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selfiecharmedlife · 2 years

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Re: Face/Off or Recovering from FFS

CW: Body stuff

As of today, it’s been just over a week since I had facial feminization surgery (FFS). Leading up to the procedure, I felt very isolated. Not many people undergo FFS in the first place and most of the people I spoke with that had undergone the procedure were far removed from the anxieties I was, and am still, feeling. Luckily, I did have the chance to talk to some people who had journaled in the weeks leading up to their procedure and shared their thoughts during that time. So now I’m writing this down so that maybe I can pay that forward to someone else.

FFS is an umbrella term for a number of procedures. Specifically, I underwent a forehead reduction, hairline advancement, brow bone reduction, mandibular angle reduction and chin reduction. My surgeon assured me that recovery would be significantly easier than vaginoplasty recovery, but that didn’t help my nerves. I was so anxious that I asked for an additional meeting before the procedure so we could touch base again just so I could feel a little more secure in my decision. It didn’t help. In the weeks leading up to my surgical date, I barely slept most nights and had a hard time focusing on anything during the day.

The image of walking into the operating room stuck with me more than anything else. The wording of my pre-op instructions made it sound like I would have to walk into the OR instead of being wheeled in like my last procedure. There was something about that idea of having to open the door myself and place myself on the bed that was so much scarier than anything else. It would be like strapping myself into a Tower of Terror ride; a leap of faith that I had to take myself. For the record, I hate thrill rides for this exact reason.

Even if everything went right, I might still not be happy with my outcomes and $20,000 USD for the worse. There is always the chance of a negative reaction to anesthesia or things healing poorly. Nevermind how some portion of the outcome is going to be up to the aesthetic preferences of the surgeon. With all that in mind, I still knew that I would regret it if I didn’t go through with the procedure.

When the day came, my partner and I were up at 3am. I say we were up, but I was too nervous to sleep. All the same worries about outcomes, complications and the cost of the procedure kept knocking around in my head. I ended up going with the same surgeon that did my vaginoplasty a few years ago. He is still working out of the same hospital so it felt oddly familiar walking back into the same waiting room. My partner and I ended up sitting on the same bench where I had cried years ago. Sitting there, I clearly recalled how it felt asking my caretaker if she thought I was doing the right thing as if that was a question anyone could answer for me. This time, even if I didn’t know if I was making the right choice, I found comfort in knowing I wasn’t making a bad choice.

Everything else from there to the OR was routine. I winced as the anesthesiologist put the IV in my arm and tried to look unbothered when one of the nurses kept calling me a man. Mercifully, they wheeled my bed into the OR. I was a wreck of nerves as I passed the point of no return and then the lights went out. I woke up hours later in the recovery room. All that work researching the likelihood of waking up during surgery for nothing.

My eyes were almost swollen shut, my head was wrapped in bandages from the brow up, my mouth was full of painful sutures, my threat was irritated from the breathing tube and to make it all worse I immediately threw up. The combo of existing irritation and vomiting was worse than anything from the actual surgery. My body was producing flem to try to soothe the irritation but that ended up making it difficult to breathe. Coughing to clear the flem irritated the sutures and…you probably get the picture.

Back at home, I spent the rest of the day in bed communicating with my partner via text messages because it hurt too much to talk. I couldn’t bear to look at myself in the mirror and my partner astutely covered up all the mirrors I was likely to walk past. An eyewitness told me that the bruising was extensive around my eyes and my face was so swollen that it looked like a perfect sphere. Eating anything but ice chips was painful. Did you know Pedialyte makes popsicles now? They rule.

The surgery was on Friday and the following Monday morning my doctor removed the dressings and gave me a chin bra to wear for the next four weeks. It’s a weird looking compression wrap that goes under my chin to support it while it heals. According to him, my healing was going great but I still refused the mirror when he tried to show me what I looked like.

Despite my best efforts, I did end up seeing my face eventually. Our brains have a very advanced neural network for recognizing our own faces. Between the still painful swelling, incision marks tracing my hairline and (still) black/bloodshot eyes, my brain popped an error message. Yes, I could touch my face and feel it. I knew I was looking at myself. Emotionally, it just didn’t click. I didn’t want it to.

Physically healing has been fine for the most part. I can’t smile or laugh too much before my jaw hurts or eat solid food just yet, but every day is a big step forward. At this rate, my sutures and incisions should be healed in another week or two as I’m getting ready to head back to work.

But even as things get better in the short-term, FFS is a long and complicated healing process. Things will continue to shift and settle for up to a year before I really know what my face will look like. I’m sure that at some stage of the healing process, I’m going to look in the mirror and feel disappointed before things shift again.

Everyone I’ve talked to has told me that they’ve ultimately been happy with their results, but what if I’m in that small percentage that isn’t? What if those nerves never reconnect and large parts of my face will always be numb? Those are all possibilities right now.

There is a happy ending for now at least. Despite my best efforts, I caught myself in the mirror again this morning. It wasn’t long enough for me to recognize the incision, bruising or swelling, but my brain did see the stranger in the mirror and think “she’s kinda cute.”

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sixofclovers · 2 years

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hello! i know your victorian tma au art is already over a year old, but i still wanted to ask, how do you feel about others writing a fic based on it?

sorry if this is a little out of nowhere, or if you've already answered a similar question ^^'

Hi! That’s more than ok! Honestly i don’t *own* any au or fan art ideas so if they actually inspire to make your own work that’s amazing

#asks #soc extras #anon #happy writing! i get so thrilled when anyone asks to base anything of my stuff haha #like yes oml of course #we love to see creatives

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wittyrosebush · 3 years

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Dream SMP Reacting to a Witch!Hybrid

Pronouns: they/them

Includes: Dream, Quackity, Wilbur, qnd Tommy (PLATONIC)

Warnings: Meantion of drugs, swearing

A/N: This is based off of the canon characters and is set in the time of the Pogtopia/Manburg war!!! I might write a second part if this goes well. Also, this is the first thing I have written for this fandom, so I hope I get the character personalities correct. This is not beta read, so please don't attack me on my poor grammar skills. 😅

I hope you all enjoy!!! 💙

Dream

He was mining when he first met you

Dream heard a malicious cackle on the dark side of the cave and slowly drew his sword

He decided to charge towards the strange noise and was quickly met with an invisible body under him

He furrowed his brows and felt the body shuffle out from under him

"BEGONE STRANGE MAN"

"... excuse me?"

After a moment, Y/N's potion has worn off

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-"

Dream chuckled and put away his sword, deciding the person in front of him wasn't a threat

After Y/n calmed down, the two had a talk, explaining the situation

Turns out, you had thought of a joke while mining for redstone (hence the laughter)

"So where is your hat and huge nose? You are really attractive for a witch."

"Luckily, I got my attributes from my father. What was that last part?."

"Wait, what about your hat?"

"I haven't done laundry in a few days.... hold up did you just say I was attractive?"

Ever since then Dream has had you by his side partly because he is a little clingy creating potions for him and the rest of the dream team

"How do you feel about cursing children?"

"I'm not that kind of witch, Dream."

"But what if he was being a little blonde bitch?"

"DREAMWASTAKEN I SWEAR TO GOD-"

Loves bringing you stuff to use for your projects

Need blaze rods for a new brewing stand? Done.

Need lapis lazuli so you have a chance for better communication? Done.

Anything you want? Done.

He will literally go to the nether for a few hours and come back with his arms full of whatever you need

And if you don't need anything or just need to take a break, he'll spend the day taking you anywhere that he think you would be happiest

He has you make him a lot of potions, bragging to everyone on the server how much better at creating potions you are

"Y/n's potions last longer, are more effective, prettier-"

"Are you sure? I think-"

"Tell me what you think, I fuckin dare you >:( ."

Overall, he is your #1 supporter

Quackity

The day had been long, dealing with Schlatt definitely tires a guy out after 5 minutes

On his walk on the outskirts of the Manburg wall, he spotted a suspicious row of blaze powder leading to the woods

Dawning his armor and a sword, he followed the trail to a small hut

He could see the outline of someone in the hut nervously pacing around

Deciding what he thought was the best possible option, he knocked on the door of the hut

There was immediately the sound of glass bottles falling on the floor and muffled words

Soon, the door swung open to reveal a disheveled being with a nervous grin

And Quackity went from tough to awkward

"C-Can I help you with something?"

"Uh, do you waNT SOME DRUGS?"

"ExCuSe Me?!"

Everything was going to shit

After a moment of awkward staring, a glass bottle tumbled off the brewing stand

Upon focusing on what was going on behind the two people trying and failing to act normal, they both saw that every brewing stand was on fire

"ARE YOU ACTUALLY MAKING DRUGS?!"

"NO I'M JUST REALLY BAD AT THIS POTION."

Finally putting the fire out together, the two looked at their now soot stained clothes

The witch hybrid ran a hand through their hair and sighed

"Well this is completely ruined."

Quackity frowned a little hesitant to offer his help

"If you need to you could borrow some brewing stands-"

"Really? *-* "

On the walk back to Manburg, you explained who you were

Quackity was still a little confused

"Wait but what potion were you even brewing?"

"Fire resistance."

He immediately burst out laughing, which ended up with you slapping his arm repeatedly

Eventually, you two became the definition of the "friends to lovers" trope

You often helped him de-stress after stressful days in office with Schlatt

He'd try whatever you recommended

"I'd suggest putting quartz on your nightstand."

"Cool!"

Later that night, you forgot something at his house

Once you walked into his house, you could see stacks of quartz next to his bed.

He really trusted any advice you could give him

And on days where people would criticize you for being part witch?

Big Q will attack anyone

Even if he knows he will lose

And at random parts of the day he'll just tell you oddly inspirational thoughts

"You are a bad bitch, dare I say a bad witch. Own that shit."

"That is oddly motivational, thank you. :) "

Wilbur

The former president was strolling along the side of a river, trying to form a coherent plan of action

Upon noticing a person trudging out of the water fumbling with glass bottles, Wilbur jogged over to them and put a careful hand on their shoulder

"Are you okay?"

The person moved the soggy hat out of their face and smiled

"Yeah, I just fell in the water while trying to fill up some of the bottles, but thanks for checking on me!"

He hummed in response, wondering why he was already so interested in the being before him

"Well I should probably get going, but thank you!"

"Wait! What's you name?"

"It's Y/n, and you are..?"

"Wilbur Soot, it was an honor meeting you, Y/n."

This man spent the rest of the night thinking about you and who the hell you were

He didn't know much about the mysterious person, but he did know that they were one of the most alluring people he had met in a long time

It was weeks since he saw you, Wilbur nearly gave up searching

That was until you walked into him on a rainy day

The brunette immediately went in defensive position and pulled the stranger to his chest, despite the dampened clothes

"Um, Mr. Soot?"

He looked down to see you and his face lit up

"Y/n! It's a pleasure to see you again."

He took a small step back and kissed your hand

No one can convince me that Wilbur "Gentleman" Soot does not flirt by giving hand kisses

The two went into Pogtopia and Wilbur almost immediately wrapped his coat around you

"What were you doing out there? The rain is coming down so hard you must not have been able to see well."

"I was going to ask if I could borrow a few golden carrots for a potion I'm making."

Wilbur nodded and walked towards the stared and whisper shouted down

"TOMMY BRING ME SOME GOLDEN CARROTS!"

"BUT WILBUR, I-"

"PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME LOOK BAD IN FRONT OF THE STUNNING WITCH!"

The boy at the bottom of the stairs grumbled and the tall man sat next to you once more

After a few minutes of Wilbur fawning over everything you did, a blonde male walked up the steps and glared at Wilbur as he handed you the carrots

"Simp..."

Wilbur dramatically gasped as you chuckled next to him

You eventually started coming over to Pogtopia practically every day

Most of the time it was to see Wilbur, but the rest of your time was spent creating potions for the war

As the nation grew, you were brought out of your shell more with Wilbur introducing you to everyone

He didn't want you to feel uncomfortable in a new place

You often walked along the same riverbank where you met

You have definitely pushed each other off a few times

He keeps small things that you enjoy on him at all times

He keeps a tiny bottle of sand from the river you met at, a piece of your old robe, and so much more in his pockets

Whenever he feels like he's in a dark place or justneeds to ground himself he takes out one of the items and just holds it close.

Mans is so in love

Tommy

He met you in the nether while you were farming netherwart

The blonde was thrilled to find a new fortress and decided to raid it before reinforcements came

Seeing a sleeping figure next to a bed of sould sand, he took a few congident steps forward

Once close enough, he poked you with the stick

"You good?"

"I was good when I was asleep."

"AYE I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD SO-"

After arguing for what felt like hours, you both stormed off to find both exits being blocked by wither skeletons

Tommy had gotten beaten up pretty bad after the fight so you took him back to your hut to get all patched up

"I didn't even need your help. I'm tougher than I look."

"You legitimately passed out twice on the way here."

"HOW DARE YOU, I WAS RESTING MY EYES!"

After a few hours of healing and a ton of laighter, you two became the most chaotic duo in the smp

This british raccoon child would often steal small potions to pull pranks

But unless they were really important and you needed them back, you'd always join in on the pranks

He tried to get you to make a potion using the 'Tubbo Bath Water' one time

It did not end well

At the point in your friendship where you revealed you were a hybrid, Tommy was so confused

"That makes no sense, witches are still humans, right?"

"Yeah..?"

"So how does that make you a hybrid?"

👁👄👁

"Listen here you little shit-"

He likes to show you off to anyone that can listen

"You think you're special? HA! I have a best friend that is part witch and they will kick your ass. >:)"

He is really interested in everything you do but will never ask

But if you tell him about what you're doing unprovoked?

Tommy would get so happy

He is so excited to learn what you have to teach and would be one of the best friends ever

#dream smp x reader #tommyinnit & reader #wilbur x y/n #wilbur x reader #wilbur x you #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x you #quackity x you #quackity x y/n #quackity x reader #dream x you #dream x reader #dream x y/n

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crispy-ghee · 3 years

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Hello! Firstly I just wanna say I love your work, both your own personal drawings and stories, as well as the collaboration pieces with Isei. I was just wondering what your process was for your building of your Yautja clans?? I wanted to try my hand at making my own, so I was wondering what pointers you may have.

Hi! Thanks so much for the kind words, it actually makes me really happy that anyone is enjoying the stuff I enjoy making. Worldbuilding can be a lot of fun, and awesome that you're gonna try your hand at it!

I have a lot of thoughts on worldbuilding, and to be honest my approach varies here and there depending on what I'm making or writing, but I'll see if I can't gather my general thoughts into something more succinct instead of going off on a long ramble haha

STARTING INFO

When you're worldbuilding for a pre-existing IP, it's good to keep in mind the stuff you already know about the race/species. This seems really obvious, and imo you can mess around in and out of canon if you want bc it's your clan and you should have fun first and foremost, but it's something to consider.

(But also keep in mind that this isn't something you necessarily have to think about right away, it can come later in your process, but I'm just mentioning it here.)

