#before i'll settle down and start crafting things

[antirepurp]

i enjoyed a bit of sushi before starting minecraft and my agenda for approaching cobblemon is prioritizing pokemon with overworld uses and benefits since the real games would never give you that approach and it's making me realize how artificial a lot of the starter pokemon feel. like even in-universe these boys feel like they were lab-created to be someone's first pokemon that fights well. how would a squirtle help me gather resources. how does a chikorita help me traverse the environment. im going to be forced to pick one of these daffy pals when i create a new world but none of them serve my goal all that well

[fawnnlvr]

miscommunication | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x bau!reader

masterlist

summary: in which reader mistakes penelope for fawning over spencer reid and accidently reveals her secret crush on the talkative doctor.

word count: 1.9k

author's note: hiiiii!!!! i have been thinking of this idea for weeks and thanks to summer, it was finally brought to life so enjoy my loves ♥︎

It was a fairly slow morning at the BAU.

Agents were steadily strolling in and settling into their spots to start the long day ahead of them. Placing your jacket on the back of your chair, and your bag on the open space of your desk, you walked towards the coffee bar where your fellow coworkers were talking.

Holding a coffee cup from the local café that was stained with the lipstick you wore, you walked into a conversation the tech analysis, Penelope Garcia, was having with fellow agent, Spencer Reid.

"Hi guys!" you softly greeted as you found your spot beside Penelope.

"Morning." Spencer spoke with a smile. Your hands fiddled with the cardboard around your hot coffee cup as her looked into your eyes with this gentleness that made your heart warm.

"Good morning my sweetness." Penelope greeted with a big smile, "We were just talking about how Hotch was being a meanie and making us finish yesterday's paperwork by this afternoon."

"Oh yeah, I already finished mine. Haven't you guys?" you looked at Penelope who had a guilty smile before your eyes flickered back to Spencer.

"Unfortunately not. I fell asleep as soon as I got home, but if I start now, I can probably finish it in an hour if I really pace myself." he answered your question and you felt yourself unable to meet his gaze once again, instead keeping your focus on either the ground or Penelope.

It really wasn't your fault, it was his. After he got his new haircut, you found it even harder to focus while he was in the room.

Being in a room full of profilers, it was hard fo keep this little secret of yours but you truly had no choice. It could be considered unprofessional and totally embarassing due to the things he made you feel from simply existing.

You have the hugest crush on Doctor Spencer Reid and he was consuming all your thoughts. You always had a thing for nerds— well, smart men who knew what they were talking about and made learning their life mission. You found his love for knowledge and statistics and facts so cute. Whenever he opened his mouth to speak about facts he had mesmorized, you could barely focus.

It was already hard to stop yourself from biting your lip or keeping your gaze off of him, but after his new haircut that perfectly enhanced all his perfect features, you were doomed for failure.

"Well you should get working on that. Hotch seems even more cranky ever since Strauss gave him a little visit yesterday." Penelope advised.

"Good idea. I'll see you guys later." Spencer stated before grabbing his coffee mug and walking back to his desk. He used his hand to brush down the bangs in front of his face, a habit he picked up ever since he got his new haircut.

You allowed your eyes to linger more than it should have on his retreating figure. Looking back towards Penelope, you were almost taken aback from the look on her face— well the look in her eyes.

It was the look of a lion that hadn't eaten anything in days and just spotted a pretty little gazelle. It was a look you were all too famaliar with ever since you caught yourself staring at Spencer and when he left, you caught yourself in the mirror he was previously standing in front of. You scared yourself at that unfortunate moment. You followed her line of vision and she was looking in the same direction you had, towards Spencer.

He was working at his desk, studiously doing what he said he was going to do. Penelope stayed quiet for a few moments and you hadn't mind since you were all too busy thinking about how Spencer's jaw was hand-crafted by angels.

"Man, ever since he got that new thingy, he has been looking even more yummy."

You felt yourself tense a bit. Penelope was always a girl to make flattering comments about everybody so you innocently agreed since she was right— Spencer's haircut did make him look good. "Yeah, he really does look nice with it."

"Ugh, and that way he just fills that shirt in." She took another sip of her coffee and your eyes flickered to her before going back to Spencer, trailing your eyes on the fitted dark plum purple button up.

"He looks good in it. That really is his color." Innocent comments so far.

Penelope hummed, "Sometimes it makes me mad. Like how can somebody look so good— don't even get me started on his voice. Everytime he talks, I can hardly focus."

You had a small laugh as you brought the coffee up to your lips. You really couldn't believe the words that were coming out of her mouth but then again, it was Penelope— she had no filter. She was the type of woman to make anyone feel safe and seen, which is maybe part of the reason you kept agreeing with her and revealed more. "I thought I was the only one who thought that."

"Oh sweetie, I am positive everybody shares the same opinion. I mean look at him— even Hotch or Rossi can't deny his looks. The way he has the ability to command the room with his words alone." Penelope continued.

You did suppose there was a reason Morgan calls Spencer 'pretty boy' and no one bats an eye. "He does have a way with his words."

Penelope looked at you and saw this sort of softness in your eyes as you looked towards the desk area.

"Whenever he spurs out all this knowledge, it makes me feel safe. You know?" you looked towards Penelope, "He always knows what he's doing and what he's talking about. It's just nice to know you can always fall back on him."

"I hear you so much. I don't want to spoil the mood or whatever— I am all for women empowerment, but something about him being so dominating makes me so hot and bothered."

"Dominating?" you whispered under your breath, a little confused.

"You know, I didn't think you would be that into him. This is the first time you agreed with me about him." Penelope commented and you tilted your head.

You thought back to all the times she's mentioned Spencer and you believed you always held a somewhat indifferent view on him. Either that or you let it slip that you quite admired him. "Really? Well it isn't so suprising, I guess I am kind of secretive when it comes to the dating scene since not a lot of people get my type."

"Type? Honey, that man over there is everybody's type. I don't think there is a girl in the world who would pass up an opportunity with him."

You glanced back towards Spencer. She really did have a point. He truly looked like a model, but you supposed his personality sort of deterred people away, but you personally found that the most attractive thing about him.

"He really is a great guy isn't he?" You confessed to Penelope while looking in Spencer's direction and you heard a small gasp. She sets down her coffee cup before covering her mouth.

"My sweetie is that love in your eyes that I see."

You hummed in suprise, "W-What? No, of course not. Don't be ridiculous."

"Oh it so is and don't even try to deny it. The eyes do not lie. I thought there was something going on. You always seemed quiet during the briefings and your eyes were always kept on the ground. I may not be a profiler, but I too, noticd things."

You quietly tried to shush Penelope and she got the message and she pulled you further away from the target of affections.

"Please tell me how it all happened! I need to know! How did this crush start?"

"I-I don't know. It just did. I always found him quite cute—"

"Cute? Aw!" That wasn't how Penelope would personally describe the fox that is Derek Morgan, but to each their own.

"– and he was always just so nice to me and we shared the same interests — and I just really feel comfortable around him."

Penelope had the warmest smile on her face as you recounted the times where you felt the most safest and loved around Spencer. You tucked a hair behind your ear to try to give yourself some time to stop the cheek hurting smile on your face.

"Who would've known that you would have a crush on the muscular—" Hm? "Mister playboy bunny himself–" Excuse me? "—Derek Morgan."

Silence.

"What?" you almost dropped your coffee cup and your eyes quickly flickered back to Spencer and his general direction. There it was.

Whenever you looked at Spencer, there would often be moments where he was the sole focus of your eye and everything around him became blurry and unimportant. Not to say that your fellow coworker was unimportant, but he wasn't exactly a priority in your mind.

There sat Spencer at his desk and behind his figure, was Agent Derek Morgan, laughing on his phone as he caught your eye and waved. You were too shocked — too horrified to even wave back. Derek sort of flinched back in his seat by the look you were giving him. He had never seen you stared at him like that before. You looked at him as if he was a ghost or had a huge bug on his head which caused him to look around. Was he the only you were giving these crazy eyes too?

Penelope was taken aback by your shocked expression and redirected her eyes to the same direction. The wires had connected and a lightbulb of pure chaos had sparked inside her head.

"Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God." Penelope repeated these words as she whisper shouted, slowly increasing her voice.

"Shhh! No!"

"Earlier— the new thingy and him looking attractive. I was talking about Derek's giant new watch— you thought I was talking about Reid's new haircut. Oh and his voice– oh my dear you are getting turned on by Spencer's constant yapping on statistics and facts. You naughty naughty—"

"Okay! Penelope stop!" you practically shrieked, "You didn't hear a word. This didn't happen."

Horrified, you placed your coffee cup down and began to walk backwards, placing a finger against your glossed lips while staring into Penelope's soul.

You inched back further as Penelope had to refrain herself from bursting out laughing. She knew you must be feeling so embarassed at that moment so she did her best to compose herself... until you were out of sight.

You yelped as you had accidently bumped into somebody.

"Are you alright?" Emily Prentiss asked as she steadied you by the shoulders and got you balanced, "And why does Penelope look like she just hacked into the winning lottery numbers."

"Nothing!" you whispered shouted, very loudly, "You both heard and saw nothing!" your fingers threatlessly threatened your fellow older coworkers; one who knew exactly what had transpired and the other being an innocent bystander who walked in at the wrong moment at the wrong time.

Emily and Penelope watched your retreating figure as you ran down the hall, towards the bathrooms.

"What's up with her?" Emily inquired, eyes furrowed with concern.

"Oh, just the sweet illness and craziness of love." Penelope spoke, she then looked at Emily's confused face before bursting out laughing. The loudest laughter she thinks she has ever laughed. Everybody looked at Penelope who was gripping onto the coffee bar table, doubling down on laughter.

The laughter echoed all the way to the bathroom in which you were trying not to drown yourself in the toilet from embrassment.

Hotch came outside his office and took one glance after Penelope before turning to Rossi, "Remind me to get her drug tested later."

Emily quickly fled the scene, not bothering to look back until she was in the safety of her own desk surrounded by her fellow agents who were armed. Spencer paused in his work to find Penelope slowly calming down but still shaking with laughter as she trudged back to her little computer den.

The slow and quiet morning of the BAU turned into a loud mystery of a case the agents weren't sure they wanted to solve.

[skepticalkoi-catastrophe]

At The Red Light

Pairing: fwb! Sung Jinwoo x Reader

Genre: Mutual Friendship, Hinted Mutual Crush, College Au, Friends with Benefits, Fluff/Angst if you squint.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: Alcohol consumption (reader is of Korean legal drinking age)

Word count: 491

━╋。[10:11pm] ‐ Close wasn't close enough. Behind the wheel, Jinwoo drove not too far from Hongdae. He checked his GPS navigation while he gripped the wheel the tiniest bit tighter. It was the 14th. A day of love, compassion, and care. Those three things he felt and more. Though he'd never admit it, you inspired his silent devotion in parallel to his detriment.

Inside Club XX, you downed some shooters alongside your friends despite your parched throat. During this time, you sucked on a lime wedge just as you whined your waist to your favorite song blasting from the speakers. The DJ made announcements over the loud music. Something about finding your other half.

Romantic love, at least, never found you. It was foreign in its familiarity. So close you could taste it. Or taste him, rather. You've played the hand you've been dealt many times, and in return: nothing. Nothing worthwhile. Sweetness from your chaser encouraged licked lips. Would it kill him to be honest? You shouldn't be the one to have to say it. Lust isn't in his blood. Never was.

Glancing around the bar and tapping your friend, you needed some air in spite of the fact that your previous rum with Coke was starting to win. She nodded, then told the others you wouldn't be long.

Between the intersection of Jandari-ro and Wausan-ro, mist lingered from drizzling rain hours before. Bold white stripes of the crosswalk were a neon red hue to then be washed out by beaming headlights.

An icy blue set of eyes met yours at the red light. You did a double take but shook your head. By the time you looked again, the car was gone. You were just seeing things. You had to be. Then your phone started buzzing in your back pocket. Putting it to your ear, you slowly leaned back against the nearby wall.

"Hello? Jinwoo?"

“I know it’s stupid, but I needed to hear your voice.”

You tucked your hair behind your ear while shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

"N-no, it's okay. I just thought you'd be busy tonight."

"Busy? You know I'll always make time for you." He paused. There was slight interference on his end. "But this is different. We need to talk. It's about...us."

"Us? I don't understand—"

"Look up for me, Aein?"

Just at that moment, your wandering gaze that didn't seem to settle met his. Instantly dropping your phone from your ear, Jinwoo took long strides as he flashed you a grin. Something like a somersault happened in your chest the minute you saw cellophane, craft paper, and tissue paper in his arms.

"This was your plan? That better not be a pity rose bouquet. Pity chocolate I’ll take, but that’s it." you remarked, smiling coquettishly.

He loomed closer, taking in the sight of you. What gap there was was nonexistent. There were 50,000 won bills wrapped around the glittered petals.

"Depends, do you love me or chocolate more?”

If you enjoyed it, please comment, like, and reblog!

A/N - Aein is a term of endearment, it means sweetheart in Korean.

Divider created by @cafekitsune

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY! <3

[felixbit]

songwriter

pairing: han jisung x gn!reader w. 0.7k genre: fluff summary: your boyfriend jisung's birthday is right around the corner and you have the brilliant idea to make him a song. you learn it's not easy, and you begin to worry it won't work out. warnings: reader overthinks and gets a bit insecure, jisung is of course there to reassure a/n: im so sorry this one is so short!! i promise i'll make up for it with a better hanji fic in the future. felix fic coming tomorrow!

Being a songwriter's partner has benefits.

Every new Stray Kids album that would come out would have some sappy love song written by your boyfriend, Han Jisung. He would send it to you after the album would drop, asking if you liked it. He would then reveal that it was about you, and you had to act surprised.

Of course you loved all his songs. They were beautifully crafted and every single thing made your heart go wild. He put words to feelings you didn't know you had. But, he was so painfully obvious.

His birthday was coming up, and you had a great idea: what if you wrote him a song?

As it turned out, it was a little harder than you expected.

Lines were so hard to piece together and it was near impossible to make proper rhyme schemes. Jisung's ability to write a song was quickly becoming even more impressive than it already was. Even when you started to get lyrics on paper, you had to figure out how it was supposed to be sung.

Whenever Jisung went to the studio, you took special care to see just how he put together melodies. You tried to ask inconspicuous questions, and so far hadn't risen suspicion. You'd settled on trying to figure out playing his guitar instead of doing anything fancy with production.

Learning guitar chords had your fingers aching and sore. Building up calluses and memorizing just where to place your fingers in a short amount of time was no small task. But, you had basic chord progressions down in a few weeks and were on your way to something.

You'd let Chan and Changbin in on the secret of the birthday song, and you were eternally grateful when Chan extended an invite to use their studio. He gave you a ride, showing you inside and some basic functions of how to record.

