#i'm excited to see how much the burst will do once i crown it

[hydrachea]

FINALLY, AFTER A YEAR (and a little 🐋ing after losing that 50/50, because why would the bourgeois parasite himself come for cheap).

Bonus, since I'd prefarmed all his stuff beforehand and maxed him immediately: the long-awaited wrath of the rock.

[blueberry-pride]

Hello, hello! Major congratulations on making the Centurion Follower Event!👍 Now for the event, I'd like to request a fluffy scenario in which Farena meets Leona’s girlfriend after hearing about her from Cheka, please. It takes place during the Tamashina-Mina event. Thanks a bunch!

The Royal Meetup Part 1

Leona x FEM! S/O

Centurion Follower Event Special (March 1-25) warnings: N/A

Berry: thank you so much! OMG I've just been thinking about this when I was playing the event ;=; one scenario with Leona coming up! this was longer than expected and I wrote this around 3-4AM. I'm fine *laughs*

You choked on your drink.

Sure it's sounds concerning, but the thing that caused you to do so is even more.

"We'd like to request miss (Y/N) (L/N)'s attendance to the royal palace along with second prince Leona at once." Stood four tall and rather intimidating female beastmen whom you can assume were part of the royal guards. That and because Leona perked right up and had a slightly shocked expression on his face when he heard their voices.

You and Leona had split up from the usual group, where the chamberlain offered to tour the group around while the two of you explored booths that catered to both of your interests.

In the midst of you two conversing (and often times teasing each other), you began to notice a looming shadow behind Leona, and that's where it led you to this predicament.

"Under whose orders?" Leona spoke up as he stood beside you as he peered his eyes at the group in front of you. One of them nodded with a smile as she gestures towards you.

"Your nephew, crowned prince Cheka has been singing excitedly to your brother that you have found a partner. First prince Farena was informed that miss (Y/N) was coming along to this event, so he sent us immediately to come get you."

"I-..." You uttered. "I'm going to meet your brother?" You looked up to your boyfriend with excitement only to see him rubbing his temples, muttering under his breath. "noisy little..."

"We must leave at once, we must not let your brother waiting, we'll be taking the li-"

"-We'll be taking the limo, I understand." Leona sighed as he then laid a protective hand on your back, guiding you to the parking area where you saw a matte-black limousine.

Surrounded by even more strong beastwomen, they had already been standing at attention and bowed their head as soon as they noticed you walking closer. Leona then went ahead and opened the door for you, nudging his head towards the cool interior of the vehicle.

The car ride was smooth as it took the scenic route, making you able to see more parts of Sunrise City. It was a breathtaking view as it had you leaning against the window almost the entire ride. but what really caught your attention was the small army of royal guards jogging at the same speed as the car.

"When you said that the women of Afterglow Savannah are a force to be reckoned with." You turned towards Leona. "You really weren't messing around." You chuckled as you continued to watch.

"Told ya." He smirked. You faced him once more, raising an eyebrow at him. "That's it? no teasing remark like how I should do that next time when we're in PE?" You nudged his elbow with a smile.

"Well excuse me for not bursting at the seems of seeing my brother again." His arms crossed as he overlooked the city passing by, getting even more and more closer to the palace.

You hummed as you place a gentle hand on his forearm. The lion beastman looked towards you only to see you give a reassurring smile, scooting yourself closer to the point you're on his lap.

"We'll be okay..."

"Have you met my brother?"

"He just wants to see how his lil bro is going is all."

"I could have easily just sent him a letter stating 'Dearest brother Farena, I'm in a loving relationship with someone who can finally put up with me. here's an image of her for reference~" He chuckled to which you rolled your eyes at.

"hm...so why didn't you?" You asked. Leona instinctively wrapped his arm around your waist, his brows furrowed as the vehicle has now reached the royal gates.

"Could you imagine the press hearing that their scorned second prince being in a relationship with someone?" That made you keep quiet for a while as the thought of meeting Leona's family now making you feel nauseous.

He notices this and pats your head softly with a soft grin. "Don't dwell on it now." He opens the door and offered his hand towards you. "Let's get this over with."

"Ah so you must be miss (Y/N) (L/N), what an honor to finally see my little brother's significant other!" A booming voice nearly frightened you. You both were waiting in one of the many lounges within the palace and now were face to face with the first prince Farena Kingscholar.

Farena stepped forward and bowed his head in front of you. "May I shake your hand?" He asked excitedly, having the same familiar glint in his eyes as Cheka from the last time you saw him. You nodded, laughing a bit nervously to the whole situation.

"It's an honor to meet you as well uh, your highness." You stammered as you quickly make an attempt of a curtsy. Through that split second, you could hear Leona stifling his laughter at the scene.

Farena looked at Leona with a sigh. "Brother.." He nagged. "It is not nice to laugh at your woman, she's trying." Farena gestured towards you with a small smile.

"It's not that Farena my dearest brother." He said with a smug where it earned him both you and Farena rolling your eyes at him. "I just simply find my woman amusing and adorable about her first time meeting royalty is all."

Farena turned towards you. "Is Leona always likes this to you?"

"One of the many charms that made me fall for your brother, your highness." You sigh as you shook your head at your boyfriend.

The first prince nodded along and then clapped his hands. "Well, I see that Leona has indeed found someone who shares his sense of humour." He trudged along as he hook an arm around Leona, making you chuckle in the process. "As his older brother, that puts me at ease."

Leona quickly removed Farena's arm away from him. His ears flattened at the embarrassment. "Is that all you needed to say, I have a job to do in the Catch The Tail event, remember?"

"I am very much aware, no need to remind me now but this will take a moment." Farena noted as he went to my side once more. "if it's alright with the two of you, I'd want to talk to (Y/N) in private."

End of part 1 (Part 2)

Berry: yeah as I'm writing, and as much as I want to continue it all here, this could be getting long so part 2 will be uploaded shortly!

[florainkingdom]

"Geez, don't know how I feel about someone I haven't even met yet wanting to scan me. I mean, I'm used to my doctor constantly asking, though he's more of a family friend and even that I find a bit odd." Poppy might actually want to meet this guy before promising anything. Sounds like he can be a bit much, though he seemed his heart was in the right palce.

"Well, let's just hope he doesn't try to get a smart mouth with me. Really should work on my temper, though at least the worse I do know is maybe be a bit too honest with my words." The conversation with Lillianna was a great example, though at least she didn't attempt to attack her. That'd be an entire different issue.

Lily eyes instantly lit up upon seeing Blaze summon a circlet crown and had to keep herself from swiftly snatching it from Blaze's hand when it was withing grabbing range. "Thank you, Ms. Blaze, I'm going to wear it every day!" The young opossum took it at a normal pace, though once it was in her hands she swiftly threw it on her head. It wasn't a perfect fit, though besides being a bit uneven on her head it fit pretty well. She'd then give the feline a quick yet tight hug before letting go to run over to her mom.

"Mom, I'm a real princess now!" Lily shouted as she ran around Poppy. Clearly giving the young opossum this crown set her energy levels through the roof. Might take a while for her to burn all of it off, though how could a three-year-old not get a sudden burst of energy when they get a real princess crown.

"You were always a princess to me, though now everyone else can know it too," Poppy said, picking up Lily who was still clearly excited as she set her down on the ground. "Though let's put all that energy into something else." Thankfully the opossum had planned something that could keep her daughter's attention for a while. She'd pull out a math book from the pouch of her clothes and hand it to Lily. "You need to catch up on some learning. Try to do as many as you can and only ask Gardon for help if you need to."

Poppy watched her daughter take the book and nod. Quickly taking a cryaon and a blank piece of paper before opening the book and starting. The opossum mainly wanted Lily out of Gardon's hair for a while so he could actually work.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Poppy said, giving Blaze a thumbs up. "Lily, you behave for Gardon, okay?" The opossum got a nod from her daughter who was focused on doing some math. She then left Gardon's office, though swiftly stopped the feline when the door was closed.

"So, um, about the topic ya want to talk about, can we pick it up later? It's not that I'm pushing it off or don't think it needs to be handled soon. Just, I want to ask for some advice first." Poppy was sure Blaze was more than smart enough to figure out she'd be asking her mum for said advice. The opossum was just worried about making things worse.

Blaze rubbed the back of her neck as she didn't like admitted Miles did want something. Though it wasn't gold or material wealth, he still wanted compensation. She took a deep breath as if the fact he wanted something deeply bothered her. Deep down she knew it was because he was always trying to stay a step ahead of Eggman but it still felt wrong to ask for something after all the times she'd help them so many times.

" He did ask for something... i suppose in the grand scheme its a negligible cost. But he'd like to scan you, he's interested in your anti-magic properties. Miles is always preparing for that next fight...i suppose he sees your ability as valuable if he can replicate it... "

She gripped the bridge of her nose as if she had a headache

" He's a good man but i could in fact smack him some days. But if we wish to return to Flora that was his price... though the fact he gave me the ring, tells me he was going to do so regardless... also the fact we'll need him to recharge the ring..."

She smiled at Lilly and her excitement and knelt down to the level of the small possum with a gentle smile. Placing her hand on Lillys head and giving her this warm smile, as she had come to adore her almost like her own--- perhaps in time Lilly would think of her that way.

" How about... this instead "

She cupped her hands together, and her flames curled about her cupped hands and she called forth a tiny golden crown with a red ruby. Seeing as Lilly was to be a princess by marriage, she thought this was a fitting gift. her old crown from long ago, though it was more of a circlet the a crown.

" Would you like this? i use to wear it when i was young... one day when your mother and i are married, you'll get your own crown--- but for now i'll loan you my old one "

She set the Crown into Lillys hands it was warm from her flames but not hot to the touch, and in truth a bit big yet but Blaze was hopeful she could in fact spoil her a little. She rose back to her feet with her hands behind her back looking genuinely happy as she gazed down at Lilly before turning to Poppy.

" When you are ready, we should retire to my personal study to discuss our plans for the trip to Flora. Miles payment can wait until after... "

she placed a hand to her face and coughed

" Among other topics i am sure you are eager to talk about... in the meantime--- Gardon i must ask you continue to split your duties. I believe we shall have the nanny problem solved soon but until then i hope you do not mind "

The Kolala shrugged and lay his pen down as he addressed the princess with a courteous nod.

" I shall do as i must Highness... she's no trouble, and i might set her to work helping me with my files! we can make a game of it... "

[pochipop]

＃MYSTIC MESSENGER !! ♡ — ASKING THEM TO SLOW DANCE AT THE PARTY.

#. synopsis! — asking them to slow dance with you at the official rfa party .

#. characters! — jumin, yoosung, hyun (zen) .

#. warnings! — none .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @yyolkchi (reblog/spam) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

𖦹. ━ JUMIN !!

Jumin took a few ballroom dancing classes when he was young, but never found himself enjoying it. He'd only attended diligently because his father had insisted that he do so, and back then, Jumin had yet to learn how to stand against that man's frivolous wishes. Thankfully, the need to attend the classes went out the window after Jumin's father and one of the young, female instructors ended their fleeting relationship. So, he never went back, and the proper way to dance elegantly with a partner that Jumin once memorized in order to appease those around him eventually got lost to time.

When you take hold of his hand, your warmth seeping from your palm to his own, and ask him if he wants to dance with you to the slow song that just began playing. . . He hesitates.

"I'm not much of a dancer," he says, —but he hates the way that little twinkle of excitement in your eyes dies out like a meteor crashing to Earth's surface. 

You're not going to force him to do something he's uncomfortable with, and that much he knows for certain. But he also knows that you've put yourself in some very precarious situations in order to help and even protect him, and he feels it would be wrong to deny you something so small. In the end, if he were to make a fool of himself, you'd still love him. You'd still be there, even if everyone else were to turn his way and laugh. Your opinion matters to him more than anyone else's in the room.

"As long as you're alright with having me as a partner, though. . . I'll give it my best," Jumin adds.

It doesn't really matter to you how he performs. You just want to feel his hands on you, holding steady along your hips with your own arms around his neck. This isn't a dancing competition, after all, you're simply seeking closeness and something a little romantic to sweeten the pot. Two slow songs had gone by, and you were worried that as the party drew to a close, you might not get another chance to ask. By the time the third one began, you'd gathered up nerve to do so, and you were elated when he didn't choose to turn you down.

Your heart bursts as the dimmed lights glimmer off his eyes. A rainbow of colors reflects off his irises like stained glass windows to the soul. He takes one of your hands in his own, and you watch as his long, lithe fingers find their homes in the slits between your own. His other arm reaches out, allowing the flat of his hand to match the curve of your body, touching just along your side. Sheepishly, you bring your free hand up to rest along his shoulder.

Even now, when you can feel the stiffness and slight apprehension in his body and in the way he moves, Jumin looks as elegant as ever. There's something regal about him, as if he were born with such high confidence and the ability to work his way smoothly through any situation. Of course, you've seen many sides of him by now, but. . . You'd still venture to call him princely, even after knowing all you do.

When you meet his gaze and offer him a small, bashful smile, his lips curve up at the edges.

"I feel honored when you smile at me," he comments softly, mumbling the words into your hair before pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head.

Some eyes naturally draw to Jumin as he dances with you, stiffness melding into something much more fluid as he relaxes into the movements. You know a few women here at the party are looking on with scorn in their eyes, jealous of you for being so close to the man they dream of. Still, you can't bring yourself to care much about them when Jumin pulls you closer, his grip steadying.

Others are simply shocked that Jumin is dancing with someone so intimately, seeing as he's gone the vast majority of his career without ever parading a lover about. And even now, that's hardly what he plans to do. He doesn't care if people don't understand. . . All that matters is that you see right through him as if he's made of glass. Shattered glass that you've somehow managed smoothed back together.

You've taken the mangled threads inside him into your graceful hands, nimble fingers untangling the mess he's been caught in for as long as he can remember. You've soothed the ache inside him, —and your heart skips a beat when his breath ghosts against the shell of your ear as he whispers to you that he loves you.

𖦹. ━ YOOSUNG !!

Yoosung has lived a fairly normal life, all things considered. He never learned how to slow dance, just like many young men his age. There wasn't really a reason for him to do so, and if he's being honest, the idea of it has never particularly appealed to him. After all, you're the first lover he's ever had, and he's at least eighty-five percent sure that you need a partner to slow dance with before you can really figure out how to get the hang of it.

So, when you ask Yoosung if he'd like to dance with you, he initially panics a little, worried that maybe slow dancing is just something everyone knows how to do, and somehow he's been left completely out of the loop.

"I. . . I don't really know how," he admits, "—but if you want to, then I'd like to try!"

If you were anyone else, he'd have wrapped that up by requesting that you not make fun of him for having no clue what he's doing. But, you are, in fact, you, and Yoosung knows that you're not the type to make fun of him when he's making an active effort to please you.

