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todoscript · 4 years ago

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sweetest delight

SYNOPSIS: While Shouto’s out hunting down villains on Valentine’s Day, you try your hand at making some sweets to celebrate the occasion, and in doing so, find your efforts rewarded in more ways than one.

pairing: pro hero!todoroki shouto x fem!reader

genre: smut. fluff. pro hero au.

word count: 7.3k+

warnings: 18+. characters are aged up. dominant!shouto. apron kink. praising. oral (both receiving). face-sitting. 69. cum-eating.

author’s note: god, this is long overdue, but i finally got this thing out after all this time. and of course, it ended up getting out of hand again

“Fuck, fuck, fuck–”

A range of curses spewed from your mouth as the unpleasant smell of your burnt confections permeated the space of your kitchen, threatening to notify the fire alarm overhead of your latest baking mishap. Luckily, you entered the kitchen just in time to dissipate the smoke before it can do so, fanning your towel while navigating to the oven to find your crisp, blackened sweets already ruined inside. The corners of your lips slipped into a scowl at another failed batch of mini chocolate cupcakes at your hand. You slid on a pair of oven mitts to transfer the set off the rack and onto the kitchen counter.

A flicker of optimism in your head presented the thought that they didn’t seem that bad at first glance, going so far as to believe they might’ve tasted relatively fine and that the burnt parts simply added a bitter flavor that would balance the overall sweetness of the decadent chocolate cupcakes. But upon closer inspection, you knew you were lying to yourself.

Flipping the miniature cakes out of the molds, you discovered the sweets were encased in a dreary black outer shell, a sight which made you grimace, wondering how you screwed up so badly to have concocted such a dismal image. You definitely had no right feeding these to Shouto, let alone offer them to him as a Valentine’s Day gift.

As everyone knew, the fourteenth day of February marked Valentine’s Day, the day where couples expressed their love to one another by giving gifts, spending quality time through dates, and displaying many other forms of affection. This year, however, Shouto was called in at his agency to investigate a case of villains whose plan was to wreak havoc on this special occasion.

Now, any person would find it normal to be peeved over these circumstances—having their lover’s free time eaten up by work when they could be celebrating together with a nicely lit dinner or a casual, romantic night at home, and perhaps cap off a wonderful evening with a smooth transition into the bedroom. Much better than spending a day at home alone, pitifully watching couples intertwine their hands together in envy as they walked along the sidewalk beneath your apartment complex, right?

Well, you, on the other hand, were a different case. Rather than sulk around as you waited for Shouto to arrive home later, you decided this would be the perfect chance to whisk up some sweets to surprise him. After all, what’s Valentine’s Day without some chocolate delights on the side, made with vanilla, sugar, cocoa butter, and lots of love and effort. A perfect way to welcome Shouto home from his mission while honoring the festivities, you’d say.

Besides, you understood the situation well enough to recognize that the citizens’ well-being came first before any date of yours. Your boyfriend was a hero, after all, and a Pro at that. It’s not as if you and Shouto hadn’t celebrated Valentine’s Day together before. So long as he came home—intact—prior to the clock ticking to midnight, one day didn’t bother you.

Though… after witnessing the aftermath of several failed attempts at baking thus far, you started to wonder if it would’ve done you better not to get so involved, only to waste resources and pervade your kitchen with an acrid smell.

Still, despite the trials and tribulations, you were determined to come out on top. You tapped your index finger repeatedly against the surface of the marbled counter. “Did I mix up the baking times? Maybe I undermined the portion sizes so the cupcakes started cooking faster?” you speculated out loud, wondering how to troubleshoot the minor errors to come out successful in your next attempt.

After some thought, you decided not to dawdle on your overthinking for too long and shrugged off the idea of redoing another batch of cupcakes. “It’s fine, I’ll just move onto the chocolates then. They’re the star of Valentine’s Day so better to focus on those,” you told yourself. A grin found its way on your face as you rolled the sleeves of your blouse up your forearms. “Alright, let’s get to it then!”

You retrieved a recipe sheet from across the counter, scanning through the contents while overlooking the ingredients lying in front of you. Compared to baking cupcakes, chocolates should be easier to tackle since you weren’t entirely making them from scratch. All you had to do is temper the chocolate melts in a bowl over a heat source, pour them into silicone molds, and refrigerate until hardened and shaped to the perfect, bite-sized delight. Seemed simple enough.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t quite as simple as you thought.

Or rather, you chose to make the whole process more complicated than it needed to be, not realizing the ambitious turn your take on these chocolates was moving toward until you drove yourself into another mess.

Your first trial of bonbons was sprawled out over parchment paper, waiting for your verdict. Eyes roaming the array of sweets tentatively, you absorbed the mixture of pink and white hues with an unsure look on your face. Somehow during the process, you opted to forgo the customary milk chocolates for white and strawberry, which was the closest you could get to matching Shouto’s signature hair colors.

You’d thought it’d be cute for the treats to have a slight resemblance to him as a simple yet sweet reminder that he was on your mind throughout your progress. But staring down at the final product, you wished you guessed ahead of time that the vision you sparked in your head was not going to be as bright and pretty in comparison to what came out.

You frowned at the batch with narrowed brows before begrudgingly scooping a piece and tossing it into your mouth. The sweetness of the strawberry and white chocolates coexisted together to form a smooth texture that left behind a creamy, floral undertone on your tongue. What was incredibly lacking, however, laid in the looks department. The visuals left… more to be desired, to say the least.

With the idea of wanting to use two different flavors of chocolate, you also played on the notion of incorporating a theme. That theme being half-and-half. And half-and-half being splitting the colors on the chocolates right down the middle.

Though not a complicated plan for an adept baker, it was the exact opposite for a newbie like you who had came up with the idea on the spot. With your chocolates appearing in odd shapes and sizes, not one seemed to resemble another, which was the result of both your lack of patience and miscalculations. You had to allow one of the flavors to harden in the mold before adding the other to not prematurely mix the colors, but judging by the swirls of pink and white surrounding the chocolates, that didn’t seem to go so well. Add on to the fact you had some trouble inverting them out of the silicon molds—the edges of the chocolates ending up smooshed or torn off entirely—and you were left with another failed attempt at a Valentine’s present.

“Guess making sweets isn’t really my thing, huh?” You sighed, body slumping forward against the kitchen counter in defeat. Your eyes wandered from your sad chocolates to the hefty amount of dirty dishes piled in the sink. All this, and you weren’t able to make anything worth giving to Shouto. What exactly were you going to tell him when he came home, bearing witness to this entire mess? No, Shouto was probably under enough stress and fatigue as it was after working all day. Plus, his anticipation for a gift would only be amplified if he saw the number of baking supplies you’ve wasted today. At this point, you had to turn in the towel.

“Oh well… I better clean everything up before Sho comes home and start on din–”

Your words were interrupted by the sharp sound of the front door opening.

“I’m home!” an all too familiar voice announced, one that you were more than aware belonged to a particular fire and ice hero.

Surprised, you glanced over at the clock to check the time, which read a bold 6:00 PM—sooner than you expected your boyfriend to arrive home from his duties that day. So soon, in fact, that you weren’t able to even begin erasing any of the evidence littered around the kitchen.

“Y/n?” you heard him call. Freezing in place, you picked up Shouto breathing in a quick whiff. “What’s that smell?” he asked but didn’t wait for a response, traveling through the enormous apartment to find that answer for himself. Hearing his feet shuffling across the hardwood floor, you moved quickly.

“The kitchen smells sweet but also... bitter.”

Sweet and bitter..? you repeated but soon realized what he meant—those damn burnt chocolate cupcakes you left out. While in your rush with making the chocolates, you had forgotten to dispose of them beforehand. Though the bitter smell was not as prominent as when the cupcakes first came out of the oven, it still didn’t evade Shouto’s keen senses.

After shoving the burnt mini cupcakes in a trash bin, you scrambled to the entrance to the kitchen, thankfully cutting Shouto’s path off just in time as you met him there. “Oh hey, Sho, why didn't expect you to come home so early!” you greeted, a cheerful lilt in your tone as you leaned an arm on the side of the doorway, hoping to come off ordinarily chill to avoid any questioning looks. It seemed you achieved that much at least by how Shouto smiled warmly at your appearance.

“You should’ve shot me a quick text or something.”

“Sorry, we managed to track down the group of villains right away and finished the mission smoothly without any casualties,” he explained. “I guess I was in such a hurry to come home and celebrate Valentine’s Day with you that I must’ve forgotten.” The soft look on Shouto’s handsome features had you in a daze for a second; you nearly missed him descending his head to your level so his lips could find yours. Eventually, you broke from your stupor and swiftly turned your head so he planted a peck on your cheek instead.

You were never one to purposely avoid a kiss on the lips like that from him—far from it actually—but you didn’t want him to find any residual sweetness on your lips from the confections you taste-tested that day and have him bring up if you made anything for him. One thing you surely couldn’t avoid, however, was his puzzled face at your uncharacteristic actions. Still, Shouto wasn’t one to overthink the details. Instead, he decided to look at the bigger picture, such as the dirty yet cute, pink and brown frilly apron tied around your body.

“Your apron’s a mess,” he chuckled lightly. The comment caught you off-guard, eyes slowly traveling down to the flour and chocolate stains on your Valentine’s-themed apron. “Have you been cooking?” he asked. You fumbled with your answer.

“O-Oh yeah..! In fact, I’m… still cooking, actually!” you quickly added, making up for your lack of words. “C’mon, it’s probably been a long day for you. You should go freshen up in the shower while I get everything done and cleaned!” You tried shoo-ing Shouto from the kitchen’s vicinity, but he didn’t budge.

“I can help out if you like. I wouldn’t want you to fix everything up by yourself, especially since we’re supposed to spend the rest of Valentine’s Day together,” he said, and as much as you liked to take him up on his kind and thoughtful offer, you had to object.

Firmly shaking your head, you continued your attempts at pushing Shouto to retreat to the shower and scrub off the troubles of his day. “No, you’ve probably done enough work today as it is! Just let me handle the rest, ‘kay?” you insisted, straining a smile. However, your hurried shoving felt almost too persistent than what Shouto found normal.

“Well, what are you making then–” As he tilted his head up to sneak a peek, you followed his movements, elevating yourself onto your tiptoes to block his vision in time.

“S-Soba noodles..! Cold! Just how you like them,” you answered after partially interrupting him. Quirking a brow at your fidgety gestures, Shouto stared at the smile etched on your lips which screamed of suspicion. Now he was sure something was up.

“Love,” he said, his voice a tone lower than usual that made goosebumps appear on your skin, staring at his turquoise and gray eyes warily, “are you hiding something from me?”

“What? Psh, no,” you feigned innocence, shrugging, “Why would you think that?”

Shouto gave you a look, silently telling you that you should more than know the reason why, but you chose to remain ignorant. No point in questioning it any further then. He would have to pry the answer out himself.

Aware that you had no intention of letting him pass voluntarily, Shouto began putting his hero training to use. He side-stepped in a single motion, quickly pivoting on the balls of his feet to slip through your defenses. You didn’t have time to ask yourself what happened before you turned around to watch his reaction to what you left for him on the kitchen counter.

Upon entering the kitchen, Shouto’s heterochromatic eyes were immediately drawn to the marbled white-and-pink sweets sprawled across the parchment paper. His interest piqued, he walked straight to the chocolates with you trailing behind. You could feel the heat in your cheeks slowly rise from the embarrassment at seeing Shouto inspect your sorry excuse of chocolates.

“Hm, no soba noodles, but I may have found something even better,” he said, and you wondered if you heard correctly or that maybe he saw something you didn’t. You rapidly blinked about four times, letting your vision adjust, and yet your chocolates remained.

“You’re kidding… right?”

Shouto lifted a brow at your hesitance. “No, why would I be kidding?” he replied thoughtfully. He took one of the chocolates off the parchment paper, raising it in the air between his thumb and index finger. “You made these for me, didn’t you?”

“I mean, yeah, they were supposed to be a Valentine’s Day gift, but…”

“But..?” A frown settled on his lips, watching you nervously twiddle your thumbs while you held your hands against your apron. “Y/n, you can tell me.” Not liking how you weren’t meeting his eyes, his finger drew your chin up so he could get a better glimpse of your face.

“But they don’t look the part. They’re hideous,” you quietly admitted, your words mellowing into a whisper the more they departed your lips. The way he treated your creations as if they belonged on a pedestal didn’t sit right in your eyes. “So I... didn’t want you to see them, or any of this actually. I thought if you saw what I was doing, you’d get your hopes up for something special, only to be disappointed.” You tried avoiding his gaze again, but Shouto wouldn’t allow it, following your eyes as his hand pried yours apart to take one in his own.

His focus shifted from the pink and white chocolate held in front of him to the uncertainty clouding your expression. “I’m not sure what you mean. They look fine to me.”

“Sho, you don’t have to lie to me just so you don’t end up hurting my feelings. Anyone can see how uneven they look,” you said, pointing at the rest of the batch still sitting on the counter behind him. There was a low chuckle coming from the male’s lips, one that you guessed was out of amusement, but you were too caught in your troubled feelings to be sure.

“Well, I have to admit, they don’t exactly resemble the perfect, visual representation of the chocolates you’d find at the store or anything,” he acknowledged with you mumbling an ‘I told you so’ in response before he continued, “but that’s the reason why I like them. That means you made them for me and there isn’t any chocolate like it. They’re one of a kind.”

His genuine words took you aback, eyes glimmering and cheeks flushed. You were too wrapped up in your need for perfection that you didn’t realize you could consider your efforts that way.

“Besides,” he threw the little bonbon in his mouth, “they taste great,” he said as the strawberry and white cream melted on his tongue with its rich sweetness.

Despite his praise, you thought he had only said that because you knew for a fact that the chocolates did at least pass in the taste department. “But what if they had tasted bad too? What would you have said then?” You were bold enough to question, though half-worried about his answer in the back of your head—worried that he would have to take back those sweet words of his.

“I still would have eaten them, regardless. I’d never waste anything you’ve made for me, you should know that. To me, these chocolates are the sweetest delight not because they’re the best looking or tasting, but because they came from you,” he answered earnestly, bending down to tuck a hair away from your stunned yet grateful appearance which looked as if you were nearly about to sigh out loud in relief. You brought your body into his chest, tucking your head beneath his chin, and he wrapped his arms around you, lips pressed against your hair.

Shouto didn’t grant you much time to bask in your solace however, before beckoning you over to the kitchen counter. He wasn’t done teasing you just yet.

“Normally couples give each other milk chocolates on Valentine’s day. Any reason you decided on white and strawberry then?” Shouto noted, a grin on his lips as you seemed reluctant to reveal your reasoning—lips pursed and fingers playing with the hem of your apron.

“Well, they’re supposed to be your…” You finished by motioning at the crown of your head before pointing to his red and white locks.

Heh... Cute. The grin that was persistent on his features widened, and your response earned you a kiss on the cheek. “Thinking about me, huh?” he teased. You were more than aware of your intentions throughout your chocolate-making process, but it didn’t make the whole situation any less embarrassing when your motives came to light out of Shouto’s own mouth.

You pouted profusely, turning your face in the other direction as you nudged his arm. “Aren’t you going to eat the rest then?” you asked despite your demure demeanor. You couldn’t see it, but you were positive he was aiming that amused expression in your direction, leaning his head on his palm while his elbow was leveled on the counter.

“You made a lot of chocolates today, love. You don’t expect me to finish them all by myself, do you?” You heard the rustle of the parchment liner unsticking to something behind you. Then a finger poked your cheek, and out of curiosity, you followed where the disturbance came from, only to have a swirl of pink and white pushed past your lips.

“Mm..” you hummed surprisingly in delight at the harmonious strawberry and cream flavors coating your tastebuds.

“Tastes good, doesn’t it?” he asked.

“Yeah, I got to taste them before you arrived home.” You rubbed the back of your head. “And um, I didn’t exactly make these from scratch...” You went about divulging your methods to him, explaining your usage of chocolate melts, which all in all saved you a lot of time, considering your earlier mishaps with the brownies—a misfortune you also confessed to as you side-eyed the trash bin.

The dual-haired male laughed with mirth at the disasters you tangled yourself into today. “Seemed like you had an eventful Valentine’s Day at home without me.”

He scanned over your outfit, consisting of a simple buttoned blouse and a pair of jeans. What caught his eye the most was the frilly, laced brown and pink apron tied around your body. You must have bought this specifically to get in the spirit of Valentine’s Day because this was the first he’s seen you in this. Normally you’d wear those plain cotton aprons while you were cooking. Not something so charming and—dare he say—refreshing.

As you were continuing the conversation—going on about how vanquishing criminal organizations was more productive than whatever you were concocting at home—your words faded into the background. Shouto found it hard to focus on what you were saying, while your animated gestures seemed to enhance the shape of the apron against your body, emphasizing your physique.

Recalling the story you just mentioned, he imagined what the scene of you frantically dashing around the kitchen would look like as you wore this cute thing. Was it weird of him to hold fantasies of arriving home, being greeted by your endearing self donning this garment, dolled in its intricacies with a smile gracing the lips he oh so wanted to kiss every day?

Shouto would think so. He’s never heard of any anecdotes of this kind of behavior before. Perhaps it was how dainty and frilly the material appeared against your figure that stemmed such a risqué thought from him. If that was the case, then this apron was no different than lingerie. Or more specifically, those delicate lace babydolls you’d wear for him on those special occasions, in which you displayed the zenith of lust and vulnerability that rendered him a man ensnared by his need to utterly ravage you–

Fuck. Letting those imaginations cross his mind was a dangerous move. He felt himself getting hard, body exercising the willpower not to pounce and concede to his fantasies. Then again, no one could really blame him for thinking of his girlfriend this way on Valentine’s Day. Especially when you looked so damn cute right now that he could just eat you up.

“Shouto?” Your voice diverted his attention from the growing problem in his pants, though only for a moment. When his focus returned to you, all those lascivious thoughts buried in the back of his head made their way to the forefront again. Damn, did he have it bad.

“Is something wrong? You were zoning out for a bit.”

He shook his head, dispelling your concern. However, it was going to take more than that to sweep away the lust consuming his mind. “It’s nothing. More importantly, why don’t we continue tasting these chocolates?” Pulling up a stool, he took a seat next to the kitchen counter.

Just as you were going to mention that you needed to start on dinner soon, Shouto suddenly drew your body in between his parted legs. Thrown slightly off-balance, you instinctively held onto his shoulders to keep yourself steady.

You couldn’t help but notice the hand traveling up your legs as it situated itself on the back of your thigh, but the detail was abandoned as soon as it was manifested. The proximity between you two was too much not to overlook now. Shouto peered up at you with what you made out to be smoldering intensity, and the sight reduced you to shying away from his eyes again.

Of course, Shouto didn’t take a liking to that. With you so close, he didn’t want anything hindering his front seat viewing of your candid reactions. “Baby, look here,” he called to you. You followed his command, turning back to face the grin reaching his lips. “There’s my pretty girl.”

You attempted to open your mouth to reply but found another ball of marbled chocolate placed where words should’ve been.

Soft lips wrapped around him, Shouto had to fight back the urge to groan, feeling your tongue graze the pad of his thumb as he fed you the candy. His other hand, formerly occupied with rubbing subtle circles on your clothed flesh, wandered to the satin ribbon of your apron fashioned behind you.

It wasn’t long until you discerned the game he was playing through the fiery looks and frisky touching.

Well, enter player two.

You brought a hand to his wrist, keeping him there as your tongue made work at licking away the residual chocolate melted on his finger. You moved from his thumb to his index finger, noting not to miss anything with every flick as you confidently returned the heady expression with batted eyelashes.

Shouto breathed in silently through his nose, gritting his teeth, your sultry actions having an innate effect on him, to which you smirked at. There was a slight tug on the ribbon wrapped behind you. It wasn’t firm enough to where the knot came undone, but enough that you noticed his fixation on the material. If he was making an effort to exert some self-control, it was futile at this point. No doubt, he was going to take you before Valentine’s Day was over.

“Hmm, you’re right, these chocolates are pretty tasty. But it’s probably because you’re the one feeding them to me that they taste just soooo good,” you mused, adding a sensual tonality to your voice as you concluded your words with one last kitten lick.

The man before you bit the inside of his cheek, your voice alone making blood rush south. You little minx. He was going to make doubly sure you understood just what you were doing to him.

Finally releasing his hand, you reached over beside you to grab a chocolate off the parchment paper. “For you~” You giggled as you led the confection to Shouto’s mouth. He readily accepted your gift, lips wrapping around the tips of your fingers as the mellow flavors soothed his taste buds. He made a point of re-enacting your little show, tongue languidly lapping your fingers while he maintained steady eye contact. You shuddered at the wet warmth abiding your skin, the suffocating sexual tension in the air causing you to press your thighs together. The action was not overlooked by Shouto, who smiled amidst cleaning your fingers with every brush of his tongue.

“What’s wrong, love? You were so bold and talkative earlier. Cat got your tongue or something?” he teased. A smirk ran across the curl of his lips as his licks turned to kisses he planted on the back of your hand.

After finishing his task of lapping up every essence of sweetness off your skin, he lifted himself from the stool. Doing so made him stand tall over you, and he easily cornered you to where your back met the edge of the counter. Your wrist captured in one of his hands, he wove an arm around you, pulling your body into him.

“You know, there’s something I want to eat right now other than chocolates,” he confessed, forehead pressed to yours and glinted heterochromatic eyes latent with an insatiable hunger. The baritone of his voice sent shivers through your body and a throb aching in your core.

You innocently tilted your head at him. “Oh, is that so? And what would that be?”

He chuckled darkly at your redundant question.

“Why you of course, my love.”

The moment the words reached your ears, he lunged forward to seize your lips. You quickly followed in the sensual movements of his soft lips against yours like it was a practiced routine, not resisting his tongue prying its way into your mouth and submitting to the dance that made pleasure course through your veins.

A single tap on your thigh was your cue to hop into Shouto’s waiting grasp and wrap your arms around his neck. You pulled your bodies closer to where the few layers of clothing you both possessed did nothing to hide your enthusiasm for each other. You could feel your nipples under your bra stiffen at your arousal, growing more sensitive as you pressed your chest to him. Meanwhile, his hard erection shamelessly poked the inside of your thigh to which his grip was poised on remaining firm, grinding your lower half against him.

You expected this was where he intended to have you—right then and there in the middle of the kitchen—but to your surprise, Shouto had other plans. He navigated you two to the dining table as you continued feverishly making out with your legs wrapped around his waist. Never breaking the hot mingle of your lips, he carefully placed you on the edge. His hands were free to roam the expanse of your body, palming at places that elicited airy moans from you as he inscribed the niceties of your bonny apron into his memory. Though he cursed the unnecessary layers that obscured your beautiful flesh from him.

Finding the clothes still on you equally unbearable in the heat of your movements, you were on the same wavelength as him. You sought out the satin ribbon tied behind your back that kept the apron on your form, but before your fingertips could even reach the material to tug the knot loose, Shouto seized your wrists and led your hands away. Your face was scrunched with bewilderment by how sudden his actions were.

Shouto didn’t think he could have a fetish over something as ordinary and domestic as a decorative garment tied around your waist, but this Valentine’s Day was proving him otherwise. He was not about to pass an opportunity to absolutely ruin you in this pretty thing.

“Keep it on,” he ordered, voice deep and commanding.

“H-Huh? What about my clothes?” you stuttered, confused at first. You wanted to ask what spurred him to give such a demand, but you were too caught in the moment to think of objecting to his request (not that you had much choice anyway).

“Let me.” That was all he said before his hands sought after the waistband of your jeans and the buttons of your top. He pulled and undid the apparel until you were left in only your panties and that lovely apron. Your bra was quickly disposed of to the pile next to his feet thanks to the clip being located at the front this time, and he was eternally grateful for the convenience. You didn’t even have to mention anything for his own clothes to float above yours on the floor, sitting back on the table to admire his toned physique, now free for you to ogle in just his briefs.

His hooded, icy eyes concentrated on every aspect of your appearance. He didn’t dare miss a single detail in front of him—from your bare, flushed skin glowing beneath the light fixture to your aroused nipples shaped through the thin fabric. You were a sight Shouto would gladly worship for the rest of his life.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, my love, and I’m going to enjoy ravaging you until all you know is my name.”

His words alone were enough to send a tingle of anticipation to your cunt. You did not shrink at his assertiveness, instead embracing both yours and Shouto’s desires with open arms.

“You have me, Sho. I’m all yours.”

The man released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding before inhaling and diving in. Your lips reencountered each other, continuing from where you left off with his tongue chasing after you. You laced your fingers in his soft hair to press him deeper to you as Shouto navigated down your neck. He sucked and licked at your skin; every tug he felt on his scalp compelled him to lay marks as he inched closer and closer to your breasts.

“Ahh.. Sho…” you mewled, feeling his hands grope one of your mounds and tease your slit through your panties. With no intention of letting this apron off your body, Shouto pushed the fabric concealing your chest inward to reveal a perky nipple, seeming excited to be covered by his mouth. Well, who was he to deny such exuberance, especially when he himself was hungry to taste?

Lips enclosing the stiffened nub, Shouto sucked and prodded with fervor. As you squirmed and squealed beneath him, your fingers pulled harder at his strands which he hummed in content at. The tip of his tongue circled your areola, making the slick clinging to your panties damper at the stimulation. The hand occupied between your thighs stroked you against the fabric before pulling it to the side to touch you directly.

“Oh fuck!” you cursed at the contact as Shouto did not hesitate to start pumping a finger into your pussy.

“Damn, you’re so wet down here. Did my kisses and teasing do all this?”

You were too distracted by the precise movements of his fingers working through you to answer, words superseded by your wanton moans. “Keep making those pretty sounds, love. I want you to cry out as I’m ruining you.”

Your noises hit a crescendo when his fingers began curling inside you, stretching into places that lit stars behind your eyes. His thumb rubbed your clit to intensify the fire building in your abdomen. Your back arched on the table as you grabbed onto Shouto’s free hand for dear life, already feeling that flame ready to ignite.

“Sho– Wait, I’m gonna–”

“Don’t hesitate, sweetheart. Coat my fingers with your cum,” he told you, increasing the speed of his thumb against your bundle of nerves as he continually hit that euphoric soft spot.

At his words, your pussy clenched hard around him, practically sucking him in. You threw your head back against the table, releasing a loud cry of his name as your orgasm engulfed your whole body with electrifying pleasure. Chest heaving up and down, your breaths sounded ragged as your vision went white before slowly adjusting to the light.

Shouto slid his fingers out of you and brought them to his mouth, licking at the layer of gloss. He observed your fucked-out state from above and admired his handiwork—your lips swollen, eyes glassy, and sweaty skin adorned with his marks.

“You taste absolutely delicious, you know,” he said almost too sweetly, like he had immediately gotten drunk off drinking the remnants of your orgasm. And, of course, he had to let you know how delectable you were. Shouto provided you a sample by pressing his fingers to your lips. You obediently parted them, welcoming your essence on your tongue.

“Don’t you think so?”

You hummed and nodded in agreement. Shouto grinned, bending down to mix your flavor in each other’s mouths. He finally removed your ruined panties and slid them down your legs. But to no one’s surprise, the apron stayed on your person.

When you parted, Shouto gestured for you to get up from the table. In doing so, you had anticipated this would be the time to head straight to the bedroom, but the night continued to prove you wrong. Shouto was still famished.

“Stand up for a second, baby. I want to lay down as I have my meal.” You didn’t need to guess to know just what he wanted to satiate his appetite tonight.

Shouto laid himself flat across the table, the majority of his legs dangling off the edge. You, on the other hand, were apprehensive at his approach, cautiously wondering if your modest dining table could handle the rampant motions of two adult bodies on top of it at once. Should the legs give way and the table collapses, the gravity of your descent would put all your weight onto him. What if you hurt him as a result?

