#It’s kind of hard to find a middle ground. That is Pleasant.

[phighter-kisser]

YANDERE GRIEFER AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!!!

anon i love you /p

you didnt specify what you wanted so,, i sort of bullshitted my way through this mb

i tried to make it yandere, but i think i ended up being more like 'sadistic griefer' than anything else. i do want to try this again sometime though!! it was surprisingly fun to think about.

player/reader/you is not very nice in this me thinks

throughout all your days travelling; fighting your way through mutliple enemies to defeating a half-frozen king only for him to turn into literal snow and bone, you never thought this would happen.

so much for trying to find and save builderman.

it started off fine enough, but things only seemed to have downgraded when you hit bigfoot by accident with your jeep.

the mayor was kidnapped by his own son and his pet monkey (seriously, who the hell names their kid 'brad'? no wonder this guy turned to evil.) - it seemed.. fine, nothing you couldn't handle.

your wooden sword was replaced with an iron one (even if you had to go through a pissed off bigfoot to get it.) you could defeat enemies more easily now. it felt like some sort of upgrade in a video game, if that made any sense. you doubt it didn't.

but then, brad.. or, fuck.. wait, what did he call himself? griefer? thats a dumb name also. but moving on.

griefer, especially when you first met him, was incredibly pissed off just by you being here, trying to 'save' his father. talking about these 'voices' of his. they wanted him to kill you.

huh, that sounds rather familiar.

not the first time someone wanted you dead, or-- at least, heavily injured.

then came the 'final' battle; right as you struck your sword, knocking him down, pointing your weapon at him-- he laughed, loudly, slowly getting up on weak legs despite your threats of harming him more.

he talked about forgetting this 'plan of his', raising the venomshank once more, only to stab himself in the leg while shouting.

"4LL 1 W4NT 1S Y0U"

fuck him, fuck this, you weren't even getting paid for this. you would've bolted straight out his disastrous bedroom if not for being stuck in place by the sight of him screaming curses, plantlife taking most of his body over starting from the leg.

colorful flowers blooming across the vines, a stark contrast to his personality.

he became more of a monster than he already was.

but, well, thats how you ended up here, lost in the middle of a jungle, running away from your current 'problem'.

when you first took off, he only cackled, spouting something about 'mouses and their fears.'

asshole. comparing you to a mouse.

just as you saw an opening, an exit, freedom-- a FUCKING VINE DRAGGED UP FROM THE GROUND AND GRABBED YOUR LEG.

welp, guess you're gonna die today.

dragging your (now rather limp) body back to him, clasping his hands together, a smirk on his lips, exposing teeth that seemed much sharper than before.

"T1MES UP M0US3."

his voice was like nails on a chalkboard. not a pleasant thing to listen to. especially now with you handing upside down by the leg,.

"why.. do you call me that?" your words only made him laugh more, his visible eye crinkling in delight. you wanted to punch him. hard.

"M0US3?"

"yeah, that. why mouse of all things?"

he paused for a moment, grinning wider, slowly walking towards you like a predator sizing up prey. (gee, hurry up grandpa, we don't have all day here.)

he reached forward and tapped your cheek, a satisfied noise leaving him.

"D3L1C4T3.. PL14NT. E4G3R T0 R0LL 0V3R 4ND D13. L1K3 4 PUPPET."

he frowned when you didn't react, brushing his (now much sharper) nails against the skin of your cheek, looking for any kind of reaction. any fear. any worry. any anger. but he saw none. yet.

with a small huff, he sharply dragged his claws against your cheek, making you writhe in pain, eyes widening when you felt the first droplets of blood on your skin.

"you fuckin' sicko!"

you shouted, reaching out to try and grab him, only for him to step back, amused, a sadistic glee in his eye.

"D0N'T F0RG3T WH0'S 1N C0NTR0L H3R3. 1 C4N K1LL Y0U 4NYT1M3 1 W4NT."

your lips curled back into a mild snarl. you'd much prefer him that over this.

"W3'R3 G0NNA H4V3 SUCH FUN T0G3TH3R."

[valengory1234]

I want to take a hot bath for my joints, but hot baths make my heartbeat extra hard and make me so tired

[feenoire]

Heartfelt Veils I. New Dawn

stepdad!joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+ minors dni

word count: 3.8k

warnings: slow burn-ish, age difference (18/50), brief sexual tension, sexual acts.

summary: moving to a strange, quaint little town isn't so bad after all, especially after meeting your soon-to-be stepdad, who’s very handsome and nice to you.

a/n: i never knew what it felt like to have a dad or father figure in my life. that’s why i wrote this silly little fiction to fulfill my fantasy. i use the character Joel because he’s my comfort character, and i see him both as a father figure and a lover. please read it with caution, as i know this kind of story is not for everyone. i’m currently writing the next chapters <3

series masterlist

A piercing ring shattered the surrounding silence, echoing in your ears. You don’t remember how you here sitting on the ground. But you can’t see anything, everything is black like the whole world goes dark. You struggle to open your eyes but it’s hard, but you persist until it opens.

You begin to breathe faster as you examine your surroundings. You’ve been here before, but you don't exactly remember when and what happened. All you know is that you can feel an unsettling fear creeping over you in this place, and you begin to cry.

You find yourself encircled by towering trees, as you sit on the cold, damp grass. You feel like someone is watching you, but there’s no one. As you attempt to bury your face in your hands, you notice a bruise on your wrists.

What happened to me?

From the fear, your hands begin to shake. As you try to stand, you hear footsteps behind you, but you don’t dare to look back. Your heart races, and despite the cold weather, you start sweating. Everything else is silent except for your own breathing until a deep and familiar voice speaks from behind you.

“You think you can run away from me?”

You close your eyes tightly. The voice starts low, then gets louder until it speaks directly into your left ear. Leaving goosebumps tingling across your skin.

“I’ll always find a way to get you. No one can stop me.”

There’s a faint, distant voice calling your name over and over until a hand touches your shoulder. You wake up with a gasp, finding yourself in a moving car, your lungs heaving with ragged breaths.

“Are you okay, flower?”

Your mind is still processing the nightmare and trying to make sense of where you are right now. You can feel the sweat clinging to your skin.

“W-where are we?”

“We’re almost there,” your mother says. “We’ll be at the house soon.”

“Oh… right.” Of course, you are.

It all makes sense now as you start to remember things. You admire the buildings, trees, and pleasant views of the small town that will be your new home, from the backseat, with your mother beside you. With a population of just three thousand, it feels almost like a ghost town. People walk here and there, stepping on fallen leaves amid the October fall.

You check the time on the car’s radio display, it reads 4 PM, but the foggy and cold weather makes it feel much later. Meanwhile “Just Like Honey” plays softly on the radio.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” your mother asks.

“Yeah, I’m okay. It was just a nightmare,” you reassure her.

The car starts to enter the small neighborhood on the edge of the town. Most of the houses already have jack-o-lanterns on their porches, seems like this town loves Halloween so much.

“I’m excited,” your mother says with a smile, holding your hand on the seat.

You smile genuinely. “Me too, Mom.”

“A new dawn, a fresh start,” that’s what your mother had said when she told you about the move a month ago, to a quaint little town called Silvervale in the middle of Montana.

It came out of nowhere, and you still think about it. You miss your friend from your old school. But with your mother’s enthusiasm, you can’t say no to her, and you want to make her happy. And you like the idea of a fresh start. Why refuse it when you have the chance to begin anew?

A few minutes later, the car stops in front of the house. It radiates a cozy charm that you immediately appreciate. What you didn’t expect is that the backyard is a dense forest, with trees stretching as far as the eye can see. It would be easy for a wolf or serial killer to attack you, but you hope that won’t happen. Your mother told you that the neighborhood is safe.

The house is a two-story structure with a classic, early 20th century architectural style, a white-painted structure with a metal gabled roof and a chimney. It features a large wraparound porch supported by columns.

“Come on, flower.”

You and your mother get out of the car and grab your things from the trunk, with the cab driver helping to place them on the porch. After giving him a tip and thanking him, the driver leaves.

The two of you stand on the porch, with bags and suitcases on the floor. You tighten your jacket around your body to ward off the cold, realizing you shouldn’t have worn a dress above your knees. Meanwhile, all your other belongings are still on their way and are expected to arrive tomorrow.

“Where is he?” you ask.

“He’s not home yet, but he told me we could come inside.”

“Wait, are you sure?”

“Yeah, come on.”

You take your bags and go inside with your mother. Now all the stuff is in the living room. You take a look around the place. It’s cozy, with many books on the bookshelves beside the fireplace. There are guitars on the wall and some wood carvings on the table. You draw closer and touch them carefully, they’re beautiful. There’s a bear, a deer, a wolf, and a cowboy sitting on the horse.

Lost in a trance, you don’t hear another person enter the house until your mother calls your name.

“Yeah?” Your eyes are still trained on the carvings as you turn around until you see the man in front of you beside your mother, his arm around her shoulder. “Oh.”

Your mother, with a beaming smile, says, “Flower, this is Joel.”

Joel.

Joel is your mother’s boyfriend and one of the reasons she proposed to move here, to his house. He might’ve asked her to marry him after two years together. And she wanted to start fresh, away from your hometown. However, you have never met Joel. Your mother met him at the local bar in your hometown, Phoenix, when he was on a road trip with his brother. The rest is history.

You only recently learned that your mother dating him, she never told you about it or even mentioned anything about dating. Your mother was single, that’s all you knew since you were a kid. She was always busy working, so she never had time for a relationship. Until a few months ago, when she finally told you about Joel.

She said she wanted to make sure that Joel is a good man for both you and her, and that she wants to protect you. Now you understand why, sometimes every few months she would leave for like a week, over the past two years. She told you it was for work, and you believed her.

She said Joel’s the one, she never really went on a date with anyone since your father. Joel is a good and kind man, and she said she fell in love with him. It was kind of shocking when you heard the news, but you accepted their relationship. Actually, you’re kind of happy for her that she finally met someone she could spend her life with and who will take care of her. You’re almost eighteen, and you won’t be living with your mother forever.

It's the first time you’re seeing Joel in person.

You’ve only looked at pictures of him that your mother showed you or seen him during Facetime calls with her, when she told you to say hi to him.

You know Joel is a good-looking man from the pictures you saw, but you didn’t expect him to look this good in person. His salt-and-pepper hair suggests maturity. He has beautiful features: a rugged handsome face with tan skin, a strong jawline, warm brown eyes, and a sharp nose. Unbelievably handsome. He’s tall and broad, so you have to look up at him. His big arms stretch the charcoal flannel he wears.

In return, he looks at you, inspecting your face as if lost in a trance.

“Joel, meet my daughter,” your mother introduces.

“Hi, Joel,” you say, your voice a little breathless as you extend your hand.

Joel shakes your hand warmly. “Nice to meet you, sweetheart. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

You smile. “Nice to meet you too.”

“I’m so glad we’re all finally together,” your mother says.

“Me too, Daphne,” Joel says as he kisses her temple.

It’s kind of strange to watch the scene unfolding in front of you, you’ve never seen your mother this affectionate with anyone before. But you are happy for her.

“I’m sorry I’m late, I thought I’d made it on time. I bought your favorite cake, tiramisu, right?” Joel says to your mother, gesturing to the large paper bag he’s holding.

A soft blush tints her cheeks. “Oh my god, thank you so much, Joel.”

“I planned to surprise you with it before you got here, but my car broke down on the way.”

“It’s okay, Joel. It’s perfect,” she says as she hugs him.

“Okay… so, are we gonna eat the cake now?” you say, trying to ease the awkwardness of witnessing their intimate moment.

Joel and your mother laugh at your remark, breaking the embrace with a shared smile. Then, he leads you to the dining room. The table is full of delicious-looking food, and your stomach grumbles at the sight.

“This is amazing, Joel,” your mother says.

The three of you finally sit down and enjoy the food on the dining table. You can’t believe Joel actually cooked all of this, and it’s kind of sweet. You’ve never had someone cook for you, not even your mother, because she’s always busy. So, you either cook for yourself or buy takeout. Joel mentions that he has always loved cooking. Everything on the table is flavorsome, especially the ravioli with spicy cream sauce.

You’re too busy eating your food to notice Joel looking at you until you catch him. He quickly averts his eyes back to his plate, and you can feel a flush rising to your cheeks. But you quickly push the thoughts aside.

“Oh, yeah, mom. I was wondering how I’m gonna finish high school. You haven’t mentioned anything about it yet.”

“Don’t worry, flower. I’ve already taken care of it,” your mother says. “You start next week, but there’s no high school in this town, so you’re going to the one in Lakewood.”

You furrow your eyebrows, you have no idea about anything in this town. “Where?”

“Lakewood, it’s not too far from here. Twenty minutes tops,” Joel says. “Don’t worry, I can take you there and pick you up.”

It’s such a dad thing to say, you thought. You never knew how it felt to have a dad before, and the thought warms your heart and also your cheeks. You must be blushing right now because you can see a hint of a smirk on Joel’s lips, though he doesn’t say anything about it.

“Thanks, Joel,” you say.

Joel smiles warmly. “I rented A Nightmare on Elm Street on VHS from the store. I thought it’d be nice to watch it together tonight. It’s your favorite, isn’t it?”

Oh god. Wait, but how does he know? Uh… your mom must have told him, of course. Stupid you.

��But why?” you ask, puzzled. “We can just watch it on Apple TV or something.”

He smirks playfully. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You chuckle. “Right, okay.”

The two of you share a smile, locking eyes for a moment before you finally look away and return to your food.

