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whoreshijima · 4 years

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Congrats on 250!!! Idk if you’re still doing this (if you aren’t just ignore lol) but could I request trying to congratulate boyfriend!Tsukki after a game but there’s some girl hitting on him so to show you he loves only you, he fucks you in the bathroom? Nfsw obviously hehe <3

Of course!!! I’ll try my best, I can’t and never have lewded for Tsukki buuuuuut, Imma make this as sexy as possible ;)

CW// smut, Unprotected sex, public sex, slight angst at the beginning (barely any) , jealousy

The final spike landed on the court in front of you with a smack. The sound rings through your ears and the roar of the crowd surrounds you. The grin on your face and your own cheers towards your blocker boyfriend join the crowd. Making your way down to the auditorium where you usually meet your other half, you wait, wrapped up in his team jacket. Looking around he’s nowhere to be seen, normally you can see the mess of blonde hair peaking over the rest of the crowd, but theres nothing. Deciding to try and find him you wander around, thinking maybe he got caught up in the locker rooms or speaking to press, turning the corner to the stairs you get frozen in your tracks. There he is, smiling and laughing with another woman, someone that wasn’t you.

“You played really well today, Kei, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you.” She giggled, running a hand across your boyfriends arm and batting her eyelashes up at him “I try my hardest.” He states, leaning away slightly, looking up and seeing you standing at the bottom of the staircase.

“Y/N... hey” He smiles softly, excusing himself from the woman. She looks annoyed you took him away from her, looking down and avoiding eye contact with the pair, you shrug off his jacket and hand it back to him “Well done” you whisper. Tsukki couldn’t tell if that comment was because he won or in a sarcastic way to let him know he fucked up. “Baby it wasn’t anything, I promise, I would never do that to you. You know that. She’s just a fan..” He trails off when a tear slides down your cheek. “Angel, I.. cmon” He wraps a long arm around your shoulders comfortably. Kei never uses pet names out in public, generally saving them for the bedroom or the comfort of his own home. “C’mon, put my jacket back on, I wasn’t doing anything” it comes out like a whine when you start to walk away from him, refusing the jacket and turning on your heels back to the car. Before you can even make it to the exit, theres an broad hand around your arm and you’re being dragged into the mens bathroom.

“Kei” you groan, rubbing your face “lets just go home and we can tal-” Your sentence is cut off by your boyfriend taking your face in the palm of his hands, pressing his lips desperately to yours. “Y/N, there is no one else but you” he mutters, moving his lips to your neck and jaw “let me prove it to you ‘kay?” You can feel his sly smile against your skin, leaning your head back to give him more room, the small whimper and the hand fisting in his hair is the encouragement he needs to drop his bag and push you against the wall. “You look so good in my jacket, so sexy, and you’re all mine” he groans, hands reaching around you to grope at your ass, pulling you short sundress up so he has better access. A small spank being applied to your ass, making you squeal gently and Tsukki to chuckle. “This is what you do to me baby” he mutters as he grabs your hand, placing it against his crotch, hard cock pressing against his volleyball shorts. “I’ve been thinking about you in my jacket all day, fucking you in it, filling you up” He smirks as you stroke it gently from the outside of his shorts, a deep shaky breath leaving his lips. “Can I do that?” Tsukki questions, tilting his head to look at you.

“Yes Kei” you whisper, letting his fingers dip under your panties, gasping at how cold his fingers are against your wet folds, he slides your panties off and stuffs them in his pocket, winking at you. His fingers find their way back to your pussy rubbing your clit softly before pushing two fingers in “Fuck, Angel, so wet for me” he basically growls as his thumb rubs on your clit thrusting his fingers in and out fo your gushing hole, his teeth nipping at your neck and jaw “I love you” he whispers in your ear before biting your earlobe. “I l-love you too-ah fuck!” You gasp out, gushing over his fingers, head throwing back as your orgasm takes over your senses, skin burning and shaking as you try to catch your breath. Your boyfriend really knew your body, inside and out, making you cum with ease everytime. Pulling his fingers out, he grins, pressing his fingers to your mouth, gulping as you suck them clean, moaning around his digits.

“Jump” he orders, making you wrap your arms around his neck, catching you with ease as you jump, his strong hands holding your thighs and ass to keep you up. He shimmies his shorts down and groans when he feels your slick pussy press against his throbbing cock. Lining himself up, he pushes in slowly, letting his head fall forward onto your chest. He wastes no time in thrusting up into you, groaning against your chest “You’re the only one for me, the only pussy I ever wanna fill up.” His long cock pressing so beautifully in all the right spots, deep inside you “ You’re- fuck- the only one I love” His grunts and groans are getting harder and hotter in your ear, being encouraged more by you fingernails digging into his back, marking him up “Touch yourself, show me how you cum all over my cock. My cock” You waste no time in reaching between your bodies, rubbing your fingers over your swollen, throbbing clit “G-gonna cum Kei” you whimper out, eyes rolling into the back of your head, legs tightening around your boyfriends waist. Orgasm rolls through your body causing you to gasp out, puffy wet walls clenching around his length. Tsukki’s hips stutter up into yours, biting down on your shoulder as he cums, groaning deeply. “fuck...” he lets out a deep breath, pulling out gently and lowering you down onto shaky legs.

You let out a small giggle at the sight of your boyfriend, who’s pulling his shorts back up.His glasses are slightly wonky and sat crooked on his nose, hair like a birds nest atop his head. Your hands, comparatively small to his, reach out to fix his glasses and hair, standing on your toes to place a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Put my jacket on?” He asks, almost shy from asking it, yet the smile on his face when you shrug it over your shoulders is worth taking a photo of. He reaches out to fix your hair and spank your ass lightly “Mine” he mutters, throwing an arm around your shoulder as you walk out together, sauntering past the other woman who failed to seduce your boyfriend, smiling and waving at her, you leave her behind, no doubt going to have more fun in your shared apartment.

WOW I actually liked this a lot more than I thought I would 😳 but I unfortunately still don’t think I can be a tsukki stan I’m sorry 😔🤚🏻 HOPE YOU ENJOYED THOUGH BBY IT WAS SO FUN TO WRITE

#haikyuu #hq #tsukki #tsukishima kei #kei #Tsukki smut #tsukishima x reader #tsukki x reader #tsukishima imagine #Haikyuu smut #hq smut #hq tsukki #smut #yummy

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i-lovethatforme · 2 years

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📖 📝 <33

Hi my girl!!!!

📖 Fave book

listen i think it's the diamond brother series by Anthony Horowitz which YES is for teens at best but it's the first time i ever got a physical book to keep when i was like 14 from a friend for my birthday and my sister and i read all six of them together in bed bc they were terrifying lmaaaaaaaaaaao. like sorry nothing beats it!!!!

📝 Fave quote

uhmmmm the way i used to love a quote?! like get me a notebook w a quote on stat!!!!

probably either the roald dhal one "A person who has good thoughts cannot ever be ugly. You can have a wonky nose and a crooked mouth and a double chin and stick-out teeth, but if you have good thoughts it will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely." like TY!!!! or the Mr rogers one Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping."

#ask game #ask

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thesightstoshowyou · 4 years

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Will you be willing to write more Pennywise? And if yes could you write about him successfully breeding you and how he acts around his pregnant mate?

Hey anon! I don’t write pregnancy as stated in my rules. I have been pregnant and, to me, it was one of the least sexy things I have ever done lol.

But! I will write Pennywise breeding 😉 TW for dubcon, biting, blood, scratching, threats of violence, degradation, breeding kink

Since I apparently like torturing this poor gal, I’m keeping the same F Reader from my other Pennywise fics on my Masterlist.

Your boots tap, tap rapidly against the sidewalk as you hurry down the street, dodging the growing shadows stretching out across concrete. You’d lingered too long at the library and now it’s almost night, the fiery, orange sun just barely peaking over the tops of the trees. You can’t be outside in the dark, not when It seems to follow you everywhere you go.

Not that your house is any safer, but at least there you can turn on a light switch.

A breeze rustles the leaves and rolls an empty soda can out into the street. You pass an elderly couple, smiles stretching too far across their faces when they look at you. You stop dead, heart hammering as they continue on silently down the street. They don’t have shadows of their own.

You close your eyes despairingly. He’s here, somewhere close.

As if on cue, circus music reaches your ears, carried on the breeze. You heave a shuddering breath and turn off the sidewalk, following the scent of popcorn. It won’t do to run, not when he calls for you like this.

Your feet crunch on fallen leaves as you enter the park. The sun has set, only the dull glow of twilight illuminating your surroundings. You glance around as the music slows, playing off key then abruptly stopping, plunging you into silence. Even the wind doesn’t dare blow here.

“P-Penny?” you whisper, too afraid to speak any louder. The response in immediate.

“Pet,” he hisses behind you and you whip around, clutching your trembling hands to your chest. He’s there, half obscured by a tree. You clap a hand over your mouth to stop scream that crawls up your throat.

His jaw is…crooked, like it’s dislocated. His endless teeth drip with thick saliva, tinged pink with blood. His chest heaves like he’s overexerted himself or he’s in pain.

“Come to Pennywise,” he orders, stretching out a too-long arm, lengthy claws twitching and clacking together. His voice is distorted, like two of him are speaking at once, his wonky jaw wobbling strangely with his words.

Hesitantly, you obey. The way his golden eyes dart around, then over to you makes your adrenaline surge. He seems…rabid, or unhinged, more so than normal.

“Good little thing, today. Good for me, hmm? I won’t have to bite off that pretty face, will I?”

“N-No. I’ll be…I’ll be good,” you whisper, wrinkling your nose at the carrion scent of him. There’s something else there too, something too sweet to be pleasant.

Long claws wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. Bells jingle in your ear as he sniffs your hair, your neck, sloppily dragging his teeth and tongue across your flesh. He noisily slurps up the blood that spills when the jagged edges nick your skin.

“Pretty mate, tasty, mine, mine, miiiinnneeee.” Pennywise whines the last word, claws hooking into your jeans and tearing through them until they’re just shreds of fabric lying useless on the ground. You bite your lip, fighting the urge to flee or scream.

Wait, had he just said “mate?”

“Yes, yes, mate. Down,” he snarls, shoving you to the ground and grinding your cheek into the grass with a hand fisted in your hair. You grunt when he bucks his hips into your ass, humping you like he can’t control himself.

Pennywise snarls, tearing at your underwear, and you screech when his claws carve through skin. You hear him inhale deeply, like he’s steadying himself. You jerk and whimper when you feel his wet, writhing cock at your entrance.

“Soft, sweet little cunt, going to take my seed, let it fill you up, till it takes—

He’s muttering under his breath but you catch enough words to understand. Your heart feels like it’s going to explode it’s racing so fast. It’s not possible, is it? What…what if it is?

You’re about to protest, to beg, but he’s already pushing into you, impossibly thick cock parting tight muscles until you’re gasping and curling your nails in the damp grass. Pennywise releases a long, warbly moan, rocking his hips forward until you’re stuffed full. Drool splatters onto your back from his crooked maw, soaking through your shirt until your skin chills.

“P-Please—

You stammer, wondering what you’re asking for. The clown chortles, hand moving from your hair to your jaw to hold you still as he begins to rut into you. He signs and huffs and roars and grunts, hips picking up speed until your inching forward through the grass with every harsh thrust.

“Breed you, yes, yes, good pet, gonna breed you until you’re full,” he growls and a surprising jolt of pleasure jabs through your gut at his words. Pennywise laughs at that, “Oh ho, you like that, little pet? Yes, yes you do, because you’re good, a good girl, my good girl, perfect toy, perfect slut—

You mewl, arching your back further so his cock batters that perfect spot deep in your cunt. You grip the wrist that holds your jaw and moan until your hoarse, hot, sticky warmth coiling tight in your belly.

Above you, Pennywise’s jaw cracks open further and you must shut your eyes to avoid looking too closely at the warm light emanating from his throat. Your eyes snap open again when there’s another crack and he’s bending low over you to sink the top row of teeth into your shoulder, right over top of the scars from his last bite.

You scream and cum at the same time, hips bucking back into the clown’s as he pounds you into the grass. There’s a hiss from above you and a rumbling growl you can feel in your chest. The cock inside you wriggles and you feel warmth gathering in your slippery cunt, too much, until its spilling out and dripping down your thighs.

You pant, muscles weak and trembling, but the cock inside you doesn’t slip free. Instead, Pennywise starts up again, a languid rhythm that turns vicious the more he thrusts.

“Take more, you need more. You’ll do it, take it until there’s no room left in that pretty, pretty cunt.”

Drooling onto the grass, delirious, you nod.