Even if you didn't end up recording the song, the space was perfect for sitting and conceptualizing music. You had the lyrics pretty much solid, even if you questioned their quality every time you read them.

Halfway through trying to run through the song, anxiety started to creep up on you. Jisung's birthday was tomorrow, and you couldn't decide if you liked the song enough to show him.

Another half an hour of brainstorming, and you were tempted to scrap the song entirely. Everything you had come up with in your head wasn't sounding right when you tried it aloud. How could it compare to his songs?

You heard the studio door open, turning and expecting to see Chan. Instead, standing in the doorway looking perplexed was Jisung himself.

"Jagi, what are you doing here?" Jisung looked at you suspiciously before approaching the couch you were sat on.

You pulled the guitar out of your lap and propped it up against the couch. Shit. "Oh, you know.. you come here often?"

Jisung let out a loud laugh, sitting down next to you and scooting closer. "Your one-liners won't distract me. Why are you here? I mean, I don't mind you being in the studio, but.."

"I.." You looked down at the lyrics still pulled up on your phone screen before handing it over to your boyfriend, "I was doing this."

His eyes scanned over the lyrics a few times with a perplexed look before they shifted back to you. "These are.. lyrics, did you write this?"

Fidgeting, you nodded. "Yeah.. I was thinking it'd be a good thing for your birthday. If I wrote you a song."

Jisung stopped for a moment and looked at you, stunned. "A song? For my birthday? Honey.."

"I know, it's not great, really nothing compared to yours, but-"

"I love it."

You looked up to him, taking your eyes off the floor. He was looking at you like you were the only thing in the world. "You do?"

"I mean, it's really sweet. These lyrics, they're... I don't even know how you put these words together in the way you did. The feeling is so real, I didn't think I could feel that through words on a screen like that."

You felt your heart swell in your chest, leg bouncing as your eyes drifted back to the floor. "I mean, it's not that good.."

Jisung wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. "Don't give me that! It's the best! I would say it's just as good of a birthday present if you'd let me work on actually recording this with you and making it a full song."

"Really?"

Pulling you into a kiss, Jisung smiled. "Yeah! Now, would you please play it for me?"

[ak319]

i hope this one is different so you dont think it's repetitive... arthur become jealous whenever (teen?) reader show affection/politeness to the members of van der linde gang!! she is so kind and caring, it's like arthur gave all of his positive emotions to her.

i hope you're not too overwhelmed <3

(AN: It was fun to write this, lmao, and I'm good, thanks for asking! <3<3)

Warnings: Not incest, strictly platonic, fluff

Arthur stretched, savoring the cool evening breeze as he woke from his afternoon nap. Rubbing his eyes, he scanned the camp, noticing some of the boys lounging around, and then his gaze fell on you. You were nestled beside Hosea, who was explaining something, gesturing with a worn book in hand. The two of you looked deep in conversation, and Arthur’s jaw tightened just a touch.

Of course. You and Hosea with those endless stories.

Arthur strolled over, trying to keep his voice casual. “(Y/n)... my coffee?”

You looked up, blinking as if you’d just noticed him. “It’s in the pot.”

“So?”

“So… go get it?” You turned back to Hosea without a second thought, the two of you picking up right where you left off, as if Arthur wasn’t even there.

Arthur’s mouth opened in slight disbelief. So he’s gotta get it himself now? Is that how it is? He clearly saw you serving one to Hosea before he went to nap.

He stomped over to the coffee pot, pouring a little too forcefully, spilling half of it over the side. Huffing, he took a bitter sip, casting a sidelong glare at you and Hosea. You were still engrossed, nodding eagerly as Hosea continued his storytelling, clearly delighted by the attention.

You, Hosea, and those books. Why didn’t you tell him stories like that, like when you were little, always rambling on about what you’d read or about anything? He couldn’t help thinking, Maybe if he’d acted interested back then…Even now, both of you barely chatted ever since settling here.

Determined to stake his claim, he grabbed a chair, dragging it loudly across the ground until he was right in front of you both. He plopped down with his coffee, not budging.

You and Hosea paused, exchanging a look as Arthur sat there, arms crossed, expression defiant. He took a loud sip, smirking a bit. “What? Go on, I’m only listenin’. ”

Hosea chuckled, giving you a gentle nudge to continue, but Arthur’s smirk softened as he watched you. He wasn’t about to let anyone else claim his spot as the one you looked up to, even if he had to work for it sometimes.

⋆⋆⋆

“Charles, here, I bought it,” you said, holding out a small glass bottle.

Charles put down his dagger, inspecting the vial with a pleased nod. “Hm, thanks, (Y/n). This’ll be really helpful. I'll be sure to use it.”

Before Charles could say much else, Arthur’s gun clattered down onto the table, his gaze zeroed in on the bottle in his hand. “Woah, woah, what is that?”

You folded your arms, already anticipating his reaction. “It’s rosemary oil. It’s good for hair, you know? I use it too, and Charles was complaining about hair fall. You should use it too Arthur.”

Arthur’s eyebrow shot up, his lips pressing together as he rolled his eyes and resumed cleaning his gun. Hair oil? Really? He bit back a scoff, the faint irritation simmering in his expression. The things you’d done for Charles lately, you were really taking him being your 'other brother' thing too seriously, acting like he was the camp’s best friend and personal confidant. More like 'other better brother' at this point.

"My hair's fine." He pouted which was subtle enough for both of you to miss.

Maybe you thought Charles was better than him somehow. Was it because of his hair? Arthur’s eyes flicked over to Charles’s neatly braided locks and he bristled, pushing away that little jab of jealousy. Those braids were another evidence of your craft and experiments on him.

“By the way, Charles-" you started.

Arthur snapped up, feigning nonchalance as he muttered, “What’re you askin’ him now, huh? Got another herbal concoction to fuss over or a new hairstyle?”

“Actually,” you continued, ignoring his tone, “I was thinking Charles could teach me some tracking. Thought it’d be useful when you sometimes take me to hunt.”

Arthur’s jaw tightened slightly. He tried to play it cool, returning to his gun, but not before muttering, “Right… and just let me know when you’re done with all that ‘learnin’. Don’t need you forgettin’ your real chores now, got it?” You huffed slightly in reply, embarrassed and stomped away. He seemed to love bringing up your damn chores.

⋆⋆⋆

You peeked through the tent flap, hesitating slightly before stepping in. Arthur lay back on his cot, one knee propped up as he casually read through his journal. The sight of him looking so calm made your stomach twist just a bit, this wasn’t the look of someone who called you in for a friendly chat.

“Arthur… you called?” you asked cautiously, stepping inside.

He didn’t even look up, but you could sense the tension in his posture. “What is up with what I heard?”

You chuckled nervously, playing innocent. “Heard what?”

Finally, he glanced at you, setting his journal aside. "Feeding Kieran. An O’Driscoll, for God’s sake, and a captive one at that. You think that’s a good idea? Are you nuts?!”

You folded your arms, barely batting an eye. “What, we’re just gonna starve him to death in camp? That’s a great plan,” you said, throwing a glance toward Dutch’s tent with an exaggerated scowl.

Arthur caught the look, his gaze hardening. "Hey, don’t go blaming Dutch for making sense. You think Kieran’s just some stray dog? He’s a danger, and feeding him, treating him like… like one of us, it just ain’t wise.”

"But Mary- Beth did it too, why didn't-"

"I don't care what she did! I am talkin' to you right now! Also, she only gave him water while you served a damn feast to his ass. So, you...listen to me. Got it?" Not your fault that you cooked well and wanted everyone to have a taste. Poor guy was dying out there just from the smell of it.

“But why?” you retorted, the fire in your voice undeniable. “You’re all acting like he’s gonna break loose and take us all down with a spoon. He’s tied up. He's a person, Arthur, not a monster. And maybe, just maybe, if everyone here wasn’t so fast to turn people into enemies, half of this mess wouldn’t even exist! This isn't what mother taught us, Arthur.”

Arthur’s expression shifted from anger to something deeper, like a storm passing over. “Don't bring her into this! This is a different life from what we came from, why do you keep insisting upon those memories?” His voice softened but kept its edge. “And that big heart of yours? It’ll get you hurt if you’re not careful. I don’t want to be pulling you outta trouble because you’re tryin’ to see the good in a damn O’Driscoll. Now, are we clear?”

You stared back at him, the defiance slipping just a little as you noticed the strain in his eyes. Beneath his anger was worry, and for a moment, you softened too.

“Fine, fine, I made a mistake, apparently, and I’ll stay clear of him,” you mumbled. Being human here seems to be a crime.

⋆⋆⋆

You walked into the camp’s small, makeshift office, the familiar smell of paper and ink in the air. Strauss was hunched over a pile of bills and coins, his glasses perched precariously on his nose as he jotted down figures. His furrowed brow and concentration didn’t go unnoticed.

"Hey, Strauss," you called out softly, stepping into the room.

He looked up, adjusting his glasses as a small smile appeared on his face. “Ah, (Y/n), good to see you. Just trying to get these numbers in order, but it’s a bit too much for one pair of hands.”

You moved closer, casually offering your assistance. “Mind if I help?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’d be willing to help count all this?”

“Sure,” you replied, already rolling up your sleeves. “Looks like you’ve got a lot on your hands.”

Strauss chuckled softly, clearly appreciative. “I suppose that’s why I always need help with these things. It’s too much to do alone, even for someone as meticulous as me.”

You settled next to him, carefully picking up a stack of bills and sorting them by denomination. The coins came next, their jingling noise filling the air as you organized them into neat little piles. Strauss watched, impressed by how quickly and efficiently you worked, and before long, everything was sorted and ready to be counted.

“By my word, (Y/n), you’ve done this faster than I could’ve hoped,” he said, adjusting his glasses again, his tone warm with praise. “It’s quite clear you have an eye for details.”

You smiled, grateful for the compliment. “I’ve had some practice.”

Strauss leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. Then, with a slight flourish, he pulled a few bills from the pile and handed them to you. “As a token of my appreciation, take this,” he said, his voice warm. “A few dollars for your help. I think you’ve earned it.”

"No, no , please, no need for this. Thank you, though."

"C'mon, kid, like I said you earned it or just think of it as a gift."

You kept politely declining him but he forced the cash in your hand and the flap of the tent suddenly opened, and Arthur stepped inside, his boots thudding loudly against the floor as his eyes immediately narrowed at the scene.

Ugh.

"You givin' her a loan or something, Strauss?" He threw you a sharp look. You were well aware that he didn't appreciate you asking others for things.

"It’s not like that!" you snapped, already feeling your frustration building. “I helped him, that’s all. I didn’t ask for anything, Arthur. I wasn’t even about to take it!”

Arthur’s expression didn’t soften. In one swift motion, he turned back to the desk, and without a second thought, he placed the money you had been holding, still in your hand, back onto the table. He dropped it with a bit more force than necessary, the sound of it clinking harshly against the wood "Well, like I said, no need," he muttered, his voice polite but edged with an authority that suggested he just wanted to end the conversation. “Let’s go.”

You stumbled slightly as he nudged you toward the door. "You takin' handouts from him? Don't I give you enough pocket money already?" Arthur’s voice was tight with disapproval as he guided you out of the small room, his fingers almost too firm on your arm.

You shook your head, refusing to let the tension get the best of you. "Oh my God, he was just being nice, you damn well know I am not like that!" you muttered, glancing back at Strauss, who had returned to his work, probably already regretting offering you anything at all. "I didn’t ask for anything."

Arthur huffed, his mood sour. “And never do. I don’t trust that man with money.” He gave you a quick, pointed look as he nudged you forward, his steps quick and purposeful. “Go do somethin' else. Get out of here, kid. I don’t want to see you dealin’ with him.”

You bit back the sharp retort that formed on your lips. Instead, you let out a sigh, recognizing the stubbornness in your brother’s tone. “Fine. I’m going. Jeez,” you muttered, feeling a little put out as you walked away, already knowing this conversation wasn’t going to be the last of it.

⋆⋆⋆

Arthur nearly choked as he took another bite of the stew, his throat burning with the intense heat. He quickly grabbed his canteen, taking a few desperate gulps, trying to quench the fiery sensation that was assaulting him. What the hell was this? He wiped his mouth, glaring at the bowl like it personally offended him. What the fuck…

His hand slammed the canteen back down onto the table, and he stomped over to Pearson’s cooking station, frustration bubbling up inside him. “Why the hell is this so spicy?!”

Pearson looked up with a nonchalant grin, clearly unbothered by Arthur’s indignation. “It is? I think it’s scrumptious. Plus, (Y/N) cooked it, some Mexican recipe. Javier was feeling a little down today, so I thought I’d let her make it for him...cheer him up a bit.”

Javier, huh? Arthur’s blood began to simmer with something far more heated than the stew he just choked down. His jaw tightened as he turned on his heel and stormed towards you, who was happily swinging under the tree, carefree and unaware of the storm brewing in your brother’s chest.

"If he’s sad, does that mean you get to give me an ulcer?!" Arthur’s voice cracked like thunder, cutting through the air. “What, did you pour the whole damn bottle of chilies in this thing?”

You rolled your eyes without missing a beat and kept swinging like a kid, not even bothering to look at him as you kicked your legs lazily, enjoying the gentle breeze. “You’re being dramatic. Everyone licked their fingers clean. Even Molly liked it."

Arthur’s face contorted with disbelief as he approached you, the irritation in his veins flaring up like wildfire. Everyone? Of course. Everyone loved what you made. How could they not? You were sweet, and everything you did, even if it caused chaos, seemed to be met with nothing but approval. It’s a strange cycle, really, if you think about it. You’ve got this sweetness about you that makes it impossible for anyone to complain, even when you’re walking all over boundaries, like cooking up some wild, fiery dish for Javier. No one says a word, not even when you turn the camp upside down, because they’re all too afraid of making you upset, or worse, 'messing with Arthur's sister'.

And that’s when it gets tricky for him. All this unspoken leniency has slowly given you free rein, a field to roam in, and it’s hurting him in ways he can’t even explain. It's like you've unknowingly got the upper hand, and every little thing you do chips away at his patience, even when you’re just being you.

His lips curled into a hard, annoyed frown, and he leaned in close, voice low and harsh. “You listen here, brat," he growled, irritation lacing every word. "I’ve had a long day, and I damn well deserve a proper meal when I come back.”

Before you could even respond, Javier appeared from behind, sensing the rising tension between you two. He flashed a grin and confidently strolled over, his voice smooth and cheerful as he clapped his hands together. “Ah, but hermano Arthur,” Javier teased in his thick accent, completely unfazed by the tension. “Maybe it is not the food that is the problem, hmm? Maybe it’s your taste buds that need some...adjusting.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed, his temper threatening to snap. He was about to retaliate when Javier continued, his voice warm and inviting.

