#((inspired by that post about height and weight))

[rangerlake]

Lake backed through the door, which had clicked open after she'd pushed the doorbell with her nose. Hands full with coffee, papers, a box with breakfast food, and the package that'd been outside on the step. When she turned around to see Jon casually walking towards her, no, wait, he was sauntering, definitely sauntering, it took every bit of self control not to put a hand over her eyes. Clad only in gray sweatpants that sat dangerously low on his hips, she could only glare up at the ceiling.

"Oh my gods, why are you naked?!?" She would have gestured towards him, but hands were still full. "I really hope there is a shirt in the mail parcel. You do know you can exchange money, of which you have vast amounts, for clothing, correct?"

@jonvandernoorde

[sillylotrpolls]

(Relevant text below the poll)

Inspired by this post by @roselightfairy and replies by @herrhasen, @enide-s-dear, @unnamedelement, @dragonfirez, and @carlandrea.

If you'd like to refresh your memory of the Fellowship at its bitchiest (and Boromir at his best), the relevant text is below the cut.

Excerpted from The Fellowship of the Ring, Book II, Chapter 3: The Ring Goes South

Gimli looked up and shook his head. 'Caradhras has not forgiven us.' he said. 'He has more snow yet to fling at us, if we go on. The sooner we go back and down the better.'

To this all agreed, but their retreat was now difficult. It might well prove impossible. Only a few paces from the ashes of their fire the snow lay many feet deep, higher than the heads of the hobbits; in places it had been scooped and piled by the wind into great drifts against the cliff.

'If Gandalf would go before us with a bright flame, he might melt a path for you,' said Legolas. The storm had troubled him little, and he alone of the Company remained still light of heart.

'If Elves could fly over mountains, they might fetch the Sun to save us,' answered Gandalf. 'But I must have something to work on. I cannot burn snow.'

'Well,' said Boromir, 'when heads are at a loss bodies must serve, as we say in my country. The strongest of us must seek a way. See! Though all is now snow-clad, our path, as we came up, turned about that shoulder of rock down yonder. It was there that the snow first began to burden us. If we could reach that point, maybe it would prove easier beyond. It is no more than a furlong off, I guess.'

'Then let us force a path thither, you and I!' said Aragorn.

Aragorn was the tallest of the Company, but Boromir, little less in height, was broader and heavier in build. He led the way, and Aragorn followed him. Slowly they moved off, and were soon toiling heavily. In places the snow was breast-high, and often Boromir seemed to be swimming or burrowing with his great arms rather than walking.

Legolas watched them for a while with a smile upon his lips, and then he turned to the others. 'The strongest must seek a way, say you? But I say: let a ploughman plough, but choose an otter for swimming, and for running light over grass and leaf or over snow-an Elf.'

With that he sprang forth nimbly, and then Frodo noticed as if for the first time, though he had long known it, that the Elf had no boots, but wore only light shoes, as he always did, and his feet made little imprint in the snow.

'Farewell!' he said to Gandalf. 'I go to find the Sun!' Then swift as a runner over firm sand he shot away, and quickly overtaking the toiling men, with a wave of his hand he passed them, and sped into the distance, and vanished round the rocky turn.

The others waited huddled together, watching until Boromir and Aragorn dwindled into black specks in the whiteness. At length they too passed from sight. The time dragged on. The clouds lowered, and now a few flakes of snow came curling down again.

An hour, maybe, went by, though it seemed far longer, and then at last they saw Legolas coming back. At the same time Boromir and Aragorn reappeared round the bend far behind him and came labouring up the slope.

'Well,' cried Legolas as he ran up, 'I have not brought the Sun. She is walking in the blue fields of the South, and a little wreath of snow on this Redhorn hillock troubles her not at all. But I have brought back a gleam of good hope for those who are doomed to go on feet. There is the greatest winddrift of all just beyond the turn, and there our Strong Men were almost buried. They despaired, until I returned and told them that the drift was little wider than a wall. And on the other side the snow suddenly grows less, while further down it is no more than a white coverlet to cool a hobbit's toes.'

'Ah, it is as I said,' growled Gimli. 'It was no ordinary storm. It is the ill will of Caradhras. He does not love Elves and Dwarves, and that drift was laid to cut off our escape.'

'But happily your Caradhras has forgotten that you have Men with you,' said Boromir, who came up at that moment. 'And doughty Men too, if I may say it; though lesser men with spades might have served you better. Still, we have thrust a lane through the drift; and for that all here may be grateful who cannot run as light as Elves.'

'But how are we to get down there, even if you have cut through the drift?' said Pippin, voicing the thought of all the hobbits.

'Have hope!' said Boromir. 'I am weary, but I still have some strength left, and Aragorn too. We will bear the little folk. The others no doubt will make shift to tread the path behind us. Come, Master Peregrin! I will begin with you.'

He lifted up the hobbit. 'Cling to my back! I shall need my arms' he said and strode forward. Aragorn with Merry came behind. Pippin marvelled at his strength, seeing the passage that he had already forced with no other tool than his great limbs. Even now, burdened as he was, he was widening the track for those who followed, thrusting the snow aside as he went.

They came at length to the great drift. It was flung across the mountainpath like a sheer and sudden wall, and its crest, sharp as if shaped with knives, reared up more than twice the height of Boromir; but through the middle a passage had been beaten, rising and falling like a bridge. On the far side Merry and Pippin were set down, and there they waited with Legolas for the rest of the Company to arrive.

After a while Boromir returned carrying Sam. Behind in the narrow but now well-trodden track came Gandalf, leading Bill with Gimli perched among the baggage. Last came Aragorn carrying Frodo. They passed through the lane; but hardly had Frodo touched the ground when with a deep rumble there rolled down a fall of stones and slithering snow. The spray of it half blinded the Company as they crouched against the cliff, and when the air cleared again they saw that the path was blocked behind them.

'Enough, enough!' cried Gimli. 'We are departing as quickly as we may!'

And indeed with that last stroke the malice of the mountain seemed to be expended, as if Caradhras was satisfied that the invaders had been beaten off and would not dare to return. The threat of snow lifted; the clouds began to break and the light grew broader.

As Legolas had reported, they found that the snow became steadily more shallow as they went down, so that even the hobbits could trudge along. Soon they all stood once more on the flat shelf at the head of the steep slope where they had felt the first flakes of snow the night before.

[madl-y]

✧. ┊— you're the one that I like (I can't deny)

3 times Orter Mádl denied his affection for someone, and the one time he was too tired to defend himself.

sypnosis – the other divive visionaries are sick of seeing orter lovesick (despite being amused themselves) so they try to push him to confess. (they, mainly being kaldo and ryoh. lance was there unwillingly)

> no tw! fluff! hopefully not ooc..? beware of grammar and spelling mistakes (sorry..)

> set in post innocent zero! so mild manga spoilers :"DD

> its also been a while since i've started writing fics again! this was kind of an impulse decision ahahaha...!

> i also didn't expect this to be long! sorry :"D

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

1 - 3 : EASTON ACADEMY

Orter Mádl never thought he'd see you again.

This is the third time in a row that he, alongside with another person, finished the assigned mission in each class that gives silver coins. Orter glances at the side, where another student slowly walks to the front as the teacher sang praises about them. Of course never forgetting the 'lectures' on how everyone should take inspiration from the two of them. (Frankly, it was getting quite sickening to hear.)

He kept his gaze at the front, while his awareness and attention is still directed at you. You, who always managed to keep up with him in tasks and classes. You, who despite having a weak personal magic, had always excelled at other spells. It was to the point where higher level year spells and advance magic was so easy for you.

You, who Orter thought that the first piece of the silver coin you got was a fluke.

Evidently enough, it wasn't.

Finally, after a lot of unnecessary speeches and praises, Orter and you are able to go back with the rest of the class. It seems most students were willing to run away the moment the teacher announced class was over.

Orter pushed his glasses and sighed. He finally felt the weight of his pocket from the gold coins he acquired recently.

Just from looking at you, Orter knew you felt the weight too.

Its nothing new. Clearly, Easton has a lot of students that were born talented. Easton in itself is a privilege. The best and the talented are here. Orter knew he'll have to face a lot of strong magic users just to carve his path towards becoming a Divine Visionary.

He must become one. Someone needs to maintain order. He needs to punish all those who dare and try go against society. He needs to fulfill his wish��

"Orter, aren't you going?" He blinked. Surprisingly, (or not really) Orter found himself still rooted on the grass. His previous place just a few steps behind him.

Ah, right. Someone called out to him.

That someone gazed up to him. Orter got used to people having to slightly tilt their head up from how tall he is. Though, he never noticed that your height reached his shoulders.

"Orter?" You called out again.

Orter shook his head, trying to keep his mind from wandering elsewhere.

Somehow, this always happens. Its always whenever the two of your interact with each other. Orter gets distracted and gods knows why!

"Sorry, I was just thinking."

It somewhat became a routine from how it always happens when Orter and you interact.

Its always you who's initiating. A simple greeting in the hallway. A simple show of respect to Orter's achievements. A simple saying of "congratulations" whenever Orter finishes first in class quizzes.

And it always follows up with an act of concern to when Orter spaces out.

Because somehow, he always ends up thinking of you. How did you keep up? What did you do? What magic spells were you able to wield so easily, yet you're own personal magic was so weak? Why were you talking to him? Did you want to become a Divine Visionary? Should he expect you as a future enemy? Why do your eyes always look like they're shining under the bright warm sun? Why—

"If you excuse me, I need to go." Orter bowed before walking away. He hasten his pace at the mere sound of your voice that stopped midway to ask something of him.

Why is it that its always you he exerts his effort to think about?

Its irrational. Its... nonsense.

Yet somehow, he couldn't help but think how prettier you are up close.

And its ridiculous to think about.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

2 - 3 : BUREAU OF MAGIC

When Orter thought that you might be working alongside with him, he didn't mean with you as just an assistant.

"You really saved me time, thanks!"

"These notes are so well organized... I should learn from you."

"I'm starting to see why the Divine Visionaries respect you alot."

"Heh..? Not bad from an assistant."

"Be nice, Renatus."

"Shut up, you stuck up hag." Sophina Biblia glared at the foul word.

"You–!"

"Would you like some honey sashimi with me?"

"With all due respect, Kaldo." You blankly stared at the Flame Cane and his abomination of a... food choice. "You're tastes in food and honey combinations are the worst thing ever." Kaldo felt an arrow struck through him. The palm of your hand raised up in front of him indicated that you were rejecting his food taste (like everyone else) and flopped to the floor in pain.

The other two visionaries sighed.

"Orter, here is your schedule for today and tomorrow. One of the chiefs in the Police force would like to schedule a meeting with you. Nerey's still clarifying who's attending though." You handed a folder to Orter while ignoring the bickering behind the two of you.

Orter nodded. "I'll take note of that. Although," He took a quick glance at the cup of coffee on your other hand. "I thought you don't drink coffee anymore?"

"Oh, this is for you."

Orter blinked, before pushing up his glasses. "I don't recall ordering one."

"What? Don't tell me you suddenly dislike coffee?" You leaned in with a teasing grin. Any outsider would think that the Sand Cane looks unamused, but working with Orter for a long time means you've known every expression of his, no matter how stoic.

"I didn't say I dislike coffee." Orter sighed.

"Yeah? Then, here you go." You lightly shoved the cup of coffee towards Orter. It looks so casual, as if its something you've done for a long time.

And it is something you've done for a long time.

Orter accepts the coffee. Gingerly taking care of the cup in his hands. His fingers subtly touch against yours.

Its always the same, and yet Orter still feels that small budding affection in him. (Not that he would show it, of course.)

A coworker calls your name. You immediately follow him down the hallway while giving a quick smile to Orter. He nods briefly as he watches your back retreating further.

Actually, Orter already drank a cup of coffee a while ago. He usually doesn't order a second one. He dislikes the feeling him palpitating in the middle of work. It only happened twice, but he refuses to feel it again.

Still, every cup you give him unknowingly, he takes it.

He licks his lips as the warm liquid travels down his throat. Its sweet.

Its sweeter than he's used to. He prefers it with less sugar, and absolutely refuses to let Kaldo brew his cup of coffee.

He takes one more sip.

Orter doesn't mind as he walks back to his office with the cup of coffee and folder in hand.

The next day, you find a freshly brewed cup of tea on your desk.

You tilt your head questioningly. This is a first that's happened ever.

You look around to see if there were someone nearby. Most of them were walking past and chatting with one another.

It tasted good at least. (After confirming that it wasn't poisoned. You wouldn't know what to feel if there was someone who wants you dead.)

Weeks pass by, and there's been at least two times that it has happened. It happens at random times so you weren't sure what the pattern was.

But clearly, the Divine Visionaries know something. Every time you ask, however, they just smile or sigh while giving you a cryptic answer.

Orter just shrugs and walks away.

"Hey-! I wasn't done talking to you!"

"Well, I am." Is what he always replies.

Soon after, Ryoh slings his arms around Orter and gives him a grin. "So... you like her?"

Orter pauses in his steps, before blankly staring at the smug Light Cane. "Her?"

Kaldo emerged from the sides. "Oh? Never thought you were the type to play dumb." His smile grows at the bristled look Orter directed at him.

"I'm not playing dumb."

"Sure."

"Its just that, she's the one you only prepare tea just right before she arrives at work. You don't do that to anyone else." Orter stares at Ryoh, who just smiles knowingly. Nothing escapes the Light Cane afterall.

"My, my, who thought that I have a rival in finding ways to charm a girl? Me, the greatest creation–" Orter shrugs off the narcissist before he can start his self narration.

Kaldo walks beside Orter, "So, you truly like her?"

