ...”

“But he did. You can’t keep tormenting yourself over what was in the past, Harlequin. Elaine is alive and happy, and so are the Fairies and the Fairy King’s Forest - and that’s what you should focus on. What it is, not what it isn’t anymore.” She smiles at him. “You have to accept that you can’t change the past. But you can protect the present.”

King stares at her, the grip on his chest finally loosened a little. The guilt is still there, heavy and bitter. He knows it will never go truly away. Maybe it's alright. Maybe with time, it won’t feel like a burden to drag him down, but a push to do better. So that there won’t be more burned forests and lost lives.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, releasing a long breath as he lifts their joined hands to kiss her knuckles.

Diane beams before reaching for him; the touch of her lips on his own is quick as a beating of wings. She is gone before King can even think to kiss her back, then, still holding his hand, she murmurs, "Will you look into the earth, now?"

"The ... earth?" He blinks, tilting his head, cheeks still flushing for the kiss. "The - the roots have burned as well. I can't feel them, Diane. They’re dead too."

She shakes her head. "No, I mean - under here," she says, pressing his hand against the ground with her own. "You have to look deeper. Please, just," she adds when he looks at her with uncertainty, "just try."

Under the dust, the ground is hard and coarse and feels nothing like the soft meadow that once covered it all. King hesitates, but when he glances at Diane she nods encouragingly, a spark of excitement in her eyes. So, he closes his eyes and lets his magic flow. When he uses Disaster, he can feel them clearly - the plants, their connection with each other and the ground, whether they are going to survive or if they need to be taken down to allow other plants to grow. When he does it in the Fairy King’s Forest, the wood awakens with whispers and lights everywhere around him, the entire forest pulsing with life.

But here, King feels nothing. The world around him is silent and dark as a starless sky. Nothing seems to answer his call. Clenching his jaw, he keeps looking; Diane wouldn't be making him do it without a reason. She felt something, and now he just has to look long enough to -

It's there. His eyes snap open, but his mind stays focused on the tiny spark of life hidden in the depths of the earth. It’s a seed, King realises, and it’s not the only one. There are others around it, here under him, but also in the surroundings, under every scrawny tree. He looks up, eyes wide, and Diane grins at him.

"You saw them! I think the earth preserved them from the fire. There is still life in this forest.”

“But it's too deep," King breathes, "they are still alive, but they won't reach the surface and grow if we leave them there."

“Then we won’t. We are going to get them out.” Suddenly, Diane is holding both of his hands, looking at him with determination. "Dance with me."

It takes only a moment to understand what exactly she means. He can make the seeds into buds and trees, but with feet and feet of ground separating them from the soil, it will be easier if the earth opens for them.

"Of course," he says as they stand up together. Sliding one of her hands from his, she starts.

This is not by any means the first time they’ve danced together, nor the first time they have combined their powers like this. Yet King feels clumsy and stumbles on his feet as he follows Diane's smooth movements. She doesn't say anything and continues to dance, adapting her movements to his and giving him time to pick up the pace. His throat feels dry, his chest tight - he is nervous, more than any other time, maybe because he needs to make this right, to give this place another chance to live after he failed his duty to protect it.

He breathes in, out, trying to calm the pulse of his heart, and stops thinking about his next step, his focus shifting to the seeds. They are there, tiny and weak, and he keeps looking for them, finding more and more. His magic gently envelops them and then pours inside them, growing them slowly. Around them, the earth opens, like lungs too long contracted and finally given the chance to breathe. King is only partly aware of the way the ground trembles under his feet, but he can feel Diane's magic radiating from it as she delicately pulls the seeds outwards using her control over the earth. They are still dancing, their bodies finally moving in harmony, and when Diane pirouettes in his arms their hands touch oh so slightly - and under them, the seeds keep growing and rising until they are emerging from the ground like tiny green stars on the dark soil. King doesn't stop though, not yet, nourishing them with his magic, pushing them further - just a little more, till they will be strong enough.

And then they stop. King gasps for air, his eyes snapping open; Diane's face is inches from his, her body in his arms with their hands still connected. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes feverish, but she is grinning widely as she whispers, "We did it."

She is right. All around them, among the dead trees, saplings raise their thin branches to the sky and tiny bushes cover their roots. They are not many, yet, but it's a start. A laugh escapes his lips and he takes Diane's face into his hands before kissing her, again and again; he can feel her laugh too against his lips.

Before they leave, Diane carefully shapes the earth so that the wood will have enough water to grow while King finally lets the old trees decompose. They turn into dust under his power almost gratefully, as they were waiting for it. Part of him can’t help but mourn them, as he mourns the times he used to fly between their branches with his sister - and Helbram and Oslo and all the friends he lost. He will hold the memories dear in his heart, but finally, he thinks as the last tree crumbles into ashes, he can let this place go.

He turns back only once as he flies away with Diane in his arms. The wood looks so young, so different from the forest where he grew up, but that’s fine. It will grow into something new - something that will survive, he promises to himself. Even the earth looks healthier and softly embraces and supports the new trees, though its pitch-black colour remains. But ... maybe it’s the green of the new leaves, maybe it’s the fact that his heart is much lighter than when they arrived, but as he looks at it, King feels for the first time like the darkness of the dirt doesn’t mean death. It means life.

#nnt #nanatsu no taizai #the seven deadly sins #king harlequin #kiane #diane #nnt king #nnt diane #nnt fanfiction #spectrum zine #zine #mars-writes #why do i like making this poor fairy suffer? #but at least he got better before the end

[marmolady]

Livita: Part Two

Book/Series: Endless Summer

Main Pairings: Estela x MC/Taylor (f)

Summary: Post-ending. Freed from Vaanu, Taylor has been building a life with her soulmate… but their family remains not quite complete. Read PART ONE and PART THREE.

Word Count: 3545

Reviews and reblogs are hugely appreciated!

Tagging: @sceptilemasterr​ @saivilo​ @greengroove 

San Trobida, March 2023

 The months initially dragged by; the nervous wait for those vital early milestones agonising. Life had taught Estela that nothing good ever came easily; at any moment this could all turn to tragedy-- she woke up each morning with no expectation that she wouldn’t have lost the baby by the next. Taylor was far more secure in her optimism, though at times it did threaten to crumble. Some five weeks in, the pair were married, officially, in the grounds of Catalyst International’s new San Trobidan resort, surrounded, of course, by their extended family. At the end of the night, Estela had said ‘screw you’ to fate, and confided her condition to her tio, who had wept with joy. His belief in her, the support unyielding as always, did wonders to help her through those most vulnerable days.

After the twelve week scan, there was a joint exhale of relief, and the reality that this was happening at last began to set in. Through those early months, home was San Trobida with Tio Nicolas. In time, Estela and Taylor would return to La Huerta, where they had always planned to raise their child, close to Aleister and Grace’s own little family, and to Diego and Varyyn. Estela would not be fit to travel for a whole lot longer, though, so the time spent with her uncle was precious.  While in San Trobida, Taylor was faced with a rush to establish her youth programmes during the brief window in which she’d be available with her full attention. The country was in the midst of a great rebirth, its people boldly stepping out from the shadows left by the cruel dictatorship that the revolutionaries had brought to its knees. To be able to play her own part in that story was, to Taylor, an immense honour, and a responsibility she took very seriously. Those fleeting months were intense, with meetings on top of meetings and enough networking to test even her people skills. Once the baby arrived, everything else would take a back seat, and her role would be as a part-time counsellor specialising in LGBTQ+ youth, and a mentor to students-- all of which she could carry out from their La Huerta home.

Estela had slowly dialed back her role with Catalyst International-- with both herself and Aleister on parental duties, delegation had become increasingly necessary. She kept up with the few bits and pieces that interested her, primarily assistance and scholarships for San Trobidan students, which allowed her to work nicely in tandem with Taylor, but anything else could be someone else’s problem. Staying with her uncle, a sense of peace had descended upon Estela. Her body gradually changed-- and morning sickness had plagued her-- but she took it in her stride.

The front door creaked as Taylor strode through. “Honey, I’m home!” She found Estela sitting cross-legged on the couch, leafing through a collection of baby sewing patterns. “Hey, are you feeling better?”

“Better. You didn’t have to come home….”

“As if I need an excuse to be with you.” Taylor crossed the room, and sat herself beside her wife. “I finished what I needed to get done. So, I got myself back to where I needed to be.”

Estela huffed happily. “I won’t complain. Maybe we could work on that blanket some more. You know how much of a kick Tio gets out of the sight of me knitting.”

“Yeah,” Taylor giggled. “He laughs, but I’m pretty sure he knows you are more than capable of disemboweling someone with those needles if a threat came up.”

“Of course. A spear could never be so subtle.”

They laughed together, then Estela took Taylor’s hands. “Actually, I wanted to share something with you, in my room. We can knit at the same time.”

Estela’s old room had changed little since she was a teenager; it was a cramped but cosy space, decked out with just a few shelves of childhood possessions and faded photographs upon a narrow dresser. Nowadays, alongside the charred-edged photo of a young Estela on the beach with her mother and uncle, was another of Estela-- now older, far more battle-scarred and world-weary-- on the very same beach, her arms around a smiling Taylor. Sat on that worn single bed, Estela could enjoy the comfort of familiarity as she carried on her journey toward a great unknown… and with her wife beside her, she found the courage to face the shadows that crept in along with those memories.

“Gordita, I made you up some of your horrible patacones,” Nicolas announced, pushing open the bedroom door with a shoulder as he presented a large plate. Since the pregnancy had been announced, Estela had been his gorda, with no care paid to how small her bump might actually be. At six months along, though, the belly was living up to that new nickname. “I despair. You get rid of one dictator, and suddenly we have jumped-up young people thinking they can eat peanut butter and jelly with their patacones. Is this the terrible price of freedom? Have I made a grave error?”

Estela snorted with laughter, taking the plate as her uncle kissed her forehead. “And yet you made these up for me; I must be very loved.”

“Always, mija. But you should notice there are some with mango salsa for your poor wife. I won’t have her suffer for your insanity.”

Taylor smiled, gratefully taking a patacone.Nicolas has been doting on the both of them relentlessly since the news had been broken-- Taylor didn’t think she’d ever seen him quite so happy. When the time finally came for them to leave for La Huerta, it would be a great wrench. “Cheers! You’re the best.”

“I’ll have that in writing, Taylita.” Nicolas’ eyes twinkled as he looked over his nieces. The time was fast approaching that they would be on their way again, ready to start the greatest of adventures. He would miss them so. La Huerta had never been a draw to him-- he’d not visited once-- but there was no doubt in his mind that even his stubbornness would have to concede once Estela had that baby in her arms. There was not a force on heaven or earth that could keep him away. “Okay, gorda. I will leave you to it. I’m sure you’ll let me know if you have any other culinary abominations you want me to whip up.”

“Thanks, Tio.”

Alone together in their small sanctuary, Estela and Taylor cuddled close. Taylor braved a nibble of one of Estela’s controversial patacones and admitted that Nicolas had a point. Those things just weren’t right.