The music is soft and slow. It plays in the background like a living soundtrack synced to your heartbeat as Yoosung puts his arms around your middle and you rest your hands along his shoulders. He shivers under your touch, still reeling from the idea that someone like you is his, —his to love, to respect, and to admire like you're some celestial being that ascended from the heavens above. His heart is beating like a drum, and with you being so close, his cheeks flush a pale pink at the idea that you may be able to hear it.

"Am I doing this right?" The blond asks, glancing down at his feet for the fifth time within a minute, careful not to step on your toes.

"You're doing fine," you reply, massaging your fingers into his shoulder ever so gently in hopes that it might soothe some of his worries.

Yoosung feels his heart blossom at your touch. He's never felt like this before, and he's not sure what to do with himself. His heart throbs more with every brush of your fingertips, and all he can think about is you, —your eyes that temper the anxiety as it crawls up his spine, threatening to send him into another downward spiral. Your lips that he's brushed his own over, and every single time it's sent a shockwave of starkly innocent pleasure to every cell in his body.

"It doesn't even matter how you dance," you add softly, "—as long as I'm dancing with you, I don't care about anything else."

He feels himself melt like wax under a wick's flickering flame. If he could, he'd like to crawl inside your heart and live there, safe and warm. Yoosung feels comfortable here, when he's close to you and has nothing left to hide. His walls have come down, and you've embraced him, —all of him. The broken young man he still is on dark, lonely nights as well as the smiling student he shows the world so they won't worry. He wants you to see every face, meet every version of him, because he knows you'll love each and every one of them down until he's learned how to weld himself back together again.

"I'm really happy to hear that," he says, voice nearly catching in the back of his throat.

You feel his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer to him. When you rest your forehead against his chest, he doesn't bother to bite back the happy smile that forces its way onto his face.

This is what true love feels like. . .

𖦹. ━ HYUN (ZEN) !!

Hyun is no stranger to dancing. In his line of work, he's mastered lots of talents in order to be eligible for a wider array of roles. It's certainly paid off, if his diverse history of characters and projects is anything to go off of, —but even so, dancing with his lover seems to present a completely different challenge. There are so many more emotions with this; real ones that he doesn't have to muster up the skill to act out. These are raw and just about as genuine as Hyun has ever felt anything at all, —so authentic that it's driving him wild.

It's not that he fears messing up. Much the opposite in fact, Hyun is fairly certain everything will go his way, and even if it didn't, he knows you would be the last person in the room to laugh at his expense. Still, he's never been in love. Not for real, anyway. He's played a lovesick fool under blindly white lights or up on a velvety stage, but he's never let someone in like this. He's never torn himself open to let someone else see everything that lingers below that confident, handsome surface. You're the first to know him inside and out, and that scares him as much as it quenches his anxiety.

When you ask him to dance, he shoots you a smile and quickly agrees, but you take note of the way his crimson eyes quiver. The sharpness of them dulls a bit, —and you make note of it, reminding yourself to tread gently with him.

While he plays up the inner beast that seeks to devour his love, you know well and good that sometimes, that so-called beast is nothing more than a silly little puppy frolicking behind in Hyun's shadow.

"I've slow danced for performances before, but this. . . This is my first time with someone I actually love," Hyun admits.

His strong arms are tight around your waist, keeping you close to him, while your arms are wrapped around his neck. He guides you, clearly being the more experienced of the two when it comes to dancing of this kind, —and he does it with such delicate precision that it's hard to imagine he could be anything less than perfectly confident about it. But, then again, Hyun does seem to be completely and utterly golden in nearly every aspect, almost too much to be real. . . And yet there's something much less flattering (in his own eyes, anyway,) that lingers below the surface.

"It still feels a little bit like a dream," you admit, "—to hear you say you love me, that is."

With robotic precision, Hyun guides you in this dance. His grip is secure and snug, but far from tight. He offers just enough pressure to set your heart on fire.

"Really?" He blinks, shocked to hear you say that to him, as if you've managed to read his mind and spout his own sentiments right back at him. "I feel like I should be the one saying that to you."

The giggle that erupts from the back of your throat leaves Hyun laughing softly with you before he bends over slightly and presses his forehead to your own. Sighing gently, he mumbles your name under his breath. Your heart skips a beat at the mere sound of it as it falls from his full lips. If it were physically possible, he'd pull you close. But, unfortunately for the both of you, it's not, —especially if you're keen on continuing this dance with him.

Hyun likes that there's no pressure here with you, no demands that he knows he has to meet at the end of it all. You don't want anything in particular from him. . . You just want him as he is, no qualifiers or conditions attached.

This, he thinks to himself, is what falling in love feels like.

[fluffyfranny]

Wrong Track: Emmet Edition

Summary: After an unintended harsh quip at work, Emmet fears the worst has become of his relationship, but amends are quick to be made.

Pairing: Emmet x gender-neutral! reader

Genre: Angst to fluff

Ingo edition can be found here!

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

"Darrrrling, you ready yet?"

"Just a sec, Em! I'm afraid I may have over-dressed!"

"Nonsense! Anything will be perfect for today, yep yep!"

You both had been looking forward for this day, with Emmet practically bouncing off the walls in his sleep the night prior. He had insisted on taking you to work with him down at Gear Station to get a behind-the-scenes look at what he does for a living on the Double and Multi Lines.

He also insisted that you ask as many questions about his job as you needed to, and he would be all too eager to ramble to his beloved about his passion.

However, because it was around the holidays, crowds would be bustling at higher rates than ever, so Emmet requested that you bring out a member of your Pokemon party to accompany you when they departed, so he would know who to look for if traffic became too congested for either of you to see each other.

Additionally, due to his seam-bursting excitement a few hours prior, not much sleep was obtained on Emmet's side of the bed, so there were slight bags under his eyes. You expressed your tinge of concern about his energy levels potentially being lower today, but he insisted that it wasn't a bother at all, no sir! He's had plenty of sleepless nights and performed just as well at work on his trains!

Despite his reassurance that he would be perfectly fine, you had your doubts. You've heard stories from other depot agents about how aggressive Emmet could be battling on a lack of sleep, and feared that he'd make some undesirable remarks and lose a few passengers as a result. But once again, the twin promised that he'd be on his best behavior, especially since he was with his darling, oh yes! He HAD to do his best today!

You hoped so even as you two made your way through the busy streets of Nimbasa City, the white-clad Station Master with an arm through yours while his Archeops perched atop his shoulders, head resting on his cap while she made occasional caws and chirps in your direction. You returned the gesture with whistles of your own, which excited her so much that her tail was thumping restlessly against Emmet's collarbone, for it was swung across his shoulder and front like a scarf, and her claws were scratching against the top of his hat.

"Archieeeee, calm yourself!" Emmet whined over the bustle of the crowds as he reached a hand up to scratch the crown of her head to calm her down. It worked, for her head and neck sagged back down atop his head as her eyes closed, letting out a content trill as she nuzzled him more. "We have to remain dutiful for our beloved and their Empress, yes yes!"

Empress was the nickname for your Empoleon, who you decided would accompany you through the city and act as a bodyguard for the two of you. Well, three counting Archie. She loved to salute like Emmet and attempted to mimic his stance the best she could, despite her bulkier build, and she would always return deeper trills whenever Archie sent noise in her direction.

Her footsteps audibly resounded against the concrete as the little group of you, her, Emmet and Archie descended the steps of the entrance to the Gear Station, with Emmet taking the lead at the foot of the stairs and guiding you to his office, where he had to gather a few things before you were all to board the Double Line train.

As Emmet rummaged around, you fancied yourself to asking him a few questions.

"Hey, Em?

"Hmm?" You got a simple noise in response, perhaps his focus on retrieving whatever he needed taking up his time.

"Who drives the trains while you and Ingo battle?"

"Why, our most experienced and trained conductors, of course!"

"Have you and Ingo ever driven any of the trains before?"

"Yes, sometimes ourselves, sometimes on autopilot while we oversaw other controls or battled on our respective Lines!"

“Are the Single and Double Lines out of service when you two run the Multi Line?"

"Most of the time, no," he answered as he finished his rummaging around and sealed up a backpack, slinging it over his shoulder as he walked towards the door and stood aside for you to cross through. Empress was just outside, scanning the surroundings for any trespassers while you three were inside, and stepped aside to let you exit with a thump of a steely fin to her side.

When you had all exited and Emmet had shut the door, now guiding your group towards his Line, he resumed his answer to your latest question. "We have depot agents on adjacent trains that assist us in crossing from one Line to the other while they are all in service so we can get to our respective rooms if a challenger ever makes it that far!" He huffed a little and lowered his cap at this next bit. "Verrrry few challengers have made it to me and Ingo recently, though. Sad if you ask me!"

You took note of a bit of desperation and hinderance in your boyfriend's voice and decided to tread with caution. Archie looked down at you from her perch atop Emmet's shoulders, seemingly also taking note of a change in her Trainer's mood, and Empress gave your side a cautious bump with her fin, steely eyes squinted in knowing. You nodded in her direction as you walked and decided to try and steer the conversation in a brighter direction.

"Well, maybe we'll see one today! Maybe even more than one!" You offered, hoping that the promise of potential challengers would perk Emmet right back up.

"You don't know that," he muttered.

"I'm sorry?" You asked, not quite catching what he had said.

"You think we'll honestly get more challengers just because you're with me today?" Emmet quipped. This is exactly what you had feared; his sleeplessness was making him cranky.

"I never thought that, Em," you spoke smoothly so as to not potentially aggravate your boyfriend more. You persisted nevertheless, trying to keep things positive. "But you never know! Look at all the people today!" You gestured with one arm towards the masses of people that were bustling up and down the stairs, gathering in groups and boarding subway trains to make their ways to other surrounding cities. "We might see one or more of these folks with us today!"

"Or not," Emmet huffed. His Archeops was getting a tad antsy atop his shoulders, the claws on her hands digging into his cap.

"Or we might!" You quipped back cheerfully, giving his arm a slight nudge, only for him to quickly sidestep you.

"Why are you being so persistent?" He snapped, smile still pasted across his face, but his eyes aflame with annoyance. "You never know the outcome of the day, it's all random! So dial it down a bit!"

"Wha-" You were taken aback by his sudden miniature outburst, especially since there were still plenty of people around to point fingers, so you tried to keep your composure, but it was slipping just a bit. Nevertheless, you kept your voice down. "I'M the one that needs to dial it down? You're the one who needs to not project as much!"

"Yeah, yeah?" Emmet had finally had enough, just as you two were mere feet away from boarding his train, the doors to his chamber sliding open and stalling, waiting. He ushered your group into his car, away from the public eye, just as his voice reached peak volume. "Well, I think YOU'RE the one that needs to stop nosing deeper into MY business when I get like this!"

You and Emmet rarely fought, and it was never this bad. You always tried to play the pacifist, but today, you weren't taking that side, apparently. "You and I were BOTH looking forward to today, and now look at us! I wish you didn't HAVE to be like this, especially today!"

"Well I wish that you weren't here!"

Your breath and heart collectively stopped upon the utterance of those words. Your mouth dropped open slightly, and you backed up a few steps, causing the sliding doors to open themselves and stall once again. Emmet's chest was heaving slightly as he turned away in his moment of anger, lowering his cap over his eyes. Archeops gave you a pitied look, wishing she could say sorry, but only managing a sad "Rrrrrch." Empress patted the top of your head gently with the edge of her fin.

You tried to speak up, but only let out a pitiful hiccup as you turned around, making your way out the doors with your Pokemon in tow.

Just as the doors were about to start closing after a few tense seconds of silence, you heard a small but sharp gasp. You turned to face Emmet, silver eyes now glossed over with tears threatening to spill, with Archie frantically trying to mop any that fell down his face with her tail, but couldn't keep up when they eventually did start pouring down.

"Wait-" He couldn't get anything other than this one word out before his voice got choked up on his tears. He swiped a gloved hand across his cheeks before reaching a gentle yet shaking hand your way. "Wait, I-"

"I warned you about getting this way after not sleeping," you managed through your own tear-stalled voice. "But apparently the thrill of not having any challengers is stronger than my genuine concern for your safety."

And with that, you turned and walked out the doors, going nowhere in particular but wanting to get away from your boyfriend for just a while. Empress quickly marched behind you, following your lead to wherever you might take her.

"WAIT!" Emmet suddenly shrieked from behind the doors, prying them open when they had closed in his face and tried sprinting after you. Archie had launched herself from his shoulders in your direction to try and divert your attention, only for your Empoleon to turn and send a Bubble Beam in her direction to ward her off. Archie screeched and barely dodged the attack, considering it was super effective, only managing to get clipped by the final orb of water that made the feathers of her arm sag.

You heard the pained cries of Archie and Emmet, who was still calling for you, begging you to come back, as you boarded an adjacent train, which was headed for Driftveil City. You and the train started moving away from the station just as Emmet had reached the double doors, watching him reach a hand out to you as you sped off.

You knew both of you needed some time to recoup after that.

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

Once you had arrived in Driftveil, you and Empress decided to camp out by one of the many rivers that led out into the ports that transported shipments of food into Unova. You watched from your place on a grassy hill, arms around your legs, as the steely penguin dove in like a missile and zoomed around in circles, sending the occasional splash of water in your direction to try and cheer you up. It worked, but not entirely. You decided to Surf along Empress's back up and down the river a few times to clear your head of the hurtful words Emmet directed at you. Gym Leader Clay even came down to the river and offered up a Pecha Berry pie upon news of your visit, which you gratefully accepted, and you ended up sharing a slice with Empress as you gazed out at the boats that puffed steam out on the horizon.

Meanwhile, Emmet had been frantically dialing your Xtransceiver over the course of your departure, begging for you to pick up. Archie watched over his shoulder and let out a sad caw every time you didn't pick up. He had sped off to Ingo, demanding the schedule from a few hours ago about where the trains were departing to and when, trying to pinpoint where you could have possibly gone. After failing to track down your path, he returned to his office with Archie and his brother, his sobs echoing inside the tiny room while Ingo patted his shoulder and Archie nuzzled in his lap.

After a few hours of sulking, you both decided to call it quits for today, with Emmet praying that you'd be home and you praying that he'd leave you alone if he came back after you.

Fortunately, you ended up back at your shared home after a few hours of killing time in Driftveil via the impromptu surf and picnic escapade with Empress and a last-minute decision of challenging Clay's gym, which took you both down to your last Pokemon, but ended up declaring you the victor despite Empress's attacks being not very effective against his Seismitoad.

After trading out Empoleon for your Aerodactyl to use Fly back to Nimbasa, since you did not want to risk running into Emmet by taking the subway, you summoned them back into their ball and immediately made a break for your room after placing the pie into the fridge and gulping down a glass of water.

