#my money is still on time travel going backwards

[channiesbedroom]

Worth it | bc

o.m.g. my first ever actual post! Enjoy and send me any comments pls! My lack of smut experiences should be very clear

NSFW - Minors DNI!!!!

You've been counting down the days until Chan comes home, so imagine your surprise when you wake up to find him tucked in bed next to you.

Bangchan x Female Reader

Fluff & Smut

// Strong language, boyfriend Chan is the best, interchangeable use of 'Chan' and 'Chris' (sorry), explicit sexual content, references to pregnancy, minor breeding kink lol //

The sunlight floats through the half-closed blinds, waking you gently. You try to turn to your side, surprised when a weight presses onto your waist, pulling you slightly.

“Babe, stop moving.” A rough voice grumbles. You finally open your eyes, smiling softly when you spot his dark hair, his face buried in the pillow, and his arm tossed over you.

“You weren’t supposed to be home yet!” You whisper, trying not to make your excitement too noticeable. Chris had been in the Philippines for a week, with, as far as you knew, another 3 days left until it was time for him to come home. You’d fallen asleep early last night after a long day at work, crashing fully clothed on the couch at 8pm, but now somehow you’re in your most comfortable set of pyjamas, tucked up in bed.

“When did you get back?” You hear him grumble again at your question, finally shifting himself to face you, his hand moving from your waist to stroke your cheek.

“9 last night. I was so excited to see you! Imagine my disappointment when I walked in to find you fast asleep. You didn’t even wake up when I carried you across the house and changed your clothes. Babe, I even took your makeup off for you!” He has an exasperated look on his face, and you can’t help but laugh at his dismay. Snuggling closer into his chest, you sigh.

“I had a long day. If I knew you were coming back, I would’ve stayed up all night. Don’t blame me!” He pulls you in for a soft, chaste kiss, then goes back to stroking your face.

“I love seeing your face in person. I’m never going away again; I can’t handle more facetime.” He chuckles, his whole body moving. You know that isn’t true, you’re pretty sure he loves being the leader of stray kids more than he loves you, and that doesn’t bother you at all.

“Maybe I’ll just come with you next time. It’s not like I’d miss my job much.” You mutter, not expecting Chris to hear you. Suddenly, he pushes you back slightly, a dazed look on his face.

“You’d do that? You’d quit your job to travel with me?” He breathes. You purse your lips, weighing up your answer.

“Yeah.” You whispered. “I love you. I hate my job. If we had the money, I’d never work again just to be next to you for as long as possible.” You’re still whispering, unsure whether this is the answer he wanted. You’ve been a couple for 5 years, so your relationship isn’t new, but you still can’t be certain, insecurity making you anxious. Finally, you look up to make eye contact with him. His eyes are wide, tears gathering at one corner.

“Baby. Don’t tease me.” His voice is shaky.

“I’m not teasing you. I would. Seriously.” He pulls your face towards him, his previously gentle kisses becoming hotter and harsher, teeth pulling on your bottom lip.

“I love you more than anything in the world.” He sighs into your mouth before grabbing your waist again and pulling you onto his lap, sliding backwards so that his back is against the headboard. You giggle, gripping at his shoulders to keep your balance.

“You’re ridiculous.” You tease. His hands start to slide up the edges of your cami top, cold on your warm skin. You can feel the bulge in his pyjama pants, and you feel yourself giggling again. “Chris, my Darling.” He stops, dark eyes gazing up at you.

“Baby?”

“Does emotional intimacy really turn you on this much?” He rolls his eyes, gripping your skin harder and pulling you in for a wet kiss.

“It does. It really does. You should be intimate with me in every way, including emotionally.” He’s surprisingly serious, looking up through thick lashes, but you know he’s the one teasing now, as he begins to grind his hips. His hands start moving again, the thin piece of silk easily slipping over your head. “Mmmm.” He hums, gently placing his palms over your bare breasts. “I think I missed these the most.” You smack his hands playfully before reaching for his white t-shirt.

“Off please.” He lets go of your tits with a huff, stretching his arms upwards so you can slide the top off, resting your hands on his tight abs.

“I missed these the most.” It’s his turn to smack away your hands from where they’re caressing his muscles, turning you over so you’re lying on your back on the soft bed. The crotch of your shorts has already darkened from your arousal, and Chris notices immediately.

“The evidence doesn’t agree with that statement babygirl. These …” He pulled on the damp fabrice “tell the truth.” It takes him only a second to pull both the shorts and your underwear off at the same time, lifting your knees so that you’re fully exposed. As he slides further down the bed, you jump at a sudden ringing. Your phone, which is plugged in on the side table, is buzzing loudly. You grimace as you reach for it, sitting back up.

“Babe, don’t answer it.” Chan groans.

“It’s work, I have to.” You sigh, answering immediately. “Hello?” Your boss immediately starts ranting at you, begging you to come into the office as soon as possible, despite the fact it’s supposed to be your day off. You look down the bed to where Chris has started placing light kisses on your stomach, moving slowly further and further down.

“Quit. Just quit. We can afford it.” He whispers, making intense eye contact.

“Actually.” You interrupt your boss as he continues to ramble. “I resign. Effective immediately. Family business, you know.” Your boss is finally stunned into silence, right as Chris’ kisses start again, this time on the top of your thighs. “Sorry. Look, I have to go. Call Jae-si if you need any help, she knows what I’ve been working on.” With that, you hang up, and reach down to pull Chris’ face to yours.

“I can’t believe you did it.”

“I told you I would.” You chuckle, placing a light kiss on his nose. “You’d better make sure there’s an extra ticket for your next flight.” He pushes you back roughly, sliding until his nose is right by your clit. You had boyfriends before Chris, but no one could ever make you come from eating you out, you would swear he was magic. Breathing heavily, you grip the sheets. “God” You gasp. He hums.

“That’s not my name baby. Try again.” You roll your eyes. Even in the heat of the moment, he continues to make stupid jokes. You’re thrown over the edge suddenly, before you even realise it’s happening, body almost convulsing with the waves of pleasure.

“You are a god, Chris, I’m not kidding.” He leans over you, bare chest to bare chest, placing damp kisses onto your exposed neck.

“I love you.” He whispers, before sitting up, startled. “Wait, did you buy a new pack of condoms?” Your hand flies to your mouth. No, you haven’t bought a new box since you finished the last one. It had been months since you stopped taking the pill after 8 years on it, hoping that you might feel better off it. Chris purses his lips.

“I mean.” He carries on kissing your jaw. “We could risk it.” You push him up so he’s kneeling.

“If we risk it, you know I could get pregnant, right? Would you be ready for that?” You raise an eyebrow. He smiles, grin stretching all the way to his eyes.

“Fuck yes I’m ready for that.” Giggling with you, he slowly pushes himself into you, both shivering from the sensation. He’s gentle, sweet as he relentlessly places soft kisses on your neck, across your jaw, and over your cheeks. His thrusts speed up, and the kisses stop as he seems to head closer to his orgasm, bringing you along with him.

“Close?” You whimper, and he groans into your neck, nodding fast.

“So close babygirl. You?” You nod back.

“Where do you want me to come?” You lick your lips, making direct eye contact again.

“In me. Just do it.”

“Shit babe, really?” He gasps, and you nod back. Suddenly, you feel a new warmth as Chan’s release paints your insides. “Fuck you’re amazing.” He relaxes, pulling out slowly and lying himself next to you, breathing heavily. Without warning, you sit up, throwing his arm off your naked chest.

“Fuck!” He frowns, confused at your sudden outburst. “I just quit my job!”

#bang chan fluff #bang chan smut #bangchan x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut #chan smut #chan x reader #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #skz imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfiction

[ozarkthedog]

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆

summary: while working as a bartender at Prospero's Orgy, a masked woman follows you into a storage room.

warnings: 18+ only -> mdni. verna x fem!reader. f/f. smut. fingering. slight dom/sub vibes. no spoilers (that i know of). no beta.

word count: 1.3k

author’s note: tbh, I’ve only watched 2 eps so far but I had to write something with her. I don’t know anything about the series so forgive me if there are inaccuracies.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

Booming music shakes the walls of the old, brick building as you make your way to the storage room. You’ll be amazed if the orgy goers don’t drink their way through all the liquor before the night even properly begins. You heard someone mention something about midnight and rain. You pray your boss will let you go home before all hell breaks loose.   

You unlock and shove open the storage room door with a sigh. This was not really your kind of scene. You could handle yourself in a bar and catered events, you’d worked plenty of them before but an orgy? You don’t know why you signed yourself up for this. Sure, the money was good but the moment you stepped foot into the abandoned facility, the hair on the back of your neck stood up.

The room was dank and barely lit as you graze the various shelves for a case of Glenfiddich. You find the last case on the floor near the back of the room when the storage room door creaks and then shuts with a bang.

Fear prickles your skin.

It’s probably some horny couple looking for a secret place to get off. Still, you clear your throat before nervously calling out, “Hello?”

You scream when a masked skull turns the corner of one of the shelves. You walk backward until a coarse brick wall catches your clothing and halts your retreat. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” A gentle voice says from beneath the mask. The woman is draped in a hooded, sparkly red cape that barely covers her body. The black lingerie she’s wearing underneath leaves little to the imagination.

You clutch your chest as you’re taken aback by the stunning blonde when she unties her mask and reveals herself.

“I couldn’t help myself.” She admits, stepping closer before setting down her mask on one of the shelves. “I saw you from across the room and I…” she trails off looking at you as if she’s seeing the sky for the first time.  

“Oh my. Aren’t you precious?” She coos, stepping closer. Blonde hair frames her face like a halo although something in your gut told you she wasn’t an angel.

Your breath catches in your throat. You’ve never seen such a beautiful woman so up close before.

“What are you doing in such a place?” She ponders with curious eyes. They travel the length of your body and back again. Something wicked and dark encases those hazel orbs making you swallow down the lump in your throat.

Your cheeks burn as you stumble over your words. “Bartender- I’m a bartender.” You catch your bottom lip with your teeth and tug unconsciously on it. Your flight response kicks into high gear as the lady in red seals the gap between your bodies.

You whimper as she presses her barely clothed frame against yours. The brick wall behind you leaves no chance of escape as your heart bangs steadily against your ribs.

“Shh. There’s no need to be nervous.” She states softly while cupping your chin in her palm. She drags a perfectly manicured thumb across your bottom lip and tenderly releases it from your teeth. “You’re something I rarely encounter.”

You’re frozen in place, like a deer in headlights, waiting for the inevitable when she leans in and time stops. She brushes her lips over yours, so tender and soft, you try to keep the whimper that bubbles up at bay but to your embarrassment, it escapes.

She pulls away with a grin. “You really are precious.” The apple of your cheek is warm under her thumb as she rubs the soft patch of skin. “So sweet. I’d love to hear you sing.”

Your brow quirks until you feel her hand sliding down your belly. She catches your wild eyes in a firm stare. “Tell me to leave and I will.” She states while lifting the hem of your skirt and snaking her hand beneath the material. “Or will you allow me to experience your seraphic nature?”

Your core clenches as she palms your mound when you don’t send her away. Her nails drag playfully over the thin cotton of your panties before she tugs them to the side and finds your molten heat. An illicit sob tears from your lips as she teases your dipping folds with deft fingers. 

She strums your core with expertise leaving you a wanton mess in her grasp. Her thumb circles your clit with tight movements, drawing your bliss out and into the open. Your mouth drops in an ethereal sound as she takes you apart with ease.

She smothers her body over yours, her lingerie covered breasts close to spilling as she secures you against the brick wall even harder. “Such pretty sounds from such a pretty girl.”

She laves at the softness of your neck, feeling the pulsating beat beneath the thin flesh as she drowns you in pleasure. Her tongue leaves a hot, wet trail over your neck and down your clavicle as you shake under her lewd touch. 

Two deft fingers curl their way into your soaked channel, spreading and molding your warmth to her liking. She rubs along your velvet walls, finding which spots make you shiver and which make you sing the loudest for her.  

“It’s fun tasting the other side, isn’t it?” She asks despite your impending rapture. Her hazel eyes glimmer with wickedness. “The grime. The debauchery.”

Wet, sticky thwaps fill the room as she spreads you open. She drinks down every moan and gasp that tumbles from your lips as she fucks with her fingers you into abandon. She tips your head to her chest as she pulls one of her breasts free from a lacy lingerie cup.

“But you’re one of the good ones, aren’t you?” She claims as she feeds you a firm breast. You groan into her flesh and suckle the nipple she offers. You twirl your tongue around the pert bud and relish the soft gasp that she lets loose.

“That’s a good girl.” She praises while stroking the base of your skull and scissoring her fingers against your slick walls. Your essence drips down your thighs, staining and marking your skin but you could care less as this strange woman makes you feel things you never have before. 

She hooks her fingers and grazes that spongy spot behind your clit and your body goes ridged. Every nerve in your body sings, wanting to cry out and praise her for choosing you. Your hands lock onto her shoulders, too afraid to let go, worried that if you move she’ll disappear and it’ll all have been a dream.

“It’s alright.” She coos, her eyes growing soft as your core quivers around her digits. “Let go, my precious girl. I’ve got you.”

The knot buried deep in your belly snaps. You come with a raspy wail against her chest, riding out your bliss on her fingers while she holds you in her arms. 

She sucks her two cream coated fingers into her mouth and cleans them with a moan. Your mind goes numb at the image and you do your best to not crumble to her high-heeled feet.

“I must return to the party now.” She says, fixing the skull mask back over her face. She stares at you from behind the mask for a silent moment before weaving an arm around your back and tugging you with her toward the door. 

“You’re not supposed to be here. This isn’t the place for someone like you. Leave while you can.” Her tone left no room for argument even though you knew you were still on the clock. 

You catch yourself on the door frame and spin on your heel, catching her otherworldly gaze. “Will I see you again?”

The lady in red smiles under her mask. “One day.”

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

follow @ozzieslibrary for fic notifs!

#verna x reader #Verna x you #Verna #the fall of the house of usher #carla gugino #verna/reader #verna/you

[natashaismylove]

New house |E. Olsen

Summary: your sugar mommy bought you a house, and of course you guys had to get settled in by fucking against the giant windows.

Pairing: sugar mommy!Elizabeth x fem sugar baby!reader

Warnings: smut, cum filled strap-on, cunnilingus (r receiving), fingering, mommy kink, exhibition kink, spit kink, breeding kink, degrading, slight choking, dom/sub dynamics, dry humping. 18+ | minors DNI

Word count: 2281

---

You walked around in aw as you looked through the house. Boxes and unplaced furniture were scattered around the floor, ready to be unpacked and placed in the correct spots. The big floor to ceiling windows gave great lightning into the living room that you couldn’t wait to furnish and decorate as soon as possible.

“You like it?” Elizabeth asked as she leaned against the doorframe.

You gave her a big smile and walked towards her. “I love it. So much, it’s amazing.”

She returned your smile, opening her arms for you to hug her. “I’m glad. My baby needed a new place to live so of course I’m gonna get her the best money can buy.”

You nuzzled your head into her neck. “Thank you. You really didn’t need to.”

“You’re my sugar baby, It’s my job to spoil you.”

You pulled away with a gentle smile. “Still. A house all for myself is a lot.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you don’t actually think I’m giving you a place to live on your own? No, baby, I’m staying right here with you. It’s our home.”

Your eyes widened. “Really? You’re gonna live here with me?”

She smiled and nodded, brushing some of your hair behind your ear. “Yup.”

You quickly wrapped your arms around her again, hugging her tightly as you let out a happy noise. “Yay!”

She chuckled, holding you against her. “Yeah? That makes you happy?”

You nodded against her. “Very happy.”

She kissed your head softly. “I’m glad.” she let go of you and started to walk backwards, slowly letting go of your hands. “Now, I’m gonna check out the pool, maybe suntan a little.”

You waved a quick goodbye before turning around to walk over to some of the boxes, picking up a box cutter and slicing it over the tape. You took out some of the plants and put them onto the ground, looking around to imagine the spots that they could stand.

After opening up a few more boxes you quickly grew bored and decided that it would be more fun to join Elizabeth outside rather than being in here. You found the box with your swimsuits and picked out a dark green bikini before hurrying to the bathroom to change. You checked yourself out in the mirror, making sure the items sat correctly before you walked out and through the house. You slid open the glass doors leading to the outside pool and saw Elizabeth lying on one of the sunbeds in her own bikini.

You started to walk over to join her when you came up with an idea. A smirk played at your lips as you reached her, standing over her while you made sure she didn’t realise you were there. You put one of your knees on the bed next to her before moving to sit down on her lap, straddling her. You moved your hips back and forth, grinding on her as she let out a groan, placing her hands on your waist.

“Hey there.” she took off her sunglasses and squinted up at you as the sun hit her eyes. “What’s all this for?”

You steadied yourself by placing your hands on her shoulders, moving your hips in circles. “Nothing.”

Her hands travelled down your waist and to your ass, squeezing gently. “You were just feeling needy?”

You nodded, humming in reply. “Mhm.”

She chuckled, giving your ass a quick slap. “Well then.” she sat up, wrapping her arms around your waist before moving around, lying you down onto your back on the bed. She kissed your neck, getting a soft moan out of you as she moved down your body. She placed kisses on your chest and cleavage and down your stomach before settling between your legs, nibbling on the insides of your thighs.

Your back arched a little as she sucked on the skin, leaving behind marks just like she did each time. You felt her fingers hook in the bottoms of your bikini before she dragged them down your legs, discarding them next to you guys as she placed her arms around your thighs to hold you still. She playfully bit your thigh as she looked up at you, teasing you a little as you waited, not very patient. 

“What? Need something?” she raised an eyebrow with a smirk.

You bucked your hips, trying to signal what you wanted.

“Use your words like a big girl. Now, do you need something?”

You huffed and looked away with a pout, determined to stay stubborn.

A quick slap landed onto your butt cheek, a wince leaving your lips as you looked down at Elizabeth. She gave you a glare, gripping your thighs a little harder. “No being bratty. Tell mommy what you need or you don’t get anything at all.”

You bit your bottom lip and sighed, giving in way too easily. “Please go down on me.”

She smiled up at you. “There we go.”

She leaned down, giving your clit a quick lick before moving her tongue down to your hole. She circled it before slipping her tongue inside, moving it against your walls. You breathed out as you looked at her, watching as she licked back up before moving away enough to let her spit fall onto your clit. You moaned at the action and felt your stomach flutter at the smirk she gave you as she leaned back down.

You let your head fall back as she kept going, licking your clit and sucking gently until your eyes rolled back into your head. You moved your hand down and laced your fingers into her hair as you moved your hips against her face.

“Fuck…” you whispered and bit your lip.

Her tongue swirled around your clit before she brought her fingers up to your hole, pushing them in while focusing on your blissful face. She let her fingers work your g-spot while she kept her mouth on you, knowing all your spots and the ways to bring you to your climax in only minutes.