“That’s very thoughtful,” your mother smiles and holds Joel’s hand on the table.

After everyone has finished eating, Joel leads you upstairs to show you to your room, carrying your bags. Meanwhile, your mother is having a phone call with her friend. As the two of you walk, you pass a wooden door adorned with painted blossoms and vines, with an “S” initial in the center, but you don’t ask about it. He leads you to the door on the left at the end of the hallway and turns on the night lamp.

“It’s your room, I hope you like it,” he says as he puts the bags on the floor.

It’s such a pretty room, it’s cozy with a vintage ambiance. The walls are covered with floral wallpaper, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere. It’s very Joel but in a feminine way. The windows have white lace curtains, allowing you to see the forest. All the furniture is made of dark wood, including the bed frame, bedside tables, dresser, chairs, study desk, and vanity table. There’s a floral carving around the mirror. He placed some unlit candles around the room. The bed is full-sized, and you touch the soft pink bedding with your fingers, feeling the little flowers on it. It’s pretty, soft, and you. What you didn’t expect is the painting of “Fallow Deer with Fawn” above the headboard—your favorite painting.

You gasp at the sight of it and turn around to face Joel, who’s already looking at you. His pupils dilate as he looks at you. But there’s a warmth in his gaze that makes you feel safe and comfortable.

“Joel, how did you—”

He smiles warmly and looks back into your eyes. “I asked your mom if there’s something you like. She told me that you’re crazy about that painting, and even wrote an essay about it for school. So I found a very similar one and got it for y—”

You stride to him and hug him before he can finish his words, burying your face in his chest with your arms around his torso. You feel his arms enveloping you, holding you in a bear hug, and you can feel his face resting on your hair.

You feel emotional from the gesture, unable to believe that someone actually cares about you and your interests so much. It means a lot to you, even if it might mean nothing to Joel. You try to hold back the tears that are threatening to fall, closing your eyes tightly and taking a deep breath, the masculine scent of Joel fills your nostrils.

“Thank you, Joel,” you whisper. “It means a lot to me.”

He caresses your hair with his other hand. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

Joel’s deep voice is like music to your ears. After a few seconds in what feels like heaven, you realize what you’re doing and quickly break the hug, stepping back. Overcome with embarrassment, you don’t have the courage to look him in the face. You bow your head and focus on your socks.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you say.

Joel takes a step closer to you and caresses your soft cheek with his big hand. “Hey, it’s okay, sweetheart.”

His gentle voice soothes you, but you’re so embarrassed that your cheeks must be red. You still don’t dare to look at him. After waiting for a few moments and seeing your resistance, he takes a step back.

“Makes yourself comfortable, okay?” Joel says warmly. “If you need anything at all, just tell me. I’m gonna help your mom carry her bags.”

You nod, and Joel takes it as a yes. He leaves the room and closes the door behind him.

You curl up in your bed, quietly crying for almost an hour. Why did you do that? You feel so embarrassed and stupid about the moment earlier. Lost in your feelings, you didn't think twice before hugging Joel. Now, you can’t find the courage to face him. You just want to sleep and hide under your blanket forever.

But you still can’t believe Joel prepared all of this for you. The pink bedding, the flower-patterned details everywhere, the candles, the painting—all your favorite things. Not that you're ungrateful, but this is far better than your old space. You love this room Joel made for you.

You remove the blanket from your head and rest your head on the pillow. There’s a little something you didn’t notice earlier—a beautiful wood carving, much like the one in the living room, but smaller. It’s a wolf and a doe and is placed on your bedside table. You smile at the sight. Not long after that, you fall asleep, dreaming about resting on the forest floor with a big wolf hugging you.

The sky is dark outside when you wake up a few hours later. You change into your soft pink nightgown, which is sleeveless with a round neckline. Three small buttons run down the front, with small embroidered flowers beside them. You tie the delicate ribbon at the waist into a small bow. As you brush your hair, you hear a knock on the door.

You put the brush down and go to open the door, finding Joel on the other side. You don’t open the door all the way, keeping your hand on the handle. He looks so handsome, his curls falling into his forehead. He’s wearing a faded black t-shirt that hugs his frame, paired with flannel pants.

“Yeah?” you whisper.

In return, he looks at you. His once-brown eyes darken and dilate as he gazes from your right eye to your left, lingering on your lips. You notice him wet his lips, and then his eyes roam over your body, making you feel self-conscious. His intense gaze sends a hot sensation through your core.

“Joel?”

He closes his eyes and shakes his head slightly as if realizing what he is doing. “Uh… I’m sorry, sweetheart. I came here to ask if you’re still up for the movie night.”

“Oh, right. Um… yeah, sure,” you stutter.

“Okay. Uh, are you alright?” he asks.

You immediately know what he’s talking about.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m sorry, Joel, about earlier,” you bow your head.

“Hey, please don’t be sorry, sweetheart. You can come to me anytime you want,” he says, his voice sincere.

You nod.

“Alright, why don’t we head downstairs now? Your mom’s in the kitchen making popcorn. Or do you need more time?”

“No, I’m ready.”

You open the door and step out of the room.

“Do you want a chocolate or something? Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he says as he walks down the stairs in front of you.

Your heart warms at his offer, and you smile softly. “Um… could I have hot chocolate and Oreos?” you ask shyly.

“Of course,” he replies with a smile. “Why don’t you sit on the couch and let me make it for you?”

“Okay.”

Joel walks to the kitchen and joins your mother. Meanwhile, you sit on the couch in the dim living room, waiting for them. You grab the VHS, still inside the box, and examine the back cover. It says, ‘If Nancy doesn’t wake up screaming… she won't wake up at all!’ and you smile as the words send a shiver of excitement down your spine.

A few minutes later, your mother shows up with Joel. He brings a steaming cup of hot chocolate with Oreos and two bottles of Corona beer. Meanwhile, your mother puts a bowl of chips and popcorn on the coffee table.

You can’t help but grin at the sight. “Thank you, Joel, Mom.”

Joel grins. “Excited?”

“Flower, why don’t you change into something a little more appropriate? Don’t you get cold dressed like that?” your mother says, her eyes looking sharply at you.

You furrow your eyebrows, puzzled. “But it’s my nightgown.”

“Just change, alright?” she says, her tone brooks no debate.

“Okay,” you say quietly.

Your smile fades as you stand up from the couch. You catch a glimpse of Joel’s face—his eyebrows are furrowed, and he looks confused as he glances at your mother. Quickly, you go upstairs to your room, holding back the urge to cry.

“Please don’t cry, please don’t cry,” you whisper to yourself like a spell as you look for more appropriate night attire in your suitcase.

You’re confused because your mother also wears a short nightgown too, with tin straps. So why is she upset with yours?

So you opt for your winter pajama set: long-sleeved button-up top and long pants. It’s light-colored with a pattern of small bear figures scattered on the fabric.

After changing, you take a deep breath, go downstairs, and sit on the rug with your hot chocolate in your hands, avoiding their eyes.

“I’m ready,” you say softly.

You’re glad your voice isn’t shaking because you don’t want to look vulnerable in front of them. Joel stands up from the couch, puts the VHS in the VCR, and plays the movie. You can feel his eyes on you, but you bow your head and focus on your hot chocolate.

The atmosphere is not as exciting as it was before your mother scolded you, but you try to enjoy the moment. A few moments into the movie you can’t help but giggle and blush at Glen Lantz's appearance, you’ve always had a crush on him.

“You sure your cheeks don’t hurt now, little girl?” Joel says with a smirk on his face, catching you smiling for not the first time.

Embarrassed, you lower your head and take a bite of your cookie. “No…”

Joel chortles. “Your cheeks got redder, sweetheart.”

You put the cookie down, curl up, and bury half of your face in your knees at his teasing. If your ears could work like a chimney in a cartoon, you are sure there would be fumes coming out from how warm your cheeks are right now. Damn Joel.

Near the movie’s end, you catch a glimpse of your mother kissing Joel’s face and neck—not the peck kind but the longing kind. You feel deeply uncomfortable and don’t want to look. You try to focus on the movie but can’t. You hold yourself together until the closing credits appear, and then you quickly stand up.

“I’m tired, I’m gonna go to my room,” you mutter before leaving and going back to your room.

Why did they have to do that in front of you? Are they drunk? You throw yourself onto the bed and turn off the night lamp, allowing the natural light from the night sky to illuminate your room as you try to sleep.

After what feels like twenty minutes, just as you doze off, you hear thumps and muffled moans coming from the other side of the wall behind the headboard. And you know exactly what they’re doing, which pisses you off even more, and you feel like you want to cry. So you clutch your pillow and blanket and go to sleep in your closet with your earmuffs on. You didn’t expect your first night here to be like this—sleeping on the closet floor. It takes a while to fall asleep again.

[koiiiji]

hiii! i really love your windbreaker scenarios😭❤️ can i request a hyuk kwon scenarios with friends to lovers trope, if you don't mind? thank you so much!!!

AHHH U READING MY THOUGHTS! i had it in my drafts, but already posted!! so here like a short scenario in same timeline, just take it as what happened in gaps here

author note ; seminar week in uni hits hard, but random tequila shots with flatmates in the middle of the week hits harder.... but don't worry i played through and won this fking hangover and dropping this post now😌🫦

warnings ; fluff, cute hyeok, not proofed

(bro is the type of guy who will show off a trick on his bike he hasn't trained enough yet and end up falling)

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friday evening started out great - all the lectures were over, the weather was beautiful outside, the sun had not yet disappeared behind the horizon and was giving the city its last rays. this week you didn’t miss a single lecture, and in general today you were quite active in class, you also agreed with your classmates to meet next week to complete a group project, so your socially active duty for today has been completed and you can calmly relax on weekend.

entering cozy apartment, you set down your bag and kicked off shoes, ready to delve into usual routine of household chores. you took a slow shower, completed all the steps in the skin care routine and now you wanted to start that series that you had been putting off for a long time when you heard a soft knock sounded at the door, interrupting your thoughts. curious, you opened the door to find Kwon standing there, with his usual calm and relaxed face. his presence caught you off guard a little, your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. "hey..." he began, his voice a gentle murmur. "i was wondering if you'd like to go to that shop near our building with me. i wanted that banana drink you recommend me recently... and i thought you spent whole day in uni, so we could take a little walk together... you know to catch some fresh air and stuff..." your initial surprise quickly gave way to excitement, as your lips curling into a grin. despite his usual reserved demeanor, Kwon's offer filled you with pleasant a sense of warmth, joy and anticipation. "sure, i’d love to," you replied, grabbing a jacket and slipping on her shoes.

together, you ventured out into the cool evening air of Seoul, the streets alive with the hustle and bustle of city life. As you walked side by side, you couldn't help but steal glances at Hyeok, marveling at the way his stoic facade softened in the glow of the streetlights. small conversation about everything flowed effortlessly as you made your way to the shop, sharing stories and laughter along the way. but little did you know that Kwon had something else up his sleeve, a secret he was eager to reveal. of course you notice bike he took with him, but you genuinely thought he was so obsessed with these races and bicycles that he just wouldn't get off his bike.

upon reaching an empty playground nestled within a quiet corner of the neighborhood, Kwon's eyes twinkled with mischief as he hopped on his bicycle, a gleam of excitement dancing in his gaze. "watch this," he murmured, his voice tinged with excitement as he prepared to demonstrate a new trick he had been practicing. however, fate had other plans in store, and as he attempted to execute the trick, a misstep caused him to lose his balance, sending him tumbling to the ground with a muffled thud. your heart felt like it skipped a beat as you rushed to his side, concern etched across your features. ignoring the pain coursing through his knee, Hyeok tried to brush off the accident with some kind of incomprehensible emotion. but you saw through his facade, your heart aching at the sight of him in distress. without a moment's hesitation, you took charge, guiding him to a nearby bench and inspecting his injury with gentle hands. rummaging through your bag, you retrieved a pack of cute adhesive bandages adorned with playful images of bananas, a small smile tugging at your lips. with utmost care, you cleaned his wound and carefully applied the bandages, your touch felt so tender that Hyeok could feel goosebumps down his spine.

in that vulnerable moment, when he saw you on your knees before him as you tended to his injury with unwavering kindness, Kwon felt a surge of emotions wash over him, his heart swelling with a newfound warmth. as he looked into your eyes, he realized with startling clarity that what he felt for you already went beyond mere friendship.

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[topgun-imagines]

Day 6: Part Of Me

Pairing: Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky x fem!reader

Synopsis: When you wake up to horrific pain in the middle of the night, you immediately know what’s wrong.

Warnings: Miscarriage, blood, death, panic attack, mention of hospitals, mental breakdown & descriptions of pain.

Word count: 1.5k

The world around you was calm. For 3:17, that was perfectly normal. A soft breeze flitted through the open window, making you shiver in your sleep and curl into Tom. Even in his sleep, his arm tightened around you. For the first time in what felt like weeks, you were finally at peace. With Tom’s never-ending workload, the two of you could hardly ever find time just for yourselves. So, you relished these moments. Even if you were simply sleeping next to him, the two of you were together and that was all you could have needed.

This was the kind of peace you longed for. Being held like this, in his arms, didn’t get to happen very often due to his busy schedule. Oftentimes, he was on the other side of the world on a ship, making it hard for the two of you to even say goodnight. It was safe to say that being snuggled against his warm skin was a pleasant change of pace.

Tom lay sound asleep next to you, flimsy sheet draped across his waist and soft snores falling from his parted lips. No matter how peaceful the outside world appeared, that was far from the truth. Even your fiancé was blissfully unaware of the moment you woke up in a stomach-churning pain that left you breathless. Regardless of the cool sea breeze blowing through the window, your skin was warm and sticky. Sharp gasps escaped you and tears welled in your eyes at the immense pain.