“Love, what’s the holdup?” your boyfriend called, breaking your train of thought, “Come, your throne awaits.” He patted his chest—a rather peculiar place to sit but your cunt pulsed at the image of you riding that gorgeous face of his.

“O-Okay, I’m just afraid of hurting you, is all,” you said, pulling at the hem of your apron for security.

He raised his upper body halfway to see the hesitance painted on your features. “Y/n, there’s no need to worry, I wouldn’t have thought of doing this if I couldn’t handle it,” he assured, his hand reaching out for you. “Trust me. I won’t let anything happen to us.”

You stared at the hand hovering in front of you and then at Shouto’s eyes glimmering with faith, and you knew you could trust his word. So you take his hand, climbing onto the table and over his body where you straddled his chest.

“Dining tables are meant to be eaten on, right? Well, I intend to devour you until your legs are shaking beside me, sweetheart,” he promised. He stroked up and down your thighs tauntingly. Your breaths hitched as he maneuvered you above his face, moving the flap of your apron so you could feel his cold breath against your lower lips.

“As much as I appreciate all those confections you made for me, they all pale in comparison to the sweetest delight here–” He uttered praises to your core while rubbing the soft flesh of your thighs. “This pretty, soft, and dripping pussy.”

Warmth spread across your cheeks at his lewd words and how close in proximity he was to your twitching center. The one thing you detested about this apron at this moment was the fact it blocked you from what Shouto was doing, the bottom half lying right above his face. To him, however, it made everything all the more entertaining.

Despite being the one trapped under you, it must have felt like you were more in the dark than he was. After all, he was the one asserting dominance in this situation, and with a layer of fabric hiding his face, you had no idea how or when he was going to eat you out. His deafening silence was not offering you one bit of reassurance either. If he truly intended to devour you atop this table, he should just do it already.

“...Sho? Are you—Ah!” Upon questioning him, your words were choked by your surprised squeal, feeling him delicately kiss your folds with chilly lips attached to your warm pussy. You opened your mouth to speak again, yet you struggled to search for words as Shouto’s tongue flattened against you, licking a long strip before latching onto your sensitive pearl. The more he relentlessly sucked and teased, the more you sang out with waves of pleasure quivering through your body.

Hearing your beautiful noises, he chuckled, tongue vibrating on your clit. Every sound you produced made his cock stutter, still leaking and begging for attention beneath his briefs.

Not liking how inactive you were—simply sitting on his face and waiting for yourself to come undone on his tongue—you reached behind yourself to trail your hand down his abdomen. His body tensed, abs immediately flexing at your soft touch. You noticed his ministrations falter in their rhythm.

“B-Baby, what are you doing?” he questioned, pulling himself off of you to concentrate on your hand running along the waistband of his briefs. His fingers dug into your flesh as you found his length, tentatively giving it a pump that gave birth to a strained noise below the flap of your apron.

“You’ve been doing all the work so far, Sho. I just want you to enjoy yourself,” you said. His eyebrows were scrunched, hissing through his teeth at your thumb grazing his slit, mixing his precum around the tip.

“I am enjoying myself—this is all I could ever ask for,” he replied honestly. He lifted the frilly material off his face so you could discover your slick running down his lips and neck, the blush spread across his fair cheeks an more than sufficient indication that he derived nothing but delight from being in this position. He looked like an absolute mess, yet the debauched sight made both your heart and pussy flutter.

“But if you want to join in, I won’t stop you.”

At that, Shouto detached himself from your sweetness for just a second to quickly reposition you above him. You were adjusted to where you were practically on all fours on the table now, facing the prominent bulge raised on his briefs while your fluttering cunt was somehow even more obscenely split in front of him. You were thankful the piece of furniture stayed intact throughout the motions, pleasantly astounded by its strength. However, you couldn’t pause to be impressed by this detail for long. Not when Shouto’s aching erection pleaded for you to continue touching it.

Your hand returned to its original place—wrapped around his heavy length that wept with precum coating the surface of its mushroom top. As you stroked it up and down in a consistent rhythm, you altered your grip to tighten more around him.

“Ooh yeah, that’s it, baby. Just like that… Ahhhh, fuckkkk—” You were rewarded by his praises and groans at the splendid pressure surrounding his dick. It encouraged you to keep up your pace and add another hand to the fray to increase the tension.

“You’re doing so well, making me feel so fucking good, love. Can you add your mouth for me now?” he requested, and you happily complied. Your tongue flattened against his cock, noting every vein and twitch running across your wet muscle that reduced Shouto to muttering obscenities behind you. Reaching the top, you swirled your tongue along the tip before taking the entire head into your warm cavern. Shouto’s thighs flexed, body almost trembling at how heavenly you made him feel. He couldn’t be outdone.

You let out a whine on his cock, feeling his mouth working against you again. This time you felt the effects stronger than before as Shouto spread your pussy lips to grant him better access to tongue fuck you. He stimulated every sensitive area with practiced ease, making sure to flick your clit with extra vigor to achieve the best results. You delivered in your reactions—legs shaking and knees slowly and deliberately being reduced to jelly.

Even ensnared in ecstasy, you did your best to adapt to his intensity, engulfing him more into your mouth. Your hands worked together to maximize the most pleasure you could give him, fondling his balls and gripping the base of his cock.

The lewdest of sounds filled the room in an unrelenting symphony. From your muffled whimpers to your pussy squelching in the presence of Shouto’s mouth purring against you, there was no shortage of bliss evident in the atmosphere. Hearing yourselves in the throes of rapture as you devoured each other’s whole beings like starved animals, you two were simultaneously climbing toward your highs.

“Shit, keep doing just that baby, and I’m going to paint that pretty mouth of yours white,” he warned half-heartedly. You purred, the enthusiasm laced your tone informing Shouto you wanted him to do just that. He was pleased by your response.

“You want it, don’t you, you slutty girl? Well, I expect you to drown me in your honey while I cover your throat with my cum then.” Those were the last words he spared you before proceeding to manifest them into reality. His hands dug themselves in the flesh below your ass cheeks, exposing your pussy to his appendage that swiped away at your clit until shockwaves made you tremble above him.

You were the first to come undone, juices running down your thighs and boyfriend’s chin. Your cries were muffled amidst Shouto’s dick caught down your throat, tightening around his length, which surged with spurts of white all over your mouth. You swallowed every single drop of his seed, wiping at the excess on your lips as you released the hero’s cock with a loud pop.

After taking a moment to catch your breaths, you carefully moved off of each other. Shouto steadied you on his lap, letting you straddle him as he sat on the edge of the table. He intertwined your fingers through his and brought them to his lips to place a tender kiss on the back of your hand.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, Shouto. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

#bnha smut #bnha x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki smut #mha smut #bnha fic #bnha imagine #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki imagine #mha x reader

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blzzrdstryr · 4 years ago

Text

Galatea

Yandere(?) Albedo x gn!reader

Wordcount: 2410

CW: Panic attacks, hallucinations, slight dehumanization.

...and his creation was so beautiful: silent and non judgemental, pure and demure, it would endure any of his whims of love and passion.

Albedo looks calm as usual as he scoops the honey from the beehive, even though he doesn’t wear any protection; Bees are angrily buzzing nearby, but otherwise not attacking him. It would look strange to you if you didn’t know the answer: insects are not real. The alchemist created them, turning pure slabs of carbon, water and organic matter into tiny fuzzy bodies, as you watched the scene with wide eyes, one moment and a non-living becomes living. He commented on the whole process and while you tried your best to listen to him there were so many scientific terms and jargons in his speech that after some time you zoned out, preferring to observe the birth of insects instead.

There are bones and flesh and organs growing and fusing together. They writhe and convulse as blood starts to fill them. Whose body is it?

“Is this for examination too?”, you remember that Albedo was collecting honey several days ago, albeit in much lesser quantities, and when you asked what the alchemist was doing, he said it was for comparative analysis.

“Well, you could say that” alchemist looks at the full jar and closes the lid, “Previous analysis showed that this honey has the same compounds as the natural one in the same proportions and isn’t dangerous for consumption”. You nod, urging him to continue - even though Albedo isn’t the chattiest person, you noticed how talkative he becomes when you ask him for explanations.

“Smell and taste are usually dependent on the composition, but there is always a place for exceptions, so I decided to conduct another experiment, one that needs your help”

You raise eyebrows - alchemist, despite actually enjoying your company, usually didn’t disclose much of his work :“Is that so? How can I help?”

Small smile appears on his lips, subtle and controlled, “I want you to taste it”. He looks happy.

You have seen that smile long before. You can’t remember where.

You hate sweets, but there's something stopping you from declining. It's bone-deep and chilling, woven into every fiber of your flesh. You can’t get out the needed words, even if you wanted, with your lips somehow shutting tight at the mere thought. There's something stopping you from saying "no" to Albedo and you assume it's gratitude.

***

The honey turns out to be as sickly sweet as the one from the real bees. You frown, as you take another sip of tea, trying to wash down the saccharine taste from the tongue. Albedo sits in front of you and scribes something in his notebook, throwing occasional glances at you from time to time.

“It seems that we’ll need to keep this secret from Klee” you muse, no longer tasting the nectar on your tongue.

“Why so?” he asks, still writing - his handwriting is too small for you to see from this distance. You could stretch your neck to have a better glimpse, but it would be rude to do, so you refrain, curiosity still nipping at you.

“Well, you know what a big sweet tooth she is, and if she learns that your bees don’t sting...”

“But they do sting, just not me”.

“Why?”

“Bees were created with my will, so they just can’t. It’s against the nature of alchemical creation to oppose its creator”

You hum, processing the new information and guessing how far he would teach you that in your own alchemy lessons. You are far behind Sucrose or Timaeus in your studies, still stuck on basics, but Kreideprinz doesn't look displeased or bored with you. In contrast, mentoring you is something he really likes, judging by the rare smiles he allows himself to show. He proposed to teach you one day and you couldn't find it in yourself to turn him down.

You thought it was strange at first how the recluse seemed to favour you, but then as you familiarized yourself with a man you realized that he liked all things unseen and unheard before and your selective amnesia must be the one.

There are large gaps in your memory, but you can remember some small moments - peeking into a cave and plunging deeper into a forest out of curiosity, spending hours in the library, completely captivated by the book before you, feeling satisfied from finally solving an advanced math problem.

None of the memories include people.

It's an identity forming memories, Albedo theorized when you shared your concerns, experiences shape who we are, [First], and maybe that's why you retained them, they define you.

Were you as reclusive as him then?

A bit later you see what Albedo was drawing: a familiar bird and decapitated head. You are disturbed - how does he know my dreams?

***

Mondstadtians are weird, it’s the first time you leave Albedo’s lab and side, deciding to take a quick stroll around the city and look around. Some look at you with wide eyes, as if you just grew a second head before their eyes, some shamelessly whisper things to each other.

The knight that was assigned to look after you for the duration of the walk is no better than them. He also treats you like some sort of oddity, with all that persistent glances and hesitancy to interact with you.

What kind of person old you were to prompt such a reaction?

Walking along the streets of the city you can't remember any of it. Books that mentioned amnesia and other memory related issues stated that visiting once familiar places can help with overall recollection. Walking along the streets of the city you can't recollect any of it, memories slipping past your fingers like water.

You can’t remember the blue cloudless sky above, or the deep clear lake of the same shade or the gentlest breezes playing with your hair. You can’t recall the bright red roof tiles, or the giant windmills that dwarf other buildings, or the statue of the anemo archont overseeing the city. You can't think of once being among the other idle citizens, of praying and worshipping Barbatos, of participating in the windtrace or Ludi Harpastum. There’s emptiness where a familiarity should be, a dull ache rotting and festering at the back of your mind - I don’t belong here, I never did.

You don’t feel like a part of Mondstadt, not even a single part of you does. There’s an invisible yet unbreakable wall separating you from other people. You can smile and chat and be all polite and nice, yet there’s always a certain coldness and caution others treat you with. You want to be both accepted and left alone, feel loved yet be distant enough to avoid any emotional hurt.

Of course, there are people who managed to get close to you - Albedo and Klee, with the former one being your official caretaker and mentor and the latter being as bright as the Sun, you doubt there’s anyone that couldn’t fall under little girl’s charms, except acting Grandmaster Jean.

That must be why you act so warm towards them, why you decide to bare your soul and feelings towards them, no matter how scary it can be. That’s why you play with Klee, engaging her in less destructive entertainment than the fish blasting and that is why you never refuse Albedo in any of his requests, be it a quick walk on a sunny day or assistance in his experiments.

***

A familiar dream.

You see a giant owl, it's yellow eyes piercing right through you. It's a majestic creature, with snow white fluffy feathers and razor sharp talons. Bird looks at you with all knowing eyes, and then spreads its wings, soundlessly flying in your direction. You dodge it, still marvelling at its grace, as the bird continues its way to the giant head laying behind you.

You turn back still tracing the bird's flight, eyes then turning to the bodiless head. It has the face of an aged man with wise eyes, it's lips move silently chanting. There's something hypnotizing in the chant - listen to me and you will now, listen to me and I will tell you, listen to me and you will learn things that he doesn’t want you to know.

You take a step, hand outstretched to touch it. It burns your skin, and the world around you darkens, all sounds stop and soon enough darkness consumes the bodiless head too, leaving you all alone.

A memory comes.

You're absolutely naked and shivering with Albedo hovering above you. He says something but you can’t understand the words, liquid(?) in your eyes and ears. You hear Sucrose and Timaeus in the background too and how excited they sound.

You turn your head, catching the sight of slabs of pure carbon, bottles of water, pieces of lime and ammonia solution and the rest of organic and inorganic matter lying around you.

There are no thoughts and feelings - you are nothing but an empty vessel that needs to be filled.

"Timaeus, bring the blanket" It's Albedo's voice, “Sucrose, check.. [First]’s temperature. I will observe them”

“[First]?”

“It’s a fitting name”

The memory ends. You wake up.

***

You wake up to Albedo sitting near your bed. It's not a rare occurrence with him frequently checking up on your health, but the memories of previous dreams make you almost jump when you see his silhouette again.

"Uhm, hello?" you still sound husky from sleep.

"Apologies for coming here, I heard your whimpers and decided to check if everything was alright". His face looks as impassive as ever, but there's a concerned tone in his voice. He must be extremely worried then.

"I..” you start but then trail off, unsure what to say. Is the revelation that you dreamt even true? Aside from the strange coincidence and sense of isolation that loomed over you, becoming a bit unbearable with each day, you had nothing to prove your nonsensical conclusion: you are not real.

“I saw a dream, of me lying among the lime and carbon and water” Albedo gives you an intense stare, eyes and expression completely unreadable: “it wasn’t just a dream, was it?”

A moment passes and then another and you feel even more stupid with each second to just come to that conclusion, not to mention saying it outloud. And then the most unexpected thing happens: Albedo nods.

“Yes, yes it happened to you” he suddenly sounds tired, as if he admitted a dark, dark secret, that it arguably is. A shock goes through you, as you start to gasp for air - it’s one thing to speculate and guess, it’s completely different to hear a confirmation.

You can’t exactly remember what happens next - you think you broke down right there and then, as alchemist awkwardly tried to comfort you. He was explaining how and why he created you - he thought that your creation would give him answers he was looking for, solve his internal conflict, and then he started to wonder how different artificial life is from the natural one and that’s why he decided to give you memories.

It was hard at first, he says, to push back the existing ones back and replace them with new. Make you believe that you were born too. Memories were his favourite thing to do, he had a theory you see, that people are majorly products of their environment, and he wanted to prove that with you. That’s why he decided to mold you into a person with traits he usually finds valuable.

In the end you found yourself nursing a hot tea mug with a few drops of calming concoction dissolved in it. Albedo is lingering around in his own disquieted fashion, as you rethink your whole life - can it even be called a life anymore?

You glance at the alchemist fretting around you, frowning, and unsure what to do, the warmth and happiness you felt upon seeing him replaced by disappointment and confusion. Albedo isn't the one who you thought him to be, Archons, you're not the one who you thought yourself to be!

Suddenly the way all others interacted you became crystal clear - they treated you like oddity because you were one. You remember Klee and how she always seemed to love calling you her "bestest special friend". No way they don't know of your origin. No way they will ever treat you like a person.

There's an ache when you think about Klee also turning away from you; She is a sunshine personified right now, spreading her kindness and enthusiasm without even trying, but who knows what will happen once she grows up, will she have a problem with her peers because of you, or she'll adopt the general public's opinion of you? The thought is almost enough to send you into a crying fit again. You want to run far away.

"I want to travel" you finally say, there's no way you can integrate into society when everyone knows what you are and will always see it before who you are. You want to run away and start anew somewhere far, so the rumors will never reach that place and no one will look at you with that wide eyed stare again. You say what you think about this whole situation.

"Please, don't" he says and you of course stop, legs no longer listening to you, "I understand you are distressed right now, but running away isn't the solution"

"But I will never be able to truly connect with anyone, they know it, of my birth, right? The whole city knows about it, right?"

"I know that you want to feel loved, I… We are the same - before your creation I felt the same loneliness, I couldn't bond with anyone save for Klee, but interacting with you was far more pleasant than expected. Relationships are needlessly tiring and I never understood why people focused on them so much, yet now, looking at you I can understand them. I love you, [First], you are perfect".

You still again, now stunted by his words and sudden love confession. It's all so sudden and strange and confusing and you are too tired and too shocked to deal with this, so you decide to distance yourself. "I can't love you in return"

"But you will"

"Why do you think that?"

"It's against your nature to oppose me in anything"

Note: Galatea is an ivory statue created by Pygmalion, who later fell in love with it. The head in reader's dream is decapitated Mimir, a figure in Norse mythology who is known for his knowledge and wisdom. His decapitated head was reciting secret knowledge and giving counsel to Odin.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere albedo x reader #Yandere Albedo #Yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin x reader #Yandere #Albedo #Yandere x reader #Honestly it's not very yandere #My sleeping pills don't work again #my writing

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sepublic · 4 years ago

Text

Escaping Expulsion!

LUMITY! LUMITY DEVELOPMENT! LUZ REALIZING HER CRUSH!!!!

Amity calling her MY Luz… Amity and Luz back-to-back! Playing tricks together that’s so ADORABLE!

There’s so much to this episode, I… I…!

Gus! His growth spurt will take a lot getting used to, it’s like watching your favorite kids grow up… At this point he may as well go back to Augustus! And Perry, I love seeing more of him!

WILLOW’S DADS! They’re GOOD parents I tell you, they talk a lot about grounding or whatever, but then IMMEDIATELY drop their jobs for Willow’s sake!? To home-school her, to have fun! GOOD PARENTS! And the Glasses Dad, he’s a really chill dude, sees Willow going behind the back and is like “I won’t tell!” Nice. VERY nice…!

BUMP! Not only do we get confirmation that he’s in the Abomination Coven, BUT HE’S A SWEETIE! He’s an utter sweetheart! This really all adds to my headcanon that he felt bad about what happened with Eda, and I bet he was being reminded a LOT of that when he had to get rid of Luz, Willow, and Gus… At least with Eda she more or less left of her own volition, but these kids WANT to come back! I love this principal and his layers… Also Frewin’s tail moving?

I agree with Alador, and I find it hilarious that he doesn’t seem to understand Frewin that much either… Or he does but he’s still curious! Al IS interesting like Odalia said… Not exactly a good parent, but he is a man of his word! Also WOW he looks like an utter mess, nothing like the prim and proper noble we all expected! I guess Alador from Amity’s flashback was in dress clothes for Amity’s birthday and all that… But yeah he IS fascinating as Dana said! I guess he is the inventor as some people suspected…

His whole demeanor matches his brief depiction in YBOS pretty well; Looking like he’s mostly just kind of THERE, just kind of chilling for the ride. Has his head in the clouds and focuses on the inventions, on the technical know-how, on carrying out the orders and seeing them through, while Odalia is the leader who instructs things- Just as we suspected! I can already see the neurodivergent Alador headcanons… If Amity is autistic, does she get it from him?

ODALIA… Ugh. I mean, she’s about as rancid as we all expected, but it’s interesting that she DOES listen to Alador, so there is still that respect there! But JEEZ, she’s an attempted child murderer?! Goes back on her word!? I have to wonder if Alador was the original Blight actually, and Odalia was the one who married in; That, or Alador just has actual integrity and acts as like… The second voice who helps rein in Odalia and remind her of things every now and then. Interesting… But yeah, I loathe her!

Of course, back to Al- He may not necessarily be so great himself. He does seem to prefer the easy path, the path of least resistance; He adapts to Amity standing up to him and Odalia by instead considering how she could replace the current Abomination Head one day… Which makes sense, that’s HIS expertise, and daughter takes after father! And Odalia really is an Oracle as we thought… Oracle magic for spying, makes sense, but that necklace…

UGH… Remember when we all liked that necklace! How we thought it was SO CUTE? How Amity wore it at first in Adventures in the Elements… But then she rarely wore her casual outfit? WELL NOW WE KNOW… Here’s hoping the intro changes to remove the necklace, but WOW I was genuinely feeling sick in my stomach when I saw that!

And Odalia and Alador are even WORSE, because they’re literally arms-manufacturers! Do I even need to explain why that’s awful? But I’m really having a lot of fun with the idea of Abominations as robotics; I’d considered the idea of Abominations melding with Automatons, and the show just confirms and validates that! I love this show… I have to wonder if we’ll see Amity and the Abomination Head interact more? And I like how Abominations is basically shape-shifting and form-changing, but applied to a magical goop that Abomination Witches can control…

Belos and the Golden Guard! More worldbuilding- Of course Belos is monopolizing and taking things into his own control, he’s expanding his influence! And of course, as Golden Guard pointed out- Not only does he want soldiers –glad we’ll see more of these Abomination things in practice- but also… He doesn’t want anyone raising a private army against him; Which again fits with how Belos operates!

But the way Odalia and Alador look at one another… WERE they intending to raise a private army? Or were they always open to selling out to the highest bidder- With their desire to install Amity as the new Abomination Head, we might see them ally with a rebellion, but for their OWN purposes… With how their audience and customer base was cloaked, they may have been unknowingly selling to people with a vested interest and stake in taking down Belos!

EDA AND LILITH! This show once again confirms my read on glyphs; Not containing magic, but more commanding the magic around them! Lilith is SO smart, figuring out how it works… And YES, I love delving into the mechanics! How glyphs are about COMMUNICATION with the Isles, that calls back to Adventures in the Elements! I wonder then if Belos can communicate with the isles too, possibly through glyphs…

But we get more insight into their dynamic! Eda was always that talented kid, so she could always breeze the basics and get right into experimentation! It was good for critical thinking, but as we see, she can be really hyperactive and impatient… And of course, this frustrates Lilith, who is very stoic and rule-bound! God she was adorable this episode, how she clearly wants validation… She really is the embodiment of “My child is fine!” “Your child was a pleasure to have in class.” Couldn’t get validation from Gwen, so Lilith went to teachers…

AND JEEZ, no wonder Belos’ approval meant so much to her! Maybe like Marcy and Andrias from Amphibia, Lilith kind of latched onto Belos as a potential found family figure for her… But as we know, she still had her own desires and wants because she IS a person and not a mindless drone.

BUT YES, I love the show delving into how Lilith and Eda work as different people! Lilith is by-the-book, and Eda recognizing that Lilith’s methods have value, because Eda is really out of her own element here. I love seeing Eda experiment with glyphs, just the way they experiment with glyphs- I’m glad it’s not just Luz! Also it’s interesting… The show seems to imply that there really are only four glyphs in existence; Light, Ice, Fire, and Plant! That’s a shame because I’d have liked to see more glyphs in the future, just a few more…

BUT YEAH, this hearkens back to that shot of Luz combining Glyphs in the trailer, and I’ve always hoped that mashing Glyphs can unlock more complex spells! I love this kind of worldbuilding where basic elements are combined in certain ways to yield more specific things, it’s making my worldbuilding brain buzz happily! And I love Luz just freely giving out stars… Lilith is SUCH an Elsa, and her friendship with Hooty is adorable! And here’s hoping that Eda uses that messed-up spell anyway, against enemies…

Overall this was an AMAZING EPISODE, so strong! Luz isn’t dense, like Alador she’s just distracted… Oh dang, maybe my Luz and Alador parallels idea wasn’t so far off? BUT YES this show promises and delivers through on these characters! I do wish we got to see more of Willow’s thought process about Odalia and Alador interrupting her life again, but with how the episode is already jam-packed with glyph lore AND Luz’s own thing, and I can see why they had to leave it out-

But give her some more spotlight, please! I wouldn’t be surprised if some things had to be cut out thanks to Disney downsizing the show… Also again, it’s interesting that based on what this episode implied; The Plant Coven is the ONLY Coven to have such a close basis in nature. If there are only four glyphs in nature, theoretically there should only be four main covens…

Belos, your system is beginning to look even MORE sketchy now! And dang, the revelations, the lore, the reveals… Not much of Emira and Edric alas, but what we got was short and sweet, and I love how they felt the need to be nice but also sneak in a prank, but Amity just sees them! And also CAT ABOMINATION, the fanart came through!

And Amity just immediately recognizing her girlfriend’s work to figure out Luz was there, I love it so much! Overall, an AMAZING episode that blew my expectations out of the water! Now after this we have Echoes of the Past, which promises even MORE in regards to King! I love that these characters are getting a lot of focus now.

Also it just occurred to me, but yeah- Edric’s occasional air-headed moments, Emira being a bit more bossy and strict… As we all speculated, they get it from their respective parents!

(Also Hop Pop cameo I see you TOH crew.)

#the owl house #the owl house luz #luz noceda #lumity #the owl house amity #amity blight #the owl house odalia #odalia blight #the owl house alador #alador blight #the owl house eda #edalyn clawthorne #the owl house lilith #lilith clawthorne #the owl house gus #augustus porter

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writingsbychlo · 4 years ago

Text

smoke and fire (13)

word count; 14,463

summary; in the aftermath of an unusual rescue, some big revelations come to pass.

notes; y’all are gonna hate me but love me.

warnings; descriptive gore, gun use, reference to death, violence, gang activity, reference to drug use, reference to arson, reference to house fires, main character injury.

It was a known fact that it took three whole seconds in the morning before you could process where you were, and remember anything other than your own name.

That first second was spent in a quickly disseminated state of serenity. Your head wasn’t yet hurting, and you eased back into consciousness with a slow start, the darkness surrounding you oddly reminiscent, but the chilling cold and the damp was less so.

The second was when panic rushed through your system. Your throat felt blocked as you came back to consciousness, the pain in your head came crashing back over you like a crushing tidal wave, the blood rushing on your head as coughs racked your body, trying to take a deeper breath, and panic filled you.

The third second made you roll onto your side, spluttering a little as pain throbbed behind your eyes and your head was spinning, making you feel like you were falling for just a second, before your nails were scraping at the material underneath you as you tried to sit up, everything along your body screaming out in agony and almost giving out with your weakness. It wasn’t soft cotton like your sheets, it was gritty like stone, tearing at your nails.

And then, you remembered.

You remembered exactly where you were, and what had happened, and why you were here. Well, that part was still a little fuzzy, you’d never really been given a reason. The pain in your body made sense, the dull throbbing in one eardrum more than the other and the shock of residual adrenaline left in your sore body that was beginning to make a resurgence in your fear, and you forced yourself to take a deep breath.

The familiar burn of tears in your throat as a lump formed and the stinging of salt in your eyes as they threatened to fall, and then you found the strength to sit up, to blink and clear dust-filled eyes a little more, before wiping a hand over your face to get rid of it all. There wasn’t much light where you were, but there was a clear spot of musty-yellow lighting in the centre of the room, your body curled in the corner, dumped in uncomfortable positions that made your legs ache, and there was a figure you recognised leaning over the table.