“No no,” Javier continued, ignoring Arthur’s scowl entirely. “(Y/N)'s cooking is the best here. Nobody can do it quite like she can.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head, but part of you could feel the tension between them rise, even if it wasn’t entirely apparent to you, "Oh , it's nothing really."

As Arthur glared at you, his frustration mounting with every word that left your mouth, Javier, ever the peacekeeper and always with a grin on his face, flashed his usual cheeky smile, and before either of you could say anything, he burst into song, his deep voice carrying through the air with effortless charm. The dulcet tone of the guitar was sweet to you, yet bitter to Arthur.

“Oh, (Y/N), who brings the light,

To the fire, and to the night,

His voice was smooth, almost theatrical as he continued, completely ignoring the scowl Arthur was throwing his way.

“The stew you make, so full of spice,

Turns every frown to something nice,

And though it burns, we can’t resist,

The magic in your tender twist...”

Arthur muttered under his breath. "You better stop singing before I lose my damn mind," he grumbled, but his voice was laced with an unmistakable irritation that he couldn’t quite hide, even if he tried.

Javier finished his song with a flourish, giving you a playful wink as he stepped back, clearly proud of his impromptu performance. “And that, mi amiga, is a little song of thanks,” he said, his grin wide, while he sauntered away while Arthur bore daggers at his back.

Arthur turned back to you, arms folded tightly over his chest as he narrowed his eyes. “Was that all a silly prank of yours or something?” he asked, his tone stiff with a mix of irritation and jealousy.

You, however, couldn’t hold back the laughter. The ridiculousness of it all was just too much. You burst into a guffaw, your shoulders shaking with amusement, and the sound was enough to disarm Arthur, just a little.

You looked up at him, barely able to contain your grin. “Depends…” you teased, still giggling, making it worse for Arthur.

Arthur’s scowl deepened, but only for a moment. When he saw that sparkle in your eyes and how you couldn’t stop smiling, he felt a soft tug at his heart. "Kid, you’re a menace for real," he muttered, the words half-hearted, even though he was secretly relieved to see you happy in this new life.

[midnight-mourning]

Birds of a Feather

Bit of writing for @divinit3a's cafe prompts! A little one shot set in @crystalmagpie447's winged dca au. Be sure to check both of them, the prompts, and the au out!

That all being said, enjoyed making this, hope you enjoy reading it ^^

Word Count: 1795

Chosen Words: feathers, flight, clouds, hope, restart

"Thank you for visiting Superstar Daycare! We hope you have a Faztastic rest of your day!" Sun says, shutting the door with a sigh.

You glance up from organizing the drawings from today, seeing he's slouched back against the door, defeated. Not that he'd ever admit it, of course. You're almost tempted to go back to your work without another word so to let him keep up his perceived joyous attitude. But, you desire to be a better friend than that. 

Even if he doesn't want you to be. 

You sort another work of art into the pile for next week's feature pieces. "Long day, huh?"

"Oh, not at all, Sunshine!" You hear his rays spin, and peeking up again his posture is ramrod straight again. "Today was wonderful, just like all the others before it! And before that, and before that, and before that..." Back to that chipper tone, as you had expected, but it never hurt to try. 

Something you don't think Sun realized—likely due to not being created with them initially—is that wing's display an array of emotions as much as any other part of one's body language. When nervous, they quiver and flick and shrink in much like his own rays. When happy, they're bursting with life, shifting not dissimilarly to one's own arms. And when angry, well, you think he might have realized that one. 

Whenever you pressed him too hard, asked too many questions, showed too much care, they would puff up, feathers stifled and quick in their movements. 

You never told him these things, which may make you not so good a friend, but you knew if you let him in on the mannerisms he displayed, he'd do everything he could to stop them. 'Correct' them. You know, because when you'd commented on how his rays spun when he got excited, he was down in Parts and Services all but demanding them to fix his problem. Or at least, his concept of a problem. 

So instead, you let out a quiet laugh. "I'm always here to talk, but if you say so, I'll leave it lie."

"Good. Glad that's settled."

With that, he takes a few quick strides over to the craft tables and begins cleaning them up. You sigh, but let it go. It's not your business after all, that much had been made clear to you. 

As clean up goes along—quiet, save for small talk between the two of you, friendly, but nothing more—your thoughts go back to the Attendant once more. Specifically, his wings. 

Always constantly using them, the both of them. You think that despite having them before you arrived even, they were still in a way a new and exciting feature for the two animatronics. Seeing even the smallest of reasons to exercise them. Be it to flit about the room just a little quicker, play with the children, or to do a survey of the daycare—or the entire Plex in Moon's case—just a quick flap of their wings, and it was possible.

You suppose it's something that can't be helped. Though only every so often, in times like this, where you feel just a little more isolated than usual. A little more lonely. That feeling is what had drawn you here in the first place, in a way. Besides the need for a paying job that is. 

A chance for a restart, a fresh start even. When you first saw the Daycare, realized what a, solo existence, the two attendants had, it had gripped at you. Gripped at a particular part of your own being that you recognized. Despite having wings themselves, they're story was similar to yours. Outcasted from society and those around them for things outside their control. 

An inability to take flight, versus an inability to fly elsewhere. Trapped, in every sense of word. The only difference being the cage in use. 

"Penny for your thoughts, Dragonfly?"

You glance up, seeing Moon perched on the piece of the playset above you. You liked to come up here and sit sometimes, sit anywhere up high, just to get a taste for what could have been. 

You'd accepted long ago the way things were, and for the most part it wouldn't haunt you. It wasn't your fault, wasn't something in your control. It just was. There were plenty of others like you, even, and they held no shame, so neither would you. 

But that didn't control the longing that would ensnare you from time to time. 

Back in the present, you scoff at the lunar animatronic. "Knowing you you'd take more than just a penny from me. Probably my entire wallet if you could get by with it, yeah?"

"Perhaps." Moon snickers, faceplate spinning. "You'll never know until you try though."

You laugh, then shake your head. "Figured as much. Hard pass, Moon-man."

"Hm. Care to just share what's on your mind then?" He reaches over and above you to the opposite edge of the playset, essentially laying horizontal above you, gaze focused down on you. "Free of charge."

You consider the offer a moment, then mimic his pose, going from lean back, to laying back perpendicular to him, face covered in the glow of his red eyes. 

"You think it's silly to want something you can't have? That'll always be out of your reach and never within? Something you'll always have on the back of your mind, no matter how hard you try to live your life free of even a thought about it?"

Moon tilts his head. "What a loaded series of questions. I'm a jester, not a sage, you know." He chuckles, and usually you'd join in, maybe roll your eyes or the likes, but your heart's not in it. 

It's something he picks up on immediately, wings behind him fluttering just a tad. But even in the darkness you catch it. 

He puts a hand under his chin in thought. "Well, I suppose if you'd really want to get into it, yes."

You wait. 

Nothing else. 

"What?" He asks. 

You shrug. "Thought you'd share a bit more as to what. You know, be relatable and all that."

Moon chuckles, it takes on a more sinister edge at the end. 

"Not quite. But I'll listen to your plights if you'd like, Nightingale."

"Sometimes, more than anything, I wish I could fly." Your hands fold across your chest. "It's a silly endeavor, I know. But I still want it sometimes."

He must not have been expecting that, eyes widening just a tad. He asks a question you weren't anticipating. "Have you ever been?"

"A few times, when I was small. With my parents. They'd hold me below them and I'd pretend to be gliding all on my own." You close your eyes at the memories, filled with shrieks of laughter and childish glee. You think if they'd known that would be your only time up in the sky, they'd have taken you more often. 

"What was it like?"

You open your eyes. Looking above you to the former naptime attendant turned security bot. His words were soft, holding a tender curiosity you wouldn't have expected.

You furrow your brow. "What do you mean? You know what flying is like."

"The sky." He rasps, and it clicks. All but confirming one of your deepest beliefs then and there. 

You swallow, hiding the utter elation such information gives you, that hope for connection no longer so out of reach. You give it your best shot to provide an accurate, detailed, description. 

"It's colder than you think it would be. When you get high up. But the sun's warmth usually helps with that. The wind feels lovely on your feathers though." Your hand reaches out above you for a moment. "And the clouds, they're wet. Or well, damp. It was quite a shock the first time my dad dragged me through one." 

"What were you expecting?" Moon hums. 

You chuckle. "I don't know, cotton candy, or pillow fluff, or something like that. I was only like four." Your hand drops back down. "It was a long time ago."

Moon stays quiet. You continue. 

"And my first night flight. What a time. You always think if you could a little higher you'll reach the stars. Or at least that's what I thought, begging my mom to just 'go a little higher, just a little more'. She didn't always oblige me, but when she did, god, the buildings, the cities, the world, all of it felt so small." You shake your head. "And quiet. So, so quiet."

"Was that it then? The last time you were up there?" 

Another head shake. "No. I think I was maybe seven or eight before I got too heavy to lug around." 

Silence again, you think to look up to him again, gaze having become unfocused in your reminiscing. 

He's also somewhere else it seems, faceplate twisting back and forth, optics just a tinge dim. He comes out of it when he notices your stare. 

"I'll take you sometime." He states, nodding once.

"What?"

Another nod. "Into the sky. I'll take you there. You hardly weigh a thing to me."

"First of all, rude. Second of all... why?" You're a bit in disbelief. 

He shrugs. "Why not?"

Moon sits up then, back to his original position and you do the same. 

"Because that's a big thing to offer!" 

"Not offer." He pokes your forehead, eyes crinkling. "Promise."

You bluster. "Even worse!" 

You don't get to pester him further about it, as he flips back over the edge of the playset, landing right as the lights come back on. Sun looks up to you as you peer over the edge of the playset. He tilts his head at you. 

"What's with that look, Busybee?"

"I'm gonna get you out of here one day." You blurt. 

He freezes. "What?"

"I, if, if you want, I mean." You fumble to recover. "If you ever decide you want to leave. If you ever want to get out just for a moment, I'll help you. I promise."

Sun's rays twist, otherwise motionless, even as you take the nearest slide and walk over to him. 

Worried, you reach out for him. "Sun—"

Springing to life again, acting as if nothing happened. "So sorry, Sunshine! It seems I had a bit of a lapse there, won't happen again!"

"Oh. Gotcha. Okay." You turn around to get back to work, your short break now over, when his hand rests on your shoulder. 

You look up, Sun's eyes crinkle as his rays spin. 

"I hope one day I'll be able to take you up on that promise, and return it in kind."

You smile lightly, and nod. "Yeah. Me too."

And there we go! Hope i did the prompt and the au justice! Both were fun to work with. Excited to share more art and writing as the month goes on hehe

Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info, you can also dm me!):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay

[kismets-barista]

Hold onto your Stetson, @ohposhers; have I got some personal HickDory lore for you 😎💜🌟🫧

Excuse the insanity for those who don't feel compelled towards these two

SO!

Hickory and JD met a few good years before the events of the World Tour when Dory was traveling to find Lonesome Flats, got heatstroke and passed out in the desert. Wakes up to Hickory shadowed in the flickering light of a campfire beneath a canopy of the brightest stars he'd seen since the Neverglades, but it wouldn't be until QUITE a few months later until they really started developing crushes against each other. (Cowboy under the stars, you'd think he'd fall right then and there, right? 🌟)

Why was Hickory already in Lonesome Flats, you might ask? Where was Dickory?

In a glue trap, I say in response. Hickory came from Yodelsberg (is there a canonical name for this?) for international study and to learn about new music. He fell in love with country because yodeling and country music are actually quite gorgeous together. She Taught Me to Yodel, anyone?

Delta Dawn obviously didn't take to Dory showing up and around the town, but after some convincing by Hickory and lots of proving himself (plus a vulture attack that resulted in John Dory saving the very young niece of Delta Dawn- Clampers-) he 'earned' a place there and began to work around town.

It was weird for him.

He'd never quite settled down, until then.

(Now, the specific timeline, yearly I mean is a little muddled because I'm still crafting this, but I'll put them out about three years, now.)

John Dory was still living in Lonesome Flats, and he'd started a relationship with Hickory. They loved each other, as my cohort in crime @protagonist-art (CHECK OUT THEIR ART I LOVE THEM SM MUAH) has Hickory tell John when we get write them, "More than the moon loves the ocean." As surely as the tide pulls in and out, so the lovers return to each other.

So Via, what does Hickory think about BroZone?

Oh, my sweet star.

He doesn't know.

After returning to the devastated Troll Tree, John Dory lost a piece of his heart in the damaged pod they used to live in. It was the first time he went grey, and the memories of his brothers started shifting from what was, to what would never be again. He couldn't find it within himself to talk about them, and has his secrets.

But so does Hickory.

Girl wdym stop being so mysterious.

Heh. I know. It's just a glimpse into my dark mind /ref. Anyways, Hickory never told John Dory he was a Yodeler troll. (Another piece of lore that Quizzy and I worked on together and I think it's brilliant.)

Huh? Aren't they in a long-term relationship? Won't this cause issues later on if they don't share these things with each other?

Oh, they love every aspect of each other too much for their bond to truly be broken.

And yet.

One morning, years after just living and loving, John Dory wakes up with a massive headache and nausea.

"Maybe it's that horse that kicked me yesterday, could've gotten me harder than we both thought."

"Lemme check for a knot, Darlin'."

No knots, but there was an egg.

🌟 (Here I'll say that I'm massively in love with the headcanon that trolls conceive through true love- it isn't quite necessary for them to physically do anything unless they want to. Just them, wholeheartedly trusting and putting everything into their relationship and pouring their heart out to their partner.)

They were absolutely ECSTATIC, and rightfully terrified in their own ways. Neither of them were looking for children but not against it, and after resting for a few days they began to plan. A nursery in the house, baby books with millions of names scattered on the coffee table, toys and cute little baby clothes for when the little one hatched.

Wanna know two of the names John Dory had in mind? Rhonda and Dolly.

They were ecstatic until the night John Dory woke up absolutely ill and with a pit in his stomach.

They lost the egg, and it was the second time John Dory went grey in his life.

A week after this had happened, John Dory left a bundled lock of his hair at Hickory's nightstand and did what he knows how to do all too well. He ran.

Hickory never went too far out of Lonesome Flats in the hopes that John Dory would come back. He couldn't imagine what would happen if his love came back and didn't find him there.

The events of World Tour come about, Hickory meets Branch, and travels for the first time since John Dory left.

John Dory continued to travel, until the events of Band Together.

But don't worry, dear readers, for as surely as the tides come in, so will the lovers meet again. 🌟

Aaaand BOOM! That's it! 💜 I've got lore behind the names Rhonda and Dolly as well, and am SO down to answer any questions about them that anyone has. For you, Posh, thank you for asking and helping me to share a story I've been working on, and for everyone else that read this, thank you kindly! I hope that everyone who made it this far has quite a lovely day, or if you didn't, have a lovely day anyways!