“I’m with Tio,” she said. “Our little nene has played havoc on your taste buds.”

Estela chuckled, more forced than she’d have liked. There was something else on her mind. And it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Hey. Are you okay? You had something you wanted to show me?”

For a moment, Estela considered changing her mind. It had been over a decade that she’d avoided this, what was to say that now was suddenly the right time? The bump of a little foot up against her ribs gave her clarity. She wanted to show this to her baby someday; that meant she had to brave it. She pulled up her laptop and placed it on the bedside table, then rummaged in a drawer, taking out a disc.

“It’s… it’s our old home videos.” She took a deep breath. “Tio put it on a DVD ages back to make sure we didn’t lose it, and he had an extra copy made for me. You know, just in case I ever….” Her cheeks became pink. “I… I haven’t watched this for a long time.” How long, she didn’t say, but she didn’t doubt that Taylor would know, understand.

Taylor squeezed her wife, her own pulse quickening. She knew this was huge. “I would love to watch with you. So much. But only if you’re really ready.”

“I think sometimes, the closest thing you’re ever going to get to being ready is wanting to be.” Estela offered a wobbly smile as she picked up on Taylor’s concern. “Mi amor, I’m okay. I’m doing this with you.”

She leaned into Taylor as the DVD began to play. Then came a voice that made her heartbeat quicken.

“Hola Nicolas!” Olivia said, waving with one hand, while she supported the small infant Estela with the other. “Here she is! This is your niece. This is Estela.”

Taylor felt Estela’s hand clench around the bottom of her shirt, clinging on for comfort. She placed her own hand on top and gently squeezed. I’m here.

They watched as Olivia placed the infant in a bassinet, then picked up the camera to give a tour of her home.

“So, this is the first place I lived; my mom’s apartment in Colombia,” Estela explained, her voice shaking at first, then steadying. This… didn’t hurt as much as she’d anticipated. If anything, it was a comfort. The last pieces of film she’d seen of her mother had been that horrifying footage in the Elysian, and the VR warning message from Olivia’s office in the MASADA complex. This was Estela’s mother as she knew her, the person she’d been missing so painfully. There was the inevitable pang of longing as she looked at that face, but the wash of memories made her seem closer than she’d been for so many years. “It was a few months before she had everything sorted so we could move to Tio Nicolas’ place, so Mom made a videotape to send him. A friend at the lab she worked at gave her the camera; it was so Tio could see the new baby, but we used it a long time after that.”

With the apartment tour complete, the camera was placed down on some unseen table or stand, and Olivia came back into the frame, picking up baby Estela and cradling her in her arms.

“If you’re lucky, you might get a smile out of her,” Olivia said, grinning as she gently tickled Estela under her chin. “The twentieth of July was her first real smile. You’re going to laugh at me, but I cried. Maybe you’ll get it when you meet her. She’s just so, so beautiful. I swear I’m addicted to this girl.”

Taylor snuggled under Estela’s arm, and watched, entranced, as the baby on the screen grew and changed under the loving care of her mother, and then uncle as well.

“Wow, Tio Nicolas looks different!” she commented, to Estela’s chuckle. Time, unimaginable stress, and facial hair could do that to a person. It was impossible not to smile as she watched the young Nicolas bouncing his little niece on his foot. That he’d be utterly, totally smitten with Estela’s own child had to be the surest thing in the world. Taylor saw on that screen an image of a dream come true, a future that now lay before her and Estela. God, could I be any more clucky right now?

“That’s going to be us, Taylor. Our own little family.”

Instinctively, Taylor put her hand to Estela’s bump, stroking it. Her family with her soulmate; it wasn’t what she’d been made for, but she was certain it was what she was meant for.

“I’m going to be someone’s mom. When I think about it, it’s just… incredible.” She cuddled in close, and gently kissed Estela’s cheek and forehead. “It means so much that you shared this with me.” She gestured to the screen. That had taken a whole lot of bravery. “Watching this… I see so much of you when I see your mom.”

“She would have been an amazing abuelita,” Estela said softly. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply. Her mother’s sacrifice had brought her to Taylor. This new family would carry a great deal of Olivia Montoya’s influence, though she’d never know. “Thank you. I know it’s silly for me to say this, but I really appreciate you saying that. I’m gonna do her proud.”

The child on the screen was older now, toddling around the so-familiar house on stumpy legs. She held in her arms a soft doll.

“Oh-- that’s Babydoll. I was… creative at naming things when I was two. Mami gave him to me on my birthday, and I just took him everywhere. It always made sense to me; there was no way in hell Mami would ever leave me it home, so how could I ever leave my baby?”

“So, when you say you always wanted to be a mom?”

“Yeah, it goes back a long way.” Estela stroked her belly, meeting Taylor’s hand there. “I’m glad I had no idea just how rough the path would be… how that dream just burned and died. But we’re going to get there.”

She could see it. A lot of what had made her childhood had been lost in a wash of pain and trauma, but it couldn’t be taken away completely. Those memories, there before her, they were still a part of her. Those warm family moments were hers to pass on to her own child.

“Actually, I think Mom kept Babydoll. Maybe as a souvenir of my brief period of childhood innocence. I should dig him out--” She faltered, and her cheeks flushed. This shouldn’t still be a problem….

Catching on in an instant, Taylor squeezed Estela’s knee, and met her eye with a warm and loving gaze. “We have time. And if we need to enlist Tio Nicolas to do most of the necessary rummaging, that’s fine too. It would be really nice for nene to have something of yours.” Memories were powerful. They made up so much of who each person was. Lacking her own childhood, Taylor had found herself gain a great deal from Estela’s, something that had always been generously shared with no hesitation, in spite of the pain that came with those memories. That family history was important, and it bonded them together.

With a small, appreciative smile, Estela nodded. “Yes… we have time.”

  La Huerta, May 2023

 “Right; tell me. Which end am I kissing?” Taylor scooched forward in the sand, reveling in the gentle heat of the lowering sun upon her back and shoulders.

“That’ll be nene’s back.” Estela gestured to her lower belly, then the top. “Head. Butt. Right where they should be.”

Taylor smiled warmly, and went back to lay another kiss against her wife’s swollen abdomen. “Bub’s got it all worked out. Ready to high-tail it outta there and start lapping up the cuddles.”

“It’s come around fast,” Estela stated. It had. Almost too fast. Pregnancy had been an adjustment for sure, but she’d become comfortable with sharing her body with the small passenger. She could take care of herself, and that meant that baby’s needs were met too. What came next was a great unknown. Estela knew better than most how good intentions of keeping a beloved child out of harm’s way could go up in flames. What her life had been… grateful though she was for the person it had made her, she didn’t want a life like that for her baby. She could tell herself that it would be different, that the fight was over, but she’d seen too much to not be protective. The person she might have gone to for reassurance, the person who’d truly have understood, was long lost to her. Rarely had Estela missed her own mother more than in these days leading up to the big event. It made her all the more grateful for Taylor; already completely besotted with the tiny person they were waiting to meet. In Taylor, her loving hero, she had all the faith in the world.

“Yeah...” Taylor put on a forlorn gaze as she looked up into Estela’s shining eyes. “Just a few more days, and I won’t be able to outrun you anymore. I’m pretty devastated.”

“You’re a beautiful dork, Taylor. But don’t worry. You’ll be able to keep ahead of nene for a few years, if you’re lucky.”

Taylor snuggled into Estela’s lap, and together, they watched the sun journey towards the horizon. The rising tide licked at their bodies. All was peaceful, tranquil; the only sounds were the rolling of the waves, the calls of tropical birds, and the distant laughter of children in Elyys’tel, voices carried upon the wind. Taylor quietly studied Estela from head to toes, taking in everything. The pregnancy had added further lines to Estela’s scar-painted body; marks of something happy at last. Her carriage gave off a quiet confidence; the baby was safe in its strong, resilient vessel. And in Estela’s face, once the vision of heavy burdens, so great that it might might have been those of the whole world… quiet, happy serenity. Taylor felt a wave of affection wash over her. It happened to her a lot. Goodness knew how she’d ever get anything done when she had Estela and the baby to love on all day.

“Estela?”

“Mi amor?”

“You know, I think a part of me is going to miss this. Being able to put my arms around you and hold the two people I love most in the world at the same time.”

Estela’s lips quirked into a smile. “You’ll still be able to do that. Soon enough, baby will be hugging you back.”

“It’s… got to be normal to be a little scared, right? I’ve got nothing, nothing at all to look back and remember as a reference for how the hell to raise a kid. What if I--”

“Taylor.” Estela took Taylor’s face in her hands; gentle but firm. God, Taylor… no one could ask for more than to be loved by you. “I’m scared too. But I’d be a hundred times more scared if I wasn’t doing this with you. It’s a whole actual person depending on us. A whole person we could screw up in a million different ways. But we won’t. Taylor, look at me. You won’t. Just… be scared with me. And all of us… we’ll be okay.”

Taylor pulled herself up and put both arms around Estela. Holding the two people she loved most at the same time. To be scared with Estela was almost to not be afraid at all. “You’re right. Wise Mama Estela.”

“Because of you. Don’t forget that.” And Estela kissed the tip of her beloved’s nose, growing cold with the retreat of the sun. She gave a little wink. “Mama Taylor.”

Her eyes glazing dreamily as she stared out to the sunset over the sparkling sea, Taylor felt a little kick against the arm that she had around Estela’s middle. She didn’t even need to look to know that there would be the most beautiful of smiles across her wife’s face. Pure elation. Mama Taylor? She could get used to that.

#endless summer #estela montoya #estela x mc #playchoices #taylor montoya #nicolas montoya #choices fanfiction

[writersrealmbts]

Treasured Hoard: Part 2

Part 1

Description: Dragon Hoseok! You're spelunking when you come across a dragon, and suddenly your life is a lot more complicated as he adds you to his hoard.

Warnings: Not really

Posted: 01/07/2020

Tags: Dragon!Hoseok, Shapeshifter!Hosoek, Hoseok X Reader

Fluff?: 2,465 words

A/N: I know y’all still want a second part to Different Skins, we’re honestly lucky I’m getting any writing done so. Have this instead!

As if being trapped in a dragon’s den against your will wasn’t bad enough, this one also didn’t seem to know what humans needed to survive, or understand why you were upset that he wouldn’t at least get you your own belongings from the house you were renting.

“You don’t need those things anymore!” Hoseok frowned, huffing out another plume of smoke.

You choked before you could respond. You’d been arguing with him for over an hour, already. If you didn’t die from lung cancer, it would be a miracle. But you needed to make some sort of hyper-logical point or he would never listen to you.

“I can get you anything you need, and more. You’re part of my hoard now, after all.”

“Just…” You sighed, then let your gaze snap up as you thought of the appropriate words. “It’s a human’s own special sort of hoard. Yes, we can part with it, but those things hold importance to us! I have family photos and relics that I can’t bear the thought of losing, and clothes that would work much better for in here than what you’ve been getting me because they’ll actually fit me!”