#pennywise #pennywise the dancing clown x reader #pennywise the dancing clown #pennywise x reader #it movie #it chaper 2 #it 2017 #it 2019 #dubcon #my writing #thank you for the ask #n sfw

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palmett-hoes · 4 years

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Do you have any fan casts or strong takes/feelings on the foxes’ appearances? Fandom tends to use the same Pinterest models, which feels wrong to me.

i do in fact! i've actually been meaning to make a post about how i choose to write all of the foxes' ethnicities anyway

but yes i absolutely agree that the typical pinterest model types u generally see on edits is not how i see any of them. nor is reece king or froy gutierrez or lucky blue smith one of my FCs for anyone

for a lot of them i don't necessarily have a single specific FC so much as i have like,, a general impression of features that i will see on various different people, who all may look wildly different from each other or who may not even look how i see the character as a whole but do have a specific feature i associate with them. mostly it boils down to the Energy i get tbh and that's just a Feeling i cant even explain

fun fact im a tiny bit face blind so that might account for some of why i'm so all-over about this

may as well go chronologically. some of them i definitely have more thoughts on than others

1. Dan

ethnicity: Afro Native (Sioux)

features: medium dark skin. buzzcut, killer fade. she often styles it in waves. she's very butch, wears a lot of basketball and cargo shorts, tank tops and flannels and jerseys, hiking boots. skinny but muscular, with a very rectangular body shape. defined jaw. probably like 5'4 or 5'5

FC/Energy: sometimes i get some dan energy out of janelle monae but more butch. lotta dan energy out of samira wiley. lashana lynch

2. Kevin

ethnicity: a lot of things tbd, but he's pretty multi-ethnic. i like the idea of kayleigh being half- or a quarter-japanese in addition to irish because it gives her more of a reason to go to japan for her undergrad. wymack is from d.c. which is a majority black city for its actual residents, but i also like the idea of him being Pasifika/Hawaiian. HOWEVER - and this is pretty important to my read of kevin's character - he's white passing, and has been mostly treated as a white guy who tans his whole life, like occasionally asked if he's italian maybe. learning that his father was a Distinctly Not White Man was a big shock to him.

kristin kreuk, lindsay price, phoebe cates, and marie digby are all half-asian actresses i base kayleigh on

i suppose i base his story partially on broadway actress carol channing, who revealed publically that she was a quarter black when she was like 80 years old. though maybe wentworth miller, a biracial actor who knows his father is black but also doesn't know him, is more accurate to kevin's story. then keanu reeves is a white passing actor with asian ancestry

also none of these people look anything like how i picture kevin lol. kevin is just like,, a guy. handsome ig. but kind of in a CW character kind of way

actually

kevin looks exactly like young jason momoa

3. Andrew

ethnicity: kayin/karen from myanmar

features: fat and muscular, very wide and heavy. this blog is basically all andrew body type refs. medium-olive skin, has a bit of a greyish tinge that makes him look a bit eerie or unhealthy. deep set, droopy eyes; looks so tired. flat face with a low-bridged nose. crooked teeth, especially his canines. natural hair black-ish but he bleaches it light blond. has the beginnings of martial artist punching callouses in his knuckles

FC/Energy: holy shit the characters i feel have Andrew Energy are all over the place. pedro pascal. babe ruth (yes fr). oddjob (harold sakata) from goldfinger. the jinn (mousa kraish) from american gods. gaear grimsrud (peter stormare) from fargo. takeshi kovacs (joel kinnaman) from altered carbon. and i wanna be clear, it's these characters specifically, and generally NOT the actors outside of that specific role. except pedro ❤️

4. Matt

ethnicity: cuban

appearance: matt has more of an Energy than specific features to me rn. that energy is Warm. he has that Warm bro jock dude energy. kind of a marvel hero build, hunky and muscular. very rectangular face. has this haircut:

5. Aaron

i get to cut myself some slack and not go AS in depth about aaron because he and andrew are identical twins

ethnicity: kayin/karen from myanmar

appearance: similar build to andrew, less confident and casual posture and body language. less apathetically murderous and more emotive expressions. better teeth bc his mom took him to the dentist. yes also bleaches his hair

celebrities: probably a lot like the difference between the characters and the actors. andrew is the characters and aaron is how the actors actually look. idk ive never looked at someone and thought 'hey! looks like aaron!'

6. Seth

ethnicity: have been going with half-vietnamese. considering looking into various south asian possibilities like pakistani

appearance: string bean build. that's all i have to offer

7. Allison

ethnicity: allison's very up in the air for me. she and seth are the two foxes i feel fine with being white, but im committing to having no white foxes sooo. i would say i generally see her as either half-middle eastern or chinese

appearance: plus sized and hourglass shaped. heart shaped face. taller, like 5'8 or 5'9. she has a pretty fraught history with her appearance and her parents payed for/pressured her into getting a nose job to have a 'prettier' nose. she also bleaches her hair blonde. she gets it done at a salon tho the twinyards do it in their bathroom

FC/Energy: elle king and nadia aboulhosn are my main inspos for her, esp body type but nadia esp in Vibes

8. Nicky

ethnicity: multi-ethnic. his mother is southern mexican Indigenous, possibly oaxacan. his father is mixed white/kayin

appearance: definitely takes after his mother while his father is white passing. dark brown skin, warm undertones. slightly stocky build. tall ovular head and thin aquiline nose. he's kind of just,, the opposite of the twins ig, so like their facial features look very different, which is a big part of why people don't make the connection between him and the twins alongside the difference in their skin tones, heights, and builds. nicky's build and features are very vertically-oriented, with a tall head, narrow-set eyes, thin nose with a high bridge, etc. the twins are horizontally-orienged, with broad, flat faces, wide-set eyes, wide noses with a low bridge, etc.

FC/Energy: yalitza aparicio, not a guy but one of the few Mexican Indigenous stars in the film industry and i really like her features for nicky. she's oaxacan

9. Renee

ethnicity: Black. african american

appearance: plus sized, circular/apple body shape. round face. dark skin. microlocs to a bit past her chin, bleached white and dyed at the ends. she and allison go to the salon together. femme but plain style, a lot of blouses and long skirts, practical shoes. knuckle callouses. about 5'6

FC/Energy: dominique fishback. tracie thoms, esp in RENT. gabourey sidibe. nicole byer, but not in Energy. brandy, for some reason, probably bc i think she has very serene Energy and is a little bit otherworldly. like if brandy played arwen or galadriel from lotr it would make perfect sense to me, and that's the Renee Energy™️

10. Neil

ethnicity: mixed. Black/Jewish on both sides. his father is polish ashkenazi and afro-brazilian. his mother is Black British and algerian jewish

appearance: very... sharp. like sharp all over. does that make sense? sharp features, sharp face shape, sharp angles to his body. he's got what i vaguely think of as a 'basketball build' not meaning tall but meaning very rangy and angular and lean. all limbs. seth has a similar build. lighter brown skin. he has waardenburg syndrome which is actually where he gets he gets his eye color, and his eyes are very large and widely spaced as well. freckles freckles freckles. freckles everywhere. 4a hair but at least during canon it's not very healthy and thus the curls aren't well-defined. he grows it out long enough to tie back and starts taking better care of it in post-canon. wonky, slightly crooked teeth, with a gap between the fronts

FC/Energy: now neil i actually have a ton for. mostly models which im a lil ashamed of bc i do try to draw more from athletes. alton mason is a main body type ref. mugsy bogues is good to see what i mean about the basketball build without the height. here're the boys: cykeem white, luka sabbat, désiré mia, Leo Hoyte-Egan, dylan hasselbaink, this beautiful stock photo model i've never been able to track down

i think about him every. goddamn. day.

in terms of like,, real ppl and not models: corbin bleu, especially during Jump In. figure skater elladj balde. rayan "ray ray" lopez from mindless behavior. A$AP Rocky a lil bit, maybe i just like his hairstyle idk

two more models i think are important: carissa pinkston and ralph souffrant

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chocolatequeennk · 4 years

Text

Golden Autumn Surprise

The autumn day felt as cold and lonely as the Doctor’s hearts. But then, on an alien planet, he found a golden surprise waiting for him.

Ten x Rose, teen. Reunion fic based on this pic

AO3 | FF.NET (later)

Another day, another planet, another city. The Doctor shuffled down grey, wet streets that perfectly matched his mood. It was hard to care where he was when he was alone, again. Last of the Time Lords, yet again. Companion gone home, yet again.

And Rose. Rose still trapped on the other side of the Void, still impossible to reach.

His empty hand spasmed at his side, looking for a hand to hold. His throat tightened and he shook his head quickly before shoving his hands into his pockets.

A chill wind whistled through the streets, and he slouched down into the warmth of his coat. A few doors down, light spilled out through a big plate glass window, reflecting onto the cobblestone street. The difference between the warmth indoors and the damp cold outside was enough to entice even the Doctor with his superior biology.

He followed the light and looked into the cosy coffee shop. Overstuffed armchairs were interspersed among the traditional cafe chairs and tables. A fire crackled merrily in the stone fireplace, and the Doctor noticed several patrons had pulled their chairs closer to its warmth.

He glanced around the rest of the shop, his gaze finally settling on the barista working behind the counter. It was inevitable that he would focus on her—it had been months since he could pass a blonde woman without giving her a second glance, just to make sure Rose hadn’t somehow found her way home.

They were never Rose, though, and with each disappointment, the grief settled a little bit deeper into his hearts.

The Doctor pressed his lips into a thin line and looked away from this woman who wasn’t Rose. He turned to walk away, intent on finding someplace where he wouldn’t be haunted by her.

Behind him, the cafe door swung open and the soft buzz of pleasant conversation drifted out into the street. The Doctor looked over his shoulder, despite himself, and once again his gaze landed on the barista. As he watched, she pushed the hair back over her ear, revealing her profile.

The gesture was familiar, and he waited, almost masochistically, for the feature that would break the illusion.

Her hand was just like Rose’s. He’d held that hand enough times to know every detail—exactly how long her fingers were, the width of her palm, the way she kept her nails trimmed short.

Her neck was just like Rose’s. Slender, and with the little dip just below her ear that he loved to kiss.

The Doctor braced himself. He’d avoided her face, but he couldn’t leave without proving to himself that this woman was not Rose.

Slowly, he dragged his gaze over the curve of her cheek and down the sweep of her nose. His hearts sped up against his will. She was so much like Rose… this would hurt so much more.

Mouth a bit too wide, flashing a generous smile at the next customer in line. He could easily imagine the tip of her tongue peeking out behind those teeth, teasing him.

The Doctor held his breath and finally let himself look at her eyes. He caught just a glimpse of warm brown eyes before she turned to start working on the next drink.

The impossibility of it froze him in place. His hearts hammered in his chest as he watched Rose pull the espresso shots, but he couldn’t convince his feet to move.

The door opened again, and the coffee shop sounds broke through his dazed shock. The Doctor raced to the door, heedless of the couple he knocked aside on his way inside.

Rose was here.

oOoOo

Rose only half heard the commotion at the door. After six months working at the shop, she’d stopped paying attention to the chatter of tourists as they came inside.

She still glanced at the door as she dumped the shots into the cup. If a group was coming in, she’d like to be prepared for that.

But she was completely unprepared for what she saw instead. Either the Doctor was here, or it was someone who looked just like the Doctor. With hair just like the Doctor’s and his same wonky ear. And who dressed just like the Doctor. Including his Janis Joplin coat.

With each detail, her heart skipped a beat. She stared at the man, unwilling to move until she knew—knew—he was the Doctor.

He stared back, all the same fears clearly visible on his face. Finally, he ran a hand through his hair, making it stand on end.

Rose’s heart stopped for a second, then started racing. The cup slipped through nerveless fingers, spilling espresso all over the floor and on the backs of her legs.

“Doctor,” she breathed.

His face split into a wide grin and he raised his hand, wiggling his fingers in greeting. “Hello.”

Rose darted out from behind the counter and jogged around the cafe tables, watching the Doctor match her step from step. As soon as she could, she jumped the last few steps into his arms. The Doctor’s arms wrapped around her waist, holding her tight.

She buried her nose in the crook of his neck and closed her eyes when his familiar scent washed over her. She’d wished so hard for this moment for so long; it was almost impossible to believe it was actually here.

Rose shifted and brushed her lips against the Doctor’s neck. His quick indrawn breath encouraged her, and she slowly turned her face, dragging her lips along his jaw in a whisper-soft kiss.

“Rose…”

She smiled when he said her name on a soft moan. Turning her head again, she placed her mouth by his ear.

“Yes, Doctor?”

He growled, then turned his head and caught her lips in a kiss without even setting her down. Rose sighed, and a second later, the Doctor’s tongue slid between her parted lips.

“Oi! What’s going on here?”

The angry question from her boss interrupted what had promised to be one of the best snogs of her life. Rose huffed when the Doctor slowly pulled back, then set her down on her own feet.

She took a deep breath and counted to ten before turning around. “Sorry, Ben,” she said, almost sincerely. “This is my friend, the one I told you I was waiting for.”