Orter sighed, pushing his glasses in habit. "I don't."

Kaldo hummed in thought, "I'm not convinced." The Flame Cane frowned. "You two seem to get along well. No plans of confessing?" He tries to push further for answers, which makes Orter irritated.

"If you're not convinced, that's not my problem." Gold eyes glared sharply. "Again, I don't like her. I'm just giving back favors. I don't know about you, but I don't think gossiping is how a visionary should spend their day."

With that, Orter walks away ignoring the stares from the two.

It's natural to repay favors. You don't need to know Orter was the one brewing the tea on your desk after every coffee you give him.

Kaldo and Ryoh stared before smiling at each other.

"He likes her." Ryoh grinned.

Kaldo nodded in agreement.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

3 - 3 : EASTON ACADEMY

The bell rang indicating that class is finally over. Which also means that you have successfully made it through the whole day while teaching.... enthusiastic students. (The amount of headaches you've received from teaching students the most basic spells. Offense spells, especially.)

You greeted one last goodbye to the class before heading out towards the faculty.

While your main job is a secretary position in the Bureau, you were also recruited to teach at Easton for once a week. Mostly classes that are supplementary for those with borderline failing grades.

"Ah, who is more suitable than the student who excels in different spells regardless of difficulty? Am I right?" Walhberg's voice resonated in your mind.

It's been a year since you've started teaching. Right after the whole Innocent Zero world abomination happened. Can't say that you're surprised that Finn is one of your students, but he's currently doing better than you expected.

"I have to thank you for being patient with me, Sensei!" You recall Finn beaming with joy as he finally got one of the hardest offense spells to master. Safe to stay you were delighted that you had an impact to students.

Right after this class, you usually head straight towards the Bureau to take over the night shift-

A tap in your shoulder made you halt in the middle of the hallway, "Done with class?"

You come face to face with... huh.

"I didn't know you had a meeting here in Easton?" You should know, because you were in charge of handling the Visionaries' schedules. So you should know that Orter has no business here in Easton.

He shrugs, "I don't."

"Well, yeah, you don't. I should know that— I'm your goddamn secretary— but I'm assuming its an emergency?" You tilt your head in confusion. Gold eyes meet yours, his stare seemingly calculating and... hesitant?

"No." Orter replies.

Silence assumes between the two of you. You raised a questioning brow at Orter who just stares blankly at you.

"Then..? Care to elaborate oh divine one?" You add a hint of sarcasm which Orter slightly bristled at. He sends a sharper glance at you while you smile innocently.

Its not as if the two of you haven't acted that way before. Working together somehow brought the two of you closer and your relationship is somewhat casual.

Other words, you can be as annoying as you want and Orter won't shove sand down your throat.

"I don't know, you're the secretary." He raised a challenging brow back. You scoff in lighthearted annoyance while Orter seemed unfazed. That is, if it weren't for the ghost of a smile you managed to capture.

If you can be annoying as you want without consequence, then Orter will do the same.

"Okay but really, why are you here?" You question seriously while inviting Orter to walk beside you towards the faculty. He follows while keeping his gaze ahead.

"Hmm... You're headed towards the Bureau after this?"

"Oh? How did you know?" You ask with slight surprise. Nobody ever bothered to know your schedule, except for the ones that are quite obvious.

Orter sighed and sent you a dry look. "We've worked together for a long time."

A laugh escapes your throat, "Yeah, well, I've only started teaching a year ago. Until now, some forget I have to teach weekly then head towards the Bureau. I swear, its laughable at the same time such a headache. They keep on scheduling things when they shouldn't be." You sighed roughly, wondering if you should start scolding your coworkers more.

"They're idiots." Another laugh escapes your throat at Orter's words. "I'm guessing they're the same ones that accidentally added in my schedule that I'm supposed to be here at Easton." You see the way Orter's usual calm expression turns slightly irritated. Not evident that anyone from outside could see, but enough for someone like you who've known Orter since studying at Easton.

"Oh I see, that's how it is." You stifle another laugh, not wanting to irritate Orter further, but can't help the urge to tease him.

"You say its a headache when they do this, yet you're laughing? How annoying." Orter let out a huff while you grin.

"Maybe its laughable when I see others suffer." You teasingly smirk.

Orter rolled his eyes, yet he can't help but feel a minute affection at the casual interaction between you.

"You haven't answered my question, Orter."

Ah right. He hasn't.

Orter paused in his steps. Causing you two pause beside him too before facing him with a questioning smile.

Again, its the same. As if they're back studying at Easton where Orter always sees that smile of yours. Its always the same, so how come he always felt the same emotions where his stomach and chest swirl at the sight of it. At the sight of you.

He cleared his throat, "I did. I told you they sent me on accident. Messing up my schedule."

"That's true, but you could've gone back immediately." You turn your gaze towards the group of students on the field where they were practicing spells or playing around.

"You caused quite a commotion you know? It was hard to settle down my last class because apparently, a Divine Visionary is on Easton grounds." You cross your arms while a playful pout forms on your lips. "They were more focused on the fact that the Sand Cane was here. That was an hour ago, so care to explain?" You sigh in exhaustion. However, your pout was replaced by a smile the moment you see Orter's subtle shift in his eyes while he looked dejected at being caught. Again, only you could see those minute expressions behind his stoic attitude.

Orter pursed his lips, he didn't expect that his presence would be that of a commotion. To think he was confident in concealing his presence right before your class.

Huh, nothing really escapes you.

"That's.." Orter glanced away while pushing his glasses up. "Its not like it wouldn't hurt to—"

"Sensei."

"—visit you.."

Orter went silent before sending a glance to the person who had the guts to interrupt to people talking-!

His mouth opens in slight surprise at the look of one of the students he was mentoring.

Additionally, Lance looked equally as surprise to see Orter right behind you. He blinked, wondering if he interrupted something. He was pretty sure he heard another voice overlapping with his once he called for you.

"Sensei, Orter-san." Lance bows politely then turns back to you.

He sees in the corner of his eye how Orter pushed his glasses up (a tiny bit harsher) and looked away. Lance didn't have time to think about it as you call for his name.

"Yes, Lance?" You smile at the younger Divine Visionary.

"Ah, Finn wanted me to tell you that he can't go to the faculty after class to bring you his assignment. His other teacher told him to stay after class." Lance handed you a sheet of paper.

"He asked me to deliver it to you instead."

"Oh, thank you Lance! Its nice to see you taking care of Finn. Please tell him he did a great job and not to worry." You smile brightly as you felt another wave of pride for Finn. Sure he was called as the "weakest" in your supplementary class, but he's improving. A lot. Especially under your guidance.

One glance at Finn's paper, and you already knew he's going to have another high score soon enough.

"Also, Professor Claude told me to look for you. Apparently there's an emergency meeting with the faculty."

At the mention of Claude, you couldn't help but grimace. Lance didn't seem fazed at your expression, yet he also can't help sending a pitying glance at you.

Orter just raised his brow.

"And he couldn't tell me himself...?" You mumbled questioningly.

"He said he was busy." Lance replied dryly.

"Sure, he always says that." You muttered once again, not bothering to hide your disdain at your fellow professor.

You perked at the sound of someone clearing his throat. You turn to Orter apologetically. "Sorry, Orter. I forgot you were there."

While Orter didn't seem fazed on the outside, Lance could see the slight twitch on his forehead.

"I think Lance may have accidentally cut you off." You smiled sheepishly.

Lance thought so too.

"What was it you were going to say?"

Orter remained quiet for a moment before sighing. "Its nothing. I was about to head back to the Bureau."

While you nodded understandingly, Orter took the chance to sharply glare at Lance in displeasure. Maybe he should teach this kid a thing or two on how to not interrupt two adults when they're having a conversation.

Lance stared back unfazed.

"Well then, I have to go! Can you do me a favor and tell anyone who asks for me that I have an emergency meeting at the faculty?"

The Sand Cane let out a sigh, displeasure thinly veiled in his expression. Orter, however, nodded while his stoic look returns. "Sure."

"Thank you!" You bowed and smiled gratefully before quickly walking away. "See you around as well, Lance!"

The blue haired nodded as he and Orter stood still while watching your retreating back.

Once its just the two of them, it seems tension has risen again between them. Despite the fact Orter is training Lance, and frequently sees him around from the fact Lance is the newest Visionary.

Still, Orter can't help but stare at Lance who, of course is one of the known people to be stubborn as hell, stares back as well.

Orter is starting to think he should say something to rid of this awkward silence.

"Are you—"

"Did I—"

Both visionaries closed their mouths.

A sense of Déjà vu passes through them.

Orter tries once more.

"Did—"

"Is—"

....If he wasn't annoyed, he'd be very astonished right now.

Lance quickly spoke before Orter could, "Did I interrupt something?"

Orter just sighed heavily, "Sort of." His shoulders dropping as he recalls that very scenario just a moment ago.

"Sorry, I actually didn't see you there." Lance said politely as he could. Rubbing the back of his neck in slight awkwardness.

"Its fine. It wasn't important."

"It looked like it was though." The younger visionary rolled his shoulders as he looks away in thought. Orter raises his brow at the comment while Lance looked as if he remembered something.

"Ah, so she's the one Kaldo-san and Ryoh-san were saying that you liked?" With the way Lance said it with such a straight face, Orter had to process the words that was casually spoken.

"...What?" Orter's face crumbled in irritation.

Lance continued to look to the side in thought, oblivious to the way Orter was seething. "So that's why your schedule changed all of a sudden. I thought there's someone who was going to attack Easton so I was on guard the whole time."

Lance glanced back to Orter. "But Kaldo-san and Ryoh-san told me not to worry about it. It was quite a headache since a lot of our classmates heard news of you in the school grounds. Although, I never thought you were the type to agree to change your schedule for someone you like—" Lance felt a magical aura out of nowhere and began to get his guard up. Ever since Innocent Zero, its like an instinct at this point.

However, he paused as he noticed Orter who looked the same as usual. Straight-faced and stoic, yet Lance could see how tense he was.

"...I see." Orter said lowly.

He began to stare ahead in thought, before bringing out his wand and turn around without glancing at Lance. "Thank you for providing information. However, I would like to clarify everything was false."

One look at Orter, and you'd think he was just as calm and composed. Lance's glance at the hand gripping his wand tightly made him think otherwise.

The other knew to not say anything further, lest he drowns with sand flowing down his throat and out his ass.

"Everything?" But of course, Lance had a stubborn streak. Maybe Mash and Dot were rubbing off him too much.

Orter replied without looking back, "Everything."

"Even the part where they said you like her?" Lance pushed. Call it curiosity, or maybe the fact that someone like Orter indeed has feelings for someone, which makes it so intriguing for Lance to find out more and risk getting buried in sand.

Orter let out a deep exhale, which got Lance tense for a moment, before the Sand Cane started walking again.

"...Yes."

The Adler student watched as his mentor rounded around a corner. He was soon left alone in the hallways.

Lance couldn't help but feel like he caused a murder that's going to happen in the Bureau of Magic.

What's more intriguing, however, was that Lance immediately knew the real answer from the quick moment of silence before Orter replied.

Lance harumphed and went back to his dorms. "...The fact he had to lie even though it was already obvious."

That day, Ryoh and Kaldo struggled to give a lot of excuses to avoid Orter before they were caught.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

FINAL : LIBRARY IN THE BUREAU OF MAGIC

Orter was getting sick of this.

Its been weeks since that awful interaction with Lance and you, yet Orter keeps finding himself victim of Ryoh and Kaldo's infuriating schemes.

What's worse, is that the other visionaries go on about their day. As if there's nothing going on.

Here, Orter is glaring at Ryoh who keeps on convincing him that Orter should get over it and just confess.

Orter would be drowning Ryoh in tons of sands if it weren't for Kaldo backing him up. "I'm getting sick of this." Orter snapped.

"Well, sucks to be you. We're getting sick of it too!" Ryoh grinned while Kaldo laughs as if Orter wasn't getting bombarded with ideas on how to flirt with someone you've like for a long time!

"It was amusing at first, seeing how you'd suddenly act so soft and caring towards her. Yet it began to look painful at how both of you were acting so oblivious." Kaldo sighed as if it was his personal problem, and the fact that Orter can't even hurt them in retaliation, because damn them and they're actually useful for protecting the citizens.

"I don't-!"

"Quit the act! You like her, she likes you back. Now confess!" Ryoh cuts him off while pushing Orter forward to god knows where.

He's actually going to kill these bastards, visionaries or not.

Of course Orter is true to his words, so he brings out his wand and glares at the two. Ryoh just smiled (even though there's a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead at the sight of Orter's wand so close to him) and Kaldo doesn't seem fazed and watches from the side.

"Oi Kaldo! A little help?"

The Flame Cane hummed playfully, "Why, you're the strongest aren't you?"

"But we're in this together!"

"If you two don't stop this, I swear.." Orter gritted his teeth. He has a meeting for goodness sake. He's busy. He's also getting tired of this bullshit of a—

"Oh? What are you three...?" You had to double take the sight in front of you. Ryoh, who's grin faltered at your voice, still has his arms wrapped around Orter's shoulder while leaning his whole body to push Orter forward. Kaldo, who's playful smile drop and is replaced with a look of surprise as he stands from the sides.

Orter on the other hand, blinks and remains still while his expression remains his usual.

That is, if it weren't for the fact that his wand was gripped tightly in his hand and pointed at Ryoh with tiny bits of sand circling around it.

You raise your brow questioningly. "I think sparring between Visionaries is better suited outside and not in the library, no?"

The three blink once before glancing up at the sign above, which shows that indeed, they're in the library.

Just like what Kaldo and Ryoh planned.

Before Orter could protest, he was roughly shoved inside the library. He managed to stop himself from colliding with you.