With Yautja, there's the physical aspects that make them distinct (mandibles, crest, reptilian/mammalian, tendrils, claws, tall on average, tend towards warmer climates, strong, etc) and what we've seen of them culturally (glory/trophy hunters, honor code, matriarchal, etc etc). The cool thing though is that when you're coming up with a hook for your clan, you can either choose to follow these rules, or you could find something interesting in subverting them.

What if it's a clan of smaller yautja? What if these live in the cold? What if their clan doesn't give a shit about hunting? etc etc

Speaking about Hooks...

The Hook is just sort of a jumping off point where you can start building your clan out of. It doesn't necessarily have to be a hook for the audience, and it might even change or be discarded as you go along writing, but it's always good to have a place to start.

Hooks can honestly be anything and inspired from anywhere. I'm going to be honest that most of the time I don't really go searching for hooks, they're moments of inspiration that kickstart stuff. They're usually what causes the worldbuilding.

A lot of that (and a lot of worldbuilding, actually) is actually input. Being curious and learning things, consuming things, etc etc. Expanding your visual/mental library. It's not something that i do purposefully, necessarily. It comes from stuff I've read about, movies and documentaries I've watched, some tweet I saw, a picture on my dashboard, a wikipedia article I stumbled into somehow, a story a friend told, so on and so forth.

That being said, you can totally find a hook if you just ask yourself the right questions.

But the things that can be hooks, like I said, can vary greatly. It could be an idea you had out of nowhere, a novel question, a theme you want to explore, a cool image you saw, a costume you wanna try out, anything! For example:

Maybe you already have a character that you designed that you want to build the clan around. The character can totally be the hook. What are things about the character that might hint at what society they grew up in? Do they have a specific attitude? Quirk? Is there something about their appearance? The clothes they wear, the way their tendrils look, their coloration?

Maybe you saw a location that was really neat! What if Yautja lived in a place like that?

This clan is stealthy!

This clan likes animals!

This clan makes art that looks like _______.

This clan engages in a lot of warfare.

I liked this idea touched upon in a predator comic I read, can i expand on that?

What if a Yautja did Basejumping?

Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera...

Brainstorming! Ask lots of Questions!

I ask a lot of "why" and "how" after I figure out my hook (or hookS). It's an easy way to get stuff kickstarted.

How do they do that? Why do they do that? Is it ritual? Is it something else? Is it based on their history? On their environment? On their Lore? On their social structure?

And then just keep asking why after you answer that question, and then you'll have a pretty good foundation that you can maybe mess with or discard or change completely or use for an even better idea.

Like...lemme use the "Yautja Basejumper" as an example.

Why would this Yautja base-jump? Is it for a practical reason, like it helps them hunt a specific animal? Is it for a ritual reason? Is it for the thrill? Is it to prove themselves?

How do they do it? Do they use high tech to do it, or is it low tech? If it's low tech, what materials do they make their parachutes or gliders out of? In human base-jumping, what tools do they use, and how can I translate that into Yautja maybe? Or is it a completely different approach?

Do they basejump off of mountains? Is it something they do because they live in the mountains? Or is it maybe something they have to travel to a specific place to go do? What is this place? Why do they go there? Is it for a spiritual reason? Coming of age? Is the place itself significant? Does this have something to do with their history, or a legend that they have?

If base jumping is important, how does this affect what they find attractive or cool? Do they like really tenacious yautja? Is being more aerodynamic a boon? Would the wear anything specific for the act, bits of decoration? Is there an animal they want to look like?

So let's say just going through those questions, and asking myself why and how and other questions from that intial hook and then the answers I gave. Here's a (very very very rough) potential initial thought:

This Yautja clan base-jumps as a coming-of-age ritual. They live at the foot of a tall mountain, and young hunters climb to the top to prove their courage and tenacity. Part of the ritual is making your own glider--and if your glider doesn't hold up because you rushed it, then you get really hurt or die, and that's your own fucking fault. They're doing it to mimic large flying animals that once-upon-a-time roosted on that mountain but don't exist anymore, which had cultural/mythical significance to them. Maybe their ancestors used to ride them. This clan are able to fight in flight, unlike many other Yautja.

And then you can build off of that or change it, do research and look stuff up related to it to see if you can add more stuff, keep asking more questions about the things you decided on, etc.

Forever and ever and ever.............

Anyway, that's my worldbuilding approach, haha. It's basically "learn a lot of stuff, ask a lot of questions."

I don't know if that was helpful at all, but there ya go!

#Wolrdbuilding #predator #yautja #ask #advice #answer

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thewritetofreespeech · 3 years

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hello! can you write scenario for akashi, aomine, kise, and kagami where their s/o is jealous of all the attention they're getting from other girls?

awwww. adorbs! certainly ^_^ 🖤

Jealous S/O

Akashi

It’s not a surprise that he was popular.

Akashi was smart, handsome, rich. Great at academics, and sports, and the youngest student council president in the history of Rakuzan. You didn’t believe in people being perfect, but if ever someone was going to get close it would be Akashi. He really lived up to the ‘Emperor’ nickname.

And what was an Emperor without his court.

“What’s wrong [Y/N]?” You look up from the pavement as you walked to class to see Akashi staring at you. His gaze focused, but soft & concerned. “You seem distracted.”

“Oh…it’s nothing.” You tuck your hair behind your ear. Prepared to let this go. Of course, Akashi wouldn’t let it though. He continued to stare at you until you finally broke down and told him. “It’s just them.”

The red head turned to look where you had jutted your chin towards the girls, huddled behind one of the pillars in the court yard whispering & staring, and your boyfriend let out a sigh. “Ah yes. Them.” He doesn’t seem surprised by their presence. Nor their borderline stalking. You should have guessed that he knew they were there. “I just choose to ignore them. However, if they are making you uncomfortable, I can order them to stop.”

You shook your head. You didn’t want to cause trouble. And although it was annoying, you didn’t want to break another girl’s heart over their rejected feelings. “It’s not a big deal. It’s the burden of dating the ‘Emperor’ I guess.” His lips scrunch. Though the nickname stuck over time, you know he doesn’t actually care for that title. “I just feel a little bit like one of those women in a historical K-drama. You know, like someone is waiting in the wings to knock me off so they can take my place near the emperor.” Sometimes you kind of feel like I should start checking my lunch for poison or glass.

Akashi scoffed a little. Then leaned in to kiss your cheek. “That’s never going to happen.” He assured you. “My heart belongs to only you. And, if anyone were to hurt you, I’d gouge their eyes out.”

Perhaps it’s poor form to giggle at such a threat, but you do. He really was so protective of you. You really had no reason to be jealous, because no one was going to take Akashi away from you.

You continue on your way to class. The ‘court’ suspiciously hanging back more than usual after that day.

Aomine

The street ball court was a buzz as usual whenever Aomine played.

His ‘quick game’ with the challenges on the court had turned into a full basketball brawl that had lasted for hours. One-on-one after one after another.

Not that you minded. Watching Aomine play, and seeing him happy, was always thrilling. He always looked so cool when he played; giving his all, even against weaker players. You chuckle to yourself. He really was a terrible guy to take such joy in crushing people. But then what did that say about you when you were so turned on by it?

“That dark skin guy is so hot! Do you think he’s foreign?”

You turn away from the court to a gaggle of girls, some your age, some older, watching the game as well from the side lines. Some had noticed the game and come to watch. Others had come with their own boyfriends. You frown a little as they continue to whisper and gush over your boyfriend. Getting moodier by the second.

“Yo, what’s up?” You look up from glaring at the lines on the court; just in time to see Aomine place his ball he was holding in one hand against your head. “You look pissed. Are you not having fun?”

“Not really.” You confess, batting his hand away. You weren’t having fun now. He was talking to you, but those girls still couldn’t take their eyes off them. “Can we go now?”

“What?? But things are just getting started.” He lifted his shirt up as he whined to wipe the sweat from his brow and you could practically hear the siren like squeals from those thirsty ass bitches.

“I don’t like the crowd here.”

Aomine seemed to catch on, and looked to the side to see who was annoying you. You have to assume he expected to see some guy making you uncomfortable, based on his expression, but looked surprised when he saw it was just a bunch of girls; totally playing it off like they weren’t staring at him a moment ago. “What can I say babe? I can’t help it if girls think I’m super hot and junk.” His cockiness and smirk were not attractive at the moment.

You continue to pout, but just long enough for Aomine to lean in and give you a peck on said pout. “Let me kick this guys ass and then we can go. ‘Less you wanna stick around and make ‘em jealous back. We can do gross couple stuff until they get weirded out and leave.”

You chuckle again at the offer. Appreciating the gesture he was trying to make. “Go play your game and then we can go. If we’re going to do ‘gross couple stuff’, I’d rather do it in private where we can enjoy it.”

Aomine gave you a big grin, followed by a loud, “yes ma’m!”

Of course, he slaughtered the guy in the next game. Leaving him to sulk off back to his own girlfriend; who was indeed in the pack and not looking too happy about it. You both leave after that to finish your date. Aomine proud as a peacock for the rest of the afternoon from the ego boost.

Kise

It was hard, dating a model.

You knew of Kise’s profession before you started dating, of course, but you had no idea how hard it would be on your relationship.

Girls stopped him every chance they got to ask for his autograph, or gush over his new photobook. He of course was courteous and polite. Turning on that model charm. He always thanked them for their patronage of his work and they promised to always support him. It had been bad before, but ever since his game was televised this past season, it had grown into a circus. Not only was he the beautiful blonde-haired boy they all admired, but now he was also the super-hot jock they all drooled over. You could barely go out on a proper date anymore without being accosted by some female vying for his attention.

“[Y/N]-cchi, what’s wrong? You look upset.”

“This is ridiculous!” You told him, and you weren’t just talking about his huge sunglasses & stupid hat he was wearing to try and be ‘incognito’. It wasn’t working even a little bit, so now it was just doubly stupid. “Why can’t they leave you alone for 10 minutes?!”

“They’re my fans [Y/N]-cchi. I can’t disappoint them!”

“Right. Don’t disappoint them. Why don’t you hang out with them today then?” You mutter sullenly. Prepared to leave.

Kise seemed to realize what was going on, and just how upset you were, as he reached out to grab you hand. “I don’t want to hang out with them [Y/N].” You turn back around when he said your name like a real person. Not the cute little way he did it as part of his act. “I don’t want anyone else but you. They only like me because I’m handsome and a model.” Humble too, you think to yourself. “They don’t really care about me. You do! I don’t want to lose that. Please forgive me.”

He did genuinely look hurt, and you have to believe that he meant it. You sigh. It wasn’t totally Kise’s fault. “It’s alright Ryouta.” You tell him. He seemed to perk up a little at that. “If you could maybe not lay it on so thick for them in the future, I would appreciate it.��

“Of course [Y/N]-cchi!” He cheered with a beaming smile. Already back to his normal self. “I’d do anything for you!”

It doesn’t stop of course. But Kise kept true to his word and politely asked to be left in peace. Most respected that. Some weren’t as understanding of his needs. You just appreciated that he was trying to keep them at bay. Fangirls were weird.

Kagami

After practice, you and Kagami went to Maji Burger, as per usual. And, as per usual, people were staring at your table.

Most of the time they were staring at the loud, tall teen scarfing down his body weight in hamburgers. Amazed at his own personal eating contest. However, more recently, the people staring were girls from your school who had also come here. And they were staring at Kagami only.

He was completely oblivious to it, but Kagami was actually really popular; even before Serin started wining so much. He was tall, athletic, built. He’d come from America, which was so cool for a lot of the students around here. Plus, he had this whole ‘bad boy basketball star’ vibe going. If they only knew how much of a sweet heart he really was. Actually, scratch that. If they knew that would only make it worse.

“Hey, what’s up [Y/N]? You’re not eating. Do you not like your food?”

You look up from your own, normal portion on the tray, then back down as you play with your food. “It’s just hard to eat when people are staring.”

Kagami blinked. Then looked around to see what you were talking about. “I don’t see anybody.”

“Of course you don’t….” You mutter under your breath. He never did.

“What does it matter?” He asked. “It’s not like I can stop people from looking at me. They have eyeballs. It’s a free country.”

“That’s not the point Kagami. It’s not that they’re looking at you. It’s the fact that they’re looking at you.” You’re trying to be discrete here, but subtle or discretion never really got through to Kagami. “They wanna fuck you.”

Kagami choked on his burger halfway devoured in his mouth. “Don’t say that!” He scolded you. Once he’d recovered from his near-death experience.

“Well, it’s true. Maybe that’s a bit much, but they definitely look at you that way, and it’s annoying.”

“How can you even tell?”

“Because it’s how I look at you.” You muttered under our breath again. Fidgeting with our soda straw to avoid eye contact.

Kagami heard you again though and now you were both blushing in the booth. “Well…the only one I’m interested in looking at me that way is you.” He muttered back. “The only one I’m interested in looking at that way is you.” His leg moved forward under the table to touch yours. Simple, secret, intimate.

You smile softly as you realize it was stupid to be jealous. Kagami had no guile. He was honest to a fault, which was another of his amazing qualities. He genuinely didn’t see those other girls because he was only focused on you. So let them stare. There was no way they were going to take him away from you.

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fatiguing-thoughts · 3 years

Text

Change of Heart - Paul Lahote x Reader

Request: “Hey, since you don't feel comfortable writing about the poly imprinting thing the other anon suggested, I have an idea based on what they said that maybe you could write instead. So instead of the reader imprinting on both, a reaction type of thing for when the reader had a crush on one, but falls in love with the other with time. If it is preference style, you can get to show both situations (crush on Embry, but falls for Paul later and vice versa)”

this is the crush on Embry -> falling in love with Paul version

Having a mother who was obsessed with the beach was the reason that your life turned out the way it did.

That’s where you met your best friend, Embry Call.

His mother worked at the souvenir shop, she frequently brought him to the beach as well. So time after time of running into each other and playing together as kids-- you grew up hanging out all the time.

Despite you living and going to school in Forks, you guys saw each other at minimum three times a week. And as you got older, you only hung out more. Even into young adulthood.

You guys did everything together. School dances when your moms forced you into going, going to see the movies either of you were dying to watch, and simply hanging around doing nothing. It was like you were dating, but if dating meant that you were merely best friends. No kissing, the awkward touching of hands here and there.

But overall, you and Embry connected deeper than anyone else. You would stay up talking all night, picking the brains of one another’s minds. Listening to music together, singing your favorite songs. Sometimes you stared a little too long at his lips, but that was besides the point. You guys were friends.

I had grown quite the crush on Embry, but I knew deep down that it wouldn’t be worth risking the friendship. I could never risk anything awkward between us. I have never felt this comfortable around another person before, and I doubt that I would find it again. So holding Embry close to my heart as a best friend was an idea that I was well acquainted with. I’d grown to accept it.

Though, as time went on, he began to gain some newer friends, which was normal. What high school boy didn’t hang out with other boys? The only issue was, it seemed to tear into your Embry time.

It was fine, really. Embry’s happiness was my top priority. But when he finally introduced me to his friends, I’ll admit I felt pretty excited. To finally meet some new people, to find friendship in those other than Embry.

Embry was always my best friend, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a bigger circle. He spoke so highly of them all, how could I not be thrilled to meet them?

So when I did, I could say that I was both incredibly nervous, yet excited.