Remember to take your meds, drink water, eat something, and stretch!

💜🌟🫧

[bluey0petal]

Notes: Chapter rewrite || 3rd Person POV || Longer Chapter || Not proofread || snow day!

CW: Fishlegs my guy!

Tags: hiccup x reader, how to train your dragon, httyd, canon divergence, hiccup fanfic, hiccup haddock, httyd fanfic, httyd hiccup, Norse mythology, dragons

Word count: 5267

Masterlist

Part 8

“DISPARATE” — Chapter 7

ᚢᚾᛞᚨᚱᛚᛁᚷᚱ ᛊᛏᛖᛁᚾ

Finally, today was a day where she was not purged with the early morning awakening like the other days of training. She was able to stay tucked beneath her furs and curl up like a babe in her bed, wrapped in warmth and settling comfortably in the land of sleep.

Training didn't start until the late afternoon, and so she was able to sleep in, let the morning pass by, the roosters call out until their throats were sore— and only when she was thoroughly rested should she get up, taking this day to—

"(NAME) GET UP! THE TRADERS ARE HERE!" The ecstatic voice of Ruffnut barged through her door, and she shot up in her bed at the rude but helpful intrusion— her heart speaking with her own sense of excitement at the announcement.

The traders were here! They weren't expected to return to Berk until after winter— so this was a gift from the gods! A final trade for the season, and hopefully all kinds of new wares would be available on the docked ships.

She could only imagine the vastly different items loaded onboard, and she couldn't help but wonder if a certain trader had returned for yet another year of successful trading to the isle of Berk. Without wasting another second, she leapt from her bed, rushing around and scampering like a scuttling rat to get ready, dashing around the house in dizzying patterns.

"I'll be there in a sec!" She called out, just to make sure the twin knew she was up, and right as she finished doing her hair once more, she snagged her little bag of gold she'd managed to save before bounding over to her door, pushing it open to find Ruffnut and Astrid waiting behind it.

A cold breeze swept in, intruding her house once again as the winters cool air forced itself inside, but today it didn't phase her— because she was too busy jumping up and down on the inside with a hope of going on a shopping spree with what little gold she'd managed to earn.

"Finally. Everything's going to be bought out if we don't get there—" Ruffnut grumbled, and as if Astrid agreed silently, the blonde grabbed (Name's) wrist and they all began to run down through the village, making their way down rickety stairs and growing closer to the salty smell of the sea as they did so.

By the time they passed the gate to the docks, they could already hear bartering and bustling of trades down below, and over the edge of the high up walkway— they could see three ships docked amongst the Berkian longships, all with the remaining Vikings in the village crowding around them.

(Name) peered closely; looking down at the traders who stood on their boats, and from what she could see— they were the ones that always frequented Berk, so it made sense for them to come back for one final visit.

Aksel, a man who usually sold anything crafting related; stones, gems, woods— anything you'd need to make things, he was the guy to go to.

Bodil, he was a little bit all over the place... but he mainly sold foods— and a little bit of rocks here and there, though he wasn't as much of an expert on them as was Aksel, so he stuck to selling off baby potatoes and meat.

Finally, the trader everyone had been hoping for Jòhann was the last ship in the line, and also owned the ship with the longest wait towards it. Jòhann sold all kinds of wares, from treasures far off in the seas to contraptions given to him by other islands.

He was a popular trader and one of Berk's most trusted associates, so it made sense as to why he'd managed to make one more trip to Berkiya before the ice had settled over the ocean.

The three young girls arrived at the loud dock, the waves lapping at the underneath of the planks and the particular stench of salt and unwashed Vikings invading their nose, a... interesting smell to say the very least.

Anywho, they glanced around curiously, each of them having brought their own bag of saved gold— each holding various amounts of the precious stone melted into coins.

Out of them all, Astrid probably had the most saved up— the girl didn't want for much, and it meant she'd had a plentiful amount to spend when she did want something, say a new knife to try that had interested her, or maybe something like a new whetstone with a higher quality that had come by.

(Name) was a little in between when it came to the shopping spree route— and while she had a decent amount saved to spend, she would spend a hefty amount of it if she saw something that caught her eye.

Ruffnut had to be the worst spender she out of them all, always making the highest bets in their small gambles with one another and not afraid to quote literally buy anything in sight, even if it was just to spite her brother... so. It's safe to say her pouch of gold only carried maybe... uh— two coins.

The crowd was thick as they approached, and it looked like they weren't able to get through— had they not squeezed their way through every gap they spotted. Yeah uh... passing by meaty Vikings wasn't fun, and they were sent a rather fair amount of glares and curses, but they did reach the front of the crowd eventually, and whoever is first gets dibs.

"What're you guys going to get?" Astrid asked, the other two, all three of them waiting for the trade ships to officially open up— which would hopefully be soon.

"I'm not sure... maybe some new arm warmers," (Name) shrugged, placing her hands on her hips as if to show off her current ones that she wore, the thick wool warming her hands and keeping them from freezing over.

"Seriously? That's all you ever buy. Try something new for once," Ruffnut rolled her eyes, her tone a grumbled and (Name) turned to look at the girl.

"Well what are you getting?" The question from (Name) came out rather snappy, but it was likely on purpose considering her collection of arm warmers had just been insulted, at least, it felt like it had been.

"A pet Yak," Ruffnut shrugged, and her answer caused the other two to become puzzled, brows furrowing in sync.

"But— you don't own a farm," Astrid pointed out, and Ruffnut merely shrugged, seemingly not bothered by the fact she didn't actually have a place to put said pet Yak she wanted.

"Yeah but me and Tuffnut lost the last one," she hummed, looking down at her nails and picking at her cuticles, not noticing the quizzical look Astrid and (Name) shared between one another.

"Okay then..." (Name) mumbled, looking away from Astrid to the boats— that of which had lowered their planks onto the docks, allowing the rowdy group of Vikings to finally step aboard whichever ship they desired to.

Lines quickly dispersed, and everyone went their own seperate ways to the ship they desired— lessening the heavy crowd and allowing for more movement as they did so.

Astrid had walked off to Aksel's ship, as expected of the lass who was mostly interested in practical items. Though, Ruffnut and (Name) had gone into Bodil's ship together— seeing as they both didn't have anything in particular they wanted and were probably just going to browse the isles.

The inside of the ship was a tad crowded, the two girls and about three other Vikings inside the lower deck— but it was doable nonetheless, and they begun their hunt for anything relatively interesting, eyes scanning the multiple displays.

The soft rocking of the ship on the waves set a serene mood, along with the cold air, allowing a calm to fizzle over those inside, only ever upgraded to excitement when they saw something that particularly sparked their interest.

"Dude— look at that, what kind of apple looks like that?" Ruffnut grabbed (Name's) shoulder, pulling her to look at a stock of apples that had a rather peculiar shape, one that pulled a giggle out of (Name) herself.

"I wonder who grew that..." she added, but the silly moment was short lived as they moved onto the next items, eyes droving the next lot of food that was placed into wooden crates.

Ruffnut in particular seemed surprisingly interested in this lot— the food being sea bass, and while the reasons were unknown, the girl was immediately reaching to grab one of the fish in her hands, the slimy texture of their scales not bothering her.

She wrenched it from its school, and stared at it with delight, a gleam in her eyes. "This'll go so well with my other one!" She grinned, and (Name) didn't even have a chance to quiz her on the fact she supposedly had a second before she sped off to Bodil, already pulling out what little she had left to purchase the fish.

(Name) shook her head softly, turning back to the other contents in the ships belly, and she scanned her surroundings for anything interesting. So far, nothing had quite peaked her interest fully— all she really paid attention to was the other Vikings inhabiting the insides of the under deck with her.

As her eyes scanned across the limited crowd, they spotted the bulky figure of Fishlegs, the boy hovering over some items she couldn't see, thanks to his figure blocking them out. At the sight of him, a tad bit of curiosity was sparked, and she walked over to the boy, inquisitive as to what he may be looking at.

"Hey Fishlegs," she greeted, coming to stand beside the murmuring boy, and he jolted at the sudden appearance, having been too involved in muttering strange words to himself that she couldn't make out.

"Oh! (Name)! Hi!" He smiled nervously, fiddling with his hands, but despite his awkward demeanour, (Name) herself didn't seem bothered by it, just returning the smile with one of her own.

"What're you looking at?" She turned to the shelf, eyes locking on the array of rocks the boy had been standing before, and he nervously shifted on his feet, looking back to the collection himself.

"I was just looking at these rocks. I've already seen Aksel's boat, but he was too expensive... so I thought I'd take a look here," he nodded to the rocks, and (Name) listened along, intrigued by the varying collection.

Most of the rocks were a dull grey, some varying into browns with others shifting into sprawling greens, but other than that; they vastly all looked the same. Except for one... a dull blue rock— with a slight shimmering speckle to it, the glimmer of it drawing her attention.

"Do you collect them?" She asked, reaching to the shelf and prying the blue rock from it, feeling the light weight of it within her palm. It wasn't a very large rock, fitting just into the ball of her palm, but it was pretty, and if it was pretty... she wanted it.

Fishlegs perked at the question, a new light sparking inside of him and his posture visibly straightened, a smile stretching onto his face. "Yes! I— I've always loved to learn about different stones. This one over here— I'm pretty sure it's Limestone, and this one looks like Granite! You can tell from three main factors, the strength, shine and texture."

Fishlegs had begun rambling on, and his words gushed from his mouth like a never ending stream— spewing endless lines of information that (Name) gladly absorbed into her brain, eyes drawing to the stones he gestured to, looking over the facts he named.

"What about this one?" She held up the rock in her hand to him, showing the strangely round stone off to the boy. He paused, staring at the rock and narrowing his eyes, scrutinising the stones complexion.

"I think— it looks like a stone with maybe flecks of Azurite? Maybe Sapphire," he shrugged, and (Name) withdrew the rock back to herself, looking down at the stone in her hands with a newfound awe.

She'd heard of such stones only through passing ships and fleeting conversations. Apparently such gems were expensive— used for necklaces belonging to those of 'royalty', as those on the mainland called it.

If this stone truly did contain such items, now she definitely wanted it. She may not be a greedy person, but when she had an expensive stone sitting right in her hands, with the possibility of it being cheap, damn well is she going to take it.

"Thanks Fishlegs— you keep shopping," she placed a hand on his shoulder, patting the leather of his tunic while simultaneously walking away, her eyes on the rock in her hand.

Fishlegs watched her stroll off to the upper deck, her hand slipping from his shoulder, and he kept a smile on his face before turning back to the collection of stones, beginning to squabble over them once again.

"the fish costs three coins— no bargaining!" Bodil scowled, his hands roughly placed on his hips as he bickered with a certain blonde in front of him, the girl snapping back at the trader with with an equal ferocity, a fish gripped tightly in her hand.

Bodil was a rather tall man, and for a trader, he wasn't bad looking. His tunic was a dark meringue, dirtied with oil and tied off around his waist with thick ropes, multiple items made of metal hanging from the makeshift item.

His pants were bagging, a black that faded to a washed out grey towards the end, and eventually tucked into thick fur boots that were common this side of the archipelago.

His face was square, defined but old and scraggly— with a curly black beard sprouting from the lengths of his chin, tied into multiple braids. His hair atop his head was trimmed short, well kept— unlike most and Vikings and he seemed to be in a decent condition for a trader, the only thing putting him off was the scowl taking place on his expression as he bickered with Ruffnut.

"One coin! It's a damn fish! How could it cost three coins!?" The scene the two were making was surely an entertaining one, but at this rate— Bodil was just boot everyone right off his ship, and that wasn't a good look for Berk, nor was it good for (Name) seeing as she still wanted to buy the stone.

Walking up to the two, she reached her free hand into her gold pouch tied to her waist and pulled out three coins, stopping next to Ruffnut and extending the coins to the man.

"Three coins. And... how much for this?" She interrupted the two, and they turned to her, Bodil looking as if he were judging the gold, while Ruffnut seemed more so surprised (Name) had decided to pay for her. After all, three gold was expensive, especially for a damn fish.

Bodil's eyes flickered to her other hand, extending the rock, and then back to Ruffnut, before finally landing on (Name) once again, his expression still displeased. "Four gold in total," he grumbled, and extended his hand to the girl.

(Name) reached back inside the expanse of her pouch and pulled out an extra coin, dropping the final charge in the man's hand and he gleefully clasped his fingers around the coins, withdrawing them towards him quickly.

"Get yer friend under control. She's annoying as a rats ass," he sneered, and (Name) sent the man a glare at the insult, but in the end grabbed Ruffnut by her hand and drew her off of the ship with her, sighing at the encounter.

"What a bitch..." Ruffnut grumbled, looking over her shoulder at the trader who grew further away, the two walking over the plank and stepping back onto the docks, allowing other Vikings who'd been waiting a while to finally let themselves into the ship.

"Thanks for buying my fish though— Tuffnut's gonna be so jealous," she smirked, nudging (Name) gently with her shoulder before slipping her hands out of hers, going to admire the fish held in her other hand as they walked together.

"No problem... I just— don't get why you wanted that fish so bad though," (Name) shrugged, sending a curious glance over to the side where Ruffnut walked alongside her, the two eventually stopping a little ways up the docks, away form the commotion and out of everyone's way.

"Because it's salted sea bass. Duh. Me and Tuffnut have a whole collection of them," Ruffnut shrugged, her tone condescending as if having a whole collection of dead fish was something that was common. But— her antics weren't questioned by (Name), seeing as it was normal for Ruffnut.

"What did you get?" Ruffnut suddenly asked, and it forced the attention on the rock clasped in (Name's) hand, making the girl raise it up to get a look at it again. "A rock," she showed Ruffnut the rock, and Ruffnut deadpanned immediately.

"A rock? That sounds like something that Fishlegs would get. That's sooo laaaammeee," she groaned, but her words weren't really offensive as intended, seeing as (Name) had indeed consulted Fishlegs when purchasing the item.

"Well, you told me to get something different... so," (Name) smiled softly, before raising the rock and shoving it within her scarf, her arms growing tired of having the weight clasped in her hands constantly.

It sat neatly within the folds of her furred scarf, and she could barely even feel it sitting there— more focused on stretching her fingers that had nearly frozen while curled around the stone, thanks to the icy winds.

"Yeah but... a rock? I expected better from you," she rolled her eyes, looking away down the dock, only to spot the figure of Astrid finally leaving Aksel's ship. "Hey Astrid!" Ruffnut yelled, and it drew the attention of the other blonde— snapping her head to the two standing off to the side.