Curse Ryoh Grantz and his narcissistic attitude because in the end he's still a strong visionary, and Orter prays that all mirrors nearby shall break once he merely appear in front of it.

Kaldo isn't forgotten in Orter's prayers, as he wishes all stocks of honey shall obliterate.

"Well!" Ryoh claps his hands gleefully, unfazed at the menacing glare Orter is sending his way. "Orter's schedule is cleared for the day-"

"It's not-"

"It is?"

"-And he has something he wants to tell you!"

"I don't."

"You do?" You tilt your head at Orter, who inhales deeply. He can feel his patience thinning.

"I don't-"

"He does." Kaldo interjects, and Orter was one step away into murdering the two before the library doors shut.

"Also! Miss secretary, your schedule is also cleared for the day! So spend more time together in the library. I heard you like to read from Kaldo." You can hear the joy in Ryoh's voice despite it being muffled. Which makes you even more confused as you alternatively stare at Orter and back at the doors.

"There are new selections in the library! Especially that one series about the legends of magical creatures." It was Kaldo's voice this time.

"Really?" Orter looked at you in slight disbelief. From how efficient and quick you are to adapt, you sure are easily distracted at what's really happening.

So of course, Orter will use it as an opportunity to—

"Ah, but first listen to what Orter will say." You don't have to see Kaldo to know that he's smiling.

...Orter hopes Kaldo will enjoy having sand in his honey as soon as he dealt with what he's gotten himself too (unwillingly).

It was silent for a moment. This time its a truly awkward one as you and Orter stood still side by side while staring at the entrance of the library.

You blink before giving Orter an embarrassed smile, "So.. I'm guessing you were dragged here against your will?"

Orter sighed tiredly, "Yes."

"I see, but I am curious as to why they had to force you to come here. Apparently, you want to say something?" You questioned, curiosity and slight worry evident in your voice.

Did something happen? Were they hiding something? Or was it just something silly that the visionaries (Ryoh and Kaldo you're guessing) planned and somehow, Orter was on the receiving end.

You watched with slight worry as Orter continued to send daggers towards the entrance of the library. Taking a small step beside him as you examine his expression. Not knowing if he was deliberately choosing to ignore you or not.

"Orter?"

Orter's head jerk up slightly at your voice. Indeed he wasn't choosing to ignore you, but was lost in thought on how to punish his fellow visionaries (mainly the two who shall not be named).

He turned his head towards you, sensing the worry in your tone. An apology for the current situation at hand and reassurance are at the tip of his tongue, ready to reply and.. oh.

For someone with great intuition and reflexes, Orter who prides himself in having great situational awareness— its something he thinks visionaries should have— he wasn't aware you two were this close to each other.

Orter finds himself stunned. A thought he's oh so familiar with immediately floats in his brain every time he coincidentally gets a chance to be close with you.

Again, and again, and again, and again.

Its always the same.

His mind always thinks that you're prettier up close. Not that you weren't pretty if you were far away.

Orter watches your eyes slightly widen at the close proximity you two are in, despite the library being so big. Its as if a spell was cast between you two. Designated to stare at the windows of each other's soul, not wanting to look away.

You think Orter's eyes are pretty. Like sand sparkling with hints of powdered gold that's blending well.

Orter thinks your eyes are glowing. Not physically, but with emotions he himself cannot express. He always finds himself melting at your eyes.

Maybe that's what's getting him soft when he interacts with you. Maybe Ryoh is just mistaken and that anyone you interact with also unwillingly goes soft at the sight you.

Orter blinks once, as he regains his composure. He sighs before looking to the side at the moment before looking back at you.

"Uhm, well, you really don't have to say anything if... you're not ready." You let out a chuckle. "Even though I don't know anything about what you uhh, want to talk about.." A light flush blooming at the tip of your ears and across your cheeks. A rare sight even for the Orter Madl himself.

Orter looks at you closely one last time, as he felt that exact swirling emotion in his chest as he takes in your abashed expression.

He scoffs to himself, earning a confused look from you. Before sighing tiredly. He resigned to his fate that Ryoh and Kaldo put him in.

And maybe, Orter has finally come to terms that he's indeed a liar.

"...Do you have anything else that you need to accomplish in the library?" Orter walks ahead of you swiftly taking the books in your hands as he looked at them interestingly.

Your mouth gapes in both confusion and surprise. Orter turned back to you and raised a brow while holding the books. "Well? I'd rather do something productive even if two... nosy idiots decided to clear my schedule."

Orter had the satisfaction to hear your laugh. "Careful, I might get too used to hearing your composure break. Who knew the all powerful Sand Cane had a foul mouth."

The visionary tilts his head, "Hm? I wasn't the one who turned to a blushing mess at a mere eye contact." He quickly turned away but you managed to catch a small smirk on his lips.

The unexpected teasing made you scoff, this time another light blush spread your cheeks in embarrassment. "I—! That was...!"

Orter feigned ignorance as he levitated a few books to organize them to their correct spot. Still, a light smug expression grew as he watched you from his peripheral vision try to defend yourself.

He took a quick step to the side to avoid the incoming jab to his arm. You glared at him unamused before waving your wand and levitating more books, grinning in triumph as one of them managed to hit him in the head lightly.

Orter stumbled slightly as he grunted at the thud of a book against the back of his head. He glared unamusingly, "That's no way to treat a Visionary."

You shrug, "Yeah well, maybe you should be quicker on your feet."

"I am though."

"Didn't seem like it."

Its been a while since you've engaged in friendly banter with Orter. It reminded you when you two would take quick jabs at each other back in Easton.

Orter stared at you, thinking deeply whether or not if he should go along with what his mind thought of.

"Well? Did that book hit you too hard or what?"

You started to shift in place at Orter's gaze. Not knowing if you should be worried or not if you actually hurt him.

Always one to act without thinking, you lift your hand up towards his head. Hesitating slightly at the way Orter's expression slightly shifted in surprise, before resolving yourself lightly touch his brown locks while feeling around the back of his head where the book hit him.

"Did.. did that actually hurt?"

Orter who finally processed everything, let out an amused hum. He grasps your wrist gently before lowering it back to your side. His eyes, once again, examining your worried gaze.

He really can't believe it.

You thought you managed to hurt him?

Orter let out a light huff.

How cute.

"For someone who's duty is to organize schedules and meet with different kinds of people," Orter finds himself facing his body to you. He grabbed a book on a nearby shelf and raised it in the air, gently hitting your head with the spine of the book. "You still have that quick temper and sharp tongue of yours from way back." He says, and he can't help but let out a more softer tone as he meets your eyes.

Orter sighs (for what it seemed the hundredth time) and places the book back in its proper place. Satisfied at the offended reaction he managed to get from you.

"You-! I was worried and-!"

He watched as you go on and on rambling about how you were genuinely worried. About how he was an annoyance from back then until now.

He sighed, how troublesome.

Orter pushed his glasses up as he faced you. "Really, how irritating." He sighs, "Out of everyone, I had to fall for you."

You paused. Your pointer finger that was in the air that was near jabbing his chest faltered.

Once again, Orter had the satisfaction to see you caught off guard.

"What?" Your heartbeat felt like it was pounding out of your ribcage. If you could hear it, what are the chances Orter couldn't.

Both of you stared at each other, heartbeats beating as one. While silence filled the room, the minds of the two were filled with different thoughts and the sounds of their heartbeats.

Finally, Orter spoke.

"I said," he leaned in closer, bending slightly forwards so his face meets yours directly upfront.

You could see the hint of amusement and affection in his eyes.

"Do you have anything else that you need to accomplish in the library?" Orter questioned.

He smiled in satisfaction at the frozen state you are in before heading off to walk with books in hand.

If Orter had to endure weeks of stress because he was forced to confess, well, you can't blame him for wanting you to experience the same.

He did confess after all. So sue him if Orter wanted a bit of fun messing with you.

He dodges another book thrown at him, a ghost of a smile hidden from the back of his head. Yet, if only you weren't so distracted that you could see the red tints on his ears.

Don't worry though, Orter will do this seriously. He doesn't intend to mess with you for that long.

Not until Ryoh and Kaldo get what they deserve.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

well... I didn't expect this to be THIS long.. why is this so long oml im so sorry aksdlajfklashglshdf hope you enjoyed though :"D this is not proofread

[dimepdf]

★  𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐓, 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘. + 𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. your strong gymrat boyfriend likes it when the roles get reversed in private .

─── ☆ notes. god bless @lemmetreatya who never fails to write something that has me kicking my feet in the air yet somehow inspired to write my favorite anime mfs with out of pocket job headcanons, please for the love of all thats holy read the iconic juggler!hawks fic. | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

─── ☆ genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni | gymrat!eren | headcanon | marking | biting | hickies | muscles | pain kink | strength kink | body worship | oral sex (m) | heavy petting | tough submissive men | slight sub/dom | whimpering | whining | overstimulation | clothed sex | handjobs | title inspo by this song .

In the sense of popularity, gymrat!eren your boyfriend, getting compliments was pretty common; everyone knew that Eren was pretty athletic.

Running his own company gym as well as having his own brand centered all around fitness. He had just been so dedicated to his craft that he even had the godly height, lean build, and abs to prove that he had a sleeper build under all his baggy sweatshirts.

Yet you were the complete opposite of gymrat!eren—much to all of his follower’s surprise, you were nothing like what they thought you looked like when he first posted about you to his TikTok page with over two million followers that all drooled over his looks.

In fact, you were much shorter than him, with more pudge and curves that adored your figure. Just the thought of working out had you stressed out, paired with the fact that you wouldn't be caught dead sweating in public, let alone lifting the amount of weight gymrat!eren did without ease.

But you were a lot stronger than him in other ways.

Falling head over heels for your bold personality and forward way of speaking, gymrat!eren found himself intoxicated by your natural confidence, and just the overall way you carried yourself made it just so hard not to be smitten with you.

In fact gymrat!eren was pretty shameless with how he showed his complete and utter affection towards you.

He loves that you don't have to hold back as much because you both know that you have him wrapped around your finger. He lays back against the mattress at your command, watching you between his muscular thighs, trying to hold back his hips from jerking against your touch. 

Holding him pinned flat against the mattress by his legs, the same legs that were littered with small, darkening bruises against gymrat!eren’s olive flesh.

You heard the wince in his breath. You knew that for anyone else the painful bruises would have been a bit convincing, but the sight of gymrat!eren’s cock jumping through his gym shorts only enticed you to want to suck more hickeys against his skin.

Pathetic isn't even the word to explain his disheveled gymrat!eren felt spread out under you, his hair falling in front of his face as he pushed his head back against the pillows.

Squeezing his eyes shut so hard he was seeing stars, his throat was sore from whining out, his cheeks were flushed a cute tint of pink, and his fist clenching into his shirt pulled up enough to see the flesh of his abs muscles every time your teeth would graze against him.

gymrat!eren, who is close to tears as his legs are spread open, with one hand held near his mouth biting his knuckle as the other grips his shirt until his knuckles are white, Your head bobs up and down his dick, as his chest rises and falls under your palm.

The hand you have pressing against this torso kept him from arching away from your mouth. Knowing your boyfriend well enough to learn that he loved to squirm around when it came to overstimulation.

gymrat!eren, who lets out a whimper as his legs shake before he begs you to let him cough, pleading that he can't hold it any longer, yet does just that when you refuse.

Edging him even longer, wrapping your hand around the length that you couldn't fit into your mouth, not even bothering to let him catch his breath instead pumping your hand faster in pace.

You hold him hostage like that for a while, pulling your hand back when he gets too close, teasing his hilt with hot kisses up and down his hilt. All while gymrat!eren sobs and fidgets under you, until you finally grant him permission to let it all go.

With a drawn out whine, you watch his thighs flinch, covering his face as he trembles from the ecstasy, his chest rising and falling from his stuttering breathing.

gymrat!eren's climax leaves him feeling completely uncontrolled of his own body, as if his limbs had given out like he had done a full body workout, he pants as thick strings of cum cover your hand and get all over his gym shorts and lower torso. 

🔖 @kawatabae / @haitaniwhor3 / @pluzo / @hey-gurls69 / @momoewn / @sheluvzeren / @kogoshidied / @zombieghoulfriend / @hoohoohope / @pidwidge / @jadeisthirsting / @zuuki / @watyousayin / @rumi-rants / @justanotherkpopstanlol / @awkwardaardvarkforever / @chloee0x0 / @lexiinanime / @melty-kisses / @kageyama-i-want-tobiors / @namidaass / @princesstiti14 / @unholybabyface / @wenumsmol / @kiyomeichann / @ziggy-09 / @anotherlovelyruin / @s-witch-bitch / @laylasbunbunny / @celi-xxmoon / @toji-dabi-wife / @dilfs-lover / @dunixxd / @songbirdgardensworld / @emery-333 / @mimixrx2

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[iamcautiouslyoptimistic]

Call of Duty but make it 🐺werewolves🐺

{Author's Note} Inspired by @deadbranch's werewolf AU so definitely go check it out. I’ve leaned more into the supernatural aspect than her series has and thought it'd be fun to post it for October hehe. If y'all want some good werewolf/soldier content, check out the "Shape-Shifters" episode from Netflix's Love, Death, and Robots. It fits this AU perfectly and gives a good visual for how things would work. >Call of Duty Werewolves AU -> Part 2 *I’d love hearing any ideas y’all have and would be happy to answer with more headcanons if you guys want. Werewolves and werewolf AUs are my JAM*

~ ~ ~

First, some lore for this AU...