You slid under the covers, but not before calling out Empress one last time and asking if she'd stand guard in the room, to which you earned a nod and a banging of her fins as a response. Thanking her, you fully cozied up under the blankets and tried to doze off, but ended up being reminded and plagued by flashbacks of Emmet at the station; the terrifying smile that remained even as he screamed, the river of tears after you promptly abandoned him to Driftveil-

These nightmares summoned a crying fit of your own, but you didn't want to worry Empress anymore than you already may have. Instead, your tears came swift and silent, soaking the pillowcase under your cheek within a minute. Within a few minutes, however, you quickly fell asleep due to the mild dehydration from crying so much.

You were unsure of how much time had passed, but you were jolted awake by the sound of rustling keys, the front door closing and scratchy footsteps from both person and Pokemon.

Emmet was back.

"Darrrrling? You home?" You heard him call out, voice raspy from his own nonstop crying, followed by the sound of Archie letting out what sounded like a scratchy whine. You held back calling out to him, despite it being so tempting. You hated hearing Emmet when he was upset; it was like hearing a lost kitten calling to its mama, and you had to save it.

"Please be home, pleeeeease-" Your boyfriend's pleading was cut short by a sudden choking sound and a wet sob that turned into multiple sobs, with Archie trilling to try and comfort her Trainer. The cries could be heard moving throughout the house, and they eventually reached the door to your shared room, where they died down for just a moment; Emmet only letting out a whimper and a sniffle before he tested out the doorknob. It creaked open slightly.

Damn it, you forgot to lock it-

You bit your lip to hold back crying out for him right then and there, but you kept quiet, silently listening as the door fully opened and light filled the room, followed by Emmet going: "Oh, oh thank Arce- AH!" and Empress letting out a deep caw to try and ward him off. Archie audibly shook out her feathers as an impromptu screech and whine left her.

"W-wait, hold on Empress!" Emmet tried to reason with her as she pointed a sharpened fin in his direction, holding his empty hands up in the air, showing he meant no harm. "Can I just-" He stalled with a deep sigh and an audible gulp before continuing: "Can I just talk to them?"

The penguin trilled deep in her throat as she processed this before nodding curtly and gently nudged at you with the tip of her fin, rousing you from keeping quiet as she stepped towards the foot of the bed. You stirred before propping yourself up and turned your head to face your boyfriend, promptly lifting a blanket to cover the lower half of your face out of fear.

"H-heyyy!" Emmet's voice cracked and wavered at the sight before him. You hid your face further in the blanket, trying to block him out of your sight. "No, nononono don't do that, I-" he shuffled across the room, hands promptly reaching for you shakily, only to quickly retract. "I- I'm just glad you're okay, that you're-" His voice broke off again with a sniffle and a wipe of his cheek. "That you're home, that you decided to come BACK home after what happened."

"Mmhm," you half-mumbled, half-whined, noise muffled by the blanket still covering you. Empress warbled with a tinge of pity before spitting out a bubble, and Archie, who hadn't left her Trainer, scratched the claws of her feet against the carpet as she paced in place nervously by the door.

"I- I don't know if you'll forgive me, but-" he sent a glance in your direction, glossy silver eyes seemingly asking: "Can I?" You looked him up and down warily before nodding, giving him permission to come closer. He slipped the backpack from his shoulders before sliding his arms around your waist and burying his face in your chest, leaning over the edge of the bed and almost taking up the entirety of your lap.

"I am Emmet, and I-" Another voice crack. "I am verrrry sorry."

You don't know what it was, whether it be the way he phrased his apology, the tone of voice he had or a combination of both, it triggered your tear ducts to overflow as tears poured down not only your face, but Emmet's as well, for after he whined out his apology, you felt the bottom half of your shirt become slightly damp and heard muffled sobs into your chest. You let out a whimper yourself before beginning your own audible crying, clutching him closer, followed by him returning the gesture, arms coiling tighter.

"I- I forgive you Em," you choked out in a break from your crying. "I- I know you didn't mean what you s-said, I was just w-worried about you."

"Oh, thank you, dearrrr, I-" He removed his face from your chest and shoved it into the crook of your neck and shoulder. "I'm verrrry happy you said that! I got so worried when you ran awayyy! So mean of you!"

"I know, I know," you hiccuped, ruffling his mussed hair. "I didn't know what came over me, I was scared!"

A whine left Emmet as he hid his face further in your neck. "I'm sorrrrry! I'll never scare you like that again, I promise!"

"It's o-okay," you assured, giving his back a few strokes before patting him, a cue to sit up. "We made up and we're both home, that's what matters."

"Yep, yep!" Your boyfriend agreed, followed by a sniffle. Archie let out a happy caw and fluttered a few inches in the air, while Empress clapped the ends of her fins together, nodding in approval. You could almost see her smile.

"Now then!" Emmet suddenly piped up, standing bolt upright, a finger sticking straight up. "As a token of my apology, I've decided to let you pick what we do tonight, mhmm!"

"Oh, uh-" You scratched your head, pondering what you could occupy yourselves with before it hit you. "Ahh! When I was in Driftveil, Clay sent me home with some Pecha Pie! We could have some of that and watch a movie?"

"Ooh, yes yes!" Emmet nodded vigorously as he shook his fists at his sides. "With ice cream!"

You laughed, predicting that with all that sugar, he would either be bouncing around the room for the entirety of the movie or crash a third of the way through it. Either way, you wouldn't want anything better.

"Yes, okay, we'll have it with ice cream."

"YAYYY!" Your boyfriend was as giddy as he was with his Joltiks. He grabbed your wrist and tugged you out of bed, then out the door. "Come on, then! You get the goods and I'll get a movie going!"

You tried to keep up with Emmet, but he was dragging you around too fast, and you stumbled right into his back and onto the carpet in the living room, taking him down with you, where you both cackled before sighing contently and gave each other a hug on the floor.

"I loooove you, dear!" He emphasized this by lightly booping your nose with his.

You couldn't help but giggle.

"Same to you, Em."

[youbloodymadgenius]

An Unexpected Treat (Modern!Ivar x reader) Epilogue

Masterpost here (don't forget to look at @honestsycrets's wonderful moodboard)

A/N: This is my contribution to @saldelys Halloween Spooky Celebration Challenge. It’s a two-shot + epilogue.

@mrsalwayswrite , you’re still my favorite cheerleader and, of course, the best beta ever. Thank you ♥️

Let’s say that, in this universe, Bjorn doesn’t exist. Therefore, Hali and Asa are Ubbe’s kids.

The prompt is in bold

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff (too much fluff?)

Words: 828

Ten years later

"Daddy, how do I look?"

Ivar looks up from his book as his daughter enters the living room, squealing with excitement. "Wow, baby girl," he flashes her a tender smile, closing the book and placing it on the coffee table. "I usually say that you're the prettiest girl in Hedeby, but it might be time to reconsider. I'm absolutely positive that you're the prettiest girl in Scandinavia." He winks at his daughter and then frowns when he sees her scowling expression.

"I'm not a girl, daddy." His daughter says with a pout. "I'm a ballerina," she spins around, showing him her black, white and pink tutu, "and I'm a princess," she points at the crown on her head, "and a fairy," she waves a flashing star wand in front of her, finally putting her hands on her hips.

Faking a grimace, Ivar tilts his head. "Sorry, Buttercup, what was I thinking? You're obviously the prettiest ballerina-princess-fairy in the whole world!"

Bursting out laughing, his daughter runs toward him, wrapping her little arms around his neck. "Thank you, daddy!" She screams with delight before pulling away as he tries to kiss her cheek. "Daddy," she explains in a serious tone, "I don't want you messing with my makeup!"

"We wouldn't want that, now would we?" You say while crossing the room, a wide smile lighting up your face. Reaching over as you take a seat next to him on the couch, you take Ivar's hand, lacing his fingers through yours.

Ivar brings your hand up to his lips and kisses it. "You did a pretty good job, my love!"

The next moment, the doorbell rings and a male voice can be heard. "I'm coming in!"

"Uncle Hvitty!!" Ivar's daughter screams once again, clapping her hands.

"Hey!" Hvitserk – dressed up as Super Mario, which makes you and Ivar giggle – pauses at the living room's sliding double door. "Holy macaroni," he starts, speaking to his niece and opening his eyes wide, "aren't you lovely, Sugar Pie?" Which earns him a beaming smile, the little girl rushing to his side. "Bro, Y/N," he greets you both before looking back at his niece, "You ready, Angel Cake?" As Ivar's daughter nods, Hvitserk grabs her hand, waving at you and her father. "Say goodbye to Mommy and Daddy!!"

"When they say time flies, they really mean it, don't they?" You put your head on his shoulder and Ivar immediately wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you close. "It feels like yesterday she was born," you add with a sigh, "and now she's already five and..."

"... she's out trick-or-treating for the first time, I know." Ivar finishes your sentence, his hand gently stroking your hip. "Don't you think we should have gone with her? Are you sure she isn't mad at us?" He can't help but worry, even though his baby girl seemed perfectly content leaving with his brother.

Your hearty laugh resounds all over the room. "I'm sorry to break it to you, Ivar, but we weren't her first choice. Our daughter will always choose Hvitserk over us. Always!"

Ivar lets out a playful sneer. "He may be her favorite person, but I'm not sure he will still be after tonight. You're aware he's going to eat all her candies, right?"

"No, he's not." He frowns when you shake your head vehemently. "Why do you think I asked Hali and Asa to tag along, huh? They're going to keep an eye on him!" You finally explain, giving him a wink.

Ivar cracks up laughing, his eyes wide with disbelief. "You do think of everything, don't you? You really are something else, my love!"

"I take that as a compliment." You reply and as you turn your head to face his, he can see a very definite twinkle in your eye. "Now, as much as I love her, enough about our daughter, Ivar." You stand up, never letting go of his hand, and carefully straddle him. "We have at least two hours ahead of us, just the two of us, and I fully intend to make the best possible use of this time. Consider yourself warned!"

Ivar is sure you can feel his already hardening cock against your inner thigh. "What do you have in mind, my love?" He tilts his head, placing both of his hands on your hips.

"Well..." you whisper, peppering his jaw with a line of open-mouthed kisses, "ten years ago, I kissed you for the first time." Ivar closes his eyes, his chest heaving with a ragged breath. "I'm pretty sure..." your mouth is so close to his now he can feel your breath on his lips, "it's something we should celebrate, what do you say?"

The next second, you brush his lips with yours before softly kissing him. And as always, it's enough to take his breath away.

He would never admit it, but Halloween may well be his favorite holiday after all.

🛡⚔️🛡

@waiting4inspiration @lisinfleur @honestsycrets @gearhead66 @inforapound @saldelys @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @adrille88 @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @istorkyou @fantasydevil2002

@heavenly1927 @njutul

[sirthisisa-wendys]

I Chose You: Kakucho Hitto x Fem!Reader

synopsis: being the favorite concubine of the crown prince has its perks, but it's also a job that comes with many requirements - one of which you can't seem to fulfill.

wc: 1.7k

tw: angst, fluff

masterlist

Chosen.

You had been chosen out of a crowd of women by the Crown Prince himself - something that had never happened before and would never happen again.

You were the final concubine to join the harem and the last common woman to whom the palace's doors would open and keep inside.

And yet, as you sit in front of the harem - eyes glazing over at the sight of a younger woman holding a child in her arms - you feel wholly inadequate.

"The Prince said that he would like to have a party for Lilia," the woman murmurs, looking down at her daughter. "Not a feast, but an actual party with the other children. Isn't that exciting?"

The women around the room coo and hum with pleasure, thinking of their sons and daughters joining in on the fun for once. And you... You smile outwardly, but inwardly, your heart aches. You think of all the nights spent with Kakucho in his bed, all of the nights he's held you by the roaring fireplace and whispered how much he loves you into your ears, all of the nights you've prayed for mercy from whatever god was in charge to open your womb.

But even though you've done all you can... it doesn't seem to be enough.

That night, you're in your room when the doors open suddenly, startling you out of your reverie. Kakucho strides into the room with confidence, his face turned up in a smile as he watches you unfold from your chair by the window.

"How are you feeling, my love?" You look at your lover's handsome face and smile, feeling all of your worries slip away on the heels of his entrance.

"I'm alright," you whisper, and he opens his arms for an embrace, pulling you close and kissing your cheeks before pressing his lips to yours. "I've missed you..."

"I know; I've missed you, too. Come, tell me about what's happened since last week." He leads you to the bed, but you stop him, placing your hands on his overcoat and undoing the buttons slowly.

"Get comfortable," you advise, sling the garment off his shoulders. "I assume we'll be here for a while." Kakucho laughs, his eyes closing.

"I'm always here for a while." You strip him down to his bare chest and pants, then remove the comforter from the bed, allowing him to climb in beside you. Kakucho laces his arm around your shoulders and presses a kiss to your forehead, then rests his cheek on the top of your head. "Now, continue. I want to hear everything about your life."

What proceeds to flow from your mouth is a recounting of worry-free moments in your waking life. You don't tell him about the dreams of being kicked out of the harem for being childless or the nights you lay awake, sobbing into your pillow in despair. You don't discuss the apparent bags under your eyes or the sounds of a child crying from the other side of the wall.

All you do is tell him your life is terrific, you couldn't wish for anything more, and that you're so grateful he picked you to be a part of his harem.

"And that's all." When you finish, Kakucho hums, looking down at you while angling your face this way and that with a soft but firm hand.

"Now tell me the truth," he murmurs, leaning forward. "Tell me what's in that beautiful head of yours. Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing," you lie softly. "Nothing's wrong. That was the truth." The flash of hurt in Kakucho's eye is unmistakable. Your lip quivers, but you bite down on it surreptitiously to avoid crying. He frowns, eyes narrowing.

"I might have one working eye," Kakucho begins. "But you know I can see right through you, my love."

You burst into tears. Kakucho pulls you close, whispering, "I know, I know," while stroking your arms, your back, your hair.

"I want... I want to give you child," you gasp. "I just want you to be happy. I don't want to be k-kicked out..."

Kakucho pulls back, holding you away from him so he can look you in the eye.

"I chose you. Do not forget that. I brought you here to be a part of my life, and even if that means you cannot conceive, I will not deprive you of the life you've been given here. Do not think for one second I will have you taken away from me."

"But your father--"

"Will never lay a finger on you. Do you understand that, y/n?"

"Y-yes," you whimper, wiping your tears. "I understand."

"Come here," Kakucho whispers, pulling you against him once more. "I won't leave you alone. I selected you out of hundreds of women, and that is all anyone ever has to know."

_____________________________________________________________

"Come right in, sayidati."

Your feet carry you into the purported doctor's room, and you're guided toward a chair across from a wooden desk. The aged man sits in the chair behind the desk as you take your seat, and then he laces his fingers together.

"What can I do for you, my lady?"

"I need help opening my womb," you reply, ashamed. "I am in desperate need of a child and--"

"A beautiful woman such as yourself has no need for such a thing," the doctor interrupts. "You are quite--"

"I want to give birth to a son," you interrupt quickly. "Help me." The doctor looks at you warily, then sighs.