He looked thoughtful now. “I suppose that does make sense. My mother usually had things that she guarded possessively, I suppose I always thought it came from when she would shift into a dragon.Will…will it make you happy—to have your hoard?”

“Yes,” You answered, shrugging a little. Not that you minded wearing clothes that were too big, but it got a little chilly at night, and you didn’t even have your pictures or anything that had sentiment to you.

He straightened and smiled. “Alright, I will retrieve your hoard, but you must stay here. I’ll not risk my treasure.”

You groaned. “Fine. Here’s the key to the house.”

He took it, examining it carefully, then nodded. He shifted as he walked away and some wind buffered your face as he took off.

You sighed and went back to the kitchen-like area, making a face at the food he’d brought you. Sure, you’d been there a few days now, so you were partially used to him bringing you very fresh meat, but you couldn’t help but wonder what that meat actually was before he’d skillfully butchered it and brought it to you.

But he’d also ‘collected’ a wood-burning stove for you to use after he noticed you struggling to cook over a tiny campfire you’d managed to make the day before, and the face you made when he cooked your meat to a char the first day. He’d been waiting outside the cave designated as yours (which he’d filled with lush cushions and blankets—something he appeared to have an abundance of) that morning, pulling you excitedly to where he kept his food to show you the stove. He’d even gotten a ton of firewood for you and piled it nearby, and made sure the chimney part of the stove was high enough to catch the smoke and be pulled out with the rest—a phenomenon you still couldn’t quite explain.

You had found a knife sometime during your first day, and you used it to cut the meat into smaller pieces. As you cooked (with one pan that you’d found laying in a corner collecting dust), you could hear him coming and going, and you barely held yourself back from going to make sure he got everything. Wondering if he’d clean out the house or leave things behind. You’d just gotten groceries…

“Okay, I have retrieved your hoard,” He said, sounding very proud of himself.

You glanced back and smiled, washing your hands and following him out.

Your eyes widened. “Oh…you brought the fridge?”

“Yes, and I realized it used that electricity so I also asked my mother for a power source and she has given it to me. Where should I put this…fridge?”

“Uh, same room as the stove. Do you…know what a refrigerator is?”

He shook his head, blinking at you.

“It keep food cold. This one also has a freezer, which—”

“Freezes things?” He guessed, looking pleased.

You nodded. “Yeah. Oh, good, you didn’t bring the cabinets.”

“Cabinets?”

“Wooden boxes attached to walls.”

“No, they were much attached to the den, so I removed their contents, but left the wood. You have a strange way of organizing your hoard, and your den did not seem very secure. I did not realize that humans used magic so much.”

You tilted your head, a little confused. “We…don’t…?”

“But your water goes up pipes?”

“Oh, just because we found a way to use pressure to push the water. But I suppose it would seem like magic. Um, thank you, for retrieving my, um, hoard.” You patted his arm, then noticed the pile of pots, pans, and food. You went over to it, grabbing some seasonings and oil, heading back to the kitchen to cook properly for the first time in a few days.

“You are pleased?” He asked, trailing after you.

“Uh, yeah. Pleased.” You frowned as you measured seasoning by sight, trying to decide if it was too much or too little. You’d organize your kitchen stuff later. Maybe see if he had a chest or something you could use. Or use one of the bookshelves.

“May I keep this?”

You looked back and saw him holding a photo album. “Um…why?”

“It has many likenesses of you, and you smile in them. You must have been more than pleased,” He said, opening it and looking down at the photos.

You stood there, blinking as you gazed at him, remembering his question about whether having your hoard would make you happy. Asking you if you were pleased.

Adorable.

You giggled before you could stop yourself, and his gaze snapped up to your face, eyes getting huge. “Come here and start the fire in the oven.”

He hurried over, opening the door you pointed to and blowing fire into the wood until it caught.

“Thank you, and no, you cannot have that, it is part of my super-special hoard.” You took the album and hugged it to yourself.

He looked disappointed, but nodded. “I see. Best not to fight my treasure over her hoard.”

“Now, about the pile of stuff out there,” You gestured toward the entrance while you waited for the stove to heat up more.

He blinked a few times. “You wish to organize your hoard?”

You nodded. “I don’t think it looks quite right piled in the middle of our living-area. If you can move the big pieces of furniture, I’ll organize the rest.”

He nodded in agreement, looking up to release a puff of smoke so that it wouldn’t go into your face. “Okay, shall I start with the fridge?”

You nodded. “That would be nice, yes.” You graced him with a smile and he suddenly smiled back and you just about died. That was a fantastic smile.

He jogged off and a while later the fridge (plus a couple dents) was pushed through the cave entrance, then he shifted again, coming in and moving it against the cave wall and then plugging it into the strange-looking power-source his mother had apparently given him. It looked like a strange blue box with smooth sides, but the plug seemed to fit right in.

You gave him another smile, nodding when he looked over at you for approval.

His grin came easily, and he almost skipped off.

You started laughing to yourself. You’d thought he was a little strange when you first met him, but this was just…adorable. He was so eager to please you, and you honestly weren’t sure why, but it was very endearing. It made you feel welcome in the cave, not that he hadn’t been welcoming before, he’d made sure you were comfortable and provided everything you needed, but it gave the stone walls in which you lived a certain sort of warmth that the magic lights didn’t provide.

You turned back to the stove and put the pan on the stove to heat the oil.

He grunted behind you and you jumped as a clatter followed, turning to see a bright red, antique baking cabinet.

You looked at Hoseok in surprise. “That’s not part of my hoard.”

He shook his head. “It’s part of mine. But it looked like the wooden boxes in your cooking area so I thought you might want it here. You have many food items. Do you hoard food for winter like squirrels?”

“Um, sort of? Did your mother not…nevermind, she probably summoned her food if she’s a witch.”

He nodded.

“Okay, well, normal humans can’t do that. So, as a collective we sort of gather food and make it last. Ship it all around the world. You don’t get out much, do you?”

“I go flying everyday.”

“Okay, let me rephrase that, you don’t interact with humans much, do you?”

“They hunted us. We don’t want that to start again,” He said, but there was a nervous quality to his tone.

You tilted your head, suppressing a smile. “You’re scared of them.”

“Am not.”

You nodded. “You are. Which story did it? Beowulf? Or St. George and the Dragon? Or was it an Arthurian tale?”

He kicked at the leg of the cabinet with a scowl. “St. George.”

You giggled outright, earning a hurt look from him. “You realize humans honestly think those are just folk tales, right? Legends? Told with awe and wonder but not believed? You could completely pass as human. I mean, you’d get yelled at for smoking in a public place, but most people wouldn’t even notice that you didn’t have a cigarette. They’re oblivious that way.”

“But you’re not?”

“I didn’t say that, I just meant humans as a whole are pretty stupid. Heck, I bet some people saw you flying today and those people are probably already getting called lunatics and drunks, or the kids’ parents are laughing and telling them that they have such vivid imaginations. And there are a lot of publications that write good things about dragons nowadays. Like Eragon, or Dragon Slippers, and so many others that I can’t even think of right now. I’ve got a few in my hoard. I’ll lend them to you.” You turned back to the pan and started carefully adding the meat to the pan. It was strange how easily you switched to referring to your belongings as your hoard.

“Oh…thank you…” He seemed a little flustered.

“Only if you want to, though, I mean, I understand if you don’t. Not everyone likes reading,” You quickly amended, wondering if you’d crossed some sort of line.

“No, no, I just…most dragons don’t share their treasures.”

“Ah, but I’m technically part of your hoard, so technically, my hoard belongs to your hoard, you just have to respect it and my decisions of how to use, share, or not-share my hoard.”

He looked at you blankly, then looked absolutely gobsmacked once it set it. “Wow, you’re really smart. You’re one of the best treasures I’ve ever collected for my hoard.” His gaze shifted to the stove, and you noticed him lick his lips.

“Would you…like to eat with me when I’m done?”

He nodded. “I would very much like that.”

You nodded. “Alright. I’ll call you when the food is ready.”

He nodded and slowly slunk away, as if reluctant but wanting to respect your space.

You loved the way he always referred to you as a treasure, but everything else just seemed to be part of his hoard. You were pretty, and you were his treasure.

You were also his prisoner, but something told you he was a sucker for your smiles and might be worked on. You just needed to get to know him better, and let him get to know you better. You honestly kind of liked it here. It was better than that creaky house you were renting that had been built and decorated in the seventies and never escaped it. He was good for conversation too. Not to mention you actually felt safe, despite being trapped with a dragon, because he had added you to his hoard.

“Y/n?”

“Yes, Hoseok?”

“Um, you can call me Hobi. My family does. And my friends. I just…wanted to tell you that you could as well.”

“Okay, Hobi,” You answered easily. Very cute.

“Okay.”

You smiled when you could tell he was hovering in the doorway. “Did you want to taste test this with me? See if I have the balance of spices right?” You pulled out a smaller piece of the meat and managed to separate it into two pieces.

He was by your side in a hurry, easily opening up like a little chick and taking the piece of meat from the chopsticks you held.

You watched his face for a reaction.

He grinned. “Oh! That’s good!”

You tasted it and nodded, adding a little more pepper. “Very. What kind of meat was that?”

“Cow. My father had some leftover and I’d already had a tasty deer, but I thought you’d like some since he was taking some home to my mother.” He shrugged, eyes on the pan. “How did you think to cook it like this?”

“Well, I only had one pan when I started cooking and I want to wash my pots and pans and stuff before I use those. This seemed like the best option.” You put more meat into the pan, then turned and went to the fridge, grabbing some veggies and such to cut up and have with your meat since you hadn’t had veggies since before you were trapped here. Hoseok didn’t seem to think of anything other than meat.

He was hovering over your shoulder, watching. “Smells…fiery.”

“Peppers. Bell peppers. I’m not really going to cook them, probably just eat them with the some veggie dip,” You shrugged and went back in the fridge to grab the previously chopped veggies and the veggie dip.

He was tasting the peppers already, looking pleased. “Mmm. Nice heat. We should have more of these.”

You nodded. “Well, this is all I have aside from my hot sauce and salsa. Actually, I probably have some habanero sauce. Somewhere.” You shrugged.

He hummed softly.

“Maybe I’ll make something spicy tomorrow.” You shrugged, not looking to him.

He nodded, then suddenly he was very close, his nose booping your cheek before he was gone. Slipping out of the room with a grace you didn’t know a dragon could possess.

You just hoped that one day the sunshine dragon would actually let you see the sun shining again soon.

--

Part 1 ~ Part 3

Masterlist ~ Hoseok Masterpost

#treasured hoard fic #Jung HoSeok #hoseok x reader #dragon!hoseok #reader x hoseok #reader x jhope #bts jhope #jhope #shapeshifter!hoseok #bts x reader #dragon!au

[runcible-spoons]

How did you get on with Dreams?

Char! You’re an angel (and you must be reading my tags, because I’m too shy to write actual posts).   Dreams is …. the sort of episode that people write film crit on tbh (which I don’t do, but I do have a lot of opinions). I drafted a whole version of this and then Tumblr ate it which is Just Dandy. Opinions, however, are going below a cut because I feel like this might be a tad long.

