#I've already said this and I'm going to say it again: THEIR DESIGNS ARE REMARKABLE!!! 🙌✨✨✨✨✨

[mimpinightmare]

KAINO AND ROSIE, TWINS DEAR BELOVED! (The world cheered in UNISON)

Ocs,ocs ocs !!! I'm somehow getting used to drawing more like this (find more art of supa strikas near the future..mwahahahahha)

Supa strikas oc x canon so real..

[melodic-haze]

hear me out brat!chiori x service top!reader where she teases you all the time both in public and private until you just cant take it anymore and finally snap and fuck her until shes sobbing from overstimulation and cant think or speak at all and only begging for you to breed her over and over again

☆ — DEMO TRACK: power bottom!Chiori x service top!gp!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: fem reader with a dick, overstim and.....tbf it's all up in the asks actually

☆ — NOTES: I really shouldn't have been given the ability to read and write idk but anyway I love mean lesbians 🫶 even though ik I'd be scared of them irl (I AM a mean lesbian idk what I'm on about)

Oh my god she's be an INSUFFERABLE brat though???? Not cuz she's cheeky and sly as hell, not like for example Miko, but bc she KNOWS she can easily tease and making you want what you Cannot Have

She'd drop her scissors on accident and bending down in a way that showcases her own specially made lingerie (mostly made with you in mind, though she reserves said special designs for your eyes only—she'd never admit it but designs for YOU and her customers are two completely different things 🤷‍♀️) or make you help her with something and then 'accidentally' grazing skin one way or another (nothing too disastrous, she can't jeopardise her work for ANYONE)

Chiori wouldn't outright say stuff plainly though cuz that's crass and she's much more classier than that, who do you think she is??? She WOULD outright make innuendos and double entendres with a glint in her eye and a mocking tone, however 💀 just to piss you off a bit

"Hold these steady for me, would you? You're capable of that much."

As you scrambled to pin down two bits of fabric on the mannequin, she pulls away with a light smirk. Your eyebrows furrowed slightly at the remark, "I'd like to think I'm a lot more capable than what you've been insinuating the entire day."

"Are you?" She turns away to head to her worktop, "I suppose that with my direction, you can.. well, satisfy basic needs."

"You say that like I'm not capable of directing myself."

"You would lack the necessary finesse to please me."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, "Thanks for the faith. But we both know you're downplaying what I can do."

"But do we?" The designer turns back to you, sewing equipment in hand and a nonchalant look in her gaze, "Perhaps I've been unimpressed with your performance thus far."

"Then you'd be complaining about me in every waking moment."

"Don't I already?"

"True. Someone really needs to shut you up every once in a while."

"Oh?" She approaches you.. and the mannequin, you supposed, "Mind supplying an example?"

"Uh, me? I think I'm in the best position to do so."

And your lover scoffs mockingly, "You're rather confident in thinking that you could force me down."

"I'm confident that I can put you in whatever position I want."

Perhaps there was something she saw in your eyes, a brief flash of something dark that flickered through for a second, but you see a light flush coat her cheeks as she lets out a shaky exhale.

"..Do tell yourself whatever helps you sleep at night," she airily responded as her hands pressed back onto the fabric, to which you took the action as a sign of a dismissal, "Archons know I'm not going to sing you praises or tuck you in at night."

"Hmm."

Ofc it's not limited to your outside interaction, cuz you're hashtag lucky to see it inside too!!!! Yippee!!!!!!!! Get your dose of irritation 🫶🫶 if you're a patient bitch as well then that's even worse cuz she may actually up the ante just for the sake of it in bed. In public she actually appreciates you being understanding with her bluntnese but in private? Lol have fun

It's not that she does it just cuz either, I think she'd do it for the sake of seeing just how much you can take until you snap. She seems like a believer of the whole "raw emotions = raw capability" thing, and she'd definitely test you more than once just to see how much you can take before you flip out

She doesn't say anything about how there's that hidden desire to see you turn things against her and actually put her in her place after she's being such a brat the entire day though

"Ngh..! I said to go-- sssslowER--"

"I.. don't think.. I'll listen to you right now," you managed to force out as you pinned her on the mattress, hammering the brat underneath you with your length as if desperate to paint her insides white.

At some point, your patience had eventually run out. She had this constantly challenging look in her eyes that followed her all the way to the bedroom, and her words had reflected on that too.

You wanted to please her, to satisfy her the way you knew you could, you swore.. but it always wasn't enough for her, or maybe you got it all wrong, or her demands were so unbearably contrasting despite the fact that you could have sworn that her reactions indicated that you were on the right track. Really, you just had no choice but to take matters in your own hands the same way you took this insatiable designer's hair, now loose from its usual style; hard and forceful.

Chiori's hands practically clawed the sheets, her small build helpless as you moved her like some sort of ragdoll—whyever would she fight it, though?

And as if used to obeying your commands, she does. She looks at the vanity mirror just a short distance away from the bed, looks at her ruined makeup smudged on her face, looks at the apex of her thighs that drip and glisten with a mix of her transparent essence and the backwash of your cum.

"This was what you've been aiming for, isn't it? I'm doing what-- fffuuck.. what you demanded of.. of me." You lifted her up without hesitation, with your other hand on her lower abdomen as you continued your relentless pace, "May as well.. mmf.. watch."

Perhaps there was something to the sight that snapped the last of her fighting composure in half—maybe it was the way you forced her to look at your live methods of discipline, maybe it was the way your dick hit a certain spot inside her due to the change in angle, or maybe it was the way you had looked at her in the mirror with a dark, heady mixture of lust and frustration.

Either way, it had her hips practically stuttering as she opened her mouth to scream.. only for nothing to come out save for a broken, cut-off start of such a sound. Her body for a brief moment before going limp and leaning back into you.

You also see—and feel—a deluge of hot liquid squirt out a certain distance and onto your still-moving cock.

Really, nothing about the situation or the reactions you're recieving is deterring you from overwhelming her more than enough to render her quiet and satisfied.

Even as her hands struggled to grip onto your own that's pushing into where her womb is located, where you're hitting her at your deepest, you didn't stop. Even as she sobbed and actually threw her sharp pride aside to plead for you to spare her from further overstimulation, you didn't stop.

Again, why would you? You're going to make sure she comes out of this sated.. even if that did mean fucking a few braincells out of your lover.

(Though with the way she was smiling whorishly, you have more than a feeling that she wanted you to do so.)

(..Not like you'd ever use such language aimed at her outside private walls, lest you want to experience her ire rather than her desire.)

Get it?? Cuz. Cuz like. Desire??? Des-ire?????? Haahahhahahahahah oh my god I think I'm gonna go ballistic one day

She loves being treated like a classy lady, she loves being treated like a queen, but she ALSO loves being roughhoused and railed to the moon and back—she's not a delicate bitch she can handle it 🤷‍♀️ just like how she Knows you can handle a bit of a bratty personality (though really such a thing should probably be guaranteed anyway to be with her without getting all ratty)

She'd call you a fuckign brute, she'd call you names, but at the end of the day all she'd want is for you to fill her and fuck her until nooooo coherent thought is left 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

It's satisfying at the end when you're done when Chiori's simply laying there, eyes completely glazed over as she struggles to get back to reality as you've painted her insides (and outsides tbh) white. Maybe this is your own artform, with Chiori's being clothing design AHAHAHA anyway 🫶

"So how'd I.. ugh," you unceremoniously flopped onto the bed, grimacing at the very wet sheets and the inevitable cleanup you're dreading of doing later, "how'd I do?"

"..."

"Chiori? Babe?"

"..Give me a minute, would you?" She groaned out hoarsely, her usual grace to her movements and edge to her voice gone and replaced with a much more.. relaxed, casual tone, you supposed, "Asking a girl to rate your performance after using her like a feral beast is in poor taste."

"Okay, but you more than asked for it, really."

"I don't recall doing such a thing."

"You're only especially difficult when you want that sort of treatment."

"I'm never difficult for no good reason."

You raised an eyebrow and said nothing.

Your girlfriend stares you down with a tired glare.. before relenting shortly after with an affectionate eyeroll, "I told no lie, I needed the break from..."

"Thinking?"

"Yes. Perhaps."

"Bad week?"

"Annoying clients."

"I can ward them away for you," you suggest as you opened your arms to her.

"No need—I can do so myself." You half expected her to keep you hanging until you decide to drop your arms.. but then she moves closer to you, eventually letting herself be enclosed in a hug, "..But thank you for the offer."

Any form of initial surprise from the acceptance in affection easily melts into that warm buzz that never fails to make you happy every time Chiori indulges in something remotely affectionate, "You're welcome."

..Perhaps clean-up can wait later.

The surprising thing would never be how bratty she is or how depraved she becomes with enough of a push tbh, but rather her showing blatant affection for you at any given time. Post-coital afterglow doesn't necessarily give her much of an extra urge to cuddle—if anything she's usually averse considering how sweaty and gross it'd feel to her after........but surprise affections are a very VERY welcome surprise :3

Tbh even then idk if sex is a common thing that happens between you, even when you're in a relationship 🤔 but it'd still be juicy either way. Something about how absence makes the heart grow fonder, except it just makes your cock go harder idfk LMAO

It's like 2 am rn guys this is my only explanation for all this

[zmb1eslut]

Never healing wounds.

I heard footsteps that sounded like mine,

word count: 1,4K

synopsis: Whatever his mother knew, she knew her. A part of Luke wished he would never have to, yet there she was crawling in the forest.

A/N: Luke Castellan's POV

Her name. It echoed in my mind like I was trapped in an empty and narrow space, as if I was being held down against my will to hear it over and over again. 

But it was just me, she was just there, with a smile on her face introducing herself. 

It wasn't even her voice the one I heard, but that question. The question that came almost every day when I came from school. 'How is your friend doing?' to then speak about a girl I've never even met. At one point, I just played along and said she was okay. Made up fake stories or lied about real ones. For my mother every girl looked like her. And for me, it was all the same. 

I already knew about her. About a girl being here, I mean.

We were finishing a Senior Council Reunion and Chiron pulled Lee to the side and... maybe they didn't go far enough to avoid some prying ears to come by. And they were speaking about her, about an unstable girl they found in the forest without a protector. About how much discretion was needed to avoid exposing her to the rest of camp, just for everyone's safety. 

I had heard about her, so I didn't quite expect to discover a girl so polite, small in demeanor... frail. Her every step was muted, her every sound was raspy, coarse, deprived. Somehow it felt like she was untrained at being alive.

To make sure I don't make her come across as weak, let it be clear, the instincts of any prey would freeze or hide if finding itself under her gaze. Strange. I could only label her as that, maybe unnerving as well.

Getting back to the start, I was told to go pick up a new camper and take them into the cabin, and somewhow it didn't clicked for me at the start. It wasn't Chiron the one in the room when I stepped into it, but Lee Fletcher. It took me off for a moment and he surely could tell, without me having to make the second effort of shooting a subtle glance of questions. But I did either way. He politely nodded and got close to me before whispering "I had to take care of her for a while so I'm doing formalities to not overwhelm her much.

I found that information remarkable in a way, but before I could think of an answer she cleared her throat to get our attention. My eyes then fixed on her figure all the way across the tiny room. Her presence was small but she was clearly fighting to take up some space, sitting with her chin up, her weight resting on her fists as far as possible from her hips. A knowing, resigned, almost self-pitying smile as she looked at him. 

“People say It’s rude to whisper in front of others”. Her voice was taunting and soft, and if you ask me I suspect that was meant as a joke. Neither of us laughed, though. And I wasn’t sure if she was supposed to stand up, if I was supposed to get close. Every action I could take felt like stepping out of my place, she wasn’t even looking at me.

“My bad." He nodded uncomfortable before getting back closer to her. It was awkward, an awkward really different to the few I was used to. An awkward in which all of us knew we wanted things to be better yet we just didn’t know how to start it all over. He helped her get up and only then a saving, fake chuckle filled the room when they paused looking at each other, and I looked at them silently, designing the right smile on my face as I inserted myself on the conversation. She finally acknowledged my presence. She looked me up and down with a smile. 

“So he's the one showing me around?” I could catch some of her factions, the work she seemed to put on her posture, knots on her hair I could picture her fighting each morning, deep wounds on her body, bloodshot eyes, and a putrid smell that hadn't gone away after what were probably so many baths. And I answered before Fletcher could.

“Yeah that’s me.” Extending my hand at her with a challenging warmth. “Luke Castellan”.  And she nodded with a gleam in her eyes.

“I’ll make sure to remember that”. Was her answer as she delicately shook my hand. Her tired and joyous eyes met mine, and then she introduced herself and my stomach turned, and the world went colorful in a horrible way. Everything started to look out of place. Suddenly I hated that she smiled with her teeth, they seemed too big, and her eyes were liveless in an eccentric way. Was her skin going gray? Was she inside my head? I felt her hands strangling me yet she was so far away. She was close to me. And my fucking mom’s voice was resounding in my brain. I felt like the world was layered and suddenly Lee was too far, and my camp duty was escaping my grip, the room becoming small and then there was her. Who the fuck was her? 

I breathed deeply to calm myself, hiding the fact with a playful sigh. She was just a girl. I was okay. I looked around to convince myself the place looked the same.  

“You’re ready to walk? This place is immense.” I asked half genuinely, half teasingly, looking at her unsure stance, she then stared at the Apollo counselor who just nodded amused at her curious expression. She went back to me.

“Okay. I'll…  do my best.”

"Is it like... always like this?" I knew what she meant, as she insisted on walking under the shadow of the trees, the sun and heat didn't seem like her favorite thing. I laughed, she was really going to need to get used to that.

"All year 'round" I shouted affirmatively. And I was met with a whine in response.

She lazily followed my step around camp, exploring the space with her eyes, her hands, one foot in front of the other, discovering the buildings almost like a new land. She nodded to every new face around, and most nodded back.

It was almost alluring just how fast she decided to fit in, just how few questions she bothered to ask. I wondered if maybe she already knew what she was going to find...

"Hey so, I don't wanna be rude-"

"But?" She asked with a mischievous smile.

"How... Did you get here exactly? What's your story if it's not... you know... too much."

"Oh!" She looked at me surprised and thought for a couple seconds. "I just walked."

"You... walked? Care to elaborate?" I was almost annoyed at her vagueness. She laughed.

"Like this" And she proceeded to just stump ahead.

"Alone?"

"Alone." She turned around and nodded. So I had to be specific with my questions, I guessed.

"How did you not get lost?"

"I did. I wasn't planning on getting here. I was just... clearing my mind and... suddenly I didn't see the point of going back."

"You ran from home then?"

"Just walked." I actually laughed at that. "I..." Her tone became just a little bit more reflective, yet she didn't really seem affected much. "Wasn't planning on running because I wasn't planning on escaping at all, but suddenly time made no sense and, what the fuck was I even doing on the same always nonsensical noise tying me down? Who cares, you know?" I stayed silent processing before she frowned a bit. "Actually probably someone did but it's not like it feels like it matters. 'cause it didn't matter either when they didn't. Does that make sense?" I chuckled.

"Not at all" I looked at her before adding in a softer tone "but I totally get it".

"Most people here I guess". So she did actually understand this place.

"Exactly" We kept walking until we arrived at the path of the cabins and I remembered to ask. "So... huh... you got... any idea who your godly parent might be?" And she smiled.

"Not at all"

"Well... okay. It's not like it matters until you get claimed."

"And... when does that happen?"

"Whenever they feel like it"

"Great" We kept walking silently as a satyr passed past us. I only noticed cause he kept looking at her, she almost ignored him in exchange. She still had no questions about anything at all... It made some sense as she was already older than most kids coming to camp. But that was actually the strangest thing. If she knew so much, why hadn't she come earlier? And why didn't she know who her parent was?

"Do you have any suspicion though?"

"What are my options?" She asked and... maybe she actually didn't know that much.

[blushblushdrabbles]

Logan - Short Fluffy One Shot - Nap Time

This is inspired by one of his quotes he says in the game, where he mentioned how he was on night shifts and needed to take a nap but wanted you to be with him.

Any chance you'd wanna take a nap with me? I've been working a lot of night shifts lately, and it's starting to catch up… But I just can't get enough of being with you!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was around afternoon, it was very peaceful and you were sitting on the couch listening to your music as you were busy stitching away your latest embroidery design, you loved making all different types of intricate patterns, from animals to the ocean to the stars and planets in space.

You heard steps as your head turned to notice your boyfriend, Logan, with a tired look on his face, walking towards you, inquiring. "Hey babe, what you're making now?" He leans down to get a better look at the design you were stitching, and you can smell the aftershave on his face.

You give him a quick peck on the cheek and brought up the stitching for him to see. "its a Cyndaquil!" You say happily. Logan gently took the stitching, tracing his fingers around where Cyndaquil's head was already stitched, feeling the soft but taught thread weaved around to make his face. "Its already looking great, sweetie" Logan says as he hands you back the stitching.

You giggle at his compliment and replied "Thank you Logan haha." Noticing how tired your boyfriend looked you remarked "Hey why don't you have a little nap, you look awfully tired. I know you were working the night shifts again." You gently took his hand and rubbed it. He nodded as he rubbed his face with his free hand. "Yeah honestly not a bad idea Y/N, these night shifts are really catching up on me. You wanna join me?" He smirked at that last bit as he held your hand.

"Hahah but Logan i'm not tired!"

"Awww but i want to be with you still." He replies with pleading eyes. You really couldn't resist those gorgeous, golden eyes of his, it was practically like saying no to a puppy. You hummed for a bit as an idea came to you. "You could sleep here on the couch with me, there's plenty of room and you could use my lap as a pillow hehe." You patted your lap and smiled, Logan practically beamed at the suggestion and plopped down his tired body onto the couch, snuggling his face into your lap. You giggled at the sensation.

"You comfy down there, fire boy?" You ask, smiling down at your handsome boyfriend, gently ruffling his hair. He took your hand gently and kissed it, replying "Yes, very much, you're very warm." He said, with a pleased look on his face. "Oh you want me to turn off the music?" Luckily that music was playing from your phone which was on the table next to you. "If you want to, i really don't mind it, i'm that tired i'll just fall asleep. You have enough room though?"

"I have plenty of room, don't you worry Logan, hehe."

Logan sleepily smiled at you and gave a big yawn. As he closed his eyes he said "Love you babe..."

