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#i happen to be on a calmer ocean these days and it feels good
nikosama13 · 18 days
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"I'll let my luck do the rest.." (Part 2! Law x Reader)
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Description: Law couldn’t hold the secret of what had happened between you and him any longer.. He knew you’d hate him for it so he’d let his luck do the rest for him. (Please read part one if you haven’t already) <3
Side Notes: Hello my pretty loves! This is my first time continuing a fan fic I’ve created so please go easy on me. ε(´。•᎑•`)っ 💕 (My requests should be open + Probably spelling mistakes)
\-> Part one here /
Enjoy the read!
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~~~
It was the next morning after you and Law shared a passionate kiss..
Law laid on his bed staring at the ceiling, deep in thought. His fingernails clawing into a pillow as he tried to re-think over what had happened last night. If what he did was a mistake or whether you’d even remember what had happened.
He slowly sat up and traced his fingers over his lips, trying to remember the feeling of you. Then he stood up and left his room, walking towards the dining room. Maybe a small snack could help him clear his mind a bit..?
Well that was a mistake..
You, out of all the people. You were there, eating breakfast on the table in front of him. He attempted to flee but you spotted him before he could.
“Oh hey Law!” you smiled at him warmly.
It seemed like you didn’t even have a slight clue on what went down last night.
His cheeks flushed at the thought of you two even touching. Law wasn’t very fond of physical touch.. Or more that he knows in his heart that he wouldn't have the will power to control himself which would lead to other things..
“G–good morning y/n-ya..” he looked down at the wooden floor.
“Good morning, Law!” you stuffed your face with your favorite breakfast.
Well you were doing that.. until you noticed something off.. you could sense the tension in the air but didn't know were it came from.
“Uhm.. law.. Did something happen? You seem down..” you shot him a concerned look.
“No it’s nothing..” he continued to look at the floor, hoping that his hat was covering his flushed face.
“Well it sure doesn't seem like nothing.” you stood up and placed your dish in the sink.
“If you wanna talk I’m here..” you were face to face with him now, well more like face to his hat..
He leaned on the door frame and pinched the middle of his nose.
“I’m alright..” he stayed the same.
“Okay then suit yourself..” you walked off and thought about what Law was going through.
Little did you know that it was all because of you and his lack of self control.
The day went by and the ocean became calmer.. However Law’s mind wasn’t. Thoughts of you and him raced through his mind as he sat in his room. He felt guilty, Law couldn’t just simply keep such valuable information from you like that..
After all, you should know what happened.
So that's it.
That’s when he decided that he was going to tell you.
How? When? Where?
Law let his luck do the rest.
He stood up from this chair and took a deep breath in. Then he walked across the hall and stood in front of your door, contemplating if he was actually going to do this. Just like the night before where he was contemplating if he should kiss you or not.
Law knocked two times on your door, his heart aching and mind racing as he awaited your response..
You did in fact open the door, there you were as beautiful as ever standing in front of him.
“Oh hello.. what brings you here..?” you gave him a small smile.
In your mind you just thought that Law had come for your assistance to deal with whatever he was going through. But boy, was it going to be more than that..
“Y/n, we need to talk.” he gave you a glare.
“Ah.. I see you’ve come to your senses and want my assistance. Come on in.” you opened your door wider to allow him to pass through, shutting it behind the both of you.
“Sit anywhere you’d like..” He was the Captain after all, and this was his ship.
He took a seat down on your couch and you sat on the edge of your bed, both of you facing each other.
“Listen closely because I'm only going to say this once.” he said firmly.
The tone of this voice showed that he meant business.
“Last night… something happened.. I suppose the thunder woke you up and you sleep walked to my room. I was shocked and didn’t know what to do, so I brought you back here. But then.. You asked me for something..” his voice was getting softer by every word he said.
“What did I ask..?” you said in an embarrassed tone.
You didn’t want to believe what you did..
His blushing grew stronger, which you noticed but weren’t going to question until you got your answer.
“You.. you.. asked me to kiss you. So I did..” he looked down immediately and started playing with his thumbs, waiting for you to say something more.
“I- I-.. i’m so sorr-” he cut you off.
“No, I'm sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” he told you and himself.
He stood up and began to walk to your door.
“Wait..” you said, now flustered too.
He stopped, took a breath and turned to face you.
“What do you want..?” he said coldly.
“What makes you think that my sleep-walking self lied to you or something? I don’t think I would have just asked you to kiss me out of the blue in my sleep. There wouId have to be a reason.."
"That reason is because I wanted you to.” you smiled and blushed.
His whole tone and body language changed in a snap.
“I- I-..” he didn’t think of it like that.. His body froze up.
“And before you go Law.. I still wouldn’t mind a kiss from you.” you giggled.
Then all of a sudden he truned around and locked your door, walked up to you and picked you up in his strong arms.
"Then that's what you'll get." Law gave you a mischievous smile.
He kissed you.
Your legs tightened around his waist as he kissed you deeply.
Let’s just say tonight.. Law wasn’t going to let you go or for that matter.. ever.
~~~
The End~
(Thank you so much for reading this!) <3
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dropsofletters · 1 year
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danced around an impossibility
summary: everyone has heard about the newest episode of joshua hong’s podcast “backstage says”, where he talks about the secrets that celebrities fail to keep hidden.
the story dates back to more than a decade ago, when wonwoo was looking out his ballet academy’s window in hopes of finding an opportunity and instead, he caught a glimpse of a woman spitting comedy into a microphone for no one to hear. no one would expect these two to talk, or even to hit stardom one day.
he liked to believe back then, when 2008 was blaring with music and youth, that she was an impossibility. someone that he’d look at from afar and nothing else would happen.
but every year they got more tangled up with each other, and joshua hong has proof of it. 
want to listen to this story? check out the new episode of “backstage says”!
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title: dancing around an impossibility pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader genre: ballet dancer!au ; stand-up comedian!au ; strangers to friends to exes (kinda) to lovers!au ; slice of life!au ; celebrity!au ; slowburn word count: 14k words approx. type: fluff ; angst ; humor ; real life shenanigans  note: this is a kofi request, if you want to ask anything from me over there, you can obviously do so!
“I like to believe, dear listener,” Joshua’s velvety voice slips through the slits of the microphone, much like the straw in between his rosy lips, when crossing one leg over the other. “That patience is the foundation of plenty of the stories we hear. As a gossiper myself, and to anyone who has listened to this podcast, we know that’s who I am…I know that the step that leads us to what we consider experiences is actually just someone’s tiredness of patience.”
Backstage Says’ listeners must sit at the edge of their seats, while Joshua Hong has never been calmer. He acknowledges this story as if it was his own, licking his lips like mesmerizing words and maiming them to be true. He manipulates; not reality but listeners, into thinking his voice is the utmost reality. It could be, for all we know. 
“Wonwoo’s deal, however, was that he was too patient. He almost lost his chance.” He announces, smirking into the process. “This story goes back to July of 2008, when Wonwoo was tiptoeing into the next step.”
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July 17th, 2008.
The harmony of ballet is in the dip of the waist. Wonwoo likes to believe that structure is what makes a good dance, how the folds of his white t-shirt disappear into the curves of his toned arms and how his hips contort to the perfect pointé. Though, as he looks himself in the mirror of the dimly lit room that was once filled with Chan’s boisterous voice, he doesn’t feel comfortable. Like himself, really.
Through a crooked window of old rust and wood that would creak under the mere wind of the ocean had it been close to the center of Seoul, he sees a shape. Bent, curved, like there is not a care in this world to aim for the sharpness of an arrow or the success of a star. Someone lives between the shadows and makes themselves shine in colors that aren’t gold or bright yellow. He sees her back hunched, a hand pressed to her waist and a lift of the corner of her mouth.
“My ex is an asshole and I think I’m way more so,” She speaks into the solitude of the salon in front of Wonwoo’s practice room. She digs her fingers into the cable of her mic, moving it with her steps before she scoffs into the microphone. “Because I never really told him we were exes. He went to Spain one night, I knew he was fucking some other girl, and then when he got back it was like Men in Black but of relationships. Quite like he had forgotten me.” She clicks her tongue after, shaking her head before sighing. “It needs more of a hit…”
He had heard better, Wonwoo knows quite well how good her jokes can get. Like how she told the story of the time in which she had sat on the bus back home as a kid and had tried to cover a fart with a cough, but she had missed the timing much like she did with everything else in her life (her words, not his). Or when she spoke about her first kissing experience, when she had actually wanted to throw up so bad that she feigned choking on air. With examples, of course.
He leans into the window, the breeze of the midnight bloom caressing his cheeks. He lets his hands frame his face, distracting himself from the obvious repercussions of his actions. Not practicing when the ballet play he is taking part of will technically make him fall behind; much more so when his partner is none other than the young and talented Chan, but he lets himself be distracted by this woman.
This woman who turns to him, speaking into the microphone while her disheveled hair moves with that wind that lures him into sentimentalism.
Her eyes are so confident that he’s almost speechless. She’s not rid of her braveness because he is looking at her; as if she doesn’t care being the center of attention. Her cheeks raise when she speaks, with her upper lip a little bit crooked into a smile, into the microphone.
“That one sucks, right?” His heart races, for some reason, it does. Ever since he started practicing here, just over two months ago, he has seen her speak into that microphone every Saturday night. As per comedy night, one would think. “Won, Wong? You, I don’t remember your name…the guy who gets drunk every Saturday always mentions it but I’m bad with names. Was that joke good?”
He shakes his head, exclaiming at the top of his lungs. “You’ve done better!”
“So did my mom say when dating my ex.”
His mouth, perched in a non-interpreted frown most of his days, relishes in a cat-like grin before nodding. “That one is better.”
She shakes her head, picking the microphone up and testing it a few times before jotting down her script in that notebook that always looks a little too full. As if she lacks inspiration or she just comes up with things on the go. Wonwoo knows that is the end of their little interaction, but he lets his gaze linger on the cascade of her hair and the way she munches on her pinky’s nail while thinking.
The harmony of her is how unreachable she looks while being also deeply close to him.
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August 1st, 2008.
“I hate that I love my friends, is that normal?”
Talking to a stranger on the bus shouldn’t be this comfortable. Though, he knows the lanky man by her side doesn’t give a damn about her life. He sits with his perfectly polished black hair and looks at her through glasses that are so slitted that she almost wonders why she uses them. He presses on the button of his pen, taking the ink in and out to jot down notes about his endeavors in his job. She sees him every Monday, when she tries her hardest not to feel bad at her job that she had once shared with glee with her friends.
Women that she adores. Women that she should be thankful of, because women supporting women is not something as common as one would think. However, each moment that she spends with them is more draining than the last. As if they are united by tragedy, rather than happiness. They live in spirals of gossips and making fun of themselves; basking on lives that aren’t lived to their fullest and—
“Then, they aren’t really your friends.” The stranger completes, youthful and yet so scarily wise. “If someone makes you feel as if your feelings for them shouldn’t exist, then, that’s guilt paired up with something else.”
“Damn, it was a rhetorical question.” 
“You wouldn’t ask if you really weren’t curious.” The guy in question quirks an eyebrow. If his personality didn’t belong to an arse, maybe, he could be some kind of handsome. “Why have friends if—”
“You don’t have any friends.”
“I do. Worthy ones of my time that are actually more of an addition to my life than a minus.” He’s sharp, she can tell, and as the pouring rain lures the bus ride into a comfortable place of mind with too much thinking and a little too much seriousness, she also thinks about what he says.
What if he life doesn’t belong to serving drinks in a club but instead being the one performing there? What would happen if for once she stopped caring that men got more opportunity in comedy and actually tried to speak up. Be funny, get laughed at or with, perhaps risk more than hating on people.
She grows more bitter by the minute. Of course, all thoughts of hopefulness fall to the same conclusion. She’ll fail. That’s what everyone expects out of her. 
“I don’t even know why I’m talking to you.”
“Must be a perception of how little you trust your friends.” With that, the office worker stands up, holding onto his coffee and serving a curt nod. She crosses her arms over her chest, as if covering herself from the utmost truth, before she sees him farewell. With her chin up-high and her ambition on the low.
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August 27th, 2008.
Wonwoo balances his weight on the tip of his toes. It’s an excellent metaphor for who he is—a passing shadow in the midnight sky, ignored in between stars of beaming light. He blends in perfection, missed by the eyes of those who look for the obvious. He works as wood to light fires and ambience to create peace. He leans into another position, dancing to the glee of Mozart, but never quite making the judges think of him.
He has worked closely with Chan. They’re in a play together, but being part of an academy means auditioning—starving off on ambition and living to the desires of the unknown. Now, as the sky blue walls blur into his vision, twisting to a perfect circle only to glimpse at the judges. They never look at him. Ignored. Forgotten.
He is Chan’s friend. Chan’s counterpart. He is but he isn’t. Nothing more than a derivation of what is talent. He’s the roots of a tree that sparkles in golden hues and spring breezes. Watered down, fearful, stopping on his tracks once the music does, while Chan leans into a complete ovation. 
Not to say he isn’t happy. Chan has earned what he has at the young age of twenty-one with fist and stone. Though, he hates just how his stomach dips with every breath he takes while Chan is so visibly comfortable. He despises the claps that never go towards him—the tiny finalizations of dreams that come with the bitter reality that we are that.
Humans that complete dreams halfway. We never reach the stars, we just get ladders. We never discover something, we just investigate something that already exists. 
The water bottle slips through his mouth, staring at Chan as he organizes his shoes and puts on a thick beige coat. The crackling of the thunder outside the academy doesn’t break the thoughts that grow in his head like a building would. Wonwoo is not deeply scarred; he’ll wake up tomorrow as if nothing happened, working as per usual, but for now he is only this. Angered.
“You know, this is usually something you would say.” Wonwoo leans his elbow into the windowsill, watching the droplets of rain fall one by one and then, the torrent thoughts merge with the upcoming storm. “But I’m feeling dumb enough to empty my feelings into a bottle of whiskey. Not entirely, just a tiny bit. I don’t want to listen to the bookshelf I have of psychology textbooks right now telling me it’s a bad idea.”
“Never a bad idea to drink, if you ask me.” Chan twirls the strands of his damp hair in between his fingers, tossing it back the slightest. “Wonwoo, I’m sure they’ll call you.”
Wonwoo raises a hand in the air, shaking it the slightest. “I don’t like lying to myself. I’m being half-dumb, not entirely idiotic.” 
Chan stares at him much like his father does whenever he wants to get information out of him. As if he can’t read Wonwoo; not knowing if he does care or not. Which reminds him—his dad wanted to be told the good news over the telephone once the time came about for Wonwoo to be accepted in that play that he had been wishing so hard to be part of, but now, he’s sure that he won’t be calling anytime soon.
Hey, dad, I’m a disappointment at times and I don’t want to say it out loud for you to actually internalize it? Yes, Wonwoo is not ready to say that.
“It’s raining. You want to drink the day that it’s raining.”
“It heats up the body, I guess.” 
“You surprise me, Jeon Wonwoo.”
He scoffs. “Gotta do that sometimes, I guess.” 