"My wages are not cheap," he begins, and you unlace the golden necklace around your neck, handing it over to the man.

"This should suffice." The man gapes at the ornate jewelry, then looks back up at you.

"Where did you get this, sayidati?" You inhale deeply, sealing your lips shut. If this man knew you were part of the royal harem, he would never agree to help you. Not because it would save your place, but because if something went wrong... he would lose his head.

"It doesn't matter," you finally mutter. "Will you help me?"

_____________________________________________________________

"Drink half before your evening meal. Drink the other half before you sleep tonight."

The half-empty bottle in front of you is full of the sickly sweet green liquid prescribed, but the thought of swallowing the rest churns your stomach.

But you have to do this.

For you.

For Kakucho.

Thoughts race through your mind as you chug the last bit of the potion, but when you finish, you wipe your mouth on your nightgown sleeve and begin to walk toward the bed.

Your stomach growls in anger, but you ignore the sign and climb into the empty furnishing, pulling the blankets over yourself.

"It should work by the next day. The effects last for four weeks, so do not hesitate to have your lover join you in bed."

You'd already made a request for Kakucho to come to see you tomorrow, you think to yourself as you close your eyes. And then... then you'd finally be an actual concubine.

But a sharp, stabbing pain awakens you from a very deep sleep. When you raise up from your bed, you feel sweat running down your back and neck, while the jarring pain begins once more, settling into your abdomen.

"Ugh..." You grunt, slipping out of the bed and to your feet -- when you find you can no longer stand. You fall to the ground, arms and legs going numb as you cry out in shock. "Help!" But you hear nothing and no one coming to your aid while you lay on the ground, losing feeling everywhere.

"Please, help..." Tears slip from your eyes rapidly, dotting the rug below you while you slip into darkness. Fear overcomes you as you lay there, helpless. This is it, you lament as the world closes in on you. This is the price I pay.

It feels like only a second later when you wake once more, head beneath a soft pillow. Your hands are folded neatly on your stomach, and even though it felt like a very short moment between you blacking out and coming to, you see that your nightgown has been changed and your hair has been braided.

"...make sure it's room temperature." Your eyes slowly roam over to the doorway, where you see the back of Kakucho's body holding one of the double doors open. There's a sound of agreement, and Kakucho thanks the person before turning around and rubbing his temples. He sighs, eyes downcast as he walks toward the bed, but when one of your hands moves to reach for him, they widen, and he rushes to your side. "Oh my god," he breathes, kissing your palm, your wrist, your face. "You're awake."

"How long have I been asleep?" you inquire, and Kakucho shakes his head, tears pooling in his eyes.

"Days..." Kakucho finally whispers. "I was so afraid." You hum once, feeling the fatigue in your body. "You need to rest," he murmurs, smoothing a hand over your cheek. "So, you can get better."

"Will you stay here with me?" you wonder, thinking about the drink and its potential effects.

"For as long as you want," Kakucho affirms, kissing your lips.

_____________________________________________________________

"Consort y/n," you hear behind you. You turn around to face the lady who spoke, hand on your round stomach.

"Yes?" you murmur. The woman bows to you briefly, then rises once more.

"The Crown Prince is in the throne room waiting for you."

When you arrive there, you can hear him talking to someone proudly.

"...a son. But either way, you know what I want to do."

"Yes, Your Highness." When Kakucho spots you, his face brightens immeasurably, and he holds his hand out to you.

"There she is..." You walk up to him and he pulls you into his lap before wrapping his arm around your waist. "I've been speaking with my advisor," he begins. "And I was wondering if you'd like to be more than just a consort. Maybe... a princess? After the birth of our child, of course."

"Me?" you whisper, frowning. "But why me out of everyone?"

"Because," he grins. "I love you." He whispers the final three words in your ear and you giggle, leaning over to place a kiss on his forehead. "And you'd be a perfect princess."

"Really? That's what you want?"

"Really." Even though the thought of wearing a crown makes you sort of uneasy, you lean into Kakucho anyway, holding him close. "You know I want you... because I chose you, remember?"

"I remember," you reply, kissing his lips twice. "You'll never let me forget."

[rosella-writes]

Happy Friiiiday! I'm excited to find out more about Pride x Valor for the prompt "I held my breath on the way down / Your tangled hair became my gown / I'll never tell you what I found / Now look who's finally got the crown" (from 'They Fear Us' by Ithaca)

You're very sweet, thank you!! I've got the rest of the ramblings about them in no refuge so sure as valor. Not sure how well this matches the prompt but it definitely started something! Thank you.

Valor is Virelan Lavellan, repurposed for an Arlathan AU, and Pride is an agender femme Solas in a once-upon-a-time, a-long-long-time-ago kind of way.