Ben’s stance relaxed, just slightly. “That right?” he asked the Doctor.

The Doctor slid his arm around her waist, pulling her close. “Yep!” he said, and the way he popped the p was so familiar Rose wanted to cry. “I was a little delayed, but I made it.”

Ben snorted. “More than a little, mate. Rose has been waiting for you for six months.”

Rose could feel the wave of questions rolling off the Doctor. Not wanting to get into everything here, in front of Ben, she stepped away far enough to take off her apron and hand it to Ben.

“Thanks for everything,” she told him, one hundred percent sincerely now. “Sam’s shift starts in just twenty minutes, so…”

He took the apron and nodded. “Go ahead.”

They took a quick detour into the back room for Rose to gather her things, and then they left the shop, hand in hand.

The Doctor squinted against the glare reflecting off the wet cobblestones. The clouds had broken enough to let the sun peek through in a few places. The street that had been grey and dismal now looked rain-washed and golden.

He looked at the woman beside him, equally golden. They’d only taken a few steps before he could no longer wait to ask the obvious question. “How is this even possible?”

To his surprise, she blushed and glanced away, watching their reflection in the shop windows instead of looking at him. “Basically, we’ve been building this… this travel machine—this, this… dimension cannon—so I could…. Well, so I could…”

The Doctor stopped and tugged gently until Rose was facing him. “So you could what?” he asked, wondering exactly what Rose had been planning.

She looked up at him, her forehead wrinkled slightly. “So I could come back,” she said, as if that were the only possible answer.

The Doctor bounced on his toes and giggled. When Rose had fallen through the Void, he’d assumed her promise of forever was null. Apparently, she hadn’t given up quite so easily.

Rose rolled her eyes, her nerves now completely gone. “Shut up.”

His exhilaration bubbled up again, and he impulsively swooped down and pressed his lips to hers. “You came back to me,” he murmured against her lips.

Rose pulled back and bumped her nose against his. “Yeah, I did.”

The Doctor grinned down at her, unable to believe this was real. Finally though he noticed the mutterings of the people around them as they had to veer out of their way to get around them.

“Come on, let’s keep going. We’re almost back to the TARDIS,” he told Rose, taking her hand in his and walking again.

She sighed. “God, I have waited months to hear you say that.”

“That’s right, your boss said you’d been here six months.” The Doctor swallowed hard, trying not to feel guilty for that. “How did that happen? I assume this dimension cannon thingy would have been able to take you home, too.”

Rose nodded. “It did, the first few jumps. But when I got here, it broke. I tried to jump back, an’ it just said it couldn’t lock onto my coordinates. Like where I was didn’t exist.”

The Doctor pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth. “Where you were, or maybe when,” he mused. Six months ago was right in the middle of the Master’s reign. The paradox might very well have interfered with Rose’s device.

He shook his head. “Do you know what?” he said, swinging their joined hands as they walked. “I don’t even care how it happened.”

“Me either.”

They turned a corner into an alleyway, and the TARDIS flashed her light at them, urging them forward.

Rose looked up at the Doctor, and he loved the golden glow of happiness in her eyes. “Let’s go home.”

#ficandchips #ten x rose #doctorroseprompts #fall fic fest #dwfic #fic by nancy #reunion fic

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sugoi-writes · 4 years

Note

I love that you're into bnha now! May i request some kirishima with a female s/o that just adores his shorp teeth? Or just complimenting/ worshipping him in general bc god does he deserve the world 👏😭

This one is a little long winded too, but agh! I couldn’t help but set up a cute date! He is baby, and must be protected at all costs! Hope you enjoy, Anon!

Summary: Kirishima comes over for a cute stay-at-home date, and the both of you have a sweet toothed surprise! (~1.6 K words)

9 times out of 10, you expect the days spent with your boyfriend to orient around food. He would admit that he was a SUCKER for eating out hibachi style or having you cook for him! But while his favorites usually gravitated towards the savory/meatier things in life, he also had an adorable sweet tooth. So, when he recommended chocolate covered strawberries for the next date, you made sure to pick some up when you went grocery shopping.

You invited him over, as usual, as his place was a little on the smaller side. When you find your boyfriend at the front door, beaming with boba for the both of you, you couldn’t help but reach out and plant sweet kisses on his cheeks.

“Eiji~ You shouldn’t have!” you coo, appreciating the thoughtfulness as you welcome your boyfriend inside. He returns your kisses soon after, chuckling as you cling to him once more.

“Well, I figured a little spoiling was in order~ You rented that movie last week, so I wanted to surprise--” His gaze wandered to your kitchen island, where he spies chocolate (milk, dark, and white cocoa), skewers, and of course-- strawberries!

“H-Hey! Is that…?” Kirishima trails off, a crooked smile spreading across his face. You take your boba and nod enthusiastically, taking a sip before humming in approval.

“Well, I happened to take your suggestion to heart, and wanted to surprise you~”

As you grin up at him, Kirishima can’t help but bring a hand up to cradle a flushed cheek, shaking his head softly,” Gosh, why are you the best!” he sighed happily, looping an arm around you and squeezing you close. You could only laugh happily while Kirishima showered you with kisses and thank you’s.

Once your chuckle fit died down, Kirishima pinches your cheek sweetly,” Anyway~ while you finish up your boba, want me to help you set up? I mean-- if you wanna go ahead and make some of the strawberries nooooow?”

You smile up to Kirishima, nodding once more,” That’s the plan~ I got a couple of different kinds of chocolate too, so feel free to mix and match!” Your boyfriend smiles-- AGAIN, you’re the most thoughtful s/o ever!-- and gives you a quick smooch, before practically running over to your island.

As you two continue to sip on your drinks, you explain to him that it’ll be easiest to microwave the chocolate and dunk the strawberries on your skewers (lucky you that they had some pretty decent microwave-safe chocolate). You personally went for the milk chocolate instantly, and you’re surprised that Kirishima chose the white chocolate. And so, you had both chocolates ready while Kiri washed off and skewered the strawberries.

Your boyfriend is all too eager to start dunking the strawberries, even taking some of the chocolate to drizzle over top one of yours! While playing with drizzles, you ended up messing one of yours up, turning it into a smiley face. This sparks an idea, as you look to each other mischievously. You two ended up competing to see who could make the silliest design, and Kirishima easily won with his wonky rendition of Bakugou.

As you let the chocolate cool, you notice Kiri going for a plain strawberry, chomping on it enthusiastically. You smile to yourself, chuckling at the sight. He had a bit of chocolate smudged on his cheek, undoubtedly from a dunking mishap. But you also noticed your man’s teeth, as brilliant and sharp as ever as it tore through the strawberry. You mused to yourself that he never complained about toothaches or cavities, no doubt because of how much he cared for his smile.

Kiri noticed your gaze, cheeks flushing slightly as he instinctively touches his face,” Ahh, wait, do I have some chocolate on my face?”

You laugh, licking your finger and swiping at the bit that was actually there,” W-Well yes, but-- I was just… y’know.” You couldn’t help but blush yourself, looking up to meet his gaze.

Kirishima smiles knowingly, eyebrows raised,” Ohhh, it’s the teeth thing again, yeah~?” he teases, lips pulling into a sly smirk. You pretend to protest as an arm wraps around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him, until your hip-to-hip.

You nod, knowing there’s no point in hiding it,” Y-Yeah… They’re just-- I dunno. Adorable, if that’s not-- uhh--” You stammer over your words, while Kirishima starts to wiggle his brow at you.

“Adorable, huh~? Y’sure you don’t mean hot~?” he presses, making your face turn bright red. You playfully elbow him in the side. He feigns pain and a pout as you shake your head quickly.

“ N-No! I mean-- not that they aren’t nice, but-- agh! I was thinking of how PRETTY your smile was, jerk!” you stammer, laughing at your own embarrassment.

“Pretty?” Kirishima echoes, as you nod back at him nervously. Your boba is long gone, so there was no distraction for you to take advantage of.

“Y-Yeah! Like, insanely pretty! Maybe that’s weird of me to say, but… I’ve always thought you were adorable, knucklehead! More than the muscles and the swagger you have,” you continue, the both of you snorting at ‘swagger’. You shrug, sighing softly,” You just… I dunno. You’re so adorable when you’re happy, and I love seeing you smile so genuinely like this… you’re so cute it makes me want to buy you more sweets~”

Eijiro shares your flustered expression, hand going to scratch at the back of his neck while he chuckles.

” Y-Yeah? I kinda always thought I was too manly or tough looking… A lot of people still get scared off by my quirk and how rough I look,” he admits, and you notice him briefly touching his face, where a few new scars have sprung up from the past few brawls. Kirishima was definitely never above a good fight, but sometimes even he gets dinged up from scuffles with his peers or villains. You smile warmly, snuggling into Eijiro’s wide, welcoming chest. Kirishima only blushes harder, coming to circle your frame with his large arms.

“Well… I think your scars are cute too. I mean-- they all tell a story. And I love that you feel comfortable sharing those with me… like this one!” Your fingers gently brush by his right eye, landing on his cheek,” When you first found out about your quirk… or this one!”

You point to another scar, by the bridge of his nose,” You and Bakugo got into it, and he somehow got through! You were so impressed, but you still ended up with a stalemate!”

As you babble about more of his scars, on his face, hands, and chest, Kirishima can’t help but smile lovingly down at you, running his fingers through your hair. As you touch one of his scars by his collarbone, you pause, looking up to see Eijiro looking at you with pure adoration.

“You remembering what all of these are, and how important or insignificant they all are… that’s so amazing. That’s only part of the reason why I love you so much, you know that?” You blush back at him, as Kirishima finishes another strawberry, his hands landing on your hips.

“ These eyes… They remind me of how we first met, and how neither of us could look away,” he coos, his hand brushing against your cheek. His smile widens as he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Your hair? Absolutely fantastic to play with! It’s even cuter when I do this~” Eijiro teases, ruffling your hair and making you huffy. You seem to ease up as he kisses your cheeks, his hand cradling the small of your back as the other traces down your right arm. His hand grasps yours, pulling it to his lips for a chaste kiss.

“And these hands… the amount of things they’ve touched, held… saved… I wanna cherish them. As much as you’ve cherished me with them.” Kirishima pulls you flush against him in a warm hug, resting his chin on top of your head,” ‘you okay with that, babe~?”

You can’t help but smile sheepishly, covering your face as Kirishima kisses the top of your head,” A-As long as I get to cherish you, just the same!” You pull back to give him a sweet kiss, before grinning,” Agh, Eiji, that was so so sweet! I could eat you up!”

Kirishima laughs as you start assaulting his neck with kisses, squeezing your hips as he gently pulls you off. You see that knowing smile again, and stiffen when he gives you that look,” ...only if I get a lick in or two on you~”

Kirishima leans down and nibbles on the crook of your neck, making you squeak as you try to wiggle away. You end up taking a swipe of some semi-liquid chocolate and smear it across his cheek, distracting him enough for you to start tickling him. As you start to torment and love on one another, your laughter fills your kitchen. In this time, your dorky strawberries have had the perfect chance to fully cool. And this, you think, is the start of a perfect day, with one of the sweetest guys you have ever known.

#kirishima x reader #eijiro kirishima x reader #bnha x reader #x reader fanfic #bnha #fluffy fluff #anon ask #fic request #sorry if this is a little ehh #I was inspired so quickly so I have no idea if this is good or not #I JUST #HES BABY #CHERISH AND LOVE THE BABY???#hes also a good boy and will cherish you back uwu

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snorlaxlovesme · 5 years

Text

SoMa Week 2019

Day 6: Hands

You know that hectic panic you get in when your mom is gonna be home in 20 minutes and you just remembered she had left a list of chores for you to do before she got back? This fic is like that. Except it's Soul with his arm stuck in the dishwasher.

This is a very serious SoMa Week fic.

“Alexa, record my last will and testament.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know that one.”

Soul looks at the clock. Maka should be home any minute now, he thinks hopelessly, mostly because he had that exact thought 3 hours ago and he was wrong then, so who really knows when she’s going to be back? His neck is absolutely burning from being in this position, and his left arm has taken on a new feeling that’s hovering somewhere between the realm of “stabbing pain” and “complete paralysis.” He’s been sitting on the floor of their kitchen for so long that he’s starting to find shapes in the weird stains on their tile like some kind of fucked up Rorschach test. The one shaped like his mother’s disappointment in him might be blood from Maka’s cut from their last mission. He’s also discovered they have ants.

This all started out with good intentions. Kind of. Okay, no, it started off with Maka leaving him 300 passive aggressive sticky notes (she was the fucking queen of those) saying that if he didn’t start cleaning up their apartment she was going to dump him in the street like the lazy weapon he was and someone else could cook and clean after him. Which is not the Top Ten Most Romantic Ways for the love of your life to tell you to do chores, if you ask Soul. So yeah, maybe he waited until the day before Maka came back from her trip to see her mom to finally start cleaning. And yeah, sure, maybe he was getting kind of aggressive about how he was putting the dishes in the dishwasher. So what?