“Is someone getting close?” she said before putting her mouth back on your pussy.

“Yes- fuck, so close…”

Your hips were moving on their own, practically riding her face as she kept eating you out. Your stomach tightened and you knew you were about to cum, your hand tugging on Lizzie’s hair as you let out high pitched moans.

“Oh god, I’m gonna cum~ fuck yes!” you squealed, gasping as your orgasm hit and a shudder flowing through your body. You moaned as she helped you through your high, easing you down as you tried to catch your breath.

You exhaled heavily as she let go of your thighs, standing up before leaning over you. She put her arms around your waist and hoisted you up as you let out a surprised noise and wrapped your legs around her waist. She carried you inside and into the living room, setting you down onto the couch before she stood back up.

“Wait right here, don’t move.” she stated before walking away.

You crossed your legs as you were in the window's view, a little nervous that someone might walk past, even with the property being very private. You turned your head as Elizabeth walked back in, looking her up and down and biting your lip as you saw the strap-on around her waist. You stood up and met her in the middle of the room, her hand cupped your face and pulled you into a kiss as you wrapped your arms around her shoulders.

You let out a moan against her lips and deepened the kiss as you let your tongue slip into her mouth. Her hands trailed down your back and settled behind your thighs before she lifted you back up, your legs wrapping around her once more as she started to walk forward.

“What are you doing…” you mumbled against her lips as she kept kissing you.

You felt your back meet the cold window and a small gasp left you. “Liz-”

“Shut up.” she lightly nibbled on your bottom lip before her hand found the back of your bikini. With one hand she unclasped it and dragged the straps down your arms before she threw the item behind her.

You held onto her tightly, pressing your chest against hers as you nervously looked at her. “Someone could see-”

“I don’t care.” she smirked before placing the cock against your hole, pushing you down so it fully entered you with a moan. “If someone sees then so be it, I don’t have anything against people seeing who owns you.”

“Holy fuck…” you whispered.

Her hands lifted you up, letting the strap slide almost completely out of you before she dropped you back down. You clung to her like a koala as she fucked you against the window, her not caring in the slightest about the possible spotting from neighbours.

“Oh my god, yes~” you moaned into her ear, nearly whimpering at the groan she let out.

“You like being mommy’s little cum slut?” she grunted.

“Yes, I love it~”

“You just wanna be fucked and cummed in, don’t you? You wanna be bred like the whore you are. Mommy’s good little whore, that’s what you are, baby.” she spoke out of breath, continuing to lift you up and down her cock.

“Mommy~”

Her hands gripped your ass, her nails digging into your skin as she fucked up into you. “No one can fuck you like mommy, you got it? No one gets to touch this pretty little pussy but me.”

“You own me!” you moaned as you fisted her hair with one hand.

“That’s right. You’re mine to use and I’ll make sure you’re properly fucked in every inch of this house. I’m gonna take you every morning in the kitchen, your tight pussy on display for me as you lie on the kitchen counter, waiting for my cock to fill up your holes.” she spoke into your ear, a shiver running down your spine at her words.

“Please-”

“You want that? You wanna be mommy’s little whore at all times? Maybe I’ll have to get you a nice collar that says just what you are, a needy little slut for mommy.”

“I’m cumming!” you whined and clung to her, your face hidden in her neck as you clenched around the strap, your mouth wide open as you came.

“That’s a good girl, just like that.” she praised into your ear, not slowing down as she fucked you through your orgasm. “You can give me one more.”

You whimpered, breathing out shakily as you nodded against her. She carefully sat you down on the floor before turning you around, pressing your front against the window. You put your palms against the glass as Elizabeth thrusted back into you, the front of her thighs slapping against the backs of yours. You leaned your forehead on the window as she fucked you from behind, the coldness of the glass cooled you down just enough.

“Imagine someone’s looking right now, watching as you get your little hole fucked by me. Imagine how jealous they would be of me, how I’m the one who gets to fuck you.”

“Oh god!”

She ran her nails down your back, creating scratch marks before gripping your hips, moving you back onto her cock. The sound of skin slapping together echoed through the nearly empty room, your desperate whines and moans was like music to Elizabeth’s ears.

“You want me to fill you up with cum? You wanna be a little leaking whore for me, your pussy all stuffed till it spills back out?” she whispered into your ear.

“Oh please- fuck your cum into me!” you moaned, the glass in front of your face fogging up from your breaths.

“Cum, baby. Make a mess on my cock before I turn you into a little cum slut.”

Your eyes shut, your teeth on your bottom lip almost made it bleed from how hard you were biting it. Your moans grew louder as you were about to finish, the same stomach tightening happening once more before you found your release. Elizabeth reached down and squeezed the cock, spilling the fake cum into you as her other hand wrapped around your neck and tilted your head back onto her shoulder as you came, her fingers squeezing your throat and the cum inside of you only made your orgasm more intense.

You breathed heavily as she pulled out of you, turning you back around before you were pushed onto your knees. She held your hair back and pushed her cock against your face. “Open your mouth and clean it.” she ordered.

You gave her a nod, your mouth opening up to take the cock inside, licking the cum off until it was clean. She pulled the cock out and smiled down at you, helping you up before wiping away some tears that had run down your cheeks.

“Such a good baby for me. You know what? How about we take a nice little trip while we get someone to unpack our stuff. Does Spain sound ok?” she smiled, her head tilting a little.

You gave a small giggle, nuzzling your head into her neck. “Yes please.”

A/N: I created a taglist today so if you'd like to be added to it then go here

taglist: @carnagewidow @aflopmop @shayzulia @honeybeevenable-mckenna @thenazwife @romanovaxnat

#Elizabeth #Elizabeth x reader #Elizabeth Olsen smut #Elizabeth Olsen x reader #Elizabeth Olsen #Elizabeth x you #Elizabeth Olsen fic #Elizabeth Olsen imagine #Elizabeth Olsen x female reader #Elizabeth Olsen x you #marvel #avengers #Elizabeth smut #smut #Elizabeth Olsen oneshot #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda smut #wanda maximoff x reader

[anapotatowriter]

Meet - cute

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: While I am working on some of my requests for Edmund Pevensie, here is a Five Hargreeves fanfiction! Feel free to request for him, or any other TUA character. Also, this is definitely because I can’t wait to see Five in Season 3 :)

Summary: Y/N is a shy book worm. But where her best friends, the Hargreeves, and her best friend (and crush) are threatened, she doesn’t seem so sweet.

Contains: Swearing, some spoilers for books, horrible knowledge of the years where these kids were still teenagers, Ben doesn’t die and Five doesn’t time travel to the apocalypse, lots of events take place in the past (written in italics), horrible story that I have a hate-love relationship with :)

ALSO, NO SPOILERS FOR SEASON 3

Requested: All of my own bestie!

Tagging @art-junkie-13, cause she was the first person I talked to about the story :)

"Y/N! Can you please buy some pasta sauce! We need it for dinner tonight," yelled my mother from her room. "Yes, mum," I yelled back, going to her room and taking the money she held out to me. I picked up a light sweater to protect myself against the spring breeze. I also picked up the play I had recently started reading. I strolled down the street, giggling softly at the swirling leaves and flowers in the wind, before turning down to my book, my tied-up hair keeping the small strands out of my face. Just as Romeo met Juliet at the masked ball, a boy crashed into me, sending me, sprawling backward. The book went flying from my hand, though the money remained tightly within my grasp. My now free hand went back to catch my fall, forcing my wrist to bend back. I yelped softly in pain, cradling my left hand as tears welled in my eyes. "Shit," I hear a voice mumble before someone knelt next to me. "Are you okay?" he asked, his black hair falling into his piercing green eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I squeaked out, not wanting to bother him. "I am so sorry, you can go on, it was my fault anyway," I mumbled, trying to stand up despite the pain in my wrist. "Nonsense, I crashed into you, the least I could do is help you out," he said, helping me stand up before fetching my book. "Romeo and Juliet, huh? I never understood the big deal about them," he said, smirking at me after he glanced at the book cover. "Really? I have read all of Shakespeare, and this one was my favorite. First, because crashing into each other is the best meet-cute ever. Second, I guess it helps me understand that love is dangerous. It's not sane or straight. Love can be twisted, malicious, insane, unreasonable, and painful. But that's what makes it worth it," I said, going off on a rant before trailing off when I noticed the perplexed expression on his face. "I'm sorry, you probably don't care," I muttered, pushing a strand of hair that had escaped my hair tie behind my ear. "Oh no, I just found your perspective interesting. I never did look at it that way. Just looked at it like teenagers who just killed like, 6 people. And that way, technically we had a meet-cute, huh?" he smirked, making me glance at my shoes in embarrassment. "Anyway, I'll help you home," he said, making me protest. "Don't you have to go home?" I questioned, making him rub the back of his neck. Just as he opened his mouth to explain, I interrupted him. “Oh wait, I’m sorry, this is me,” I mumbled. “My house number is 109… come visit if you get the time, you’re nice,” I continued, and he smiled a little. “Pinky promise,” I said, sticking my pinky finger out to him. He stared at my finger before hesitatingly wrapping his pinky around mine. “Bye,” he said, sticking his hands in his pockets and walking back down where we came. “I’m Y/N, by the way,” I called after him, as I looked at his retreating figure. “Nice to meet you, Y/ N,” he called out, not bothering to turn around, just raising his hand as he walked away.

I sat on my bed, reading Pride and Prejudice, the flashlight the only form of illumination in the otherwise dark bedroom. My hair was tied up and piled on top of my head in a bun, to keep the hair out of my face as I leaned over my book. Suddenly, I heard a loud whoosh and a blue spark illuminated the corner of my room. I jumped and held my flashlight in between both my hands, staring at the corner of my room. “Ow,” a voice groaned, and I threw my flashlight while yelling, “STRANGER DANGER, STRANGER DANGER!” “Ow, what the fuck Y/N,” said the voice, making me squint in the darkness, the flashlight now off from the collision with the stranger. “Oh, it’s you! The kid I met on the street? How did you end up here?” I asked, staring at him warily. “I’m Five Hargreeves,” he said, smacking my flashlight against his palm to try to get it to start up again. I groaned and switched the bedroom lights, squinting immediately at the sudden influx of light. “How does that explain anything?” I asked, rubbing my eyes. “I’m one of the kids born with superpowers? On the news?” he said questioningly, surprised. “Wait, you’re one of those Umbrella Academy kids? You’re the teleportation kid?” I asked, making him nod. “Sorry, I don’t know much about you guys. I don’t watch the news a lot, it’s so sad. I prefer fiction,” I shrugged, and Five nodded in understanding. “Do you want something to drink? Water? Tea? I make a really good black coffee,” I offered. “Black coffee would be good,” he nodded, no expression on his face throughout the conversation. “Okay, “ I smiled and left my room to start the coffee pot, him trailing after me.

“Hey Y/N,” said Five’s voice, making me look up from my battered copy of “The Perks of Being a Wallflower”. “Oh, hey Five,” I said, wiping the tears on my cheeks and sniffling. “Wait, are you crying?” he asked, showing one of his rare emotions, concern. “Yeah, the ending of the book is really sad,” I said sadly, caressing the pages of the book as tears continued to fall. “Tell me about school,” he said, sitting on the bed, successfully distracting me from the book. Butterflies flapped in my stomach at our proximity, a lovesick smile probably gracing my features. Five always liked to talk about school, since he could understand what he was missing because of the Umbrella Academy. “Well, we did acemtodes in Maths today,” I said, immediately jumping into his favorite subjects. “I swear, 10th grade is horrible,” I groaned by the end, falling back on my pillows, the book slipping away from both my lap and thoughts. “I’m turning 15 tomorrow,” he mentioned as he lay down next to me while staring at the ceiling. “Wait, what?” I asked, immediately sitting up. “Yeah,” he said, glancing at my shocked face. “And you didn’t tell me! I don’t know what to get you,” I gasped dramatically, throwing a pillow at him. “Well, you can come over to the Academy. Dad typically leaves the house to us on our birthday, so we can do whatever we want,” he said, making me smile at the invitation. “I would love to! Now I gotta go plan 7 birthday gifts,” I explained happily, squeezing his hand for a second before running out of my room, leaving the boy to stare at the ceiling of my room.

“Hi, my name is Y/N!” I said, smiling at the six people around me, Five standing next to me. “I already know all of you, so need to introduce yourselves,” I said, instead of bringing out my large bag. “So Five only told me about y’alls birthday yesterday, so the presents aren’t that great, but whatever!” I said, holding up the gift-wrapped presents. “Luther right?” I asked, and the blonde nodded, and I handed him his gift wrapped in moon-themed wrapping paper. “And Diego, I am guessing?” I asked, turning to the brunette, and the boy replied, “Yes, that’s me.” I handed him his present, and he took it, his eyes glassing over. “And Viktor, this is for you,” I said, handing him the heavy box. He smiled softly as I handed him the box, making me smile back. “Ben?” I questioned another boy, and the boy nodded in agreement. He accepted the wrapped present I gave him with a starstruck expression. “Allison,” I said, handing the package to the grinning girl before turning to Klaus. “And Klaus. Believe me, I had no clue what to get you, but I hope you like this!” I said, handing him the box. “I spent about the same amount on all the gifts, so yeah!” I said, turning to all of them to see they were all standing where I had left them. “I’m sorry if I messed up, I can return the gifts,” I said softly, cocking my head to the side a bit when I noticed the still wrapped packages. “Thank you,” said Ben, his voice cracking, making my eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I mean, it’s not much,” I said apologetically, shrugging a bit. “Thank you so much,” said Viktor sincerely, placing his hand on my shoulder. “This is our first time getting gifts,” said Klaus, making me gasp. “First?” I asked, making all the kids nod in unison. “Ok, then it’s settled. I am officially on gift-giving duty. Five, you better deliver their presents. Christmas, birthdays, new years, accomplishments, all of it,” I said decidedly. “Well go on, open them,” I motioned to the siblings, who all started opening their presents, smiling giddily. “And Five,” I hummed, making him turn to me from his siblings. “It’s a fountain pen, I got ‘Technically we had a meet-cute, huh?” engraved in a rush order, so this is probably more expensive than the other’s gifts,” I said, handing him the final package. “Thank you… so much,” he said, and I smiled. He intertwined his pinky with mine, a reminisce of our first meeting.

"Come on, hurry up while it's still daytime, idiots," yelled Five from ahead of us, enunciating idiots. "Well... it's not fair... if we have to walk... while you just teleport," said Diego angrily while climbing up the enormous hill, the rest of us huffing and puffing behind him. Five didn't reply and just stopped moving, waiting for the rest of us to catch up. No one missed his annoyed expression by the time we all reached up. "If you tell us to hurry up one more time, I will turn you into a hat," said Luther just as Five went to speak, making Five roll his eyes and close his mouth again. "Finally, we can play," said Allison, sighing as she admired the grassy and flat field where we were going to play cricket. "You good, Y/N?" asked Five, moving closer to me. "Yeah, just tired," I said, dabbing at the sweat on my forehead. "You are a right meanie for not just teleporting with the rest of us," I said, crossing my arms. "Sorry, I just didn't wanna scatter all of you into some other universe where we end up being TV show characters," he said, shrugging while winking at the computer screen. "Let's play!" said Diego, cracking his knuckles. 

"I'm referee," said Luther, moving to the side. “And I am going to the market downtown. There’s a new book I found that I want to read,” shrugged Ben. “Oh, come on, Ben! It’s all of your birthdays! 16th! You can’t just leave family time!” I complained, making the boy sigh resignedly. “Fine, I’ll come back in 30 minutes, tops,” he promised, making me smile and nod. He walked away to the nearby market, his black jacket standing out in the otherwise bright field. "Y/N and Allison, you both are the captains," said Luther. "Oh, okay," I breathed, moving forward and looking at the rest of the academy. "Y/N, you can go ahead a pick first," said Allison, smiling at me kindly. "Five," I said immediately, and he grinned proudly before walking toward me. "Diego," said Allison, who walked towards her with a self-satisfied smirk and looked pointedly at Five, a competitive glint in his eyes. "Viktor," I whispered next, and he walked towards us as Klaus walked towards Allison and Diego. "Five minutes to plan, and then we'll have the coin toss," announced Luther, and both teams huddled up. "Diego is going to be the most aggressive. Allison is too nice to go full attack especially cause you and Viktor are too shy and nice, and Klaus is probably too high to care about the game,” said Five immediately, starting his “battle strategy”. “Or, or, or… how about we just play for fun?” I interrupted as his comments about his other sibling started getting most vengeful. “What’s the point in that Y/N?” protested Five. “Fine,” I sighed apprehensively, making him smile triumphantly and resume the plan.

“Let’s start,” bellowed Luther, making me walk towards Luther, Allison walking from the other side. The wicket was already set up, the bats held up by Luther.  Luther tossed the coin and said, “Allison, your team bats.” Before going to her team, she cheered a little, while I walked toward Five and Viktor. “Ugh, we’re bowling,” I groaned, Viktor giving me a side hug comfortingly. “We’ll do amazing, don’t worry,” said Five confidently, making me shrug. “Pinky promise,” he said, holding out his pinky. I giggled softly, intertwining my pinky with his. “Okay Five, go bowl,” I laughed, shoving the boy slightly. He chuckled as he walked backward, giving a salute before turning around. “You know, he is only like that with you,” said Viktor, making me turn away from Five’s retreating figure. “What?” I asked, confused. “He smiles more with you, he’s less touch averse. It’s nice,” he said, smiling at me. “Come on, hurry up Y/N!” yelled Diego, anxious to begin the game. “Coming, coming,” I called, running up to the meadow, prepared for the fielding. 

“Oh come on, stop running so fast,” I said exasperatedly as Diego and Allison got another run. Klaus was already out and lounging on the grass, out of range of the cricket ball. “Ben!” yelled Klaus when he noticed the boy coming back, holding a book in his hands. Ben reached us and sat down next to Klaus, opening his book. As the game continued, Five and Diego continued to get more competitive, which forced Luther to intervene, only fueling their frustration. I laughed at the story Klaus was recounting to us when the grin on my face faded. I squinted at the group of people I could see coming from the distance. 

“Ah, the great Umbrella Academy,” snickered the one in the middle once the group was within earshot. Suddenly, all the siblings seem to have grouped, competitive natures long forgotten. Five came over to me a grabbed my pinky, pulling me in with the rest of the Hargreeves and taking me near Viktor. “Five, what’s going on?” I asked as he walked away, but he didn’t reply. He placed himself on the other side of Diego, Luther on his right. In a row behind, Allison and Klaus stood on the outer edges of the group, with Ben in the middle. At the absolute last stood Viktor and me, a perplexed expression dawned on my face as the group came closer to us. “Viktor, what’s happening?” I asked, confused at the formation we stood in. “We typically stand like this when someone recognizes us in public, makes it easier to deal with fans and press,” murmured Viktor softly to not attract attention. The arrangement suddenly made sense, and I nodded in understanding. 