Astrid held something in her hand, and as she grew closer to her friends, they were able to see it was a rather nice looking knife, the leather of the handle being treated and the blade polished, freshly sharpened and shining.

"You done looking?" (Name) asked, and Astrid's eyes flickered to her knife before looking back at the girls and nodding calmly. "Yeah, there wasn't much... same old stuff, but I decided to get this," she showed off the blade she'd bought, and (Name) and Ruffnut looked with a hint of admiration at the sheer quality of the item.

"Woah— I bet on Loki that you spent your entire stash on that," Ruffnut gaped, and it seemed like her bet may have been somewhat true, thanks to the obviously smaller pouch hanging off of Astrid's skull lined belt.

"Ten gold," Astrid shrugged, pulling the knife back to herself and slipping it into the confines of her belt, hiding the new weapon. "TEN GOLD!? Oh þór I think I'm going to faint..." (Name) wheezed, nearly spluttering into a coughing fit at the sheet rock that hit both her and Ruffnut.

The blade was pretty and good quality, sure— but ten gold was A LOT. Like— a lot, a lot. If she could spend ten gold and still have enough left over that she didn't even flinch, just how rich had Astrid become...?

The girls shook off their surprise, recovering from the block of shock that had hit them and returning to their previous demeanour. "Anyway... will you use it in training this afternoon?" (Name) asked, and Astrid shook her head, crossing her arms.

"No, I just wanted it for my collection."

...

"Donate to the poor please."

❝Oh my gods.❞

"Alright laddies, today's lesson is about teamwork! A wet dragon head can't light its fire. The Hideous Zippleback is extra tricky. One of t'e head breathes gas, while the other lights it. Yer lots job is to know which is which,"

The arena was a familiar place by now. A prison in which they had to practically fight for their lives— learning about the threats of the real world in a contained manner. Gas swirled around, the misty and heavy fog blocking everyone's vision as they all stood as close to their partners as possible.

The stench was horrendous, and noses turned up as the smell of the gas reached them, sneering in disgust at the fog. Snotlout and Tuffnut had been paired with one another, either boys standing side by side and rotating in a synchronised manner as they observed the fog obscuring their vision.

Fishlegs could be heard muttering from somewhere far off— and the small bickering of the girls was audible from nearby, though what the two teens focused on was the chittering coming from the fog, a guttural stutter that sent them constantly looking in different directions, hands gripping tight to the water pales in their hands.

"Where is it?" Snotlout asked the other boy, but neither had an answer, whirling around nervously while the water sloshed at the edges of their buckets, some spilling over the edges.

The fogs illusion made it seem as if there was something at every turn— and there was no true way to tell what was what, a figure that may look like a dragon soon disappearing into winding swirls.

"I don't know—" Tuffnut grumbled, his eyes scanning the fog before landing on a darkened section, his eyes widening at the two horns protruding from the outline. "There!" He yelled, turnings Snotlout's attention to the silhouette, and they both snapped in its direction, throwing their buckets at the same time, dispersing the fog between them and the mystery object.

"Hey—! It's just us you idiots!" Ruffnut yelled, the fog parting to reveal the three girls, now drenched in water that had been sloppily splashed on them, and boy— if looks could kill, Snotlout and Tuffnut would be ashes.

"Are you guys blind?" Astrid snapped at them both, though it seemed the anger radiating from the three did nothing to upset the boys, only pulling a smile onto their faces.

"Your butts are getting bigger! We thought you were a dragon," Tuffnut snickered to himself, and the comment only pulled deeper frowns onto the girls faces. "Not that there's anything wrong with a... dragon-esque figure," Snotlout followed up, but it only served to get him 'snotted' in the face by Astrid, making him drop his bucket and Tuffnut being splattered with water by Ruffnut.

"Ruffnut— don't waste your water on them!" (Name) hissed, and her shushing tone was convenient as the next moment Astrid held her hand up, making the other girls stop in their place. "Wait," Astrid looked back to them, everything stilling as they listened to the surroundings— but nothing was heard, not until they yelled in fear as a tail swept under them, knocking them off of their feet and dousing them in another round of water.

"OH IM HURT! IM AM VERY MUCH HURT!"

"Chances of survival are dwindling into the single digits now..." Fishlegs shoved closer to Hiccup, the two having heard the yells of fear from the other side of the ring— and they could only look around at the shrouding gas, trying to find some kind of breakage in the thick mist.

Out of the mist they scrutinised carefully, a head lurched forward, slithering its way through the air and appearing from seemingly nowhere. It was attached to a long neck, and the green scales of its brown dotted hide glimmered in what light shone down into the arena, the dragon chittering as it looked towards Fishlegs.

Fishlegs let out a small squeak, nearly dropping his bucket— and both him and Hiccup jumped back to put some distance between them and the head, piercing yellows eyes gleaming into them.

In a spur of the moment, Fishlegs threw his bucket forward, flitting water onto the dragon and it flinched, shaking off the droplets before turning its now agitated attention back to the Viking who'd thrown the pales contents.

It snarled, and as its jaw opened green gas sprayed, similar to the one shrouding them but more vibrant in colour— and... much worse in terms of smell. "Oh... wrong head," Fishlegs blinked, and once more a seemingly endless stream of green smoke was sprayed at him, the hiss of gas against fresh air setting goosebumps on the poor boys skin.

"AHHHHHHHH!!" He let out a shrill girlish scream as the second head appeared; holding the empty bucket high above his head and darting away in fear.

"FISHLEGS!" Gobber yelped in concern, small sparks igniting from the seconds toothed maw, and the boy managed to jump away— leaving the two heads attentions to turn to the last contender. Hiccup.

He stood small amongst the heads, and their slit pupils snapped to him, the boy holding his bucket close to himself with uncertainty. "Now Hiccup!" Gobber urged the boy to act, and Hiccup shifted on his feet, not knowing if to move or not, or that's what it seemed.

Finally, he adjusted his hold on the wooden bucket before surging it upwards, attempting to soak the head that let sparks fly from between its teeth— but his throw was pitiful, and it only let the water land down on the floor, with an even more angered dragon before him.

Panic surged through the arena, and Gobber jumped forwards, his eyes wide and filled with fear of the worst as the Zippleback reared up and opened its mouth. "HICCUP!" He cried, warning the boy of the impact to come, but the expected combustion of oranges and black smoke never came.

Instead, the fog was flapped away as the large form of the Zippleback lurched away in fear, Hiccup raising to stand more confident— hide hands beckoning the beast backwards, and it obeyed. It actually obeyed him.

"Back— back, back. That's right. Don't make me tell you again," his words word stern, uncharacteristically so for the runty boy and those around could only watch in an utter stupor, jaws slacks with shock as Hiccup the Useless somehow began to coerce a Zippleback to follow his orders.

Its frills struck out, and it hissed in agitation, but still it kept lurching backwards as Hiccup strode towards it, directing it back into the embedded cell that was carved into the wall, the dragon going as far back as it could— even doing so much as to press itself up against the back wall, its feet slipping against the ground as it constantly tried to escape from Hiccup's presence.

"What is he doing...?" (Name) heard Snotlout murmur next to her, but she herself couldn't even answer as she watched with the others as Hiccup commanded the dragons back into its holding cell, only a flash of yellow catching her attention before he was pulling the larger swinging doors shut, slamming the metal hunks of slab together.

The way he'd commanded the dragons so swiftly left a silence hanging over the arena; and Hiccup turned, his innocent face still tucked in the safety of his red scarf. To look so innocent yet so something that made you look so suspicious should be criminal, and the alarm bells were ringing loudly right now.

That was it. Tomorrow— she was seeing what the hell this was about. She'd ignored it for too long.

"So... are we done here? Because... I've uh— I've gotta... go," Hiccup smiled, having turned back around to the line of stumped people, slowly and awkwardly stepping away.

He'd just ended the training sessions early— again. How did he keep doing this? It was perplexing. Hiccup had slowly begun to gain skills, and it seemed she wasn't the only one who noticed it, but she was the only suspicious one.

Maybes it's because she saw that blackened spot fall from the sky that morning, and she'd saw the supposed crash sight— maybe that's why she found him even more strange than he was before.

The irony was bitter honestly. Hiccup had somehow gotten better at what everyone wanted him to be good at, and even she had someday hoped the boy would come to join the rest of the teens level someday— but the moment he did, she couldn't help the churn of her gut, the twist of her heart that spurred in a strange way.

She'd been so enraptured in her head that she hadn't even noticed just how far she'd walked after training until she came face to face with her huts door, her own self standing on the porch and boring a blank stare into the wooden planks, as if asking them for answers, but she didn't receive an answer.

She'd shook her head, bringing herself back to reality— and stepped inside, the door shutting behind her. The house was cold on the inside, the fire having dimmed out during the day, and she sighed at the chill, hoping to come home to a warmed house.

Yet, since her parents were still gone, she was left to stroll over to the coals, grabbing the poker and using the metal stick to shift the hot rocks, listening as the sizzled when heating back up again.

Orange began to simmer beneath the charred fuel, and she placed the poker back into its holder, this time reaching over for a log of pre-chopped fire wood, throwing it into the growing blaze and watching as the bark slowly was set alight, burning bright as time passed by.

Her form collapsed on the stiff leather of the couch, and she sunk back into the hardened seats, her eyes staring up at the ceiling lit up with orange.

Her thoughts flashed with Hiccup, and a turmoil stirred within her, unresolved and poking at her insides, nagging her until she focused on it again every-time her attention was drawn to something else.

Reaching in to her furred scarf, she pulled out the stone from before, the light weight rock now warm— nicely so as she held it within her hands, glancing down to it and sighing heavily.

"Is he being suspicious or am I just crazy?" Perhaps the latter was true, considering how she'd begun to vent her feelings to the recently bought stone, but she'd heard rumours of Fishlegs having rock pets, so what was so wrong with her having one?

"I mean— he's definitely hiding something. Like, how does he get that good! I know I'm not insane! You don't think I'm insane right?" She threw her other arm in exaggeration; and at her last words she turned her gaze back down to the rock, a silence stilling as an answer was waited for.

...

"Gods... who am I kidding. I'm talking to a rock, maybe I am crazy," she grumbled, running her free hand down her face as to rub away the irritation buzzing under her skin like flies that kept coming back after every swat.

"Maybe I should go talk to Astrid..." she mumbled to herself, eyes drifting away to the blazing hearth, emitting a warmth that mellowed out the nipping insides of her house.

"Yeah— she's always brutally honest," (Name) nodded to herself, rock still in hand as she looked back at the blue stone once again.

CRACK.

What.

[jukkaricity]

DATV Companion Week - Davrin - Day 5

I had this one ready ahead of time, so hopefully I'll manage to catch up on the yesterday's prompt.

About 1.2k words, Bellavrin kinda

Today's prompts for Davrin Appreciation week hosted by @datvcompanionweeks were:

Woodworking/ Bestiary/ Singing

Davrin spun a block of aspen wood in his hand, absent-mindedly looking into the fire pit. He was surrounded by wooden shavings pelting the floor like first snow and at least half a dozen shapes abandoned at various stages of the process. Assan slept curled up close by, his back paw twitching rhythmically. Davrin hoped that whatever the griffon was dreaming of was worth the chase.

Normally carving would ease his mind. A steady, careful task, to keep both his thoughts and hands steady. Sculpting was simple. Or at least it was when he was working for himself. When it came to crafting a gift? For the first time since forever he found himself hesitating. It wasn’t the task itself that was a challenge but deciding what shape to settle down on. 

First he thought of a halla, to match the hairpin she wore most often, but it seemed not personal enough to him. Everyone gifts hallas to elves. He did not want to be everyone. Shortly he considered a griffon, something from him for Bellara to keep close. After all, she's jokingly asked for a spare one before. A figurine could be the second best thing.

He discarded the idea midway however. It was supposed to be about Bellara, not him. 

Three carved nugs later he was ready to abandon the idea altogether.

She did insist she didn’t want any gifts. It was more of a slip that she even mentioned her birthday approaching when they were discussing their respective clan's celebration practices. Hers tended to throw a little party with dancing and singing, his usually landed on a gift crafted by the entire community. He still wore the leather belt his clan had given him — the last gift before he left. A reminder, maybe, of what it all should mean. 

Two more ogre sculptures and he swept off the shavings from his clothes prepared to ask Neve what Bellara might want. Other than another serial, or goat cheese. Either way Neve already called dibs on the former and Harding on the latter. The others had their own gifts ready as well. He scratched his chin, studying the shelf filled to the brim with his older works, as if one of them could come to life and give him a spark of inspiration. He got up to stretch and maybe start up on hacking down another batch of wood—when the doors to his room creaked open and Bellara jogged inside, notebook in hand. He couldn’t help but smile, the journal meant a long conversation in the making.

“Hey! Hi, Davrin.” She fixed her hair even though it was set up perfectly. Then she glanced at her notebook. Twisted it around. Reached for the hairpin again. “I’ve been writing that serial I told you and Neve about before? You know, my own version of it? I thought, maybe, could you help me out? I wanted the hero to fight a Varghest, but I don’t want to just make up things? I mean I do, but not about that. Soo…” she hesitated before actually asking the question, turning the notebook in her hands again. 

“I hope you’ve got the time, Bellara,” he smirked, making space on his desk so she could sit down and make notes comfortably. “Varghests make for a really nasty hunt.” 

***

“And so, we returned with no berries, but with a nug and two dozen eggs. The Keeper was so mad.” Bellara wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. They had been exchanging stories about their childhoods for hours now. How they got here from talking about predatory habits of Varghests was not entirely clear. Not that he particularly cared.

Assan perked up, noticing a break in the story and squawked expectantly. He’s been waiting patiently so far, but it’s been getting past his snack-time, maybe the most holy of griffon traditions. 

Bellara jumped up, her face turning a bright shade of pink. 

“Oh, oh no. I didn’t mean to take up your whole afternoon,” she mumbled. “Thank you for your help. And the stories. And everything. I’ll go now!” she skittered away before Davrin had an opportunity to tell her it was anything but a problem. He watched the doors swing shut and realized that chasing a hummingbird might be a lot more challenging than he anticipated.

He took a deep breath and rubbed his temples. First things first. Assan needed to eat. Then he can go back to worrying about the gift. He glanced at the desk where Bellara’s absence seemed a lot louder than it should and noticed her red-feathered pen still lying on the desk. He’ll have to bring it back to her workshop. She’ll probably tear the place apart looking for it before remembering she might have left it in his room. For a moment he wondered if all birds in Arlathan came in such bold colors.

Assan chomped next to his hand, reminding him about his priorities. Right. Food first, then thinking. As the two made their way towards the kitchen, Davrin was only partially present. Perhaps Bellara just solved his gift-giving problem for him. 

