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#draft machine broke
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Ben..be honest...do you have sona/oc?
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You’re just bullying him now
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The sewing machine
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shadowxamyweek · 3 months
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Art piece is by @lambpaca! Happy Leap Year to all you Lovers
Oh I love this. Friend, again, thank you, thank you, thank you
So there's a silly little tradition that was/is still practiced in several different countries. The tradition was, on the 29th of February, women could propose to men. It is still practiced today, more in jest than anything else, but in my own sphere, I have seen the Leap Year Day become a time when 'unconventional' couples of all stripes get together, both cis and queer.
I always liked this unofficial tradition. My partner and I actually made our plans to get married last Leap Year, in 2020, over text during lockdown. Sitting here, now married to my best friend, I still have a copy of this original print on my phone to remind me of the joy in that moment, as this picture was the thing that started that conversation.
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So it's got a lot of sentimentality for me
---
The above was drafted before news broke that Tumblr would be partnering with Midjourney and Open Ai. As such, this beautiful art is now protected by the brilliant people of Chicago University and their relentless work to combat scrapping with Glaze and Nightshade.
There is a certain poetics, to me at least, posting this work now. The whole concept of Leap Year engagements was to go against the norm, pushing back against expectations and current reality as we strive for something better. The reason the tradition is no longer mainstream is because many of us have reached a point in our existence where we do not have to wait to be free.
Many, but nowhere near all. The fight is not yet done. As such, we will continue on until it is, in fact, all of us.
This goes for all aspects of personhood, but now, in this specific case, it also means joy in the freedom of art and artistic expression directly in spite of the companies that would seek to try to steal that from us and profit off of its corpse.
In short, fuck the concept that what is happening is normal. Fuck the concept that we are powerless to change it. Love is Love. People are People. Art is Art. Joy cannot be minted in artificial hands, be it those of societal dictation or designed machine. No matter what happens, the human spirit will prevail, and we will break any shit that stands in our way of achieving happiness.
Thank you again, @lambpaca - This means more than words can say.
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qoeww · 2 years
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hi hi ! its me again hehe , i was wondering if u could do a prompt , “wait a minute .. are you jealous ?” i saw this prompt on Pinterest ! i was wondering if u could do donnie x fem!reader or gn i dont rlly mind — with donnie getting jealous of his brothers bc reader is getting somewhat close 2 them ?? hopefully it makes sense — thank u thank u !!
WAIT A MINUTE... ARE YOU JEALOUS?
Warning: Nothing
Character: Donnie
Author Note: I'm sorry I waited you so much honeypie, I just lost my drafts for two time 😀 hope you like it (Btw I really like your positive theme<333)
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You pushed Donnie's robotic shell with the tip of your foot, he always hated when you act like this but this time he deserves it.
"You gave me a promise D and you are breaking it again-"
"Y/N you really don't understand the situation, it will change the world!"
You laughed through your nose and made your arms scorch. "Yeah, really D? The last time you said that, whole house was flooded with sewage, but I have to admit, the expression on your face was funny." He dropped the wires in his hand and turned to you. "First of all, how dare you? Second, scientists can make mistakes, maybe you should read the news I send you."
You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. "Ok, ok sorry. So dear scientist Donnie, would you please put aside your world-changing invention and go out with me?"
"Give me a hour babe."
You gave up, this boy will not leave this machine until it is done. "Let's postpone it to another day, I'm leaving." You could hear his murmur before the door closes to your face.
You looked nervously at your reflection in the door, sometimes the purple turtle was irresistible.
"Hey, are you ok?"
"Yeah, yeah, just... Why are you here again?"
With a relaxed smile on his face, Leo grabbed your shoulder and pulled you close to him. "Eh, don't get hung up on small details. Why don't you come and watch my perfect new moves?"
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"OH YES! FINALLY FINISHED, Y/N LOOK AT THIS!" When he turned his back, only your gym bag and jacket, which you threw on the floor when you came in, were there. Did you leave? He left his room to look for you, and when he found you, he could get help from you to color scale his invention.
Your laughing sound was coming from Mikey's room. He peered through the ajar door, Mikey and you lying on a sheet that had been laid on the floor. There were colorful nail polishes on the sheet, you looked like you were spending quality time with Mikey.
"Eh, sometimes they need time too." He wanted to pull you out of Mikey's room but you needed your limits too. Being a good boyfriend is hard, Maybe he'll come a little later. Splinter was standing in front of him when he turned to leave.
"AH, ah hey dad what are you doing here?" Donnie pushed Splinter by his shoulders, As far from the door as possible, it wouldn't be nice to be caught red-handed.
"I was gonna ask..." Donnie waited for his father as he broke into a cold sweat. If one of his siblings heard about it, he would be a laughing stock at home.
"Can you...Hmm, fix the kitchen drawers? The opening sounds are very squeaky, it's gotten worse since the last time blue one fixed it"
He looked at the door for the last time and nodded.
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He loved your laugh, really. But now it makes him so angry.
He was working nonstop to drown out your and Raph's laughter with the sound of the drill in his hand. While he was remodeling the kitchen (if he started something, it must be perfect), you and Raph invaded the kitchen to make a cake.
Your eyes met for a moment, you gave him a small smile, and you went back to the dough in your hand.
He checked all the drawers another five times, waiting for a reaction from you. But you were focused on the dough in your hand, unaware of the purple turtle whose gaze could pierce your shoulder.
OK, OK THAT WAS ENOUGH HE UNDERSTAND WHERE HE DID WRONG-
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You didn't expect it to rain, you were staying here with the brothers tonight. You walked out of the room with a comfortable T-shirt on and stretched. The clock on the wall was showing 3 a.m.. Your eyes are dazzled by the light you opened, who made the lights so bright?
You grabbed the pitcher on the counter and poured it into the glass. With every sip you drank, you came to yourself, as if the light was not so bright anymore.
"Oh, Donnald? Bad dream?"
He avoided his eyes from meeting you. You could hear something muttering but you didn't understand.
"Wha?"
"Why don't you sleep with me?"
"What."
"No, no- I... Offf... I mean you are sleeping at Raph's room- Ok that wasn't that hard in my head."
You watched him rubbing his eyelids. All the stones were slowly falling into place, his side gaze today, the purple bandana peeking through the door.
"WAIT, WAIT, wait, wait a minute... Are you... Jealous?"
His arms quickly crossed as eyes widened. "NO, NO I'M NOT-" Your laugh closed all his objections, oh my, who can now "the bad boy" can get jealous too?
"YOU ARE JE-"
"YES, yes I am. Now shut up." He pressed his hand to his lips and silenced you, your body was stuck between the bench and the turtle. "I can act like a complete dum dum sometimes, soooo.. Do you accept my apology?"
You nodded slowly, he took his hands from your lips and placed it on your chin.
He made you forgive himself.
Btw if you didn't read wait a min like this go and spend more time at internet
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boobo13cambridge · 1 year
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Somebody to Lean On | Kylian Mbappé
Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x f.Reader
Warnings: Penetrative sex, oral (f. receiving), kissing, nipple play.
Summary: After being eliminated from the Champions League, you join Kylian while he channels his frustrations into working out hours after the training session is over. 
A/N: Hello, everyone! I've had this in the draft for a while and didn't have time to edit it. I hope you enjoy it and lemme know what you think!
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You could hear the hard clank of the weight machine through the loud music playing from the door leading to the home gym that Kylian had installed since moving into his Paris apartment from AS Monaco years ago. A sigh escaped your lips, knowing that Kylian had been channeling his frustrations into working out ever since PSG got eliminated from the Champions League round of 16 knockout stages. Winning the trophy this season after renewing his contract for another two years had meant everything to him. However, Kylian wasn't the most forthcoming person when dealing with emotions, especially after such a loss, and you wanted to be there for him.
You opened the door and peeked inside, seeing your boyfriend shirtless, wearing only a pair of the shortest basketball shorts you'd ever seen in your life. The sight of him covered in sweat, his bronze skin glistening under the dim light, made your heart skip a beat. The low flame of heat that curled in your stomach was undeniable. You had started training alongside him at the gym when you realized that all your reassurances fell on deaf ears. You knew that at this point, the only thing you could do for him was to give him company, and if that meant spending hours at the gym, then so be it.
Clad in a pair of light pink leggings with a matching sports bra, you went straight to Kylian, giving him a quick peck on the lips as he gave you a little smile. “Salut, bébé. Je ne savais pas que tu étais déjà arrivée à la maison.”
“Il n’y avait pas grand chose à faire au bureau, alors j’ai pu partir un peu plus tôt,” you replied, making your way to the treadmill, wanting to start off with a bit of light cardio. For the next ten minutes, both of you were quietly working out. 
The tension between you was palpable, but you didn't know how to break the ice. You were there for him, but it seemed like he was lost in his own world. You knew how hard he was on himself and how personal he took each loss. The ruthlessness of the french media made it much worse. It was a different kind of helplessness knowing what you’re other half is going through but not being able to do anything about it. 
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Kylian broke the silence. “I'm sorry you had to come here to watch me wallow in self-pity.”
You shook your head, turning off the treadmill. “You don't have to apologize for anything, Kylian. I'm here for you, no matter what.”
Kylian's eyes softened as he walked over to you, taking your hand in his. “I know. And I appreciate it more than you'll ever know.”
He pulled you close, his hot breath on your neck making your heart skip a beat. You wrapped your arms around him, and for a moment, everything felt right in the world. In each other's embrace, you both felt a sense of peace that had eluded you for the past few days.
After a few moments, you attempted to pull away from him, but Kylian tightened his hold around you, his lips hot and eager on your neck, trailing wet kisses down your skin. Sighing in pleasure, you tilted your head back to give him more access.