“Ha, I knew I recognized the nerd,” laughed the ‘leader’, making me frown as he looked at Ben, who was holding his book in his hands still. “Who are you calling a nerd,” snapped Diego, taking a step forward. “Lord, you all are no different from us. What’s so special about you bastards anyway?” asked the boy scanning over the group, glossing over me and Viktor in the back. “You seem to forget your place. We have fucking powers that help save the world, and we won’t hesitate to use it on you!” continued Diego, taking out a knife and twirling it in his hands. “Sorry to say this, but you can’t use your powers on us, idiot. We are civilians, and therefore if you harm us, we can go to the police and get your precious academy shut down,” cackled the leader manically, his four goons laughing with him. “You’ll be sorry when I shove my fist in your face,” barked Diego, walking forwards. “Diego, he’s right,” said Five calmly, although his jaw was set tightly and his eyes sparkled with silent anger. “Exactly, ‘Diego’. Listen to the half-wit,” chuckled the goon, walking over to Five, who stood his ground and raised his jaw a little higher. “What about you, scrawny bitch? Wanna fight?” mocked the guy, holding his fists up ironically. The anger that was building up snapped and I scoffed. “You’re a bully,” I said from the back, making the boy's head turn towards me. “Who the fuck said that?” he barked rhetorically, his goons cracking the knuckles. “It was me,” I said, walking forwards. “Excuse me Allison, Ben,” I said, walking between the two. “I’ll be fine, Ben,” I said to the concerned boy, smiling softly. His eyes still held fear as I continued forwards. “Five, Diego,” I said, sliding between the two when I felt someone stop me. Five held my hand, silently pleading with me to not go. “I’ll be fine,” I smiled at him, gently releasing his hold over my hand, instantly missing their presence. “Now, as I was saying, you’re a bully. My dad taught me that there was only one way to communicate with a bully,” I said confidently as I sauntered forward, pulling the hair tie out of my hair and snapping it around my wrist. My hair billowed open from the wind, H/C strands surrounding my face. 

“Oh really? And what was his advice?” asked the goon, smiling mockingly at me. I smiled sweetly, chuckled, and brought my fist back, punching him in the face. Gasps erupted from behind me as the goon touched the side of his face where I had hit him. “You fucking slut,” he growled, putting his hand up at his friends, who tried to come to his aid. I clicked my tongue and said, “Oo,” I wouldn’t call me that,” I said, glaring up at him. He brought his hand up to slap me, and I heard Five take one step forwards to try and help me. “Fuck no,” I growled, grabbing the bully’s hand mid-air and twisting it behind his back, making him groan in pain as he faced the rest of the academy, me standing right behind him facing them too. “I’m a nasty bitch darling, believe me,” I said in his ear, loud enough for the people around us to hear as well. “Now why don’t you go on and apologize,” I said, hissing the last word. “Fuck no,” he protested, making me roll my eyes. “You seem familiar, do you study in Y/S (Your School)?” I asked, and the boy nodded minutely, gritting his teeth in pain. “Ah, great! So you must know who I am! Go on, darling, take a wild guess,” I said to him, twisting his arm further to make him hiss in pain. His friends just stood, not knowing what to do. “Shit, are you… are you Y/N? Y/N L/N?” he asked, fear creeping into his voice. “Yes, correct! Jackpot, darling, ding ding ding,” I said, twisting his arm more and more with the last three words as I grit my teeth. “Now, since my reputation seems to precede me, it’s safe to assume that you know I can ruin your life brick by brick, you fucking mangy cur,” I growled. “So, if you know what’s good for you, you fucking apologize,” I finished, kicking him in the shin and making him yelp. “Okay, alright, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he yelled, making me smile sweetly again. “See that wasn’t so hard,” I said, pushing the boy so that he was near his crew again. “If I see you bothering anyone ever again, inside or outside school, I will torture you until you wish you were dead,” I said, pushing the boy backward. “Now, bitch, why don’t you fucking leave,” I said as the boy slowly backtracked. “SCRAM!” I yelled, making him run away. “You’re fucking crazy,” said one of the others to me, his eyes wide in fear. “Yes I am, sugar. Suck my dick,” I said while flipping him off with both hands, making his eyes widen more as he ran after his leader and the rest of his friends. “FUCKING SHITS! MOTHERFUCKERS! REMEMBER MY WARNING OR YOU WILL REGRET IT!” I yelled, making them scamper away out of sight.

As soon as their figures disappeared, I turned back to the group with a real smile, clapping my hands together. “Shall we continue the game?” I asked, while the rest of the Academy just stood frozen. “... are you okay?” I asked while bringing my hands up to tie my hair again. Everyone surged forward and question me before their conversation sparked up, but Five still stood frozen. “Five?” I questioned softly, walking towards him as the rest of the siblings talked to each other. “Don’t ever do that again,” said Five as he pulled me in a hug, making me freeze in shock. “I was so fucking scared,” he said as he pulled me away and held me by the sides of my arms. “Oh please, I have beat up people much scarier than him,” I said, smiling at him. “You’re an enigma, Y/N,” he said before doing something I never thought he would do. He kissed me, and I kissed him back, my heart bursting in happiness. We split apart, a haze filling my mind when I heard wolf whistles. “Oh shut up,” I muttered, embarrassed, as the other Hargreeves goggled at us, while Five intertwined our pinkie easily. “You’re hot when you swear. And with your hair open,” he whispered in my ear, making me giggle, enjoying the contact between us. “Thank god for our meet-cute,” I thought to myself, smiling at the group around me and the brunettee I stood next to.

#Five #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves #five x reader #tua #the umbrella academy #no spoiler for season 3 :) #tua x reader #xreader #shy!reader #tua five #number five #ben hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #viktor hargreeves

[lackablazeical]

Addams! AU Snippet 6: 'Freakshow'

FULL CREDIT TO WRITER NewFallenLeaves ON A03!!!!!! SHE MAKES KILLER ANGST AND FLUFF ALIKE, CHECK OUT ALL HER WORKS!!!! NOW!!!!! IF YOU LOVE OR CARE ABOUT ANYTHING, DO IT. NOW. BEFORE I GET U /J

As usual, art to add on! It was a 1 layer challenge I gave up on partway thru, mostly just cus I wanted to be done with it, lol! Greyscale is always so fun, tho!

Full snippet below the cut! ⬇️⬇️⬇️

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“Hold still, you little scumsucker.” As the burly human patted Mikey down, he came up quickly with two small daggers tucked into Mikey’s belt, as well as the ones hidden in the holster at the small of his back. “Shit, kid, how many more knives have you got, huh? Cough ‘em up.”

“Well,” said Mikey, “There’s the whole family with Mr. Stabby, and Miss Gashy, and the Puncture Brothers, and Auntie Slicer, and–”

The pile of small blades was already over half-a-dozen strong, and the man still managed to find three more.

“Oh, no!” Mikey wailed as the last one hit the table. He twisted against the tight ropes that bound his wrists behind his back, “You’re going to take all of them?”

“We know who sent you, we’re not taking any chances.” Finally satisfied, the man hauled Mikey none-too-gently by the elbow and dragged him out of the covered wooden cart that served as the freak show’s ‘office.’

The small encampment was reminiscent of a traveling gypsy convoy, with colorfully painted covered wagons. Some were cages for “FEARSOME GRUESOME MUST-SEE MUTANTS” with bold-lettered signs and warnings to stay back. Others were smaller, with striped awnings and shelves of cheap merchandise or galleries of rigged carnival games, with “STEP RIGHT UP AND TAKE A CHANCE” invitations for any fool willing to throw away hard-earned coin.

The heavy-set human dragged Mikey toward one of the larger cage carts. “Gonna put you someplace where you’re too worried about stayin’ alive to think about running off or causin’ trouble.”

He stopped in front of the enclosure. It looked as sparse and uncomfortable as any of the other terrible accommodations in the traveling freakshow. Unadorned iron bars, no straw or hay strewn for the mutant held within. The guard shoved Mikey through and slammed the cell door behind him.

Mikey tumbled onto the grated metal floor, lying prone while he waited for the man’s footsteps to fade. As soon as everything was silent, he flipped upright. From the corner of the cage came a low, throaty growling, and the occupant of the cell rose to his feet.

Even hunched, the alligator mutant was massive. Four times Mikey’s size. Larger than Raph, even, and little else save teeth and muscle.

“Don’t be…alarmed.” Every word the alligator spoke was slow and deliberate. “I…won’t harm you.”

“I know!” said Mikey. “I made Donnie do research on everything before I came.”

“You…know?”

“Woulda been pretty stupid for me to run in here without knowing everything about this lame-o sideshow. Besides, getting details is easy. It was supposed to add to Mama’s Spectacle Spectacular, after all. She bought it. And it woulda been such a cool thing, too! Everybody loves her circus, she has all the nicest hotel rooms for her performers, and you get to eat at the buffet, and the bar is open all night, and–”

“You…don’t seem…concerned,” said the alligator. “Were you…not poached…like the rest of us?”

“Ha! Nobody could poach me if they tried. Know how much Donnie has to add to his tranq formula to knock me out? Betcha don’t, because it’s a lot. I have resistance.” With a quick roll of his hips and shoulders, Mikey twisted his bound hands from behind his back and hopped over them like a backward jump rope. “Boy, am I glad they put me in here, you’re my first choice, anyway.”

“For…what?”

“For helping, of course! These humans turned out to be a bunch of dirty, no-good, double-crosser, deal-breaker cheaters, and they took Mama’s money and tried to cut and run. So now Mama wants me to burn the whole thing to the ground! Isn’t that great?! Anyway, are you good with pulverizing all the stuff? Because Raph didn’t wanna come, he was busy watching the Mrs. Cuddles’ Puppets-in-Peril Halloween Specials marathon. So if you could go ahead and do all the smashing, that would be awesome.”

“…smashing?”

Instead of replying, Mikey stuck out his tongue as he reached for a spot on the back of his neck, just below the rim of his shell. He withdrew a short, narrow length of sharpened metal, and proceeded to cut through the ropes.

“You managed…to sneak in a weapon,” the alligator marveled.

“Pffft,” said Mikey. “He only took my knives. This is my shiv.”

With his hands free, Mikey took a moment to stretch like a dancer before a routine. Then he promptly flopped down into a sitting position, legs crisscrossed. He set the shiv down on the floor of the cage and began pulling random assorted items out from non-existent pockets in his clothing and lining them up. “I still got lots of good stuff, see? This is my bolo, and this is my garrote, and this is my ice pick, and this is my can opener, and this is my bookend, and this is my cherry pitter, and this is my…”

The alligator watched as Mikey continued unabated. He blinked slowly at each new addition to the stockpile, his face becoming more and more skeptical as the items became less and less…perilous. When Mikey placed a penny down, he finally spoke.

“What…exactly…do you intend to accomplish…with a coin?”

“Ooooo, goody, I’m glad you noticed, I like this one.” Mikey flipped the penny with his thumb and caught it between his fingers. When he held it up to the light, the sharpened edge all around its circumference gleamed. “We’ll use it first!”

He tugged loose a lacing from the knee of his pants and looped it around the penny. Then he stood, approached the bars of the cage, took a deep breath…and began shrieking.

“HELP HELP MISTER JAILER GUY, I’M SCARED I DON’T WANNA GET EATEN BY AN ALLIGATOR!” Mikey twisted and rammed his shell against the bars to make even more noise. The camp echoed with resounding, repeated clang-clang-clang. “LEMME OUT LEMME OUT LEMME OUT OH PLEASE OH PLEASE!”

Several of the freakshow guards were on ‘patrol,’ roaming the perimeter of the camp. One who was nearby didn’t exactly come running, but he did seem annoyed and stepped quickly in the direction of the cage. “Shut up, kid. The more you screech the faster that freaking monster’s gonna chomp on you, just to get the goddamn noise to sto–”

The guard’s yells pitched up into a howl as a razor-edged penny, launched like a slingshot, lodged in his eye.

“What’s wrong?! What’s wrong?!” a fellow guard hurried up to assist him.

Mikey grinned as he picked up another weapon from his cache, aimed it between the bars, and punched a button.

Two metal barbs pierced the second man’s chest and an electrical current lit up his entire frame with sparks. He collapsed to the ground, convulsing.

“That’s my taser,” Mikey said. He reached through the bars and fished a keyring out of the guard’s pocket and quickly released the lock. He jumped onto the cage door and rode it as it swung open, dropping the taser in the dirt beside the unfortunate human, current still running.

“Come on, mister—ah–” Mikey craned his neck to look at the advertisement emblazoned across the top of the cage, “--Lethal Leatherhead! Smashy-smash, while I torch everything!”

Tentatively, Leatherhead stepped out of his enclosure. “You wish…to burn everything? With what…?”

But Mikey had already withdrawn a liquid-filled bottle from some hidden pocket in his coat. He drew a long, silken scarf from his glove by sleight of hand, flicked it to catch the flame on the tail of his mask, and then stuffed the burning wick into the neck of the bottle. “Molotov cocktail!”

He flung the bottle through the window of the largest wagon. The resulting explosion blew out the remaining glass, and Mikey dashed forward to intercept as guards raced to escape the inferno.

“What the hell is going o–”

“Machete!”

The man who had unluckily blundered closest to him gurgled, the handle blooming from his throat.

“Clothespins!”

Another guard screeched and flailed as two small wooden clips were driven into his eyes.

“Lanyard!”

Strangled gagging.

“Teacup!”

Wailing.

Leatherhead watched from the open door of his enclosure as Mikey continued his spree, shrieking the name of every item he produced and laughing maniacally as he dashed from one victim to the next.

A rhinoceros mutant in the cage next to his leaned towards the bars. “Friend of yours?”

“If it will convince him…to not jam a small kitchen tool down my throat…” Leatherhead ripped apart the hinges on the rhino mutant’s cage, “...then I will readily be his friend.”

The screech of “Rice paddle!” and a subsequent choking sound echoed across the grounds. Both mutants cringed.

“...rice paddle. Sure.” The rhino tagged along after Leatherhead as he moved to next cage. As that door bashed open, a warthog mutant jumped free and clasped hands with the rhino. They jostled briefly before turning to flee into the night. “Good luck with your crazy friend.”

“Bottlecap!” Mikey cackled from somewhere across the camp. “Stapler!”

Wet, squelching thumps and more screams.

A gangly mutant with mantis-like arms lounged near the door of his enclosure, watching Leatherhead expectantly. “That kiddo yous got over there has the right idea, I say,” he drawled.

Leatherhead nodded. “Fist,” he said. And punched the cage.

#addams! tmnt au #rottmnt au #rottmnt #rottmnt mikey #addams! mikey #rottmnt fanart #rise of the tmnt #rise of the tmnt fanart #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt fanfiction #rottmnt fic #rottmnt art #mikey tmnt #michelangelo tmnt #tmnt #tmnt fanart #tmnt fanfiction #cw violence #cw gore #cw death #rottmnt leatherhead #tmnt leatherhead #NewFallenLeaves

[five-rivers]

Rumors of the Woods of the Kingdom of Amity

@modordracena @gamma-radio

AO3

.

There were rumors about the woods of the kingdom of Amity.  You could hear them at any inn or tavern you went to in any town within a hundred miles of Amity’s border.  You could hear them from storytellers and mendicants begging for their meals.  You could hear them whispered between children trying to scare one another, or old women doing the same.  

They went like this:  

The woods were home to bandits, displaced and deserting soldiers from beyond the southern sea.  Hungry people, some of them, desperate for money and not seeing any other way to it.  Well fed brigands, by other accounts, gone fat off the misfortune of others.  

There was a horrid beast in the woods, a chimera or dragon the likes of which had rarely been seen outside of ancient heroic legend.  It stalked anyone who entered the woods, and if you were unfortunate enough to be selected as its prey, you would never be seen again.  

The trees moved on their own, others said.  They whispered to one another.  They had eyes.  Sometimes, they had teeth.  They would lead you astray, if they could.  Move while you weren’t watching.  Confuse your path.

Or, perhaps, it was the ghost fire that danced between the trees that misdirected travelers and led them to uncertain dooms.  They were more common in swampier lands, marshes, bogs, and the like, but who knew the preferences of ghosts except for ghosts themselves?

But, no.  The woods were haunted, yes, but by the pale ghost of a child, murdered before his time.  Or was it the ghost of a young man?  If you were polite, he would lead you to safety.  But if you asked too many questions…

But they also went like this:

Once, the Conqueror King swept across the land with his thrall armies, seeking to make all the kingdoms of the world his own.  He marched into the woods of Amity.  He did not march out.

The woods were large enough not only to lose armies in, but towns, cities, kingdoms.  And, for those brave enough to dare them and the kinds of risks always associated with ruins, kingdoms’ ransoms.  Assuming, of course, that those kingdoms did not still live, in one fashion or another…

The princess would disappear into the woods for days on end, not to be found unless she wished it.  She would return with flowers in her hair and fruit in hand, no matter the season, her secrets kept tight behind smiling lips.  

Some said there were elves and goblins in the woods.  Small, clever folk who would trade the fantastic for the mundane, blessings for curses, memories for skills, truth for lies, and other, stranger things besides.  

Other rumors spoke of the oldest tree in the forest, and how it had been grown from a cutting of the tree of life itself.  They said the waters of the pool it grew by could take you to strange lands, body and soul together.  

And, as with any rumors, many of them were false.  Much… but in this case, not all.  

.

“Hey, Tucker.”  

The felter’s apprentice jumped about a foot, then craned his neck to look up and backward at the branch Danny was currently lounging on.  “I hate it when you do that.”

Danny grinned and propped his chin up on his hand, clearly displaying his unnaturally white teeth.  Especially the canines.  “Really?  I love when you do that?”

“What?  Jump out of my skin.”

“Maybe,” said Danny, his smile inching just a little wider, until it was at the edge of what was possible for a human face.  He could take it wider, if he wanted.  He didn’t. “Aren’t you going to ask me how I am?  Aren’t you going to ask me what I’ve been up to?” 

“I know what you’ve been up to, you menace.  It’s not like the bounty hunters you’ve been tormenting have been quiet.”

“Aw, you love me.  It’s Walker’s fault anyway, not mine.  Nothing’s making him send anyone.”

“Isn’t he, like, your grandfather or something?”

Danny shrugged and stretched languidly, like a cat, and reversed himself on the branch, fingers growing into claws so he could climb his way down the tree until he was sitting on a particularly prominent root.  Not the ground.  He tried to avoid that, when at all possible.  His tail lashed back and forth.  

“But that’s not all that’s been happening.”

“Oh, gods, please tell me you haven’t started another bizarre rumor.”

“Are they really rumors if they’re true?” asked Danny.  

“Ninety percent of them are crap.  There aren’t any elves in here, or magic immortality trees.”

“Well, I suppose that’s a matter of opinion,” said Danny, tilting his head to one side.  

“Your curse doesn’t count.”

Danny made an offended noise in the back of his throat.  