I mean, all of them are very interesting, and the power that Margaret in her wedding dress has on me is immense, but I think BJ’s, Charles’, (of course the father’s) and Hawkeye’s really do it for me.  

I honest to God gasped when in Mulcahy’s dream, Jesus on the cross becomes a dead solder, so you can tell I was brought up Christian.  There’s…. A lot going on there but the main thing that it really makes me thing about goes something like this--  Is the American-interventionist army in Korea really dying for someone else’s sins? And, at the same time, there are two levels because maybe on a grand scale no? But then on the small, individual life scale-absolutely.  Draftees are absolutely dying for “someone else’s sins”. So there’s that.

BJ: I really think the dream encapsulates the same thing that drives most of his marriage crisis episodes.  Mill Valley and Peg (and Erin) are this lifeline (literally, see: War Co-respondent) for him—and that’s what he’s holding out for.  And at the same time, he wonders, will the war have changed all the things that are the only things that give him hope? He’s given a scalpel and operates and can’t? won’t? Look over at peg, and then she’s taken away (not entirely willingly tbh) by two civilians. How is/will the war making him unable to participate in that nuclear-family-life he had before?

Charles.. Oh Charles. His surgical performance is literally that (a show) in this one and he’s worried that it’ll lead to him losing a patient without being able to help himself. How many times have we heard Hawkeye tell him this in the earlier seasons? Everyone’s enthralled (thank you ego) but ultimately everyone sees how that young man dies while he’s performing magic tricks. Interesting here the moment where Klinger Sees him. (See: Death takes a holiday).

And then, of course, there’s Hawkeye.

Who’s the authority in the beginning of the dream? (Quite out of place in the mess tent). Charles is complicit? It’s Hawkeye’s worst nightmare- he’s slept and missed something and he’s unable to save someone (this drives him to many a breakdown: Dr. Pierce and Mr. Hyde). He can’t even sacrifice himself to save others (if only he’d learn). The war (strange blazer man) takes from him, and wounds him, but, ultimately, his loss cannot save others. 

And then the boat bit, honestly, feels like a fitting allegory for the war.  His arms (agency) have been taken away, and he’s in this boat, and surrounded by arms and legs (literally). He doesn’t have arms, he’s not propelling himself forward. Neither can he stop, he’s captive on this journey (war). And, ultimately, because the army’s taken his arms, when he encounters people who he’s hurt, he can’t save them! Side note: both bj and hawk are handed scalpels in this one-- so something interesting to look at if I’m really still thinking about it in a week.

[spookyceph]

I posted all my ShigaDabi Week entries on Ao3, so now it's time to catch up here.

Day 4 | Trust

Summary: Tomura and the League arrive at Deika City to face Re-Destro. But first, Dabi has some explaining to do.

Rating: Teen and up

Warnings: Swearing, mild blood

Burn a Bridge, Build a Raft

“This is the place, huh? Not too big, not too small.”

Tomura knew he should look down the hill and see whether Spinner’s assessment of Deika City measured up. After all, it had been his decision to come here, both to rescue Giran and end the stalemate with Gigantomachia. If the others wound up dead, crushed by Sensei’s still-loyal servant or picked off by these Meta Liberation Losers, it would be because they’d followed him.

Well. Except for one.

“Man…why did I get dragged into this?” Wincing, Dabi clasped a hand to the back of his neck.

Though Tomura hadn’t seen him since he’d fucked off to test high-end nomus almost two months—two shittygruelingmiserablegoddamnedlonely months—ago he noticed something was amiss immediately. Details no one else would pick up on because, frankly, no one else had been waiting six weeks to receive word—just one little I’m alive, or sorry, or didn’t mean to abandon you lol—from the stapled sack of shit. Details like how flushed his unscarred skin looked. The amount of dust clinging to his coat. How his balance wavered, one boot almost tangling with the other, as he barely sidestepped Twice’s measuring tape while being hollered at for his callous attitude toward Giran’s plight. The fact he’d upset Jin to begin with proved the whole situation had gone sideways.

No one else noticed. But no one else knew Dabi like he did.

“Stop.” Tomura’s voice cracked through the air like a rifle shot. Everybody froze, gazes leaping to him. Everybody but one.

“Compress,” he continued, losing some of his volume but none of his command.

The magician snapped to attention, hastily securing his mask back over his face. “Er, yes?”

Not taking his eyes from Dabi, Tomura held out one hand. “Water.”

“Ah! Oh. Of course.” Compress didn’t even attempt to hide the relief in his voice at being off the hook. Taking a marble from one of his coat’s many pockets, he converted it back into their canteen and passed it over.

With his empty hand, he pointed to Dabi, then over at the line of trees marking the forest border. “You. Go sit.”

“Oooo,” crowed Toga. “Someone’s in trouble…”

Dabi blinked, switching a bewildered stare between her and Tomura’s finger. Some sense of meaning must’ve sunk in because, eventually, a dent appeared in the middle of his eyebrows and he plodded his way toward the spot indicated.

No one dared utter a word when Tomura stalked after him.

Dabi halted at the first tree he came to, gawking up at it like he’d never seen such a thing before. He didn’t even register Tomura holding a hand up near his cheek. Scalding heat rolled off scarred and unmarked skin alike, as suspected.

“Goddamn it, you’re burning up. Take your coat off.”

Again, like a deer in headlights. The already brilliant blue of Dabi’s eyes shone brighter still—practically incandescent. Feverish. Unfocused. Resisting the urge to just Decay the damn thing right off him, Tomura pushed the heavy garment from his wayward partner’s shoulders and helped him shrug free of it. His fingers showed blister-red after handling the leather; no doubt touching any of the metal reinforcing the sleeves would’ve earned a first- or even second-degree burn. He dropped the coat to the leaf-littered ground.

“Sit.”

This command proved easier to grasp. With no hint of his usual poise, Dabi plopped down, crumpling against the tree’s trunk. Tomura knelt beside him and held out the canteen.

“Drink.”

Slowly, as if afraid the container might bite, Dabi lifted it to his lips and sipped. Instinct took over at that point. Eyes going wide, then squeezing shut, he tilted his head back and guzzled the rest. Panting, he took a moment to catch his breath. When he reopened his eyes, clarity and personality had returned, if with weariness tagging along behind.

“Hey, mophead.”

Two words, spoken in that familiar, quiet, and currently cracked voice, nearly accomplished what a month and a half of constant fighting and sleep deprivation hadn’t. Tomura didn’t break, though. He didn’t move a muscle, didn’t make a sound. He didn’t reduce the tree to splinters by smashing Dabi’s skull through it. He didn’t Decay the sheepish smile off his (stupid handsome fuckinghatehimsomuch) face. Neither did he give in to the impulse to collapse into the scarred arms that would’ve caught him and never let go. He couldn’t afford to. Every iota of rage and pain and razor-edged glee needed to be reserved for whatever Re-Destro had waiting for them at the bottom of the hill. To expend any of it now could cost him or the rest of the League their lives. So, Tomura corralled his stampeding emotions with a temporary fence of practicality.

“Can you fight?” His tone came out blander than stale bread.

Dabi’s smile dwindled. He scanned Tomura’s face for any sign that his presence meant more than an extra pair of boots on the ground. Catching none, he took a long inhale and settled into tight-lipped resignation.

“Yeah. Got a little piss and vinegar left in me. What’re we up against?”

“An army of deluded morons. The usual. We’ll need to keep them distracted for about an hour and a half.”

“What happens after the clock runs down?”

“Gigantomachia shows up and proves their philosophy is a pile of shit like everyone else’s.”

That dropped Dabi’s jaw. “You’re still fighting that thing?”

“What’d you think we were doing out in the middle of nowhere? Meditating and earning merit?” Tomura snapped before cursing himself. The sneaky bastard had always had a knack for poking his emotional pressure points—for getting him to do exactly what he swore he wouldn’t. Collecting himself, he wiped his expression clean again.

“Are you going to be any use here or do you need to sit this out?”

Blue eyes searched for cracks in Tomura’s resolve. As perverse luck would have it, he noticed the tracks of rusty red smeared down Dabi’s cheeks at that moment. They’d seeped like tears from the drooping scars that made up his lower lids. More crusted the staples in his chin and near the hinges of his jaw. Tomura’s stomach writhed like a dying animal. What the fuck had Ujiko been making him do? Had he been testing the nomu by fighting the damn things?

As if reading his thoughts, Dabi touched the bloody streaks. “Whatever you need me to do, consider it done.” A pause. No—a hesitation. “I just have a couple of things to say first. If you, uh, want to hear them.”

This asshole…Tomura had to curl his hands into fists to keep from clawing at his neck. Telling him to shove it sideways with no lube would be satisfying in the present, but Tomura knew, just like Dabi did—just like he’d counted on—the mystery would turn into a distraction he couldn’t allow. Worse, if one of them survived this battle and the other didn’t…He yanked his focus back before his imagination could drag it down into that abyss. The exasperation in his sigh didn’t need to be exaggerated.

“Fine. Out with it.” He wouldn’t go away with any regrets—let Dabi carry them all if he wanted.

“Okay. First item is my family name. It’s Todoroki.”

Every calculated reaction he had lined up imploded, leaving Tomura’s mind a void.

A grim little smile spread across Dabi’s face. “You didn’t know. I’m surprised.”

Tomura shook his head to get the gears turning again. “I…suspected. After you told me your given name. Especially watching how you acted after All Might retired.” Endeavor’s rise to the number one spot on the hero rankings and Dabi’s new habit of leaving the charred corpses of low-level villains littered around the city had started too close to each other to be coincidence. A powerful fire quirk…blue eyes in the family…an older son who vanished from the news feeds abruptly…no, it hadn’t been difficult to fit the pieces together at all once he’d realized they were there in the first place.

“Why tell me this?” Tomura asked, tone teetering between genuinely curious and accusatory. “Why now?”

That smile still pulling on the seams in his skin, Dabi stared down at his hands resting in his lap. “Just wanted you to know why I really stayed behind with Ujiko, I guess. When I saw I’d be useless against that giant, I figured it’d be an opportunity to handle my personal shit. I could look for a way to take out Endeavor without being a burden on you and the others. Go figure, I failed big time.

“Oh, sure, me and dear old Dad went toe to toe when I took the first high-end nomu out for a test run, like I said I would. But then that wannabe recruit I was looking into kind of fucked me over. And then Miruko showed up. And I was out there all alone, with no one to back me up, just how I’d wanted it.” A strangled laugh hiccoughed out of him. “So, Ujiko had to bail me out in the end. I completely overheated during the fight. My brain was so fried I even forgot the damn high-end on the field. If you hadn’t had the doc send me out here, he probably would’ve chopped me up and fed me to the rest of his pet projects. Anyway…I told you all that to tell you this.”