“Wonwoo—”
Before Chan could deepen an idea that he doesn’t want to develop, he picks up his backpack, not caring of slipping the clothes in properly. Neatly, as he would usually do. Because he cares. He fucking cares about ballet; perhaps more than he does about his tainted heart.
“What’s a place you like drinking in? And that wouldn’t close because of the rain.”
Chan’s grin widens, youthful like his personality. “No bar ever closes up because of the rain. No amount of water can wash down the drunks.” He admits, wrapping an arm around Wonwoo’s shoulder. “The Sentimental Cavern is my favorite. There’s good music and nice stand-up comedy on Saturdays. We could have a few drinks there.”
“I’m surprised you go to places called that.”
Wonwoo chuckles at what Chan says. “I mean ‘Tits and Ass’ was closed, so I had to go somewhere.”
“Asshole.”
“Another favorite bar of mine. Though, unrightfully closed.”
Well, at least Wonwoo knows that it will be an eventful night. 
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Present 
“I think, her will was not precisely of fearless nature.” Joshua admits into the microphone, tapping a finger on his bottom lip. “What broke the patience that was once so set in stone for Wonwoo was that she took decisions out of impatience.”
He looks through his notes, written over the years of his endless study of this relationship that people still cooed about, even when it didn’t have the most beautiful of endings. 
“Not impatience with him and his timing. No. Not impatience with life. It was with herself, as if she couldn’t deal with the voices that grew in her mind and were strong enough to make her feel like she had to do something more.” The podcast grows silent for a little bit, the light of cigarette following his statement. “So, when his patience grew, hers became thinner.”
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August 28th, 2008.
Joanne has eyes so deep that they hollow into her skull. It’s what lures men into her lap, asking for more drinks and tipping way overboard. She lives happily in a relationship that she denies, tightening her apron on her waist a little too tightly for it to accentuate what everyone can notice that she has. Though, when midnight strikes, Joanne steals drinks behind the counter and cries about her cheating boyfriend. Then, goes off to cheat herself.
It’s quite impressive the stories that develop around us, she believes. How everyone has their own protagonist nature that we fail to establish when living our own lives. Though, Joanne knows she is the main character. Not like her, who doesn’t flirt with the customers and hence, gets less tips. Or she, who doesn’t appear in the latest Christmas picture that the team took, where all the bartenders stood in a perfect line, just because no one called her.
Being the sidekick is lonesome, and sure, she can take the funny side-character, but for how long she’ll deal with it? She’s not sure. 
“The secret here is that you have to touch their arm. That makes them think of you, even just a tiny bit.” Joanne is talking, but she’s not listening quite well. Her eyes are set on the microphone in the middle of the stage, just minutes ago taken up by a man who was less than funny. 
“I don’t want to deal with men at this moment.” She whispers, though unheard by her friend as she rubs her hands over her face. She has to kick off that idea of getting on stage some way, right? “Jokes have been bad today, haven’t they?”
“To be expected,” Joanne admits. “This place is only made for talking. Not precisely for sharing laughs.”
Call her out on her bullshit, she wants to be the one to change that.
Tugging at her apron around her waist, she moves away from the counter, blending in between the old wooden walls and walking over to the center of the tavern with Joanne right behind her, calling her name like a mantra.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Lighting up this night a little bit, how about that?”
Joanne slips her fingers through her lucious black hair, mouthing. “How precisely are you going to do that?”
“I have no fucking clue.”
She’s tired, perhaps. Tired of the grump that sits next to her on the bus every morning. Tired of working in this bar, of watching the couples kissing on tables and getting out there shitfaced and vomiting. She lays one foot on the stage, the crisp radiation of the lights casting down on her with a glimmer of excitement and an ounce of fear when she finally reaches the middle. No one pays attention to her. Or, no one, but the man in the front row, downing a bottle of whiskey like his life belongs on the bottom of the glass.
Speaking of glasses, he wears a pair of those. They fall on his face romantically, on the bridge of a nose that looks a little slimmer with the shadows that cast on his face, paired with lips pouted like rose petals and strands of black hair that frame the face naturally. She has seen that face, normally from afar and with squinted eyes, where he listens to her stories on a windowsill, practicing with shirts too tight and tiptoes too pointed.
He gives her that push. That man that silently laughs or scoffs at her jokes when she’s practicing for something that won’t happen. Even when his face speaks more of drunken truths than the lying grins he gives her, she finds the stranger to be…homely.
So, she picks up the microphone, clearing her throat and shaking her voice to a hoarser, curter one before sighing. “I grew up with a bunch of men in my house.” She starts, and at first, she doesn’t get much of a reaction, but with every tremble of her body and joints that ache to speak for her, she continues. “And one would think that watching big bellies and sweaty armpits would give me a better hindsight of not trusting men to…uh…disappoint me every once in a while.” With that, she starts walking a bit, sending a wink to the groups of people now looking at her. “See, now I got your attention. That’s typical, both for men and women, tell us that we can’t do something and we go and do it…equally as wrong as how it was when we started.”
That earns a few laughs, but she’s concentrated on how the stranger chuckles. His shoulders shake, hairs falling on his forehead as if they belong there. They probably do, like his entire anatomy is a dance that follows its own steps.
That stranger, without knowing, makes her keep talking. 
“For example, with my first kiss, I had the audacity of believing that every hole shall be filled. Yes, blame it on the porn I watched…or maybe blame it on the fact that us, women, we are used to covering up what shall be left seen, so my mind went and I kid you not.” She lifts a hand in the air. “Throat. Tongue. Down. I saved that guy a visit to the odontologist and he paid me with what? What can you think about?”
“Great sex?” A woman in the background shouts and she hisses into the microphone.
“...You know eating in front of the poor is a sin, isn’t it?” She comments in a brief whisper before shaking her head. “No, I got disappointment. But then again, when you live in a house full of men, you’re quite used to it.”
More laughter and she feels on fire. Perhaps, because the man on the front row now had his hands pressed on each side of his face, looking at her with the intent of art. That night, she talks into a microphone, rambling about the in-between of being done with life but also trying to find the good side of it, and while she never gets to speak to the stranger, she knows he has a good luck amulet within him. 
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December 23rd, 2008.
“Have you ever considered posting dancing videos on YouTube?”
Jun is one very vicious man. Wonwoo can tell from the way he sits; with his hands interlocked in between his thighs to warm them up and his body leaning forwards and backwards in its own axis repeatedly. He is trying to take up on cigarettes, but he leaves them midway and abandons them on top of the wooden counter of his apartment. Dino is seated at the corner, sipping on the same beer bottle he has shared the entire night they were spending together.
Wonwoo’s excuse was to have something to eat with his friends. Tomorrow, he’ll tag along with his family to dinners and pleasantries. For now, he wants the relaxation that comes with a TV night after eating out. Now, Jun is looking at the ceiling as if it’s the sky and he can count every astrological sign that people say there are painted in the stars, twirling the lit-down cigarette in between his fingers. 
“YouTube?” Wonwoo questions, not well-aware of technology at all. He knows he has a computer, though he never uses it, covered by a cloth somewhere in his apartment’s deposit. “What exactly is that?”
Chan squints his eyes, “You’re twenty-four years old, how in the world are you so lost in what young people do these days?”
“Because mentally, I’m not very young.” He explains, toying with the edge of the plate he had emptied. He traces the outline repeatedly, lost in thought. “Or because some people have other things to do.”
Jun scoffs at that, soon after masking his laugh with a hand clasped to his mouth when Wonwoo looks at him. Glares, really, but he won’t admit it.
“What’s the laugh for?”
“Wonwoo, you don’t do much apart from your routine.” Chan explains, extending a hand in the air after wiping the droplets of beer off his mouth. “You don’t date, rarely drink, spend most of your time practicing. The most action you get is from looking out the window to see this girl—”
“A girl?” Jun questions, finally stopping his ministrations of endless movement to look between his two friends. “There’s a woman in Wonwoo’s life?”
“The unfunniest comedian you can think of used to tell jokes in the building right across from our academy and Wonwoo was over the moon laughing at her jokes.” Chan tells the story as if it was a tale, standing up and doing big curves with his arms. A dancer, after all. “And once would think Jeon Wonwoo would ask her out, or at least make it obvious that he’s looking at her so she feels someone ogling her ass and finally gives him the time of the day, but the man’s sneaky as he can get.”
“It’s not okay to make women feel uncomfortable by ogling at them.” Wonwoo defends, leaning back on his seat and propping his legs over the counter. “And…she is funny.”
“Eyes of love, I’m telling you, Jun.” Chan contemplates, soon after placing a hand on Wonwoo’s shoulder. “But yes, I think it’d be a great idea. Like, two dudes dancing in an academy but they are totally platonic about each other and prove to everyone that ballet can be masculine.”
Wonwoo half-chuckles at his antics, patting his hand on top of his shoulder with his own cold palm. “I’m not against it, actually.” He answers, not knowing the weight of his words. Who does? Every word is just a conglomerate of syllables and the wind that passes to brush them off. “Jun, would you care to record something for us?”
“I was waiting for you to say that!” Jun stands up at that moment, a little bit drunk and hazed when he moves over the living room. “I have my camera with me! We can practice and see what we can come up with. Us being you, because I don’t plan on dancing.”
Christmas lights and endless laughter fill a night that blurs in Wonwoo’s mind, but had been the initiation of something much bigger. Perhaps, even stronger than what he could have ever controlled.
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January 1st, 2009.
The east side bleeds perfectly lit streets for her to gawk at, but ambition leaves her in her spot. She stares forward, towards the hotel that she would have been presenting herself in had it not been for the denial letter she got. As of late, it seems as though she is only valuable for getting a few gigs in drunk-filled taverns and bars forgotten by the highest of classes. However, she wants a little bit more.
She sees the fitted dresses and the interlocked hands, and dare she say, she’s a bit jealous. Envious, even. She likes the way those women taut their gems and their beaming grins. Delicacy is something that can’t be found in simplistic matters, much less behind a dirty microphone as she spits out jokes about herself. She runs a hand through her hair when one of the invitees runs over a puddle with their sports car. Her sweater and jeans end up tainted by the mud of the previous rain. 
She could care. She could actually do something for her sweater.
She decides to rage, however.
Just as she’s about to turn around on the bottom of her boots and pretend like her life is not a complete misery, or make a joke about it, she hears a commotion, voices that blend with each other before she sees a body stumbling when getting out after being pushed—and whom she expects to see is not the stranger. That Wong guy whom she isn’t sure is called that way.
Handsome, of course, that he has always been. His hair is disheveled, falling on his face, a fitted shirt clinging to his body with a scar of a cup of coffee sprawled on the white material. His hands spread on the sidewalk, looking up with a flush on his cheeks and a sigh that impresses her.
“I wouldn’t have taken you as the kind to get kicked out of places, Wong.” She isn’t even aware of why she calls him such way. She has heard his friend, Chan, who is far more extroverted than him, call him something of the kind, but then again, she can’t recall. His knee is still pressed to the concrete and in any other position, perhaps from another point of view, it could look as though she is rejecting a marriage proposal. “Need any help?”
She doesn’t wait for an answer, extending a hand and hoisting him up until she feels his chest flushed to hers. There’s some carving in those muscles, in the dip of his waist and how he stands as upright as possible. His eyelashes flutter softly when looking down at her and she has to swallow thickly.
Okay, those eyes? She can get behind them. She wishes she could, actually, so her vision would be able to foresee what he is seeing as his lips spread in a shy, tight-lipped smile. 
“Why ask if you already helped me?”
“Pleasantries.” She responds, letting go of his hand and brushing it on the back of her jeans until she saves it in her wet pocket. That’s a weird sentence, now that she thinks about it, she must be drenched in muddy water if her pocket is wet. “So, getting kicked out of expensive hotels? That’s better than me already. I get kicked out of bars.”
Wong, whoever, laughs at what she just said the way he did when he was drunk back at her first show. Now she has some more in a few bars, but never anything exclusive. “You seem like the type.”
“Love that we are both judgemental.” She chuckles along with him, earning an eyebrow lift that shouldn’t be quite as attractive as it is. As though he is confident in his silence and how that makes people more interested in him. 
“Chan’s the one that did it. He’s a friend of mine. Got drunk and started a fight, I ended up pretending like I was the one who started the commotion.” The stranger explains with a hand rubbing at the back of his neck. She watches the veins in his arms stand out in between fine hairs, making her bite her bottom lip. 
This man is art, even more from up close. 
“Are you sure you weren’t the one throwing hands?”
“I could never. It would mentally drain me.” Wong retorts, raising a finger in the air out of the sudden. “You called me Wong, didn’t you?”
Uh-oh, that wasn’t his name? She has to play pretend now. “Um…Did I? I don’t really remember if I did.”
“You don’t? I heard you perfectly. Where did you get that my name was Wong?”
“I…I didn’t call you Wong, first and foremost. And I may have heard Chan calling you that over the music when I practiced my stand-up in the building next to yours.”
“Wonwoo,” The man corrects, breaking out in sweet laughter before shaking his head. “But I’ll take Wong. I think it sounds scarier than Wonwoo does.”
“Wonwoo.”
“Yes.”
“That’s your name.”
“I guess so. My parents gave me that name.”
“Oh God, I’m sorry.” She scrunches up her nose, placing a hand against her forehead.  
His shoulders shake in that silent laughter that shouldn’t interest her quite as much before he shrugs. “I’ll let it slide if you tell me why you stopped going to the building next door.”
“I’ll be honest, I’ve been making so much money off stand-up comedy that I haven’t been able to actually stop by and practice. I just spit things out in a microphone. Like Eminem.”
His eyebrows raise in an innocent manner. As though what is served in front of him is somewhat truthful even when he doesn’t double-check. She wonders if life has been less complicated for him, reason as to why he can believe with more of an open heart. 
“Actually, my career is dying. Both as a bartender and as a comedian but…I don’t have a choice, right?” She sighs, the humidity seeping like a cloud of air around her before it dissolves into nothing. “It’s either trying to live my dream or feel my heart failing so…if I make money or not, it shouldn’t matter. Success is a concept, not really a tangible reality.”
At least, that’s what she thinks. What she wants to believe when her cheek squished against her pillow and she feels like her thoughts are more death-threats against her dreams than anything else. Wonwoo stares at her with some kind of puzzlement in his gaze, and he takes that as his cue to nod.
“Something we never reach, that’s what success is. Or when we do, it slips through our fingers just as easily.” She didn’t expect him to sound so somber, but with the shiver of his body that trails up his spine and shakes him to reality, he hums. “But don’t feel down because of that. I like your jokes.”
“You’re the only one who laughs at them, most likely.”
“Some laughs from one person is still more than silence.” 
She watches him with precision. Wondering, maybe, how a man like him exists. How there is so much compound profoundness in a body that is constructed to be seen as it is. To be inspected and studied like the anatomy of perfection. Only that he’s nowhere near close that, isn’t he? 
“If I ever become successful, Wonwoo, I’ll say your name on stage.” She promises, giving a few steps back and hearing that laughter that she had never been able to catch from up close.
She wouldn’t trade it, now that she hears it. 
“Make that a promise.”
“That’s what it is.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
“It probably won’t happen, so don’t wait for too long.”
With that, she turns back, munching on her lip and trying her hardest not to smile.
So, maybe, she has someone to play for.
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Present. 