“They’re gonna love you.” He reassures me on our way to Jake’s house.

“How do you know that?” I ask, fiddling with the rip in my jeans.

“Because, I love you. You’re the best friend anyone could ask for. They’re gonna think you’re a lot of fun and super cool, because you are.” He smiles that signature Embry Call grin.

Friend. Ugh. Get it together, (Y/N).

“Thank you, Em.” I smile back.

“Of course.”

The drive to Jacob’s was quick from Embry’s considering they both lived in La Push. Pulling up into the house, Embry led me into the garage where they were working on Jacob’s project car, the rabbit. Embry would never shut up about it, his eyes brighter than the sun whenever he talked about how much fun it was, how he enjoyed finally being able to exercise his mechanic skills.

“Hey guys, this is (Y/N). (Y/N), this is Jacob, Jared, Quil, and Paul. We have a few classes together.” He points at them as he says their names.

“Hi.” I wave shyly.

“(Y/N), I know you haven’t been here yet, but don’t worry. I’ll quickly become your favorite. Don’t stress.” Quil walks over, putting his arm around your shoulder and chuckling.

“Oh great, thanks.” I roll my eyes. “You really weren’t kidding, Em. He’s nuts.” I giggle.

“Wow, okay. Thanks for putting in a good word, Embry.” Quil laughs, walking back to where he stood.

I quickly found myself growing comfortable, no wonder why Embry found good company in these guys. They were all so nice, so down to Earth.

One in particular caught my attention, Paul. He was handsome, well built for his age. He seemed to be just as friendly as the rest, too.

I watched as Embry and Jake worked on the engine, peering over the side of the hood.

“Do you know anything about cars?” A charming voice rings out behind me.

I turn over my shoulder and see Paul, I felt a blush begin to rise to my cheeks. Why did he get me so flustered for absolutely no reason?

“Uh, yeah. A little bit. Embry talks my ear off about them, plus I have some cars I like myself. But mechanical wise, they run circles around me.” I smirk.

“Nice. They’re teaching me a lot more, I’m probably at the same level you’re at.” He chuckles, his deep brown eyes piercing into mine.

“No you’re not, (Y/N) still runs circles around you. I’m the best teacher around.” Embry teases.

“Well, you heard it here first. Looks like I know more than you about cars.” I tease.

“Might have to teach me some stuff some time.” He smirks.

I felt the blush creeping onto my cheeks again, so I bent my head down, glancing down at my feet, before returning his gaze.

“Maybe.”

Embry looks between us, discomfort slightly showing on his face, which left me a bit confused.

The drive back to my house was a bit awkward.

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

“I just... I got the vibe that you and Paul hit it off really well. Which would be fine, but he’s a bit of a... player. I just, I don’t want you to go through that. He’s a great friend, but he’s not a good boyfriend.” Embry gently tells me, looking into my eyes with his chocolate brown ones.

“I see.” I swallow, looking out the window.

I was unsure of what to say. Paul seemed like a nice guy, but Embry wouldn’t steer me wrong.

Over the next few weeks, I began to spend more and more time with them all. I grew to adore them more than I ever thought I would, they were just as important to me as Embry was now, my romantic feelings finally subsiding for him. Quil quickly became the impish friend that Embry told me he’d be, Jared was an absolute clown, Jake was beyond friendly, very caring.

And well Paul... Paul was someone that really left me blushing almost constantly. He hung onto every word that left my mouth, and I did the same for him. He was sweeter than sugar to me, even if he was less of that to the rest of the group and everyone else. He had a certain softness in his voice, in his body language with me. Paul talked to me like I was the only person in the room, but Embry’s warning loomed over me like clouds over the rainy Forks sky.

As time went on, Embry warned me again. He even spoke to Paul about it, apparently. Paul had told me about it one night while we were talking just the two of us. We begun to hang out just the two of us, yet I never let him call it a date as per Embry’s warning.

While he was at first surprised I wouldn’t go on a date with him, he was persistent because he knew how I felt. He knew the connection we had. He was upset that I always reciprocated the flirting, but was always far too hesitant to make any larger moves.

“Embry, I haven’t seen any other girls since you brought her to hang out.”

“I don’t know Paul... I don’t want (Y/N) to be the same as every other girl for you.”

“She’s not, she’s different. You know that. I really like her, I never felt this before. She won’t say yes unless you’re okay with it.”

“Don’t make me regret this, Paul.”

“You won’t.”

Paul would hold my hand when I would get scared during horror movie night. He would pick me up for hangouts for the pure fact that he could drive me home, despite me being able to drive and having my own car. He would give me his hoodies when I would grow cold, whispering about how they looked better on me than him. Paul grew protective over me, always making sure that every adventure we took together, he would be there to make sure I stayed in one piece due to my clumsiness. Paul truly thought I was this fragile piece of glass that could shatter at any moment.

He would surprise me with my favorite drink from Starbucks when I was having a rough day at work. The way he would always have to touch me, whether that be resting an arm around my shoulder, holding my hand, or resting a hand on my thigh or lower back. All of the above sending my nerves in a frenzy. He was protective, slightly jealous. He didn’t like when guys checked me out, so he made it known I was his when he would press a kiss to my lips, then smirking at them, pulling me into him.

I loved the feeling of when he would pull me into his lap, his strong arms wrapping around me. The way he held me at night, like I was the only thing that mattered in the world-- it was a beautiful feeling. It was crazy to hear the stories of the hot-headed boy, because with me he wasn’t like that. He was patient, kind, and loving to no end. Did he have his moments where his temper would flare up? Of course. Everyone does, but I tried to help him get to where he wanted his temper to be. We worked on new ways to cope, we made a lot of progress for him.

He was everything you could ask for in a guy, he was nothing Embry warned me about. Everyone noticed that Paul had softened immensely, he was calmed down. He was “whipped” according to the guys, which I didn’t stop him from kicking Jacob’s ass for that one.

“Damn, Paul. (Y/N) trained you well.” Quil teases, only to be pulled into a headlock.

Our first kiss was sweet, it was gentle. Paul’s large hands held my face like he was holding the most fragile thing in the world. He treated me like a princess.

“Wanna go get lunch before we hang out with everyone? I’m buying.” He offers.

“Sure, but you’re not buying my lunch.” I giggle over the phone.

“Why not? It’ll be a date.” He chimes.

“I don’t know... What’s in it for me?”

“Uh, going on a date with the hottest and sweetest guy in all of La Push.”

“Oh, Jacob’s taking me on a date?” I tease, knowing that would drive him a little nuts.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” He chuckles into the phone.

“I just might be, when’re you picking me up, Lahote?” I giggle.

“I’m actually outside already. Surprise.”

So we went out to lunch, and it was really fun. It always was a fun time with Paul. Going to hang out with the guys was great, though something was off with Jared. He played it off, continuing to tease Paul and I.

Embry grew to support Paul and I, though he told me he was my second pair of eyes. He was watching Paul like a hawk, hoping he wouldn’t break my fragile heart.

But when Jared got sick with mono and stopped coming around, I had to be there for him. He was beyond hurt when he saw Jared hanging out with Sam Uley. Why would he up and leave the group? No explanation, nothing. Jared avoided all of us like the plague.

Paul was devastated. That was his best friend, how could Jared lie to him? How could he ditch him like it was nothing?

The issue was, is that Paul had a hard time expressing his emotions. Even though he was sad about the situation, he grew to be angry. He would huff and puff, pacing the room, yelling about how Jared was being an asshole and how he had no idea what to do.

It was fine, really. You knew that he was going through the ringer and he still treated you like a princess.

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t even realize how much I was yelling.” He would apologize, walking over to you sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for him to calm down after your attempts to do so were futile.

“I understand, you’re going through a rough time right now. But I’m here for you.” I smile, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“I love you.” He presses his forehead against mine.

“I love you, too.”

Chills ran up my spine, I had felt butterflies like never before. Paul gave me feelings I never knew existed.

But soon, he grew feverish. His skin was burning hot and he grew testy. He snapped at everyone, and seemingly for the littlest of things. I thought it was strange, as this was a side of Paul I had never seen. We had to leave Jake’s one night, as he grew incredibly protective over me... almost animalistic. He almost lost it on Quil when he started play fighting with me, I just took him out of there, leaving the guys in the garage. I was met with concerned eyes all around, but I knew Paul wouldn’t hurt me... I just had no idea what had gotten into him.

He held onto me like his life depended on it.

“I’m scared, (Y/N).” He whispered into my neck.

“Why Paul?”

“Jared and Sam... they look like they’re waiting for me. I can’t stand it-- they’re hovering over me all the time. I can’t deal with it.” He huffs.

His feverish skin almost burning mine, just as it had been the last few days.

“I’m sorry Paul, maybe try to avoid them?” I offer up my advice, but it met with a mere sigh from his lips.

“They keep telling me I have to break away from everyone. That I’ll have to leave the friend group, that I’ll have to leave you. They’re lucky I didn’t kick their asses.” He huffs.

His words shocked me, they left me speechless. Why would they be saying that?

“Why would they say that?”

“Hell if I knew. I just ran out of there before I punched someone. I know you don’t like when I hit people.” He chuckles.

“I’d rather you didn’t.” I smirk.

But I couldn’t shake his words, I didn’t understand why they wanted him? Why they wanted him to cut us all off?

He soon fell asleep while I rubbed circles into his back, trying to soothe him once again. I heard my phone go off on the table next to me.

It was Embry asking if I was okay, to which I told him yeah. He didn’t need to know the worries plaguing my brain.

But the next few days, Paul got sicker. He started changing before my eyes, growing insanely fast. His body temperature continued to climb. He told me that Sam and Jared wouldn’t leave him alone, but he was only getting angrier at them and holding onto me tighter.

“They keep saying they don’t want me to hurt you.” He would sigh, his face visibly distressed.

And then told me that I couldn’t see him for a while. He cut off all the guys completely, and I hadn’t heard from him since; he wasn’t even answering my texts.

Embry was worried sick about me, despite everyone being upset at Paul’s sudden change and departure from our lives. He would come and check up on me, absolutely stunned to see the shifting moods I had.

One minute, I was fine and 110% certain that Paul wouldn’t up and leave with no warning, and the next I was a blubbering mess. Embry did his best to make sure that I wasn’t left alone for too long, as he was afraid I would become the next comatose Bella Swan. I mean, kudos to him for caring but that wouldn’t happen. Or maybe just yet, as the longer Paul was gone the less I seemed to care about anything else. It just felt like a part of me was gone, like the puzzle piece fitting my heart together was missing.

So a few days later, I made some of his favorite soup and made my way over to his house.

I knocked on the door, but there was no answer. It was locked so I couldn’t let myself in, but I knew where Paul’s bedroom window was. I peeked through and saw him peacefully sprawled out on his bed, the sight bringing both relief and a smile to my face. But then I heard some whooping noises from the back of his house, causing me to investigate.

I look and see none other than the infamous Sam Uley and Jared Cameron, he looked very different since the last time I had saw him. It felt like forever ago since that night.

“(Y/N), what’re you doing here?” Sam asks with a concerned tone.

“I needed to see Paul.” I demand.

“Go home, (Y/N). He doesn’t want you to come around anymore, he doesn’t want to be with you anymore.” Jared looks deep into my eyes, his words punching me in the gut.

His eyes were hard, as were his features, but I knew he was full of shit. But the words still hurt for just a second. For just a second.

“What the hell are you guys doing to him?” I look at them with eyes set to kill.

“What? What did he tell you?” Jared asks, eyes widening with concern.

“Calm down.” Sam urges, putting a hand out in front of Jared.

“He won’t tell me anything anymore.” I hiss. “But before he stopped answering me he was so afraid of you guys! Always following him around, telling him what to do. Telling him to stay away before he hurts me! Paul would never hurt me, asshole!”

I was fuming now, but I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop myself. Paul was a tough guy, nothing really broke him like their warnings and constant following did. The sudden changes he was experiencing, he had no idea of what to make of it as he was given no answers.

“I watched him change in front of my very eyes, this is beyond some bullshit about him wanting to leave me, Jared. This is not normal.” I stomp my way over to them.

“(Y/N), stay back.” Sam’s hand gestures up to me. “Jared, calm down.”

“Sam, don’t. I’m done with this, I want my boyfriend back. Jared, what the hell got into you, too?” I raise my voice at him, causing him to flinch.

“Hello? Earth to Jared Cameron? What’s your deal now, asshole?” I yell again, poking his bare chest.

But that’s when rage took over Jared’s body. Something I had never seen before. Jared was always goofy, so nice. I had really only seen Paul so angry, and even then-- this was a different level.

“(Y/N), move back now.” Sam yells.

This time, I listened. I took some hesitant steps back, almost tripping over my own feet.

Jared’s body was almost vibrating at this point, that’s how fast it was shaking. I just stared in awe, Sam’s voice was booming, though.

“(Y/N), move back!” He yells again.

I bring myself to take a few more steps back, but this time I did trip over my feet.

Jared suddenly moved like he was bursting out of his own skin, and in some way he did. Sam pushed him back to create some more distance, but overall in the end-- Jared turned into an enormous wolf. An enormous wolf that snarled at me, but overall didn’t do anything to hurt me.

“What the hell?” I blink my eyes, before running towards Paul house.

That’s when I see Paul running towards the situation.

“Paul, run!” I say, trying to grab a hold onto him, but he gently, but very quickly, shook me off.

He too, burst out of his own skin, turning into a giant wolf.

“What?” I whisper to myself.

I watch as Paul jumps onto Jared, listening to their snarls and growling. I stared astonished, as Sam looks over at me with sympathetic eyes.

After a few moments, Sam orders them to stop. And they did, they walked into the woods and came out with some jean shorts on.

“Come here.” Sam says, helping me off the ground.

“Is this... is this what was going on?” I breathe out.

“Yeah, you’re gonna learn a lot today.” He sighs, clearly unhappy about me knowing.

“I’m sorry.” Jared exhales. “It’s hard to control your anger when this starts, and then I had to lie and everything. I’m just sorry.” He smiles softly.

“All good, understood now.” I smirk.

Though I was still uneasy. What did all this mean?

“Paul?” I merely whisper, looking up at his face.

He had grown a lot, got even more muscular since I had last seen him. But he refused to meet my gaze.

“Paul, please look at me.” I beg, reaching out to grab his forearm.

He hesitates, almost afraid to.

“Paul if you think I’m afraid of you, I’m not. Please look at me.” My pleading voice almost cracking.

I needed to see those deep brown eyes I had loved so much. The ones that brought me endless joy, endless love. But he wouldn’t budge.

“That’s not what I’m afraid of right now.” He chuckles sadly.

He was still looking over my head, refusing to meet my gaze.

“You owe it to the both of you to figure it out, Paul.” Sam nods.

“What? What’re you talking about.” I turn to Sam.

But as I turn my head to look back at Paul, I finally caught his gaze. A small smile crept on his face, until our eyes met.

That’s when his jaw fell slack, his face completely softened. It was like he was stuck in a daze of sorts.

But what I felt was good. I felt like the world had stopped spinning, I felt like Sam and Jared were gone, it was only Paul and I. I couldn’t tear my eyes away as this overwhelmingly great feeling pressurized around my entire body. This was something far more intense than what Paul and I usually had felt, and even before I thought we had intense feelings.