Dabi drew a long, shuddering breath and looked up square at Tomura. “I was wrong. I should’ve trusted you. The others too. I should’ve trusted that you would’ve helped me if I’d asked. That you’d want to. I’m sorry. I’m a reckless dick. And I didn’t leave because of you.” Closing his eyes, he let his head thump back against the tree and swallowed hard. “Just didn’t want to cash in my chips with you maybe thinking that was the case.”

Verbally eviscerating him for the sheer volume of his idiocy—take down Endeavor alone, didn’t want to be a burden, overheated to the point of collapse—should have been Tomura’s first instinct. However, it found itself blocked off before it even arose by one confession that kept echoing in his head.

I didn’t leave because of you.

The volatile energy buzzing in Tomura’s bones settled and faded out. Rather than leaving him depleted, it gave way for a new source of strength to rush in and replace it. One that set something in him right, like a dislocated joint popped back into place. The spot was still sore, still tender, but once aligned it made him whole and clear and sure the fight waiting for him was already his.

Reaching out with ring and pinky safely tucked against his palm, Tomura gripped Dabi by the chin. Those remarkable eyes fluttered open, startled but fixed solidly on him.

“It’d be easy for you then, wouldn’t it?” Tomura’s voice came out low and vicious, his dirty, broken nails digging into leathery scar tissue. “To just die here and not have to back up any of the shit you said? But you’re not going to get that luxury. I won’t allow it. You’re going to live just so I can have the pleasure of watching you beg and plead and grovel to earn my trust again. Understand?”

The tiny shiver that ran through Dabi, and the flicker of tongue over his bottom lip spawned a new reason to live that tied with Grind Re-Destro into the dirt for first. Patchwork hands landed on his forearm, petting and tickling. The smug bastard even dared to smile. “Perfectly, boss.”

“Good.” And then, because he was dangerously close to kissing him, or stripping him naked with his teeth, or something else otherwise unbecoming of the next King of Villainy, Tomura stood and added, “You look like hammered crap, by the way.” The hand that had clutched Dabi’s chin switched to offering him help up.

The smile sprawled into a crooked grin as the gesture was accepted. Dabi picked a bit of dead leaf from the hopeless mess of Tomura’s hair before tucking the locks behind his ear. “And you’re beautiful, as always.”

He snorted and tried to sneer. Really, he did. “Lying sack of shit.”

Any further attempts at flirting were cut short by an exclamation from Toga.

“Someone’s coming!”

After a final squeeze, Tomura let go of Dabi’s hand. For the first time in too long, they went to meet whatever came their way gladly, head-on, and, more important, together.

#shigadabi #shigadabi fic #dabi x shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #dabi #canon compliant #league of villains fanfiction #league of villains fanfic #also on ao3 #ao3 fic #shigadabiweek

[acioo]

anonymous asked: I was just wondering if you have any ideas on how to get inspired to create characters?? I want some new muses but I don’t really know where to start? And your muses are Exemplary. Tyvm!!

hi, anon ! first of all, thank you so much ! you’re so sweet <3 i thought about this a while & i’ve made a list of things i take inspiration from / ways to get inspired ! also, i got some help by rachel ( @tombraiders ) & ( @laurakinnvy ), so thank those legends for that !

media ( tv shows / films / books / etc ) ― now, there’s a lot of ways to go about this. i’d never suggest taking whole parts of characters ( like, anything hyperspecific, i’d say, for example: your characters parents are scientists living in africa and your character contracts a rare disease that your char's parents cure your char from by injecting your char with a serum that turns your char green and gives your char superpowers AKA garfield logan ). BUT, what i mean, is that it’s very easy to take a singular idea and completely adapt it to a character and turn it into something that’s very different from the og idea but still so much fun. so, make your character the child of the sheriff ( stiles stilinski, teen wolf ), make your character the child of psychic/s ( blue sargent, the raven cycle ), or give your character a fraternal twin ( pines twins, gravity falls ), but run with it in your own way. give it a specific twist that came from you alone. remember to respect other writers, and i would NEVER suggest doing this with your fellow writers in the rpc, but no writer owns the idea of being a demigod, or have superhero family members, or being the child of a senator. if you are watching something, and you’ve always loved a particular detail, then run with it, and give it your own twist. you can develop an entire character by starting with one thing.

pinterest ― one of the first things i do when creating a character is begin their board. my layout is i’ll start pining general things ( clothing, physique, some words ) just to get into the feel of it. once i start getting more deep into a character, i will add sections to their board, all rooted in specific aspects of their lives ( so, for example, a sibling, a significant other, a power, a job ). i’ve even made pin boards where there are sections based on different aus i have for them. it allows me to flesh out the character while also keeping a more big picture view of them ( meaning, how all the aspects and qualities work together to make a dimensional char ), and i can pick up qualities that fit with the character by stumbling on them in pins ( for example, seeing a pin of a dog, giving the character a dog, expanding the relationship with the dog, so forth ). here’s an example of a pinterest board of mine, if you are wondering what i mean exactly ( and with the board, even more examples for sections: future children, family, childhood ).

a single thought ― i took a creative writing class a few years back, and an exercise we went through was posting a list of first lines from books ( here i will name a few, if you wish to try this: i had just come to accept that my life would be ordinary when extraordinary things began to happen, one summer night i fell asleep hoping the world would be different when i woke, it was a pleasure to burn, all children except one grow up ), and then she made us create an entire character with full background and as many clever aspects as we could ( within the span of forty-five minutes ). she’d also do it for short stories. it was a clever trick of hers to get us to think outside of the box, but it’s also a fun exercise to take forth in. it gives you a start place, but the finish line is wherever you so please. i once wrote a prize-winning short story based on a singular quote ( that being, there is one mirror in my house, from divergent. ) i used the quote “ it was a pleasure to burn “ ( farenheit 451 ) to create a character of mine who loves fire, and has shaped her entire life around it, but has begun to melt. my point being: it is possible and it’s sooo much fun. by the time you get finished ( though i don’t personally believe you should EVER be truly finished in delving into your character. by that i mean, don’t be afraid to change things up, because more often than not you’ll wind up better than you were before. i don’t care if you’ve been writing them for five months, or five years, if you have a thought, like hey what if their mom had a specific job that had an effect, for example, go with it and see where you land after ), you will have a character that should have a relation, but a thin one, to your source, if done properly.

playlists ― playlists are usually something i do after i begin my character, but i’ve ben open to a whole new world by rachel and han, who say they use playlists to create. which, makes a whole lot of sense. i posted specific mood playlists here that are available to help, but i also have something in the works in terms of songs to help, so look out for that. here are some songs that i think would be good in creating characters, or at the very least, starting to create characters: 8teen by khalid, bloom later by jesse, cold by rich brian, devil town by keep for cheap, everybody loves me by onerepublic. to explain further, here’s an example, using happy pills by weathers ( i take my pills and i’m happy all the time / happy all the time / happy all the time ), you could begin by making a character with a mental illness, then go into how they take medication for it, why they got it, and so forth.

real life ― this can be used in a lot of ways. maybe you have dual citizenship, and you can easily give this to a character, and use it to expand them: where do they live, which country do they feel more connected to, etc. or maybe you are funny, so use that: is it a coping mechanism, when did they become funny or were they always. there’s a number of things to include ( and it also sets a really good precedent, because i think one of the MOST important aspects of a character is making them a dimensional being who you could basically pop out of the pages and stick in a house and would reasonably work ): a family dynamic, a sexual orientation, a religion, an anecdote. it’s also a good way to get out feelings you may have, and can be some of the most compelling of writing, but i really do urge you to watch where this goes, because it can get out of hand, and you can wind up upsetting yourself, or creating a character that is a bit of a modge podge and not a painting if you will ( in that the parts don’t all fit together ).

muse inspo blogs ― lastly, muse inspiration blogs are a good way to do this as well. they have numerous tags where you can begin, maybe a label that you can use to fully explain your characters or a dynamic, and then go from there by scrollling through. there’s a number of muse inspo blogs that you can use, and i’m happy to string together a few if you send me another ask. i also have some musing tags, which you can find here. 

#rph #rpt #writing #mine: guide #answered #moral of the story IS that i use examples way too much #im honestly not 100% sure how i make chars #they just ... suddenly exist #but i tried my best ! #this is lng but i dont want to cut it : ( #im sorry dash #long post

[noreasonjustbored]

Don’t Dress Up As My Enemy

Hi guys! I’ve been working on this since a few days before Halloween and I just finished it. Sorry, it was supposed to be a Halloween one shot but I hope you still enjoy. If you would like to be added to my tag list for future writing, please let me know by responding to this post.

Tag List:

@mychenrymadness @up-the-tube @heyimtavia @adorkable-blackgirl @henryhearts

————————————-

“So what should we be for Halloween this year?” Henry asks Charlotte who was at the monitor. “I was thinking like Sandy and Danny from Grease or even better, Brittany and Justin in those denim outfits. I look gooooodddd in denim.”

“I do look great in denim. But no.”

“Alright, what about the Disney route? Princess Tiana and Prince Naveen?”

“Uhhhh...” Charlotte hesitates.

“Ariel and Eric?”

Charlotte turns away from what she was looking at and spins the chair around to face Henry who is sitting on the couch. She shakes her head.

“John Lennon and Yoko Ono? You like the Beatles, right?”

“Yeah the Beatles are cool. But something’s off.”

“Off? What do you mean by off?” Henry wonders.

“I don’t know, I just don’t like those options. Any other suggestions?”

“Okkkkk...How about the Joker and Harley Quinn?”

“Eww no, their whole dynamic was toxic” Char replies instantly.

“Oh! How about Barbie and Ken? We are totally hot enough to pull that off!”

“Yeeaaahh I don’t think so. Anything else?”

“Wow you’re being so picky this year. What about Red and Abe from Us? Super scary. Plus red jumpsuits and scissors should be easy enough.”

“That would be pretty simple to put together but it’s not doing it for me.”

“Well do you have any ideas?” Henry poses exasperatedly.

At that moment the elevator opens and Jasper pops out. “Guys, guess what I got?”

“A snake?” “A new bucket?” They respond simultaneously.

“No! It’s wands! I figured that we could be Harry Potter characters for Halloween this year. Charlotte can be Harry!”

“Jasper!” Char exclaims. “That’s what was missing! None of those choices had a good option for him, that’s why I didn’t like them.”

“What are we talking about?” Jasper asks curiously.

“Nothing, Henry was just suggesting different costumes for us but they were only for two people” she clarifies.

Jasper turns to Henry, “You didn’t include me in your planning?”

Looking like a deer caught in the headlights Henry stammers out, “No, buddy! I totally thought about you!”

“Really?” Jasper asks Henry with an eyebrow raised. “Hey Charlotte, name one of the ideas he gave you.”

“Barbie and Ken.”

“The iconic duo. Anything else?”

“Ummm...guys I don’t think that this-“

“No Char, I want to know. What was another option?” Jasper asks seriously.

Charlotte sighs but decides to answer his question. “Tiana and Naveen. The main characters from the Princess and the Frog.”

“Oh really?” Jasper looks back at Henry who is now looking guilty. “And who was I going to be Hen?”