"I need you right now, bébé," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. One of his hands trailed down your body, gripping your waist tightly, while the other tangled itself in your long black ponytail.
You couldn't resist him any longer, the tension and chemistry between you both too strong to ignore. You turned your head, pressing your lips to his in a fiery kiss, tongues tangling together. The gym equipment around you faded into the background as the only thing that mattered was the heat and passion between you and Kylian.
As you deepened the kiss, his hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve and dip. You moaned into his mouth as he squeezed your ass, the sensation sending shivers of pleasure through your body. You ran your hands over his muscular chest, feeling his heartbeat pounding against your palms.
In this moment, there was no loss or disappointment, just the intense desire and love you both shared for each other. 
Needing to catch your breath, you pull your lips away from his as he seizes the moment to stroll backwards and sit down on the bench, his nimble hands clasping at your hips, drawing you towards his waiting lap. You comply, gliding lazily over his thighs, and moan when you feel your clothed core brush against the bump of his arousal, barely concealed by those minuscule shorts.
Straddling him, Kylian pulls your body tightly against his with his muscular arms as you return to kissing him, your lips moving in sync with his in a heated dance. You gently scratch the back of his neck, causing him to let out a delicious whimper and buck his hips up into you. You break away with a gasp, feeling a tight emptiness between your thighs. He's so big, and no matter how many times you've been with him, you could never get used to his size.
Kylian takes the opportunity to pepper kisses down your jaw, enveloping your pulse point in his hot mouth. His hungry, wet kisses make you leak like a faucet. "I love you so much, bébé," he whispers.
You bite your lips, trying to contain the goofy smile threatening to split your face.
"Prove it, mon amour," you challenge him, feeling a surge of desire coursing through you.
He grins against your skin. "Is that a challenge, princesse?" he asks, his voice thick with desire.
"Mmhm," you respond, sighing erotically as his sexy chuckle sends shivers down your spine.
Kylian trails his hands up your waist, cupping the underside of your boobs. Flicking his thumbs across your nipples, you let out a whine while unabashedly riding his crotch. He stops kissing your neck to slowly rid of your sports bra. Kylian lets out the sexiest groan seeing your nipples harden due to the sudden exposure. The way his eyes gaze at your breast with such desire cause liquid heat to pool in your panties as you feel your body burning up with lust.
“Putain, bébé. T’es fucking belle,” he whispers before enveloping your left right nipple in his hot wet mouth. You feel yourself losing control in his arms, the sloppy sounds of his mouth sucking your tit and his scent driving you wild. You were absolutely losing your mind. Kylian was always so attentive and knew how to play your body like violin. God, you couldn’t take it anymore, you needed him inside you.
“Ky… please…I need you inside of me…” you whimpered, lifting his head from your chest. The carnal lust on his face almost made you cum on the spot. You could see the absolute torment in his eyes, and you wanted nothing more than to free him from it. “Take my cock out, bébé,” he rasped out. Biting your lip as his command made you gush further dampening your soaked panties, you trailed your hands down his sweaty toned chest, reaching into his shorts and taking out his pulsating member. 
One of the many things you liked about him was how pretty his cock looked, and you knew that’s where half of his ego came from. You couldn’t blame him though with how much he made you cum with it. He was so hot and heavy in your hand, and whimpered when you swiped a thumb over the tip spreading the drops of precum to aid your slide. You pump him gently, listening to him sucking in a hard breath, suppressing a groan. “I thought you needed me inside you, mon amour, hmmm,” his voice heavy with lust as he grabbed your face with one hand giving you a smirk. Cocky bastard, he knew how much you loved his dick, but you knew exactly how to have him begging. Rolling your eyes at him, you quickly got out of his lap causing him to frown, and teasingly pulled your leggings down your legs alongside your panties. 
Kylian let out a deep groan, his dark eyes devouring your naked body, “Viens ici, princesse.” Ignoring him, you walk back and lay down on the fitness mat. Spreading your legs, you glide your fingers down your wet slit, gently circling your clit. You throw your head back in pleasure, hearing Kylian swear in the background. “Merde, tu joues à quoi, mon amour? Je t’avais dit de venir ici.”
Opening your eyes, you see the frustration in his brows as he pouts. “Did I not tell you to prove to me how much you loved me, Ky or did you already forget?���
Realization dawns on his face, as he chuckles getting up from the bench and removing his shorts and boxers. His cock slaps against his abdomen, leaving a wet patch that has you clenching. “Is that how you wanna play, bébé?”
He stalks towards you, kneeling down between your spread legs. His large palms rest on your knees as he opens you to accommodate him. He trails kisses from your right knee and stops right before touching you where you need him the most, and repeats this on your left knee. You pant, eyebrows furrowed and body strung tight. “Ky… please,”
“You wanted to be a little tease, mon amour. You gotta beg better than that,” he tuts lightly blowing on your sex causing you to arch your back from the sensation. Frustrated, you narrow your eyes, “You’re not being fair, Ky.”
“All is fair in love and war, princesses.” He gives you the most shit-eating grin known to men which almost made you slap him before he opening his mouth and covered your pussy in his spit which made your mind short-circuit as you whimpered his name. For fuck’s sake, this man knew exactly how to play you to get what he wants. “Are you going to beg now, bébé?”
You were so wet and horny that you couldn’t think straight, so you gave in, begging him to give you something. Just as his mouth engulfed your throbbing clit, you couldn’t find it in yourself to regret giving in to him. The pleasure he gave you was out of this world as he sucked your clit while pumping two fingers in your pulsating channel. You sigh out pornographically, practically suffocating Kylian between your thighs. Your hips develop a mind of their own as the sloppy sounds of Kylian eating you out fill your body with uncontrollable desire. 
You pant with with pleasure, as you feel yourself hurtling towards your release. “Merde… Kylian, I’m gonna come.”
Hearing that, Kylian increases the pace of his fingers as his tongue continues to draw tight circle around your sensitive nub. A few seconds later, you feel the tight knot in your stomach burst, as you come all over your boyfriend’s tongue. Kylian pulls away from your core, his full lips glistening with your cum. Coming down your high, you look at him, heart so full of love that you can’t help but grab his face, pulling him down on you and kissing him deeply. You taste yourself on his lips, moaning into his mouth. Mine, you think as you grind against his groin, wrapping your legs around him. 
“I need to be inside you right now, mon coeur,” Kylian moaned into your mouth. “Do it, Ky. I want to feel you.”
That’s all the incentive he needed, as he gripped the base of his cock, lining himself up at your entrance before pushing in causing the both of you to moan. The glide was seamless due to how soaked your pussy was. Kylian lets out a delicious groan as he bottoms into you stretching your walls to the brim, his nose flush against yours as your breaths mingle. “Putain, this pussy is always so tight for me.”
You can feel your second orgasm already simmering as you tighten your legs around Kylian. “Ky… please move…I need you so bad,” you practically sob. 
“Fuck, no need to beg, bébé. I got you…I  got you so bad, bébé.” 
He thrusts into you slowly a few times, letting you adjust to his incredible size. The pain always gave you so much pleasure. Kylian was the only one who could hit all your spots, and make you see stars. 
“Faster, Ky…Take me just like you want, baby.”
That’s all the greenlight Kylian needed before he started jachammering inside you instantly finding your g-spot, making you scream. His pace is fast and brutal making you see stars as your pleasure skyrockets making you clench him hard. 
“Fuck, bébé, your pussy’s so fucking perfect…Merde…I’m not gonna last…”
Kylian unwraps your legs from around and throws them over his shoulders, bending you in half causing him to drives himself deeper into you with such jaw-droppingly good friction, that you feel tears streaming dow your face. 
“Fuck, Ky…Too much…I can’t…I’m gonna cum!” you sob, digging your nails into his biceps as your body stars spasming, your orgasm ripping through you, whitening your vision.
“That’s right, princess. Fuck…soak my cock.” Kylian buries his face in the crook of your neck, as he cums a few strokes later, fucking you both through your orgasm. Coming down from your high, you open your eyes and gently stroke the back of Kylian’s head as gently lifts your legs from his shoulders, rolling onto his back with you in his arms. Tiredly giggling, you prop yourself up and gaze down in his face. He looked so adorable with his swollen lips and reddened cheeks that your couldnt help but lean down and kiss him. Breaking the kiss, you look into his eyes, gently caressing his cheek, “I love you so much, Ky. I want you to know that I’ll always be there for you.” 
Softly gazing at you, Kylian pecks your lips, resting his forehead against yours. “I know, bébé. Thank you for always being by my side. I love you to the moon and back,” he says cheesily making you giggle. The both of you stayed wrapped up in each other’s arms knowing that no matter what happened, you would always have each other to lean on. 
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neolovesneo · 1 year
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AFTER ALL THESE YEARS.
skater!mark, nurse!reader, elderbrother!johnny | fluff | best friends to strangers to friends to lovers au
note ; requests are open!! + im back i guess?? i said the same thing last year august but then i disappeared again lol,, anyways enjoy this mark fic thats been in my drafts for god knows how long </3
taglist ; @soobin-chois (lmk if you'd like to be added to my taglist!)
tw: mentions of blood, broken arms, and a hospital
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Summer, 2011. (12)
"Coming through!" Johnny dramatically bellows down the halls, using his arm to swat anyone out of his way. "Injured individual making his way to Biology, get out of the way!"
Mark's face flushes bright red at his brother's antics, groaning as he kept his eyes on the ground. "Dude, will you stop it? I can walk through the crowd myself." he mumbles.