Tucker sighed.  “Is this something we’ll need Sam to fix?”

“Why do you assume there’s something to fix?  Why do we need Sam to fix it?  She’s the one who broke things in the first place.”  Danny tsked, then put on a disturbingly accurate impression of Princess Samantha of Amity, “Why don’t you look in the mysterious pool, Danny?  Why don’t you try out the red vial, Danny?  I want to see what will happen, Danny.”

“She didn’t say that.”

“That’s not what I remember,” huffed Danny, turning around. “Maybe I should just do this by myself.”

“Okay, okay, I give up.  What have you been up to?”

“The tops of the trees!”  Danny burst out laughing.  

“Wow… it’s just like the same joke you’ve told a thousand times,” said Tucker.  “But, seriously.”

“Seriously,” repeated Danny, “I found the Labyrinth!”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah!  The part of the Deep Woods it was in finally opened–  Hey, where are you going?”

“I’ve got to get Sam,” said Tucker, walking quickly the way he’d come.  

“Well, yeah,” said Danny, crawling back up into the trees and bounding along tree branch by tree branch, “I want her to come, too, exploring weird ruins is kind of her thing, but you don’t have to–  Tucker!”  The plaintive cry was more of a shriek than anything else.  Tucker skidded to a stop.  “You know I can’t leave the woods.  Don’t you at least want to know where the Labyrinth is first?”  

Tucker skidded to a stop.  “Yeah, sorry, buddy.  But I just realized–  The reason for all the weird cursed weather lately.  The frogs and toads and all that.  There was something in the Labyrinth that could do that, I remember reading about it.  If someone got into the Labyrinth before you…”

“They could have gotten it,” concluded Danny. 

“Sam needs to know.”

Danny clacked his claws against the branch he was sitting on.  “Alright,” he said.  “I guess I’ll need to go into the Labyrinth to talk to the spirits there.”  They’d be old ones, slow with age and memory, bound to tree and stone and the ancient meanings carved into once-worshiped rock.  

“Yeah?  But you were going to, anyway, weren’t you?”

“With you guys,” said Danny, “and it’s no fun if it’s work.”

“Yeah… sorry about that.  Look, how about after all of this, we go chase down the river-spire and see if we can’t find those ice sprites again?”

Danny’s ears pricked forward, fur shivering out of his skin at the remembered winter-chill.  He soothed them away.  Stupid shape shifting not working right.  

“Promise?”

Tucker hunched his shoulders slightly.  “Well, we’ll try, anyway.”

A little too wise to the ways of creatures like Danny to trust even Danny with a promise.  Too bad.  Danny chittered, then shrugged.

“I’ll take it.  You know how to call me once you get Sam.”

“You say that like I didn’t just do it ten minutes ago.”

Danny shrugged.  “Hey, you never know.  Humans have bad memories.  That’s why there are all those rumors.”

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2023

[blues824]

May I request the obey me brothers with an undertaker like mc from black bulter? Who is an reaper like Thirteen also an 100+ years old with an large weapon & sleeps in an coffin, can pull out memory in an shape of a something (I ended up forgetting)

Also don't stress yourself out too much and remember to take care of yourself!

If Undertaker ever asked me to marry him, y’all would never see me again. He’s just so beautiful, and happy, and I’m in love with this man.

ANYWAYS, I’ve been working on finding a balance between schoolwork and hobbies, and I think I found a middle ground. Take care of yourself, too!

Lucifer

You seem rather joyful for such a somber occupation. Since you couldn’t exactly run a funeral parlor in Hell, you would travel to the Human World whenever necessary. He understands that the majority of your fascination with the dead is that you can obtain information much more easily.

Once, Diavolo and Lucifer were working on finding why demons all over have been going missing, and they tried to pay you with actual money. You spat out your refusal and told them you would only give them what they needed if they made you laugh. The latter thought that this was absolutely ridiculous, but the former gladly told a few jokes.

One time, Lucifer needed to talk to you about something when he saw you experimenting on the corpses in the parlor. One of them was actually moving around, and he was concerned. You just giggled and told him that you wanted to see if you could bring them back to life. Unfortunately, you still lacked the ability to form a new soul, so it was basically just a zombie. Lucifer had never been so worried.

You and Thirteen seem to get along well. He’s glad that you are getting along with other exchange students, but could you please talk about something other than the funniest “times you went to harvest souls? It is not a proper dinner conversation. And it is certainly very rude to show off your old scythe at the table as well, Y/N!

Mammon

He’s honestly vibing with you on the happy part. However, we all know how much of a scaredy cat is. You owning a funeral parlor makes him a tad terrified. He doesn’t do well with dead bodies, especially if they’re real. 

He remembers one time where he went to you for information about one of the witches he made a deal with. You see, she had died, and she was sent to your funeral parlor. She was part of a coven that Mammon was involved with, so he needed to see where they are now. However, you weren’t about to give information out for free. You told him the price, and he thought you were being ridiculous as well. However, he paid, you laughed, and you gave him the info he needed.

Another time, Mammon came by to drop off some stuff for you when he noticed you were talking to someone. He creaked open the door and saw what looked like a corpse standing up. He slowly walked backwards, but then one of the floorboards creaked. You opened the door fully and caught him, dragging him to the room to tell him about your experiments. He was genuinely terrified. You told him that the bodies were the equivalent to zombies since they didn’t have a soul.

He’s glad that you’re making friends, Y/N. But could it be anyone other than Thirteen? He’s seen you both in action because she invited you to do one more soul reaping. You, loving to partake in old hobbies, gladly accepted. He’s seen you take the film of the soul you took. Is this what happened to everyone?

Leviathan

You remind him of the Old Reaper from “My parents have perished in a terrible fire, and to seek revenge I made a deal with my demon butler to help”. It was a good anime, too bad they haven’t made a new season.

He has never seen you in your domain, so he can only rely on his brothers’ words. He’s heard of your strange bargain, info for a joke. However, he will agree that it’s better and more reliable than paying actual money for it. Plus, you see people getting back-stabbed for money, so it’s not as upsetting to tell a joke to get you to laugh.

He’s also heard from his brothers of your… experiments. The countless times they’ve heard you talking to a corpse as though it were alive, until they heard footsteps that weren’t yours. You would refer to them as your ‘dolls’, which is even more unsettling. 

He definitely gets jealous whenever you say that you have plans with Thirteen when he asks you to hang out. He’s the Avatar of Envy, after all. However, you with your scythe is his new terrifying nightmare. You and Thirteen with your scythes is even scarier (extra points if you have your cloak).

Satan

He’d say your too joyful for your job, but to be fair he does enjoy a good murder mystery story. He wouldn’t be concerned about you and your profession. Everyone has hobbies, after all. He would be concerned about how you talk about it so eccentrically. 

Your way of an information exchange is rather unusual for someone who remains on Earth. Usually, humans want money in exchange. However, when Satan visited to gain info on something, you told him your price. He doesn’t have a problem with it, but it’s odd.

Another time, he went to drop off some lunch for you when he saw you and two bodies walking around. He would have dropped the food if one of the bodies didn’t catch it before it hit the ground. You are more than glad to explain your experiments and the inability to create a soul that you have.

I think he’s on pretty good terms with Thirteen. The two don’t seem to have a problem in the game. He would like to accompany the both of you as you help her harvest souls. Mans is probably shocked between the differences of technique, since you view the film of the life and Thirteen just harvests the soul.

Asmodeus

He’s glad that you find joy in your job! You don’t see a lot of that. Plus, there is a macabre sense of beauty with the dead, and a lot of classic novelists as well as painters would agree. I mean, look at him! On Earth, he’d be described as something undead and supernatural.

I’d say that he likes your way of exchanging information. He’s used to having to pay money to gain information about witches, but when one went to your funeral parlor for something and Asmo went by to gain info on said witch, all he had to do was tell a joke. He appreciated the easy atmosphere you put on in such a grim place of business.

However, every positive thought he had about you disappeared when he visited and he heard you talking to someone in the next room. He called to you and opened the door, where he saw a corpse walking around and you sat there in deep thought. Upon discovering that he was there, you smiled and told him what was going on. He was disgusted at the sight, to say the least.

It doesn’t specify, but I think he’s also on good terms with Thirteen? He’s glad that you both bond over past experiences of being Reapers. Don’t tell Thirteen, but your version of reaping a soul is much different and more appealing than hers. The film of their life made him tear up.

Beelzebub

He’s glad that someone is optimistic around here. It’s not everyday you see someone so happy to be in Hell, literally. To be fair, you do get to visit your funeral parlor whenever a body arrives, but for the most part you reside in the Devildom.

He also enjoys your way of exchanging information. You prefer laughing rather than somber situations, so it only makes sense that you’d rather take jokes rather than actual money. The trick is to tell a joke good enough to get you to laugh.

However, it was one day where he came to take you to eat somewhere in the Human World. It was a rather normal day, until he saw you ‘resurrecting’ a corpse. He suddenly felt sick, as though the snacks he ate on the way were coming back to haunt him. You then saw him, ran and gave him a hug, and explained that you were trying to make your dolls come back to life. You further told him that since you couldn’t create a soul, they were basically just animated bodies. He threw up.

He’s kind of scared whenever you and Thirteen go out with each other. While it’s typically for business, you do get happily nostalgic about your time as an official reaper. Thirteen stands in the back just hyping you up, though. The both of you paired together are an unstoppable force. He’s probably still traumatized by her because of the whole ordeal with her causing his life candle to burn quickly.

Belphegor

No one has the right to be this happy, Y/N. Not even on a billion cups of coffee with a trillion shots of espresso. How are you so happy-go-lucky? And especially with a job such as yours. You’re surrounded with death and misery.

He finds your way of exchanging information rather annoying. Like, can’t he just pay you and get it over with? But nOoOo, you have to do something unique to make yourself stand out. Wait… it’s not that? It’s because you love to laugh and you think it takes tension away from the situation? Now he feels like shit. 

He remembers once where you had to visit your parlor because someone had arrived and he had to accompany you so that you were carrying out your promise of no nonsense. He walked into your parlor exhausted from the day, but gets suspicious when he hears your sinister giggling. He peaked in and saw one of the corpses in the room walking around. He was wide awake for a few weeks after that.

I feel like he also gets jealous whenever you go hang out with Thirteen. Like, how dare you choose reaping souls with her rather than cuddling with him? Another part is that both you and Thirteen are much more powerful than he is, so he gets that small sense of inferiority and powerlessness. He doesn’t like it at all.

#obey me x reader #obey me! #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon #mammon x reader #mammon #obey me levi x reader #obey me leviathan x reader #leviathan x reader #leviathan #obey me leviathan #obey me satan x reader #obey me satan #satan x reader #satan #obey me asmo x reader #asmodeus #obey me asmodeus #asmodeus x reader #obey me beel x reader #obey me beelzebub #beelzebub x reader #beelzebub #obey me belphie

[afatlotofchance]

Commission-story 2: The Glutton's Way of the Cross

From a cute little teenage romance and slice of life story, we jump into a completely different territory. More mature. More brutal. Darker.

Let's go to the most fanatical and backward parts of the Middle-Ages. Let's have some non-consensual force-feeding, some brutal gaining, and some painful fattening.

Trigger warning for violence, brutality, torture, all the gruesome side-effects of force-feeding, and other nasty things.

XXX

The monk at the door of the monastery scrutinised the horizon, waiting for the cart to appear at any moment.

“Well, brother Francis?”

Another monk had just joined the first one. Taller, thinner, and definitively scarier.

“I don’t know, brother Gilles… He is late. The bells have rung, but I still can’t see him.”

“Lateness is a symptom of laziness, and laziness is the son of sloth. Sloth is the weapon of the devil.”

“Indeed, brother Gilles. Do you think our food will be poisoned?”

At this moment, a cloud of dust arose from the road as the cart filled with the weekly food delivery approached.

“He is driving faster than usual.” Brother Francis noted.

“Well, he knows he did wrong. At least he shows signs of repentance.”

“I would say he rather shows signs of fear.”

“One leads to the other, brother.”

The cart finally arrived in front of the two monks.

“Well, my son? What kept you so late?”

“I was attacked, fathers!”

The monks opened wide their eyes.

“Attacked, my son?”

“Yes! A robber pushed me out of the cart and tried to steal it, with all the food inside! I still have a nasty bump from the hit! Thankfully, he got caught: he couldn’t control the horse!”

Brother Gilles looked at the horse. He always disliked horses – he knew a devil could be in them at every moment, spying on his every move.

“Do you hear that, brother Francis? A thief tried to rob us of our food!”

“I heard that, brother Gilles… My son, tell me, what happened to said thief?”

XXX

The small delegation of monks travelled through the streets of the little town. Every one they met on their way saluted them with a deep respect. Much more than simple politeness and respect for the man of the cloth, they rather acted out of the fear of what they considered dangerous and disturbing.

The monastery at the edge of the town wasn’t really liked around here. Not that the people hated them, they had too much respect for the religion for that. And these monks weren’t the kind that would revel in money and power to drink, eat, and lay with women like so many others did. But they also weren’t the kind to preach kindness and generosity like they were supposed to. You certainly weren’t going to see these ones begging, preaching, teaching or helping those in distress. Oh no.

The monks came rarely in town. They liked loneliness and to be secluded, working on the constant repentance of their own souls, for they knew the rest of the world had fallen ill beyond cure. They were so strict, so devoted and so pious that it became sickening and grim; and it was all the more frightening because they didn’t seem to remember what virtues and goods their own religion revolved around.

They were pale of skin, for they fled the hard work in the sun and buried themselves under stone roofs. They were thin, almost skeletal, for it seemed they only gathered food in their home just to not eat it. Their eyes were small and squint for spending their time in darkness and reading too much. But the worst of it were the marks of their… very specific devotions. Bruises. Scars. Burns. Sometimes a finger missing. One of the monks couldn’t speak, for his tongue wasn’t in his mouth any more – but nobody knew if the muscle was removed before or after he entered the monastery.

As a result, it was understandable that the crowd amassed on the town’s square would part like the sea before the old prophet at the mere sight of them marching towards the gallows.

Today, there was only one man to be hanged. The thief, brother Gilles guessed. He stepped forward and looked at the criminal. A small man near him was shouting at the crowd, explaining the boy’s crimes. But the monk did not listen to him – for he knew the crimes of the mortals and the sins of God were completely different things. The thief was young, barely a man, and he looked terrified. His hands were behind him, probably with rope around them, and the noose was around his neck – nicely tight. His eyes were wide open, jumping everywhere like wild rabbits, searching for a bit of help or mercy. He was sweating a lot, and his face bore the marks of terror – marks the monks knew very well. And they knew that with fear came redemption, repentance and faith.

“Stop!”

Everybody looked at the monks.

“Are you going to simply hang this poor young man like that? Without any form of trial? Without any form of judgement? Without any form of advice from the men of God?”

The small man looked quite embarrassed.

“Father, this man was a thief. Not only is he a thief, he is a sacrilegious thief, for he tried to steal your cart of food as it was leaving our town. The law claims that we should hang him.”

“The law of men, my son, not the law of God. God never said anything about hanging people – hanging other people is pagan, and hanging ourselves is only worth of a Judas, not of a petty thief. Thieves are to be crucified.”

The young man gulped down despite the noose around his neck, and he became even more pale and sweaty. Brother Gilles smirked. That was the reaction he was waiting for.

“But, as you said, he stole our belongings, our property, our food. We should have a word about his punishment.”

The monk got up on the gallows’ platform, and close to the young man. He was without a doubt a peasant – shirt, pants, small vest, a strong lace instead of a belt. His clothes were still dirtied with the dust and the mud from his failed crime attempt. He was young, as the monk had already noticed – young but stocky and bulky. Broad shoulders, thick chest, strong legs. He definitely looked like a worker, a hard worker, a farmer probably, certainly not a blacksmith. However, some elements of his morphology clearly showed a propensity towards sloth and gluttony. A soft flesh. A big belly, not round but slightly more prominent than the chest (never a good sign, for it meant the man’s heart was in his belly). A baby-like face, with fat cheeks and a double chin.

“How many years have you seen pass, my son?”

The boy gulped down once more.

“I will soon be sixteen years old, father.”

“You stole our food.”

“I was hungry!” the man cried out. “My father is dead, the taxes are heavy, my crops all withered and died! I don’t have enough money to buy bread, I would have died, only God could help me, and I had to do it, I succumbed to the temptation, for I was weak, and my belly ached, but…”

The monk put a hand on his mouth.

“Your head is shaved.”

“Huh?”

The monk took his hand and touched the top of his head.

“Your head is shaved, like those of our orders. Why so?”

“Keeps… keeps the little biting bugs away.”

“I see… Clean. Do you regret what you did?”

“Yes! Yes, so much, father, I repent father, please, I don’t want to be hanged, I’m not a criminal, I’m a faithful good…”

The monk made a sign to make him stop his pleas. Then he got near the small man that was shouting the boy’s crimes earlier on. He took him by the shoulder, leaned towards him and whispered in his ear:

“What do you know about the young man? Is he gluttonous? Slothful?”

“He certainly is both, father, everyone knows it around here! His father kept complaining that he was a good-for-nothing, a big belly with legs and without a heart! And when his father died, he inherited his farm with his field, but he never managed to get anything to grow there! I think he never really put any real effort in it, he just wanted to eat his own crops and had no patience to take care of it as he grew! Just a big gullet with legs, as his father said! Good for nothing.”

The monk nodded and turned back towards the young man, speaking loudly for everyone to hear:

“Hanging a man is not a dignified or Christian way to make him die. You are young, terrified and repentant. You are a sinner, yes, but if God executed all of the sinners on this Earth, only the pope would be left! We, as men of god, offer you a way to be punished for your crime while staying alive. A way that would purify your soul, make you repent and become a better person! We offer to punish you, not with a vulgar execution, but with a penitence! We will punish you like God Himself would!”

The crowd started to whisper.

“You shall be punished by where you sinned. Your mouth, your throat, your gullet.”

He got closer to the boy, his cold icy eyes straight into his. The young thief shivered in fear of the dreadful punishment that was awaiting him.

“Do you know what they do in Hell to gluttons?”

The young man shook his head.

“They are fed for all eternity. And so you shall be.”

The boy looked at him strangely. Was it… a joke? He never heard of a monk making a joke, even in in-jokes.

Brother Gilles turned towards the crowd.

“We will punish him by feeding him! He wanted to eat, well he will eat, until he realises his mistakes and his sins! He devoted his soul to the false god Gluttony, but we will show him the truth behind the lies, we will make him realise that food isn’t sustaining the soul, that what evil can offer is nothing but sickness and death! We will show him that eating isn’t a proper way to honour God!”

The small man, uneasy, looked at the executioner, who simply shrugged.

“Father… You want to feed him? That’s not…”

The look the monk gave him silenced him in the minute. Brother Gilles’ eyes were gleaming with a spark of pure madness, of insane cruelty, of the twisted fanaticism the townspeople had learned to fear since decades now.