Covered in blood, frantic, brown eyes fixed on you that glittered under the low light, you swallowed thickly.

“Nice of you to join us, sleeping beauty. Think ya’ can come give me a hand over here?” Your brows furrowed, still trying to piece the puzzle together, but then there was a clicking that made you jump unnecessarily violently in fear, the memory of the last time you’d heard it flashing behind your eyes like a scene from a movie. Newt was panicked, but clearly trying to stay calm, his eyes widening just a fraction in a messaged for only you to hear, and despite the pain you felt, you forced yourself to your feet.

Your bag was weighing you down, medical supplies rattling, and you stumbled on feet that you could barely feel until your hands were braced on the edge of the table, and you could see what was going on a little better.

A gunshot victim, at least four bullet wounds, two packed with gauze that was rapidly soaking through as Newt had pressure on two others; swapping between them frantically if the pile of blood-sodden gauze on the floor was anything to go by. You assumed from the recognisable tattoo on the other half of this mans face too that he was a part of whatever gang this was, and clearly, an important member if they were willing to commit these kinds of crimes to save his life.

“You got more gauze, ‘cus I’m running out, and I could use your help getting him fixed up before we both end up looking like him.”

His words were low and whispered, and you gaped as you stared at the man. “This guy needs a hospital, and a team of professional medical surgeons. Like, Derek! Or, Dr Lahey! We aren’t trained for this!”

“Yeah, well, we’re all he's got.” Newt huffed, a spit of blood leaving the unnamed man’s body between Newt’s gloved fingers as he tried to shift his weight, a whispered curse from his lips as he tried to stop the flow again.

You nodded, swallowing thickly and squeezing your eyes shut in a desperate attempt to quell the pain bouncing around the inside of your skull. You assessment the scene, noting the Newt really hadn't been able to do much, and thankfully, if the change in the daylight outside was anything to go by then you had only been out for an hour or so, maybe a little longer, light still coming in between the cracks in the boarded-up windows.

The man in the corner was slumped in his chair, gun sitting beside him on the table, and your heart was racing so fast that the headache you sported was only getting worse. Your voice felt raw and hoarse as you tried to speak on it, squeaking and cracking the first time you tried to speak in anything above a whisper.

“We’re gonna’ need some water over here, boiled if you can to stop an infection, but even just bottled water would do at this point.” The man sitting on the chair stopped his rocking, the groaning of the seat against the concrete pausing, and you jumped as the front two legs slammed back down onto the floor. He stared at you for a moment, analysing you, before giving in, wandering over to the door and undoing a heavy deadbolt to open it up, never turning his back to the two of you and keeping his gaze locked with yours before throwing a demand for bottled water over his shoulder.

There was scuffling, various sounds of movement on the other side and you assumed there would be multiple people, before the door was closing once again, and the grating sound of metal was making itself knowing again in such a piercing scream along the lock that you shivered, wincing at the chill it gave you, stomach twisting.

“All right, this is a fucking mess.”

“You don’t say, love.” Newt grunted, a soft laugh falling from him as you opened up your bag, hands shaking as you tore it roughly, the zip ricocheting along its tracks to expose the contents to you. A fresh pair of gloves, and two of the strongest painkillers you could find that you forced yourself to choke down dry, and then you were attempting to focus.

Your scissors came first, chopping around Newt’s hands as best you could to remove the sodden clothing that covered his body to expose blood-smeared and frayed skin, torn from bullet wounds and bruised from the bleeding under the skin. Pushing the fabric aside, Newt pressed down a piece of gauze that was turning redder from pink by the moment, no white left on it, and the colour of his skin was beginning to turn sickly pale.

Grabbing for your flashlight, you noticed it was gone, left nowhere on your bag and missing from your person, patting down every pocket, before your partner simply huffed. “I wanted to do a trauma exam, except my torch is on my keys, too, and they took those a while ago because they have things that could be used as a weapon on them.”

“What, like my star-shaped plushie keyring?”

“Apparently.” You rolled your eyes, reaching a hand up to the lamp overhead, and tapping your fingers against the metal, hissing at the heat building up along the cover of the lamp, but deciding it would have to do. It wasn’t ideal, and it wouldn't give results all that accurate, but if there wasn’t any functioning or reaction at all, then there was no point in doing this at all, because the bleeding in his torso wouldn’t be the bleeding that would kill him.

Grabbing onto the stem instead, you covered his eyes with one hand, adjusting the lamp to sit a little differently, holding it over his head. Moving your hand back quickly, you lifted his eyelid, his pupil sluggish in his movements, but there was definitely a reaction, and you let out a little breath of relief. One more thing you could deal with. Checking the other eye, just to be certain, you got much the same reaction, not a speed you were overall happy with, but certainly better than nothing. This guy really had seen the worst of it, there was swelling along his jaw, cut and battered, a blackish bruise forming above his cheekbone and burst blood vessels in the same eye, and that was just his face.

He was coated in blood, and you couldn't tell whether it was his or someone else’s, some dried and other patches still oozing, body marred with bruises and cuts, both old and fresh, most of which were unrelated to the gunshot wounds he had. A fist came banging on the door, just in time, water bottles being handed through when it was cracked open a fraction, and there was only six of them by your count, eyes flittering over the sealed packets of water that hadn't even been opened, and you’d have to stretch it to make it last.

“How’s your leg?”

“Better than this guy, he has a bullet in his thigh.” The joke was to brush off his own pain, but for the past couple of minutes, he’d been shuffling his weight from one foot to another, and you glanced around, noting the box that was sitting only a few feet away. The unidentified man set to guard the two of you was coming over, the door sealed up tight once again and the packet of water in his hands.

“Can you put them down on the box? We could use the extra surface?”

He paused, glancing at it, considering the request, before agreeing. Silently, albeit, he accepted your request, dropping the bottles down onto it and kicking the crate across the floor to you, wooden container scraping over the stonework and bumping against your leg roughly, and you tried not to glare at him as your leg buckled.

A coppery taste filled your mouth as you licked over your bottom lip, wincing at the slight pain of the cut, swollen and sore, but not as much as the pain along your forehead, a cut you assumed you gained on the drive here. “So, first up, we need to try and stitch up those holes.”

“If I let go of these cuts, he’ll lose a lot of blood.”

“I know. We can work fast, but I need you to do the stitching, because I’m not sure I’m up to it right now.” You held your hands up, the uncontrollable trembling taking you over was far too violent to be able to do sutures, but you could definitely hold down pressure. Newt nodded, your hands closing over his, the squeeze of cold blood between your fingers from the gauze making you gag slightly, choking down that feeling of nausea.

His hands slipped out from underneath your own, and you pressed down the second they were gone, the man underneath you groaning under his breath as he constantly walked the border between conscious and unconscious. As you held down, Newt reached across his body, snatching up the first of the water bottles. Unscrewing the lid and placing it down, he left the cap beside it, before he was shuffling through his bag.

Pulling out the kit with needles and thread in, your emergency stitches kit that you’d ever actually to use in the field, and you were having flashbacks and pinpricks of pain along the tips of your fingers as you remembered practising the stitches in the academy, constantly poking your fingers with the metal thread.

The strongest antiseptic followed, dark brown liquid in a half-empty container sloshing against the sides, and it dripped across the edges, spilling a little in his haste, before he was diluting it in the first bottle. Lid back on, shaking it to mix, the once drinkable water turned a murky brown colour, and your eyes were stinging a little front he still open bottle letting strong fumes out into the air.

“I’m thinking chest, stomach, stomach, thigh.”

“Should probably elevate his legs if you wanna’ go thigh last, it’s pretty close to his femoral.” Newt nodded, glancing around, before realising there wasn’t much for the two of you to work with.

“Alright, chest, thigh, stomach?”

“I guess.” You mumbled, none of the odds being in either of your favours, and you watched as your partner pressed his fingers down against the pulse in the man’s neck, frowning at what he found and holding the position down for longer than what was good, the results silently given to you simply by the actions. “Do you need me to push the cut shut so you can stitch?”

“I do, but if you let go of those other ones, he’ll bleed out.”

You gnawed a little on your lower lip, fear and panic building once again, because every slip this man made closer to death, he was dragging both you and Newt with him. The words hadn't been specifically spoken, nothing was clear, but you could read between the lines, and if this man didn’t survive the day, then neither would you and Newt.

You didn’t know what had happened to him, you didn’t want to. Whatever kind of illegal activities, gang territory fight or simply men wreaking havoc upon one another had caused this, you wanted no more part of it than keeping him alive long enough to hope that you and your friend might get out of this situation. The hand under your heart thudded a little more violently as he surfaced back into total consciousness once again, a gasping breath followed by sputtering, fresh red bubbling in his spit as he tried to clear the blood that was pooling in his throat, before an agonising sound was leaving him.

“What the hell are you doing to him?”

You jumped at the loud voice, yelling from across the room and the gun clicked again, the sound a threat that made your entire body stiffen painfully, nails digging into the mains chest as your hands tried to ball themselves into fists.

“We’re trying to save his bloody life!” Newt yelled back, and you gasped, eyes widening a little, because if the two of you had already learned anything from talking back to these people it was the risk of a ruptured eardrum and a killer headache. Clearly, this wasn’t the same man who’d taken you hostage, the rasp in his voice a little different and this man simply grunted at the pair of you disdainfully, rolling his eyes and shuffling in his seat beside the door.

“Alright, what if we use the bags for weight? It’s not ideal, but if we work quickly, I can hold one shut while the bags put some pressure on the other two, and I can hold it shut.”

The blond before you flicked his eyes over everything, fiddling with the tools as he toyed with the tweezers he had retrieved, wiping them down as best he could with some tissue dipped in the antiseptic water. “This guy is so gonna’ fucking die.” He whispered, and you couldn't help the chuckle that left you, swaying on your feet a little as you did, the rush of a chemical other than adrenaline being overwhelming.

“Well, we’re all he’s got.” You repeated his words back to him, a cheeky flash of white teeth in a smile that was gone as fast as it came, before you were shaking your head and refocusing on the task at hand, chasing away anything else you might be feeling in the moment. Daring to free one hand from his thigh, you watched the rapid spurts of blood that came free, trickling over his trousers to the table below, before you were putting your bag down on top. You couldn't see much, whether or not it was even working, but it was the best chance the two of you had.

Newt copied your action, placing his bag down over the wounds on his stomach, much like you had done, giving the two of you the chance to focus on the wound on his chest.

Taking the disinfectant from his hand and pressing down a cotton pad over the end, you soaked the small white ball in the liquid, packing it into the wound as Newt tried to clear the area to see what he was doing, but really, it was only smearing the blood around further. You could clean him up and do a better job of it later, but the first thing you needed to do was get the blood flow under control and wash off the antiseptic once it was clean.

You pinched the hole shut, temporarily stopping the floor, beads of red pooling at the corners, and Newt spilt water over the tops of your fingers, the cold feeling making you shiver, because despite the freezing temperatures in whatever kind of warehouse you are trapped inside of, the layer of clammy sweat coating your skin was hiding you from the chill. Once you could see what you were doing, Newt sighed, taking the tweezers in one hand, and nodding his head.

“Push up around the edges to stop the bullet slipping, I should be able to get it pretty quick. I was good at this part.”

“You scare me a little, why the fuck were you a bullet removal prodigy?” He shrugged, winking a little and holding the metal tongs over the wound, before nodding his head once. Slipping your fingers out of the way, you pressed down around the edges, blood spurting up again but you pressed down, stopping the bullets from shifting as Newt pushed into the man's chest through the hole already made. There was a scarcely audible sound, one deaf to the untrained ear but like sirens to a paramedic, the cling of the tips of the needle against the tip of the bullet, and newt shifted his fingers a little.

Letting the metal open back up from where he’d squeezed them closed like a bullet, the edges of the hole stretched around the expanding metal, and an intense look of concentration took over Newt’s face, not even looking at the wound but staring at the wall behind you, looking right through it as he operated purely on instinct and the touch as he felt his way through it. He let out a victorious little noise, pulling back, and as he did, he brought out the shell of a bullet, one that looked to be homemade, though that didn’t exactly surprise you, and it let out a much louder clanging as he dropped it back down onto a metal tray beside the victim’s head.

You moved instantly, the second that it was pulled back you were pushing your thumb and forefinger back up against the edges of the cut to contain the bleeding. Holding it tightly, Newt picked up the next set of his equipment, an atraumatic needle, one of ten and you hoped he was as good as he boasted being because you only had ten between you both, and you’d need two per wound with the length of these wires to seal them up tight enough.

You watched, carefully, as Newt threaded the first of the holes through the wound, pulling it out of the other side with the tweezers, and beginning to tie a series of surgical knots to keep them closed. He gave it a test tug, the skin pulling as he did, but it didn’t rip or tear, neither the wire nor the flesh, a solid base with which he could work. Beginning to sow him up further, Newt moved in steady motions, each gap only two millimetres apart at the maximum, pulling them tightly enough to stop the blood flow and allow tissue repair to began, but not enough that it would tear at the inevitable strain it would undergo when it was done up.

As soon as she was halfway through, attaching a new thread to continue with, and the wound was getting closer to being shut, allowing you to move your fingers out of his way, a slight breath escaping you as your breathing hitched each time the needle or thread came too close to you, because the last thing you needed right now was to get an infection from someone else’s blood and a dingy warehouse, or to lose time on this man’s life by having to start disinfecting everything all over again.

As he sealed it up, he pulled all of the threads a little tighter, working his way along to make sure the thread was evenly distributed, before fastening up the thread. He pulled back, the both of you waiting with bated breath to see whether blood would come free or whether they would bust open once your fingers moved, and while they pulled tautly, they never broke or tore.

You flooded with relief, Newt letting out a mix between a chuckle and a sigh, relief overlaying it all, and you took just a second of reprieve to know that you were just one step closer to this all being over. Opening your mouth, you weren’t sure what was coming, words of gratitude and accomplishment sitting on your tongue, aimed at any kind of higher power that might be watching over the two of you right now, but your partner beat you to it.;

“Let’s check the bag wounds.”

You nodded your head, swallowing back whatever you were going to say, beginning to feel a little dizzy as your head spun, and you squeezed your eyes shut for a second, containing the way you were feeling. Lifting away the bag that was sitting over his thigh, you were both surprised and impressed that the bag method had held reasonably well. There was more blood than there would be if you’d held it yourself, but you could work with what you had, and as your eyes flicked to where Newt was checking his stomach, you found similar results. Your gut was twisting again, bile rising in your throat at the sight of the blood in various places, an unusual phenomenon as blood had never bothered you before, and you turned away, gagging as vomit threatened to make itself known, and you tried not to clap a blood-soaked hand over your mouth, the thought only sickening you further.

“Woah, you alright?” You gagged, dry heaving a few more times as you tried to keep back the vomit that was on the verge of making itself known, tears lining your eyes and heat flooding over your cheeks as everything within you threatened to let go, but you managed to keep a lid on it. “The fuck was that?”

“I don’t know. I’m fine. Just aftershock, I think. Hunger, too, maybe, been a long time since I had anything real to eat, I think my body is just all fucked up right now.” His eyes narrowed on you, but he nodded, accepting the answer because the two of you needed to focus on things that were more important.

Once you had suppressed your nausea, you were picking the scissors back up, Newt resetting and disinfecting the equipment once again as you cut away at a patch of the ruined jeans the man was wearing. The denim was stiff while wet, and you struggled to cut it, your fingers aching as the metal of the handles pressed into the edges of your fingers, and you released a breath as you were holding as it was finished. Wiping down the area and packing the hole with disinfectant to make sure it was clean.

The procedure between the two of you started up again, only a second later you were pinching the wound shut, waiting for Newt to extract the bullet before moving to knot the thread and begin to fasten the stitches. It felt like time was coming to a stop while also speeding along, your fingers moving to the pulse point on his neck to monitor how it was going, counting the beats you could feel and trying to remember how light it felt so each period check would reveal whether it grew stronger or weaker.

You felt like the clock was ticking by too fast, every time you glanced up to the musty glass barrier hanging over the door seemed like it was spinning by at double speed, the hand constantly moving in starling jumps around the clock, the shadows in the room growing more pronounced and sharp as the sun moved across the sky, the light becoming duller as the one hanging over you both seemed to become brighter, and you watched Newt work.

As a team, you stitched him up, making sure that each wound was sealed up tightly and that they wouldn't burst, the pair of you physically exhausted. You could see the ache in Newt’s leg, he’d given up on even trying to hide it a while ago, as the two of you had moved onto the third bullet hole, all of his weight sitting on his good leg as he balanced barely anything on the bad one. Four bullets were sitting in a row, lined up neatly beside his head, and you let out a sigh, scrubbing over his skin carefully to wipe up the traces of blood.

Once he’d been stable enough, you checked his vision again, his reaction times having increased by a fraction of a second, but it was enough to mark an improvement, and his pulse was picking up with both strength and speed. You could see the bruises and cuts along his skin more clearly once you’d wiped him down of excess blood, littered with marks that would fade, only the bullet holes to turn pinkish-purple with scar tissue eventually, to join all of the other battle wounds along his flesh. Various tattoos to match the symbols on his face were across his body, and you made sure to treat every single cut, not wanting to leave anything up to chance, your body screaming out in protest as your adrenaline died down, and exhaustion was crawling in.

You were overwhelmed, tears building in your eyes, and Newt mentioned nothing as a few fell free, because you were sure that at some point - perhaps before you’d surfaced back to consciousness all that time ago - that he would have done the same. The situation was terrifying and you were struggling to process it all, every thought you had was like a swirling hurricane, melded with every other thought and emotion you were feeling, leaving you hopeless to process your thoughts but just lay rampant to them.

Anxiety was spiking through your system, choking it down by focusing on the methodical cleaning of the man, but eventually, there was nothing left to do. Fresh gauze and bandages were stark in comparison to his sickly-coloured skin, wrapped neatly and tightly and finally staying crisp and clean as you had everything under control, and your legs were threatening to buckle. You packed away slowly, stepping back from the table, and removing your gloves to join the scattered piles of medical waste that covered the floor and the edges of the workspace.

Newt didn’t even bother to put things back properly, to look after the equipment, he simply dropped it all inside, doing the zip up enough to hold it shut, before it was dangling from his fingers by the straps, and you followed suit.

Noting the movements, the man in the chair stood, his movements slightly wobbly from how long he’d been sat down, and you realised how long must have passed. As he approached, he kicked one of the empty bottles aside, all six used to the last drop for cleaning and disinfecting, and he pulled the gun from his waistband, making sure his finger was over the trigger in case either you or Newt made an attempt to pull something.

Not that you had any chance, there was a pile of everything that could possibly be used as a weapon over on the table beside where he had been guarding.

“He’ll live?”

You raised your hands, folding them behind your head in a symbol of your cooperation as he turned to you, and you tried not to sway too much in your weakness, simply nodding your head to him, and swallowing thickly. “He’ll need to keep those wounds clean, you can take the stitches out in about a month, or longer, wait until they start to form flesh for a scar but take them out before the skin gets too puffy.”

He nodded his head before lifting the gun up a little higher, motioning to the bag you held, and you trembled, his finger flexing a little on the trigger. “Whatever we’re going to need to keep it clean. Get it out. Put it on the table here, and then walk over to the wall until your back is pressed to it.”

You lifted the bag slowly, the dragging of the zip over the metal was all that field the room, tense silence taking over before you were reaching inside, daring to take your eyes off of the man and quell your fear to be able to reach inside. Pulling out both the diluted and undiluted bottles, you hoped he didn’t notice the lack of canister spray you’d left at the scene, your mind suddenly becoming aware of the life you’d left hanging in the balance, and wondering whether he’d survived.

By now, the shift at the firehouse would have been over, and you did not doubt that a missing persons case would have been filed for you and Newt, the abandoned ambulance after over an hour of no check-in would lead them to know something had happened, but you didn’t know how long it would take to find you, or if they even could.

Placing the bottles, spare bandages and wraps, as well as some painkillers down on the table, you stepped back, fastening your bag up.

“He’ll be in a fair amount of pain for a while, they should last two weeks, he can’t take any more than two a day, or else he’ll OD.”

The man nodded, motioning backwards toward the shadowed walls, and you stepped back slowly, Newt following when his command was given, and his hands were held up into the air too, both of you proceeding with caution.

While one danger had dissipated, another was making itself known, the purpose of being brought here was over, you and Newt had served your purpose, and if the man asking for supplies and advice was anything to go on, it meant that either they planned to let you go or planned to kill you, because you clearly wouldn't be sticking around to follow through on a treatment plan.

Once your back hit the wall, you stilled, Newt coming to stand beside you. The door was unlocked, several more men coming in, and the four of them all lifted their comrade carefully, carrying him out, and the door slammed shut behind them, leaving you both in cold silence. This area of the room seemed even colder than that of your impromptu operating theatre had, the shadows creating a drop in temperature, but you were simply too tired to care anymore.

Your head was still throbbing, your eyes felt heavy each time you tried to hold them open, the adrenaline and fear in the situation had been all that had helped to even keep you awake, and you rolled your head from side to side, trying to ease the pain in your neck.

Newt followed beside you, your legs pulled up before you as his stretched out, your bags abandoned together between your bodies, and your head came to rest on his shoulder, a heavy sigh let out.

“I think you have a concussion.”

You chuckled, but it was dry and humourless, simply a sound made to fill the silence and bush him off, but he wasn’t accepting that answer. His hand closed over yours, lacing your fingers together comfortingly and squeezing tightly, and you did your best to squeeze him back just as firmly. “I don’t have a concussion, I just have a headache.”

“Yeah.” He hummed, and you thought for a second, you may actually have won an argument with him. “But you also have nausea, you passed out, you’re a little confused, you’re weak on your feet and you can barely stand up straight.”

“It’s a-”

“You say aftershock and I’ll slap you.” He teased, a genuine laugh leaving you this time, and your shoulders rose and fell with a shrug. “When we get out of here, w-”

“If.”

“When we get out of here,” His voice was a little firmer, commanding you to have as much faith as he did, “Will you please just get it checked out? Just to make me feel better.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes behind closed lids, and groaning when he jostled his shoulder to wake you back up to the fullest alertness you could muster. “Fine! Fine, when we get out of here, I’ll get it checked out.”

Silence encased you both, darkness taking over, and the man who’d been tasked with guarding you both returned, taking his seat again and setting up to play on his phone from the second that he was comfortable, and you waited. He said nothing, not noticing the stare both you and Newt had fixed on him, your heart sinking as he remained quiet. The longer his lack of information dragged on, the more you felt doom beginning to sweep over.

The fact that he had nothing to say to you both screamed volumes into the void. There were no threats to keep your mouths shut, or looming promises of what would happen if you exposed the group’s location, or even any information on when you’d be leaving, and it seemed that they had no intention to let you go at all.

As you wiggled a little against the concrete, butt becoming numb from the stone underneath you, your legs stretched out to match your partners, and your eyes closed. You were fading away again, drifting towards sleep as it called out to you, the spinning of the room, the dizziness that was bordering on vertigo and the nausea with the headache, it all seemed to lessen as you slipped from consciousness.

Newt was talking to you, forcing you to stay just enough awake that you didn’t drift completely, but you weren’t processing what he was saying, the words just becoming background noise that disturbed you from being able to slumber, but you suspected that was the whole point. He wasn’t talking about anything important, he was telling you his mother’s recipes and the time he once went to buy new work shoes but almost walked out of the store while wearing an un-purchased pair because he was so tired from a double shift.

You missed the banging in the other rooms, you missed the actions taking place, barely roused by the sudden shaking your body felt, and you only snapped back to consciousness when you felt hands on your body. You kicked roughly, Newt barely avoiding the blow as all the pain you’d felt came flooding back over you in shockwaves, making you shudder violently at the surge of pain and nausea, before you were blinking at the dull lighting in the room.

“Stick with me, love. Tommy would kill me if we had to take you to the hospital after the final hurdle because I couldn’t keep you awake.”

“Oh, shut up.” Your words were slurred, and you shook your head, eyes squeezing closed at the throbbing taking place behind them. “You’d love that, I’m surprised you haven’t sacrificed me for a trip to the ER yet, anything to see Dr Derek in his lab coat, right?”

Pink flushed his cheeks, his eyes flickering over to the door, and he leaned in a little, hugging you tightly and shaking you enough to jolt energy through your body, a groan on your lips as he did. “Something is going on outside, and I never pass up a chance for an I-told-you-so!”

“A what?” You questioned, confusion still washing over you, but you never got a chance for an answer. The sound of a bullet pinging against metal was so sharp that it left another ringing in your ears as you cupped your hands over the sides of your head just a second too late. Newt did the same, falling away from shock with a grunt, and the man beside the door was in a little more agony at his close proximity to the sound.

You blinked blurry vision clear, watching smoke curl up from the lock, before the heavy metal door was falling open. It was a uniform you recognised, one of the police members you’d already seen much of over the last few cases, your brows raising a little as you watched them enter. You kept your hands over your ears, at least two more shots reverberating through the air and you felt them more than you heard them, body feeling the impact and breath feeling knocked from your lungs at the vibrations over the airwaves.

It was all like a dream, detached from reality as you were pulled to your feet by an officer, Newt’s hand dropping away from yours and you stumbled, feelings as though your movements weren’t your own. As you were guided through the halls, you tried to remember some of it, any of it, but everything you saw and heard seemed to be going in one ear and out the other.

Flashing blue lights outside with wailing sirens signalled the police cars, and several men around you were all being arrested, pinned down face first and snarling as they were cuffed, but you didn’t have enough energy to feel intimidated right now.

The fresh air was a shock, like plunging into water below the freezing point, and you took a sudden and gasping inhale, coming to a full stop, and everything out of focus suddenly went into overdrive. As you stepped out of the building the haze seemed to drop away, and you took another lungful of the air, panting breaths as you tried to fill your lungs with the source of oxygen, a panic attack building as you finally let everything cup back through, and gentle hands were guiding you to an ambulance.

You recognised the paramedics waiting inside, they were friendly as they greeted you by name and you recognised them from another case, perhaps the one on the bridge or at the chemical plant, you weren’t too sure, but it didn’t matter. An oxygen mask was placed over your face, fresh breaths of air racing through your lungs on a steady distribution that forced your breathing to even out, and you were grateful for it, not wanting to break down until you were curled up in your own bed tonight.

You winced at the flashlight that flickered over your eyes, stars in your eyes flashing for a second as you blinked to clear them, and while the paramedic around you shuffled within their own devices, you shifted yourself slightly on the stretcher, turning to stare out at the collections of cars instead, trying to see more than just the inside of the ambulance.

You searched for Newt, unable to find his blond hair for a good few minutes, before finally, you spotted him. Messy mop head in a far corner, beside a collection of cars that didn't belong to the public services, but instead to the members of the public services.

He was wrapped up tightly in his best friend's arms, Thomas patting his back comfortingly, as Minho all but bounced with excitement at his side. Brenda was leaning on her car, and Gally was standing beside them, hands tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. They were all in casual clothing, clearly having changed since the end of their shift had rocked around so long ago, the night sky closing in overhead as the day was being chased away, and you took another deep breath through the mask, smiling again.

Just the sight of your team was reassuring, to know they’d found you, they’d come to collect you, to make sure you were okay, and your heart thumped steadily and surely in confirmation that you needed their comfort right now. They were talking, Newt using a lot of hand gestures and while you couldn't tell much about their features, you knew they’d all be flickering from amusement to confusion to horror. Newt was quite the storyteller, at any time, no matter the trauma.