>Werewolves are usually forced into organizations like the military to keep them under control. They are feared by most of humanity and treated more as assets rather than citizens with laws put into place to make sure they don't hurt the people around them. Medication is often taken to suppress their lycanthropy and violent force is used if they ever get out of hand. There are plenty of groups who specialize in the hunting and killing of werewolves.

>Natural werewolves are born with their abilities and have an easier time with their transformations as a result. 

>Bitten werewolves gain their abilities after being bitten by another werewolf. They tend to be more vicious when transformed and often have a harder time managing themselves. 

>Transformations are not dictated by the cycles of the Moon but instead by a werewolf’s will and emotions. However, many werewolves revere the Moon and often hold celebrations as it passes through its phases each month.

>Werewolves only gain about a foot in height when they transform, due to the shape of their feet changing and their spine lengthening to allow for quadrupedal movement (ex. 6'4" -> 7'4"). Their muscle mass/weight remain about the same as it is the face and head that undergo the most dramatic changes.

>Hair length and style remain relatively the same when transformed. Bitten werewolves tend to have less hair than natural werewolves. 

>Eyes are reflective in both forms; natural werewolves keep their human eye colors when transformed, while bitten werewolves tend to have more unusual eye colors (brown to amber, blue to silver, etc.). 

>Moon madness/blindness is when a werewolf is overwhelmed by the light of a full moon and transforms without meaning to, regressing to a state of mind that is driven more by instinct rather than higher reason (werewolf equivalent to human psychosis). This is more common among bitten werewolves and can lead to violent outbursts if not properly addressed.

>Among werewolves, moonstones are said to restore a werewolf’s humanity when they’ve lost control. Because of their relative rarity, however, this belief exists only in the realm of legend rather than truth. 

🌙 🐺 🌙

💲Price is well-known for his experience and the ease with which he can transform. He commands those around him with confidence, acting as a supporting presence and capable leader. He should never be underestimated, however, as his temper frightens even the toughest werewolves.

💀Ghost was nearly killed by the werewolf who turned him and so views his lycanthropy as more of a curse. He bears numerous scars from the attack and tends to be quite vicious when transformed. He is the largest of the 141 with oversized fangs, tufted ears, and blazing amber eyes. 

🧼Soap comes from a family of Scottish werewolves who eagerly embrace their lycanthropy. He has great control over his transformations and suffers little pain as a result. His trademark Mohawk and bright blue eyes remain when shifted, making him easily identifiable.

🧢Gaz still struggles with his transformations after being bitten but he doesn't find them particularly overwhelming. Price and Soap have both been a huge help in that regard, offering their advice and companionship when needed. He's become far more confident in his abilities and enjoys the company of his fellow lycanthropic soldiers.

🦿Alex was attacked by a moon-blinded werewolf and unfortunately lost his lower left leg as a result. He's managed to find enjoyment in his new life, however, thanks in part to his association with the 141, and uses his enhanced abilities to his advantage. Laswell had a unique prosthetic made for him that adapts to his transforming body.

🪦Graves is a born-and-bred werewolf. He’s proud of his abilities and encourages use of them among his Shadows. He makes for a loyal and headstrong soldier who is known for his disarming charm and willingness to get his hands dirty. Shadow Company functions more as a tight-knit family rather than a horde of military operatives, due primarily to Graves’ leadership and his embracing of their lycanthropy.

[mono-dot-jpeg]

the witch's diner [w.i.p] - a. azul

summary; in which a new witch comes to nrc, ready to take over the restaurant business

genre; rivals to lovers (probably), witch is used as a gender neutral word, reader is a piranha mer-person (i think at least), magicless! reader, reader is not yuu (i hope that much is obvious), written at least a year ago, and now impulse posted bc i want to, possible series if im feeling silly, READER'S PERSONALITY IS [slightly] INSPIRED BY KDRAMA WITCH'S DINER

[gender neutral reader] [TEST RUN PREVIEW]

a/n; this has been sitting in my google docs for a while and never posted bc i just do that and also i never post even half of my drafts so that's just a given really. if i find it in myself to continue this maybe i will. but i wanted to post this as like a test run or a wip.

you dont need to watch witch's diner to understand reader's story but i like the show so if you have time, watch it. i love song ji hyo sm. anyways i dont know what kind of fish i made reader, this was written in like sept of last year KSHSKDJEK it was probably between a shark or a piranha but im like 60% sure it's a piranha.

imagine azul's surprise when he found out about the latest witch of the sea.

how they made the most delicious of dishes and granted a wish with them. were they free of charge? no, that would put far too much weight on the balance of the world, they would explain.

then what about it being a signature spell?

they would simply laugh in their face, claiming that, "not anyone can simply be born with magic so powerful. why, i'm magicless."

no one really believed those claims… right?

it was such a big title to steal, and yet.. some random magicless person just happened to have such a power? azul didn't believe it when he heard about it at first, but then they arrived.

clearly they were of mer-person descent, their skin shiny, their teeth almost as sharp as a piranha, the side locks of their hair were a metallic-like blue gray and their height almost as tall as the twins that stand beside him. he can't quite figure out what kind of mer-person they were, but it was obvious enough that they were from his homeland. and then he heard the whispers from the other first years.

"wait! that's the person all the rumors were talking about!"

"what? the sea witch rumor!?"

"no way! they wouldn't be here, they're magicless, aren't they?"

"is it really them?"

"shh! we don't know yet!"

with a calm smile, they stand in front of the mirror.

"state thy name."

"y/n l/n."

"y/n, the nature of thy soul is sharp and intelligent and yet.. they possess no magic." quiet gasps and whispers erupt again but their smile stays calm, there's a smug glint in their eyes that only a few can see. "the shape of thy soul is octavinelle." the section of the octavinelle students freezes cold as they take their spot in their respective section.

they ignore the curious stares with ease. azul can't help but wonder what kind of talent they truly possess. he almost feels envious if he were to find out that they were just handed this with ease. and he was jealous of their lack of care for the gossip and whispers of their name after that announcement of their magicless self.

but a pair of twins watch them with sharp and amused eyes, one more mischievous than the other.

"hm, what an interesting fishy! don't you think so, jade?" one speaks.

the other hums in agreement, "yes, floyd. i wonder if those rumors were of any truth. how amusing that would be."

[cherrieflavouredheadcanons]

Hi! 😊 Your rules post was very useful before I send my ask through, thank you for that. If you ever feel inspired for it, may I ask for your thoughts on Wriothesley? It's alright if nothing comes to mind, thank you for taking the time! <333 Have a good day/night!

I am glad you found my rules post helpful! This was written way before his release in 4.1 so things may be OOC now.

Since you didn’t specify what kind of thoughts you wanted I made this into cuddling headcanons, hope that's alright! (I wanted to make these nsfw and not fluff cause y’know…that one handcuff idle but I didn’t know if you wanted that so I went with fluff)

CW: None GN Reader

Wriothesley cuddling headcanons

Due to his occupation his work days are really stressful, and often he is only able to come home very late at night. He told you multiple times that you don’t need to wait up for him and that you should sleep early, but you refuse. You always greet him at the door when he comes home, even if it is 12 at night. 

While he does feel guilty that you stay up late just so you can greet him, he has to admit it makes him feel extra loved. Coming home to be greeted by you as soon as he opens the door helps him melt all the stress of the day off. Though be prepared to be carried to bed by him, he refuses to let you walk up the stairs late at night, especially if you seem really tired. (As a chubby person I will die on the hill that this man can carry anyone regardless of weight) 

Once he lies down in bed with you, he will pull you on top of him, letting you rest your head on his tiddies, i mean his chest. You swear his heartbeat always picks up a bit when you do it, but he always tells you you must be imagining things. 

Wriothesley keeps his arms around you when you two sleep, you may change sleeping positions but he will keep a hold on you in some way. You genuinely don’t know how he does it, especially during nights where you have restless sleep and move a lot. You once asked him about it, and he couldn’t give you an answer simply because he didn’t even realise that he does it.

While he has to wake up early on days he has to work, on his off days he sleeps in for as long as he wants and needs, which will most likely be longer than you sleep. If you try to leave his arms to go to the bathroom or make breakfast he will tighten his grip and grumble something in a half asleep state that you can’t understand. Guess you are trapped until he is ready to let go or you are somehow able to convince him to loosen his arms around you.

When you do your chores around the house, expect Wriothesley to suddenly come up behind you and wrap his arms around you. He rests his head on your shoulder or your head depending on your height in comparison to his. The closeness and intimacy of it is his favourite part of it.

If he sits on the couch while you are walking around the house and walk by him, he will grab your wrist and pull you into his lap. He craves as much physical touch as possible on his off days so whenever he can he will cuddle you. He loves it when you relax on his lap and cuddle into him, it makes him feel loved and cared for.

Play with his hair while you sit on his lap and he will be in heaven. You can feel him lean his head into your touch. Due to how much he loves having his hair played with he makes sure that it is always as soft and clean as possible, just so you will continue playing with it.

[softcitrus2345]

Full Tank

This is a little written piece I made after a series of doodles from a while back that I ended up liking. A lot XD I sprinkled in the doodles that inspired this written piece into the post as well for double the fun >;3c I'm NOT an experienced writer by any means and this was mostly for fun so I could explore my own characters, but ye, I figured I might as well share it here with yall TTwTT This piece includes themes of funnel feeding, stuffing, male weight gain, some squish stuff and a light dash of spice near the end And of course, a big ass scoop of FLUFF >:Dc

This little blurb features Vanessa (she/her) and Damien (he/him), my two (favorite) lovebugs TTwTT

Hope yall like it! :3

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

Vanessa stirred in bed, her arms reaching out for the plush warmth that she expected to be there, only to be met with empty bedsheets

Her eyes fluttered open and sure enough, there was a sizeable indent in the bed where her partner should have been..

The clock on the bedside table marked 1:26 am <<Where could he have gone off to at this time of night??>> She thought, but the little voice in the back of her mind already knew the answer…

She felt around the nightstand before locating her glasses, which she hastily put on as she walked out of the bedroom

Tiptoeing down the long and elaborate flight of stairs, the vampire made her way toward the kitchen. Though she was still getting used to living in a mansion, she knew all too well where this room was..

As she approached the dining room, she could hear noises coming from somewhere in the kitchen. <<Found you>> She grinned, her movements slow and calculated so as not to alert the lycanthrope. The faint glow of the open fridge illuminated a small portion of the otherwise dark kitchen, painting a perfect picture of what events had occurred while she wasn't there

Several empty containers of food were strewn about the kitchen counter, picked clean and discarded while the perpetrator focused on his next course, his tall, plump frame hunched over, while his head and hands were stuck in the fridge, busy devouring whatever he could get his hands on

The back of his shirt had just begun to ride up, exposing a small sliver of pale flesh

Vanessa could hardly contain her excitement as the gap between her and her gluttonous partner grew shorter and shorter

"Hey handsome~" she purred, hugging Damien from the back, squeezing the bottom of his belly, nearly melting as she felt the warm softness between her fingers

Damien's whole body jumped, his head shooting up and slamming into the top of the fridge interior before turning around, groaning softly as he rubbed his head with his clean hand

"V-Vanessa-!!" He squeaked, his crumb-covered face red as a beet, pale skin further emphasizing the embarrassment blooming on his cheeks

"I was j-jus- uhmm.." he backed away from the fridge a bit, straightening up to his full height and wiping the evidence off his flushed face

"Hey, it's okay, you were just hungry... You know I'd never discourage you from getting something to eat~" She chuckled, watching her boyfriend's sheepish expression as he towered over her like an oversized kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar

She snuck several glances at his midsection, her own face growing warmer

An idea blossomed in her mind, making the corners of her mouth curl into a cheeky grin

"Here, I'll help you," she said, grabbing Damien by the hand before he could protest and bringing him into the dining room, where she sat him in one of the wooden chairs that she pulled from the table

The chair made a distinctive creak as he sat down, causing the pair to blush once more

"What're you-" "Shhhh, you'll love it, I promise" she interrupted his questioning, pressing a finger to his lips

"I'll be back in a bit, all you have to do is sit there and look pretty, 'kay?" She smiled, planting a small peck on his round cheek before hopping off to the kitchen again

In the kitchen, Vanessa opened the fridge to find Damien's most recent "snack", a large chocolate cake she had been saving for the next day. No matter, it surely won't go to waste..