For @dadrunkwriting

~~~

It was while departing a village under the jurisdiction of Mythal's youngest daughter that Pride slipped her hand into her dress's pocket, then held out its bounty — an orange, whose skin was dimpled and perfect.

Valor took it from her outstretched hand, then bit it to create a notch from which to peel. The fruit's oil and juice were bitterly sweet on her tongue. "Where did you get these?"

Pride shrugged, grinning wickedly as she bit into her own. She gestured for Valor to follow in her bare footsteps as she descended the steep, almost clifflike hill. Her gauzy hem caught on each seedhead of grass as she went.

"What next, ma'falon?" Pride asked, setting her sleeve aflutter as she waved at the land before them. She ate the last of her orange with gusto. "There is the world at our feet, with only our inclinations to direct us. I am in no hurry to return to my patron's side, are you?"

Valor thought of Falon'Din as she placed an entire orange segment in her mouth. Its juice burst against the roof of her mouth as she bit down. "Nuh uh. Just tell me we're not walking the entire way to kill time."

"Don't be silly," Pride scoffed. She cast a look at Valor over her shoulder — promise-light eyes, long-lashed eyes, eluvian eyes — and smiled. "Mythal gave me a key. Now come on."

And she cast herself, arms outstretched, down the hill.

Valor's breath caught — with fear? with disbelief? — and her gaze dropped to the orange she held near her mouth.

"You've got to be kidding me," she cursed, then quickly finished it, upset at the lost opportunity to savour it.

When she cast herself likewise down the hill, it was with a high-pitched screech and little grace. She tumbled, rolling like a pin and holding her elbows desperately to her sides, and kept her lips pressed shut against another scream. The world spun in a dizzying mess of colours and sunlight.

Valor gasped when the air changed, and she crashed to a halt against a warm body. She opened the eyes she'd clenched shut, gasping and gulping at the air, and turned to see Pride at her side... laughing.

"I never said you had to roll!" she hooted, clutching at her sides. Her sleeves were muddy and torn, and Valor lay tangled in her long, loose hair. "I just did because I wanted to!"

"You didn't say anything!" Valor gasped, too relieved to be angry. "Just... there she goes! Gone again."

Pride caught her breath, still giggling to herself, and turned until she was flush against Valor's side. Her hair enveloped Valor as if it were a cape, soft and waving and deep auburn. Pride propped her chin up on one hand and looked entirely too smug for her own good.

"We are across the world," she snarked, "or, rather, as far as the eluvian at the bottom of the hill saw fit to take us. I thought the orange key would take us someplace pleasant but... this is dark."

"Orange key," Valor repeated grumpily. "What will Mythal think of next?"

Pride snorted. "I shall never tell. How else will I surprise you next time?"

Valor scoffed, then lunged for her, knocking her back against the stone floor and peppering her face with kisses. "I cannot stand you," she told her. "I'm never travelling with you again."

"Absolutely not," Pride laughed. "You shall have too much fun if you do, and we cannot have that."

"Hate," Valor emphasised, kissing her mouth soundly again and again. "Loathe. Detest."

"Love," Pride said. "Love, love, love."

[wandsolsen]

Champagne Problems

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: In which Wanda rejected your marriage proposal, inspired by Taylor Swift's song Champagne Problems.

Warnings: pure angst, cursing.

Word Count: 1.8k

↳ Please, be aware that English isn't my first language, fell free to tell me if there are any mistakes.

You booked the midnight train for a reason, you wanted to contemplate your pain with your head against the train window.

The reason for your suffering had a name, Wanda Maximoff.

You sat down in one of the seats, feeling the hurt in your chest burning hard just for thinking about her. The train wasn't too much crowned, however, it wasn't all empty. There were people talking and people sleeping, you were not sure which was worse.

People looked at you, certainly worried about how miserable you were.

You finally rested your head on the train window, looking at the view from the outside. Unintentionally, you remembered Wanda's hand holding yours as the two of you danced on the dance floor.

Wanda smiled at you, and she looked happy. But she wasn't, at least, not complete. Not happy enough to say yes.

However, nobody could ever have thought that she would say no.

You felt the tears coming out, your mouth trembled as you remembered. Your heart was made of glass and she let it drop it.

You had prepared a speech, but when you got down on your knees, you didn't find the expression of emotion and excitement that you had imagined she would had. Instead, you saw Wanda's body tense and fear in her green eyes.

You were speechless.

She didn't even let you ask, she ran away, leaving you there, on your knees and crestfallen on the dance floor.

You were so broken that you hadn't the strength to reach out to her, Wanda's love escaped beyond your reaches.

You saw the pity look that your family and friends gave to you. You had told them that you were going to propose Wanda that night, you couldn't keep it a secret.

You had bought Dom Pérignon and one of your family members had already popped the bottle in an early celebration, it was humiliating.

"Maybe it's just one of her...What does she call? Oh, yeah," Steve remembered before anyone could answer him. "her champagne problems." Steve was trying to calm you down, but he wasn't succeeding.

Fuck Wanda, you thought, your veins filled with angry. Fuck her and her champagne problems.

But even with all the fury you were feeling, Wanda's picture was still in your wallet along with your mom's ring.

You didn't hate her for leaving, you could never hate her.

You remembered the first time you made Wanda blush, it was in November.

You both met in college, and you thought you were the luckiest person in the world for having Wanda as your roommate. She was organized, friendly and didn't ask too many questions, everything a person could want from a roommate.

"Someone said to me that this door was once a madhouse." You said to her, wanting to make small talk.

"Well, it's made for me." Wanda made a joke, and you chuckled.

"A beautiful and intelligent woman like you in a madhouse? I find it hard to believe."

"Beautiful people do have problems too." Wanda's face was getting flush.

"I know, I know." You said. "I just wanted to praise you because, well, you're definitely one of the most beautiful girls on the campus."

And there it was, Wanda's face all red and her shy smile on her lips. You felt your heart beating faster than usual at that moment.

"So do you?" You continued.

"Do what?"

"Have problems."

"Just champagne problems." She answered.

"Champagne problems?" You asked, with your furrowed eyebrows.

"Yes, nothing meaningful or worth mention," She explained. "when compared to the others issues around the world."

"Well, champagne or not, they're still problems."

She thought about your words for a moment, but didn't say anything. Wanda continued to devalue her own problems, claiming that her issues were insignificant and there were worse things in the world.

Wanda was very reserved in the beginning, it was usually you who started the conversations. It didn't take long for you to fall in love with her.

I mean, how could you not? She was gorgeous and caring. Wanda was kinder than the most people you had ever met. She was a dream girl, with her hair loose and long, her sweet smile and her funny laugh. The way she was always up to help someone in need, and how she tried to empathize with everyone.

Wanda was absolutely flawless.

You only asked her out on a date when you were sure she wouldn't reject you.

Now, seeing from afar, you could see how stupid you were. You should have waited, just kneeling after knowing for sure that she would say yes.

But that's the problem.

You had sure that Wanda would say yes with tears dropping from her eyes. Then, your song would have played, you would have kissed her and held her hand tight while dancing. Your friends would have cheered with joy, and Wanda would have hugged you with a radiant smile on her face.

You let out a breath of pain. You now lived with only wishes. Because she dropped your hand while dancing, instead of holding tight.

Just champagne problems, she would say, about this dramatic situation.

You had a black Chevy that Wanda loved, she enjoyed riding in your car, even if you never go anywhere special. And when the car stopped running and you decided that was time to buy a better one, Wanda didn't let you. Often you saw her on the passenger seat murmuring whatever song was playing on the radio.

Nevertheless, the Chevy wasn't going anywhere. Just like your relationship.

Feeling tired of sitting there in this hurt, you left the train and went to the nearest hotel that you could find, you didn't want to come back home anytime soon.

You lived in a small town, your failed marriage proposal was probably spreading in the mouth of people like a disease.

Your turn on your phone, there were many messages and missed calls from your friends, but no one of them matters to you. Except one.

There was one voicemail from Wanda. Just that. She didn't send you a dozen messages like your friends, just a voicemail.

You set down on the bed, before listening to her voice for the last time.

Hey, Y/N, it's me, Wanda. I think I owed you an apology for leaving you out there standing. I-I can't do this, I'm sorry.

Wanda's voice was trembling, it sounded like she was crying. Why was she crying? She left you, not the other way around.

You didn't know it was possible for your heart to break more, but it did. The sound of her painful voice would haunt you forever.

I really can't give you a reason, I guess I never was ready for commitment. Sometimes you just don't know the answer until someone gets on their knees and asks you, you know?

There was a long pause, so long that you thought the message was over. However, Wanda's voice filled the room again:

You deserve someone better than me, you always had. Someone who is not fucked up in the head like me, someone who will never hurt you like I did. You'll find a real thing out there, she will pick up the pieces of your broken heart and she will patch up your tapestry that I shredded. She will be so perfect that you will not remeber me, or all my champagne problems.

Your vision was blurred because of the tears that fall uncontrollably from your face.

Ours... your friends called, they all are worried about you, please contact them.

There was another long pause.

I lov...

Your heart started to race at the words she was about to say, but Wanda gave up halfway, as if realizing that the words were not true.

Goodbye, Y/N.

And that was it.

Four years of relationship saying goodbye in a voicemail of less than five minutes.

Your throat burned from holding on to crying for so long, you wanted to scream until your vocal cords burst.

You loved her more than anything, and she left as if it were nothing. As if your love meant nothing.

You took the picture of Wanda that was still on your wallet, and tore it into several pieces before throwing it in the trash.

Eventually, the sleep caught you while you were crying in the hotel bed, similar to a friendly hug in the midst of so much pain.

━━━━━━ ᗢ ━━━━━━

You heard that Wanda left town, without looking back, on the same day that she rejected your proposal.

Wanda's sweet perfume was still impregnate, along with your memories with her, in every room of the house that the two of you used to live. You didn't manage to stay there, it didn't take long for you to sell the house and buy an apartment in the city center.

You sold your black Chevy, there was no one around to stop you.

You also sold Wanda's things that she left behind, you didn't want anything to remind you of her. Because after the end of the day, you were still mad at Wanda. For leaving, for didn't give you a good reason, for making your waste four years of your life.

"She would've made such a lovely bride, what a shame she's fucked in the head." That was probably the last thing that someone spoke about Wanda, before another big gossip emerge in your town and they eventually forgot the humiliation that she put you through.

At first, you stayed in your new apartment with your heart broken, just watching futile reality shows and eating junk food. Steve, your best friend, was there all the time giving you emotional support, even though he didn't always know how to say the right thing.

But eventually you had to face reality, after all, you suffering or not, life still went on.

It took two years before you were ready to fall in love again. And two years since you had heard from Wanda, you didn't know about her even on social media, since she had deleted them all.

It was as if Wanda had simply disappeared, little by little, she became a myth in your life, a ghost that haunted you from time to time. Not even your friends and family mentioned her name.

Sometimes you wondered if she really existed, if you haven't invented her in your head.

It was in a bar outside the town, that you met Natasha Romanoff. She was self-confident and carried a death look in her eyes, rigid on the outside, but soft on the inside. She had short red hair and was not very fond of wearing jewellery.

Totally different from Wanda.

Natasha was fun to be around, it was easy to understand her because she was always honest with you.

You started to date her on the very first day of summer. Then, after spending all the four seasons together, you started to carry your mom's ring in your pocket and Natasha's picture in your wallet.

And when you got on your knees, she didn't leave you crestfallen on the dance floor. She said yes, and held your hand tight while dancing.

However, in the end, Wanda was wrong.

You still remeber all her champagne problems.

[bakingandbooks3]

A Court of Song and Serpents

A bit short but the begging of a project I'm SO excited for- hope you love this as much as I do.

Summary: What a time to be alive as Nesta Archeron, going backward to move forward and finding that the places she once called home are now empty tombs.

Nesta

Nesta held her breath for a moment, a pause, and stilled entirely. The Court of Nightmares. She knew the verdict would be severe, but never would she have expected exile to a world of terror. The horrors of that place, of how it was once the main residence of the High Lord- till Rhysand.

Rhysand, the man who boasted of lands bountiful with choice and reason, now sat across from her donning unmasked hatred. A look he kept shielded from his mate, reserved just for Nesta. The kind that rips one apart from the inside out, would carve out the belly of a beast, burn a witch on a wooden pyre.

Nesta felt nothing, she always did. It wasn’t hard to see what he was thinking of her, how his beautiful wife’s wretched sister was little more than a gambling thief who slept her way through his glorious city. Now, fingers smeared that blank canvas so pure of her darkest shades.

Eyes flicking back, she studied that same sister. The Cursebreaker, the Savior.

How small and insignificant she became next to the glimmering shining thing Feyre was. The lands spoke of her beauty and kind touch, and how she sacrificed everything to save a world of people, and Fae that she was raised to despise.

Nesta wished it’d be known that her touch wasn’t always kind.

She built her bricks firm enough that her house of grace never shattered; Held firm, it was all she had left in her. Too many eyes on her filled with grief, excitement, retribution-Nesta was keenly aware of how this Court of Dreams felt of her.

“This is an exile.”

Rhysand's smirk peaked so slightly, his mate tensing.

“No, no. This is an intervention, a chance for you to find yourself away from bad influences and habits. You can’t keep living like this, and I refuse to let it continue happening and I take the fall for it. Your decisions are impractical and immoral. You are sober much less than you are drunk and-”

“If you’re going to condemn me, do it. But don’t sit here and act as if this is out of kindness.” Nesta snarled. She hated the barbed words, but it’s what she felt. “Who are you to question my morality?”

“I think I can speak for my wife when I say that your presence here is….” Rhysand growled but pulled back, like he forgot Feyre was right there, too.

Nesta wished he would’ve let go, so maybe that facade Rhys reserved for Feyre was broken. No, that’s cruel. As much as she hated this and him, he was making her sister happy.

Something Nesta could never do.

“I do not give a shit what my presence is doing. The decision has already been made, so stop scolding me like a child and make good on your word, Rhysand.” Bile rose in her throat, the words feeling nothing but slimy and disgusting. Foreign, yet habitual all the same. Sometimes, she forgets there once was a woman called Nesta who was so much more than the viper living in her now.

Sometimes she remembers that she can’t ever be her again.

Home was nowhere for her, not in a person, not in a place, certainly not in this bombastic group of “heroes”. Nesta didn’t need a hero, she just needed someone to care. But Nesta knew better, no one would. She was taught to be unlovable, just a woman to be sold off and married- to climb her mothers' ever-growing social ladder.

But Nesta on her own was never enough, even with her mother six feet under and rotted away there were unsung expectations unmet. She was a catastrophic failure and a dark smear on a family name that never truly held weight to her.

Nesta looked up, felt everything all at once again, could only see one man pacing a worn-through tether between them. He wasn’t going to stop this, but she could see it, how it looked like he wanted to jump out of his own flesh, the veins of his arm prominent and knuckles normally so brown a new fresh fallen snow.

There was no prince to save Nesta, much less any will to save herself. So when Mor took the pleasure of bringing her to a living Hell, Nesta did not fight.

She was tired of fighting, after all, she fought an inescapable fate for the first twenty years of her life…

Flowers always made Nesta sneeze, but Elain lit like lights during winter whenever she could thread them through her hair. They all symbolized something, Laine would say. There are ones for good days, and hard storms, for sunshine and stars.

Nesta was always adorned in flowers that paralleled the estate. Astute, cold, tired, where she was warm, comforting, and smelled like cookies- ones that Celia normally baked for the sisters. She never asked Laine why she picked the ones for her that she did, her reasons would stay silent for now.

Spring was a high time of activity in the Archeron estate. There was always a flurry of activity, from preparing their mothers' obscene balls, to guests at every corner in every room. The halls were sprinkled in candles and on walls hung frames nearly kissing it was packed so tight.

They were in the gardens. It was an Elain day, as the girls would call it, and no matter how boring or mundane her wishes were they’d be fulfilled. Nesta was propped on the floor in front of Laine, who was bunching handfuls to weave in tangled auburn coils that gathered on Nesta’s head- as a bird's nest would.

Eventually, Nesta would have to learn braids or risk knotting the curls entirely.

The eldest basked in the silence she created from mentally muting her middle sister, and spared a glance at Feyre. What she saw was not surprising, but required far more willpower than she expected to not burst into laughter and risk the flowery rat's nest on her scalp.

Feyre appeared to be so bored out of her mind she was eating discarded flowers of Elains. Actually, ingesting them, as if she was a critique. When Elain wasn’t looking at Feyre, she’d grab another couple and study them- analyzing her next experiment. Glaring at the blues and yellows as if she was speaking to them, “Which one of you will make me puke the fastest so I can run away?”

In time, Feyre looked up from her taste tests to see Nesta grinning at her so violently you’d think Feyre hung the moon.

And Feyre beamed back, crossing a pinkie across her chest and pointing it back to Nesta. Then she viciously spit out the grass she’d just finished chewing, crying directly at Laine, “This MUST stop at once, my stomach hurts far too much to continue on here.”