It's not like Mark can't walk either; it was just a broken arm from a nasty skateboard fall last week. Which was mainly Johnny's idea - he somehow persuaded Mark to attempt an ollie on the staircases.
Keyword: attempt.
"Yeah, yeah," Johnny huffs, stopping as they arrived outside Mark's classroom. "That's what you're saying now, and you'd go home and whine to Mom later about how I didn't 'take care of you like an elder brother should'."
The younger is about to protest but Johnny rolls his eyes, opening the classroom door and lightly pushing Mark in.
"Just be careful. Don't blow anything up, see you at lunch!"
And with that, Johnny speeds off to his own class, a blurry figure rapidly sprinting down the halls.
"Bye!" Mark calls, waving stiffly with his left hand.
"Oh my God Mark, what happened?"
You're facing the Canadian with wide eyes of surprise and concern when he turns around, jaw dropped.
"Fell down the stairs on my skateboard last week." he sighs, clambering onto the high stools of the Biology classroom. "I landed on my elbow, and I broke the bone all the way till here."
Your gaze follows his finger's motion, jaw dropping at the horrifying image of your best friend breaking almost his entire arm. "Did it hurt? Did you sit in an ambulance? Did the doctors give you any candy?"
Mark scoffs, awkwardly moving his casted arm. "We're twelve, Y/N. Big girls and boys don't get candy anymore."
You hum in realization, but Mark leans in to whisper after a while.
"The X-ray machine was kinda scary though," he whispers, looking left and right suspiciously, not wanting anyone to overhear. "Looked like a gigantic door handle."
You grimace at this, staring weirdly at Mark. "So they used a door handle to take your X-ray?"
"What? No!"
Mark facepalms, shaking his head. "Didn't you say you wanted to be a nurse when you grow up?" he asks suspiciously, frowning at you. " Kinda stupid of you to think that doctors use door handles to take X-rays."
You gasp dramatically at his words, squinting at him. "You were the one who said it looked like a door handle!" You retort, waving your pencil around as if it'd prove your point.
Mark scoffs at this, swatting your pencil out of his face. "I said it looked like a door handle, I never said it was a door handle. Basic English, Y/N."
A slight flame begins to burn in both of your glares, angsty puberty hormones starting to set into action.
"Oh yeah? Well I'm not the one who failed Engli-"
"Mark and Y/N! Stop talking or I'll make you stand outside!"
The sudden boom of your Biology teacher, Mr. Kim, prompts the two of you to immediately shut up, back to sitting as still as statues.
He glowers at the two of you for a moment before turning back towards the whiteboard, starting to explain about the day's topic.
"Sorry for calling you stupid." Mark mumbles quietly after a few awkward minutes pass by, softly nudging your arm. "I didn't mean it."
"I'm sorry for getting mad." you reply guiltily, patting his casted one in return.
"Wanna sign my cast after class?"
Your eyes light up with excitement and you nod readily. "Sure! Can I draw a star? How about a flower? Ooh, or maybe a-"
"Mark and Y/N, outside right now!"
Oops.
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Spring, 2023. (24)
"Y/N, you're needed down by Ward 802, got a guy in with a broken arm."
You nod quickly in response and sprint off towards the said ward.
Having worked as a full-time emergency department nurse for the past year, broken arms had become the ordinary for you.
If anything, they were one of the easiest situations to deal with in the emergency department everyday. Well, as long as they weren't pierced through the skin, with blood everywhe-
Mark Lee?
You freeze in surprise when you tug the curtains open to see the all-too-familiar figure laying there, another nurse already working over his limp arm.
His head of curly, black hair turns to face the door, eyes wide like saucers the moment he sees you.
"Y/N?" he squeaks.
Your mouth dries up as your brain tries to calculate how long it's been since you've seen him, the start of him moving out of Canada for college slowly dragging your friendship apart till it seemingly no longer existed.
And now he's right back here in front of you, almost exactly the same as he was when he left.
"Mark? What are you doing here?" you mumble, stunned.
He chuckles dryly at this, jerking his head towards the direction of his arm. "I think you already know."
The nurse working over his arm sighs, shaking her head as the last roll of bandage wraps around his cast.
"Is he your friend? You need to tell him to be more careful," she scolds as she ticks something off a chart. "This is the third time I've seen him in here!"
Mark can only smile guiltily in admittance as the nurse leaves the ward, mentioning to you how a quick debrief on what to do with his injury will be enough to dismiss him.
"So," he starts, sitting up. "Long time no see! How have you been?"
"I need to tell you about your broken arm first." you interrupted sheepishly, holding up his X-ray. "Let's see. You've broken your ulna from here to her-"
Now it's Mark's turn to interrupt you as he gently pushes his X-ray away.
"Y/N, I've broken my arm like, over ten times. I know the drill." he insists. "How have you been?"
Looking right into his eyes, the countless years of lost contact and drifting friendship does nothing to your memory. His eyes were just as wide and sparkly as they were when you were kids, and his hair was still as dark as his bedroom when you slept over and exchanged secrets in whispered giggles.
"Hello? Earth to Y/N? How have you been?"
His question snaps you out of your thoughts, and the boyish glint in his intense gaze makes your heart skip a beat.
It doesn't help that your stupid little crush on him comes rushing back too, and you can only hope Mark doesn't notice the way your face starts to flush red.
"Well... I missed you." you started, voice trailing off as you avoided eye contact. "It's been years."
"What happened to your promises of calling and keeping in touch?" you asked quietly. A dull pain starts to settle in your heart as it recalls the days where light blended into darkness, and darkness blended into light while Mark was thousands of miles away.
Mark winces at your question, awkwardly scratching his head. "Well, can I be honest?" he mumbles, now focused on picking on a loose thread off his T-shirt.
Your head shoots up, nervous and excited to hear what's been holding your childhood best friend from keeping in touch the moment he stepped foot out of your home country.
"Yeah, be as honest as you want to."
Mark nods, taking in a big breath as you notice the tip of his ears turning red.
"Well, I really liked you." he admits, grinning sheepishly as he kept his gaze glued to the floor.
"And when I left Canada, I wasn't sure if I'd ever be back on a long-term basis, so I decided to just give up on you. I didn't want to act on an impulse and end up hurting the both of us."
You blink in surprise, the truth bringing a sense of relief and yet a slight sting of pain.
"But don't you think that completely not talking to me would hurt me too?" you suggested. "I really, really, really missed you Mark."
The shift in your tone prompts him to look up at you, his eyes glazing over when he notices your pink ones. He reaches out for your hands, and it takes you right back to the past.
"I'm sorry. I just didn't know what to do with my feelings." he mumbled, eyes earnestly looking at you.
"Well, for the record, I liked you too, you know." you sniffled, brushing away a tear.
Mark sits up straight. "You did...?" he questions in disbelief.
You hummed in reply.
It was never anything serious, but Mark had your entire heart in the palm of his hands for those few years. You still remembered the times where his bright smile and soothing voice was all you could think about, squealing happily in your bedroom after each time you hung out together.
You bask in the bitter sweetness of the memories until Mark gets your attention.
"Well, how about now?"
"Now?" you echoed in disbelief.
Mark nods, doe eyes wide and staring into you so deeply that you squirmed shyly.
"I uh- I..." you sputtered, aware of the warmth rushing to your cheeks.
"We can get to know each other again first." he suggests. "What time does your shift end?"
You take a quick glance at your watch, glad for the break from Mark's intense eye contact.
"My shift ends in two hours. Maybe we can meet again some other day? I think you need to get some rest."
Mark shakes his head. "I'm fine! Don't worry about it." he breezes. "How about pizza after your shift? I can come pick you up."
You chuckle at his idea, gently nudging his casted arm.
"With this bad boy on your arm? I don't think you'll be able to do any driving for a while, Mark."
Stubbornly, Mark continues. "Then can I have your number? We can plan a date."
The word 'date' sends adrenaline rushing up to your mind, and your heart races as you fumble for your phone in your pocket.
"Wait, can you just write it down for me?" Mark interrupts.
"Sure." you agree, trying to play it cool as you pull out a marker from a nearby drawer.
You were expecting a piece of paper or whatnot, but Mark sticks out his casted arm instead.
"Huh?" you mumble, confused.
"Your number." he says casually. "Write it on my cast."
The scratch of the marker against the white bandage fills up the silence of the room as you do so, unlocking another core memory as you recall doing the same thing ten years ago at school.
"Remember when you signed my cast in sixth grade?" Mark chuckles, as if he had read your mind. "Kinda funny to see us doing the same thing ten years later."
You smile at his words, warmth blooming in your heart at the memory.
Maybe things will work out with Mark, even after all these years.
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© neolovesneo, 2023.
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lostloveletters · 5 months
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A Long, Lonely Time (David Webster x Reader)
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Summary: You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone, but when Webster returns to Easy Company, you find it difficult to reckon with the very real possibility of losing him again, maybe even for good.
Note: Gender neutral reader, and no descriptors are used. The draft script of episode 3 provides more background on Webster transferring into Easy Company, which isn’t explained in the show for some reason (a shame because they cut out some pretty great scenes), but I included a handful of the details here. This is based on the fictional portrayals in the HBO miniseries and not the real individuals. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.
Word count: 2.5k
Warnings: Hurt/angst with comfort. Mentions of Eugene Jackson’s death. Playing with the timeline of episode 8 a little bit. Probably some other historical inaccuracies. Do not interact if you’re under 18.
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Two days. David Webster had only been back for two days, and you kissed him.
Your crush on him had hibernated in his absence, frozen in a forest with the rest of you. It thawed as soon as you saw him for the first time in months.