She picked up the cake and set it on the counter, smiling as she saw the small portion that he had ripped out of the cake with his greedy hands

Then opening the freezer, she grabbed several quarts of vanilla ice cream and set them near the cake

As Damien sat in his chair, awaiting whatever surprise Vanessa was preparing for him, he heard the whirring of the blender, which seemed to go on for quite a while, before stopping and continuing the same routine a couple more times

Damien felt his stomach growl again, demanding more, despite having consumed quite a bit already

"Hhhokay.. calm down, you can wait a few more minutes.." he said to himself, noticing his heartbeat increasing in frequency as the minutes ticked by

"Alriiiight, it's ready!" She called in a sing-songy voice from the kitchen "Close your eyes for me, and no peeking, or you won't get any-"

Of course, he knew she didn't really mean that, but Damien played along, keeping his eyes closed as he opened his mouth, awaiting whatever she had conjured up for him

He was caught off guard by the cylindrical form that entered his maw, which Vanessa had pushed further back into his mouth before he realized what it was, making a small noise between a whimper and a gasp before staying seated, the chair creaking a bit more as he squirmed, flustered out of his mind

Almost immediately after the tube was positioned in his mouth, his taste buds were bombarded with a cold, rich, chocolatey liquid

Several more flustered huffs came from him as he began to hastily drink down the substance in thick gulps

"I wanted to try something new tonight, I've been saving this little tool for a.. special occasion~" Vanessa purred, her eyes focused on her partner while she kept her hands steady, pouring the cake shake into the funnel with relative ease, despite the sizeable pitcher she carried being nearly full of dense liquid

Damien couldn't respond, he could only focus on drinking every last drop of the shake, so he wouldn't make a mess of course~

As he continued to drink, he felt his shirt become tighter and begin to ride up, his growing belly pushing against the fabric while gradually occupying more space in his lap

"Hmmnh, ghmmmg…. ghlpg- ghhhhhn?" Damien whined as the flow of the shake trickled to a stop

"Oh don't you worry lovely, there's still plenty more where that came from.." Vanessa responded, picking up a second pitcher and tipping it into the funnel once more

"Hmmmmmmmmhhhhh.." Damien hummed in satisfaction as his cheeks flushed pink once more as he continued his routine of gulping down more, and more, and more

His hands slowly traveled their way up his lap and on top of his belly, lightly pressing on its cushioned surface, as he expanded more by the second

Vanessa knew him too well, she was much better at initiating these sorts of activities, where he could indulge in his own, less conventional desires, and he adored her for it

At the end of the second pitcher, he could already feel his stomach churning, trying its best to keep up with the sudden surge of calories, growling and groaning loudly while Damien panted, the tube still in his mouth

That should have been enough, but something in him wanted more

Luckily he wasn't quite finished with his task, as Vanessa picked up the final pitcher she had prepared

Damien's eyes fluttered open, panting and staring above him at his partner, his eyes almost desperate as she grinned at her greedy boyfriend They both exchanged a look, blushing as Vanessa lifted up the last of the sweet liquid

"Almost done, this is all that's left, so you might wanna savor-" she cut herself off, pouring in the last pitcher without warning, flooding his mouth once again with the sweet sludge

Damien spluttered for a second, some of the shake dribbling down his mouth and onto his shirt, before getting a hang of it, taking fast, heavy gulps to keep up with the pace while Vanessa poured, giggling as she watched her partner's efforts to keep up

He closed his eyes once more as he felt himself become fuller and fuller, rubbing his hands in soothing circles over his now-exposed belly, feeling it grow bigger with each passing moment

Vanessa held her breath as she watched the last of the precious fattening shake flow down the funnel and into her blimping boyfriend

When it was all finished, she pulled the tube out, Damien in a daze as it left his mouth, before letting out a loud belch and a small groan, still rubbing his belly in a food-drunk state

There was so much of it in him that she could hear the faint sloshing of the shake in his gut as it bubbled and churned the thousands of calories worth of shake into more wonderful softness

The vampire cooed, completely enamored and glad to finally be able to massage his engorged belly, planting several kisses on it before working her way up to his face

"You did so well hon, you finished every single drop, I bet this feels nice hm?" She smiled ear to ear, watching her partner blush, a completely flustered mess

Vanessa leaned on his belly and brought herself close to his face, the shift in weight causing another belch to come out before Damien quickly closed his mouth, face reddening

Vanessa chuffed at his reaction, leaning in further as she kissed and licked the excess shake off of his soft face and neck

She reveled in his response, his small flustered noises making her heart flutter

"Th- * hff * thank you.." he panted, leaning in for a longer kiss, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her further into his belly. Vanessa squeaked, melting into his embrace, hearing his gut's protests to this new disturbance

Once their lips parted, Vanessa locked eyes with Damien before grabbing him by both pudgy hands and attempting to pull him into a standing position

He obeyed, though it took a second to adjust to the sloshing weight inside him, feeling like an oversized water balloon

He continued holding Vanessa's hand as she began to gently guide him out of the kitchen, leaving the cleanup for tomorrow

"V-VanesshuoOorp– Where * huff * are we g-* hic! * going..?"

"To bed, silly~! Can't really snuggle ya if you're sitting on a hard chair, now, can I~?"

"I brrrUp- guess no-ot.."

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

Though it took them a while to get all the way up the steps, Vanessa remained patient, giving loving words of encouragement as Damien clung to her, using his other hand to keep his belly from sloshing around too much while he walked

It was such an amazing relief when he planted himself back on the cushioned bed, his whole body sinking further into the edge where he sat, huffing and puffing

His belly was so heavy that he had to lean on his hands behind him on the bed to maintain his balance, the large mound moving up and down with each breath

The fabric of his shirt strained to contain the little bit of his belly that still remained covered, along with his plush moobs

Vanessa blushed, reaching behind her partner "This looks so tight, let me help you with that" She gingerly pulled the fabric of the shirt up, finally releasing his behemoth belly and allowing him to breathe a bit easier

Damien let out a chuffed sigh of relief as the burden was removed from him, his belly pushing out further in his lap as he relaxed

"I * hff * really needed * huff * that, thanks 'Nessa.." he sighed

"My pleasure, cutie" she hummed, giving him a peck on the forehead and ruffling his soft, white hair affectionately

There was a moment of silence as both retained eye contact before the albino spoke

"Yknow… I'm still feeling pretty hungry…" he said, a flirtatious tone in his voice as he patted his overstuffed gut with one hand, keeping the other on the mattress for balance

"O-oh??" Vanessa sputtered, her eyes widening

"* bHUurp- * Yeah… and I've got the * huff * perfect l-little morsel right * puff * hhere in front of me~" he slurred, grabbing Vanessa by the arms surprisingly fast for how full and dazed he seemed a moment ago, swinging them around and pinning her to the bed underneath his heavy gut

The vampire barely had a moment to react as she froze, her heart going at a mile a minute, processing what he had just said, and the position she was now in…

Though he held himself up firmly above her, his large belly hung low enough to still weigh her down a considerable amount

She just stared into his eyes as he smiled down at her, a very rare smug look on his rounded face

"Gotta return the * hfff- * f-favor~"

Vanessa gasped as she completely melted at his touch while his warm lips began planting sloppy kisses all over her cheeks and neck

Vanessa shuddered in delight, feeling his warm breath on her skin

Suddenly she began feeling small gentle pinches on her neck and shoulders, before realizing he had been incorporating a few little love bites in between kisses…

God, he knew just how to make her melt

She just lay there, her hands sinking into the plush flesh of his chest, feeling as if she was being enveloped in a pleasantly heavy and warm pillow

"Woah… I hadn't realized how h-eavy you'd gotten, honey-" she breathed, her face redder than she thought possible

Damien momentarily paused, looking down at his partner in concern "O-oh? Is it too much? I-I'm not * hff * hurting you am I??"

"Oh no! No, no, it feels… r-really * hff * good, actually… it's perfect~"

"Oh, that's a * hff * r-relief, cause I'm having * huff * waaay too much fun makin' ya * brup- * blush~"

The bed creaked again as Damien shifted his weight, moving an arm up to support himself as he leaned down to kiss his love's forehead

* WHUMP *

Vanessa yelped as her body was enveloped by warm, soft flesh within seconds

Damien belched loudly as all of his weight fell onto his bloated belly… and onto his partner beneath him..

His pointy ear twitched as he heard a small, slightly muffled noise of pleasure coming from beneath his mountainous body before he felt several gentle squeezes to his love handles

Damien felt his face grow hot

There was a moment of stunned silence before he snapped out of it and peeled himself off of his lover, panting

The werewolf gave a flustered, nervous laugh, seeing the vampire's bright red face and wide eyes, her body unmoving as she caught her breath

"Y-you ok down there~?" He asked, stifling a giggle

"That… was amazing…." she sighed, reaching up to hold her face in her hands

"P-please keep going.." she pleaded "Your kisses felt nice…"

Damien melted, immediately giving into her request as he continued his affectionate display, still a bit clumsily as he worked through his food-drunk state

"You're probably.. * hff * the sweetest thing I've * hic! * ever tasted, love~" he cooed between another small bite "I might just get addicted~" he gave a low mischievous laugh as Vanessa made more flustered sounds and giggles

It was rare for Vanessa to be the one to end up so flustered she was speechless...

Damien sighed before leaning in to give her a soft kiss on the lips and carefully slumping onto the bed beside her, his belly sloshing from all the shake still inside it, a small burp coming out from the sudden movement

"I love you like this…" Vanessa finally spoke, her comment making Damien blush heavily, his round cheeks accentuated by the smile that spread across his face

"…Me too.."

The two shuffled closer to one another in bed, unspeaking as they embraced, bodies turned towards each other

The werewolf gently pulled his love into his soft body, humming in delight as he felt two small, cold hands graze his belly, rubbing in gentle circles, small gurgles and groans coming from the full belly of the lycanthrope

The pair lay there in comforting silence, the sound of each other's gentle breathing and low gurgles lulling them both into a warm, dreamless sleep

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Hai :3 ABFUIJDSKGS

That's it XD Hope yall liked it, just don't expect much written stuff from me in the future, I'm much better at storytelling through a visual format than I am with written stuff, but I had fun writing this nonetheless!! Hope this blurb makes yall as feral for these two as I am BHFDSIJKGDSB

[jeanbie]

hi, i hope you‘re doing well! :)

i don‘t know if you take requests or if you still write for yelena but i‘m currently rewatching attack on titan season 4 and i thought about yelena being very protective over reader when it comes to drinking the wine (her being protective in general), she can‘t tell reader why though because she still wants to be loyal to zeke‘s plan, despite being in a relationship.

it‘s totally fine if you don‘t wanna do it, feel free to ignore this ask. bye, bye! <3

LOVE AND WAR ★ masterlist.

pairing: yelena x reader

warnings: none | wc: 1.7k

note: thank u so much for requesting and i am so sorry that it took decades to post this! i just suddenly feel very inspired and have written 3 fics in 48 hours!! enjoy anon ଘ( ੭⁰̷̴͈ ᵕ ˘͈)੭* ✩

854

Yelena doesn’t feel regret. She just doesn’t — there has never been a moment where Yelena has felt regretful over any decision she has made. Nothing has been important enough to damage the profound impact of her final goal, which has always been to assist Zeke, to follow Zeke, to devote herself to Zeke. 

But Yelena has to admit to herself that when she looks to the side and sees you, bounding across the dark lawn beneath her from her balcony, a smile of pure elation drawn on your face, that for the first time in her life, the dull ache in her chest might not be the impatience to get on with it all; instead, it might actually be regret.

For all of her life, Yelena has felt a sense of greater purpose in store, a meaning that transcends her body, making her only a vessel of power to help move along the plan of a lifetime — the plan to end an era of suffering and welcome in an age of peace and prosperity. There has been nothing that has ever made her hesitate, ever made her wonder if what she is doing is right.

Until now.

Every couple of minutes, a new group of heckling cadets swarm underneath the swift wave of lawn beneath her balcony, and it wasn’t until she caught sight of you in one of her shirts that she felt the weight of her actions suddenly clam up inside of her, leaving behind not a happy feeling of importance but an ache of fear — fear that drives her out of her room and down the flight of stairs to find you before you’re pulled into the swarm of bodies crowding around open crates of delicious, foreign wine.

“Y/N.”

Somehow over the noise, you hear Yelena’s voice and turn your head, catching her looming height in the angled darkness of the hallway. Nobody blinks an eye at her, which is unusual. Ordinarily, cadets marvelled at the sight of her, pushed forward into her vicinity in a sort of morbid curiosity at her curious impression. Even you, once, had looked at her in a stunned sort of shock, long before the shock transformed into wonder, and the wonder melted into adoration. 

Manoeuvring around the excitement of your friends, you glance at one of them who looks at you questioningly and gesture towards the half-hidden figure standing guard in the dark. They follow your finger, gulp appropriately, and bow their head back into their original state of oblivious happiness, all in the name of good wine and good fun. 

No blonde, blunt and brutally tall foreign woman will stop any of them from their night of drinking. They had, after years of torment from titans that came from no place but that blonde, blunt and brutally tall foreign woman’s previous home, deserved a night of fun.

Yelena welcomes you into her personal space with a smile; a cautious smile that barely lifts any of her features up, but a smile nonetheless, and you reach her with your own surprised joy and let her pull you gently down into the spiralling darkness and back towards one of the doors into a study. 

Inside, the furniture is dripping with a dusty, moonlight glow, the windows flung open to let out the stench of stale wood and alcohol, the disinfectant choking in the broom cupboard joined to the right wall.

“I thought you’d already be at the party,” you say, trying to think of some reason for her guiding you here. There’s nothing indicating her purpose of being in this study, but she seems inclined to keep you here, blocking you in by putting herself between you and the now-closed exit door.

Yelena smiles, truly smiles, then and raises her eyebrows smugly. “There’s a party?”

“A party fully funded and catered to by your comrades,” you reply.

“Comrades,” she repeats, amused. “Please.”

“True, though. I can’t think of anyone in my squad who’s tried foreign wine before,” you continue, feeling your heart thump as Yelena steps over the invisible line between you both and smooths her fingers through your hair, thumbing the back of your head. “I haven’t had a drink since they retook Shiganshina!”

Yelena’s mouth twists at that. “The wine tastes like shit. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“All you talked about once was this wine,” you counter, one brow raised suspiciously. “Best wine in Marley, you said.”

“I had to entice everyone somehow,” she replies. “Wine makes friends. Builds trust. It’s a universal peace offering.”

“Peace I’m apparently not allowed to take part in.”

Yelena frowns. 

When she offered her services to Zeke and completely devoted herself to him and his cause, it came with the consequence of silence — her life and everyone’s future depended on it. Yelena wanted nothing more but to warn you of what was to come, even better to hide you from it, but in doing so would mean running the risk of everything they’ve all worked so hard to set in motion coming crashing down.

While Yelena placed her entire trust in you, she couldn’t assume the same for the others privy to the knowledge she has. Instead, she’s subjected to staring down at your confused expression in a permanent place of horror.