“Wonwoo’s career skyrocketed before hers, and I think that’s one of the biggest issues.” Joshua is not a plotter, but in this episode of Backstage Says, it feels as though he knows more than most. He leans back on his seat, rubbing at a tired eye. “He loved ballet. I’m not sure if he did it more than he loved her.”
For whoever that had seen Jeon Wonwoo on stage, they were up for a treat. Social media was barely touched upon when he finally got discovered by a group of women, which would then be shown in the video version of the podcast for people to see. Joshua taps a finger against his mouth, sighing.
“Her commentary was very clear. She didn’t want to be anyone’s shadow. She had lived there for a very long while…so I’m not sure what clouded her mind when she started seeing Wonwoo in another light.”
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April 8th, 2009.
Wonwoo stands in front of a camera, feeling a little bit ridiculous, and yet, somehow saved from the imminent doom of his thoughts.
Near his house there is this plaza, a place that is rarely visited by anyone but teenage couples that are trying to hide their interlocked hands from their parents and make-out for a little longer, and a few kids that rush into their parents’ arms to get scoops of ice cream. He tugs at the beige sweater that rests on his broad shoulders, easing the knot on his throat with some clearance of it before he looks around.
Enormous trees cascade in elegant flowers at this time of the year, wetting his lips when seeing the gorgeous clouds that settle on the sky of Seoul. Jun had been nice enough to offer himself to record a video for Wonwoo’s and Chan’s channel, but he was nervous. Now that he got an email from a talent company, aware of his existence and wanting to support him monetarily, he’s not sure that he’s very happy about posting a video.
It’s the seventh time he has recorded the same routine, and he feels as though he does it worse every single time.
Wonwoo puts his glasses down, next to his wallet on a bench nearby, resting his hands on his waist and fixing the camera to settle the colors in brighter shades, discerning the clouds like puffiness in the sky to never be grazed by the horrendous hand of humanity. He likes that, the unreachable, but how freaking scared he can be of it is surprising.
He starts the music again, getting on his first position and raising a long leg up with expertise, though, when he curves his hands and gets ready to start with his jumps, he feels a droplet falling on top of his head. Soon after followed by many more, earning the widening of his eyes and a rush to Jun’s camera.
He’d get killed if he dared ruin that camera.
He covers it with his sweater, shielding it while the pouring rain gives him a message. As if telling him that now that he is represented, he won’t be able to sustain the views that he had gotten on his YouTube channel.
Though, just as he’s about to reach for his glasses, he hears music in his head. He listens to the soundtrack to ‘The Nutcracker’ in his head. He remembers the time he danced to it in high school; the mocking he got from other guys, the coos that came with the actual play and how it made him feel alive. He doesn’t realize that he’s getting into position until he renews the feeling from back then, swinging to his heart’s content. As it should have been, like it hasn’t been in a while.
Much to his surprise, however, as every joint in his body unravels into a typical glee, he sees a body from his peripheral. It’s a rushing outline of a woman, watered down like a flower in spring. She stops when seeing him and he notices this, immediately stopping his ministrations. He expects to see the mocking grin that takes over her features whenever he sees her; like she finds the universe funny. However, as she holds onto a now wet paper bag, she blinks at him before letting said bag fall to the floor softly.
“My God.”
His cheeks tint red, clearing his throat and putting his glasses on just so he can’t see her surprised face. He’s still not quite used to the attention; at least, not when he doesn’t have Chan by his side to take up most of it. “It’s raining. You shouldn’t be out like this.”
“It’s not like I planned it, Wonwoo.” The comedian says, taking one step forward before sighing. “How do you do that thing?”
It keeps raining and yet, she doesn’t care. She inspects with an eye that would be otherwise scarily specific when he frowns his thick eyebrows. “What thing?”
“The jumps!” There is a bit of a childish tone to her voice before she expands her arms romantically. “You seem so elegant yet so wide. It’s surprising to see you take up so much space and make it look okay.”
“That just means I’m tall.”
“You get it. I’m the one that should be funny.” She rubs the sleeve of her sweater on his glasses, rising her gaze and connecting her eyes with his own. God, those eyes could kill him at any moment and he wouldn’t feel any pain or resentment. “Show me.”
“Show you?”
“I’ve never been much of a dancer myself.” She admits, fluttering dusk-covered eyelashes at him and sighing deeply. “But I want to liberate myself in a way. It’s raining. I’ve gotten the news that my show’s been canceled. I bought my favorite bread and now it’s drained in rain. Maybe, try to lighten the mood? You always do whenever I see you.”
Not that they see each other often. It’s been months since he has heard her stand-up, but somehow, he’s always rooting for her. Living off a small crush that is clearly one-sided. “Okay.” He breathes out, taking off his glasses and hanging them from the collar of his sweater. “Raise your arms on both sides.”
She does so, but her actions are mechanical. One arm on the left, one arm on the right, and then a crook of her chin. “So, what else?”
“Your arms are not part of you. They are terminations of your being. Like the leaves of a tree or the feathers of a bird.” Wonwoo explains, letting his fingers graze the tip of her fingers. They are soft to the touch, somehow strong when he crooks them to his desire. “Let them curve, with a little bit of elegance, I guess. Lift your pinky and index, as if you are pointing at something but are too drunk to actually know what it is.”
“You’re an elegant drunk. I’m more of the shitfaced kind.”
“Part of ballet is pretending.” Wonwoo finalizes with her hands, sending her a smile before he takes place in front of her. “So, that’s the first position. Then, you launch yourself forward the slightest, letting your foot point behind you.”
“You really think I have the balance to do this?” She scoffs, leaning her body in just one leg and looking into his eyes before quirking the corner of her lips in a smirk. She’s far too close for him not to be bothered by that action alone, but he lets it slide. “Okay, now what?”
“You were the one that asked.”
“I want to feel pretty and elegant for once.”
Wonwoo bites on his lip, because he’s sure that he’d spit out that she’s always beautiful. The kind of gorgeous that has people looking twice, because that smile definitely has to be worked by Gods themselves. He would want nothing more than to spend hours and hours of his day looking at her just speaking, whether it was in her serious form or making fun of everything around her. He sighs deeply. 
“Bring the foot you’re holding up to the front, give three quirk steps on pointé and then, jump. Rotate as you do so.”
He gives her a demonstration, passing by her side and keeping his balance even with the rain. Though, when he finally ends up in the last pose, she has already dropped her arms on her side, leaving her mouth ajar the slightest before she starts clapping.
Wonwoo had been blushing before, but this is even worse. He even finds himself smiling a little bit, because hey, what kind of man doesn’t like being looked at like that by a woman like her? 
“That got you a lot of pussy back in high school, didn’t it?”
“You’d be surprised.” Wonwoo adds sarcastically, rolling his eyes and then, laughing.
“No way, you were the pussy monster? Like the cookie monster but cooler?”
“Not a lot of women want to be with a ballet dancer. I guess it’s the stigma of thinking that we are more femenine than most.” He confesses, only to have her quirking an eyebrow before crossing her arms over her chest.
“I don’t believe one bit that you weren’t popular in high school.”
Wonwoo, caught in his own lie, licks the inside of his cheek before laughing. “Okay, I may have skipped the fact that I was a ballet dancer so I could go out on more dates. But that’s part of going through high school, the whole experimenting bit.”
There is that mocking grin that he oh-so-deeply likes. She points her finger at him; straight, volatile, quite different to what he is used to because of dancing, before she adds: “I knew so. There is no way in this world that you weren’t some kind of heartbreaker yourself.”
“I never said I was a heartbreaker.” Wonwoo counterparts. “It depends on the story. Sometimes we are the good guy, sometimes we are the bad guy.”
“Sometimes, we are just some guy.” She comments, sighing deeply. “I feel like I’m just that at times.” 
Before he could tell her that he sees endless talent in her, she picks up the camera that he had left forgotten at the bench before placing it in his hands. “I think it’s not going to work anymore. Sorry for that.”
She gives a few steps back, raising her arms on each side of her body before jumping two steps backwards. That makes him smile, even though he should be worried about his camera. 
“Be my guest, judge me.” She says, only to have him shaking his head.
“Could be better.”
“I’m the bad guy in your story, then.”
Though, as he sees her leave, he’s not sure if she is the good or the bad guy. He only knows he’s more than just somebody. 
And that he has to buy Jun a new camera.
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February 15th, 2010. 
She doesn’t feel the slightest bit like herself. Polyester never looked good on anybody, much less herself.
This green dress ends up a little bit under her knees, a little snug on the chest area and yet, it doesn’t make her look any more attractive or sexier. The Valentine Ball was an event that her manager had invited her to be part of to launch her career; some people had heard her stand-up and they wanted her to be part of the line-up. Through gritted teeth, of course, someone had to cancel for her to get the spot, but she’ll take what she can.
What she didn’t expect was that the dress that she ordered online would look like this. Pressing a hand to her neck, she tries to breathe in deeply. Perhaps, suck in her waist or look a little bit more confident, but as she’s trapped with a bunch of people in a changing room; known talents and those to be found, she feels like she’s out of place.
She should have taken the sexy dress that Joanne offered. She’d feel more confident then, wouldn’t she?
With tingling fingertips and the acids in her stomach lurching and expecting to make her throw up, she starts walking in the hunt for something. Anything? She is not really aware of what she’s looking for, but she’s opening doors, not seeing anything but more people, trapping her in a mindset that tells her she’s not really that talented to be performing in front of five thousand people. To be part of a lineup, even.
Another beer bottle ends up in between her fingers, sipping on it like her life depends on it. Skin heated and perhaps glistening a bit of sweat, she opens the last door she sees before she has to turn towards a hallway that she thinks she has already passed. The doorknob feels heavy in between her fingers, tugging at the door and then pushing it with her shoulder to help it open before she comes face to face with a body that she shouldn’t be ogling at.
A slim waist is hugged by a gorgeous coral-colored shirt, flared at the shoulders, paired with some pants that belong to a dancer. That head of black hair is a bit longer than she remembers when he turns around to look at her, eyes squinted because they are always like so when he is not wearing his glasses. He neatly folds the shirt he must have taken off just a few minutes ago in between his fingers, but she’s licking her lips at the moment.
Totally to taste the beer off her tongue, not because he looks good enough to eat.
Wonwoo is not a common memory, but it’s a good one. She briefly remembers that she had sworn to say his name on a show when she became successful, but that hasn’t happened yet. Sighing deeply, she raises a hand in the air, stumbling a bit because of the alcohol in her system.
God, make it better for the show, that’s all she can think about.
“I totally didn’t mean to interrupt you for like the umpteenth time.” Before he could say if that was the case or not, she closes the door with the back of her cheap heels before chuckling. “But I’m totally scared and overthinking my script, but I’ll take this meeting as a sign that I might be dreaming or that I have lost my mind completely.”
The room is smaller, crapped and heated, warming her up and making her feel a bit stupid. There he is, Wonwoo looking like an absolute dream, slim hips and small waist, with his cheeks pushing up in a smile and all she can think is ‘feromones, calm the fuck up’. 
Fuck it, he’s sexy, she’ll admit that. Those girls that thought dating a ballet dancer was stupid must have lost their goddamned minds.
“You’ll do well, I’m certain.” Wonwoo places his shirt inside his bag before leaning on the bedframe of the mattress that comfortably lays in the corner of the room. The angles in his body become more apparent at that moment, but she tries to concentrate on what he is saying. That’s her drunk mind speaking, after all, isn’t it? “I have my own presentation today. I read your name in the list but I wasn’t sure if we were going to meet up. There’s plenty of talent today, after all.”
She chuckles, drinking the last few bits of her beer before placing the bottle down on a table nearby, getting closer to Wonwoo. “Sorry, I’m awfully stupid when it comes to these things. I didn’t check the line-up. I would’ve looked for you if that was the case.”
He widens his eyes momentarily before smiling. “Why so?”
“Because you’re a distraction, and I feel like I’m losing my mind at this moment. I’m drunk, nervous, and let me be honest with you…” She shouldn’t. Her mind is blaring signs that she shouldn’t speak more than necessary. Or at all, really, smart people like Wonwoo shouldn’t have to listen to her blabbering. “You look too fucking good right now and I want nothing more than to kiss you so I can have my mind at peace for a lonesome second. That’s what I need, really.”
Wonwoo should be one of those lovers that are shy and bite back on their words. She had seen him blush and stammer with his words, soft and comfortable, but there’s always a few hidden words in every silent tale. Wonwoo doesn’t move, but he’s a magnetic field that pulls her in by just extending his hand and interlocking their fingers together. He traces the bones on her knuckles, a few lines in his fingers felt by every fiber in her body. 
Her anatomy gravitates towards him, by the way he doesn’t move and yet, everything about him seems as though it’s dancing. The golden lights of the room cast down on his now darkened eyes, though there is a bit of flirtation in them. Perhaps, he has his own sneaky ways of getting what he wants. Silently and patiently. 
“You really want a kiss to forget? So, if it was anyone else, you’d ask them, too?”
She shakes her head, because she must have lost it. Giving a man this kind of power over her is different from what she does. She’d talk smack about what she is doing right now in a stand-up comedy, but the romance in his eyes is killing her neurons slowly. 
“No.” She confesses. “I’d only want to kiss someone this badly if it was you.”
Wonwoo wraps a hand around her waist, though the hold is weighty, he doesn’t tug at her. He moves her closer, making her stand in between his thighs, warming her up when his lips wrap around her upper one. His other palm moves from her hand to her face, cradling her cheek and smacking their mouths together. He’s relaxed, patient as ever, with an elegance in his touch that shows the experience that he likes to deny. The pit of her stomach winces, contracts, pleads for her to get closer to him but her hands only wrap around his shoulders, curving more towards him, breathing in and sighing against his mouth before taking more of him.
His tongue doesn’t graze her lips, and his teeth don’t lurk to bite. Wonwoo is patient to the point she is down to kiss him for the entire night and miss the event if that’s what liquor courage makes her do. He smells like musk and feels like warmth, pulling her in and yet, granting her only what she can have for dreams late at night, never reaching the end-line.
Because he wants her to run there. 
He’s an expert in making people look at him and desire him. 
Soon after, she’s hearing her name being called from the speakers, calling her to prepare for her stand-up. Wonwoo pulls away, eyes gleaming, looking at her with a desire that weights his eyelids down and makes his lips purse as if disappointed.
God, she’d kiss the disappointment away if she’d have a little bit more time.
“Go. I’ll be looking at you.” His lips are not rosy enough, not kissed enough, and she’s about to lean in for another kiss when he moves away, opening the door to the room and pointing the entrance for her.
“I’m still not successful enough to say your name.”
Wonwoo’s lips quirk up at that. “I’ve heard you say my name in my mind plenty of times, don’t you worry about that.”
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July 1st, 2012. 
There's radiation within her body, emanating from her back and transcending to her chest. It doesn’t make her feel at ease, but somehow, she completes herself with the nervousness that coaxes her. Dressed in the costume for this week’s program, she tries to concentrate on how different life is. Joanne is somewhere in the bar, forgotten by her, abandoned in a world where gold splashes cameras and makes people coo at the images of celebrities.
