#neatly expanded & cleaned up

[kokofromwattpad]

BUBBLE BATH TIME!!

Featuring: The overblot gang

Plot: During alchemy, you partnered yourself up with your lover, already knowing how much better they are than you in this type of stuff. By accident, a random student walking by your table knocked over the cauldron, spilling all of it's contents onto your lover. Suddenly, a large cloud of grey smoke erupted around them. Just as quick as the smoke appeared, it disappeared. On the wooden floor was a child version of your lover, sitting their with doe like eyes staring at you. Quickly, Crewel ordered you to take them back to your dorm as clean off any excess chemicals.

Cw: child! Overvlot gang x reader, fluff,

A/N: This came to me while I was in the middle of MY own bath. (it sucked by the way)

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS:

Riddle was busy occupying himself on the marble counter, sucking on his chubby little fingers like they were hard candy. You were squatting by the victorian styled bath while warm water flowed from the metal tap. Sighing as you stood up, you walked past little Riddle and opened the beige cupboard where you stored all of your towels and grabbed one at the top of the pile. You set the towel next to Riddle and went to trying to unbutton the child's clothing. You gently picked Riddle up as he grabbed onto your hair as a way to steady himself. You went down on one knee and started to slowly lower Riddle into the bathtub. Because Riddle had unintentionally let go of your hair, he started to panic. He started wiggling in your grasp, trying to get out so he could try and grab onto your hair again. You, however, being much stronger than him in this form, held him a bit farther away from you so that you could properly wash him. Slowly, you dragged the sponge that had already been squirted with body wash up and down Riddle's tiny frame. The red haired child held onto your arm for dear life, scared at what would happen if he would let go. After you rinsed all the excess soap of Riddle you pulled the stopper from the bath's drain and lifted Riddle out from the tub. Riddle whimpered at the cold air as you wrapped him up in the fluffiest towel you had. His chubby cheeks expanded when he brightly smiled at you.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR:

Leona's tail shifted angrily in the air as you placed him on the bathroom ground. He started to angrily babble at your minor negligence as you filled the bathtub with warm water to give the small beastman a cleaning. Leona shifted onto his knees and started to crawl to your calf. He grabbed onto your pant leg and used it as leverage to hoist himself up on his chubby feet. Once the child gained his balance he started to babble madly, trying to regain your attention. Finally, after what Leona felt where years, you picked him up and placed him on the basin counter. You undressed the child from his clothes and neatly folded it on the side. You then went to pick Leona up walked over to the bath. Ever-so-slowly, you began to lower him into the filled bathtub. Now, Leona technically being a cat, he did not like this. He started flailing aggressively, trying to get out of your gentle grasp and escape, but you kept him in your hold and continued to lower him. Once his body entered the tub, he relaxed. He stopped squirming and just stared at his reflection as you cleaned all the gunk from his body and hair.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO:

Eight sticky tentacles spread out like a clock as Azul's big, round eyes stared curiously at you. The octo-mer sat in the overflowing sink, caused by your worry that he may dry up at any second. While you grabbed some towels from your room, Azul babbled loudly about who knows what. Entering the bathroom again, you set the towels on the closed toilet lid and stepped cautiously towards the child version of your boyfriend. You reach your arms out, going to grab him out of the sink, when suddenly, four of Azul's tentacles latch onto your arms. You try to pull the limbs off of you, but just makes Azul whine. Begrudgingly, you let the boy wrap all his tentacles on your arms. You streached your arms out as far away as you can from your face. Azul's eyes start to sparkle when he is placed into the bathtub full of water. He happily swims around the edge of the bath and does a few happy spins to show his appreciation towards you. Gently, you bring the damp cloth over to his human half and start to slowly wipe him down from the left over potion. The boy grabs onto his round stomach, indicating that he was getting hungry after the short time of his swimming session.

JAMIL VIPER:

Jamil had a calm and collected look, even as a child. Somehow, Kalim had caught word of what happened to his friend and had rushed over to make sure that he was okay. Kalim retells stories of his and Jamil's childhood while you prepare and extra set of clothes for the newly turned child. Kalim sighs and walks over to where Jamil was waiting for you and started to gently pinch and the boy's soft cheeks. He then squeals loudly, alerting you. You run over to the two Scarabia students, only to see Kalim squeezing Jamil's cheeks while the said boy looks at Kailm with the most pissed off look that he could give. You pull Kalim off Jamil, sit the vice-housewarden onto your hip and walk back to the bathroom, with the white haired boy tailing after you. The bathtub was filled with fluffy bubbles. Kalim rolled his sleeves up in preparation while you sat the young boy in the shallow water. When Kalim tried to bring a sponge to Jamil's body, the boy flung water right at the housewarden as a warning not to touch him. Kalim just started to laugh at the other boy's action and just ignored him as he guided the sponge all over Jamil's small body.

VIL SCHOENHEIT:

The younger Vil had started to whine while you were walking to Ramshakle as a sign for you to hurry the hell up since he was starting to smell. As soon as you entered the bathroom, Vil's whining had stopped immediately. You placed him on the counter top to prepare some towels for him. As you were doing that, Vil tried to get dressed by himself. However, because of his newly acquired chubby and inexperienced hands, in was quite a challenge to get his shirt off and he was starting to get pissed. Small, clear tears rose from the ends of his eyes and rolled gently down his chubby cheeks. When you finally got the best towels you had on hand, you noticed the soft sniffling coming from the little model. You rushed over to the boy, cooing praises of how difficult it must be because of his shrunken body. You wiped the tears away from his eyes and then gently unbuttoned his small white shirt. Vil was a very happy child after he got all the remnants of the catastrophe off his body.

IDIA SHROUD:

Idia was quite a sensitive child. He always looked like he was about to cry at any second and that just made your heart twist a little. You held him extremely close to your chest as ran all the way to Ramshackle, as to make sure that nobody saw your boyfriend-turned-child. You blew out a breath you didn't now you were holding in when you finally entered the safety of your dorm. Idia was clutching extremely tight onto your school shirt as he hid his face into your chest. While walking up the stairs, you wonder if Idia's hair would go out if it was put under water. You however found out that it, in fact, not go out. Idia looked like he was close to balling his eyes out every time you walked away from the tub to fetch something. But when Grim finally walked into the bathroom, the little boy smiled a bright toothy grin while reaching his arms out as if he was reaching for a trophy. When Grim finally left you and the baby alone, Idia started crying crocodile tears and wailing out, "Kitty! Kitty!"

MALLEUS DRACONIA:

While you and the now smaller version of your boyfriend were still in the classroom, someone had ran out to call Malleus's guards and Lilia. The former general was laughing hysterically at the situation you were thrown in, Silver was rocking the slime covered baby and Sebek was screaming loudly at you, saying how its your fault that his young master was turned into a baby and how his reputation is going to ruined because of you. Malleus was starting to tear up from Sebek's harsh words. Lilia noticed this and tried to console the little boy, but that just made Malleus whine loudly. When Sebek had finally finished his screaming session, he turned to Malleus and picked him up as to give him a proper scrubbing, when the prince turned his head angrily away from the half-fae. Sebek's face fell from it's prideful expression and silently moved away from the baby. When Malleus turned his head back in your direction, he pulled his arms in front of him and started making grabby hands towards you. You obliged and held the sticky baby in your arms as he giggled loudly at your action. And so, with the supervision of Lilia, you washed the prince all teh way from his horns to his chubby toes.

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

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #Riddle #Riddle rosehearts #Riddle x reader #Riddle rosehearts x reader #leona #leona kingscholar #leona x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul #azul ashengrotto #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jamil #jamil viper #jamil x reader #jamil viper x reader #idia #idia shroud #idia x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #fluff #BUBBLE BATH TIME!!

[breekento]

Another HiguNana Analysis

Since y’all loved my comparing and contrasting of Higuruma and Nanami, I thought I would word vomit some more of my thoughts considering they’re all that runs through my mind these days.

Just a reminder these are my personal head-cannons don’t hate me.

But first, let’s talk about their similarities.

They aren’t the type of man to hit you up at midnight asking for a booty call or splitting the bill over a cheap dinner while they talk about themselves the entire time. They will wine and dine you but not before buying your outfit, nails, and treating you like an absolute goddess on this earth without expecting anything in return.

They’re both established businessmen, bordering on workaholics. They take their career seriously but Hiromi is more likely to take their work home him due to the personal and dark nature of his job.

I alluded to this in my previous HiguNana comparison post but they both care a lot about their appearance but not in a narcissistic manner. They like to look professional and put together even if they have differing styles. They wake up early enough before work to leave the house with a clean shaven face, neatly styled hair, and pressed suits.

Now let’s get into their differences!

Socially:

Higuruma is more extroverted than Nanami. Nanami can turn it on when he needs to, he has learned from years of being in business to be confrontational and direct. Nanami isn’t the type to go out of his way for conversation and pleasantries, unless of course it’s you. He is polite to service workers but isn’t the type to expand in the conversation like “How is your day going?” It takes him longer to truly open up but when he does he is completely vulnerable and that is reserved only for you.

Higuruma, on the other hand, is the type of man that elderly women adore. When they bag his groceries, he slides a hefty tip asking, “What do you have planned this evening?” He’s more witty and charming outwardly while Nanami reserves his lighter side for only you. Although Hiromi is more extroverted, it doesn’t mean his treats you like any other girl. He places his partner on the highest pedestal in his life. His charm and personality can give other women the wrong idea, confusing his politeness for flirtation. On the other hand, he makes it abundantly clear who his one and only is, showing you off at any moment.

In arguments:

They both are calm and collected when it comes to disagreements. They aren’t the type to yell and shout at their partners.

Nanami is a more quiet and stern man when he’s angry. He may lower his voice, speaking sternly when he’s angry but never belittles you. He’s a very protective man so most of your arguments would stem from your lack of awareness. Knocking on the door and getting angry with you for not looking through the peephole, forgetting to lock down at night, and being too friendly with strangers are all reasons Nanami would become cross with you but only from a place of concern.

Hiromi is more submissive in arguments. He’s the type of man to notice your anger immediately, desperately trying to win your forgiveness. Looking at you with sad puppy dog eyes, upturned eyebrows with a soft “Come on, doll. Don’t be angry with me.” He would rarely make you angry but on the off chance he did it would be due to him coming home later than expected after spending long hours at the law firm.

During sex:

Nanami is dominant through and through. He will never pass up the opportunity to watch you have your way with him but prefers to be in complete control. He loves watching you squirm and whimper beneath him. He’s a more possessive lover, reveling in the fact that only he can put you in such a state.

Hiromi is a good mixture of whatever the vibe of the evening is for. He has more of an ability to be submissive, watching you above him as he worships every inch of your body with sweet phrases and loving eyes.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk nanami #nanami kento #fanfic #jjk fanfic #higuruma hiromi #jjk x you #higuruma x reader #nanami x reader #higuruma hiromi x reader

[thedepthsoffandomminds]

More than skin deep.

PT 1

Request:

The reader just have a very sensitive skin (so they wear 'comfortable' cloths to wear and feel against their skin, like they have Gloves on most of the time), (maybe with a skin disease? And maybe having them *die*? Or in a life or death situation? I kind of want *drama*, and hurt-comfort-bit of fluff because of their disease? Or something a bit related to it?) Nervous anon

An - please don't be nervous Anon. I hope.ylu like it.

The cotton gloves felt good against your skin, and aided to cover the scars that riddled your forearms.

Are you ready my dear?" Your father asked, peaking around your bedroom door.

"Are you sure we need to go out Father? It is very hot out today." You ask.

"Oh my dear, he patted your right shoulder. We need to make ourselves known around town. I am the new Patron of the hospital, I have paid a great deal of money to expand it and the queen has given us a great deal of money and trust to help Governor Fox make this little town into a bustling civilised city." He repeated the words he had told you several times over the four months journey from England to Australia.

"But why do I need to go? It isn't like I will have any more suitors here than I would in London." You reminded him.

"My sweet, you must try to look past your misgivings. We are not in London anymore. Come, the carriage awaits us." He gives your hand a small squeeze and you follow him out the door. Your light blue, cotton dress swishing around your legs.

The Carriage journey is thankfully short. Your home is large but close to the main town, so you're arriving in no more than thirty minutes. Your father steps out first, he is a tall thin man, with dark hair cut neatly to his head to match the slightly greying sideburns. He turns his hand to you and you step out of the carriage. Your hat keeps the sun from touching your eyes but you are quickly reminded of the heat as your skin starts to heat up.