No, this was different.

I had no idea how to even stand anymore, I felt like my knees were going to give out.

“Finally, some good news.” Jared huffs, grabbing both of us out of our trance.

“Okay, please explain things.” I look back to Paul.

“Okay.” He breathes a sigh of relief, before he pulls me into a rib crushing hug, spinning me around.

I felt the air leave my lungs, this actually hurt. He sometimes accidentally hugged me too hard, but this was surreal.

My breath hitched as I whimpered out and “ow” which caused Paul to quickly let go, profusely apologizing.

“Sorry, I forget my own strength. Still not completely used to it.”

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

“Okay, so let me get this straight. Vampires run rampant through Forks and the rest of the Olympic Peninsula? Right, so that’s what made you guys phase. And then you can’t be around people for a while because it’s an enormous secret that only the pack and their imprints can know. And Paul imprinted on me, but I still don’t know what that exactly means, but we can go over that. But then, you guys protect everyone from said vampires and destroy them. Now you’re super warm and strong and the rest of the group you expect to join soon? Because you all have it in your blood?” I ask, looking at Sam.

“Well, you seem to really listen. But yes, It’s likely that Quil and Jacob will, we don’t know so much about Embry but it’s possible. Has he been acting strange?” Sam raises an eyebrow.

“He texted me about a fever earlier, but he’s been normal enough.”

“Well, you suddenly disappearing might set him off.” Jared chuckles.

“What? I can’t see him anymore?”

“Not until he phases, any of them. The secret is important.” Sam looks at me with empathetic eyes, Paul’s hand immediately resting on my lower back.

“I have to disappear out of my best friends’ lives? I don’t even phase!”

“It doesn’t matter, it’s too much of a risk right now. Over time, we’ll see what happens.”

My heart sank, how would they forgive me for disappearing indefinitely? For blowing them off? I was growing anxious at the thought.

“They’ll forgive you when they understand, it just takes time.” Sam nods.

“Okay.” I whisper.

“Alright, Paul. Explain imprinting.” Jared smirks, looking over at us.

“Right now?” Paul looks at Sam, but Sam only nods his head, signaling for him to begin explaining.

“Paul? Just talk to me, we always talk about anything and everything.” I lay my hand on his comfortingly.

He seemingly melted at my touch, just as always.

“Well, the thing is, it’s not our choice. And I want you to hear me out before you say anything, please.”

“Of course.” I grew nervous at his words, but I knew that was nervous, too.

“Well, so it happens to some of us, not all of us get so ‘lucky,’ if you will. It happens when you see a certain person for the first time after you phase. When you look into their eyes, it’s just... it’s pure bliss. You just know, you know it’s your soulmate. But, that doesn’t mean romantic, it could be platonic. In reality, it’s up to them. But for us, you’d do anything, be anything for them. A friend, protector, a lover. We just... we need to be near them. I need to be near you, and I always did, even before all of this complicated shit. I was always protective, but I can’t imagine I’ll ease up, it’ll probably get worse so I’m sorry in advance, but overall, I want you to know that you hold the reigns.” He softly smiles, looking into my eyes with a pleading look.

“Oh, I see.” I murmur, looking down at my hand for a second, trying to process the situation.

His face fell, and it looked like someone punched him in the gut, Jared and Sam grew a bit worried.

“Wait, that wasn’t me rejecting you. I’m just... I’m thinking. It’s just a lot to take in. I love you, more than anything. I’m glad it was me and not someone else, I am. As long as you’re happy about that. But I just need to understand it. I feel a physical pull to you, so I feel it, too.” I smile softly, thinking about when he refused to look into my eyes.

“I’m very happy that it was you.” He grabs onto my hand.

“So why didn’t you want to look into my eyes?” I mumble.

“Because I didn’t want to bare the thought of it not happening with you, though I don’t think I could change anything about us, ever. Imprint or not, (Y/N), you’re stuck with me.” He chuckled. “But only if you want me.”

“Of course I want you.” I nudge his shoulder.

After that, it was just playing the waiting game, waiting for my best friends to phase, too. I was left with so many calls and texts I couldn’t answer. Embry showing up to my house, knocking to no avail. Leaving, sadness deep in his eyes. Though, he eventually became angry. I knew he was going to phase soon, I watched from afar how he was growing more hostile, and how he was changing physically. Soon, I’d have my best friend back.

Paul was right, he grew more protective, more worried about my every move. It was clear to us all that he was more protective than Sam and Jared were over Emily and Kim. It was easier to understand everything with Kim and Emily being apart of this all, as they knew where I was coming from.

But, it was the waiting game that was killing me. Thankfully, Paul was around to pick up the pieces after leaving my best friends behind, no notice given. He held me when I grew sad, feeling guilty for having to leave their lives.

Paul was unwavering, loving me endlessly. __________________________________ Word Count: 4796

#paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote imagine #embry call #embry call x reader #quil ateara #jared cameron #sam uley #jacob black #leah clearwater #seth clearwater #twilight

280 notes · View notes

sturchling · 4 years

Text

Salt-Fic September Day 26: Abandoned

Marinette was numb as she realized what had happened. This was horrible. The class had abandoned her in Gotham, alone. To think everything had been going well. The class had been nicer to her, and Lila wasn’t actively trying to ruin her time on the trip. In retrospect, that should have been Marinette’s first clue that something was wrong. She couldn’t believe this, and it had all happened in the course of two days.

The class was trying to come up with a place to go for the end of the year trip. Lila had become the class representative a few months back, when the class had started to believe the worst in Marinette. Lila had turned this into a class discussion in the guise of including the whole class in the decision. In reality, she didn’t have any good ideas and just wanted to steal someone’s idea to avoid the class’ irritation. But no one in the class had any good ideas either. Marinette sat in the back of the room just listening to the chaos of the class’ discussion.

While she may not be the class rep anymore, she still doesn’t want her friends to be disappointed by the class trip. She had found an amazing opportunity for the class. The Wayne family was sponsoring a trip to Gotham for the class who submitted the best video essay about their collective accomplishments. Marinette spent several weeks on it, but she was able to submit a video to the contest.

A few weeks passed and Marinette received an email from the contest. Her submission had won the contest! She was thrilled. She was excited to tell everyone, but then she realized that she shouldn’t. With the way the class thought of her now, they would likely immediately reject the idea purely because she suggested it. Instead she sent the information to Mrs. Bustier and asked her not to say who won the contest. Surprisingly, she agreed to her request and didn’t say anything.

Lila had no idea who won the contest, but she didn’t care. This was perfect. Lila immediately claimed the credit for winning the contest. “It was hard to write the essay through the pain from my sprained wrist, but I did it for you guys.” The class fawned over Lila, thanking her for her dedication. Meanwhile, Marinette just rolled her eyes. The information Mrs. Bustier sent the class specifically said that it was a video essay contest, not a writing contest. How could the class not realize this was a lie? They had the proof right in front of them. But that wasn’t important, at least the class would have a nice trip.

That was how the class had ended up in Gotham. The trip had been going surprisingly well. Marinette had expected that Lila would hog all the attention and the class would treat her as coldly as they had back in Paris. But instead, Lila was quieter than normal and the class was chatting with her again. Marinette had hoped that meant that they had realized that Lila was a liar and were willing to be her friends again.

Marinette was having a great time on the trip, when she met him. He had tan skin and dark hair. He was sitting in one of the halls of the Wayne Enterprises building the class was touring. He was sitting on a bench and reading a book. Marinette had been looking for a quiet place to sketch while the class ate lunch and decided to sit next to him. When she sat down, he gave her an incredulous look, as though he couldn’t believe she sat there. Then he just turned back to his book, and ignored her.

Time went by, and the two just kept reading and sketching in quiet. Eventually though, the boy’s eyes found Marinette’s sketchbook again. He stared at the sketch which appeared to be an outfit based off Robin’s costume. “Your work is exquisite. Very detailed.” Marinette was startled by the sudden noise. “Thank you. That is kind of you to say.” “Is it based on Robin’s costume? Why did you choose that costume?” Marinette went on to discuss her process for this design. The conversations continued until the end of the lunch for the class. When the class gathered outside of the cafeteria, Marinette had to leave. But before she did, the boy, who she now knew was called Damian, asked her, “I apologize if this is too forward, but would you care to have dinner with me tomorrow night?” Marinette agreed eagerly and was looking forward to seeing Damian again.

Marinette had no idea who exactly Damian was until later that night while speaking with Alya. “Girl, you scored a date with Damian Wayne. So, its tomorrow night? What time?” The girls spent several hours discussing the date. Alya wanted all the details. It felt like old times, before Lila ever appeared. Marinette enjoyed this time with her best friend. Alya even helped her get ready for the date, choosing an outfit and how she should do her hair and makeup. Marinette had no idea what Alya and the rest of the class was really planning.

The next night was one of the best nights in Marinette’s life. Damian had arrived early and endured some teasing from Alya and the class as Marinette finished getting ready. They left and had a wonderful dinner. Damian even took Marinette for a walk in a nearby park, while his brothers watched from the roof tops to make sure no rouges got any funny ideas. Marinette had a wonderful time. Damian dropped her off back at the hotel, and even walked her to the door to her room. Marinette was in such a happy mood. That was until she opened the door to her room after Damian left. The room was empty. All of Alya’s things were gone. They had been sharing a room. Marinette’s things were still there, but Alya’s things were gone.

Marinette searched the whole hotel, but didn’t find anyone from class. She went to the front desk and asked about her class. The person working the desk looked at her in shock. “You are still here? Your class already left, said there was some emergency in Paris.” Marinette panicked, expecting a bad akuma and checked for news on her phone. But there wasn’t anything. Instead, there was an unread text.

You shouldn’t have messed with Lila. Maybe this will teach you a lesson. Have a good time getting home.-Alya

Marinette couldn’t believe it. The class had abandoned her in Gotham.

She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know how to get home. She didn’t have money to get a plane ticket, and the class must have done something to her original ticket. She called her parents and they got her a ticket for the first available flight, which wouldn’t be until tomorrow evening. Marinette spoke with the hotel staff member at the desk, to see about staying in her room one more night. But they told her that someone else had already checked into the room for the night. Her stuff was brought to her from the room and she didn’t know what to do now. She had no where to stay for the night.

Marinette realized she had only one option. She gathered her stuff and went to the Wayne Manor. When she arrived, she was greeted by an older man who stared at her inquisitively. “Good evening. I was having dinner with Damian earlier tonight. Something has happened and I didn’t know where else to go, may I please speak with him?” The butler looked at her warily, but did let her in the manor. He led her to a parlor and went to fetch Damian.

A few minutes passed and he returned with Damian following with a confused look on his face. “Marinette? What happened? Why are you here?” Marinette explained everything that had happened since Damian dropped her off. “So, they just abandoned me here. I already have a flight booked for tomorrow night thanks to my parents. But I don’t have anywhere to stay tonight. I’m sorry to impose, but I didn’t have anywhere else to turn.” Damian was furious. How dare the class do this to her?

Alfred had gone to get Bruce and fill him in on the situation. Bruce came into the parlor as well, to see Damian comforting an upset Marinette. Bruce approached the young couple, “Of course you may stay here tonight Marinette. After all, my family sponsored your class’ trip. That makes you my responsibility until you return to Paris. Make yourself at home. Now, I think I will go call your parents and tell them you are staying here with me.” Marinette felt at ease, knowing that things were being handled.

Marinette was returned to Paris in the morning, but she never returned to Francois Dupont. Her parents pulled her out of that school immediately after they learned their daughter had been left behind. She was now enrolled in an arts school that Chloe and Adrien had transferred to before everything in Gotham had happened. She also spent a lot of time in Gotham when she was on a break from school. She had to visit her boyfriend obviously. While Damian wished she had transferred to Gotham, he was happy that Marinette was in a better school. Marinette was happier than she had been in a long time.

Lila ended up being exposed a few months after the Gotham incident. Marinette never got the details of how it happened, she only found out because the class showed up to try and apologize to her. Marinette stopped them, “I accept your apology, but I can’t fully forgive you. You abandoned me in one of the most dangerous cities in the world. You didn’t care at all what happened to me. I had no where to stay that night and no way home. I could have been really hurt. I’m sorry but we can’t be friends anymore, I can’t be friends with people that would do that to me.” The class didn’t like it, but they accepted it. They knew what they did was unforgiveable.

While Marinette had been beyond hurt by what the class had done, she wouldn’t have changed anything about the trip. She learned who her true friends were and who wasn’t. She had also met Damian, who she had grown much closer to over the months after the trip. She was the happiest she had ever been and was glad that everything had happened the way it did. She was living an amazing life, with friends and family that cared for her and a boyfriend who truly loved her.

Hope you guys liked it! @maribat-central-official

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alderaani · 3 years

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Skies

summary: After a long campaign, Jesse and Hardcase indulge in some well earned TLC. AO3 | Series

Part of my 100-clone centric prompts series, prompt list used is here

wanrings: allusions to canon-typical violence, death mention.

a/n: oof, I’ve been so unmotivated to write recently, so i’m honestly just relieved to have finished something. i’ve been wanting to write this for ages, based off this post by @lilhawkeye3 - it’s such an endearing image.

The ocean didn’t smell anything like Hardcase thought it would.

He slipped his bucket from his head, squinting against the sudden rush of unfiltered light. On either side of him troopers broke free of the tree line, and, feeling sand beneath their boots, took off whooping towards the frothing crest of the sea. The sunset blazed red and orange, bleeding like a punctured egg yolk across the cloudless horizon and into distant water. Hardcase breathed in, wrinkling his nose against the salt-laden tang, so visceral he could taste it.

It wasn’t like Kamino. That was almost the biggest surprise. He’d thought that oceans would be the same everywhere, but this wasn’t a bad way to be proven wrong. It was the salt, he realised after a moment, darting his tongue out to touch his lips. There weren’t really any beaches on Kamino, though he supposed there must be sand under there somewhere. There were no winding strips where ocean met land, where the sun could ferment the pools, rocks and shells left behind. It tasted lighter there, cleaner, more cut through by its brutal winds. He breathed in deep again, wrinkling his nose and grinning at the way the seasoned tang sat on his palate here, briny and thick.

It was the colour too, that really made the difference. It was so pale and clear on this far-flung planet, instead of the angry greyish blue he remembered. The waves were...politer, somehow. Less vengeful, not boiling with ever-falling rain. Several troopers had reached the shore now and were chasing the surf, shouting and laughing when it nipped at their heels.

He decided he rather liked it.

It was something different after weeks spent cowering under cover further inland, coated in showers of dark earth from enemy artillery and rationing out stale water in mouthfuls that were barely enough to coat the back of the throat. Even the air was damp here, and overhead the gulls were crying, sharp against the thundering crash of the waves. He lived for these moments, these breaths between the axel-grind of war. It was true that he loved the spoil of a fight, loved sinking into it and letting his Z6 sing. But there was a different, more intoxicating thrill in these snatched hours or - if they were lucky - days. He’d never voiced it to anyone, but he sometimes thought he might like to do this all the time, one day, trawling the stars and standing beneath unfamiliar skies. For the views, this time, explored under his own rhythm.