Henry looks everywhere expect at Jasper. “Louis the Alligator?”

“Louis the- wowww okay. If you didn’t want to dress up with me this year dude you could’ve just said something.”

“Of course I want to dress up with you! I just forgot. Temporarily.”

“Yeah sure, well thank you to Charlotte for being a good friend and thinking about me.”

“Dude I’m sorry. It’s not like that. Can I...talk to you for a minute?”

“We’re talking right now.”

“I mean alone. Just, come upstairs to Junk and Stuff with me.”

“Are you sure you want to talk to ME and not Charlotte?”

“Leave me outta this.” Charlotte piped up, facing the monitors at the console once again.

“Look, just meet me up there. Okay?” Henry pleaded.

“I’ll think about it” Jasper huffed.

After Henry took the elevator up to the store, Jasper plopped down onto the couch with a long sigh. “You know this is your fault.”

Knowing that they were the only two remaining in the ManCave, Charlotte assumes that Jasper was addressing her.

“What’s my fault?” she inquires while rising from her seat and walking to the couch to sit down next to her friend.

Jasper seems to disconnect from reality, staring blankly at nothing. It’s as if he is in a trance. Then he starts to speak.

“Before you came into the picture, Henry and I were thick as thieves. Practically inseparable. We did everything together. There were no doubts about our friendship. And then one day while we were playing, Henry saw you. A tiny girl with a book that was half her body weight, sitting on the swing set. You were rocking gently back and forth. Not too high, not too hard. Henry thought it was awesome that you could swing and read at the same time.”

“That took a second to master, it made me motion sick at first.” Charlotte says lightly amused.

“He saw some kind of wild flower next to the sandbox and picked it for you. And when he gave it to you he said it was because doing two things at once made you ‘the coolest person he had ever met’. When you accepted it, you said that the type of flower was a daisy. You asked him if he knew that daisies could symbolize true love and new beginnings? Henry said that he didn’t know those things but thought it was very smart that you did. You thanked him for the flower and asked where he had gotten it from. When he pointed by the sandbox you were confused because you didn’t see any other flowers there. You told him that daisies usually grow in clusters and it was strange that the flower as alone.”

“That was weird, daises typically grow in groups.” Charlotte mumbles softly.

“Do you remember Henry saying that the flower was like you? Because you were by yourself? He said that he could be a part of your cluster. So you wouldn’t have to be alone anymore. And the whole time this was happening, I was right there. A few feet away, watching. Not knowing how to contribute to the conversation my best friend up and left me to have with this random girl.”

“I didn’t know you were there.”

“Well I was. You know, I think that day started his love affair with flowers. He was so impressed that you knew exactly what type it was and that you knew so many facts about it. And he wanted to be liked you in that way. You inspired him. I don’t think I’ve ever inspired anything that Henry’s done.”

“Jasper....”

“It’s okay. I’ve mostly accepted the fact that I’ll never be as important to him as you are.”

“Hey listen, you are important to him. I know that Henry loves you. You guys were friends before I even came into the picture, there had to be a connection there. You’re just a little hurt right now because he wasn’t thinking things completely through earlier. But come on, it’s Henry. Not thinking things through is basically one of his personality traits.”

“Yeah I guess” Jasper sighs. “I’m just sick of feeling like I’m the only one invested in our friendship.”

“Have you spoken to Henry about how you feel?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Well maybe you should.”

“I know.”

It’s silent for a moment. “Uggghhhh” Jasper groans in frustration. “I’m so sorry Charlotte, I know it’s not your fault that I feel this way. It was just easier to blame you than face the fact that I might be losing my best friend.”

“It’s okay Jasper. I understand where you are coming from. Believe it or not, I’ve felt like this before too. Henry and I were way closer in middle school before you found out he was Kid Danger. We spent so much time together at school and then here at work. Secrets bind people together. So whenever you were let in on the secret, we lost some of that closeness and everything changed. Instead of it being just the two of us, it felt like the two of you and then me. It was like I barely hung out with him anymore because you were always there. Henry spent so much of his time showing you all the cool tech stuff and explaining how everything worked in the ManCave, things I already knew about. For a while it was rough for me. It was like I was alone in a room full of people trying to figure out where I fit in.”

“I never knew you felt like that.”

“Yeah. That feeling of neglect was real. Because while we were friends, neither one of us were as close to each other as we were with Henry. That is, until we started spending more time together when Henry and Ray were on missions. We built our friendship stronger and bonded without Henry. He had always been the glue. Then, we created our own glue. And I’m so glad that we did. You are my best friend. That statement doesn’t lose any value just because it’s also true for Henry. The same thing applies to us. Henry loves you. You should go talk to him.”

“I will. Thanks Char.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Hug?”

“Just this once.”

“Yay!” Jasper said as he scooped his smaller friend in his arms, squeezing tightly.

Charlotte patted him awkwardly on the back. “Okay that’s enough.”

Upstairs, Henry was at the register cashing out a customer when Jasper came from behind the beaded curtain. After he handed the person their change, he turned to his friend. “Listen Jasper, I’m sorry man. I didn’t mean to-“

“No Henry, you listen to me for once. I know you didn’t mean to hurt my feelings.”

“Exactly! My bad I’m just so into-“

“Hold up. As I was saying, I know you didn’t mean to hurt my feelings. But you did. You hurt my feelings today when you didn’t include me in your costume plans, especially since we dressed up as a group last year. That hurt man. And you know what that reminded me of? That time I asked you how long you thought you could keep a secret from your best friend and your response was, ‘Oh, Charlotte knows’. It didn’t even cross your mind that I meant me. That I was your best friend.”

“Dude...”

“I’m just saying Henry. For a hero, you sure know how to hurt people.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Listen. Of course Charlotte is my best friend, but so are you. I know that sometimes I don’t show you the appreciation you deserve. I am truly sorry. You’ve been such a constant in my life that I just assume you know how much I care about you. I should tell you more often, that’s on me. I love you man. Forgive me?”

Jasper stared at Henry with a stoic face for a tense twenty seconds before caving.

“Of course. That’s all I wanted to hear” Jasper said before giving him a big bro hug.

“So the costume thing really was you just being obtuse without realizing, Charlotte was right” Jasper said mostly to himself.

“Well” Henry says in his signature high pitched voice.

“What is it?”

“Um, you see, Ikindawantedtowearacouple’scostumewithCharbecauseImighthaveacrushonher.”

“Huh?”

“I saaaaaiiiiddd, I kinda wanted to wear a couple’s costume with Char because I might have a crush on her. I figured if we had matching costumes, when people commented on them I could look at her reaction to try and gauge if she liked me back.” Henry responds while looking at the floor and scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“Really?” Jasper said excitedly.

Henry whips his head back up to see Jasper beaming at him.

“You’re not like, mad? Because you just went on this whole tangent about how I like her more than you...”

“No this is great! Honestly. I’ve always known that you like her more than me. My problem was that I don’t like it when you treat her like she’s your only best friend and leave me out completely. Plus, you’ve liked her ever since you gave her that flower when we were kids. You stare at her like she hung the moon. And...her contact name in your phone has been Daisy since you got a phone. You’re completely obvious dude.”

“Okayyy, geez. I didn’t know I was so transparent. I just realized this like a few weeks ago.” Henry says.

“You poor sap. Well come on, I’ll help you get your girl” Jasper replies as they walk to the back and push the button for the elevator.

“How are you gonna do that? My costume idea backfired.”

“Yeah she is definitely not going to leave me out after our talk.” Jasper says.

Henry sighs in defeat.

“Hmmmm...oh, I got it! We can still do Harry Potter but instead I’ll be Harry, Charlotte can be Hermoine.”

“And I can be Ron!” Henry concludes excitedly.

“Yeah exactly! That way, you can still technically have a couple’s costume. Even though we both know if anyone was gonna save the world it would definitely be her” Jasper muses.

“This is true.” Henry agrees as they both step into the elevator.

#Chenry #Henry Danger #Charlotte Page #Henry Hart #Jasper Dunlop #Charlotte Bolton #Kid Danger #Henlotte #Riele Downs #Jace Norman #Sean Ryan Fox #Nickelodeon #Halloween

[nanamilkandbrownies]

The Offer: PART TWO

Title: The Offer: PART TWO Word Count: 5k+ Rating: M - mature themes Genre: ♠︎ drama/angst Warnings: slight violence; mentions of alcohol Pairings: Jungkook x reader; CEO!Jungkook ft. Seokjin Summary: ‘I’m sure you know what people say about you,’ You closed your mouth immediately, ‘I’m sure if you don’t know exactly what they say, you can imagine what they call you behind your back,’ It was welling up again, that anger, from the pit of your stomach. You could feel your heart racing; your adrenaline coursing through your veins. ‘And,’ he scoffed, ‘that? Made you uncomfortable?’ Jungkook furrowed his brow, ‘Is shame even still possible for someone as shameless as you?’ Written by: Chubs☽ Author’s Note: I can finally upload this! I’ve been looking forward to doing it all week. I was going to post tomorrow but I have a few obligations that will have me out all day so I thought today would be as good a day as any ☺️ Disclaimer: I love Kim Seokjin, so please don’t think otherwise after reading tonight’s part 😅 Thank you to everyone who’s reading I really hope that you enjoy! Asks are open ☺️💜

Also, a really sweet reader asked if I might be making a tag list for this series and explained to me how (since Dimplz and I are new-ish to Tumblr) (thank you so much again!!!) and so I will have a tag list open for “the Offer” if anyone is interested ☺️ If you want to be added feel free to drop me a comment on this post and I’ll add your name to the list. Thanks so much! -Chubs☽

***Reminder: as stated before, the content of this fic will contain many mature themes from here on out and is therefore rated M for mature and therefore not suitable for children or teens under the age of 16 but to be honest, I’d say, under the age of 18. Please be advised. Thank you! ~~~~~

The weeks that followed were difficult to say the least. Despite your position as chief secretary, Jungkook only asked for your assistance in maintaining his schedule, nothing more and nothing less. You did the best you could to keep up with his affairs, even finding ways to keep your interactions brief but all this tiptoeing had you exhausted. It was like you were walking on thin ice and it was only a matter of time before your luck ran out. Even still you observed Jungkook's manner from a distance and learned it in the same way you’d done with his father before him to be able to carry out your job to the best of your abilities. 

Jungkook was just as determined as you imagined he would be. He dominated the room with an unassuming confidence. He didn't pretend to be the smartest person in the room, even though from you could tell, he probably was. He handled himself with gentle humility and, in the same breath enough resolve and passion to rival even the most competitive. He seemed to be a relatively quiet sort of man. Of course, you couldn't tell if this was his usual demeanor or if it was just out of spite toward you that he kept himself so closed off. He worked himself to the bone, as if he’d been the one to build Inspirit from nothing to where it is now, sitting unopposed as the standard for Korean steel.