You didn’t know what to do. Panic began to flood through you. Without making a sound, you hobbled out of the bed, hardly able to walk. You paused and flicked on the lamp. The sight on your side of the bed almost had you collapsing onto the ground.

It had been two months since you found out that you were pregnant and it had been the happiest eight weeks of your life. Now, however, you were watching all of that come crashing down around you. You had read every book on pregnancy you could find and as much as you wanted to deny it, you knew exactly what was happening.

You had heard horror stories of women miscarrying. Stories of nights where everything seemed fine at first, only for them to be in the hospital a few hours later. Tom had assured you that that would never be the case with you. Oh how wrong he was. You should have seen this coming when it was so difficult to get pregnant. You should have known. How could you have been so careless? This was all your fault.

The thought had you shaking, hand clasped over your mouth tightly. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stifle your sobs. You were crying hysterically now as the reality of the situation sunk in.

You had lost your baby.

You did everything right. You had made sure to follow every rule, no matter how foolish or silly or redundant you thought it was, you followed it. Every. Single. Rule. Even random advice from family members that had absolutely no business being a fact. You still followed and listened. All because you wanted to keep your baby safe. Now, it seemed as if none of that mattered.

Through the thoughts racing around your mind, you couldn’t hear the way you were nearly hyperventilating. But Tom did. Within seconds of sitting up groggily, he was by your side. Your sobs only grew louder at the feeling of his gentle touch. You had failed. You had failed him. Why was he comforting you? Surely you didn’t deserve it. He would pull away when he finally understood. You were positive.

Only, he never did pull back. Not even when you tried to tell him what was wrong. “Ice-” You gasped through your sobs, struggling to breathe properly. All he did was hold you tiger, tears of his own welling in his eyes. They were fixated on your side of the bed. He was staring at the dark spot on the crisp white sheets; the spot that was covered in blood.

Ever so slowly, the tears began leaking down his face. “I know, baby,” It was softer than a whisper but it spoke volumes. Together, the two of you sobbed as his head collapsed into the crook of your neck. “I know.”

When you let out a sound akin to a scream was the moment that Tom finally rose from the ground. His movements were quick as he helped you to your feet, helping you change from your flimsy shorts into a loose pair of his sweats. Soft words of assurance were whispered against your temple as Ice picked you up bridal style and carried you to the car. Deep down, you knew that he was much more terrified than he was letting on, but he was keeping a brave face for you. In your hazy mind, you couldn’t find the words to thank him.

In the air, Ice was a very calm and collected man. One of the most important things to him was his ability to follow rules to the letter. He never let anything mess him up, not even Maverick. But now, he was breaking more than several traffic laws to get you to the hospital quickly. Right now, he didn’t care how recklessly he had to drive, he was going to get you to that hospital.

Within ten minutes, Ice was parking the car in front of the doors. It was hard to focus on anything but the pain surging through your body, setting your nerve endings ablaze. Once again, you were lifted into his arms and rushed into the building. “Help!” Even through your unfocused, fuzzy mind, you could hear his cry for help. At this point you were delirious. Your head lolled against his chest and you seemed seconds away from passing out. “Please! She needs help!” The last thing you saw before everything went dark was the concerned face of your fiancé.

When you woke up, you were no longer in pain. Honestly, you weren’t quite sure if that was good or bad. The second you were coherent enough, you were looking for Tom. After everything that had happened tonight, all you needed was your pilot.

Unsurprisingly, you didn’t have to look far. Ice was sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair beside your hospital bed. The sight of him sitting with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands instantly formed a pit in your stomach. Of course, Ice was a serious person. But after a night like this, he wouldn’t be sitting like that if it wasn’t bad news. Almost instinctively, your hand reached down to hold your stomach. The joy you once felt from touching the area that held your baby never came.

“I’m so sorry,” Tom’s head snapped up so fast that you were surprised he didn’t get whiplash. The man was by your side in an instant. There was a look in his eyes, one that you had never seen before. It only added fuel to the fire. “It’s all my fault.”

That had him shaking his head adamantly. This was a terrible turn of events but he would never, ever, blame it on you. Unshed tears lined his eyes, clinging to his dark lashes. “No, baby,” Delicately, Ice reached up to cup your cheek. His tears began to fall. Not very long after, yours followed suit. “It’s not your fault. You couldn't have done anything to stop it.” While his words were supposed to be comforting, they had just confirmed your worst fear. Your baby was gone.

“Listen to me,” He tried again to comfort you, both hands cupping your cheeks and using his thumbs to wipe away your tears. “There was nothing we could have done.” Whispered words of assurance did little to calm your racing mind. How did he know that? How did he know for certain that there was nothing that you could have done better to keep your baby safe?

The sad smile on his face was the straw that broke the camel's back. You burst into tears once more. That was how the two of you remained for as long as you could remember. Your head in the crook of his neck, his hand on the back of your head and arms wrapped tight around you as the two of you snuggled on the scratchy hospital sheets. You were sure that your combined cries were loud enough to be heard on the other side of the hospital. Even so, you couldn’t find it in you to care. And as a nurse passed by the closed door, her heart broke for the couple inside. The couple that had just lost their baby girl.

a/n: hope you enjoyed! Join the taglist!

Tagging: @ohtobeleah @xoxabs88xox @els-marvelvsp @kmc1989 @nyx2021

[chrono-renard]

writober 2023

Day 16 - Patron

Grian felt incredibly awkward being a freshman transfer in the middle of the school year. An unpleasant turn of fate in the form of the loss of accreditation of his own university and an emergency transfer to a completely unfamiliar (by all measures) educational institution forced him to catch extra weak attacks of anxiety that did not allow his brain to calm down.

And now he tiredly wandered along the corridor, looking for the right office, completely lost in the walls of this building. Everything could have been better if he had turned on his inner “social devils” and made friends even with the first one he came across, but due to the current situation, there was absolutely no strength and “spoons” for unnecessary social relationships.

Violet eyes, full of lack of sleep, glanced wearily at the vending machine. The taste of synthetic instant coffee automatically reflected on his lips; this is not the most pleasant drink, which he would prefer to drink exclusively for emergency purposes when he is broke. For example, unfortunately, now. Due to the unexpected relocation, as well as unexpected expenses, it was worth not spending much until a way out of this unpleasant financial hole was found.

But, as luck would have it, the vending machine itself stood at the entrance to the chain cafe from which came the pleasant aroma of freshly ground coffee, the knocking of the holder, and the pleasant sound of espresso, which could now be flowing in his body instead of blood.

Xelqua lets out a sad, quiet groan looking towards the intersection of the machine and the cafe at the same time.

- Hey, new guy, are you looking for something hotter? - He heard giggling next to him and, shaking his shoulders slightly, he automatically turned towards someone else’s voice.

Standing nearby was a thin guy with blue eyes and blue-blue hair that looked like fire when he moved slightly. He was a head taller than Grian, from which the feeling of his elevation clearly made itself felt. His strange dark clothes, reminiscent of a black thin raincoat, some kind of stupid turquoise sweater, pale skin and smile evoked the vibes of some villain from a comic book. The ones about super heroes...

- Suppose? - Grian said thoughtfully, drawing out the words and looking away from the guy towards the coffee shop and sighing heavily. — I doubt you can offer me anything interesting.

- And I think I can. To begin with, — the guy holds out his thin fingers stained with red and blue ink, — My name is Tango and I know that you are new here, I want to introduce you to our university.

— Grian, — Xelqua tries to grin in response, as if trying to inflate his worth and pretend that he is a self-sufficient adult guy and in general such an acquaintance for him is like rubbing two fingers on the asphalt.

- So, Grian, what about finding you a patron within these walls? - Tango giggles, lowering his palm and crossing his arms over his chest, smiling contentedly.

- Do you offer this to everyone? - Grian snorts quietly, looking at how self-confident Tango becomes before his eyes after such phrases.

- No, only such handsome handsome men. — Tango winks, making Xelqua try really hard not to blush. It's not often that such hot guys flirt with him.

- Oh, Tango. Let's buy me some coffee first, I refuse to flirt with my sleepy brain. - Grian jokes, nodding towards the machine gun. If he saves a couple of coins, it will be better.

- No problem. - Tango smiles contentedly, nodding towards the machine, but walking past it and heading towards the coffee shop.

- Hmm, Tango. I can get by with synthetic coffee.., — Xelqua says hesitantly, internally not believing that he can be treated to real coffee.

- Well, first of all, this is my friends’ coffee shop and I can buy a drink at cost. Secondly, I heard that sad sound that you made literally looking towards the coffee shop, well, and thirdly, I can’t afford to kiss someone’s lips that just touched artificial coffee. - Tango jokes, not hiding his laughter, - Okay, the last one was too much. I can simply afford to treat a person that I like coffee. How do you like that?

In just a few words, Tango managed to get upset at how stupid he was, to be touched by how cute he was, and almost roll his eyes at his cute nonsense.

-Are you always this stupid? - Grian snorts, hiding his smile and walking ahead of the guy into the cafe.

- No, only with such handsome guys who suffer from caffeine. You are the easiest victims. - Tango giggles, from which he immediately receives an elbow in the side from Grian, but sees how Xelqua is pleased with such stupidity, he only smiles guiltily. On the other hand, how else can you approach handsome strangers?

// I carefully remind you that еnglish is not my native language, I’m just learning and thank you for your understanding,,,,

[oya-oya-okay]

Oh love the new designs, it does fit Sebastian well. I am really surprised the- nevermind this is Crowley we are talking about. He is gonna let someone like him as professor.

But I can tell the other staff will be suspicious especially when they can sense dark magic from Ciel and now from him.

Does he live in Ramshackle or in the teachers' dorm? I recalled they live outside of school grounds given the Halloween event they mentioned that they were suppose to be leave the school but stayed for the Halloween party to which Crowley didn't attend.

IT'S INTERESTING!!! Now I will explain how I planned to arrange all this!🙌

Yes, Sebastian will give off an unpleasant aura, but not many people will be able to feel it, perhaps only experienced wizards such as teachers. Students should want to feel his dark power intentionally and try very hard, because they are not quite experienced yet. But maybe Leona and Lilia, Malleus will immediately feel something not very pleasant

But that won't mean that everyone will find Sebastian intimidating and avoid him. NRC teachers would invite him to parties or have a drink so that he would settle into NRC!💖💖💖✨✨✨

The question remains why Crowley hired him so unexpectedly in the middle of his studies. Maybe because he's VERY KIND?😇😊

I think Crowley would have let him live in the Ramshackle dorm! Perhaps Sebastian would have asked him to do it himself❣️ This way he will be closer to his Master and beloved cat!💕💕💕💕

Tysm!💘

[htchnr]

♰ comfort of home ༻ B. COUNTY JR.*ೃ˚

✮ꜜ masterlist. ✮ꜜ buy me a coffee!

content warning unprotected sex ⋆ piv ⋆ creampie ⋆ finger sucking ⋆ if i missed anything, lmk!

summary just a lazy, passion filled morning under the sheets with Brisco. wordcount 0,9k.

authors note FIRST BRISCO FIC Y'ALL! there are fics almost 10 years old on AO3 with various characters from the show — but no x reader/x oc 🥶 so if anyone has any Brisco requests, i guess i'll just carry them all 😁

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐇𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐑. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!

a low grumble came from Brisco as you slid back into bed. your body had gotten a little chilly when you had sauntered over to the back porch to pull Brisco's clothes down from the line. you stilled your movements for a second, trying to confirm if you had woken him up, when two arms wrapped around your waist. another tired groan comes from his throat as he pulls you against his front. his face nuzzled against your shoulder, his stubble scratching in a pleasant way.

“ you’re cold. ” he grumbles against your shoulder, moving his arms around you tighter, pulling you tightly against him. one of his arm sliding across the front of your hips, pulling them snugly against his. a small shudder rakes through you as he presses his front firmly against your ass.

you hands move up to hold his arms against you, closing your eyes as you relish the warmth. “ sorry, i went to pull your clothes down and bring 'em in, that’s why i’m a little cold. ” you mumble quietly, finding yourself unable to disturb the peacefulness around the two of you.

Brisco moves to nudge his face against the back of your neck, a quiet giggle slipping through your lips as his facial hair tickles you a little. “ then let me warm you up. ” he replies, the hand that was resting across the front of your hips is now rubbing small circles on the top of your thigh, fingers just barely gripping the inside of your thigh. your eyes flutter at his reply, as you couldn’t help but buck your hips the tiniest bit at the tone in his voice.

Brisco caught the small motion, and ground his hips into yours with a long rolling motion. long moans emitting from the both of you. your moan turned into small whimpers, he continuing the rolling of his hips. his growing erection grinding against your slowly soaking underwear, slotted so perfectly against you. the hand that wasn’t clasped onto your hip moved it’s way up your stomach and across your chest, resting on your throat. not squeezing or putting any kind if pressure on it, just resting it there.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head as Brisco firmly thrusted forward, then stilled. he held you firmly against him, you could feel the heat coming off him as he pressed his hard cock deliciously against your soaking underwear. pressed perfectly against your aching cunt.

“ Brisco-.. ” you whimpered, your voice giving out as he continues grinding into you.

“ shh baby, let me warm you up. ” his voice is low and gravily right in your ear. Brisco moves around a little behind you, and before you know it you feel the wet tip of his hard cock against your soaking wet underwear, sliding between your thighs. “shit baby, so wet for me..” he groans, continuing a long and slow thrusting pace, coating himself in your arousal. your moans and whimpers are reduced to tired pleads.