She’s nowhere close to that, or so she thinks, feeling like a kid as she stands in front of Dokyeom, her counterpart. He is always ready for the next scene, live and yet, eating whatever script he had written alongside her for every Saturday night. However, her body dissipates into a small butterfly that shakes through the strong wind, trying not to disarrange herself with every bridge she burns to be able to fly.
Now that she’s flying, making people laugh weekly, working on her own stand-up shows, she is afraid of how high she can go before the imminent fall comes. 
Whenever she feels nervous, she remembers the smile that she would see in some of the front rows of her shows. She recalls the vibrato of his voice after that lonely kiss they once shared while she was tipsy. It’s the only thought that makes her stay sane when the world moves a little too quickly, like Dokyeom’s lips as he recites the script before the cameras turn on.
“I want to do something.” She says, because her decisions are always taken like that. When she’s scared and there is nothing else to do but hope that throwing herself to the ocean will wash away that emotion. Dokyeom stops speaking, looking at her through thickly brimmed glasses that barely let him see. It’s part of his nerdy character for the show, after all.
“I’m blind enough as of now not to ask you what kind of crazy thing you want to do.” Okay, maybe she had gotten a little bit lost on the midway-through being a celebrity phase, but partying had some kind of taste to it. Like alcohol that buzzes through her body and makes her feel confident. What she rarely is these days, after all.
“I have a friend and whenever we spoke about me making it, I’d promise him that I’d say his name.” She recalls. Of course, Wonwoo is not really her friend. She barely knows a thing or two about him. His passion, the way he holds himself together, his laugh and how deeply he enjoys her jokes. She knows he is majestic, rare in every shape or form but in the best way. “Mind it if I call your character like him? In hopes of…you know, him watching it.”
Dokyeom takes off those enormous glasses before cooing. “Hold up, you’re lying to me here. If you two are friends, how do you not know if he’s going to watch it?”
“We’ve lost touch.” After that kiss, she would like to add, but she’d never hear the end of it if that was the case. 
“Or, you actually are not friends with him but are trying to get inside someone’s pants.”
“On fucking stage, yes. Of course.” She adds sarcastically, pushing at Dokyeom’s shoulder before she hears him laugh joyfully. “Nothing funnier than making things awkward for everyone.”
“It’s what you’re saying, mind you.” Dokyeom counterparts, clearing his throat and then, grabbing the script again. His eyelashes flutter when reading the next few sentences, waving a hand in the air to coax her to say more. “Say the name so I don’t lose track when performing.”
Those syllables weight in her tongue. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t regret not trying it out with him. Whenever she goes out on a date or when nights get heavy on her own, she imagines whispering it to him, while wrapping an arm around his waist and trapping his lips in another kiss. One better than the last, if that’s even possible. She wants to unclad his secrets and get to know him more, to touch skin but also soul. 
“Wonwoo.” Her voice shouldn’t have been as soft as it was and maybe, Dokyeom notices it. He doesn’t see her, nor does he make a joke. If anything, he stands perfectly in place and plays his character even when she calls him Wonwoo, trying her hardest not to smile but failing at the end of the scene, when she says it with a grin on her face.
Maybe, that’s what she wants. For Wonwoo to see that she has started dancing with life and while it’s nowhere near easy, it’s something. For her to get used to what the world threw at her was out of the question. Now, she releases her own weapons and fights against the odds, letting the rain wash down every insecurity she ever had. Like she did with him.
She auditioned for this weekly comedy show the day after she met up with Wonwoo under the rain, after all, and it took time, but she got called eventually. She wants to believe his braveness is what unleashed the inspiration that got her to be a better version of herself.
Or damn, she’s just overthinking the possibilities. Wonwoo could be just like any other man, a stranger to her, but it’s not like she’ll get to know so. He vanished into a memory of what never happened, only to stay that way. A treacherous yet luring road that was never crossed by her wandering steps.
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 July 9th, 2012. 
Wonwoo doesn’t understand how his students spend most of their time with their noses glued to phone screens.
He should do it more, he thinks. He has his own channel, after all, and while he has launched and bleed through classes through his shared academy with Chan. However, as he extends his joints and prepares to start from the top with the presentation his teenage students were preparing for a high school performance, he hears more giggles coming from the group of girls seated on the wooden floor. They look at him before hiding blushed cheeks behind extended hands.
They have been like that for the last fifteen minutes and he knows that they got over their crush on him over five months ago. He made sure to establish that from the moment they started taking classes. However, there is something different and he has been trying his hardest to ignore the laughing and the stares, but it’s starting to feel uncomfortable.
“Do I have something on my face?” Wonwoo questions, placing both hands around his waist and frowning deeply to earn an answer. He needs to perfect their synchronization and they are not going to get anywhere with the gossiping that happens in the classroom. 
“Nope.” Bitna answers quickly, chuckling into her hand. “But I think you’ve got a girlfriend, Instructor Jeon.”
He had one seven months ago. It wasn’t the most glorious of times and it ended quickly. With a few dates and hands that got lost in naked skin, but it didn’t feel like much else. It drained him from his energy whenever they argued, and the memories slipped from his fingers quickly. Not love, not like, just simply spending time together. 
Was that even a girlfriend? He’s not sure. He hasn’t asked anyone to be so in years. 
He hasn’t felt unique in years, and that’s mostly part of what stops him. To be with somebody, he wants to find someone who makes him feel as though he is one on his own, yet great enough for someone to desire to be with him. The butterflies can be forgotten, but there needs to be a buzz…or something.
“Girls, what are you saying? Stop inventing things.” Though, when he gets closer to them, hearing a chant of ‘no’ when he grabs the phone, he didn’t expect to see what he did. A woman is on the screen, one that he remembers candidly with a lingering kiss that had him wishing for more. Her lips part on one of those live weekly shows that plan on making whole families laugh while making commentary about celebrities and the current society. Though, what takes him off guard is when she continues with her role and dares say…
His name.
It doesn’t take much more for him to smile. Savoring the glory of her finally reaching a position in which she is happy. At the end of the scene, she seems to feel him. As if she knew he’d react this way, with the tips of his fingers tingling to touch her and his heart blossoming within his chest. He starts the video again, just because he can, hearing more coos from his students…but he’s awfully inspired.
Joyful, even.
She said his name. She’s on TV. Now, he knows he has something to watch every single week. 
His impossibility, as he’d like to call her.
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November 22nd, 2014.
Simpleness, she had always liked. Yet, when a diamond glimmers, a person can’t help but look at that. She wonders, somehow, if she is the villain in the story when she cringes into her own body as the cameras flash in front of the car her boyfriend was driving towards their date. Not that it was going anywhere nicely, the car smells rancidly of weed and they had been arguing from the moment they got out of his home. Lost for the past three days, he had been partying endlessly, and not a single text had been sent her way to make sure he was okay.
People hated them to bits and pieces, too. She was a joke of a comedian for dating a pop star, and Mingyu was too lost in his own vision to even care what people were saying about him. A few paparazzi, those that are now hunting them like an animal’s prey, had been nice enough (or not) to email her to see if she wanted to have a few pictures of Mingyu cheating on her. She asked her team to ignore them, pay them however much was necessary just because…
She loved him? As the cameras grow wider and Mingyu starts cursing under his breath, she looks at his profile. Stardom was always beautiful; god, she had wished to be in this same position, wrapped up in cameras and money just years ago. However, as Mingyu’s jacket transcends the smell of a perfume that isn’t hers and his eyes water in complete stress, she realizes that this is not love.
This is the need to brag. The egocentrism that clads celebrities and hides them in loops of nothingness. She likes appearing in pictures with him, that she has something to talk about in her monologues, that at the end of the day she has someone to kiss on the lips and have get lost in between her legs when she feels lonely. But this? The invasion of privacy? The loneliness? The screaming and arguing that ends up in pretending for a few cameras…?
“I’m done.” She confesses, grabbing her jacket from the backseat before she pats a hand on Mingyu’s shoulder. “Stop the car. I’m getting off.”
“What?” Mingyu questions, eyeing her as if she’s crazy. She must have been, considering that she has been in this relationship for the past four months and she feels as empty as ever. Sold out, like her shows should be, not her heart. “You’re absolutely fucking nuts. They’ll eat you alive.”
She knows that she is somewhere near the center of Seoul, where the restaurants become more apparent and people are not half interested in who she is. Or they weren’t, until she started dating the rap superstar, Kim Mingyu. 
“I want to end this. This…fucking car ride, and this relationship.”
He chuckles at that. Of course, he can’t believe what she is saying. “Babe, I’m not joking. Those people could actually hurt you.”
“Stop the car and open the goddamned door.” 
“No.”
She opens the door at that moment, watching his eyes widening because Mingyu can pretend to be reckless, but he won’t continue with the car ride if she’s threatening to get off. Her jacket clads her vision when she gets out of the car, bodies tugging at her own, pushing her around as if she’s a sack for them to possess. However, the tears she wants to spill never appear, swallowing thickly and moving forward.
“Slut!”
“Sell-out!”
“How are Mingyu’s other women doing? What do you think about that?”
“Get back here!”
All of this for feeling a little bit less lonely? No thanks.
She starts running at that moment, hearing more shouts behind her, but she covers her face with that jacket. No one could see her shame and sadness if she did so. After all, she’s expected to be all laughs and that’s all she will ever be. Never successful enough, never anything but someone’s shadow. A woman, after all.
More steps are heard behind her and she starts turning on alleys, not knowing precisely where she is going and entering the first secluded restaurant that she finds in an abandoned alley. Cats are by the doorway, the secluded Japanese restaurant perhaps very close to stopping their business, but someone is seated there…
And it’s almost ironic that she doesn’t recognize him at first. His waist is still as taut, glasses humid because of the ramen he’s having. His black hair is shorter, pushed away from his enigmatic features, relaxed as ever until he hears the big sigh that escapes her lips. Her palms spread on her knees, never once letting go of the image in front of her.
Jeon Wonwoo always comes at the best times for her, and yet, somehow, it’s always the wrong moment for them.
She tosses the jacket to the side, hearing the old lady working by the entrance asking her if she’s okay but once glance of Wonwoo at her and she recognizes that he’s aware that she’s nowhere near close to that. Her feet move to their own accord, standing in front of him as if asking him to say something. He doesn’t.
“I think I lost.” She whispers, because she knows that he’ll understand better than anyone else. “I don’t know if it’s myself…or this game that I dare call life.”
Wonwoo stands up at that moment, placing his hands on her shoulders when he stands behind her. The part of her that were dead are lit up by hope when he sits her down on the chair across from her, grabbing a hairband from his wrist and messily tying her hair. 
“You can feel pain now.” He reassures her and at that moment, she feels the tears that she had been hiding for the past few years building up. “The more pain you feel, the more it will heal…and then, you’ll see yourself in your reflection again. I promise.”
In the tea Wonwoo had been drinking, she sees tears winding down her cheeks, a few hairs framing her face and a man behind her, who smiles softly, like he is a bit shy about doing it. 
She’ll be herself one day.
It’s not today, but she lives within her body and she’ll appear one day.
“...I would really like some ramen.”
“Have mine.”
“You sure?”
He chuckles and the sound alone heals her heart. “The world is a little bit better if we share, isn’t it?”
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May 26th, 2017.
“If you had to choose a part of me to stay with, which one would you choose?”
She asks that question as she watches the sunset with Wonwoo, seated in between his legs and sharing a dense, oversized jacket with him. His arms are wrapped around her body, caged and confined by the same fabric, with his perfume lingering in her body and his chin squished to the top of her head. Wonwoo half chuckles at her words.
“That awfully sounds like I’m a serial killer and I will pluck off your nails or something.”
“Don’t be so literal about things, Wonwoo.” She rolls her eyes at him, interlocking their fingers together and still, feeling her heart stop. She likes saying that what makes her relationship work is not letting anyone into their lives. They know what they want them to know, and that power alone has people wondering if the person in her monologues being completely anonymous.
Or kind of, people are well aware that he is a famous ballet dancer and it’s not difficult to add two plus two.
“Your eyes.” He confesses, pressing a kiss to her neck and then, tugging at her body closer. The heat in her skin could come from his body or his words, she’s not certain, and that’s the beautiful thing about being with him. One never knows with Wonwoo. “You’d never look at me when we were in those two buildings.”
“I’d look at you!”
“Not a chance.” Wonwoo adds, laughing at her words. “You’d look at the wall as if people were staring at you and there was so much power in her gaze alone. When you finally asked me what I thought, I was over the moon…You’d look at me without a hint of fear, and I needed that. I wanted to be fearless because you were so.”
“I’m not anywhere near fearless.” She adds, pressing his hand to her thundering heart. “I’m scared of…of how nice you make feel, Wonwoo. How much I love you.”
“Let it be.” Wonwoo says, swinging their bodies from side to side before pressing his lips to her own. She had gotten this; comfort and grief…letting go of the sadness that had once cladded her. “So, yes, I’d stare at your eyes forever if I had to.”
“You have to now after telling me that.”
“I won’t fight it, then.”
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Present. 
“So,” Joshua Hong finishes his podcast with a small clap. “I wanted to talk about this story because I see people lurking for real love and whenever they answer what real love is, they answer this couple and I am certain they have broken up. Here, in Backstage Says, we have confirmed that Chan and Wonwoo are no longer friends after a dispute about the business and that…”
“You are so full of shit.” Much like her mother, Sangmi places a hand in the corner of the laptop and closes it with a thud. Not only had her little crush on the podcast host deflated, but now she’s licking her lips, twirling in her chair and looking up at the idol poster she has plastered on her ceiling.
Did mom and dad ever break up?
Picking up her backpack, she rushes out of her room with heavy steps and a curiousness that blinds her. When she reaches the kitchen, she sees her mom, hunching on the counter and jotting down a few notes for her next script. Dad, on the other hand, is reading a book that speaks of old literature and art.
Sure, her parents are not open about their relationship…but she exists. How could Joshua Hong say that they are no longer together?
“Did you guys ever break up?”
The young teen gets the attention of Wonwoo first, who raises his eyebrows before exchanging a glance with his wife. Laughter rises from both of them at that moment and Sangmi inflates her cheeks, bundling up her fists.
“I’m being serious!”
“We spent plenty of years lost, I guess.” Wonwoo announces, closing the book softly. “You have to think of it this way, it took us a long time to end up together even though we knew we were meant to have something with each other.”
“Okay, so, nice.” Sangmi adds. “The podcast I was head over heels for had an episode about you two and they say you broke up. Joshua Hong is now off my crush list.”
Her mom is the one to laugh now, writing another sentence before shaking her head. “Get ready, kid. You’ll make lots of mistakes before you find the one.” Though, she eyes her daughter. “Besides, he’s a little too old for you. Get over yourself.”
“Mom!“
That’s not Wonwoo’s attitude, for sure.
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velvetcloxds · 9 months
Note
come over- you asked for twd requests so what about dbf!rick who has been trying not to fall for you since he saved you from the woods while still at the farm and after lori's death you help him clean up after his breakdown and he realizes he's already fallen for you
'TIL ONE OF US CAVES | R.G.
word count: 1k
warnings: age gap, lori's death, little angsty but mostly hurt comfort- I haven't written something in like two months pls go easy on me lol
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You were sort of lost when Glenn called you away from guard duty, counting guns and amo with Maggie seemed a priority, especially after everything that happened but then he said that Rick needed you and you'd never moved that fast before. It was an odd thing, whatever you and Rick had going on, nothing more than stolen glances and moments in the midst of the madness, neither of you willing to risk doing anything for Lori or Carl's behalf. But it was a sort of unspoken rule that you'd always be the first to show up for each other when the moment came and one of you needed it.