"Love you too, babe."

And just like a light switch he was already asleep, quietly snoring to himself. His hands were wrapped around your legs, and you felt slight movement in his body. You couldn't help but gaze with love at your sleeping love. He had such a peaceful expression on his face, and you couldn't help but gently caress his face, your thumb gently going over his warm cheek. You smiled to yourself and made a mental note to wake him up before dinner as you went back to your stitching.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hot damn! So glad i was able to get this one out, i really hope that you guys love it, i wanna keep writing more of this, but also improve more with my writing, i wouldn't mind hearing some feedback from you guys! Thank you! Might post this one on AO3 as well later on.

[xoxomoonlightxoxo]

P&C | Ch. 3: Nursing Buddies

➪ Playlist (Spotify) l Series Masterlist

"I think I like your space buns more," a soft whisper lingered in the air as Tae bent his neck, lowering his gaze before our eyes met.

"Trust me, so do I. But first impressions are important," I say, already anticipating his quick remark regarding his first impression of me.

"You know, I thought you would just keep your hand on my hoodie the whole ride down. You didn't seem in much of a rush," he chuckles, teasing my flushed face.

"Yeah, well, it's not my fault you had to stand there," I quickly glance at him with a smirk, before composing myself once again. 

He gives me a boxy smile, "Oh it was my fault? My bad, sorry, next time you decide to tumble into the elevator let me know so I can get out of your way," he says with the same teasing smirk.

It's goofy, obviously, but I'm glad he wasn't awkward about it. I've reached my limit of embarrassment for one day, but still, I'm surprised he hasn't said anything about my unfortunate outfit choice. Nonetheless, I'll take it. Don't need him knowing about my Barbie obsession too. Flip-flops is enough.

Accompanied by a few drinks, Tae and I have a quick debrief about our first day of school and the majors that we chose to pursue. 

"Shut up! Nursing? No way, me too," I unconsciously let out a tiny squeak, genuinely intrigued by the news. 

"Stop, are you serious?" Tae exclaims. Leaning in forward to make sure he heard me correctly. But yes, turns out we are both soon-to-be nurses. Who would have thought? 

"I'm dead serious. Wait, then how come I didn't see you in today's classes?" I pause, meeting his eyes with furrowed brows. 

"I didn't go, slept through them and then helped out with the party," he explained.

"Well, you didn't miss much. We just went over the syllabus, but the courses are fast-paced and content heavy so try not to miss too much," I explain. 

"Oh no trust me, my mom would whoop me if I did. Today was the only exception. She loves Jungkook and Jimin, so I told her it was a party for their arrival from Busan." he smiles pointing to the two guys standing by the food table.

"I see. By the way, is Jungkook alright?" I didn't mean to change the subject so abruptly but my curiosity couldn't resist any longer. He hasn't left Jimin's side since we walked in and barely said a word aside from that short introduction.

"Yeah, he is fine, don't worry. If he doesn't sleep well, it clearly shows on his face. Becomes all grumpy and quiet. Give him a day or two and he'll be like a brand new person." Tae explains with a reassuring smile. I nod. Anyway, he knows better, they've been friends for a long time. By now they know each other's characters better than they know their own.

After talking to Tae for a while, I found my way to Jiah who was naturally with Jimin.

"Hey Mira, are you enjoying the party?" Jimin offers me water, as they scoot closer making room for me on the sofa.

"It's awesome! I met so many people already. And guess what? Tae and I are in the same major, how funny is that?" I laugh.

"Tae is in nursing? Since when? What happened to graphic design?" Jiah asks, turning to Jimin as her eyes scan for Tae's silhouette amid the dancing crowd. 

"Yeah, that was before his parents found out. They said he needed a real job. One that would make him stable money. Capitalism, what can I say," Jimin sighs, resting his head on the back of the couch. 

"That's unfortunate, he looked so happy when talking about his projects. But, now he has Mira to pull him through nursing." Jiah exclaims with a bright smile, before giving me a quick wink. 

"We'll see if I'll be able to pull myself through at least a semester," I scoff, masking the fearful undertones of concern in my voice with a soft chuckle. However, I'm glad that I at least have Tae in this with me. What if we end up in this same cohort?

--

1:00 a.m.

It's the next day, yet the party seems to have only begun. I'm not sure what these people are drinking but I'm ready to call it a night and sink into my warm bed. So, I go to find Jiah and Jimin and thank them for the invitation, before waving Tae goodbye. We promised to meet each other tomorrow morning before class to prepare for the battle that is Nursing.

As I left the studio room, I was relieved by the breeze of fresh air coming from the opened emergency exit door. Seemed strange, but in the moment I didn't mind it since I'd been suffocating in there for God knows how long. So, fresh air had never sounded more appealing than right about now. 

"Hello? Is anyone there?" my voice is quiet, trying not to disturb the sane people who are fast asleep. I walked out of the building and onto the bench area by the dormitory. The moonlight was reflecting onto the pond as the sound of crickets filled the night ambience. Everything was at peace. That is until I saw a dark figure sitting on one of the benches farther back.

"Hello?" I called out again, stumbling back on my feet. Before ... boom. There I was, on the ground, one heel off my foot completely while the other was stuck in those dam pavement cracks. Phenomenal.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" a familiar voice exclaimed as the dark figure rushed towards me. Black hoodie, black hair. Jungkook. Why was he here all alone? 

"Yeah, I'm oka..." my words were abrupted by his sudden action. In one swoop he was able to lift me while taking care of my broken heels. And, with my arms just awkwardly dangling off of his broad shoulders, I tried not to make eye contact with his face, despite the obvious proximity we were in. After reaching the bench, he gently put me down, taking off his hoodie before covering my bare legs. Everything was happening so quickly, because mentally I was still on the ground, too embarrassed to look up.

"What were you doing out here? It's so cold," he asks, furrowed eyes searching my dumbfounded expression. 

"What were you doing out here? I only came up to check why the door was left open," I snap back with what I thought was confidence that soon turned into a stuttering mess. Seeing me get all defensive, Jungkook let out a small chuckle, nibbling on his lip ring before taking a seat beside me. 

"It was too loud in there and I already had a migraine before the party even started. So, I decided to get some fresh air. Ta-da! Mystery solved." he glances back at me with a sly smirk, which I awkwardly reciprocate with a tiny smile.

"Anyways, I wanted to reintroduce myself, since I looked quite rough back there. I swear I'm much hotter in real life," he grins before holding out his hand.

"This is real life ..." I scoff, shaking his hand nonetheless.

"You know what I mean. Anyways, I'm Jungkook, nice to meet you. Mira, right?"

I nod. 

"So, how was the party?" he asks. I explained that I'm not much of a party girl and came as Jiah's plus one. But it turned out to play in my favour as I met my study buddy. And, although the hint was quite obvious, Jungkook seemed tired enough to forget about Tae's change in his major as he initially questioned who I was referring to. 

"What about you? What's your major?" I ask.

"Well, right now, it's Kinesiology, but we'll see. Maybe I'll double major in something else," he explains. Well, he definitely did play the part of someone majoring in Kinesiology, with a lean physique and those buff muscles. Everything about him screamed gym rat, I know because I'm quite literally the opposite. I don't remember the last time I stepped foot into a gym. It's too intimidating and, also I'm lazy. I hyperventilate going up 3 flights of stairs, so I think that should tell you all you need about my level of fitness. 

We talked for a little while longer until silence consumed our surroundings. It's peaceful again. With his hoodie still on my legs, he was left sitting in nothing but a white T-shirt. And, as I tried to scoot over my body was restricted by the sudden weight on my right shoulder.

"Ouch," I yelped quietly, as I felt the tips of Jungkook's dark hair on my cheek. He fell asleep. On my shoulder. The one that suddenly wouldn't stop hurting. That's it. I remembered why Jungkook seemed so familiar. He was the guy that bumped into me at the entrance door.  

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[solottrpgchronicles]

4a. Abstract - The Last Tea Shop

Shop name: The Vagrant Tea Leaf

Supplies: sea salt, ginkgo leaf, giant puffball, cloud dew

Days: 16

Visitor: an artist

It was the first day of sunshine in a while. I nearly abandoned my post to step outside the shop and bask in the warm light when a visitor walked in.

She looked at peace, as if she wasn't troubled by what she was leaving behind; perhaps the weather was just too nice to feel sad.

We exchanged a smile as she took a seat. She then gazed happily at her surroundings, studying every little detail.

It was a good day to try out my new Tea of Mirth, so I grabbed some cloud dew from a jar and began brewing it.

"I've never met a visitor as accepting of their fate as you," I remarked. "There must be something you left unfinished though, right?"

"Ah, indeed. I'm an artist, so it was practically impossible to depart the mortal world without any unfinished business. You see, I used to make decorative chess sets - quite niche, isn't it? But a surprising amount of people seemed to love them. They'd visit my shop to commission the most disparate themes or purchase one of my already made sets. Each piece was hand-painted in intricate detail; it took me a considerable amount of time to complete a full set, but the work felt fulfilling and I loved immersing myself in it.

However, after some time, I found myself growing restless. Day after day, I worked tirelessly, but I was either fulfilling commissions or replicating popular pieces from the past. My hands moved almost mechanically while working, and my mind wandered.

I needed a new challenge.

That challenge presented itself when an architect reached out about her ambitious project: a chess-themed neighbourhood, with two rows of buildings placed at opposite ends of a park, each building designed to resemble a chess piece. She wanted me to collaborate on planning the art for the buildings.

I accepted immediately and, for a while, I was content and fully immersed in my work once again.

I'm confident it would have turned out pretty great in the end; however, on a stormy day, while I was working onsite, lightning struck me. It was unfortunate, but when the project is complete that accident will probably make for an intriguing story, and attract more tourists."

I handed her a cup of my Tea of Mirth, steaming hot.

"What an incredible job you had," I commented, smiling warmly. "Did you ever come to any sudden realizations during your years as an artist?"

She took a sip of the tea and chuckled. "Actually, yeah. I mentioned my pieces were intricately decorated, but I didn't specify my style was pretty abstract. Sometimes clients would admire my chess sets, but with a hint of puzzlement on their faces, as if they couldn't quite grasp the meaning behind them.

I found it funny, especially when they couldn't work up the courage to ask any questions - they'd just buy my pieces, pretending to understand them. I could have felt offended by their behaviour, or doubted my abilities, but that's just not my personality.

My favourite episode was when a customer walked in with their kid and bought a botanical themed set from me. I was talking about flowers that inspired me when the kid, with a skeptical look on his face, interrupted me and said, "Do you even know what flowers look like, miss?"

And, ouch, that stung a bit. A few days later I went on a hike; looking at the nature around me I thought, "Wow, that kid was right." My art was definitely abstract, but that's just the way my brain and my hands interpret the world. I've always been happy with my style, and other people seemed to appreciate it too, even when they didn't fully understand it. My art brought joy to a few people, and to myself - that's all I can ask for."

She was a slow tea drinker, and we kept talking about her memories and giggling for a good hour or so, but in the end, it was time to go.

Before saying goodbye, she stared intently at the portrait of the minstrel, my previous visitor, and said, "Hey, I had a portrait like this one in my home! I got it for pretty cheap at the charity shop."

I walked her to the door. She waved at me, still smiling, as the sunbeams took her.

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

This is a playthrough of a solo TTRPG called The Last Tea Shop, by Spring Villager.

You can check it out on itch.io: https://springvillager.itch.io/last-tea-shop

[alternamarian]

I haven't posted much about Hereditary (if I have at all), which may seem odd since I'm somewhat target-audienced for that film :-D And I guess this would be an occasion to write about films that are not currently on a cancelled press tour. Then again, the movie is from A24, which complied with union terms and thus was granted a waiver. Welp.

The performances, of course, are excellent. And the fact that Toni Collette was not even nominated for an Oscar is yet another reason I don't pay attention to award shows.

The rest of the movie is also very well-made. I am no professional critic, nor well-versed in technical things, but I do agree that the lighting, the sound design, the editing are all crafted to form remarkable images and atmospheres. And the themes of mental illness and other difficulties all make for a film that, as the cool kids say, is 'just for me.'

The movie is ... not the worst thing ever.

Now this movie was released in 2018, and I'm not too fussy about spoiler warnings. Still, for the record —

Spoiler Warning

And I will continue after the cut.

I've heard the 'there's actually two movies in this film' criticisms, and at first I thought I could apply that to Hereditary. But I think there are three movies that, for me, did not quite synthesize at the end.

While I did get the sense that something other was going on, for the most part there seemed to be an attempt to 'stay grounded'. And that's not necessarily a bad thing; again, the performances of all the actors were quite compelling. Even without any untoward powers, the main characters were already faced with severe difficulties with no easy solutions. And I appreciate that the film did not exaggerate the otherworldly aspects, which could have quickly made them cartoonish.

But not-ordinary forces are indeed at work, and from what I can tell, those forces have been busy for a long time before the film even began. I mean the gang's official logo was carved onto the street post. I'm not much good at reading foreshadowing, but surely that's whacking the audience over with a log, yes?

Anyway.

Why did the Joan character insist for Annie Graham to try out the summoning starter kit? The already vulnerable family was oblivious to the grandmother's hobby — which, of course, was actually Ellen Leigh's main focus; her normal life was her facade. After her death, what need was there for Joan (I don't think her family name was ever mentioned) to keep up the act? I doubt that the special niche group was worried about outside interruption. And Joan clearly had the power to just start yelling curses at Peter Graham from the sidewalk without anyone else noticing anything amiss. Anyway, with the way she went oH wHaT a coiNciDENcE!!!1!1!!!1!! about the doormat, she should have just stuck a You’re All Dead Now :-) sign on her forehead and be done with it.

I don't see the need for all the secrecy, and I think the film suffers for it because, as a consequence, the god becomes a bit like an afterthought. The subterfuge feels more like a barrier between the corrupt powers and the family's deterioration: an obstacle for the corporeal takeover, as well as a divider between plot threads that just happened to run parallel, and then sort of tangled together towards the end.

— And that end. I said I think there are three movies in this film. One is a contemporary drama, while the other is a supernatural horror story. By the time the boy was at the tree house, though, I could almost say I was watching an indie comedy. — Specifically, an indie comedy with a happy ending: after all the funny hijinx, the goal was attained; the prospective occupant was successfully installed in the new place, and everything seems to be as it should. Like, I know the evil forces have won and an even bigger fight is about to begin, but that's not what I get from the film. I'm feeling quirky comedy happy-ending feels. Not-Peter is the awkward but cool antihero, complete with paper crown and quirky credits music. Oh, what? That was a flesh crown? Well that makes him even more hipster, doesn't it?

I've mentioned before that comedy and horror tend to overlap. I also don't think the film was purposely negating the horror of the conclusion. And I could rewatch Hereditary for the performances alone. But I can't say that the comedy, the horror, and the drama all combined very well in this instance, so I probably won't be rewatching very often.

[youbloodymadgenius]

Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 3

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Ivarello's masterpost here

A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖

A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite , who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂

A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310 , @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria . Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩

In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.

Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.

Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.

Words: 3497 (oops 🙈)

Additional note: what you’re going to read is not realistic.

Enjoy 🙂

🛡⚔️🛡

With his stomach in knots and a frown on his face, Ivar watches closely his godfather, who enters the living-room, wheeling a large trolley case behind him.

"Hello, Ivar." Floki looks around, an eyebrow raised questioningly, "Lagertha isn't here?", before flopping down on the corner sofa.

"No," Ivar shakes his head, wheeling up next to him, "She's out on a date with this English guy... Hammond, Halmund or whatever his name is."

Scratching his ear, Floki tilts his head, "but she knows you're going, right?" He pulls the trolley case closer and then snorts, mumbling under his breath, "don't think I can't see you rolling your eyes!"

"What do you think? Of course, she knows. She said, and I quote," Ivar raises his hands to make air quotes, his voice tinged with obvious annoyance, "'Of course you can go, sweetie, you know I don't want to be the one holding you back. Call me if anything goes wrong. And don't forget to take your meds.'"

"She cares, Ivar." Floki's tone is soft as he places a hand on his godson's shoulder.

Ivar lowers his gaze. "You should have taken me in." His words are barely audible and suddenly he feels like he's eleven again and he has to swallow against the sudden dryness in his throat.

"You do know that back then I wasn't in a good place." Floki's sad sigh almost gets Ivar in tears as memories of his parents and Helga flood his mind. The pain in his heart becomes nearly unbearable but he fights it off with all his might. He never wants to feel broken and lost again.

Ivar lifts his head up and Floki can see the stubbornness in his eyes. "I could live with you now."

"No, you could not, and you know it!" Floki smiles and taps Ivar on the cheek. "Ivar, I live between two flights, today in Norway, yesterday in Iceland and after-tomorrow in Canada. What kind of life would this be for you, huh? And besides, living with Lagertha is not that bad."

But living with Sigurd is! Ivar wants to shout. He keeps quiet, though, shrugging before eventually mumbling. "Guess not..."

"So," Floki starts, eager to change the subject, "where are your brothers, by the way?"

"Where do you think they are, huh, you knock-kneed fool? They're already there." Ivar glances at his watch, furrowing his brow. "Harald's party started twenty minutes ago."

"We better hurry up, then!" Crouching down, Floki slowly opens the suitcase under Ivar's scrutinizing gaze.

"Quick!" Ivar commands, barely able to contain his impatience, his nervous fingers tapping his push rims. "What do you have for me, old man, huh?" He even contemplates climbing out of his chair to open it himself, but the fear of breaking a bone at the worst possible time is stronger than his eagerness.

"You're going to calm down, young Padawan." Floki quips, slowly moving his hand in front of Ivar with eyes full of mischief. Ivar immediately slaps his godfather's hand away, mumbling under his breath, "I'd rather be a Sith Lord." That earns him a loud, hysterical laugh from his godfather.

Ivar grunts, ready to protest, but all thoughts leave his mind as soon as he's able to see what is in the trolley case. The scowl on his face obvious, he doesn't even try to hide his disappointment as he utters, "you made me braces?"

He hates braces with a passion. Along with underarm crutches, he had some, as a child. They were bulky, stiff, painful and walking with them was tedious, agonizingly slow, and exhausting. Ragnar had been adamant that he wanted his youngest to walk, no matter the struggles, no matter the nearly unbearable pain. Ivar had settled his ass in a wheelchair the day of his father's funeral, getting rid of his braces shortly after, a decision he had never regretted. So no, such torture devices were not at all what he was hoping for.