“Look, it’s not that you’re not allowed to take part in the fun tonight, I just think there are better ways to celebrate,” Yelena suggests, her hands finding themselves on your face, cupping you to stop you from turning away towards the disappearing cluster of cadets in the hallway. “Like with me, for example.”

Yelena knows she’s expected to be apart of the festivities happening tonight in an effort to create an alibi, but if missing out means ensuring that you don’t feel suspicious of her, or worse that you feel a distance pulling you further apart, then she’ll happily take that chance. There were loopholes in her devotion to Zeke, and she was sure he would understand should he have any grievances with her disappearance tonight.

But her stomach churns when you smile, thread your fingers through hers and pull her hands from your cheeks. “Unlike you, I happen to like spending time with other people.”

“I like other people, too, but I’d rather be with you if I had the chance,” Yelena replies. She watches closely as you bite your bottom lip to suppress a grin — all the good that does when it spreads over your face regardless. 

“Stop…trying to change my mind,” you force out, leaning up on your toes to press your lips against hers. Yelena feels the tug worsen, her guilt hardening. 

It is entirely her own fault that she happened to fall in love on this stupid island. She was only supposed to be here to speed along Zeke’s plan, but she had never factored in meeting someone like you, someone so unaccustomed to outsiders yet so welcoming of them. 

If she closes her eyes, Yelena can still remember the first time she saw you, passing you by in the halls as she walked flanked by Hange and Levi. You turned to greet your superior soldiers with a smile and a salute, one that Hange simply nudged away with their hand followed by a quick fuss of your hair before continuing forward — and then your eyes met. 

Whatever followed is insignificant when Yelena considers how she got from point A to B: point A being seeing you that day in the hallway and point B being now, where she looks at you and feels her entire body go rigid. 

Yelena’s never felt love, either, but if she had to wager a guess, she’d say that love was what she felt when she saw you.

She pulls you in closer when you try to break away from your kiss, swallowing your laugh as she lifts you up off the floor and in a circle on the spot. She ignores the ache in her heart when you squirm away and nudge your nose against her cheekbone; tries to will away the guilt in her chest, the flipping of her stomach. 

“Why don’t we just go together?” you compromise once she relents and sets you back on your feet. You stare up at her expectantly. “You might be surprised to find that people actually want to talk to you.”

“I think you mean interrogate me,” Yelena replies. She has a point — people don’t know if to trust Yelena or not, even though thus far she’s done nothing wrong except step off the enemies boat. 

“Then… Why don’t we go and show our faces, spend some time in the fun, and then we can spend time together after,” you suggest, if only to see the light return to Yelena’s suddenly dark eyes. She peers at you, trying to figure out how someone as awful as her ended up with something as precious as you.

“Just as long as you don’t touch that shitty wine,” she counters.

Yelena flicks your chin when you roll your eyes. 

“You and that bloody wine…”

“I mean it, Y/N,” she says. The way her voice sounds suddenly so somber and serious makes you pause, questioningly raising your brows at her face. “Please don’t.”

Yelena has already sworn her own voice away for Zeke’s noble cause, but she needn’t use her words to convey her true feelings. You search for any indication that she might be fooling around and find nothing. Yelena seems as serious about this as the scouts had once been about titans, and you fidget in space before swallowing and giving her a sincere nod.

“Fine,” you agree, reaching for her fists by her side. “I’ll skip the wine and stick to ale. But it’s your fault if I puke everywhere. I’ve never been good at handling it.”

“Consider me threatened,” Yelena remarks, trying to tame the hammering of her heart in her chest when you lace your fingers with hers and smile, all before pulling her towards the worn wooden doors that connect to the hallway and string of festive rooms full of unsuspecting soldiers downing bottles of wine.

Wine that Yelena knows will play a much larger role in the orchestration of Zeke’s great plan — but wine that she has managed to save you from. And she can only pray to whichever God took pity on her here in this hallway that you can understand her when the truth comes out.

[anamelessfool]

Duomo di Milano, 1969

Domestic Ficlet of Young Terzo. Inspired by and dedicated to my friends @revelisms and @osiris-iii-bc. They post some really detailed HC and immersive posts describing locations. I've really enjoyed their work.

As always, characterization based on my own Scenes from the Void Ghost AU. Excerpt from an upcoming Terzo-centered fic.

TW: Mentions of Suicide

1969

Giuseppe Lombardi, Archbishop of Milan and spiritual caretaker of the historic Duomo di Milano and distant pen-friend of the current Pope Paul IV, was currently using all of his willpower to not vomit in the back of this police car. Before this moment he was rudely disturbed from his sleep by the housekeeper rapping and creaking the door to his apartments open. He was needed immediately, at the Cathedral. Emergency. He opened one eye, his voice blazing. “At this hour? Can this not wait?” “No, no. Polizia.”

And so here he was, his bones rudely jostled like fruit in a cart as the car drove across the cobbles, lights off. It was an emergency, but whatever incident has occured was already for the most part resolved. Everything was grey, unwelcoming as it all scooted past in the window. It was that boring part of night after the last of the degenerates had staggered elsewhere but before the early pink of morning stirred the ancient stone facades. No emergency, no pageantry, nothing. So why ruin a perfectly good brandy nightcap before bed, just to haul him half-dressed out in the cold? He had been suffering from chronic agita for weeks and it has destroyed his sleep. Maybe it was just him getting old. Or maybe it was the blowback continuing from Vatican II, he wasn’t sure. Bishop Lombardi groaned and squeezed his knees as the car stopped in front of the cathedral steps. The officer respectfully opened the door for him, helped him to his feet but the bishop continued to stare with mild irritation at the priceless stones before him. The sculptures lovingly carved generations ago had no charm to them at this hour, only the weight of the responsibility he did not enjoy at such a time and with so much non-ceremony. Right when he was fully rolling about in his own fabricated misery something caught his eye and gave his brain a swift jerk. A white sheet laid across a body on the cobblestones. Two black heeled shoes peeked from underneath, the feet of a woman. He instinctively looked upward at the white tower surging into the sky, imagining the intensity of the breeze from that height. Marveling at a mental image of those heels against the starry blackness. And they managed to stay on? He was ushered into the Cathedral too quickly to think more about it.

The Cathedral swallowed him like a fish and he stood now in the archway of shadowy overhangs of stone, white fishbones of opulent carvings. The man in the overcoat waiting for him there nodded and shook his hand. “Inspector Rossi, your Excellency, apologies for the late night disturbance.” “What is the meaning of this?” The Bishop wanted his voice to echo across the walls like it did every Sunday but the image of the black heels falling past the white marble facade stalled the voice in his throat. “I brought you in to see if you recognize the victim,” explained Rossi. “She’s…she’s wearing a novitiate’s clothing.” “And you didn’t send for Mother Superior?” He huffed back. “Well, your Excellency it is your Cathedral. And I did not think it would be…an appropriate subject for a woman to talk about. Suicide.” “And you think that’s what it was?” “She left a note. And a child here.” The inspector gestured behind him. “He’s speaking with a doctor now.” “A child?” The Bishop’s head reeled, but their conversation was cut short by the approach of a shadowy figure at the entrance. For a breathless moment both men thought the figure would not cross the threshold, but rather stand there waiting to be let in. It was an odd notion to have about another person, but the way he was dressed in near-mockery of holy vestments prodded a primal sense of doom. There was a beat of hesitation and the man continued his slink over the threshold and into the cathedral, stopping right between the Bishop and the Inspector. He was short, slim, with a smart little mustache and glinting eyes. He clasped his hands together, presenting them with a small neat bow. “I am Cardinal Raphael, pleased to make your acquaintance, your Excellency.” Bishop raised an eyebrow. “I am not aware of you….Cardinal…” His words dripped with the acid that continued to roil in his own guts. His gazed dragged down the man’s appearance, observing the oddly formed biretta, the pendant that at this angle was definitely that of an upside-down crucifix. If it was some sort of perverse statement to wear an out-of-season Carnevale costume, the Bishop was deeply offended but too tired to bluster about it.

Raphael stretched a smile across his face which was supposed to give off a feeling of warmth but was entirely too toothy and smug to accomplish the task. “Not to worry, sir, we shan’t be seeing each other ever again after this moment.”

“You were let into a crime scene, now explain why before I eject you,” stated the Inspector, looking altogether bored with the arcane drama happening before his dark-rimmed eyes.

Raphael bowed his head, nearly curtsying. “You‘ve found a child, have you not? He is ours.”

”Oh? Then you are aware of the victim?”

“Yes, rest her soul,” replied Raphael. “A troubled girl. A convert.”

“Convert? She’s dressed as a noviate, what sort of preposterous—“

“Yes, she wrestled with dark thoughts for a long while. But we took care of her, when no one else would.” Raphael continued his crooked smile. “She was ejected from this very church long before her fateful climb tonight, I’m afraid.”

“We? And who is we?” The Bishop snorted.

“Takes all kinds to lift heaven and earth, your Excellency,” he replied smoothly. “There’s a child here, no? Little boy, dark hair, big eyes? Arsenio.”

“Child?! What is the meaning—a novitiate with a child, that’s preposterous—“

“He’s correct, a child is here,” said the Inspector. “And he’s right about the name.”

“Maria—well, that was the name she chose for herself when she was with us— stayed with us. We helped her raise Arsenio. Delightful boy, very artistic.”

“And do you have an idea of why she would take her life?”

“I wish…I wish I had gotten here sooner. Perhaps things would have been…different.” Raphael sighed. “We noticed she was gone, and had taken Arsenio with her. Didn’t think it would come to this, Inspector. But her heart held a paradox, and we did our best to help. Perhaps the guilt was still too much.”

The acid in his gut and the boiling in his brain curled the Bishop’s lip into a disgusted sneer. Ah, yes, Cardinal Raphael. Some pimp from some sort of depraved bordello, a mocking parody of his organization delighting in vices and whoredom. He’d have to find this den of filth and see it burned to the ground. But later. Right now he just wanted to end this dance and go home to bed. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “The child will go to the appropriate orphanage.”

“The child is not an orphan, your Excellency,” prodded Raphael. “He’ll go to his father, of course.”

”Oh and who—! Who exactly is his father then?”

”Our leader.” Raphael continued his toothy smile. “Although, the major difference between us is that we’re more open about our leader having any sort of progeny.”

“This is absolutely obscene,” stormed the Bishop.

“Then let me take a nun’s child off your hands, Your Excellency.” Raphael’s gloved hands tightened, the leather squeaking. His mouth was calm, but within his stare grew a fire of mischief. “I would not want the Church to be involved in…obscenity, surely. I told you that you shall not be seeing us again.”

The Bishop gulped like a fish, then relented. There was already enough controversies that he spent most of his twilight years stamping down. A whore nun with a bastard child from some priest-themed den of secular vice was only going to add more gasoline to the fire and years off his life. All he could do was shrug and throw up his hands. “Fine, take him.”

Inspector Rossi took it from there, ,addressing Raphael. “Sir, well, if he can recognize you then he’s yours. Let me bring him here.”

And so the two men of faith were left alone for a moment.

“You're young for a Cardinal.” Bishop Lombardi gave a little prod at the man beside him. If this degenerate was to slink so casually into his house of God, Lombardi was going to do his best to make him crawl out.

“Am I?” Raphael’s eyes grew wide, and he looked around the space just in case the other man was talking to somebody else. “I'm thirty-eight. Respectable. But I still have my knees.”

“I have never heard of you, and I frequent the Vatican.” He would write immediately to the Holy See after this, of course. He just decided.

“Different social circles, I suppose.”

The bishop’s stomach boiled as he pressed on. “And I was not aware of your elevation. What are your merits, your publications? I have never seen your name in print.”

“I said please and thank you,” Raphael announced. “I ate my vegetables. I brush my teeth three times a day. I did not step on any cracks in the sidewalk.”

“You mock my question, sir,” the Bishop hissed, but the short man barely bat an eye.

“Isn't that what God wants for us?” The Cardinal asked, his grin almost catlike. “To do what we're told?”

Footsteps, and the patter of little shoes echoed on the marble again. It was the Inspector holding the hand of a tiny boy. The boy’s face was white like the carved statues that surrounded them, eyes wide and feline. His jacket was too large for his body, he fought with the knit hat jammed over his head. The socks slid from his bird-like legs and pooled at his ankles. On the front of his jacket was a paper neatly folded and pinned like a schoolmaster’s note for home.

“Born so early, did not think he'd make it,” explained Raphael. “Impatient little fellow.”

The little boy held out his arms wide, oblivious to his surroundings. His little loafers slapped the stone floor as he ran into the Cardinal's arms. “Uncle! Uncle Raphael!”

“Ah, kiddo,” chuckled Raphael. He stooped to his knees and gave the boy a pinch on the nose. “You're out past your bedtime, my little potato. Shall we go home?”

“That was easier than I thought,” said the inspector. “Mystery solved. Barely needed you to come by, Your Excellency!”

“You're going to let this…child…go with this—this— offensive, Satanic mockery?!”

“The boy clearly recognizes him,” replied the Inspector. He chuckled, shaking his head. “Some look…Happy Carnevale, Your Excellency.”

“In September?!”

“Thank you, thank you Inspector, Bishop,” said Raphael while Arsenio continued to bounce on his tippy-toes like a spring lamb. “I'll take him home….perhaps in a day or two we will sit him down…explain it all…” A pained expression lanced across his easy smile, then he recovered. “I'll admit now that I will miss the little lad.”

“His father will be grateful to have him back safely,” said Inspector, but the Bishop noticed a small wince from Raphael at that. Or perhaps it was a shadow. Or indigestion.

But whatever disturbance it was fell away and the mysterious Cardinal grinned again. “That's the plan. If you truly wanted to know.”