He’d never admit to Maka that he doesn’t know anything about their new dishwasher, but now he really doesn’t have a choice. When he was maniacally stacking dirty dishes before Maka’s plane landed, he managed to drop one of Maka’s metal chopsticks in between the racks and into the bottom of the dishwasher. He had considered just leaving it down there and hoping for the best, but with the literal signs all over his kitchen calling him LAZY WEAPON, he decided to do the right thing and retrieve it instead of leaving it down there to potentially destroy their new appliance.

Big mistake.

His arm is stuck and it fucking hurts.

He didn’t know the space in between the bottom rack and the water-propeller-thingy was so small, okay? His hand went in just fine! But once he got in up to his shoulder he knew he was fucked. He had the chopstick in hand, but his arm was bent in a position that left no room for wiggling out. And force did not seem like the best option when they just sunk $600 into this stupid fucking appliance. If Soul broke it, he’d never hear the end of it, for sure.

So Soul’s only option? Waiting for Maka to come save him. Pathetic.

He didn’t even have his phone on him when he trapped himself, so he’s been sitting on the kitchen floor for the past three hours (has it been hours? Days? Time has no meaning anymore) wondering if this is how he’s going to die. It’s hard to think of a more undignified way to go at the moment, but he’s sure it could be worse, right? At least his hand isn’t in the toilet.

A tickling on his ankle has him flinching aggressively. An ant has attempted to crawl up his pantleg. Soul pinches it between his fingers on his right hand and flicks it across the kitchen, only to belatedly realize it would have been better to just kill it. Now it has time to come back and tell all its ant friends that the kitchen is open for business and essentially unguarded. What can one boy do when 20% of his body is wedged inside of an over-priced dishwasher?

He tries again to morph his arm into a weapon, like maybe trying it now might be more successful than the 8 other times he’s attempted this solution. But Soul’s arm is bent at an angle that would absolutely destroy the dishwasher if he morphed it into a blade. Maka’s favorite “I closed my book to be here” mug is directly above his hand on the top rack and would for sure be shattered if he transformed. That would even worse than destroying the dishwasher, probably. His arm returns to miserable skin and bone.

“Alexa, play ‘The Funeral’ by Band of Horses’.”

“Here’s a sample of ‘The Funeral’ by Band of Horses. To play the full version, please purchase Amazon Unlimited Music by—”

“Alexa, stop.”

Soul’s pretty sure he’s dying.

The floor-stain shaped like the pain in his left arm has a gathering of ants around it. Maybe it’s spilled soda? Or maybe they’re all congregating to discuss how they plan on eating Soul’s body after he inevitably perishes? He tries to save himself and tamp on them with his foot, but shifting his body just sends shooting pain up his arm. He stills and grits his teeth. He’ll just have to wait for Death to take him.

Minutes later, hours later, years later, he hears the clicking of the lock to their front door, and Maka walks in with two large duffel bags in hand and her cell phone wedged between her shoulder and ear.

“Yeah, Mama, I made it home safely, I’m just gonna—Soul?”

He looks up at her with sad, sad eyes.

Maka gingerly sets down her bags. “Mama, I’m gonna have to call you back. Okay. Yeah. Bye.”

“Help,” he whines pathetically. No traces of coolness to be found in a situation like this.

She kneels next to where he lays, slouched on the tile. “What happened here?”

“I found out why I never do chores.”

She makes a face at him. “If you did chores more often, maybe you’d hurt yourself less. Practice makes perfect, you know.” She looks at his stuck arm with a morbid kind of wonder. “Wow, you’re really stuck in there. How long have you been sitting like this?”

“You were supposed to be here hours ago” is Soul’s only response, because fuck if he knows how long it’s been.

She runs her fingers through his messy hair. “Sorry, sorry, my layover got delayed and things got all hectic. I guess this explains why you weren’t answering your phone, too. Does it hurt?”

“Fuck yes. Can you get me out? Please?”

She gives him a little kiss on the cheek. “Yeah, let’s see here.” She moves him over a tad so she can see better (“sorry, sorry!” she shrieks as he groans) and discovers that not only is he mega-stuck, but there doesn’t seem to be a sensible way to bend his arm to free him.

“Okay then, we’ll just do this,” she says, and in one Superman-like motion she’s grabbing the bottom rack of dishes and straight-up ripping it off the track so Soul can pull his arm free. He about cries in relief, then from pain when finally puts his arm into a position that lets the blood flow back into it. His shoulder is so fucking stiff.

Maka sets the mangled rack onto their kitchen floor, apparently not giving a damn when the dishes still inside it clank together in a dangerously-close-to-shattering cacophony. She sits down beside him, digs her fingers into the crook of his neck, and starts massaging.

“I can’t believe you broke the dishwasher to get me out,” Soul says, rolling his eyes back a little because her hands feel so fucking good on his sore neck and shoulder.

“Well, I wasn’t just going to leave you stuck in there,” Maka says. “Plus, it’s under warrantee, so we can just get the people from the department store to come back and fix it in a few days.”

“WHAT?” Soul roars so loud that Maka jumps a little bit. “Are you saying that I just 127 Hours-ed myself for NOTHING because I could have just BROKEN IT TO BEGIN WITH??”

“Hey, don’t yell at me, Soul, just because you don’t listen when the people who install our appliances tell us about what we’re paying for!”

“I was stuck there for hours because I thought you’d be mad if I broke it!”

“When on earth did I imply during our five-year partnership that I liked a dishwasher more than I liked you in one piece?”

When she puts it like that, he does sound a little stupid. Or maybe she sounds a little sweet. Or maybe being trapped inside a dishwasher for half a day is just distorting his view of reality. He needs to get up off the floor, like now.

He stands up, popping his spine in like nine different places and offers her his hand to help her up too. When he reaches down, the metal chopstick that has been trapped in his raccoon-like grip finally slips between his fingers.

It falls on the floor and bounces before rolling away, and Maka scoots to go retrieve it.

“Is this what you were trying to grab when you got stuck?” she asks. “These don’t even go in the dishwasher, Soul. You handwash them.”

Soul swears his vision whites out for a moment. He can’t even dignify that statement with a response because he’ll probably live to regret whatever comes out of his mouth next. Besides, all’s well that ends well, right? He got the chopstick, he didn’t technically break the dishwasher, and his meister is home and happy. So it was all worth it in the end, right?

Maka finally slaps her hand on the runaway chopstick, shouting a dorky little “a-ha!” Her hand lands near a floor-spot that looks like a wonky heart.

Soul sighs. He’d probably do it again, for her, if it came down to it. He squats down beside her and plants a kiss on her unsuspecting cheek.

“Missed you while you were gone,” he tells her, because it’s worth saying.

She smiles warmly at him and leans in to give him a proper kiss. She doesn’t make it all the way there, because suddenly she’s jumping a foot in the air with a yelp, coming close to headbutting him in the nose. Maka looks down at where her hand rests on the floor, where a small black insect is skittering across her knuckle. Soul watches in horror as her eyes zero in on 10 of its closest friends a few feet away on the floor.

There’s the briefest moment of silence as she ponders what she’s looking at. The calm before the storm. Then:

“Are those ANTS?”

She whips around to face him, but Soul’s already gone. He can still hear her shouting from down the hall. “Soul, I told you to MOP while I was gone!!”

His shoulder twinges painfully as he slams the door shut to his room. He thinks he’ll just live with the sticky notes for this one.

#soma week 2019 #soma week #soma #soul x maka #soul eater evans #maka albarn #soul eater #se fic #*throws garbage into the wind* i havent posted writing in ages so LETS START WITH THIS #my writing

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inher0rbit · 5 years

Note

22 24 30 41 44 47 52 60 87 88 102 112 124 133 137 148

Well this was a bitch to cut and paste

22. Where would you like to travel? I'd really like to road trip across the states, hawaii, canada, australia, japan, iceland

24. Favorite part of your daily routine? Going to bed

30. Do you ever want to get married? I'd love to

41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance? I find this dificult because i'm a firm beleiver in reformation in terms of criminals, but for betrayals such as cheating i don't think anyone deservices a second chance.

44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean? Bottom of the ocean - but i have been in a submarine so i guess i've done this

47. Have you ever been high? Yes but certainly not in recent years

52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself? I'd love to have constantly clear skin

60. Ever won a competition? For what? Yeah i danced competitively when I was a kid

87. First person you talked to today?

@unforecasted-st0rm

88. Last person you talked to today? My friend from work

102. Do you regret anything from your past? There have been things I've regretted absolutely, but i'm not presently regretting anything because i'm really happy with exacrly where I am

112. Who was the last person you cried in front of? Most likely my Mum

124. Do you believe in love at first sight? Yes, i've lived it.

133. Favourite lyrics right now? Did the heart break change me? Maybe, i'm so moved on it's scary I'm not where you left me at all.

137. How tall are you? 5"7

148. What’s your favourite quote? She beleived she could, so she did. and A person who has good thoughts cannot ever be ugly. You can have a wonky nose and a crooked mouth and a double chin and stick-out teeth, but if you have good thoughts they will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely

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silverfootstepswrites · 6 years

Text

Contralto [2/2]

Part 1 | Part 2 (here)

“Did you weed the garden?” her voice floated down the stairs.

“I did it yesterday,” Itachi called back up.

“Do it today. Or I’ll make you sleep outside.” And though she didn’t raise her voice, he knew that she wasn’t joking. Sighing, Itachi got to his feet.

Back sore and fingernails crusted with dirt, he walked back into the house a couple hours later. The broom gave him a few irritable swats as he tracked dirt inside. But he had learned to ignore it. Sakura stood in the kitchen, one hand waving as she read a letter. Her hair was twisted up, her wand stabbed through it to keep it in place.

The spoon in the cauldron mimicked the stirring motion of her hand. But it kept going even when her hand stilled.

“What’s that?” Itachi asked.

“A letter,” she retorted. When he glared, she peered over the paper to smirk at him.

“It’s an invitation from a local coven,” she told him. She flicked her wrist. The paper sailed directly into the fireplace.

“As if I haven’t turned them down a dozen times already.”

“Why don’t you have a coven? Aren’t you supposed to be in one?” Itachi thought to ask.

It had been a couple years since she had stopped telling him to find somewhere else to live. And he had learned to ask questions. Because no matter how she rolled her eyes and snapped at him, she always had an answer for even the most aggravating queries.

She blinked several times. With a wave of her hand, she set the spell book down on the counter. She settled on her stool, rearranging her skirt around her legs. One of her spell books flew off the shelf above the fireplace and settled in her lap.

It was one of the few times he ever saw her hesitate before speaking.

“...It’s not worth getting mixed up with other people,” she stated.

“But I’m other people,” Itachi pointed out.

The corners of her mouth pulled up as she flipped through the pages of her book. Her eyes flickered up to him. Just for a moment.

“No you’re not,” she told him.

The following morning, Sakura opened up a kitchen drawer. She noticed a fork that hadn’t been there before. One made of silver with the handle shaped into an owl at the end. It was from the set that had gone missing when Itachi had first rifled through her kitchen and taken off. They hadn’t been a particularly expensive set, but how was a child to know that? Shiny meant money in a little boy's eyes. Especially a poor one desperate to survive.

She had thought that Itachi had pawned them all off already, which was why she had never asked for them back.

She said nothing about it as she shut the drawer.

Sometimes, only rarely, there were clients that Sakura refused to serve.

The first time Itachi witnessed this, it was as he washed the windows on the outside of the house. He kept the windows cracked whenever she kicked him out like this. So that he could eavesdrop on the conversation inside.

The client this time was young. No older than 20. And he dropped a pouch stuffed with gold on the table between them before he spoke.

“I need a love potion.”

“Impossible,” Sakura replied as soon as he had finished speaking.

“But this is a year’s salary!” he insisted, pushing the gold closer to her. Sakura barely glanced at it.

“I can reveal hidden emotions. I can make you more noticeable in her eyes. But I cannot create love where there is none,” she explained.

“Then can you at least hypnotize her?”

“Get out,” Sakura ordered. She lowered her cup into the matching saucer. When she looked up, the man was still sitting there, looking more bewildered than offended.

“You can’t create love where there is none. And forcing someone to love you through hypnosis is rape. Now get out before I turn you into a toad,” Sakura snapped. As she spoke, her magic wand rose from the table beside he, making slashing motions through the air. Red sparks sprayed from the tip of it.

The man scrambled to his feet, knocking his tea over as he hurried to the door with what little dignity he could muster. He toppled over when Sakura gave an impatient wave of her hand, sending his forgotten gold smashing into the back of his knee. He tumbled over the threshold, out the door.