“We offer him a chance to redeem himself! Isn’t that good? If he wants to follow our path, we will prepare his punishment. We will give the orders and the food, for we have plenty to spare – all we would borrow from the town are guards to carry on our orders, and your stocks, to keep him locked. But it is not your choice or mine.”

Brother Gilles turned towards the boy.

“It is yours. You can choose to redeem yourself and follow us. But if you would rather die as a sinner take the rope then, be my guest.”

“No, no! I don’t want the rope! I want to live! I want… I want to repent!”

“Good.”

Of course, the boy was afraid. He knew the reputation of these monks. He knew they liked the whips and the blades as much as the crosses and the rosaries. But what was the worst they could do by feeding him? They said it themselves, they would give him their own food. So nothing rotten or disgusting. They will offer him on a plate what he wanted to steal since the very beginning. They were so nuts in the head they didn’t even realise that their punishment was a reward more than anything.

Anyway, nothing could be worse than the gallows.

XXX

Of course, the stocks were pretty uncomfortable – forcing Yvan to stay on his knees, preventing his hands from moving – but it was better than the rope. At least, here, he had enough space around his neck to move his head.

The monks insisted on using the stocks of the marketplace. They refused to use those on the outskirts of the town. As they said themselves: “Like this, not only will his humiliation be greater, but he will also become an example, a lesson, a living book for the people of this town. Every day they will come and see him being punished, and mock him for having fallen so low – but at the same time, they will shiver for the sake of their own soul.”

On the stocks, was nailed a parchment upon which had been written only one word: “Glutton”. And indeed, his punishment seemed like a demonstration of what gluttony was.

Just like the monks had said, Yvan was being fed and that was the only thing they seemed to do to him. No whipping, no bone-breaking, no flesh-burning. Just… meals.

They served him three meals, three enormous meals – at sunrise, midday and sunset. Yvan never felt so happy and satisfied in his entire life! He was treated like a king, had his belly full, and could taste better food than he could have ever grown out of his own field! There were fruits of all sorts, apples, peaches, berries, nuts, olives, pears, oranges, along with a rich meal, good bread, and tasty wine. And there was meat! Real, juicy meat, cooked, roasted! He gulped down everything with glee and smiles, for he wasn’t even bothering with feeding himself: the guards were feeding him! Like a king, like a pope, like a god!

People soon gathered around him to see how the monks had planned to torture him – some even had rotten fruits ready to be thrown – but they all stood wide-eyed and still upon seeing the young, brutish, gluttonous, lazy man they all knew being pampered like the child of some nobleman. Were the monks completely mad?

Outside of the stocks, the only thing that seemed close to a humiliation was after his last meal – as the evening left place to the night and everybody was going home. Yvan had to relieve himself and the guards lowered his pants and made him defecate and urinate without taking him off the stocks. But, while it was humiliating for Yvan to know that all the women, men and children of the neighbourhood could take look his parts and dejections, and while it hurt him to hear the people’s laughs and mockeries, he quickly forgot everything about it, for the taste of the exquisite foods was still lingering on his tongue, and that was enough to make him happy.

As new guards arrived at night to watch over the stocks, Yvan liked his lips (still covered in juice and milk) and let out a small burp. His belly was full and heavy – the first time since… Oh, since his birth, probably.

Someone up there must be looking after him, he thought as he felt sleepy. Someone who whispered to the ear of the crazy monks.

This night, Yvan dreamed of huge feasts and banquets.

XXX

“Hey! I already had my meal at sunrise!” Yvan shouted to the guards as they approached with more food.

It was the middle of the morning. The market was taking place all around the young man, and the people nearby, merchants or clients, turned their heads towards the stocks.

“The monks said you’ll have five meals a day!” answered the guards.

“But I only had three yesterday!”

The other did not answer. Not that Yvan was complaining. Eating so much yesterday had woken up his appetite – he had felt hungry ever since sunrise and his breakfast, while big, certainly wasn’t enough to make him full.

Yvan salivated upon seeing the guards drop in front of him beautiful, greasy pieces of meat, firm and plump pomegranates, brilliant and sugary grapes, delicious buttery bread!

“That’s a lot of food!” he snickered merrily, still chipped up from the morning wine.

The guards looked at each other with a smirk.

“It is, indeed. Now open your mouth.”

XXX

They came back at midday, then in the middle of the afternoon, and at sunset. They helped him to do what he had to do, and the guards shifted for the night.

While still smiling as the idiot that he was, Yvan burped, not without a slight feeling of unease. The guards weren’t bothering with cleaning his mouth, so all the grease and fat of the meat was still dribbling down his chin, mixing itself with the milk and the wine in a pool on the ground. He felt light-headed, due to having much more wine than usual – which made him quite red in the face – but all the alcohol in his blood couldn’t erase the heaviness in his belly. His stomach felt so tight, in fact, it was nearly uncomfortable.

It’s nonsense, he thought to himself. No one can grow uncomfortable from eating too much. It’s hungriness that makes you suffer. Famine is the true pain. Not eating like a king.

Yet, his bowels still hanged dully from his guts, still feeling puffed up despite being emptied of their content not so long ago, and his stomach kept gurgling and bloating itself with gases and bubbles.

You couldn’t get sick from eating too much food… could you? 

XXX

“Hey, could you… could you… just…”

One of the guards shoved a juicy and greasy chicken leg in Yvan’s mouth.

“What did’ya say?”

The young man munched and gulped down. “Could you slow down a bit? I’m starting to get…” An apple was put between his teeth. He had to bite. “… feeling really full now.” he said while munching.

“Don’t care.” the guard answered as he took a watermelon and cut it in big slices.

“I’m really…” Yvan let out a small burp. “If you go too fast, I might… choke you know?”

“The monks said nothing about you choking, or about us feeding you fast ofrslow. We just feed ya, and that’s all. The monks said: Feed him. And if he doesn’t want to eat…” The guard gave a violent kick to Yvan’s leg. The young man screamed, a bit of apple falling on the ground. “… then make him eat.”

Yvan ate the rest of the watermelon, but not without a slight nausea.

His stomach was so full he felt it could burst at any moment. Not that the food was bad – it was so delicious – and now he was getting kind of used to eating so much, even though it was really uncomfortable by the end of the day. It was the guards, they forced him to eat too much too quickly. He feared getting a stomach ache. He had one when he was little, after eating all of the apples of the neighbour's tree. But it quickly went away. He hoped this one will too.

Anyway, alcohol helped him soothe the pain. The wine they kept making him drink gurgled in his belly.

Another watermelon down, and Yvan burped again, but this time quite faintly, with a bit of saliva dripping from his lips.

He looked at what was left. Breads, several big pieces of bread. Anointed with oil and butter. To see them shine in the sun made his stomach turn and churn.

He could certainly do this. He wasn’t going to refuse eating some pieces of bread. Yvan, refusing food? That would be ridiculous.

XXX

“And that’s the last of it.”

Yvan gulped down what was left of the cheese. He burped and spat.

“I’m not feeling… good. Not at all…”

“You’re supposed to be punished, scum. You’re not supposed to feel good.”

Yvan looked at the guard. It was hard to look precisely at someone’s face while being drunk.

“I’m being fed. I’m eating. How is that a punishment? You can make me… hic! You can make me ache and sick and drunk, but… hic! It can’t be worse than the gallows, or starving in the street! Hic!”

The guard simply shook his head and went away, leaving the young man with his bloated belly and food-smeared mouth at the good hands of his colleagues.

If only this thief knew of the monk’s plan…

XXX

“Rise and shine! Time to eat!”

Yvan woke up. His stomach felt hard and heavy.

“What?”

He looked at the sky. It was dark blue, with barely a thin line of pink at the horizon.

“The sun’s not raising yet…”

“It’s the matins, my boy. Your first meal.”

“What?”

“Monks order. Make him eat at the matins. Bread, wine and fruit. Won’t hurt ya, right? Plus some nice cow milk! Fresh from the udder!”

Yvan didn’t feel like eating but… well, he had no other choice.

XXX

“Here’s the food!”

Yvan looked at the young guard that was bringing with him huge pieces of muttons, big apples and large pears.

“I just ate!” he said. “The matins are done!”

“Yeah, but the sky is all pink and the sun is rising, no? It’s the lauds.”

“The lauds?”

“Monks order. Give him food at the lauds. Come on, open up.”

XXX

“Food for ya, glutton!”

Another guard was coming, his arms filled with bread, quinces, plums and milk.

“I just ate… bwarp! Twice!” Yvan belched. “I’m full, really! I’m stuffed and not hungry any more!”

“But the sky is bright blue and the bells are ringing! It’s the prime, boy! The monks said you had to eat at the prime!”

“I’m full, I can’t eat any more!”

The guards gave him a kick in the butt.

“Come on, don’t squeal too much, you pig! You’re supposed to be a prisoner here. Don’t make me shove this food down your big throat. Come on, make some room, I’m sure you can.”

XXX

“I feel like… it’s so tight… I’m gonna burst.”

Yvan huffed and puffed. The young guard was back. He kneeled and looked at Yvan’s belly, opening a bit his vest and shirt.

“Indeed, I’ve never seen a gullet so round! Like a melon! The skin’s so tight I could play drum on it!”

“Please… don’t…” Yvan whispered.

“Well, I hope you’re hungry.” the young guard answered. “There’s lamb, and figs, and…”

“More… food?” Yvan cried.

“Yes. It’s the terce. The market is opening. Don’t you see?”

Indeed, the merchants had gathered on the market-place, preparing their stalls and stands.

“I… can’t eat. I… won’t eat. I don’t want… to eat. Stop.”

The young guard laughed.

“You know you can’t just ask that, right? If you don’t want to eat, you’ll be forced to. Please, show some courage. It’s not so bad, it’s just a big meal. Come on, open up.”

XXX

It was noon, now. The market was coming to an end, but a small crowd had gathered around the stocks to look at poor Yvan. He was as pale as his shirt, with a belly big and swollen. It kept gurgling, moaning and making strange noises. Sauces, juice, grease and saliva kept flowing from his half-opened mouth, staining his clothes and chins.

A guard appeared.

“It’s sext, my boy! Time to eat!”

“No… urg… no more…”

The gurgles were now coming from the back of his throat.

“Oh, you’ll eat, glutton. Open up, come on. Open… open. Open!”

The guard opened himself the boy’s mouth, forcing a piece of bread past his teeth. The entire bread finally went down, followed by some fruits. That’s when Yvan suddenly rejected the food he just ate, the fruits smashing on the guard’s chest. The guard recoiled with disgust.

“Can’t… I’m… urg…” Yvan whispered.

He vomited again, this time all the content of his previous meal. The guard looked at the slimy puddle of half-digested food.

“Oh, lad, you don’t know what you’re in for, do you? No matter how full you are, you’ll have to eat. Eat ‘til you burst. Monks orders.”

XXX

“Well, how is our little glutton?”

The head of the guards had walked all the way to the monastery. It was the smallest of the monks that had welcomed him – a weird one, with a sly smile, a dead eye and a missing finger.

“We did as you asked. Fed him at every service. Matins and lauds, prime and terce, sext and nones, vespers and compline.”

“Good. Is he regretting his actions now?”

“Don’t know. But he certainly regretted to eat. He puked it all out.”

The man nodded.

“Brother Gilles thought that it would happen. It means the boy is rejecting his sins. It’s not merely the food he vomits, it’s his crime. He’s expunging the Devil out of his own body. It’s good, very good. I hope you haven’t made him eat up what he vomited?”

“What? No!”

“That was the proposition of brother Francis. I’m glad to see you haven’t listened to him. Well, I’ll tell brother Gilles about our progress. I’m sure he is eager to share with you the next step of the plan.”

“The next step of the plan?”

“Yes, my son. Our little glutton is following his own Way of the Cross. And it means walking step by step. Each one more painful than the previous one.”

The little monk said that with such a childish glee that the head of the guards couldn’t help but shiver.

“My son… did you know we raised geese in the monastery, not so long ago?”

XXX

“Open your mouth.”

Yvan had no time to answer. The guards opened his jaws and put something in it. Something cold, metallic, long, that went down his throat. He wanted to gag, to spit out, to vomit, but he couldn’t. He squinted his eyes, trying to realise what had been put in his mouth.

The realisation hit his alcohol-imbibed brain.

It was a funnel.

Immediately, the food arrived. He couldn’t test it, but he felt it. Something soft, but heavy, that blocked his throat. He gulped down in order to not suffocate. And immediately something else came in, and he gulped it. The thing – food, must have been food – still came down his throat. It felt as something already munched and spit out. Must have been something mashed, grind, crushed. Probably purée or paste. Sometimes it was more jelly-like, other times it was a liquid. And of course, all of it had no taste, for not a single drop touched his tongue – all Yvan could taste was the cold, hard, nearly salty metal of the funnel in his mouth.

And said funnel was so big it blocked most of his view. The guards themselves wondered what kind of goose the monks could possibly feed with a funnel that big. But it was handy: everything slipped in it. The crushed nuts, the mashed fruits, the berries purée. They even pressed the meat, until it became a bloody and greasy pulp. It was still early in the morning, but they had a lot to do. The monks had warned them: more and more food will be added into the young thief’s belly, until food would take up so much space in his body the Devil would be forced to flee. Then, and only then, will the demonic sin drop the mask of pleasure and reveal its true face: that of a hellish torture, based on a ridiculous, base, pointless, unneeded material object. Food.

All day long the food kept coming. Now that the guards had to mash and prepare the food, each meal took twice the usual amount of time, and it had already been a lengthy process beforehand. Yvan felt like he was fed every minute of every hour of every part of the day, without any kind of pause or relief. Soon his belly felt full and round, but the food kept coming, making his stomach tighter and harder. Of course, all the food was pushed down to his lower parts – filling his intestines and gore, bloating the rest of his abdomen, until all of his internal plumber was clogged up. He felt like a sausage: a tight skin filled with stuffing. Half-sick, half-drunk, he daydreamed that if a butcher was to come and poke at him with his knife, his belly would probably slice itself in half, spilling everywhere the fruits and the meat and the bread he had been fed on, perfectly intact, still nice and shiny. But the mere thought of it made him sick again.

The nausea got so violent he tried to puke – but the funnel prevented such rejection. Worse, the small he had been able to get rid of was being forced down his throat once more.

By the end of the day, when they finally took away the metallic torture device, Yvan was crying.

He now understood how, exactly, being fed constantly could be, indeed, a true torture.

XXX

Brother Gilles followed the guard throughout the streets of the little town.

“And was there any other case of regurgitation?”

“It’s hard to tell with the funnel, father. But I don’t think so. I think he got used to it. After all, his stomach is twice as big – he can pack in much more than before.”

“What?”

The monk had stopped right in the middle of the street, staring at the guard with his icy stare.

“Well… yeah. He’s grown big. You’ve fattened him up real well.”

“He… fattened up?”

One of the monk’s eyes was wide open, expressing the most confused bewilderment. The other shone of some sort of dreadful angriness.

“Well… yeah.” the guard repeated, frightened. “Just like, you know… the goose. Like you said, how you’re feeding the goose. It’s fattening them up and… huh… he too.”

The monk ran towards the market place.

People had gathered around Yvan, smiling and quietly laughing at his ridiculous appearance. They talked to each other while pointing their dirty fingers toward him, clearly making fun of his situation – but Yvan had no ears for them. When he was being fed by the funnel, he could only think of gulping and swallowing so that he wouldn’t choke.

“We’ve stopped separating the foods.” the guards explained while catching up with the monk. “Now we mix all of it together. Fruits, bread, wine, meat, milk. It’all makes just one big goo. He takes him pretty easily. It’s just like a goose. And he doesn’t seem to mind.”

“Apparently, he can’t taste anything. He just eats and burps in our faces. The old guards don’t like it – they sometimes smack him in the face – but the others don’t mind.”

Indeed, when the guards took off the funnel, Yvan let out a deep belch that made all the people around laugh out loud.

All the people around except the monk – who merely screamed.

“Open the stocks! Put him on his feet! Open the stocks, I need to see it!”

The guards, quite surprised to see brother Gilles, obeyed. Yvan could barely stand up: sitting for weeks on his knees had weakened his legs. The sudden shift in position made him nauseous, and green in the face.

The monk rushed towards him and grabbed his belly. His now wide, fat, round belly.

His torso had doubled in size since their last meeting. Fat had bloated up his abdomen, enlarging his waist, padding his behind, rounding his belly – in fact, his midsection was nearly the shape of a perfect globe. His chest had also gotten thicker and larger, his shoulders broader and meatier. This transformation had, of course, an effect on his clothes: the laces that tied his sleeveless vest had all snapped, while the tighter one that he used as a belt was certainly about to do so. His shirt, ill-fitting when he was on the gallows, had now its fabric stretched on his gut.

“The mockery! It’s an outrage! He is mocking our punishment, he is mocking our order, he is mocking our God!”

Brother Gilles turned towards the guards and shouted, eyes injected with blood:

“He grew fat on the food we cursed him with! He turned our punishment of both body and mind into a display of excess and laziness! Look at him! Where’s the suffering in his face? Where’s the vomit of his repentance? Oh, I should have listened to brother Horace! We should have put living rats in his gullet so that they would devour him from the inside!”

The monk ordered the guards to put Yvan back in the stocks, before addressing the crowd around him:

“Look at this glutton! A thief, a glutton, a slothful, a prodigal son that dilapidated his father’s property! He killed his mother at birth, he tried to commit a monstrous sacrilege by depriving men of God of their sustenance! He is in league with the devilish horses! And now, what is he doing? He is being fed all day long, doing nothing but sit there, enjoying it!”

Finally, the nausea had passed and Yvan found the strength to speak.

“I’m not enjoying it!” Yvan cried out. “It’s hell! My belly aches, it makes me sick, I puke and I shit! My limbs are sore, I can barely walk any more! I’m feverish and sweaty and I don’t want to be here any more!”

“I don’t see your tears, liar! Your flesh is fat, glutton, sign of your own sin! You revel in your own evil! You’re bloated up like a vampire! Shut your vile mouth and speak no more!”

Brother Gilles took a lemon from a nearby stand and shoved it into Yvan’s mouth.

“You, people, are faithful! You were baptised, you are part of God’s livestock! You should act on his name, be his voice, be his warrior! You maybe can’t lead a crusade, you maybe can’t kill the heretics, but you can at least punish the sinners on Earth – this sinner on Earth, so that he won’t go to Hell after his death! Be kind to thy neighbour! Help this lost sheep! Push him back into the path of God! Do it!”

“But how?” the crowd asked.

“He’s a pig, treat him as such!”

The monk was now red and sweaty, a big vein pulsing on his bald head.

“This is a punishment! Make him regret! Make him feel what it would be like to be in hell! Don’t let him be complacent, don’t let him! By the authority of the High One, do it!”