Yeah. That sounded pretty good.

“Oi, Hardcase!” Someone bellowed, sticking up a hand and waving at him amidst a far away knot of troopers knee deep in the sea. “You coming?”

He shook himself, setting down his pack and his Z6 with loving care amongst the mountainous piles of gear, before jogging down the dunes, following the trails of discarded armour and the shouts, happy laughter and splashes echoing from the water. The wind was sharp on his face and neck and on the strips of skin at his wrists, intoxicating and too heady to ignore. The sand was strangely weightless beneath him, too. He’d slept on a real feather pillow, once, while they were hunkered down on Ord Sedra and several hundred crates of luxury bedding had gotten damaged in the crossfire. It had felt like floating, and all of them had tossed and turned all night. This was similar, and just as strange...what would it all feel like on his skin?

The thought wouldn’t let him go. Halfway down the beach he sat to strip off his boots, then his plates, then his blacks, until he stood in just his greys, laughing at the feeling of the wind and the spray licking against his body. The way it cut through the stubble sprouting on his scalp after far too long stuck in a bucket-locked zone was...disconcerting. The prickle of just-forming curls felt like phantom fingers on the nape of his neck, and he’d found the way sweat clung to hair under his helmet sort of disgusting - it reminded him of being an under-washed cadet. Frankly, he didn’t plan on letting it stay long enough to get used to it.

The sand though...now that was weird. The way it sat between his toes made him squirm, each grain a bolting pinprick against the soles of his feet. When had he last had his boots off? Back on the Venator in the communal fresher, probably. It was a cruel galaxy when that barren room and its clinical racks of scentless soap started to look like a king’s treasury. He dug his feet into the cold, wet sludge, shivering in disgusted delight as the beach swallowed them whole.

“Hardcase!”

He looked towards the bellowing figure stumbling up the sand towards him, squinting as the sun hit their upturned face. Then he barked a laugh of surprise at the edge of the Republic cog he found there.

“ Jesse? Kriff, vod, barely recognised you.”

It was the first time he’d seen his flesh face in weeks, aside from in hurried moments allocated for gulping down rations. Jesse’s hair had grown in thick and black, much to the consternation of several brothers who were offended he could grow a moustache like that and still chose not to. Right now, he reached up to scratch the offending hair on his cheeks and scowled.

“S’rich comin’ from you. What is that slug on your face?”

Hardcase winced. His own unwilling hair cultivation very much proved that clones were not all made equal.

“It’s a casualty,” he said, feeling the short, patchy bristles on his upper lip. His trainer had always promised it would settle as he came out of puberty. That had been a lie. Hardcase blamed it on the crack in his growth jar, like he did most minor physical inconveniences. “This is why I don’t bother with the stuff.”

Jesse nodded, turning away to rummage through the packs strewn over the sand. “It just won’t stop itchin’.”

“You’re telling me.” Hardcase groaned. “You didn’t get woken up last night because your hair tickled the back of your neck and made you think you were bein’ jumped.”

Jesse snorted, straightening back up with his meagre GAR-standard microfibre towel in hand and a ration bar hanging from his mouth.

“Was that what that was about?” he asked, voice muffled. “We thought we could hear you squirmin’.”

Hardcase kicked lightly at Jesse’s ankle. “Real nice of you to not even ask if I was alright.”

Jesse broke off the ration bar and smirked round his mouthful.

“‘Case, it’s when you go quiet that we start asking questions.”

Hardcase shoved him. Jesse went down with a yelp and a curse, his towel catching under his ass and the loose end flapping like a banner in the wind. Hardcase bellowed a laugh, kicking sand towards him. It was a fatal mistake.

Jesse caught him by the ankle and yanked him down too. He landed on his stomach, still laughing as the wind knocked out of him, and scrambled forward with abandon, yelping with shock as water seeped cold and heavy into his greys. He wasn’t fast enough. A leg slung heavy over Hardcase’s ankles, pinning him, and then Jesse’s weight was pressing down on his back, forcing his face towards the wet sand.

“Get off, you kriffin’ shabiir,” he laughed, groaning as Jesse adjusted his weight and squashed the air out of his lungs.

“I’m not the one startin’ fights they can’t finish,” Jesse retorted, his voice light.

“Who said I was finished?” Hardcase shot back, going limp and then bucking hard. Jesse swore, losing his grip, and then they were scrabbling again, a tangle of limbs and righteous yelling.

The fight ended with them lying side by side on their backs, both covered in muck. Hardcase was sure he had sand in his crotch. The sun was still blazing on the horizon, lower now, deepening from yellow to dark, hazy red. It gleamed like fire on the water, like copper on the sand. This world was so reluctant to let the light go, eking out the daylight drop by drop. An errant touch to his thigh made him look over. Jesse was rummaging around underneath himself, grumbling about something digging into his back.

“You think we’ll get to stay here long?” Hardcase asked eventually.

“Aw, hell,” Jesse said, pulling the squashed, sandy remains of his ration bar from underneath him. “This was my last flavoured one. What’d you say?”

“D’you think we’ll stay long?”

Jesse hummed, flinging the ration bar away up the beach. A gull immediately swooped down to snatch it. “Here? Don’t think so. Heard Rex talking to the General, lots still to do before we can get off this rock.”

Hardcase sighed, letting the disappointment wash over him quietly. He shut his eyes again, just listening for a moment, committing the sounds of the sea to memory. It wouldn’t be goodbye. He’d come back to this place, one day. He’d make sure of it.

“So,” he said, cutting himself off before the longing could get too strong. “We gonna shave or what?”

Jesse scoffed. “What? Now?”

Hardcase shrugged. “Why not? We leave here, we’re gonna be back on water rations, right? You really want that nest growin’ for however the fuck long?”

Jesse sighed. “Course I don’t. But what the hell’re we gonna shave with? You didn’t bring your razor, did you?”

“Not a chance,” Hardcase said. That was only a mistake shinies made.

It wasn’t so bad if you lost one of the Kamino issue ones - those were about as blunt as a butter knife. Better to grow hair on campaign and hack it off later than lose one you’d bartered. He still mourned the first he’d ever owned - he’d never seen another with the same quality Corellian steel, and Uppercut had been so smug to win it over sabaac. Gracious enough to let him keep using it though. Some of Hardcase’s best memories were in front of fresher mirrors with him, taking it in turns and helping catch any stray hairs, paying each other in gossip for their trouble. He still hadn’t forgiven that bastard for dying. The first time he’d had to shave after had left him curled over the sink, his head half lathered and his whole body shaking, so on their next planetfall he’d taken the razor with him and buried it in the nicest spot he could find.

Uppercut had always preferred cities to trees, but Hardcase hoped that, wherever he was, he’d appreciated the effort all the same.

“I do have a vibroblade, though,” he carried on brightly, grinning at the way Jesse’s expression fell.

“Absolutely not.”

“Aw, come on. It won’t be that bad.”

Jesse pushed up on his elbows, his face scrunched. “If you think I’m gonna let you dry shave my head with a dagger, ‘Case, you’re more stupid than you look. I want a haircut, not a cut head.”

Hardcase rolled his eyes. “Who said anything about dry shaving? I’ve got soap.”

Jesse paused. “You’ve had soap this whole time? Here?”

“What can I say, I’m an optimist,” Hardcase said, peeling his back out of the sand. “You in or not?”

Jesse didn’t answer, just stood, grinned, and offered Hardcase a hand.

The light continued to wane as they made their trips up and down the beach, finding a good spot where the shoreline banked a little, and where it would keep the worst of the wind off while Hardcase lathered Jesse’s head. He stuck his tongue out a little as he worked, trying not to get distracted while the frothy water lapped at his ankles. He felt himself loosen as he scraped the vibroblade over his brother’s head, even just the act making him feel more like himself. It relaxed the jittery edge his thoughts always had, dialling down the almost frantic noise that built in combat and then sat under his skin. Usually it took a good spar to bounce it all back out of him, but this had always worked too…it had just been a long time since he’d had anyone else to go through the ritual with.

When it was his turn, he all but melted under the gentle, smooth touch of the vibroblade on his head, the soapy lather chilling quickly on his skin. He hummed, the feeling of the pads of Jesse’s guiding fingers on his chin almost too much sensation after so long under plastoid. He let his mind drift, watching the ocean and listening to Jesse’s mutters and curses as he concentrated.

When they were done and had rinsed in the freezing water, the sun had almost vanished, leaving only a purple after-bruise on the darkened sky. Most of the battalion had settled much further up the beach near the largest sand dunes, so they drifted there and claimed a patch of sand, pulling on their blacks when the sticky film of drying salt water got too much in the cold night air. After a late meal of ration cubes, and, far more enticing, some dried bantha milk the last villages they’d fortified had gifted them, Hardcase was splayed out on his back again and feeling quite ready to have a nap.

Jesse was lounging beside him, carefully rehydrating his milk with water from his field flask. Hardcase couldn’t remember the last time they’d had a night like this, where the war had felt so far away.

They turned their heads at several loud hoots, a crash, and a cheer, followed by an angry bellow. He squinted his eyes against the sudden flare of bright light.

Several brothers had constructed a modest bonfire out of driftwood - and, Hardcase suspected, several unlucky clones’ blacks - and had just tossed over a spare fuel canister, setting the whole thing ablaze in a column of blue flame. The tense figure stalking towards them looked awfully like Appo.

“D’you think we should help him?” Hardcase murmured, his hands propped comfortably under his head. Plasma always burned fast and hot, and he could already feel it faintly against the side of his freshly exposed head. It was nice; soothing, even.

Jesse hummed, pushed up on one elbow so that he could sip at his drink.

“...Nah,” he said slowly, lowering his cup and scrubbing away the blue moustache left behind. He flopped back down with a boneless huff. “Appo’s a big boy. He’s got this.”

Hardcase turned his head again, in time to see Appo tug futilely at some of the dark fabric being swallowed by flame. He chuckled and shut his eyes, breathing in deep and enjoying the soothing melody of shouting that, for once, was not being directed at him.

“Yeah,” he murmured after a moment, sighing as the heat flared and there were more jubilant whoops. “I think you’re right.”

taglist // @nelba @leias-left-hair-bun @simping-for-fives @missinashkin @iscream4clones @majorshiraharu @dom-i-nic @snippytano @808tsuika @eries45 @whatanoof // list here

#alderwrites #hardcase #clone trooper hardcase #clone trooper jesse #arc trooper jesse #501st legion #star wars #the clone wars #the clone wars fic #jesse #time to hit post before i can decide i hate this loooool

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nicknellie · 3 years

Text

Anonymous requested: a Juke one shot based on the song 'Lets fall in love for the night' by Finneas

I’d never heard this song before, but I was seriously excited to write from it when I listened. And Juke is absolutely perfect for it too! This is the first time I’ve written Juke in a while and I’m so happy with how it turned out, thank you for your request!

I Know Better

You need a pick me up?

I’ll be there in twenty-five,

I like to push my luck,

So take my hand, let’s take a drive.

I’ve been living in the future,

Hopin’ I might see you sooner,

I want you, riding shotgun,

I knew when I got one right.

It was a lazy late night when Luke got the text through from Julie. He hadn’t been up to much, just picking at his guitar, trying to figure out a new melody but coming up blank. Bored out of his mind, he had been desperate for something to do, somewhere to go, someone to talk to. Perhaps he had been hoping for something just like this, a message from the girl who made his heart soar very much against his will, asking to see him.

She had asked to be picked up from work – apparently she’d had a very long day and just needed someone to talk to about something that wasn’t work. This happened a lot, Luke thought with a grin as he put his guitar away and headed to his car. Julie would ask him to see her after work, say she didn’t want to talk about it, and then talk about it for at least an hour before they even thought about mentioning anything else.

He didn’t mind. He would have listened to anything as long as Julie was the one saying it.

He clambered into his car and set off, muscle memory guiding him to the office block Julie worked at. It was supposed to be a half-hour-long drive at least, and even that was only in good traffic, but Luke was determined to get there quickly. He couldn’t have denied that Julie had been on his mind all day – like she always was – and for that reason he couldn’t wait to see her.

So maybe he ran a red light or two. Maybe he cut a few corners. Maybe he did some not-so-sensible things that were maybe not-so-safe, but it was just to get to Julie as fast as he could. The thought of her made him reckless, clouded his judgement, gave him the ability to do anything.

It was lucky it was such a late hour and there was hardly anyone else on the roads, otherwise Luke was certain he wouldn’t have got to Julie as quickly as he did.

As it happened, he managed to shave five minutes off the journey, arriving outside the building in about twenty minutes. He could see Julie sat on the front steps of the building, all the lights turned off inside so she was only lit by a nearby streetlamp and the light from her phone. She was wrapped up in a thick coat, her hair spilling out over her shoulders in that way Luke thought was more beautiful than anything else. In his head, he knew he could have just texted her to say he was there, or waited for her to notice him herself seeing as his was the only car around, but instead he opened the door and climbed out, heading straight for her.

Julie only looked up from her phone when Luke was just a few paces away. The way she smiled at him – small, sweet, soft, breathtakingly beautiful – melted Luke’s heart right then and there. It was almost difficult to maintain his appearance of cool and casual when she looked at him like that, but he forced himself to keep it up.

“Hey,” he said, grinning down at her.

“Hi,” she returned, still smiling that cute little smile. “Thanks for coming to pick me up.”

“Anytime,” Luke said, waving a dismissive hand. “You know that.”

He extended a hand to her, holding it out like a gift, an offering. A prayer.

Take my hand, Julie, take it and never let go.

“Do you want to come back to my place?” he asked. There was an unspoken ‘or I could take you straight home’ but Luke didn’t want to put the idea of leaving him in her head.

But that worry was silenced as soon as it reared its ugly head because Julie slipped her hand into his and hoisted herself up. Her fingers were much smaller than his, long and delicate, a pianist’s hands. A small part of him wanted to do nothing more than just stand here with Julie, hand in hand, nothing else between them but the silence of the late hour.

He tore himself away from the thought, but not from Julie. Hands still linked between them, they headed back to Luke’s car, charged silence drifting over them.

There were times that Julie didn’t feel real to Luke. The whole concept of a person like her was too perfect to ever truly exist. What were the chances that one person could have so much talent, charm, intelligence, wit, care, love, humour, beauty, sense of adventure, trust, loyalty, and the thousands of other qualities that Julie possessed? What were the chances a person could so easily embody everything good in the world?

At times like that, he was glad he got to hold her hand. Prove that she was really here.

He had been thinking of her all day. Wanting to see her, wanting to hold her, to sing with her, to talk to her, just to be in her presence. He had briefly entertained the thought of actually doing something with Julie, going somewhere together or doing something – anything – more than just talking like they usually did. But he’d soon realised that just talking to Julie was as good as anything could ever get.

His wandering mind hadn’t stopped there thought. Regretfully, he had thought about the future. Whether he and Julie had any chance of one. Luke didn’t often think further ahead than twenty-four hours, but when it came to Julie he wanted to plan his entire life around her. He wanted to be with her forever, and when he thought about it that was all he wanted. Just to be with Julie.