“ Brisco please- ” you plead, you voice cracking in desperation. but he just shushes you again, his hand that was resting on your throat moves up to place his long slender index and middle finger to your lips. you tilt your head, looking towards him through hooded eyes. in the dark room you’re still able to make out his bright blue eyes, more gorgeous than ever.

just as Brisco slips two fingers past your lips, your lips instantly wrapping themselves around his finger, pulling your underwear aside with his free hand. you choke out as he slides his hard cock along your dripping cunt, the sound of it filling the room. “ oh sweetheart.. ” he moans shoving his head in between your neck and shoulder. “ so wet for me baby.. ” his voice is strained and gravily as he continues to tease you both by sliding up and down, his tip slipping in ever so slightly as he passes down each time.

your lips are parted as you whimper and moan, Brisco’s fingers resting on your tongue just past your lips. and as he cannot hold himself back any longer he slips himself down you slit and slides into you in one long thrust, filling you up to the brim. your eyes roll back as you almost bite down on his fingers, dropping your head back next to Brisco’s.

moans and gasps fill the room as he stills, savoring the overwhelming sensation of your warm wet walls squeezing him firmly, pulsing in pleasure. “ so good for me baby. ” he groans. his voice raspy and low. “ so incredibly good- ” he strains as you squeeze tightly around at the sound of his praise. you nearly bite down on both his fingers, the sensation of his fingers and the fullness overwhelming your tired mind.

“ oh baby.. ” he moans, slowly pulling out, leaving just the tip in, before thrusting in slowly and filling you completely again.

you eyes squeezed shut as they roll back into your head. “ so f-full- ” you manage to choke out, Brisco’s fingers becoming a small hindrance for your speech.

Brisco notices and pulls them out, your saliva dripping past your lips and spreading across your chin. “ hmm? ” he asks almost teasingly. he moves forward again, filling you up till his hipbones are pressed firmly into your ass.

you gasp and Brisco moans deep as clench down on him, your warm slick walls suffocating him. “ so full- ” you whimper out.

he closes his eyes as his hips buck forward, causing you to clench down even more. “ shit baby- ” wet sounds fill the room as he slowly thrusts back and forth, keeping a slow, but deep pace.

“ i don’t think- ’m gonna last long. ” Brisco strains, the remainder of his sentence caught up by a long moan.

you nod in response. “ that’s- ah! okay- ” you gasp as he picks up the pace a little. though it still remains a fairly slow pace. your head drops forwards into your pillow, Brisco’s fingers now spreading your saliva down to your throat as his fingers rest splayed across your throat; a place his fingers often spread across.

the sound of skin against skin fills the room, along with moans and gasps, as Brisco tries to hold on for a little longer. “ ’m close baby, ” he grunts as he digs his fingers into your hip, then drags them across your stomach, where they splay against the sweaty skin.

you nod tiredly, but frantically. “ please honey- please cum for me-! ” you moan, desperate to feel his release. you never minded if you didn’t get off in time, as long as Brisco got off, you somehow felt pleased enough.

Brisco choked out a moan at your plea. his head against your neck, his lips and stubble grazing your shoulder pleasurably. you felt a stutter in Brisco’s pace, and his fingers spread on your stomach scraped across as he tried to reach his release.

your eyes close as your free hand reaches up to Brisco’s hand that’s resting against your throat. your fingers wrap around the palm of his hand and drag it up to your lips. “ shit- i’m coming- ” and with a violent stutter of his hips that’s how he comes; his fingers between your wet lips, his spasming cock buried deep in you as squeeze around him, milking him for all he’s got. his cum leaking out around where the two of you are joined, dripping a little down your thigh.

Brisco sags in exhaustion, draping his arm across your stomach and waist. his other arm going limp across your shoulder as he drops his head against your shoulder. the both of you are panting, shuddering a little in pleasure still. Brisco pulls the blankets further over the two of you. he nudges closer to you, still remaining in you as he softens.

he smiles against your shoulder. “ warm now? ”

you shake your head a little and laugh tiredly. “ i think so. ” you mumble as you wrap your arm around his that’s resting across your waist. slowly drifting off to sleep. the two of you will deal with the sheets when you wake up again, his clothes long forgotten on the chair in the kitchen.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #111

I went with my best friend B and her sister to a place called Lowville to see the solar eclipse. The trip was around 2 and a half hours long. B drove. Many silly and hilarious shenanigans were had along the way. I haven't laughed this much in a long time; my stomach kind of hurts, I was laughing with them so hard for parts of the trip.

…More than anything, if just for today, I wish you were here so you could experience this, too. The laughter. The joy. The love. Even if you get confused because you're not used to it, and even if you need someone to hold your hand to feel safe. I wish you were here to experience this for yourself so badly that I could almost cry.

…But that's silly; you don't exist as anything but an art form here. And even if I did allow my emotions to overflow from my eyes, it's not as though most anyone would understand anyway. Maybe they'd even think me deranged. So I won't. I'll pretend to be normal and okay for just a little while longer. Why not. Another 34 years or so really isn't that long, right?

…It's so heavy sometimes, though…

…

Well. I know you love nature. So I took as many photos for you along the way as I could. But I was in a moving vehicle when I took them, so I saved only the best ones. Here:

We got to the place early. Just enough time to eat a simple lunch at a Stewart's Shop, and… incidentally, enough time to check out a cheese shop! Cheese is one of my favorite things ever, and so I asked if we could go, and so we went!! Here, I'll show you what it looked like; maybe you'll see a little bit of my reflection in some of the glass of the display cases, haha:

I got a variety of nice things to bring home for M, J, and Br!! I'll show them to you!

In any case! After that, we found a very sparsely-populated hill in the middle of a parking lot. Not a glamorous place to watch the eclipse, I know. But it's all right; the clouds rolled in very thickly just when it was beginning, anyhow:

I tried to take a picture through the fancy glasses we got. Here's the result of that:

And in this one, you can see the way that the sun and the moon begin their slow dance in the sky together; I had to turn the brightness of my camera all the way down to make it work:

Because of the clouds, I wasn't able to get a very good picture for you. But in this one, if you'll look closely, you'll see the moon fully and lovingly embraced by the sun:

And, while the sun so tenderly encircled the moon within its light, the sky was a gloriously prismatic sunset in every direction, no matter where we looked; my camera COULD NOT do this justice, but... here:

Hey, Sephiroth? Please don't imagine you're unlovable, or that you're some kind of monstrosity, or that you're something that shouldn't exist. Because… Sephiroth… I am still alive only by virtue of the fact that I am looking for you in every little thing in my world that I can. I look for you in every delightful sip of tea, in every meal I share with the people around me, in every nifty thing I find at the grocery store that I think you might like. I look for you in every nice-smelling soap, in every warm, pleasant breeze, in the scent and colorful petals of every blossom, in every feather I happen to find and pick up from the ground. I'm looking for you within the way snow crystals refract light into kaleidoscopic prisms, within the tendrils of every wispy cloud, within the sound of leaves rustling in the wind, and in the sight of the sunlight streaming down from their leaves to dapple the ground. I'm looking for you in every melody I hear, in all the laughter I share with my friends and chosen family, and within the tears streaming down my cheeks (despite my best efforts to keep them in check…) as I write this to you.

You are the sun to at least one person, and I know this because if you can look at me and see someone who shines, you have to know that it's only because I am reflecting the light that you gave me so many years ago; it came from you. Your light breathed life into me when I felt dead inside, and it bade me to rise up from my knees even when I thought I couldn't go on, in the same way that our sun bids saplings to break through the confines of their seeds and rise up into truly living. You gave me the strength to continue when my surroundings were painful and wretched, and now everything that surrounds me is beautiful and full of love. You have been my guiding light and my reason for keeping my eyes on the distant horizon no matter what gets thrown at me.

And for all that, I could write letters to you like this for all of eternity, and still, it wouldn't be enough to thank you. I could trade my life for your safety (I would do this proudly, happily, and without even a fraction of a moment's hesitation), and it still wouldn't be enough to thank you. Even if by some miracle I had the power to create with my bare hands a whole world for you that has everything you could possibly ever want or need, it STILL wouldn't be enough to thank you. So don't… please…. please don't call yourself a monster anymore. Please don't be mean to yourself anymore. Okay?

On the way home, there was a crow flying over a rainbow-colored mosaic; we can only see its right wing from here...

Maybe it's ridiculous, but... you know, it doesn't hurt anyone if I can look at the one-winged thing dancing in the sky over some sparkly, beautiful, and prismatic thing, and think to myself that maybe, against all odds, you'll be safe somehow. Somehow...

My body uselessly threw what little water I drank today away, through my eyeballs. So I guess I had better stop writing in favor of rehydrating. How silly, hahaha… I wonder if I'll ever get used to inhabiting a flesh-vessel and all the quirks that come with it…

I love you. I'll write again soon.

Your friend, Lumine

[royalblades-cosmicfates]

||Star aligned— cosmic mishap

||For the —- @hom3land3r ~~~……]]

[[shortened for convenience of reading]]

____……………………………____

Alfor had gotten used to the life on earth and its people, while vast and filled with life, it had been a rocky start to his time on the beautiful blue planet. While it had its own beauty, variety of creatures, unique people and cultures, it did hold its own dangers, however, he did find it fairly easy to settle down into a fairly nice and pleasant routine for day-to-day life. While mundane for the most part it never meant he wouldn’t find something new to do or discover of the planet. Especially one which held a rather unique type of people. The kind who were able to harness or born with supernatural abilities, powers, and knowledge.

While he never pried to much into Homelander life, he did try to get to know the man better while being cautious and aware of his boundaries. He had learned a few new things about Homelander and the earth as well in that time; most being what to be cautious of and what the man enjoyed to do in his free time. He enjoyed the time spent with the blonde man or watching him during his interviews, and saving the lives of fellow humans.

While he never admitted it, he was fairly concerned with how this Vought treated him and his fellow colleagues. However he never pried to hard in that. Mostly seeking out his own answers through the media and some of those insider information circles. During one of those little moments of discovering any more interesting, if not concerning, details or rumors of vought—

—The sensation of being watched hit him. While it had before while he was out and in pubic, this was different. He fixed the mask on his face before continuing his walking before rounding a corner of a small alleyway. While not the best of areas to hide in, he had checked if it was empty and to his relief it had been, just a dead end with a small bin to the left with other discarded objects.

But it remained. And it was scarily familiar, not unlike someone watching him- which couldn’t be the case due to him being out of sight. Even looking up for any supers he found no one, but it was familiar, it was similiar to the feeling of when he first escaped. With great care he dug through his pocket to find the phone given to him. Once finding it and holding it he unlocked it to send Homelander a text. Some apprehension hit him as he hoped the man wasn’t in the middle of another interview or another life or death situation with humans. It was a quick and to the point text-

[[Homelander, I’ve sent my location. I do not know why, but something is wrong.]]

Along with he text was the location he was standing at. His eyes jumping around the area before an odd sensation of weightlessness overcame him. Then the feeling of falling and air left his lungs. The next thing he felt was hitting the ground on something hard and cold.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Hi, Mousy! 👋🏻 I hope you've been doing well! ✨ I don't know if these are worth of ideas but I'll leave that to you! It's about the short stories that you wanted ideas from. I pondered the whole day... Here's one of them 😆

So, firstly, I had an idea about your farmer, Julian and my farmer, Ziana. It's based on that one Joja situation with Shane your friend talked to you about, if you remember, hehe (the blue chickens). I would imagine Julian and Ziana were just finished with some farmwork and are resting together (feel free to add more of others' farmers, if you like!) munching some cookies or whatever you can think of (like a picnic maybe?) Ziana has the habit (like me, LOL) who kind of just having random thoughts and questions out of randomness.

So, while they're munching some cookies, Ziana suddenly thinks about Shane's chickens being blue and can't help but think to herself while she's munching on a cookie, finding the thought weird at first. But then she remembered that one time they helped Shane with his Ad video for Joja (you know that cutscene with Emily and Clint as well? Imagine Julian also helping too!) She recalls that Clint turned blue after drinking the Joja Cola. Then Shane also worked with Joja, so...

Everything is a coincidence but it feels right for her conclusion so she just had to ask Julian about this thought... (assuming she's already comfortable with Julian since she tends to ask random questions to those she's comfortable with 😁 The result of doing so is mostly a flick on the forehead from others. Mostly from Isaac 🤣)

How will Julian react upon hearing Ziana's random question? 🤔

It's a funny idea, haha 🤣🤣 For me, at least 😅

I hope this is okay and understandable 😅🙏🏻 My English has worsened lately 🥲

Heeey! Thanks so much for the question! I just got the inspiration for this scenario (the story turned out longer than I thought it would 😅). Hope you like it ❤️

In this story, the main characters are OCs Farmers - Julian (my OC), Ziana (@nimillaarts), Bo (@boinurmom13), and Bella (@ivquatro). Enjoy!

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"The blue chicken theory"

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Many will agree that the middle of spring is the ideal time for a picnic in nature, when the forest has already woken up from its long winter hibernation, and the ground is covered with whole fields of pleasant-smelling flowers; when your skin is blown by a not too cool breeze, and the food is not atacted by pesky midges, which are usually found in summer.