You found him sitting on his cot in his cell, lost behind blood you knew wasn't his but it didn't ease your mind at all, hands reaching out slowly towards him as soon as you sat down in front of him. He wasn't with you yet, not completely, dazed still, angry still, so you were careful when you took hold of his stained wrists, pulling them away from his head, hoping that seeing you would snap him out of it.
"Rick," your voice trembled, you wished it didn't, wished you were calmer than you were, but it was sort of terrifying, you'd seen him at his lowest before, lower than he deserved to be, and yet here he was even lower, even darker. "Rick, look at me," you were pleading, an awful sound coming from you and you wondered if he thought the same because it was merely a second later when his eyes met yours, the oceans that crashed around his pupils seemingly darker than ever, drowning with the very emotions that suffocated him. "Hi," you breathed and he sighed, a gentle breath, something that stopped your heart in its place because with it came his own desperate, pleading motions as he gripped your hands in his.
"Carl-"
"He's okay, most of us are okay," you nodded, cooed far too gently for any other day but it had his shoulders dropping ever so slightly from their tensed stance. "You're not," you explained and he would scoff if he was himself, he nodded instead and you froze when he brought your hands to his face, your fingers taking no time to cup his cheeks, his eyes closing at the touch, the comfort of such a simple gesture but it came from you, grounded him despite everything, brought him right back to the four grey walls and it didn't make his heart burn any less but the pain was bearable for at least a second, as long as he could feel the inside of your soft hands against his sticky skin he could breathe again, think again, be again.
You allowed him a second to savor it, let it sink in, panicked for a moment when he leaned his head onto your shoulder, kissed at your exposed skin, gripped at your waist, nothing he'd ever done before, nothing you'd ever allowed him before but you held his neck, brushed a hand through his hair, silently begged him to stay all while hating yourself for taking something good from such a horrifying day.
"We need to get you clean," you whispered after allowing yourself far too much time with him, squeezing lightly before forcing his head up to look at him. "You've got a little girl waiting to properly meet her dad out there," he nodded to that, and in a second the guilt found him too, but he still held onto you as you led him to the water. He refused to look away as you dragged a wet cloth over his skin, over and over, over and over, as best you could until you could see him again. He did the same for you, your comfort had left you stained as well, with his terror, with his pain, he didn't mind being the one to rid you of it, you'd rid him of his after all.
"Y/n," you weren't sure when he'd found his voice again, when he came too, but it was him holding you then, rough hands but gentle hold as he cupped your cheeks. "Baby," you shook your head, he couldn't cave now, not after so long, not after all you'd made it through, you'd been so strong, so good at hiding it, fighting your heart every moment of every day- he couldn't cave, not after you'd fought so hard not to. "She's gone, Lori-" he took in a sharp breath, coming to terms with it all over again. "I screwed it up, the last few months, I've been making a mess of everything but you- this, baby, I can't make a mess of this too."
"It's too soon, Rick," he tutted, it made you melt, stole your sense right from your mind, your heart, and led you against his chest.
"It's not, it's late, I'm too late but we've lost too much to fight this anymore," he rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes again- like the reaction came without any control. "I cave," he whispered and the admission tingled right through your body. "I cave, Y/n, I love you and I cave."
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bucketsofmonsters · 2 years
Note
Happy birthday! I hope you have a wonderful day full of celebrations!!! On my twenty first a gaggle of my friends and I went to karaoke bar and the bar tender didn’t even ask for my ID lol
If you’re still taking requests could I put one in for something sickingly sappy involving a mer and a female reader? Maybe with a little spice if it fits…
Thank you! That's so funny, I'll have to see if I get carded the first time I go out. I’m always taking requests so no need to worry about that!! Original requests normally take me longer but I wanted to get this one out on time so it’s a little short. No smut but imo it’s pretty fluffy and sappy, hope you like it!!
word count: 2k
The rain poured down on your face and you couldn’t tell what was rain water and what was water splashing over the side of the ship from the ocean because of the rocky seas. Two of the sailors were holding onto your arms, dragging you closer and closer to the edge of the ship. 
“This is your own fault,” one of them yelled over the storm.
“Please,” you called out, “Please let me stay, I’m sorry.”
“You should have thought of that before you stowed away.
You tried to run, although you weren’t sure where you could go, but their grips were too strong. 
It was hard to know exactly what was happening. The waves were roaring and you could hardly see or hear anything. 
One second your feet were planted firmly on the ever shifting deck of the ship and the next you were underwater. If you thought gathering your bearings was hard on the ship, it was impossible down here. Despite knowing it must be nearby, you had no idea where the ship could be. You fought to stay afloat, the waves forcing you under over and over again. 
Something yanked at your foot and you were pulled under the waves, your treading water rendered useless and your scream drowned out by the ocean that was now surrounding you. 
As you opened your eyes, you realized it was paradoxically calmer under the water. Your eyes strung from the salt but down here there was no rain. The rockiest part was near the surface but you weren’t anywhere near there, instead finding yourself many feet below the surface. 
When you opened your eyes you’d expected to see a shark or some other ocean creature. Instead, you found a face staring back at yours. He looked curious, taking you in as you stared dumbfounded back at him. 
Before you had a chance to really process what you were seeing, the man who’d just pulled you under the waves leaned forwards and kissed you. It wasn’t a long kiss, ending before you even realized it began. 
He pulled away and your lungs began to burn, pleading for oxygen. You tried to swim up for air but he grabbed your arm and yanked you down again. Then you caught a glimpse of something below him, the limited light reflecting off of a tail 
You gasped in water, your lungs unable to hold out any longer. Instead of choking on the ocean water filling your chest, you felt like you were gasping in air. You knew it was water, the texture was different than the air was, but as you heaved in water, you discovered you could breathe. 
He was smirking at you, the smugness evident in his face. 
He let go of your arm, having proved his point and you stayed under, filling your lungs while glancing up at the infinitely rockier surface. 
Suddenly, you were being pulled along again, under the stormy water. You didn’t have the strength to fight him, letting him take you wherever he wanted. 
It wasn’t long before you were being pushed onto the shore. You could feel the sand barely a few feet under the water and eagerly moved towards dry land. 
You pulled yourself up onto the warm sand, breathing in air for the first time in a good while. You had moved past the storm and the feeling of the sun on your back was more than welcome. 
As soon as you got your first breath of oxygen, it was like your lungs remembered that water wasn't supposed to be inside of them. You started coughing up the salty water on shore, gasping like you’d been drowning the whole time and just hadn’t realized it yet. 
You saw your savior wince as you hacked up the sea water. “Sorry, didn’t know that would happen.”
You stared up at him incredulously as your breathing finally slowed. “Aren't sirens supposed to drown humans?”
His eyes narrowed at you above the water. “Aren’t humans supposed to be grateful when you save them?”
Fair enough. “Thank you. I don’t really understand why you saved me but thank you.”
You laid back on the sand, inevitably getting it in your hair but too exhausted to mind. The warmth was welcome after the freezing cold water. 
“We do drown people sometimes,” he said quietly, like he was working it out for himself and you just happened to be overhearing it. “I was planning on going after your ship but it didn’t feel like a fair fight, after they just threw you off like that.” 
“Humans didn’t want me, sirens didn’t even want to drown me.” You couldn’t help but laugh, it all felt so absurd.
“I can… I can drown you if you want?” He sounded deeply confused and you couldn’t blame him. 
“Maybe some other time. By the way, where are we?”
���Just a little island nearby. I figured you’d want to get some rest before I took you anywhere. Why’d they throw you overboard anyways?”
“I was a stowaway,” you explained. “I was just trying to get back home, they found me mid storm and women are bad luck so off I went.”
“I can take you there if you want. Where the ship was going, I mean. I know all their routes. I won’t even drown you.”
Who would have guessed that the sailors would try to drown you and then you’d have a siren promising to bring you ashore, it was like the world had turned upside down. 
“Thank you so much.”
“Also, we should wait until night, I’ll take you back then okay?” He sounded very insistent, despite you having no idea what he was on about. 
You were honestly worried you might freeze to death if you left at night. “How about in the morning?”
“Yeah, okay.”
He waited eagerly, watching the sun set. It was refreshing, being able to see it after locking yourself below deck for so long. When it finally dipped below the horizon he turned to you. “Watch this.” 
His tail flicked excitedly behind him, a light glow starting to reflect off of the scales on his bottom half. 
As he ran his hands quickly through the water, you were able to make it out better. The water lit up a light blue as he moved. 
You couldn’t help the smile that crossed your face, your eyes going wide with wonder. “Oh my god, that’s incredible.”
“Isn’t it? It’s why I like this island so much, it’s so strong here. It’s a bunch of tiny plants in the water that are glowing, I thought you’d like it.”
How could you not? You’d never seen anything like it in your life, it almost looked like the water was alight with a blue flame. 
You could feel your siren’s eyes on you as you moved your hand back and forth in the water. 
“Are you less sad now?” he asked and your movement slowed at his question. 
“What?”
“You were upset, did I fix it?”
Was that what he was trying to do? “Why do you care?”
He shrugged. “Not often I get to talk to you guys, our encounters are usually less pleasant than this. We’re kind of similar, you know. Sailors don’t like me either.”
“Small world.”
Eventually you abandoned the glowing water, as amazing as it was, in an attempt to rest. You knew you needed to get some sleep. You were exhausted but it was cold and you never fully dried off and you were absolutely miserable. You heard a shuffling in the sand and then a warm hand touched your side. You didn’t know how his body regulated his temperature so well in the cold water. His arms were open, a clear invitation to nestle into him
You hesitated and he spoke. “You seem like you could use the warmth.”
You move towards him, head settling on his chest as his arms wrapped around you.
“I thought fish were cold blooded,” you said as his arms rubbed up and down yours, immediately sending a wave of heat through you.
“I’m only half fish.”
“Is that how you can breathe out here?” you asked, looking at the trail he left as he dragged himself ashore.
He murmured in the affirmative, leaning back to make sure you could comfortably lie down against him. He was right, his body heat did help. There was also something comforting about leaning against him, his arms wrapped around you protectively. 
You drifted off faster than you would have thought possible while soaking wet and cuddled up with a fish man. 
When you woke up you glanced at the boy next to you. He really did look silly on the land like this, flopped over on his side. As you took him in, you observed gills right over where you assumed his ribs would be. You knew what he had told you last night but he looked too peaceful and still. You quickly nudged him awake, wanting to make sure he was alright out of the water like this.
He rubbed his eyes, moving slightly in the sand in an attempt to get a good look at you. “What do you want?”
“Just wanted to make sure you were still breathing.”
“Mmhmm, still breathing, can I go back to sleep now?”
He tried to roll over and you nudged him again. “Don’t we need to leave?”
He squinted up at your face, which you knew was creased with worry, and his demeanor softened. “Yeah, let’s get you home.”
You helped him back in the water and he pulled you in after him, looking back at you, clearly deep in thought.
“You know how I kissed you yesterday?” he finally asked. 
“To make me breathe underwater, yeah I do.”
“Yeah, well it would be much easier to transport you if you could breathe underwater again. If you’re cool with that.”
It was the most roundabout way anyone had ever asked to kiss you before, that was for sure. 
He seemed nervous about it so instead of letting him dwell on it, you just kissed him. You hoped there were no other rules to the kiss you needed to follow but your siren didn’t seem to mind, instead leaning into it. It was kind of nice, being the one to surprise kiss him this time. 
You knew the kiss didn’t have to be long, the one from the day before had barely lasted a moment, and yet you lingered. His hand hesitantly rose to cup your cheek, his touch featherlight. He wasn’t holding you there but his touch begged you to stay just a second longer. 
He looked like a deer in headlights when you pulled away. 
“Will that work?” you asked.
He cleared his throat, still looking dazed. “Yeah, that should be fine. Come on.”
Even knowing that you’d be fine and you’d be able to breathe, it took forever to will yourself to breathe in after he pulled you into the water, waiting until the last second before you passed out. 
The journey felt much faster than it should have been. You couldn’t have been zooming through the water for more than an hour when you were being pulled to the surface once more, your feet extending to find rocks beneath you. 
You turned and your eyes met the shore, the dock looming above you. You can tell that you beat the ship here. Who knows if they’d made it at all, maybe the storm had taken them out. You supposed you’d probably never know. 
He grinned up at you as you stood, still lying below you in the water. “This is your stop.”
You had no idea how to thank him, what did one even say to someone who had just saved your life. 
“Thank you,” you managed. “If you ever need anything…”
If he ever needed anything what? You couldn’t imagine he’d have a particularly easy time finding you. 
He seemed to understand your meaning anyway. “I’ll be sure to ask. And if you ever change your mind on the drowning thing, let me know.”
You couldn’t help but giggle. “Will do.”
You pulled yourself out of the water and fully onto the shore, the rocks shifting beneath you as you sat, and you watched your siren swim off, hoping that someday you’d see him again and he could take you up on that favor.
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bigball-thefrog · 2 months
Text
Trusting Touch Nico: Robin X Reader
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______________________________
Warnings:
None really
______________________________
Reader POV
We had just left Alabasta and found out that Crocodiles right hand woman Miss All Sunday or now known as Robin had snuck onto our Ship and wants to join our crew. Usopp was conducting an interview, asking about her skills and abilities. She explains she has the powers of the flower flower fruit which grants her the ability to sprout different parts of her body like flowers. She demonstrates her abilities by playing around with Luffy and Chopper. Luffy, Sanji and Chopper seem to take to her almost instantly and accept her as a new member, meanwhile Usopp, Nami and Zoro are still more suspicious of her since she worked with the enemy before joining. I'm still indifferent towards her and this whole new member situation.
After Robin uses her powers with Chopper and Luffy to make silly faces Usopp cracks and joins them now seeming to be okay with Robin. Nami cracks when Robin hands her a pouch filled with gold and becomes happy. She goes to speak to Zoro and I'm not sure what they said but he seems slightly calmer now. Well that's good, it seems like she's gotten approval from the crew so I guess she's our new member. It's nice to have another girl around, she's not gonna replace Vivi of course but it's still nice to have another girl around in a crew filled with men. I sat on an empty crate near the railings staring out into the ocean, Alabasta had been extremely stressful and I think I did something to my back during the fight so I'm constantly trying to move to make my back comfortable. That's when I notice Robin coming towards me with a small smile.
"Hey, I think I've talked to everyone already except for you, correct?" She said in a calm tone." "Yeah, we haven't talked yet. Is there anything you want to talk about?" I ask back. "I want to show you I'm not a threat and you can trust me. Is there any specific way I can gain your trust?" she asks. "Not sure, can't really think of anything" I say while rubbing my back, she seemed to notice and smiled again. "I see you hurt your back, did something happen back in Alabasta?" "Yeah, while fighting I was hit into a building and stuffed up my back, wish I got a massage or something before we left." She chuckles and crosses her hands, "Let me help with that." Suddenly two pairs of arms appear behind me, two hands start rubbing my lower back while the other two rub my shoulder blades. The hands work carefully and gently to rub my back and take away the pain from the battle.