The monk ran towards a merchant nearby, stole his knife and cut the tip of his own finger. Then he ran toward Yvan, took the lemon and put his finger instead.

“Drink! Drink my blood, for I am a man of God, and my blood is pure! You are a sinner, not worthy of the blood of the Great Saviour, so for your communion, you shall have the blood of a lesser servant. Drink! Drink! Drink, my son, drink!”

Yvan, terrified, sucked the monk’s finger, the strange taste of blood spreading on his tongue. It was quite similar to the taste of the funnel. The monk finally groaned and took off his finger.

“Perfect. You are absolved of your sins and crimes in the past weeks. Your mockery of our order will be forgotten. But, make sure you repent and suffer. Else… I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to do anything more for you.”

XXX

Yvan punishment went on. Every day, from dawn till dusk, a gruesome mix of liquids and mashed food, once glorious and sumptuous meals reduced to a colourless ugly goo, was forced into the funnel, down Yvan’s throat, and the boy gulped and gulped until his stomach was bloated and ready to burst – which became less and less the frequent, weeks passing by. For indeed, his stomach slowly distended itself, and grew with this new amount of food. Thus, the guards needed more and more to satisfy him, and even more to actually make him sick. It became so bad that Yvan actually ended up feeling a bit peckish after each day of force-feeding. Hopefully, the townsfolk joined their effort to those of the guards.

The monks had ordered them to lash all of their cruelty and mockeries upon the glutton, and so they shall. Not directly of course, only the guards could hit him (even though many common people came to pat his firm and blubbery behind, saying how the pig was fattening up nicely). Plus, mockery wasn’t enough for them any more – they had done all they could, and they grew bored of it, especially since Yvan seemed to ignore them completely.

So, they rather decided to help the guards in their feeding duty. Each day, the scraps and rotten things they usually kept for their pigs or their dogs were given to the guards so they could add it to the repulsive mush they prepared. Sometimes, they even fed Yvan directly, steeping their own mashed leftovers down the funnel. Since Yvan’s stocks were on the market place, the merchants liked to get rid of their withered or ugly products by throwing it down his gullet. At first, it made Yvan quite nauseous to eat all of this bad food, his stomach churning and groaning as it had to digest elements too hard or too rotten, but he soon got used to it – he had eaten worse in his years. Anyway, the townsfolk understood that giving Yvan bad food only resulted in more violent and putrid public defecations, and deciding that their market place already stank enough without this gruesome addition, they decided to only give him scraps and discarded bits.

In a very strange way, Yvan’s punishment became the town’s entire distraction, a sort of communal activity that people watched and participated in like if it was some sort of play or game. When the market was held, people bought food specifically so they could feed it to Yvan, under the guard’s watch. They had invented, without knowing it yet, the concept of feeding animals in zoos, several centuries before any zoo actually existed.

The thief’s force-feeding became such an amusement, satisfying the perverse tastes and desperate craving for distraction of the peasants and common folk, that at night, some people bribed the guards, with either beer or money, so that they could “play” all by themselves with Yvan by feeding him.

The crazy monk had ordered Yvan to stop getting fat in order to show his repentance.

It obviously wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

XXX

“He’s choking!”

“What?”

“Look! He’s choking! He’s getting all red in the face! And his tongue’s all out!”

“Nah, he must be drunk.”

“No! Look, he’s coughing! He’s getting blue!”

“Blue? Get him out of here. We’ll see.”

The guards opened the stocks, freeing Yvan who fell on the floor, hissing and wheezing as he was able to breathe again.

“What, he choked on food?”

“No, I don’t think so… Oh, I think I found it! Look!”

The guard forced Yvan to get back on his knees and to put his head back in the stocks. The guard slowly lowered the top part of the wooden device, until it nearly closed itself on the man’s neck.

“His neck’s too big!”

“How can a man’s neck be too big for the stocks?”

The guards forced Yvan to stand up so that they could have a good look at him – something Yvan could barely do, his wobbly legs having a hard time supporting his enormous weight.

Indeed, Yvan’s neck was now too big for the stocks! If it was even a neck what he had now. A ball of fat had replaced what he had for a neck: between his cheeks that grew and fell over on each sides, and his goitre of a double chin that had blown up, along with the rolls of fat that piled up on his nape, his head seemed to now rest on a pile of lard, an enormous roll of flesh twice as big as his own rotund head, as plump as the full moon.

The guards, so used to seeing this big, round, bloated body kneeling on the ground, like a pig eating in his through or some fat cow munching the grass, understood with a great surprise and an even greater disgust just how big Yvan had gotten.

His torso, that used to be already quite spherical in shape, had now grown so fat, so wide and so vast that the sphere had fallen into a shapeless mount, overflowing from the sides of his over-stretched pants. The lace that he used as a belt had snapped one evening as the guards were feeding him and now was hanging pitifully. His shirt, too tight and too small for his new girth, rose up on the enormous hanging globe that was his belly, grotesquely distended after so many weeks of overeating. Above his belly, his chest had grown fat and soft, his pectorals now hanging like two huge slabs of meat. But it wasn’t just his head and his abdomen – the rest of his body had also changed. His arms, for example, were each so big they looked like two hams put together – they were even bigger and thicker than the arms of the strongest of the guards! And his legs had also gotten larger – his pale, fleshy, jelly-like thighs rubbing against each other like full, sloshing wineskins – and underneath, his calves, also rounder and thicker, tightened the laces around the legs of his pants so much the guards feared they would snap like those of his vest.

The man was now a beast, as heavy as a bear and as grotesque as a pig. Yvan looked at the guards, with his stuffed and round cheeks, his mouth dripping with food and saliva, with the enormous bulges that were now his chins, and with his eyes, his bagged eyes, so tiny inside the puffed-up flesh of his face, eyes haggard and nearly dead due to the town amount of pain, nausea, satisfaction, happiness, pleasure and sickness he had experienced these previous months. And the guards felt disgusted and uneasy by what they had just done.

People gathered around to see the monster Yvan had become, to look at his body that was now roughly the shape of a little mountain, and the guards rushed towards the monastery to warn the monks.

XXX

Brother Gilles, brother Francis and brother Horace arrived soon at the marketplace.

“You’ve freed him? What’s the meaning of this? You…”

The monk stopped speaking upon seeing the enormous young man.

“We can’t take it any more.” one of the guards explained nervously. “This all thing becomes perverted. He was punished enough, don’t ya think? His neck can’t even fit in the stocks! Just look at him! He’s like the old Eglon, I poke my blade in him, he wouldn’t feel a thing! He wouldn’t even bleed!”

Brother Gilles approached the boy. The dead eyes of Yvan were looking at something far away from here, something over the rainbow, that the monks couldn’t possibly see.

“My son? Are you here with us?”

The boy gurgled up something. He opened his mouth, drooling. He let out a half-drowned belch and gurgled some more.

“My son… have you repented?”

Yvan turned his eyes towards brother Gilles, eyes still dead and blank, without any light or spark in them. He smiled, exposing his crooked yellow teeth, worn out after gritting for so long on the funnel’s metal, his breath smelling of all sorts of foods and rotten things.

Brother Gilles suddenly straightened up his back, as immobile as a statue, and shouted: “He repented!”

The other monks cried in joy and applauded, soon followed by the cheers of the crowd.

Brother Gilles took some of Yvan’s saliva, made a quick cross over his forehead, blessed him, and after hearing more cheering, Yvan lost consciousness.

XXX

Yvan was woken up by a deep feeling of hungriness, and the loud wails of his own stomach.

Yvan was in a cell. His body felt heavy and sore all over, except in the area of his stomach, that felt painful and empty. It was like having a big hole in his belly.

Trying to get up, Yvan suddenly remembered everything. The monk, the stocks, the funnel… He looked down at his body and held back a horrified scream. He was enormous! He couldn’t even see his own feet past his gut! Was he really as big as a boar? That’s what the people said when he was in the stocks. His belly was even sticking out of his clothes!

He touched it, felt his fingers seek deeply into the flesh, and suddenly his stomach roared once more. He was famished.

“Oh, you’re up. Good. I wondered if you were dead.”

A guard was opening the door of the cell.

“What happened?”

“You’ve been there for days. Sleeping, unconscious. We thought all this eating had killed you. You know, something burst inside you. But you’re still kickin’, that’s good. The monks said your punishment was enough. You’re free to leave.”

Yvan, surprised to even be alive but joyful to finally leave all of this torture behind him, followed the guard in the street.

When he got out, the people in the street looked at him, pausing and snickering before returning to their activities.

Another loud groan got out of his belly.

“Still hungry, boy? We can get you the funnel, if you like.” the guard joked.

Yvan looked at him with spite and walked away. Or rather tried to. His feet were not used to lift such a mass, he stomped rather than walked, and with each movement his thighs rubbed against each other, his behind jiggling and trying to fit inside pants now too tight, his belly bouncing in front of him.

A woman looked at him and laughed. Yvan felt embarrassed. He must be a ridiculous sight to look at. He wasn’t even pleasantly plump, or round as a rich merchant. He was so big he looked like a beast, a hideous beast, a wild hog, a freakish animal!

Three kids ran towards him.

“Oh, look! It’s the pig! It’s the goose! It’s the glutton!” they screamed with glee.

They started running around him.

“He’s like a barrel! No, he’s bigger than that! Do you have grains? Feed him grains! Feed him scraps! Don’t forget the funnel!”

“Leave me alone!” Yvan screamed.

He tried to hit them, to smack them on the head or slap them on the cheek, but all this moving around and leaning forward ended up loudly ripping something behind him.

“He split his pants!” the kids laughed. “He split his pants! Look at his bum!”

And the kids smacked his behind. “It jiggles, it ripples!” the kids shouted.

Yvan became red and shouted back at the kids some of the worst insults he knew, but another one had grabbed his chest – or rather what his chest had become, wide rolls of fat hanging on each side of his body.

“Look, he has udders! He’s not a goose, he’s a cow! He’s not a pig, he’s a sow! Drink, boys, drink, I’m sure there’s milk in it, suck it!”

The boy who had grabbed Yvan’s man boob received a violent hit on the head. Yvan always had large and tough hands, and now, with the added weight of the meat that hanged around his arm, his fist was doing much more damage than before.

The kids ran away, but their screams echoed in the streets, and as to answer them, Yvan’s stomach gurgled once more.

XXX

Yvan finally arrived at his farm. His old dad’s farm, now his own.

He was huffing and puffing, red in the face and sweating between his rolls. Moving around was much harder than before. He felt like he was dragging a dead horse with him: he was hot, his heart was beating like a drum, and he had the hardest time breathing.

Passing by his field, he took a gloomy look at it. The few plants that had managed to grow in this weed-infested earth had all withered and died. Sighting, but happy to be back home, Yvan entered the small farm and sat on one of the old wooden chairs.

It cracked and Yvan fell to the ground. It would have been more painful without the extra-padding on his behind.

His stomach protested once more against its emptiness. Now hunger was becoming painful, like if his insides were sucked up and crushed.

Yvan wondered what he could possibly eat to ease the pain, before reminding himself that there was no food left. He had eaten everything already.

Yvan then wondered what he could buy – not at the market, for he couldn’t show up there after all the mockeries and humiliations – in one of the nearby shops, at the butcher or at another farmer’s house. He then remembered he had no money left. He had used all of what he had to buy himself food.

No money. No food. And now no clothes, for he doubted to find anything that would accommodate his gargantuan size.

His stomach roared once more, so loudly it seemed a lion had entered the room. Yvan patted his belly, only to feel how wide, round and fat it was.

The young man understood that his punishment was far from being over.

#weight gain #my stories #my writing #kink story #weight gain story #male #man #force-feeding #dark kink #brutal kink #fat #fat fiction

[blackbat05]

Kindred Spirit

Miguel O’Hara x Reader (Modern AU)

Plot: You leave to a foreign land to heal your heart but things doesn’t go quite as planned.

Genre: PG-13 (enemies to friends)

A/N: My love for Korea is clearly shown again😬 In my romance novel phase and couldn’t help but to draw inspiration from them! I know the genre said as much but I like to think there’s more to this relationship beyond this! Feel free to use your imagination and - Reblogs and comments appreciated!💜

You really couldn’t wait to land on the island and have a well deserved getaway. Especially with everything that had happened the past couple of months.

The airport was bustling as you slowly navigated your way through the departure hall at Gimpo. You thanked god for giving you foresight to complete the self check in process online as you breezed past other travelers who were still trying to find their way to the right check in counters.

2.30pm. You could use some food. Unfortunately, you could not find a direct flight to Jeju for the dates that you had intended and had to settle with a quick layover. No matter, that was a small problem and you weren’t going to let it deter your very first solo holiday in a long time.

Opting for a quick snack at the convenience store, you are welcomed by endless choices of microwaveable food and drinks with colorful packaging. You settled on their signature banana milk and a fish bread with red bean filling. Making your way to the counter, you take out your card to prepare for payment at the empty counter.

Well, it was empty until some rude bastard decided that it was okay to cut the line.

“Card.” He gruffly responds. You had to give credit to the young cashier who seemed to have his own fair share of grouchy (or rude) travelers as he calmly receives the card for transaction. You move backwards so that the man doesn’t run over you in the process, stepping on something.

To you horror, you realized that you just stepped on your favorite keychain that was given by your best friend. Your currently broken keychain. It must have dropped from your bag when that man pushed past you. Now you had a ball to pick with him.

He leaves as quickly as he came in. You give a smile to the cashier, tapping your card for payment. Thanking him, you grabbed your purchase and made your way to the man’s retreating back.

“Hey! You!” The man stops pulling his tiny black suitcase, turning around with a frown directed at you. “Me?” He points at himself, as if he could do no wrong.

“Yeah. You.” You didn’t realize how tall he was until you were almost toe to toe with him. “Please apologize.”

He scrunches his nose in confusion and you had to remind yourself again that he was a horrible asshole and he probably did this whenever he was at the loosing end to charm his way out of trouble. It was not going to work with you.

“Uh, in case you didn’t notice? You cut in front of me at the convenience store. Not to mention you broke something that was very precious to me.” You held out the heart shaped keychain that was now split in two.

“I didn’t see you. Maybe if you were a little taller, you wouldn’t have crashed into me.” He responds cooly. You had a serious urge to slap the pompous expression on his face. “Wow, so it’s my fault now that I didn’t watch out for a giant ignoramus!” You respond sarcastically. He raises his brow at your choice of words. He prepares his luggage, ready to move. You step in front of him, hands held out.

“Woah, big man. Where do you think you’re going?”

Was that a smile? Or were you just mistaken. The man quickly reverts back to a scowl, taking a step beside you. He leans down, so that it was only loud enough for you to hear.

“What do you want me to do? I’ll give you money if that’s what you want. I just saw a gift shop if you walk down. You can get your precious keychain from there.”

You try to form words into a coherent sentence but before you could even get a single word out, the man was long gone, as he strides off in those annoying long legs of his.

“Jerk!” You yelled, causing a few alarmed looks thrown your way.

At least you weren’t going to see him.

***

“You got to be kidding me.”

You managed to get a last minute upgrade to the first class seats that you appreciated with the leg room despite only having to travel for an hour. You didn’t expect to be staring at the jerk who didn’t know what an apology meant. He looks up at you, a flicker of annoyance flashing across his face.

Placing your backpack on the floor, you settled in to let others pass. You could feel someone staring into your back but you did your best to ignore the attention. As an older woman passed, you whipped around, hissing harshly.

“What do you want?”

He stares at you, but says nothing. Instead, he returns to his laptop that was sat on the tray table, typing away. You can’t believe you just got ignored.

“I hope your eyeballs fall out.” You mutter loud enough for him to hear.

“How mature.”

Soon, the announcement comes on and the plane enters the runway. Engine roaring, you take a deep breath. You loved to travel to different countries, but that didn’t mean you were peachy on flights. As the plane takes off, you grip the edge of your seat, shutting your eyes.

Once you hear the sound of the seatbelt sign going off, you open your eyes to see an unreadable expression on the man’s face. “If you’re going to say something, just say it.” You say, harsher than intended.

“Hey, I may be a jerk but I don’t cross the line.” He raises his hands in defense. The flight attendant comes, pausing the conversation between the two of you. You sip on the plastic cup filled with white wine, hoping that this would help ease your nerves.

Unfortunately, the weather surrounding Jeju that day was much turbulent than usual. The seatbelt sign turns on, and you abandoned your plastic cup. You breathed heavily, counting in your mind. The plane shakes and you let out a small whimper.

You tried to think about your best friend and her advice of not letting one’s fear rule them. The plane shakes again and you are at wits end. A large hand comes to hold yours and you gather the courage to get a peek.

“My name’s Miguel.” You find yourself staring at the man’s chocolate eyes. “What? I’m just trying to make conversation here.”

“Y/N.”

“So, what are you doing so far away from home?” He sees that you look a little alarmed at his accurate assessment. “Relax, I just happened to see you putting your passport in. Besides, I don’t think I’m doing myself any favors trying to stalk an angry woman who could hunt me down till the ends of the Earth because I broke her keychain.”

At the mention of your keychain, you couldn’t help but to feel sad. Miguel notices this and hesitates for a few seconds before asking. “I know this isn’t my place to ask but did that keychain have a meaning for you?”

You’re thrown by his question and for a moment you are unsure of how to respond. Do you even want to tell him? You think about your first encounter with him and a tiny part of you fears that he’s only going to mock you further. At the same time, Miguel’s initiative to reach out to you despite your rocky start told you that there was more to him that meets the eye.

“Yeah. My best friend gave it to me. Well, she used to be.” You smiled sadly. “She was ill. Cancer. It shocked everyone around us. She was the last person I ever expected to get cancer. Always so active and full of life. She always wanted to come to Jeju, to see the ocean but never got the chance. I’m doing it for her now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that and I’m sorry that I said those things. It was clearly out of line and I totally understand if you still think I’m a jerk.” Miguel’s response made you laugh and suddenly, you didn’t feel like you were trying to fight for your life not to pass out or throw up on the plane. This earns a charming grin from Miguel.

You feel the plane descending and you realized that Miguel has helped you throughout the turbulence. He seems to have figure this out as he prepares for landing, fixing his seatbelt.

“Thank you. For distracting me.” The least you could do was to be a decent person by thanking him. Miguel simply nods and the plane prepares to land at Jeju International Airport.

***

“Where is it? Argh god damn it!”

You were at your rented villa, currently in a bind as you attempt to find the missing keychain. It wasn’t as bad as loosing your passport but it was a very precious gift, a reminder of her presence on this trip. You’re about to loose all hope, when the bell rings.

Miguel stands in front, looking dapper with the brown coat. The wind playfully messes with his hair, accentuating his sharp cheekbones.

“Miguel?”

“Thank god. I thought I had the wrong house again. Do you mind if I come in?”

“Of course not. Please.” You sidestep to let the man in and you are reminded how big Miguel is, as he stands awkwardly in the cozy but compact villa. Preparing coffee, you place one mug at his side, curious about the reason for his visit. Miguel doesn’t say anything, but simply takes out something from his pocket to put on the table. Your keychain.