When he thought about the future, she was all he saw.

Together, they got back in Luke’s car, Luke behind the steering wheel and Julie riding shotgun next to him. They had let go of each other’s hands, but Luke reached across of gently squeezed her hand one last time before resting his hands on the wheel and starting the car. His heart was beating faster than he’d ever thought possible, thrumming with some thrilled and exhilarated energy which he was sure was the only thing keeping him alive at that moment.

Whatever it was, it was coming from Julie, and he knew then that he needed her to survive. Right by her side was exactly where he belonged.

I love it when you talk that nerdy shit,

We’re in our twenties talking thirties shit,

We’re making money but we’re saving it,

‘Cause talking shit is cheap and we talk a lot of it.

You won’t stay with me, I know,

But you can have your way with me until you go,

And before your kisses turn into bruises, I’m a warning.

Like normal, they ended up in Luke’s apartment. It had been their same old routine – consider going out for a drink (coffee, at Julie’s insistence, because she had work in the morning and didn’t want to get drunk), realise there was nowhere open that wasn’t a bar, so head back to Luke’s place and use his coffee machine before inevitably ending up like this: sprawled across each other on Luke’s bed, too close to be friendly.

Luke was lying on his back, one leg arched, one hand underneath his head. Julie lay across him, her head rested on his abdomen, her hair tickling his bare skin where his top had ridden up an inch or so. One of her legs was hanging off the bed, the other tucked under it in a way that looked uncomfortable but must have worked for Julie. Luke had her hand in his, toying with her dainty little fingers, running his fingertips across the palm of her hand every now and then and delighting at the way it made her shiver. Both were staring up at the ceiling, not at each other.

As he had predicted, Julie was talking about work although she had said she didn’t want to. Truthfully, Luke didn’t really know what Julie did for a living, only that it involved ‘algorithms and science stuff’ and it seemed dreadfully boring. She clearly loved her job, as much as she complained about the hours, but Luke knew it wasn’t what she wanted to do forever. Still, listening to her talk about whatever equation she’d used that day or whatever machine she was helping create brought a smile to Luke’s face that nothing else could have summoned.

Because Julie was a girl made of passion and talent and beauty and love. And right that moment, her passion was burning like the brightest star in the sky, and Luke couldn’t make himself look away.

“It’s only temporary though,” Julie said eventually. “I won’t be there forever. It pays well enough for me to save for a bigger apartment – maybe a house if I’m lucky, or if I stay there long enough. When I’ve got the time and the space and the money, I’m going to do music. Properly, I mean, not just open mic night down at Eats and Beats. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do, it’s my only real goal. Get a house, get a record deal, get my dream life. However long it takes, whatever I have to do to get there.”

“You’ll find that happiness,” Luke assured her. “If anyone can do it, you can.”

Julie hummed a laugh and instinctively curled her fingers around Luke’s where they were still rested on his palm. If Luke stopped breathing for a moment, did nothing but gaze and smile in awe at the way Julie so naturally held on to him, Julie either didn’t notice or didn’t mention it.

“What about you?” she asked quietly.

“Music,” Luke said, not missing a beat. “Same as you. I might only be busking and doing open mic nights now, but if I save all the money I make from that eventually I’ll have enough to buy some really good equipment, hopefully hire a manager, really get myself started. I know it’s not gonna be easy, but…”

“But it’s all you’ve ever dreamed of,” Julie finished for him. He felt her nod. “It’s the same for me.”

Teasingly, Luke said, “Hey, if we have the same dream why not follow it together? We could start a band.”

Julie laughed – Luke felt his heart flutter at the sound. She rolled her head to the side to face him, so Luke lifted his head a little so he could actually look her in the eye.

“You and me?” Julie said. “Starting a band?”

“It could be fun,” Luke chuckled with a shrug. He was only half-joking; if he got to chase his music dream with Julie then it would basically be like chasing two dreams at once. “We’re both talented. We could make something really special.”

She laughed again, quieter this time, something solemn about it. Luke wondered if maybe she was really considering it too.

But there was a little voice in the back of his head, something bitter that he thought might have resembled brutal honesty. Julie was too perfect to ever stay with him, in any sense of the word. She deserved someone better, someone who matched her untouchable flawlessness, someone who could really give her everything she needed. Luke didn’t think for a moment that could be him. Besides, someone like Julie would never settle for him.

And yet, when she looked at him like that, brown eyes wide and deep and sparkling, full of their own private universes, seeing Luke at that moment and nothing else, it was hard for him to convince himself that they weren’t made for each other.

It could never last, he reminded himself. He would never be able to keep something he wanted so desperately.

Instead of replying to him, Julie shifted her weight, rolling over so that her arms were crossed over Luke’s chest and her body was half on top of his. Still he looked her in the eye – he never wanted to look anywhere else.

But when she leaned down to kiss him in a way that felt forbidden but mind-blowingly right, he couldn’t help but close his eyes and melt.

It wasn’t every day that Julie Molina would kiss him. He wouldn’t pass up the opportunity.

Let’s fall in love for the night,

And forget in the mornin’.

Play me a song that you like,

You can bet I’ll know every line.

I’m the boy that your boy hoped that you would avoid,

Don’t waste your eyes on jealous guys, fuck that noise.

I know better than to call you mine.

The sun was rising, an amber glow mingled with red and peach and the tiniest tint of blue, peeking through Luke’s thin curtains, but he and Julie hadn’t even slept. They were awake, but admittedly tired, running only on the adrenaline that came from being in one another’s company.

They were still sat on his bed, cross-legged across from each other, Luke with his acoustic guitar in hand. Julie had asked if he had been working on any new songs recently, and who was he to refuse the most gorgeous girl in the world a solo performance? He was picking out a melody he had thought up a few days ago, one that he could get out of his head for some unknown reason. It was only notes so far – he hadn’t had the time to pull any lyrics to it – but it was still a slow, soft melody that made him feel so relaxed that he almost felt as if he’d left reality behind.

All that was pulling him back down to Earth was Julie because she was proving yet again that she was some sort of miracle. When Luke started playing, she had nodded her head, swayed a little, just enjoyed the music. But a few bars in, she had started humming along.

When Luke hit the chorus, Julie sang.

It should have been impossible. Julie had never heard the song before, and even if she had it wasn’t like there were lyrics she could have followed. But somehow she was doing it, pulling the perfect words from nowhere and fitting them to Luke’s melody with ease, like she’d sung this very song a thousand times before. Somehow, she pre-empted every rhythm, every note, every ascending pattern and every dropping dynamic and matched him effortlessly. When Luke instinctively began humming a harmony to her voice, she took it in her stride and reached for notes Luke hadn’t known anyone was capable of hitting.

When Luke hit the last chord, Julie sang a breath-taking, elegant descending run, her eyes closed, a gentle smile playing about her lips.

Not for the first time, he wondered how Julie was even real.

But then a wholly unwelcome thought came to his mind. Julie had a guy. Kind of. Not really. There was someone very interested in Julie (someone other than Luke) who she told him about sometimes. From what Luke knew, he brought her flowers sometimes, he paid her compliments, he texted her almost as much as Luke did. Julie refused to say she was dating him and Luke believed her, but the problem was that this guy clearly wanted to date Julie.

Luke wasn’t jealous. He and Julie weren’t dating and he just wanted to her be happy, so if it turned out that this guy made her happier than Luke did, he would go with it. For Julie, he would go with it.

But he also knew, since Julie had told him herself, that this guy had something against Luke.

Luke had to wonder whether he saw him as a threat.

This guy, it seemed, was jealous. He wanted Julie to himself, which really wasn’t fair on the rest of the world. Julie didn’t deserve to be kept in a box, locked away for just one guy to look at, especially a guy who would get mad when anyone else tried to look at her.

Luke didn’t want that for her.

“Julie,” he said quietly. “You deserve someone amazing. Someone as incredible as you are. They’ll love you no matter what, they’ll trust you, they’ll… they’ll really care about you. That’s what you deserve in life. Along with everything else you could ever want. And I hope you get it.”

She was silent for a moment, an unreadable expression on her face which would have been totally blank if it weren’t for the twitch of her lips and the light in her eyes. Luke wondered, suddenly panicked, if he’d been too obvious about how he felt about her. But thankfully, she just smiled that sweet smile and said, “Thank you, Luke.”

He thought his heart might explode just from those three words.

He thought it even more so when Julie leaned forward and their lips brushed yet again and he realised he was going to get to kiss her again so maybe, just maybe–

The alarm on his phone went off and snapped their moment in two.

Julie sighed heavily and pulled away. Luke immediately missed her warmth.

“This was fun, Luke,” she said, already standing up and stretching. “Really. I love being here with you. But I have work. I need to get going.”

Luke swallowed the lump in his throat. He couldn’t think of anything worse than Julie leaving right then. But he didn’t tell her that. He told her, “It’s fine, you go. You’ve got to chase those dreams of yours somehow.”

Neither of them said goodbye. They just shared a bittersweet smile and Julie left his apartment.

Luke let her, watching out of his bedroom window as she walked further and further away from him down the street. He wanted to chase her, his dream, but he didn’t.

After all, he knew better than to ever call her his.

#this is more angsty than i intended and for that i am not sorry #jatp #julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #juke #jukebox #julie x luke #luke x julie #julie molina #luke patterson #jatp fic #juke fic #songfic #finneas #request #writing #my writing #friends to lovers #(but only kind of)

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creative-frequency · 4 years

Text

Inquisitor!Cal Kestis x Reader: Bright Time

Word count: 2321 Pairing: Inquisitor Cal Kestis x Reader Notes: Thank you all for the support and the lovely messages I’ve been receiving concerning this fic. You guys are definitely what has kept me writing since I never would’ve thought anyone else would be interested in this Inquisitor AU. So, thank you ❤️ This is the third part of the series!

Previous Part

My Writing Masterlist

It’s been another tedious week in Fortress Inquisitorius. Each day has been filled with dull tasks, really making you work for what they pay you. In a sense, you’re glad that there is no shortage of work but still time has moved extremely slowly. You’re anxiously waiting for any sign or a message from a certain Inquisitor.

You haven’t heard of or seen Cal ever since the day you fixed the melted control panel of the door to his quarters. Just thinking about the incident makes your blood boil and the Inquisitor will certainly get what he deserves. Somehow, one day. The details are still a little unclear, but you’re determined.

In the tranquility of your own living accommodations, you can finally strip off the dark overalls and faintly ponder the fact that it’s the only outfit Cal has ever seen you in. The uniform isn’t exactly complementing. Though, he didn’t seem to mind on your last encounter.

You sigh and toss the clothes to where you’ll to pick them up again in the morning, which means in eight hours – a luxury, really, in the light of the recent week.

As you slump on the elevated mattress posing as bed, one of your most faithful engineering droids rolls into the room.

“What’s up, MK?” you ask without getting up to look. Your back muscles are crying a symphony at finally relaxing on a soft surface.

The droid makes an uppish beep and you roll your eyes. This one has a handful of a personality.

“If it’s that important, why didn’t you say anything earlier?” you question, full-well knowing the MK droid will be galled by your lack of interested in its business. It lets out a series of drills, which sound a lot like scoffs for a being that has no respiratory channels.

“A message?” You frown lightly and get up to your elbows. A bad feeling creeps into the back of your mind. “Let’s hear it.”

The MK droid boops coolly and plays the recording.

“Hey, uhh, I think there’s a busted light bulb in here? Can you come and fix it today? Thanks.”

You freeze, blinking and staring at the messenger. You only just got away from work and now he wants you to go over to the other side of the base and urgh.

That kriffing stupid Inquisitor.

Ten minutes later you’re dragging your feet, once again wearing the stupid overalls and carrying a small toolbox. Fixing a light bulb shouldn’t be a big deal. You’re as equally vexed about having to get up as you’re anxious about getting to see Cal.

There has been no shortage of subconscious reminders about the last incident in his quarters and the more you try not to think about it, the faster your heart beats. Getting worked up about having to go and do your job doesn’t really help but at least you feel better when you think about all the ways to tell the stupid Inquisitor off. How can he be one of the Empire’s finest if he can’t even fix a kriffing light.

That inconsiderate man-child and his stupid pecs. If he weren’t an Inquisitor, I swear I’d–

It’s so late that the hallways are mostly empty save for the guards that you greet with yawns and earn a few sympathetic nods in return. If Cal isn’t wearing a shirt this time, you’ll give him a good old slap across the cheek, to hell with the consequences.

That perv might actually like it if I hit him. Oh, for kriff’s sake–

By the time you reach the right door, you’re positively fuming.

“How many Inquisitors does it take to switch a light bulb? Oh, I don’t know? None, since they have nerf shit as brains and can’t even– oh, hi. Ahem.” You settle the most perfectly neutral look to your face and hope Cal didn’t catch you muttering to yourself.

He gives you a cursory glance from your head to toes. At least he is wearing a shirt, even though it’s a very snug one.

“Come in,” he says.

Cal’s timid smile and casual tone set your cheeks alight and heart fluttering.

You clear your throat. “…Thanks.”

The sound of the door closing surges you into a mild inner panic but you draw in a breath to hide it and put the toolbox to the floor. Cal stays skulking by the entrance as you look up to find the target, eager to be on your way before he can think of anything reckless like the last time.

“Which one was it?” you ask slowly, craning your neck. All the lights seem fine and staring at them is making you see stars.

“The one in the middle,” Cal says and nods towards the culprit.

The light is as bright as the others and your eyes are starting to water from looking at them. You turn to Cal – his smile is nothing like timid anymore. It’s downright impish.

You should’ve known it was a trap.

“What’s the meaning of this?” You try to hold back the exasperation in your tone but it’s difficult. “Cal?”

The Inquisitor holds the eye contact and shrugs. You’re about to open your mouth to give him an earful when a loud crack makes you jump and you turn just in time to see the bulb explode into millions of tiny pieces. The shards scatter all over the floor as you instinctively hold your arms up to cover your face from the shrapnel, but not a piece even touches you.

The energy that was pouring into keeping the light on, no longer has a proper outlet and the fuse blows with a loud pop. You’re standing in the middle of the now dark room with the idiot Inquisitor.

The emergency lights near the floor cast an eerie red light and you can just barely make out Cal’s silhouette. Your eyes will need a moment to adjust to the darkness.

“Happy now?” is what you eventually set into snapping out at him.

The fuse box is in the hallway, but to get to it you need to find a way past the Inquisitor.

“Did you plan this?” The bravery falters in your tone. You swallow.

“Not really,” Cal says but you don’t believe him. “Hold on. Don’t move.”

Light clatter of glass against the floor echoes all around you and while you don’t see what happens, you assume that Cal just cleaned up the mess he made.

“Right,” you sigh, gather the ripples of your anger, and start walking towards the exit in resolute steps. Cal doesn’t move a muscle as you march past him. You’re almost to the door, already heaving out a relieved breath but come to the realization that you’re no longer moving.

In fact, your feet are taking you backwards. You yelp in surprise and almost get knocked over when the back of your legs hits the sofa in the middle of the room. You take purchase from the furniture to stay on your feet. Your eyes are steadily becoming acclimated to the darkness and you can see Cal’s silhouette coming closer.