***

“Oh, a hummingbird? It’s amazing, Davrin!” Bellara turned the figurine in her hands giving it a careful look. It was smooth to the touch and shaped perfectly. A tiny water-drop like silhouette and outstretched wings. It must have been the best one he’s ever made and not just because it was for her. 

“You can balance it on your finger,” he said, offering a crooked grin. It took some practice to get it right, a careful combination of weight and shape. But watching her delight made it all feel worth it. Bellara seemed completely enchanted by the toy and she squealed when it did in fact perfectly balance on her finger tip and didn’t topple over when disturbed. 

“Davrin! This is like magic!“ Bellara was already buzzing. She held onto the toy as she threw her arms around Davrin in a tight hug, her face buried into his chest. Her hair smelled like summer berries and pine trees, as it tickled his face. 

“But it’s not magic, is it?” she pulled back and Davrin let her go, his touch lingering just a moment too long. She was always beautiful, but never more than when something new lit up her face.

“Then, how does it work?” Bellara pulled the bird close to her face, studying it carefully as if expecting some hidden charm or some other overly complicated explanation. Davrin opened his mouth but she cut him off. “No! No, no. Don’t tell me. I’ll figure it out.” 

She nearly bounced away, already mumbling theories to herself. 

Assan rubbed his head into his thigh and squawked, a mixture of rising notes.

“Hey, don’t get all smug about this,” he chided, scratching the griffon's head. “It was worth the hassle.”

Somehow, the scent of the forest clung to him for the rest of the day. 

[livesworthlivingau]

Behind the Vale Chapter 13

ISAT & Two Hat spoilers below! CW: Suicidal Ideation, Panic Attack, Mania, Slight body horror stuff?

[You find yourself frozen in place in the next town you both visit… there's a large sign on a store with the words "Body Craft" adorned across it… Your hand slowly raises to your face, pressing against your starry cheek. Your mind races with vision of what you could look like, ways you could be your own person, instead of the lesser version of another… You suddenly jump some as a hand is slapped onto your shoulder.]

"Vale!… You okay, Vay?… You kinda spaced there." [She asked in a worried tone, looking to the sign you were pondering over. She took a second to put it together before smiling.]

"Oh! That's a great idea actually! Might be able to help out with your uhh… starry situation!… Though that stuff usually takes months doesn't it?"

"O-Oh no, just… thinking to myself, why would anyone ever do such a thing? Who would want to change this beautiful face after all~?" [She gives an unimpressed look, clearly not buying it.]

"Riiiiight… Tell you what, once we find Bonnie, we'll settle some place with a body crafter for a while. How's that sound?" [You roll your eyes, trying to seem uninterested.]

"If you insist, I don't know why you're so eager to get changed. All you need is a little make over and you'd be stunning, darling~." [You proclaim with a wink. She laughs heavily at that one, patting you on the back.]

"Hah! Sorry to disappoint but I'm not much of the 'fabulous' type, like you."

"Reaaaally? You do such a good job of hiding it~."

"Don't push your luck now, Stars." [She teased back, a slight seriousness creeping at the back of her statement.]

"Fiiiiiine, fine, I'll drop it~... So any leads yet?"

"Yeah actually, someone said their friend lives a couple villages away and they had the saviors there for a big celebration recently! We'd only be a few days behind if we hustle over there!"

"O-Oh! Th-That's wonderful news~!" [You struggle out behind the best fake smile you can muster… it clearly wasn't very convincing.]

"… Are… Vale please just tell me what happened. Are they the ones you were running from?…" [Her hand slowly raises to reach your shoulder again, but you knock it away before she can get close, taking a step back.]

"I-I… I can't talk about this…" [You shut down, hugging yourself while taking a few steps away.]

"Well we have to talk about it sometime, Vale! We're looking for them after all! What's gonna happen when we finally run into th-"

"I DON'T KNOW! OKAY?! I DON'T KNOW AND I… I… I can't do this…" [You shout at the top of your lungs before falling to a whisper, Nille taking a step back with a slightly frightened look on their face… everyone else nearby just stopping in their tracks and watching you, cautiously… We… We need to leave Vale, get a hold of yourself and go… We knew this was a bad idea… You turn and start to walk away, you hear Nille's voice calling after you, but this only causes you to go into a full blown sprint.]

"VAAAAALE!!!"

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

[After what felt like hours of running, your sprint finally slows to a stumble. You pant frantically and lean against a tree. You glance back to see if you were followed, and spot no signs of Nille. Your tired body slumps over, sitting on the ground before lightly bonking your head to the tree a few times. Stupid, stupid STUPID!... We knew this was a bad idea, we KNEW we were getting too close... So what's the plan now?]

[You sit in silence for a moment... You gaze upon your surroundings and blink, noting it looking oddly familiar... You look up to find the tree you're beside is absolutely massive... You ran directly to a favor tree, without even trying. You start to let out a laugh... and then you laugh harder... and harder. Before long you're cackling maniacally, holding your head in your hands, tears flowing from your eyes. We're shaking... we're too loud, we're losing it, CALM DOWN VALE!! You place a hand to your chest, taking several deep, looooong breaths. It takes a full dozen to even start calming down, but you finally catch your breath, wiping your tears once more.]

"Well... We're here all over again... not an ounce of hope left in us, ready to give it all up once more... maybe third time's the charm~." [You let out a defeated chuckle and start to look around for your favorite leaf. After you scour through the various fallen leaves for a surprising amount of time, as none were catching your eye, you finally spot one. It's crumpled up and shriveled, looking like it's been trampled on several times. This leaf has been through a lot and it's still holding on. This leaf is the one you will use.]

"Well... Here goes nothing... and if this backfires again, maybe I'll just wish for it all to end~! Try messing that one up, universe~!" [You giggle to yourself, though you know that's far less of a joke than you make it out to be. You take another deep breath and sigh it out, whispering into the leaf 3 times.]

"I wish... for a life of my own."

[The leaf is then delicately folded by your hands, and dropped at the foot of the tree... Now you simply wait. The sun was high above and beating down rather mercilessly, which didn't often bother you... but you did start to feel a bit toastier than usual...]

"Huh... is... is it working?..." [The question hangs in the air as you look around, then down at yourself, not noticing anything yet... but you do begin to sweat more, the heat growing to very uncomfortable levels... Wasn't it cold when you got here?...]

"HRRK!" [An intense fire builds in your chest, feeling like a hot coal stuffed beside your heart... You've felt this before, swallowing that star, burning your insides, you're feeling it all again!]

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!" [Your voice shrieks out, your hands frantically gripping and digging at your chest, it has to come out, you have to get rid of it!! YOU HAVE TO GET IT OUT!! Your hand digs into the star plastered across your chest, going inside of your body and searing as it finds the fiery star inside.]

[You cry out through the immense pain, clutching the star with all the strength you can muster! You yank violently as your hand slips back out of your chest, the bright, burning, super nova of a little star burning into your palm before you drop it in front of you.]

[Your whole body is shaking violently, you're panting, your vision is going blurry... your head smacks into the ground as your body can't remain upright... the darkness takes hold of your vision as you pass out.]

[13as07]

Little Mouse #2

(Orochimaru)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to Millbyo]

Requested by: Not Your Dad, Probably

Word Count: 3,249

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Name Calling: Pet, Mouse, Good Girl, Brats

Nudity

Sexual Tension

Exhibitionism

Threats of Violence

Discussion of Non-con Somnophilia/Rape

Manipulation/Victim Blaming

Titty Play

Spanking

Biting/Blood

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     The feeling of chilled designs being painted across my lower abdomen is the first thing to greet my awakening. " - sat the hideous beast whose craft had seduced me into murder, and whose informing voice had consigned me to the hangman," my Lord's voice purrs softly, retelling my favorite of stories.

     Carefully, I let my eyes roll open, my body slowly waking up alongside my mind. "I had walled the monster up within the tomb," he finishes, his fingertips freezing against me as I move in his lap.

     I pick my head off of his shoulder, shifting my limbs to shake off the weight I feel on them. My eyes dance around the scenery in front of me, slowly piecing together what's going on. Darkness hangs around us, encouraged by the trees' canopies, the bushy greenery, and the rows upon rows of different plants my Lord has growing for my enjoyment as much as their uses to him.

     Snips of the evening are scattered around my mind. My Lord's excitement and wish for celebration. Me asking to go outside and see the stars. The accidental cursing that left me in pain a while ago and currently leaves me aching.

     Forcing myself to sit upright sends the blanket wrapped around me tumbling to my lap. Orochimaru's freezing touch and the soft chilled air rolling across my skin tip me off to my nudity before my eyes do. Embarrassment stirs in my stomach, my eyes continuing to scan the scenery to try and wash it away.

     Were settled into the gazebo hidden deep within the garden sealed and cared for within the manor's gates. The stars twinkle above the glass ceiling of the small building, shining bright because of the low light given off by the candles and lanterns littered around us.

     Trays of sesame cookies, various flavored Swiss rolls, and a selection of dango treats are settled on the table a few steps away, framed by a wide selection of other foods. The scent of chicken is light in the air; four or five different variations of poultry are offered alongside cooked veggies, steaming rice, and fresh fruits.

     My Lord and I are sat on the wooden floor, our position feathered more comfortably than raw wood. Blankets and pillows drown us, cushioning us as much as they try to block out the chill of the spring night. I'm bare in his lap, nothing but a blanket hiding my lower body from the world. The feeling of his chilled skin pressed against me is only cut off in a small section, a pair of sleeping shorts being the only thing he's wearing.

     Orochimaru's hand wanders down, drawing circles against the skin of my inner thigh. The touch is small but lights me like a forest fire. It also lights the awareness of others around us. Kabuto is settled off to the side, busy looking over one scroll or another but still ready to jump to our Lord's beck and call when needed. Two guards are settled outside of the gazebo, perched right off the six short steps it takes to enter our space. I'm sure others are littered around the garden as well, guarding, searching, and watching.

     My hands ball up the blanket, set to pull it back over myself. "Don't do that, my Pet," Orochimaru whispers in my ear, the weight of the storybook being placed in my lap leading to the feeling of his hand wrapping around my wrist. "You're going to ruin my celebration."

     "My Lor - "

     "Your Orochi," he cuts me off, his head falling so his lips can brush against my shoulder. "I'm your Orochi. I've been more than patient with you, little Mouse, but I'm starting to believe I'll have to carve my name into you. Is that what you need, Mouse? To be held down as I carefully mark you with my name? Do I need to make you bleed to force my name off your lips?" His kisses stay light as he threatens me, dragging their way across my shoulder. His fingertips stay active too, his claws gently scratching against my skin as they inch a slow winding path across my leg.

     "No," I whisper, trying my best not to squirm away from his attention. "I'm sorry, Orochi."

     "I know," he whispers, his teeth tugging on my earlobe before his lips are back in control, slowly crawling from behind my ear, down my neck. "How do you feel, my pretty Pet?"

     I stay silent for a moment, taking the time to evaluate how I feel. "My wrist is a bit sore," I mutter, moving it back and forth to feel how painful it truly is. "My hips ache. Most of my body aches but my..." The words fall silent on my tongue, my mind at war with what to say. I know something happened while I was unconscious. I can feel it, but I'm not sure I want to listen to my Lord reminisce on it.

     Orochimaru chuckles, his fangs brushing against my jugular. "I got excited, Mouse," he whispers against my throat, his fingertips brushing up my hip to settle on a lower section of my torso. "I couldn't help myself. You looked so beautiful in your pretty robe, sprawled out on my table. I thought just a taste," his words fall short so his tongue can slide out, tracing the vein that's holding his attention.

"Would be sustainable but I should know by now it never is. I couldn't help but enjoy you while you looked so wounded. After all, if you hadn't let me curse you, you wouldn't have been unconscious. If you hadn't tried so hard to look pretty for me, I wouldn't have had the urge to rape you."

     "Oh," I whisper, staring up at the stars twinkling through the glass above us.

     Orochimaru's nose slides against his favorite spot on my neck at the same time his fingertips slide around my wrist, pushing into my wrist so he can test my pulse. "Say it's your fault, little Mouse."

     "It's my fault."

     "What's your fault?" His tone is cold but humorous, his joy from belittling me never tempted to be hidden.

     "What you did."

     "What did I do?"

My eyes sting as I blink, trying to smooth the pain over without crying. "Rape me," I whisper, instantly starting to count the stars once the words are out.

He hums, lips brushing against my neck before his fangs tease my jugular. "Say it again, little Mouse."

"It's my fault I was raped," I comply, fire burning over my skin, and not in a good way this time.

"Aww, my poor Pet," Orochi coos, fingertips sliding up my arm and trailing over my shoulder before settling around my jaw. His grip hardens before tipping my head backward, forcing eye contact. "Look at those pretty eyes, all welled up with tears. You're the most beautiful while you're in pain, Mouse. Physical or mental."

     "Thank you."

     Orochimaru hums again, tipping his down to brush his lips against mine. "You're fine, my pretty Pet. Don't ruin my celebration by crying. Am I understood?"

     "Yes, Orochi."

     "There's a good girl," he finally praises, the four little words wiping away the weight of betrayal that has been stirring in my stomach. "Don't wear things so tempting and you won't get raped, will you? No, you won't." Orochimaru releases my jaw, his focus shifting off of me and effectively ending the conversation. His order makes sense, but there's still a whisper in the back of my mind, telling me no matter what I was wearing, the outcome would have been the same.

     "Dry those tears," his next order comes, his slim fingers picking the book off of my lap before cracking it open and flipping through the pages. "I'll make it up to you in a while."

     "Oh."

     "Oh?" He echoes, his head lowering to run his nose over his favorite spot for the millionth time. "Aren't you curious what I plan to do to you?"

     "Yes, Orochi."

     "When I'm all done here, I'm going to carry my pretty pet back into the manor, lay her out on my bed, feel her dripping cunt squeeze my fingers, and slide my tongue through her until there's not a single inch of the manor that hasn't heard her scream my name." The softly spoken words and the feeling of Orochimaru's tongue tracing the veins of my throat make my thighs squeeze together, trying to tarnish the heat making my mind fuzzy. "Isn't that worth a bit of defiling, Little Mouse?"

"Yes, Orochi," I breathe out, his name shaky despite my attempt to keep my voice even.

"Look at you," he mocks, his teeth brushing against my neck, quickly giving my skin a small nip after. "I've barely touched you and you're already quivering. You need to calm yourself, Mouse. You wouldn't want to ruin our celebration, would you?"

"No, Orochi."

"I didn't think so." His attention falls off of me again, back to the thick book filled full of stories from before our time, from before the world we live in. The book is snapped open, settled in the middle of my lap as Orochimaru leans over me. My eyes trail over his fingers, admiring their slimness, the paleness of them, and trying not to think about what they'll be doing to me later.