Elain, in a garden so quiet, simply ignored her sister's poor attempts at escape. Making Nesta work even harder to stifle the shaking of her shoulders, covering her mouth and nose before she started wheezing. Elain would hardly hurt a fly but sent Nesta a glare that could’ve easily killed a man.

Nesta cleared her throat, “I do believe there are more of the blue flowers down that hill near the pond. Would you mind getting some more for Laine?”

Feyre was already on her feet, mouthing her thanks as Elain turned her back to get the next bunch of flowers, “Why of course I will!” And with a very bad curtsey, Feyre threw off her shoes and was rolling down the hill, spinning wildly, her laughter sure to be heard in meadows far beyond theirs.

You would find the Archeron sisters all together, or never in the same place.

Laine was the easiest to find, by the waters or pond on the east side, in gardens surrounded with bugs and willows calling to the young girl. She could hardly read but if the text included any mention of colors and blooms, suddenly she was a scholar. Elain was not simple or dull, but rather a passive spirit, like a summer wind- brief, fleeting, but teeming with love and hope.

Feyre, as their mother said, was a reckless wild child. Far too young to care, far too small to be whipped into shape. If you were sent to find her and your life depended on it, may the Mother bless you. Feyre liked the kitchen, because of the immaculate food and maids who would shove any sweet down the littlest Archerons throat. But, also for the immeasurable amount of sharp items to be found in there. If it was pointy and could stab a wall or scare their ice-cold mother, Feyre would be running the halls with it in hand or making targets of her fathers old trade route maps.

Then there was Nesta, the firstborn. Molded to be another woman that she somehow couldn’t fit, as if her feet were too big or hair too long, Nesta was outgrowing the standards forged into her being. You would see her as a ghost, floating in and out of rooms, comfortable in silence and slumber, but never escaping people. She loved the maids and could recite all of their names like clockwork, and the workers loved her in turn. Always stuck in new worlds between pages or willingly dragged by the two youngers, Nesta teemed with liberation. She was often alone, but never lonely, and found new loves in the library or in the fields beyond marble confines.

Adela was constantly dissatisfied with her eldest's progress inside these walls, as if at eight she should’ve already been engaged to a prince. Granted, Adela knew better. Nesta would never truly find another kingdom to buy into when she already had a crown waiting for her elsewhere. She was known as fair and beautiful beyond her years, would age like fine wine, and become so much greater than Adela ever was. What Nesta saw as fit would normally come to be, an instinct Adela was unprepared she would inherit. Nothing left her more confused than this daughter only by blood, who was hated by both her parents for reasons far from the same, and how at less than ten years had an entire mansion wrapped around her fingers.

But Adela would wait, and simply leave them be for now. When viper's strike, they kill. And even though the Matron of the house wanted her little queen gone, she had other ways to see this through.

Anyways, children's blood on her hands would stain her diamonds.

---

Cassian

Cassian was violently fucking ill. Watching whatever the fuck that was did not help in the slightest. The second she was gone, so was he.

The General and High Lord were not on speaking terms, his presence was an obligation and not a request. When Rhys first displayed his plans, Cassian just about murdered him. Had his brother on the table in a chokehold that the Shadowsinger had to come and release Rhys from. The way his so-called family planned her exile was… horrific.

Cassian was full of light and humor, but not dull the way his family made him out to be. He could see this for what it was, punishing an already broken female for not meeting every damn need of a fully grown woman that was no longer her responsibility. Cass knew better than to downplay the sacrifices Feyre made, but he was also well aware that Nesta's habits were hardly a financial problem and more of a reputation scandal.

That’s what the High Lord did best, when his Court was breaking at the bonds, the mess would “disappear”. Just like the Illyrians hidden in the mountains, the displaced families of Spring, the homeless warriors of Night.

Cassian loved his brother, but more often than not he wondered when Fate would come to bite them in the asses for Rhys’ neglect.

Now, here he was, in his mothers' cabin, wings dragging behind him wiping tears long since shed over a woman who was thrown to the wolves and torn into so many scraps he wasn’t sure how he could put her together again.

He missed his Nesta, the one who threw glares and begged for her people, not this one who hardly spoke and caved into herself enough that she couldn’t see where she was heading.

Cassian fingered for his mug in the wooden cabinets and hit his mark, soon placing water to heat over a small fire over the counter.

He was not okay, not okay at all.

When you look for something in the dark for too long, you eventually find what you need but not always in the way you expect. Cassian coped the same as Nesta Archeron in his first years post-war. It was suffocating trying to be the happy one while dying inside. He watched men he looked up to fall and a lover he admired take her last breath- too much in far too little time. Cassian was not an idiot, he was simply perplexed. Why was he allowed to grieve in unacceptable manners, but Nesta was a sinner in holy clothing?

Bright walls and unlit rooms in the house were silent, only the winds of the mountains singing outside. The newly dusted snow wrapped the dirt in a delicate kiss- a forbidden touch. It was the peak of winter, just after Feyre’s birthday and another insufferable party.

One that Nesta wasn’t invited to.

Cassian wished he wasn’t invited either.

The cup in his hands was dwarfed in comparison to the bulky Illyrian holding it, but at least it was warm. At least it wasn’t empty.

Because if there was one thing he knew, it could always be worse.

Cassian knew that if things were a little different, he’d be the one sitting in a prison of darkness and Hell because of mistakes made as a child. He’d be exiled by family, cast away by the only living remains of a life once lived.

Nesta didn’t know but long before this he had called it even, their sins atoned for in hurting each other equally.

She was the only one in the world who could tell which smiles he was faking.

To anyone on the outside, one kiss was merely that. How curious it was, the iceberg went far deeper.

So when the mug crashed against the wall, and in its wake resembled his inner turmoil, Cassian took to the skies and found himself at the door of a place far too familiar.

.

.

.

AHHHHHHHH OMG OKAY hope you guys enjoyed this:) if you want to be added to the tag list let me know!

@lovemeforever12345 @champanheandluxxury @nahthanks@perseusannabeth@queenestarcheron@silvernesta

@loosingdreams@sayosdreams@audreycressworth@cyra04@that-golden-lyre@nessiantrashh@misswonderflower@dontgetsalmonella@caram267@bickbickbarnes@sabrinasam-blog

[shelli-gator]

Hey I'm going through a rough time righ now, do u have any cute Panchulien hc's or scenarios that might cheer me up?

I love the content u create 4 them lmao

So I wrote you this <3 I hope you like it! One of my fav and earliest scenarios for them was Julien painting something for Pancho, and Pancho just -thrives- off seeing Julien happy about it. And also that the king would give him something.

Also, Julien totally deserved more support for his art than he got. I know Pancho was one of the people who gagged at his art, but I don’t think he actually knew it was his. And I do what I want. I can see Pancho humoring him to make him happy.

This also leads into a Valentines fic I have to still write for them fffff. But I’ll get to that xD. Anyway I hope you like this, and I hope you feel better! I’m here with more content/a ear to listen if you need it. :)

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

"Pancho, my man!"

His ears prick at the sound of his name, and the crowned lemur sits up on the rock where he's been lazily whiling the afternoon away in the shade, scratching at his chest absently.

King Julien trots up to meet him, wearing a decidedly keen smile with his paws tightly held around a length of canvas. The shade of the palms and fronds above them paints him in the subtlest shades of green, gold eyes gleaming with excitement even in the half light.

"Julio!" He throws a lopsided grin back at him, enjoying the way Julien seems to practically vibrate with glee at the use of his nickname, his ringed tail swishing and twitching, "What do ya need?"

"So," Julien starts off, trying and failing to maintain some composure, "I heard you're a, what, art collector-"

"Who told you that?!" Pancho barks, instantly on edge as he sits up a little straighter in his alarm, "Was it Horst? That friggin' rat! I'll kill him!"

"Hey! Relax man! You're totally killing my vibe." Julien scolds him before waving a paw dismissively, "And no it wasn't Horst. What's the big deals about it anyway?"

"Oh," Pancho deflates sheepishly, and he looks about awkwardly, rubbing his arm, "Er, n-no reason. Yeah I totally dig art. So, um, what about it?"

Julien perks up again, leaning in abruptly with his canvas, and Pancho grunts in surprise as he finds his space so suddenly invaded, "Well, as a collector of the fine arts, no collection is complete without a KJ original piece! I have made you this to grace your collection!"

He thrusts the canvas upon him with a clumsy air of pomp, and Pancho blinks hard, thoroughly staggered, "You made me this?"

"Of course! It is birthed from my creative juices!" 

Pancho makes a face at that, but he turns the canvas around to get a look at it, and his eyes widen, a strangled yelp of surprise escaping him.

For one, it's very... vivid, rays and bursts of orange, red and yellow radiating outwards from what looks to be an abstract character of… himself? He can only guess it's him, from the black crown and the ragged tooth smile he's got on his face.

The tentacles however? That's different, unless he suddenly sprouted them without him realizing it. They seem to be coming from his back. Wielding dynamite.

And is the canvas burnt around the edges?

Julien shifts on the spot, and Pancho looks over the rim of the canvas to see the King actually looking genuinely anxious, his tail curled around himself, “So, heh, what do you think? I used up all my orange paint for this one!”

If it had been literally anyone else, or perhaps another time, he might have put his nose up to such a thing. But all he can think about is that Julien made him this. That he cares about what he thinks of it. That the King would take time out of his day to make him something. 

As if he hasn’t given him so much already.

Pancho clears his throat, his lungs burning in his chest in the most agonizing and delightful way. Julien hangs on his response, his heart in his eyes as his gaze flicks over Pancho’s features, trying to read his response.

And when Julien’s ears slowly start to droop Pancho quickly pulls himself together, trying to throw together some coherent response, “Aw, I like it! Like a lot! It speaks to ya, know what I’m sayin’?”

Julien gasps dramatically, his pupils the size of dinner plates. He squeals happily to himself, catching his bottom lip between his teeth, “You mean that?! You like it? You really really like it?!”

“Heck yeah I do, what do I look like, some classless backwoods hack?”

“I’m not gonna answer that.”

“Did ya burn these edges?” Pancho presses, and he runs a finger over it, watching as the pad of his finger comes away black, burnt flakes coming off in places. He sniffs it for good measure, and Julien’s ears twitch adorably, betraying his interest.

“Yeah! Is that- is that good?”

“Oh yeah, like a mixed media piece, maybe some… er, abstract expressionism? Evokes all the senses!”

Julien is practically vibrating, and Pancho grins at him, enjoying seeing the King thrive off his praise. And then the ringtail hops up onto the rock beside him, scooting in eagerly to sit beside him with a giddy grin, “Yes! And there I was, hehe, worried you wouldn’t like it! How ridiculous is that?!”

Pancho snorts, resting the canvas on one knee while his arm rests atop it, trying to ignore the way his heart thumps! pointedly in his chest as Julien’s knee brushes against his own, “Wouldn’t dream of it, your Majesty.”

Julien sways on his perch beside him, still practically glowing, “I’ll make you something else, too! Ya know, to like, double the worth of your collection. Least I could do for my peeps.”

“Uh-huh,” Pancho chuckles dryly, rolling his eyes up towards him, “Thanks, Julio.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a beat, enjoying each other’s company and the filtered sunlight streaming in through the canopy. Pancho indulges himself, watching how it plays across the silvery fur on Julien’s stomach. He commits the feeling of Julien’s knee against his own to memory, hyper aware of every shift in Julien’s movement that he feels against his leg.

Finally he arches a brow at him, grinning playfully, “I gotta ask though. What’s with the tentacles?”

Julien giggles before waving his paw, rolling his shoulders with a smirk, “Consider it my artistic signature. And also, I really dig the tentacles. Imagine what you could do with those!”

“Yeah, I could steal, like, a bunch of stuff at once! More loot, baby!”

“Exactly!”

[bodyswapmischief]

Jiggalo In Trouble

Well, I don't fucking know what to do. You see ... this isn't my body. This morning I was a hairy, obese, 50 year old man. Not, this muscled, latino, bad boy you see now.

You could say my life was pathetically tragic. I grew up in a time and place where I couldn't be myself. I was gay but, stayed deep in the closet. I even forced myself to marry a woman and have 3 beautiful children. I had a decent life and most days I was happy. But, I always knew I was lying to the ones I love. Yet, I knew the truth could never come out. I had to live the rest of my life playing a straight man.

But, there was always one thing on my bucket list. I wanted to have a sex with a man. Just once, and I could die happy. I tried many times, with gay dating apps, but I always chickened out at the last minute.

But, then the opportunity showed itself. I was selected by my boss to go to Las Vegas, for a work related convention. I would be the repsentive for this branch at some booths, panels, and meetings that were going to happen.

It didn't seem to stressful. Working for the company for so long, I knew I would be able to handle it. But, what I was really excited for was the possibilites. "Whatever happens in Vegas; stays in Vegas."

So, I get there and I work at the convention. It was okay. I met some cool people. I networked. But, the long days always left me tired. I had no time or energy to look for a fast one night stand. Or maybe that was just an excuse for me chickening out again. Outside of the convention, I just spent my time eating at th hotels buffet and watching TV in my hotel room.

As the paid trip was coming to an end, I had a free day all to myself. It started off the same. I went to the buffet and ate till I was full. Then I waddled back to my room. Looking through my suitcase, I saw my special clothes I packed. In case I did manage to get the courage to do a one stand, I pack some leather gear. I sighed disappointed in myself for chickening out.

But, a thought popped in my mind. I might not have the courage to have sex with a stranger. But, I could walk around the casino dressed up as a fat leather daddy. I put on the tight leather pants. I put on a plain white shirt and leather vest. I looked at the mirror and smiled. Finally, I could express myself. I put on the rest of my gear and sighed. My heart was racing. And then I opened my hotel room door.

No one was around so, I walked into the elevator. Through the sound of my heartbeat, I was screaming inside my mind. "What the FUCK am I doing." As the elevator went down people started getting in. I wanted to cry, I was so embarrassed. But, nobody said anything. No one laughed or said something mean. Some people even smiled at me. I began to relax. I began to feel happy and maybe even sexy.

It felt like the stars aligned. And maybe they did. I went to see some shows. I ate at the buffet. I got compliments from guys. I got some numbers and some invites to clubs. I even danced with some guys at a leather bar. But, I knew I wasn't going to take the next step. I was still scared. And, it was getting late. With beer in my stomach and altering my mind. I stopped at the slot machines and put a coin in, before going to my room. And, luck really was on my side. As the machine lit up, it announced I won the 20,000 dollar grand prize. I was still drunk. Staff and other people surrounded me. They were cheering and giving me balloons, a crown, and the check to collect my winnings when I was ready.

I got up, still tipsy, and stumbled a little bit. People laughed and cheered little bit. The staff slide the check into my vest pocket. "Don't worry I got him." A hot young man came to myside. He used his strength to help me stand. He had tattoos on his arms. He was wearing a tight shirt and pants. A gold chain hung from his neck.

Everyone dispersed as this Latin stud led me to the elevator. "Okay, Papi, what room are you in." To drunk I just handed him my key card. He lead me to my room and laid me on the bed. He started taking off my clothes. I don't fight back. In my drunk mind this is the fantasy I always wanted. "Okay big boy, it looks like your going to get luck again tonight."

I can't see over my giant stomach but, I could feel him take off my pants then underwear. Suddenly, I felt him push my fat pad and start sucking my dick. He started off slow and I moaned with pleasure. He kept sucking using his tongue to play with the head of my penis. My breathing became heavier and the pleasure starts to sober me up. I felt my dick about to burst with cum. I tried to warn him but he ignores me. And, I shoot my load into his mouth. I gasped in ecstasy.

Suddenly, I felt a dick in my mouth. My mouth is covered with semen, as the dick keep pulsating with cum. I swallowed what I could and then took it out of my mouth. Right in front of me was a familiar sight. I saw my penis surrounded by my fatty pelvic region. From this outside perspective I could see how fat I really was? I look down and saw that I'm in the young man's body. My dick was rock hard and my body was now lighter and stronger. Adrenalin rushed through my muscles. Tattoos covered the body.

My body finally started talking, "Like what you see?"

"What did you do to me ... to us?"

"You see I'm a juggalo and I saw you ... a man who needed to get lucky, if you know what I mean. And, after tonight's big win down stairs I know you have the money to pay me."

"But... but.... I'm in your body and you ..."

"Oh, I have a fetish. I like giving men the opportunity to be me. I mean look at you now you are stud. You are turned on just by being in that body. Just existing in that body is orgasmic for you. So, that makes sex so much better, at least for me. And, then experiencing new bodies is always fun. I haven't been in a person this fat in awhile. And your breast are so sensitive. Oh, and this tight asshole. What do you say do you want to fuck yourself, with my body."

My old body spreaded its legs, revealing its asshole. My dick was raging hard. I slowly inserted my long dark dick. It felt so good. I started going a little faster. I watch as the muscles in my caramel body flexed and relaxed. The whole experience was hot. I started touching my old body the way I knew I liked to be touched.

"Fuck this is so good. Faster, faster, faster." My old body cried out. Feeling the strength of the muscled body, I go full speed. Both of our bodies were sweating, panting, moaning. Then everything stopped, as we both cummed.

We laid side by side, a big smile on my face. My old fat body started kissing my buff chest and then up my neck. "Let me freshen up, and then it's my turn to fuck you." He whispered sexually.

I watched as he struggled to get to his feet and then as he waddled to the bathroom. I laid there exploring my new body. My dick already getting hard from my excitement.

Then, I heard the front room door open. A man with a gun walked in.