I was a little startled at first but quickly relaxed into the touch of her hands as they worked away my stress and pain. "Robin your hands are like magic, your powers are perfect for relaxing~" I say as I let out a soft moan. "Yet also, the perfect power for assassination~" Robin says with a small smirk. My eyes widen as I think about how well her power is for assassination. She chuckles and speaks, "Don't worry, I don't plan on snapping your neck~" I let out a sigh of relief and relaxed into the massage again. After a few minutes the hands disappear and I stand up, "Thank you so much for that. I really needed that." "Of course, I hope now you can see I'm not a threat and that you can one day trust me as a member of the crew." She smiles sweetly. "Actually I trusted you from the beginning." She looks surprised. "I trust Luffy's decision so if the captain trusts you the I trust you, so really you didn't need to do that but I still appreciate it." She chuckles again, "I see. So you conned me into giving you a massage?~" "I didn't mean to but who's gonna pass up a free massage?" We both chuckle and I suddenly feel a slap on my ass. I turn to see what slapped me and saw one of Robin's hands quickly disappearing from behind me. I hear her laugh and turn back to her with a playful grin. "You better not do anything like that again~ Well I'm glad you trust me and I hope to get along well as a fellow member of the crew." She says as she turns away and walks away.
I like this new member, she seems nice and really smart and I hope we can get closer in the future. To be honest, I only have good feelings about this new member and what she'll bring to the crew.
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That's another one for now. I started water seven yesterday and to be honest I am not having fun, I'm definitely gonna add Frank, Lucci and Akoiji to my list of people I'm gonna write for. Next fic is going to be another Crocodile X Reader so look forward to that and I'll see you in the next post
Kelly🐸
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thesilvercup · 1 year
Text
Come Home Baby
Jake Seresin x Reader
Part two here: please don’t forget me
ok so part one of a new series I’m doing! Hopefully this one gets completed! Let me know what you think by liking, reblogging, or commenting! Or don’t! It’s not necessary ☺️
Warnings: angst? eventual smut and fluff (not in chapter one that’s for sure) uncomfortable breakup
Word Count: 1.016k
I know it’s late and I know you don’t want to hear from me but one thing that I want you to know is that I’ll always be there for you. No matter the day or year say the word and I’ll be there. Sent.
Fuck I really messed this up. That sounds so stupid. Texting people has always been hard for me. I just wanted to tell him one last time before we go our separate ways.
————————— earlier —————————
Jake and I had been dating for 4 years prior to this. I thought he was going to propose yet he told me that he was going away. Jake said not to wait for him but I’ll always wait for him. Mind, body, and soul I belong to him. Like the stars belong to the sky and the waves belong to the ocean. He wouldn’t listen to me and already packed his stuff out of my tiny apartment before I got back from work. But even then I couldn’t hate him.
His eyes were misty no matter how much he blinked and his voice had a tremor to it. “Why,” I cried out. “Why are you breaking up with me? I told you I would stand by your side through anything.”
“Becca,” he whispered, “I don’t want you to stand by my casket. I fly out tomorrow. Get over me. Hate me. Please.”
“Jake,” I croaked out, “I could never hate you. Not a single bone in my body could ever hate you in the slightest.” I reach up to try and hold his face in my hands one last time.
He pushes my hands away, for the first time ever. Tears slip down my eyes unbeknownst to him.
I collapse onto my couch we were hovering next to. The sobs break out of me once I hear my front door shut.
“Is this real,” I cry out. It simply can’t be! I wanted a life with him. Children, a house, a dog, anything. I wanted our futures to be inter winded. I need our futures to be intertwined.
As hours pass I find myself growing calmer but increasingly concerned for Jake. Why did he feel the need to break up with me? Is the mission that serious? It has to be. He loves me. He wanted to be together until our last breaths.
Is this some sick joke, I ponder. Tears quietly escape my eyes and trail down my face falling onto my now damp sweater, that Jake bought me. He said that it was his favorite color; baby blue. I break down again. Struggling to handle what happened I call the one person who could give me more insight, Allie. My lifelong best friend who is married to a Navy Seal.
After calling my best friend, Allie, I decide that he needs support. Allie spoke about what went through Alex’s mind every time he was deployed. He was scared to lose her, to lose his life, and never see her again.
Although this didn’t calm me down I decided o would just have to accept this as a known fact.
I draft multiple messages never seeming to be good enough. How could they be good? What requirements does a message like this need?
Thoughts race and race in my head until I write the best one. It should be good enough. My hand hovers over the send button. I close my eyes and tap it.
I open my eyes to check, it was sent.
I know it’s late and I know you don’t want to hear from me but one thing that I want you to know is that I’ll always be there for you. No matter the day or year say the word and I’ll be there. Sent.
I regret sending that so much. What if it was too much? Or even too little? Anxiety bubbles up in my stomach.
Fuck I really messed this up. That sounds so stupid. Texting people has always been hard for me. I just wanted to tell him one last time before we go our separate ways.
Shit! I forgot that Jake has his read receipts on. To calm my anxiety I turn my phone on do not disturb. I cant see his rejection to my pathetic text. Maybe he broke up with me because of how clingy I am? God, I can’t handle this.
I rush into my bedroom and pack up a few things. I can’t stay here. Not without him. Not in the ruins of us.
I call my parents to let them know what’s happening. They’re as confused as I am but not even the same but distressed. After our phone call I know that I have to go to the only place that will make me happy: California.
Back home surrounded by family and friends is what I truly need. So I gather my bags and lock up my apartment.
I pack my three bags into the trunk of my car. I check the time on my watch. It’s currently 6pm and 4 hours since Jake left me. The drive home is 20 hours long without stops. I have to leave tonight.
Pulling out of my parking space I make a quick stop at a coffee shop drive through. I get 3 iced coffees and some food for the drive.
The car connects automatically to my phone. And plays the last song I had on:
I Will Spend My Whole Life Loving You by Imaginary Future and Kina Grannis.
Oh my love, how you have hurt me. But oh baby, please come home to me. Love’s knife twists away at my heart.
I allow the song to play. As I drive down the highway I realize that I have no idea what my life will be like anymore. But loving Jake was so worth it even if I end up single forever. I slow down as I pass by a sign on the highway. It reads: thank you for staying in Texas.
I gently whisper, “goodbye Texas, I’ll miss you.”
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star-shine-s · 10 months
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Little Oscha/Topcomment/Perfectaccent fic bc I love them sm
Your Stupid Face
Ocean O'Connell Rosenberg let out a quiet sigh as she shakily pushed open the door to the choir room, the first to take notice of her was Mischa Bachinski, someone who she hadn't exactly talked to before now.
She sat in the open seat next to him "You. Your stupid face looks sad. Why." Mischa looked down at her, a bit confused "I'm fine Mischa." Ocean mumbled, it was obvious she wasnt herself today, the second to take notice was someone who wasnt IN the choir but was related to a member of the choir, Ezra Lamb "Yo guys the gingers upset" he was joking and being sarcastic of course, but, it was the final peice of the puzzle that broke her, as she started crying, someone else took notice of her mood, Noel Gruber, her older brother "you good sis?" Noel questioned the shorter girl in the seat infront of him, with no response from Ocean herself, Mischa said something for her "No. Shes not. Are you that blind Noel." Noel simply backed away.
Constance Blackwood took note of it next "Ok guys, why dont we all take a water break and leave Mischa and Ocean alone for awhile!" The rest of the choir, and Ezra, agreed and left the room. Mischa spoke to Ocean, a bit calmer then before "Well, what happened my rose?" Mischa asked, Ocean was surprised by the nickname "I just... I feel like the whole choir hates me.. I'm so.. BOSSY! All the time.. I'm even mean to my best friend..." Ocean looked away, Mischa tilted his head "We don't hate you? You've been late to practice the past few days, weve all been worried about you. Here I'll make it up to you, I'll take you to get ice cream for lunch, sound good?" Ocean nodded, Msicha smiled "Good. Now. Cheer your stupid face up, I hate seeing you all sad like this."
End
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persepinesascent · 7 months
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I'm realizing I didn't even post an entry for my meditation yesterday, because it felt like such crap (and I had such a busy day), but that's not how that works. It still counts when I try. Anyway, seeing J was kind of like part two of that effort, even though my mind was spinning on what's happening with M.
So this is just a massive f****** journal entry about my intuition and tuning in with J and how that really just helped me process more stuff about M.
Intuition, intuition, how can I tell you from my ego?
I think I yelled at it to show me what I need to do.
Those waves from the full moon were there, calmer, but there. Every time I thought my mind was straying and tried to bring it back, I just got more of the same. I need the ocean waves now. For myself alone, and also as M. Book an escape to the shore for this week. And a trip to CA in November/December. Ugh.
Afterwards I told myself maybe the wave energy is just J. I always have a really good meditation after I see him. Maybe I don't need to go to the beach, maybe I just need to spend time with him.
It was nice. It was great. We knew I would be having a bunch of thoughts processing stuff with M. And he really helped make things clearer. Without even talking about it too much.
I need to keep rewiring away from the dark thoughts about myself, no matter what M does. I'm making progress. But there's more to do.
The decision I have to make is whether to (1) try to move on and again, (2) just put on my big girl pants and go to CA so we can stop acting crazy, or (3) keep trying to do this waiting and "be better" about not suffering in it until he swings back around again. Or maybe suffer in it as much as I need to in order to heal my trauma and get some kick-ass songs out of it. But even that third option would have to go differently moving forward. Of course, we do it differently every time. But also exactly the same.
I spent part of the night and woke up this morning spinning on M. It was hard to get my mind out of it.
And then J started saying things, without knowing that's where I was. He was saying things related to our conversation the night before.
He told me that if I stay with him (J) long enough there may come the time where he might pull away, because he does that sometimes when he is struggling, even though he's trying to do it less. He said it's not helpful for him to do it. Connecting with others is actually more helpful.
Which, where my mind was, sounded like a weird signal about what M probably needs. I have no doubt that he needs love and care right now. It's possible that he thinks he is in too much darkness to be safe, or to feel anything for it, and frankly that's irrelevant. There's no way he doesn't need love and care. He's pretty much admitted it, except when he is too dark and afraid to let me in.
I thought about Aries and how unsafe he was in his struggles, and how I had to draw the line with him because of that. And I think about him in the same way, but the difference is M's trying to pull away in part to protect me. Is never hurt me with his actions. Only his inactions. That's not nothing either, but it's not very straightforward.
And then J said something about how it's good to spend time with people who bring out the best parts of you. Who bring out the version of yourself that you want to be.
Which is something I had said and thought about all the time, and thinking about M, it felt complicated. Although we do get triggered and struggle, we are always the best versions of ourselves when we are together, especially in person. We have motivated each other a lot. But I do have to watch out for the darkness that he triggers in me. I have to be really careful not to fall into those brain ruts of believing I'm the only problem. And in that sense sometimes he feels like the worst influence on me. But connecting with him forces me to work on that, and helps me be more grounded and compassionate than I have ever been in my life. In fact, the reason I have struggled is because I do not feel grounded in my love as much when I am away from his connection. I'm trying to work on that, but the truth is everything makes so much more sense when I'm near him, so I don't tend to spiral in the same way or get stuck. There are times that I feel invisible, but it's never because I am invisible to him. And for him, I don't know. I know he doesn't know what he wants. But I know he knows that isolating in his darkness is not always good. He wants to be with me, even when he wants space. He's learning how to take care of himself in this intense relationship, just like I am. He knows he is free to take as much space as he needs when he is with me.
I don't know why J spent so much time talking about the West Coast last night. His wife is in Seattle right now. He kept talking about LA, and California culture. She's been working there a lot recently. They used to live there.
I need to keep focusing on my own stuff. But that's not going to make M go away. I also do need to go out there.
Another thing J said made me realize that I may have been interpreting the give and take with M a little differently than it really is. I spent a year refusing to go to California again, until M came here. And then I booked his ticket and booked our vacation. And even though it feels like that was me giving a lot, to him, it was a huge deal coming out here. And me paying for everything put him in a submissive position. He came out here because he wanted to, but under the circumstances it felt like I was in control even though he chose the dates and the flights. That travel was really hard on him. He did the heavy lifting by making the trip. That's why I was supposed to go out there next. And even though he hasn't been able to respond about that, I could just do it, and I know it would work, even if it feels wrong and terrifying. But I've been telling myself I've already given too much this year and it felt scary even though it was perfectly okay. I've been telling myself I have already taken more risks than I can handle by doing that with him this year. And the truth is I have the money and could go out there no problem, and sure it would be a huge risk, but his love would be there when I arrived. It always has been and always is. The worst things that have ever happened to me with him were all misunderstandings that triggered the darkness in my own head. He's never treated me in person the way he does over text. And even over text, his intentions are never dark.
For a month I have been trying to ignore the signs and the pull and the mutual desire for me to go out there, because I would rather be terrified of the things he can't say right now. Because from the outside, for someone who can't understand, it looks awful and it looks like a terrible idea, probably. But no one has ever understood us and they never will.
Right now, we need to have conflict. I needed to say what was bothering me and deal with the consequences of that. And I am doing that. But I think it's pretty clear what will need to happen at some point, probably towards the end of this year.
And yet I'm ready to forget everything I just said and keep trudging through this instead. I'm going to take care of myself first.
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Bruises
Part 2 - Carmen kisses Shadow-san’s bruise
His head feels abnormally heavy, like someone was pushing it down. His fingers start to twitch, and he can feel his back against the hard floor. He immediately remembers what happened and makes an effort to open his eyes.
The sky was dark, and there was nothing to look at, but he could tell that nothing was blurry. Then he hears a gasp. Two nimble hands held either side of his shoulders and wavy locks of chocolate hued hair frame his peripherals.
When his vision finally focuses on something, it's those greyish blueish eyes, worried, angry, and upset.
"C-carmen." He winces at the sound of his own voice. Raspy.
He tries to sit up, she gives him space.
"What-" his voice collapses, and he can’t ask what he wants. He coughs twice, no blood, that was good.
"You fell." It's stated coldly, angrily, not by Carmen. Player, on the intercom still in his ear.
"Lady Dokuso." He manages to say.
Carmen is still looking at him, those eyes like daggers. He lifts his own to meet them.
"She got a lucky hit…" it wasn't usual for him to make excuses. He tears his eyes away.
The normally calm ocean, raging in a wild storm, he couldn’t explain why her gaze felt like it could capsize a small boat, but it could.
"I'm sorry." Is all he manages to say. He's not sure if he can stand up, not on his own. His arms are trembling under the strain of keeping him up.
"Is that all you ever say?" It's mean, they both know it. But it didn't make it any less true. Her voice sounds uneasy.
He chances a look at the storm again, and it's calmer, not as angry, but still upset.
"I thought-" she cuts herself off. Not upset, worried.
"We thought." Player helpfully adds.
The urge to apologize again dies down as fast as it appears. What else could he say?
Instead he moves his legs, sits up properly, checks his arms, nothing is broken. He sighs.
"I'll be more careful next time." He whispers.