He never asked you to stick around during the late nights he worked but he never opposed it either. You assumed that this was out of genuine disinterest in whatever you did. So, out of habit and curiosity you would set yourself at your desk outside his office and wait for Jungkook to emerge, usually not until the late hours of the night, tie undone, jacket slung over his shoulder and sleeves rolled up to his elbows, an exhausted but resolute look on his face. He never paid you any attention, walking right past your desk at the end of the day as if you hadn't been sitting there for hours. You’d assumed that he would torture you, work you crazy and shame you until he’d had his fill or until your contract period was finished. You readied yourself for snide comments, disdain and cruelty but Jungkook proved to be quite indifferent toward you. Which somehow hurt you more. Maybe it was because that wasn't what you were expecting, it wasn't what you had prepared yourself for -- to be ignored as if you were of little to no consequence.

In all the times you had come in contact with powerful men, their ambition and their grandiose plans, you had never met someone as faithful to the ideal of leadership and passion as Mr. Jeon, that is, until Jungkook. Inspirit was a powerhouse in the market. It was the company that most, if not all like it, strived to be. It was the late CEO's child in the way he built the business from the ground up, coming into the league as a rookie and surpassing expectations, proving himself a competent and capable business man among his peers.

Reminiscing made you think back on when you first came to work for him. The late Mr. Jeon would never admit to you how horrible you were, but you knew it. You had always been a very thorough and organized person. A quick learner who kept her head focused on the task at hand; always ten steps ahead. But something about this job had you frazzled when you first began. Maybe it was juggling everything at once, maybe it was the uncharted territory and how new everything seemed to you at the time, or maybe it was Mr. J--

The second the thought popped into your head you shook it loose. There was no point in thinking of that now. The time had passed for you to ponder on silly notions like those anymore. Today was a different day. But despite that reality, this was not the job you had trained and worked so hard to master. Needless to say, your pride was more than bruised to go from handling all of the late CEO's affairs, accounts and schedules, accompanying him on meetings and business trips, even chipping in your own two cents when he was in a bind, to being a glorified calendar manager for Jungkook. Still you kept your head down and attended to your work. Fitting yourself in wherever possible and whenever necessary. Jungkook may have made it clear that he didn't want you around, but you’d worked hard to become one of the best at what you did and you were going to continue until everything was said and done.

Tonight, was no exception. You had reminded Jungkook of the Children of Seoul's charity fundraiser the day before and it had been your intention to remind him again, but he seemed to make it his mission in life to avoid you at all costs. Just the same, there you were, standing at the doors of his office, the rest of the building long since dismissed for the day, in your evening gown. It was customary for you to attend these sorts of gatherings with the CEO. You remembered the faces he didn't, knew people's backgrounds and readied yourself to be of assistance to Jungkook when and if the occasion should call for it.

Your black silk gown draped over your body, flowing freely to the floor, hugging your torso and swooping just low enough over your chest to accentuate the slight rounded tops of your breasts and the subtlety of your collarbones. There was a tasteful slit up the side of your gown that stopped mid-thigh. Your hair drifted down you back in barely-there loose curls. Your palms were sweaty as you lifted a fist and rapped on the door to Jungkook's office. After a few moments and no response, you pulled the door open, slipping inside.

Jungkook sat at his desk in his usual fashion, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, brows furrowed, papers in one hand and in the other a pen that he currently had resting between his teeth. You cleared your throat from across the room and he looked up. In that brief moment, as if he didn't expect it to be you, he looked -- normal. His eyes weren't cold and detached like they usually were when he addressed you. There was no permanent scowl on his lips. There was no stiffness and for the first time, in the brief time you'd seen him, he looked content. His face, even handsome in his indifference proved to be more so when he was at ease. His eyes slid over your dress slowly, from your face, down the length of your body. But that moment was brief before Jungkook's eyes shifted into their usual distance.

He cocked his head to the side and returned his attention to the paper in his hand.

"Is there something you need Ms. y/l/n and that's the reason you're standing in my office?"

"The Children of Seoul's char--" but before you could finish, Jungkook's eyes shot up to meet yours.

"Dammit! That's tonight," he stood from his chair, grabbing his jacket flung over the back and pulling it on.

He strode across the room and as he reached for the door, you grabbed for his arm.

Jungkook froze, his head turning in your direction, eyes shifting to the hand you had hooked at his elbow. You immediately pulled your hand away and despite wanting to avert your eyes, you stood firm, looking Jungkook in the eye when he looked up to meet your stare.

“There’s a car downstairs waiting for us. I called ahead to the event to advise that you would be late and to seat your party before you,” Jungkook remained silent, “There’s a suit for you in the car and a place for you to change at the venue. The back entrance will be open for us so you can quickly get ready without being seen in your office attire. No need to let the whole world know that the CEO of Inspirit forgot about the charity event his company spent months planning,” That last sentence coming out softer than the rest had.

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed slightly. He sighed, running a frustrated hand through the back of his hair and tossing his head back.

“Fine,” he conceded before he was out the door and headed for the elevator. You kept pace with him, following into the elevator and pressing the button for the lobby. You kept your distance from him in the elevator more for his comfort than your own. But every once in a while, you couldn’t help but note the feeling of his eyes sweeping over your body before looking away. When the elevator chimed, you motioned for Jungkook to lead as he stepped out of the elevator and made haste across the lobby. As you promised there was a car waiting for you both, parked at the entryway.

You beat Jungkook to the door and opened it for him. Just as he bent to dip into the car he paused and turned to you.

“Ms. y/l/n,” Your eyes perked at his address, “I don’t see any need for you to accompany me tonight,”

You froze and as Jungkook went to dip into the car you spoke up, “Mr. Jeon,” you said firmly, raising your voice just enough to get his attention while maintaining your composure, “With all due respect you’ve only been at this for a few weeks. As competent as you are in all matters concerning this company you can’t possibly know everything. Certainly not enough for you to get through tonight’s event without help,”

The look on his face was almost as if you’d challenged him but you wouldn’t shrink back. This was your job and you’d be damned if he kept you from doing it.

“I know the name and face of every person in that room tonight. Can you say the same?” half counting on a snarky response, Jungkook remained silent, “I know because it’s my job to know. I don’t mean any disrespect to you sir, but you couldn’t even remember there was an event tonight. I doubt you’ve taken the time to acquaint yourself with all of Inspirit’s partners, donors and the foundations’ leaders,”

Jungkook’s eyes flitted away from yours considering this, “Simply put, I would hate for you to look unprofessional. And even if you were okay with it, it would reflect poorly on me if you’re unprepared. Let me do my job,” Jungkook didn't utter another word, instead he dipped into the car and shut the door behind him.

When Jungkook didn’t protest you took it as him finally realizing that you were right, at least about this. You made your way to the other side and dipped into the car next to Jungkook whose face was buried in his phone, determined to go on ignoring your existence for as long as you shared company. Finally, at the venue you ushered Jungkook through the back entrance and into a small suite where he could quickly get changed. You stepped into the room, feeling Jungkook not far behind you. The second you heard the door click shut you headed for the clothing rack a few feet in front of you. You thumbed through the suit options and pulled out a black suit with satin lapels. Squatting down you eyed the shoes and found a black pair of Christian Dior’s that fit the suit you’d chosen best. You walked over to Jungkook handing him the outfit you’d selected. He eyed your outstretched arms for a moment as if trying to decide if he wanted to wear what you were offering him or not.

You sighed, “you’re more than welcome to pick something out for yourself if you’d like, but we’re already late and this is suitable,”

Jungkook slipped his jacket off tossing it over the back of a nearby chaise. He meddled with his tie, eventually pulling it off and tossing it over his jacket. You watched him do this, still standing there with his suit and shoes in your outstretched arms. He unbuttoned the first of his shirt buttons, trailing his eyes up to meet yours. You turned your head away from him quickly, eventually turning your back to him completely. You heard his shirt hit the pile of clothes and then the clink of his belt as he removed it.

“Shirt,” and without looking you handed Jungkook the white button down. You heard what you assumed to be Jungkook’s pants tossed onto the pile, “Pants,” you handed Jungkook the pants over your shoulder without looking.

“I’m decent,” you turned back to face him, quickly handing him his belt and watching him tighten it around himself, cinching the small waist you’d noticed one of the first times you saw him. You dip down and place his shoes at his feet for him to step into. Across the room, you grab your small purse from where you dropped it near the clothes rack and pull out a small lint roller, running it over Jungkook’s suit jacket as you made your way back over to him. He had knelt down, tied his shoes and slipped the jacket on with ease.

“I need a tie,” Jungkook made his way over to the clothing rack and grabbed the first one he saw, looping it around his neck.

“Not that one,” you asserted. Jungkook’s eyes looked up to meet yours. You glided past him and to the clothes rack pulling a black tie with deep burgundy undertones instead. You turned to Jungkook, who was eyeing you and slipped the tie he was looping from his neck, placing it over the rack and raising your arms to place the one you’d chosen around it instead. Jungkook reached up and grabbed your wrists, tilting his head questioningly. Your breath caught in your throat and you felt the heat rush to your face.

“The other tie you chose was fine,” you counseled, “But the foundations’ colors are burgundy and white,” You continued your motions, bringing the tie around the back of his neck and pulling the collar of Jungkook’s shirt down over it. With gentle and slightly unsteady hands you looped the tie at his chest. You couldn’t keep your heart from beating in your ears, “Wearing their colors, even as an accent, would be a show of your loyalty and commitment to their partnership with Inspirit,”

You gently tightened the tie to Jungkook’s neck, running your fingers over the fabric to make sure it sat straight. Jungkook’s eyes ran over your face and you stood in silence for a moment before he spoke again,

“Did you tie my father’s ties for him too Ms. y/l/n?” The question caught you off guard and you snapped your head up to meet Jungkook’s stare.

“I did. Among other things th--“

He scoffs, “Among other things, indeed,” And with that he turned from you and headed out the door. His words stung. They shouldn’t but they did. You didn’t know him, and he surely didn’t know you. His words should mean nothing to you but the way he eyed you made you feel vulnerable and you wondered how much longer you could stand his treatment of you. A memory flooded to your mind quickly:

“Promise me y/n,” Mr. Jeon implored, his eyes begging. Your anger had your body quivering but nevertheless you bit your lip and pondered this for a moment. Immediately, your mind ran through what agreeing to do this for him would mean for you and for his family. In your mind, Mr. Jeon had always been a man above reproach but now and in this moment, he seemed so small. It was hard for you to even look at him.

“I’ll do this for you,” you said finally, through tight lips, refusing to meet his eyes and how they welled with tears, “But this is the last thing I’ll do for you,”

It hit you like a pile of bricks and your stomach tightened. You had to stick it out; you weren’t finished yet.

-----

Jungkook floated around the room. Watching him interact with the guests, he was both charming and approachable; bowing and laughing, shaking hand after hand. You did what you said you would and kept him abreast all night on the crowds of people who flocked to meet the new CEO. They surrounded him like hyenas, sniffing for weakness. Jungkook was still new to this sport while the room was filled with seasoned veterans, ready to tear Inspirit apart and sell it off in pieces.