Later as Itachi knelt mopping up the tea, he glanced up at Sakura. She hadn’t moved from the sofa. She waved circles into the air, juggling several cubes of sugar in dizzying patterns.

“Could you?” he asked.

“Hm?”

“Could you hypnotize someone into falling in love?” Itachi questioned.

Her upper lip curled. “The human mind is a stubborn thing, boy. It can only be fooled for so long,” Sakura replied. And then her expression softened. Until she looked almost sad.

“Besides, magic is meant to create wonder and beauty. It shouldn’t be used for something so cruel,” she added. When she looked down at him, he had stopped scrubbing the carpet.

“When you’re done with that, go pick some wolfsbane,” she then ordered in her normal voice. Bossy and brusque as usual.

The following morning, she opened up her kitchen drawer. There was a spoon there that hadn’t been there before. Her eyes barely acknowledged it before she shut the drawer again.

Around the time of the full moon, the boy always grew irritable. He was particularly reluctant to go out and do anything outdoors. And while Sakura was maybe a touch more patient with him on these nights, she still kept him busy.

“You know,” she began out one evening as they stood in a pumpkin patch. Well, he stood. She sat on her broom, hovering a few feet off the ground.

“I could break that half-baked spell. So you’d look like this all the time. You’d be normal,” she informed him. She could guess what had happened. His terrified parents had paid someone to hide his true form. But suppressing even a drop of demon blood was tricky. It wasn’t as simple as hiding a wonky nose or crooked teeth.

He stood upright, hands releasing the stubborn vine that refused to break in his grip. In the moonlight, his horns gleamed a ruddy, brown-red. His red eyes blinked hard at her.

“Normal?” he repeated. “You’re crazy,” he added in a mutter. He bent over again, seizing the vine in both his hands.

He had grown a little taller since she had first taken him in. There were thirteen rings to his horns instead of eight. They had begun to curve a little as they grew.

“Yes. Like a normal tiefling,” she repeated, tilting her head to one side.

He inched his hand lower to the ground, yanking at the vine. His tail swished back and forth as he pulled. Heels digging into the ground.

“Damn this pumpkin!” he growled, releasing the vine. He rubbed his palms together.

“As far as tieflings go, you don’t appear as monstrous as you think. You could almost pass for human if not for the horns,” she observed.

Itachi whirled to face her, hands clenched into fists. “Stop talking about it! I already know that I’m a freak! You don’t need to keep reminding me every damn time!” he snapped.

She stared at him. Watching his little shoulders tense as he turned his back to her again. When he went very quiet, she knew that he was crying. Which he only did alone in his little room at night, the door locked. But the tiny sniffs drifted up through the old floorboards. And sometimes she could hear him as she lay in her own bed.

Sakura flicked her wrist. The pumpkin vine snapped apart. She raised her palm and the pumpkin rose with it. Itachi wrapped his arms around it, still not looking at her.

She got off her broom, feet touching the damp ground. Shaking out her cloak, she started back in the direction of the house. Paused.

“Boy,” she said, staring straight ahead. “I’m much older than I appear. The years have made me wiser, but they’ve also made it difficult for me to remember how easily the heart is wounded,” she sighed, rubbing her hand through her hair. When she glanced over her shoulder, he was glaring at her. Those round red eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

“You look like this because one of your ancestors lusted after a demon. It’s not your fault,” she concluded.

She almost expected him to stay there. Because he didn’t say anything to her. But when she peeked back, he was trailing her steps through the woods, rubbing his nose with his sleeve as he stared at the ground.

A few days later, several more pieces of her missing silverware turned up. Sakura almost smiled as she watched him run into the greenhouse with a bucket of water.

Sakura forgot how quickly human children grew. It startled her how as soon as she conjured up clothes for the boy, he outgrew them again. Limbs lengthening, shoulders growing wide. The roundness of his face narrowing into something a little less sullen with each passing day.

She stopped in the middle of a sentence one day when she realized that she had to look up at him to speak. He wrinkled his nose as she stared at him.

“What?” he demanded, looking down at his shirt to check for stains. She didn’t respond. But she took to speaking to him from the top of the steps when she gave orders.

He stopped whining when she sent him into the woods for pixie dust. And he no longer grumbled at night that his legs hurt or that his fingers were blistered. His arms grew strong and the callouses on his palms were rough when he asked her to remove splinters. Sometimes, on the windiest, coldest nights, he would creep out of his little room in the pantry and lay his head in her lap. Eyes drifting shut as she leafed through the crinkled pages of her spell books.

She watched those rings on his horns grow and grow. As the winter frosts melted and life sprang from the ground. As the bees hummed drunkenly around the greenhouse, limbs heavy with pollen. And she started to see a new look in his eyes that she pretended not to understand.

She tied her robe a little more carefully. Laced the front of her dresses up higher. She stopped using the lavender-scented cream on her hands that he loved so much. But that didn’t stop him from resting his head in her lap, asking her in a sleep-slurred voice to pet his head. Her fingers tangling in his thick, dark hair and tracing the multiplying ridges of his horns.

Sometimes, he opened his eyes. Irises gleaming like rubies in the moonlight as he stared up at her.

On one of those nights, the smell of sage burning in the air, he opened his mouth too. To ask: “Why did you let me stay?”

She pretended to read the spell book hovering in front of her. As the crickets sang a reedy chorus outside.

“I didn’t let you stay. You just didn’t bother to leave,” she replied.

She remembered when people first settled the town. They settled along the banks of the gentle river. Hauling up stones and mud to build their homes. Felling trees and filling the air with chatter.

The first men and women who had raised those buildings grew grey and brittle. In their place, their children grew tall and strong. And they had children of their own in turn. The generations had always blurred past without her paying much notice. She had never paid much attention to birthday celebrations or deaths. Because soon, each person would be replaced by someone equally unremarkable.

Sakura didn’t remember when Itachi began calling the first day of winter her birthday.

“This is pointless,” she told him the first time he presented her with a lumpy, slightly-charred cake.

But she hadn’t stopped him as he swept her spell books and vials aside a year later. Making room on the counter for eggs and flour.

Every year, the cake grew a little more symmetrical, a little less burnt. Soon he was using fruit and frosting to decorate it. And, amused, she obliged him when he demanded that she blow out the candles.

“How old are you really?” Itachi asked one year as he carved her a big hunk of cake. There were apples and cinnamon in it this year.

A smile touched the corner of her mouth as she took the plate. “There isn’t a cake big enough to fit the number of candles you’d need, boy,” she told him.

“100? 200?” he guessed. He handed her a fork.

“I’ve lived long enough to know that birthdays don’t matter,” was all she said. But he just rolled his eyes.

“You say that every year,” he pointed out. But the smile returned to his face as he watched her finish every little crumb of her slice.

But she was telling the truth when she said that the number of years she had lived didn’t really matter. Because no matter how old she grew. No matter how many times she purified dew on the winter solstice, she knew that there was an end to all things.

Sakura had sensed it brewing for quite some time. And it came to fruition when an old acquaintance brought her a strange little curse. He had spent many months trying to solve it. And while she wasn’t particularly interested in helping him, she did enjoy riddles. They spent several nights in the kitchen, poring over her old books and scribbling notes onto bits of parchment. He didn’t pack his things until almost a week later. His shriveled and blackened hand was beginning to regain color even as he crossed the threshold to leave.

During the week, the boy had made himself scarce. She had put him to work, gathering roots and snipping herbs from the garden. She even made him scale the cliffs to retrieve spider silk to bind the potion together. And while Itachi had done all these things without complaint, he had spent the rest of his time cooped up in the greenhouse or in his room.

As their guest left, he slunk out of his room. His tail swished back and forth, slapping the cabinet doors and drawer shut as he passed.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing at the counter.

Sakura turned to look. It was a crystal rose. The stem looked normal, but the clear petals on top were made of crystallized pixie dust. It took a good grasp of transmutation spells to be able to hold the dust in such a stable form. Sakura held it up to her eye to examine the angles in the crystals. Her eyebrows rose.

“How pretty,” she remarked. She looked at Itachi who was now staring into the fireplace. Like he was trying to ignore her.

“What’re you sulking for?”

“He likes you,” Itachi pointed out.

“Oh, I know. He has for quite some time. He comes up with excuses to see me every now and then,” she responded. His mouth puckered.

“I... don’t like him being around,” he ground out.

“You’re such a child,” Sakura sighed.

“I’m not. I’m 19,” Itachi retorted, hands fisted at his sides. She scoffed.

“Even that response tells me that you’re still a child. If you’re going to be so unpleasant, you can go,” she snapped in return. It had been years since she had said anything like that to him. And his shoulders tensed, rising close to his ears as they had done for years. She already knew he was crying before he whirled to face her.

“I’m a man now! I’m taller than you and I’m stronger than you! And you still treat me like I’m a kid!" he yelled.

And Sakura wasn’t taken aback. Nor was she frightened. All she did was let out a tired sort of sigh. He didn’t wait for her to give any sort of response because he went on.

“And honestly, why’re you still acting like you want to get rid of me when you let me stay for all these years?”

“I already told you, boy. It’s not that I let you stay. You just didn’t bother to leave.”

“Stop lying!” he retorted. “I know you let me sleep close to the fire so I wouldn’t be scared of the dark. I know you made me weed the greenhouse so I would learn what each plant looks like.”

She didn’t look at him.

“You made me carry things so I’d become strong. And you taught me to read and write when you sent me on errands.”

“So what?” she replied. Trying to act like she didn’t see the tears welling up in his eyes.

“Why do you act like you don’t care about me when you do?” he demanded. “Why do you always act like you don’t know that I love you?”

Laughing softly, she shook her head. “How do you expect me to answer to a child’s love confession?”

“I’m not a child! I’m a man now!” he insisted.

Smile fading, she lifted her chin to look right at him. Through him. A shiver ran through him as something in her gaze darkened. The ages bled into her voice. Something ancient and powerful. “I’ve lived through centuries. I’ve seen the rise and fall of empires. You are but a petulant child.”

Because magic played tricks with time. If her life was an hourglass, magic slowed the drop of each grain of sand, twisting and lengthening the descent it until it almost seemed that the sand wasn’t falling at all.

And then her voice returned to normal as she turned away from him.

“If you don’t like it, you can leave,” she told him. Folding her arms across her chest, she left the kitchen, heading upstairs to her room. She locked the door behind her, trying not to hear his sniffles drifting up through the floorboards.

When she woke, the little pantry was empty. Sheets folded. Floor dusted. Like no one had ever been there in the first place.

The sun rose and fell. The moon shone its round face, withering away and growing over and over again. The leaves fell in autumn, coating the forest floor in crackling orange. Snow came to bury it all. And in the spring, shoots of green poked out between cracks in the ice.

As the years went on, Sakura began to hear rumors of a great sorcerer in the west. One who summoned rain and lightning with a single incantation.

And as the townsfolk relayed these rumors, Sakura continued grinding the herbs in her mortar. Pestle grating against the stone, matching the tempo of those words. Customers came to request their tinctures and salves. Gold clinking into her hand as they hurried in and out.

“They say he’s a demon,” Naruto whispered as he collected the salve for his elderly father’s aching joints. Naruto was a father himself now. He kept his son strapped to his chest as he drove his wagon in and out of the market. The boy had round blue eyes and knew better than to reach for Sakura. He sucked on the front of his father’s shirt, staring at her.

“How little I care,” sighed Sakura, clinking the coins together in her palm.

There came a day when Naruto was gone. It was his son who came to request from her now. The years bleeding into each other, like ink spilling across the paper.

Rumors of the sorcerer grew stranger and stranger. How he pulled lava from the earth and brewed great storms that spanned across many towns. His golems rose from the valleys, lugging great boulders up the side of a mountain to build his fortress. It loomed on the horizon, dragons flitting in and out of its windows and filling the summer nights with their haunting calls.

And then, one day, someone rang the silver bell outside her door. She gave a careless flick of her hand, shoving it open before she even left the kitchen. But as she crossed the living room, the hairs on the back of her neck rose. Like the entire place was filling with electricity. It tingled her skin with each step she took toward the threshold.

He lowered his hood. The years had carved away at that soft, child’s face. Revealing something a little less kind underneath. From his temples extended great, spiraling horns like those on a ram. But the way his shining blood-colored eyes followed her hadn’t changed. A little anxious. And so eager to please.

“Who broke your spell?” she asked.

His tail swished out behind him. It was coated in barbs now. Gleaming black and sharp in the afternoon’s dying sun.

“I did,” he replied.

Drawing his hands inside his cloak, he pulled something shining and silver out. The ornate handle carved into the shape of an owl.

“Is your tantrum over now?” she asked, accepting the fork.

“I don’t throw tantrums. I’m not a child anymore,” he responded, the corner of his mouth pulling up.