He settles on the first page of my favorite story, The Black Cat, by someone named Edgar. It's a weird name, one that Orochimaru tells me is oriented from some old city called England. A city that stood before the Gods rained down on our world and gifted us the way of life we have now.

     "For the most wild, yet most homely narrative which I am about to pen, I neither expect nor solicit belief. Mad indeed would I be to expect it, in a case where my very senses reject their own evidence," he starts reading, his hands quickly finding a way to stay busy as his eyes crawl across the pages. One hand waves at Kabuto while the other crawls up my body, fingertips sliding across my belly in soothing circles.

     "Yet, mad am I not, and very surely do I not dream. But tomorrow I die, and today I would unburden my soul. My immediate purpose is to place before the world, plainly, succinctly, and without comment, a series of mere household events," he continues reading, head bowing to brush kisses against my shoulder between each of his words.

Kabuto settles next to us, head bowed so our Lord can whisper in his ear. My story is put on pause for orders to be given. As soon as the boy steps away, I'm the center of Orochimaru's attention again. His arm wraps around my waist, turning me in his lap before flipping us over.

My back settles against the mountain of pillows as my Lord picks up the fallen book, settling it safely next to us. His attention falls to the blanket tied around my legs, carefully pulling it away from me. The cold spring air breezes over my newly exposed skin, the chill making my nipples pebble, something that doesn't go unnoticed.

"My poor pet," Orochimaru coos, lying himself on top of me. His hands cup my hips, his mouth teasingly low as he brushes kisses against my bare skin. "Are you cold?"

     "I'm fine, Orochi," I mutter, my fingers finding work in balling up the bedding rested under me.

     His tongue slides out after every kiss, kitty-licking my skin as he inches his way up my body. "A good master would warm you up. Wrap you in clothing or blankets. I'm not a good master," he whispers against my stomach. Orochimaru unfolds on top of me, more of his weight pressing into me the higher up he climbs. "I'm a selfish master, one that'll gladly let you freeze if it means I get to enjoy every inch of your unburdened skin."

     "I know, Orochi."

     His tongue pokes out again, slithering against my breast as his hands slide up my sides to rest against my rib cage. It doesn't take long until his muscle finds my hardened nipple, lapping at the pebble before wrapping around it. Luckily, Orochimaru's mouth is warmer than his skin. My body happily excepting the warmth offered when he sucks my tit into his mouth.

The warmth doesn't stay for long, quickly taken away with a pop of Orochi's mouth. "Delicious," he marvels, laying one last long lick across my breast before pulling away from me. My Lord moves around, situating himself to face away from me as he lays between my legs, my knees hooked over his shoulders. "Now, where were we?" He mutters, cozying into his new spot as he flicks through the storybook again.

"Ah, yes," he mumbles, settling back into the pages of the old tale. "In their consequences, these events have terrified, have tortured, have destroyed me. Yet I will not attempt to expound them. To me, they have presented little but horror, to many they will seem less terrible than baroque."

     I tap my thighs against his cheeks, making his words come out a little jumbled. Orochimaru paws at my thigh, gently slapping it so I'll release my grip. "Hereafter, perhaps, some intellect may be found which will reduce - Mouse," he rumbles, spanking my leg when I squeeze his face again. "I cannot read to you if you keep interfering with my speech."

"I'm sorry, Orochi."

"Lair," he grumbles, spanking my thigh once again. My flesh stings where his hand made contact, this punishment given to me harder to nip at any further attempts of distraction. "Behave," I'm ordered as he turns his focus back to the book. He's silent for a moment, trying to find his spot again. "Hereafter, perhaps, some intellect may be found which will reduce my phantasm to the common-place, some intellect more calm, more logical, and far less excitable than my own, which will perceive, in the circumstances I detail with awe, nothing more than an ordinary succession of very natural causes and effects."

Kabuto settles next to us, standing woodenly straight as he looks down at our Lord. Two plates are settled in his hands, one packed with sweets and fruit while the other sports the various chicken and other non-sugary foods. "My Lord," he carefully calls, lips pierced with the knowledge he's going to be yelled at.

"Dear Gods above, let me read," Orochi snaps, his anger spearing into his civil servant. "I can barely handle you two, who knows how I'll balance Sasuke on top of you brats."

     My eyes flicker up, glancing at Kabuto. 'Tell you later' is mouthed down to me before his focus switches back to Orochimaru. "Apologies, My Lord," he mutters, tilting his head down in a sloppy bow. "I figured you'd want your Mouse to eat while her food was still hot. After all, it should help warm her up without taking away your joys of skin-on-skin contact."

     Orochi tenses against me, his anger seething in his expression. "Smart ass," he hisses, jerking his gaze away from the boy. "I do it because I enjoy degrading my little Mouse, not because I enjoy skin-on-skin contact."

Kabuto hums, cocking an eyebrow before lowering the plates toward our Lord. Orochimaru snatches the dishes, settling them on the floor as he grumbles to himself. "That is all, be gone," he snaps, waving his second hand away.

"Lord, Lady," Kabuto mutters, bowing before walking away from us like he always does. I wonder who this Sasuke guy is and if he'll be as interesting and entertaining as the servant Orochi has now.

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Annoyance weighs in my chest like an animal locked in a cage, gnawing at my ribs. My Mouse is lying bare because it's degrading. Being denied the basic right to clothing, and forced to lay outside on a chilled spring night, painfully aware of everyone's eyes on her. That is why she's nude. That is why she's wrapped around my head like a Cobra. Not because I care about skin-on-skin contact.

     My teeth snap at her thigh, sinking into the plush flesh waiting for me. A small whimper parts from her, sounding like bells in my ears. My little Mouse tightens her legs around my head, encouraging me to sink my teeth deeper. It doesn't take long for her skin to give in, the sweet nectar of her blood coating my tongue in response. Whimpers waterfall quicker the harder I shove my teeth down, making my groan ache.

     "Orochi," my Pet squeaks, her fingers shaking as they wrap around my hair.

     My jaw relaxes, paired with a sigh pushed out of my nose. Why must I have such a fragile Mouse? My tongue laps at the bite mark I left behind, each of my teeth perfectly outlined in her flesh. The mark is already starting to bruise, the darkening skin mixing with the vibrant red of her blood. I happily lick the liquid up, the taste being my favorite treat. One that I'd happily suck down as much as my Pet sucks down those dango treats I have made for her.

     "Are you hungry?" I mutter, nipping at the perfectly maintained skin around the beautiful proof of me on her leg.

     I'm a lot of things, a lair not being one of them. I don't plan on playing with my Pet until I think she's had her fill outside. But, when I do cash in on my promise, I'll follow it to the last letter. My little Mouse is going to be left broken in my bed. Shaking. Crying. Littered in even more of me. Begging me to fuck her again and then wailing for me to stop because she can't handle it anymore. Left a mental reck as I mock her for her desperation, for so willingly lying herself out for a man that openly admitted to raping her.

     It's my favorite game, fucking my Mouse while she's unconscious. Watching the betrayal and disgust with herself settle into her expression afterward. Forcing her to admit that my "lack of control" was her fault. Seeing her lust and craving for me break her to pieces. Getting to taste the tears rolling down her face as she cries because of her self-betrayal.

     But, I can't focus on that right now. My precious Pet needs nutrition to help recover from the curse that riddled her body. Nutrition so I can enjoy my wanted way of celebrating. After all, there's nothing more beautiful than my broken Mouse in shambles, clinging to me like I'll save her even though she knows I'm the one that snapped her in two.

     "Yes, Orochi."

     My eyes flutter at my name on her lips, my breath hiccuping for a second before I get it back under control. I swear, before Hiruzen's body cools, I'll have my Pet propped on his desk, devouring her like the Lady of the village she is. Soon enough, she'll be a lady of two villages, then the world, like she deserves. Maybe I'll snatch my Sensei's glass globe too. Smash it to pieces and use the shards to make my little Mouse the crown she deserves.

     "Let me feed you then," I murmur, wrapping my fingers around her thigh to tug her into my lap. "As you eat, I'll continue reading to you, Mouse, alright?"

     "Alright, Orochi."

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[fluttershybaby1]

Percy Jackson x Y/N meeting💖

non Binary friendly/ you're new to Camp Half Blood, Percy too

After a long day at Camp Half Blood you decided fuck this and set off walking. What the fuck do they think they mean 'gods with prophecys and hey be a child solider' absolutely not. You weren't a fan of walking, but you liked outside and being away from people. Wondering through the woods you lost track of where you were stepping and BAM!, in a second you were underwater. You had slipped on mud and were being dragged down and throw the water and rocks. Panicking you didn't know what to do and freaked out when something grabbed onto you and yanked you out of the water.

"Hey!!! Hey it's okay," he says while you start coughing "Are you okay?"

You look up to see a pretty tan guy. He had curly waves as dark as midnight for hair and gorgeous sea glass eyes, his nose was a little crooked too. He looked at you with big confused eye "Σκατά, you hit your head didn't you?" His voice is kinda like squeaky honey that had been churned in New York City

"Um, yeah, no I'm okay," you move your soaked hair away from your face, come to notice it your whole body was soaked "Ugh! Great, these are my favorite shoes!" You look at him "Thanks- um?"

He smiles, he teeth a little crooked too, in a cute way, he even had a little chip in his teeth "I'm Percy, from the Hermes cabin"

"Oh, thanks for not letting me drown" you say, still slightly shaking

"Don't worry about it. I almost die half the time in the place too" the both of you laugh at that before Percy continues talking "Damn, I've got strawberry picking duity"

"Really? Me too, would you mind showing me how to get there"

"Hu?" He looks back at you confused for a second, like he forgot what you were saying but then nods "oh yeah, just don't fall again clumsy"

You take his hand as he helps you stand up when you say "That.. is not going to be my nickname"

"What? That's fitting" Percy argues

"No"

"Alright Alright I'll think of something" he sighs as the two of you walk off. You talk and make jokes at each other's expense. You hardly notice when the dinner horn sounds. You've spent the past three hours picking strawberries (aka gossiping and laughing at random things while you ate the strawberries) the sun was setting and you look at Percy. He was beautiful. Aphrodite must have taken so much time crafting him. He looked utterly stargazing in the sun set. The orange and pink cascading over his skin and making his eyes and tan shine. He was staring at nothing for a bit and then he looked at you "What?"

"hm? Oh nothing. I like your eyes" you say before you full understand what you said

Percy blushes a bit, or maybe it's the sunset before he says "I like your hair," he says shyly

"My hair?"

He nods and rubs the back of his neck "It looks nice, well kept ya know. All soft and shiny or whatever"

You smile and here the second dinner horn sound. The two of you get up and race down to the dining pavilion. Taking your respective seats and eating dinner, then sitting by each other during the bon fire, he even walked you back to your cabin.

"Night Sea Flower" He said, walking away

"Sea Flower?" You repeated

"Yeah, you gotta have a name don't you, why not Sea Flower," he shruged walking backwards "Night!" He said one last time before jogging over to his cabin.

"Night," you said practically to yourself as you walked into your cabin, you tried to settle down but for some reason that pretty New York boy kept on wondering his way back into your head, and finally wishing you good night one last time as you drifted off to sleep for the night.

Hi, thanks for reading, on the four I'm posting a fic about how you and Percy started dating and yes it is fourth of July themed

[bondingearring]

can we get a plush odile?

on it buoss o7. sidenote idk if odile would actually take notes in her book like this but. my touys this is how i imagined it in my mind.

writing below the cut!!!

Sadness attacked camp earlier today (a type that none of us had seen before?). No one was injured (didn't appear to possess any attacking moves). However I was hit with a status effect and fell unconscious for a short period.

Haven't felt any other possible side effects? We all just decided to leave the area. I believe I'll be fine but Mirabelle and I have decided to monitor me for the next few days just in case.

------

Morning after. Indeed I have started to notice what appear to be side effects of that sadness's attack?

-Lightheadedness

-Stiffness in limbs

-Uncomfortable feeling inside of my body, unsure how to describe.

We decided to settle in a inn for the time being till this passes. Very grateful Mirabelle allowed the innkeeper to have our stay be free thanks to our savior status.

------

Symptoms of the previous day have worsened slightly

Whole body itches faintly

------

Patch of skin I was scratching at yesterday has become fuzzy.

Previous symptoms persist.

------

More skin covered in fuzzy material, Isabeau compared it to a fabric.

Previous symptoms persist.

------

Stitching has begun to appear on arm.

Noticeably have become shorter (Boniface pointed this out.)

Previous symptoms persist, uncomfortable feeling in body has settled down

------

Previous symptoms still continue to grow.

------

Previous symptoms still continue to grow.

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Previous symptoms still continue to grow.

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Previous symptoms still grow

------

You huff as you drag your book to the bed. Gems, it had gotten so heavy for you. That wasn't... particularly surprising you suppose. You were probably about the same size as it now. Still, it was frustrating.

....Why had you even bothered to grab it in the first place. You flex your hands, now more resembling paws than they did human hands. You had been struggling more to write your notes down recently, and you were pretty sure now it wouldn't be worth it to even bother attempting.

What would you even write down today anyways? The same? That things have continued to progress further and further? Leaving you as some.. strange parody? Urgh.

Sighing, you drop the book and press your hands to your face, ignoring the texture that confirms the embroidery that had replaced your eyes (Perhaps, if you weren't so frustrated, you'd find it fascinating how you can still see like this, but you don't care to think on it right now.) and you lay down, staring at the ceiling.

Gems, what are you going to do, Odile. While this isn't the first time you've witnessed craft you've had no prior knowledge of, no one appears to have had the same luck with finding books explaining this curse like what happened with Siffrin and wishcraft. And with your... forced change being almost complete soon.. you...

...

You know better, but you decide not to ponder it anyways. Not for right now at least, you're exhausted enough as is.

Thankfully, a distraction has entered. Isabeau. As careful as he is, his footsteps are still loud and obvious. You push yourself up to face him and he puts on a smile, "Madame Odile! You're awake, ah.. how are you uh.. feeling today?"

You stare at him, "About the same as yesterday, Isabeau." Terrible. He winces, but carefully moves to sit next to you anyway.

"That's.. about what I expected, hah..." he glances away from you for a brief moment before looking back at you, "I was wondering if I could check up on you today? Just to uh.. make sure all your stitching is secured," he smiles down at you.

You raise an eyebrow.. hm. You suppose that would be good to check, you're pretty sure all your.. stitching.. is in place but you cant exactly see all of it. You give a silent nod for him to go ahead.

Isabeau blinks a few times at you before nodding himself, "Alright! Alright, just let me.. uh.. crab.." he squints at you, moving his hands a few times hesitantly before scooping you up with a few apologies thrown your way.

(Thankfully, he ignores the very embarrassing noise that left your mouth at the contact.)

You shudder a little... you would've liked a bit more of a warning but.. maybe you should've expected that a bit more. You're still not a fan of being handled like this though.