They turned, Newt pointing over to the ambulance you were within, and you raised a hand to wave to your friend as you watched all of their attentions move to you, before the paramedic before you was summoning your attention once again. You turned to her, the call of your name snapping you to the moment, and as much as you didn't want to look away from them all, you knew you’d be reunited with them soon enough.

“Well, you definitely have a concussion.” She confirmed, and you pouted, taking a final deep breath from the oxygen mask, and then taking it off.

“Newt is going to live for the ‘I-told-you-so’.” You scowled, and she seemed to come into more focus within your memory now. You remembered her, she had been there at the chemical plant, she’d been new at the time, a trainee, fresh out of the academy and on one of her first cases, and you’d tried to comfort her about the card system, making sure to navigate as many red cards away from her as you could to make a hard day just a little easier.

She grinned, handing you a plastic cup with some tablets inside, and a bottle of water, with the lid already unscrewed. “I’ll spare you the medical analysis, I’m sure you know what to do.” You only nodded, taking both from her gratefully and tipping the pills onto your tongue, before following them with a gulp of water, and taking them down eagerly. “Two painkillers to keep the headaches and muscle soreness at bay, as well as the nausea.”

“As much as I’d love to chat, I’m going to have to rain-check. Am I good to go? I’m desperate to just get home.”

She chuckled, nodding, and you stood up, still feeling a little unsteady and lightheaded, but it was beginning to get easier. Giving her a final thanks, and climbing down from the van, you closed the doors up for her, banging on the back when they were sealed up, and she gave a thumbs up from inside of the window, before sorting everything out and preparing for their journey back.

Turning around, there was a body directly behind you, and you cursed loudly while jumping, eyes trailing up from a familiar chest to his face and raising a brow as warm honey-coloured eyes stared at you. “Fuck, Tommy, hasn’t anyone ever told you not to sneak up on someone who’d been freshly rescued after an abduction? We tend to be jumpy.”

He grinned, shaking his head a little at your words, before your own smile was following. His hands came up, cupping your cheeks, and you leaned into the warmth that his palms brought over the cold skin of your face, sagging a little at his touch. “I have a lot of questions, but the main one is; are you okay? I just need to know you’re alright, and everything else can wait.”

“I’m okay, Tommy, I promise. A little battered and bruised, but hey, what’s new?” He rolled his eyes softly, a yawn following on your lips as you covered it, not missing the fond look he held as he continued to stare, eyes sweeping over your features. You waited for a second longer, before nudging one of your feet forward to bump your toes against his, your brows raising a little. “What’s wrong?”

“I was just really fucking worried about you.” He whispered, eyes dropping down a little, fixing on your lips, and licked over his own. His hands fell further down, sitting over your jaw and he dragged a thumb across your lips a little, your mouth pouting instinctually as he did, and his lips flicked up at the edges, never taking his gaze from where his finger was resting. “Chasing after you is like being on a damn rollercoaster.”

“How’s that?” You mumbled, breath clouding in the cold air slightly but the words were whispered, and his lashes tickled against your cheek as he shifted to bump his nose against yours, dragging them together slowly, his lips pressing to his own finger on the other side.

“Exciting, addictive, a total rush, but a little scary right at the big drop.”

You brought a hand up, sitting over his cheek, his head tipping into your hand, and his thumb slipped away, leaving nothing between you to stop you from being able to taste the overly sweetened coffee on his breath that he drank whenever he got worried. “Don’t kiss me yet.”

“Why not? It’s me and you, and now I know you’re okay, and I just really want to.” He teased you, pushing in enough to trace his lips very gently against your own, sparks of electricity shooting along you at the fleeting brush that you could still feel but wasn’t enough to be a kiss, but already left you wanting more. “If you don’t give me a reason soon, I’m gonna’ kiss you breathless, and they’ll need to put you back on that oxygen mask.”

You let out a soft breath, an airy laugh, before finding the strength to pull back by a fraction. “I have a concussion.”

He snapped back, eyes wide and brows furrowing so tightly you thought he'd get permanent perry lines, his jaw dropping in disbelief. “You said you were fine! You little liar!”

“I am fine!” You took his hands, pulling them away from your face and weaving your fingers with his on both sides, before rocking up on your tiptoes, and pressing your lips to his lower cheek, hearing him whine a little at the near-miss kiss. “I’m just a little woozy, and tired, and shaken up.”

“You promise that’s all?”

“I swear.” You offered, and he smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to your own cheek in return as he respected your boundaries. “If you can set rules for our first kiss, then so can I. I want to be at my peak when we do, I don’t want anything to spoil it, I want to remember it perfectly, and not have such a killer headache, preferably.”

“I can live with that. We’ll wait. For now.” You nodded your head, foreheads resting together once again, and your eyes closed, simply soaking in how it felt to be surrounded by him, before a loud and exaggerated clearing of the throat was breaking you apart, and Brenda stood with her hands on her hips, a wicked smirk on her face as she stared at you both.

“Do we get any greetings, or do we not matter anymore? Because I was kinda’ worried about you too.”

You grinned, the woman who you were proud to call your best friend was holding her arms out for you, and you dropped Thomas’ hands, feeling him let you go and step back just as quickly now that everyone else had come over, and you wrapped her up in your arms as she squeezed you tightly, rocking you from side to side. Another pair of arms wrapped around you, and you grinned as the familiar smell of your partner’s aftershave overwhelmed your senses, the man clinging to you from the back as he wrapped his arms around the both of you.

Minho followed, a wicked grin on his face as he draped himself across Brenda’s back, squeezing all of you even tighter, and Thomas followed beside Newt, Gally and Fry coming next, until you couldn’t see out past the mass of bodies that had joined, feeling as though you were in the middle of a rugby scrummage and you could barely breathe, the laughter you were letting out doing nothing to help.

Eventually, Brenda was elbowing the men back, letting you slip free when they all backed away, and you missed all of their body heats, wrapping your arms a little tighter around yourself to keep warm All you had was the thin material of your uniform shirt, soaked in blood and clammy sweat, as well as various medicines and chemicals, with a vest underneath. It was doing little against the cold of the night closing in, twilight well past as stars started to make themselves known.

You shivered, rubbing your hands up and down your arms, wondering how Newt wasn’t feeling the cold, but he was excitedly retelling the tale already of the surgery the two of you had been forced to perform, a story that would last him for ages, no doubt, but it was his way of processing the trauma; to turn it into something he was proud to remember instead of something he was scared to think about, something that made him feel bold instead of terrified, and you wanted to support that, so you kept your mouth shut.

Stepping back over to Thomas, his gaze left his best friend, flicking down to you, his hands tucked into the front pocket of his hoodie, and raising a brow when you tugged his arm out of his pocket. He let you, his arm limp in your hold as he let you guide him, a soft pink flushing his cheeks as you tucked yourself under his arm, your cheek moving to rest on his shoulder, your hands tucking into his pocket and one set of fingers weaving with the fingers of his that were still inside. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, before turning to look up at him as his arm squeezed around you a little more tightly.

There was a grin on his face, one with a hidden meaning as he bit at the inside of his cheek to contain it. “You know, Newt is gonna’ give us shit for cuddling.” His fingers were moving over your back in slow patterns, large palm rubbing slowly and transferring warmth back to you where you were chilled to the bone.

“I don’t care. I’m fucking cold, and you’re nice and warm.” You moved, face pressing into him a little further, the rest of your words becoming muffled, and he chuckled.

“Well, in that case,” He simply rested his chin on the top of your head, freeing up his other arm to hold you more securely, and letting out a slow breath that became a slight yelp as you pressed cold hands under the edge of his hoodie to sit on warm skin, grinning cheekily at the scowl that formed as you did. “Is any of the story Newt is telling actually true?”

“Surprisingly, most of it.”

“Well, which p-” He was cut off, the gruff clearing of a throat making him fall silent, and you pulled back, slightly embarrassed as heat made itself known along your cheeks when you found the police officer to be looking for you, the rest of the squad falling silent too and all turning to look at you, following the officer’s gaze, and you untangled yourself from Thomas.

“Sorry to interrupt you all. I just need your statement, ma’am, it’ll only take a moment.”

“You haven’t given your statement yet?” Newt quizzed, clicking his tongue in a tutting fashion, and you stuck your tongue out a little bit at him.

“You still haven’t been checked out by a paramedic yet?” You mocked, his amused face falling as he mock-glared at you, Minho pinching his arm as he tried to insist he was perfectly fine, his friend telling him otherwise.

“I’ll meet you over by that car in a moment, it’ll only take a few minutes to get your statement.” You nodded, the policeman giving you a polite smile, before tapping his pen against the pad in his hand and wandering away to the vehicle.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Lips brushed against your ear, making you jump a little, and you turned back to face the man behind you, your lieutenant standing back up to his full height as you did, and raising his brows.

“No, I want you to take Newt over to an ambulance and force him to get a check-up. He’s more than happy to diagnose me, but he won’t do a self-diagnosis.” Thomas laughed, a hearty and full sound, and you assumed there were memories flashing behind his eyes of a childhood full of similar circumstances. “I’ll come and meet you over by the cars afterwards. I’m going to need a lift home, y’know..”

His hand came up, tucking away stray hairs behind your ear, and nodding his head. “I was already planning on that, don’t worry.” You smiled, head ducking a little, and you tensed up a little at the clenching in your gut again, fearing it was another bout of nausea rising, but instead, your stomach rumbled, loudly. There was a snicker, hidden in your hairline, and your lips pursed, a shy feeling growing within you once again. “I’ll take you to get some food, too.”

“Shut up.” You mumbled, a finger hooking under your chin, pulling your face up, and there was a smirk there that only made you flush further. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like you’re adorable? Because, you are.” You scowled, blush only growing stronger, and he smoothed a thumb over your cheek as did, glancing away over your shoulder for a second. “Go give your statement, I’ll wrestle Newt into an ambulance.”

“Mhm, ‘kay.” You twisted your head, nuzzling a little into his palm for a second, before pulling it away from your face and squeezing his hand. “I want McNuggets. McDonald’s drive-thru.”

“Whatever you want, angel.”

You raised a brow, hand smoothing down over his chest to sit just above his stomach, and his eyes dropped, following your hand, a slightly more vulnerable look on his face when he turned back to you; wide eyes, swallowing thickly. “Whatever I want?”

“Anything.”

You tugged on the front of his clothing. “Can I wear your hoodie?”

He froze for a second, before a rush of a breath was leaving him like a punch, and he smiled, reaching behind his head with one hand and tugging it up, stripping the garment off and shucking it down his arm, the long-sleeved shirt underneath rising up a bit as he did, and you forced your eyes away from the happy trail revealed or the flex of his biceps, taking the warm garment from him. He held it out, soft green material looking warm and inviting, flooded with his body heat and the smell of him, your fingers twitching to take it.

Undoing the buttons on the front of your shirt, you cursed under your breath at the cold while taking it off, just a tank top left underneath, before taking the hoodie. It caught on your ponytail, Thomas helping you to adjust it over your head before taking the ruining uniform from you and draping it over his arm like a waiter’s towel, nodding his hair and lifting your hair free from the collar.

He leaned in, lips pressing to your forehead, a soft kiss given to you, before he was pushing you backwards. “Go. Go give your statement, the sooner it’s over, the sooner we get you those nuggets. I’ll meet you at the cars.” Tucking your hands into warm pockets, you wandered away, bumping your hip against Brenda’s as you did and she stumbled a little from where she’d been balancing mid-yawn, flipping you off as you laughed while walking away, and making your way over to the officer.

He stood up straighter from where he’d been leaning against his car as you approached, offering you his hand and introducing himself politely, and you freed up a hand to shake, giving him your name for the record, before your hands were once again clenched with the oversized hoodie’s pockets.

It was a simple case, there wasn’t much to tell. In all honestly, you didn’t know much. You wouldn't be much help, you’d been unconscious for the first half of the journey and in the midst of your concussion symptoms the second time, and you’d never seen the man pull up. You did tell him what you could, about the unusual call, you and Newt splitting up to check the area, before finding the man under the bridge. You tried your best to patch him up, before the two of you had been taken at gunpoint, and you’d lost consciousness when you’d been put in the car.

You asked about the fate of the man under the bridge, your heart sinking a little at the answer you got. He hadn't made it, he’d tried to use the equipment you’d left him but had passed away before the hour mark had passed, and you gripped onto yourself tightly to contain how you felt. He attempted to comfort you about it, to tell you that it was the gang activity you and Newt had speculated it to be, and that the man who’d been stabbed was a criminal, but it did little to ease your suffering.

You were a big believer in second chances; if you didn’t you wouldn't be in the place you were now, with the family you’d found.

Once he had you sign off on the confidentiality forms and disclosures, your name signed next to Newt’s chicken scratch signature, you were free to go, more than ready to just go home. Everything ached, you were still sore and covered with pain, your muscles all tensed up and torn from the strain of the day, your hunger making you feel like you were being eaten from the inside out by your own stomach and the headache that came with it wasn’t a highlight of your day, and your bed was calling out for you.

As promised, the teams were over by the cars, music playing on the radio from within Brenda’s as the door was open, letting her lean against it, and Newt was sucking happily on one of the lollipops reserved for little children that some of the ambulances carried, his tongue turning purple from the false-grape flavour of it.

He saw you coming, a little bounce in his step as you approached, before he was coming to stand before you, a smacking sound making itself known as he pulled the sweet treat away from his mouth. “You okay? Did he tell you about the guy?”

“Yeah.” You sighed, and he frowned, shrugging a little, but holding his arms open.

“He was a bad guy, you can’t save everyone, but you tried, okay? You gave it your best.” His words were true and you knew they were, you didn’t want to wallow in self-pity, you’d done everything you could without losing your one life, in which he would have died too, and you were trying not to risk your own life as much these days. “You’re okay, right?”

“Yeah.” You huffed, and he squeezed you a little tighter, clearly not accepting that answer, and waiting for me. “God, I hate this job sometimes, but I love it too. We save more lives than we lose, we change more lives for the good than bad, but every job has its bad sides.” It felt like you’d been having an awful lot of the bad side lately, but that only meant there was a lot of good to come to balance out the scales. “Have you texted Derek, yet, I bet he’s pretty worried.”

Newt let out a breathy sound at the mention of his crush, sagging in your arms a little before pulling back, and pale cheeks were flushed with warmth, the men avoiding your gaze and scratching at the back of his neck. “Not yet. Bren had my bag in the car, I got a lot of missed texts and a missed call, but I don’t really know what to say. It’s late, he finishes shift soon, I figure I’ll just wait until I get home.”

“Maybe you should go and see him.” You teased, poking at his shoulder, and your friend’s flush only deepened, shaking his head a little.

“I want to take a hot bath, and watch embarrassing rom-coms and eat an ungodly amount of food in a very unattractive way, and I don’t think me and Derek are quite at that stage. Yet.” He added the last word on, smirking as that cheeky attitude came flooding back, and you felt a presence coming to stand behind you. You knew who it was without having to turn, feeling it instinctively as a slight thrill raced through you, before a kiss was being pressed to the back of your head, an arm slipping around your waist, and a chin hooking over your shoulder.

Newt smirked, eyes moving over the pair of you slowly, and you ignored the look as he busied himself by moving to the backseat of Brenda’s car to retrieve your bag as well, and rifling through his own for his phone.

“Is this okay?”

“Why wouldn't it be?” You relaxed a little further into his hold, his fingers toying with the stitching underneath the pocket of the jumper idly as you sagged into him, feeling the movement of the muscles in his chest as he shrugged.

“Whole teams here, and you’re kinda’ the centre of attention right now. You and Newt. I didn’t really wanna’ push my boundaries, but I’m kinda’ afraid that if I let you go again, you’re going to get into some more stupid shit and get me all riled up again, and I’m still all full of adrenaline form these last few hours worrying about you.”

You moved to the side a little, twisting your head to be able to look up at him, eyes scanning over his face as you analysed his words, nothing but honesty and vulnerability shown to you. “Hey, I didn’t get myself into this one, it just happened. For once, I have no blame! I was cooperative with the criminal, kept my mouth shut, for the most part, you would have been proud of me.” His lips twitched with a soft form of amusement at your joke. “Besides, they all know how I feel about you, anyway. I’m not exactly subtle about it, and neither are you. I don’t think whatever this is, is exactly a state secret.”

He beamed at that, you weren’t sure why, but his face lit up with pure joy, and he nodded his head sucking down to peck the tip of your nose with a sweet kiss, one that made you feel ticklish, your face screwing up slightly. Turning back to your friends, you watched Newt stare at his phone for a second, considering accepting a call as his finger hovered over the accept button, the vibrating device with Derek’s name flashing along the top going off after a second, and you frowned.

“You sure you don’t want company tonight, Newt?”

“Yeah, I don’t really think either of you should be alone. Especially not with your concussion.” She pointed at you, but her attention quickly moved back to Newt, and the lanky blond shrugged. “How about a girl’s night? You can join in, Newt, because you can talk guys, so you’re acceptable.”

“Wow, thanks, Bren.” His tone was sarcastic but his face lit up a little, and he chuckled. Brenda turned back to you, raising her brows.

“Girl’s night?”

“How about a girls day tomorrow?” She pouted, and you grinned. “You’re right, I really shouldn’t be alone for forty-eight hours with severe concussion symptoms, but I think I can monitor them myself by tomorrow night.”

“Exactly, tomorrow night! Who’s gonna’ look after you tonight, huh? Girls. Night.” She punctuated her words with emphasis, and you tried to hide your giggling at her confusion behind your hand as even Minho groaned, both Fry and Gally snickered. “What?”

“Brenda..” Minho sighed, nodding his head towards you, where Thomas was squeezing you a little tighter, pressing a series of kisses along your hairline, and she studied you both for a second, before scoffing.

“Really? You’re taking Thomas home instead of me? Boo, you whore.”

You gaped, not sure whether to be offended or amused, and Thomas made the decision for you, protesting in offence on both of your behalves as he questioned why he was deemed as a ‘bad’ choice. “He’s bigger. He gives good cuddles. He promised me McNuggets. He smells good. Those are compelling arguments.”

Thomas’ chest puffed out a little against you and the compliments. “Uh, I smell excellent, I give great cuddles, I’d buy you a share box of nuggets that you wouldn't have to share, and I could put on tall boots.” She raised her hands, her voice teasing now, and your head tipped to the side as you stared at your best friend. “But, fine, girl’s day tomorrow it is.”

“I’ll come to that!” Newt chirped, sticking his hand up, and you nodded your head, Brenda taking the opportunity to high-five him.

“If Newt gets to go, then I’m staying.” You huffed, Thomas squeezing you a little tighter, and you lowered a hand to rest over his, soothing as his intense affections were based on the need for his comfort as well as your own.

“Uh, no.” Brenda deadpanned, her bluntness making you laugh. “You’re one of the main topics we’re going to be talking about. Newt gets to come because he can talk boys, and he tells me about hot doctors.”

“So I can’t come?” Minho chipped in, pouting a little for effect as he stared at Brenda, and her words went silent, no arguments to offer as her eyes narrowed on him, a silent argument between two colleagues that only you knew to be between two lovers, and you chuckled to yourself. He knew he’d won that battle, a smirk taking up on his face, and she huffed.

“If Min gets to go, can I come then?” Gally took a more polite approach, and you nodded your head.

“Sure you can.”

“You’re gonna’ fit all these people into your living room? On your two-seater couch?” Thomas teased, a couple of smirks being thrown in his direction at his reference to knowing your apartment so intimately, and you hadn't even realised that you’d been so freely inviting people to your home until now. You felt a little winded by the realisation, by the idea that it would be so simple to accept someone into the place that was so private to you, the place you’d retreat to after a long day to get away from work, but now, work was your family, and you wanted to share it with them.

“Well, Tommy-boy here can drive himself and you over to my place instead?”

“Team day at Minho’s!” Newt cheered, throwing his hands up in the air, and you laughed, the sound fading into a yawn as you covered your mouth.

“Okay, but late afternoon, because I’m exhausted, and I want a lot of sleep.”

“Late afternoon.” Brenda teased, rolling her eyes. “Midday. You better be there.” She barely gave Newt the chance to get the bags from the backseat before she was slamming the door closed, Gally twirling his keys on his finger and Fry already leaning against the car, half-asleep as his head was popped up on his hand.

You took your bag from Newt, who was catching a ride with Gally, the member of the firehouse who lived the closest to him. Brenda’s car was leaving first, spinning dangerously on mud-tracks as she left, and you were impressed with how recklessly she dared to drive surrounded by cops, but that was probably playing it safe for her. The rest of the team slowly followed, Thomas’ arm still wrapped loosely around your waist as he guided you over to his car, fresh mud spattered up along the polished paintwork, and your bag was placed on the backseat.

He was holding open the passenger door for you when you were ready, and you sank into the seat, offering him just a smile in acknowledgement, before he was rounding the vehicle to get in too, car starting up smoothly, and his hand on the back of your seat as he reversed out of the spot.

Switching gears, he inched forward slowly, pulling up the track carefully, and glancing back in the mirrors, before both hands were sitting on the wheel, and he was flicking on the indicator for the highway.

“You still want to go to the drive-thru?”

You considered it for a second, watching the road as he pulled out, before giving in to your craving. “Yes.”

“Okay.” He hummed, a hand reaching down to find one of your own where it was sitting in your lap, linking his fingers together loosely with your own. The radio was playing softly, the cars were flying past you on the highway as you weaved between lanes, an area you didn’t recognise, and clearly, Thomas wasn’t all that familiar with it either because he didn’t talk much, instead, focusing on the signage along the road for a long time.

It was a longer journey than you’d expected it to be, almost thirty minutes passing before you were entering an area of town that you began to recognise, the very edges of your territory as far as you’d expanded so far, and you squeezed Thomas’ hand a little tighter, letting him go every so often when he needed it to change gears or to drive, but his hand always seemed to find it’s way back to being pressed up delicately with your own.

Your mind slipped a little bit, wondering just how it was that you found yourself here.

It had been a long time since you’d allowed yourself to trust anyone, to really let anyone in, and now you found yourself surrounded. Your entire team had shown up to collect you tonight, all of them wanting to make sure you were okay; honest and true with nothing to gain from it themselves except for knowing that you were safe, and the man beside you had let himself dig in a little closer.

Instead of just holding your heart, he’d managed to let himself inside, residing there and making it his own with everything he did. The moment you’d laid your eyes on him, you’d hated him, hearing him already hate you felt like a bittersweet mouthful, making it easier not to get attached but hard as it always made you one step further from home. You’d spent so much of your life forcing people away while dreaming about one day finding your home that you’d never stopped to watch the time slipping away around you as the chances seemed to get further and further away, until Newt had forced you to.

You had your own history that made you the way you were, but you’d never stopped to give Thomas the benefit of the doubt that he did, too, and you’d taken out your anger on him when it was unwarranted. He’d clearly forgiven you for it and moved on, but you’d never really apologised.

“I’m sorry, Tommy.”

He frowned, the neutral expression he’d held switching to a frown as he began to slow the car down, navigating through the car park as a surprising number of cars still milled around, shopping at the mall in the stores with later hours into the night and various fast-food joints, the illuminated letter ‘M’ calling out to you, and Thomas joined the queue of cars.

“I never said sorry for the way I treated you. I had stuff going on, I had a lot of issues, but I didn’t stop to think that maybe you had stuff going on too, and I’m sorry.”

He seemed stuck for a second, like a deer caught in the headlights, before he sank into his seat a little bit. “That’s okay, I forgive you. You didn’t know I had stuff going on at the time, I shouldn't have been mad at you, either. I took it out on you, but really, I had issues with someone else.”

The name was on the tip of your tongue, but before you could speak your next words, the static of the intercom requesting your order made the both of you jump, and Thomas rolled down the window. It took a moment, deciding as quickly as you could and putting in an order for what it was that you were craving as your stomach rumbled again, that typical greasy smell of fast-food drifting through the open window.

You stayed quiet for the rest of the transaction, reaching out to turn the music up a little bit as you switched over to a classical station, finding the latest chart-toppers to be a little overwhelming in the moment, but late-hour classical piano and violin notes were much more comfortable. The bags were hot in your lap as Thomas handed them over clutching his McFluffy in your hand carefully and staring down longingly at the chunks of chocolate candy and caramel sauce through the lid, somewhat regretting your decision not to get one when he’d offered you one.

Parking up at the back, a little bit away from where everyone else was, and you unclipped your seatbelt, watching him do the same, before he was pushing his chair a little further back and getting comfortable. You handed him over his cheeseburger, and the fries that followed, stealing one from his portion and watching as he grinned, sitting them on his lap and unwrapping the burger, while you opened up a box of nuggets, offering one to him.

You sprinkled some salt over the box, shaking the nuggets after he’d taken one to mix the seasoning, but you couldn't eat one, couldn't focus, not when a certain question was still hanging on the tip of your tongue.

“What’s up? They make it wrong? It’s pretty hard to mess up chicken nuggets.” He teased, leaning over to inspect them and winking cheekily as he plucked another from the large box, popping it into his mouth and chewing happily, a sound made as if to confirm to you that they were okay, but the food wasn’t what was bothering you.

“Can I ask you a question, and you promise you’ll answer honestly?” his brows furrowed, but he nodded, taking another large bite of his burger. You hesitated, picking at the edges of the bag, ripping the brown paper slowly, and you sighed. “That woman in the bar, that was Teresa, wasn’t it?”

He stiffened at the mention of her name, his face falling, and he was stiff as his head turned away from you to stare out of the dashboard, and your lips pursed, anxiety coursing through you at the time that it took him to reply. He chewed slowly, eventually swallowing his mouthful, and you took a cautious bite out of a chicken nugget as you waited. “Yes.”

You nodded, keeping it to yourself and looking through the bag for a packet of ketchup, opening up the small tub and dunking the savoury treat inside, swirling it around, and eating the other half. You licked salt from your lips as you finished, and turned back to look at him, where he was staring down at his food, a confused look on his features. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

He took a breath, seeming to have an answer ready to go, as though he’d anticipated your words, before his jaw snapped shut, and he put his burger down, sighing a little and nibbling on his lower lip, before giving in. “I didn’t want you to know.” You raised your brows, not the answer you were expecting, and he turned to look at you, taking in your expression, and shrugging a little. “You said you wanted honesty.”

“But why?”

“Why didn’t I want you to know that was her?” You nodded, and he took a bite of his food, prolonging the suspense as he procrastinated on his answer. “I guess,” He spoke through his food, grimacing a little upon realising, and you couldn't help your smile, eating another one of your chicken nuggets. “Because you’re nothing like her, and what we have isn’t the same, and I didn’t want you to have to cross with her.”

“Did you love her?”

“Yes.” He didn’t pause this time, stiff once again as he gave you the truth without even considering lying, and you felt conflicted. You weren’t sure whether you wanted to reach out and comfort him, or comfort yourself and put your walls back up; in the end, the person best at comforting you was Thomas, and so you needed to be that for him. Reaching a hand out, you placed it on his arm, and he jumped at the contact, seeming shocked by it. He turned to look at you, eyes dropping to where your hand was sitting on his arm. “Are you mad at me?”

“I don’t have anything to be mad at you for, Tommy. I’m just sorry you got hurt.” You whispered, and he let out a shaky breath, his hand coming up to sit on your cheek, his face dropping to bump his nose with your own, sharing a breath and nudging into you.

“Just so you know, this is one of those moments that I would kiss you, if we’d already had our first kiss.”

“I’ll remember that.” You grinned, bumping back against him, before pulling away, and eating a chicken nugget as he whined slightly at the loss of intimacy.