"Have a little faith in me," Floki rolls his eyes. "These," he looks lovingly at the strange contraptions in his hands, "are not braces, Ivar. Have you and your crippled ass ever heard of exoskeleton?"

Ivar's eyes widen. "It's that thing used in rehab that allows paraplegics to walk, right?" As Floki nods, Ivar gives him a puzzled glance. "But, erm, you do know I don't have a spinal cord injury, don't you? Or are you suffering from memory loss? Maybe it's your age?"

Dismissing the remark with an exasperated wave of his hand, Floki hisses, "I'm well aware that you don't, godson dearest," before narrowing his eyes, his voice now serious, "you may have full sensation in both legs, yet they can't exactly support your weight and your lack of motor function can't be denied. Not really different from some paraplegic dudes, what do you think?"

Feeling a heavy lump in his throat, Ivar frowns, not pleased with the idea of him being like a paraplegic. Almost without thinking, he contracts his quads as best he can, as if he wants to make sure he's still able to do it.

Floki doesn't miss the barely-there movements in his thighs, though, and his voice softens. "Look Ivar, you're not a paraplegic, okay? But I used the exoskeleton technology. And since you're not paralyzed, I was able to make a smaller device that you can wear underneath your clothes, and you're going to walk. I mean, really walk, not just like those guys in rehab, between parallels bars and with a PT right behind them."

Ivar, his eyes bright, stares at his godfather, slack-jawed with amazement. "I'm..." He begins to sputter, voice filled with emotion, "I'm really going to walk?" Feeling like his heart is pounding out of his chest, he fails to contain his excitement, drumming the fingers of his right hand on his lap. He'd tap his feet if only he could.

"You are." Floki nods before taking out of the trolley case a pair of dress shoes. "I put dozens of sensors in the insole of these shoes, which will enable the exoskeleton to correct your stance practically every second. Therefore, you won't need crutches, although I would say it's safer for you to use this." Reaching down, he grabs a black derby-style cane, simple and sleek in design. "You know," he shrugs, "just for extra support. Better safe than sorry, hmh?"

Ivar, who doesn't even flinch when he sees the walking stick, just reaches out, his hand grazing the carbon fiber exoskeleton. "Is it really for me?" His eyes filled with wonder, his voice trembling, his lips stretch across his face as his godfather nods. "And you made this in what?... four, five days?"

Letting out his signature giggle, Floki waggles his fingers in front of his face. "Even I couldn't make this in such a short time. No, the truth is, I've been working on it for a while. Let's say your phone call just sped things up. Though I must say, this marvel of technology is not flawless... It has a really low battery life, like four hours of autonomy at best. If I had more time, I certainly could have done better, but for now, it is what it is and you'll have to make do with what you've got." Pursing his lips, he glances at his watch, "So, just so you know, if you put this on now, you'll have to come back around midnight if you don't want to have to crawl around. And if you hear a beep, you'd better hurry, okay?"

As Ivar just nods, his beaming smile never fading, Floki adds, tilting his head, "and now, go get ready, young Padawan, you have a party to attend!"

***

Sitting on a bench at the seaside, Ivar watches the party from afar, a feeling of uneasiness tightening his chest. It was a mistake. Attending to this party was a mistake. Despite the exoskeleton, despite the fact that he walks almost normally, it was a mistake. He shouldn't have come. He shouldn't be here. Anxiety surges like the swell of a wave, and he struggles to breathe. Sigurd was right: he doesn't belong here, doesn't belong to this life.

A part of him wants to leave. It would be better to run away, to go hide in his room. But he won't. He can't. Because just a moment ago he saw you. Because he's not ready to give up on you now that he is here, eventually close to you.

He recognized you the moment his eyes fell on you. Looking radiant in a polka dot dress, you're as pretty as he remembers. Pretty? Who's he kidding? The girl you were six years ago was pretty. You're a woman now, and one of the most beautiful he's ever seen.

Glowing, smiling at everyone, you didn't even see him. In his head, of course, he makes plans to approach you, even if deep down, he knows all too well he'll never muster enough courage to talk to you. You probably wouldn't want him to anyway. After all, he may be standing tall today, yet he's still a freak, a fucking cripple. He's still cursed with his bony, twisted, useless legs. He's still a burden.

Yet, there's this little voice inside of him, barely audible, whispering that you're not like this, that you never were in the first place; and that's partly why the ten-year-old boy he was when he first met you felt drawn to you almost instantly.

Closing his eyes, he focuses on his breathing and decides to take a little trip down memory lane, bringing him back to that sunny, summer day of his first – and only – encounter with you. His memory so vivid it's like it happened only yesterday.

He can't hear the chirping of birds as his brothers are loudly playing and bickering in the pool. His beloved mother is nowhere to be seen and he's willing to bet she's taking a nap, but not without first making sure he has everything he could possibly need. Lying on a sunbed in the shade of an oak, a glass of lemonade within reach and a thick book on his lap, he hardly notices his father coming into the backyard, Harald Hårfager following close behind.

Since Ivar knows Harald is here to talk business with his father, he pays no attention to the two men, who take their seats at the patio dining table.

He nearly falls off the sunbed when a tiny voice startles him. "Hello!"

Stunned, he turns his head towards the voice and comes face to face with a smiling girl he doesn't know. You. He'd say you're about his age.

"I'm Y/N," you tell him, waving your hand shyly. "I'm at my uncle's for the weekend," you keep going, pointing your finger at Harald, "and I was wondering... May I join you?" You finally ask, dragging a second sunbed closer to his.

His first instinct is to look around, because you can't possibly be talking to him. Why would you? Surely you can't have failed to spot his leg braces, nor his hideous orthopedic shoes. You can't have missed that he's a cripple.

Frowning as he sees that no one is around, he snorts, his nostrils flaring. He can tell you're wearing a swimsuit under your pink dress. What do you want, then? Are you here to mock and ridicule him or what?

"You better get in the pool with my brothers." He knows he sounds rude, not answering nor greeting you, but he doesn't care. He doesn't want to be made fun of and doesn't intend to give you the chance to do it.

Seemingly undeterred, you speak with a soft voice. "No, I'd rather not." Your smile is so genuine he can't help but think you mean no harm. "Actually," you shrug, sitting next to him, "I'd rather stay here with you, if you don't mind. What are you reading?"

Gobsmacked, he just looks at you – and gods, how pretty you are! – for a long time, unable to utter a single word. Are you truly interested in what he's reading? Interested in him? He swallows hard, his heart racing. A small smile dancing on your lips, your kind eyes never leave his as you wait, full of hope, for him to finally talk to you.

And that's what he ends up doing, almost in spite of himself. For the next two hours, he shows you his astronomy book, a gift from his godfather for his tenth birthday, and tells you about the stars, the constellations and the nights he spends watching the sky, when his mother allows him to. And for two hours you listen to him, asking a question here or there and always smiling. He's pretty sure you're not faking being interested in what he's saying.

All too soon, your uncle tells you it's time to go and you stand up with a scowl, letting out a sigh of regret. The next moment, you flash Ivar a grin. "I had a really great time with you, thanks! I'm going back to my mom's tomorrow but I hope we can spend time together again sometime, maybe next summer. I'd love to stargaze with you, you know?" With that, you lean forward and as your lips touch his cheek, Ivar's breath catches in his throat, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest.

Ivar inhales deeply. That kiss... That's when he fell madly and hopelessly in love with you. If he concentrates enough, he can still feel the softness of your lips against his skin, still smell your sweet, flowery scent.

That day, he had watched you leave with a smile on your face, already dreaming of the day he would see you again. You had said "next summer" and even though it was a long time away, he was willing to wait. In the meantime, he would have plenty of memories to recall - your joyful voice, your sparkling eyes, your lovely smile... Sure, he could wait.

And he had waited, hopeful and happier than he had been in a long time.

Not long after, however, his life had been turned upside down, his father being murdered and his mother dying in a car crash. Lost, angry, broken, and infinitely sad, he had gone through the following months as if anesthetized - barely living, hardly functioning, sometimes feeling as if the memory of you was the only thing keeping him from drowning.

Yet, and he doesn't know why – or perhaps simply because Ragnar being dead, Harald had no reason to visit anymore – he had never seen you again.

"Hello!"

His whole body freezes and he stops breathing. This voice... Your voice... He'd know it anywhere. Yet, it can't be, right? Did he fall asleep? Is he dreaming? Is one of his brothers tricking him? Why would you talk to the cripple?

"My name is Y/N." He can hear the smile in your voice. "I was wondering... May I join you?"

Summoning the courage he's not sure he has, Ivar looks tentatively toward you.

Gods! You're even more beautiful up close. Fuck. Now that you're here, right next to him, he doesn't know what to say, what to do. Panic seizes his hammering heart as a lump rises in his throat. He attempts to swallow around it to speak, to say something, anything, but the words won't come out and he finally just nods, his hand gesturing to the bench for you to sit on.

"Thanks," you give him a broad smile before taking your seat.

Ivar cannot believe his eyes. What are you doing? Did you recognize him? Why are you here, with him?

"Woul–", he sputters, struggling to find his voice, "Wouldn't you rather be there?" Pointing his index finger at the crowd gathered in front of the makeshift stage just a few meters away. He frowns, tilting his head, "the party is in full swing."

"No, I'd rather not." You shrug and as you turn your head toward him, he breathes in your sweet scent, suddenly feeling dizzy. "The guys are already drunk and really have one thing on their minds. And those who are not are boring." You lower your gaze, as if embarrassed, and it's so adorable Ivar feels like his heart is melting. "I'd rather stay here with you, if you don't mind."

Oh, he doesn't. He doesn't mind at all. The truth is, there's a fucking firework inside of him, and he barely contains the screams of happiness that threaten to escape his lips. "That's okay, you can stay," he says instead, his fidgeting fingers dancing on his lap.

Over the next hour or so, the conversation flows easily as you speak about Karasjok, the small town where you live, telling him about your mother's people, the Sami, their culture and customs.

Ivar shares with you bits and pieces of his life too, speaking about his passion for the Viking culture and about his belief in the ancient gods. The night, his night, is full of your laughs, full of your smiles, full of you. He wants it to never end.

He's still trying to figure out if you know who he is, if you remember meeting him once when you rise to your feet, almost bouncing with enthusiasm. "Walk with me, will you?"

He's about to break the truth about his inability to walk when he remembers that actually, thanks to Floki, he can. His eyes never leave yours as he grabs his cane with a little bit of self-consciousness, wincing as he stands up, but he can't see disgust, contempt, or disappointment on your face and your smile doesn't falter as you delicately slip your hand under his free arm, curling your fingers back over it. Shaken by your sudden proximity, Ivar feels goosebumps rising on his skin.

"It's such a lovely night and I'm so happy spending it with you."

Your words leave him speechless as you lead him close to the water. A bunch of guys can be seen in the distance and Ivar is pretty sure his brothers are among them. He can feel their heavy stares on him and doesn't need to hear them to know what they're saying. "Who's this dude? Do we know him?" Standing tall, with his braided hair and a blue suit, he knows he doesn't look like himself. Yet, as he locks eyes with Hvitserk for a second, he'd sworn he sees a hint of recognition crossing his brother's face. And as the latter gives him a thumbs up, he knows his mind is not playing tricks with him.

"Oh, I love this song!" You clap your hands twice before shrugging shyly. "Let's dance, please!"

Ivar's heart breaks. Scared out of his wits, he swallows hard, his breathing uneven. "I... I can't." It's a painful admission, and he wishes the ground would just swallow him up.

He realizes you pay no mind to his defeated tone, though, as you grab his cane, leaning it against a nearby tree. "We'll go slow, I promise."

Almost in spite of himself, he places his hands on your hips as you wrap your arms around his neck. Gently – cautiously – swaying to the music, Ivar leans in close and, inhaling deeply your delightful scent, he feels like he's going to spontaneously combust. Your head resting on his chest, he's sure you can hear his frantic, pounding heartbeat. But he can't bring himself to care, not when you're finally exactly where he wants you to be. In his arms.

That's why he doesn't hear the first beep, or if he does, he doesn't pay any attention, entranced by your beauty, your kindness and the mesmerizing color of your eyes.

But when you stop dancing, your eyebrows raised, "What's that beeping noise? It doesn't stop," he hears it too, cold sweats washing over him as panic courses through his body.

"I... I must... I must go," he stammers, and honestly he's about to throw up. He can't think, can't speak. All he knows is that he doesn't want you seeing him crawling around. He won't allow it. He can't.

Fuck.

That's why he leaves. He just strolls off. He doesn't see the appalled look you're giving him, doesn’t' realize he's leaving his black cane behind, doesn't hear the despair in your tone as you shout, "wait, please! I don't even know your name!"

He has only taken a few steps when crocodile tears run down his cheeks, blurring his sight. It hurts so much he could scream, and he can barely breathe as the realization starts to sink in. Who was he trying to fool? Sigurd had been right all along. No matter the exoskeleton, no matter the genius of his godfather, he's still a freak. A monster. An abnormality.

He doesn't belong. He's not worthy.

Fuck.

His heart shatters in a thousand pieces.

Fuck.

Y/N.

Fuck.

🛡⚔️🛡

Ivar's taglist: @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @adrille88

Ivarello's taglist: @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @hashimily @prepare4trouble @supernaturalvikingwhore @funmadnessandbadassvikings @heavenly1927 @dini73

[joezworld]

So, a while back this got posted and I thought it would be cool to do a set of stories on the whole subject of 'family'.

Then work picked up and I only got through the first one and a half.

The half story got used in Day 27 of Traintober (it's the story Gordon retells to Richard Hatt), but this one never seemed like it could fit, so I decided to put it up after Traintober.

*checks watch*

It's certainly after Traintober now, isn't it?

Replacement

July, 1987

Once again, Tidmouth Sheds were in an uproar, but this time, it was a different sort of uproar.

"I'm telling you, he's a mongrel! A fraud! A waste of good metal!" Screeched a posh voice.

Vulgar statements followed this:

"How dare you, you cheese-shaped lump of-"

"-can you at least say this to my face?"

"-if ah were in steam ah would be turnin' ye into roast duck, you-"

"Forget yerself Douggie, can ye imagine what Bear wuld be sayin' if he wuz 'ere?"

"Quackers, I swear to all that is not holy, if you don't stop talking-"

"Is this what the pride of the LNER sounds like? An unmitigated -"

-

Perhaps an explanation is necessary.

The year prior, The National Railway Museum had restored Mallard - the fastest steam locomotive in the world - to operating condition. Gordon was very pleased by this, as it meant another member of his extended family was in steam.

Furthermore, Mallard's speed records were a source of personal pride for Gordon, as his design was the prototype for all the Gresley Pacifics, including Mallard. This meant that Gordon would happily spend hours telling anyone and everyone who would listen (or couldn't get away quickly enough!) about his family's various exploits, much to the annoyance of the other engines, who wished he'd give it a rest!

But Gordon would not give it a rest, and spent most of the next year going on and on about Mallard and Flying Scotsman. Things eventually grew so dire that the Fat Controller reached out to Mallard and Flying Scotsman's owners to see if the engines would like to come out to Sodor just so Gordon would stop.

Unfortunately, things had not gone as planned. While Flying Scotsman was just as charming and gregarious as he always was, Mallard... was not.

Within a few days of his arrival, engines up and down the Island had begun complaining of the A4's attitude, which ranged from snooty and aloof to cold and even downright hostile depending on whom he spoke to:

"You should have heard the things he said when he thought BoCo was gone!" Edward said crossly one morning at the junction. "I've never heard such remarks about diesels!"

"Did he say anything about you?" James growled. "He told me - to my face - that my class was a "insignificant footnote in history".

Percy looked over, expression dark, at where the express engine was sitting at the coaling tower next to Gordon and Scotsman. "He hasn't said anything to me yet, but I think he knows where his bearings are greased."

"What?" Edward was confused.

"Keep it to yourselves," Percy explained. "But I think those books about us are a bit more popular on the mainland than we think. He thinks he can get away with being a sore axle to you because you aren't famous."

"And you are?" James snapped back.

"No," Percy admitted. "But Thomas is, and every time I've seen that great Wedge is when Thomas, Gordon, or Flying Scotsman is nearby."

The three engines looked at each other.

"So not only is he a rude heap of scrap iron," James began. "But he's also a glory hound?"

"Seems so."

"What a berk."

-

This brings us back to Tidmouth Sheds. Henry had been away at the works for several days, and returned to the big station on an evening goods train from Crovan's Gate. Mallard, Gordon, Scotsman, and several other engines were already in the shed when Henry backed in.

Pleasantries were exchanged with the other engines, but when Henry tried to say hello to Mallard, trouble started.

"You aren't a Black Five, are you?" Mallard asked, suspicion colouring his voice.

"You have a very good eye!" Henry chortled, unaware of Mallard's personality. "I've been rebuilt quite thoroughly - Stanier was the most recent one, about 50 years ago now."

"Really? And what were you rebuilt from?" Mallard asked, even more suspicious than before.

Across the shed, Donald, Douglas, and Duck looked at each other with growing concern. Henry's origins were well known to the Island, as was Mallard's superiority complex - this conversation would not end well.

"-and well, at the end of the day, I think I was originally built out of a rejected first draft for Gordon!" Henry laughed a little. "Of course, that was a long time ago."

A lengthy silence followed that.

Gordon and Scotsman looked at each other. They'd never considered that Henry might share a common origin with them.

Douglas, Donald, and Duck looked concerned. They could see Mallard's expression turn increasingly thunderous.

"Gordon, my dear cousin." Mallard eventually said, his tone practically poisonous. "Did you know that we're in the company of a fraud?"

-

The noise did not stop. No matter what anyone did to quell the argument, it would quickly start up again as Gordon or Scotsman tried to make their increasingly-recalcitrant cousin apologize to Henry. Mallard's responses were so rude that they don't bear repeating here, and each time sparked off a new round of shouting.

They would likely have gone on until dawn broke over the horizon, and only did stop when Henry's crew arrived to light his fire for the Flying Kipper. They had heard the argument all the way from the station carpark, and decided that the only way to end this was by separating Mallard from everyone else.