The farmers of the Stardew Valley thought a spring picnic would be a great excuse to get together and relax after the hard work in the fields. Ziana and Julian sat on the edge of a picnic rug on the grass near Marnie's ranch, Bella beside them opening a bottle of homemade juice (everyone had decided to avoid alcohol for this picnic). Bo, having finished helping his friends with the dishes and food, decided to head to the lake with a fishing rod, trying his luck and practising fishing, which, by the way, he hated with all his heart. But, unfortunately to him, fishing is necessary to make some good cash, so Bo trying to learn while he could, and also try not to gag because of the fishy stench.

Bella finally sat down on the rug with the others, pouring apricot juice into her and others mugs.

"Mmm, the cookies is really good!", Ziana was munching contentedly on the four mint cookies Bella had baked just in time for the picnic. Making healthy oatmeal cookies, and at the same time so tasty, is not an easy task, but the red-haired farmer succeed in cooking.

"I can say the same about your homemade juice. I love apricots". Putting the large glass bottle of juice in a basket so the sun wouldn't heat up the drink, Bella took the cranberry rakhat lukum Julian had made from the pretty little plate. Taking a half bite of the sweetness, she hummed a little with pleasure as she chewed the lukum slowly. Julian didn't need any verbal encouragement, as his friend's reaction to the lukum he'd made spoke for itself, so Julian just smiled broadly and began to quench his thirst with apricot juice.

"Hopefully Bo will be back in time from fishing, or his juice will get hot in the sun quickly", Julian said and grabbed from the basket a small avocado and tomato sandwich that Bo had made. The funny thing was that he was the only one who brought salty snacks to the picnic, thinking that "after the sweet stuff, one would immediately crave salty stuff". And he was absolutely right.

While the three farmers were sitting on the picnic rug, chatting and eating tasty snacks, waiting for the fourth farmer to come back from fishing, Jas came back from Pelican Town and excitedly told her uncle, Shane, about something. Behind them, clucking, come three chickens - Charlie, Shane's favorite, and two more, motley, with beautiful blue feathers. When the girl spotted the farmers near her aunt's ranch, she waved her hand in greeting. Shane also raised his hand and smiled weakly - his smile grew a little bigger when Julian, Ziana, and Bella waved back at him and Jas.

"What a beautiful hens! Hehe, so cute!" Ziana gasp, she couldn't take her eyes off the beautiful feathers of chickens.

"Right? So adorable. I even managed to buy two blue chickens from Marnie", Julian was also looking at the chickens, which were noisily stomping around Shane and Jas's feet, begging for attention and pets while Shane tried to open the front door with his key.

"This chickens looks well-fed, and very happy. Still don't understand why Shane still speak about himself so poorly..." Bella recalls with a slightly sad smile a conversation with a pizza and beer lover who was always calling himself worthless in everything he touched. The situation was even worse when Bo told her that he and Julian had found Shane lying near a rock in the rain with a bunch of beer cans. Good thing they'd gotten him to Dr. Harvey in time.

Ziana turned to Bella, looking at her worriedly, and then looked at the ladybug on the rug; she knew about situation with Shane, and the fact that the story had almost ended in tragedy... Even though chicken man often spat caustic phrases and demands for the farmers to leave him alone, Ziana knew that if she got to know him better, and that he actually is a wonderful and interesting friend. She's glad the other farmers gave Shane a chance (although Shane and Bo still exchange sarcasm, and sometimes, when the kids aren't around, heavy swear words).

Julian caught the tone with which Bella said the last sentence and sighed, remembering the feeling of anxiety that they wouldn't get Shane to the clinic in time.

"It's a good thing it all worked out. He said he'd been talking to a therapist for a while now and had even kicked the alcohol habit", Julian set himself up for more positive thoughts, Bella and Ziana nodded in agreement.

"Mr. Shane looked much happier". Ziana smiled softly, still looking at the ladybug and making sure none of her friends inadvertently squashed the little insect. Wanting to change the subject to something more cheerful, Ziana remembered the blue chickens. "How do you think Mr. Shane made his chickens' feathers blue?"

Ziana's question made the other two farmers think for a few moments.

"Well, I don't think he dyes his feathers, the chicks are already born with blue coloring", Julian nodded in confirmation of Bella's words, "So maybe..."

"Goddamn piece of garbage! I hate this fucking fishing! Stupid fish, fucking rod! Bitch ass fucking bullshit!" Before poor Bella could say anything further, all the farmers on the rug were startled by the harsh and loud profanity of Bo, who, stomping loudly and kicking some kind of iron can under his feet, was walking towards his friends. Shane and Jas were also taken aback by the loud noises, but Shane's expression immediately changed from shock to annoyance. He quickly handled the keyhole and led Jas home, covering her ears with his hands just in case so she wouldn't hear any new "unnecessary" words. The chickens quickly followed their owners and the front door to the ranch slammed shut.

Finally, the white-haired "fisherman" reached his friends: his face was still contorted with anger, but he tried to hide it.

"Mr. Bo, what's wrong?", Ziana set the plate of cookies aside so her friend could take off his shoes and sit down next to her on the picnic rug.

Bo sighed tiredly and rubbed his temples with his fingers, trying to settle his headache and calm down.

"Let's just say the fishing hadn't gone well."

He reached for the net he'd thrown on the grass nearby and showed the three farmers his catch. Well, if you could call it a catch: in the net, from which fresh water dripped to the ground, were several empty Joja cola cans, broken disks (also from Joja.co), and slippery green algae hanging from the same net. That can, by the way, that he was kicking, was also his "catch" - an empty iron with the logo of that "beloved corporation", but he didn't put it in the net with the rest of the catch, deciding to take out all his anger on the unfortunate can.

"But why do you need fish? We have plenty of picnic food", Ziana asked again.

"Wha..?" Bo murmur quietly. "Oh, no, I wasn't catching fish to eat, was planning to release fish anyway. I just need experience, like, fishing knowledge, you know? And what kind of experience can I have if I catch shi- uh, I mean garbage, instead of fish?" Bo looked into Ziana's amber eyes and quickly corrected himself. He thinks he's used his entire limit of bad words for the day, especially since he'd hate to vent so much negativity on his friends.

Finally, Bo sat down cross-legged, picked up a plate of loukum and ate his sadness, showing to this world how grumpy and angry he was, cursing quietly the fish, the Joja co. trash, and the day the old fisherman had handed him that damned bamboo rod. Julian and Bella began to take turns comforting him with food and words, agreeing with his negative opinion about the greedy monopoly corporation and their inexcusable attitude toward garbage disposal.

Ziana's attention was suddenly drawn to the cola cans in the net, she stared at them intently for half a minute. After a moment, a question suddenly dawned on her.

"Uh, Mr. Julian? Remember when we helped Shane with his Joja cola commercial project with Clint and Emily?" Julian stopped patting Bo's back in comfort, and looked at Ziana.

"Yeah, of course I remember. Clint had turned blue after drinking that nasty stuff.", Julian's face wrinkled a little at the mere recollection of this "miracle drink" with a lot of sugar, caffeine and Yoba's guess what else, since some people contacted the company with a complaint that their skin turned blue as blueberries. While the change in skin color can be blamed on Clint's worries about Emily, it can usually be a slightly bluish hue rather than a bright blue. Julian also can't forget Bo's light teasing that multicolored young man grumbles over Joja like an old fart. But he knows that Bo wouldn't even want his worst enemy to take a sip of that crap, let alone drink it himself voluntarily.

"I remember by the end of the commercial, Clint was turning blue from soda. I mean, a side effect of that cola is blue skin in some people", Ziana scratched her chin in thought. "And Mr. Shane", she continue, "also works at Joja and he too drinks this cola a lot. Doesn't that mean he pours the soda into the chickens feed to turn their feathers blue?" Ziana finally spoke the question, waiting to see what her friends would say.

Bo snorted and wanted to open his mouth, reply that it was an absurd idea, but he immediately closed his mouth again and his eyes widened at the realization that this theory had a right to exist.

"No. Freaking. Way.", Bo said.

Bella and Julian followed Bo's example: the red-haired girl almost choked on the apple slice she was chewing, and Julian's face expressed the emotion of a man who had just realized that his life was a lie and shambles.

"Huh, it actually makes sense..."

"Don't." Julian replied to Bella, raising his hand in protest. His throat was sharply dry. "I refuse to believe it."

"But man, think about it!" Bo had completely forgotten about his anger over his recent bad fishing trip and was fully immersed in the discussion.

"Shane would never do that to his chickens!" Julian protested.

"But maybe..." Ziana began cautiously, but Julian interrupted her.

"It can't be", the yellow-haired young man replied a little softer to Ziana.

While Bo, Julian and Ziana argued for a minute about the chickens feather theory, Bella pulled back from her shock and said: "Why don't we ask Shane himself?"

The three wranglers looked at Bella, and then all four of them looked directly at the front door of the ranch where they had seen Shane today with Jas.

Bo smiled predatorily. "Time to terrorize people."

"Let's do it better tomorrow, after lunch. We'll rest today." Julian decided to leave the feather coloring debate for tomorrow, returning to the snacks and juice, and his friends decided to follow his example.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Feeding Alligators 9: You're (not) a Wizard

You try magic! It's super ineffective!

On AO3.

The bread and cheese the others leave for you stares forlornly up from the plate on your lap. You woke to a splitting headache and a stomach disinterested in doing its one job. You wait until the others aren’t looking to stash the food in your bag.

Gale has another nasty potion for you. You’ll have to take one every morning if you want to be able to communicate. You choke it down, almost bring it right back up, and give him a thumbs up through watering eyes. And then you learn he only has three more left.

“So keep a sharp eye out for,” some kind of plant names that he has the sense to describe to you. In detail. You retain maybe half of it?

To which you reply, “Um. I’d like to learn y’all’s language itself, too. Y’know. In case we run out?”

So you don’t have to toss that shit back first thing. Or rely on magic leaf juice to translate for you (melt-change-condition, for fuck’s sake).

You catch Astarion wrinkling his nose at your accent. You’d love to understand how, exactly it translates to him. What a Middle Narnia—apparently this place is named Faerun—southern accent equals to. But then y’all are packing up and climbing out into fresh sunlight. And while most of you squint and shield their eyes, Astarion throws open his arms as if he’s greeting a long, lost meemaw. And almost swats you in the face in the process.

***

Y’all set off walking again. Still uphill, still heading away from the water. Gale immediately starts pointing out plants that you dutifully pick. It’s not your favorite, but you need to be pleasant and accommodating, so tromping through thigh-high grass and shoving through bushes to rip up leaves and flowers it is.

You start checking for ticks.

You don’t find any. Which is deeply weird, and also deeply a relief.

Gale starts to name things, too. It’s hard to remember, with the dirt potion twisting sounds. But you do your best, and by the time y’all take a thank fuck break, you can repeat the words for sky, sun, tree, and ground.

Astarion uses your snack break to go have himself a look around. He’s real quiet, today. Gotta be an elf thing, maybe. You wanna ask him about that—and a lot more, because holy shit, he’s an actual elf—but you’re trying to keep quiet yourself and he’s been trailing along at the back of the group all morning.

You manage to force a few crumbles of cheese past your lips. Your stomach is real unsure about that, until it remembers how much walking and scuttling and running you’ve been doing lately and comes screaming back to life.

Gale flops down next to you. Holds out a scroll. Says the name until you can repeat it back. Then, “Now, I—and by that I mean the three of us—have noticed you don’t seem to have much experience when it comes to combat. Since our ocular invaders don’t normally give us the kind of time frame needed to develop these kind of skills more organically, how about we start off with something easier. You said you’re unfamiliar with magic?”

You nod.

“And I couldn’t help but notice you said your world was unfamiliar?”

“Yeah?”

His eyes almost physically light up. “At all, or just not something you yourself have been exposed to?”

“I mean, people do sleight of hands tricks and call that magic? And some people say they can do magic, but it’s all fake bullshit? We build things we can’t do on our own. Machines and the like.”

“That is fascinating. Machines to do what?”

How the fuck do you explain a computer? “Um, well, it’s all run on electricity. Like lightning, only we’re not out there actually catching lightning or nothing. We use it to light rooms or run heaters. We build, erm, communication machines to let us talk to people real far away. And we made, basically, think of a cart but it goes on its own without a horse or nothing.”

He’s practically vibrating next to you. “Ah, what a wonder your cities must be like! And what a mystery it is that magic hasn’t touched your realm.”

“So it’s common, then? Magic? In other worlds?”

“As common as the air we breathe,” he says and waves a hand that trails purple lines after it. Show off. “I’ve heard there were other realms less connected to the Weave, but—”

“There was a point to this, I believe?” Shadowheart says. She’d plonked herself down on a fallen log on the other side of the clearing you’re on, and is using this break to clean and oil her weapon, it looks like.

“Yes, thank you,” Gale says. Back to you. “So! Never fear, scrolls like this are made for beginners and those not gifted with manipulation of the Weave. As you can see—or maybe you can’t. Does the potion translate writing for you?”

Sharp ass kana shodo is still sharp ass kana shodo.

“Nope.”

“Mmm. Well then. We’ll definitely need to add that to your curriculum. Can you read your own language?”

That was one of the things you went glutton about once you were on your own. Turns out having full, unhindered access to things like the internet and public libraries—books! movies! as many as you wanted and free!—went straight to your head. You went, as your friend put it, “a little apeshit.”

“I’m a clerk, so…”

“Yes, you did say that. Excellent! A fine start. I take it your family valued a good education?”

He smiles as he said it, and you’re pretty sure he means well. Other families are happy (in shows) when their children go to school or get good grades or think and act independently like a grown ass adult. But your dad died when you were too young for any memories, and your mother…well. You proved her right, in the end, didn’t you?

“I like learning,” you say.