"Fuck Enrique! Cover up or something." My heart racing, I grabbed a blanket and put it over my naked body. "Good, now this is you last fucking chance. The boss wants his money and necklace back"

"You ... you ... I'm... um." I try to talk but I can't think straight. The man walked closer and grabbed me by the neck. He started choking me. I tried to fight back. But, then he grabs me by the balls. He starts squeezing them. The pain is intense, I lay still. "Good now talk or I ripped out your prized possessions." He says as he pulls out a blade.

Then from the corner of my eye, I saw my old body enter the room. "Hey! Hey! Hey! Ryan leave him alone. It's me Enrique. He has nothing to do with this."

The man on top of me looks over his shoulder. "Really!? Your in that fatass. I guess it suits you for being such a pig in the first place." He laughed. "So, where's the boss's money."

"Here, I have part of it here. This guy just won it big downstairs. And, with access to his memories, I have access to his bank accounts." Enrique smiles.

The man begins to aim his gun at Enrique. "What ... what are you doing. I ... I have the money." Enrique starts to panic.

"What is your name," the man motions to me. "Andrew," I nervously replied. The man turns his attention back at Enrique. "No you don't have the money. You have Andrew's money. The boss is fucking tired of your shit. God! I've been waiting to do this for so long," with that last word Enrique, in my body, was shot in the head. Blood splattered on the wall and was quickly pooling on the floor. I saw in shock as my old body laid thier lifeless. What the fuck was going to happen, now.

The man walks to me and I prepare for the worst. Instead, he just ripped the golden chain from my neck. "Well it looks like it your lucky day. You got an upgrade on your body.." He said, as he looked down at me. "Don't worry about your old life. There is no going back now. I'll make sure your wife and kids get what you saved in your bank and I'm pretty sure the boss will throw a little extra."

"S ... so your just going to let me go?," I asked.

"Yeah, why not? You didn't do anything wrong., besides cheating. But, we've all been there. Plus, that body has made a lot of enemies so, you won't exactly have a peaceful life. Don't get me wrong the boss will spread the word of what really happened to Enrique, but some people just really like seeing the actual body dead. So, take your winnings and find some small town to lay low and start a new life."

A new life, one that was in constant danger. This seemed more like a punishment, but in a way I guessed I deserved it. I could never go back to my old life. I knew at this point there was no use in protesting. "What about him I pointed to my dead body."

."Oh, he was a pig in life. Now he's being tortured as a fatass in hell. But, if you are talking about the body; well we have people who will take care of that. So, I recommend leaving as soon as possible."

The man patted me on the back and started to leave. "Good luck with your new life. But, if things get to out of hand for you or you are in desperate need for a job give me a call." He places a business card on the desk, before he leaves.

Now, I'm sitting here. Memories flood my mind. I saw every bad thing this body did. Using that necklace, the man took, to rob people of everything they owned, even killing people in the process. I looked at my hands, then my arms, and then my muscular torso. I had my dream body, but at what cost. I look at this memories with disgust, I knew that I wasn't capable of those acts. But, it didn't matter, the memories felt so real.

I hear a buzzing sound and snap back to reality. I start putting on Enriques clothes and feel a cell phone. It buzzes again. LAST WARNING: Destroy this phone and get out of there now!. I easily snap the phone in half and submerge the broken pieces into a nearby glass with water. I take the the business card and walked out of the room. I didn't know where I was going. I just knew Las Vegas was no longer safe for me. I need to get some where far and collect my thoughts about what the fuck happened.

[flamingo-queen-writes]

11, please!

11. What are you planning to work on next?

Oh boy. What a loaded question you have chosen! 😅

So the answer is kinda complicated, and "planning" in and of itself is a dangerous concept for my brain when frolicking in the land of WIPs. But.

My attention in the last... maybe week or so? Has been on a mixture of Matador and Hazy 'verse items, with brief but earnest forays into Glassworks.

(more after the cut because I cannot stop talking but also don’t want to kill dashboards)

Matador: Of late, I'm in the fleshing-out stages of the "so you've caught yourself an asset" section. That is, our issues-laden Avengers crew (plus new-Avenger!Sam and considering-it!Sharon) will have a somewhat feral Asset!Bucky on their hands who is not there willingly and who does not trust his current captors. There's also plenty of other crap unfolding because I am incapable of simple plotlines.

Son of Matador: Of course, I'm also deeply enjoying the parts where we (and team Avengers) get to see the soft side of our murder dumpling, the excitement and fluff, the nicknames... (Tony is obnoxious, I swear, once he gets on a nickname kick).

And now it’s secret time. Every time I get comments on something, I run to read the comments, and then I read the something, and then my brain tries to drag me back to that something no matter what else I’m working on how how it’s going. So Hazy is also heavily on my mind, because there were comments on some Hazy things (this is also what put that last Fossilized thing out in the world--my brain is easily hijacked).

I'm revisiting and polishing up later chapters of Red Fish, particularly chapters wherein Things happen that are Horrible. (Naturally.) But also forest strolls with Polina and Vasily and the Soldier, and the baking of cookies with Vladimir and the Soldier, and yikes. Just all kinds of Red Fish stuff. Because that's the story that just... defies me, I guess. Refuses to get on with itself or let me work on "what happens next" as opposed to "what happens seventeen chapters from the last one you posted." Yes, that is an indication of how long that beast will be.

There's also a ton of one shots for Hazy that are clamoring for me to revisit them. There's the cooking grease. The eyeballs. The brick. But also the flower crowns, and the tree-climbing, and the bumblebee. So.

And Recovery wants some attention, even though I can't really start posting that thing until Hazy has another 100k in it at least, so... Sigh.

Aaaaand the Fossilized boys are digging at me to hurry up and just write some suffering so that I can write some relief from that suffering and then move on again. It's not often a Bucky wants me do this, but I do feel called to do it, and egged on by a Bucky no less.

Glassworks is still percolating, bubbling away, now that I've cleared out some roadblocks (with much help from @glittercake -- thank you, lady!) and gotten back in touch with my earlier intentions. That is for a Sambucky Big Bang, and so an item of some importance. That's probably why it's still playing coy.

Then there's two 'verses of the Sambucky bingo that I'm totally going to lose (but see Fossilized for an example of how I'll write every single fill even a year after the deadline if that's what it takes). Sam and Bucky are very intent on ruining my life with their demands, particularly since they follow those demands up by refusing to cooperate on the page, the little shits.

I've only got about 5 half-finished stories for the Got Milk series, and another two for the Selkie AU. So if any of those wanted to play nice and get themselves unstuck, I'd be ever so thankful, haha!

And of course Steve is wanting his chapter in the newest fic with all the goats to show up, mostly so he can show off his hair and be petulant and stuff.

Then there are the dark horses, lurking in the shadows and liable to pull a Matador and burst onto the scene with a flurry of activity and weekly posts until my need for sleep intervenes:

A second (technically the first, but not the one I started writing first) selkie AU featuring a very different Selkie!Bucky in a pairing with Tony. That one is way darker, with way more violence, way less fun magic, and oh so much more HYDRA.

A Venom AU (does it count as an AU?) where Venom and pals crash land somewhere else, far earlier, and Venom gets to bond with a still very brainwashed Winter Soldier.

Then there are centaurs, no-powers graduate students, merfolk, faeries, that Aquaman idea I'm trying not to think about...

So the summary of the really long answer is: Whatever I plan has no relevance whatsoever to what will actually happen, more's the pity. I have zero ideas what thing will get updated next, or which new thing will show up.

The actual short answer (and the short-sighted answer because plans are helpless against my brain's whims) is: I really want to work on the sequel to the Rescue Spooning Selkie AU, because I feel like I'm nearly there for that one, and it has some fun moments in it. Plus, if I can get that out, I can dump other one-offs from that 'verse into the series and not worry too much about continuity, preparing the way for the eventual third "big" fic in the series (where "big" means "anchor piece" rather than "large in size") where Sam and Bucky go undercover in a cryptid village.

Runner up is Glassworks, because once I dig back into it, I have a feeling I can make a ton of progress now that I have the course corrections ironed out. Clint and Sam have already been having "it's 3 am and the writer wants to be sleeping, so let's talk about how to help you woo Bucky despite him being a dumbass" conversations.

Thank you for the ask!

If anyone else wants to ask me something, please feel welcome! That post with all the questions is here: 

https://flamingo-queen-writes.tumblr.com/post/619321117992189952/writer-ask-meme

[dylan-o-yumm]

Well hey! Can I say that I'm totally agree that there is not enough nero stuff? (I think i read all lol) anyways… I have angsty one even I hate to make this to good boy sad … but since I read the one with s/o being pregant how about one that the s/o dies during birth like losing to much blood and yeah ..I even had in mind that's even twins Girl and a Boy but yeah since he lose his s/o that he maybe was to even broken to take them care off that someone from the dmc Crew took care in that time?

(I think I read all of the Nero stuff out there too, which makes me sad. Almost as sad as your request! Anon, why would you do this to me! I mean, I cant be too mad because I love angst… but STILL!)  

“Dante, I can’t do this. Every time I look at their faces, all I see is her” Nero sniffles, handing his baby boy over to his uncle as Trish holds and rocks his daughter over by Dante’s desk, calming the baby down since she had started crying. Dante carefully takes the baby into his arms and bounces slightly, keeping the boy asleep while he talks to Nero. His frown is evident but he cant help but feel bad for Nero, also going through tough times after loosing you. Dante was a good friend of yours, your death taking a tole on him too. 

“Look, kid. I know you miss, Y/n. We all do. But you can’t just hand away your own kids” Dante kept his tone natural, knowing if he sounded too sympathetic, Nero would get pissed about it. Nero hated when people pitted him, especially now when he wasn’t the one who died. Well, a part of him did. Yes, he was hurting… a lot, but you were gone, never even getting to see your newborn babies faces before you took your final breath. He felt sorry for you, not him. 

“I can’t look after them! I… I don’t want to” Nero admitted, his hands shaking slightly as he felt tears brim his eyes. He looked like hell; eyes puffy from constantly crying, bags under his eyes from never sleeping, his hair a mess and skin slightly more pale than the last time Dante had seen him since Nero never left the house to get some sunlight after your passing. 

“Nero, don’t turn into Vergil. You can’t abandon your kids, you’re better than that” Dante scolded, his large hand rubbing and patting your sons back. For someone who doesn’t have kids, he was doing a good job. “You were so excited to have these little rugrats and now you can’t even look at them? This isn’t what Y/n would want, kid” Dante adds, showing his disappointment in his nephew through his eyes. He thought Nero was stronger than this. 

“Don’t you dare tell me what she would and wouldn’t want! She’s not here! You have no right to speak for her!” Nero bursts, yelling loudly enough to cause both children to stir and begin crying loudly. Both Trish and Dante rock them back and forth to sooth them, shushing softly while Nero’s eyes soften, realising he wouldn’t be able to be a good parent without you here. Hearing them cry because of him struck something in his chest and he just wanted to leave, get out of there before he melts down in front of Dante. 

“Look, kid… take a week to get your shit together, then come back. Step up and be the father you promised Y/n you were going to be” Dante said, his words feeling like a kick to the stomach for Nero. He shut the door, locking Nero outside so he and Trish could look after the twins for a week, leaving Nero along to deal with his emotions. 

The whole week, Nero was miserable. He was constantly lonely, the house empty and devoid of colour without your smile to brighten it up. He got some sleep, but would wake up screaming and crying from the nightmares. It was the same dream of the twins ripping you apart, it was gruesome and horrible and he knew thats not what really happened, but he did blame the children for your death. 

By the fifth day, he had showered, shaved, brushed his teeth and changed his clothes, seeming like the old Nero once again. He was still sad, he always would be. But he had been doing a lot of thinking, Dante’s words echoing in his mind. He knew you’d be disappointed in him, the fact that his kids weren’t even with him right now was enough to make him fall to his knees sobbing, crying to the heavens how sorry he was that he let you down. 

Come day seven, he was a lot better. He knew he needed his kids back. He wanted them back. He no longer blamed them for your death, realising it was just a horrible thing that happened. He made his way to Devil May Cry, knocking on the door and being met with Dante holding two bottles. He was welcomed inside, not mentioning anything about his breakdown and Dante didn’t bother asking any question, seeing that Nero looked a thousand times better made him realise his nephew was ready to be a father now. 

Dante walked him over to Trish who was playing on the floor with the two babies and Nero smiled as soon as he saw them, reaching down to pick up his baby boy. He held him close to his heart, pressing soft kisses to his crown before picking up his daughter and doing the same to her. He held the twins, one in each arm and sat with his back against the crappy couch, staring lovingly at them both. 

“Daddy’s here now. I wont ever leave you again. Thats a promise” 

[cassangafund]

'World Rafting Championships Tully River'

Day 9

19th of May the final day of competition. Downriver is the star event of the championships; mentally and physically challenging all the teams, with up to an hour of paddling flat out. The river level was nice and high after the constant heavy down pour in the previous day's, making the degree of difficulty even more challenging as the teams made their way through the various rapids. Teams are sent down in groups of up to 5 rafts.

Our Aussie girls were totally pumped for this race.

I can only imagine how the competitors must of been feeling after travelling up and back to the river over the past 7 days; we were exhausted. For us we were left with mixed feelings knowing the competition was coming to an end.

Our final trip up to the river saw us once again take advantage of using our 'All River' car pass; it was so nice not to have to do the shuttle bus thing, especially having Lozzie and Shaun with us.

The excitement began to build as we all eagerly awaited the arrival of the teams at the finish line. As we stood on the banks of the river waiting patiently we became lost in our thoughts. The power of mother nature took our girl, yet here we were wading our feet in the water. The sadness and heartache comes in waves, and then the tears begin to roll down our cheeks 😥

It wasn't long before the first teams came within sight. The elation on their faces as they crossed the finish line was a sight to behold.

It was nice to see the competitors let their hair down and celebrate their achievements mucking around in the water, I think they were cheering louder than the spectators. We had no idea where the teams had placed and it didn't matter to us either way. We were so happy to be apart of this fantastic event, cheering and supporting our Aussie teams.

We watched and cheered as the Nepali boys went past the finish line. They paddled straight up to the river bank to be greeted by Nim and the Nepali support crew.

Although we experience moments of intense sadness with Cass' passing we also experience a real sense of knowing that she is with us.

When the boys stopped at the rivers edge the most beautiful Ulysses butterfly circled above each of the boys heads crowning their glory, time almost stood still as we watched the beautiful crowning dance unfold and then it flew off. Colin and I both looked at each other and burst into tears; we held each other tightly. 😭😭

We knew in our hearts that our girl was acknowledging the amazing effort of each of her Nepali brothers.

As Nim stepped into the raft to join the boys another butterfly flew directly through the middle of the raft; it was like it was doing a fly by......

No other raft had any butterfly's around them, only the Nepali boys.

Yet another special moment.....

The downriver results were in; the Japanese Opens women team managed to out paddle the New Zealanders and placed first. Yuri was absolutely estatic, she came to win gold and she did. Little did we know that was her intention all along, to win gold for Cass....💪💪💪

Our Aussie girls placed 6th. The Nepali boys also placed 6th. Our Masters Men did an amazing job and placed 3rd.

The final overall result saw our Aussie masters men receive a bronze medal on the podium and our Masters Women Gold. What an amazing achievement. We felt so incredibly proud.

We had time to shower and change and with Christine's help write a speech before the medal and closing ceremony. The sky was pitch black and the rain bucketed down during the medal presentations; I wasn't impressed at all. I had done my hair and makeup in preparation for my speech for the closing ceremony.

Once again Yuri caught us off guard. As we were presenting the medals for downriver she called Colin over and placed her gold medal over his head. With the look she gave Colin in that moment he could feel the honour and how much it meant to her to gift this precious medal for her dear friend Cass.

I had no idea what was happening because I was too busy trying to get out of the pouring rain. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw Colin coming off the stage with Yuri's gold medal around his neck.

The Japanese national anthem played and there stood Yuri amongst her team mates medal less. We stood there totally speechless and once again emotionally overwhelmed......

As the medal presentations drew to a close I quietly had a chat to Cass and told her to stop the rain. I didn't want her moment of glory to be spoilt by the weather.

As the closing ceremony began we were invited on the stage to speak. Although I was quietly shitting my pants I did notice the rain stopped, our beautiful girl worked her magic once again. My hands shook as I read my speech all the while feeling sick to my stomach. What I would give to have our girl back😥

Standing up there on the stage watching everyone looking at the screens I could see by their faces how deeply touched they were by our beautiful girl ❤️

Here is a you tube link for a shorten version played on the night.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CUrMKhHRUk8

What an incredible human being she was. The rain had stopped and it was like time had stood still as our girl strutted her stuff on the big screen. I'm sure she was looking down on us all proud as punch of what she had managed to achieve in her lifetime. 🤗😇

It was an undescribable moment 🙏❤️

[alchemisland]

The Moors Mutt - I

Part II coming on Tuesday!

I. Old Stone