-

"- you expect me to pull what?!" As an uncooperative Mallard was driven towards the docks, the rest of the engines looked at each other, wide-eyed and emotionally exhausted.

"I never want to speak to him again." Gordon said, his voice scratchy and raw from a night of shouting.

"Gordon," Henry began.

"I'm serious." Gordon rasped. "He has no right to speak to you that way. As far as I'm concerned, he is the fraud, not you."

This drew raised eyebrows across the shed. "How is he the fraud, Gordon?" Duck asked. "It's not like he isn't a Gresley."

"He might look like one," Gordon growled. "But he isn't. No true Gresley would ever speak to another engine like that. There is a code. Honor. Dignity. Respect. It's the Gresley - nay - the North Eastern way."

The other engines stared at him. They were all well aware of how Gordon had treated Henry during his first few years on the Island.

"Don't look at me like that!" He snapped. "I was young and I was stupid then. And I have apologized." He looked in the direction Mallard had gone. "He has no such excuse."

The other engines looked at each other. They were all very upset at Mallard's rudeness, but clearly he'd struck a nerve in Gordon.

They wanted to say something, but by that point, the firelighters had arrived to prepare everyone for their morning trains, and the clatter and noise made conversation impossible. When the sheds had finally quieted down, Donald and Scotsman - who did not have morning trains - had fallen so deeply asleep that they slept until noon.

-

Everyone else spent the rest of the day in an exhausted haze. Henry was falling asleep any time his wheels stopped turning, and Gordon's temper had become shorter and shorter as the day had gone on. Even Scotsman, who had managed some sleep, was still groggy to the point of slurring his words.

Mallard, who had also been up all night, was equally snappish, especially after his run with the Flying Kipper. His owners had agreed to let the Fat Controller run him in normal services as well as rail tours, thinking that it would be a nice change from being kept inside the National Railway Museum all the time. However, Mallard actually enjoyed the light duties of being a museum engine, and found real work to be unpleasant and tiring.

He had not been quiet about this either, and this meant that when Mallard arrived in Barrow with the Flying Kipper, Henry's crew was already fed up with him. They left him in Barrow yard and stalked into the yard master's office, and immediately asked for their engine to be assigned the heaviest, most difficult train available.

That train turned out to be a special load of unfitted stone wagons bound for the harbour at Arlesburgh. Mallard made heavy weather of the trip, and it took him almost five hours of slow and dusty running to reach Duck's branch line. His train was of particularly low priority, and he had been shunted into almost every siding on the line, something which rankled his express engine sensibilities enormously. His axles ached and he was so tired that he was almost seeing double.

Mallard tried to rest once he'd delivered the train to Arlesburgh, but Duck hadn't forgotten the things that had been said about Henry, and blew his whistle, wheeshed steam, and generally made a nuisance of himself to keep Mallard awake. When Duck left, Donald and Douglas arrived and picked up where he left off.

When the time finally came to return to Tidmouth, Mallard was in a state of outraged and overtired hysteria. He'd been awake for more than thirty hours at this point, had been yelled at by engines who were defending a fraud, and had been made to do real work! It was disgraceful! Despicable! Absolutely disgusting!

He continued fuming all the way to Tidmouth station, and was subjected to further indignities when he was left alone on the far goods platform.

At first, he thought that it would be possible to get some rest at long last, but that hope was dashed when a pair of green tenders backed down next to him.

“What on earth do you want, Cousin?”

“What is wrong with you.” Scotsman didn’t phrase it as a question. He glared at the A4 through exhausted eyes.

“You’ll have to be more specific.” Mallard said graciously. “My paintwork is a touch shabby, my valves are worn, and I feel as though I could do with some more grease and lubri-”

“You know what I mean.”

“Oh that?”

“Yes. That.”

“Well I’m not sure that there’s anything left to talk about my dear Scotsman - you certainly seemed content to say your piece all through the night, and into the morning as well!”

“They- I- You- You have been preened and fettled just a bit too much, alright? It’s gone to your smokebox, and not in a good way.”

“Oh please. You and I both know I’m correct. That abomination is nothing more than a waste of good metal. He should have been confined to the cutting room floor just like his drawings.”

I can’t believe I’m listening to this. You sound like Deltic - you know, the original Deltic? The prototype who had BR’s men so far down his intakes that they were able to turn him evil?”

“I can’t say I’m familiar.”

“He said that he was inevitable, and that he would surpass us in every way, and that we would all fall to his greatness. He was a supremacist git, Duckie, just like you are right now.”

“I’d kindly ask you not to lump me in with monsters such as that.”

“Then stop acting like him. Actually, I take that back - do start acting like him; I had the chance to meet him a few years ago at the Science Museum - he’s had a complete turnaround, spent an entire hour telling me how sorry he was for everything. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you apologize for something in my entire life.”

“Well I’ve never had to, and I doubt that I ever will have to.”

“Why don’t you start. Today.”

“Oh, be sensible! Why are you supporting the Mongrel anyways?”

“He’s -” Scotsman cut himself off. “All right, even if we ignored what you said about Henry - which we will not, by the way - Gordon is furious about this. I’ve never seen him so mad and neither have the other engines who live with him! You owe him an apology on top of everything else!”

“Feh! I don’t owe him anything! He’s scarcely better than the fraud!”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Oh don’t look at me like that! He’s a prototype! A first draft! A rough approximation of what was to come! Don’t tell me you haven’t looked at him! His running board has more in common with the Forgery than you or I, and they’ve even removed his center cylinder! His center cylinder! And his Gresley motion! The two things that make our line stand out above all the rest! He’s as much of a Gresley as that box on wheels they put on the Woodhead line! The only reason I afford him any respect at all is because he’s managed to ingratiate himself to that clergyman with a predilection for children’s books!”

“First of all, Tommy is just a much of a Gresley as we are-”

“Bah!”

“And second, where do you draw the line? Are there no true Gresleys other than you? Is it limited to just your class? Or does one have to be famous? Is Green Arrow a true Gresley according to you? Are Dwight or Dominion true Gresleys? Are the J50s? Am I?”

“Stop being melodramatic. Your undesirable shape aside, you are of course a Gresley, and so are -”

“Undesirable shape.”

“What? Oh yes, it’s very unfortunate, but true.”

“How so?”

“Well, it’s rather obvious if you think about it.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Just look at those of us who survived - they only preserved one or two of the rest of our family classes - just look at yourself, they only saved you because of your record - but they’ve preserved myself and five others! Clearly we are more desirable than the rest of you, and I have seen for myself how popular a streamlined body is.”

“You vainglorious little bas-”

“In fact, and I mean no offense, but if it had been Silver Link, Sir Ralph, or even a Thompson or a Peppercorn who hit the ton instead of you, they would be here and you wouldn’t. It’s that simple.”

Even through his exhaustion, everything Scotsman saw was beginning to get this strange red colouring. “You’ve crossed a line now, and you are going-”

“I’ve crossed a line?!” Mallard scoffed. “Scotsman, cousin, I am the line. The Line, against which Gresleys - no, all steam locomotives are measured against. I achieved something that no locomotive has done before or since, and I did so with loose valves, a failing cylinder, and a heavy-handed driver. You did something that Truro probably did before you were even drawn, except that you had the good sense to bring a dynamometer!”

Mallard paused. His smokebox was ringing like a damned bell, he was so tired, and he didn’t have any desire to be kind today. “And in case you start getting any ideas above your station about your fame or your glory and if that affords you some unearned amount of additional respect, old iron, let us remember that when BR decided to form the National Collection, They. Didn’t. Want. You.”

Scotsman was about to burst a boiler tube. He opened his mouth to say something equally hurtful when an aggrieved sounding “AHEM” could be heard from beside him.

There on the platform was the Fat Controller, who had heard everything, and was as angry as Scotman had ever seen a human being get.

“Oh, what is it now?” Mallard griped, showing that he had no sense in his smokebox at all.

-

Later

The Fat Controller spoke to the big engines that night. “Due to, err, extenuating circumstances, Mallard had to return to the mainland early.”

Exhausted cheers met this.

“Now, I understand that some of you might be disappointed by this,” The Fat Controller ignored them. “but not to worry. I have spoken to a gentleman whom I know very well, and I have arranged for another locomotive of Mallard’s type to arrive shortly. That way we will be able to accommodate all the people who have come out to see Gordon, Flying Scotsman, and Mallard all together.”

That engine turned out to be Union of South Africa - or Osprey, as she preferred to be called nowadays. She was Mallard’s polar opposite - bouncy and excitable, she relished the chance to have some “real work”, and made fast friends with the engines of Sodor before nightfall of her first day on the Island.

“Why couldn’t we have had her before?” BoCo asked the shed at large. “And do we have to give her back?”

Everyone laughed at this, and when Osprey herself backed into the shed a while later, she was met with genuine smiles.

“You all seem happy about something!” She chirped.

“We’re just glad that you aren’t rude like the last one was.” James said with surprisingly upbeat bluntness.

“Duckie...” She sighed. “What did he do now?”

Everyone told her, and when they finished, the happy mood in the shed had darkened significantly.

“So he thinks he’s in a class of his own, does he?” She said quietly. “He should know better than to say things like that.”

Even Scotsman looked at her quizzically at that.

“He’s… been doing this for some time.” She explained. “Being earmarked for preservation, not having to worry while we all did… it did things to him. We’ve all tried to make him stop - it gives the rest of us a bad name! - but with myself, Bittern, and Nigel on other sides of the country, there isn’t a lot we can do. And he clearly doesn’t respect anyone else’s opinions on the matter.” She looked at Scotsman significantly when she said this - Mallard hadn’t so much crossed the line as he’d driven over it at 127 miles per hour.

“Well we must do something.” BoCo, of all engines, spoke up from the other side of the shed. “Forgive me if I’m treading on any Gresley family ground here, but if one of my brothers had spoken like that, the rest of us would have paid him out from now ‘til the new millennium.”

Gordon, Osprey, and Scotsman looked at each other for a moment.

“I suppose we should…” Gordon began.

“He certainly deserves it.” Osprey said.

“But what could we do to him that isn’t wanton cruelty?” Scotsman pondered. “We are trying to be the bigger engines here, let’s remember.”

The engines paused for a moment to come up with ideas, but the quiet was soon broken as Henry was driven into the shed.

“You all look contemplative.” He said as he was spun around on the turntable.

“We’re just trying to - my word,” Osprey said as she took in Henry’s form. “You do look like one of us - no amount of Stanier meddling can change that.”

A pair of gasps rang out as Gordon and Scotsman had the same thought at the same time.

As everyone else looked at them, they both turned their attention to Henry.

“Henry…” Gordon said slowly. “Have I ever mentioned how-”

“I know what you’re thinking.” Henry said quickly, cutting him off. “And I will not be a party to it.”

“Oh come now, cousin.” Scotsman said slyly. “Tell me that you can’t see the appeal of this?”

“I’ve been in the same shed as your lineage for sixty years,” Henry said. “I will not be involv-”

“I see you haven’t given up on insulting children, have you?” Sir Nigel said as he was backed into the next road. Mallard was in the back of the shed, sulking; he’d been put back there several hours early after the parents at the heritage railroad’s open day had started complaining.

“They are sticky, and stupid, and young.” Mallard grimaced. “I don’t know how you put up with them.”

“I put up with them because I like them, and more importantly, they like me.” Sir Nigel said. “If they grow up not liking steam engines, then how will we survive when they’re adults? Boilers don’t grow on trees, you know - their ticket revenues will someday pay for them!”

A vulgar noise followed this, and the other A4 rolled his eyes. “Ah yes, Super-Engine is a piece of history; they’ll never rid themselves of you.”

“Did you come in here for a purpose, or am I to be stuck with you until the morning?”

“Yes to both, unfortunately enough.”

“Well, out with it - I want my beauty sleep.”

“I think you’d have to sleep for a month to manage any of that-”

“Why you-!”

“-but I do have some family news.”

“What is it? Be quick.”

“Did you know that they found another A1 prototype? I don’t know how this has only now come to light, but-”

“I said be quick.”

“ - but, new documents have come to light in Sodor. Apparently their 4-6-0 - I cannot for the life of me remember his name, but he’s the green one in the books - he’s one of us! Scotsman, Gordon, and Osprey all vouch for his pedigree, and when I saw Arrow, he was ecstatic at the prospect of expanding the family a little. Oh, and Morayshire is already champing at the bit to go out there and welcome him in person…”

Sir Nigel kept talking for some time, but Mallard didn’t hear him.

They adopted the fraud. Those savages.

[chaoticgeminate]

I Can, I Will, I Did

Guess who wrote a fanwork of a fanwork?

Me, this woman right here.

There exists a wonderful story series written by @littlemisspascal called The Fox, The Mage, and The Cupboard with which I've been totally enchanted.

This is not canon to that series, it is only my own fan work and self-indulgent product and I encourage you to read her series if this even remotely interests you.

Come, binge her Masterlist, it's a treasure trove of stories I promise.

Sorry not sorry for making that whole line a link ❤

It is also a means of experimenting with a named OC [Noelia Sinclaire] written in second person format, so this is not a reader insert and I apologize for that but I'm specifying it now.

For readers of FMC, this would technically happen between 'Sage and Walnut' and 'A Calm Quiet Place' in the timeline.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,852

Notes: Niamh is pronounced 'Neev' | The song I mention is an original piece by Reinaeiry on Youtube, the link is at the bottom of the story.

“Welcome back, Noelia, how are you feeling today?”

Kind eyes, compassionate eyes even, met your gaze and held it as your mind turned the question over and over; what answer could you give that you hadn’t already said? How many times did you have to repeat yourself, to breathe in the air of the room and deliver the same words in the same tone, why couldn’t they accept that things weren’t fine or okay but that you weren’t at risk of breaking your promise?

Why couldn’t they understand that all they were doing was making things worse for you?

Seconds were going to turn to minutes in the space of silence and you hoped the panic didn’t bloom across your face, you hoped the Mage didn’t feel the swirl of anger or shroud of sorrow; hesitation implied a negative response, your lips tripped over the words instead. “I’m- I’m coping. Doing- it’s hard but I’m doing better.”

Better is relative.

“Better is relative.”

Sometimes this felt more like a routine, a dance of words rather than a means of therapy, and you were beginning to memorize the steps; predicting what the Mage in front of you would reply with, you were beginning to think you could run a whole session in your mind without their presence at all.

Their head tilted and your heart slammed in response, the staccato tempo increasing the longer you held their gaze without an answer to the remark.

How long did I hesitate? Ten seconds? Is that too long? I need to say something-

“I’m here, it hurts but I’m still here. She’s gone but I’m not and I feel lost and empty but I’m here when I should be with her and the emptiness won’t just go away, my magic is reaching out for someone who isn’t here and never will be again, and the only things I have left of her are being withheld-“ Your voice seized and you stopped, the speed of your words and the beginning of panic revealing too much, but across from you they simply wrong something down on their stupid clipboard and looked up.

Everything in their body language changed.

It felt predatory and dangerous, it felt like a challenge, and your plumage began to spread as a response. “Withheld, that’s an interesting word choice, why do you think we’re withholding anything from you Noelia?” Their tone was level and amicable, it clashed with the darker look in their gold eyes, and your heartbeat was a war drum in your chest. On the other side of the wall you knew there were others, watching you and assessing, you knew they were being cautious and why but none of them were here for support.

They want me angry, they want me to lash out, but if I do I’ll never be able to fulfill my promise.

Phantom pressure wrapped around your shoulders in a gesture you knew well, cinnamon and vanilla notes lingered in the space as if she’d been here before you, and you recognized the trap at last. The room was tailored to keep you swimming in your grief, from the paint color on the walls to the titles on the bookshelves, it was designed to keep your heart locked in your loss and caged in that shroud of misery.

“Marion died giving birth to Niamh but we made a pact, we vowed, that no matter what happened we would live and love and move on. I swore to always protect what was hers if the Goddess ever called her home before me, including her daughter and the property in Eldergrove she inherited, and I finally see- a Familiar never survives losing their Mage and you have your sights on something of hers, so you want me out of the picture.”

You saw it, recognized it, in those golden eyes; before they could close it away deflect you saw the anger that flashed, the threat to quiet down and return to being lost and scared and sad. “You honor your Mage by wanting to keep your promise Noelia, but the Grand Coven cannot risk putting a baby into your care when you could die from the bond separation at any moment, it would be best for us to find a suitable guardian to raise her on the property in your stead such as the baby’s own great-Aunt.“

Now you knew, you saw just who they were advocating for, and the phantom pressure on your arms tightened like fingers flexing into your skin in a flash of panic. Courage and fight speared through you, erasing some of that empty pain in the hollow place in your chest, righteous fury bolstering your frame as you sat at full height and stared back at this threat trying to break you down.

“Act Twenty-Nine of the Familiar Bonding Laws protects me as a direct heir and member of Marion’s immediate family, making me next of kin in the event of her death and my survival. Act Forty of the Familiar Bonding Laws states that if I survive the bond separation for six months -which I have since it has been nearly a year- that all legal processes including estate closure, offspring guardianship, and property inheritance must be resumed.”

Confidence wrapped around you to replace that dark shroud and their face morphed into anger, displeasure so deep you imagined they would have attacked if there wasn’t the risk of drawing attention to the room. Marion’s Aunt was a monster and she would never get her hands on Niamh, even if you had to end her life on your own, and for the first time in ten months you felt free; it felt like the weight holding you back was being shaken off and the phantom hold on your shoulders began to slide away.

Thank you, Marion. Even the Goddess can’t stop you from coming to help me.

You left the room with your head held high, marching right to the liaison of the Grand Coven based in Seabury and feeling that flood of joy when they confirmed your right to reclaim guardianship of Niamh and begin the process of moving to Eldergrove once the paperwork was signed. It still hurt, you still had that emptiness in your chest and that permeating loss eating away at your heart, but you weren’t without purpose and you never had been; your final vow to Marion kept you here and alive.

By the next morning you were crying in joy and relief, no sorrow in your tears, as you cradled the toddler that looked so much like her mother; milk-white skin and fiery red hair with curls and freckles, her big hazel eyes were her own and as the baby reached up to play with the plumes of mottled feathers that surrounded your ears. “Bir bir.” Softly spoken, with that toddler curiosity, and your eyes overflowed.

“That’s right Niamh, bird bird.”

“She’s going to pull at all your feathers, and I bet she’ll call you ‘bird bird’.”