“The scholarly pursuits can be extremely rewarding. I’ve always thought—”

“We’ll need to be moving soon as well,” Shadowheart swoops in again. “You might want to actually show her how to use it?”

Is she on the market? Like, for real? You make “thank you” eyes at her while Gale nods somewhat abashedly.

“Right. This is a scroll for Mage Armor. I have another reclaimed from those ruins, should you need it in the future, but it’s a purely defensive spell. I thought that might be a good start for you, out of our other options, currently. If you’ll follow me?”

You tag along back out into the dirt path, and he hands you the scroll. Motions to open it. It’s got writing at the top, and a picture done in what looks like calligraphy painting of some sort of, well, armor.

“This spell will consume the scroll, so don’t be alarmed should it disintegrate,” Gale says. “When you’re ready, you’ll say the words maia et fortior. Don’t repeat that yet. Do you need me to repeat myself?”

It sounds…latin? Yeah. Latin. You’re pretty over being surprised at this point. Why not latin?

“Nope,” you say.

You hold the scroll out like you’re some old-timey town hollerer. Take a breath. Your hands tremble, but your brain has such a lock down on your emotions right now, you don’t actually feel anything but the physical symptoms and the way your neck muscles tighten.

Open your mouth. Say the words. “Maia et fortior.”

You wait.

Nothing happens.

Gale frowns. “Try again.”

“Maia et fortior.” You make sure to roll the r’s, enunciate slowly, hearing the reverberation in your brain as the words match.

But nothing happens. The scroll stares back at you like an underpaid, overworked teenager halfway into the opening shift at a McDonalds on a Saturday morning.

“Let me see that,” Gale says and doesn’t quite snatch it from you. He studies it. Runs a finger over the lines, inspects it from several angles. Has you repeat the words three more times while he listens with his eyes closed. Then he hands the scroll back to you.

You say it again.

The paper fucker isn’t a teenager, it’s an eighty-year-old Walmart greeter who got fired from a forty-year career six months before retirement and found themself back on the job market with no college degree where all entry level positions in their field want a Masters and three years unpaid internship and they’re so done you don’t even dare give them a polite nod because honestly? Yeah.

Gale makes an offended sputter. Holds his hand out. Lifts the scroll once you fork it over and says the words and his voice goes all echo-y and his entire body flares with golden light.

He looks at you.

You look at him.

“Shit,” he says.

Previous - Index - Next Chapter

[therealbeachfox]

Look, despite what some people might think, country folk aint stupid. Simple sometimes, sure, but not stupid. So when three events happened in quick succession, it wasn't hard to connect the dots.

First, there was the shooting star. Meteor. Meteorite. "That green blaze of light that went cross the sky screaming like a banshee's flute". Whatever you're going to call it. Anyone who was up at the time saw it. But nobody heard any sound of it hitting ground. And with all the fuss it was making, you'd figured you would. Everyone would've just figured it burnt itself up while stretching through the sky. Except.

Second, there were the very clean, well-groomed men in their suits and their near-identical close-cut haircuts who showed up within a few days. On their own or in pairs, just asking around in that sort of way that super serious people who are trying to be casual for the first time think is casual. Asking about if anything 'strange' had happened. Asking if anyone had talked about 'finding something'. Asking if anyone, or anything 'new' had shown up.

Aside from them, of course.

And despite what some people might think, patriotism and trust in government officials do not always go hand in hand. So everyone was degrees of blandly pleasant and polite to the men who were certainly not from the government and gave friendly non-answers before hurrying behind closed doors to gossip and compare notes and try to figure out exactly what they were all on about.

Third, the Kents had a baby. Martha was a skinny twig of a woman back then and certainly hadn't been anything but a skinny twig of a woman just the week before. And though the hair matched Johnathan's just dandy and the skin-tone was a perfect match for Martha, neither of them nor their kin ever had eyes of that perfect piercing blue.

It was an absolute delight of a baby, though. Martha and Johnathan were good people. However it was they'd gotten whatever it was they were calling their son, they'd manage it right. You could trust them with that sort of thing. You certainly couldn't trust some federal agency of serious be-suited men with identical haircuts and stiff awkward ways. Eventually, those men gave up finding whatever it was they were after and everyone breathed a sigh of relief and got on with their lives.

I mean, yes, the Kents were raising some sort of secret space baby, but aside from the initial flurry of community-wide confirmation of the fact, it really wasn't the sort of thing worthy of gossiping about. The McConnals had that daughter they'd brought home from Vietnam and it was mostly agreed that gossiping about that was poor manners, so why should the Kents' boy should be any different?

Then that was that, at least for a handful of years, till the Kent boy started attending school. He was a sweet kid, a kind kid. The Kents were raising up a good one, everyone could agree on that. And sure, he seemed to have an uncommonly keen ear and sharp eye, and was a hellion on the little league field, but you could chalk all that up to good genetics. And heck, everyone had been going along with the Kents' story so long it was easy to forget he weren't their actual blood. Not that that should matter much in any case.

By middle school, though, the happenings around the Kent boy were getting downright peculiar. The boy was fast, the boy was strong, the boy was tough. And not in the sort of way that made the high school coaches eagerly anticipate them entering freshman year, no. He was trying to hide it, 12 year olds aren't good at hiding normal things, let alone the fact that you tried to keep someone from getting run over by a thresher and wound up with mangled thresher blades, shredded school clothes, and an otherwise completely unharmed Kent boy looking abashed and trying to put together some excuse about a hidden rock getting in the gears or something.

But the kid was obviously mortified by the whole thing, so Dormick didn't push it. He did make a few comments to others though, and once people were looking, the Kent boy's uniqueness was plain to see.

The boy could outrace cars. He could pull tractors out of the muck all on his own. He could stand between a classmate and a thresher and the only thing that'd get wreaked was the thresher. Honestly, it would've been more than a little concerning to folk if it wasn't for the fact that the kid was just so dang nice. He was a good boy, kind, considerate. Any hint to him being, well, better was met with either embarrassed denial or fervent denial depending on how it'd been phrased. So instead of being the sort of thing that lead to muttering behind closed doors and maybe an eventual rousting of the whole family out of town, it instead just became a local secret. An open secret, but a secret.

There were still outsiders with short sharp haircuts and awkwardly stiff manner who'd come through from time to time and ask leading questions about whether there was anyone 'strange' in the community and very obviously trying to play off the assumption that they'd all be a bunch of bigoted fearful 'simple' folk.

There was no way in hell any of them were going to hand the Clark boy over to anyone like that.

It was when he was getting towards the end of high school and began talking about his plans of moving off to one of the big cities to pursue college and a career that folk begun to get worried. The cities weren't like Smallville in a lotta ways, and Clark was such a good decent boy. They worried.

It wasn't some sort of great plan. No one got together and came up with it. It was just a lot of people coming to the same decision in pretty much the same way, then others seeing what they were doing and deciding that they had the right of it and following course.

"That's a strong shake you got there." Mr. McCormick would say down at the store, feeling his bones grind against each other slightly, "You gotta watch that when you hit the city or everyone's gonna think you're one of those asshole highroller types who've always gotta be proving themselves top dog or something." Clark would apologize and start shaking more gently.

"Thanks Clark, that was right quick of you." old Ms. Narri would say when the boy arrived with her weekly groceries, running up so fast he's almost a blur until he slows down at the gate. "You should be careful with running that fast when you get to the city, though. Lotta more people out there, and none of them watching where they're going or what they're doing. We don't want you crashing into someone just cus they don't notice to get out of the way." Clark nodded with understanding and slowed himself down.

"Yer a lifesaver, kid." would say Lenny when Clark would haul a shipment of tractor parts into the shop. "Might want to avoid letting folks know you can do that up in the city, though. They'll think all those muscles left no room for your brain and instead of college, they'd have you lugging boxes at the docks till you go grey. Or spend all your time moving their fridges from apartment to apartment." Clark wasn't sure he fully believed that, but he was more careful about considering what he was about to lift and carry around.

And so on and so on. If they'd all known Clark had wanted to move out of Smallville from the beginning, they would've been coaching him all his life, but the two years of gently nudging the sweet kid on how best to pretend to be normal would have to be enough.

And, well, judging from what you can see on the TV or read in the Daily Planet (which now gets issues shipped out all the way to Smallville for the corner store because everyone loves their hometown celebrity), they must've done alright with it. They're real proud of their Clark. He's a good kid, his parents raised him right. (And while it's not right to brag, everyone does feel more than a smidge of pride at being able to help with it.)

And when any outsiders come through with pointed or leading questions, everyone will just smile blandly and have no idea what they could be getting at. Because honestly, anything beyond the fact he's a good kid who's done well is nobody's business but him and his, thank you very much.

Starting to think a cooler headcanon for Clark’s upbringing might just be that the entire town of Smallville collectively decided to just go with it and accept that Martha and John's kid has superpowers, but we don't talk about it.

Someone's tractor gets stuck and nothing can get it out? "Be a dear and run down to the Kents, would you? Ask for Clark?"

"Why Clark, we need a machine--"

"Run along now."

Or if he kicks too hard and the football vanishes into the upper stratosphere, no it didn't, we all collectively saw it land over there *vague hand movements*

[a-wandering-imagination]

Chapter 24

Refuge Cove was about eight miles from the downtown area of Ketchikan. Anton decided against trying to find a car. He didn’t want to announce his presence any more than need be if, in fact, the folks on the jet were not friendly. Besides, after having been cooped up on the boat for a day and a half, he was kind of looking forward to walking around a bit and feeling solid ground under his feet. So it was that he set off towards town with the girl in tow. The road to town was nothing more than a paved two lane country road that followed the coast back to town. Much like Juneau, all the homes that Anton passed along the road were abandoned and looked to have been vacant for quite some time. He forced his way into a couple at first but found very little left behind. Since Ketchikan was primarily a fishing and boat-repair community, Anton guessed most of the folks high-tailed it out of town on their boats as soon as things started to get sketchy. 

As he and the girl walked along the gravel shoulder of the road, Anton took notice of how attentive the girl was to her surroundings. Her eyes danced from one object to another and her expression ranged from quizzical to almost amazed as she spied bugs and birds and other creatures flitting about. The sun was warm for the time of year and the walk was rather pleasant, even with the lack of conversation. Anton realized it had been some time since he had felt this relaxed. His mind wandered back to his past with his wife and daughter. Sometimes it felt like they had died just yesterday, but other times it felt like it was so long ago he had to work hard to remember them. Now, as he walked along the road with the young girl by his side, that part of his life seemed very long ago indeed. And very far away. Here the sun was shining, birds were singing, the girl was running and skipping ahead, pausing occasionally to crouch and inspect some bug or worm crawling on the ground or a bird sitting in a nearby tree. Anton was enjoying himself and relishing being off the boat. As he walked, he watched the clouds drift by in the ocean of azure sky. The trees swayed gently in the salty breeze that rose off the channel. He felt at peace. And it was at just that particular moment that a cloud passed in front of the sun, or at least he thought it had as he felt the coolness of a shadow pass over him. He didn’t pay it much mind until he almost stepped on the girl. She had stopped in front of him and was staring intently up the road to where it disappeared around a long sweeping bend to the left. Anton stopped and looked at her and then in the direction she was looking. He saw nothing but the hair on his neck and forearms prickled into goosebumps. It was then that he realized that the sounds of the birds and the buzzing of the insects had ceased. Only the wind could be heard, hissing softly through the pines.

Having experienced the girl’s ‘intuitions’ on several occasions now, Anton was sure that she was once again warning him in her way of something to come. He crouched down next to her and took her hand. Her eyes never left the point on the road she had been staring at, but instead of shrinking away or trying to hide as was her usual reaction to her premonitions, she walked towards the curve in the empty road, ignoring everything except the point in time and space that held her attention. Anton followed after her, his eyes darting from side to side, watching the shadows in the brush alongside the road for any sign of movement, while he strained his ears to hear any telltale sign of danger. He slipped the rifle from his shoulder and held it at the ready in both hands, his thumb flicking the safety into the ‘fire’ position. 

The girl had walked about a hundred yards up the road and was about five yards in front of Anton when she stopped. She stood still for a moment and then looked all around as if trying to identify the location of a distant sound. She walked into the middle of the road and turned around a couple times, looking in all directions. Anton, who had walked up behind her, was about to guide her back to the road’s shoulder when she turned suddenly and pointed into the woods. Anton spun with the rifle at the ready. He saw nothing but waited just the same. The girl stood pointing. Anton shifted his gaze from the woods back to the girl to see her now looking up at him but still pointing into the woods with her tiny hand. He looked once more and saw an old Indian standing in the grass at the edge of the road, right where she had been pointing. 

“SHIT!” Anton screamed involuntarily at the sight of the man standing in a spot that just a second before had been empty. Anton immediately brought the rifle to his shoulder, aiming at the Indian’s chest. “Where the hell did you come from!” he asked. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the girl drop her hand to her side once more and she walked over to the edge of the road opposite from the Indian and knelt down to smell a flower. This nonchalance in the face of an unexpected visitor caused more alarm in Anton than the girl’s usual terrified demeanor. He found himself backing away from the Indian towards the girl, all the while keeping the gun trained on the Indian’s chest. “I asked you where you came from!?” he yelled, watching the Indian for any sign of movement. 

“Same as you.”  The voice was old but smooth. Silky almost, but with a soft staccato accent. He sounds like he might be Tlingit Anton thought. 

“You’re from Juneau?” Anton asked, re-adjusting his grip on the rifle but keeping it trained on the stranger just the same.

“Nope. You neither.”