“How?” You stuttered. “Don’t tell me you stole it-” You were genuinely surprised at how the keychain had ended up in his hands.

“I didn’t.” It was almost accusatory and for a moment you thought that the conversation was going to break out into an argument. Miguel’s expression softens. “Your keychain fell onto the floor as you were taking out your bag from the overhead bin. I tried to call you but you already left the plane.”

At the faint memory, you let out a soft “oh”, allowing Miguel to continue. “Then, I saw you on the bus. It was a challenge trying to find where you were on this island but I managed to narrow it down.” Miguel looked proud of himself. “The bus route only has a few stops that tourists would stay.”

“So you went to every one of them?” You said in disbelief. “I could have been anywhere.”

“Call it luck.” He smiles. “Besides, after the conversation we had on the plane about your friend, it gave me an idea where you would stay.” He refers to the vast and sparkling clear ocean that was a short walk from the villa. “I didn’t want to look like I was some creep so I just ended up ringing the doorbells.” He messes with his hair, looking a little sheepish at the thought of it and you find your heart throb a little.

“You are a menace Miguel. But a great friend. Thank you.”

“Friend?” He asks pertaining to your choice of words. “Even after what I said at the airport?”

You nod. “Takes a guy of great character to help someone with their fear of flying even though he got yelled at in public.” Your honest response causes the both of you to break into laughter. “But… you don’t have to respond if you don’t want. I just feel like you have a story to tell too.”

You think you have crossed a line when Miguel sighs. “I had a wife and daughter. They were my everything. We were on a holiday and I was at the wheel.” You breath hitches at your throat.

“The weather was horrible and my daughter was scared. We were both trying to distract her so much that I didn’t see the truck coming.” He continues in a flat voice. “They were gone. Just like that. I never went on a holiday again. At least not anywhere with islands.”

“Until now.”

“Until now.” Miguel repeats. “Then I met you. Or rather you crashed into me and demanded all sorts of things.” You couldn’t help but to chuckle. “That made me rethink if this was the right decision. Until I saw you on the plane and told me your story even when you were at your most vulnerable.”

Suddenly, the image of the conceited man at the airport was long gone and you saw a man who had loved his family so much that he denied himself happiness to numb the raw pain.

“So, what made you come back?”

“Meeting a couple of old friends. Rather, one of them forced me to meet them here otherwise they would drag my sorry ass out themselves.” Miguel tells you dryly. “I got to admit, I’m glad they did. Otherwise I wouldn’t have met you.”

You couldn’t help but to turn pink at his confession. Clearing the mugs, you turn towards the sink only to feel his gaze burning through your back. As you finished washing the mugs, you feel his imposing presence behind you. Miguel takes the mugs, placing it on the drying rack.

“Um, I was going to meet the group of friends I told you about. Would you like to join us?” Miguel sees your surprised expression and quickly adds. “That is if you want. We were going to have dinner and Peter always orders too much for his own good.” He pauses.

“And I don’t think I’m ready to say goodbye yet.”

You see the broken keychain on the table and wonder if this was orchestrated by your best friend who was probably looking down at you with a knowing smirk on her face. At the thought of it, you start to tear up and Miguel looks worried if he had said something wrong. You shake your head, giving a non verbal confirmation that it was not the case.

“I would love to, Miguel.” You give a watery laugh.

With the last minute change in plans, Miguel waits outside to give you privacy to change. As you tossed on a jacket, you stared into the mirror, clutching one half of the keychain.

You put the keychain away, hoping that you didn’t make Miguel wait too long. Locking the door, you step out into the cool air that the evening had to offer and start to walk side by side. It was quiet but it did not feel awkward at all.

Miguel’s calming presence provided a sense of security, allowing you to take in the sight and sound of the ocean. He too, seemed to be in a world of his own, as he borrows the strength of the seas to battle with his own demons.

Still, it was easier when you knew there was someone standing by your side.

You let the sound of the waves crashing lull you into a moment of peace.

“You alright?” Miguel’s voice enters and you look up to see him, brows knitted in concern.

You don’t know what made you do it. The serene environment? The mood? Or maybe, it just felt right. You take his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze that he returns.

“I know you’re watching me from up there.” You prayed that your friend was listening. “Thank you for looking out for me like you’ve always had. You don’t have to worry about me being alone now.”

“I will be. Eventually.”

#miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman: across the spiderverse

[the-sword-lesbian]

I might be playing a in pathfinder game that my friend is going to GM in like half a year. But because i have no self control I’ve already fully planned out a character and written a multipage backstory and fic about her.

So umm… enjoy?

——

Something felt not right about all of it… it was a bad idea. We should’ve just left her well alone.

“Alright, nice and easy.” Brog said as he approached the strange woman. “You’re that girl what’s on all them wanted posters ain’tcha?”

He had his scattergun leveled on her. Birdie was just coming out the bushes with her carbine off to the side. And I had my pistol pointed at her on the other side.

It was supposed to be an easy ambush, we’d heard that she’d come through a small town a few days ago and thought we’d get the drop on her. Lone woman, big price on her head, easy money. But looking at her now… I wasn’t so sure.

She let go of the pack hanging from the strap on her shoulder causing it to slide to the ground with a small thud. “Y’all b-b-best find someone else t-t-to rob,” she said with a noticeable stutter. She pulled her duster back past her hips, revealing the ornate looking pistol just to one side of her belt buckle. She didn’t look like much, just some dusty boots, worn road clothes, and a hat pulled low. Something about her eyes though gave me a sick feeling in my stomach. Those sharp green eyes.

“Ah ah ah, easy now girlie,” Brog said, pulling the hammer back on his gun. “Let’s not get any funny ideas about reachin’ for that fancy piece you got there.” He took another few steps forward. “In fact I’m gonna go ahead and take it off ya.”

“Thhhhis is the last warning you’re gonna g-g-get,” she said. Despite the stutter there was a surety in her voice. Those dangerous eyes glanced around quickly, sizing the three of us up.

Brog laughed as he neared her, “look at you, tryna act tough meanwhile yous stammerin and shakin like a leaf.”

“Thhhhat’s your first mistake,” she said. “Thinking my st-stutter has anything to do with fear.”

“S’at right?” Brog sneered. “Hands behind your back.” He took one final step towards her. She wasn’t a small person but with him being an orc he still towered over her. “And what’s my second mistake?”

She put her hands behind her as she glared up at him high enough for the sun to hit those fierce green eyes. “You’re easily dist-stracted,” she said calmly.

Brog looked down at her with annoyance, “I’ll be takin that gun now,” he said as he reached for the pistol in her holster.

He’d no sooner laid a finger on it before her whole demeanor seemed to shift from stern glaring to simple confusion. “Oh thhhhat gun,” she said brightly. I blinked for just a second and suddenly she had a second pistol drawn from behind her back, pressed up under Brog’s jaw. “I thhhought you meant this one.”

“What the-“ was all he got out before she pulled the trigger and Brog’s head snapped backwards, a mass of blood and one of his tusks went flying out.

“What the fuck!?” Shouted Birdie as she started cycling her carbine as fast as it would fire.

Unfortunately for Birdie the woman stepped past Brog’s falling body, using it as a shield to catch all of the incoming carbine bullets. His body hit the ground as Birdie’s gun clanged empty. The woman fired her pistol again and Birdie collapsed backwards into the bushes.

I raised my gun to defend myself from the terrible mistake we’d all made but as my gaze traveled from Birdie’s final resting place back to the woman I saw her already aiming at me. She fired and my hand was relieved of my gun as well as more than one finger. “Fuck!” I screamed in pain as I fell to my knees. Clutching my remaining fingers I wanted to beg for mercy but I was frozen in fear as she picked up her bag and stepped towards me.

She holstered her gun and pulled a cigar from inside her coat pocket, tucking it between her lips. The whole time she stalked towards me I silently prayed to every god I could think of to spare me. Those terrifying green eyes bore into my soul, as if I was facing judgment for all my sins here and now.

As she came to a stop before me I looked up into the face that would surely be my demise. She held up her hand and snapped her fingers together and to my sheer terror a small flicker of flame appeared on her fingertips. I truly believe that if I had been capable of doing anything other than staring in horror I might have soiled myself in that moment.

She held the small bit of fire up to the cigar and puffed on it once, twice. Closing her eyes and seeming to savor the smoke, before she shook her hand and the flame went out. She opened her eyes and stared into my soul once more before plucking the cigar from her mouth and speaking, “you shhhould get b-better friends,” she said before turning and walking past me down the road.

I watched her walk, unmoving, for I don’t know how long. Long after she’d left my sight for sure. I looked back towards my former associates, Brog’s body soaking the dirt of the road a deep red. Birdie’s feet sticking out of the bushes. I looked back down the road. Never would I forget those eyes.

#pathfinder 2e #dnd oc #orignal character #she’s a gunslinger with just a dash of druid for some flare #she’s converted from a 5e character idea I had #dnd5e #my wrtitng #yes she has a stutter #i also have a stutter

[specialagentlokitty]

Thomas Barrow x reader - safe now

Hello. I have an idea for Thomas x Reader (friendship or sibling) with prompt number 56. What if Reader has been in a toxic relationship with someone and seeks protection. Thomas sis helping Reader or something like that.. - Anon 💜

TW: mentions of abusive ex

56: “You’ll be alright, no one can hurt you now.”

You didn’t know where else to go, where else to go so he wouldn’t find you.

So, you took a job at Downton as the new ladies maid, it have you a safe place, money, and ensured your always be safe at all time.

It was perfect.

“You still haven’t told us why you chose here if you used to live by Scotland.” Daisy said.

Smiling at her, you shrugged a little bit as you sipped at your tea.

“I wanted a change of scenery that’s all.”

“So out of all the places you chose here?” Mr Bates asked.

“What can I say? I enjoy small villages and the quiet life about them, it’s nice.”

Thomas scoffed and you looked over at him.

“It is. It’s almost as if everybody knows everybody.”

“And that’s the downside of it, everybody knows who you are and everybody knows your business.” He said.

You shrugged a little bit and smiled at him.

“It’s nice, I like it.”

You looked at the board as the bell went and stood up.

“That’s her ladyship, excuse me.”

You went about your duties and you began your travels back down the stairs with Lady Cora and you held the dress in your hands.

“I can have it fixed tonight my lady.”

“Thank you so much.”

You looked at the door as people talked and you felt a cold feeling wash over you, one that made you freeze in place as your eyes locked with his and you quickly looked away.

“Ah, I was wondering where you ran off to.” He smiled.

He walked over and you took a few steps back, bumping into someone and you quickly turned around, heart pounding in your chest.

“I’m sorry my lord…”

With that you rushed back downstairs unaware of the chatter going on upstairs.

“You know (Y/N)?” Lord Grantham asked.

“Oh yes, we used to be engaged you see, but one day she disappeared into the night and I worried ever so about her. Do you think perhaps she can come up so we can catch up?”

“Well, we are about to have tea, perhaps she can spare some time. Thomas send for (Y/N) please.”

“Very good my lord.”

You were sat downstairs, hiding out in the boot room to try and calm yourself down.

You had put her ladyships dress in your room for safe keeping and now you were just trying to do anything you could to keep yourself at ease.

The door was opened and you looked up.

“His lordship has requested you in the tea room.”

“Okay…”

You stood up and took a deep breath, and you made your way forward.

Thomas furrowed his brows a little and he grabbed your wrist, not missing the way you tense immediately and stared wide eyed straight ahead.

He slowly let go.

“Who is he?”

“Nobody.”

With that you walked away and Thomas had no choice but to follow you with the tea.

You walked into the room and stood as far away as you possibly could, making sure to keep an eye on the exits to ensure they were clear.

“Ah (Y/N), apparently you were engaged to this lovely young gentleman, is that true?” Lady Mary asked.

“Yes my lady.”

“Then why did you call it off?” Lady Edith asked.

You went to reply and you watched as the man stood up.

“I apologise I believe it may have been my fault, I worry I perhaps didn’t reassure her how much I adored her.”

You looked away.

“Oh that’s so sweet.”

“I was wondering if maybe you would take me back?” He smiled sweetly.

Everyone looked to you.

“No, no Sir Oscar, I will not take you back…” you spoke quietly.

The room fell silent.

“After everything I did for you? All the time and money I spent on you?” He asked lowly.

“Sir Oscar please.” Mr Carson said.

The man help out his hand and marched over to you, and you ducked under him, walking backwards as he carried on stalking closer.

“I say that is enough!” Lord Grantham snapped.

“No! I have had enough of this now! We are to be married, and you will be my wife!” He snapped.

You backed up into someone and you froze watching as he hand came closer, and someone else grabbed it, holding it in place.

“I would ask that you treat our maids with some respect.” Thomas spoke.

“Who are you to speak to me like that servant?!” Sir Oscar hissed.

“He’s right, I think it’s best you leave now.” Lady Cora said.

Everybody stood up and your ex looked at you, glaring harshly.

“I’m coming for you.”

With that he walked away and you stared at the door, breathing heavily, unable to hear the calls of your name.

Someone touched your shoulder and you jumped away, slowly backing away from them all.

“(Y/N)? Just breathe.” Lady Edith said.

“I need to go…”

With that, you ran away, and straight to your room.

You didn’t even both packing anything, you simply changed out of your maids clothes and into normal clothes and you rushed back downstairs.

“(Y/N)!” Anna called.

She tried to catch up but you were already out the door and rushing across the grass, dress balled up in your hands as you ran.

You had nowhere in mind, you just had to run and that was all you knew, you had to run.

But you didn’t get very far before a car pulled up in front of you down the drive and you back away scared.

“(Y/N)…” lady Cora whispered.

You shook your head, wide eyes as you slowly stepped back, tripping over yourself and you fell.

“(Y/N)?”

Thomas walked over and he knelt down in front of you, holding his hands in the air so you could see them.

“You’re okay.” He whispered.

“He’s going to come back…”

“And if he does we’ll be waiting for him.” Lord Grantham said.

You flicked your eyes to his lordship and looked back at Thomas.

“He’s not going anywhere near you, just come back.” Lady Mary said.

They walked over and helped you up, and they took you back to Downton back to your room and sat you down on your bed.

They took turns staying with you until it came to the evening and you quietly began to pack your stuff, freezing in fear when your door slowly opened and quickly closed.

“You’re not seriously leaving?” Thomas asked.

“You shouldn’t be in here…”

Thomas sighed softly and he walked over, taking your case he put it on the other empty bed and he sat down in front of you.

He pointed to your bed so you sat down as well.

“How is running going to help you?” He asked.

“He won’t find me.”

“And what if he does? You won’t have anybody to help protect you from him.”

You looked up at Thomas.

“You can’t protect me…”

Thomas got up and he sat next to you.

“I can, and I will. Okay? I know what it’s like to be scared, unable to escape that fear no matter what you do.”

Thomas held his hand out to you.

“So I’ll protect you, and I promise you he will never lay a hand on your while I’m here.”

You looked up at Thomas, tears brimming your eyes.

“I’m scared…”

He sighed, taking your hand in his he squeezed it gently.

“You’ll be alright, no one can hurt you now.”

You let your tears fall down your face and you stared at your hand in his.

“Why…?”

“Because… because I don’t want to see someone I consider a friend scared and alone…”

He looked at you looking at your hand.

“You’ve never had someone hold your hand?” He asked.

You slowly shook your head.

“Sir Oscar.. he.. was not a nice man… he… did cruel things…”

“You never have to go through them again, okay? Never. Just don’t run away from this, you have people here who want to help you.”

You slowly nodded your head.

“I don’t.. I don’t know what to tell them…”

“Tell them the truth when you’re ready, don’t let anybody rush you into saying anything you’re not ready for.”

You nodded your head again and you stared at your case on the other bed, wondering what to do.

Thomas sighed and he stood up, holding his hand out to you.

“Let’s get some tea, and we’ll sit downstairs for a while.”

You quietly followed him, thinking about everything and wondering what you should do about it.

You didn’t know if you could trust Thomas, but right now, after what had happened, he was the first person to ever stick up for you, and you didn’t know who else to turn too.

You’d been working with him for the better of two years now, and you wanted to trust him, but you just didn’t know if you could trust anyone again

#Downton abbey #downton abbey x reader #downton abbey x you #Downton abbey imagine #Thomas Barrow #thomas barrow x reader #thomas barrow x you #Thomas Barrow imagine

[lurkingteapot]

get to know me ask game

thanks to @telomeke and @recentadultburnout for the tags!

RULES: [put square brackets around] the ones that are true & tag 10 people to do it. (the brackets are a hopefully more screen-reader friendlier modification)

APPEARANCE

blonde hair // [I prefer loose clothing to tight clothing] // [I have one or more piercings] // I have at least one tattoo // [I have dyed or highlighted my hair] // I have gotten plastic surgery // [I have or had braces] // I sunburn easily // I have freckles // I paint my nails // I typically wear makeup // I don’t often smile // I am pleased with how I look // I prefer Nike to Adidas // I wear baseball hats backwards

clothing: slight preference; if it's comfy, tight is also fine. piercings: earlobes. hair is not currently dyed but I have dyed it before. had to wear braces from 9-15. I went back and forth on the sunburn thing quite a bit – I've had sunburn maybe ten times in my life, if that often? but otoh I don't go outside much and tend to cover up when I do, plus I adapted my peers' 'sunscreen is skincare' creed at 16ish so I don't actually know how easily I'd burn if I changed the parameters of that.

HOBBIES & TALENTS

I play a sport // I can play an instrument // I am artistic // [I know more than one language] // [I have won a trophy in some sort of competition] // [I can cook or bake without a recipe] // [I know how to swim // [I enjoy writing] // [I can do origami]// I prefer movies to tv shows // I can execute a perfect somersault // [I enjoy singing] // I could survive in the wild on my own // I have read a new book series this year // [I enjoy spending time with friends] // [I travel during work or school breaks] // I can do a handstand

I speak three languages to a sufficient level to hold down a job in them, am able to hold conversations about a range of topics and do light reading in another, and clawing my way towards being that level in a fifth (currently basic convo only). trophy: it was one of those that move to the next winner next year, AND I won it as part of a group. But I suppose it counts for the purpose of this meme. recipes: I don't need them for most of my daily cooking, but I like trying new things and do tend to check when I'm making something I haven't in a while. swimming: I don't swim well, but I do know the basics. writing: I do enjoy it when I don't have to force it. origami: not very many shapes, but I can do a few. singing: love to sing, used to have a decent but untrained voice, now it's still untrained but also very out of practice. I spent years without friends and very much value the ones I have now. I used to travel a lot more, but … well. money, energy, covid.