"Your parasol, my dear." Your father reminds you and you lift the dark lace parasol above your head. It gives you just enough shade and protection that you can feel somewhere close to comfortable. You take your father's arm and he leads you up into the hospital. An older man who stank of alcohol approached the two of you and greeted your father with a hearty handshake.

"Oh Lord Hastings it is a delight to see you again."

"Thank you Professor McGregor. My daughter lady y/n." He introduced you. The prof kisses the back of your hand and you give him a small smile. The two men turned and walked into an office leaving you in the corridor. Turning around you decided to look at the hospital. It is a busy place with many people entering and leaving. You see two large men walking a shrouded body through the halls. Nurses went about their rounds, changing bedding and cleaning wounds. You hear a voice on one of the wards and you are sure you recognise it. A blonde woman about your age is ordering the staff around.

“Open these windows.” She says; the nurses begin to argue but are quickly rebutted.

“Belle!” You smile wide.

“Y/n!” she comes bounding over to you and takes your hands, “It is wonderful to see you again at last!” She giggles.

“Belle, what on earth are you doing in a nurse's outfit?” You ask, twirling your friend around.

“It's a very long story, but I am one step closer to my dream.” Belle smiles.

“You will have to tell me everything over dinner.” You say.

“Oh god, are we to be overrun by pompos women today?” A man stood behind you with his hands on his hips.

“Excuse me?” You ask.

“Doctor Dawkins this Lady y/n Hastings. Her father is paying for the new wing in this hospital.” Belle informed him.

The blonde doctor cleared his throat.

“Oh, I apologise, Lady y/n. How can I help you today?” It doesn't go unnoticed by the nurses how his eyes linger on you.

“My father has come to inspect the building, he is with the Professor at the moment.” You explain.

“I see, well would you like to be shown around?” The doctor asks.

“Yes, thank you.”

“I can do that for you, Doctor.”Hetty asks.

“No, no. I will do it. Shall we?” He holds his arm out to you and you take it keeping your touch light.

“This is my ward, over here is the operating theatre.” Jack continues to tell you what each room was as you walked until his arm closed too tightly on your arm. You winche and draw in a hissing breath at the pain.

“I'm sorry, did I hurt you?” He asked, concerned.

“No, please I have…I have a condition on my arms.” You say, fiddling with your fingers.

“May I have a look?” He asks, holding his hand out to you. Hesitantly you allow him to remove your gloves, revealing the scars.

“What happened?” He asked, eyes meeting yours. You take in a shaky breath and press your lips together.

“It's okay you don't need to tell me. Was it a chemical?” You nod to his question, “come with me.” He shows you into a private room and asks you to take a seat on the bed before he darts out of the room. As you wait you look at the way your once clear, porcelain skin was now chard and pink. Swirls of uneven skin painted your arms. When the doctor returns he is holding a tin in his hands. He opens it and pulls a chair up to the side of the bed.

“With your permission?” He asks and you nod holding one arm towards him, “It must be a struggle for you here with the heat?” He says as a cops the white substance onto his fingers.

“Yes, I try to avoid leaving the house whenever I can. Although the hospital is very cool, it is helping.” You admit. .”Good, I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable here.” He catches himself and clears his throat, casting his eyes to your arm where he gently rubs the ointment into your skin. The relief is almost instant. The heat that had been captured in your skin seemed to lift away.

“This is not a cure, Milady, but it will help. Is it just your arms?” He asks.

“No, my shoulder and back as well.” You say before capturing your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Take this with you and I will make up some more for you. Apply it each morning and night and whenever you feel your skin becomes too hot.” He explains. You purposely do not acknowledge his hand still holding yours.

“My dear, is everything alright?” Your father stands at the door.

“Yes father. This is Doctor Dawkins. He has given me an ointment for my burns.” You say gleefully. Your father eyes the doctor who drops your hand and stands quickly, like a soldier standing to attention.

“Yes, yes this is our young Jack Dawkins. Very promising lad. A naval lieutenant comes very highly recommended by the admiral.” the professor announced.

“I spoke to the admiral myself, wonderful to meet you, my lad.” He shakes the doctor's hand. Soon after you return home, finally happy to step outside and feel the sun without a fear of your skin peeling away.

In your happiness you didn't notice the eyes watching you from the street corner. Or how those eyes followed you home.

#jack dawkins x y/n #jack dawkins x reader #lady belle fox #the artful dodger x reader #thomas brodie sangster

[jjkeremika]

Conserve Water; Shower in Pairs

description: reiner joins your shower

pairing: reiner x you, reiner x fem!reader (reiner braun, aot/snk)

smutttttttyyy

You were startled when the door opened, some water droplets flaking off you from the sudden jolt. “Reiner?” you called out to the steamy bathroom air, holding your breath.

“Yes, love?” Reiner hummed, his soothing voice immediately settling the uneasiness in your stomach. You relaxed and continued rubbing the soap suds into your upper arms.

You exhaled deeply, smiling. “Nothing, just making sure it was you.”

He hummed in response and continued shuffling behind the curtain. Then the curtain was pulled to the side, exposing half the tub. Water droplets bounced off the side of the tub and splattered into daughter droplets, scattering across the tile.

Your body shivered from the cold air, from the steam rapidly escaping into the room. “Reiner!” you called, the surprise flooding your voice as he stepped inside.

You swallowed heavily when you peered over to where he was standing, where he was entering the tub, naked. His broad chest and shoulders blocked the light, casting a cool shadow over your wet-hot skin.

“What?” he asked innocently, closing the curtain behind him, the muscles in his arm poking out, steam rolling over the strong tissue. “You always say we need to conserve water.”

The blood rushed to your cheeks and, from the smug smirk plastered on Reiner’s face, you knew the blush was visible. Your skin was hot, exposed to hot water and hot air and the body heat radiating from just how close he was to you.

The water pounded at your back as he shrugged, his bare shoulders rounded, his chest expanding, his biceps flexing, the veins in his wrists popping out. You could feel yourself salivate, could feel the additional heat of him staring at you, thriving at your blatant adoration.

“Besides,” he continued before you could speak, snaking his arms around your hips and pulling you closer. You gasped and your eyes widened as you felt his half-hard cock against your hip. “It’s not like we haven’t seen each other naked before.” He tilted his neck down and brought his hand to your chin, raising your head to meet his. “That’s why I need to shower,” he whispered.

He kissed you mid-breath, leaving you partly dizzy as his lips slid against yours, as his saliva swirled with yours.

Reiner's hands were gliding down your back, the stimulating sensation multiplied by the steady stream of hot water, light streams following the natural curve in your spine, collecting on large, scarred hands.

His lips moved to your ear, lightly taking the lobe into his mouth, between his teeth. "Mind if I take the water?"

By that you knew he meant switch spots under the showerhead.

You pulled away and made eye contact. "Let me just move out of the way," you said flirtily, bending your knees. You knelt down until your knees touched the tub floor, eye level with the deep, defined V, like an arrow marking his strong erection.

His blue eyes twinkled with awe at the bold maneuver, the sky-blue quickly disappearing behind tight eyelids as the palm of your hand lightly pressed to the side of his upright shaft, neatly wrapping your fingers around the thick girth.

"Ahh," Reiner moaned, tilting his head back, as you engulfed the thick tip into your mouth, wrapped it around your tongue. You pushed further a few more inches before pulling back, mimicking the same motion with your hand. "Oh, baby, that feels so good."

His hips rocked into your mouth and you released your grip, moving both of your hands to his built thighs, watching the water droplets trace the muscle flexion in your peripheral.

"Oh, fuck," Reiner groaned as his hips sped up, a few more inches entering your mouth, the tip pounding into the back. Your fingernails dug into his thighs, sure to leave slight red and purple indents in his clean skin.

Then he rapidly pulled off, gasping for air, his hand immediately reaching for his cock. "Please, baby, let me--" Your hand joining his on his cock, quickly following his rhythm, sucked the air from his lungs, making his heart beat speed up.

"Yeah, yeah, you can come on my tits," you answered his question, chuckling lightly because it was just a little funny, how desperately he always wanted to, how excited he became whenever you said yes.

Your hand lazily joined his while your mouth nipped at the skin near his hips, smiling and sucking in air as soon as a hot viscous fluid touched your sensitive skin, as soon as you heard Reiner moan out your name.

As you stood up, both of you reached to wipe the fluid off your chest, Reiner's method being to cup your breasts and scoop it up.

"You just want to feel me up," you laughed, moaning softly as his palms slid across your now lubricated nipples.

"God, yes," he moaned out in agreement, "I find you beyond sexy." Two fingers pinched your nipple. The other hand lightly traced down your side. He moved onto his knees, lowering you with him, the water now falling against the back of the tub.

Reiner knelt over you until you were sitting down with your back was against the cool tub. He kissed you quickly before traveling down your stomach, fondling both breasts as his lips kissed in a straight line.

His hands held onto the undersides of your soft thighs and squeezed, lifting you off the tub floor. Your legs scrambled for footing as Reiner tucked his nose between your legs, his tongue quickly retracing the same pattern that made you scream last night.

The noise of the water hitting the back tub drowned out the noise of Reiner hungrily lapping and sucking on your clit, occasionally biting your uppermost thigh to hear the sharp squeal that left your lips.

He loved that the most, the noises you'd make. It was fun, finding out what made you squeal versus moan, gasp versus scream, inhale versus airless panting.

As he confidently flicked his tongue and removed one hand, supporting you with just one arm as the other hand joined his tongue, listening to the breathless pleas for more, he promised himself he'd learn them all during your lifetime together.

#conserve water shower together ;) #reiner braun #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #reiner x reader #reiner braun smut #reiner braun x fem!reader #reiner x fem!reader #reiner x you #aot reiner #snk reiner #jjkeremika #i have to tag myself bc i wrote it lmao #reiner smut #in 'stay' the eremika drabble i wrote theres an encounter where reiner smirks bc things are going his way yeah this is what i was alluding #you are going his way #note theres no REAL water conservation anyway

[carlyraejepsans]

> Inspect the library. Maybe the books here have useful information.

You've already gone through most of the books in the castle. If there's anything you might have missed, it has to be here. Besides, when will you ever get a second chance at this?

You inspect the library. With a figertip, you draw a sharp line through its grey mantle. The dust on the shelves is thick enough for skiing. The only sign of cleaning being a small dimple through its surface, presumably from someone performing the same kind of assessment you just did, but enough time ago that their own clean line had raced to catch up with the median dust level.

There is no way for you to proceed with your investigations without leaving traces here. You just hope that the kind of occupant that doesn't pay notice to this level of dust wouldn't notice if it suddenly went away, either.

You start pulling books out of the shelves. They're... logs, it seems. Both in the sense that they're heavy as bricks, as in the sense that they're registers. Law changes, regulations, Royal mandates. The years, too, keep varying wildly: 1898, 1967, 2018.

"That can't be right," you mumble to yourself, "That's half a millennia ago. How are they still in these conditions?"

Halfway through a shorthand discussion on "Magical energy distribution in the farther regions", you find what appears to be a rough map of the entire underground world. Seems like the cave does expand westward, just like the King mentioned.

You hesitate—then carefully tear the page out of the book and shove it in your bag. Could be useful.

You pull out another book. You stare at the cover. Your eyes are beginning to sting after straining so hard to read at firelight, but you're pretty sure you read the title right.

"Practical Techniques In Home Cooking". Author name illegible. It feels well loved, even as you hold it. The spine is cracked where it isn't downright ripped, and a few loose pages threaten to escape and rustle to the floor as you carefully open it.

The inside of the book is as consumed with use as its outside. Thousands of hand annotations in firm, neat pencil writing frame what, to the book's credit, indeed seem to be cooking techniques for home use. Occasionally, the author proposes a recipe. It's in these pages that the amateur co-author's corrections thicken, webbing through the original text like a spider, correcting proportions and specifying cooking times.

The co-author seems to have very strong opinions about "the dangers of non-magical fires in the kitchen".

Despite your situation, you can't put the book down. This isn't useful, per se, but it is... different. Different from anything you've seen so far, from the moment you stumbled into this cave. It feels genuine, domestic. It feels, well...

Human. Something in your heart stirs.