Well, technically that was true, thought Anton. He had moved to Juneau when he was young. His mother had accepted a teaching job there--and she was originally from there, but Anton had been born in western Montana. 

“I don’t want any trouble, sir. What I meant was where did you JUST come from, up there in the woods. Do you live around here?”

The Indian seemed to smile a bit, but it was hard to tell, what with the severe pock-marking on his face. His hair was braided in two long gray braids that hung down over either shoulder. He was wearing a turquoise colored shirt under a gray wool vest. His hands were tucked in the pockets of his worn jeans. Anton noticed he was wearing old black wingtip shoes. Seemed very out of place for someone who just stepped out of the woods.

Anton took another step back so that he was within touching distance of the girl, but kept his eyes glued to the Indian. “I said, do you live around here?” Anton repeated.

“Not far. As the crow flies.” Now the smile was more noticeable, and the old Indian’s eyes seemed to twinkle a bit. The smile was of no comfort to Anton. The whole situation was too surreal for him to get his head around. He could feel the sweat beading on his brow and the soft thump of his heart between breaths.

“I don’t want no trouble,” Anton repeated, almost whispering.

“No trouble here now.” The Indian paused and cocked his head a bit as if listening.  “But trouble will come.” The Indian turned his head slowly and looked up the road in the direction that Anton and the girl had been walking. “Thataway.” 

“What’s up there?” Anton asked. “What trouble? What are you talking about?”. It was then that Anton noticed that the girl was also looking up the road in the direction the Indian had indicated. Her face had clouded a bit and she had pressed up against his leg.

“Fastwalker. Like the other one. Come here to find you.”

Anton’s mind was racing. What the hell was this old man talking about? “Fastwalkers? What the hell is that? What other one?” He found himself shifting the rifle from the old man to the point where the road disappeared and back in rapid, jerking motions. He felt exposed in the middle of the street, with the girl grabbing at his thigh and hiding her face. He backed off the road onto the shoulder and down into the grass so that the road now separated him and the girl from the old Indian. He continued to cover both the Indian and the road with the sweeping action of the rifle. 

“He’s not coming yet, but soon.” The old Indian said, his face still turned to look up the road. He made no move to look at Anton. Both of his hands remained in his pockets as the wind caught a wisp of his stray hair and pulled it across his face. In any other situation, he would look like someone standing on the side of the road waiting for a bus. But Anton was nearly panicked with fear. Something in his gut was telling him that this was all leading up to something. Something big. 

“Who is coming?” Anton hissed. “Who in the hell are you talking about? Are there people in town?”

The Indian looked up at the sky. “The plane. He came on the plane. Alone. Just like the other one. They bring trouble. Always trouble.”

“What ‘other one’? What are you talking about?” Anton was starting to get angry.

“The one you kilt. Up north.” 

Anton’s mind raced back to the violent confrontation on the dock in Auke Bay. “I didn’t kill anyone.” 

The Indian looked at him and smiled again. Then he cocked his head to the side and his hand slowly lifted from his pocket. Anton kept the rifle trained on him, not sure what to expect. But the old Indian merely brought his hand up to his head and gently tapped his right temple with his forefinger and then pointed at Anton. “You are young. You haven’t gained your strength yet. You still have some running to do before you will be ready. But don’t worry, the fastwalkers may be fast, but even now, you are faster than them.” He smiled once more and his hand slowly slid back into his pocket and he turned to look up the road once again.

“I said I didn’t kill anyone. It was a beast that did it. A big black one. I was just trying to get out of town, trying to save the girl,” as he mentioned her, Anton looked down at the girl who still had her face buried in the crook of her arm as she held onto his leg. Anton looked back at the Indian but the man had vanished. Anton flinched involuntarily and exhaled sharply. The girl spun around looking bewildered and then frowned at him. “What the fuck!” Anton hissed as he spun around trying to figure out where the Indian had gone. The road and the bushes on either side were empty. The sun and wind played on the grass at the pavement’s edge. The birds and bugs started to sing again and the air brightened as a cloud moved from in front of the sun.

“Goddammit!” Anton muttered. What the hell is going on here? Mute little girls, big black monsters, superfast crazy people, and now disappearing Indians! Anton shook his head but kept the rifle at the ready as he scanned the woods on the opposite side of the road for any movement. After a few minutes of relative quiet, he and the little girl started off towards Ketchikan once again. The Indian’s words stuck in his head though… No trouble now… but trouble will come… The plane… He came on the plane… Something tickled at the back of Anton’s neck and his brow furrowed as they continued their walk. Both the Indian and the girl had indicated that whomever was on that plane was not friendly. Anton, however, wanted to know who that person was and why he was here. One other thought kept nagging at him, however. It was the other thing the Indian had said. 

The one you kilt. Up north.

How did the Indian know about that guy and why did he think I killed him? And as Anton asked himself those questions, his mind kept returning to the wry smile and the knowing gesture the Indian had provided as the only answer to these questions. Something wasn’t adding up and Anton was starting to feel like he was the only one who didn’t know the answers. He looked down at the girl and found her looking up at him as they turned and began walking towards town once again. She smiled and squeezed his hand and then started to skip alongside him. He half expected her to start singing, or at least humming, but she remained silent. Her happy demeanor, however, lifted Anton’s spirits, if only a bit, and he refocused his gaze down the road as they walked on, a solitary man and a skipping young girl. 

[dontstareatgorgons]

The Sheep Queen

first off, thanks to my friends for goading me into posting this. I wrote this in approx 3 hours, no I dont know how, yes I should have been doing other things.

On the edge of a medium sized town there lives a family who raises sheep, both for wool and meat. They are a large family, fairly well off. Food is valuable, as is wool when the winter months come. The family has no shortage of either. One day, in the middle of the night, the eldest boy hears knocking in the barn; this is unusual, it is fairly well known in town that when hard times hit the family will do what they can to help get people on their feet again (the homeless buy no wool, and do not spare the money for a holiday roast). The boy enters the barn, lantern held aloft, to find a girl, with hair too pale for her age, wearing dark stained rags over starved-thin limbs. "Hello" he calls softly, into the night the girl raises her head in a flash, startled like the jackrabbits in spring, but she freezes like the deer who leap the pasture fences, her red eyes reflecting the firelight the way the barn cats sometimes do, orange glow almost obscuring the way her eyes widen. Fear almost makes the boy miss the way her chest spasms with a gasp of air she does not need, a wordless surprise of expected damnation. He sees the way those firebright eyes dash to the ragged bundle resting on the hay bales prepped for feeding tomorrow. 

"Wait!"

As his word splits the silence, like the crack in the old concrete dam that broke last winter, so too do her words come spilling out 

"Im sorry! I'm sorry! I'll leave, please, I havent taken anything! I have not touched your sheep!" 

"easy, traveller, I mean you no harm!"

This freezes her in her tracks. he cannot mistake her in this half-light, she is sure. 

"Come, we have a spare room in the house. it will be more pleasant than the bale, and we have enough blood sausage to feed another mouth. If you wish to continue at evening, we will not stop you, but it does by honor a wound to leave a guest with the animals" 

The girl is unsure, but in a twist of fate does follow him inside, where he sets about lighting candles and sure enough, rather than grab for stake or sword, grabs a skillet and firewood, alongside some of the promised sausage.

The noise rouses the boys parents, and his siblings, though his grandmother sleeps on. The mother sees the girl, sees the way her clothes are more torn than mended, more chimney rag than coat. In moments a hearth-warm blanket is draped upon her shoulders, a warmth she does not remember when she last felt. A warmth so different from the menace of torches and forge-metal. Surprisingly it is the father who speaks. 

"A traveler, I suppose? I haven't seen you in town, lass." lying is comfortable. lying will likely not work. not with how this man's son heats naught but sausages, not with how her skin has grown as frozen as the ground beneath their feet 

"Of a sort, I am not allowed to stay once found." a truth, but not the whole truth. Pray that the boy will keep her secret -pray he learned his kindness from his parents- a look is exchanged above her head. she should run… she has not eaten in months, and the sausage smells oh so good. If she doesn't eat soon she will starve anyway. and she has waited too long, she is too slow to hunt. better a stake to the heart from a kind hand than a slow unmaking rent by her own flesh 

"We do not turn out guests here. it is not our way. no matter where they come from." the mother this time. a long-withered thing in her chest begins to bloom, a thing she thought dead seasons and seasons past the tension in the air is barely broken by the boy setting down a bowl of steaming sausage, the smell rising to her nose and tugging on her control. she must not scare them too badly, if she can avoid it she devours the meal with the voraciousness of the beast living in her bones somehow the only look this earns her is one of sadness maybe even pity. 

"Do you have somewhere you are going?" the boy again. "....no" her face is streaked in red to match her eyes.

Another look is passed. this time not only between the parents, but to their son, and to the small cluster of young teens lingering in the shadowed hallway. a decision is made. The mother speaks first. 

"Stay with us, as long as you need. The road has made you weary, child, and we have no shortage of beds. Rest here, heal up. You are welcomed. We will be here when you rise, and there is food aplenty." Ultimately it is not the girl's choice. The horizon is beginning to glow. The boy leads her to a room, clearly unused. Long ago it was likely on an exterior wall, but on homesteads like this, houses grow with the family. There are no windows. It is the best the girl has slept in years. 

She wakes rested, and stronger than she thought she could be, the moon already well underway in the sky. as she creeps out to the kitchen she finds the entire family, this time alongside elders, gathered together. She trembles slightly as a breeze blows through, for it is long past the time that herdsmen retire, and even further past when elders are oft to bed. The eldest man, who must be the boys grandfather, speaks first. 

"Did you sleep well girl?" she knows not what to make of this 

"yes, sir, I thank you for your hospitality" 

"good. eat up, there are things to discuss" the old lady, who must be his wife, reaches a weatherworn hand out to thump his shoulder 

"don't scare the poor dear, she's had enough frights! come girl, sit" she motions to the empty chair at the kitchen table, one more than had been present yesterday. Again she is handed blood sausage, this time by a guileless child missing a front tooth. She hasn't seen a child up close since her empty stomach stole from her the warmth of youth as she eats, now more tempered, more careful, no longer quite as consumed as the night before, the grandfather speaks. 

"I know tales of your kind, who live by the moon. You are faster, stronger, than any man can hope to be. Some call you savages-" 

her grip tightens on the utensil she has been given 

"but those folk call many fine people savages, so their thoughts matter little. I tell you what girl; no matter what you decide you are welcome here until your body is strong enough to continue, but if you want to stop running, I shall strike you a deal. Once you are well, you shall watch the herds in the night- we have had problems with wildlife, though you need only come wake us should something appear, and in return you are welcome among us like family. We shall feed you, house you, and look after you as our own." this seems like a dream, a luxury she almost had forgotten. 

"Think on it, child, and in the meantime rest, and recover. you are safe here."

She does, in the coming weeks. her frame begins to lose the hollow gauntness, and her hair even earns back a bit of shine. weeks become months, as the cold season comes, and then goes. somehow the thought of leaving never comes to her mind. At dawn and dusk she greets the family warmly, eating her dinner with the early risers, and eating her breakfast with the night owls. Every day, without fail, she finds a bag of sausage with her name writ upon it waiting for her come midnight. The sheep themselves do not trust her much, as sheep are wont to do, but time has calmed the brave ones. Some even call to her when the rare wolf prowls the woods. It is as the harvest comes that the boy pulls her aside one eve and offers her something. 

"a treat" he says. "It is harvest time, and i fear you are likely getting rather bored of the same sausage. '' Getting bored of food is a luxury she has never had, not even as a true child. He leads her to a building, on the opposite side of the house from the barn. This, she has learned, is where the family processes their animals for meat. Sitting on the edge of a bench just outside, is a jug, and a cup taken from the house. With a flourish, the boy pours from the jug and hands the girl perhaps the sweetest gift given to her since that offer of a warm bed. She drinks the rich sheep's blood, so much warmer and more filling than the sausage which has sustained her so far. He gleefully hands her the fairly large jug. she drains the entire thing, and not once does the grin leave his face. How lucky she is to have found him that night. 

She stays.

Months grow to years. If you didn't know better, around harvest season she almost seemed alive, a warmth in her bones, and a flush in her cheeks. Even in the depths of winter, when no sane farmer would butcher fresh meat from his herd, she is as broad as a farm girl ought to be, and her feet dance upon the grass. The waif who stowed away in the hay stack has become another bright eyed head among the young family, playing games with the young ones and soothing late night terrors when she can. In her fifth year with the family, she marries the boy. They spoke, beforehand. They both knew she had not aged a day. They both know she never will. One winter, when his joints begin to creak, it is decided. At sundown, two pairs of red eyes open on a sheep farm in the hills. less changes than one might think.

Time creeps forth. the whole family cannot become nightwalkers; this the couple has always known. The boy's grandparents pass soon after the wedding. His parents pass some few decades later, peacefully. According to the magistrate, the boy has an illness that prevents him from coming to town. The farm is inherited by the next eldest- The parents had confided in the girl that was the plan all along. Her husband may be soft at heart, and know sheep like none other, but did not have the mind for the law and contracts like his brother. Time continues to march. Soon even the brother is taken by time. The small town has grown, now a moderate size trading hub for goods. 

No one alive remembers the night a young girl took a chance on a kind boy. The night a kind boy proved a monster is not a monster at all. 

The family grows, for while the original siblings are gone, they too had many children. Children taught early the importance of their uncle and aunt who live at night, their family who kept both them and the herd safe, who the family protected in turn. As the family grows, so too do the herds. A young son comes forth, and asks to join them at night. He has no love to leave behind in town, only the sheep he tends. Three pairs of red eyes open on the hill, as twilight purple fades from the sky.