Your blood pressure will lead to an early retirement at this rate.

“You need to stop breaking stuff to get me here,” you whine, “I’ll give you my personal comm frequency.”

“That’s not very exciting,” Cal huffs amused. He is standing right in front of you. The scarce light reflects enough from his eyes to hint where you should be facing.

“Well, sorry for not living up to your standards,” you quip frustrated and barely manage to finish the sentence since Cal’s hand comes to rest on your neck. The careful touch makes you quiver and your heart beats a mile a minute.

The breeze from Cal’s shallow breaths hits your skin as he leans forward. You would be lying if you claimed you were not waiting for this. He is smiling when your lips touch and you sink to sit down on the sofa back.

At least the door lock is fixed now.

“I’ve been, mmh, thinking… about you,” you confess even though Cal tries to make sure you can’t waste your mouth on talking. His lips move down to your jaw with a thoughtful hum and start trailing down towards your neck. It’s difficult to stay still with your already precarious balance.

“Glad to know I’m not the only one,” Cal husks.

His hands come down to rest on your waist and before you can reply, your world revolves again with a yelp as your back softly hits the sofa cushions. Cal climbs over and lifts you up to straddle him. Faintly, you register that the sofa is really large and comfy, and this man is done playing around.

Cal’s lips find yours again, more demanding and eager. He starts unzipping your uniform and thrill shoots up your spine. A pleasant haze is starting to settle into your mind and you have to strive to keep your wits about you.

“I don’t suppose you have any more requests when the light is fixed?” you ask as you let Cal do his thing with your work overalls and pull down the part covering your upper body. You’re still wearing a tank top underneath it.

“Mm. I want a kitchen droid,” Cal replies and plants his lips onto your shoulder. Pushing your nose into his hair makes you giddy and you don’t at first realize what he said.

“Huh? A kitchen droid? Why?” you fumble to question.

“The meals in the commissary are horrible,” he simply says and continues peppering your exposed skin with kisses. You can’t argue with that point.

“Mm. I’ll see what I can do.”

You ease yourself better into Cal’s lap, perfectly accidentally grinding yourself against him – to which he responds with a grunt and furrowed brows. It’s music to your ears.

Cal stops and straightens up, hands still somewhere around your middle body, rudely interrupted from hiking your top up. Even in the dark, you can see the warning in his eyes and it sends your pulse flying.

“Look. Do you want me to hold back or not? ‘Cause I can’t if you–”

You grind yourself again against the growing hardness in his pants and cut him mid-sentence.

“Who said anything about holding back?” you purr in a bit too seductive tone.

You hide your devilish smile by taking the turn to kiss the side of Cal’s neck. He groans again and you can feel his body going slightly rigid underneath you. Serves him right to taste his own medicine. Stupid Inquisitor.

“Alright. You asked for it,” Cal coos gently. His grip on your waist tightens and he throws you to your back on the sofa.

“Oh!” you yelp but quickly regain your stance even though your positions have been reversed.

You kick your shoes off and wiggle down the overalls with Cal’s help. Gripping his shirt hem, you yank the piece of clothing up to get it off. If you’re going to do this, you deserve to get a glimpse at how well his training has paid off.

When you reach his pants and open the zipper for access, the fervent undressing slows down and molds into a make out session. This time horizontally, on the sofa, with the Inquisitor on top of you and your legs tangled with his – and hands in each other’s pants. It’s hot and messy and you can’t see a thing, but who needs eyes when his fingers dip inside you and it feels so good that you want to cry out loud. The hums and moans Cal makes against your mouth as you massage him drive you deeper into the moment. With each passing second you fight the regret about still having your underwear and top on.

You’re feeling so dizzy and elated that you’ve completely forgotten who you’re playing with. You’re in the den of an Imperial Inquisitor. The kind of who is not known for his mercy or empathy.

“You should stay for the night,” Cal utters suddenly.

In a motion so quick and nimble that you didn’t think you’d have it in you, you’re up and away from Cal’s arms, heart drumming in your ears and panicking. Every breathe is a drag and your hair must be in upheaval. Your underpants are uncomfortably damp and the room feels chilly when Cal’s body is no longer warming you.

“S-stay? You mean like… I, uh, wouldn’t want to impose… on your…” Your eyes skim the Inquisitor’s almost naked frame in the dark. “Hospitality.”

Cal straightens up but you bounce away from the reach.

“What? You’re not imposing. I’ll make you coffee in the morning,” he says slyly, clearly not understanding what is going through your head.

You almost give in. Your very soul hurts as you shake your head. If he wants you to risk life and limb and stay, he will have to do better than high-end coffee and what presumably would’ve been the beginnings of amazing sex.

You grab your overalls and almost fall onto your nose trying to put them on as swiftly as possibly.

No, this is bad. Worse than what you should get yourself into.

“So, uhh, sorry! I’ll fix the bulb tomorrow!” You snag your shoes, tugging them under your arm and take the toolbox from the floor. With a free hand, you fumble for the button to open the door before Cal can retaliate. What were you even thinking? People who get too involved with the Inquisitors disappear and you wish to keep existing.

“Wha– Hold on!”

“Nope. Bye!” You wave as you tiptoe into the hallway, praying that it’s empty. It’d be fun explaining to a Stormtrooper why you’re barely dressed behind the Inquisitor’s door.

Cal stays sitting on the sofa in the dark, looking after you, pants halfway down and utterly confused. He cannot comprehend what he did wrong.

Tagging (please lmk if you want to be tagged or not! I probably forgot someone cause I couldn’t find the list anymore OTL): @europhiacs @froyuhh @sinner-effy @droidrights @annoyedguildmaster @mysteriouswritingzonthewall @boxfullofcats @maulblr @sevansheart

#cal kestis x reader #cal kestis #inquisitor cal kestis #inquisitor cal kestis x reader #jedi fallen order #swjfo #swjfo fanfiction #star wars #my writings #oc #ffxv oc

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ziracona · 2 years

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I started writing dbd fanfiction, but it honestly feels more like a fanfiction of your fanfiction, which makes sense because your works are 100% responsible for inspiring me. I don't know yet if I'm going to post anything (I'm not a native english speaker and I'm very insecure about writing in english), but I need to ask. Would you be okay with a fic being very much inspired by your works?

Some examples I have on mind: how the world works (like how a new survivor has to escape with someone else to join survivor group), some elements of characters' personalities (mostly Meg being Meg), pairings and other details? Why would I want to create a whole new dog for Jeff when Alice is right there? Or why would I try to come up with last name for Joey when in my head he already is Joey Harmin?

Of course I would credit you so don't worry about that

I totally get the feeling, especially when working with a language that isn’t your first. (I’ve not written any entire fic in another language, but as you I guess have seen in my fanfics, I really like multilingual works and try to include other languages when I can, weirdly most in-depth with a hella dead language in FtEoNR, but with several living ones in ILM too, and working with languages I am still learning is always stressful, because even when I work really hard, and ask people who know more than me, I really /can’t/ know if I totally got it right). I hope you do post it though! No one whose opinion is worth anything would make fun of errors in someone’s fic written in a second language for them—I mean hell, you’ve seen my work—English is my first, but my dyslexia-ADHD combo still leaves me riddled with errors I remove a lot of slowly through 3rd, 8th, 12th editing passes. Also, no one should make fun of second language speakers ever anyway regardless, but if it makes you feel any more secure, your English is extremely good—I’ve spoken to you several times and would not have known it’s not your first. And congrats on the writing! It’s always an amazing feeling to take something alive in your head and give it a physical form! : D

Circling back to your actual question haha (sorry), yes, it’s fine with me! I’m very flattered, and I actually appreciate that a lot. : ) In general, so long as they like, mention me, I wouldn’t mind anyone using my fanworks for dbd as a base for their ideas, unless it’s like, someone who I dislike and/or dislikes me who just wants to use my stuff anyway or something. But that’s not the case here—I like you, and you’re more than welcome to. : ) I am extremely happy my writings made such an impression, and I hope you’re even more thrilled with what you write when it is on paper, than you were with the version you had in your head.

#ask #alcyone-meissa #dead by daylight

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destinygoldenstar · 3 years

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Based on my fanfic season ‘Sketched Artistry Pretty Cure’

Rei Takeo is a highly talented loner. She values good will and effort with a passion, and does everything to show people these things, no matter what format she has to show them with. She is also highly talented with her athleticism, her intellect, and especially her singing and her writing, as she is highly known by the teachers as a fantastical novelist. But while she does have some well meaning moments, Rei comes across to others as unapproachable, given she is tough, hot headed, and incredibly strict about helping others. She can have a really sarcastic demeanor at points. When she sees something she doesn’t approve of, she’s quick to jump in the fight and call people out, even if she becomes a victim in the process. If it gets to a point where Rei becomes in the wrong and things don’t go her way, she becomes distant, and even stubborn. Rei really does care about people’s well being though, and she does her best to stand up for them. However, she can never seem to stand up for herself, and its because of this that she refuses to show her creative side to anyone, telling people that she’s not creative and that she can’t write, even if the opposite is the truth.

Her refusal to show people her artwork came from trauma in her past. Before Rei was this tough jock, she was an even sweeter girl, more energetic, and kinder, where she came across by many as weird, but beautiful, and back then she showcased her talents to everyone, especially through her writing. It was bad enough that her tough demeaner now made vocalists shun her out despite her good voice. But one day, her elementary class had to write a fantasy story for a school report, and when Rei wrote her story, it blew her entire class away, to a point where she was granted an award for her work by her entire school that she would receive in the spring... that would have changed Rei’s life forever, if it weren’t for the fact that when she revealed her talents, it caused people to become jealous and turn on her. Someone she thought was a friend did exactly that, manipulated Rei and got her suspended, ensuring that people Rei thought were friends looked down on her and called her a hack, that she didn’t deserve her admiration and that she was essentially worthless, that Rei’s writing was nothing but a crime that would destroy her in her life. All of that, where this ex-friend treated it as advice, that Rei should not show her creative side because stuff like this would happen again. And that scared Rei for life, where she only gained enemies by showing her creative side and she felt so ashamed of her reward that she threw it away and hid her book somewhere she could forget. Rei never trusted anyone again, and never let people know that she could write. She still did write, as it was what made her happy, but she never showed anyone them. She even cut her hair to ruin her gorgeous look, so that nobody could think she was worth anything, even if her kind will still lingers in her where she tries to help others be better at themselves.

Rei was taken to Sketching Crafts Academy against her will by her mother, because her mother recognized Rei’s writing talent and wanted her daughter to express it to people again. Rei was not thrilled with going to this school, and she kept her nose in a book and pushed people away. That is until she meets Keiko Sakura, a girl who was just as naïve with showcasing her art as Rei was, but when she first crashed into Keiko at the art museum, she pushed her away, but not before she granted Keiko advice on how to better her bird painting.

About a week later at a park, Keiko ended up getting run over by jocks who scold her for her sketch she was making on the spot. Rei sees this and jumps in to defend Keiko, claiming that she was minding her own business and so should they, but when they don’t listen, she throws her book at them. Once they retreat, Keiko thanks Rei, but Rei only stubbornly tells her to be careful where she steps before she continues her walk to class. Keiko however, not only thought Rei was cool, but also followed her because Rei didn’t pick up her book after the encounter, so Keiko tried to give it back. Keiko does figure out that Rei is in her class, and becomes confused when Rei claims to their teacher that she couldn’t write, but ends up getting the highest score in the class on storyboarding, and Keiko realizes that she had never seen a fantasy book like the one Rei had in their libraries. Keiko does eventually find the chance to give Rei back her book, and she asks where Rei got it, but Rei states that it’s none of her business. Keiko however recognizes a yellow neon pen Rei was using to write in the book, and she realizes that Rei wrote that story herself. They do get to express their efforts to each other, with Rei presenting herself as an altruist and Keiko looking up to her as a talented writer and leagues ahead of her. Keiko even tries to encourage Rei to show off her book for their upcoming short story project, but Rei refuses and comments that Keiko doesn’t understand the success of art as much as she thinks she does. Keiko manages to tell Sora about Rei having a neon pen, but by the time their project gets explained, Keiko is partnered up with Rei on it. Sora does try to look after Keiko given that fact, but Rei and Keiko are eventually forced to work on it as just the two of them. The whole time, Rei offers Keiko’s ideas for a story, but its soon realized that Keiko is both creative and disorganized, where Rei tries to improve her ideas as a logical yet passionate writer, and Rei isn’t afraid to call out Keiko’s wild style. (Honestly, Keiko and Rei were the first OCs I made for this series, and they became huge foils to each other as a result, Keiko being an open yet overly naïve with a wild creative style, and Rei being more stubborn and practical with a passionate style in artwork.) They get their short story with some extra editing from Sora, and it becomes a good success... except for the fact that Rei completely denies having any credit for the project, where Keiko felt the opposite. Keiko finally decides to reread the storyboards they made together, as well as look into Rei’s novel to see her talent for herself, and it only makes Keiko want to figure out why Rei is so hard on herself when she clearly has a creative passion. Keiko finds Rei at the same park where she helped her, and Keiko tries to convince Rei that she should embrace her passions, and that Keiko saw for herself that she has it, but it only makes Rei throw the book away and tell Keiko that no one cares for her, or her passion, why would someone care now? Keiko claims that she cares, and that gets Rei to hesitate, asking Keiko if she actually liked what she read, to which Keiko claims that she loved it.

A new monster is created awhile later, and Rei is knocked to a tree. Keiko and Sora transform into Cure Cherry and Cure Azure to fight it, but because the creature fights with fire, neither of their finishers manage to work on it. (I forgot to mention, Cure Cherry fights with paint, her finisher being ‘Cherry Splatter’ where she uses paint bombs. Cure Azure however fights with glitches and can use fabric as chains, her finisher being ‘Azurica Calculation’ where she glitches color onto the monsters) The general finds the short story Keiko and Rei made together, and he rips it apart in disgust, where this catches Rei’s eye as she wakes up, triggering her. Rei scolds the general for destroying a great fantasy, recalling her previous talk with Keiko that gets her to realize Keiko’s identity as Cure Cherry, and Rei actively jumps in front to protect her new friend, even throwing an extinguisher at the monster with equal hot headed energy. Rei expresses that she doesn’t know how to show people her art, but she loves writing fantasies, and those fantasies should be treated with the same love she put into them. This awakens her power as the third member, and the fire powered cure of the team as the golden writer, Cure GoldenAsh. (Cure Cherry nicknames her Cure G)

Rei still continues to be a foil to Keiko as a counter to the pink lead, as they both have different ways of approaching being Pretty Cure that they don’t always agree with. Keiko is a kind and active leader, but had insane ideas that don’t always pan out, plus she is naïve about criticism, especially when the pressure of public appreciation for artwork and the ego that plagues every artist comes into play later in the story. Rei meanwhile is very strict with how things run and isn’t afraid to call out her teammates for better or worse, and it sometimes blinds her into thinking she’s the only one who knows what to do, even when she doesn’t. However, the two despite being opposites, are able to call out each other and compliment each other at the same time, Rei helping Keiko deal with social pressure in being an artist, and Keiko encouraging Rei slowly but surely to return to her authorship.