The other members of Easy weren’t so quick to warm up to him again. No matter, it just gave you more time to spend with him. You appreciated how from the moment the two of you first bonded over your shared love of literature, he was genuinely interested in your thoughts and opinions, assuaging your fears that you’d be a lackluster companion to the Ivy Leaguer.
He could’ve taken the easy route as others with a privileged background like his had done and allowed his social status to get himself a cushy position. However, he, like Caption Nixon, inexplicably chose the rest of you. Unlike Nixon and yet just as inexplicable, he rejected any promotions. Odd, yet admirable, like when he’d approached Winters in Aldbourne after D-Day, requesting to transfer from Fox to Easy to put his skills as an assistant machine gunner to better use.
None of that mattered to your comrades anymore, but as a medic, you appreciated that he took recovering from being wounded seriously. You told him such, and he smiled, confessing that he had used his stint in the hospital for one selfish indulgence. Later, when the two of you were alone; he pulled a brown paper package from his pack, privately presenting you with a gift he got his hands on for you. Ripping back the wrapping, you beamed when you saw the cover of a brand new ASE copy of The Postman Always Rings Twice.
Your worn copy of Jane Eyre had been waterlogged from the snow and rendered illegible. New books were low priority in the Bois Jacques, so you were left without reading material for longer than you would’ve liked.
The book was the first time in what felt like years you’d received a gift. You had almost forgotten how nice it was, especially something so thoughtful. So you kissed him, impulsively, passionately, threading your fingers through his hair to pull him closer, your other hand gripping the book tightly. 
He kissed you back with a tenderness that had long since become foreign to you and felt almost too overwhelming as a result. His lips were soft and warm compared to yours, chapped from weeks of unrelenting cold, but he was undeterred. His hands held your waist, his fingers gently pressing against the skin that’d been exposed as your untucked shirt had ridden up. You shuddered against him, feeling goosebumps rise on your skin–either the cold air, or his touch. Probably both.
Hearing the clamoring of nearby voices, you reluctantly broke the kiss.
“I don’t have anything to give you,” you lamented breathlessly.
His blue eyes seemed to sparkle when he smiled. “I think we’re even.”
“You know,” you began, turning the book over to glance at the synopsis, “all I ever heard when this came out was that it was dirty. Are you trying to tell me something?”
“Books aren’t dirty. It’s embarrassing that Boston even bans them the way they do.”
“Have you read it?”
“I haven’t, but that’s not the point. They’d ban Shakespeare if he were publishing today.”
“I don’t disagree with you,” you said, suppressing an amused smile, “but I only asked because I thought we could read it together, if you don’t mind the company.”
His expression softened. “I’d love that.”
Smiling, you leaned in for another kiss when the door opened, and the two of you jumped away from each other like the other was on fire.
You relaxed when you saw Roe standing in the doorway. He gave you an almost exasperated look, but that was all. For the moment.
“Webster,” Gene said, giving him a nod of acknowledgement before shifting his attention to you. “Will you sort through those supplies Luz got earlier? I gotta check on Lipton.”
“Sure,” you said with a nod. “Thanks again, Web–David, the book’s great.”
He smiled. “Of course.”
You followed Gene out of the room, walking side-by-side down the hallway until you were a decent distance from Webster and out of earshot from anyone who might otherwise eavesdrop. When your best friend stopped in his tracks, you mirrored him, flattering a bit beneath the weight of his disapproving glare.
“Are you crazy?” Gene scolded.
“He gave me a book. It’s not–don’t look at me like that.”
“However wounded he gets, it’s gonna be a lot worse for you.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t know. This ain’t the time or place.”
“There might not be another time or place,” you argued.
He sighed, either conceding to your argument or not finding it worth wasting any more breath over. For how long you’d known him, he could be impossibly difficult to read. “Just be careful, alright?”
Gene brought you to the recently delivered boxes of medical supplies, desperately needed weeks ago. Better late than never. You rifled through bandages and morphine, hands shaking a bit as you tried not to think about who might have still been there if it’d come in sooner. But Webster came back, even though you’d long been convinced you’d never see him again. At least if the worst happened, you wouldn’t have to wonder if your feelings for him were reciprocated.
The worst. You weren’t sure what, out of everything you’d seen the past few months, could have been considered the worst. Slow deaths, blown off limbs, or men whose bodies and psyche were trapped in that place between life and death. But you couldn’t let yourself spiral, not when so many people were relying on you. Hope seemed increasingly hard to find, and if indulging in whatever you had with David gave you the slightest bit more, you’d take it.
As if materializing from your thoughts of him, he walked into the room, silent concern etched in his face.
“There’s a patrol tonight,” he said. “We’re going across the river to bring back prisoners.”
“Who all’s going?” You figured if he was breaking the news to you, he’d be included. A sinking feeling dropped in your stomach when he answered, nevertheless.
“Most of 2nd platoon, except Liebgott and Malarkey.”
“It’s always 2nd platoon,” you muttered. “So you’re going as translator, then?”
He nodded. “The Krauts won’t expect us, at least that’s what they say.”
“I’m still gonna worry,” you said softly. “Just got you back.”
“Comes with the territory, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, it does.”
“I’ll find you as soon as we’re done,” he promised.
“Can I give you a kiss for good luck?”
“I’ll never say no to that.”
You pressed your lips to his, craving the tenderness he’d given you earlier like it was missing from your veins. You hadn’t realized how much you needed it, soft words and tender touches that made you finally feel something other than numb and tired. Desire that would long remain unfulfilled had settled deep inside of you, and you desperately wished you and David were somewhere, anywhere else. 
Holding onto him just as tightly as you were trying to keep your restraint, you went as far as he led you, open-mouthed kisses burning into your skin until a moan escaped your lips, nearly giving the two of you away.
“You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met,” he said, giving you a quick kiss that felt achingly insufficient for what you wanted from him.
“Wait ‘til you get me in bed,” you joked.
He laughed, caressing your cheek. “I mean it. I’ve never known anyone like you.”
“Shame we had to meet this way, huh? But then we probably would’ve gone the rest of our lives not knowing each other at all.”
“That’d be a real tragedy.”
“You’re telling me.”
Far too soon for your liking, though you weren’t sure how much time had passed in all honesty, he made his leave as the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder and darkness began to fall. 
You tried to keep your mind off of the patrol, assure yourself that you were worrying for nothing. Sitting on an empty couch, you finally got a better look at the book he presented you with, not having a chance to before. He’d written on the blank cover page, filled the whole thing and then some.
Beneath your name, carefully written in pencil, an inscription, detailing the longing he felt from your absence, his heart growing fonder of you with each passing day but struggling to assuage the loneliness and doubt that began to coil around it. The sound of your voice, your laughter, so vivid in his dreams that he’d wake up looking for you. He’d taken your friendship for granted, he claimed, but though the two of you met during less than ideal circumstances, getting shot was worth meeting you. Your vision began to blur with tears by the time you reached the end of his confession, ‘I missed you before we ever met, and now that we have, I miss you even more.’
You slammed the book shut, choking out a sob. It wasn’t fair. You’d just gotten him back, and in the blink of an eye you could lose him again, possibly for good. In that moment you understood better than ever why medics were supposed to keep their emotional distance, but the pain in your chest, the salty tears that stung your eyes were all worth it for the brief comfort you had found with him. You’d been so lonely otherwise, constantly surrounded by people but still feeling something missing until he returned.
Your name sounded muffled to the ringing in your ears, until Gene sat next to you, putting his arm around your shoulder. 
“Don’t get too stuck in your head. Won’t be able to help no one like that,” Gene said, holding you in the hug. “Don’t think about it.”
“How can I not? It’s all around us–I can’t–”
“Yes, you can. You wouldn’t be here if you couldn’t.”
You let out a shaky breath. “I don’t feel like it sometimes. I feel like I’m just–”
“Just one person and it’s never gonna be enough.”
Something had happened in Bastogne, the last time he went back to the town. He never spoke of it, even when you offered to be an unjudging ear to spill his thoughts to, but you could tell it affected him deeply, even still. Knowing he was speaking from experience was an almost painful comfort.
“Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll be up,” he said.
“You sure?”
He nodded. 
When he left, you set the book aside, silently promising yourself that you wouldn’t read it without Webster. If he didn’t return, it’d stay with you, unread until you met your own demise. An unnecessarily dramatic gesture to only yourself, you hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
The following hours found you in and out of sleep, almost unable to discern your erratic dreams with troubling reality. Footsteps and voices muddled together into unintelligible ramblings that you couldn’t help interpret as the worst in your near fugue state. Your worry was laced with frustration at letting the situation cause you so much distress. You were a medic, after all. You were supposed to be prepared for this.
Still, you couldn’t help but feel a momentary wave of relief crash over you when Webster walked into the room.
“Thank god,” you whispered, throwing your arms around him and kissing his cheek. 
His embrace was stiff, awkward, and the far away expression on his face gave you pause.
“David, what happened?”
“Jackson’s dead. It was his own grenade. He didn’t wait long enough. It just…”
“Oh my god.”
“He didn’t die right away.”
“Why didn’t someone get me? Maybe I could’ve–”
“By the time Sergeant Martin got Doc Roe it was already too late. There was nothing Doc could do—nothing you could’ve done,” he said quietly, before adding, “I’m glad you didn’t see it.”
“I’ve seen worse by now.”
“Why add onto it?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too. That I didn’t write to you, that I didn’t tell you sooner how I felt about you, but it’s no use dwelling on all of that now,” he said. “It can’t change anything, and no matter how sorry we are, it won’t bring Jackson back, or anyone else, for that matter.”