She searched his eyes for a long time. Scrutinizing the way that he held her gaze.

“We’ll see about that,” she responded as she stepped aside to let him pass.

#writing #twoshot #contralto #itasaku #witch!sakura #tiefling!itachi

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thenervousmedic · 6 years

Text

A coffee a day... (Connor X Reader)

Note : (Dying noises)

Word count : just over 3k.

Chapter 6 : Lose one thing to gain another.

Teenagers can be so cruel.

At a time in your life where every little interaction means the world to you, outside influence can change an angel to a brat or a shy girl into a monster.

Fortunately for you, bullies didn't get to you very often. If anything you found their dumb insults funny because of the many vastly better ones you had already thought of. Just calling you ‘Fat’ or ‘ugly’ wasn't enough anymore- if they wanted a fight they'd have to work for it.

That being said… you had a pretty big weakness. Other bullied students.

You hated watching them get torn to shreds by some tough guy dumbass and their trio of mindless minions.

“G-Gavin, please, I j-just need to get past-” A small, dorky looking, man cried out as he was pushed into the dirt. His glasses skidding across the gravel towards your feet. The bullies shouted mean things, but you barely noticed, interrupting their enjoyment with a rough punch to his face. It stung your knuckles like hell, but the look of shock they gave you was more than worth it.

“Go fuck yourself, Gavin.” You spat harshly as they turned tail to tell a teacher on you; the runty child at your back dusting himself off.

“T-thanks…” He fumbled with his glasses, sliding them awkwardly up a wonky button nose. “You didn't have to.”

“Of course I did.” You scoff proudly, holding yourself a lot more confidently than your new companion. “Come on, you're staying with me now, they won't bother you anymore.What is your name?”

He stares at you, at a complete loss for words, before nodding briskly and taking your hand. “My name Is J-Jayden, you?”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N, I must insist you rest-”

“Nuh-uh. You said I should help if I could, so I'm going to help.” Your determination came off as stubbornness but it was all in good intentions. Today was going to be a slow day, but if you could at the very least stay with your two guardians during their work hours you'd feel a little less awkward about being left in Hanks home by yourself.

“Hank, how do I get them to cooperate-” It was then you noticed him watching the two of you. Clearly finding this funny, a big shit eating grin plastered to his muzzle. The lack of drinking the night before meant to hangover- something Hank sometimes wished he had anyway to tolerate Connors non-stop working demeanor.

“Give up, Connor, it's not worth getting your wires in a twist.”

“My wires can't get twisted, lieutenant, they're not-”

“For fucks sake, just forget it-” It was your turn to grin like a dumbass as Connors lip twinged into a tiny smirk. If you didn't know better you'd think Connor was annoying his partner on purpose.

“Don't be too hard on Puppydroid, he's still learning to adapt to your attitude.” You and Hank share an amused glance at one another. Connor suddenly looking a little lost in the conversation.

“In that case he's got a whole lot to adapt to.”

“You don't say?”

The face you made, the rising inflection in your tone, Hank knew what you just referenced and tried not to reply in a joking manner. He had a job to do, as annoying as that was, and the idea of Connor reminding him yet again how much time they were wasting just pissed him off internally.

“Would you like me to catch you up on what we discovered last night? Y/N made some very interesting connections.”

A grumble was all Connor got as everyone left the house, taking that as an invitation to continue. “Y/N brought a speech made by Mr.Kamski to my attention. It has mention of the codeword we are using for our connective focus. Biocode. It sounds like, as well as our mechanical coding, androids have been embedded with experiences that predate our creation.”

“It's like putting your actual thoughts into someone else's head!” You added In the moment Connor paused to let Hank process the information.

“So wait.-" His pace slowed slightly, allowing for the three of you to walk side by side Instead of slightly behind his lead. “-You're suggesting androids have emotions and free will hidden in their code before they deviate? That's insane.”

Connor frowned, clearly wanting to defend your discovery as the police station lurked in the distance. “It would explain the sudden rise in Deviant reports. As well as make sense of how deviancy spreads so easily. Anyone with the key to unlock that source code could potentially deviate anyone they come into contact with. What's worse is that… It might be manipulated if someone knows how to access it.”

“And what about you, Connor, huh?” The way Hank’s growl turned aggravated gave you a sense of caution. How was it a man with only his voice could make you feel safe one moment then urge you to keep away from them the next? “If your ‘theory’ is right, that makes everyone a deviant, just waiting to realise it. That means technically you’re a-”

“I am not a deviant, I have a mission to complete and that’s what I intend to do.” You noticeably flinched as Connor raised his voice, something you’d not seen him do before. That calm analytical tone was all you were used to, not the sudden burst of anger that had just snapped beside you. His face softened on noticing the concern in your eyes. The abrupt change in temperment sent errors up in his sight here and there.

Hank sighed, it was long, heavy, like someone just let the air out of a very old balloon. “Yeah. You’re right… like you’d give a damn about anything other than the fuckin’ mission.” It was like the witty banter you all shared moments ago had never happened. Something electrical and stone cold squeezed your heart tightly; threatening to break it. A figurative dark cloud hanging over everyone despite the bright sunshine that shone overhead.

Your opinion was an unpopular one. That deviants didn’t need ‘fixing’, that they felt love and hate and everything in between, and your now-gone friend Adam was proof of that. He had dreams and aspirations He was so nice and continued to do his job even after deviating because of how much he enjoyed it. But now you’d…. Never see him again.

It hit you like a truck. Loss, realisation, anger, denial. Everything at once crashed onto your throat making you unable to join in the conversation to ease the tension.

Neither Connor nor Hank seemed to notice, your blank warm-hearted smile masking the inner workings that started to scream out his name. It wasn't too bad. You told yourself it was fine. The guilt you felt at forgetting him so easily, the need to tell him you were sorry, strangled out as a strained cough amongst the silence. It came out almost like a choking sound, Connor’s head turning sharply to look at you with hollow eyes, your composure faltering for but a small second before you started walking regularly again.

It was a lot all at once, but you would handle it… they didn't need to know...

The police station was quite nice, a mix of modern technology and design without compromising any accessibility. People sat at their workplaces in neat uniform with equally neat desks save for a few here and there that were less organised than the others. As always it made you nervous. You had nothing against cops, most of them were really nice people, it’s just the force behind them. People armed to the teeth with ways to subdue and kill you, people trained to appear friendly even if they dislike you in order to uphold the precincts reputation. That being said, there were also plenty of shitty law officers who would gladly talk shit for the sake of doing so. Come to think of it-

“Oh goodie, here comes the walking calculator.” Most everyone, including Connor, completely ignored the voice that approached from afar. Hank headed to his desk, not looking back, as Connor’s path was blocked by a slightly shorter man. He wore scruffy messy clothing, barely enough to make him look like he actually cared about his job, with just as messy brown hair spiking out in all directions. You had to hide an angry grin at noticing the name on his jacket and the crooked scar across his nose. “Got yourself a girlfriend, huh?”

As he squared his gaze with yours the defiant smile you wore was enough to catch him by surprise. “Hi Gavin.” You growled, very uncharacteristically hostile toward the officer as he continued to get in Connor's way. “How’s your face?”

“Better than yours by the looks of it.” He grumbled back, much to Connor’s confusion as you two continued to glare at one another like your eyes were doing all the fighting. He huffed, leaning against the wall in front of you two. “Look who isn’t an officer-”

“Look who is still an asshole-”

“Y/N, please, we have work to do.” Connor’s hand reached for your shoulder as the rivalry escalated, your nerves tingling at the thought of getting to have another fight with your long-time childhood opponent. But he was right. You couldn’t fight him here, it’s literally a police station, and your wound wouldn’t exactly fair well from a scrap either. You shrugged his hand away from your side, crossing your arms with an irritated pout before following Connor as you both walked around Gavin. “You know Officer Reed?” His curiosity was inevitable considering what just occurred.

“Yes. I know Gavin.” The spite in your voice had obviously intrigued the android since he wouldn't stop staring at you expectantly.

“You don't seem to like each other.”

“I broke his nose.” You pointed out, motioning to your own nose before flicking a glance back at Gavin (Who was now sauntering his way to the break room like your conversation never happened.) God you hate Gavin.

“Oh…” Connor’s face expressed an awkwardness that made you smile again, it seems he realised that this conversation would be best left for later. “Well, lets focus on the task at hand.”

You were right, today was gonna be a long one, the time seemed to tick on almost as slowly as when you were at your real job. Though it wasn’t really a bad thing, you had plenty of time to watch Hank yell at his boss and glare at Gavin from across the room.

You didn’t want to mention anything about it to Connor, but Gavin had liked you quite a lot in high school… you hated admitting when you were wrong, but you knew for certain that back then you had done plenty of wrong deeds. It was such a shame. Gavin had started out so promising, charming even, and yet during his time with you he just got meaner and meaner. Beating up Jayden was the last straw for you back then, you couldn’t just stand aside and enable his bad habits.

To be truthful you hadn’t meant to break his nose… turns out you punch a hell of a lot stronger than you might think.

“Y/N, come look at this.” Hank had finally said something after seemingly being pissed off at connor for several hours. You jumped at the opportunity to get involved, jogging light bouncy steps to his side of the desk before leaning over to look at his screen.

Rumours of the mass-hostage situation had already gone public, people were ranting all sorts of nonsense online, people were even videoing themselves throwing their androids down pits or off of bridges. Tearing limbs off, beating them with bats, setting them on fire. You could see the fear in their eyes, the pure terror, the complete hopelessness as they bled out blueblood onto the floor.

“Do you think- Hey, you alright?” You hadn’t realised you were tearing up until Hank closed the page and held your arm tightly. “Easy kiddo…”

“I-I’m ok.” you smiled, sniffling while rubbing your eyes roughly with your sleeve. Mind reeling from the sudden outburst of information in your head. “-Just forgot to blink is all.”

But it was too late. You only barely held it together earlier, seeing the androids treated this way was enough to push you over the edge. Tears dribbled uncontrollably across your face despite your best efforts to fight them away. All you were thinking about is not looking upset, and that wasn’t going to plan.

You tried laughing quietly to make it less painful to sniffle back breaths but it wasn’t much help. “Hey, hey, it’s ok. Don’t be like that.” A large pair of arms wrapped around your shoulders, comfortably cuddling you up against a rough shirt. Hank’s concerned voice was almost fatherly and as much as it was getting him strange looks he was doing his best to calm you down. Rocking ever so slightly from side to side as you sobbed helplessly into his arm. “It’s alright, you’re ok, let it out.”

“Lieutenant?” Connor had risen from his desk, watching with conflicted confusion as Hank held you in an almost protective stance.

“I’m ok.” You whimpered softly, at this point numb to the fact you were breaking down in a public place.

Adam was gone, Connor had almost been destroyed, and you had nobody to go to. Knowing next time you go to work, after all of this, you’ll walk into an empty building and spend the day with a replacement android… it was tearing at your throat. You'd never hear his laugh again. Never see the cute happy dances he did when talking about coffee, or the beaming grin that welcomed you every single morning without fail. He was so sweet, why did he have to die? He didn’t deserve that! It wasn’t fair!

“He w-was alive, Hank, he was D-deviant.” You mumbled past the hitched breaths, already feeling the burning stare that was Connor's eyes on your back. It made you shiver. You didn’t feel safe. “Why are people treating androids like this- they’re not just MACHINES!” you pushed Hank away, struggling out of his grip before harshly clutching at your stomach as it began to ache.

Connor caught you as you stumbled backwards. His grip was unwavering- unlike hank’s gentle hold. “You have to calm down, you’re going to hurt yourself-”

“Yeah that’d really slow you down wouldn’t it Connor?” You sounded bitter, and wow did it sting. You couldn’t see past the blurry vision, but his face looked utterly heartbroken. It’s like someone just told him his dog died, his grip slackened enough for you to realise what you had said might’ve been a little harsh. He had insisted he wasn’t deviant…. But you knew he had something in there. Whether it was emotion or just an accurate simulation of them you felt an immediate regret for saying what you did.

“I’m… sorry.” He let go, taking a step away while you finally managed to rub the water off of your face. “T-that was uncalled for.”

“No, it’s alright, you’re experiencing delayed symptoms of mourning. The android you worked with must have been very close to you. This is ok-.” Hank, who had backed away a little, gestured your way. Encouraging Connor to take control of the situation. He was hesitant but eventually leaned our towards you- lightly cupping you in his embrace much like how Hank had done before. You didn’t fight it, but you didn't hug back either, just kind of leaning on him with your forehead on his chest. You could swear you could feel his ‘heart’ bumping underneath his jacket. “You are ok now, just try to breathe.”