The beast I knew only in folkloric snippets. Hedge whispers perverting history to arcana through time immemorial. Perhaps too I had known it in nightmares, shapeless until named, becoming then familiar as a bedchamber.

It was grim autumn when that fateful letter arrived, setting in motion a chain of events both strange and unlikely. In retrospect, that a series of vignettes so bizarre could start with the simple act of a posted letter seemed comical.

The letter landed with a thud, dubbing me sole executor of the late Lady Renton Sizemore's last will, a grim charge requiring a trip to her wicked home, listed in the Briarscombe country house register as the third most bloodstained holding in England.

Dislike isn't the word. Lady Sizemore and I got on famously when last we spoke, thirty years ago. I wasn't the doting schoolboy turned dribbling manchild spending Saturday nights at bingo. Neither was she the elderly relation procuring coins from behind ears to the delight of the youngers.

We were not eachother's keeper. Why I was suddenly favoured for this sensitive task that required more mental finesse than anyone in the family gave me credit for out loud, puzzled me greatly. Somebody must have annoyed her at one of her events. Sandwich gala on the Pringle Estate destroyed by careless nephew's untucked shirt. In true family style, whatever infuriated her she took to the grave.

Once the money was apportioned, I was to ensure no stone went unturned, apt phrasing given its namesake. Cairn Cottage stood oppressively atop the mound some two hundred winters, a plundered megalith shielding against the bracing gales.

Up there the flowers bloomed blighted, grass grew sideways and only the sturdiest roots survived. Without the megalith's girth, perhaps those winds might have toppled the twisted demesne, but she held firm now as old.

Mystics, druids and spiritualists alike extolled the house's phantasmic virtues. Fringe groups scrambled to reserve exclusive use of the land for Candlemas ceremonies. Lady Sizemore didn't care, provided she was soundly remunerated.

Rumours abounded of hauntings, anomalies occurring on the land by midnight's trickery.

Upon receipt of instruction, I spurred my carriage toward Cairn Cottage, the house in whose shadow no local walked without rosaries.

Although my visit was primarily administrative, there was another matter pertinent to my interests. One muttering which above all others inspired fear. A cautionary tale warning children from the grounds by night. And sometimes, on cold and lonely nights, a brave man wandering alone might see fit to take the longer road home.

Worse than druids, they said a beast lived on the Moor. A hulking creature, whose snarling teeth bared in fullness of dark glowed like spears of starlight, whose stark brightness was dulled only by the gleaming viscera of previous engagements clinging in ragged flaps.

However the rumour started, it long sprouted legs of its own, more exciting with each recounting.

No smoke without fire. I intended to find the single primal ember, the lone truthful element, stripped of frill and frock, fancy and folly, bereft of myth, or loyalty to tradition. Was there something in the fields by night? Was it dangerous?

First came Sperrin, a grizzly hamlet outside the estate's confines. For a penny, a local lad promised to find a suitable nook for the trap. I visited the sole watering hole, a squalid cellar named Lar's. The tavern itself was not charmless, offering average vintage for below average prices, warmth, music, rustic flattery and inimitably, whispers of the beast.

The tavern's proprietor Lar was a man out of time. With his arms folded across his simian chest and those big lugs like trophy handles either side of his substantial forehead, he could have easily passed for a saxon chieftain. He stood astride the bar against a backdrop of coloured bottles. Immediately upon entering his eyes set upon me with great intensity. Unlike the merry keep of fireside tales, he offered no warmth in greeting. That you were found fit to sit his barstool was kindness enough.

Inebriates remained nursing drams, glowering at their respective lecterns. Occasionally I'd catch one staring at me, then turn away as I waved. After a while sitting and sipping, making a game of catching their nosy glances, I signalled Lar's attention. 'This is probably going to sound strange. Probably because it is. Hear me out though. Have you ever heard or seen anything strange out on the moor?'

Widened like an owl, Lar's right eye scanned me once, twice, three times before he moved a muscle. 'Have in fact. Not now though. Too many around. Later.' His lips barely moved. I tipped my nose.

Nearer closing, he poured a cup and sat, remaining on the business side of the bar.

'The beast, you say?' He leaned in close, one eyebrow raised, its shape the arching rod of a hooked line. 'I could tell you a thing or two about the beast alright.'

'Prithee speak, my curiosity is burning. I won't rest a wink until it's satiated. Tourist talk aside, do you believe, as men do God, a beast prowls these forests?' I inched forward, as if by closer proximity, the truths would be truer.

'Regular Theseus, eh? Monster hunters, we have had plenty. Lovers of darkness too. Students of forbidden arts. All are served here. Kings and paupers alike. Did you come all this way to hear me say that?' Lar spoke with great confidence. The manner of his prattling meant the tales he told were true, or this was practiced.

'No.' I replied, 'I have business in the cottage. My heart though, she belongs to this creature. I am not a quack, nor a holder of séances. I am not a man of low learning on the hunt for falsehoods. I am a lover of stories. Pray, continue your captivating narrative.'

He continued, 'Let it be said I was coaxed. You wanted this.'

In this ominous portent he let slip a mask of deft craft. There was artifice in his smile, a cheshire grin that touched either cheekbone. A whispered suggestion of hidden intent.

Everything made sense. Was I seeing clearly? More than ever. I saw his ruse; city boy down for the day, take him for a ride, tell him the usual stories. A pal of his will burst in at just the right time, scare me half to death, then they'll take me to the supposed hot-spot for the low price of everything I've got. Lar took me for a lettuce. Something in his warning tipped me. A little over-arch. If his performance was not theatre, then Shakespeare never wrote.

Doubtless once finished, Lar would proffer some overpriced talisman no fellwalker could risk refusing.

'Enough pussyfooting. Spill it. I'll need all the advice I can get.' Like a drill tip, I pressed my index finger into the bar.

'No matter what image I conjure in your mind's eye, the beast is yet more ferocious and terrible in the flesh. It's the great unreality of it.' He tapped his forehead. 'Your mind doubts what it's seeing, unable to comprehend its stimulus. Brave men are made mice in its shadow.'

'What evidence have you of such a creature?' I asked, draining my tankard. He did the same, then wiped the amber residue on the back of his hand. He looked me over once, as if to ask who I was to question. I returned a withering gaze, maneuvering my features to convey a similar message. For a moment the air felt charged with kinetic possibility. As when two pugilists circle to begin a contest, lead hands pawing. Neither of us wished to be responsible for qualms.

He broke the armistice. 'Evidence? If you didn't think it weren't here, you wouldn't have come. If you believed in your heart this week you'd be contending with a monster, you'd have stayed at home in your jams.'

'Nonsense, man! You forget I am summoned, not here of my own volition.'

'We, each of us, tell ourselves sweet little lies to justify how our limited time is spent. I have a right mind to think if the lady yet lived, you and I might still have met. On a yawning stretch such as this, arriving as you have: alone and curious. If there's one thing I can't respect, it's a self hating believer. Swanning around with all the cynicism of a non-believer, clad in the robes of an adherent, so that when the hobby is proved spurious you can point to your skepticism. You'd be first to the papers tomorrow if scientists verified the beast's existence, how you had journeyed and studied on your own dime to further the science.' Lar pursed his lips, knowing he'd cut me to the quick, vanished was his earlier reticence.

I hated how right he was. I was exactly this sort. Insulting people who believed the same things as me. First to refuse to enter a haunted house for fear a demon might take my soul.

I'd never concede his point though. I riposted, 'Few are more loathed than the opinionated barman. You speak much too readily. Do so again, I'll see your manners are checked for the next weary traveler willing to pay good coin.'

Lar's eyes lit, bulging with imagined riches. 'Let me fill your drink, sir. I meant no offence. We speak freely here. Manners soften. Soon one finds truths cannot be digested unperfumed. Here in the wilds, it's a duty to voice quarrel. Far from crown and court, unaired anger festers.' Lar gladly dispensed his pearls of rural wisdom as if they were sweets from a bulging striped bag.

'Really, man. Every idea can be made ridiculous if extrapolated to that degree. Manners take the edge off. I'm not offended by your candor. I intend to find the creature, if such exists. Have you no doubt about that.' I watched him pull another drink.

The returned tankard was too full to raise without spilling. I slurped loudly, head bowed. Like a pulled plug, half the liquid gone in a single gulp.

'What evidence is sufficient? Look around you.' Lar held aloft his hands, urging me toward his empty business, still cast in a sickly light from the last flickering sentinels.

He pointed toward the empty seats. A single patron remained hidden in the shadows. A local by his boots.

'We did a roaring trade before that bloody woman inherited the place. Once she came, the trade died. When I was a lad, that land was free to roam. No walls. She had them built to spite us. Worse rumours too and all, that she built those walls to house it.'

'It?' I asked

'It. The beast.' Lar's voice lowered to a whisper. 'A cage for a pet beyond control. That's your sort all over. Dabbling where you shouldn't.'

'Her sort.' I corrected, 'I'm not aristocratic. You're a presumptuous sort, you know.'

'Believe you're not the first to say. Her sort, whatever pleases. I don't subscribe to this theory. Me personally, I think it came from hell. One thing's for certain, it got worse when they shifted the cairn.'

'You say you have seen it?' Part of me thought I was the one stringing him along, but another more gullible me firmly believed, or wanted to believe, that he had seen something. Hoping not to seem needy, I drew myself close to him, the bar still between us, 'With your own eyes if you saw it, you must swear it now. Did you see it as I see you now, or as one sees the distant stars and erroneously assumes knowledge.'

'As I stand before you.' Lar gestured to his stained apron, which he then removed and hung on a hook overhead. He nodded to the barfly, who stumbled from his seat and shot the bolt across the lock, an angry black mechanism like a bas-relief, which clanked against the timber as he let it fall. 'That's Fergus.'

Fergus lurched over. One leg trailed behind him. I couldn't help imagining him as a gothic manservant, dragging corpses to the laboratory in pursuit of higher knowledge. He came to stand beside me. There were giants on the earth is those days. Though our eyes observed the same setpieces, his countenance betrayed little comprehension. He had the chiseled jaw of a marble bust in profile, but his mouth hung open permanently, moist lips pursed like a fish.

He placed an enormous hand on my shoulder. Such space was permitted between his splayed fingers that ten legions abreast might find passage unmolested. His knuckles protruded unnaturally, evidence of labour, something harder than masonry or smithcraft. Mayhaps soldiering overseas.

I stared at his hand. He never looked at me. I coughed, first mannerly, then more harshly, thinking to approach cautiously lest my assumption prove provident, that he had lost his sound during foreign campaigns, of whose spoils we all were beneficiaries.

'Don't mind him.' Lar said. He spoke softly in the presence of his friend, observing his movements closely, ready to interject with a steadying hand or a warning to the cruelly curious. I wondered were they brothers. They bore little resemblance, though stranger things I had heard. Lar took Fergus' wrist and pressed gently, disturbing the folds of his motheaten jacket. They shared a moment I could but observe, radiating warmth and glad tidings in a wordless wave.

'I mean not to speak boldly, and lash me with spite if I transgress overmuch, but I must know or I should forever wonder, are you kin?'

Fergus shared Lar's laugh with the same look of bemused ignorance.

'You hear that? Fancy man reckons we're brothers. Probly thinks we're all related down this end, and not in a godly way.' Lar laughed, a viking bellow.

Lar released his grip and the folds of Fergus' sleeve righted themselves. He spoke several octaves lower, miming offence at my observation. I started to explain I intended no hidden subtext, but Lar waved to indicate all was taken as delivered.

'We are not brothers. Close friends. Known Fergus here forever.' He gently tapped the giant's hand, slapped on the bar like some enormous muddy bird print. 'Used to be a keen cookie too, once upon a forever ago. Loved languages, Welsh mostly. Pugilism he loved more. One passion consumed the other. Anything burning so intensely inevitably cannibalises itself. Took one knock too many, stole his wits in an instant. A left hook across the bar sent him erstwhile. Twenty five minutes he was on the shores of night, learning the landscape of the dreamworlds, while we fanned his rigid form, wet his brow and whispered familiar names in his ear. When at last he woke a part of him was left forever in that place. I like to think, boyishly perhaps, it awaits him upon leaving this plain of lousy strife, like the belongings awaiting a homeward jailbird. The cloak of a lost lifetime. Not for him. He'll slide right into it, fit like a tailored piece, and all of eternity to speak. Not here though.'

Tears welled in his eyes. I took the reins, 'Think nothing of your emotions, man. We each have them. Doubtless I will shed a tear up in the old witch's place. Another life awaits, that much is sure. Grander than this. I'm sure he made, and makes, a fine man. Built like a gladiator. I am sorry to have dredged unpleasantness. I meant only to satisfy my own selfish curiosity. Forgive me. Please, continue.'

'I will at that.'

'It were one night, three years ago. Ferg was there. We'd been called out on account of strange noises near the workers' cottage. They wouldn't work until the evil was killed or driven away. We came down from the high road proper and saw it between the trees ahead. Like a horse it stood, with clumsy stilts supporting an ursine bulk that swayed as it shambled. It drank shadows to conceal its dread presence. Blackness it took for robe. In walking its front paws propelled its cumbersome form, while the rear set, less lengthy, dredged channels in the dirt. In motion it arched to reveal a belly spun of lighter felt, ashen in the scant moonlight. Bundled, it became an orb of shadow, nothingness.'

'Unbeknownst we watched it watching, green eyes like blazing protostars probing for movement. Well it knew to choose this site, one of only two wells being located nearby. In a flash then it was gone, satin-shoed away into the night.'

The tale Lar knew was a scorcher paused. He beamed, an actor awaiting applause. I gathered my jaw from the floor, brushed it and set it back properly.

Each word drew me closer, which Fergus mirrored, until we three sat as witches about the bubbling lip of their cauldron, a coven of pallid specters.

Lar paused to sip and nodded we join.

I wondered had my hobby, in a blink, become too dangerous to justify. It was well telling my employers of ghost hunts, but a wild beast - my insurance wouldn't have it! If it turns out some menagerie escapee, what then was it? Quest for wonder or recklesss folly? Weiss, Wellie and Wardun insurance, even in their most obscure policies, don't pay out for fools. That's why I chose them!

Lar went on, a fresh cigarette painting the air blue in his articulation, 'Each new, shifting moon we came to that spot and watched. We took it upon ourselves to rid the land of danger.'

'Fergus knows a bit about a bit, that's what's left to him, God bless. What he knows is knots. Army training dictates every officer have at least passing knowledge of ten or more useful fastenings.'

'Me? I know about animals. We make a fierce duo. We inquired in advance about a reward, to which the estate responded agreeably, so we set off with lengths of rope overshoulder and the angriest looking traps the furmen could spare, determined to snare it. We planted snares all about its presumed domain.'

'Nothing came. Not a rat. Not a wisp. Not never again. It's the mystery disturbs me most. I'd die happy knowing.'

In his voice a single note of longing rang, dispelling the subterfuge of his intentions and, in the length of a breath, his beings and inner machinations were laid bare. Far from the sinister goldlust and murderous intention I had silently attributed to him, he seemed eager in an earnest fashion, willing in the name of a job done.

I observed Lar, powerful and straight. 'Do I sense an unfinished quest?'

'Aye. Not too subtle, mind.' Lar flashed a toothy smile, the sort a condemned man spits at his executioner. 'You seem a serious man. I didn't know when you first came in parading your manners like fancy knickers. You can't be too sure about a man who gives too many pleases. You're not that sort and have proved such twice over.' Lar imagined that was a compliment from the look he gave me. Expectant almost, between child submitting scribbles for display and cat batting dead mouse onto pillow.

Well, of course I had something to say about that. Cats were hissing. A donnybrook of claws and torn fur not even a hearty stock of iodine could salve. 'And I might say also that I too had cast aspersions on your character, maintaining you were of sinister country stock. As you claim to have been rapturously convinced otherwise, as have I.'

'Once the lady's estate is divided and bequeathed I'll receive my own. I mean to inherit a substantial bursar. I will pay to you a fair sum. In exchange, you will guide me to the hotpots, generally ensuring nothing eats me. When we find it, you're in charge until it's bound.' If he came, it would be on my terms.

'Find it? Slow down. We've seen it once in a hundred times. I'll take you gladly all the same.'

Wordless, we shook hands and drained our horns.

'Tomorrow?' Lar asked. He drew my gaze to an unopened whiskey bottle, which I declined.

'Not so, good man. Tomorrow I will tend my affairs. In the evening, if all is ordered, I will return to discuss further a plan of action. Have you a room I might rent?'

'Not for everyone mind, so don't go saying. There's one in the back. I'll light the fire.'

'Please do.'

I left a generous tip. Before following the publican to the warm hollow, I shook Fergus' hand, assuming he too would be part of our fortean friendship.

While I slumbered, the nightmare broke free her paddock, thundering across the veil of my somnambulant phantasmagoria, its clanging hooves ringing shrill terror.

I saw spined creatures oozing pus, many-eyed. Edgeless orbs hissing like flying snakes from one black abyss to another.

Cats with human faces screamed. A hairless man with a tail curled upwards like a scorpions noxious pike disemboweled himself with a broken mirror.

Last came the bestial form, not unlike that which Lar had described, striding evilly. Two venom coated fangs, uncontained by its snarling mouth, curved inward toward its breast. Catlike claws glinted menacingly. Turning my third eye downwards as if to look upon my feet, I found I was formless, yet the beast circled knowingly around the space my corporeal form should occupy.

I knew instinctively this reverie was more tangible than the others. That if the beast should strike I would die or wake screaming with a crimson pool spreading below me. It sniffed the air, pawing closer.

I woke to my beastless chamber. Sodden, I sought a candle and in its gloam chronicled my nightmare. That night sleep ne'er returned, making groggy my morning plod toward Cairn Cottage.