So too, do both branches of the family grow as years pass. "The night shift" and "the day shift" they come to be called, first inside the family, then by the town in general. Everyone knew the house on the hill who hired night guardsmen for their sheep; no one wanted to become the poor sod up at ungodly hours, but no one ever assumed "the night shift" was anything other than shepherds who got the short end of the straw, normal people just like them. That's how the family liked it. There was but one problem; the dog problem. 

It went like this; a skilled shepherd needs a herding dog, to direct and control the flock. A family of shepherds needed many, yet Dogs are only awake during the day. For a time, the Night Shift made do, but corralling a flock when predators were about was difficult, and draining. Until The Incident. 

The family had always had herding dogs, bred them in fact. When the girl had first arrived, the dogs had never liked her. Animals rarely did; the sheep were simply too stupid to be scared. But then she witnessed the first litters. By then, the dogs had grown to tolerate her. It took longer than the other children, but eventually she was allowed to meet the pups. She had told the father she would frighten them. The father had handed her a pup anyway. "They are young. Everything frightens them. They will learn, much easier than the old ones." He had been right.

Now, the descendants of those very same dogs who had so distrusted her, came to beg scraps from her, and laid upon her feet when she had the rare night off (a feat becoming ever more common as the family grew. Many hands make light work, and for all she had not changed a whit since her wedding day, she was an elder, who had a hand in raising every child under the roof of the now-sprawling collection of houses in which the family lived). 

For all that each canine life seemed shorter than the last, some bonded close to the lady and her husband who had been there for so long. One night, one such dog, the family's best herder, had been wandering near the woods when it encountered a starving wolf in the underbrush. The screams had split the twilight as both sides of the family raced for the commotion, only to arrive to the aftermath. The wolf was slain, its red blood staining the grass, but the lady lowered her head as her husband's favorite dog lay, its breath a weak and gasping thing as it nosed its master's cold hand. The two were no strangers to grief, this would be far from their first such loss, but her dear husband had forgotten something. In his haste out the door, the knife he had been using to whittle a wooden gift for one of the children had sliced his hand.

His lack of heartbeat had prevented him from noticing, and what passed for adrenaline masked the pain well enough. Both the lady and her husband realized the truth in unison, either too late to stop it or too curious, as the dog lapped at the weeping wound. He felt it before she, but they both knew what it meant. They waited, as the great furred chest finally went still. The rest of the family began to disperse, to leave their elder to mourn his oft-companion, but it was as they began to turn away that twin shocked gasps arose from little-used lungs, drawing attention to the sudden hacking cough, expelling viscera onto the ground, the chest ceasing to rise and fall even as the legs levered it upwards and towards its fellow cooling corpse. Teeth and tongue lapped at tacky red, and the beast ate its fill, before its head rose and a deep howl breached the sky. 

The townsfolk say the nightwatch must have bred herders to wolves. The superstitious claim they tamed demons Only the family know that the best of the dogs they rear will outlive even their children, for the nightwatch are not true shepherds without a team of dogs at their sides.

If you visit that farm, in that no-longer-so-small town, you will see a pack of dogs gamboling about. Others yet sleep, some sprawled in the daylight, others tucked away in beds or the barn. Some are odd things- they seem too intense, too knowing. Some swear they have seen the same dog decades apart. All run together, until a whistle splits the pack. All run together, when a howl shakes the earth. no one has ever heard tales of bandits in those hills. The wise know that just means none survive to tell the tale. The wolfpack of the hills goes quiet. The hounds chorus takes their place. Oft, the night shift chose their hounds. 

Sometimes, the hounds choose their masters. Often it is the children who look after the pups, in spring, their parents too busy with lambs. Often, the older children chose a member of one such litter to be their companion during the day. One such boy poured his soul into his friend, who was naught but a step behind the boy for years. The little boy became a man, and his lifelong friend became the undisputed best, first of the litter, then of the pack. But age comes first for those of four legs, and soon aching joints threatened to send the man's shadow from the fields. One festival night, when all the family came together to share stories and merriment, the man was approached by a distant cousin of sorts, a man who looked only a few years older than himself but whom in reality likely helped raise his grandfather, spoke to the man. 

"Your hound is aging, he is set to retire this year. He is skilled enough to be one of us, if you and he would allow it. The change would heal him of his ache, but only so long as it is fairly new. Consider it, and find me if you assent" A challenging proposition. He would lose his friend to the night, no longer living the same life, able only to connect in those stolen moments bookending the day- but to refuse, and he would lose the being who saw him through his growth entirely. In the end it was barely a choice at all.

His dog is dead, the heartbeat twin to his has stopped. It aches, in his chest, where that second heart should be. His work is awkward, stilted as he learns to command another. No one can replace his soul made flesh. The day is exhausting, as he trudges home, to his bed which was so difficult to leave. When he pulls back the covers, his hand brushes cold fur, and the man smiles, bittersweet. 

"stolen all the heat again, old friend?" A blur of pure darkness leaps up, and a cold tongue laves sun-warm cheeks. "i'll be sure to have it warm for you in the morning, dear" A whistled tune splits the sky. Red eyes turn to look back, a silent goodbye. The mans dog is dead.

So goes their life, connected in parts for thrice as long as they were connected as a whole, yet still do they sleep on the same sheets, just like a boy with his pup. A tether both broken and unbreakable, indomitable in strength. The man's joints too grow stiff. His nephews and nieces know what this means, they all know that time is coming for him. Just not in the way most would assume. He approaches The Grandmother, a woman legends have immortalized as the Sheep Queen of the hills. She snuck him candy whenever he was too sick to go into town with the other children, back when he was little. Before he can even speak, that festival night like so many years ago, she smiles at him. 

"I know what you seek, child. Your offer accepted, our help freely given, but I must deny you one thing." His heart becomes as cold as that old void in his chest, a void partially filled, but painted with longing. "for another wishes the honor. Like calls to like, after all." Her voice rises over the wind- "Welcome, child of dawn, to the twilight. Join your soul across the veil, we welcome you with open arms!" Confusion graces his face as the customary cheer goes up, until familiar weight rests upon his knee, a weight he has felt every morning and every night, yet misses keenly every day. In mere hours, that cold place between his ribs is full. It is not warm- it never will be again, he knew that from the beginning. But it is no longer shards of sharpened ice. Now, it is the pleasant coolness of freshly washed sheets in summer. The playful rush of white rapids, urging him forth to greet the stars.

The man's dog is dead. But so is he. And as he smiles and laughs with friends new and old, his heart is at peace. They say the sheep queen of the hills is a goddess. They say she is a demon. Most say she never existed at all- But sheep are still reared in those hills, in the hands of a family older than the roads they tread, tended by herdsmen and hounds alike. And if a merchant sees a flash of too-bright teeth during an early morning delivery, or a lost child is returned home in the night telling stories of bright eyed doggies who carried them past all danger in the night, yet had to go around the creek not through, well, sometimes minds played tricks, and sometimes children told stories. And when men came asking for monsters, none could be found here, only neighbors, and the animals with which they spent their days.

[portraitsofguilt]

hii moss 🫶🏻 i just wanted to say i adore your works, and would love to see more renata glasc content of any kind <3

STEPMOM! RENATA GLASC. mdni +18

description. you never liked any of your stepmoms in the past and you were fully prepared to hate this one

pairings. renata glasc + f! reader

minors dni. lowercase writing intended, nsfw content, stepcest, implied cheating, age gap, sub ! f ! reader, dom ! renata glasc, mommy kink, oral (reader receiving), cunnilingus, name calling 'good girl, darling',

moss' notes. you know moss is right, this is really tempting HERE IS SOMETHING THAT IS ANYTHING, moss really tried making it filthy so the anonie would adore this one <3

there was little to cherish about your father finding a new woman to fool around with. it meant you had to put up with yet another rich bitch, their snob, spoiled children and their horrible manner. maybe the bigger bed, the nicer clothes were to be happy about but it was hard to say you wanted all this. you hoped it wouldn't be long enough to have you call her 'mom'.

"settling in alright?" renata stepped into the room, a warm smile on her face as she leaned against the doorway, waiting for your answer. you shrugged, giving her half a nod while saying, "so far so good."

but with renata glasc it wasn't as bad as with the others, she took care of you, making sure you eat well, had everything just like you were a real daughter to her, and involved you in almost everything she could. no wonder why your father loved her, you loved her too.

"your father went out to get some of his business sorted out, he will be out for the day, probably a little longer." you put the rolled-up papers back into their little box, humming to let her know you heard her while pushing yourself up from the floor to the bed.

"you'll be leaving too soon?" you asked like a little child who wasn't sure if they were being left alone for five minutes or their whole life. renata stepped in front of you, cupping your face gently, a quiet chuckle leaving her lips as she shook her head.

"no, staying home today. i am long due to having a day off from work, relax a little..." she didn't finish her sentence as she leaned down, pulled the slightest on your face, and planted a short peck on your lips. it picked up its pace rather quickly, the innocent pecks turning into a passionate and sloppy kiss with renata pushing you further up on your bed.

her hand-made quick work pushing your shirt up and discarding your pants, lazily throwing them onto the ground where the half-empty boxes rest. renata's own vest was somewhere in the pile, tie hanging around her neck with your hands gripping each end to keep her as close as possible, her deep purple button down missing the first few buttons, letting her voluptuous breasts craddled by the laced bra.

"did you touch yourself while i was gone?" she asked after pulling away, making herself comfortable on your waist, her index finger tracing along your jawline, your throat, the middle of your chest, down your stomach before hooking into the hem of your underwear. you shook your head, repeating any variant of 'no', drawing a pleasant grin onto the older woman's lips.

"good girl, you deserve mommy to take care of you." renata's other hand joined on the hem of your adorable lacey pantie, snapping it against your skin playfully. you whined, tugging on the white tie still in your hand. renata adjusted her position, her face resting between the plush of your thighs, peppering the soft skin with tingling love bites.

"renata..." you sighed, your head falling to the side as the chem baroness' warm breath ghosted over your aching clit. you just wanted to thread your fingers through her hair, grip it and finally have her put her mouth to use.

she was on thin ice all week long, teasing you every opportunity she got like when she sat close to you at the dinner table, her hand finding its way along your thighs, or when she walked up and down in the house without a shirt on, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as you did your chores for the day, her hand restig on your waist and if your father wasn't around, it daringly scooted to the front of your crotch.

"patience, darling, just getting there." renata chuckled, hand caressing the sides of your thighs before hooking them under your knee and putting your legs over her shoulder. her manicured nails dug into your soft flesh, moving your hips closer to her wet tongue, ready to devour you.

you moaned loudly as renata's eager tongue swept over your pussy, delving between your lips to collect the tangy wetness that pooled there. her tongue was hot against your core, the tip of her nose brushing slightly against your clit gently. renata traced patterns around your clit with her tongue and you swore you could see stars. you squirmed, grinding against her face sloppily, knuckles turning white as you gripped on the sheets under you, trying to ground yourself from the pleasure. heavy tension coiled in your belly, getting thighter and thighter as the chem-baroness' tongue relentlessly dipping into your drenched hole.

"hah- renata, fuck-!" you were helpless to the noises that spilled from your lips. your face felt hot, your breath cutting off, eyes clenching shut as renata's tongue snakes inside of you, stretching you and curling fiercely, hitting your most sensitive parts.

your back arched off of the soft covers, your body tensing, thigh muscles flexing before closing around renata's head.

"fuck 'nata, hah...!" your soft cries were swallowed as renata kissed you again, gasping into the kiss with a mixture of wanton lust and relief as two fingers pushes into you.

"a little louder, let mommy hear you darling." harder done than said, being finger-fucked by your step mother in your room, being afraid that your father comes back any second because he left something here- you tried to choke back your cries, opting to cover your mouth with the back of your palm, curses murmured, puring like rain with every motion.

your brows pinched, every soft thrust was another roll of your hips, and a breathy moan that passed your lips and into the open of your bedroom. you felt so warm down your center, it rippling through your entire body in waves. even if renata was being gentle now, it was an absolute moment of bliss for you.

the kindness and gentle touches didn't last for too long, as lenthly pulls of renata's fingers turned into harsh thrusts, knuckle deep with a wet noise echoing in the half empty room. your hips continued to roll and it was all you could do to stop yourself from being completely consumed by reanta's ministratins. you wanted to feel, wanted to focus on it, enjoy it in every way you could.

your breath grew heavy while your core tightened up, moans turning into pathetic little whimpers. you were always so whiny, both when being on the receiving and giving end, but renata didn't seem to mind judging by the faint muffled chuckles you could barely hear because of your heart beating in your ears.

"i'm going to c-come mommy !" you whimper, a third finger slipping inside of you. it stretches you much more than you would have guessed, pushing you over the edge and you cry out as renata picks her pace up. your thighs close around her finger before going completely slack and numb, handful of half cut off gasps escaping you as her fingers curl for one last time inside of you, completly numbing your mind from making any more coherent words or thoughts.

"shall we take a bath?" renata asked softly, slowly working you down from your high, placing gently, lazy kisses on your jawline and neck. "mmm, yes." you let out pathetically soft moans at each kiss, still not quite able to see straight, and above it all, you weren't quiete sure you could move.

"i'll get it ready, stay here." with one last kiss on your temple renata disappeard into the bathroom joined to your room.

you yawned, rubbing your eyes like a little baby, watching as the woman swayed her hips while humming some kind of song, reading the labels of the sampoos and body washes on your bathroom shelf.