It was settling in, that same bitterness that’d made its home in the bones of your comrades. A taste in your mouth that could be mistaken for blood by anyone else, but you knew it all too well. Your heart ached at seeing it finally get to Webster, too.
“Do you wanna just sit for a while?” you asked.
He nodded. The two of you settled onto the couch, his head in your lap as you ran your fingers through his hair, gently tracing the soft lines that ran across his forehead, betraying that despite his closed eyes, his mind was still racing. 
“This isn’t exactly how I wanted to spend the rest of the night with you,” he mumbled after a while, his eyes fluttering open.
“David, it’s alright,” you said, your thumb brushing back and forth across his cheekbone, trying to pull his mind out of the depths you knew too well. “I’m glad just to do this. I’m kind of crazy about you.”
“Kind of?”
“Yeah, just a little bit.”
“What would I have to do to make you a fully-fledged lunatic?”
“Horrible, indecent things that would get me sent home in shame.”
He laughed. “But crazy about me?”
“Absolutely wild.”
He took your hand from his face, kissing your palm before holding it in his. 
You weren’t sure when you’d fallen asleep, but you awoke the next morning with an unforgiving crick in your neck, and the thought of the recently delivered aspirin tempted you for a split second before you realized you’d woken up by yourself.
He probably slipped out at some point, returning to his bunk so neither of you would get into any trouble. It didn’t stop you from asking around for him until you finally caught him alone.
“Hey, where’d you run off to?” you asked.
“Sink wants another patrol,” Webster told you, watching cautiously as your hands balled into fists at your side.
You fought back tears of frustration. “Then I wanna go too. I’ll make sure nothing like what happened last night happens again. Where’s Captain Winters? I’ll–”
“Winters is going to tell him a phony story about how we went back but couldn’t get any more prisoners.”
You paused, your brain taking a moment to process the information before you let out a weak laugh in disbelief, the tears that’d welled up in your eyes rolling down your cheeks regardless. Maybe you were delirious. Or sleep deprived. And your neck still hurt. “That man is a fucking saint.”
Webster smiled, putting his arm around you and pressing a kiss to your temple. “He is. Especially since that leaves me free the rest of the night.”
“You know, this handsome guy just gave me a brand new copy of The Postman Always Rings Twice.”
“Sounds like he has good taste.”
You smiled. “Yeah, I’d say so.”
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ghouljams · 6 months
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I thought about something for ghost!Ghost.
Does the property have a garden or something ? I don’t really think ghosts really sleep, so maybe Ghost roams around the outside part of the property when he feels like taking a walk, or when he feels like something might be wrong. He probably scared a burglar or two to death while reader is lost in her dreams ?
Also, I think I read something about Ghost’s voice actor saying that the man would enjoy romance movies ? Or maybe I dreamed about this. But what about reader bringing back DVDs and books for Ghost when she’s not at home. Perhaps she would end up figuring out which genre he likes best, maybe one that she doesn’t indulge in often herself, so she has to find excuses like « oh I heard good things about that book » or « I wanted to try this type of movies again » when her friends mention it ?
I wish I could write as fast as you do. But I’ve been so stressed out and my head is so full of ideas that I rarely know where to start, so I’m stuck most of the time. I wish I had friends to gush about things like that with. But hey, I started writing the introduction to a witch character mentioned in my last one-shot, a friend of the Hunter’s. It’s a start !
Lots of love, Friend. I’m sending tons of inspiration to both you and Maelstrom :3
Sam mentioned it in a tweet I think! Yeah Ghost is a ran of rom-coms, which is a great genre for him tbh. I think reader leaves the TV on to Hallmark(do folks in the UK get hallmark? You're missing out, great crappy romcoms all day) one day and comes home to a completely in tact house. Nothing out of place because Ghost just sat and watched people fall in love all day.
Definitely gets him books and leaves them out for him to flip through at his leisure. Tries out different genres but always has to get them in heavy hard backs so they don't close on him while he's reading.
I think there is a garden but it's overgrown. Reader hasn't tackled it yet, but Ghost can wander the property. He doesn't have any particular reason to now that you're around and he can just stare at you all day, but he used to go right up to the property line and try to make himself cross it. Not good times for Ghost.
I don't think anyone should write at the pace I do. It's probably not healthy. I don't recommend measuring yourself against my pace, I'm mentally unwell. Brain broke, only a fic machine now. My tip on starting is just to put your ideas down in words. Where you start doesn't matter just get the scene out of your head and worry about where to start later. There's no such thing as a perfect first draft.
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goldfish-afterhours · 3 months
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ROB THEM BLIND - ONE
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— Home // Genshin Impact Bank Robbery AU
“Welcome to Minlin Bank. How may I help you today?”
As the line shuffled forward slowly, Lumine felt her throat becoming tighter and tighter; the note stuffed in her jacket pocket growing heavier and heavier. She was sweating—partly from the thick jacket engulfing her body, its hood flopped to her eyes to obstruct her face—but also because of what she was about to do. 
‘This is a robbery. I am armed—do not think about resisting or alerting anyone. Put all the money in this envelope and you will not be hurt.’
Lumine had scrawled those words on a piece of lined paper last night, ripped straight out of a notepad. Multiple discarded drafts littered her hotel room from all her attempts at obscuring her handwriting. 
“Next! Good morning, sir, welcome to Minlin Bank.”
The person in front of her left for the desk, and Lumine shifted forwards, so she was now the first in line. All of a sudden, she felt very exposed, as if all eyes were on her now that she was at the front of the line. She clenched her fists. I can do this, she told herself. I have to do this. 
“Next!” A cheery clerk waved her over. She looked young, even younger than Lumine, with bright eyes and black hair braided in two loop pigtails. For a moment, Lumine felt dazed. How would her actions affect this young bank teller? Would Lumine be able to sleep soundly tonight, knowing that she had threatened someone so innocent? 
The young lady’s voice broke into Lumine’s thoughts. “Welcome to Minlin Bank. How can I help you today, ma’am?”
Lumine took a shaky breath. Before she could back out, she pulled her hood tighter over her head, plunged her hand into her pocket, and—
“Get on the ground! Get on the ground!” a deep voice bellowed. Gunshots sliced through the air, embedding themselves into the walls like meteors with a sickening bang! Glass shattered, and the poor clerk serving Lumine screamed. 
“Last chance unless you want your head blown off! Get on the ground!” another voice shouted above the chaos of people crying and bodies falling to the floor. 
Lumine felt someone tug at her clothes. “What are you doing? Hurry and get down!” a woman whispered, looking up at her with eyes wide in terror.  
She crumpled the note back into her pocket and dropped down with everyone else. Most people were cowering on the floor with their hands over their heads, but Lumine was bold enough to tilt her head up slightly to catch a glimpse of what was going on. 
There were four—no, five of them. All male, all wearing some sort of mask to hide their face. The man who had shouted first donned a sinister red mask, with bared teeth and horns sprouting out of its head. He was so big he made the machine gun in his hands look tiny. Red tattoos ran down his arms as he tapped the muzzle of his weapon against anyone who held their head too high. Two men leapt over the counters, bags in their hands. A loud thump and the shriek of metal against metal meant they had successfully broken into the tills, and Lumine could hear the rustling of paper as they stuffed the cash into their bags. 
Curiously, there was a man standing at the front entrance of the bank. He had no visible weapons on him, and his arms were crossed. He was clearly not acting as a lookout—his back was to the front doors. Yet he made no effort to subdue or intimidate the people either. He just stood there, watching, white hood shrouding his face. He almost looked like a grim reaper dressed in white. 
“Hey, girlie. You’re holding your head a lil high. Got a death wish?” a playful voice breathed down Lumine’s neck. For a moment, she contemplated turning around and punching him right in the middle of his elaborate crimson mask, but that would surely draw too much attention. Instead, she covered her arms above her head like everyone else, even pretending to tremble. But in reality, her blood was burning through her veins. 
The groan of the counter and the sound of boots hitting the ground alerted Lumine that the robbers had obtained their goal. It was only a matter of minutes now. 
“Okay, okay, you can all get up now,” the man in the red-horned mask said. She craned her neck up to peek from her hood, and several customers were also starting to stir. The loud bang of a gunshot, however, made everyone drop to the floor once again. “Just kidding~ Stay down and count to a thousand. Any person who moves before that gets a bullet in their tongue.” 
‘One, two, three, four…’ Lumine could practically hear everyone counting under their breaths. But if she waited to one thousand with all of them, the criminals would definitely slip away, and she could not let that happen. 
‘Twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight…’ At this point, the thundering of boots faded away. The only sounds audible in the bank were heavy breathing and muffled sobs. 
As quietly as she could, Lumine slowly got to her feet, careful not to rustle her jacket. No one paid her any notice. Lightly, she stepped around the shaking bodies on the floor. Shards of broken glass sprayed the counter and floor. Bullet holes decorated the walls and the ceiling; surprisingly, the fish tank in the corner of the room came out unscathed. A bright red goldfish flicked its tail in the water as it changed direction, unconcerned with the violence that had just taken place. 
The police had not yet arrived, but Lumine could hear their sirens in the distance. And if she could hear it, that meant the robbers would hear it soon too. She had to leave, right now. 
Lumine carefully stepped through the giant hole in one of the glass entry doors. The road was deserted, all pedestrians having fled the moment the armed robbery began. 
She shut her eyes. Wind whistled past her ear. She could hear the street lamps humming lowly, a cricket chirping, the soft paws of a cat leaping onto a fence, and—
Heavy boots. 
Lumine’s eyes flew up and she broke into a run to the back of the building, down an alleyway, towards the direction of the sound. The footsteps were soon joined by the low rustles of paper money being jolted against a moving bag. Right before voices became audible, Lumine slowed to a walk, then tiptoeing on the cobblestone walkway.