So I kind of created an art themed Pretty Cure. Add it to the list of Wattpad stories I claim I’m going to make, but never do. And if you know me, I love this concept of literal creativity, and since I’ve been on a magical girl run lately, why not make an art themed Pretty Cure. Seriously, I only briefly made this about a year ago, forgot about it, and bought it back in just two weeks with characters and their story arcs. So let me know if you want me to do something like this for the other Cures in this fanmade season, or if you actually want me to make one.

#Pretty Cure #Sketched Artistry Pretty Cure #Rei Takeo #Cure GoldenAsh #Cure G #Fanmade #Artwork

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acaseofthewiggins · 4 years

Text

Reverse Charge Call (Giles/Ethan)

Summary: After the incident with Eyghon, Rupert's back with his parents and has almost got his life back on track. And then he gets a call from Ethan.

Length: 1637 words

Also available on AO3 here.

This is based on a prompt from left_handed_moth, who’s no longer even on Tumblr that’s how long ago I got it. Better late than never? Anyway the prompt was “things you said over the phone” + Giles/Ethan.

----

“Yeah? Er, that is, Giles residence, Rupert speaking.”

“Good afternoon, sir. This is Miriam from the telephone company. Will you accept a reverse charge call from an… Ethan Rayne?”

“%*@#$!”

“I’m sorry, sir?”

“Yes, yes. Put him through.”

“Hello, Ripper.”

“My name is Rupert. And I thought I told you not to call me here.”

“It’s nice to hear your voice too. Not sure about the new accent, though. Can’t say that it suits you.”

“This is my real accent.”

“Still doesn’t suit you.”

“Why are you calling, Ethan? I thought we agreed to keep our distance while we sorted our lives out.”

“As I remember, most of the agreeing was on one side.”

“A-and I’m quite certain that I’m not in the mood to have this conversation again. I’ve got a lot of studying to do—”

“Oh? Back in uni already?”

“No. Though, if all goes well, I should be by Michaelmas term.”

“Michaelmas term? Oxford, then? Only they’d be too snobby to just say ‘autumn.’ I wonder, have your posh old school chums missed you?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I imagine some have moved on by now. It’s been several years. And, as for those who are still there, I imagine they’ve more or less forgotten about me.”

“Yeah, easy enough, isn’t it? Making new friends and forgetting old ones? You were struggling with it when we first met, but you’ve always been such a quick study.”

“I wasn’t planning on forgetting you, Ethan. I’ll be out of London for a few years, but that doesn’t mean we can’t still meet occasionally.”

“Oh, yes. I can just see it. You, me, and your fancy Oxford mates… No? Maybe something more like this: you call, I bus up to Oxford, we meet in some towny bar where you don’t run too much risk of being seen by anyone you know. Or, if that’s still too much for you, you can always pop down to London during a school break, meet me in some dive, and finish up the evening by buggering me in a filthy alley—”

“Ethan! I am at my parents’!”

“Ah yes, and how are the ‘stodgy old hypocrites’ now anyway?”

“My parents are fine. Now—”

“Remember when you took that scabies-infested slag home for Christmas, just to piss them off? Now that was a laugh.”

“The look on their faces was—Er. Th-that is to say, it wasn’t particularly funny in the end. It took Mum months to get rid of the infestation.”

“Come now, you laughed harder than any of us when you told that story.

The funny thing is though, you never had to pick up some twat. You could have taken me up on my offer. Scabies may itch, but I could have really gotten under their skin.”

“...”

“Oh. Bad choice of words. Does your mark ever bother you? Mine does sometimes. Prickles in the middle of the night, keeping me awake. And then I’ll start thinking about what it was like. When he was inside us. That feeling of freedom. All the worry and pain, just sliding away. It’s enough for me to almost want him back. Even remembering—”

“Yes. Well, I do have quite a lot of studying to do, so if there’s nothing else…”

“Wait! I didn’t call just to catch up.”

“What do you want?”

“I wasn’t lying when I said I was happy to hear your voice. But the thing is… I’m in a spot of trouble.”

“Ah. And what have you gotten yourself into this time?”

“Mmm, nothing much. A slight complication. I’d agreed to do a job for a clan of Kelroth demons. Just a spot of chaos magic. Meant to make the members of the rival clan lose all their hair. No small feat considering how the buggers are covered in the stuff.”

“So your spell failed?”

“Oh, it worked perfectly. A little too well really.”

“It affected all of them didn’t it?”

“Both clans, yes. And you how vain the Kelroth are about their hair. Now that I’ve seen what’s underneath, I can understand why.”

“Ah. And now the Kelroth want their money back? Money which you, of course, no longer have?”

“Er, yes. Plus extra for ‘loss of dignity.’ Really, I can’t see why I should be blamed for the vagrancies of chaos magic.”

“Why indeed? Honestly, Ethan, don’t you think a little more caution would be warranted? Kelroth demons are notoriously hot-tempered and chaos magic is—”

“Dangerous? Unpredictable? You might be able to afford caution. You’ve got your parents and your destiny to fall back on. But me? At least Janus won’t turn his back on me. I’m not even sure if that’s even possible given his two-sided nature.”

“You’re worshiping Janus now? Have you completely lost your mind? When did this start?”

“A few months ago. I didn’t have you or the others to back me up anymore. I needed power, and Janus offers plenty to his worshipers.”

“And mental instability and early death.”

“I’m touched by your concern. Really. It’d be a little more believable if you hadn’t vanished the instant things got difficult.”

“I told you. I needed some time to see my parents, a-and get my life sorted. That didn’t give you the right to start worshiping chaos.”

“The right? And you’re the authority on what I have the ‘right’ to do?”

“That’s not what I meant. But… you can’t seriously think that Janus is the answer.”

“What I think is that, if I don’t get the Kelroth their money, they’re going to tear my fingers out one by one and give them to their spawn for teething toys.”

“And how much money are we discussing here?”

“Well, the advance was around three hundred quid—”

“Three hundred?! That is, no. I’m sorry, Ethan. I can’t.”

“Why not? Your family’s not exactly short on dosh.”

“My family. Not me. And I can’t ask them for money, not after everything I’ve already put them through.”

“There must be something you can do.”

“No, but maybe there’s something you can do. Leave Janus behind. Find a more legitimate use for your gifts. Th-the council maybe. They could always use a sorcerer of your talents. They’d protect you. My word may not count for much with them right now, but maybe if I could convince my father to vouch for you—Don’t laugh, this isn’t a joke!”

“Your father? Hah, well you’ve got to admit it’s a bit funny. You weren’t willing to take me to your parents even to piss them off.”

“This is different.”

“Yes. It certainly is. Tell me. How exactly would you introduce me to your father?”

“As a friend. And a competent mage.”

“Right. I’d rather take my chances with the Kelroth.”

“Of course. Why should I expect anything else from you?”

“Look, Ripper. Surely everything we’ve been through together is worth a couple hundred quid?”

“It’s Rupert. And everything I own doesn’t add up to more than a few hundred. Look, Ethan—”

“Hmm. Well, I wonder how your dear Mummy and Daddy would respond if I were to turn up at your doorstep.”

“What?”

“Oh, just imagine the chaos I can make. Not to mention all the things I could tell them. Some of which I’m sure you didn’t mention when you pulled your prodigal son routine.”

“Oh. I see.”

“I can think of a few particularly juicy anecdotes right now. For example, there was the night we started at the King’s Head and ended in the rubbish dump—”

“Ethan, stop. I’d been about to say, before you tried to blackmail me, that I can try to get your money. But it won’t be easy. You said 300 pounds?”

“Er, better make that an even 500. I’ll need a little extra, don’t-rip-out-my-extremities money.”

“500? Jesus, Ethan.”

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t serious, you know that. It’s just, you should see how angry this lot is and—”

“Shut up. I’m thinking. My father keeps too close of an eye on the books and artifacts. But my nan collected a lot of stuff on her travels that hasn’t seen the light of day in decades. I bet I could nick some of her things and fence them downtown without anyone being the wiser. … Er, that is, items that aren’t too dangerous to put on the market.”

“I knew I could count on you, Ripper old chap.”

“It’s Rupert! Ripper was an idiotic nickname from the worst part of my life. And I won’t be called by it.”

“The worst? You can’t mean—”

“How can I not mean it?! Randall died, Ethan. Have you already forgotten, or do you just not care?”

“…”

“I’ll get you your 500 pounds. But on one condition.”

“That I’ll get on the straight and narrow and never touch another drop of chaos magic as long as I live?”

“No. We both know you’ll keep looking for your next thrill till it kills you.”

“And you’re any different?”

“I bloody-well am! … Or at least, I’m trying to be.”

“What then?”

“Give me one week to get your money. And after... You will leave me alone. You will not call, you will not scry, you will not write. You will not happen to run into me on the street or turn up suddenly on my door. Our association will be over.”

“But, surely there must be some way we can still be—”

“Be what, Ethan? We’re… we’re not on the same path anymore.”

“I just… don’t want to lose you too.”

“Then don’t make me steal from my family. Tell me you’ll get the money some other way.”

“…”

“I thought not. Give me a week. I’ll contact you through the old channels when I have the money. Now, is there anything else?”

“No. No, I suppose there isn’t.”

“Fine. Goodbye, Ethan.”

“Goodbye. Rupert.”

#fanfic #my writing #my fic #btvs #gethan #giles/ethan #rupert giles #ethan rayne #ripper!giles #kinda #pre-canon #dialogue only

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xenbiology · 3 years

Text

ABOUT

Hello! My name is Professor Alem; though you may simply call me Alem or Professor! My pronouns are they/them. I’m a biologist and author who studies and breeds Xen fauna and their history and relationship with humans. I mainly deal with headcrabs and their domestication, and have even bred a few new types myself! This picture is of me and Paz, a new pattern I am working on :)

I created this blog because I wish to share the information and make it more widely accessible to a human audience, and to answer any questions you all may have on my work!

- ALEM

FAQ

So... what is this blog?

This is a Half-Life based askblog that takes place 200 years after the ending of Half-Life 2, and follows my headcanons of Xen biology! It’s is designed so you can send in questions, which will be answered ‘in character’ by Alem, a vortigaunt scientist. It’s also to keep track of any headcrab characters people might have made/adopted.

If you’re familiar with Professor Peach, it’s something sort of like that. Basically, you’re allowed to send in questions that are responded to by Professor Alem, a vortiguant biologist, as if you were a character in the setting. You’re also welcome to send in ‘ooc’ questions as well though!

I also just reblog a bunch of art and posts revolving around xen biology, as well as some memes and such.

This blog is intended to be 16+ because it might contain some upsetting or potentially NSFW content, but all in a biological format (discussions of animal abuse, art of meat/dissections, discussion of breeding behavior and anatomy, etc). Everything will be tagged generously. There won’t be any condoning of mentioned behavior, and no explicit porn or heavily NSFW images.

If you need anything tagged that I didn’t, please let me know.

So is this a roleplay blog?

Er... not exactly. It’s more of an in-character ask blog. But if you have a similar blog, I wouldn’t be opposed to interacting.

Am I allowed to use these headcanons?

Yes, go ahead! I would be thrilled to see anyone using any of these, or even something based off of these. You’re allowed to mix and match and change anything you want for your own personal use. You’re free to make OCs or characters based on any of this stuff too! Make a headcrab! Make a scientist! Go crazy go stupid!

Am I allowed to do fanart / fanworks of _____?

Yes!!!! You’re 100% welcome to draw (or write about, or.. whatever) Alem, any of Alem’s crabs, your own takes on anything or any biology, or just. Anything from or inspired by this blog! I would love to see it!

If you do, please DM it to me- I don’t check my email often, and don’t see @’s! I don’t mind at all!

Who’s the mod?

Hello! My name is Rhi / Bees / Toad, and I’m the mod here behind Prof. Alem! My pronouns are they/them, please. I’m 21, neurodivergent, nonbinary, and going to college for zoology babey!

I run this blog because I think headcrabs are neat, and I love to worldbuild, especially when it comes to biology! You might recognize some of my art and ideas from my other blogs, listed below.

Main || @toadsong

Half Life / HLVRAI Sideblog || @black-mesa-slut-voice

Art Sideblog || @bees-draws

If you have any questions for me, feel free to send in an ask! Please specify that it’s either directly to me or OOC however, so I know not to answer as Alem!

What exactly is the setting here?

As I mentioned, this blog takes place 200 years after the events of Half-life 2. It sort of... diverges a bit from canon there, since we never got a full conclusion to the story, but this world is working under the assumption that the resistance managed to drive off the Combine from earth, and humanity started to rebuild... but now has alien neighbors and creatures.

Vortigaunts are seen as normal residents and have just as many rights as humans, and it’s not uncommon for them to mingle together as complete equals. Though vortigaunts didn’t used to have names, they must at least legally choose a name to put on paperwork; and many vorts choose to use it for the ease of humans around them, since they’re not tapped into the vortessence.

A lot of animals are extinct in this universe due to the Combine, which is part of why aliens as pets and livestock is much more common. There’s also several new and synthetic species created in the absence of some, which were made by humanity thanks to leftover Combine knowledge.

Technology is roughly in the modern-day level, though some knowledge is more advanced than today’s thanks to leftover Combine tech, and some knowledge is less advanced or lost completely thanks to the destruction of information databases by the Combine. But roughly 2020′s level tech!

Where’s Gordon/Barney/Alyx/etc?

Unfortunately, despite the tech advances, immortality hasn’t been invented yet, and most people can’t live for 200+ years. They’re long passed by now... though the vortigaunts never truly let them be forgotten. Thanks to the vortessent hivemind, Alem knows them just as well as any other vortigaunt knew them. You’re welcome to ask them questions, though they may not be comfortable answering. I have lots of headcanons on them as well, which I might sprinkle in, lol.

RULES

Do not interact with this blog if you’re a bigot. This means do not interact if you’re LGBT+phobic of any kind, antisemetic, a nazi, anti-blm, pro-cop/’blue lives matter’, racist, ‘pro-ship’/pedo/MAP, etc. This includes transphobia, biphobia, and panphobia. If you’re nasty you know who you are. Get outta here!

On that note- despite the warning above, this blog will not particpiate in any political discussion or drama. I simply do not want nasty people interacting with this blog. If you want to discuss anything, at the very least, go to my main/sideblogs. The exception of this is if I reblog something from a nasty person/source- I try to do a brief check of who I reblog from, but sometimes I’m tired or lazy. If you notice content come from a questionable blog, let me know, and I’ll remove it!

Please try not to send in overly explicit or horny questions. Though this blog may discuss mature themes, such as discussions of breeding behavior and anatomy, it’s not going to be horny in nature.

Be aware that if your question is ‘in character’, Alem may refuse to answer it. Unless you’re a recurring person or someone they feel comfortable with, don’t send anything overly weird or personal. Alem is a professional, and is always more than happy to share things they know (sometimes too much), but even they have a line they won’t cross sometimes. On the other hand, even if Alem might not answer it, I probably will! I love to answer questions, even more than Alem :D

#ooc

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