“Hey, bird bird, you excited for today’s appointment?”

“Can you- I’m nervous, can you sing for me bird bird?”

Niamh remembered and you knew that you would be okay, she wasn’t Marion but she was hers and yours, and it hurt but you could do this.

Even though your world was dim without your sunlight, your life had a gray overcast and the nights were darker, you held the little body close knowing that she would breathe stars into the night skies of your mind and bring light back even in the darkest times.

Thirty-eight hours by train wasn’t an ideal trip for a baby, no matter how well behaved Niamh was, but Douglas Farm had waited long enough. You would be riding to Rosedale and then taking a cart to the farmland outside of the town, in the three months of legalities involving the transfer of the deed as well as ownership of the farm property you had reached out the woodworker at Eldergrove and asked them to inspect the property and the buildings to compose a list of the things that needed restoration or replacement, over the span of the last months in Seabury the work had been paid for and completed.

William, the one you’d spoken to the most, had even cut a deal on new furniture since you had gotten so much work done at a single time and suggested hiring a man named Ezra to weed the property and break down the grape trellises that had been taken by time. He also brought up the local handyman Frankie, for restoration of the fruit presses in the production house, and you had gladly allowed him to get Joel from Miller’s Mercantile to facilitate the process since a lot of the small basic parts came from him anyway.

From what you understood the fields would be ready for replanting, the cottage would be livable, and the production house would be ready by the time you arrived.

As you stepped into the long cabin car, hushing Niamh as she began to squirm in your hold, a large hand braced your shoulders when the car lurched slightly; you turned your head and felt heat immediately flood your entire face as cocoa eyes looked at you with genuine concern. “You’d think they’d have better stabilizers on these trains, huh?” The remark was made in a conversational way and you nodded with a shy smile, tucking your face into Niamh’s curls when the toddler babbled and waved her plush elephant toy at the stranger.

“Sounds like you know a thing or two about those, maybe they should hire you to fix the problem.” His lips lifted into a grin and you opened your cabin door with a smile when he reached for the one beside it, sharing a hesitant grin. “Looks like we’re neighbors too, I know who I’m calling if there’s an emergency.” He chuckled and grabbed the brim of his worn hat as he dipped his head, the gesture would have made you cringe if it was anyone else, but his patchy beard and dark curls and those eyes had made your reply a shy wave as the heat returned to your face and neck.

From then on you passed by each other over the trip, either on the way to the dining car or to use the bathroom, and if you weren’t moving to a new home you might’ve tried to learn more about him. Rather than exchanging waves and soft smiles, rather than watching him longingly, when he wasn’t looking.

For all you knew he could be heading further than Rosedale.

Niamh was fine the first half of the ride, at least, but she started to get testy around the second; refusing to be put down for naps, and you suspected it was the sound of the train agitating her. “Alright, little star, hush now.” Leaving the cabin door open for now as you hurried back from the dining car, feathers flaring in your minor panic, you fished out your kalimba and settled the baby against your chest while leaning back against the wall.

The song wasn’t something traditional of a lullaby, it was a little on the sad side, but the crooning words and soft kalimba notes did what she hoped and Niamh settled early into the melody.

Oh, when the sun loves the moon

Her golden light

Her silver hues

A beautiful song

Oh, how the long

For dawn

Every lyric was an ode to your love for Marion even though the Goddess had taken her Home, a reminder that your love was still strong even though you were apart, and stray tears dripped down your cheeks that Niamh smeared across your skin with her chubby little hands and delicate “bir bir” as the toddler investigated the liquid.

“Your mama was my sun, my mage, Niamh; and you my little star will never grow up without knowing how much you meant to her.”

If you had been looking you would have seen your neighbor lingering just outside the cabin door, would have seen the wonder in his eyes and the tears shining a trail down his face, but when you did look up to close the door he was already back in his cabin.

After getting out at Rosedale Station you had taken a wagon to Eldergrove, rather than walk three hours with your two luggage cases, and your first sight of the newly named Summer’s Bounty Wine and Jams had brought another round of tears to your eyes at how good it looked. The bordering fence was entirely new and the cottage exterior had been restored, smaller fences had been placed per your specifications for the different trees and bushes you planned to put around the fields as well, and the production house looked good.

All you needed was to get the planting started, to find work in town as a supplementary income for now, but in that moment you knew that tonight you would fly.

For the first time in nearly a year you would spread your wings and soar.

“Oh, you must be Noelia, the new neighbor.”

Turning to the new voice, spotting the mage holding a candle in their hands, your head bobbed. “Yes, are you the local chandler?” Their reply was a nod as they presented you with the gift, you knew that they could probably see that your bond had been broken but honestly you were happy that they hadn’t brought it up, and instead you sniffed the jarred candle delicately.

Their eyes seemed to bright a little too. “I picked lemon, eucalyptus, and pine for this one; uplifting, invigorating, infused with success.” It wasn’t meant to be a two-meaning gift but it had become such, not only had you gotten Niamh and the farm back but you’d survived and you were keeping your promise.

“Thank you, this speaks- this means more to me than I can explain right now.”

“That’s alright, you don’t need to explain, I’m glad to help light the way.”

You spent the first night in the cottage going through old belongings, like photos kept in boxes and toys, and the second day you went to Miller’s Mercantile where you met Joel and his ward Ellie as you grabbed groceries. But perhaps the biggest surprise was when you called the local handyman about the water spout for the hose and a very familiar face showed up at your door.

The pair of you locked gazes and he smiled, brightly and without reservation, and you returned that smile.

“Looks like we’re neighbors still, huh? I’m Francisco Morales, the local handyman of Eldergrove.”

“Seems so, Francisco. I’m Noelia Sinclaire, soon to be wine and jam maker when I can product growing, and this is Niamh Douglas.”

He let you lead him to the pump and as he worked you told him all about your plans for the fields, for the trees –apple, cherry, peach, pomegranate, and pears- along with the berries –black berries, blueberries, and huckleberries- with his own input and suggestions. Francisco mentioned the idea of beehives to make mead or sell the honey and you immediately looked to the fence lining the front of the property where colorful wildflowers would look perfect.

Before he left the man paused, tongue flashing out to wet his bottom lip, and he took your hand in his gently. “Noelia, would you join me for lunch tomorrow at Zach’s?” Heat bloomed across your cheeks as you nodded, wondering if the chandler or even Joel wouldn’t mind keeping Niamh for you, and when you turned back to the cottage after he was out of sight you felt the touch of hands on your own and smelled the cinnamon vanilla aroma.

You were finally home.

Home was a field of possibilities, a cottage that had a lot of room for memories to be imprinted in its walls, and a little village of kind people. Home was a baby with milky white skin and red curls, home was new and scary but it was familiar and warm and felt right.

“Maybe, maybe one day home will be brown eyes and a patchy beard. Maybe it’ll be the smell of sweat and dirt and grease, big hands and a bigger heart, huh Marion? What do you think Niamh, you think we can charm Francisco?”

“Bir bir!”

“Alright, little star, I’m counting on you to be extra cute then. Now, I think we should find more of Marion’s old photos because she’d have hated me hanging them up.”

Marion was gone and you were here, you would always bear the scar of losing her, but as much as it hurt you would always cherish the time you spent with her and now you would make sure Niamh knew her mama too; that this little girl would have something tangible to keep from Marion in the form of a quaint little winery and jam business in Elder Grove if she wanted it.

And maybe, just maybe, a sibling or two.

But she would have to be patient for that.

[pars-ley]

Bare yourself (part three)

Pairing: CEO Jimin x female reader

Summary: After a serious hack from your office building, fingers start being pointed but in which direction is the right one and where will that leave you and your boss, Jimin?

Genre: CEO au / smut / angst / series / workplace au / strangers to lovers au / boss/employee au

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Warnings: Phone sex / Masturbation m and f / Police interrogation / Explicit language / CEO Jimin

Word count: 3.5k

Beta: @erotikkook thank you!

Notes: Ok, so this took me a ridiculously long time to finish, life is manic but here's the next chapter. Thank you for being patient. Hope you all enjoy!

Taglist: @jungkooksbroski @unoriginal-username15432 @yoobikook @vonvi-blog @itsohhonney @kpopnoobsstuff @namyoongles @btsmosphere @autumnbear @ownthesunshine @btstista​

"Miss l/n, we know the hack came from inside the building. All I want to do is find out who's responsible. Which means I need your cooperation." Detective Kim Namjoon peers at you over the frames of his dark glasses. 

"And like I've said, you have my full cooperation. I cannot tell you anything more than I already have." You respond leaning forward on the table, desperate for him to believe you.

He slumps back in his seat and sighs. "Miss l/n, we can't keep doing this back and forth routine. I-"

"Sir, I love my job and I love this company," you interrupt. "I also think very highly of my boss, I. Would. Not. Do. This."

"How high?"

You freeze at his sudden change of questioning. "What?"

"How high?" He repeats. "Is something going on between you two?"

You straighten your back, looking at him through narrowed eyes, feeling the rock of a lie settle in your stomach and weigh you down. "Mr. Kim, I am a professional."

He puts both his hands up in surrender. "No offense intended ma'am. It's just that some of your other coworkers seem quite smitten with him."

You almost roll your eyes, knowing you were probably just as dreamy eyed as your co-workers but too proud to admit it.

"Oh, and they did mention the two of you cosying up at a recent work party."

You resist the urge to swallow as your heart pounds violently inside you, panic squeezing your pumping organ in a vice grip. You thought no one had noticed your exchange or your absence when you both left.  

"We were talking, yes. He offered me a promotion and wanted to discuss it."

He looks impressed. "Wow, what a good opportunity, he must trust you a lot."

"He did." 

"Until this?" He scrubs a hand over his smooth face and you nod.

"Um-hm. What would you say you could hack into?"

You frown, not understanding the question. "Sorry?"

"Could you hack just about anything?"

Thinking about it you shrug, "Most things I'd say."

"Even something as impenetrable as this program?"

You laugh. "Sir, I designed the security portion of this program, I wouldn't need to hack into it." You lean forward again. "Let me explain something to you, if I were to do something like this, I would have been in and out without anyone knowing. I would know how to cover my tracks without being detected."

You pause rubbing your temples, "If you ask me, this was done by someone with a limited knowledge of hacking and computers. Either that or this person is trying to frame someone in the company. They're your two options."

He smiles at you, two dimples forming an endearing crevice in his cheeks.

"They told me you were smart."

You rub your face ignoring his remark. "I have been here for hours. Am I free to go or are you going to charge me with something?"

"Just one more question. What were you doing last night?"

Your heart stutters before pounding guiltily against your ribcage, with every beat you're almost sure you can hear Jimin's name. Ji-min. Ji-min.

Folding your hands in your lap to disguise you pinching your wrist under the table, trying to do anything to keep your hectic mind calm as you know you have to lie.

"I was at home."

"Alone?" 

The smirk he gives you makes your stomach churn, as if he can see right through you and your lies, as if he can see everything that transpired last night flashing behind your eyes. 

"Yes." Your voice comes out raspy, a sudden dry patch in your throat makes you swallow involuntarily.

"Run me through your evening." He sinks lower into his seat, you're almost waiting for him to pull out a footstool and put his feet up.

"We set up the project, waited for it to go live-"

"Who's we?"

"My team, myself and Mr. Park."

He nods and gestures a hand for you to continue.

"Once it was live, we monitored it for a few hours, checked everything was in working order and most of my team went home for the night. It was pretty late by then."

He jots your account down on his laptop, the keys clicking furiously as you speak.

"What time is 'late'?"

"Around 10ish."

He raises his brows. "Is that a typical work day for you?"

You shake your head. "No, it was only because we wanted to make sure everything went ok with the go live, a few tweaks and adjustments had to be made, nothing major."

He nods, eyes focused on his screen. "Is that usual at the end of a project, tweaks and adjustments?" 

You shrug. "Sometimes yes, on big projects, sometimes you can't see certain errors until a go live."

"Ok, so it's 10 o'clock and your team have gone home, leaving you and Mr. Park. What happened next?"

You massage your temples. "We spoke in his office."

"About what?"

Your hand slams down on the table, an action you didn't intend. "Is that relevant?"

He looks up startled, then smiles. "Why? Have I touched a nerve?"

You resist the urge to lean across the table and pound your fist into his smug face and instead lean back in your seat with your arms folded, an attempt at shielding yourself. "We spoke about the project and the result. It seemed to be successful, at the time, so we had a celebratory night cap."

He shoves his laptop aside, leaning forward on his elbows, ears pricked and ready. "Let me get this straight. You and the - forgive me - handsome Mr. Park are alone in the building, in his office and having a night cap, late at night?"

"Yes." You reply bluntly, the arrogance of him, so sure he'll find your lie, flaming your veins with rage.

"Does Mr. Park regularly have his colleagues in his office for a night cap?"

"I wouldn't know sir, I'm not his secretary."

"Even if you were, she'd have gone home hours ago, according to you." He pauses watching you, his eyes so intense they feel smothering-suffocating. 

His stare eases, releasing you from its hold. "Ok continue, what happened after your night cap?" He relaxes and goes back to typing. 

You breathe a sigh of relief, air feeling light and free again.

"We talked, I finished my drink, then I went home."

"How did you get home?"

You pause. If you lie, they're bound to see the footage of you and Jimin leaving the building together, with you getting into his car. 

"Miss l/n? How did you get home?" 

Here he goes looking expectantly over the rim of his glasses again.

"Mr. Park gave me a ride home."

And there was that infuriating smirk again. "Is that so? Was his driver there or did Mr. Park do the driving?"

You feel the heat on the back of your neck as you're reminded of how Jimin's hands felt on your skin, hot and eager in the back of the car. "His driver took me."

"With Mr. Park."

You nod slowly. 

"And I suppose he just said goodnight and off you went?"

"You're correct, sir." 

"And Mr. Park will vouch for this story of yours?" He taps his bottom lip with the pen he just pulled out of his pocket.

You nod. "He will because it's the truth." You're both praying and hoping you'd have a chance to speak to Jimin before he got interviewed...if he hasn't been already. God, if they found out you were lying about this, it would make you look so guilty.

"Uh-huh. One other thing…"

Fighting the frustrated growl boiling up inside you, you give him a false smile.

"Do you have any idea why someone would want to hack this software?"

You mull it over briefly, "I would imagine, seeing as it's a security breach for information, that it's to steal. Most of our clients are..." you struggle to find the appropriate wording.

"Rich." He intejects.

You nod agreeing.

"Ummm." He adds watching you, before sitting up and closing his laptop abruptly. "Ok, miss l/n, you're free to go. But we'll be in touch, I assure you." 

He stands up and you quickly follow him out of the room. When he shows you the direction the exit is in he turns to face you and holds out a hand. 

"It's been a pleasure, miss l/n, I know you probably won't be able to say the same, nevertheless." He shakes your hand with a half smile causing the dimple to return, somehow completely softening his face.

You nod and leave as quickly as your tired body will let you.

The cool, night air hitting your face immediately calms your panicked mind. You need to speak to Jimin but it might not be safe to do so.

"Are you ok, y/n?" A deep voice sounds from beside you, silencing all your other chaotic thoughts.

You spin and see Taehyung leaning casually against the pillar of the building smoking.

You relax at the sight of a familiar face. Jimin's personal assistant has always been friendly and kind towards you. You weren't sure but rumours in your company suggested that the two of them were even brothers, although you doubted it as they didn't resemble each other in the slightest.

"Yeah, glad to be out of there though." You reply, massaging the back of your neck.

"I bet, you've been in there a long time. I saw you leave to go to the station with them hours ago."

You nod. "It's been a long and very trying day. Are you waiting to be interviewed?"

He nods, taking a long drag, you watch as the end illuminates orange. 

"Well, I hope they don't keep you in there too long."

"They shouldn't. I've been away, only got back last night. Don't see how much use I can be to them."

He flicks his cigarette into the road and closes the distance between you.

"Listen, if there's anything you need or if you just want to talk or rant, anything. Don't hesitate to give me a call." He hands you his card. "This is a tough situation for everyone, we all need someone every now and then."

His bright, boxy grin has your mouth upturning before you know it. You thank him and hail and cab. Glancing at him, you see him watching you as the car drives away, unsure as to whether he's flirting or you're reading too much into it and he's being his usual cheerful self.

You shrug it off. All you can think of is getting home, running a nice, hot bath and forgetting this day ever happened.

*****

Back to reality as you sit with your silk robe wrapped around you, your laptop positioned neatly on your thighs, going through every possible way someone could have hacked into this, looking for how they got in. 

But nothing made sense, this was definitely not a hack done by someone with limited knowledge as you originally thought. 

There was no trace of anything left behind, no mark that anyone had even been in. Which only means, the hack had to be someone with inside knowledge of the project already, it definitely wasn't an outside hacker.

A more alarming finding was discovering the computer used for the hack was actually yours.

But why make it so obvious where the hack took place and which computer...unless...someone is trying to frame you. This wasn't something you had realistically considered. 

If you were honest, no one was even jumping out at you as a suspect. You trusted everyone in your team and everyone who helped on this project.

You sigh, massaging your temples as you try to clear your mind.

A harsh knock on the door makes you jump and you glance at your phone. 

02.31.

Who on earth would be knocking at this hour?

You head over, opening the door slightly with the chain still pulled tight across, to see a man; hat pulled down covering his eyes, standing there handing you a small, brown package through the gap.

"It's from Jimin." He says quietly. You watch his mouth - the only part of his face you can see - stretch into a gummy smile, before turning and exiting the building. 

Bewildered, you close the door and rip open the box. Staring at its contents and searching for some kind of note explaining what on earth this is for. 

A phone. 

What are you supposed to do with it?

You take it out, examining it and noticing the mistletoe background. Just like the mistletoe you first kissed Jimin under.

You jump out of your skin, fear firing an ice bolt right through you as it lights up and starts ringing.

Hesitantly, you answer. "Hello?"

"Y/n," Jimin's breathy voice sounds in your ear and sends a scattering of goosebumps across your skin. "I'm sorry for the cloak and dagger but I'm unsure if I'm being watched."

"By the police?" You ask, worried at the urgency in his voice.

"Not just them. Listen," he starts before you can interject. "I want you to know that no matter how it seems or what I say in front of other people, I do believe that you had nothing to do with this hack."