“She, uh, she was a paramedic. You reminded me of her, at first.” You turned, realising that in the interest of honesty, he was going to tell you it all; the information that other members of the team skirted around and answered vaguely, a mystery that had been locked up tight to keep you out of, all of them having gotten hurt in some way. “She had the same attitude you did, she didn’t really let people in; a lot of walls. We were.. something. She didn’t want to put a label on it, she wanted me behind closed doors but never wanted me near her in front of the rest of the team. She had boundaries, she wanted me to come over late but never wanted me to stay the night, she wanted to have dinner and drinks but never in public. It felt exciting, but wrong. But I couldn't stop.”

“Thomas, you don’t have to tell me this.” He sniffed a little, eating his fries quietly and shaking his head a little as he relived the memories.

“I want you to know.” You felt touched that he wanted to share one of his deepest pains with you, but it was scary, because it meant you had to do the same. “I should have seen the signs, she always wanted more, and she never wanted to settle down, kind of like you.” His words cut a little, stinging, despite knowing them to be true. “She said she was leaving one day, out of the blue, and I blamed myself for it. We got into an argument, she didn’t even tell me she was moving house until she asked me to sign her transfer papers. We yelled a lot, and I was upset, so I signed them and told her to just leave. She did.”

“Is, uh, is that the day that-”

“Newt got hurt? Yeah.” His voice cracked slightly as he spoke. “She left, and I was upset, and about an hour later, we got a call. I’d been too busy pacing my office and seething over it that I didn’t call in for a substitute. Newt told me it was okay, he’d been comforting me. He went alone on that call, got stuck under material that had fallen on his leg. Minho found him and carried him out after he passed out.”

He crushed the empty cardboard carton in his hand, the sudden sound making you twitch at the shock, and he whispered an apology upon sensing the environment he’d created.

“Newt’s been my best friend since I was a kid, and because of my feelings, he got hurt. I shouldn't have taken it out on you, but there were just so many similarities, it was overwhelming. I didn't want you to meet her, because you're nothing like her.”

“I’m not? Kinda’ sounds like we’re the same.” You finished your food, packing the wrapped back into the bag, and facing him more confidently as you turned in your chair, and he chuckled.

“You’re nothing like her. She may have been what I loved once, but you’re something entirely different.” He picked up his ice-cream, peeling back the lid on it and poking at the contents with a smile on his face now as he mixed the toppings in. “You’re sweet, you get along with everyone and you want to be with us, I can tell, even if you were going to leave at first. You.. you want me, you don’t hide it. I like that. You’ve spared my best friend a lot of pain instead of causing it, and you make Brenda feel like a woman again when she’s surrounded by men, and you cook with Fry. You’re a real part of our family, I don’t think she ever was.”

Once he deemed it thoroughly mixed, he took a large spoonful of it, holding it up and poking it against your smile lightly.

“Take a bite, I know you want some. You can share mine.”

You did as told, accepting the ice-cream he was offering to you, and relishing in the sweet flavour. He took his own bite, and despite how happy you were, there was still a pang of lingering guilt as you kept back your secrets from him after he’d told you his. “You’re not the first firemen I’ve been involved with.”

“I figured as much.” You were a little surprised, pausing in your words as he looked at you like it was no big deal, and he shrugged, offering you another spoonful. “I mean, I figured you had to have some kind of history in a firehouse, with your transfer record, more switches than a lightbulb sees.”

You rolled your eyes, grinning at his joke a little. “Well, you were right. In my first house, I was straight out of the academy and young, and there was a fireman. He was charming, and very attractive, and he had this way that made my heart race.” You reached up, wiping a stray piece of ice-cream for the edge of Thomas’ lip. “Like you do.”

“I make your heart race?” He was smirking, liking knowing he had such an effect on you, and you redirected your attention to the dessert, turning the spoon he was bringing to his mouth and stealing the spoonful, the chill helping to calm your flushing features.

“You know you do.” You swallowed the treat, licking the sugary taste from your lips. “He had a previous injury, and a drug problem. I was young and naïve, and he wanted the ambulance stock for the pain so he could avoid surgery. When the truth came out, I took the fall and lost my job, while he got off with a reprimand and being put on probation. I had to move to a whole new state to escape it and find a new firehouse. When someone tried to get close to me there, I panicked and thought they would use me again. I moved, and I moved, and I moved. Whenever someone got close, I panicked. I got confused. I wanted family, and I was so set on finding that perfect family that I never stopped to let anyone in, until I came to ‘21, and encountered a moody lieutenant.”

Thomas grinned, cold lips pressing to your cheek as he ducked down, and you squirmed at the slightly sticky feeling of melted ice-cream, the cardboard cup empty as it had been shared between you both.

“My real family, there’s not much to say about them. I don’t have much, my mother hasn’t spoken to me in a while, she sends a birthday card every year, and that's about all there is for me. Until I found all of you.”

“It was just me and my mom when I was a kid, and there was a house fire. She’s never been quite right since, I grew up looking after her, and Newt was the kid across the road who brought me trays of food his mom made for us, and who brought me the homework sheets when I had to leave school early. He’s my family, too. This whole squad is.”

You felt like a weight had been lifted off of your chest from the confessions, from finally trusting someone enough to tell them your story, feeling the burn of tears in the back of your throat, but you were too tired to cry, having no tears left to give. “Tommy?”

“Yeah, angel?”

“Can we go home now?” He nodded, starting the car back up, and you leaned over the centre console a little to rest your head on his shoulder, feeling him turn to press a kiss to the top of your head. “When we get there, I want to go to bed, and I want you to stay the night, and then I want to spend the whole day with you tomorrow, in front of our family, without hiding anything.”

He took a second to reply, letting out an unsteady laugh, before starting up the car and nodding for you as you pulled back. “I would fucking love that.”

#thomas #the maze runner #ff!tommy #firefighter!tommy #smoke and fire #SAF #thomas x reader #thomas/reader #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien thomas #dylan obrien the maze runner

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wing-ed-thing · 4 years ago

Text

Group Project (Shino x Reader x Kisame x Temari)

Request:

Word Count: 2,282

Tags/Warnings: Language, Alcohol Mention, Gender Neutral Reader @brokennerdalert @narahanabi

Notes: I have never written for Temari before. I think I got her spot on tho. This was actually too fun to write. Enjoy, y’all.

The only time that worked for everyone was 10 o’clock. Which, by the way, sucked ass. At least, that was what Kisame said in the groupchat just ten minutes before you dragged yourself out of your dorm and into the rain. You trudged through the puddles, holding your jacket closed over your body to protect your backpack-encased laptop. Shino had a night lab. The earlier he finished his work the earlier he could leave. Temari had been insistent about that. She had some sort of circle and you remembered Kisame asking her why she couldn’t just skip for the week only to be met with a passive aggressive response. And Kisame himself had hockey practice. Even the sports houses were off campus, only impeding your scheduling efforts.

When you got to the longue, Temari had already set up all of her belongings. She sat herself in a cluster of four shallow armchairs and spread out a flurry of papers on the long coffee table. With the packed schedule that she threw into the chat, you wondered how she got there so quickly. Temari looked up at you with one long, slender brow raised.

“Oh good, at least you’re here.” Unsure, really, of what to make of her backhanded compliment, you sat down in the chair across from her and wordlessly unpacked your laptop.

You never liked general classes. At the end of the day, you worked on a few big, group projects, ultimately learned nothing, and your grade depended on the work ethic of others. You glanced over at Temari. She likely didn’t even have the same major as you. Granted, that was probably the point of the class, but nonetheless, it weighed on your already drooping eyes knowing that you’d have to pour so many late night hours into a project that would amount to nothing.

You pulled up your school account and sifted through your notifications.

“I signed us up for a research question. I thought that censorship in the classroom was an easy and relevant one. I don’t know about you, but I’m not about to get into the intricacies of drones at this time of day.” You couldn’t help but nod. Temari sure pounced on top of things quickly and for that, you were thankful to have received an easy prompt.

“Sounds great,” you mused and the heavy door from the outside to the longue slammed shut. You glanced over your shoulder to find Kisame, still in athletic clothes grinning as he approached.

“Well this is bullshit, isn’t it?” Those were the first words to come out of his mouth and you could practically hear Temari groan in exasperation. Kisame plopped down in the armchair beside you, offering you a wink as he did. “What kinda professor assigns a project on Tuesday only for it to be due Thursday? Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

You averted your eyes back to your screen, pretending to sort through your notifications. You hummed in response, too easily flustered and too tired to process. Temari’s fingers flexed over her own keyboard.

“It’s the beginning of the semester. It’s to test out organizational skills and teamwork,” she managed through half-gritted teeth. You looked between your two teammates, wondering what exactly happened between them that made them so hostile to each other. You made a mental note to not get in the way of whatever that was. Kisame scoffed, sitting back in the arm chair and reaching for his own computer.

“I don’t really care what it is and why it is. What I care about is that I’m wasting my Wednesday night…”

“Ah, yes, Wednesday night,” Temari repeated mockingly, “Because I know that I like getting plastered in the middle of the week.” Kisame leaned towards you on his left arm cushion.

“Soy Sauce over there is just sore that her brother picked a fight with one of my boys and lost. Sasori’s a short guy too, you should link with us sometime.” You heard Temari scoff.

“Yeah, like Kankuro would lose to any of the thugs you hang around—”

“Who are you calling a thug?” Temari met Kisame’s pointed glare. Even so, he sank farther into his seat, lifting one ankle to rest on his knee. “Though, I think it says something that you knew exactly what I was talking about—” He punctuated every word with a smug swing of his head before Shino walked in.

“Nice to see that things are lively in here.” He made his way across the lounge before plopping down next to Temari. A white piece of cloth hung out from his backpack, something that Temari didn’t miss as Shino prepared his materials.

“That’s a hazard.” She bit the inside of her lip.

“Don’t listen to her. She’s been grumpy since before you came here,” Kisame quickly explained, much to Temari’s disdain.

Looking across from you, you almost wished that you had just been paired up with Shino. You didn’t know him that well, but he seemed smart, capable and overall, quiet. Temari had drive, but her approach felt intense. Meanwhile, Kisame seemed like he couldn’t care less about the project. Or perhaps, it was more that he couldn’t care less about Temari.

“So the paper,” you began out of sheer nervousness. “And the presentation…” The three sets of eyes turned to you. You glanced at the clock. You had already wasted more than a half hour.

“Let’s be real here, a five page research paper is nothing,” Temari said, also crossing her legs. “It’s the presentation that we should worry about.” Kisame let out a breath.

“Well, here I was about to say the opposite.” He turned his neck to the side and you heard a few audible cracks. “What about we split it up if the paper is so easy for you?”

“I’m not just doing the paper by myself. Besides, I’d need to find sources and by the time I’ve found sources and written everything up, I’ll have done most of the work.” Temari wrinkled her nose at your partner next to you. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what you were banking on.”

“Here.” Shino’s low voice broke through the room. With one exaggerated click on his keyboard he looked up at the three of you. “I just put a list of sources in the shared doc. There’s ten of them which should be more than enough. I pulled a few articles and a few academic papers which should meet the criteria from the rubric.”

Temari blinked down at her computer, furiously switching tabs. Her lips formed a round ‘o’ shape.

“Nice work, Shino,” you praised only to receive a shy nod. “I think if we take an anti-censorship stance, it’ll make out work easier given the time that we have to finish. Maybe Temari, you can start the paper and I can start the slides.”

“I can help you with that,” Kisame offered and you typed his email into the share box.

“I’ll help Temari with the paper,” Shino said with another nod.

“Start with the counterarguments. I’ll work from the top, you work from the bottom.” Temari gestured widely to Shino’s screen and you let out a relieved sigh. Maybe you’ll be able to get all of this done after all.

Time flew during the late hours of the night. You didn’t know what it was about the nighttime that made time feel quicker than usual. Soon enough, the clock struck one. Temari plucked ferociously at her laptop and it surprised you that Kisame hadn’t asked her what she was punishing her keyboard for. Shino, on the other hand, liked to stand. About an hour ago, he had stood up from his seat, and with one foot on the low level of the coffee table, kept at writing his part of the paper. Temari and Shino didn’t speak much. Rather, their side of the table mostly sounded of clicking.

Meanwhile, you and Kisame were having a great time. He made you laugh much to Temari’s annoyance, but knowing that you were getting your parts done, she didn’t comment. Despite his outward physique, Kisame had a sense of style when it came to design and organization. You flew through fonts and images quickly and by the time you had cleared the first few slides, even you were impressed by how professional it looked. The clock read two o’clock.

“This was your conclusion, right?” You turned your screen in your hands to face Temari. She squinted over and her eyes lit up.

“Actually, that’s a way better wording. Imma just steal that…” She clicked some more. “That’s some great work.”

“It was actually all Kisame.” And to your surprise, he didn’t gloat. Instead, he remained eerily focused. Temari glanced at him before glancing away.

“Like I said, great work…” she muttered.

“We’re almost done with the slides,” you announced, “Do you guys need help with the paper?” Shino shook his head. You found that he preferred non-verbal answers.

“We’re wrapping up over here, too,” Temari answered.

“Good, because I’m fuckin’ starving.”

And with the one mention of food, you all looked up at each other.

***

There was only one place open this late at night and it was one block away from campus. Fast Food, of course, but no one in your group complained. The dining halls were closed and most of you didn’t keep your rolling pantries stocked with anything worth eating at two in the morning, so you packed up your things.

It felt odd walking down the road with this group of people. You chattered amongst yourselves about anything other than your assignment.

“Me? I’m a biology major. I want to study beetles but I have to get my undergrad before I can do anything really specific.” By far, Shino had to be the most interesting of you all. You made your way off of campus, the restaurant in your sight. And as the walk continued, so did your conversation.

“I’ve wanted to try the new place that they opened up by admissions but they’re always closed when I try to go.” Temari pouted and you crossed the street together. You wondered if spending four straight hours having to communicate with any three people could make talking to them this easy.

“Marine biology?” You stared up at Kisame. “I don’t think I would have guessed.” He let out a hearty laugh that sent a few birds flying.

“Oh yeah, they have us go out of labs for the whole day. And when I say the whole day, I mean the whole day. I’ve always loved the ocean, but I think I’d have to transfer if I had to wake up at seven and come back at eight for more than one day a week.” Kisame reached for the handle, only for it not to budge in his grip. He tried again.

“Are they closed?” you asked, getting slightly agitated at the prospect.

“No.” Shino cupped his hands around his eyes as he stared through the window. “Wet floor signs are out. This must be the time that they clean the dining room.” Shino hardly had to finish his sentence before Kisame was already on his way to the drive thru.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Temari yelled after him as she jogged to catch up. “You can’t just walk through the drive thru.”

“Sure you can.” Kisame stood directly in front of the speaker with his hands in his pockets. “There are no cars around and even if there were, they’d have to take our order to get us out of the way… Hello?” The speaker crackled and Kisame shot a pointed look at the rest of you before moting for you to come closer to order.

“What can I get you?” the apathetic worker droned.

“Can I get a number nine?” Kisame started.

“Oh me too,” you whispered to him, not entirely sure why you spoke with such a hushed tone. He crossed his arms with a smirk.

“Make that two number nines? One large—” He stepped back to let Temari come up to the speaker.

“May I please get a number six with extra sauce, please? And, uh, a number seven too, please.” Like Kisame before her, Temari stepped to allow Shino to talk.

“Two number forty-fives, one with cheese and a large soda.”

With nowhere else to sit, you claimed a spot in the empty parking lot. Temari ended up paying. You put up a fight, but she insisted. You were secretly convinced that she was loaded anyway.

“You two got a lot of food.” Kisame handed you your fillet burger. Temari hummed, taking one of her backs and folded it behind her.

“One’s for my boyfriend,” she said, and before Kisame could get out a snarky comment about how Temari could ever land a boyfriend, Shino answered,

“I just usually eat all at once. Can’t usually grab dinner while doing night labs.” You all grimaced to yourselves. You knew the feeling of skipping meals because of your schedules.

You looked out at the city. Your school sat on a hill just outside of the twinkling lights. You found comfort in the blinking that came from below and your surroundings made the atmosphere feel completely still.

“You know, if we have a choice, we should just stick together for the rest of the semester.” Shino’s monotone voice cut through the air. You turned to the rest of them. Temari shrugged.

“It’s less of a gamble since we know each other, I suppose. I know that most of you won’t mess up our assignments…” You and Kisame nodded along, both stuffing your faces with french fries.

The decision was unanimous.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed and otherwise supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes:

Shino’s lab coat was in with his regular supplies which is technically a hazard when working in chem and bio labs since lab coats should be sealed.

Not all fast-food places well take your order without a car, but if you block the line they’ll give in (that’s what I did). Don’t blame me if you get arrested for doing that though.

"I'll have two number 9s, a number 9 large, a number 6 with extra dip, a number 7, two number 45s, one with cheese, and a large soda."– Melvin "Big Smoke" Harris

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tlbodine · 3 years ago

Text

Reverse-Outlining Revision Method with Plottr

So in my editing guide, I give a step-by-step method for structural editing that I find really useful, and I wanted to do a visual follow-up to kind of show what that process looks like. I’m using Plottr for this, because I was gifted a copy of the software in exchange for them using my horror-writing beat-sheet as one of the templates, but you could just as easily do this with Scrivener, scrap paper, or any other organizational system you like.

Whether you’re a fellow pantser who struggles with story structure (hi!) or you’re an outliner who needs to make sure your draft matches up to your vision (or the second draft has a good structure), this will work for you!

Step One: Write a one-sentence log-line of the story + jot down the major themes

There’s space for this in Plottr. I’m doing Neverest.

Premise: A woman’s search for her missing husband’s body on Mount Everest sends her into the grip of ancient forces that don’t want her to leave.

Themes: Putting your name on something doesn't make it yours; colonialism and the urge to conquer and codify; relationships as a form of control and change vs understanding

You’ll also want to write a one-page overview summary of the story, similar to what you’d put in a query letter. Here’s mine:

One year ago, Sean Miller -- journalist and mountain climbing enthusiast -- reached the summit of Mt. Everest, and was never seen again. Unable to move on without knowing the truth of what happened, his wife Carrie flies to Nepal to meet with Sean’s best friend and former climbing partner, Tom. They assemble a small crew and begin an expedition up the peak in search of Sean’s body and a better understanding of what might have happened in his final days.

Guided by a travel journal left behind from her husband's expedition, Carrie ventures into the frozen, open-air graveyard of the world's tallest peak. But as Sean’s diary and Carrie’s experiences reveal, climbing the mountain is more than a test of endurance; it’s a battle of wills with an ancient and hostile force protecting the mountain — and the dead do not rest easy at the summit.

Doing this helps you to identify the core elements of your story -- the characters, the conflict, and the stakes. You should be able to answer the questions: who is the main character, what do they want, what’s stopping them, what happens if they succeed/fail.

In this case:

The main character is Carrie, the wife of a journalist who disappeared while summiting Mt. Everest (character)

She wants to find his body and get closure about his death/understand how and why he died (what does she want)

But there are supernatural forces at work that led to his death and now have the same in store for her (conflict/stakes)

Step Two: List out every scene in the book

Plottr is an outlining software, so it makes this step really easy (and conveniently color-codes things for me at the same time!). There are multiple views this can take, but this one screenshots well so I used this one for the example.

Basically what you want to do is write down everything that happens, scene by scene. You can color-code them however you want -- in my case, I have three narrative threads, so I made a timeline for each one. Then I just mapped out all the scenes -- across 24 chapters, each dot is a scene, and you can see that some chapters have multiple scenes and also that the primary and secondary plot alternate chapters.

When you look at it this way, you can tell really clearly that the tertiary plot needs some work -- it’s only there for four scenes in the first third of the story. I either need to cut it completely and incorporate any essential information into the other plots, or I need to expand it.

In this particular case, I decided to expand because 1.) my word count is low, and I’d like to fill in more story and 2.) a big theme I want to explore in the story is what it’s like to love someone who’s deeply passionate about something you don’t understand -- so this tertiary plot is a great place to explore that and fill in more characterization that should add some depth to the primary and secondary stories.

I can also see at a glance that I have a variable number of scenes in each chapter. Sometimes that makes sense (the green ones are diary entries, so it’s logical that one chapter = one entry) but sometimes it hints that those chapters could be a little thin and need more content. If I’m looking to add additional conflict, I should do it in those blue chapters that only have one dot as opposed to the ones with multiple dots!

Step Three: Look at the overall shape and adjust for pacing and genre

Plottr has a bunch of templates pre-loaded into it that make this easy, but you can also just google various different story structures and beat sheets such as Save the Cat or the 3 Act Structure etc. But just look at the overall map of story beats and see how they line up with the outline you’ve made:

This is just a small snapshot view, but you get the idea -- when you look at the scenes side-by-side with the beat sheet, you can see some things. For example, it sure would make more sense if the flashback scene where Carrie decides to embark on this journey got its own chapter and lined up better with the “putting the players in action” plot point rather than being smooshed into the first chapter with the introduction to the world! The fact that I’ve got it smashed into that first chapter is probably a sign that my opening scenes/chapter itself is a bit thin and needs to be fleshed out a little more.

Step Four: Figure out what you need to adjust and make the changes accordingly

So after looking at everything mapped out this way, I’ve got a little list of things I need to do:

Come up with more scenes for that red plotline

Rearrange some things a little bit to better fit the structure I want

Figure out some more blue scenes to fill in the gaps caused by rearranging things and smooth over the pacing/amp up the conflict/alleviate some areas where critique partners hae expressed confusion

I also moved around the categories in Plottr (you can drag-and-drop storylines and chapters) to make it a bit easier to see everything all at once. Basically you can edit the story’s outline first, to save you the confusion of manually moving around whole paragraphs/chapters in your actual story document.

Now, I haven’t finished that step yet for this particular project (there’s a lot of brainstorming to do re: filling in those gaps!) BUT I did want to skip ahead to show you the next step (let’s pretend this is a TV cooking show where the finished pie is pulled right out of the oven).

Step Five: Re-Type everything based on your new scene list

This is a really neat thing about Plottr. If you swap from the “Timeline” view to the “Outline” view, you get these editable text windows where you can type whatever you want, and it’ll keep it organized into chapters and scenes.

So, just pull up your original in one window, and the Plottr screen (or other outlining/drafting device) in another. Dual monitors are great for this but we make due. Now, retype the original document into the new document, making changes as you go to fit the new outline and also cleaning up language and so forth as you go. For example, this time around I’ll be changing Carrie’s blue timeline scenes to present-tense instead of past, so I’ll rewrite them in present tense in the new window.

Once all that is said and done, in Plottr you can export the file directly into Scrivener or Word. (If you’re not using Plottr, you’ll have to figure out for your own self how to transfer the final product into a final document -- I trust you can sort through that). From there you’ve got a fresh clean copy of a second draft all ready to go for the final copy-edit/proofread/polish/formatting and then you’re off to the races!

I hope this was helpful for you! I talk more about editing in my Gumroad guide here: https://tlbodine.gumroad.com/l/jkLpr

If you’d like to receive all of my existing + future guides and support me in making more content like this, consider subscribing to my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/tlbodine

And you can pick up a copy of Plottr here: https://plottr.com/

This post isn’t sponsored or anything, but I did get a free copy of the software from the developer and I think it’s pretty neat. It’s still in beta so new features keep getting added, and the team that makes it are very nice and responsive to feedback.

#writing advice #writing tips #outlining #editing #how to edit #editing advice #writeblr #writing #share to save a writer

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gigglinggoblin · 4 years ago

Text

Getting a Little Familiar

Image used with permission from the amazingly talented Deepdiscourse, whose breathtaking hypnotic audio files and gorgeous photos (and video clips) are equally worth your attention and money! Go check out their work!

[pov: any, nsfw, 2nd person, reverse corruption, (initially) evil POV, hypnosis, magical mind control, mutual nonconsent (heavy), dolly, gender-neutral forcefem, pet play, breast fixation, kitten play, dressup, witch, femdom, praise, syrup mention, intelligence reduction]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Oh, you poor, hopeless little thing. This didn’t go quite how you’d planned, did it?

Don’t feel bad. It was a really very lovely plan to try and hypnotize me! And really, even if it’s not working out quite as you’d hoped, I think you’ll be much happier this way, don’t you?

Aww. Look at you. Trying to put words together when all you really wanna do is stare at my lovely breasts like a helpless, needy little toy.

So cute.

So helpless.

And so adorable, thinking you’ll be able to put any words together at all that aren’t “yes, Mistress” and “yes, please, Mistress” when I’m through with you. Maybe some soft mewing. Mm, yes, that sounds just lovely, doesn’t it, sweetie?

I can already see all those silly thoughts glimmering in your eyes, rising to the forefront, rising to the top of the waves like soft, pretty pink jellyfish. All those plans for posing as a sweet, obedient little apprentice, pretending to be all silly and dumb and pliant, all eager to please while you worked your little schemes.

Now, now! No need to speak, kitten. Those pretty lips of yours look so much cuter half-parted like that, breathing in nice and slow. Nice and slow. Matching my breathing. In and out. In… and out.

Watch... my breasts… rise… and fall~

Good pet!

And doesn’t that feel nice? That’s right. Just keep watching my tits and listening to my words. They look so soft, don’t they? So smooth. So easy to get lost in.

And it feels so good to listen to Mistress and let her words fill your pretty empty head, trickling in heavier and heavier by the second, like sweet syrup, just... drowning all those thoughts in pleasure.

Isn’t that right? Hush-hush, kitten. Of course it is.

Good pets love to listen to Mistress. Mistress has such a pretty voice, doesn’t she? So nice to listen to and sink down-down-down-down-down, so deep, all those thoughts tugging you deeper, and deeper, and deeper, so heavy and cumbersome, getting heavier with every deeeep breath you take in, and out, and in, and out, and...

*giggle* That’s right! You’re doing so well! Goodness, you’re so adorably suggestible. So pliable. I’ve barely had to work any magic; I just suggested you’d like to look at my tits and let my sweet voice do the rest... and down-down-down you went. I just told you to listen like a good pet, and you nodded along with every single word…

… and happily allowed aaaaall that sweet, slow, heavy syrup to flow into your silly open mind.

Isn’t that right, pet?

Aw, hush, kitten. Of course it is~

[Thanks for reading! There’s more after the break, but if you enjoyed this story and want to read more like it, there’s tons more content on my Patreon. For just a few dollars a month, you gain access to alternate Bad Ends, bonus stories, polls on future content, early updates, erotic text-based roleplay/D&D games, and much, much more! If you can afford to, consider pledging, so I can keep posting Tumblr fics like this one on the regular! Thank you! <3]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Salamander folk” are a curiosity largely unique to witchcraft, homunculi created when a willing (or “willing enough”) mortal entices a witch into transmuting their being into something else. In this way, a witch can make a human something like a fey, and can change just about anything else she likes about the human in the process. Many witches favor catfolk and other beast-like features, but the witches have many options. Many, many options.

They just... they just really like catgirls, okay?

And in fairness, so do a lot of the girls who go to witches seeking transmutation. The transformation does not change gender, obviously, but it can be used to change certain physical aspects to be more within a person’s preferences, or, say, to make a cisgender boy look more feminine for the witch’s amusement.

(When a demon does this to a mortal, they are usually called cambions—true cambions, not the mock cambions arising from demon-mortal partnerings. It’s a much more... consuming process.)

Why are they called “salamander folk”? Not all labels make perfect sense. In this case, a “salamander” is old-fashioned magic slang for a partially-finished spell, implying a malleable sort of magic that has yet to be fully shaped. It’s almost never used in that sense anymore, though. It might be distantly related to the famous total immunity newts have to magic.

Many mortals deliberately seek witches out for this reason, desiring some manner of change to their form beyond mortal means, or else to become apprentices. Or, often, both. Many witches charge apprenticeship for a certain number of years in exchange, which isn’t always as mercenary as it seems. Apprenticeship allows a witch to guide and protect the salamander person through their transition, as well as to make sure that the transformation really is what they want. It can also make the transformation itself easier to effect—it’s not easy to change someone’s true form, and it often takes time and a mutual familiarity.