Isabeau's hands are very careful as he checks you over, delicately moving the fuzzy fabric that covered you as he checked over each little stitch that held your new body together. You shudder again with a soft sigh as he did so.

...?

Aah..? That was a.. new feeling. Warmth spread in your body with contact, and you couldn't help but sink into the hand that was holding you. Why... did this feel nice??? That wasn't what you were expecting at all.

You blink a few times as Isabeau says something to you, however you fail to make out a single word of it. You open your mouth to ask him to repeat but you only manage a hardly comprehensible mumble.

Gems alive, Odile.

What has gotten into you?? You don't remember caring for touch this much before- Ah!! You practically melt into his hand as he moves you again. His words fall over you but fail to reach your ears, your head felt like it was full of cotton in the most pleasant way possible.

This just... felt nice. Being touched and held so gently, getting to feel so warm. Perhaps you can... allow yourself to indulge a tiny bit. (You are a plush after all, this is what you're created for, your brain reminds you.)

You'll.. listen to Isabeau later.. probably, you think as you nuzzle into his warm hand.

[tomorrowsgardennc]

chicken update // february 18th

well i was gonna wait until i got these projects done to post an update... but between being sick and another winter storm coming in, it's gonna be a couple weeks before i can get back in to it. so here... we... CLUCK!@&&!

first off: the chicken schedule was released by the local hardware store!

it's been out for a month, and it's less than a month before they arrive. therefore, i believe possibly maybe i have narrowed down the breeds i will be getting. i expected them to get copper marans but *blue* ones?! mando. ideal 236 is actually the only breed they're offering with white eggs, interestingly enough. which is fine - stereotypical chicken is still stereotypically cute. now... the olive eggers. i KNOW i want olive eggers... i have wanted those since i started researching chicken breeds years ago. but the hardware store threw in a curveball and added ONYX olive eggers?!?! excuuuuuse me?! goth chickens yes please!! but they will not arrive at the hardware store until april 25th, an entire month after i get the other 2 breeds. plus, i am legit worried about our hot summers just getting hotter. there's a reason i'm only gothic during the cold months (joke). normie olive eggers are available the same day i'll be getting the other 2 breeds. what do you guys think??

the chicken nursery aka brooder (married millennial with no kids means the name changes to nursery instead of brooder i don't make the rules) is 99% done!! couple weeks ago i built the litter box drawer that goes under the nursery from spare wood we had. it was partically molded from being outside, so i did the same bleach clean sand kilz paint job like i did for the main structure. we keep scrap wood for a reason so buying wood would just make the avrap wood pile useless. the wood for the drawer is much thicker than it has any need to be, but free is free.

the bedding is and will be shredded paper and cardboard. since we can't go shopping at atores like normies, we get a lot of boxes from deliveries so i am not worried about running out of chicken bedding.

i was nervous about a heating lamp in my craft room with the door closed most of the time, so hubs and i settled on getting a heating plate. this hesting plate has been turned on high for the past 2 weeks and no issues or fires so far. i added the bedding today and turned down the heat on the plate for another test. on high, without bedding, the area under the heating plate read at 109°F. the handkerchief is to help hold that heat in one place, and has been there since the beginning of the test. will wait and see if needed when the chickens are here.

if we had a garage then i would use a heat lamp - between a typical fire break between garage and house, then i wouldn't care. but the craft room has majority of my business stuff, and is right next to the master bedroom 😬 just not worth the fire risk imo.

my craft room is either too cold in winter or too hot in summer due to just where it is and what isn't around it compared to the rest of the house. but will keep a super close eye on them with The Chicken Nursery WebcamTM. yup, i found a very old logitech webcam we bought in the pre-2010s and are going to have it in the nursery and stream the chickens. why? see: married, childless millennials.

the only 2 things left to do on the chicken nursery brooder structure thing is to drill a hole for those two wires to exit out of instead of coming out of the top so that i can install "locks" so the top cannot be opened by the cats. the craft room door will be open when i am in the room so the cats can come and go, but will be closed when i am not in the room. even though 4 out of 5 cats are indoor only, i still want them to get used to chickens being "normal" and not "dinner."

speaking of, here is my cat tax. when i was filling the bedding in the drawer, parsley was such a big help playing with the shreds that fell on the floor.

the prep work for the outdoor coop and run has begun, but only just. we did as much as we could during the false spring weather we got about 2 weeks ago. once this winter storm goes away for good, it looks like the weather will be nice again to go back to work on it. hopefully, this flu of ours will be gone by then 🫠

[nkn0va]

THE LAST MINUTE RUSHED AS HELL CHRISTMAS EVENT

I'm writing this shit on Christmas Eve night, speedrun mode activate

Thanks to everyone who submitted and supported this rushed thing here. Hopefully next year if we last that long I'll be able to give you all something better. And hopefully none of this comes off as too half-baked.

Fun fact: Blazblue was not a two way, not a three way, but a FOUR WAY TIE, EVERYONE WANTED A DIFFERENT CHARCTER

To settle this dispute, I did it in the only appropriate way I knew how:

We will be revealing the winners for each fandom as voted for by the submissions and the prompts that have been chosen as we go along here.

Without further ado, enjoy the first ever seasonal event on the NKN0va blog. Hope you all have a jolly Christmas day.

(Spoilers mentioned for Persona 5 Tactica in that section, proceed with caution)

Helltaker: Judgment's S/O getting her to ice skate with them on Christmas

-You bring this idea up to Judgment on Christmas Day after breakfast, much to the fallen angel's confusion.

-She has heard of skating before, and knew that there was a kind of skating specifically for doing it on ice, but that sounded extremely dumb and quite dangerous, especially to regular ol' fragile mortals like yourself.

-It takes a while, but she eventually gives in, she doesn't have the heart to shut you down entirely. Of course it's under the guise of protecting you and making sure you don't get hurt.

-It's best that you don't go to a public skating rink with her lest you get unwelcome stares from everyone and scare the children, so you manage to find a frozen lake somewhere with ice thick enough. Despite being alone, Judgment is still very much tense.

-Judgment for her part when she does get on the ice falls over a few times. Balance isn't her thing, but she does get it eventually, watching anxiously as she keeps an eye on you as you start getting on the ice.

-If you cannot skate she'll have a few words for you, but since you're already here you might as well do it together. She'll put your arm around her shoulders as she tries to keep you both upright until she is certain you can go on your own. Depending on your own balance this will have varying results.

-Consider her pleasantly surprised if you know how to skate without falling over, she thought you'd be struggling a lot more. Expect her to make some kind of competition out of the ordeal and taking it way too seriously. By the end you're aching all over and she has to carry you home. 10/10 would do again.

~~~

Under Night In Birth: Surprising Wagner with a Christmas Gift

(Thank you Vivian for breaking the tie this was way easier than if I got the alternative on a coin flip and had to do the other option instead)

-Wagner is no stranger to gifts. Especially super extravagant ones around the holidays thanks to her family background. This put you in quite the conundrum.

-As long as you've known the Crimson Knight, she's always been very hard to please. That fact that you're a normal person with a normal income also does not help matters. Trying to go extravagant enough to impress her would only break your bank in the process so you had to had to get more creative.

-You'd have to appeal more to her sentiment, and eventually an idea came. The only thing you knew of that appealed to her sentimentally enough was, well, you.

-Your gift searching soon turned into a craft session, taking photos from your phone of you two, printing them out, and putting them in a memories book of sorts and decorating it to what you felt was her liking.

-When the big moment came and it was finally in Wagner's hands, she sits there holding it like she doesn't know what the hell it is. It's only when it's opened that it clicks.

-She'll smirk and call it quaint in a half condescending, half endearing way. Some people might be offended by it, but you know better. This is her way of hiding her true emotions. Deep down this will be treasured for the rest of her life, anyone that dares touch it other than you will be turned to roast beef.

~~~

Persona 5: Erina ending up under the mistletoe with her S/O

(AU where Erina doesn't disappear after the events of the story)

-It had been quite a while since any holiday was able to be celebrated, thanks to Marie. There was a special feeling about Christmas this year around, being able to finally celebrate it peacefully.

-Erina for one seemed to be the most excited. Due to her...origins she'd never celebrated it properly before, and was learning the ins and outs of the festivities and traditions for the first time, her eyes lighting up at every new thing she saw.

-The two of you were walking around the town plaza taking in all the sights, watching as the citizens put up decorations. Out of nowhere, right in front of a bakery in the plaza, she stopped you and pointed up towards a strange looking plant hung on up one of the support pillars.

-While you were already dating Erina, it hasn't been all that long into the relationship, thus you were still taking to intimacy. With a slight bit of nervousness, you filled her in on what this mistletoe thing was.

-Erina takes in what you say with a thoughtful look. Then, as straightforward as ever, pulls you by your collar and gives you a longer than normal peck on the lips, pulling away with a slight redness on her face but a satisfied smile. She mentions how this might end up becoming a favorite holiday tradition of hers before dragging you through the city once more as if nothing happened.

-In all fairness, you probably should've seen that one coming.

~~~

AND TO BREAK THE STAGGERING (but probably not unexpected in retrospect) FOUR WAY TIE, THE WHEEL HAS DECIDED ON...

I see the audience has a particular type...

Blazblue: Nine's Christmas Day Celebration with S/O (post Dark War)

-While Nine is typically a very busy woman, she is extremely family oriented above all else. She will take holiday time off, regardless of what anyone says. Not like they can stop her anyway.

-Definitely the type to go all out to spoil the people important to her. Over the top decorations, forcing the weather control system to make a light but not overbearing snowfall, and as many presents as she can humanly think of.

-This is probably the happiest you've ever seen her. With all the tragedy in her and everyone else's lives over the past decade there's so rarely been a time to truly let her guard down and celebrate a holiday like a normal, happy, healthy person.

-She wants to do every traditional (and perhaps cliche) tradition she can think of. Between having largely no parents growing up and spending most of her life during war time she's never had the chance to do any of it. Decorating a tree, giving out deliberately wrapped presents to you and everyone else important to her, going out to see the magical and technological lights hung up around Ishana, having a fireplace lit up and watching old movies.

-This is her way of healing from the long lasting trauma inflicted on her by circumstances outside her control. If the holiday season is about the people important to you, then she wants to take that time to cherish those people while she still has the chance, even if she can have a hard time expressing that.

-Also you're probably gonna have to stop her from bullying Terumi even now. If left to her own devices she is dressing him up in the most stupid holiday themed shit imaginable for her own amusement. I'm talking reindeer antler headbands and a Rudolph nose.

[muiitoloko]

Between Takes and Waistlines

Summary: Alan, a mature and charming actor, is enchanted by the talented costume designer.

Pairing: Alan Rickman × Fem!Reader

Warning: none.

Alan rolls his eyes in amusement at costume designer, you, while you gasps in disbelief, taking his measurements.

"Good grief, Alan! Have you been sneaking off to the buffet table between takes?" You exclaims, measuring his waist.

Alan chuckles, "Oh, you caught me. Couldn't resist the allure of those craft service pastries. A man's gotta eat, you know."

You shakes your head, still incredulous. "Well, you'll have to lay off the pastries if you want to fit into your costumes properly. We can't have Lionel Shabandar looking like he's been indulging in too much fine dining."

Alan nods, feigning seriousness. "Yes, yes, I suppose you're right. I'll just have to stick to sipping water and nibbling on celery sticks from now on. The sacrifices we make for art."

You laughs, rolling your eyes. "Oh, stop it, Alan. You know you love your snacks too much to give them up completely."

Alan shrugs, a playful glint in his eyes. "Guilty as charged, my dear. But hey, at least I'll be a well-fed actor, right?"

You chuckles, shaking your head. "You're incorrigible, Alan. But I wouldn't have it any other way."

As you continues to take his measurements, Alan can't help but steal glances at your, admiring her beauty and grace. He knows he's too old for you, but that doesn't stop him from fantasizing about you every night. He sighs inwardly, pushing aside his desires as he focuses on the task at hand. After all, he wouldn't want to make things awkward between them on set.

As you finish with Alan's measurements, you take the pen out of your blouse and retrieve your small notebook from the pocket of your jeans. With a focused expression, you begin making new notes of Alan's measurements, ensuring everything is accurately recorded. Once satisfied, you glance up at him, a warm smile on your lips.

"Alright, handsome, we’re done here,” you inform, your voice full of enthusiasm for the work ahead. "These costumes will fit you perfectly."

Alan returns your smile with his signature charm, his eyes twinkling with appreciation. "Thank you, my dear. Your expertise is truly unmatched."

As he starts to make his way over to where his coat is, he pauses, a hint of hesitation crossing his features. Trying to appear casual, he clears his throat before speaking.

"Hey, I was thinking," Alan begins, his tone light. "The cast was talking about grabbing some drinks tonight. Would you care to join us?"

But you seem distracted, engrossed in your notes as you continue jotting down measurements. After a long silence, you finally seem to notice that Alan is still standing there, and you blink in confusion.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Alan," you apologize, a faint blush tinting your cheeks. "Did you say something?"

Alan's heart sinks a little at your apparent lack of attention, but he quickly recovers, offering a clever comment to change the subject.

"Oh, it was nothing important," he says smoothly, masking his disappointment with a charming smile. "Just thinking out loud. Well, I should be off. Goodbye, my dear."

With a polite nod, Alan takes his leave, pretending as though he had never extended the invitation for drinks, even if it was with the rest of the film's cast. As he walks away, he can't help but feel a pang of regret, knowing that he'll continue to pine for you from afar, unable to act on his desires.

Later, Alan comes home a little tipsy after all the drinks he's had. He stumbles to his bedroom, barely bothering to take off his clothes as he flops onto the bed, settling onto his pillow. Once again, his mind turns to you, and he tries in vain to push thoughts of you away, but it's no use. With a disappointed groan, he can't help but consider the idea of eating more and gaining weight again, just so you would have to take his measurements once more. He enjoyed having your hands touching him, measuring him, and hearing your voice as you spoke to him.

As Alan recalls this moment, he stops his story when Jimmy Fallon laughs, and Alan joins in, his baritone voice adding a touch of sophistication to the laughter. Jimmy questions if Alan really got fat just to have a chance to talk to you again, and Alan, a little embarrassed but still maintaining his wit, confirms the truth behind his actions.

"Well, Jimmy," Alan begins, his hooked nose giving him an air of distinction, "one must do what one can for love, even if it means sacrificing one's waistline for the pleasure of a lady's company."

As the audience chuckles, Alan's gaze drifts to where you're sitting, a fond smile playing at his lips. Despite the age gap, he couldn't deny the deep affection he felt for you. And as he continues to share his story, recounting how he eventually gathered the courage to confess his feelings and the joy of finding out that you felt the same way, he knows that every moment was worth it.