To your surprise, a series of crayon drawings render the next recipe almost unreadable. They're goofy, colorful, and rudimentary in the way that only young children's art can be. You smile as you turn another page. And that's when you see it. Tucked neatly into the book.

It's a photograph. A thumb half covers the lenses, but the rest is clear. Two figures smile toothily at the camera, covered in cocoa powder and flour: one is a monster, small and white furred like powdered sugar, and it points at the photographer, maybe warning them about the camera.

The other is human.

You stop breathing. You squint at the photograph, looking closer for control panels or screws, or antennae—anything that would tell you the person in the picture is actually some kind of monster—but find nothing. It's just... a kid. Perhaps a few years younger than you, all puffy cheeks and scraggly hair, their index finger dipped in chocolate batter. Their smile is missing a tooth.

You turn the photograph over. In the back, you once again recognize the neat handwriting of the co-author: "My little helpers, 2019"

You exhale, somewhat unsteadily, as something glows brighter in your chest.

Other humans. There were other humans in the underground. And maybe, if other humans came here, other humans made it out, too. Maybe—you let yourself hope—maybe there is a way out.

You look down at the photograph once again, just to marvel at your discovery.

"How did you even get here," you whisper, tracing the borders with a finger.

A chill runs down your spine.

"pretty sure that's my line, buddy."

You drop the book and turn, clutching your bag. Its broken-off pages spill onto the floor like an avalanche.

The skeleton leans his back against the door, smiling placidly at you. He's in his shirtsleeves, the sleeves themselves rolled up to the elbow, and he seems to have changed his dress pants for a pair of loose gym shorts. He tips a mug at you.

You didn't hear him unlock the door. You didn't hear anything.

Staring at the pinpricks of light in his eyesockets, you realize this is the first time you've seen him without sunglasses.

You also realize he's wearing pink slippers.

"heya," he says.

-->

#undertale #mywriting #sans #there he is. the man the myth the legend

[sisterspooky1013]

Red-Handed, Chapter 28

Rated G | 1015 words | Read it here on AO3

“Please have a seat, agents.”

Scully throws Mulder a wary glance before they slide into their designated chairs across from Skinner’s desk. Their boss is characteristically stoic, but there’s something else there, too, that makes Scully nervous. She folds her hands neatly in her lap to avoid fidgeting and arranges her face into a neutral expression. 

“This is going to be an uncomfortable conversation,” Skinner begins, and her belly tightens. “My hope is that we get it over with as quickly as possible so we can all move on with our day.”

His eyes are on his desk, on the door behind them, on the arm of her chair—anywhere but directly on either her or Mulder, who himself looks more curious than worried. 

“What is it, sir?” she asks, and Skinner flashes his eyes up to her for barely a split second before they are back on the paperwork littering the surface of his desk.

“It’s been brought to my attention that there was a questionable charge on Agent Mulder’s corporate credit card from a motel in Grand Rapids, Michigan a few weeks ago,” he says. 

Scully waits for Mulder to reply, but when a beat passes in silence she looks over at him and finds his face to be completely expressionless, which immediately makes her panic. 

“Yes, Agent Mulder and I were in Grand Rapids for a few days recently,” she says, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “I believe you signed our 302, sir.”

“Yes, I did,” Skinner says. “It was the amount of the charge that prompted Accounting to flag it, not the charge itself.”

She looks at Mulder again, intending to request (by way of a very dirty look) that he be the one to speak on this given that she has no context, but he’s still sporting that same emotionless thousand-yard stare, almost like he’s not even listening. 

“I’m sorry, sir, I’m not following,” she admits. 

“This might help,” Skinner says, avoiding eye contact as he leans forward and hands her a rumpled sheet of paper from a dot matrix printer with the perforated strips down the sides still attached. 

Scully quickly scans the page, which appears to be an invoice from their motel. Advanced mattress cleaning fee, eight missing towels, fitted and flat sheet replacement. She feels her face get hot and a wave of nausea rolls through her as she remembers a hard day in the field followed by a drunken evening, and Mulder assuring her that she needn’t worry about the mess they made. That he would take care of it. 

Scully clears her throat and tries to imagine what she could possibly say with a beet red face that wouldn’t give them away. Perhaps Skinner could be convinced that they procured a family-sized portion of chili and spilled it all over the bed. 

“That was my room, sir. Agent Scully has nothing to do with this,” Mulder blurts out suddenly, the first words he’s spoken since they entered the room. He snatches the page out of her hands and sets it back on Skinner’s desk, only the expanded whites of his eyes giving away his terror. 

Skinner sighs and sits back in his seat, his elbows on the armrests and his hands steepled. 

“Unfortunately,” he says evenly, “the investigation into the charge also revealed that only one of the two rooms reserved for you was checked into.”

Scully slowly pulls in a deep breath through her nose and lets it out through her mouth, then glances to the door leading to Kimberly’s office to verify that the resident trash can is still stationed beside it, just in case. Her heart is pounding against her ears, and she grips the arms of her chair so hard her knuckles blanch. Here it comes—the jig is up. It happened much more quickly than she’d anticipated. 

“There’s an explanation for that—” Mulder starts, but Skinner holds up a hand to quiet him. 

“Look,” he says, leaning forward on his desk and giving them each a pointed look. “I’m not an idiot, nor am I naïve. The only thing I find surprising about this is that you were stupid enough to only use one room and then try to get the Bureau to cover the cleaning fee. I’d expect better from both of you.” Scully’s cheeks are on fire, and she does her best not to sink down in her seat. “Policy aside,” he continues, “so long as you don’t bring personal issues into the workplace, what you do off the clock is none of my concern. But if word gets out that the rumors about you two are true, and there’s evidence that I was aware of it and took no action, it’ll be my career and reputation on the line, not just yours.”

“I apologize, sir,” Scully says meekly. Now she’s the one who can’t bring herself to look at him.   

“It won’t happen again, sir,” Mulder adds.

“It better fucking not,” Skinner grumbles. “I was able to bullshit my way out of this one, but next time you’re on your own. If you run into Angela from Accounting and she asks how you’re feeling, just tell her you’re doing much better.”

“Thank you, sir,” Scully says in a near whisper. 

“That’s all, you’re dismissed,” Skinner says with a wave of his hand. 

Scully stands slowly on unsteady legs and heads for the door. Mulder is beside her immediately, though the warmth of his hand on her back is anything but a comfort. He tries to catch her eye but she refuses to look at him, too sick with anger and embarrassment to trust herself not to scream. 

“Agents?” Skinner says, just as she’s reaching for the doorknob. 

The hairs on the back of her neck shoot up, and she and Mulder both slowly turn around. 

“Yes, sir?” Mulder asks. 

Skinner looks at them for a beat with a confusingly wistful expression.

“It’s about damn time,” he says, then turns away from them quickly, but not before Scully sees him lose the fight to keep the smile off his mouth. 

Tagging @today-in-fic

#the x files #x files fanfic #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #the x-files #xf fanfic #xfiles #thexfiles #x files

[rinbowaman]

S E 7 E N : A S M O D E U S   P A R T   T H R 3 E

Warnings: drying humping, breaking entry, harassment, assault, torturous abuse, blood, gore, groping, and cussing. i think that's it.

With a soft and short kiss to your helix, he stands straight. Walking over to his chair, he takes his light blazer off and sits it on the backrest of his seat, as he joins you from across the table. His shoulders and arms were defined with lean muscle, just like Jay’s. His blouse gently draped over his form and was slightly cropped as it flashed bits of his bare abdomen whenever he moved. Resting his elbows at the table, a hand is propped up to cradle his chin as it rests within his palm, while the other laid flat at the forearm against the table. “So, what do you feel like having? You can have whatever you want.” You smiled softly. “Oh…umm…I’m not sure. Did you have anything in mind?” He shifts his gaze in a playful manner as he displayed a loving manner of being pensive. “Well leeeeeets seeeee….hmmm…” tapping his fingers on the table, he asks you, “I can tell you like fruit…” he denotes as he looks at the large fruit bowl you had displaying various fruits, all but apples since the Senator had banned it, claiming it was a sinful fruit. Noting the lack of them, he looks over at you. “How long has it been since you had apples?” “Mmm…a little over a year. The Senator banned them.” He rolls his eyes slightly before returning his gaze at you. “I can’t stand mortals sometimes….not you of course. You’re an exception….to a lot of things.” He removes his arms from the table and looks down as he swipes it clean while he issued the last bit of his statement. Taking his blazer, he flaps it and instantly the material expanded and while made of the same material and keeping the same color, you watched before your eyes that once it was unmoving, it became a table cloth. It was like a magic trick. Flapping it once more, he cover the table as he smooths it out. “Could you reach inside my inner coat pocket and take out what’s inside, darling?” He softly issues as his eyes stay on the cloth while he meticulously smooths the remainder of it out. You nodded with a polite response and reach across your chest and felt around from inside the coat under your arm. It felt so soft and warm against your skin. Reaching inside the large interior pocket, you felt something as you slowly took it out. It was an elaborate clutch of some sort, made of pure silver. The grooves of the decorative engravings carved in it was immaculate and ancient as you noted the ritualistic design. Handing it to him, he smiles as he takes it from your hand softly. “Thanks darling.” Opening the semi flattened container from the side clasp, you saw a perfectly row of slim cigarettes. You continued to watch as he takes one out and places it inside his mouth. Snapping his fingers at the end, a flame flares, lighting the other end. His ability to produce fire with touch was similar to that of Jungwon when he burnt off a piece of your hair as a momentum for him to keep and remember you by. Huffing out one long and smooth puff of smoke, he delicately takes the cigarette with his thumb and index finger. “Come stand next to me darling.” He softly states as he reaches his free hand to you. You take it as he holds yours endearingly. Flicking the cigarette on to the table, flames burst out and engorged the surface of the table, but only for a split second as it dissipates and suddenly, right there before you, was the most beautiful display of food you ever seen, all with cutlery made of pure silver and adorned with various gems. A platter of purple and green grapes beautifully on display, next to it, was a much larger one that had various slices of fish meat, shrimp, and others that you couldn’t recognize as they were all deboned and neatly sliced, also laid out in an immensely beautiful manner. There were various bowls of sides filled with various dried fruits, vegetables, and sauces. a bread bowl, real butter, chalices filled with deep red wine, and even chocolate, another delicacy that was banned by the Senator.

Off to the side, was of course, a small bowl of apples, all kinds as the shapes, sizes, and colors contrasted from one another. Next to it, was a platter of fresh, steamy apple strudels. “Here, sit.” He ticks you into the chair as he lays down on the back rest of it. Leading you by the hand, he gently sits you down a she places a kiss on it. “Now, we have some unique delicacies here, so feel free to ask me what they are and if you like, I can show you which sauce goes best with them. The fruit complements the slight saltiness of the meat and helps cleanse the palette, so be sure to enjoy those in between bites.” He smiles as he sits across from you. “Thank you….can you tell me what types of seafood these are? I’ve never seen some of these before, I’m curious.” He looks over as he props his elbows back on the table. “Well let’s seeee…we got blackened halibut steaks, also blackened tuna, we got shark meat, various prawns, there’s grilled octopus, and Poisson Cru, you’ve heard of it?” You shook your head and allowed him to explain. Everything looked too beautiful to be touched, let alone eat. Noticing your hesitancy, he encourages you to eat with him, after acknowledging how adorable your displayed hesitancy was. “So, are you looking forward to coming home with Heeseung in a few days?” He asks. Munching on a piece of fruit and marinated fish, you shifted your gaze down at the table cloth as you took the advantage of the question and asked for closure. “….do you know what I should expect? What it’s going to be like…when I go?….Are you even allowed to tell me?” You inquired as you spoke out your works sparingly. Mucking on a piece of bread, he sighs out as he answers. “Well, where do I begin…hmmm….life will be much different than what you’re accustomed to. You should know by now, our elder brother has been waiting for you…for a long time.” “Right…6 thousand years was it? I remember Jay mentioned it.” “Nearly 7.” You glanced up and paused your chewing as he continued. “7?” “Yeah, five days from now it will be 7 thousand years that he’s waited for you.”