Notably, the reverse dynamic is quite common as well: Many would-be apprentices are expected to allow the witch to transmute them into different forms as a condition of being taught. This is ostensibly because the process of being transmuted involves tying spirits to the subject’s soul, and tends to make their overall form and connection with magic very malleable and easy to work with. These kinds of apprentices are called familiars.

Of course, some witches just want cute catboys and ravenpeople and dollygirls to toy with as they please.

Katrina of the Thousand Names is a particularly skilled witch, known less so for her raw power so much as her cunning, vast arrays of knowledge, and general good-naturedness. She knows hundreds and hundreds of spirits well, and is one of the most famously easy-going when it comes to transformations. If you know what you want, she’ll see it done for as small a price as cooking her meals for a few nights while she works the spell.

Of course, many seek to be her apprentices even if they aren’t looking for transformation, and she’s quite reasonable about this—as long as the apprentice acts in good faith. Many seek to steal her repository of powers to use for wickedness, even trying to hypnotize the witch into yielding them. These ill-behaved apprentices tend to find themselves serving a very different role indeed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

My, my. Such an adorable, hopelessly malleable plaything you turned out to be!

I think this is all for the best, don’t you? You’re much better at being my pliant little doll than you ever were at being my apprentice. You’ll be so much cuter as my obedient, mewling, empty-headed kitten. And so much happier, too!

Oh, come now, kitten, none of that fussing. Kittens don’t need words, and neither do helplessly adoring little dolls. Doesn’t it feel so good to be nice and sweet and good for me?

No more schemes. No more plotting to steal all my secrets. Those all required thinking, and thinking is hard, and listening like a good pet is easy.

So... so... sooooo easy~

And listening feels so, so lovely, doesn’t it? Just letting my words take over. Breathing in and out so steadily, so hopelessly enthralled by the soft, gentle motion of my soft breasts rising… and falling...

All those plans required so many confusing thoughts, all swirling around in that silly head of yours. But all those wicked thoughts are being drowned in the sweet, wonderful syrup of my words now, aren’t they?

Can’t you just feel all that syrup flooding your mind, submerging every thought in a heavy, heavy sugary brainless docile trance?

All those thoughts about betraying me? All submerged, and so, so hard to pull up to the surface now, so deep, deep down as my breasts bounce slowly, softly, so, so softly...

All those thoughts about using my powers to make trouble? All drowned in warm, gentle waves of delicious syrup, caught like butterflies in amber, deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper as my voice goes on, and on, filling you with sweet, sugary obedient pleasure the longer it goes on, getting so, so hard to even remember anything else...

And oh... doesn’t it feel so much better to be sweet, kitten?

So much easier to be sweet.

So much easier to be a nice, happy, obedient bubbly helpful kitten for me.

And it feels so good to please me, doesn’t it, sweet thing?

So good to nod passively. So good to take my hand, so deeply hypnotized now, so deep-deep-deep under the honeyed waves and not even trying to resist anymore. So happy and dumb and heavy-headed now, just staring at my tits like a mewling, helpless kitten.

Aww, look at you squirming. So cute! Such a sweet little plaything I’ve found. Would you like to be a good pet for me?

Good pet!

Such a good, happy, obedient, needy, sweet little pliant kitten.

Aww, and don’t worry, sweetie.

I know how excited you were to use all my magic, to dress yourself up in my glamors, to bewitch and ensnare whoever gazed upon you. Of course I’ll be happy to let you! Oh, hush-hush, I insist!

Let me lead you into the dressing room, now, pet. There’s a good plaything.

I’m going to dress you up to look so pretty. I’m going to make you so gorgeous and adorable and eager to please. You’ll just be my cute, obedient, sweet dolled-up kitten. Just a happy little maid for me, isn’t that right? Hopelessly eager to help anyone who comes by. Helping others is going to feel so good for my good, obedient kitty.

I promise you’ll be every bit as spellbinding as you planned, sweetie. A pretty spellbound doll for everyone’s amusement. Everyone’s going to love you, and that’s going to feel soooo good.

Let’s go get you all dressed up and pretty, sweetie. There’s a good pet.

And maybe, once you’ve learned your lesson in a year or so…

… I’ll let you decide whether or not you want to stay that way forever~

[My Patreon] [My Commission Info]

[DeepDiscourse’s Twitter] [DeepDiscourse’s Patreon]

#cloisteredcreatures #cloisteredlands #katrina of the thousand names #salamander folk #deepdiscourse

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luzarya · 4 years ago

Text

Of Pink Roses and Yellow Daffodils

Yuu x Vil

Summary: Yuu came from a world where the name of their soulmate is written on their chest and where one sided love led to flowers growing in your lungs.

Yuu had thought they wouldn't have to deal with such things, now being in Twisted Wonderland, yet it appears like their old world lingers into them.

(This focuses more on Yuu's feelings towards Vil. Vil makes only a brief appearance.)

ao3 link: here

warnings: Hanahaki Disease, blood, angst

parts: 1/2

-> second

word count: 2,683

When Yuu was brought into the world of Twisted Wonderland, their hope was immeasurable. No longer were they bound by the laws that dictated their homeland, no longer restricted by the death stricken rules.

Yet the moment they looked at the mirror, undressed from the waist up, their hope diminished. There laid the name of their soulmate- Vil Schoenheit, in clear black cursive, just above where their heart should have been. Upon seeing the mark, the dreadful, horrendous tattoo that has been there since birth, they fell to their knees, tears trailing down their cheeks as they wailed for hours.

Grim didn’t know what to make of the despairing human in front of them, but they remained silent, smart enough to realize that this was a moment that Yuu needed by themselves.

As the days went by, and Yuu’s adventures with Deuce and Ace continued, as the overblot incidents continued and ended by their hands, they were happy. No mark would dissuade them from the happiness they felt, nothing could stop them forming the friendships they had made.

Until they met their soulmate.

Yuu was flabbergasted at first, not knowing how to feel. Happy? Sad? Hopeful? Despair? Truly, knowing the fact that their soulmate was never in their world but instead in this one was something they needed to contemplate on. Surely, this meant that there was no going back to where they originated, or if they do, would this mean in heartbreak?

Yet, as their friends prepared for the competition, as Vil instructed them in the confines of their dorm, Yuu could feel the loss of breath with every step they took, petals coughed out every once and while, Yuu knew they were in trouble. Despair overwhelmed them as they sat in their bed, coughing as quietly as they could in their hand.

The yellow petals and specks of blood laid in their hand, no more coming out. Yuu let out a coarse fit of laughter. Oh how the universe hated them. In the short amount of time they had known Vil, Yuu had grown to love them.

Vil’s beauty was something to behold, their intellect and knowledge seeming to heighten their beauty. Oh how they were unafraid and uncaring of gender norms, oh how they walked the halls with great confidence. Each passing day that Yuu had seen Vil, their love for him grew as well. The fact that they were to be their soulmate didn’t help; in fact, it worsened it.

Yuu picked themselves up from their bed, careful with their hands to not leave a trace of their blood, making their way to the bathroom.

Another fit of coughs shook their body as another set of petals, this time pink, erupted from them. The sink was now a beautifully and chaotically decorated with pink and yellow petals, the blood seemingly in place with it all.

Yuu looked in the mirror, their eyes red and puffy from the pain, small bags underneath from the exhaustion. Their frame was slightly different as well, Skinnier than it was a week ago, though it wasn’t obvious as the rest of their symptoms. The petals in their throat had made it painful to consume anything edible, so the past few days have been wrought with a hungry stomach and chest pains.

Overall, their disheveled state was ugly and horrendous, perhaps this was their worst point of their life, besting their previous phases of life that have been riddled with pain and despair.

Knocking interrupted their wallowing of self-pity, the voice ringing out loudly in the bathroom, asking if they were okay.

With a coarse and high voice, Yuu replied, “All is well.”

Another violent fit of coughing, more painful than the last, shook their entire body. It was loud, no doubt their cries had awoken everyone in the dorm by now.

The knocking became louder, more frantic and Yuu gripped onto the sink with every fiber of their being. The fit ended, the sink now halfway filled with various petals and small flowers.

The last thing they saw was the door busting open as they fell onto the cold wooden floor.

Yuu woke up the next day in the infirmary, their throat sore and dry and their limbs too weak to move. Carefully they moved their head to the side and the other, noticing a lack of human presence all around.

They were awake for what felt like an eternity in silence, staring at the white ceiling as they processed last night’s events.

They heard the door open, yet they didn’t move their head. It wasn’t until they heard the person whisper out their name did they shift their eyes.

“You’re awake!”

The loud voice strained their ears but they dealt with the pain, as the figure, Crowley they now realized, continued to talk. Apparently everyone that had witnessed their body being taken from the bathroom were concerned, causing Vil to cancel practice as everyone was too worried to do anything.

“What… happened?” Yuu asked hoarsely. They regretted asking, the pain seeming to only intensify when they bothered to talk. Yuu didn’t want to know how much pain they would be if they ate anything.

“Well, according to Vil, they had found you unconscious on the ground,” Crowley started off, “and that the sink was filled with flower petals and blood. Pray tell, whatever had happened, Perfect?”

“Can I…. get something…. To write with? My…. throat is in…. Pain…”

“Yes, of course. Please do give me a moment.” Crowley scurried off to who knows where, as Yuu tried to sit up. The end result was another fit of coughs, the sound of hacking resonating throughout the room.

Crowley returned quickly, seeing the perfect coughing up petals and blood that stained the perfectly white bed sheets.

“Perfect! Drink this, it should aid with the pain.” Crowley handed Yuu a vial that was filled with a blue liquid. Knowing what it was, Yuu drank it as quickly as they could, knowing that there was another fit of coughs that would come. And come it did, ruining the bed sheets even further with the pink and yellow petals, the blood making the room smell like iron. Although, as Crowley had said, the potion did ease the pain, even if by the little.

“I brought you something to write with.” Crowley handed Yuu a small notepad and a nice black pen.

Yuu began to write.

This illness is from my universe. It’s not contagious, so no need to worry if it passes on. This illness is dependent on certain emotions. The most efficient way to cure it completely is surgery, as it originates in the chest, however that leads to a void of emotions afterwards.

Crowley looked confused at the note, “What do you mean it is dependent on emotions? Are you able to elaborate on this specific illness?”

Yuu nodded solemnly, and then began to write even more.

It’s called the Hanahaki disease. It only takes hold if the person believes that their love is unrequited. It goes away once the love is returned or if the person gets surgery to remove the flowers from their lungs.

“What a tragic disease!” Crowley’s voice was laced with concern, although Yuu could guess that losing them as a beast tamer would be something he was more concerned about than their actual wellbeing.

I’ll go through the surgery.

Crowley started at them, “Are you sure? You did say it was caused if they believed the love to be unrequited. How do you know for certain that it applies in your case?”

Yuu laughed at the thought of Vil loving them. There would be no reason why Vil would love them. Yuu had fallen in love too fast and too hard. Vil had been focused on the dance practice and making sure everyone was in tip top shape for the performance.

I know for certain. The person in question is too busy to think about love, there is no doubt that they are far too concerned with current events. Please Headmaster, let me go through the surgery before it’s too late.

Crowley hummed in thought, perhaps thinking about how expensive it would be to cover a surgery to remove branches from the lungs. Yuu couldn’t think of another way to get rid of them. No matter how much they wanted Vil to love them back, they knew that it wouldn’t happen.

If you could, remove their name. My world has it that those destined to you have their names inscribed on your chest, above the heart. I don’t want to be reminded, otherwise the disease will take hold again.

“What an odd world you once lived in. Well, do not fret! I will do as you asked. I will do everything in my ability to aid you with this disease, aren’t I so kind?”

Yuu rolled their eyes, but they were glad to know that Crowley was the same as ever.

Thank you, Headmaster. A million thanks.

Days had passed, and no one had come to visit. Vil had everyone practice once they knew about their wellbeing. It pained Yuu, as they felt lonely as ever.

It did ease the disease, if only a little bit. They still continue to cough out flowers in full bloom, pink roses and yellow daffodils being what came from them. How fitting, their meaning. They certainly felt no joy in this, nor was there any gratitude, yet grace was ironic, in a sense. Was it because that Vil was the epitome of beauty and grace that they coughed out pink roses?

And what of the yellow daffodils? They represented rebirth and new beginnings. Was it them coming to this new world that the disease had sprouted such flowers? Or is it what is to come afterwards of surgery, that they were to feel like new?

Yuu didn’t know for certain, but they wanted the pain to end. It was already painful enough that they knew Vil was never going to love them, but the fact that the disease had taken place in their lungs only served to make Yuu feel worse. They didn’t need a constant reminder of their one-sided love.

Crowley had stayed true to his word, as he managed to get an appointment for Yuu. Unfortunately it meant that Yuu had to leave off campus to go to an actual hospital, but it was fine. It made Yuu wonder why there wasn’t a hospital on campus, although they supposed perhaps having an infirmary was enough in most cases.

Getting to the hospital was all a blur, going from coughing out roses and daffodils to sleeping from the exhaustion from making the flowers to begin with. It didn’t help that they began to eat less, the pain in their throat making it difficult to eat anything.

Yuu only had hope they would be able to survive the surgery. The rates for the surgery were high in their world, after all, many people fell in love and got stricken with the disease all the time.

Their love and emotions may disappear with the surgery, yet Yuu never regret falling in love. Their only regret in all of this was letting themselves fall too hard in love.

The surgery had been a success, from what Yuu had been told. Yuu asked the surgeons to preserve the flowers, despite the pain they had caused. As weird as it was, Yuu wanted a reminder of love, a reminder of a feeling that they once felt.

And preserve them, they did. Yuu held the vase of pink roses and daffodils in their arms. The flowers were no longer bloody, as it was a sort of a hazard to keep blood on there. Nonetheless, the flowers were pretty and lovely, as once their love was for Vil. Yuu felt normal as usual, save for the slight discomfort in their throat and overall being.

Though, upon their return to the college, they were quickly ushered to their room, Grim bouncing around in joy the moment they saw them.

“You had the Great Grim concerned! A servant like you shouldn’t make me concerned!”

Despite the comment, Grim stayed with Yuu as they were forcibly bed ridden.

Deuce and Ace, of course, had made their way to the Perfect’s room, making sure everything was fine and asking questions. Yuu made sure not to delve too much about what had happened, only mentioning that it was a disease from their world that caused flora to sprout under certain conditions. Never did they mention what kind of conditions, nor did ever why they hadn’t stopped it earlier when they noticed when they did.

Right before they left, of which greatly saddened Yuu to be left alone again, they had mentioned they were making great strides of practicing, despite the obvious tension between Vil and Epel. Yuu was happy about the progress, perhaps their friends would be able to win the competition that they all have been working hard towards. Although, when Vil’s name had been said by their beloved friend, they had felt nothing, only a void where their love should have been once.

The surgery was clearly a success, but Yuu was unsure if the empty void was worth it.

Late that evening, surprisingly, Vil and Rook came to visit. It was nothing out of the ordinary, or at least, that is what Yuu had thought. The emptiness was still there when they looked at Vil, no longer feeling the same about their beauty nor their grace as they once did. Yuu could tell that the two had noticed something was off about them, but they didn’t ask.

When they left, Yuu could feel themselves becoming overwhelmed. They never anticipated feeling sadness after the whole ordeal, nor did they anticipate the cries that came out from them. Yet no matter how much they wanted to cry out and shout their despair away, no matter how much they wanted to wail as loudly as they could, their friends were still in the dorm, sleeping to prepare for the big day.

Yuu wondered, would it have been better if they confessed their feelings to Vil? Yet as soon as that question came, it quickly became answered, that no, it would not have been best to confess to Vil. Had they confessed, they were certain that Vil would have rejected them, and only progressed the illness even further, and perhaps even strain their relationship until the moment of Yuu’s certain death. And Yuu’s death would be a terrible loss for the college as a whole, as no matter how insignificant Yuu thinks they are, they are still the reason why the overblot incidents never ended in any casualties, since they were always the ones to end it. As much as Yuu would have liked to die with their love intact, it would have never benefited any party except for Yuu themselves.

So Yuu laid in their bed, quietly crying. Crying over the love they once held in their heart, because no matter what had happened in the end, their love had brought them hope. Pulling themselves out from bed, Yuu unbuttoned their shirt and pulled it down, and anything else in the way to get a clear view of their chest. Sure enough, where the name had once clearly been, there was nothing. What had remained was the scars from the surgery. Yuu didn’t know if they regretted having Vil’s name removed, but the deed had been done and there was nothing they could do about it.

Nothing at all.

Yet as they continued to wallow in their self-pity, Yuu knew that the surgery was the best option they had taken so far. What else could they have done that would have prevented their death? Nothing, that’s what.

There was nothing they could have done.

So all Yuu could do now was finish their session of tears, and focus on the future.

But for now they’ll give themselves this moment of mourning for the emotions that they once had possessed.

For that was all they could do.

#yuu x vil schoenheit #twst x yuu #twst fanfic #twisted wonderland #hanahaki #slight angst #blood mention #luzarya writes things yuh

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twh-news · 4 years ago

Text

Despite nearly 600 voice roles in her prolific voiceover career, Loki star Tara Strong still had to audition for her fan-favorite character Miss Minutes. Strong was initially tasked with bringing the Time Variance Authority’s animated mascot to life in its Jurassic Park-inspired orientation video, which brought Loki up to speed on his current predicament. But in episode two, Miss Minutes even took the form of a hologram that briefly interacted with Loki. So despite her vast resume, Strong was more than happy to audition for such an enigmatic character.

“It’s actually quite surprising for many people to learn that most voice actors — even ones who’ve been in the business for 30 or 40 years — often audition for parts they’ve already had,” Strong tells The Hollywood Reporter. “You have to constantly keep proving yourself in auditioning for new studio people and new showrunners even though they may have hours and hours of tape on you for a character you’ve already done. So I’m happy to audition, and thankfully, it worked out.”

While she can’t say much about Miss Minutes’ future, Strong can confirm that we haven’t seen the last of her.

“I can cryptically tease that you’ll see her again,” Strong shares. “There’s much more to be revealed, and it’s fun to watch that unfold. The beautiful thing about this character is you don’t really know who she is, where she’s from, what her origin story is, how sentient she is, if she has a horse in this race at all, and what her intentions are, if any. Like any good, exciting adventure, TV or film, you are left wondering that all the time. So she’s an intriguing character, and that will continue.”

When Loki director Kate Herron revealed to THR that Miss Minutes’ introduction video was inspired by Jurassic Park‘s Mr. DNA cartoon, most viewers assumed that Strong’s Southern accent was paying homage to the Southern accent of Mr. DNA, but that wasn’t the case.

“I didn’t even know that until I saw Kate Herron talking about it in an interview,” Strong reveals. “I didn’t even make that connection initially when I first started seeing some of the footage. But it is a fun comparison because they both have this juxtaposition of very high-end, modern technology with very basic, classic ’60 and ’70s animation.”

In a recent conversation with THR, Strong dives even deeper into the audition process for voice roles, and then she explains why she wants more synergy between live-action and animated comic book properties.

Since you have a few voice roles [nearly 600] under your belt…

(Laughs.) Just a couple.

I have to imagine that you just got a phone call for Loki‘s Miss Minutes.

I had to audition! It’s actually quite surprising for many people to learn that most voice actors — even ones who’ve been in the business for 30 or 40 years — often audition for parts they’ve already had. You have to constantly keep proving yourself in auditioning for new studio people and new showrunners even though they may have hours and hours of tape on you for a character you’ve already done. But this character, since it was new, needed an entire audition process because I think they were in search of what felt best for this character. So I’m happy to audition, and thankfully, it worked out. (Laughs.)

How much did they tell you?

Normally, for an audition, they’ll give you a drawing of the character, a character description, sides and some backstory into their world, but we really got very little information. I called my agent after I received the packet, and I was like, “Um, can you tell me anything else about this character? Is she sentient? Is she A.I.?” And my agent was like, “I don’t really know.” So nobody knew what it was because it was so top secret. In fact, I didn’t know what it was until I booked it, which, of course, was very exciting. So based on the information that I had, I laid down three different versions in my home studio. I always do the preliminary audition in my home studio. Sometimes, it’ll take me 5 minutes, and sometimes, it’ll take me 3 hours to get it exactly right, knowing that there’s hundreds or thousands of people vying for one role. So I’ll think about what’s going to separate me from the other people and how I’m going to give them something special that they’ll glom onto. For this one, there were three different versions: one of them included an accent, one was a little bit more A.I and one had a little more emotion attached to it. Obviously, once I saw what it was, it made sense that they were keeping it on the DL.

Did they inform you at some point that they wanted an homage to Mr. DNA from Jurassic Park?

No, they didn’t! In fact, I didn’t even know that until I saw Kate Herron talking about it in an interview. I didn’t even make that connection initially when I first started seeing some of the footage. But it is a fun comparison because they both have this juxtaposition of very high-end, modern technology with very basic, classic ’60 and ’70s animation. So it’s this beautiful mix of things that just somehow seem to go together to create this visually stunning and exciting world, as well as the voiceover behind it. It just all seems to go together to create this enigma. Who is she? Where is she from? What’s her origin story? Why does she look like she’s from the ’70s but she knows everything from the future. It’s really cool.

When it came time to record in earnest, you must’ve been baffled by what you were reading, but then again, you’re probably used to it.

Yeah, and I’ve done several voices with similar descriptions and similar varying levels of A.I. I was the voice of the singing refrigerator [Bridget] on an episode of Modern Family, and initially, they wanted it very Siri-like. And then we added a little more attitude to it. So I’ve done that sort of thing several times, and I know how to manipulate my voice enough to sound like A.I. It’s that sound where you question whether there’s actual emotion behind it. Miss Minutes is such an interesting character because initially you think she’s just someone who’s giving exposition on what happens to you when you get to the TVA. But by episode two, you realize she’s got a little attitude. So she’s a lot of fun to play with.

Before live-action comic book stories became a global juggernaut, animated comic book movies and shows were a primary frame of reference for a lot of these characters. So I’ve always felt that there could be more synergy or crossover between live action and the animation/voice acting community. Are you hopeful that your role as Miss Minutes can help bridge that gap?

That would be pretty wonderful. It is true that voice actors and legacy voice actors — who’ve been at it for so long and are so brilliant at bringing characters to life just with their voice — get passed over for on-camera celebrities that maybe the casting director wants to meet or because someone thinks they’ll bring big box office. If you were to record two very big animated features, one starring on-camera people and one starring people who’ve been doing voiceover for a while, you would definitely hear the difference in the little idiosyncrasies and other things that we know how to do in order to bring this action to life. Overall, there certainly is plenty of crossover when you look at someone like Robin Williams, Tom Hanks, or my favorite, Mark Hamill, who’s brilliant at doing both on-camera and voiceover. But then you do have the A-list celebrities who will come in for an animated session and freak out when they see what everyone else does. Of course, it’s still acting, but it’s a different form of acting. It’s like asking a tap dancer if they do ballet. It is wonderful that the Internet has given voiceover actors a lot of love that maybe their predecessors never knew existed. Now, people can look up who their favorite voiceover actor is, and when I go to a comic con, I’m treated like a superstar who people know. It’s wonderful to be able to give back to those fans, and give hugs, and hear stories about how shows shaped their childhood or brought their family together or got them through a depressing time. So that kind of stuff has been really nice. I certainly didn’t anticipate Loki being so huge, and the reception to Miss Minutes being so wonderful and so loving right out of the gate. So maybe this will give networks [and studios] pause, so they think, “Hey, let’s give one of the voiceover actors a shot at this role. Maybe it’ll be more fun than so and so from The Office. Just for this time, let’s see how this goes.” (Laughs.) If somebody suits the role and does a great job, they should be granted that role regardless of how many Twitter followers they have or how many episodes of an episodic they’ve done.

Loki director Kate Herron said that Miss Minutes is about to go on an “interesting” journey. So what can you cryptically tease about Miss Minutes moving forward?

Well, I can cryptically tease that you’ll see her again. (Laughs.) There’s much more to be revealed, and it’s fun to watch that unfold. When you see the first episode, you think perhaps that she’s just a recording on a screen, but in episode two, we see that she can become a holographic form and interact with Loki. He even responded to her and asked, “Are you a recording, or are you alive?” And we still don’t know. The beautiful thing about this character is you don’t really know who she is, where she’s from, what her origin story is, how sentient she is, if she has a horse in this race at all, and what her intentions are, if any. Like any good, exciting adventure, TV or film, you are left wondering that all the time. So she’s an intriguing character, and that will continue.

She got her own character poster, so that’s usually a sign of importance.

She did! And she has her own Twitter! She also has the cutest emoji hashtag I’ve ever seen in my life. (Laughs.)

When Morgan Freeman gets hired for voiceover work, he’s hired to do Morgan Freeman. So what percentage of your jobs ask you to invent a voice, versus using something that’s trademark Tara Strong?

That’s a very good question. Like I said before, they’ll give you a drawing of the character and some backstory into who they are. And then you, as the voice actor, have to try and imagine what production had in mind for this character. With that said, you have to be free to let something organic come to you and take chances. Sometimes, things don’t happen until the very last minute. My favorite example of that would be Teen Titans. When I first read for that, I was already doing five tragic teenage girls: Batgirl for the same network, Ingrid from Fillmore!, Kylie from Extreme Ghostbusters and Shareena Wickett from Detention. I was like, “Gosh, I have to make each character different, but I’m not sure how to make Raven stand apart from the other similar descriptive personalities.” So when I read for Raven, I just put myself in the acting mindset of where she was, and I read the part. And when I walked out of the studio, I passed the booth where the engineer, director and writer were sitting. So I turned to [casting director] Andrea Romano, who I’d been working on Batgirl, and said, “I just had this other idea. Can I try something else?” And she said, “Sure.” So I went back in and that’s when I had this idea that Raven had this weird little roll every time she spoke. So that was not something I planned when I first walked into the studio. You have to be unafraid to try something new and different, and to also be malleable to what production wants. Sometimes, they’ll really love what you did, but then they’ll want her to be older, or missing teeth, or have headgear, or Southern. (Laughs.) So you have to be ready to jump right in and try all kinds of different things until it lands right into the pocket of what works for that voice.

Would you perform your voice roles the same way in live action? Or would you use less inflection?

More than likely, it would be less broad because the cameras are there. On an animated show, if the line is “Whoa!” and your character sees a hot guy or is falling off a cliff, you have to know how to bring that action forth with your voice. When you’re watching something on-camera unfold in front of you, you don’t have to tell the audience so much with your voice. If you’re doing a sitcom, it’s going to be bigger than if you’re doing a single-camera drama. I just worked on a series for 6 months in Toronto, and my character was basically an on-camera Harley but as a drug-dealer mom. It’s a show called Pretty Hard Cases. And it wouldn’t have worked if I played her as broad as animation. With that said, if I got to play actual Harley Quinn as a mom, it would be bigger than that, but probably not as big as an animated thing. It would be somewhere in the middle. Even within animation, you tweak your level of performance based on the world. For instance, I’ve done many iterations of Harley where she’s the high school girl, or in some cases, she’s even darker than Joker. So you have to know the world around you. Some of the best actors that sustain long careers are very highly aware of what environment they’re in at each moment. So the show or the movie really dictates the level of performance.

#loki #loki series #tara strong #interview #miss minutes

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kiingocreative · 3 years ago

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The Structure of Story is now available! Check it out on Amazon, via the link in our bio, or at https://kiingo.co/book

Every author starting out will know how important reviews are. If you’re yet to be convinced, here are some fun facts about reviews*:

1. 88% of consumers trust reviews as much as personal recommendations.