The relief that floods you has your shoulders relaxing instantly, not even aware they were tense. "I am glad to hear you say that, thank you."

"I also want to apologise, I did not mean for your involvement with me to put you at risk of any trouble."

You frown, trying to make sense of his words. "I really don't see how the two are connected."

He sighs and the urge you have to comfort him, to wrap your arms around him until his stress is eased, almost has you putting on your shoes and coat. "It doesn't matter. Things are complicated with me and it wasn't fair for me to drag you into that."

"Hey, hey," you sit down on the edge of your bed. "You didn't drag me anywhere. I'm a big girl Jimin, I can make my own decisions, last night being one of them and I definitely do not have any regrets about that."

You're met with silence as you find yourself fiddling with the bedsheets, reminiscing his touch. 

"I most definitely do not regret it either." He finally says. You think you can hear a slight smile in his voice. "That was a moment I had wanted for longer than I care to admit."

His unexpected confession causes a furious blush to creep up your chest.

"I wish I could see you." The desperation in his voice makes you hot underneath your robe.

"Why don't you come over?" You ask, hesitantly biting your lower lip.

"I wish I could, lord knows I do, but I can't risk it, for your sake." 

You collapse back on the bed in frustration, his scent jumps up and captures you, pulling your mind into filthy places. "My bed sheets still smell like you." You say the words before thinking them through. 

"Do they?" His voice is suddenly husky and full of want. "And what is going through that impressive mind of yours?" 

"You are. Your touch, your taste, how I wish to feel your perfect lips on me again." Your hand makes its way down to open your robe, cool air hitting your skin and puckering your nipples.

"Hmm-mm, and what are you doing while you're thinking about me?" He asks.

"What do you want me to do, Jimin?" You accentuate his name, knowing how much he loves it when you say it.

"Touch yourself." He whispers.

You waste no time in obeying, as your fingers travel quickly down to your throbbing clitorous. The feel of your fingertips massaging your sweet bud makes you moan.

"Oh god, this makes me want to see you even more." He groans. 

You use the phone to snap a quick photo of your actions and send it to the number you're on the line too. "Incoming message, sir." You say teasingly.

"Oh, fuck," he says in the distance and instantly followed by the sound of his trouser zipper being undone. "You make me crazy." His voice is right back at your ear.

"Jimin, I wish it was my mouth around your rock hard cock." 

"Me too, angel. God, what I wouldn't give to feel you around me. Tell me, what would you want me to do to you?" He grunts, the sound of him pleasuring himself causes a gush of arousal to spill from your eager hole and you spread it over yourself.

"I'd want your mouth on me...everywhere, tasting just how wet I am for you." You pant.

"Just for me?" 

"Yes, all for you." You lightly trace circles over your swollen sweet spot, toes curling when he breathes your name down the phone.

"I want to be inside you, again." 

"Anytime, anywhere, just tell me." You whisper, that undeniable build up already at peak point. "I'm going to cum." 

"That's it angel, cum with me." 

You unravel, back arching off the bed and burying your face into the sheets, relishing his scent. You hear him orgasm, repeating your name continuously. It makes you smile inside and it makes you feel powerful knowing how much he wants you.

"I have to say," he says, after you both get your breath back. "That was not the reason for me sending the phone."

You can't help but laugh at that. "What was the reason?"

He sighs again. "Mostly, to apologise and to have a way to speak to you that I know is safe. We have to be careful, now."

"Why, what are you so worried about?"

A long pause. "I can't," you can almost hear his inner turmoil, the fight with himself. "I'm just trying to protect you. You don't need to be involved."

You're about to argue but something inside you stills. If you push someone like Jimin too much, he'll only clam up further, he'll open up when he's ready...you hope.

"Keep this phone on, ok?" He pleads.

"More late night phone sex?" You tease, chewing your lip.

"I wouldn't say no," he laughs. "I do, however, just want to be able to talk to you, if that's ok?" 

You nod and realise he can't see that. "Of course, anytime."

"I wouldn't say that, you'll never get me off the phone." 

You feel yourself smiling like a cheshire cat, feeling like a lovesick school girl again. What has this man reduced you to?

"Goodnight y/n. Sleep well, angel." He hangs up the phone, leaving your heart stuttering and your stomach flipping with excitement. The prospect of something new on the horizon, even with all the current problems you're facing, something still seeming positive might come out of this. All you can do is hope.

******

Getting ready for work the next morning you felt conflicted, part of you was on cloud nine, drifting blissfully along on nothing but hope and dreams. The other part was dreading the work day and what it could bring, plus you still had your own discreet investigating to do.

A harsh, yet cheerful rap on your door, startled you. 

Rushing to the door to see who it is, a small part clinging onto a chance it could be Jimin, only to be disappointed when you open the door and find detective Kim Namjoon staring back at you.

"Ah Miss l/n, I'm so glad I caught you before work, could I come in?" The same smug smile stretching his full lips as he leans casually against your door frame, his laptop hooked under his arm.

"Really? Right now, I'll be late for work." You reply, feeling a bit like a deer caught in headlights.

"That's ok, I've already informed your boss of your late arrival." He assures you cockily. "So, can I …?"

You grit your teeth and step out of the way, gesturing for him to enter. 

You watch as he studies every inch of your living area, peering into your bedroom.

"What is it I can help you with, detective?"

He turns to you, "Ah, yes of course." 

Setting his laptop down on your dining room table, hitting a few keys and spinning it round towards you. "You might want to sit down for this." He says, as he hits the play button.

You ignore him and watch. 

Video footage of your office building, of you walking to your office partition specifically. You watch yourself sit in the empty building, at your computer and leave again. You look up at the detective, confusion marring your brow and he simply taps the screen where the date and time stamp are.

You follow it, and re-read it at least three times, eyes open wider than ever, as if that'll somehow help you see different numbers.

The frown creases deeper into your forehead as your brain catches up with the fact that the video shows you, alone in the building, at the exact time and date of the hack. 

[yamithediaperdork]

Welcome to baby land (Ben 10)

it was a tale as old as time, one that had happened before, would happen this day and despite the fall out from today's events would happen again in the future.

A young boy, fueled by fetish desires and spending hour after hour, day after day bringing himself to the peak as he looked at his chosen fetish, only to pull back last second.

Because the boy knows for what he wants, for what he's going to do.. he needs that desperate pent up denial of release to shut down his common sense. to make him nice and dumb.

His name was Ben Tennyson, and up until a short while ago he had been the hero of the universe and earth. But that was before the watch had been taken, and given to his cousin Gwen who had been picked as being a most reasonable hero. with cutting remarks that he would of never gotten the watch for as long as he had had it's marker realized who was wearing it, and being called to immature.. was it any wonder a bitter and dejected Ben cut himself off from his extended family and drove into the world of porn?

never mind he had beaten off a alien invasion, a 'pants peeing doofus' couldn't be trusted with the watch.

Fine. whatever. if they wanted to look at him as a stupid big baby.. that's what he'd become.

He didn't even like diapers at first when he started, but well.. porn has a way of warping a young boy's mind. Looking at picture after picture, caption after caption and reading the stories Ben for all intents and purposes turned himself in a diaper boy, and a humiliation junkie.

Taking birthday money he even found and brought a package of punishment diapers meant for shaming (though he got it at a discount as the shop was being put out of business) that were super thick, boasted how they could hold any mess.. and also claimed they didn't keep any stink from being contained and guaranteed diaper rash if used.

For a porn addicted loser like Ben, this was pure gold and since he paid for rush devilry he got a enema bag and a small bottle of little crampers, the enema for brats.

Ben knew what he wanted, total, public humiliation but he kept ruining it for himself with self pleasure driving the need out of his mind before he could do it.

finally, Mid October the little porn fueled loser decided enough was enough, he was gonna stop wasting his time and the diapers he'd paid for and set himself up to goon. For a week strait he subjected himself to it, and by the time he was done on Sunday night, Monday morning the little loser set himself up to fail.

waking up early, Ben used the whole bottle of little crampers even though it said to just mix 1/8 with a litlre bag for a enema kit, and groaned and whimpered as he used it, hot water and a dash of castor oil in the big enema bag, only his bulky white and black t-shirt hid the preggo belly he gave himself.

getting back to his bedroom and cramping, the soon to be ruined diaper loser looked at the pack of his punishment diapers and having not worn one till today, toyed with layering at first but they just looked too thick.

Settling on one of the bulky diapers with it sobbing crybaby design, he taped it on then tried the tapes, blushing as the package lived up to it's name.

Once taped on it would take 2 hours for the tapes to come back off, he was truly trapped. again a normal boy of Ben's age would of been panicking, realizing they had gone too fair but Ben just breathed fast, and smiled as he picked his baggiest pair of pants and was delighted that they still only JUST hid the diaper, if he bent over his padded shame would be CLEAR.

Getting down stairs and getting breakfast in himself, he was already seated as his parents came down and made small talk with them even as the delightful cramps started to build. (he'd never admit it, well at least before today's events unfolded but he'd grown to like pain, it made his heart beat fast and smile)

Still he couldn't help but squirm and groan a little bit, and got looks of concern from his parents as he finished his bowl of cereal.

"Benny you feeling alright?" His mother asked, coming over and putting a hand to his forehead. "You can stay home today if your not feeling good."

"N-No I'll be alright. just worried about a math test." Ben said, mixing truth with lies,then added: "Besides, you and dad said you were BOTH gonna be out all day today. who'd stay with me?"

"Heh, He's got a point there.. and good on you Ben. I'm proud your being mature enough not to try and get out of a test." His dad said, totally misunderstanding the happy giggle Ben let out.

His father might of thought it was Ben was so happy he was proud of him, But for diaper bitch Benny, the irony of the comment almost made him ruin the fun early.

If Ben's plan had one flaw (well one he'd admit to) it was the fact that he hadn't taken into account how much slower he'd be having to waddle his massive diaper butt to school with the added fun of having to stop 3 times to force himself not to spoil the fun early.

He'd even left a little sooner then normal, his parents had been quick with their breakfast and he 'accidentally' left his house key on the desk in his room and after making sure the front door was locked, went out the back door as you could lock it from the inside while the door was open.

'No getting out of this by running home!' Ben gleefully thought.

He barley made it into homeroom before the bell rang, though since he was known to be tardy from time to time it didn't raise too much attention, get getting a snide comment from his homeroom teacher about gracing them with his presence.

Even better, home was also his math class and that was going to be first period (which was a good thing for the ever so full little perv as his 'chocolate mud baby' wasn't going to stay in him much longer.)

Mr. Fillawick wasted little time in handing out the tests and after a standard warning that he'd tolerate NO cheating and there was going to be NO bathroom breaks, he offered anyone who had to go a chance to use the potty now.

'OK..this is it..your last chance.. you could just say you need to go, and sneak out the school.fill your diapers in the woods and get out of them once the tapes give up.' Ben thought to himself, biting his lip.

it wouldn't be destroying himself in class and getting him labeled stinky baby for the rest of the year, but it would land him in hot water with the school and his parents and he'd run the risk of being seen outside right?

He almost started to raise his hand when his inner pervert took over and he just turned it into brushing his hand though his hair.

"Alright, don't say I didn't warn you. you'll have a hour to do the test. good luck." Mr. Fillawick said and shrugged, going back to his desk and sitting down, doing whatever it was teachers did.

Five minutes later and Ben was in a mixture of heaven and hell. he was twitching and sweating a little bit, his pencil twitching in his hand even as he started to leak in little bursts against the front of his diapie.

the cramps were at the point of no return and even if Ben said fuck it and got up to run, he wouldn't of made it more then five steps.

all he'd managed to do so far was write his name on the test and the date, then the cramps had gone over board.

'Ok..Ok.. this was a mistake.. I've leaked enough boy milk to see that.. maybe.. maybe I can still just.. get out..of..' Ben thought, going white knuckled as he gripped the side of his desk with his left hand as a powerful cramp hit, a low rumbling fart coming out his backside though the sound was mostly muted.

the smell however was not as the diapers lived up to their claims and Kids around Ben wrinkled their noses and looked around looking for the source of the smell and eyes zeroing in on his as he was blushing.

"Mr. Fillawick? I think Ben needs to go to the bathroom." A redhead boy behind him said. "Or at Least can he be moved to the back of the classroom.

"Mr. Tennyson had his chance for that Mr. Randal. and I prefer he stay where I can keep a eye on him." Came the teachers amused answer.

even as the class giggled and laughed, two more rotten poots escaped and there was open cries of disgust.

"Gah, at least open a window!"

"What did you have to eat this morning, a skunk!?"

Ben whimpered and squirmed, he had the whole class basically looking at him now and the teasing and taunts had brought his pervert side back up to full power.

'It's now or never.' Ben thought, though he also knew wasn't really a option. it was more like Now or never if he wanted a semblance of control over the act.

it helped he was trembling lots now but Mr. Fillawick who'd never cared for Ben much since he was a rowdy student only watched with sadistic glee.

Ben's Pencil 'accidentally' shook out of his hand and rolled off the desk and onto the floor, and Ben made a show of just reaching into his desk to find anther one.

"Mr. Tennyson, whatever your habits in your own room may be, I run a clean Classroom." the smirking teacher said. "Bend down and point up that pencil."

"Uh..but..If I-" Ben started, putting the perfect crybaby whine in his voice.

"You'll what? fart? like you haven't been doing that already?" the teacher shot back.

Putting on a show of being embarrassed and scared (he was embarrassed but his heart was beating fast) Ben leaned over the right side of his desk and there was a gasp from the students behind him as one thing he hadn't planned on happened.

"BEN'S WEARING A DIAPER!" Hooted Crash.

"A BABY DIAPER!" a blond girl added.

"More like a BIG baby diaper!" Randal noted with amusement.

Somehow his pants must of lowered enough to flash off his embarrassing diaper! Oh god! for all of 2.4 seconds trued to stop what was about to happen but the act of leaning over had been the final trigger.

as the enema finally worked it's magic and the back of his diaper started to swell up Ben could only hear the roar of his mess and though tear filled eyes almost could swear he could see image of him in just diapers and a bib, tapping a shovel on a grave that had been filled in. the tombstone read:

RIP Ben's self respect.

as the force of the mess made Ben fall forward, landing face down and ass up, his pants failing down more so everyone could watch his diapers load up in the back (thankfully they wouldn't be able to tell what he was doing in the front!) The image of baby Ben came over and looked down with a grin at the real one.

"Welcome to baby land~ no going back now."

As Ben's life was ruined, and he was designed to never be able to get that 'excited' again unless he was crapping brains out(heck, he was going to be pulled from school and his parents would begin his new big baby life, treating him like the baby they thought he wanted to be, not knowing he was just a humiliation junkie) Charmcaster smirked in her jail cell.

Sure having to watch all the events unfold from sitting into of a toilet wasn't the way she'd hope to see the spell play out, not to mention it had been that bitch Gwen she had targeting, but this worked out in the end.

Gwen would suffer being the cousin of the big stinky baby and would likely end up having to change him and it wouldn't be too long now before her uncle broke her out. wincing as Ben started to baby babble though she did have one moment's regret.

'I mean, I'm evil and wanna take over the world but was making him a diaper perv too far?' She wondered, then smiled. 'Naaaah!'

The end

[rikumorimachisgirl]

Title: Eyes on you

Pairing: Shaw x You

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 2,901

A/N: You (Y/N) are not the MC in MLQC. This is a plunny that's been bugging me for quite a while, I had to write it. I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I do not own MLQC or its characters, but I do own the concept of this fic.

There were a few mysteries in this world that the esteemed Archeology Graduate Professors at Loveland University can't explain - for instance, the formation of the Stonehenge, the exact location of the lost city of Atlantis, the origin of the Nazca lines… and your presence at the Metro Art Gala dressed to the nines, positively gleaming as you strode arm in arm with your classmate and Thesis partner Shaw, who seemed like the perfect gentleman that evening. Thanks to your work at the Loveland Museum, you scored two invites to the gala featuring the recently discovered works of a well-known artist - an event any Archeology fanatic wouldn't let pass. The two of you walked along with LFG's Exhibition Hall, pausing occasionally to admire one of the recently discovered sculptures by the Renaissance artist D'Romani. As you both looked at the intricacies of the artwork in front of you, your charming companion would lean in slightly and whisper something in your ear, causing you to roll your eyes or stifle a giggle. 

To the guests in the prestigious gala, the two of you looked like two young people at the cusp of falling in love, but the members of the Faculty of the Graduate School of Archeology saw it differently - this was a real-life mystery if they'd seen one. 

As your eyes swiftly swept through the entire room, you could see that your professors only had one question in mind - how'd this happen? How did two people as different as day and night, who argued with each other throughout Graduate studies, end up amiably enjoying each other's company tonight? 

You drew a sharp breath and sighed. The answer was simple: Your Thesis defense was right around the corner. You needed him to cooperate, you were willing to go to great lengths to make it happen. And your Thesis partner (unfortunately) was ready to take full advantage of the situation. 

***

"Tell me why we're doing this again, " you said through the door that separated you and your date, as you were putting on the dress you bought (or invested on, as he casually stated) for tonight's gala, which he insisted on attending with you. It was six in the evening on a Friday, and you had just arrived home after cramming your workload at the Loveland Museum and foregoing your meal breaks just so you could leave work at exactly five-thirty. 

"I already told you a couple of times - you want me to cooperate with you so you can pass our Thesis, and I need a reason to be around her," the purple-haired man waiting at the other side of your bedroom door called out nonchalantly. "You can drop your fantasy about me asking you out because I'm attracted to you."

You hissed silently at his snarky remark and counted to ten. You haven't even left your apartment yet you already wanted this night to be over. "How do you even know she's gonna be there?"

She - the Miracle Finder Producer, the object of your Thesis Partner's fantasies, and as fate would have it, his brother's girlfriend. 

"They're doing a show featuring our Thesis adviser. Didn't he tell us about it during our last consultation?" He asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"I wasn't listening," you shot back, as you took off your ponytail and started styling your hair with your curling iron. You chose a one-shoulder fitted black dress that stops right above your knees, so you thought of wearing your hair down for a change. 

"Ah, yes. You were too busy looking at your notes, trying to prove me wrong as always."

You closed your eyes, as you continued to make big beach waves and prayed to the gods you wouldn't commit murder tonight. 

"How much longer are you gonna take?"