Bishop Lombardi snorted. “Not surprised she jumped. And what sort of depraved imbecile would run your….institution?”

“A musician,” Raphael replied simply.

“Terrible,” snorted the Bishop.

“An American.”

“Even worse.”

“See, there’s at least one thing we agree on,” Raphael said with a perfect wink. He smiled down at his young ward and muttered kind things to him as he helped him down the stairs.

And Raphael was then good at his word. He and the boy were never seen again.

Terzo and Raphael show up once more in this Secondo and Rebecca Domestic Fic!

[rozeliyawashereyall]

♡Lynette Vega♡

Here it is!! The lore post about my girl!! @aspenm00n @ccstiles

Full name: Lynette 'Artemis' Vega

Nicknames: Lyn. Annette. Pretty bug. Star eyes. Bed bug.

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: pansexual/demisexual

Gender: AFAB

Realm: Al'terra

Hometown: Montell

Ethnicity and Race: middle eastern/human

Birthday: 29th of October

Age: 24 years old

Height: 5'5

Weight: 164 lbs

Disorders: Synesthesia and dyslexia

Job occupation: wandering doctor and an altruist for halfbloods.

MBTI: INFP-A

Family members

Believe it or not this girl's family is both alive and healthy.

Lynette was born in a loving home with caring parents and 3 older brothers. They were all followers of Kel.

Her brothers—from oldest to youngest, are: Aayan (33 y/o), Elias (27 y/o), Rowan (26 y/o). Lynette has a strong bond with all of them, they all have occasional hangouts where they catch up on everything they miss.

Aayan is a doctor, he was what inspired Lynette to become one as well. Elias is a temple guard, and Rowan is an architect!

Lynette's bond with her parents, Salma and Samuel, is just as strong as the one with her brother—if not a little more. Her parents were strict but loving, making sure Lyn and her brothers are living comfortably and happily.

Nadia used to be a wandering doctor, but now is a stay at home mother, while Samuel is a famous architect

So yeah—the Vega family is both functional and loving

Important backstory events

TW! Implied SA, slight gore description, and suppressed trauma.

Lynette mostly had a normal childhood, the first major thing that happened..

I. At 7 years old. Lynette and her brother, Rowan, were attacked by a wolf halfblood. They weren't sure if he was drugged or just violent towards humans, all they knew was they were in danger and bleeding profusely. They were both saved by a dawnbreaker, unfortunately it was a little late for her brother—his vocal chords were completely destroyed, beyond saving. Rowan went mute after that, and Lynnette was both guilty and traumatized by this incident..

II. At 9 years old. Little Lyn had to stay with a distant family member that she didn't really...like. It was all going okay, up until the last day. She was stuck in a room with 'snakes' wrapping around her. It felt wrong, it was wrong.

Lynette never felt clean after that incident.

But she never spoke a word.

III. At 13 years old. Lynette meets Tony! Yes, that Tony. It was a slow developed friendship, but a loyal one. They were both great friends to each other, having hangouts every weekend where they pulled pranks, made makeshift jewelry for the other, and gave comfort when one of them was sad.

Lynette also started learning first aid from her big brother, Aayan. He taught her everything he knew, and little Lyn was a very fast learner. Memorising all the medical terminologies in less than a week.

IV. at 15 years old. Lynette officially sets her goal to be a doctor, and help everyone, including halfbloods. Her family was against it..the helping halfblood thing, especially after the incident with her brother. But they let her be, as long as she stays safe, that's what matters.

Her friends were confused about her decision.. especially Tony. Why would you help what hurt you? But they trusted her enough to not get too involved with halfbloods..

V. At 18 years old. Lynette graduated! This was an especially special day in her life! She can finally get started on her medical degree—and she does!

Another event that happened here..a day after her graduation, Tony confesses, and boy was the feeling mutual. And so..Tony and Lynette were officially a couple from then on!

VI. At 20 years old. Her goal to become a doctor was annoyingly slow..so, she decided she'll finish 2 more years, and become a wanderer, only to learn about all the different methods of healing, the different cultures of it. Her parents weren't too worried, her mother did the same thing when she was her age.

VII. At 22 years old. Lynette and Tony unfortunately decided to break up. Their views were far too different, it was like they were strangers to each other rather than lovers. So, they decided to part ways, and pretend they never knew each other.

This was also when Lynnette discovered the sanctuary, they were short on medical supplies and she offered her help—but of course, they were all extremely suspicious of her, but as time went on, she would gain everyone's trust.

VIII. At 23 years old. Lynette meets..Marco.

It was an interesting friendship..a halfblood and a human. Lyn found him injured in a forest, of course she had to help him, and she did.

And slowly, it turned from a friendship to a relationship.

Lil facts about Lynette.

-The nicknames Lyn and Annette were from her parents, pretty bug was from Tony, star eyes from Marco. She doesn't mind which nickname others call her.

however! The nickname "Artemis" was given to her by the halfbloods in the sanctuary. Since she'd take the role of both a protector and a healer for the younger creatures.

-she can speak Arabic! Also very soft spoken.

-she's mostly a complete mystery to all cities and kingdoms in all of Al'terra, but her life story is surprisingly very well known in the sanctuary.

-the scar on her cheek is from when she was attacked by the wolf halfblood.

-the owner of Maria's raven boyfriend /hj

-she still has a good relationship with her family, even after wandering away.

-Lynette is a very shy and quiet person, but she's extremely adventurous.

-Not really a talker, she speaks in actions. But give her some time, and she'll be more open with you.

-she helps halfbloods in rehab, ones who were stuck in the arena and addicted to Malasythe. She's always patient with them, even when getting yelled at and continuously insulted.

-she's very observant of others emotions, reading everyone like a book.

-Lyn's a decent fighter..but really only fights when there's no other choice.

-while very into medicine.. she's also very into poison. Sometimes even making her own special brew of them.

-does not sleep.

-she hasn't met Bodie and Timmy....yet.

-her timeline takes place in the same universe as Warren x Bodie /srs

That's all! For now. I'm definitely remaking this soon after I flesh out her story more.

[peaches2217]

how do you personally envision Mario and Peach (and/or others)? Like if you could draw them, how would they look? Physique? Significant height differences? Super poofy dress for Peach? Hairy arms and body for Mario? (Already know the answer to this ;)) I know you’re a fan of chubby Peach, but what does your mind picture when writing them?? 🤔

This got long and has visual aids aplenty, so Mareach body and outfit headcanons below the cut!

First up, body headcanons! The closest I could find to how I envision Mario is this ridiculously handsome man named Louis Kwong Jr.: fat but muscular, overall stout build, and, of course, an abundance of body hair, because I’m not weird about that at all.

I had to thumb through bear porn just to find what I was looking for. Consequently, that means this dude’s dick is on the internet for all to see, so exercise caution if you look him up.

For Peach, I take inspiration from the absolutely stunning Kristine Thompson. She’s tall, she’s curvaceous, and she’s the picture of elegance and feminine confidence. I hc Peach’s chest being a little smaller, but still generally large.

Height-wise, I put them at 5’1 and 6’, which would put the top of Mario’s head right about at shoulder level with Peach; she typically wears kitten heels and he wears work boots with thick soles, so that difference doesn’t change much based on whether they’re wearing shoes or not. Size-wise, they’re both somewhere in the realm of 200+lb, though Mario is larger and heavier than Peach since he’s so much shorter, and since he’s got as much muscle as he does fat.

I couldn’t figure out how to change the colors, lest I would’ve made them red and pink. I wish there was an option to tailor the weights too, ‘cause this just looks weird 😭

As far as clothing goes, Peach is all about dresses, the longer and flowier, the better! She enjoys miniskirts and will wear pants or shorts when it’s more practical, but maxi dresses are what makes her heart sing loudest. She opts for Big and Poofy when going about her business in the castle or for formal occasions/ceremonies and looser, simpler offerings like sundresses when going casual. She’ll wear darker colors every once in a blue moon, but she loves bright, cheerful colors most of all, pink and white and orange and yellow and the likes.

That last one miiiiight be AI, but it came from a photoset that was clearly an actual human modeling the actual dress, so I’m fairly certain it’s just heavily airbrushed. If I’m in the wrong then I’ll happily find a replacement!

Hair! I’m a Curly Haired Mario truther myself. The curls I picture him with tend to fall between 3a and 3c, depending on who you ask, but this is the closest visual representation I’ve found to my vision (just in a lighter shade of brown):

Peach’s hair is very long, very thick, and slightly wavy (somewhere between 1c and 2a). She enjoys brushing and pampering it with products, but the only way she gets it to stay in place is via her magic (which also keeps her makeup perfect, no matter how many wringers she’s put through on any given day). It puffs up considerably when it’s humid.

I was gonna include more character appearance headcanons as a bonus, but Tumblr keeps screaming at me for adding so many images to a single post, so if there’s any more y’all are curious about, ask away and I’ll give them their own posts!

[sadkylos]

Private Affair

Pairing: Professor!Miguel x Student!Reader || Enemies to Lovers 

Summary: Amidst a challenging period in your life, you enter into a clandestine sexual relationship with your professor. Unbeknownst to Miguel, you develop genuine feelings for him. Little do you know that Miguel reciprocates those feelings while harboring a secret that could shatter your world.

Warnings: mentions of death, swearing, mdni, nsfw, angst

AO3

A/N: I’ll only be posting one or two chapters on here but the rest is on AO3 if you’d like to keep up with it! It has 17k words rn so I don’t want to post all of it on here. Enjoy! 

Senior year of college was meant to be a time of excitement and anticipation for the future, tinged with a hint of nervousness. It was supposed to be a year of reveling in campus events and parties and enjoying your final moments of undergraduate life. Yet, for you, it was an entirely different experience. Dread loomed over your every waking moment, overshadowing any sense of joy or anticipation. The future seemed daunting, and you felt lost, unsure of what path to take after graduation. The weight of burnout permeated every aspect of your existence.

You had pursued a Bachelor of Science in Bioengineering, a field that had once ignited a passionate spark within you. It was the path you had always envisioned, inspired by your father, who had been the esteemed head of the Department at Alchemax, specializing in life-saving clone technology. Through his groundbreaking work, countless lives had been saved as major organ transplants became accessible to those in need. Your father had been your hero, a beacon of inspiration.

Tragically, during your high school years, a mysterious explosion occurred at Alchemax headquarters, claiming your father's life. The devastating loss deepened your resolve to carry on his legacy, fueling a relentless drive to pursue your degree. However, as you approached the end of your college journey, doubts began to creep in, clouding your once unwavering passion. The weight of your father's absence and the uncertain path ahead caused that once-burning drive to flicker and waver, leaving you questioning the path you had chosen.

“Y/N?” Professor O’Hara interrupted your thoughts.

He stood in front of your desk, expectantly waiting for you to answer his question. So far, you were horribly failing his Transport Phenomena class. It was hard for you to get yourself to study, let alone attend lectures.

“Sorry, Professor…I didn’t hear your question.”

The room was filled with the hushed snickers of your fellow classmates, their laughter dancing in the air. It was no coincidence you sat in the back of the classroom. Dr. O’Hara was known for making students cry, failing them regardless of personal problems, and never providing any chances towards extra credit. He possessed an impressive stature, towering above any individual you had encountered before. His height surpassed all expectations, commanding attention in any room he entered. Broad shoulders accentuated his commanding presence, while his remarkably slender waist added a touch of elegance to his physical frame. And his ass…If you didn’t hate him, you would’ve spent the entire semester vying after him. His skin was tan and somewhat weathered. If you had to estimate he had to be in his early thirties, younger than any other professor you'd seen. His chestnut-colored hair was slicked back with a few strands of rebellious hair falling over his forehead.

O'Hara placed both of his hands on his criminally slutty waist,

“Do you even know what topic we’re covering today?”

His eyes narrowed, a clear sign of his displeasure with your lack of regard for the class. The temperature in the classroom seemed to rise suddenly, making you feel uncomfortably trapped in your seat, apprehensive about what might unfold next. Your confidence waned, and you shrank down, hoping to become invisible.

For a brief moment, his gaze shifted to the clock on the wall behind you, acknowledging that class time was coming to an end. However, his attention swiftly returned to you, his piercing stare causing a shiver to run down your spine. With an authoritative tone, he instructed the class to read Chapter Six of the textbook before dismissing them. Frozen under his intense scrutiny, you remained motionless, feeling the weight of his gaze pressing down upon you, rendering you unable to escape his oppressive presence.

“You.” He commanded, his voice dangerously low, “Stay here.”

It took all of your willpower to not grovel before your unyielding professor. He stood before you and your ability to graduate this semester.

With your classmates hastily exiting the classroom, Miguel finally released you from his piercing gaze and proceeded to shut the door behind them. As he did so, you released the breath you had been holding, a subtle sign of relief washing over you. O'Hara's presence had always been intimidating, not only due to his notorious reputation but also because of the way he had treated you during freshman year in his Fundamentals class.

Back then, he had consistently singled you out, subjecting you to his relentless criticism and belittlement in front of your peers. At the time, you had been resolute, refusing to let any professor deter you from pursuing your ambition of following in your father's footsteps. However, as you reflected on those moments, a doubt lingered—perhaps you should have allowed the weight of his negativity to push you into reconsidering your path.

Now, Professor O'Hara sat at the front desk of the mid-sized classroom, his heavy lean back in the chair beckoning you to approach. You stood there, dumbfounded and slightly clumsy, struggling to regain your composure before cautiously rising from your seat to meet him.

“What’s going on? Freshman year you were constantly answering questions, annoying the class with your smart ass, and challenging me during lectures. Now you’re a bum,” You flinched at the insult as O’Hara continued to berate you, “ Who has an attendance rate that would justify me dropping you from my class.”