P A R T F O 4 R

Taglist: @deobitifull; @solstramaii; @vampiregirl215; @nshmrarki; @enhypen14; @iamliacamila; @lisaaannna; @nikstrange; @jaehaki; @luv-enhy-skz33; @silcry@honeysjae; @crackedcameraa; @stinkmonkey ; @baekxo07

#kim sunoo #sunoo #enha x reader #sunoo x reader #sunoo imagines #sunoo smut

[mayhem-neverending]

The Big Bad Wolf

Obito x Reader

Part III

Warnings: mentions of depression, mentions of suicidal ideation

Word count: 2,099

Obito tried desperately to detangle his hair under the shower’s hot spray of water. He felt immensely frustrated and overwhelmed as he tugged at the knotted strands. Everything felt heightened, the water hitting his skin, the slick conditioner on his fingers, the way his rib cage expanded with each breath, because he felt awake. Awake for the first time since being locked away in his home - his prison. 

He rarely saw anyone, even Kakashi, who took turns every two weeks with Naruto to drop off groceries and necessities. Neither ever stayed more than half an hour, and while he knew Kakashi had begged to keep Obito alive, his life wasn’t really.. living.

Most of the time, he walked around in a haze, unable to escape the horrors that plagued his mind and the guilt that tore into his soul like a rabid dog, day in and day out. Or, he felt the weight of the world fall down upon him, and he couldn’t leave his bed for days; not that anyone would notice. 

He had considered ending it all, time and time again, but he was a glutton for punishment, and told himself he deserved every moment of his self-inflicted suffering. It was the least he could do for everything he’d done. He hadn’t been given another opportunity to repent, so he would do what he could with what he had. 

He pulled at his hair with his wooden comb. He could admit to himself that he was desperate for company, that his long days and even longer nights were messing with his sanity and that he cried for companionship, or at least the presence of another, to ease his mind even a little. However, he couldn’t believe Kakashi had just appeared out of nowhere, with a seemingly nice woman, and disappeared just as quickly to leave her at his mercy. 

He frowned deeply. What was Kakashi even thinking? Obito was well aware that he was a local celebrity, and for all the wrong reasons. He was a household name doused in hate and lit with fear. He had started that blaze, and now this woman had been thrown right into his house fire. If people were to find out she was here, here to help him… He didn’t want to imagine the backlash. 

He cursed himself as his comb stuck and refused to budge. He couldn’t remember the last time he had washed it, and regretted not doing something to it sooner. He wiggled it around, lacking any patience, and ended up yanking at his hair. 

A knock interrupted his next string of curses, and he immediately quieted. Your gentle voice was muffled through the door, as you called, “Food,”

A part of him was surprised that you were actually still here, and hadn’t run away the second Kakashi left, and was curious about why. The other part of him was absolutely furious that he would of course be called on when he had a stupid comb stuck in his hair. 

It took a couple minutes, but he was finally able to yank it free (without assistance, which he was mortified to even consider), and he stepped out of the shower. He hastily dried himself and went to his bedroom to dress. Opening each drawer of his dresser, he realized that not a single thing he owned was clean. He looked at the pile of dirty clothes on the floor with disdain, before heading over and trying to decide what was least dirty.

He padded to the kitchen barefoot, with the least stained clothes on that he could find and the knot of hair he had sported in a low ponytail. He noticed that you had wiped down his small table, and that a neatly made sandwich was placed next to a glass of water on it. His stomach growled loudly, causing you to turn to glance at him over your shoulder from your spot in front of the sink. 

Neither of you spoke, and you turned back to cleaning dishes while he sat down at the table. He inspected the sandwich, which had extra soft scrambled eggs, lettuce, and mayonnaise. The thought that it could very well be poisoned crossed his mind, but he decided instantaneously that, either way, he was fine with the outcome and took a bite. 

It was tastier than he expected, and he made an appreciative noise. At least Kakashi picked someone who could actually cook. He imagined some poor shinobi who hadn’t had a clue what they were doing trying to cook and care for him, and the disastrous image made him snort. Snorting made him choke on the large piece of sandwich he had been trying to inhale, and he coughed and sputtered until he turned red. 

You rushed over, hovering a couple feet away, startled and unsure whether to intervene. He held up a hand to you, attempting to tell you he was fine while he painfully coughed until he finally got some air in. He took a long sip of water, staring straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact after his blunder.

You backed away and went to finish your task, while Obito took a decidedly smaller bite. He finished his sandwich slowly, feeling it fill his shrunken stomach uncomfortably. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye periodically, and you did the same. You were at the table removing his plate the second he had swallowed his last bite. When you finished cleaning the plate, you turned your body to face him.

“Do you-” you cleared your throat. “Where can I find your cleaning supplies?”

“Linen closet, closest door to the bathroom,”

You nodded and went to find it. The closet was… nearly empty, save a couple of rags, one cleaning spray, and some bleach. There weren’t any blankets, towels, or any actual linens on the dusty shelves. You grabbed what was available, and added cleaning supplies to your mental shopping list. 

As you were returning to the front of the house, Obito walked by you in the hall, his long strides causing the air to woosh past you. He entered his room and shut the door firmly behind himself. Your eyes followed him the whole way, and you shrugged to yourself. It would be much less tense to work if he wasn’t visibly present.

You had just made it to the end of the hall when his door reopened. He poked his head out. “My clothes need to be washed. Can you pick up detergent?”

He furrowed his brows before adding, “Please,”

“Of course,” you replied politely.

You shuffled to the living room with your full hands and dropped everything on the floor next to the couch. You pulled your phone from your pocket, transferred your list from your head to your notes, and got down to work. 

A couple hours later, you started on lunch. During your silently cleaning, you had decided to prioritize putting some weight onto Obito, as was your responsibility as his caretaker. You were, however, worried about feeding him too much too fast, and didn’t want to make him sick. You peered into the cabinets, hoping something would jump out at you. You were disappointed to find only a can of tomato sauce, green beans, and a half full bag of rice.

It worried you how little was available to him. You weren’t sure how Kakashi expected him to eat when he didn’t have much of anything. 

You somehow managed to pull a meal together with what he had. You chose chicken and rice soup, since it wouldn’t be too heavy on his stomach. You were giving it a stir when Obito reappeared in the kitchen. He took a curious glance at the food before giving you an appraising look.

“You have an accent,” he stated, crossing his arms over his chest.

You paused your stirring, and a little smile pulled at your lips. You put your spoon down and turned to him. “I’m from out west,”

Your smile grew just a smidge. “I moved back here a few months ago, after staying out there for a year and a half or so. I didn’t realize I had picked it back up,”

He took in the information slowly, and you stood there quietly, waiting for his response. “That explains the cooking. Is this almost done?”

“Yeah,”

The rest of the day went by slowly. You weren’t sure how much you could actually do with what little he had, so you did your best to sweep and dust and clean out the fridge. Obito hovered while you worked, and you could feel the tension building between your shoulder blades every time he was less than three feet away. You wanted to wave your hand and shoo him away, but didn’t think it appropriate. 

You took your washcloths to the washing machine, which sat at the far end of the hall, and checked your phone for the time. You exhaled a long breath and let your shoulders sag in relief. It was finally five. You brushed your hands off on your pants and made quick work of collecting your things from where you had set them on the bookshelf. 

You willed your legs to move slowly, so it didn’t look like you were running to the door as you made your way to it. Obito eyed you from his spot on the couch. You halted. 

“I’m off, I’ll see you tomorrow, sir,”

Obito frowned, lips tugged slightly lower on the unscarred side. “Don’t call me ‘sir’,”

You blinked. “...Mr. Uchiha?”

He huffed at the suggestion. “Obito. Just Obito,”

“Oh, okay,” 

You stared at each other. “Anything you need before I go?”

He stood. “No,”

“Okay,” you resumed your walk to the door, but were surprised by Obito walking over and pulling it open for you. 

He stood in the doorway, making it so you would have to be less than a foot away from him to move past. He looked at you expectantly. You hurried over, and bowed your head in thanks. You felt quite stiff from the tension in your body at being in such close proximity.

“See you,” he said softly when you were out on his front step. 

You gave him a little awkward wave and continued toward the treeline. He shut the door behind you and moved to watch you inconspicuously from the window as you disappeared into the woods. 

It was a few minutes before he moved again. He looked around the room, and was struck with how vividly he was observing it. He felt like he had never truly seen it before now. It was just so… empty. It was devoid of life in every sense.

He made the mistake in that moment to listen to his surroundings, and trapped himself in the deafening silence. He tried covering his ears, but it didn’t dull. He walked around, alternating between stomping and dragging his feet on the wood floor just to hear something. A dull panic stirred in his chest. 

Your child was loud from the moment you picked him up. Usually you didn’t mind it, but his stomping, climbing and yelling were sure to get you a noise complaint from your downstairs neighbor. You tossed your spoon on the stove at the loud thump coming from your small living room. He had apparently taken to jumping off the couch. You frantically searched for something quieter to offer him while the vegetables sizzled in the pan.

Unable to find anything and sensing another jump coming, you bent down and hauled him over your shoulder. He giggled and flashed you a toothy grin upon plopping him onto the counter. You went over to the fridge and rummaged around for something to satiate him. You found a container of washed blueberries and handed them over to him. 

You continued with dinner while little legs swung back and forth, looking to find purchase on your side. You sighed quietly to yourself, and made a mental note to just make extra dinner while at work to bring home, so you could actually spend the time you had paying full attention to him. And it would make things just that much easier.

He quieted while he chewed, and you took the short moment of respite to reflect on your day. All in all it wasn’t too bad. The part where he just sat around and watched you intensely wasn’t your favorite, but the pay and the hours were well worth it. Honestly, if he stopped that, it would be near perfect.

Part IV

#x reader #naruto #au #obito x reader #obito uchiha #kakashi hatake #x y/n #Obito Uchiha x reader

[a-cix]

Draft - 12.13.23

Taekook. rich tae, waiter jk vibe. 2.2k

“Shh, sh-sh.”

In a room with people of such wealth and class, it is nothing for a man to silence a woman like so, even more so when that woman works for him. Tsk-tsk, their shushes seem to say. It is not said with offense or disgrace. It is not a How dare you, but rather a gentle prod: Do you not wish to be silent?

No one wants to listen to you, darling.

Jungkook watches the man shush the woman, her suit-skirt folding around her narrow hips as she bends to whisper to him, clipboard pushing up under her breasts. His hand moves around the back of the couch and ghosts at her hip, not quite touching her, but threatening to.

“Don’t worry about that,” he says quietly. “I’ll take care of it. Just reschedule my meetings tonight. And you can leave after. I don’t need you anymore. It’s been a long day.”

Jungkook listens. He watches the man, his gold watch flashing in the dim, warm light—a Rolex, Jungkook noticed earlier, from the moment he first laid eyes on this man, because he’s learned to spot signs of wealth. The man is put-together, in a tailored suit, another detail Jungkook can pick up on because he’s learned to spot it. This man is too tall for a generic suit to fit him so well. Besides, the dense fabric, the luxurious cufflinks, the clean seams, no suits made with such quality are available without tailoring. They are all custom-made.

“More champagne, sir?” Jungkook asks, replacing the woman as soon as she leaves. She must be a secretary of some sort, a personal assistant, a professional foot-massager or whatever else men like this typically keep these suited women with clipboards and hushed voices around for. Sometimes Jungkook feels that the women are simply there to make the men look important, as if they’re posturing to the other men in the room. Sometimes Jungkook thinks men like this fuck women just to titillate other men. Peak homoeroticism. Jungkook has slept with more than a few of the men who frequent this place, the ones who keep a few too many women around them, a few too many flashy things on their bodies. The ones who compensate. It always ends the same. He hopes it ends the same way with this man too.

The man turns to glance at Jungkook over his shoulder, one leg crossed over his other, ankle hooked over the knee, making himself look bigger as he expands into his lounge chair.

The man sees Jungkook’s face and smiles.

“What did you say?”

Jungkook smiles back. This man knows what Jungkook said. He just wants to hear it again. From this pretty mouth, this pretty face.

“Would you like some more champagne, sir?”

Jungkook says it carefully. He wants to make this man feel special. He wants him to know that this moment between them, this eye contact, this electricity, is not only real for both of them, but that to Jungkook it is everything.

You can save me, he wants to say with his eyes. Lowly little me.

It’s easier to fool people like this. Feigning ignorance and stupidity and poverty. Men like this, they like poor little boys, pathetic boys, boys who cry and whimper and ask why they get treated the way they do.

The man looks Jungkook up and down, just as Jungkook intended. But his eyes do not linger, not on Jungkook’s second-hand loafers, purposefully scraped up at the tips, or the crusty look of too much cheap gel in his hair. The man shakes his head and raises a hand.