But Jungkook could sense their intentions and still he never lost an ounce of his class. He challenged anyone’s foolish notion that he would be easily manipulated, letting the room know that he was in no sense gullible. You finally had a break from the fanfare and made your way over to wear the champagne was being served. You had been eyeing it from across the room all night and could feel the tension from the stress of the evening slowly forming into a headache. You grabbed a tall glass, placing it your lips and tipping it back.

The feel of a hand brushing your lower back had you jumping, practically out of your skin, a bit of the champagne spilling down your chin. You immediately grab for a napkin, dabbing the champagne away and turning to see who had bumped you.

“y/n, it’s been a while,” Kim Seokjin stood before you, his demeanor as alluring as always. Jin’s dark hair was pushed back out of his face, full lips pulled into a smile.

“Jin!” You chimed, quickly pulling him in for a hug. “It’s been...what? 6, no, 7 months?” You smiled up at him.

“Too long is what it’s been,” he mused,

“It’s so good to see you,” His smile getting even bigger at your giddy reaction to seeing him there.

“I was sorry to hear...” Jin’s eyes dropped to your hands as he pulled them into his, “About Mr. Jeon,”

Your smile faltered, “No one had any idea the man was even sick,” he continued.

You nodded, “You knew him as well as I did. He never would’ve admitted it to anyone,”

Jin nodded at your words, “still,” he continued, dropping your hands and reaching for a glass of champagne, “To leave his legacy t--to a child?” He scoffed, “I always believed the man to be smart,” Seokjin placed the glass to his lips and tipped it back, taking a hearty sip.

“Jungkook is more capable than you’d believe Jin, I swear it,”

He chuckled to himself, “capable? That--boy? He’s been running the company for all of, what? Five minutes? with zero experience. Come on y/n, what do you take me for?”

You could feel the heat rising to the top of your head, “He--”

“y/n,” he continued before you could finish, “with Jeon dead there’s nothing keeping you at Inspirit anymore,” he ignored the scowl that was forming on your face.

“Nothing to keep me there? What are you saying?” You ask.

“I’m saying, the only thing that was keeping you there was the thing you had going with Jeon in the first place, right?”

Your eyes blew wide and all the color washed from your cheeks.

“I don’t know what you mean...” your voice soft but hollow, eyes drifting around the room nonchalantly.

“Of course, you do,” he continued, tipping the rest of his drink back in a final gulp. Seokjin laid his hand at your lower back again, pulling you into him. There still remained space between you, albeit a sliver. “He’s gone. You can’t fulfill the needs of a dead man,” the suggestive look in his tone and in his eyes had your skin crawling. Seokjin casually dipped down within earshot, “Let me guess, Jungkook can’t stand the sight of you, am I right?”

You felt your stomach drop at his words. “He’s probably heard the same rumors that everyone else has,” His hand, still resting in the curve of your back, “There’s no point in staying there and who else will take you, with your...reputation. But I’m sure you’ve thought of all of this already,”

He finally leans away from you, “All I’m saying is, consider coming to work at So Steel when your period is up at Inspirit. I have a position with your name on it,” As if he hadn’t just assassinated your character, Seokjin offered a smug smile at the close of his proposition. You’d waited long enough to rip him a new one, biting back the fire burning in your belly the whole time he’d been talking but just as you opened your mouth to speak,

“Mr. Kim,” you heard from your left and turn to see Jungkook standing, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a half-empty glass of champagne. Seokjin greeted Jungkook with a bow.

“How are things at So?” Jungkook stepped a bit closer to your side, your arms almost brushing.

Seokjin offered a lighthearted laugh, “Your concern for us is admirable Mr. Jeon but I assure you, we’re doing just fine,”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Jungkook offered with a polite smile.

“What brings you here tonight? I didn’t know that So was one of the benefactors for Children of Seoul,”

“I don’t blame you for being unaware. I’m sure there’s still great many things you don’t know yet,” Jin reached over, patting Jungkook on the shoulder, “But I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it soon enough,”

Jungkook, not missing a beat, shrugged Jin’s hand from his shoulder offering him a smile in return, “Ahh, I’m afraid you’re right. But if you’re here for the charity event that means you’re not here to get yourself drunk and harass my secretary,”

Jin’s eyes blew wide. “Tsk, tsk. I’m disappointed. This is the level of professionalism I can expect from So? Sending men who can’t seem to take the hint that she is clearly uninterested,” Jungkook mocked pity, “If she didn’t want you while my father was alive, that won’t change now that he’s dead,” his final words came out clipped and curt. Jungkook reached over, returning Seokjin’s condescending pat on the shoulder, “Have a good evening Mr. Kim,”

Jungkook stepped to the side motioning for you to go before him, “After you Ms. y/l/n,”

You made your way across the room. Jungkook stepped up not too far behind you, “I’m ready to leave,”

“I’ll get the car,” you respond, pulling your shawl tight around your sleeveless arms and making for the front of the building.

The second you were out of the banquet hall you released a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. The whole situation had been both embarrassing and frustrating. The rumors were one thing because of course, anyone could speculate without knowing real facts but to have someone confront you with them as if they knew the whole story and try to use them to manipulate you, let alone someone you’d considered a friend -- it had you fighting back tears.

You weren’t so much sad as you were pissed. He had the audacity to belittle you so boldly. You couldn’t get the way his eyes raked over your body out of your mind. You felt sick. The car pulled up to the curb and you heard Jungkook’s footsteps approaching from behind. You sucked back the tears, running a finger under your eyes to stop them from falling. You opened the door for him and Jungkook dipped inside and before getting in the car, you took a deep breath to calm your nerves.

The car ride was silent. Jungkook’s face wasn’t buried in his phone this time. Instead he sat, back against the seat staring out the window at the people on the street as you passed them.

“Mr. Jeon," You muttered. Jungkook turned his head toward you, eyes imploring you to continue. You looked up into them and then down again at your hands folded in your lap. Jungkook was no better than Seokjin. He judged you just the same only he was less frank about it. But you knew he thought the same things that everyone else did.

You didn’t owe him anything. You knew he only stepped in back at the banquet hall to save face. What else could he have done? Watch his employee get groped without intervening? Still, you continued on, “Thank you,” you spoke softly. There was really no need to speak much higher than a whisper. There was only the two of you in the back of the car and although you sat as far from him as you could manage, the space wasn’t very big.

Jungkook’s eyes drifted over your face, searching it, “Why are you thanking me?”

“Seokj--” you pause, “Mr. Kim was very inappropriate with me tonight,” your eyes, never leaving your lap, “I felt very uncomfortable and I appreciate you stepping in,”

Jungkook chuckled a bit, “Uncomfortable?”

Tearing your eyes from your lap you looked over at him, his eyes glued forward, brows scrunched, and mouth open slightly in disbelief. He shook his head before looking over at you, “Why would something like that make you uncomfortable?”

You weren’t sure how to answer that question without stating the obvious, “I’m not sure wh--“

“I’m sure you know what people say about you,” You closed your mouth immediately, “I’m sure if you don’t know exactly what they say, you can imagine what they call you behind your back,” It was welling up again, that anger, from the pit of your stomach. You could feel your heart racing; your adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“And,” he scoffed, “that? Made you uncomfortable?” Jungkook furrowed his brow, “Is shame even still possible for someone as shameless as you?” Before you knew what you were doing, before you could even stop yourself, you’d reached across the space. You heard the contact, felt the sting in your hand from the strike across Jungkook's face and then felt the warm tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Don’t you ever,” you paused a moment to swallow, chin quivering slightly before you got a hold of yourself, throat closing, “speak to me like that again,” Jungkook’s eyes were glued to you. There was a brief but choking silence between you, locked in a glare, 

“You expect, what? My pity?” his voice was flat and tight.

“I don’t want your pity!” Your voice rising with your anger, “I don’t need you to pity me Mr. Jeon,” you scoff, “but I won’t stand for you speaking to me as if you know me,”

“I know enough,” he retorted quickly.

“You know nothing!” You quipped, voice rising with a shake. The tears were flowing, albeit you wish they weren't and as much as it made you angrier that you were crying in front of him, you didn’t let it keep you from staring him down, “Stop the car,”

The car pulled off to the side of the street and the second it came to a complete stop you opened the door and got out, slamming it behind you. You wouldn’t stay in the car with that man another second. Your chest was heaving, you could hardly catch your breath. The only thing you could think was to get as far away from Jeon Jungkook as possible.

The car pulled away and as it disappeared out of view you let yourself cry freely without holding back; you were furious. You balled your fists at your sides and felt your body shake with your sobs. The whole way home you replayed the car ride in your mind. By the time you crossed the threshold of your apartment you were completely exhausted from crying. You headed straight for your room and peeled out of your dress, curling into bed in the dark.

——

Flashback

There were a few loud bangs at your door. You flicked on the light in the living room and made your way to peep through the peephole, cautious and a bit startled by the loud knocking.

“Who in the--” you looked through the hole to see Mr. Jeon, slumped against your door frame. You immediately unlock the door, swinging it open.

“Sir?!” Mr. Jeon lifts his head and stumbles forward into you. You can smell the alcohol on him. It’s like he bathed in it. You bring his arm around your neck and do your best to help him into your apartment and to the couch where he goes down with a plop. You make your way to the kitchen, bringing a fresh cup of coffee with you back to the couch. You sit next to Mr. Jeon, pulling him up by his shirt and imploring him to drink. He sits up, leaning over and into you, but manages to take one sip and then another from the mug.

“Sss, aahhh,” he sounds after a few more sips.

“What is going on?” You ask, concern knitting your brows together.

“I’m a…. horrible man...,” he babbles, swaying a little with his words before lying his head on the back of the couch.

“What are you talking about?” you chide. 

“I’ve hurt people...people, I love,” His words are slurred and he’s barely keeping his eyes open. Your stomach tossed and turned. “I hurt my wife...I hurt my son...I hurt y--” but before he could finish you press a finger to his lips.

“Shhhh,” you offer gently. You could see the tears brimming in his eyes and slipping into the crinkles at the corners of them. His lips quivered a little and he took a deep breath.

“I’m so sorry for hurting you too,” 

“You didn’t,” you try to sound convincing.

“But I did...” You feel where this conversation is going, and you don’t like it at all.

“I know...” he begins but you’re quick to try and silence him again,

“Shhhhh, it’s okay,” you try to stop him from continuing.

“No,” he protests.

“I know...y/n,” You try to stand but his hand finds your wrist and he gently tugs you back down in your spot, “I know how you feel about me…” your chest tightens in sudden panic, “..I know you love me...,” Your eyes dart up to his; your pulse quickening, “I know you do,” he continues, “And I’m sorry...so so sorry that I--,” Mr. Jeon brings the back of the hand he was using to hold you in place up to cover his eyes, tears running from them.

“I’m sorry that I can’t return those feelings...I’m sorry that I can’t give you what you want. You’re so precious to me," there's a heart wrenching break in his voice, "but...most of all, I’m sorry because I’m not the man you thought I was,”

THE END. _______________________________________________________________________

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