“...talk too much. You think this is a game?” a voice snapped, his voice dripping with annoyance. 
“What’s wrong with that? I might as well have some fun with it!” 
Lumine pressed her back against the wall, summoning the courage to peer past the corner. Three of the five robbers were walking down the alleyway. A large bag was hoisted over the biggest man’s shoulder, while the ginger-haired man who had threatened Lumine was walking beside him, one hand in his pocket while the other twirled a gun around his finger. The third person with them was unfamiliar; she must have missed him during the chaos. He was much smaller than the other two, but he seemed to be scolding them without any fear, despite the largest man’s bicep being the size of his entire head. 
“C’mon Xiao, let Itto have a little fun with it! What’s the problem?” the ginger-haired man said airly. 
“The problem is he acts like a stupid oaf. Him just being there makes us more likely to get caught,” the one called Xiao retorted.
“Hey, I don’t act stupid!” Itto exclaimed indignantly. “In fact…you act stupid! Stupid!”
As they bickered with each other, Lumine took the chance to creep closer and closer behind them, darting into the next alleyway or behind corners to remain out of sight. They were talking so loudly to each other, she was sure they did not detect that someone was trailing them.
Until her foot hit a pebble. It barely made a sound as it fell back on the cobblestone paths. 
But these robbers were better than she had given them credit for. Xiao immediately stopped in his tracks. “Shut up.”
“No, you shut up!”
“We’re being followed.”
Lumine held her breath, but the footsteps became louder, as if they knew exactly where she was. She waited a few moments—maybe they would dismiss it as their imagination and be back on their way—but they came insistently closer. 
Okay, too close. I have to go, she thought. But before she could even move a muscle, a hand flew between her shoulder and neck, trapping her against the wall. 
“Now, now, what do we have here? Someone trying to play the hero?” The elaborate red mask was now resting against the side of his head, revealing his face. This is never a good sign—it meant he had no fear of her seeing what he looked like, since dead men tell no tales. His voice was playful and smile teasing, but his blue eyes were void of anything, as if they barely registered Lumine in front of him. “Didn’t you hear the big, scary man? You want a bullet in your pretty face that badly?” He leaned closer, but she did not flinch. 
“No,” Lumine responded. “I want compensation.” 
Before the man could respond, she pulled out the crumpled note from her pocket, unfolding it with one hand and shoving it in his face. “I was just about to rob them when you stole my target.”
The man squinted his eyes at the note before scoffing. “So what? You want us to open our bag right now and hand you a stack?”
“Just one stack? Don’t play. I want to talk to your boss. I’ll negotiate with them.” She put the note back in her pocket.
His lips curled into a sneer. “And just why would we let you do that?”
“Because you’re going to want this back, won’t you?” Lumine spun a blue charm around her finger. 
The man seemed to do a double-take. He looked down at his belt, confirming that the blue charm that was hanging from a chain on his belt loop was indeed gone. He looked back at Lumine, no sign of surprise on his face, but she could see that he was now clenching his jaw. 
Lumine winced as the cold metal muzzle of the gun made contact with her cheek. He was still smiling, but any trace of amusement was gone. “Give that back, girlie,” he said smoothly, as if chiding a toddler, “and I promise you’ll still be able to see out of one eye after.” 
Itto, who had been listening quietly behind him the entire time, finally broke his silence. “Hey, wha—? Didn’t Zhongles tell us not to hurt anyone if we can help it? You can’t shoot her just for that, Ajax!” 
“Watch me,” Ajax responded, clicking off the safety of his gun. 
The shortest one who had detected Lumine in the first place tugged at Ajax’s arm, the one holding the gun against her face. “Don’t,” he insisted. “Just bring her to him. He will decide.” 
Ajax’s eyes flicked to glare at Xiao, and for a moment, Lumine thought he was going to turn the gun on him instead. But instead, the ginger-haired man sighed and lowered his arm. 
He stepped away, and Lumine let out a gasp of relief, her heart threatening to leap out of her chest. 
Ajax shrugged. “Alright, alright, I can’t argue with my brothers, can I?” he said. “Count yourself lucky, little lady. You just earned yourself an audience with the Guili Assembly’s head.” He shook his head at them, as if they had just convinced him not to buy an ice cream cone instead of murder. “But watch yourself.” His empty eyes flicked back to Lumine, and she had to will herself not to flinch. 
“One wrong move and you’re dead.” 
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makereadgrow · 5 months
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English paper pieced Aperiodic Monotile wall hanging is complete!
This block is based on the Smith, Myers, Kaplan, and Goodman-Strauss's aperiodic monotile known as the "hat" (explainer here https://amp.cnn.com/cnn/2023/04/06/world/the-hat-einstein-shape-tile-discovery-scn/index.html and the original publication https://arxiv.org/abs/2303.10798 )
In order to make this I broke the shape down to its most basic form - the 30-60-90 triangle. I drafted my own triangles on cardstock and glue basted the fabric to the forms. 
 From there I built up the shapes in shades of grey with a pop of orange. I wanted colors that both hid the complexity of the blocks and revealed it upon closer inspection. Ultimately I want the viewer to find new details as they look closer and longer at the peice. 
Midway through making blocks I came to the realization (probably missed when I read the articles) that some of the shapes are mirrored in the tiling. I had already made my orange block but I elected to partially disassemble it and make that my central mirrored shape. 
Initially I had no plan for how many blocks I would make. I essentially madr blocks until I was bored of making them. Because of the somewhat fluid nature of all the seams assembly of the blocks together was far simpler than I expected. I could fold in essentially any direction without creasing the triangles. I used a diagram from the Smith et al paper as my guide to assembly. 
Once I had it all together it was time to quilt. Honestly the quilting pattern I chose was something of an impulse but initial tests were nothing short of delightful. While my local store carries only a few colors thicker hand thread I was able to find a soft grey that stood out on every fabric in this quilt, but didn't have such a harsh contrast that you can't look past the stitching. My design are simply 3" squares that overlap in the corners and were measured on the fly. Their irregularities are accidental but still a feature. 
Finally I came to binding. I realized I had 42 corners to get around. I used a 1" bias strip to bias face the peice, folding out the seam allowances on the outer edge to secure the binding by hand. The only machine work on this quilt is in the seams connecting the binding strips. In hindsight I should have cut my binding strips at 1.25" but I managed to get it all turned and stitched down. This was most certainly the most challenging part of the entire peice. 
And now it hangs on my bare office wall, enticing me to stare at more than just a blank space. 
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bunnieshoneys · 4 months
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i voted hockey but ONLY because there was no "both" option!! but listen, i'm starting to think you have crawled into my brain somehow, because i feel like your stsg fic is for meeeee
much like i waited and waited for an f1 au, i periodically check up for figure skating fic and hockey fic and now you're telling me??? that you????
give us the hcs plsssss
(also also i haven't had a chance to read the new oneshot yet but i am ALL OVER that shit tomorrow)
ily!!
ill do figure skating purely because i am a figure skater, not a hockey player, and i would wanna do quite a bit of research into how NHL drafts work in canada / the US before id write it but a lot of these probably could apply to both aus
- gojo singles skater, one of the greats, holds some world records (id base his skating off nathan chen’s or yuzuru hanyu’s, probably) and he keeps trying to land 4a even though yaga chews him out for it
- shoko / getou in pairs (PAIRS, NOT ICE DANCE!!!!!!) and they’re pretty dominant too
- getou used to skate singles and had a rivalry with gojo in early juniors but switched to pairs after a minor injury that made it difficult for him to continue to work quads/triple axel. shoko can land quad throws though
- yuuji, megumi and nobara are all singles skaters, still in juniors
- mechamaru and miwa are ice dancers :)
- yaga coaches all the singles skaters
- gojo does biellman spins which are rare for men - hes flexible compared to his competitors
- haibara is a hockey player and hes like the figure skaters’ pet even though they all hate hockey players
- thinking about making maki and yuta a pairs team but honestly they also could both be in singles
- yuki and choso were in pairs until choso sustained a pretty major injury, yuki coaches getou and shoko now
- yuki and choso ice dance on a national level post retirement
- most of them work the counter at the ice rink for extra cash, especially the juniors who are straight up BROKE lol
- gojo is super popular with the locals and when he comes into the rink everyone starts behaving immediately
- gojo and getou, when they work the counter together, have this uncanny ability to a) not bang into each other and b) to send hand signals at each other from across the rink so that they can steal penguin skate aids from children who are annoying them
- nanami is the long suffering rink manager, who used to skate singles but got priced out of the sport, when he comes down to actually work the counter they all know theyre in deep shit
- gojo’s best jump is 3A and 4Lz and his technique is pretty perfect too
- toji is banned from the sport for pulling a tonya harding
- yuji started late but he’s annoyingly good at picking stuff up fast. he turned up at the rink begging gojo for lessons and gojo was like alright kid seeing you fall will be fun and then yuji is acc mad good and gojo’s like .. wait..
- megumi is the most technically proficient of the three, he has a quad salchow and a triple axel, yuuji has a quad flip and a quad lutz but can’t land a 3a to save his life (hes working on it!)
- mai would be like trusova/valieva/sherbakova. horrible technique but quads!