You tried, god you tried so hard, but the more you put effort into it the more you sniffled and paused. It was eventually possible to take longer, less shuddering, breaths. You didn't have the energy to feel embarrassed or ashamed. The periodic ‘babump’ of the Thirium pump beneath his shirt was something to focus on, your upcoming headache making you groan irritably. “It was nice having you in today but I think it’s about time to take you home.” He let go of you, keeping one arm over your back and around your shoulder so he could walk you out.

You were silent almost the entire walk home. Barely noticing the aura of worry and unease that radiated from your assistant…

It was like how he imagine being shot must have felt, hearing what you had said, the burning in his chest sending false system reports through his processor. Yes, yes it would slow him down, but it wasn’t like that. He didn’t want you to be safe just for the sake of the mission - but even the thought of wanting outside of his objective was… doing something. Was it… fear? Did he fear the idea of thinking he’s more than just hardware built for a certain purpose? Surely not, that’s silly. Androids don’t feel fear.

“Deviants do.” He mumbled aloud, not realising he had done so until your sore reddened eyes were spotted tiredly googling up at him. “Your coworker. He was deviant?”

He could almost see the pain that shot into your gaze before you looked back at the street. “Yeah…” He was going to have to dig if he was going to get more than that, your appeared exhausted despite getting more than enough rest for a woman your age.

A bit of time passed before he eventually tried again, giving you a moment to think. “Deviants feel fear and anger, unlike regular androids, why would you want that?” It was unclear why, but you truly did seem to believe that deviancy was a good thing despite all the trouble it has caused.

“That's only one side of the coin, Connor, fear isn’t everything.”

“But it is a part of it…”

“Yes, of course it is!” Your voice raised ever so slightly but a sore throat calmed it back down. The sadness slowly melted away as you spoke about it, getting replaced with some quieter form of passion that bubbled deep under the surface. “Anger and fear exist but that’s not the point, the point is there's better feelings than those ones. Like contentment, happiness, pride-”

“Love?” His contribution made you hesitate. Was he wrong? Love was certainly something… able to tear a man apart or rebuild him from the ground up. Connor’s experiences with these emotions were limited to reading their definition out of a dictionary or observing what they did to others.

“Yeah…” your cheeks had turned red, a fever? No. you were.. .what's the word… blushing. His LED spun yellow, unable to look away at the lost look on your face, totally immersed in whatever it was you were thinking about.

“…I think I’d like to feel that someday.” He should’ve thought more carefully about saying these words out loud. If Cyberlife caught wind of this it would mean being deactivated to erase those thoughts. But this wasn't on his mind right now.

It's like he's seeing you for the first time. That faint sparkle in your eye, every little imperfection on your skin, the way a few stray strands of hair curled down across your forehead. His Thirium pump having the same system error he had experienced before. “You'd need to deviate to feel love, Connor, you said…” Your heart rate had increased, coupled with another number of minute details that surely only an android would notice. Otherwise in your tone, the way your pupils dilated when they met his own.

Hanks house stood in front of both of you as he let go, fighting quietly with the choices laid out before him. Taking as much effort as he could muster to ignore his prime directive. He could feel the way your heart skipped a beat the moment he put both hands firmly on either shoulder. Bringing you forward to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead, the fire he'd felt in his chest before slowly smouldering back to life as he took a step back and tried not to betray the fear that churned at his stomach.

“Rest. I will come back soon.” He turned back the way you had come. Leaving you flustered and confused on the dirtridden path.

#dbh #dbh connor #dbh hank #connor x reader #a coffee a day...

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thewriterandthestoryteller · 6 years

Text

Character sheets for Elliot (2/3)

Hey guys! I really can’t be bothered to come up with a long introduction to this post, as all I really have to say is that this is the second of three charectar sheets I will be making for my WIP Elliot.

Sorry it took so long (revision is a bitch); I hope you like it

Watson (@thewriterandthestoryteller)

Susan/Suzie

Name: Susan Ember

Age: 32

Occupation: Detective

Talents/Skills: Music, Writing, Maths, Science

Birth order: Firstborn (Only child)

Relationship skills: Susan is very good with relationships. Her interest in psychology makes her really understand others, and make her a great listener for others

Height: 5′3″

Weight: 12 stone (A bit more than Lizzie)

Race: White

Eye colour: Brown

Hair Colour: Light brown/silvery type thing

Glasses or contact lenses? Contacts

Skin colour: White

Shape of Face: Square (egg-shaped)

Distinguishing features: Her height compared to Lizzie

How does he/she dress? Casual but smart; usually a floral blouse with navy blue jeans and pastel blue tennis shoes.

Mannerisms: She doesn’t show any emotion whatsoever

Habits: (smoking, drinking etc.) She drinks and is an anxious smoker

Health: Meh.

Hobbies: Piano, Reading, Traveling.

Favourite Saying:

“ “A person who has good thoughts cannot ever be ugly. You can have a wonky nose and a crooked mouth and a double chin and stick-out teeth, but if you have good thoughts they will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely.”

- Roald Dahl

Speech patterns:

She has a mild Scottish accent, but it becomes really harsh when she is angry or unimpressed

Disabilities:

Depression, Anxiety, Aspergers Syndrome

Style (Elegant, shabby etc.): Slightly dated

Greatest flaw: Fear of losing those she loves

Best quality:

She is always willing to listen and be a shoulder to cry on.

Educational Background: Degree in psychology. Self-taught medicine

Intelligence Level:

Above average

Character’s short-term goals in life: To solve the Elliot case.

Character’s long-term goals in life: To become a classical musician

How does Character see himself/herself? She is far too fat. She wishes she had a body like Lizzie

How does Character believe he/she is perceived by others? Not very well. She is always there for others and she is worried she is annoying.

How self-confident is the character? Not one bit.

Does the character seem ruled by emotion or logic or some combination thereof? Logic alone

Introvert or Extrovert? Introvert

How does the character deal with anger? Quietly, by ignoring people and trying to not cause a fuss.

With sadness? She knows it too well.

With conflict? Just ignore it

With change? Okay. She is sort of used to it

With loss? She is used to it.

What does the character want out of life? To be liked and remembered for all the good she has done

What would the character like to change in his/her life? The way she looked

What motivates this character? Lizzie. She loves her so much and would do anything in her power to keep her by her side.

What frightens this character? That she isn’t good enough

What makes this character happy? Being with Lizzie

Is the character judgmental of others?

Nope. Not at all.

Is the character generous or stingy? A bit stingy at times.

Is the character generally polite or rude?

Very polite

Does the character believe in God?

Yes. She is a Christian

Character’s role in the novel (main character? hero? heroine? Romantic interest? etc.): Sidekick

Scene where character first appears: Chapter 1

Relationships with other characters:

Lizzie: Her best friend; they are inseparable

Noah: They don’t really know each other that well

Jessica: She feels sorry for her; these kinds of things always happen to the best of people

#followers #followermilestone #600 #640 #600followers #elliot #charectar #charectarsheet #elliotcharectarsheet #'thewriterandthestoryteller #2/3

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travelererrant · 7 years

Text

Character Questionnaire for Nomad

So I saw this little questionnaire, and thought I’d take some time to do it for Nomad. It’s a lot longer than I thought it was going to be, but I had fun doing it anyways. I’m going to put the whole thing under a break, as it became very, very long. The formatting got a little wonky as I wrote it all in Microsoft Word so I could save it for future use, then copy/pasted it over here.

Full name

Nomad the Dauntless

Preferred name/nickname

Nomad

Generally referred to as

Nomad

Appearance.

FACECLAIM: Currently, not really. I have a couple of video game avatars I’ve made for him, and I’ve got a commission in the works. SEX: Male.

HEIGHT: 7’1’’ WEIGHT: Very heavy BUILD: Bulky muscular, built like a tank HAIR: Thick, long black hair that’s somewhat poofy. Sometimes wears it in a ponytail. He has a very thick beard. SKIN: Dark brown, rough, almost more scar tissue than skin. EYES: Brown eyes full of fire and vigor. MOUTH: If you can see it under his beard, it’s big, with teeth that have been chipped in some places, but are still decently cleaned. NOSE: Big, crooked and somewhat flattened from all the fights he’s been in. His nose hasn’t gone untouched, and he’s very aware of it. HANDS: Also big, but very calloused and covered in scars. FEET: Decent sized. Calloused. Rough. Usually covered in socks. SCARS: Lots of ‘em. Very condensed on his back, but his face has a decent amount as well. It’s a miracle he still has eyes with how many scars are around them. CLOTHES: Very simple, usually just a t-shirt and jeans, sometimes a Hawaiian shirt, and a bombardier’s jacket during the colder seasons.

OTHER NOTEABLE FEATURES: He really is huge and muscular, meant to be an ugly, brutal looking warrior, with enough scars to make people think he should have been dead three times over. He’s got the kind of face that would break a mirror, y’know what I’m sayin’?

Speech.

VOICECLAIM: Something close to Stoick the Vast. Deeper, more harsh in its own way. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oEQhjS-c7EU close to this, honestly. ACCENT: I honestly keep alternating between Scottish and Norse. VERBAL TICKS: None that I can think of at the moment. LANGUAGE: Usually just whatever is common, but he’s good at picking up the intent behind words, and has a deep and extensive knowledge of insults from around the world, so he can know if someone’s insulting him, and he can insult them back. ARTICULATION: If he’s flustered, he tries to correct himself way too many times. If he’s telling a story or teaching someone how to fight, he’s very clear, taking his time by adding movements to give his words more meaning. EDUCATION: He’s blunt and to the point, avoiding complicated words because they make it harder to understand than necessary.

LAUGHTER: He laughs a lot, whether it be at a feast or during a battle, and it’s the loud booming laugh that can be heard clear across the room.

GRUMP: When irritated, he does tend to grumble to himself, as usually he gets mad because people are ignoring his advice. He’ll also grunt if he’s focused on something and doesn’t want to waste time with words. BREATHING: He sighs a lot when he’s going through a day when he can’t get his mind out of the past, thinking of his fallen comrades and the adventures they shared. Gasping isn’t something he does often. He “humphs” at the sight of someone pretending to be more badass than they actually are.

Mannerisms.

FACE: Nomad wears his heart on his sleeve. He doesn’t hide what he’s feeling and makes it known to anyone around him.

HANDS: Usually his hands scratch his beard, mime a weapon or action during a story, or are busy with whatever he’s set himself to doing. LEGS/FEET: Not really. He keeps himself planted pretty solidly.

EMOTIONAL OUTBURSTS: See the heart on his sleeve bit? It applies here. He shouts when he’s angry, shouts when he’s happy, and is very quiet when caught in a fit of sorrow. HABITS: He sings to himself in that kind of voice you use when you just want to feel the words come out of your mouth, but not be heard by anyone in particular. He doesn’t like his singing voice, but likes to sing anyways. Especially when he’s singing an old battle song, or a chant about ancient warriors and adventurers. POSTURE: He holds himself proudly in everything he does. From standing in the presence of royalty to sitting at a tea party for the child of a friend, he does everything with the pride of a warrior whose survived a thousand, thousand battles. WALKING POSTURE: See above. Though when angry, he tends to stomp in a way that draws attention to him and lets everyone know to either get out of his way or risk the consequences. SITTING POSTURE: He takes up space when he can, legs apart, shoulders held wide, and sort of slouched. PERSONAL SPACE: Only people he explicitly trusts and admires are allowed to get in his personal space, and he respects the wishes of those around him. Though sometimes he gets carried away, the moment he notices they’re uncomfortable is the moment he readjusts himself to what’d make them feel better. He especially does not like it when people try to touch his back. SPACIAL AWARENESS: He’s very aware of everything going on around him, but sometimes chooses to ignore it if it can make the moment more entertaining.

Health:

DIET: While he tries to eat healthy, he does inevitably eat a lot of meat and sweets. His philosophy with food is that you never know what meal will be your last. Enjoy it while you can.

SLEEP: He’s prone to nightmares about his past, but is an infamously deep sleeper. If something is trying to bother him, he can usually sleep right through it. If it’s something dangerous that threatens to kill him, he can be up in an instant. Sometimes he goes a few days without sleep so he can avoid the nightmares.

EXERCISE: He exercises quite a lot, practicing with weapons, weightlifting, tai chi, Yoga, etc. He also likes dance aerobics. ACTIVITY: He’s a hard worker, known to work himself to the bone until he’s satisfied with whatever he was told to work on. Especially if he’s doing it for a friend. He thinks they deserve the best, and he won’t rest until they’re satisfied. CLEANLINESS: He bathes when he can, but will sometimes just splash water on his face and under his arms to save on time. ODOUR: He usually smells like sawdust. MEDICINAL DRUGS: Painkillers, but only when even he can’t ignore the pain of a wound or headache. NARCOTICS: Nope. Dependence on a drug is something he won’t tolerate for himself. ADDICTIONS: Nothing again, though some have accused him of being an adrenaline junkie and using battle as an excuse to get the “blood pumping”. ILLNESS: Nope. INJURIES: Just the scars. PARASITES: Nothing once again. This time, it’s not personal.