It is the right thing to say.
They go back to the base for the night. Whatever VILE was doing could wait. They had already stopped that day's caper. The rest could wait.
Sitting on the couch feels like heaven on his sore back. He lets himself sigh. He knew none of his limbs were broken, but he wasn't so sure all his ribs were that lucky.
Carmen dumps her coat and hat on the loveseat and fetches the medkit. She lays it on the coffee table as she sits in front of him and lays out everything she'll need to patch him up. Baindaids, antiseptic, bruise cream… all of those he was very familiar with.
Anger drips from her scowl.
He feels droopy. His eyelids struggle to stay open. Every sound is like a hammer on the inside of his skull, yet he asks: "How long was I out?"
The question makes Carmen stop her preparations. She shrugs, then: "One hour."
One-!? He thought maybe 20 minutes, not one whole hour…
"93 minutes." Player corrects.
One hour and a half…
Shadow-san is almost sure that if he was out that long, it was only because of the drug Dokuso managed to inject in him. But with the way he felt the possibility of a concussion wasn't out of the table either.
He touches the back of his head. Nothing seemed extra sore. The movement with his arm makes him wince, however.
"Does your head hurt?" Anger is instantly replaced with worry. He thinks he imagines the sound of someone holding their breath at the end of the line.
"N-no." Denial did nothing to ease the scrutiny. "Maybe my chest…" deflection worked well enough.
"Can I see?" Their worry felt almost comforting… if it weren’t for the fact he felt too bad about upsetting them.
He nods.
Carefully, Carmen’s hands came to rest where they were right after he woke up. They move up to cup each side of his neck, the heat makes him relax. One at the time, those gentle fingers press lightly, but firmly against his chest. She cups his breast, then his ribs all the way down to his flank. Then she repeats on the other side.
She sighs in relief. "It seems fine to me." She thinks for a moment. "Can I see the back?"
He lifts an eyebrow but says nothing, leaning closer to her as he grips the coffee table in order to turn around for her. He settles on the couch sideways. She repeats the process she did before, only on the back.
Some spots make him wince slightly. But after the careful examination, they both concluded his ribs were fine.
"Are we sure they didn't crack?" He forgets Player is with them. He really shouldn't at this point. He blames his tired, recently drugged brain.
"They seem fine to me, Player." Carmen replies.
"Alright, Red." - I trust you - is implied.
The situation is familiar, way too familiar for something that rarely ever happened, at least in the positions they were in.
Quickly and tenderly, Carmen patches him up.
His arms had the most damage. They probably took his fall. He remembers some rooftops on the way down before the world turned black. His knees were slightly scraped, but other than that, he had no major injuries.
She asks him to take his shirt off, and he's too tired to refute.
His back is full of bruises, Carmen’s careful in applying cream to each of them. His winces were reduced to trembles, but whenever they happened, she'd apologize quietly.
After she was done, she helped him put his shirt back on.
"Do you want me to take you to your room?"
It takes a while for him to process the question. He's not sure he can walk. He's on the verge of passing out.
"No need, I'll just.. just s-stay here." He was slurring his words.
"He sounds terrible, Red." Player’s voice is worried, scared.
"I'm fine." He holds his head before it falls to the couch.
Carmen sighs, unconvinced. Whichever of them was more stubborn would have to stay a mystery, it was too late for it.
"I'm here, Player. He'll be ok." Shadow-san's not a fan of them discussing him as if he weren't right there.
"Stay with him?" It's a noble request.
"I will." She replies. Her expression reads 'as if there was any other option'.
Shadow-san knew guilt. It was familiar. This guilt? Nothing like he'd ever felt before.
"Can you… can we have a moment, please?" She's asking Player to disconnect.
"Yeah… alright."
He's gone.
Carmen sits on the couch, Shadow-san was still sitting sideways as it was easier for his back. Shoulder to chest, she brings her farthest hand to his cheek. Slowly, (giving him time to back away) she brings her lips to the opposite cheek. She kisses one of the bruises there, a lipstick covered feather pouring all the worry and all the love of those past few hours.
After the kiss, she continues holding his face, stroking with her thumb.
The storm had settled, and the sea was looking for all the ships it accidentally capsized.
"I'm sorry." He says, again. He can't help it. He knows this was his fault, all of it.
Carmen’s other hand joins the first. She lifts his head until he's looking at her.
"I love you." He knows she means it.
She hugs him. Tears wet his eyes. They separate, and she stands up.
She wipes her eyes, looking away.
"I'll get you a blanket." She goes to do just that.
Alone for a minute or two, Shadow-san manages to lay down on the couch. His back screams for him to turn on his side, but he needed to look at Carmen’s face again before he could.
Unfortunately, his eyes don't get the memo because they only open when she's done tucking him in and already closing the lights (on the switch across the room).
He hears her steps go up the stairs, so he gathers up all his remaining strength and whispers as loud as he can:
"I love you too." Before he passes out.
Read Part 1 here.
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isk4649 · 1 year
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2022/10/26 WIP Wednesday
Barely made it, but here it is: another WIP Wednesday! Thank you for the tag, @kittynomsdeplume! Appreciate it every time.
As some of you may well remember, I’m working on modern AU fics in which my OC (Inquisitor Tharin Trevelyan) and Cullen Rutherford navigate the treacherous waters of a married life. Well, I’m diving into the darkest, most angst-ridden AU with this one. For context, Tharin and Cullen have been divorced for six years, Mia recently passed away, and Cullen invited Tharin to the funeral in his hometown of Honnleath, NH. It’s long and, well, sad, so brace yourselves.
TW: usage of controlled substance, swears, mention of death.
“How do you know the family?”
Beside the Rutherford siblings, Tharin did not know anyone at the reception. And there were only so many times he could explain his relationship with the family. “Cullen and I used to be married” had the effect of chilling the mood even more. Inevitably, the questioner’s eyelids would flutter in surprise, and their brow would crease for a moment until they managed to put back a nonchalant façade. Whether the family friends and townspeople of Honnleath pitied or judged, it was beyond Tharin’s ability to tell. But he quickly grew tired of the same exchange over and over.
The Rutherford residence, a large red New Englander, had a detached garage cum shed in its backyard – a perfect place to hide out for a while. Tharin came through the backdoor and strolled away from the house.
Leaning against the roughly hewn wood wall of the garage and unmindful of his expensive suit jacket dirtying, Tharin looked around in awe. The entire time he was married to Cullen, Tharin never got to visit his family in autumn. The neighborhood was swathed by fall foliage, and the view was spectacular.
An unbidden gale blew through the yard, and trees rustled in succession. A sound like ocean waves hitting and foaming against the beach. Red and yellow leaves rained down on Tharin. He inhaled the crisp air, feeling calmer.
Suddenly, there were footsteps crunching fallen leaves. Tharin looked up to find Branson in a scruffy suit approaching.
Branson scowled and spat, “Goddammit.” He stopped short, keeping a good ten feet away from Tharin. He reached into his pocket and muttered, “Gonna smoke a joint. Do you care?”
Coming from Singapore where marijuana was still very much vilified, Branson’s brash attitude was something of a culture shock. But Tharin rolled with it. “Yeah, sure. Go ahead.”
Branson nodded curtly and lit the joint. Soon, acrid, musty odor permeated the fall air along with awkward silence.
A bird lilted. The trees swished some more. Tharin wanted to leave, but he couldn’t. Not until he had a proper talk with Cullen.
Branson flicked the ash before opening his mouth, “You really fucked up, bud.”
Tharin jerked his head in surprise. “What?”
“Cul would’ve had your back for the rest of your life. You’re a fucking moron for throwing him away like he meant nothing.”
With his heart racing, Tharin rasped, “That’s not… what happened.”
“Whatever, not interested in your side of the story.”
There was a sound of backdoor sliding open. Cullen folded his arms tightly and shivered before waddling out of the house. He admonished in a sharp voice, “Really? You had to light up today of all days?”
Branson growled, “It’s a stressful day. I need it.”
Cullen waved his hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah.”
Tharin knew he had not done a good job of hiding his emotion because Cullen’s face fell as soon as their eyes met. He asked, “Are you okay, Thar?”
Tharin rubbed his eyes and forced a grin. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
Cullen lifted his hands to squeeze Tharin’s shoulders. “You sure? You don’t look so good.” Warmth spread from the man’s large hands, and Tharin felt his throat dry. Cullen looked to Branson and scolded, “What’d you say to Thar?”
“He’s a big boy. I didn’t say nothin’ he can’t handle,” drawled Branson.
After emitting a long sigh, Cullen ordered, “You, back in the house. I need to talk to Thar.” When Branson rolled his eyes, Cullen added, “Alone.”
Tharin knew it was imprudent, yet he could not help but feel hopeful. Cullen kept calling him by his pet name. Maybe he still had a chance of winning him back. Maybe…
Got the rest of the convo coming up. I’ll probably post next week. Though I feel like I shouldn’t give the rest of it away...
Tags below the cut
Tagging @a11sha11fade, @raflesia65, @jonogueira, @kemvee​, and everyone else who wants to participate!
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nerium-lemontree · 9 months
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thanks, holly
and ugh. shitty and abusive parents suck. i'm sorry that you're also dealing with that, especially the fact that your mother accuses you of being trans because that's just terrible. i'm gnc and not-exactly-cis (i'm nonbinary, use she/they pronouns, and so i guess i'm under the trans umbrella? i'm definitely not transmasc, i'm just not really a girl), but luckily my mother hasn't picked up on that. i already made the mistake of finding out she's homophobis by telling her i'm bi. in any case, getting away from her will probably do wonders for my mental health. at least then i won't be accused of causing her depression and shortening her lifespan each time i have inconvenient emotions
it's really reassuring to know that you've had long-distance relationships and that you think they can work, because my current friend group is full of the kind of people who expect that high school relationships don't ever last longer than a year and broke up with partners over being too busy with schoolwork, so there's this kind of implicit assumption that i am making a really weird and maybe not great choice with this. i know that both her and i will fight to be together. we've already been trying to figure out ways that they might be able to be closer to me next year. i'm really hoping this relationship works out and lasts
i think you're right that most of her suffering is going to because they care about and miss me. i still feel guilty about it because even if this is pain of the variety that seems to be a good sign for my relationship, i'm still causing someone i love pain. i'm fine with all the pain love causes me. i'm used to suffering, since i've done that all my life. i just really don't like that this is causing someone else pain and i need to accept that, in this situation, causing her pain is unavoidable because we love each other and that they chose to stay in this relationship knowing the pain that's coming
we really are like two boats floating in the same ocean, getting battered by storms and trying to keep sailing in the right direction, setting a course towards calmer waters and, maybe, eventually, land. it's nice to know we're not alone
-flore
Oh! I didn't know you were nonbinary too. Hiii!
Yeah. I get that causing someone pain sucks. I honestly do have like, ambivalent feelings about that everytime it happens to me.
I'm sure you really will be able to stay together. I don't see why you wouldn't, really.
Hopefully one day we will reach land, and I hope we will also set foot on the same place, you are too kind for me to not want to stick around.
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apaise · 1 month
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❛  you  owe  me  dinner .  i’ll  settle  for  tacos !    ❜ steph @ ella
when she first heard that jo and will had never been to an ocean park before, ella made it a top priority to squeeze a trip into the camp's schedule ( maddy graciously permitting the change ). it was slightly out of budget but with her father busier than usual, he didn't notice the extra charges to the maplewood account. and for once his assistant turned a blind eye to ella's antics, no doubt intending for ella to return the favor some time. yet ella didn't care about the tacit stipulations, too excited for the campers to have this special day at the atlantis cove.
she was supposed to be one of the chaperones on the bus, but unfortunately duty called, and chat noir was needed in the city. she would have to catch up with everyone later, claiming to have a meeting with her father in the meanwhile.
it was business as usual out in hell's kitchen, but as soon as ella could catch her breath . . she noticed she missed about 37 calls on her cellphone. three from quinn, the rest from maddy; apparently the bus had started smoking about an hour into the trip. the calls from maddy were a panicked frenzy while quinn's were much calmer, telling her they were handling it and not to worry. the third call from quinn shared that steph had diagnosed the issue -- probably making some joke about being a bus nurse too, knowing her. ella felt an immense wave of relief as quinn told her everything was back on schedule, and to just meet them at atlantis cove.
when ella arrives, the campers seem to be doing just fine, unaffected by the little scare earlier. after thanking quinn and maddy, ella searches for steph, needing to express her gratitude. she eventually finds their savior with some of the cubs at the penguin sanctuary, keeping everyone bright smiles with her jokes. while the kids go to watch a short film about global warming and its effects on penguins, ella takes the opportunity to catch steph alone, telling her she completely saved the day. it's only when she speaks she hears how anxious she had been. but if they hadn't been able to make it to the park, ella doesn't know how she would've managed to fool her dad with the billing a second time.
owing someone dinner isn't a first for ella. in order to secure some of the nicer equipment at camp maplewood, she's used her family name to get vendors into michelin star restaurants like the red orchid. but it's the first time someone's ever requested tacos. the unexpectedness of it has ella blinking, and then laughing. perhaps more than such a joke would usually warrant, but after such a stressful day wracked with pent-up worries, it feels good to laugh.
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❝ that's a very reasonable hero's fee, ❞ she nods, still chuckling. ❝ tacos it is then. ❞ luckily, they happen to serve all sorts of tacos at atlantis cove. ❝ . . . i think they have something called 'the whale' here, ❞ she muses in remembering. as a kid she had always wanted to try the 14-inch taco food challenge, but neither her father or her chaperones would ever let her. ❝ it's supposed to be for only the biggest taco enthusiasts. ❞
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shopsofiacollection · 7 months
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The Healing Power Of Water & Soft Italian Silk || ShopSofia
Alessandra covered virtually all of my body with the silk Manto (cape, large shawl) in a single smooth move, floating it over my head and draping it over my shoulders. Unlike any other piece of clothes I had ever worn, this one immediately made me feel calmer and more calm.
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It all began in the water. Alessandra has spent many years immersed (sometimes literally) in water and her powerfully healing qualities as a student, practitioner, and subsequently trainer of numerous holistic healing practices that involve sound and the memory of water among others.
Drinking water, taking a bath in it, swimming in it, floating on it, and even just sitting by it have all been shown to have healing properties. Even simply picturing being by the ocean makes me feel better. The work of the late Masaru Emoto, who has greatly influenced Alessandra's own journey, is a good place to start for those of you who might still be unfamiliar with it.
The story of how water and silk mix may be essentially summed up as follows: one day, Alessandra photographed a stream of water while she was doing a walking meditation. She afterward understood how the picture still kept and emanated all the energy of the water in that unique moment since it had been taken in full presence and mindfulness thanks to her being "in the zone" at the time. Enter her enduring love of design and the pursuit of beauty, fostered early on through her family's textile company, and the notion of transferring this enthusiasm to silk soon followed.
Ah, to be enveloped in a shawl-sized piece of smooth, luxurious Italian silk dress that has been "captured" with the picture and energy of water. These magnificent Manti were created by Alessandra Benetatos, also known as Adima, and serve as the foundational piece of her business, Adima Made in Presence.