2. 72% of consumers will take action after reading a positive review.

3. Positive reviews tell Amazon and Google you’re worth ranking and can boost search results for your book by feeding into SEO (reviews account for almost 10% of total search ranking factors).

So reviews aren’t just a nice to have — they’re critical to the success of a book.

Now, amongst the writers community, we talk a lot about receiving reviews, but less so about giving reviews. I enjoy writing book reviews immensely, because it makes me think about what I’m reading on a different level, and forces me to learn how to articulate that opinion. This is actually one of the main reasons why I got into professional BETA reading.

I was asked recently how I structure my book reviews (all of which can be found on my blog), so here you have it: all the secrets to how I go about writing book reviews, along with some concrete examples!

Start With Why.

The most important question to ask yourself before you even start writing a review is this:

Why do people read book reviews?

In essence, they want to know whether the book is good, what it’s about, and — more importantly — whether they should read it. They generally like some context and detail to back the review so that they feel it’s genuine and trustworthy.

If you can keep in mind what people generally want to get out of a book review, this will help you keep your review relevant and useful. It’ll help you figure out what’s worth including and what isn’t. If in doubt, ask yourself what you would want to read about in a review when you’re trying to decide whether or not to buy a book.

Some Key Questions.

Before you start writing, you also need to ponder a few things. It may not always feel natural to reflect on a book on this level of detail — it didn’t for me at first. I either liked a book, or I loved it, or I didn’t, but I rarely spent a lot of time critically thinking about why I did or didn’t like a read.

If you’re also finding this uncomfortable at first, I say stick with it. I found it extremely interesting to make myself think these things through. It’s made my writing so much better, because I’ve developed that objective evaluation muscle that activates even when I’m with my own work. It’s also made me much better at forming and formulating an opinion, which is something I didn’t use to be good at!

Here are some questions to start with before you start on your review:

• Did you like the book?

• What did you like about it?

• What didn’t you like about it?

• Are there any themes that were particularly well handled?

• Were there any characters you liked above others, and why?

• Would you recommend the book to a friend?

These few questions will start shaping your view of what you’ve read and provide the main elements of your review.

To take your critical reading to the next level, you may want to ponder the various elements of the story and the writing as a whole. Think about:

• The plot / storyline — is it strong? Consistent? Original? Enticing? Are there gaps?

• The characters and character arcs — are all characters well developed? Multi-layered? Do they make sense? Are they relatable?

• The key themes — what are some recurring topics through the story? Are they well handled?

• The pace and timeline — is the story progressing at a good pace? Where does it lag? Does the timeline make sense?

• The writing style — how was the writing style? Did it flow well? Did it feel unique or original?

• The dialogues — did they feel natural? Were they believable? Were they engaging? Did they add to the overall story?

• The editing — how was the editing? Were there any typos or formatting errors?

Example Review Outline

Once you’ve spent some time with those initial questions, you’ll find it gives you the best part of your review content. At first, you may want to note down your answers to each of these. With time, you may find you can process these in your mind faster than you did before, and you don’t need so many notes. Whichever way is right for you, once you have this, you’re ready to start structuring your review.

I tend to use the following outline (though, of course, this isn’t the one and only way to write a review!):

1. Star Rating:

It’s most common in this day and age to include a rating in your review. There are talks out there about not leaving a rating on a book, because these can be extremely subjective — someone’s three-star rating may mean they loved the book but for others it’s a negative rating, some people don’t leave five-star reviews out of principle etc.

If you’re reviewing the book on Amazon and Goodreads however, you don’t have a choice but to pick a rating out of five stars. Have a think about how that rating system relates to you. For instance: would you leave five star ratings? What rating do you use for a book you liked versus a book you absolutely loved? What kind of book would warrant a low-rating? etc.

2. Opening:

Start with a short overview of what you thought of the book. This should give the reader a concise view of what you thought of the book, in two or three sentences. The idea is that, if they read only this opening part of the review, they should know your view on the matter.

Here’s an example opening paragraph I wrote for Heart of a Runaway Girl by Trevor Wiltzen:

‘Heart of a Runaway Girl is a breath of fresh air. As far as crime and murder investigation novels go, I only ever read Agatha Christie, so my standard is high. But this book did not disappoint.’

3. Synopsis:

The next section of the review is a short summary of the book, which should give the main elements of the plot. I tend to keep that part really short because I find that, if anyone wants to know the specifics, the book blurb the author so diligently wrote for the back cover is a much better place to learn more about that. Yes, you need to give a sense of what the book’s about, but it shouldn’t be the bulk of the review.

I think this is a matter of personal preference, I’ve seen reviews out there with a much longer synopsis section, but I always find myself skipping those bits to get to the nitty gritty of the review, which is what the person thought. There again, go back to the why — people who read reviews do so to find out whether or not they want to buy a book, so the more valuable pieces to help with that (in my view) are your opinions, more than an in-depth summary which they can find elsewhere.

For instance, when I reviewed Counter Ops by Jessica Scurlock, the second opus in the Pretty Lies series, I kept the synopsis paragraph to:

‘In Counter Ops, we meet a familiar duo, Ivy and Nixon, as they face the aftermath of the Elite Auction, and each endure its painful consequences. We follow their journey as they try to escape their fate and attempt to come to each other’s rescue — in more ways than one.’

4. Highlights:

The next part is what I call the ‘highlights’. This is where you talk about what you liked most about the book, or what you thought the strongest parts of the book were. This can focus on one element of the book (a character, a part of the plot, a theme etc.) or cover multiple elements.

See, for example, the highlights I picked for my review of Age of the Almek by Tara Lake:

‘I loved the author's ability to give every character their own voice and a distinct perspective on the world around them. I loved how involved I became with every character's fate and woes. I loved the precision with which the Almek world has been created, with such minuteness you can picture it down to the finest details.

My favourite part is the portrayal of the many facets of human nature, be it through the reactions of the masses to the barbaric ways of their rulers or the individual views of the protagonists. In every Almek citizen is a piece of the great puzzle that is humanity at large, and the author has a gift for writing it as raw and real as it gets.’

5. Mitigate your view:

Right after the highlights is where you’d add anything that mitigates your view. That’s anything that wasn’t quite as strong as you’d want it to be, or anything you weren’t a fan of.

You can skip this part if there’s nothing you didn’t like about the book — you don’t have to go nitpicking if nothing comes to mind. And it doesn’t have to be a bashing of the author and their work either. Keep it constructive and explain why you felt that way. There’s never a need for insults or expletives, and these wouldn’t enhance the quality of your review anyways. Formulating constructive criticism takes practice, and requires tact and subtlety. It’s a valuable skill to have if you’re willing to invest time in honing it.

Here’s how I phrased that part of the review for Crazy Rich Asians by Kevin Kwan:

‘But - and there's a but - my qualm with this book is that, for a story that revolves entirely around Nick and Rachel... There's actually very little Nick and Rachel in it!

Yes it's all 'about' them and it talks 'of' them loads, and we're told theyare happy together and want to be together... But it's all 'tell' and no 'show'. Their intimacy is sorely lacking, so I was left missing that added colour to convince me that they, in fact, do love each other. And I'm not talking saucy passages — I 'm talking about basic things suchas them actually talking to each other and spending time together.’

6. Conclusion:

The final part of the review is a short paragraph with closing remarks, such as a short summary of your view on the book, whether or not you recommend it or some indication of what readers the book may be for (e.g. ‘if you liked… you may like this book’).

When I reviewed Collision by Kristen Granata, I ended the review with:

‘Readers used to intricate, far-fetched romance plots may find this book too straightforward for their liking. In my mind, this is what makes the book's key strength: it's real and honest, it takes the reader through difficult situations and complex emotions beautifully, and that makes it all the more relatable.

A great read overall - and the moment I finished the last page, I was on Amazon ordering the next book in the series!’

How long should a review be?

I don’t think there should be a minimum or maximum word count to a review, though I find that mine end up being around 300 to 500 words. I feel this is a good length because as a reviewer this forces me to be concise and clear in expressing my opinions, and as a reader it’s long enough to give people a sense of the book, but not too long that they’ll drop off before the end.

Final Thoughts: To spoil or not to spoil?

My view on adding spoilers in your review is simple: DON’T.

Try as I might, I can’t fathom what could be gained from adding spoilers to a review. Once again: back to the why. Someone reads a review to find out if they want to read the book themselves. If you ruin the plot for them in that review, what’s the incentive to pick up the book?

It just hurts the author’s chances of making a book sale, and it robs a fellow reader of the joyful rollercoaster of finding out those plot twists at their own pace. Don’t do it, it’s just rude.

*Sources:

www.bookmarketingtools.com

www.searchenginewatch.com

www.dealeron.com

#writingtips #screenwriting #creative writing #writers on tumblr #writers #writing #writerblr #writing advice #writing community #writing resources

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felassan · 4 years ago

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Thoughts on Dark Fortress #2

(This post is under a cut due to spoilers.)

So late with this one! some stuff irl was keeping me really busy and hyper-distracting me lately, but it’s finally over now so I’m back on my bioware bullshit. :D

Overall there were a lot of beautiful or awe-inspiring scenes in this issue, and a lot of great, meaningful / poignant character interactions and moments between characters. It’s pretty impressive actually how much was able to be packed in. I posted some of my favorite panels here. also omg! the action sequences! the big reveal! the ending!! woww

cool scene-setting, panned out shot of Neromenian and behind it, the Dark Fortress, to immediately pull you back into the world and ‘where we left off’. the combination of ruined dead trees, red lights, lightning and fire/smoke is very atmospheric and hints at what’s ahead

“From this... city, if we can call it that” is a sick burn and reminds you that the Qunari are technologically more advanced than most of the rest of Thedas, from their cannons to their aqueducts

more individually distinct Qunari soldiers, sth I again appreciate

! last issue there were big ‘You haven’t seen the last of Tractus!’ vibes, naturally, but I didn’t expect him to escape by stabbing and killing the Qunari using a chair-leg..!!

the last panel on the first page of Karasten is really good. the way it’s colored, the way it’s lit, the light and shadow, the fiery backdrop, cinders floating, the details of his expression.. 👌 it also makes me think to the possible future, to DA4 when mainland Thedas may be continuing to face the entirety of the Antaam

in Vaea’s acrobatics scene on the bridge, I know rationally that she’ll be fine but couldn’t help but worry for her. again I like how they don’t shy away from showcasing Vaea’s specific abilities. also the attention to detail - you’d think some rocks are just some rocks, but it highlights the risk she’s undertaking that if she falls it’s into rough seas which could dash her against the jagged rocks :’S. Vaea, gooooo!

Fenris’ “Enterprising girl” line has big “Clever girl” meme energy :D

my heart can’t take Fran and Autumn leaning over the edge after Vaea in worry ;; or Aaron looking back in concern over his shoulder ;; or Fran’s tender reassurance ;; or Autumn’s Worried expression ;; the care and bonds which have grown between this group of characters ;;

notice Aaron starts drinking when Vaea’s away from them and they’re beginning to grow worried about her safety. the poor man’s nerves and stress levels

Fran touching the vegetation while she’s considering if she could use her magic to open the entrance from the outside is a nice touch

did Marius leap in front of Fenris and Fran there when the entrance opened?? damn, he’s quick. and the three of them look all scary and formidable here ready for combat. notice how the curve of the door and the spikes that go into the ground, and the composition of this panel, make it look like they’re standing in front of an opened dragon’s maw? ‘teeth’, a rumbling ‘roar’.. some nice foreshadowing here.

the reunion panels are so cute. Autumn’s lil tum as she jumps and Fran and Fenris’ lil smiles of relief and at Autumn’s reaction to seeing Vaea, then a rare happy beam from Aaron.. feel.. the love ;__;

red lighting in the tunnel sets a dangerous, dramatic build-up mood

👀 more info on Fenris’ past, on the specifics of the process which gave him his markings. in the panel where he says that it took a long time, his shadow on the wall behind him reminds me of the shadow of his past that has dogged him for so long :(

Fenris and Marius height difference

discussion of the process shows the power difference between blue and red lyrium. blue lyrium took a long time, red lyrium is almost instant

Autumn is such an intrepid little explorer and alert scout, tail and ears up, head forward. good girl!

“I just... worry about you, my girl” ‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚ I’ll be so sad if these are death flags for Aaron and he doesn’t make it out of here. also note Fran in this panel, who recently had to kill her own father and is still dealing with that, watching the strongly paternal moment between Aaron and Vaea :(

love Vaea’s faith in Aaron and her sense of humor. also I don’t know why, maybe it’s because Vaea met Sebastian, but her “Maker, no!”, although in a completely different and light-hearted context, reminds me of Sebastian’s “Maker nooo!” at the end of DA2 hh

the reference again to Hawke, who Fenris saw haunted by what they tried to do - save their mother - and couldn’t :’(. also with the shadow in this panel, here’s another person struggling with the shadow of his past qq. this is later emphasized again in Aaron when he continues to talk about his past and in the panel is a chain and manacle. smart visual metaphors, a must in the comic medium with limited space

mushroom skull 💀🍄

“It isn’t about what I’ve done. It isn’t about my failures. Or my choices. It’s about their impact” - he’s misty-eyed here as he thinks back to Ostagar.. does this line btw seem almost meta to anyone else btw? :D it feels like a meta reference to the experience of DA players and PCs, who are always having to deal with the impacts of their choices

I wanna point out that I was right on reading issue #1, when I said “I’m positive that in panel 2 here, it’s the exact moment when he sees Cailan die” ;;

So Aaron is also a veteran of the Battle of Denerim

reference to the Hero of Ferelden - “Those were someone else’s battles”. I’m being captain obvious here but I can’t help but [heart pitter-patter] at any and all references to the HoF

I like the.. parallel? is that the word? Aaron’s stories were him trying to inspire people to make a change, or him trying to convince himself of that. and now here’s Vaea, inspiring Aaron with her words in these panels. the little guys can make a difference! in the world of Thedas, you don’t need to be a big bombastic hero or a Player Character to have an impact

lmao Fenris right on cue. the moments of humor/light-heartedness are nice because they break up the tension and are sprinkled throughout without derailing build-up or taking away from dramatic story impact. yknow?

yeah Aaron!! leave it behind. leave it to rot with mr mushroom skull (and hey the mushroom skull was there for a reason). again tho if this is a death flag i

Fenris straight down to business with the tactics

its cute how close Autumn has been sticking to Fran

Tessa checking in on Fran again, as she did in issue 1

Could Vaea’s “Well, shit” be an homage to Varric? :D they have met

I also wanna point out that I was right on reading issue #1, when I said “My guess is that the thing Tractus shows Marquette and Nenealeus is probably a chained up dragon or similar”

the poor dragon :’( big dragon the Qunari had in Trespasser vibes

the sword has a really cool design, kind of reminds me of something a samurai might be depicted wielding

👀 lore-drop! so ancient elven arcane warriors used lyrium-infused swords. this seems to confirm the sarcophagus is an ancient elven artifact, no? makes sense, wasn’t it said that the sarcophagus’ design was based on the architecture/outfit-design type elements of a specific faction, and that this was done intentionally? it looks kinda ancient elfy in make, right? also about the lyrium-infused swords of the arcane warriors, well well well.. remember that the Evanuris and the ancient elves mined the bodies of Titans for lyrium, for power and to use as a resource. here’s an example of that use

as I read through this portion I became increasingly concerned for my boy Shirallas.. we really are in it now aren’t we 😭

the Qunari are launching STRAIGHT-UP ROCKETS ohhhh

pretty ‘lightshow’ over the wall in the “Let’s hope the fortress is as secure as Danarius boasted” panel hh

protective older brother Fenris, impish younger sister Vaea. love that dynamic, we love to see it. sheepish and exasperated Fenris is so cute

the Bone Pit dragon fight with Hawke and co reference!

I wonder how long the dragon has been captive here, and how Danarius/Tractus was able to capture it

lore-wise what are the implications here? when Fenris’ ritual was being undertaken, the sword and the sarcophagus were bombarded with magic, fire spells. in this one they aim to have the dragon bombard it with fire-breathing. is it just fire that makes it work/powers it, or is there magic in dragonfire, in dragons? it reminds me of “Your heart beats with the old blood, as well. Where do you think it comes from? It sings of a time when dragons ruled the skies. A time before the Veil, before the mysteries were forgotten. Can you hear it?”

purple color for the dragon’s growling sounds/typeset is a great idea

lets.. goooo!!!!

Marquette is such a nerd. later on when he activates the sarcophagus he has mad scientist vibes

the dramatic reunion face-offs begin!! as the prophecy foretold!!!!1

true to form, Marius DOES have nothing to say ahahaha, even at this, his personal climax. maybe Marius dies in the next issue, but Tessa lives and gets to go back to Charter

these Venatori look almost Star Wars

Shirallas my boyy.. nooo... don’t do it 😭

ah ah ah! try casting magic with no ARMS

Francesca a beacon of blue light and goodness

the splash combat page is masterful. everyone playing a part, so much going on, everything happening at once. a thing that sticks out to me about it is Aaron’s outstretched hand and alarm as he watches Fran fall

Autumn with her lil hackles raised

“The Venatori have returned” dun dun dunn

goodbye Shirallas 😭😭😭

the composition of the second to last page with triangle/diamond-shaped panels and the framing of dragon wings is awesome

the Dread Wolf rises, “the Tevinter Imperium will rise again”.. on-point on-point cohesion

there he is, the red wraith

Super Saiyan Shirallas

what a note to end an issue on

wow wow wow!!

and separate to the above, some speculation based on the cover of Issue 3: the piece of metal looks like a broken collar coming off Shirallas, like the one there was on the cover of Issue 2 coming off the dragon. also he’s all bulky now with draconic talons/claws (reminds me of in-world legends of Reavers who dug too deep of their own power after drinking dragon blood and whose bodies consequently began to manifest subtle reptilian traits actually). I’ll be interested to see what results of this allusion between Shirallas and the dragon!!

#dragon age #BioWare #dark fortress spoilers #dark fortress spoiler #spoilers #spoiler #dragon age: dark fortress spoilers #dragon age: dark fortress spoiler #video games #gore cw #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #feels #fenris #the Fenaissance #long post #longpost #alcohol cw

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mcfanely · 4 years ago

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A Powerful Treasure

Archive of our Own

A new enemy has surfaced in Ninjago, but before his plans have even properly come to light, before much is even significantly known about the man; the ninja are attacked in the Monastery. They all get out unscathed, more or less, but when they can’t find Cole...

7488 words

There were times when Cole woke up in the Monastery and forgot where he was. It seemed to just be a fact of life, especially when that life included being a ninja and most of the time going from place to place in a mad rush to prevent the whole of Ninjago from being destroyed. So waking up to brief confusion as a soft orange haze of light managed to bleed through his closed eyelids was nothing new to the Earth ninja. He must have been in the bunk room on the Bounty, and unfortunate shifting in his sleep along with a perfectly angled ship had meant that a direct ray of sunlight was destined to go into his eyes as soon as he opened them.

No matter where he moved his head, nothing seemed to help it other than an arm thrown haphazardly over his face to prevent the light from coming in.

Then, over the course of a few seconds, it occurred suddenly that he didn't even remember boarding the Bounty the day before, nor he didn't remember going to sleep either. The process of getting ready for bed, it was the same every night. A few hours of relaxation and watching TV, maybe some games, late night training if Cole felt like it and his body didn’t ache, then he'd climb into bed and wake up to his alarm the next day to get ready for morning practice.

In fact, Cole didn't even recall having dinner that night. He remembered that Zane had started cooking, because everyone had set up shop in the dining room because they were researching… Something.

Something important, something that was a pressing matter. Something that Cole had no reason to have forgotten, but that wasn't the only thing he was blanking on.

A good portion of the previous day, a sheer blank slate in his mind.

Cole shot up sharply in bed, the quilt falling off where it had been tucked in around him and off the edge of the bed. Though the white cotton sheet getting dirtied on the floor wasn't the biggest of his problems in that instance.

It was what he was wearing, and the fact that he didn't own anything like it. They were simple clothes, a white t-shirt and trousers that seemed to be made from the same material, all the way down to the threading used to hold it all together. It looked like spools of sheer gold to the naked eye, so thin and sewn so carefully that each pass looked far too delicate to even touch.

He was barefoot, legs now crossed beneath himself as he sat up, staring down at his new get-up with a building sense of confusion and honestly, unease.

That wasn't even half of it. The next thing that Cole's sleep filled eyes were drawn to were the multiple golden necklaces adorned around his neck. The clothing in itself wasn't the best, the low cut shirt was nothing he'd ever choose to wear, but jewellery? And so much of it? Necklaces of varying sizes, with varying styles. Some with more of a chunkier design, interlaced with embedded gems, some that shone blue and deep purples, even some crystals that were clear and perfectly cut were set in their own golden casts, resting heavy around his neck and cold against his skin.

Cole couldn't help but grimace slightly at the sight, and partially at the situation he'd woken up to. His mind was still groggy with sleep, as it was every morning before he'd properly woken up, but sometimes a large enough shock was enough to force his mind into gear. That's exactly what he got when he looked up, the drowsy side of his brain telling him all he was going to see was his bedroom and nothing more.

Nothing more.

That wasn't what he was met with, and the sharp mental slingshot he experienced when what his eyes met didn't correlate with what he'd thought he was going to see made his mouth drop open.

"Holy crap." Cole whispered as his eyes graced over the room.

Not his bedroom, not the Bounty.

He was alert and on edge in mere seconds, shuffling to the edge of a king sized four-poster that was definitely not his own, his eyes flicking between every inch of the room he found himself in. Cole had no idea where he was.

The room was huge by bedroom standards, it was wide, circular in shape as if it had been crafted to fit into a tower, or the outer edges of a palace, because that's the first thing the Earth Master thought as he took in his surroundings.

Everything was varying between shades of near opalescent whites and solid and sheer golds. There were bookcases full of old tomes lining one wall, their pages cracked and wrinkled with time, use, and most likely exposure to the sunlight leaking into the room. The walls stood tall, almost twice the height than those in a regular house, the white finish patterned with ornate golden curves and flurries, some crafted and guided to form the shape of flowers, some budding and some fully open with their petals spread wide; some formed leaves and stems, climbing up higher and higher in an ornate mural to nature. Each stroke seemed to be hand painted to perfection, not a single aspect out of place. The other walls had the same treatment, towering high and covered beautifully with art.

There were chairs dotted around the place, carpets and cushions set out in an organised fashion over the wooden boarded floor, a table with a small stack of what seemed to be notebooks and an assortment of pens and pencils beside them.

Then, just to his left, there was the most elaborate window Cole had ever seen in his life. It stretched floor to ceiling in an arched pattern, twin golden frames curving up and meeting together just before the ceiling began, and a single pane of fitted glass had been oh so carefully slotted in between. An incredible and astounding feat of craftsmanship, only emboldened by the curtains draped down the sides, long enough to collect and bunch on the floor in what nearly seemed like a treasonous act. The golden fabric was almost opaque, doing no significant job of keeping the sunlight out. They were there for futilities sake; serving no purpose other than to look nice in the room and that was it.

Cole stepped just a bit closer to the window, his bare feet tapping lightly on the wooden boards as he neared the looking glass which currently only displayed the world outside as a layer of blue with multiple different blankets of clouds dotted over the skyscape.

That was all he could see before he was halted in his step half-way between the bed and one possible way outside, by a force that held his arms back and almost tripped him in his step.

The situation he was in changed in that single instant, from a clear sense of uncertainty and wariness of waking up in a completely unknown environment; to immediately being on edge and alert for any possible dangers that could be shrouded in the room that seemed to be built for royalty.

All Cole could do was stare back towards his bed, specifically at the floor, and wonder how he hadn't noticed it before. Maybe it was the shock of the room, or overall being thrown into the new situation, but it had now become something much more threatening.

Lengths of chains were stretched out over the floor, thick links that dragged and scratched with each movement Cole made. Stretching from seemingly some hidden point under the bed over to where he was standing, only then lifting off the floor and reaching up to where they ended, welded neatly onto a set of ornate cuffs that sat tightly around his wrist. How had he not noticed them, how had he not realised--

Chained… I'm chained down and the first thing I notice is the damn room?

Cole found himself staring down at the metal, moving his arms and legs and watching as the four individual lengths of chains shifted with each movement, as if those objects themselves were driving home the fact that they were in fact locked around his wrists and ankles in a present and heavy weight. The chains themselves were bulky, but the cuffs were a whole other thing. They stretched half way up his forearms and Cole couldn't find the seam where the clicked shut, nor a slot for a key to open them up.

They seemed to be one single piece of metal all the way around, they shifted and turned when he moved but they didn't do much else. Mere millimeters away from cutting off circulation to his extremities, and for a way to keep him captive in that one room they had no business being as elegant as they were. Reflecting the sunlight of what occurred to Cole as an ending day, the bright yellows that had cascaded through the window faded further and further into the depths of orange that indicated an oncoming sunset, it gave the cuffs a glow to them. Warm and soft, a sheer oxymoron. The surface of them was etched with light grooves, interspersed with an inset obsidian black stone.

Cole was around five minutes into pulling on the chains, the clang of metal hitting the ground and then being pulled taut to within an inch of its life resounded around the previously quiet room; when he realised the black rock was Vengestone. The cuffs dug into the skin at his wrists, leaving deep grooves and reddened skin in its wake, and whilst his strength was great even without his elemental abilities, even if he had his powers something told him that these chains weren't going to give so easily.

"Come on, come on! Break! Please break, please--!"

It was when blood was drawn that Cole decided to stop, a red line manoeuvring its way down the palm of his hand and his index finger to drip silently onto the floor.

Cole followed suit, sitting down against the side of the bed and just allowing his head to droop forwards. It wasn't in defeat, he wouldn't allow it to be in defeat, he wasn't giving up already. When the pain in his arms subsided he'd just try again, and again afterwards.

Again until he either broke the chains, or pulled the deadbolt out from where it was embedded in the concrete wall underneath the bed.

He just had to wait for his muscles to stop aching before he started up his onslaught on the chains again. The brief respite from activity gave him some time to try and resolve the gaps he had in his memory.

There was a large blank section, starting the day before, as he'd just sat down at the dining table with a brand new and far too large book on Ninjagian Lore and Power, entirely reluctant to open it up even though he did enjoy reading. There was a vast difference between reading for pleasure and mandatory reading, and Cole knew which one he preferred.

Then there was nothing, an empty space in his memories that must have been extensive since he was sure it had been at least a day since he'd been walking the halls of the Monastery. Though the more Cole tried to discern what fitted into the gap, what had occurred that had ended with him waking up in an unknown room who-even-knew-where, chained down, the more the answer eluded him.

Cole grit his teeth, closed his eyes, and tried to find something. Anything. He'd sat down with a book, gone to open it-- nothing.

He'd sat down with a book and opened it, then nothing.

Always nothing.

"Why don't I remember..?" Cole mumbled quietly to himself, his hands fisted tightly at his sides. "Why is everything blank, why can't I think?" He wasn't talking to anyone in particular, but he needed to vent his frustration some way.

All he needed was one thing, one memory! Anything that would just give him something to work with.

That section remained carefully blank.

The room he was in had no reason to look so nice, the mattress at his back shouldn't have felt so soft. It was a cage, no matter what it looked like. The chains around his wrists didn't have enough slack to let him reach the window so they definitely didn't reach the door on the opposite side, it was a gilded cage fit for royalty. Far too lavish. Nauseating almost.

There wasn't anywhere in Ninjago like it, at least no place that Cole could think of off the top of his head.

All the golds and light pouring in from a giant window provided a rolling and extensive view of the fading sky. Then, looking at himself, he realised with startling clarity that he fitted the theme too with what he was wearing. Whites and golds, even the vengestone chains followed suit.