RELATIONSHIP

[I am in a relationship] // I have been single for over a year // I have a crush // [I have a best friend who I’ve known for ten years] // my parents are together // I have dated my best friend // I am adopted // my crush has confessed to me // I have a long distance relationship // I am an only child // [I give advice to my friends] // [I have made an online friend] // [I met up with someone I have met online]

I'm in a relationship and have been for a long time. I have a few friends I talk to regularly whom I've known for more than ten years, and even some I've known for more than 20. I tend to try to offer advice/solutions even when sympathy is what's needed, and I'm working on that.ALL but one of my friends were online friends throughout high school; I'm still in contact with some of them, and one is now my brickspace best friend. I love meeting friends I met online.

AESTHETICS

[I have heard the ocean in a conch shell] // [I have watched the sun rise] // [I enjoy rainy days] // [I have slept under the stars] // I meditate outside // the sound of chirping calms me // [I enjoy the smell of the beach] // [I know what snow tastes like] // I listen to music to fall asleep // [I enjoy thunderstorms] // [I enjoy cloud watching] // [I have attended a bonfire] // I pay close attention to colors // I find mystery in the ocean // I enjoy hiking on nature paths // [autumn is my favorite season]

I LOVE the ocean, but I'm not sure I'd agree with the 'mystery' part, hence no brackets. I'm just fundamentally not a romantic, I guess.

MISCELLANEOUS

[I can fall asleep in a moving vehicle] // [I am the mom friend] // I live by a certain quote // I like the smell of sharpies // I am involved in extracurricular activities // [I enjoy Mexican food] // I can drive a stick shift // I believe in true love // I make up scenarios to fall asleep // I sing in the shower // [I wish I lived in a video game] // I have a canopy above my bed // I am multiracial // I am a redhead // I own at least 3 dogs

I can fall asleep in a moving vehicle but I will regret it big time (my neck and shoulders hate it). I'm the parent friend, always have been. I haven't had Mexican food often, and cannot speak to the authenticity of what I did have, but I've enjoyed what I tried. the video game thing is mostly because I wish real life had save points, walkthroughs, and freely adjustable difficulty levels.

Tagging: @airenyah @galauvant @liyazaki @kornswasianguyswag @mahuhumaling @miscellar @rocketturtle4 @sixohsixoheightfourtwo @troubled-mind @ullvide

(If you've already done it and I missed it, I'm sorry >_> also obviously no pressure to play, and lmk if you'd rather I didn't tag you in the future)

#this meme feels oddly north america centric but it was still fun to do #get to know meme #meme #ask game #tag you're it #my nonsense #q

[aardvark-123]

~Excessively Twee Skyrim Headcanons: Winterhold Edition~

There are about twenty thousand people left in Winterhold. Thousands left after the Great Collapse, namely those who could afford to move out, and who dared to make the long journey through bear, bandit, wolf, troll, ice wraith, draugr and avalanche country. Winterhold was bled dry of the rich, the brave and the foolish, leaving hunters, fisherfolk, farmers and the College's mages behind.

The people of Winterhold don't really bother with money any more. Travellers come and spend the stuff on occasion, but for the most part people do what work they're good at, help each other when they can and share what they can spare. Winterhold may not be a busy or fancy city, but its people care for one-another and no-one is left on their own.

The College of Winterhold is of course the mammoth in the room; part of Winterhold, yet standing aloof from it, feared and distrusted by many. The College is often blamed for the Great Collapse, and a few of its mages have begun to resent the people of Winterhold, enough to leave the gate barred against a possible angry mob.

While there is a deep, painful rift in Winterhold's history, there are still people who reach out across it. Mages are still known to blow storms away from the coast, heal the sick and wounded, teach magic tricks to anyone who'll listen and drink the night away in the Frozen Hearth. A lot of people welcome them into the town, are glad of their help, and lend a hand at the College where one's needed.

Jarl Korir would love to be a "proper" jarl: rich, powerful, feared and adored. He'll settle, however, for "nominally in charge of a city where no-one is starving, homeless, a religious extremist, or hell-bent on conquering the world with dark magic and legions of undead". He keeps Winterhold's treasury (both piggy banks) safe for whenever the city needs a public service, and has been known to help shovel snow off the roads in late summer.

Winterhold is snowy for ten months of the year, and spends the remaining two full of slushy mud. Yes, the main roads have cobblestones, but the mud has a way of flowing down from the hills and sliding inexorably around the city. They say that the second most important possession anyone in Winterhold owns is a sturdy pair of boots.

The soil around Winterhold can barely grow a scraggly snowberry bush or a tuft of brown grass, and it's mainly through sheer determination and fervent prayers to Kyne and Azura that the first there farmers managed to grow crops. The Clever-Men of old learned how to sing vigour into Winterhold's crops and pull the frost out of their foots, but for the most part, people ate fish and seaweed and caught scurvy.

Hang on, I said 'excessively twee', didn't I? This needs a dash of my speciality, girl power and earnest silliness. For the honour of High Hrothgar!

Eight years ago, Colette Marence worked out how brew potions of Resist Frost and Fortify Stamina Regeneration for plants. Watering cans turned into vessels of enchanted rain, and soon leeks, carrots, apple trees and even tomatoes were blooming in Winterhold's fields.

Faralda has a lot of energy, which she pours into her work as the College of Winterhold's Destruction master. What she does in the game- standing guard outside the gate for hours at a time- does not do justice to the "real" Faralda at all. She has been known to somersault backwards over a stray bear whilst pelting it with fireballs, punch a dragon in the snout with her knuckles wreathed in lightning, and even teach Winterhold's handful of rebellious teenagers how to dance.

Enthir is friendly to everyone, and has worked out how to weave an irresistible sales pitch or a threatening demand for money into a polite greeting and a slap on the back. He is vulnerable, however, to being shaken roughly by the shoulders and told "GO AWAY, YOU CRETIN!".

The College's students and faculty can be a wild, unpredictable bunch, yet Mirabelle Ervine has managed to keep the worst of their behaviour in check for years. How, you might ask? Does she whip wayward mages, send atronachs to drag them to prison, torture them with lightning or hold their loved ones to ransom? No, in fact she has a sad, almost tender way of saying she's disappointed in you that can be utterly heartbreaking. She also has fireballs.

Tolfdir is a natural-born teacher; he wants to guide the next generation of wizards to greatness, and knows the basics of all the schools of magic. He also enjoys learning, and hopes to instill that passion in at least a few of the apprentices. Mirabelle was like that too, and she often misses teaching when the busy life of a deputy arch-mage is getting her down.

Nirya and Faralda are constantly trying to one-up each other, whether in displays of ferocious magic power or tense pie-eating contests. They tried to race around the courtyard once, only to crash into each other and get concussed. They tried to climb up the statue of Azura once, only to be batted away with a rolled-up newspaper by Aranea Ienith. They tried to have a pillow fight once, only to end up having a nap together. They have successfully slain at least one Legendary Dragon.

Phinis Gestor uses a zombie to carry his shopping, just to make people stare.

#the Elder Scrolls #larks #Skyrim #headcanons

[innytoes]

Hello, five (or more, I wouldn't say no) spontaneous headcanons about a willex boarding school au? 👀 (sfw please)

-When Caleb gets a call that his sister left custody over her son to him, a nephew he never even knew he had, he is like: wtf. When he comes to meet with the social worker and sees the long hair, tie-dye crop top, and earring, he’s like: of course I am taking him in. (There’s a reason he hasn’t talked to his family for decades and he will not have them do the same to Willie as they did to him.)

Except being a full-time parent and running the HGC is not a great combination, especially with Willie’s flair for Chaos. So he makes him a deal: he can go to any boarding school in the country, or even the world, if he promises to behave enough not to get kicked out, and in return he can wreak whatever chaos he wants in the summers (within reason).

-Willie chooses the boarding school because they have a great art program, they’re queer-friendly (Caleb called to check), and it’s in the Woods and he 1) always liked the woods and 2) wants to see Bigfoot.

-Alex’ parents sent him to boarding school after he came out. Alex is not sure he understands their reasoning, given that it is an all-boy’s boarding school and that is like the opposite of ‘straightening him out’, but anything is better than the icy silence at home. Alex’ parents do not know the entire stack of Hot Gay Boarding School Romance Novels under his older sister’s bed that Alex may or may not have borrowed.

-Listen Alex likes his roommate Luke and he’s kind of open to the idea of starting a band with him but also he is SO ENERGETIC and he cannot sit still and he’s always humming and it drives Alex insane.

-So he goes to hide out in the library. Not the fancy new one with amazing computers and a 3D printer and shit, the dusty old one nobody uses because the wifi is shit and it‘s always cold and drafty but it looks great on pamphlets for the Old Money crowd. He bundles up in his hoodie and finds a comfy armchair and just gets to Be Still for a moment.

-Except his peace and quiet is interrupted at a gleeful shout and then a maniac on a skateboard comes into view, sliding his board on the fancy brass railings before landing hard and rolling right into Alex and his comfy armchair, sending both of them toppling backward.

-“Oh man you dinged my board” meetcute etc etc.

-Lots of cute sneaking around in the dark holding hands dates. Willie shows him how to get on the roof and it’s so peaceful and pretty there he loves it. They take up a blanket and watch the stars next time, and share their first kiss there.

-Maybe he sends his sister a postcard like: ‘Boarding school is great, I am learning so much, all this nature is so good for me, etc etc platitudes’ along with an abbreviated title of one of their favourite books with the chapter in which the main characters have their first kiss... on a rooftop.

- “I dunno what HGBSRNCH12 means, Mom, I think he was just trying to clean his pen or something, it’s just a random scribble. You know Alex hates when pens aren’t writing smoothly.”

-Soon they form a little group with Bobby (rich parents who travel a lot and don’t want to take him with them) and Reggie (the scholarship kid). Reggie is upset there are no secret societies at this school. He thought maybe none of them just wanted him, but he could still catch one in the act of secret society-ing. But Bobby (a legacy kid) told him there weren’t any.

-Obvs they start a secret society just for the fun of it. Since they can’t play music late at night without getting caught (then it’s not a Secret Society, Luke, you dumbass), their activities include Sneaking, Stealing Snacks, Trying To Find Bigfoot and/or Mothman in the woods, and picnics on the roof. But while wearing dramatic hoods and holding (fake, battery-powered, Alex does not trust these goofballs with fire) candles and stuff.

send me an au and i’ll give you 5+ headcanons about it

#willex #AUs are awesome #boarding school au #julie and the phantoms #alex mercer #willie throckmorton #weird but well-meaning foster dad caleb covington #luke patterson #bobby shaw #reggie peters #not!fic #I wrote a thing #there are totally other secret societies but they're all bad news and asshole rich kids #and Bobby doesn't want Reggie to get caught up in their bullshit #luke's parents sent him there as a compromise since it has a good music program #but it's also in the middle of the fucking woods in bumfuck nowhere so he can't go out and escape to rock concerts etc #JOKE'S ON YOU MOM he and his new friends held a rock concert for Bigfoot at 2am in the woods #Alex Does Not Believe In Bigfoot but he still gets spooked every time they go into the woods #Reggie and Willie are 100% serious about it #Bobby is a dickhead who will go 'WHAT WAS THAT' dramatically every now and then #Luke's just happy to come along and also they have snacks so...

[sashimiyas]

bodyguard!osamu who gives you more confidence than anyone else <33 at those fancy events where he looks more like your date than your bodyguard and you’ve got to give a speech of thanks or recognition or something, your hands are shaking on the car ride there and and samu takes one hand off the wheel and covers your hand, thumb caressing your knuckles without looking away from the road “sweetheart, yer gonna be perfect. i’ll be right there front and centre darlin’” and you feel the nerves slip away <3333 he also cooks for u, and the chef for the estate is like 🤬🤬 but u can’t imagine any food other than samu’s tasting better <333 sometimes you make him feed you breakfast when u have to wake up early 🤭🤭 also him sitting next to you in lectures and everyone’s staring at him cause he’s so big and exudes sexy energy 😔😔😔 got carried away i apologise

oh my gosh please your brain is so big and i didn't want to reply to this bc the night before you sent this i wrote out 2k to the beginning of a bodyguard samu fic but didn't know if it was a phase and didn't want to jinx it but sadly it seems it was a phase bc its been untouched since so please take this. would like to preemptively apologize bc this kinda got angsty

The buildings you pass are familiar, your home that you've learned to love, and the smell of Osamu and his presence is reassuring, but still, you cannot help but fidget in your seat. You've never done this before, accepted an award after your family graciously donated to the city's local philharmonic, but according to your father, it is high time for you to learn your duties.

You've rehearsed your speech over and over again to Osamu in between mandated (by him) snack breaks. There's a small indent of his butt on the corner of your bed where he patiently listened, grabbing your wrist when you got too anxious, and jumping up for a high five when you finished it fumble-free for the first time.

Yet this is different. This is real. It's one thing to perform in front of Osamu. He makes you nervous, but in a different way that you've not had time to place any thought on because at the end of the day, you know he is safe. He'll protect you. No, it's not in front of Osamu, but a whole crowd of elites-- important people with money and presence and social status and--

"What're ya doing?" Osamu asks. You blink, hardly recognizing your bodyguard pluck your fingers from your lips where you've played with your acrylics between canines. Glancing up, you notice that you're parked on the street in front of a bank. The cloudy day is ominous and the blinking timer of the meter only heightens the anxiousness in you.

"What if--" but you can't quite complete the sentence, and simply shake your head. "I'm fine. Don't worry, Osamu. Come on." You tap the gear stick, "we're going to be late."

Fearful of the power of words, you keep the thoughts in your head. So you worry your lip instead. You take comfort of rolling it between your front teeth, the plush skin giving softly, a dumbbell to a pillow.

"Hey now," Osamu says, "Sweetheart, stop that."

He takes your face, his index and middle finger come first, tracing your jaw backwards until he hooks them behind your neck. The rest of his hand follows and now your neck is caught plush between his two, large palms. It always takes you aback whenever you feel the softness in his hold. He's messy and unorganized and he has a laugh that comes out in stormy bellows that come straight from his gut. The butlers call him unrefined and he still does not know the difference between a viola and a violin, but there's always been a delicacy with how he handles you.

His thumb travels the expanse of your cheek. With the way he holds you, you cannot help but look at him. There's a divot in his brow and it makes your heart crumple at the worry. He's your bodyguard, but there's something about Osamu troubling over you, doing his job, that makes you feel shame. He makes you happy and you don't want him to be anything but.

"Quit hurting my precious cargo," he whispers, eyes on your lips. The blunt edge of his nail traces the outline of your mouth before pressing into the plumpest part to pull it from your teeth. Your bottom lip bounces back into a pout. It's not intentional. No, maybe it is. He laughs at the cute gesture, almost sounding enamored. Even now, his gaze never leaves your mouth and your eyes can't leave his. He breathes in, a sharp inhale that pulls you closer.

"Osamu," you start but the sound of his name breaks him out of his trance. His gaze meets yours and he looks guilty, like a child caught doing something bad and before you can speak, he quickly talks over you.

"Ya gonna be perfect up there, alright?" And he breathes again, haggard this time. Clumsy movements follow, as if suddenly he has no idea what to do with his hands. They slide down your neck to grip your shoulders and he gives them a squeeze. With a small smile, he settles on that, focusing on where his hands are placed. "I'll be right there front and center."

"You promise?"

Osamu takes the chance to move back. You lean forward but it's not enough to fill the space he's put between you.

"I promise," he says with his eyes on the road. He starts the car, checks his blind spot, and the both of you are back on schedule, bank in the background.

He promises, but already, it feels like he's breaking it.

#reina.receives #reina.lovesosamu #bodyguard! osamu #what kills me is the idea of osamu just sitting in your classes #emotional support bodyguard! osamu #he has a picture in the yearbook just like those guide dogs do lol #reina.writeshaikyuu!!

[generalluxun]

How would IDO and FeC couples react to the implied Adrien/Marinette/Chloe Polycule at the end of Chasing A Dream?

Hmmm...

IDO couples are just kind of sympathetic that things had to get *that bad*. They feel the same way about the Felis et Canus couples too. IDO branches early and takes a much healthier path, so they consider themselves very lucky. Marinette and Chloé in IDO haven't addressed their past (Derision is never canon in my stories FYI it's such a dumpster fire for multiple characters) but they're both in a better place to do so if ever they wish to. Maybe they won't, looking forward is a lot more important than going backwards. Chloé will probably squeeze her Alya and be ever more grateful to have her in her life.

Once again proving: Alya makes people's lives better by being their friend.

IDO Adrien would be slightly bemused? Of course he and Marinette are together. Chloé in the mix? He'd be thoughtful. She *is* a childhood friend and it's not impossible... This does make sense as the Adrien/Chloé connection is not very developed in Chasing a Dream. Overall the polycule is a potential in Chasing a Dream, not an endgame. The plot there focused on the trip itself. A sequel would explore thing further.

FeC has some more complex feelings about it.

Sabrina has a lingering fear tied to Marinette finding out Adrien is Cat Noir. The longer their respective ships hold together the more it fades, but it is still there. She's always had a bit of an imposter complex among these exceptional people. Yes Adrien knows Ladybug's ID and still wants to be with Sabrina, but Marinette hasn't connected Ladybug's partner to Adrien yet and no one knows what that might do.

Chloé would be in a similar situation, but in a more general sense. The idea of being left is still one she grapples with, and Adrienette was very much a thing in FeC until the unexpected derailment. She doesn't know Adrien is Cat Noir, or she would probably worry even more.

Adrien for his money would be bemused but not largely affected. He would probably feel some shame about his other-self being so passive. He'd recognize he too was passive for a long time too. He'd be even more grateful for Sabrina in his life, and how her support enabled him to take a more active role in events.

Marinette from FeC, the one whom Sabrina and Chloé both worry about, is actually much less affected by seeing the possible-polycule. Yes, some small part of her will forever fancy the *idea* of Adrien, but she's very much past that point now. If anything she's proud of her Chasing a Dream self for putting it together without the need for The Scourge. FeC Marinette is actually very happy with Chloé. Much like Chasing a Dream Mari says, FeC Marinette feels the bond with Chloé that was 'stolen' by social pressures. Kindred spirits separated by toxic influences. She's never letting her Golden girl go. They are much soo good at handling each other's highs and lows. It's a rare treat.

Chasing a Dream polycule would be completely baffled by the other timelines. 🤣 Theirs was the most 'mundane' path to their current state. Communication, awareness, time, growth. There was very kittle in the way of curve balls. It started from one of Marinette's mad schemes that relied on Chloé's ego. It ends on everyone involved learning to let go of the 'roles' they feel required of them in life. It's still very much in flux. Akumas, crazy Monarch powers, and time travel are all well beyond their scope.

I hope I answered this well enough. I love how the same characters iterate differently when fed through different experiences. Still fundamentally themselves, but spreading out like branches from the same trunk.

#ask #IDO #FeC #Chasing a Dream #ml au #my fics #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #chloe bourgeois #alya cesaire #sabrina raincomprix #chlonette #adrienette #adribrina #chloalya #chloadrinette #miraculous ladybug