You may learn more about the meticulous consideration and integrity that went into the selection of the raw materials and the creation of Adima's Manti by exploring the Adima Made in Presence website. Adima's Manti is based on the best of genuine Italian artisan craftsmanship. Haiku, which I had the pleasure of translating into English for her, is also used to explain each shawl. The true spirit of these shawls can only be expressed via poetry. These Manti offer a sensory and vibratory experience that is totally different from other jewelry. Each performance aims to put the human being in the spotlight and encourage each participant to connect with their true honest Self.
Alessandra saw how various bodies of water in various areas had a unique vibe and personality. More images were taken, and more shawls were produced, each with a distinct vibratory signature. These shawls are best chosen from that deeper intuitive place inside, that higher, wider Self who knows just what we need, just like when choosing a tarot card or a color to get a message.
Since then, whenever I have felt out of sorts—which has happened more frequently than I like to admit, even to myself—I have worn my Manto. Additionally, I wear it during meditation, whenever I practice healing on myself or with others, and just for fun.
Since I first featured Adama's lovely home and garden in this post a few years back, I have been promising you this story for a while. However, excellent things do take some time to develop and go from the dream or inspiration level to the actual world. They demand a lot of effort as well. And for the past few years, Alessandra has been working nonstop to make her goal come true.
What you see in these photos is the lovely store Alessandra built in the middle of one of Milan's most charming and historic neighborhoods, where she has held numerous events over the past few years and introduced her designs. I have been planning to share this beautiful, light-filled area with you since my most recent trip to Italy, but Alessandra had another project in the works that needed to be finished, so I held off.
Alessandra's website, where she reveals more in-depth information about herself, her passions, and how she expresses it all, is the project in question. She accomplishes this with a wonderfully shot video tale, which I have watched repeatedly not because Alessandra is a dear friend of mine but because it is so captivating and captures so much of the spirit of who Alessandra really is. Visit this site to see it, if you'd like. The video is best watched in full screen and is in Italian with English subtitles.
I don't know about your experiences, but I have discovered that a lot may change between the time you have an inspired concept and the time you actually put it into solid creation. It immediately shifts again after that. In the last couple of years, I've noticed that this has been happening even more quickly, and I anticipate that this will continue as we enter the next decade. Going with the flow, in my opinion, will not only be a wonderful idea but also the only method to live without losing our minds.
This also applies to Alessandra's many projects, which appear to be merging, as well as Adima Made in Presence. The gorgeous Milan showroom will soon only be accessible through these photographs due to the new central location (which will be revealed) as well as several stores and pop-ups.
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However, the magic shawls and all of Adima's upcoming new designs will continue to be offered in other shops, through Design Italy, and by getting in touch with Alessandra personally through one of her websites. She enjoys receiving and responding to your emails.
If this introduction to this unique project has inspired you and you would like to know more about any aspect of it, I invite you to submit your questions either in the comments or directly to me via email at [email protected]. I have also asked Alessandra/Adima to share her unique experience and path through a series of guest posts here on the blog. Depending on the query, we may directly respond in the comments or elaborate in a blog article.
To reach us out in offline mode do not forget to visit
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Visit Our website - https://www.shop-sofia.com/
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alexracheltravel · 1 year
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The Dive Club Lied to Us
Spa life is mostly uneventful. Wake up. Eat breakfast. Laze about. Relax. Order room service, if needed. Check out the pool. Other amenities. The spa. We took today to truly relax, although it wasn't our initial plan.
Months ago, we contacted the hotel's dive center for a scuba trip. However, when we arrived at the hotel, and tried to confirm our trip, we were told that every dive center across the island was closed. We showed her the email. They told us that the message they sent us was a mistake. The Dive center lied to us! But, hey, it happens. We booked a trip for tomorrow instead. What's one more day?
The change in schedule was actually a blessing in disguise. We had been traveling so much that our bodies were depleted. We were truly exhausted. It was time for some true R&R.
Rachel ordered a Thai massage. It was intense! The masseuse combined hard pressure on certain points all over her body and stretching muscles with light chiropractic work. She mostly worked on the upper body, around shoulders and neck, but did everything from every single finger to every single time, and ending with a scalp massage. Additionally, the masseuse used some body oil, some natural icy hot, and used some kind of cloth on parts of the body to change the amount of friction on the body.
After an hour, Rachel felt utterly calm when it was done, calmer than she's been in a long, long time.
We enjoyed lunch at the restaurant in the resort, just to get some fresh air and a change of scenery. The food here isn't the best and we got burgers! We enjoyed the different food for once. And after, we went into our pool and soaked in the sun.
After a bit we decided we were tired of the pool and made our way down to the ocean. Unfortunately, this isn't the type of resort with a big beach, but we waded past the rocks and into a place where we could place our heads beneath the sea. Crabs scrambled along the large rocks and tiny fish swam beneath us. The sun set on the west side of the bay and we realized we had no plans today and no thoughts. It's truly a privilege not to worry, and that's what we tried to make today about.
It was dark and quiet and we watched the Matilda Musical on Netflix. The child actors were quite talented, and the stage to screen translation was quite nice. Alex ranking: 6.5/10. Rachel ranking: 7/10. Then it was time for cuddling and bed!
Alex: I'm not used to spa life, and part of me feels like I should be out in the world. However, the beauty of a resort like this is that every need is at your fingertips. Although I wish the food was better.
Rachel: I felt like after the first two weeks of our trip (it's been 13 days. We left 13 days ago. Isn't that bonkers?!) It was really nice to have a day just focused on relaxation. We napped. We swam. We enjoyed the view.
A: And what a view it is! I also feel pretty relaxed. Other than needing to get into the ocean, I feel like I have no reason to leave the room. The private pool makes life convenient and relaxing.
R: I think today was what we both needed after some long travel days and busy cities. When people describe traditional honeymoons, I think this is what they mean.
A: What I like about this place is how spread out it is. There's certainly dozens of other guests, but the chance of us crossing paths is always so small. I like this privacy as well. Again: private pool!
R: It was nice that while I got an in-room massage you had the ability to swim, nap on the shaded balcony, and have the room cleaned, all at the same time.
A: Speaking of the massage, anything else you'd like to add? Was it different from massages you get at home?
R: Definitely different. And I think in a good way. It wasn't as unique as I thought, as I've had some massages with Thai techniques before. But it was really great and cost about $20.
A: it was a five minute massage right?
R: No. A full sixty minutes.
A: Ok. Here me out. I'll do a Thai massage. Maybe just the legs or feet. Maybe for my knee/ACL. I can't do a full hour. And I really don't like the oil smell. But I'd try it. I tried bananas, here, remember?
R: You don't have to…
A: But what if I like it?
R: Then that would be great. But remember: this leg of the trip is about doing exactly what we want to at every moment.
A: I want to get back in the water ASAP because I've never seen water so clear before.
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thespiritliving · 3 years
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you ever hear a song that you used to resonant with so fiercely that it felt like a call out and a punch to the chest, but don’t really have that reaction anymore?  because that’s on *growth* and ✨H E A L I N G✨.
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prof-peach · 2 years
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if fans wanted to include peach in stuff they write, would that be okay? and how would they write peach's personality? aside from "FIGHT ME" anyway, i think that much is a given lol. i only really write the anime characters 'cause that's what i know, but it sounds like it'd be kinda fun to try making a version of ash that fits into this blog's universe! nerf'd Obviously, but i think she'd probably appreciate how hands-on he gets when training his pokemon!
Ok, I get a lot of these messages, and I often hear folks wanting to throw peach into their stories and comics and writings, and I will always simply ask that if it’s published online publicly, to be linked to it so I can snoop and enjoy the content too. If someone asks about her in your work, let them know about the blog I guess? But literally I love that people take this stuff, these characters and stories, and make new stuff with it. No ones making money off my work here? So where’s the issue? Go for it buddy, knock yourself out, I’m all for it.
For you, and all the others out there who want to add peach, and other characters to your world building, I will give you a detailed rundown of the main lot, and how they behave, what they do, how they function. You can use that, use bits, or use none of it, I do not mind at all. If you’re creating something, you’re in control, not me.
So, peach doesn’t actually fight people as much as you’d think. She’s very aware most cannot and do not want to do that, and so she likes to keep to herself with regards to that aspect of her life, she doesn’t ask to spar with people, or even bring it up at all, but people ask her all the time, even if they clearly would lose or become hurt should she miscalculate during the fight. She looks at people like they usually create problems, and often has a somewhat reserved nature to other humans. You have to work quite hard to get anything more than formalities out of her. She will dead-pan handle people with blunt and very to-the-point statements, aid whenever possible, but very quickly get back to handling the Pokemon she so carefully tends. Her focus is clear, she’s all about hard work, her very small select family, and the Pokemon.
Her brutal, loud and brash personality only comes out with friends, family, difficult humans, OR any Pokemon. She will joke and laugh and play with Pokemon, but clam up around humans, maintaining tight body language and generally will be a little cold by regular standards. She does however have some weaknesses in this emotionless shield she puts up. When peach was young she was always angry, which swung so fast to sadness, back and forth. Her teenage years it just got worse and worse, it was crippling at points. She is to this day, full of fire and rage, even sadness, but now she has learnt to control it, to use it. When she sees that in others, it’s familiar, and she is pushed to drop the front, and be very real with the person. Underdogs I suppose, people who get bad reps, but deserve the same as everyone else. She can’t ignore it.
Once you start to pry open her personality, you’ll find she’s a lot more laid back and fun than originally appeared, you just have to work hard to find that side of her. She will meme reference, can’t dance to save her life, loves her coffee, and can be caught in quiet contemplation while gardening. This hobby is her calmest, and often is why she can stay so level headed when her quiet rage boils up again. Without time outside she will become grouchy, a little snippy, and lethargic. Will not go in the ocean for any reason other than life or death, is fine with ponds and rivers, or water at wading height. Likes the rain.
With regards to her training others, they usually have to tolerate her somewhat strict nature. She is a little....unforgiving, holds a grudge if you make a lot of mistakes, and has no tolerance for ignorance in the age of information that we all live in. In previous posts I’ve mentioned she’s only recently selected two students, after many years of testing kids who want to learn from her. Hundred tried out, only two have ever been approved. How she teaches is very fast paced, be prepared to get some scrapes and bruises, she will test your physical and emotional tolerances with intense tasks, carefully watching students like a hawk. Bad posture in your stance? She’ll be the first to tell you to sort it out. Not hearing your Pokemon partner? Right, now you spend the day without using words trying to communicate, let’s see how you like not being listened to.
This is a woman who has spent her life saying very little, and watching everything, she watches Pokemon and can see an issue from a mile off, and in battles, her observations are why she can react fast, and chose effective strategy to avoid damage and achieve results. Don’t let her body fool you, her strongest asset is analysing, watching, planning. Those skills have over the years transferred to people too. As a student, mistakes don’t go unnoticed with this professor.
Her methods are harsh but fair, and should you prove yourself, she will protect you with her life.
Because of her disinterest in kids and lots of noise, she does pass the training of students on to the other staff members whenever possible. Grey takes on the lions share of battle lessons, he is far calmer, more open and friendly, with patience for people, and an empathy that peach sometimes struggles to have. When you go through a lot of harsh training, and difficult events, it’s hard to change how you feel or think, with peach, well, she’s been through it. Most do not come out the other end in one piece, but she did, and it made her strong. You may think I mean strong like buff and big, and yeah sure she is, but I mean it mentally more than anything. Peach will not quit. She has learnt to destroy the boundaries that stop people getting hurt, gone is the fear that freezes you in your tracks, that feeling that you’ll pass out if you go one more step. She’s learnt to ignore it.
This means she’s a little forgetful at how it is to be normal, to be vulnerable and soft and squishy like students so usually are.
She has her issues, but for the most part, visitors get a laugh, a smile, a calm assertive confidence, and facts. She will indulge those who have genuine interest, or show a connection with nature, an understanding of the balance that needs to be struck for everyone to live well together.
Despite her many flaws, she’s fiercely protective, and will go above and beyond to defend the island, it’s staff, the Pokemon and the visitors. Injustice is her biggest gripe, along with littering, and she doesn’t stand by quietly if something happens that seems unfair.
You will not see her without Valka, her vulpix, close by. That Pokemon doesn’t like to be touched by strangers, at all, and will run the second someone comes at her with that intent. Peach will scold you for pushing yourself onto her, should you persistently try to get close to pet Val. They are in sync, if peach is sad, Val is sad, if Val is stressed, peach is stressed, and so on. They are inherently connected, it’s just been that long, the psychic bridge between them has been built, and reinforced over the years.
The only other Pokemon who follows her so endlessly is Booker, a teddiursa who’s pretty rough looking. He quietly trots behind, grouchy and stoic, they fight closely together a lot. He lost his mom a long time ago to poachers, and peach took him in, and changed her whole life for him. Not many people know, but Booker was the reason she left the rangers, changed career, and got so strong. Will tolerate people petting him but isn’t keen at all, grumbles a lot and tries to move away.
You may also need to know about the others, for the sake of writing, she here a few more bits that may be important to you, or others wanting to do this.
Grey is very tall, very burly, composed, tells bad dad jokes, is a bit of a goof if allowed to be. If he sees a pun, he’ll say it. Can’t help himself. Very nice guy to work with, good at keeping people calm and grounded. Pokemon are drawn to him like a moth to a flame, he gives off warm energy, and has inhuman amounts of patience. If you wrong his family however, he will snap back.
He grew up in the city, loves to swim and hike and cycle, can snowboard, is really sporty. A total brain box with held items, and boosting stats. He will explore many paths, to make sure visitors and students get the information they need, in a way that can be remembered and retained for later. Is a huge guy, but will get on the floor to play with a tiny Pokemon. Treats big “meaner” looking species like babies, very good with all pokemon.
His free time is spent either tinkering, swimming, or trimming his bonsai trees. This guy stares at screens a lot, so appreciates time away from them. Peach built him his own little greenhouse for his trees and tools, which he keeps clean and loves dearly.
His methods as a teacher are built around fun and games, he makes hard work easier to do by distracting trainers from the difficult bits, and focusing in on something more interesting or compelling.
His most commonly seen Pokemon would be a houndoom, Saxon, old battle veteran, retired now to herding and being a good boy. Very gentle, loves a pet.
Pari, now a fully fledged nurse, often oversees the labs front desk and pokecentre features, such as healing pokemon, and informing trainers who come to visit. Her skills with eggs and hatchlings is high, she’s great with younger Pokemon, and hands out good advice to trainers a lot. She’s not a fighter, never was, but can find any file, any study, any book, and any refrence you may need. A true bookworm, loves her romance novels, chat shows and upbeat celebrity gossip mags. Will cry at a lot of stuff, be it sad or happy.
She’s got a seriously upbeat personality, but if caught off guard or shocked, she gets a little flustered. Too much chaos will overwhelm her, but usually she’s on top of things. The years spent on the island have made her better at maintaining composure in emergencies. With lots of siblings, she’s very competent with others, and has a good ability to disarm cagey people with her jolly nature. Because of this, she can sometimes gain information from trainers that some of the more harsh professors may not have access to. Charming is a word for it.
Her partners are an eevee, and a happiny. They are quite sweet and well adjusted, the eevee gets a bit bouncy if you get it too excited.
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