"Excited much?" You asked, smirking while you now removed your glasses and put on your contacts. "You sound like a teenager excited to see his crush in a school fair!"

"Don't compare me to you!" 

"I don't have designs on anyone in the party," you called back. "Unless your brother's attending the event, that is. From what you've been telling me, he seems like a great guy."

Silence. You arched an eyebrow as you strained your ear to listen for any sign of life outside your bedroom door. What must your grunge-rock skater boy-turned-date-for-the-evening be thinking? 

"Do you want to pass our Thesis or not?"

You struck a victory pose at his remark. Finally, one point - you, Shaw - about twenty. 

"Are you done yet? This suit is really uncomfortable. Damn, why do people even wear these?"

"Because they're decent?" You shot back. "You know, you can always go home if you're not comfortable in your attire because when we get there, you need to act decent, too. Can't have your usual swagger in a formal affair."

"Just hurry it up already!"

You rolled your eyes as you applied your nude-colored lipstick to finish off your look before putting on your black stilettos, and stuffing your phone, wallet, and your makeup in your purse. 

"All done," you replied, as you finally emerged from your room. 

***

A part of you wished that the dynamics between you and Shaw were different. While he was a pain in the neck, and too carefree for his own good, you also thought he made for a good intellectual sparring partner, quite attractive, and it was hard to deny that he's got your heart beating double-time whenever he got too close for comfort like he was at that very moment. 

"My, you two kids seem to be having fun tonight."

You gasped, at the sound of the voice behind you, and you felt your date nudge you ever-so-subtly while straightening.

"Hey, Professor Adler," he said in his usual unruffled tone, his lips stretched into a smirk as he held his hand out to your Anthropology professor and Thesis adviser, who watched you both amusedly. His gesture made your eyes shot wide open, you thought they'd fall right off. Shaw shaking someone's hand? That's one for the books. 

"Shaw. Fancy seeing you here," the stout middle-aged man greeted while shaking your date's hand. "This isn't your usual scene though."

"Yeah, I know, but I can't exactly turn a pretty lady down, can I?" 

"I can see that," your professor said as he looked at you appraisingly. "Well, well, you clean up well, Miss (y/n)."

You fought the urge to squirm at the older man's words when you heard your date cluck his cheeks with his tongue and suddenly felt his arm around your shoulders, pressing you protectively close to his side. 

***

"All done!" You happily announced as you stepped into the living room of your small apartment where your date was impatiently waiting for you. 

You could've sworn he was stunned for a second or two before he shook his head and tried to regain his usual impassive expression. Finally, he stood and walked closer to assess you better. 

"You're not wearing your glasses. I thought you said you're practically blind without them?" 

You cocked your head to one side. Out of all the things he could've complimented or called out, that's the first thing he noticed? 

"Wouldn't it look awkward if I wore glasses to a formal event?"

"Your hair is all curly," he continued as if you didn't say anything. "And your shoes are so tall, won't you trip? Also, surely you have a jacket to go with that dress, right?" 

You stared at him in disbelief. Why did this carefree, bass-playing skater boy turn into your dad all of a sudden? 

"Uh…"

"Well, at least you're not wearing red lipstick. You don't have to try too hard to look sexy. Geez! I've got plans of my own this evening, so don't expect me to be your bodyguard," he continued to mumble as he circled around you. Before long, you felt something warm and heavy on your shoulder. His coat?

"It's just until we get to the venue," he shrugged as he led you to the car he borrowed for tonight. "I don't want people seeing you freeze to death."

You sighed, your shoulders slumped as you followed your date to the car. You already expected he wouldn't throw you a compliment for looking like a proper human tonight, and you cursed yourself for feeling gutted over it anyway. 

 ***

"So, which one of these sculptures did you like best, Professor?" You sighed in relief as Shaw changed the subject, his arm still wrapped around you, making you blush furiously. 

"Oh, I have to say I liked Eros and Psyche best. In case you haven't seen it yet, it's located a little further down the hall near the bar area," the older man was starting to explain when someone tapped his shoulder from behind. 

"Excuse me, Professor Adler," a gentle voice called out, making both the professor and Shaw jump. From behind the old man, a pretty petite with brown hair and big brown eyes, and the biggest smile on her face stepped up. "My name is MC from Miracle Finder."

Almost immediately, Shaw withdrew his arm around you, almost causing you to stagger backward. He straightened up and feigned disinterest. 

"Hey. It's a little rude how you stepped in while I was talking to the Professor," he said, his tone teasing. 

"Oh, I didn't notice you here. Do you mind if I talk to your Professor? We've invited him for an interview about the exhibit," the girl said sweetly. 

Based on how unconsciously coy she acted around Shaw, and the way he kept egging her, there was no doubt that this was the girl he was crushing on. You felt like the odd person out all of a sudden and needed to step away. 

You backed away slowly, careful not to rouse their attention because it would probably suck if you knew how Shaw would introduce you to his little crush. As soon as you were in a safe distance, you turned and walked aimlessly down the hall, pausing briefly at paintings or sculptures that caught your fancy, looking at its intricacies as you did so earlier. But somehow, it wasn't as fun as it was before, so you moved on quickly, to give way to the other guests who also wanted to view the artwork.

Finally, you came upon the bar and decided to rest your tired feet at the far corner, hidden from the rest of the world. Sighing, you slipped your feet off your stilettos and quietly watched as the guests around you - mostly couples - happily chatting away as they enjoyed the beauty of the art around them and the wonderful music that filled the air. You knew somewhere in the crowd, your date was fawning over his lady love, probably getting in the way of her filming your professor. 

Tch. 

You knew he liked her - he always told you he did. And why wouldn't he? MC was pretty, seemingly sweet, and dainty - the kind of girl any guy would like to protect. And you. You were the opposite. You lived for your work, were 'one of the boys', and didn't need anyone to protect you - that's just how you were - and now you started to realize that maybe guys don't exactly like that. At least not Shaw. 

Wait, what were you thinking? You scolded yourself as you shook your head. Why were you even thinking of what he liked when you don't even like him to start with. Or did you? 

"Ugh. What the hell is wrong with me?" You groaned when a cold bottle of beer and a frozen glass was placed in front of you. 

"I was gonna ask you that myself." 

You straightened up in your seat and shot a look at the guy seated beside you. Dressed in a nice grey suit, he smiled as he raised his beer bottle in front of you. 

"You look like you needed a drink. I hope the beer is okay. They don't have fruit beer or soda," he said calmly, his amber-colored eyes never leaving yours. 

"Y-yeah. Beer is perfect," you replied while pouring the amber liquid into the glass. "Thanks," you muttered before raising the glass to your lips to gulp down some liquid courage. 

"I saw you with Shaw earlier -"

The name on his lips drove you to a coughing fit, as you choked on your drink. "Sorry, " you mumbled in between coughs. 

"No, I'm sorry," the brown-haired guy said, as he cautiously and politely patted your back. "I didn't mean to bring that up. I was just curious."

"It's fine," you replied when you finally regained your composure. "Yes, we're just classmates in Grad school who decided to check this exhibit out for the heck of it."

"Classmates, huh?"

"Yeah, that's what we are," you said, taking a sip off your glass. "Grad school classmates."

"Are you telling me or telling yourself?"

You looked up and saw him smiling. There was something about Dreamy McHandsome who was seated beside you that felt so familiar yet different at the same time, but you couldn't point a finger at what it was exactly. 

"We're classmates, and we're working on our thesis together. But we're not friends - far from it even. We hate each other's guts."

"Can't blame you for doing so," he shrugged as he drank his beer. 

"Yeah. He dragged me here so he can get with someone he's been crushing on for so long," you rambled on, frowning. 

"Oh? And who might that be?"

"The Miracle Finder Producer. You know, the pretty girl in a blue top and white skirt. He's been going on and on about her for weeks…"

"You mean my girlfriend?" 

His girlfriend. You choked on your drink once again. "Y-y-your girlfriend? You mean to say…" You gasped. Has the beer made you stupid? You've barely drunk half of it, you thought as you fought to regain your dignity. This was Shaw's brother you were talking to - and boy, we're they blessed with good genes…

… And the same social awkwardness, you noticed, judging by how he kept his hand at your back, but not exactly touching it, as if trying to assess if he had to pat you or not. 

When you finally calmed down, he cleared his throat and gave you a small smile. "Don't worry. She talks to me about their conversations. I know what that guy is playing at, and I most definitely know he's not after my girl," he said, his voice broke no room for doubt. "My name is Gavin..."

"Yeah, I know…"

"You - what?"

"Oh," you said, tapping on your glass nervously. "Shaw kinda mentioned it in passing before."

"I see."

"So, what were you saying earlier about Shaw?"

"Oh. From what my girlfriend tells me, he's got his sights set on…"

"Ahem," you heard someone say loud enough for you and Gavin to turn your heads around. And there, standing behind you, was an angry-looking Shaw. You sat up, your gaze shifting between the two brothers as the air started to thicken with tension. "I talk to someone for a minute and the next thing I knew, my date walks out on me and right into the one person I'd hate for her to meet."

"Well, if you were just honest with her as with a lot of other things in your life, maybe she wouldn't have left your side earlier," Gavin retorted flippantly. "Is she finally done with filming?"

Shaw simply grunted in reply as he watched his older brother finish his bottle of beer and stand. "Well, Miss, there's a lot I've heard about you. Seems somebody couldn't stop talking about you, but I'll leave it at that." 

With a wink and a mischievous smile upon his face, the brown-haired guy sauntered off to look for his better half, as you and Shaw watched in awkward silence. 

He cleared his throat and glanced at you. "Hey."

"Hey," you replied, shakily. 

"So, about what that jerk said -"

"Yes?" You asked, feeling your heart hammer against your chest by the second.

"Whatever he said is not true," he said dismissively, as he took his coat off and draped it over your shoulders. "I told you before, I don't find you the least bit attractive."

You felt tears starting to sting your eyes, as he continued with his harsh commentary. "You're tough, highly opinionated, and you always want to come out on top. I don't find those attractive at all," he said. "I prefer a damsel in distress. I want someone clingy… someone, needy."

"I know that -"

"Oh do you?" He teased, his amber eyes twinkling. "You seem to know a lot about me."

"We've been working together for months now," you said. "Of course, I'd know more about you."

"I see," he said, as he took a step closer to you and touched your cheek, rubbing the stray tear that had managed to slip down the side of your face. "So, you must know I'm also a good liar. After all, I've kept all these feelings to myself for quite some time."

He snickered when he saw your frown deepen and he bent down just as he had done so earlier, to whisper. "I made you think I liked someone else when in fact," his low voice made you shiver. "I've always eyes for you."

The End.

[archerofthemists]

Phantom Pains

TW: Blood/severe injury/loss of limb/mentions of suicide

Sparring was a very common pastime at Evernight Castle. If they weren't out on an errand or mission given by Salem, then her followers may as well be keeping sharp in their skills. 

Watts preferred to work in his lab, designing weapons and other useful tools. 

Emerald and Mercury, being the youngest and seen only as Cinder's underlings usually only had one another to spar with. 

Althea, having only recently risen in the ranks, still trained with Tyrian, her former master and now partner. 

Hazel, with his size and strength, typically wouldn't fight against any of his "teammates". 

And then there were the Grimm. Salem kept various breeds of them penned up for the sole purpose of training, but only Hazel and Cinder ever liked to use them for practice. 

However, ever since Salem had promoted Althea to her inner circle, the archer had felt the need to prove she was worthy of keeping the position. She had killed plenty of Grimm in her life, she'd gone to Beacon Academy for the God's Sakes. Killing the Grimm in her village had given her a spot in the damn school to begin with, to give her a chance to become a real huntress. 

Although, ever since she'd fled the school and had been living on her own, isolated and answering to no one, she hadn't had as many opportunities to fight Grimm. She'd had to save her energy, because she never knew when she would eat next, so she just did her best to avoid the damn things completely. 

But now that she had a purpose in her life again, it was time to get her head back in the game. 

Tyrian kept her on her toes plenty when he was still her superior. Surprise attacks right and left, whether he leapt down from the rafters onto her or hid under her bed at night, the man had had her looking over her shoulder constantly. 

Hazel was a behemoth that Althea had to beg to get him to spar with her and she was pretty sure he was holding back when he finally would give in. 

Watts didn't really fight, at least not in a style that was compatible with Althea's, but when he needed to test out a new weapon she was happy to play guinea pig for him. 

Cinder saw herself as "above" the rest of them, being a Maiden and she didn't like sharing her "disciples". 

So Althea began using Grimm for practice. She realized how rusty she was against the creatures, but it was any skill; you never really forget it. She had forgotten just how good she was at it though. But damn it...she never knew when to quit.

Taking on two Beowolves was a little ballsy to do by yourself, but Althea wasn't exactly alone. Hazel and Tyrian had grown accustomed to watching her when she practiced killing Grimm, out of the way and behind the safety of the pillars that supported  a balcony.

Tyrian, because he enjoyed the show and he was a little proud of himself for finding such a treasure as Althea. 

Hazel, because God's, there wasn't anything else to do around the castle at the moment. And plus he couldn't deny, the woman had skill and watching her certainly wasn't boring. He glanced down at his scroll and frowned; her aura was getting far too low, and one Beowolf was still alive and kicking. 

"She needs to stop." He glanced at Tyrian who looked almost mesmerized by his former disciple. "Her aura is almost gone. One of us should step in and finish it."

Tyrian waved the larger man off, not taking his eyes off the archer as she easily dodged the Beowolf's large paw as it swiped at her. "If she can't handle it then she will ask us for our help. Don't insult her abilities, Hazel." 

But Hazel grumbled softly and reached for the dust crystals in his pockets. "You shouldn't overestimate her abilities either just because you've got a crush." 

Tyrian's eyes flashed purple for a moment and his tail twitched. He growled to himself as he watched Rainart stab a couple of crystals into his biceps. "You just hate seeing people enjoy themselves, don't you?" The faunus sighed. 

"No, just when it's you. You're not denying the crush either, I see." Hazel remarked. 

Tyrian locked the man with a seething glare that would have made the average person shrivel up inside, but Hazel just scoffed. "Good, cause no one would believe you if you did deny it." 

He turned and stabbed his arms with the lightning dust, wincing only slightly as it spread through veins. "Althea! You're done, I'm gonna help you!" 

"I've almost got this!" She yelled before firing an ice-dust tipped arrow into the Beowolf's back legs, freezing it in its place. With a running start she used the Beowolf's back as a springboard to leap high into the air above it. 

Her plan was to deliver the killing blow from above - a dagger right through the Grimms eye as she had spent her last arrow immobilizing it. She had just grabbed the hilt, began to twist in the air, when the Beowolf had reared up on its frozen back legs and its jaw came down on Althea, taking her right leg in its teeth before falling back down on all fours, slamming her against the floor with the full force of its body. Her aura broke in an emerald swirl and she went rolling across the chamber floor. 

Most of her that is.

The two huntsmen were frozen in shock for a moment, gold and hazel eyes locked on Althea's motionless and bloodied body. 

Hazel was the first to snap out of it, the gnashing of the Beowolfs teeth as it swallowed the limb it had just torn asunder. It had broken the ice around its back legs loose and was completely free as the giant of a man began to charge it head on. 

When Tyrian began moving towards his fallen partner he didn't even realize it. His legs felt numb and yet they were still carrying him over to her crumpled, discarded body. 

The blood was everywhere, splattered and smeared on the chamber floor in morbid patterns that the faunus usually found pleasure in. 

 

The next thing Tyrian realized, he was running down the halls of Evernight, the dead weight of Althea bleeding out in his arms didn't slow him down in the slightest. 

It didn't completely register in the scorpions brain that he was running to Watts's office until he was bursting through his door. It was just purely instinct. Automatic. Where else would he possibly ever go?

The Doctor was at his desk, bent over some new contraption he was working on like always. His head snapped up at the intrusion, annoyance written on his face until he fully registered the scene standing in his door.

Tyrian covered in blood, cradling Althea's pale form, showing no signs of life. Where her right leg had been, was nothing but a bloody stub. 

"Help." It was the only word that left Tyrian's trembling lips, raspy and desperate. 

"Get her on the table. NOW!" Watts was on his feet, stripping off his jacket and tie as he helped Tyrian carry Althea into the small adjoining room that had been converted into a meager OR. However Arthur hadn't dealt with such a serious trauma in a long time and he'd certainly had more equipment, more help. His mind was racing as he tried to mentally inventory what he had, what he could use to save Althea's life.

"What the fuck happened?" Arthur pulled on a pair of surgical gloves with a loud snap, his emerald eyes surveying the damage.

"She...she was fighting Beowolves and…"

"More than one?!"

"Her aura was low and we thought she could handle it…"

Arthur sighed harshly as he gathered gauze and began to try and stop the bleeding of Althea's remaining leg. "You promised you'd never scare me like this again!" 

Tyrian could do nothing but stand and watch, his whole body beginning to tremble as he watched. He couldn't hear Watts yelling at him over the ringing in his ears.

"Tyrian! Tyrain, God dammit I need an extra set of hands!" Watts felt guilty for a fleeting moment as he tossed the box of latex gloves at the faunus. They bounced off his bloody chest but it did the job in snapping him back to reality. 

It was bloody awful work getting Althea's leg to finally stop bleeding. Once Watts was satisfied with her vitals and felt she was stable, he moved her into the tiny recovery room. Hooked up to various machines that would start screaming if her pressure bottomed out. 

So he gently led Tyrain into the adjoining shower and turned the water on, waiting for it to warm up. They were both covered in Althea's blood and Watts was tempted to just throw his clothes away, burn them maybe. He had plenty of other clothes.

Watts automatically began to help Tyrain out of his stained jumpsuit and harness, and the faunus didn't resist in the least. His body was still gently trembling and Watts hoped that this incident wouldn't scar him too deeply. He didn't know what Salem might do if her best weapon was permanently damaged like this.

In the back of Arthur's mind, he was already planning the schematics of a replacement leg for Althea and oh Gods...someone was going to have to inform Salem about what happened. How would she plan to punish Althea for this? Because she surely would.

"One thing at a time…"

He unbraided Tyrian's hair, finding more sticky dried blood in it as well. Steam was beginning to spill out of the shower so he gently helped Tyrian under the water before Arthur got undressed himself and joined him, knowing that Tyrian was in no state to bathe himself. 