“I’m okay, thank you.” He gives Jungkook a quick smile over his shoulder. Jungkook sees his tired eyes, strangely earnest, strangely heavy. “Long day tomorrow.”

Jungkook nods and backs off with a bow, balancing the tray of champagne flutes with the skill and dexterity of a thousand years.

He later sees the man heading out, his suit jacket folded neatly over his arm, his large hand rubbing the back of his neck as he stretches his neck in slow circles. Jungkook watches like a hawk, flaying the man open with his eyes, until the man looks at him, and suddenly he feels criminal. Caught. As if this man sees everything he has done, laid out before him like a glass box of artifacts. Title: Bad things I have done. Title: People like you I’ve fucked over. Title: The horrible, disgusting things I want you to do to me.

That night Jungkook thinks of the man, his kind smile and his deadly eyes. The way he balanced his single champagne flute in his tan, slender fingers. The way he spoke to Jungkook, offering him a piece of his life: Long day tomorrow. Why would he share such a thing? What did he have to gain from it?

Anything at all?

Jungkook mulls it over but comes up with nothing. Nothing but the cold darkness of his low ceiling and the extravagant loudness of the Seoul streets outside, the hum of electric vehicles he has yet to be able to afford, and the feeling of something chasing him. There are some things you can never get away from. Money, and no money.

Jungkook doesn’t see the man again until a big event comes about. It’s put on by one of the biggest law firms in Seoul, sponsored by the bar association. Because of this Jungkook sees many men he has dirtied his hands with in the past, and he passes by them, chin raised, as though they are nothing. Because they are. He has seen them naked, shrivelled, swollen cock flaccid on their bellies as they look Jungkook in the eye and tell him that he is the first person to ever understand them.

Of course he is. Jungkook is Jungkook. He is magnificent, empathetic, and sharp. So sharp. He cuts people open. He sees their insides.

After those moments of vulnerability, nights spent alone, nights of first-times and brand-new homoeroticism that Jungkook pretends to still be amazed by, he never sees these men again. They don’t come around. Sometimes he muses on how they go about it. They must come up with excuses. They must lie through their yellow smokers’ teeth. I’m busy tonight.

When the victories are magnificent, Jungkook likes to keep them on his bedside table for a few days, maybe even a week. He likes to wake up and see the gold glimmering in the afternoon light that streams into his apartment. He wakes late because he works late. He likes to say that he is young, that the night belongs to him, and to own something means to sacrifice another. The mornings are never his time, pale and grey. It doesn’t match his colour palette. He is a creature of the night. Darkness and orange candlelight, alcohol, red stoplights.

Jungkook likes the way his prizes smile at him. He rises at noon in his crummy apartment and fucks around till 4 pm or so, drinking tea, working out, eating expensive protein off the money of men he lets inside him. Salmon. Wagyu. Sometimes he eats canned tuna to stay humble, but it’s more like a joke he tells himself. Remember when I used to live like this? Not anymore. Now he is clever and his beauty and sexuality is his weapon. He likes to think he knows things people don’t, and that he is better at life than most because of his knowledge.

Knoweldge is money, so you’d think knowledge is everything, but it goes a bit deeper than that.

Clientele is SJ tn, Jimin’s text says, lighting up Jungkook’s phone screen as he walks from the train station down the familiar street that he’s made his own over the past three years. The vibrant lightbox signs and the headache advertisements used to sting, but he is no longer the boy he used to be. This is now his home. This route is where he prepares, plots things out, and becomes the character: Jung Kook. No last name, and not really a first name either. Just a name, whole and complete. An idea. A concept. International Playboy, he used to call himself jokingly, popping his collar in Jimin’s living room after a long night at work together, winding down into the early, buzzing mornings with a few too many shots of soju.

“Evening,” Jungkook says, poking his head into the staff lounge at the back of the building, flashing his signature smile. “Who’s the clientele tonight?”

He already knows, but he wants to know what everyone else knows, what they’re thinking.

“SJ,” Jimin says, standing with two of the girls near the water tub at the back, glowing blue in the artificial light the company pumps into the machine to make their water seem cleaner. As Jimin hands Jungkook the clipboard of tonight’s registered clients, they share a look. Jimin knows that Jungkook already knows, but it’s dog-eat-dog here. Jungkook flashes a smile to the two girls circling Jimin, the piranha-like smiles they give back, vaguely remembering their names and knowing they won’t last, not the way he and Jimin have. Here, it doesn’t matter whether you’re a man or a woman or what your clientele is. What matters is your fluidiuty.

One of the women is too bright. Tries too hard. Jungkook has seen her on the floor, her sweaty smile at men who would never give her a second glance, the desperate shake of her voice. It doesn’t work like that. The other one is too timid. Jungkook has seen her so close to a victory, but she doesn’t bite. No teeth. Just gums. No man wants a gumjob. Men want a bitch with teeth who stays gentle only for him.

It’s only later in the evening, when Jungkook is so deep in his character—International Playboy, Jung Kook, two words, no last name, no first name—that he sees the man again. The man with the ghostly gentle fingers, the man whose strangely kind eyes make Jungkook feel watched.

“I’ll take that glass of champagne this time,” the man says, his lips smiling but his eyes hollow. Jungkook has had an eye on him all night, his mannerisms, his calculated movements, his smiles, his moments of boldness. Among businessmen like this, there are always such interesting hierarchies to take note of. The young man who makes the older men laugh. The older man who the young men crowd toward. Jungkook finds it disgusting. LIke watching cockroaches fuck. But this man is different. He is peaceful and removed from the grime of his circumstances. He does not laugh at crass jokes about women, but he does not cause a scene either, simply bowing his head and stepping away to seek another conversation, another glass of alcohol that he ends up leaving unfinished on a dressed table.

“You haven’t finished your last,” Jungkook says with a small smile, eyeing the last glass of bubbling fluid the man had left on the table ten minutes ago.

“Ah.” The man laughs and rubs the back of his neck. He’s not as nervous as he should be. It’s like he’s faking it. LIke he’s naturally confident, but wants to seem submissive and easy. Jungkook breathes in and out. Feels the conditioned air dry his throat. Maybe he’s overthinking things. Projecting. The man continues, “I, uh, I forgot about that.”

“Mm-hm.” Jungkook gives him a special smile, one of those smiles that say: this is only for you. But he grabs the man another glass of champagne because that’s his job. Toeing the line between professional and unprofessional. Give him 12 hours, maybe 6, and he could have this man naked, panting, swearing, professionalism be damned. Give Jungkook 24 hours and he could have this man fucked for a whole new reason. Maybe. Some people keep valuables easily accessible on their bedside table but some people lock them away, cheap fucks they are.

That’s all Jungkook thinks about: How easily could I steal from this person? How easily can I fuck you over? Sometimes, on the nights he drinks too much or thinks a little too deeply, it gets to him. His mannerisms, his shallowness. Sometimes, when his shift ends early, when he’s tuckered out and drained, he glances at Jimin and sees what they do in a different light. It’s disgusting. Usually he can sleep it off. You’ve gotta do what you gotta do. Lie, cheat, steal. Life is a game and money is the prize. There are no rules, not really.

As Jungkook brings a fresh glass of champagne to this man, his beautiful face, the relieved smile on his full lips, the way he brushes a strand of hair off his forehead as he accepts the glass flute in his fingertips, a delicate shake to his body, Jungkook feels guily for the first time. He thinks about how this will go. First, a statement—you are beautiful. Second, a lie—I’ve never felt this way about another man. Finally, an admission—You feel so good inside.

There’s always more after that, the part Jungkook does in the silence of the room after pretending to fall asleep, where he snatches what he saw in the room when the lights were still on. The things he noted down. He keeps it respectful. He erases from his mind the signs of misery, depression, or genuine existence, whether it be a month's worth of dirty clothes piled in a corner or a letter from a loved one pinned to the fridge. Jungkook never sees the person behind his crimes, and maybe that’s why he’s so good at what he does.

He is transparent. He is invisible and sees nothing.

[by-tea]

claws

author note: i saw these and thought of changkyun immediately. 

summary: changkyun gets his nails done. 

pairing: changkyun x gn! reader

word count: 723

Changkyun had to admit that painting his nails black was only a little impulsive. He just didn’t want to see the gunk that found its way under his nails. It became something kind of practical and soothing after a while. And although black had always been his go to colour, his interest in expanding his colour palate was piqued when he saw your little home salon set up.

Changkyun had been endlessly curious about your salon set up the moment he saw it. He had known you worked from home as a beautician of some kind, but the details hadn’t been addressed yet. He guessed they would be addressed now. He left you in the living room mid-way through the movie because he needed to use the bathroom, but stumbled into the home salon instead. With his curiosity piqued, Changkyun scanned over the room taking in the décor and the actual set up of the room. He walked further in, running his hand along the neatly tucked sheets on the foldout bed, while admiring the products you displayed on your shelf.

He was looking through the colour samples when the door creaked and you stood leaning against the door frame. Fond smile and resigned shoulders. It was as if you knew he wouldn’t be able to resist. You asked him jokingly, “are we finishing the movie tonight or do you want your nails done?”

His eye brows creased for a second. “Would you?”

“Do your nails?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Societal norms and expectations?”

“I’m honestly a little more afraid of your company and stylist’s opinions.”

“I’m cute enough to get away with it for a while.”

You snicker. Of course he was. Changkyun probably got away with a lot more than he’d consciously know of. “Are you sure though?” You definitely weren’t kidding about his management’s opinions though.

“Yeah, it’s fine. We aren’t promoting at the moment. They can’t dictate what I do during my break.”

You stand by your desk and pull out some nail tools from the steriliser, gesturing for him to sit on the chair across from you. His palms rest on the small foam roller as you inspect his hands. Soft. Much softer than you realised. His cuticles needed some cleaning, his nails were bare, but had a healthy sheen. You tapped and squeezed the ends and were rewarded with newfound flexibility and a satisfying tap. Changkyun’s nails were doing much better compared to the last time you had checked them.

“Did you use the oil pen I gave you?”

“Yeah. Twice a day like you said.”

You hummed in satisfaction, considering how soft his palms were. He definitely stole your favourite hand cream as well. You could forgive the slight though. His hands were just so soft. You hadn’t realised you were so excited until Changkyun poked your cheek, eyes questioning your sudden mood change.

“What’s that look for? Are you really that excited?”

“Yeah. I’ve got a few ideas I wanna try out.”

“You’re cute. Have fun, go nuts.”

You grinned at his permission and started. It definitely wasn’t the way you had expected to spend your Saturday afternoon, but the end result was definitely worth it. A majority of the time you had spent on the individual nail designs, with the cute smiley faces and sparkling stars being your favourites. Changkyun on the other hand, was a little mesmerised by the cute warped black and white checkerboard on his thumbs. He kept staring until you gently positioned his hands for a picture, fingers curled towards his palms. You had to post this on your account. The simple colour palate and pop punk designs would add more variety to your Instagram posts.

Changkyun continued to admire his nails even as you switched off half the room lights, and the smiley faces lit up. The neon yellow and orange are a stark contrast to the black nail polish. A childlike glee took over as he excitedly yelled about the UV sensitive nail polish. You barely managed a decent photo and video, before Changkyun had pulled his hands from yours to cup your cheeks as he dotted delighted kisses all over your face. He pulled away to quickly peck your lips, grin intact.

“Babe. This is so fucking cool.”

You felt your cheeks burn. Yeah. Definitely worth it.

#monsta x drabbles #im changkyun x reader #i.m x reader #changkyun x reader #monsta x x reader #monsta x fluff #monsta x fanfic #monsta x fic #mx fanfic #mx fluff #mx drabbles #kpop fanfic #fanfic #my wriiting #tea writes #popz

[kittysdiary]

Best advice for being assertive and feminine,in an academic space?

Set clear boundaries and goals! Know what you will tolerate and what you won’t tolerate. Don’t be afraid to speak up and use your voice in situations that don’t serve you well in an academic space. This goes for classmates and teachers that may treat you with disrespect.

Focus on yourself and getting your education. Relationships and friendships will come later once you are established and have a good routine.

Speaking of routines. Build one! Get a planner, stay organized and set up study sessions.