Personal.

INTROVERT/EXTROVERT?: Somewhere in between. While he keeps to himself most of the time, once he’s made friends with people, he’s always looking for a good way to get them out to do something.

OPTIMIST/PESSIMIST: He hopes for the best, but always expects the worst, and prepares for it as such. GENDER: Definitely male, and identifies with it, though doesn’t understand why gender is so confusing sometimes and just tries to be supportive of his friends. SEXUALITY: Asexual. He’s not really much of a sexy-times kind of guy. ROMANTIC: He doesn’t like falling in love, as he’s lost too many people already and is scared of trying again, especially with his trust issues. He definitely doesn’t want to have kids, but is more than happy to help others raise their own. MEMORY: Nomad has a very good memory, as he doesn’t want anyone to ever feel forgotten, and does not want to feel guilty for forgetting something someone had told him. Never know when that memory will bring you a bit of happiness in a darker time. PLANNING: He’ll plan for battles where his friends will be, but most of the time he runs on instinct and intuition, letting his actions plan it out for him. PENSIVE: When he’s alone, and the sun has set and left him alone with his thoughts, he thinks. And sometimes he hates it. INTUITION: Usually, yes, especially with matters such as fighting, tracking someone or something, or deciphering ancient riddles and stories. PROBLEM SOLVING: He’s good at finding a solution, or finding someone who knows how to find a solution. And if that doesn’t work, he’s fine with punching his problems away. GOALS: Short-term goal is to make it to the next day. The long term goal is to be the warrior that everyone can look up to and rely on, and to hear the stories of all he befriends and carry those stories with him, so they’ll never be forgotten. INSECURITIES: He’s worried about not being strong enough, and not being sensitive enough for his friends. Though he knows it’s sometimes his greatest asset in a battle, he doesn’t like the fact that he’s ugly as sin and doesn’t like it when people make fun of his attempts to be vain, though he usually masks it as a joke. ACHIEVEMENTS: Every battle he’s survived, every monster slain, and everyon he managed to spare along the way.

ANXIETY: Whenever his friends get involved with a battle, or have to fight for themselves, he worries. He wonders if this will be the day that he loses them, and isn’t there to protect them. He worries about when he’ll see them again or if he’ll ever see them. He fears once again being helpless to stop needless destruction and violence, and the consequence will be the loss of his friends and family. OVERWHELMED: When he’s just one man trying to take on the problems of the world, or if all of his friends ask him to do something for them at the same time. He has a hard time saying no to them. If he’s one man versus a thousand in the battle, he feels overwhelmed. SELF-HELP: Nomad tends to practice a lot of breathing exercises, and that’s about it. Sometimes he takes a break for a meal, maybe a quick song, but mostly just… keeps going with it, I guess.

COMFORTS: Music, food, and good company. BAD HABITS: He tends to think his problems aren’t worth his friends’ time, and has trouble accepting compliments as he struggles with the idea of self-worth and confuses it with arrogance on his part, and doubts his own abilities a lot of the time. PHILOSOPHY: “To live is to fight. You do a thousand things each day that show your will to live. You breathe, you eat, you sleep, you wake up and face the day again. You show everyone that you’re still fighting. You learn so that you may live, so that you can fight.” TRIGGERS: Ancient prophecies and anything that says that only one very specific weapon or person can stop an ancient evil or something like that.

The Past.

PARENTS/GUARDIANS: Orphaned.

SCHOOL: They struggled, and dropped out of high school to join the military. ADOLESCENCE: Difficult, because no one was really there for him. LEAVING HOME: He didn’t really have a stable home to begin with. He just tended to wander, scrounge, and got dropped at foster home after foster home. FURTHER EDUCATION: Once he was old enough to join the military, he did just that. He couldn’t really go to college officially, but he liked reading some college level textbooks. FIRST JOB: Usually his first “job” involves some kind of mercenary work. LIFE EVENTS: When he was imprisoned for murder that wasn’t his fault. When he saw his first death in battle. When he killed someone as a soldier. When he saw his closest friends get massacred while he was powerless to watch. When he discovered just how strong he was.

WORST DAY OF THEIR LIFE: Several, but one of the most notable was when he was trapped under a burning castle and forced to watch the three people who treated him like a human die to a demon because the magic sword that was supposed to stop him judged him as “unworthy” and wouldn’t be bothered to save innocent lives.

BEST DAY OF THEIR LIFE: When he was accepted for who he was, scars and all. LESSONS: Never rely entirely on one object or person. Be ready to take matters into your own hands. Never let someone feel alone. If someone has a passion, give them the attention and respect they deserve for following their dreams. LOOKING BACK: He regrets a lot, but can’t and won’t change it. If he changed it, he wouldn’t have learned.

Relationships.

FAMILY: He has no blood relatives, and considers his very close friends as his family. FRIENDSHIPS: He has several close friends, and many acquaintances and people he’d call “okay” friends. To be a close friend, you have to be someone who he’d trust with not only his life, but the lives of others. Loyal, trustworthy, and someone who treats others with kindness. FRIENDS IN NEED: He’s always willing to do whatever’s necessary to help his friends, no matter what. Even if it’s just being a shoulder to cry on, or finding someone else who can help them better than he can, he’ll do it with no hesitation. NEEDING A FRIEND: He doesn’t like it when people worry about him, and tends to try and deal with his problems on his own. He doesn’t know how to feel when someone does help him. His pride says to be insulted, but he also feels touched that others would care enough to want to help him. ANNOYANCES: Usually if he disagrees with someone, it’s just that: a disagreement where Nomad will let the other do what they want. If it endangers others, however, Nomad will be stubborn and insist on finding another way. ROMANCE: He’s not one for woo-ing, and any attempts to flirt with someone are awkward and very, very rough. It’s rare for him to even try to take the initiative. Usually someone else has to do it. MARITAL PROBLEMS: Talk it through. Ending it because of a lack of communication would be very stupid, in Nomad’s opinion. The best way to fix that is to be open and honest. ADVERSARIES: People who lie and manipulate others to further their own goals, as well as those who look down on their inferiors. ENEMIES: If they kill without passion, without remorse, without consideration for the stories they’ve ended, they can count themselves as Nomad’s enemy. STRANGERS: Nomad is wary around anyone he doesn’t know. He’s cautious and tries to play his cards close to his chest, unless introduced by another friend, wherein he’s willing to be a little more open. FUN STUFF: Hiking, adventuring, running daily errands, and mundane activities in general. He also enjoys playing board games and card games. DATING: Walking along the beach, and through forest paths and meadows. Sitting quietly at home while the fire crackles, sharing a bowl of popcorn while watching a movie, or listening to music in the darkness. He likes to keep it quiet and simple. BEST FRIEND: Swift Sketch, owned by The Chibster. LOVE: Nothin’ here right now. WORST ENEMY: Several can claim that, depending on where he is. “The Drifter” is one such being, sort of his antithesis. There’s Trevor, a pirate king who he once loved but was consumed by his own lust for power and the sick justifications he came up with. RESPECT: He respects them, because “If I hate them, I’ll underestimate them. I have to expect anything.”

Interactions.

MINGLING: Sort of bad at making new friends on his own, as he isn’t sure whether or not they’re just trying to get close enough to put a knife between his ribs. At a party with friends, he’s the loudest and most boisterous.

COMFORT LEVELS: He’s usually pretty comfortable with talking, but once they start trying to pry personal info out of him he starts to clam up. Even more so when they try to touch him.

PHYSICAL: With friends, he’s a hugger. With strangers, he keeps his distance and hopes they do the same. GROUPS: Groups of friends, yes. Otherwise he’s fine with just a couple of people. OPENNESS: It takes a little while, at least until he feels like they’re the sort of person he’d be willing to buy a few drinks for. GENEROSITY: Though he usually doesn’t have much money, he’s a sucker for getting gifts for his friends and doing charity work when he can spare the time. He likes cooking a lot of food at once and is more than happy to share whatever he made with his friends. He always thinks they need to eat more. JEALOUSY: He doesn’t really experience jealousy.

TEMPER: He gets mad very easily, as it’s the emotion that kept him alive for so long. As he’s also got his heart on his sleeve, he tends to be seen as someone who can get hotheaded at the drop of a pin. Really though, he’s usually just mad at himself for messing up something. Unless someone else is trying to be an idiot, which gets him mad enough to the point where he thinks that a good beating is what they need.

EMPATHY: He empathizes deeply with others, and tries to be aware of what he’s saying and doing. He cares about what his friends feel. AFFECTION: He shows affection through hugging, offers of food, and giving gifts based on what he remembers them saying. DISTASTE: He just outright says “I don’t like you” and ignores/avoids them. ETIQUETTE: Oh he can be very rude and blunt. Social rules don’t really appeal to him, and he can be pretty messy when it comes to certain social events. RESPONSIBILITY: He takes too much responsibility some times, but he always makes sure to at least claim what he knows was his fault. SELF ESTEEM: He won’t let others push him around, but he still has issues with his own self-worth and trying to figure out what the fine line is between being arrogant and being honest about his own abilities. CONFIDENCE: Only his friends, and even then he exudes an aura of bold confidence when engaged in battle.

HONESTY: He’s extremely honest, but tends to hide thoughts about himself and his problems behind jokes and a fierce temper. LEADER OR FOLLOWER: Happy to follow someone else’s lead and be their muscle, but when war is declared he falls naturally into a leadership position, despite the anxiety it causes him. PARTY TRICKS: He likes to show off with his strength. PRAISE: Nope. FAILURES: He can be too loud, too blunt, and sometimes can be oblivious to people flirting with him. He also is far too willing to get into a fight, and his temper can be a bit of a problem sometimes. He improvises too much for some to handle. CRITICISM: Takes it in stride, unless it’s from someone he doesn’t respect. Then he insults them. INSULTS: To quote the cliché, “Them’s fightin’ words.” EMBARRASSMENT: Embarrassed by compliments. FLIRTING: Nope, for reasons of “Fear of losing a loved one”.

ATTENTION SPAN: He can hold his concentration very well as a result of his meditation sessions and time spent training overall. SITUATIONS: He can handle his friends and help them out, but when he has to deal with his own problems he gets frustrated.

Life.

CAREER: Mercenary, bounty hunter, adventurer, soldier, and he is very good at all of those things and anything relating to them. PROMOTION: N/A BOSS: If he respects them, yes. If not, he goes solo again. DUTY: He has to protect others and help them grow stronger. TECH: He’s not very good with modern technology, usually having to ask someone else to help him figure out stuff and write him a note with reminders. POLITICS: His opinion is, “Choose the one that won’t fuck up as much”, and votes as such.

COMBAT SKILLS: HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA, he’s unrivaled and it’s the one thing he’s really f***ing good at.

HOME: Cluttered, sort of a mess that only makes sense to him. DAILY LIFE: Sometimes he feels out of place, like he needs a crisis to keep himself occupied. INDEPENDENCE: He knows how to get by. COOKING: Yes! While he’s not a gourmet chef, he knows how to make comfort food and great homemade meals to soothe the soul. BUILDING: He’s a very hands-on type of person, like an angrier, more violent Ron Swanson. CLEANING: He always does his chores when he can, as they’re a routine that help him adjust to everyday life. SHOPPING: He likes shopping, but only goes when necessary because he doesn’t want to frivolously spend money. DRIVING: He can drive just about anything, though not at an expert level. FINANCES: He usually pays his bills on time, but has to save his pennies whenever he can. He likes to keep a lot of money stashed away for emergencies. MARRIAGE: If he gets married, he just wants to continue life as is, but now with someone to come home to, someone who wants to see him again. KIDS: He’s sterile, and can’t have kids. PETS: He likes cats and any animal overall. DEPENDANTS: Not really, but if he does meet someone like that who becomes his friend, he’ll take care of them. LAW: He’s stolen, broken into private property, murdered (though they deserved it), and stolen. He’s also set certain things on fire. COURT: Yes, and though he was innocent, he was declared guilty. PRISON: He’s been to prison before, but not for incredibly long periods of time. Mostly. TRAVELLING: He travels around the world, wandering and adventuring. MEDICAL: He doesn’t really go to the doctor, except for checkups and very serious diseases.

ILLNESS: He has anxiety, and suffers from depression at times, as well as Survivor’s Guilt. WORRIES: The mortality of the people around him. PEACE: He likes the quiet, but because of his mind wandering to the past, he prefers to play music. PARTYING: Prefers to stay in, unless it’s a get-together with only his closest friends.

HOBBIES: Training, meditating, gardening, baking, watching cooking shows, reading cook books, taking notes to remember the stories of his friends, and showing others how to fight.

#Sean's writing again #Sean's talking again #Nomad the Dauntless #this took a couple of hours #and was fun to do

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