- nobara has a 3A which makes her competitive, but yaga refuses to teach her quads
-stsg dating rumours at the rink go round every year at xmas. theres a betting pool for when theyll finally get together. only shoko getou and gojo know theyre already dating and have been since their junior days
- nanami also knows, but doesnt care
- gojo drives the zamboni and honks at kids who watch and getou rides on the back sometimes
- yuji asks to learn how to drive the zamboni and gets it stuck. he never asks again
- megumi throws a penguin at an annoying customer one time on christmas eve because they come back and ask to switch skate sizes six times in thirty minutes
- getou’s artistry and musicality is unmatched but gojo’s performances are almost as good
- gojo shakes the vending machines to get free food even though hes a millionaire from sponsorships
- theyre based in japan! :]
anyways yeah my thoughts on this au is that it would be SO SILLY
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dallonwrites · 6 months
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UNTIL HEAVEN - WIP INTRO
matthew lejune / @dallonwrites / ocean vuong / mary ruefle
He knows that his headache is quietly growing vicious and he should take off his headphones, but now they’re singing about Heaven and Las Vegas – two places he has never been – and he knows that at some point, still unknown to him, his father died, and maybe that means he’s now stuck in Heaven or Las Vegas or somewhere in between. Or maybe that means he’ll just be everywhere, in the rain on Felix’s face and the ache behind his eyelids, and that’s how it’ll stay.
Genre: Adult Literary Fiction, novella (please god stay a novella)
Setting: San Francisco/New York, December 1990/January 1991
Vibe: shoegaze & dream pop, warm lighting, ginger flavor, a city skyline at night, going to church for the first time in years, feeling too old and also like you were born yesterday, disposable camera photos, the passing of time, stuff rabbit toy from your childhood, the hallway at a family gathering, planetariums, cold air on your face, retro christmas decor, realising you were once a child and that child deserved so much better
Deals With: parental grief when your parent was a piece of shit, Christian trauma, queerness in relationships, adulthood as you progress through your 20s, healing + building your own life after a traumatic childhood and what happens when that is disrupted
Soundtrack Essentials: The Cure - Plainsong / Mazzy Star - Be My Angel / Cocteau Twins - Cherry-Coloured Funk / Cocteau Twins - Heaven or Las Vegas / Beach House - The Hours / Jeff Buckley - Dream Brother / Tamino - Cinnamon
Synopsis: When Felix's father dies suddenly it's a week before Christmas, he and Beau had just begun experimenting with an open relationship, and he refuses to interrupt his life to mourn a man who doesn't deserve it. But when he can't stop his body from grieving, and his sister is growing obsessive over the morbid details, and at work he's teaching children that remind him of himself, an opportunity to impulsively leave sees Felix spend an insomniatic month in New York: diners at 3am, trips at the club, a birthday spent in a planetarium, one night stands to tell his boyfriend about in the morning, and a dangerously intense relationship with an enigmatic man who wants to know everything about his father.
This is another piece in my personal project/emotional support series and follows Revelations, Revelations and Lover Boy. If you know me you know Dorothy and Felix are my annoying children who I love so dearly and this novella is paired with a future novella that follows Dorothy during the same time. Fun fact! I only returned to writing because I wanted to explore Felix more and now I have an entire world that dominates my brain and it's all his fault! So this novella is kind of like a love letter to him. I also literally only created this so I could have a project that was soundtracked by historic Cocteau Twins' album Heaven or Las Vegas. Currently drafting because it won't leave my mind
The answering machine beeps awake -- and then, Beau's mother, reminding them that they're in charge of dessert tomorrow --and then, Beau's coworker wishing them both a Happy Holidays, a Stacy who Felix has never met -- and then his sister, sarcastic but loving, This is me calling so you know I made it home alive, just like you asked -- and then surprisingly, Goldie, Hi Felix, even though school broke up weeks ago, So I know it's Christmas, but I wanted to let you know that I talked with Joey's father and it sounds like he's doing much better at home already. He's even excited to come back to your class! And his father sounds super proud and optimistic about his progress and by the end of the last message he’s on the floor, back to fridge and elbows on his knees, face in his hands. And he lets out a shaky, snivelled breath that makes him push his palms harder against his eyes, against the wetness because he can’t cry, not over this, not when there’s still Christmas presents to wrap and last minute laundry so stop crying, get up, put on your new Mazzy Star record and get on with it. He straightens his back, holds his head up, takes a few deep breaths that feel more like gasping for air and also like pulling barbed wire out of his throat, gazes at the slants of streetlight on his living room wall. He can’t cry, not over this and not here, not in the home he’s worked so hard to make so warm. So he sits with himself, wipes his own eyes and holds himself in his own arms; when he feels calm enough, or trusts himself to be, he leans forward so he can open the fridge and reach in for the last ginger ale, cold in his hand and warm down his throat. Just him and the hum of an empty apartment.
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luckyspot · 27 days
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Potential Legends Z-A Theory:
Did AZ accidentally curse his beloved Pokemon?
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*spoilers for Pokemon XY*
It admittedly feels like a stretch to make a theory about an unreleased Pokemon, but...c'mon; I need to waste time til the trailer somehow!
So...the Eternal Floette is something of sore spot for a lot of us because it was never released to the public, despite having a substantial role in the story of X and Y.
If you don't know, this Floette carries a flower that is (supposedly) totally extinct. It used the flower to give itself great power and 3,000 years ago, it was much loved and cherished by AZ.
However, when war broke out; this Floette was drafted to fight...and subsequently died in combat.
AZ was heartbroken and created a machine that revived his dear friend and made her immortal...at the cost of the lives of many Pokemon.
This Floette could not bear this fact and abandoned AZ in horror and shame.
Though this Pokemon was never released, there is data for her in the game and her spirte has been meticulously maintained and updated in Pokemon HOME.
But that's not where things get weird...
Eternal Floette has a signature move that other Floette do not.
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Not only does this move sound AWESOME, the name and information about it seems odd in regards to this Pokemon.
Floette is a Pokemon meant to maintain and care for flowers and gardens and only really shows anger towards those he hurt flowers in it's vicinity. Why would a Pokemon meant to protect life and nature have a move that refers to Ruination and Destruction?
It's also quite interesting that the weapon, when prepared to fire...
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...looks a lot like the Eternal Floette's flower...
Did AZ accidentally destroy Floette's ability to fuel life and instead...give it the ability to destroy...
At the end of the game's main story, she does return to AZ side, having apparently forgiven him after 3 millennia...
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But what did she experience before then...what were her thoughts and feelings about what her trainer had done, what she experienced in the war and the possibility that she can no longer nurture?
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tisthedamngreenbriar · 8 months
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windows boarded up after the storm, he built a fire just to keep me warm.
guys i'm so embarassed. so. i wrote this for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Sprint Fic Challenge, BUT THE JULY ONE. and as you may notice it is september already.
in my defense, i kinda started this one and then completely abandoned it on my drafts and never once looked back. but now is here! kinda! this is my first time ever writing a challenge, and also my first time posting my writing in here!! for the sprint challenge july 2023, I chose the social media prompt + one of the prompts from previous challenges (hope that was allowed??)
this is neither polished or revised, just fresh out the notes app so you guys will have to forgive me for errors. i fully intend to develop this aswell, but we'll see.
enjoy!
***
It was supposed to be small. A simple get together for their group, with cake and booze to celebrate Rose's birthday. But, now they were in a mansion one hour out of town and Marinette was pretty sure she could smell something burning.
But, first things first: lets not get ahead of ourselves.
***
Moving everything was a pain in the ass. They'd to be quick and through so no food or garnment was neither damaged nor left behind - also watch out for the worst case scenario, harming sound equipament -, and the threat of the storm was making Marinette mimic the thunders, rumbling with anxiety. With everything already packed in the cars, they went on their merry way, with Adrien leading the path out of the city. 
The blonde boy really was an angel. Offering to take the party to his country house when the weather became Marinette's worse enemy was so kind that the bluenette's heart fluttered a bit, reminding her why she used to have that stupid and exponentially big crush on him all those years ago. Not that that meant anything: her romantic organ also gave a little jump seeing him help Kagami, his long term girlfriend, into the car. Affection just made her goofy.
Getting to the estate was easy, since the rain wasn't really pouring yet and the traffic was on their side, for a change. Obviously, it was huge, because the Agrestes never failed in that department, and everyone immeadiately? started setting everything up on the patio behind the main house and in front of the guest one, so they could use it for bathroom breaks and personal items since no one was willying to wander in the Agreste's mansion and risk scarring his perfectly put everything. The rain didnt seem to follow them so atleast it was safe to be outside.
And then there was Luka. Going around helping out everyone, smilling and whistling to himself. Luka who was just as oblivious to her as Adrien had been, cause apparently that was just her luck. 
"Girl, stop staring, Jesus" Alya's voice broke off any coherent line of thought that Marinette could have formed, startling the smaller one. "You're gonna burn holes on that poor boys back"
"Am I that bad, or is it possible that you are just a drama queen hoping to live uncomfortable situations vicariously through me since you are on a happy and commited relationship?" Marinette arched her brown and left out a breath after going through that phrase fast so that her best friend couldn't interrupt.
"I thought you were a double  major on fashion and business, not psychoanalysis, babes" Alya's eyes closed in on her behind the glasses, the tilt of the redhead's head adding to the menacing look.
"And I thought you were on margarita duty. Where are my drinks, Césaire?"
"Here," the sound came from behind Marinette and this time the jump almost made her drop the firmly held karaoke machine. Before she could register the movement, a arm came foward to take it out of her hands, caging her in. "Where do you want these?" The voice was now in her ear, speaking so softly it could only belong to Luka. This time, the surprise made her actually jerk foward and the man stepped back to allow the reaction.
With the added space, Marinette turned to face him, carrying a pint of she supposed were margaritas on one hand and the box who she was just strugglig with on the other like it was nothing. Looking absolutely delicious doing both, not to mention it.