Take good care of yourself. Focus on your mental state and physical state. Don’t be afraid to rest when needed! Workout, eat well, sleep, take care of your skin, hair and nails. You’ll be amazed at how much you can accomplish when you feel good.

Dress for success! Keep your clothes clean and neatly pressed. Whatever you chose to study in school dress how you would if you were in a career of your choice. You can still be cute and comfy while on campus!

Stay motivated and disciplined. Remember why you’re here and where you want to be when you’re finally finished with your studies. Set up study sessions with others and don’t be shy to ask your teachers for help.

Have hobbies outside of school. Go on walks, paint, join a club, learn a new language or how to play an instrument.

Expand yourself and network. It’s never too early to build a profile on LinkedIn if you have a profession in mind! Get some internships and see how you like certain career paths!

Invest in your studies. Stationary, tutors and technology can help you stay focused on your academic goals.

Stay safe and have fun. This especially goes for my college/university followers! Buy yourself some protection and take self protection courses!

#tips #my post

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Christmas Reruns 2023 Day 20: The Twelve Sweaters of Christmas

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t!  One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia.  A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns.  So here you go!  Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Rating: G

Word Count: 1986

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

Note:  This story was written for my “Christmas with Captain Swan” collection in 2020.

Note #2: *facepalm* Somehow when I originally posted this yesterday, I accidentally repeated the text of "The Gingerbread Castle", which was the rerun for day 19. As a result, I have decided to reblog this one, so you get the ACTUAL "Twelve Sweaters of Christmas"

CS Genre: AU

Killian Jones neatly folded what felt like the one-hundredth sweater today, and stacked it on top of the pile.  He prided himself on running a clean, neat, ship-shape establishment, and he hated when his clothing went askew.

Of course, given the fact that it was twelve days before Christmas, keeping things neat and tidy was a constant battle.

Killian never would have believed he’d find himself here.  He’d had a promising career in front of him.  He’d joined the Navy fresh out of high school, determined to follow in his older brother Liam’s footsteps.  Liam had been his hero, he’d been brother and father and best friend to him after their mother died and their father abandoned them.  

If only he hadn’t had to be a hero to everyone else.  When Killian was seventeen, Liam had perished at sea after a terrible storm.  He’d sacrificed his own life, saving seven of his crewmates before finally succumbing to the ocean’s fury.

After several months of aching grief, Killian had decided to live a life to make his brother proud.  He’d decided to go into the Navy himself.  He’d been a natural, taking to the water like a merman, never more content, never feeling closer to Liam than when he was out on the water.  Things were looking up.

Unfortunately, tragedies rarely come on their own.  When it rains it pours, and all that.  Two years into his naval career, Killian got into a catastrophic automobile accident.  Not only had he lost his love, his Milah, he’d also lost his hand.

And so he’d found himself alone, his promising career down the drain and with no idea what he was to do with his life.

Killian took a deep breath as he picked up yet another sweater to fold.  Such dark thoughts had no place on this beautiful, snowy day, less than a fortnight before Christmas.  Suffice it to say, after spiralling for a time, Killian had picked himself up and started on a new venture:

Revenge

He’d come across the clothing store quite by accident.  He’d been passing through the small, sea-side village of Storybrooke, Maine one day, and just happened to step into the store.  It was intriguing; had something of an edgy, pirate theme to it.  It was run by an eccentric man named Edward Teach, who went by the moniker “Blackbeard”, no doubt due to the bushy mass of facial hair he sported.

Something about the store spoke to him, excited him in a way nothing had in months.  Perhaps he could run an establishment such as this, combine a theme he was passionate about with goods people needed, and voila!  The perfect business venture.

He hadn’t been in the store ten minutes before he’d made a promise to himself: Revenge is going to be mine.

It almost felt like fate the way everything worked out after that.  As it happened, “Blackbeard” was looking to retire.  Within a month, Killian had used the last of his inheritance from Liam to purchase Revenge and make it his own.

Nearly ten years later it was still going strong.  He’d even managed to expand, turn it from something thoroughly niche into something more mainstream--while still maintaining it’s edge and it’s roots.

Revenge was Killian’s baby, and he was incredibly proud of it, and never more so than at Christmas.  He prided himself on having everything the discerning Storybrooke customer could want for their holiday clothing needs.

The bell over the door sounded, and Killian looked up to see an angel with soft waves of sun-gold hair, tight jeans and a red leather jacket walking purposely toward him.

More like stomping toward him.  The way her green eyes glittered dangerously as she approached proved that she was quite the angry angel.

She was utterly magnificent.

“Lost a bet,” she said curtly.  “Point me in the direction of your ugliest Christmas sweaters.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Emma Swan should have known better than to make a bet against Ruby, particularly about something outrageous, and if there was anything Ruby’s clothing choice today was, it was outrageous.

Emma liked Christmas--within reason.  Who didn’t like time off and peace on earth and all the holiday goodies you could eat?

But there was nothing reasonable about the sweater Ruby had chosen to wear for her shift at the diner this morning.

Emma groaned as her roommate sashayed out of her bedroom into the shared living room of their apartment..

“Ruby, it’s too early for this,” she groused.  “You look like Christmas threw all over you.”

Ruby poured herself a mug of coffee, and then sat opposite Emma on the couch.  “Hey don’t knock it.  Everybody loves a good ugly Christmas sweater.”

“More like loves to hate it,” Emma muttered.

A sudden gleam came into Ruby’s eye.  That really should have been Emma’s first clue to turn and run.  Nothing good ever came of Ruby looking at her like that.

“Wanna make a friendly wager on that?” Ruby asked.

“A wager on how many people will hate your clothing choices?”

Ruby rolled her eyes.  “The opposite.  I bet you I get more compliments today wearing this sweater than I’d get on any other day.”

“How would we even quantify that?” Emma asked.  “You usually keep count of the compliments you get?”

“Fine,” Ruby conceded.  “How about this: Come into Granny’s on your lunch break and sit in my section.  I bet you I get a genuine compliment on my sweater during your meal--totally unprompted too.”

Emma considered it.  “What are the stakes?”

Ruby thought for a minute and then smiled.  It was not a reassuring sight.  “You win, and I clean the apartment for a month.  But if I win….if I win, you have to wear an ‘ugly’ Christmas sweater every day until Christmas.”

Emma didn’t even take a moment to consider it.  Getting out of cleaning for an entire month?  So worth this bet, and it wasn’t like she was going to lose anyway.

“You’re on.”

Later that day when Emma and her partner, Sheriff Graham Humbert, stopped by the diner for lunch, they hadn’t been seated for five minutes before Emma realized she’d made a profound mistake.

“Hey guys!” Ruby smiled at them as she reached their table and pulled out her pencil and pad of paper.  “How’s your day going?  It’s been crazy around here this morning!”

“Pretty quiet at the sheriff’s station,” Graham said, smiling as he looked her over.  “That’s quite a sweater you’re wearing today, Ruby.  Very festive; I like it!”

Emma groaned as Ruby shot her a triumphant look.  Rookie mistake.  She should have known better than to bring Graham with her to lunch.  It was obvious to anyone with eyes that Graham had been more than half in love with Ruby for years.  She should have brought someone like Leroy to lunch.  She doubted that man had ever complimented anyone in his life.

But Emma was a woman of her word.  She’d lost the bet fair and square, and pay up she would.

Which is why she currently found herself talking to the owner and proprietor of Revenge.  

“Lost a bet,” she said curtly.  “Point me in the direction of your ugliest Christmas sweaters.”

The man behind the desk--Killian, his name tag said--grinned at her.  “Love, I’d wager the term ugly could never be applied to you no matter what you wear or don’t wear.”

Emma rolled her eyes.  The guy was hot, she’d give him that--with his artfully messy black hair, piercing blue eyes and reddish scruff.  And all the leather.  It really should be illegal for a man to wear that much leather and to wear it so well.  Still, Emma was in no mood for being hit on--handsome man or no.

“You’re hilarious,” she said dead pan.  “Now about those sweaters…”

He grinned again and then winked.  Actually winked.  “Hilarious?” he asked, stepping around the corner and gesturing for her to follow him.  “I prefer dashing rapscallion, scoundrel.”

Her stomach did not swoop at the way he almost growled that last word.  It didn’t!  

The fact that she was totally lying to herself annoyed her more than every aspect of this ridiculous bet.  “How about you be ‘shop owner who does his job and points the customer in the right direction’?  Think you could manage that?”

The rest of Emma’s shopping experience went without a hitch.  She grabbed the plainest Christmas sweater she could find--a simple powder blue v-neck covered tastefully with snowflakes. 

Maybe Ruby would take pity on her and call her bet paid off if she wore this thing.

Probably not, but one never knew.  It was the season of miracles, after all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning, Killian opened the store as usual, taking a moment to be sure everything was ship-shape before unlocking the doors and turning the sign in the window to read “open”.  He glanced over at his “ugly Christmas sweater” display and smiled wistfully to himself.

He’d spent a fair amount of the evening thinking about her, Emma Swan, her credit card had proclaimed.  She was beautiful, aye, but there was more to it than that.  Though their interaction had scarcely lasted a quarter of an hour, though their conversation had been relegated to Christmas sweaters and the bet that had forced her to purchase one, he had the strangest sense that they were the same deep down, that they were kindred souls.

He was utterly captivated by her.

Killian sighed as he turned on the cash register and checked his supply of cash in preparation for what would likely be another busy day.    It was the first time he’d had any meaningful glimmer of interest in a woman since Milah’s death, and he was surprised at how nervous it had made him to interact with her.  For probably the thousandth time since yesterday afternoon he mentally kicked himself for not getting her number. 

A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets.  Liam had told him that five hundred times if he’d told him once.  

Well, there was no sense dwelling on it now.  Emma Swan had walked out of his life when she walked out of his store, and there was no changing that.

Or so he thought.

Not a quarter of an hour after opening his doors, who should arrive, charging forth in all her wrathful glory than the lovely Miss Swan herself?

Killian grinned at her teasingly.  “Back again, love?  Couldn’t resist my dashing self, is it?”

She rolled her eyes.  “You wish.”

He did.  He really, really did.

“Well, Swan, what can I help you with this lovely morning?” he asked.

She looked surprised.  “You remember my name?”

Killian chuckled and scratched behind his ear.  “I never forget a face, and yours, love, is exceptionally beautiful.”

“Not your love,” she said, but Killian took note of the way her cheeks reddened at the simple endearment.  “Anyway, I’m not here to flirt.  I’m here for another sweater.”

“Another Christmas sweater?”

“Yeah,” she said with a sigh.  “Apparently that blue one with the snowflakes I bought yesterday won’t fulfill my bet.  Ruby told me it barely even fit the category.  Got anything uglier for me?”

“You, darling are in luck,” Killian said.  “Revenge just so happens to stock some of the ugliest ugly Christmas sweaters in the state.”

Today, after a fair bit more banter and pleasant small talk, she’d decided on a red, woolen zip-up cardigan.  Featured prominently on the sweater were several applique snowmen playing musical instruments.  It was...it was quite something.

“This is actually kind of perfect,” Emma said, trying it on and looking herself up and down in the floor length mirrored column next to the sweater display.  “Definitely fits the category, plus it’s a cardigan.  I can take it off after I’ve shown Ruby I actually wore it.  I’ll just say I’m too hot or something.”

He grinned teasingly at her and wiggled his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner.  “You certainly are, love.”

She laughed at that before removing the sweater and setting it on the counter to be rung up.  “Do those exaggerated lines actually work on anyone?”

“You’d be surprised,” he answered.  “At any rate, they seem to have served their purpose today.  You seem to be leaving my establishment in better spirits than you entered it.”

She smiled.  “I guess I am.  Thanks, Killian.”

He inclined his head.  “A lady in distress needs my assistance, and her wish is my command.”

She laughed again.  “Alright, well I have to get to work.”

He rang her up and wished her a good day.  Just before she stepped out the door, he called out to her again.  She turned toward him.

“Any chance I might see you again?” he asked, feeling like a tongue-tied young lad with the lass he fancied.

“With Ruby being the way she is,” Emma said, “probably a really good chance I’ll be back.”

And so she had.  She returned the next day, settling on a sweater bearing the visage of The Grinch, the day after, choosing one that depicted all twelve gifts from the famous song, the one after that in her own, colorful words, looked like Christmas exploded in woolen form.