For a good long moment the only sound was the hissing of the shower and Tyrian's occasional sniffle as he pulled himself back together and Watts scrubbed the blood out of his long hair.

"What did you mean earlier?" He finally asked, so softly that Arthur had to take a moment to be sure he had heard him correctly. 

"About what?"

"When you said that she had promised to never scare you like this again, what the fuck did you mean?" Tyrian turned around to face Arthur.

The Doctor was quiet for a long while, staring into Tyrian's golden, begging eyes. There was never any easy or kind way of saying it.

"A few months ago, Althea tried to kill herself." 

He watched his words take time to register completely on Tyrian's face. A choked off whimpering sound escaped his throat. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

"She asked me not to. She didn't know what Salem might do to her if she found out. And now this…" Arthur sighed. "Gods why did she take on two Beowolves at once?" 

" She tried to kill herself…" Tyrian murmurs gently and Arthur could tell that he was on the verge of losing it all over again. 

So Arthur pulled him close against his chest and let him.

Everything was fuzzy. Her head, her vision, even her body felt fuzzy and disconnected. And her leg...God's her leg….

"Don't move too much." Arthur's voice. Althea felt his hand gently stroke her forehead and she tried to make her eyes focus on his face.

"What...hap'n…" 

"You had an...accident." Arthur sighed "Although that word doesn't seem appropriate for what happened...because it wasn't an accident was it?"

"I...I had it…" Her throat felt raw, everything ached except...why couldn't she feel her right leg?

"YOU DIDN'T HAVE ANYTHING." Arthur hadn't yelled at her like that in a long time. Althea was ashamed to admit that she flinched a little. 

"Arthur…" Tyrian's voice.

"You lost your leg, Althea!" She may have heard a quiver in his voice that time. She wasn't totally sure.

"Guess that explains why I can't feel it." Althea couldn't remember a lot about the incident. She'd been twisting in the air one moment and the next she was waking up here. She vaguely remembered Tyrian rushing her through the castle.

"You were careless, reckless and for what? You promised you would never do something like this again." Arthur's voice was a little steadier now as he sat on the edge of the hospital bed.

"I promised I wouldn't hurt myself again." Althea hissed as she hoisted herself up in the bed a little more, her vision clearing enough to see how upset her partners were. 

"And so you've gone and replaced it with reckless endangerment of yourself!" Arthur looked like he hadn't been sleeping. How long had she been unconscious? 

"It wasn't like that." Althea wiped the sleepy gunk from her eyes as she got her bearings.

Tyrian was curled in a small chair by her bed, wrapped in a comforter. He looked just as tired and drained as Arthur. God's, what had she done?

"I should have stepped in sooner." Tyrian sighed. "Hazel, the sentimental giant, warned me. We knew her aura was low and…"

"You just didn't know when to stop." Arthur sighs. "Or you were hoping to get hurt."

"I wasn't trying to get hurt! Damn it!" Althea looked down at the bandaged stubb that had been her right leg and she swallowed the lump building in her throat.

"Don't worry, I'm already designing you a new one." Arthur sighs.

"Don't. I don't deserve it." 

"Well you bloody well can't work for Salem on one leg, can you? And if you can't can't for Salem she'll kill you." Arthur stood up. "Although that's probably exactly what you want."

Althea watched him leave and she rested back in the hospital bed, keeping her tears at bay.

"I'm sorry." She finally murmurs to Tyrain. "I really didn't mean to…"

"I should have stopped you." Tyrian crawled out of the easy chair and up alongside her in the bed. "When your body got slammed into the ground I…" 

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry I…" yeah keeping the tears at bay wasn't working very well. 

No, Salem had not been happy but she hadn't been nearly as angry as Watts had expected her to be.

Thankfully Hazel had been the one to tell her for the very first time, right after he'd finished off the Beowolf. Although, who the hell knew? She could act so calm and collected before the storm finally hit.

Watts had nearly had a heart attack one night when he'd gone in to bring Althea some dinner and Salem was right there, sitting at the foot of her bed and talking with her. It was an odd sight to say the least: a tall, ancient and immortal being just sitting there in the tiny recovery room. So out of place and somehow so horrifying. 

Apparently Salem had wanted to see how Althea was doing with her own eyes and it hadn't looked like she'd gone had hurt the injured woman in any way.  Perhaps Salem would see the loss of leg as enough punishment and leave it at that.

Tyrian hadn't left Althea's side once, getting her what she needed and Althea had started reading to him a lot to pass the time. Thankfully Salem hadn't sent him away on any missions. Arthur wasn't sure if the faunus would have been able to concentrate if she had.

Recovery was not going to be easy. Arthur had drawn the perfect schematics for a new leg and he had been coming and going from Evernight to trade for some of the parts he would need. 

Althea's phantom pains had started and were becoming almost unbearable. A mirror method had helped, but Arthur hoped that a new leg would do more good. Althea's balance on crutches was horrendous, and her ability to actually walk could be therapeutic in and of itself. 

Finally when he was satisfied with his work on the prosthetic, he showed it to her. Shiney and silver with green accents along the joints and toes and a small "W" engraved on the upper thigh. Watts always left his signature on what he created in one way or another. 

"The good doctor does such wonderful work doesn't he?" Tyrian mused as he looked the new limb over, his own shiney tail clicking behind him. 

Arthur smirked softly, he certainly didn't mind having his ego stroked. 

"I would have had this done sooner if you hadn't lost the leg above the joint." Watts sighs.

"I'll keep that in mind for next time." Althea chuckles dryly. 

"There won't be a next time." Watts says firmly as he prepped the stubb of her leg. "Right?"

Althea smirked down at him and nodded gently. 

"Don't you dare ever scare us like this again. I mean it." 

[yemilnisu]

CONVENIENCE STORE

Synopsis: as kageyama was looking for the milk he was craving for, he came across a lovely convenience store owned who other than you.

Pairing: kageyama x fem!reader

Genre: fluff

Word Count: 1.3K

nisu entries:

a short and kinda rushed fanfic for the birthday boy! happy birthday, kageyama tobio!🥛♥️ i apologize if it’s too short🥴

Kageyama groaned in frustration as he noticed that the milk he was looking for was not in the fridge. With a glum look on his face, he walked out of the store and looked for a different store that may sell the milk he was craving.

He noticed an average-sized store and made his way there. He walked past this store a couple of times but never really visited it, being that the store he would regularly buy his necessities have everything he needs.

The setter had to admit that the interior was quite lovely, no wonder this was well-known between his schoolmates and a few people were inside.

Kageyama noticed a guy in front of the cashier and concluded that the fellow must be a regular customer since he was chatting with the female behind the counter. He didn't bother knowing who was who because that was not the reason he was there.

His dark blue eyes met a stock of milk carton he was looking for. He eagerly grabbed four of them and made a mental note that this store has plenty of them.

As he placed the items on the counter to pay for them. He met the sparkling eyes of the young lady in front of him. "You're Kageyama, right? Kageyama Tobio," she exclaimed. Flashing the sweetest smile the boy has ever seen.

He merely nodded before the girl starts rambling, "Oh, my gosh! Kageyama Tobio is in our shop! You're a member of Karasuno's boys' volleyball club, right? I've watched your matches! You guys were amazing! Oh, no. I'm so sorry for babbling!"

"No, no. It's fine," he chuckled. Normally, he would either try to stop the person from babbling or cut them off saying he needs to do other stuff but this time he wanted to hear it, he wanted to hear your rambles.

"I got a little excited," you giggled. "By the way, I'm Y/n. I don't know if you have heard of me but I'm from class 5," you stated as you gave him the plastic bag which contains the cartons of milk he purchased.

"Class 5? Then you must be smart," he mused, giving you the payment.

"Oh, no. I'm not," you wheezed. "Believe me, I don't even know how I got there," you confessed.

"I should probably get going," Kageyama stated as he glanced behind him. The next person in line was profusely glaring at him. He took a sip from the carton box and peered in your direction before leaving the store.

"Excuse me, do you know where Yachi is?" Hinata asked as a student from class 5 walked out of the room. "They don't know where's Yachi. I told you we'll start studying after practice or tomorrow," he complained. The guy in front of him didn't make any remark because his eyes were wandering everywhere like its looking for someone. "I told you she's not inside the classroom."

"Hmm," Kageyama hummed not paying attention to what the tangerine was saying.

"Oi!" Hinata smacked him in the head.

The setter tried to remain calm by shutting his eyes close and slowly turning his way to the middle blocker. "Do that again. I dare you," he smiled but his eyes say otherwise. The oblivious middle blocker did hit him again. "Why you, little!"

Hinata was quick on his feet and was able to dodge when Kageyama tried to hit him. He ran away as fast as he could from his scary teammate, running past the students that were in the hallway.

As Hinata swerved to the corner, Kageyama did too, he swerved to the side when a student walked out of the corner, but little did he know that there was another person that also walk out the corner. When he finally saw the girl, it was too late. They already collided with each other and fell on the floor.

Kageyama was on top of the girl and before making it awkward he quickly gets up. "I'm so sorry!" he apologized. He reached his hand out to help her stand up. "Y/n! I'm so sorry," and even a large amount of regret swallowing him when he found out who the person he bumped to.

"Ouch," you softly whimper.

"Bring her to the clinic, Kageyama!" Hinata shouted.

Kageyama being in a panic estate dragged you along the corridor and brought you to the clinic. The school's doctor checked you up and after knowing that you were alright, he scolds the first years, saying that it was dangerous to suddenly make you stand up after you just hit your head. Lucky for them the impact was not that strong so you were fine.

"No. You don't have to walk me home. Didn't the doctor said that I was fine, besides don't you have practice?" you said stopping the fellow in front of you from carrying your backpack.

"Yes, he did, but he also said to take primarily precaution," he acknowledged, successfully stealing the bag from your grasp. "I do, but it's not like Daichi-san will let me practice if I didn't walk you home," he sighed.

He remembered how Daichi wouldn't even let him take one step into the gym. He didn't know how the captain knew the incident, but he probably heard it from the other students since rumors can easily spread inside Karasuno, likewise the vice principal's wig incident.

Kageyama thought that maybe Hinata told Daichi but he quickly scratched the thought off since if the latter did he will also be walking you home because he was the one Kageyma was chasing.

"Oh, no. Did I get you in trouble? I'll go talk to Daichi-san, right now!" you affirmed. You were already making your way to the volleyball gym but you soon come to a halt, when Kageyama held your wrist and dragged you out of the school premises.

"Let's just get you home," he sternly said. You gave in and led the way to your house.

"So this is my house. If you hurry, I think you can still catch up to your practice," you advised.

"Y/n-chan~" a female voice called out then the door opened. "Oh, who's this friend of yours. Wait, you're the cute customer that would always go to the store to either buy milk or yogurt and would stay for a while," she divulged.

You took notice of Kageyama's cheeks, it had a hue of pink and you took this as he was embarrassed. "He's a friend of mine. Can you wait inside, thanks!" you shoved your sister back inside and slamming the door shut before she can complain.

"Sorry, that was my older sister. She can be quite talkative sometimes," you admitted. "Uh, I didn't know you would regularly come to the shop."

You thought that the time he went there was a one-time thing since his house and the store was a few blocks away. Also, the fact that there's a closer convenience store around their block.

"Uh, yeah. The, uh, the convenience store I would normally go to doesn't sell the milk I want," he stuttered. He didn't know why he felt a bit embarrassed telling you that he's practically obsessed with dairy products.

"Are you talking about the milk you bought that day?" you asked. You were talking about the day you met him at the store.

"Yeah," he shyly replied.

"I could just deliver one when were at school, so you don't have to walk all the way here. Just tell me when you want one," you offered.

"It's fine. You don't have to. Besides, this is my route every time I jog so it's not a bother plus I like visiting your store," he complimented. He found it weird how he could casually compliment you since he wasn't the type to give compliments daily.

"Aww! Thanks, I'm glad you liked the store. My mom let me and my sister design it. But seriously, I don't mind delivering some milk to you at school," you thought that maybe he was shy to make you deliver milk to him so you insisted once more because it was obvious how he likes those dairy products.

"If you insist, deliver one every day."

[mrfandomgage]

Ralsei: Do you have any stories?

Me: yeah, a few. As my name may apply, most are to things I enjoy

Ralsei: Oh? Can y-

Susie: Hey, we're back!

Lancer: I'm here too!

Me: Do you wish to hear a story?

Susie: A story? Can it at least have blood?

Kris: Susie, not everything needs blood. What does your story have?

Me: Death, violence, blood

Kris: ...

Susie: Yeah!

Ralsei: uh, how bad is it?

Me: I probably can't describe it as well as normal, but it's of my favorite creation. I'll tell the origins, the original story, and revisions.

Lancer: ...

Me: yes Lancer?

Lancer: Can I have some popcorn?

Me: yes

*One popcorn break later*

Me: thanks for the microwave Jevil. Is everyone ready for the story?

All, plus Jevil: Yeah!

Me: The origin of Night Terror. Originally, she was only meant to be a Roleplay character. A character to be nothing but a puppet, for evil actions and tom foolery. However, she needed a backstory, and concept. I took from dreams and nightmares, and my little understanding of Freddy Krueger as a "Dream Demon" to kill in people's sleep.

Me: Her original story was bad. "Oh whoah is me. I've been killed to an uncountable number, and now I'm a being of pure vengeance that killed everyone in the world". So instead of dropping this character like others, I gave the ideas flesh and bone. Instead of being uncountable, it's uncounted and exaggerated. Instead of nonsense violence, I gave the violence flesh, abuse, to a point that'd break bones for one off action. Instead of being the sole reason her world died, it died around her as she got used to killing. I left the blood on her slit throat to let others know, she's already dead.

Susie: that sounds cool and all, but are you going to tell a story?

Kris, Whispering: Susie! Rude!

Me: No, I find that fair. Now one last stage to let you know her life being alive. Her true name is Frisk. She was a girl who was very, tired, in her world. I designed it to beat her down, just so she'd be willing to kill anything. Of course, it was hard for her, she was naturally a pacifist. She is a dream, a soul of positive energy. In a world of nightmares, they hated the energy she put off. Her own parents murdered her as a baby, but all they knew is that she put off less energy, when she woke up. So they devised to keep her energy low. They'd give her old hard as coal beds to keep her restless, if she was happy with a day, they'd shout at her for any tiny mistake or fault even when it wasn't hers. Those parents hated her favorite things, like vibrant yellows, and gave her only greys and traditional purples for special occasions, not that they wouldn't make those purple items irritable. Best of all for the parents, all they knew was that if they had really wanted to beat down their little girl til she bled on the carpet, not fully knowing they already have, she would be in misery for weeks. They never gave her bruises, she never had evidence when waking up again. She was bullied at school for sleeping at her desk, and when it got physical, it was something her parents could taunt her for. She had a friend, but he'd demean everything she said of herself. She tried to hang herself once, but when she woke up, all she could do was cry. One day, one the rare occasion she was forced to be out on the schoolyard, kids were talking of a legend. The kids taunted Frisk, stating what she believed herself. "Nobody wants you, you should climb into Mount Ebott, so you'll never return". That day, she confided in her friend, of her "nightmares" and the thought of Mount Ebott may ending her for good. Her friend tried to sew doubt into her mind of this plan, in the end, only making her cry, and giving her more reason to see to it that she could die. In the dead of night, she only took a flashlight and her purple clothes up with her to that mountain. She entered a cave and found a deep hole. She stepped to it, stood with her back facing the drop, and plunged herself into the underground. It took her a while, but she woke up. She woke up. She woke up. She was upset, but her friend was right. She met a giggling flower. "Ah, another human. You seem different, but does that matter? Have fun in your grave!" Frisk smiled at the thought of dying. She walked the tunnels and carved out cave to find a floor of spikes. She tried to drop herself onto them, only for them to retract from underneath her. While getting up, she notice that only sets of retracting spikes are sharp, while the ones that were out were as dull as rocks. She marched on, growing tired, and falling asleep in the halls. When she woke, she was in an old used bed, it was remarkable compared to home. Getting out of bed, she left the room, and tried to leave the house. Approaching the downstairs door, she caught flame. Her nerves screamed from end to end in torent pain, her lungs prayed for oxygen only taking in the smoke and ash of her own body, blood and flesh. She tried and tried and burned to ash, she finally found the monster burning her flesh, admitted she wished to leave. Learning that the monster didn't want her to leave. The monster ran to the exit with Frisk hot on their tail. Screaming and crying, the monster attacked her, I shouldn't have to say, but she had died multiple times. She became exhausted, and moved without thought, with her only thoughts to be to improve her movements, before falling to the cold. The snow was biting her senses, even though she just got some sleep, she was exhausted. As if she was walking for days. A loud snap reminded Frisk of her bones. She dropped to her knees in the freezing snow, and drops thinking something broken. In the first time in a while, the girl had a real friend. The friend talked to her, he convinced her that she was ok, and knew a place where she could rest... sorry, my throats getting dry

Susie: Awww... It was just a little interesting

Kris: could be better if you extended it

Me: I literally don't have enough text space or patience to do that yet. Trust me, I've wanted to make this story whole for a while.

Lancer: Can she at least be a little more happy? I mean, she is a dream and-

Me: no, she's constantly weakened by negative influences, mainly her own thoughts after what her parents did to her. Her only friendly relationship with other humans is still one that undermines her own thoughts and feelings. Her only dream, her only hope, is to not be useless.

Ralsei: it's good... but I have a question. Why was she born a dream?

Me: Dreams and Nightmares used to share a universe, and even though they started to hate eachother doesn't mean they didn't mix. After a rift of magic, the worlds split, and Dreams became a recessive trait to Nightmares and vice versa. It became extremely unlikely, but there's still a chance in one in a billion.

Kris: Why are monsters separated from humans?

Me: the amount of magical power to create that rift was only created by the power of monsters. Humans feared if war were to break, they too could be thrown into oblivion. Seven mages forfeited their souls to bind monsters and whoever entered. Monsters realized that they couldn't break the spell, due to the power of the seven souls, even with their collective power... can I please stop talking?

Jevil: How does she come back after dying?

Susie: When does she murder people?

Me: After blending her soul, Susie. She comes back because dreams were extremely persistent, practically a bunch of immortals. Nightmares knew this when they shared a universe, but as I said, they had a few generations and forgot. The only thing that can truly kill a dream is when they have no dream for themselves.