You anxiously rubbed your arm, shifting on your feet. It’s not like you could vent to your professor who loathed your existence. Dr. O’Hara began impatiently tapping his index finger on his desk, awaiting an answer.

“Answer me.” His demand sent chills down your spine, forcing you to meet his agitated gaze.

Unexpectedly, his authority scared you into confession,

“I’m burnt out, ok? Maybe you were right, maybe I’m just too stupid to even pursue Bioengineering.”

Your eyes widened as your professor looked unamused by your pity party.

He rolled his eyes, “Cut the bullshit. You’re not stupid and your 4.0 GPA up until now is a clear indication of that.”

You opened your mouth to reject his compliment. Sensing your doubt he raised his hand, motioning for you to shut up.

“I pity you, truly. It almost makes me wish you were as arrogant and annoying as you used to be.” O’Hara sighed again, “Mierda niña, look. From now on you’re going to attend every lecture. If you’re even a millisecond late I will get you kicked out of this program so fucking quick.”

You nodded your head fast enough to give yourself a headache,

“From now on you’ll attend every single office hour. I don’t care if you’re sick, if your grandma dies, I want you there. No excuses.”

You stared at him perplexed. Office hours? You weren’t dumb, you were depressed! Not only that but being alone with O’Hara for three hours, twice a week made you nauseous. Irritation spread across your professor’s face. His eyes darkened,

“ Am I talking to a ghost? Do you understand?”

“Yessir.” You squeaked.

Professor O’Hara shooed you away with his hand,

“Now get out of here.”

[forcedtogrow]

got any advice for starting to go to the gym alone? i know i just gotta be the biggest guy there but ngl im kinda afraid to start out with how small i am, still in the judgement scary phase

Tbh if you don’t go to a crazy upscale gym that’s super expensive or something most people will be really fucking chill with you. Sometimes roided out guys are dicks, but when I was a tinnnnnyyyy twinky baby big dudes would come up to me unprompted and give me pep talks. I was so stupid and scared I didn’t know how to adjust the cable height for tricep extensions and a guy helped me do it and demonstrated proper form with no judgement whatsoever. The amount of times a man said “everyone starts somewhere” or “you’re dedication is an inspiration to me”, “I can see you’re always pushing yourself to failure and getting stronger” or noticing and pointing out my growth. I can think of maybe 3 times anyone was rude to me and that’s with lifting 3-5x a week every week with absolute consistency, like no matter WHAT I didn’t miss. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again I was in double digit weights before I started, if I can do it ANYONE can!

If you need routine advice that’s another story and I’ve talked about it on other posts too on #lifting routine, and also bulking on #bulking and eating related.

[mollywog]

Everlark Executioner AU inspired by this post

Read on Ao3

Had the messenger arrived a day earlier, he would have been greeted by a yellow flag above our door, and had to turn back, summons undelivered.

The odds, however, are not in my favor.

My sister, having been ill the week prior, had quarantined us both at home. She hadn’t been fearfully sick, just unwilling to put her patients at risk. The flag hadn’t prohibited me from hunting alone but it had kept the townspeople and duties away for a spell.

I should have known my temporary reprieve would need repaid in spades.

So as my luck would have it, there's no obstacle to the trembling messenger boy delivering the summons. It seems my services are needed for a midnight hanging.

I am an executioner by chance, not choice. Well that’s not exactly true.

Though the Capital acts as judge and jury, the districts must supply the hangman. And because no one willingly seeks the position, about once a generation, they hold a ceremony to select a new one. They call it a reaping: someone’s idea of a joke. Haymitch Abernathy’s name had been drawn twenty odd years ago after the previous executioner had disappeared into the wild, never to be seen again. Haymitch should have been it for another decade or so, but he’d given everyone a scare two years back when he fell off his horse and into a coma for a week. He came to no worse for the wear but the district officials decided he needed an apprentice lest they discover him face down in a ditch with no one to measure their next noose. My name had not been called, but my sister’s had.

I ‘volunteered’ to take her place, but there was really never a choice in it. She never would’ve survived the social isolation let alone the job requirements.

After that my sister and I moved to the far edge of the District near the woods. It’s better not to know the condemned or subject the town to my presence. Most people know the proper direction of their anger, most don’t blame the executioner, but they still avert their gaze and hold their children tighter to their chest as I pass.

My sister, Primrose, on the other hand, is universally admired; a born healer in a place where there are few and the need is great. If I keep myself scarce, they still seek her out for treatments.

Prim is somber as she hands my satchel up to me. She’s used to hearing news from town ahead of time but with our week sequestered, we know nothing of who I may face. But Midnight hangings are reserved for the most deprived criminals,so I’ll take solace that the wearer of my necklace will be worthy of it.

The hanging tree mars the district skyline. It looms ominously over the landscape, growing as I approach the center of town.

The fog thins as I arrive at the tree, a noose is already in place as invitation to the crowd. The messenger this morning claimed the hangman was indisposed, but Haymitch has at least prepared that much before absconding into his bottle; He will have taken into account the wearer’s height and weight when selecting the rope's gauge and length: I inspect his work. Likely a man: Average height, but well fed. I release a breath: no chance it will be a child today.

In the Justice building I check in with the clerk and settle in a seat. Dropping my head back, I close my eyes, pretending to nap, lest someone try to speak to me. I hear fragments of the gossip: three murdered.. a fire… caught red-handed. At least this time my nightmares will revolve around the condemned’s actions and not my own.

Time crawls by. The growing clamor outside is my cue that the time is nearing and I shrug on the executioner's robe, rubbing my sweaty palms down the fabric at the thighs. The hood isn’t necessary, Haymitch gave it up years ago, everyone knows who we are, but I flip the material over my head anyways. If only it could shield me from my conscience.

I had always assumed Haymitch drank because he didn’t care. Now I know it’s the opposite; he drinks because he can’t help caring. I refuse to fall victim to the bottle, it doesn’t solve the guilt, I suppose nothing will, but there are other ways to live with myself.

I take the dose of elixer Prim packed with enough time for the herbs to take effect, making me feel hollow enough to perform the job, but as I exit the Justice building, I'm immediately on edge despite the tonic

Something’s not right.

Through the numbness I can feel the stilted weight of the crowd. The low simmering of discontent is unexpected. With the allegations, I’d expected eagerness if not indifference.

I take my place on the platform. The mayor nods in my direction distractedly.

Head Peacekeeper, Thread, emerges from the prison, two uniformed men in tow, dragging the limping convict. His head is bent, obstructing my view of his face, but I take in the broad shoulders and yellow hair. Another surprise. The man I am to execute is from the merchant side of town, where most have the means to survive without breaking the laws or bribe the Peacekeepers into turning a blind eye.

The man is placed beside me and I discreetly peer around my hood for a better look. The name registers right before it is spoken. My stomach drops.

Peeta Mellark

Oh, no. Not him. No, the odds are not in my favor today.

Why him? I think. Then I try to convince myself it doesn’t matter. Peeta Mellark and I are not friends. Not even neighbors. We don’t speak. Our only real interaction happened years ago. He’s probably forgotten it. But I haven’t and I know I never will.

At eleven and in my lowest moment a boy had risked a beating to give me two loaves of hardy bread. The loaves and the hope it provided saved my life. I haven’t yet found the courage to thank him, and now I never will I think as I stare at the boy with the bread’s limp form.

I’ve broken into a sweat despite the chilled breeze. The Mayor reads the charges, but I hear nothing except a buzzing in my ears.

I’m fighting through a violet haze to make sense of my dilemma. I cannot kill this man, but refusal to do so will earn me a spot swinging beside him. Damn Haymitch! This should have been his problem, and I could have wiped my hands clean if Peeta Mellark. But no, that’s not right either. My debt and his death would haunt me for the rest of my miserable life. Besides, something in my gut tells me I am meant to be here, that there’s still yet something I can do.

A single word floats to the top of my memory.

“Nightlock,” I murmur, no more than a whisper, but it’s enough for the mayor to pause his reading. In the years of my apprenticeship it was only mentioned once. Haymitch had been drunk. Much drunker than usual when he’d discussed a small list of extenuating circumstances and loopholes. When I’d pressed him for more, he’d told me to ‘forget it’ before shattering a bottle and demanding I leave. I had left, but not before hearing him break down in sobs. I’d seen him in all forms of drunk, but never so much as to weep. So, of course, the word was immediately, irrevocably branded into my brain.

“Excuse me?” The Mayor interrupts my muddled memories.

“Nightlock,” I state more firmly.

At the sound of my voice Peeta lifts his head and sways on his feet. The motion reveals what his hair has concealed; a lump, angry and purple over his eye. He’s likely concussed.

There is a mixed reaction among the crowd at my outcry: mostly confusion, but some of the older spectators understand the implications of what I have said and begin whispering among the crowd. The Mayor mops his brow, his pained expression cautiously hopeful, “Do you wish to enact the nightlock clause Ms Everdeen?”

“I do” my voice sounds foreign to me; More fierce and decisive than my foggy mind.

“And Mr Mellark do you accept?” I grasp his arm urging him to stand straighter, supporting him under my shoulders. “Trust me,” I whisper. He has no reason to believe me, but I suppose it doesn’t matter; his only other option is the dangling rope.

His mouth twitches in something of a grin. It can only be a reflex though, I’m surprised he’s lucid enough to slur out, “I do,” and when he does, I’m uncertain whether it’s in response to the mayor or in answer to my plea.

Either way he’s said the words; The ones that will save him from the gallows and bind him to a new fate

“Then I now pronounce you man and wife,” The Mayor’s voice booms over the crowd. “Congratulations Mr Mellark, you’ve been granted a pardon.”

The Hanging Tree Series

[clvr-the-insect-enthusiast]

Clover's Pokédex: #004, #005 and #006: Cyndaquil, Quilava and Typhlosion

Bonus Entry: The Infernal Parade

By Clover of the Survey Corps

Here's the link to the master post!

CYNDAQUIL

Category: The Fire Mouse Pokémon Average Height/Weight: 50cm, 7.9kg Conservation Status: Cyndaquil is surprisingly thriving in certain secluded areas in Johto. Type: Fire Evolution: Cyndaquil may evolve into Quilava through aging or training.

Cyndaquil is quite timid, but will not hesitate to light the flammable spots on its back as a last resort. These flames burn hottest when the Pokémon is angry, and have been used for generations in cooking in the absence of another heat source. When tired, Cyndaquil will flee or curl up into a ball rather than strike back, as its flames would otherwise not burn completely.

QUILAVA

Category: The Volcano Pokémon Average Height/Weight: 90cm, 19kg Conservation Status: Quilava is rare in the wild, but can occasionally be seen roaming grasslands. Type: Fire Evolution: Quilava evolves from Cyndaquil through aging or training, it also evolves into Typhlosion through the same methods.

Quilava is completely immune to any form of damaged caused by fire. Its fur and skin have ridiculously high burning temperatures, estimated to be around 900°C. I doesn't ususally attack with the flames on its head and rear, using them more for intimidation and attracting mates. Unless their mouth is somehow obstructed, it will always prefer to burn opponents by biting them and igniting its own teeth.

TYPHLOSION

Hisuian Form

Category: The Ghost Flame Pokémon Average Height/Weight: 1.60m, 69.8kg Conservation Status: Hisuian Typhlosion went extinct in the wild shortly before the foundation of Jubilife, as the last pack of Typhlosion living near the border with Johto migrated to escape predators. Type: Fire/Ghost Evolution: Typhlosion evolves from Quilava through aging or training.

In Hisui, Typhlosion seems to have a link to the fallen. It eats the souls of the lost, in order to purify and release them into the afterlife. There are rumors that the power of a Hisuian Typhlosion is the only thing capable of purifying a Spiritomb's 108 souls.

BONUS: THE INFERNAL PARADE

1- The Parade begins

Occasionally, in the Crimson Mirelands, an odd phenomenon occurs during full moon nights, which I have dubbed the Infernal Parade. A pack of Quilava migrates from the southern lands and gathers up in the ruins near Brava Arena, where they spontaneously evolve into Hisuian Typhlosion as soon as the moon rises.

2- The dance and the Spirit Feast

Upon evolving, they sing and dance, summoning strange fiery wisps that follow them around. This strange parade tends to last about an hour, before the Pokémon sit in a circle and absorb those wisps thrhough eating or the openings on their necks while meditating. This strange feast tends to last until exactly midnight.

3- Fireworks in the night sky

As the feast ends, the pack stands up in unison and unleashes a massive burst of purple fire into the center of the circle. The resulting fireball shoots up in the sky and silently explodes, scattering strange light particles through the air, which can be seen all the way from the Icelands. After that, the Pokémon leave, probably on their way back to Johto.

4- My conclusions and theories

The Infernal Parade is a truly beautiful event, and possibly the inspiration for modern fireworks, but there is more to it than just bright lights and eating flames. Here are some notes I took while watching a recent Infernal Parade:

The Typhlosion allow other Pokémon to participate, but few accept their invitations. I'm still unsure if they're as welcoming to all humans as well, or if they let me join them just because I was accompanied by my own Quilava, which I brought in an attempt to evolve.

The strange wisps are most probably the souls of other Pokémon, as they have a similar shape to the wisps released as a byproduct of Typhlosion purifying forsaken spirits, and the large explosion in the end must be the result of releasing multiple souls into the afterlife at once.

My theory is that the Infernal Parade is a way for Typhlosion to keep the balance between the realms of the living and the dead, making sure the lost souls scattered across Hisui find the way to a peaceful afterlife. The singing and dancing is a way to call for the spirits, and the meditation is there so each Typhlosion can concentrate enough energy to purify multiple souls at once.