Each day their conversations lasted longer, and each day he fell a little bit more for the lovely Miss Swan.  He came to look forward to her visits every day with eager anticipation, mentally thanking whatever brilliant soul invented the “ugly  Christmas sweater”.

On the fifth day, Killian managed to unearth a gem of such glittering ugliness and ostentation, he felt the need to pat himself on the back.

“Yep, that’s certainly a disaster,” Emma said grinning at the garment covered in a large Christmas tree, filled with ornaments and a banner along the bottom that read MERRY CHRISTMAS! In huge letters.

“Oh, but love, you haven’t even seen the best part,” Killian announced.  “This particular sweater comes with a battery pack.”

She shot him a disbelieving look.  “I’m almost afraid to ask, but what exactly does the battery pack do.”

Instead of answering, he turned the device on.  LED lights flashed in every tiny ornament on the sweater, and the MERRY CHRISTMAS! nearly had a strobe light effect.

Emma groaned before dissolving into laughter.  “This is it.  This is the ugly Christmas sweater of all ugly Christmas sweaters.  If this doesn’t satisfy Ruby, I admit defeat.”

Killian watched her go that day with more than a little melancholy.  What if that was the sweater that would do the trick?  What if she didn’t return again?

He needn’t have worried.  Emma Swan showed up at his door bright and early the next morning.

His heart leapt at the sight of her.  He’d fallen hard and fast for this woman, and he saw no likelihood that would change any time soon.

“What? Even the monstrosity with the flickering lights didn’t satisfy the demanding Miss Lucas?” Killian asked by way of greeting.

Emma laughed.  “Oh it did,” Emma assured.  “I think I actually managed to render her speechless with that one.  It’s just...well my bet was for a different sweater every day until Christmas, and I’m a woman of my word.”

And for that he was profoundly grateful.

So it continued.  Each day she came in, each day she bought a sweater, and each day he fell a little bit more in love with her.

When Christmas Eve arrived, Killian noticed a change in Emma’s demeanor almost instantly.  She looked...uncomfortable.

“Is something the matter Love?” he asked, brow furrowed.

“No,” she said, drawing out the syllable, “It’s just..well...I’m here to ask you out.”

Killian choked on the sip of coffee he’d just injudiciously taken.  “Pardon?”

“Okay, first I have a little confession to make,” Emma said.  “Remember that ridiculous sweater with the battery pack around day five or six?”

“Aye,” he said carefully.

“Well, after I wore that, Ruby actually released me from my bet,” she said, looking bashful.  “She told me I’d fulfilled the spirit of it or something like that.”

Killian felt the smile creeping over his face.  “And yet you continued coming in and making your purchases every day.  Whatever for, darling?”

She tried to look stern.  “Look, don’t make a bigger deal of it than it is, but, I don’t know.  I kind of enjoyed our daily shopping sessions and conversations and all of that.”

His smile grew.  “You enjoy my company!”

“Don’t let it go to that over-inflated ego of yours.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, making a cross-my-heart motion over his chest.  “And for the record, I have greatly enjoyed our little...retail dalliances...quite a bit as well.  Now what was that about asking me out?”

She suddenly looked bashful again. “So the sheriff’s department is throwing this Christmas bash and ugly sweater contest tonight, and I was hoping maybe you’d...I mean, I know it’s Christmas Eve, and people want to spend it with family, and I totally get it if you’re not interested or it’s not your thing or whatever, and don’t feel obligated, but I just thought--”

Killian leaned across the counter and kissed her.  “Swan, I would like nothing better than to accompany you to your party.  Just tell me when and where.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ruby watched Emma walk into the diner hand in hand with Killian Jones later that evening.  She smiled broadly, reaching over to slap Graham’s arm as he sat beside her.

“Ow!” Graham groused.  “What was that for?”

“Look!” Ruby said.  “It worked!  I told you it would work!”

Graham obediently followed her directions and then grinned.  “I can’t believe you talked me into helping you rig that bet just to play matchmaker!”

“I told you!” she said again.  “Didn’t I tell you?  I knew Killian would be perfect for Emma.  She just needed a little push.”

“That she did,” Graham said with a laugh.  “Remind me to never doubt you again.”

They watched for a moment as Emma looped her arms around Killian’s neck and the two began swaying gently to the music that was playing.

Who would have known that an ugly Christmas sweater would lead to what was sure to become a romance for the ages?

NEXT CHAPTER->

#christmas reruns 2023 #cs fanfiction #captain swan christmas ff #my fanfiction #the twelve sweaters of christmas

[maridiayachtclub]

let's try documenting a big Satisfactory project!

so i have this facility called SPINE. it's a multi-function structure with a stupid (but cool) name. pics under the cut because they're big:

it's bad and it could stand to be renovated.

it was one of the first large facilities i built. it was conceived as a centrally located factory that would gather in resources from the surrounding area, use them to manufacture various fundamental parts like iron plates and screws and whatnot, and then funnel them outward to specialized factories. where possible, additional functions could be built within what felt at the time like a roomy interior, and the structure could be extended upward to make more factory space within.

in addition, it was built on legs, making space underneath for three purposes:

allowing tractors and other vehicles to pass through (at the time, i had an automated tractor running stuff back and forth between a few buildings, and anticipated having a fleet of little wheely friends going to and fro)

making space for ceiling-mounted conveyor belts that would not just move materials through the building but provide the means to deliver them up into the building's interior for processing

room for aminals to wander through :)

so, seeing as this was going to be the center of a general stream of many different products needed throughout my growing factory-city, it seemed analogous to a a spinal column. hence, SPINE, or rather, S.P.I.N.E. what do the letters stand for? i figured i'd think of an appropriate combination of words eventually, but i never did. the name nevertheless stuck

SPINE has been doing what i have asked of it for a while now. the inside chambers mostly look like this

anyway, as mentioned, this was made early on, and while i think the concept is sound, the implementation has ultimately proven insufficient. the space underneath ended up being too small for the variety of materials i require to move through, as well as all the necessary branches needed to move things back and forth between the transport space on the bottom and the factory spaces inside. here's what the underside looks like:

seriously it fuckin sucks down here bro

i can't just keep extending the conveyor lines further down from the ceiling; making enough space to move all these materials and move them up into the factory requires all sorts of stupid twisty turny conveyor belt tricks. the backside, where everything funnels in, is absolutely embarrassing. wizard-of-oz-man-behind-the-curtain bullshit. glasgow willy wonka experience-ass levels of fulfillment. slapdash mickey mouse duct tape effort. real "I didn't do my homework and now i gotta make up this presentation live in front of the class and they can see me sweating" energy embodied.

the horrid tangle running through SPINE is complicated by its output, set up so that it delivers things to my central storage barn. things need to leave the facility in a very specific way, like so:

this part, at least, works fine. this massive vein of conveyor belts is a bit ugly but it works very well. i put a lot of time into designing my central storage barn (there were spreadsheets involved) and it paid off. look at this shit, look at how neatly everything gets sorted into easily accessed bins

i love it. the power fantasy of living in an organized environment, realized here in digital form!

unfortunately the clean functionality of this building just draws into stark relief how bad SPINE is. even if I spruced up its exterior, fully finishing the walls and adding fripperies such as signage and doors and lights, its core functionality is insufficient for my needs. SPINE was conceptualized and built far in advance of my understanding of what i would actually need it to do and i can't stand it any longer! no more!

so, i'm planning to tear it all down and replace it with a bigger, better-organized SPINE. in addition to making it look nicer, it could actually be expandable without adding another strand into its already tangled guts. it would give me an opportunity to incorporate the functions of numerous smaller satellite facilities, cleaning up the surrounding landscape a bit and making room for other factories i know i will have to build in time. it would, potentially, allow me to incorporate a train station or two, so products could be picked up or delivered as needed... not something i need at this time, but even if i never do, having the capability of entertaining visiting trains is a worthy goal in itself.

anyway i haven't started on that yet. SPINE 2.0 is still in the planning stages, and i'm leaving on a trip in a day or so so i'm not gonna be able to start on this project in earnest for at least a week.

i might keep documenting the project here for funsies. i love Satisfactory; it's a perfect vehicle for one of my favorite things to do in a game: turning nothing into places. if you're in a video game and you see a bunch of hills and trees and rivers and piles of iron ore and other natural features, it doesn't really mean much on its own, but spend enough time there and you grow accustomed to it. you put together a mental map, figure out whatever routes you're going to be taking through it, learn how to navigate it quickly and efficiently, and soon that random bit of wilderness is a place. the rocks you have to navigate around and the rivers you have to jump over become familiar sights. and if it's a building kinda game, and you're populating this unsullied wilderness with the mortal profanity of civilization, that place is even more place-y than before. i very much like the places i have built in Satisfactory, so regardless of how this is received, it's fun to talk about it, get some of my internal thoughts on this project down in a format that can last. at least until tumblr shutters its doors and gets sold to some venture capitalist vultures in 2026

#satisfactory #spinny plays satisfactory

[itsuki-minamy]

"SIDE GOLD"

PROFILE: SOMEI NAZUMI

* List of Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Anno

Real name: Somei Nazumi

Terms of address: Boss, Nazumi, "Katashiya"

Origin: Uhijininokami, Suhichininokami ※God of the earth

[PROFILE]

Birthday: 28/01, Aquarius.

Blood type: O

Age: 27 years old (at the beginning of the main story)

[APPEARANCE]

Physique: 1.80 cm in height. Tall and thin. A loin that stretches as if it had a mandrel.

Face, hair: Beautiful eyebrows. Neatly groomed hair.

Attire: A blue uniform, a cap and a rain-covered cloak with the right half open.

Personal effects: Personalized saber. Inscription "Shori". (Administration)

[HABITS, SKILLS]

· Regular step.

· Hides his line of sight in the brim of his cap.

· Analysis of situation and prediction of actions.

[IMPRESSION, OTHER NOTES]

· The image color is "blue".

· The order of a new era that comes from him.

[POSITION, OBJECTIVES]

Holder of the fourth sovereignty "Blue King". Director of the Anti-Singularity organization, the "Fourth Legal Affairs Bureau".

A former army major who worked in the General Staff Office, he is a skilled military bureaucrat nicknamed "Katashiya". After the war, he was assigned to the Ministry of Demobilization. Awakened as the "Blue King" after successfully wooing Chika. Soon after, he visited Daikaku Kokujoji and formed a cooperative relationship with him as a comrade in building a new system.

Since 1948, he has been in charge of general measures against criminals with special abilities as head of the newly established department within the Legal Affairs Agency, the "Fourth Legal Affairs Bureau".

He believes that building a "Slate" system, which he consults with Kokujoji, will open up the future of Japan, a defeated country, and strives to realize it. While supporting Kokujoji as a brain of wisdom in legal development and political strategy, he is also dedicated to expanding the power of the "Fourth Legal Affairs Bureau".

[PERSONALITY, CONDUCT]

The first person is "watashi".

Somei Chika is "Chika-san". Kokujoji Daikaku is "Kokujoji-kun". Polite and rude.

Calm, lucid and natural. He is unperturbed by all things. He likes explanations.

Because he is too biased in his words and actions, on the contrary, they are suspicious of his true intentions and is doubtful.

He has a bit of a lofty attitude towards others, but has no intention of being arrogant.

When he finds something messy, he sulks (Chika says that he seems like a "bit of a spoiled kid").

All of the above can easily be nullified by Chika's words and actions.

He likes to analyze, fix and put things in order, and he calls this job "tidying up".

Although he is a theoretician, he is not conceited and prefers to implement and practice theories in the real world.

Due to his estrangement, his personal connections are not as widespread, but the few connections he does have are extremely strong.

The terms kings and vassals are only considered convenient names in the system and are not taken literally.

During work, including Chika, he draws a line with his subordinates and treats them like a boss.

[ABILITIES, TACTICS]

He has the power to spread blue crystals to clear paranormal phenomena and restore tranquility. As an application, it is also possible to "settle" a person who has lost the balance of power. He clearly recognizes and is aware of the power of the "King", and uses it with considerable precision.

He uses a calm fighting style that combines sophisticated swordsmanship and the power of the "King".

[POWER]

A (Class "King".)

[LIKES]

Chika. Something that has been cut.

All meals made by Chika. Drive a car.

[DISLIKE]

Something that cannot be separated. Undivided.

A human being coming out of chaos.

[HOBBIES]

Clean and order.

Makeover and his imagination. Drive.