"Sorry for the scare, Mari," he smiled at her apologetic and she believed she could have died right there on the spot, hearing the nickname and seeing the dimples "'I was just trying to help."
"No, no, its okay! Im just... jumpy. So much to do and whatnot" she tried her best to smile back but the proximity made it wobly. she probably looked so silly that just thinking about it made her wanna scream. But Luka didnt seem fazed.
"At your service" Marinette felt like passing out. "I'm gonna find a place to put these down and then come back to help, okay?"
Not trusting herself to speak, the French-Chinese simply nodded, and at that he walked out. Alya's eyes were on her the whole time, fighting back the smirk.
"Not a word" Marinette sushed her, and the journalist cackled into the sky.
***
The party was a success, as far as last minute ones go. It made Rose so happy she teared up a little over the cake, plus she was so delighted at Marinettes dedication to making the whole arrangement work -- and fighting for the party to go on on the first place -- that the petit blond decided to gift her with the first slice of cake.
Now, it was late and they were all a little too buzzed to drive back. The lights and decorations were all still up, so they sat on a messy circle made out of lawn chairs and pillows, chating about nothing in particular.
Somehow, Marinette ended up on Luka's chair, their bodies pressed together in the small space. Looking for the perfect position, luka grabbed her legs so that they were in his lap and trew one of his arms over her shoulders, causing the girl to shiver with the contact.
"You cold?" He asked her while drawing patterns on her knee hith the hand that rested there. She took a minute to answer positively, barely registering that it was a question, concentrating too much on the way his fingers found the spot that got all her hairs standing and saluding the man that was Luka Couffaine. The second shudder was welcomed by him, who took the softly whispered "yes" and the trembling as results of her freezing and not Marinette being turned on. Thank God for small mercies.
With that, Luka got up and sprinted away after drapping his jacket all around her. She didnt quite understand what was going on until he had already organized all the firewood on the middle of the patio and was trying to light it.
He wasnt. No way.
But apparently the thought of setting stuff on fire appealed more to Luka than simply holding her. Awesome.
"Do you ever just forget they're Couffaines? But then they do something like like this." She could hear the laugh in Rose's voice before turning to meet her eye. "In the beggining of our relationship Juleka would pull the most ridiculous stunts and go the hardest lenghts to prove herself to me. It was so silly. I felt like a damsel in distress on a bad mute movie. But don't worry too much about it. Luka is far more vocal than Jules, and even if he weren't they are fast learners, the Couffaines."
...What?
Maybe the confusion was obvious in Marinettes face, or she had said it out loud cause Rose continued.
"What? Did I say something wrong? Did I meddled? Is just that you guys have been on this will they, won't the thing for so long, and neither of you would just come out and say it! It feels good to be finally able to say it, that's it." Marinettes eyes widened even more than she thought it was possible. What the hell Rose thinks is going on?
It was only when all the bluenette could do was look terrified with her mouth basically hanging open, that the blonde one realized she made a mistake.
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princess-ibri · 1 year
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(Another one I've had saves in my drafts forever)
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Dr Facilier Villain Backstory
Born Andre Facilier in 1888 to poor parents who died when he was a young teenager, leaving him to fend for himself for a few years before being taken in by his many times maternal ancestor Mama Odie learned of his plight and took him in
Under her, he learned the practices of Voodoo and showed some promise in this, and for a while, he was happy studying under her
But the poor treatment under the hands of the white and rich members of New Orleans society, both as a child and during his time on the street had rightfully given him a sense of anger at the injustices of the world, which he sought to correct by gaining greater aptitude in the practice 
But this righteous anger unfortunately fell prey to the machinations of the dark Loa that existed on The Other Side,  who promised to enhance his powers if he would enter into a deal with them
Mama Odie tried to steer her grandson away from these dangerous beings who would promise so much but take even more, but Facilier ignored her warnings and began drawing on the darkness to punish and harm as he saw fit, even eventually those who had done him no harm but were simply in the way of his goals
This lead to a confrontation between him and Mama Odie which ended in them disowning each other and Facilier making his first real binding deal with his new Friends, the first of many that would pull him deeper and deeper into their debt
From my Canon Descendants: He at one point married Lucille, the daughter of the famous Madame Leota, who he'd had some dealings with in connection with Mama Odie before she too broke ties with the priestess as her interests became darker. 
With Lucille, he had two daughters, Frederique and Celia, whom his wife died in giving birth to.
Celia had great clairvoyant powers, which Facilier would often take advantage of, as her natural aptitude was greater than his
(They're around in the movie but just in the backrooms of the shop, so we don't see them x) 
(I originally had his wife's name be Oona but I thought that was too close to Uma, so I changed it)
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mudhamster · 5 months
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CHWHWN: 17. December - "something sweet"
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Kacchan: *image attached* Should I choose something or do you already have baked Christmas cookies in one of your thousand drawers? Deku: Who says it's something to eat? Kacchan: What else should it be? Deku: I wanna be experimental. Give me another hour and you'll get it. Kacchan: fine
After yesterday, after the moment of holding hands, nothing in his inner life was where it belonged. He had no concentration at all, his stomach did what it wanted and his heart was a complete basket case. He was a nervous clusterfuck, shy, over-excited and completely on cloud nine.
And yes, he had actually thought about baking Kacchan cookies at the very beginning of all this. They were ready and wrapped. But yesterday, his synapses had melted. He could feel it; the change. Never in a million years would Kacchan have reached out to him this time last year. Or the year before. Or the year before that. Or ever, if you know what he means.
Yesterday was different. The thought of yesterday still tingled warmly in all his limbs, the corners of his mouth were already aching from smiling. He was exhilarated, full of hope.
That was why he had finally opened and eaten the cookies himself. On the one hand, to HAVE to go through with his new plan, and as nutrition for his nerves, while he created something he had never done before: a poem. For and about Kacchan. About his hair, his eyes, his soul, his heart, his body, his charm…
When the hour was almost up and the floor of his room was filled with shredded and crumpled paper from his notebook, he looked ruefully at the empty cookie bag. What had he been thinking?
A poem?
Him?
Unfortunately, he had two left hands when it came to art. Because everything he had written was too trashy, screamed of longing and desire and admiration and would never leave his room. Should the day come when Izuku and Katsuki broke the boundaries of their friendship, he rubbed his overheated cheeks nervously at the idea, he could still give it to him. Seeing how Kacchan blushed and how he might accidentally set the poem on fire, but of course, Izuku would still have a copy with him because he knew how his boyfriend would react.
"Oh my God," he groaned as all the things he'd imagined for the past hour played in his head like a film.
Sighing, he lifted the last draft off the table and put it in his desk drawer. Not today. Hopefully one day, but not today.
Some change jingled in the pocket of his sweatpants as he slid his legs off the seat, and an idea came to him…
Somewhere in his closet he still had some wrapping paper, already tied in a little red bow. He found what he was looking for in a very dusty box next to his old shoes, picked out one of the bows, untied the tape and quietly made his way down to the first floor, to the snack machine.
Kacchan didn't really like sweets. But he had seen him a few times at this vending machine full of protein bars. The money from his pocket was enough for the biggest one, a mixture of nuts and dried fruit, and as he bent down to take it out of the slot, minimal doubts began to gnaw at him. He attached the ribbon and turned the snack over in the light of the corridor lamp. It was a lousy present. But it was better than nothing. He climbed the stairs as if in a trance, knocking louder than he intended, and Kacchan opened the door while his hand was still raised. In the other, he held the bar decorated with a Christmas ribbon and Katsuki looked at it. Then at his fingers, then at his face. And then he laughed. "This is experimental?" he tugged at the bow and then accepted the present from Izuku with a laugh. Izuku just shrugged while Katsuki threw the protein bar into his packed backpack for the last day of school in the morning. "I really thought it would be cookies," he said, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe, "or chocolate." Izuku replied intuitively, regardless of his current state or the fact that he was standing right in front of Kacchan, "Chocolate isn't until Valentine's Day.“ He heard Kacchan take a quick breath and bit his lips inwardly in panic. OH GOD. He'd spent far too long in the fantasy world where Kacchan loved poetry and accepted his advances!!! Writing corny poetry was one thing. A blatant, unfiltered comment about Valentine's Day in this context was so bold that Izuku almost felt dizzy when he realized what he had said. But the last few days, especially yesterday, had strengthened him, made him braver, and so he dared to look up anyway and immediately plunged into the waiting dark red. Kacchan tilted his head as if he was still thinking about what would follow, then he said as casually as Izuku ever could: "I like mine bittersweet.“ The newly acquired fact immediately filled a huge gap in his knowledge of Kacchan. The whole topic of conversation was completely new territory. His brain yearned for more. So he spoke. "I've never seen you accept chocolate before," he whispered without lowering his eyes. "I've never told anyone what I would accept." The knowledge gap continued to close - but then his thirst for knowledge got caught up in his self-doubt, and he hunched his shoulders in surprise. "And why are you telling me this?" The answer was raw in Kacchan's eyes and his heart suddenly beat much too slowly. This wasn't real, was it? Surely he had fallen asleep over his desk from the thousands of failed attempts to write a poem. "Do whatever you want with it.“ And then the door was pushed into the lock and Izuku stood in the hallway, his hands and cheeks full of black ink and his head emptier than it had been for a long time. It was obvious what all this meant, theoretically, the connection between Kacchan, chocolate and Valentine's Day and the fact that he had closed the door slowly instead of slamming it and … and somehow Izuku also knew that he was still standing there. On the other side of the closed door. Maybe his hand was still on the handle or his forehead on the cold wood. "I'll keep it in mind, Kacchan."
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