[CLAN]

The "Fourth Legal Affairs Bureau".

A powerful newly created organization within the Legal Affairs Agency that "is in charge of the management of peculiar phenomena that are not within the scope of the current law and headlines". Responsible for general measures against criminals with special powers that proliferate in the public, he is also entrusted with executive powers that are outside the scope of his functions. The director is Somei Nazumi. The vice-director is Somei Chika. Currently, they are in the process of recruiting staff, and the total number of employees is less than 30, including office staff.

Currently, their individual fighting power is high, but their group action ability is low. They reside in the annex of the former State Guest House, commonly known as "Seieisha".

All members are vassals of the "Blue King" and use sabers as weapons, a symbol of executive authority (they are free to use it). Because they wear a blue uniform, they are commonly referred to as "blue clothes".

#k #k project #k side gold #somei nazumi

[eihyndaye]

The Aussie Nightcreeper

NIGHT ONE

The buzzing of Bush Crickets carried on into midnight hours in (rural town), Australia. Hidden in the dark, their cumulative songs carried throughout the dusty plains and engulfed the lone house at the end of a gravel road. The only source of light in the area beamed through the chipped windows.

 Alicia stood in front of her easel in paint splattered overalls with a mug of steaming hot Milo by her side and half unpacked boxes lining the four walls of her living room. Guitar riffs from a local Australian punk rock band blared through her stereo and helped guide the brush.

Feelings of being energized, relaxed, relieved, and optimistic overwhelmed her at once and flowed into her newest painting – the first of a series she had planned for this next chapter of her life. Her flow state, a state of mind in which all time vanishes, had itself been absent for nearly 6 months. Survival instincts reigned in its place. Tonight was the first time she felt like she was back to being her true self.

A quick glance at her phone revealed that it was approaching one in the morning. Hours had vanished as a vibrant lioness appeared on the canvas. A sigh escaped her, and the corners of her lips turned slightly up. She was satisfied for the night.

Grasping her art supplies and empty mug, she made her way around the corner and into the kitchen to begin cleaning up. The left-over paint washed out of the brushes and spiraled down the drain, swirling the blues and purples together until disappearing into nothingness.

The punk rock playlist she had been listening to for hours came to a deafening end. “Good timing” she thought as she rinsed the last brush and clinking it into a cup to dry. A creaking from the outside the kitchen window above the sink followed immediately after, snapping her out of her mind and back into the moment.

She flicked on the outside light to half peer out the window and intently listened. It was dead silent. Even the Bush Crickets had gone to bed for the night. After scanning the illuminated wooden porch and into the blackness outside, the assumption of it being nothing more than an old house seemed to be the most reasonable explanation. She turned off the light and retired to bed, excited to pick up where she left off the next night.

NIGHT TWO

     A setting sun created a multitude of orange hues in the sky that Alecia felt inspired by. A light breeze blew past her as she closed her eyes to breathe it in. Expanding her lungs fully and holding it in, she felt gratitude to be out of Darwin. As simple as that, she was ready to finish off her day with painting. Feeling inspired by the sky, her porch seemed like the perfect place to set up.

She collected the mug from the previous was sitting in the sink. “Why dirty another dish?” she thought as she gave it another quick rinse and prepared another hot Milo.

Making her made her way into the more put together living space, she collected her supplies but stopped to admire the work she had completed during the day. Previous paintings she had done had hung on the walls, a bookshelf of various ocean life books was neatly pressed in the corner, and string lights traced the edges of the ceiling. This small house was beginning to feel like a home.

The buzzing Bush Crickets filled the space between her and the vibrant sky. Its oranges had now been accompanied by pinks. Instead of continuing with her series from the night before, she wanted to paint the landscape from her porch. Then time melted away.

Halfway through her painting now and intently focused on getting the scattered vegetation just right, a rustling in the distance caught her attention. She peered beyond her easel to wild shrubs, looking intently through the darkening area.

They were still. She thought to herself that it’s nothing more than some wildlife that she isn’t used to and started carrying on with her painting. Trying to get back into her state of mind, she had noticed that it was eerily quiet. The gentle breeze from not that long ago had stopped, and so did the buzzing that filled the air. She tried thinking back to a time where it was this silent but couldn’t recall any.

Goosebumps ran down her spine as she raised her mug up to her lips. The feeling of being watched suddenly overtook her. She glanced past her painting again and noticed a pair of glowing white eyes at the top of the shrub.

Caught off guard and gasping while drinking, she began to cough uncontrollably as it ran down the wrong pipe. Wiping her mouth and the tears that formed in her eyes she quickly turned her attention back to the shrub. The eyes that had been there before were no longer there.

After a short time, the assumption that it must have been a wild dingo seemed like the most reasonable thing. She took a deep breath and refocused on her painting that was now spattered with bits of drink she had coughed up. “Fuck me dead!” she expelled.

     A disappointing sigh escaped her. Shaking her head in disapproval, she carried her supplies inside to retire for the night.

NIGHT THREE

      Water boiled and danced with Alecia in the kitchen. She twirled with a glass of red wine in her hand between cooking her favorite shrimp pasta. Uplifting music filled every corner of the house and her soul.

     It was especially late for dinner, but after her fourth glass wine nothing sounded better. She hazily served herself up a portion and finished the last bit of wine in her glass.

     “I shouldn’t get another, but why not” she thought to herself. Stumbling and giggling, she imagined the floorboards under her were really of a pirate ship traversing in rough seas. Falling into the way along the way into the living room, she lost her footing and gently lost her footing.

“I reeeaaaallllyy shouldn’t get another… but I’m already here” An angel and demon were arguing on her shoulders, but the latter was winning.

A smirk appeared on her face as she was digging through one of the last unpacked boxes, searching for that other bottle of wine. Finally, she found it and pulled it close to her face. The crimson color appealed more to her than the actual taste.

“Saw-vin-non!” she half-heartedly tried pronouncing in a poor French accent. The joints in her knees cracked as she stood.

She started returning to the kitchen when she faced the SCREEN DOOR. The wine slipped from her hands and shattered on the floor, but it may as well have been her jaw. Her vocal cords desperately wanted to scream, but not a sound escaped from her mouth. She tripped back, falling into the easel and hitting her head and causing her to go unconscious.

A tall dark figure with two glowing eyes watched intently on the other side of the glass.

NIGHT SEVEN

Days had passed when she came to, but it felt like weeks to Alecia. At times she faded in and out of consciousness but was locked in a state of paralysis. Even at the most alert times, her mind spun and everything she perceived slowed and twisted in her bloodshot eyes.

A cloaked figure peered at her with those vibrant white eyes behind the corner. The moonlight barely touched his porcelain skin. The shine from those eyes were the last thing she saw as she faded back into blackness.

Chills ran over her body with prickly goose bumps closely following. At one point something wet and spongy dragged up her face, accompanied by a warm iron stench. A low growl whispered in her ear “my queen”.

Brrriiing… brrriiing… brrriiing…

Her eyes widely shot open as she instantly sat upright with a loud gasp. “What’s happening?” she thought. Her gaze darted around her bedroom.

Brrriiing… brrriiing…

She patted around her bed searching for her phone. Quickly tapping under the sheets and pillows with no luck.

Brrriiing…

Her head creaked sideways. “Kitchen” she whispered. Gliding her way through the house, she managed to snatch it up off the counter just in time to answer it before seeing who it was calling.

“Hello?” Her voice was dry and cracked.

“Grammy!” screeched through the phone. It was so loud she thought it was on speaker.

“H-hey there, kiddo.” She spoke up through her hoarse voice as loud as she could.

“Where have you been?” The high-pitched voice shrieked through her phone. “We’ve been trying to get ahold of you so we can visit!” She was half paying attention, half wondering why it was so bright outside. The rays piercing through the kitchen window felt like acid on her skin and soap in her eyes.

Moving out of the way of the light and holding the phone away from her face she replied “Oh… I’ve just been busy”. She crept out of the kitchen and noticed the broken glass of wine and dark crimson everywhere. She tried recollecting but in the moment it was too much. Tiptoeing over the shattered glass and puddle of wine, she continued “Getting everything set up and ready takes time”

“Okay, but when can we come see you?” the overly excited voice turned to two. She cringed with how loud everything was.

“S-s-sooon… darlings. But grammy isn’t feeling well right now. Can I call back?” she gently said, hoping they’d understand to be quieter.

“Sure! But whe-“ she hung up and retreated back into her dark bedroom, burying her body and face under the blankets.

“I’m never drinking again” she thought

NIGHT NINE

A deafening silence flooded her ears awake. She felt incredibly well rested – more so than she had in years. With a deep breath inflating her lungs, she reached for her phone again.

0237 20/04/2023. She sighed and flicked it off. “Wait” she checked again. The 20th of April? She had only been here in her new home for a few days. “What…”

A light creak from outside caught triggered her head to snap to the door. She listened intently but didn’t hear anything else. Instead, she noticed how the room was dark, but a different kind of dark. One she could see through more easily. She sensed that something was off.

Creeping off the bed and seemingly to glide down the hall, she backtracked to her reflection in a large mirror that hung in the hall. Her eyes glowed white and her memory flashed back to her.

The eyes outside the screen door, being carried to bed, that iron stench… She gasped and held her hand up to her mouth. Now noticing the large splotch of crusted blood on her neck. She pulled the collar of her shirt down to reveal it more, exposing marks of teeth and bits of flesh missing.

Her heart started beating rapidly. Another creak caught her attention. This time instead of investigating she retreated to her bedroom, shutting the bedroom door as quietly as she could and pressing her ear up to it.

The screen door slowly dragged open and gentle taps of footsteps crept in shortly after. Her eyes darted around the room for an exit but there was none. She was trapped. The footsteps gently crept closer, causing her to back away from the door and dart behind her bed to hide.

She crouched down as the footsteps got closer and stopped at the door. The only thing she could hear was her heart seemingly beating out of her chest.

“I hear your heart, my queen.”

Her jaw dropped as the door creaked open slowly. The tall figure from her dreams, what she thought was just dreams, was on the other side of the door with glowing white eyes locking with hers.

#horror #thriller #vampire #shortstory #story #creative writing #australia

[hargrove]

➠ starter for @nodunkiing

·:*¨ ✘♚✘ ¨*:·.  It was a normal night for Billy. Night --- day -- morning --- he had no idea. He sat in the living room of the house on Cherry Lane. Only, it wasn't really the house on Cherry lane. The walls were covered with strange mold and vines. The windows were all boarded up, though hues of the scarlet sky outside seeped in through the cracks. The living room held an expanse of supplies that he'd been collecting over the last eight months, all organized and stacked neatly. Food, medical supplies, water, weapons, even some porn. As he cleaned out the barrel of a shotgun, he couldn't help but be amused by how normal this was now.

And that's when the shit hit the fan.

The room shook in a way that he hadn't felt since he lived in California. There were no earthquakes in Hawkins, though. After loading the shot gun, he slung it over his back and grabbed a couple of other weapons (a crowbar which slid easily into a makeshift holster at his thigh, a switchblade that he stuffed in his pocket, and an axe that he kept in his hands). Racing outside he saw the unimaginable --- which was saying something since living in the Upside Down definitely expanded his imagination.

In the distance towards the main drag of town, he could see the buildings crumbling and swaying. Needing answers, he jumped into a car that had looked abandoned in his neighbor's driveway, hot-wired it, and sped off towards the chaos. Usually driving a car would paint a target on his back, but he noticed that none of the creatures that plagued the nightmare realm seemed bothered by him. Their focus was all on the same thing his was.

The car skidded to a stop at the the edge of the disaster. The road had split down the middle, exposing a gap nearly a block wide. Grabbing his axe, he jumped out of the car and walked up to the edge of it. Rather than seeing deep into the earth, he found himself looking up at a town. Hawkins. The real Hawkins. His heart did a double skip and he looked around to see if this was really happening. Eight months of being stranded entirely alone, living day to day in full survival mode --- and here was his way out.

Crouching down, he lowered the axe down first. The reversed gravity grabbed it and pulled it to the street on the other side. With a chuckle of relief, he climbed down --- or up --- it was all very strange. Either way, he soon found himself laying on the side of the road looking up at normal clouds that obscured a very normal, starry night sky. What pulled his expression into one of shock wasn't the sky, though --- it was the brunette who leaned over him.

" --- Heather?"

#nodunkiing #v ✘ let loose from the noose : main