He knew he wasn't getting them off any time soon, but he could definitely make himself feel better. Starting with the golden cords around his neck, lacing his fingers around them and yanking until either the clasps broke or the small chains splintered. They ended up thrown at the opposite wall, landing in a broken and heaped mess, flecks of metal and inlaid gems clanking and bouncing out over the floor as the ruined jewellery landed. Cole then moved on to the bangles around his wrists, twisting and distorting the thin metal until they gave in to strain and broke. Again, discarded in their own wreaked pile.

He was about to move onto the shirt, hands poised to start tearing at the seams and tearing the fabric when the click of a lock quickly drew his attention to the door of the room.

Cole was on his feet in an instant, his arms drawn up and in front of himself in a defensive position. As the door swung open he stood his ground and readied himself for whoever or whatever was about to step inside.

Whether years of fighting against less than human entities in an effort to prevent the destruction of Ninjago, a man who looked just a little bit older than himself walking in hadn't been what Cole had anticipated; but an enemy was an enemy.

He was the one in chains, that man was not. There was an all too present imbalance but that didn't mean that Cole was at a disadvantage. All he had to do was wait for him to step closer, when they were close enough and if there was enough slack on the chains then all it would take was a well timed and solid strike to the side of the head and the man would go down. Clearly, the man had a key to the door, so he'd probably also have something for the cuffs too.

Though with the distance, all Cole could do was stand his ground, stare down his captor and demand some answers.

Only to be completely thrown off by the first words that come out of the guy's mouth.

"Ah, my treasure wakes."

The man proceeded to advance further into the room, closer to where Cole was standing and besides his better judgement, besides the plan he was going to enact just a few seconds ago, the ninja took a few steps back to maintain the distance between the two of them. The words, the almost honey-sweet lilt to them, the way the man's voice made the hair on the back of his neck and his arms prickle. He was on edge in an instant, uneasy, and the look held in the man's eyes as they just seemed to trace over his body was anything but calming. If he was at all bothered by the broken jewellery, he wasn’t letting on.

His eyes were a deep yellow, and not just the cornea, but the entire thing. Almost like a buffed tigers eye gemstone had been dropped into each of his sockets. The man was dressed regally too, flowing robes in vibrant shades of purple and interspersed with golden trim, shoulder length jet black hair clashing sharply with the pale pallor of his skin. There's a crown on his head too, and Cole realises that within the intricate pattern of gold, a yellow veined piece of vengestone was suspended in the centre. It almost looked to be floating.

Still, he was advancing, and Cole's legs coming into contact with the bed frame forced himself to halt his own retreat. He liked to think he was tall, but as the man stopped just in front of him, there was enough of a height difference that it forced the Earth Master to cast his gaze upwards.

"I've been waiting for you to wake up, you were asleep for a lot longer than I'd anticipated but alas, here we are." The man gave a small smile, and Cole's expression blanched as he felt the man's fingers wrap lightly around his left wrist. It was more than easy to bat them away, the motion accompanied by the clank of swinging chains. That rejection didn't seem to perturb the man, who just continued with what he was doing, this time lifting one hand and threading it into the strands of Cole's hair.

One warning, that was enough, but the instant he felt the grip tighten in his hair was the point at which the man was solidly shoved away. There was a light stumble, and Cole's brows were furrowed in indignation, his own hands up in between the two of them to act as a barrier. It hadn't taken much strength to get the guy to move away but the hand yanking at his hair as it was dislodged left a low hum of pain in his temple.

"Don't touch me." He ground out, his fists clenched tightly. He wasn't going to stand there and be handled by a stranger as if he was just something to be admired. That was what he saw in the man's eyes, what he read in his expression even just after a few seconds. Initially, he'd hoped that the assumption was mistaken, but the actions and words?

"I get that I'm a prisoner, but that doesn't mean I'm taking your crap, you touch me again and I'll break your face." Cole spat.

Only to be met with a light and jovial laugh. "Ah, as stoic as your element. I knew there was a reason I picked you." the man spoke, something new and entirely unreadable floating in his eyes, "You're not a prisoner, Cole."

Cole didn't allow himself to bristle at the fact that the man knew his name, most people did nowadays, so he just lifted his wrists and the chains moved with them, his expression shifting carefully to neutral, "Sure, because I definitely don't feel like one."

The man nodded, as if he didn't get the joke. Or maybe he did, he just wasn't going to humour him with the sarcasm he'd tried to use. There was a brief moment when the room fell into silence, only for the man to break it quickly by crouching down and picking two loose loops of chain in his hands, rolling the golden links over in his palm for a brief second as he looked over the glinting metal. "Exactly."

Then he tightened his grip and pulled in one fluid motion. Cole's arms were yanked forwards first, the chains dragging the cuffs with them only caused him to stumble forwards and forcibly bridge the gap he'd just made between the two of them. His hands were pulled down to his side by the unyielding chains grasped in the man's hold.

It was embarrassing, but any other feeling was quickly overtaken by the situation as a whole. He hadn't even noticed what the man had been doing before it was too late, he hadn't even spared a second glance when he'd stooped to lift the chains, Cole hadn't even thought twice about what he'd planned. He'd just watched it all play out like an idiot.

He twisted his wrists in the shackles, pulling upwards against the opposing strength but whoever that guy was, there was no contention of who was stronger in that situation. He simply held the chains in one hand by his side, preventing Cole from lifting his arms to any significant degree.

They were chest to chest, the man's face crooning down to his own with an all too soft expression, "You're my guest. You're safe here."

The unnerving calm of the man's manner was opposed by the seething vitriol that the Earth Ninja managed to muster as he glared back. Their faces were mere inches apart, solid yellow eyes boring down into his own.

Again, like before, he felt the man's free hand lift into his hair, looping a longer strand around one of his fingers. There wasn't time to take in the discomfort that came with the light touch as Cole shook his head to dislodge the hold.

This time, it didn't do much good. The hand was there again, fingers carding through like before.

He wanted nothing more than to deliver on the previous promise of breaking the guys face, if it meant just getting him to let go and go away, but with his hands pinned down and no way to manoeuvre out the situation at hand, he forced out a heavy breath and decided on a much more logical approach. If all options are exhausted, go from a different angle.

If he couldn't break the man's hold, he'd talk. Get more information, try and fill the gap in his memory. Stall for time and find an opening. Something.

"I'm not a guest, but if I'm not a prisoner, then what am I?" Cole questioned, forcing himself to keep his face neutral as he felt the strangers hand tug lightly on the back of his hair. "Why am I here?"

The man gave a chuckle, his hand blessedly dropping away from his hair only to get the ghost of fingers caressing lightly over his cheek. Then when he felt the full warm touch cupping the side of his face, Cole couldn't keep the repulsed look at bay as he tilted his head as far as he could in the other direction.

There was a sudden flash of irritation, but that quickly quashed under a careful sigh as if he'd never been phased to begin with. Though it was preceded by a glowing glare in his eyes, the different scars that Cole could now see cleaved through the man's hair, leaving present but healed grooves. Then there was the grin, the all too white smile and the sharpened canines that he could see now that they were far too close quarters, "That's not of any importance, you're here now and that's all that matters."

In that instant, unannounced, memories came flooding back.

The rumours that he and his brothers had heard about a travelling sorcerer. A man, passing from village to village who generally stayed on the rural outskirts of Ninjago. Whether it was to stay under the radar or something else, any and all pertinent news tended to find its way to them at one point or another.

An unknown man who would charm the locals and spend a few days at each new location, for then to simply raze the area to the ground and move on.

He'd disappear for a few days and then crop up again, seemingly as bedraggled as he had been that very first time the man had shown his face. No trace of the kindness the previous villages had expressed to him, no gifts of fresh clothes to replace the worn ones that were practically falling from his body. He would just stay, wreak havoc, and then move on. With each new village, the end result seemed to get worse and worse. It started with harvests being culled, vast fields of rice rotting and dead. Then, homes had been targeted. Old, dried wooden beams weakened with rot and mould that worked its way from the inside out until the houses collapsed.

Every time the ninja had heard of this mystery man being in a certain area, all they constantly arrived to find where displaced lives, ruined livelihoods. But always too late. They all helped in any way they could, clean-up crew, basic first aid, collected as much information they could, then like every other time before that they just returned back to the monastery with nothing more than a feeling of uselessness.

It had taken their collective force around a week to figure out who this wandering destroyer was, and Sensei Wu had been fairly insightful even if what he had provided had been a bedtime story he'd been told of in his youth. It was exactly the man they'd been searching for.

A powerful sorcerer by the name of Acacius had used to travel the land during the time of the First Spinjitzu Master. A wanderer. He'd go from place to place, areas of power as Sensei Wu had dubbed them, and drain it all dry. Then move on to the next place. He'd done it for decades, terrorising people and elemental masters alike, draining life away from lands, destroying crops, removing life forces. Apparently when a story was told by the man who had split apart a continent and created a realm, there was no moral or warning, just information and a true tale. Either way, it was also a pretty dark bedtime story.

The story ended as most did, with the heroes triumphing over evil. Though it wasn't anything large or garish, it was resolved quietly.

The First Spinjitzu Master had finally caught up with this incredibly powerful sorcerer, this creature twisted on stolen power and a near incandescent drive for more, and had locked him away. Where? That hadn't been important to the story. Apparently vagueness ran in the family.

Cole remembered listening to the story before picking up a book on ancient lore, flipping straight to the back and to the index of the tome, tracing his finger carefully down the letters until he found Acacius.

Before he'd even focused properly on the list, the front gates of the Monastery had ruptured inwards, followed by a sheer cascade of energy that had ricocheted through the halls and blown all their written notes clean off the dining table and onto the floor.

They'd all grabbed their weapons and headed to the courtyard of the Monastery in seconds, facing a man-- Acacius, no longer dressed in rags, no longer lying to appeal to the good nature of caring people. He was standing tall, back straight, a wicked grin on his lips which only seemed to widen further when both Lloyd and Wu had stepped out to face this ancient enemy.

Cole remembered that they'd fought. They'd fought and fallen, been batted into the stone walls encasing their home and watched as different sections fell down and crumbled around their brothers, who proceeded to get up and join the fray again with no second thought to injuries. No one could seem to get close enough to the sorcerer, charging at Acacius with unrelenting synchronisation though all the while he continued to laugh about how it had been so easy to find them.

Creation and Energy, both in one place? It's almost easy pickings, I could sense you from miles away!

The voice was deep, it vibrated through Cole's core with the power the words alone exuded. It was clear how the man had been able to hold his ground, however briefly, against the First Spinjitzu Master.

It promptly became a fight to protect Lloyd and Sensei Wu and the power they both possessed. Only it didn't end like that.

Cole was the only one who'd managed to get some form of a significant hit in. He'd shuck the ground with a light stamp of his foot, and the fissure that had split the inlaid stone of the courtyard was enough to cause a mere second of distraction for the sorcerer.

He'd charged forwards, and had kept going even as Acacius had locked eyes with his own. His legs were already moving and there was already so much momentum, all Cole needed to do was commit and swing his hammer. The attack wasn't his best, and with a last minute shift from the sorcerer, it left him swinging that bit too wide. Initially, he'd thought it would miss in its entirety, yet the weighted metal had scarcely managed to clip the man's jaw enough to throw him off balance.

In the following seconds, he had felt a hand pressed to his forehead, and the world had flickered to black.

Then he'd woken up.

Cole couldn't help but stumble at the sudden flood of information, the gap in his memory all too quickly blazed with missing images and memories, enough that the abrupt movement had caught both him and his captor- Acacius, off guard.

It took one step back and his legs clipped the edge of the bed frame, the obstacle only caused him to fall backwards onto the mattress. Though he recovered quickly and used that short moment to put more space in between him and the sorcerer, pulling his wrists and yanking the chains until all the slack that he had was now on his side of the bed and couldn't be used by the man as a immobilisation tactic again.

Acacius, who hadn't shifted from where he'd been standing beforehand, had a large grin plastered over his face. His gaze seemed almost soft, almost caring even; it only served to make Cole shudder.

"I visited your home to gain more power." He explains after a short moment of quiet, his gaze resolutely fixed on where Cole was standing, Acacius almost seemed annoyed at the bed between them, "So many elemental masters in one place, it was like a buffet." He took a deep breath in, his eyes closing. It was almost like he was being chided for the circumstances that had led the man to their home. Not that there had been any feasible way to find out in such a short space of time that Lloyd and Sensei Wu would be at risk.

Why he'd decided to change tact and take him instead, Cole wasn't sure. If there was power, as much as he hated that he even thought it, Lloyd was the logical pick. Though between any one of his family and himself, if he knew that they'd end up locked and chained in the room he was in now, staring back at a powerful sorcerer with an unknown plan and newfound freedom after being imprisoned; Cole was glad it was him in that situation.

"But then I saw you," Acacius continued, "And my plans changed just a little. I've always liked you Earth Masters, you see." He kept his gaze on his captive as he took a short step to the side, one that Cole mirrored in the opposite direction. The sorcerer seemed amused by the reaction. "You have a lot of power, sure, nothing comparable to Creation or Energy but you're definitely up there. You can direct energy, just like I can. I'm sure you can make nature flourish with just a small nudge," He says, it's more of a question than a statement, and Cole almost answers before he caught himself and closed his mouth again. "My power decreased vastly over my… Many decades being imprisoned, but you. You can help me."

At that, the short step the man had taken previously turned into a stride as he circled around the bed. Cole had both feet on top of the mattress in a second, intent on cutting over to the other side but a hand clasped around his wrist halted any significant plan of getting away. He should have moved faster, but what the sorcerer was planning, it had him stumped. His power didn't redirect energy, it made the earth shake. Sure, maybe plants grew around him, grass seemed to be greener in his presence, but that wasn't energy, that was just his element. That short moment of being lost in thought was a moment too much.

He was dragged from the bed with a yelp, his back shoved sharply against the wall and the grip on his wrist tightened to a near bruising hold that made him grit his teeth against the pain.

Acacius was hemming him in, more so than before. With the wall at his back there wasn't anywhere he could retreat to, and with the bed to his left and his captor looming too close to his right he was well and truly backed into a corner.

"Think about it," He hummed in a whispered tone, "With your power, you can move energy around more freely than I can. Maybe only to plant life and through the earth currently, but given time, you can learn to transfer it to me." Cole simply stared, was he really giving away what he was planning? That he just wanted more power, and a constant supply of it? That Cole could help with it and that was why he'd taken him? Why his powers were locked down with Vengestone instead of being drained away at the hands of this power hungry ancient being?

Trapped where he was, listening to Acacius liking the sound of his own voice, Cole scoffed loudly in the face of the man who was standing far too close, far too in his personal space. It was uncomfortable and he wasn't a fan of being pulled around by his wrist and chains as if that was what it took to have a civilised conversation. There was no being civil about anything, so he wasn't going to be polite in return. There wasn't much that was going to stop him from throwing a wrench into his plans, being spoken down to was more than enough to develop a solid dislike of a person, though before he could say anything along the lines of no, that's never going to happen. You have about two days before my brothers find me and you, and then less than a week until you're imprisoned again.

He had faith, and the speed of which they reacted to a situation increased tenfold when someone they cared about was in danger.

"You're so beautiful."

Cole froze in place, his eyes widening just a fraction at what he'd just heard. It was said with a quiet sigh, the warm puff of air just beside his face. He grimaced, pushing himself back into the wall to just try in vain to get further away from the man. The situation had taken a turn, a very dangerous turn.

"... What?" He questioned, his voice carefully measured. It gave nothing away, though he was sure his eyes were being windows to his soul. He could feel the tenseness in his body, the rush of adrenaline through his muscles.

Cole felt the grip that was latched around his wrist move down to his hand. His mind was moving a mile a minute, trying to figure out what he'd missed about his current circumstances. Usually prisoners were taken in order to give said person no other choice but to carry out the demands of their captor, or outright refuse and await rescue, whatever the repercussions may be. He had been taken prisoner because of his supposed complimentary power to the sorcerer, but he could clearly see that wasn't the whole story. Was this supposed affection the driving force behind everything, or was it all part of some larger plan in place?

There must have been so much more to it, there had to be.

Or maybe there wasn't. Maybe his powers and how they could apparently be used was the added bonus in this situation.

Cole took in a sharp breath, and solidified his gaze, "I don't care what you think, or what you want from having me here, but I'm not helping you with anything." He spat out.

Acacius lent forward, his voice close enough to Cole's ear that he shuddered, leaning away as much as he could. He forced himself to remain calm, ignoring the man's advances in favour of staring at the door that was just left hanging open as if tempting something he couldn’t have. Outside, there seemed to be a corridor that went off in either direction, but even if he could get out of the sorcerer's hold, he still wouldn't be able to leave. Not with the chains.

He really was counting on his brothers this time, placing faith in the fact that they would find out where he was, that they'd come barging in, breaking down the door and freeing him. He needed them to come in at that very moment. The silent hope that they'd walk in any second depleted as the seconds ticked by.

"The great thing is, Cole, I don't need you to be okay with helping me increase my power." Acacius pulled back just a little, his solid eyes dancing slowly over Cole's face, as if looking for something, or waiting.

"When we're married," He started, and Cole felt a lead weight drop down in his stomach, but before he could say anything against it, laugh, roll his eyes, lash out, anything at all, Acacius continued on as if what he was saying was completely normal. "I'll get to keep you all to myself. Your power will be mine to wield, and mine alone.” His voice was so carefully measured, “I don't need you to agree to my plans, I just need to keep you here for a few more days. What did you say, two days ? And your friends will be here? You'd better hope you're correct, my sweet." A thumb was stroked carefully over his cheek.

Cole saw red in an instant, and closed in against a wall or not, mind still reeling and trying to take in and just compute what he'd just heard; he could work on instinct when everything else failed. Instinct brought a hand up, balled tightly into a fist and whilst the impact that was made between his knuckles and his captors nose wasn't anything to shout about, the clank of the chains being permeated by a shout of pain and what was hopefully the crack of cartilage was music to Cole's ears.

The action was over before he'd even realised what he'd done, but the aftereffects were a sight. Acacius collected himself off the floor from where he'd fallen backwards, hands held resolutely over his face to presumably stem the blood flow and conceal a broken nose.

Cole wasn't smiling though, his heart was racing, his teeth were clenched as he stepped closer to his captor.

"My power isn't yours to use!"

The Earth Master dropped down into a fighting stance, his gaze set on the sorcerer as he got up. Yet, when he stood up straight and moved his hand away from his face there wasn't the pouring line of red blood dripping from his nostrils that Cole had anticipated. It was black, flowing like ink from a quill, dripping off his chin and staining the floorboards below. Surprisingly, there was no anger in the man's eyes, just an unusual admiration and to Cole's disgust, a fondness that was now clearly at the surface. Teeth were bared in a small grin, the black blood staining his teeth when it found its way into his mouth.

He'd fought worse enemies before, and he'd inevitably do it again in the future. This man… This thing, he would just be another name on an ever growing list. Cole tilted his head until his neck popped lightly, then clenched his knuckles until those joints followed suit. He was at a disadvantage, but he wasn't going to lose this fight.

His anger just spiked sharply with every second they stared at each other. "You can't make me do anything. I'm not marrying anyone, I'm not helping you with your energy addiction and I'm not just going to sit back and do nothing!"

Acacius seemed to be taking all the time in the world righting himself, starting with tugging on his waistcoat to flatten the crumples back down, to pulling a pure white handkerchief out of a hidden pocket to wipe at the black ooze still falling from his nose. It didn't do much, only serving to smear what was there, but he didn't seem too bothered by it, nor the blackened stains that had fallen onto his clothes. No, his attention was stoically set on Cole.

He didn't take a step forward this time, almost as if he was treating his prisoner like a frightened animal, which he wasn't. Though he was fairly predisposed to fight back in an instant should he feel at all threatened. Cole hadn't moved out of his fighting stance, and wasn't going to any time soon. That was clear.

"You must be pretty exhausted, with all this thinking and worrying." came the man's voice, softly spoken over the space that had formed between them.

All that was gained in return was a raised eyebrow and a scowl.

Acacius spread his hands carefully, and Cole could have sworn that the man’s eyes seemed to flicker with an all too sudden yellow glow.

There was a minute step closer, the sole of the sorcerer's shoes clicking against the wood as he said, "You don't want to fight me, perhaps some sleep will do you some good."

The effect was instant, the words… They seemed to resonate so deeply, cascade around the room in a reverberating wave until they met Cole's ears, crashing down and enveloping his mind in a sudden and palpable haze.

His arms dropped from their defencive stand, hanging loosely down at his sides. His eyes followed suit, eyelids growing heavy in mere seconds, the drag of sleep so instant and all encompassing that he'd never felt such sheer levels of exhaustion in his life.

It felt wrong.

"What-- what did you do..?" Cole questioned, his words slurred and drawn out, his tongue heavy in his mouth. The question was quiet, whispered, and broken by a large yawn that came up from nowhere.

He could feel his body shutting down, any drive to fight the man that was stepping closer had all but faded out of existence. He didn't want to fight, he could even keep his eyes open. All he wanted was to sleep.

Cole's legs were the first to buckle, but he didn't hit the ground. Acacius was by his side in an instant, one arm weaved carefully around his waist to support his weight and keep him more or less upright. The other hand came to rest on the back of his head, guiding it until his cheek was resting against his captors shoulder as his eyes fluttered, his mind trying to force himself to stay awake. That small part, struggling to keep cognitive thought running through his sleep laden mind.

"I just helped you, my sweet." Was the reply, the voice flowing past the fog in his head as if it wasn't even there, trying to keep wakefulness at bay. Acacius's voice was clear, perfectly so. The clearest thing in the whole room. "I can't have you worried, you see? Constantly alert for any opportunity to escape, ruining my plans, you don't want that, do you?"

Cole finds himself tuning in to the sickly sweet voice, his head shaking in a silent no against the man's shoulder, before he caught himself, his mind snapping back to reality, but a second was enough to drive himself to speak around the forced slumber.

"Stop it."

"Stop what?" there was a small breath, almost a laugh, but not quite there. The hand on his head moved lightly, fingers carding back and forth through his hair in a rhythmic fashion. Cole wanted nothing more than to reach up, drag the touch away and beat the guy until he was a blackened grease smear on the floor, but he couldn't make his body move.

He could just feel it relax more and more, the tenseness of his muscles falling away as his body collapsed, resting fully against the sorcerers chest.

"Sleep, my treasure.” The voice almost echoed around his head, the words blanketing, all-encompassing. “We will be wed before the week is done. You're safe here, this is the best place you could be."

His eyes slipped closed, body slumping entirely in the man's hold, breathing slowed in the throes of the forced rest.

"Sleep."

Cole's mind finally gave in.

#ninjago #lego ninjago #cole #cole brookstone #cole ninjago #angst #cole ninjago angst #fic #magic #this was originally a small idea but we all know what happens #long post #mcfanely writes #mcfanely #tw mind control #Treasure AU #mcfanely aus

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vannahfanfics · 4 years ago

Text

On The Airwaves

Category: Childhood Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Rumi Usagiyama, Tenko Shimura

Requested By: On_kamis_green_earth (Ao3)

Rumi’s ears swiveled as she jaunted out of the candy store, busily licking a large rainbow-swirled lollipop while another hand clutched several bags of carrot-shaped marshmallow candies to her front. Drool leaked a little from her lips, blotting onto her jean overalls, which she rubbed away with her wrist. The bags of marshmallows crinkled with the action, making her ears twitch in response.

The sensitive hairs of her ears quivered as they were barraged with sounds; it had taken several attempts for Rumi to brave the noisiness of their city’s grandiose shopping mall, but over time, her senses had adjusted to the sheer volume of vibrations permeating the spacious structure. She could even hone in on specific sounds pleasing to her ears and tended to prefer the gentle tune of the pleasant music spilling from the loudspeakers to the incessant chatter of the thousands of shoppers.

Normally, that is— now that Rumi had accomplished her mission of acquiring sweets, she had the task of reuniting with her parents, who were browsing somewhere in the depths of the compound. Eyes bright as she lapped at the saccharine lollipop, Rumi set to walking. Her long, white ears turned constantly on her head to scan the airwaves for her parents’ voices.

When Rumi went on errands such as these, they made a point to speak louder so that it was easier when she began searching for them. The thought made little Rumi flush with adoration; she really did have such considerate folks. Most parents would balk at the idea of letting a young child loose in a crowded mall, but Rumi was independent— and more importantly, could easily break a would-be kidnapper’s shins.

Rumi made a face of distaste as she passed the mall’s food plaza. Even with acclimation to the noisy environment, walking past the jam-packed congregation of restaurants and customers always made her ears ring. She flattened the appendages to her head, lessening the pain somewhat, and stalked past the palace as quickly as she could. When she was a safe distance away, she raised her ears again— and heard the distinct sound of a child crying.

Her eyebrows furrowed deeply as she halted in place, causing a few disgruntled shoppers to grumpily go around. She remained still as her ears whirled left and right on her head, trying to follow the source of the disturbing sound waves. Her feet followed the petulant sniffles into a small hallway tucked between the storefronts— a side exit with bathrooms, benches, and vending machines. Hunkered down by a potted fern was a little boy with wavy black hair, scrubbing at his teary face.

“Hello,” Rumi announced as she stopped in front of him. He released a strange mix between a wheeze and a squeak as his head snapped up to stare at her with wide, teary eyes. “There’s no need to be frightened,” she reassured him with a cheeky grin. “What’re your name?”

“T-Tenko,” the boy offered reluctantly as he rubbed at the underside of his left eye with the heel of his palm. She wondered if he did that often, based on the way his skin cracked and flaked beneath his eyelid. “What’s yours?”

“Rumi. Are ya lost?”

Tenko’s cheeks flushed pink and he looked miserably back down at his lap. After a few seconds, he meekly nodded his head in affirmation. His sniffles returned as shame rushed through his body; it would be much harder to get information out of him while he was sobbing, so Rumi had to act fast.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry!” she chirped while squatting down in front of him. “S’okay! Everybody gets lost sometimes. There’s nothing to be ashamed about.” Tenko peered at her through the tresses of his long black hair, eyes gleaming hopefully as he considered Rumi’s words. “Here, you want some candy? These are my favorite, but you look like you could use some,” she said while offering him one of the bags of candy marshmallows. His hand appeared from beneath one of his too-long shirt sleeves; the bag crinkled under his dry, cracking fingers as he gripped it tight. Rumi watched with meaningfully raised eyebrows as he carefully tore the package open and popped one into his mouth.

“Mmm… Shweet,” he mumbled around a mouthful of the gooey, sticky marshmallow.

“Aren’t they? It’s just a shame they don’t taste like carrots!” she huffed with an angry twitch of her ears. Tenko swallowed the marshmallow and looked at her in utter bewilderment.

“You like carrots?”

“Of course! They’re delicious! Crunchy and munchy and— hey, are you laughing?” she accused with a snort through her nose. The candy marshmallows gently bounced in the bag as Tenko chuckled, holding his knuckles up to his chapped lips.

“Sorry… S’just kinda funny, because you’re a rabbit.” Rumi’s ears drooped along with the corners of her lips as she gave him a pout. If only she had a carrot for every time she’s heard that! Still, she didn’t say anything because it was a relief to see a half-formed smile playing over his scratched-up, teary face.

“All right, all right, have your laugh!” she huffed after he wiped the giddy tears from the corners of his eyes. “This rabbit is gonna help you find your folks, thank you very much!”

“Really? How?”

“With these!” she asserted with a sharp point to her long, fluffy ears. Tenko’s eyes slowly drifted up to the twitching appendages sprouting from her mane of silvery hair. “My ears are super-duper sensitive! I can hear everything in this mall— including your parents, which I’m sure are looking for you. We’ll just wander around until we find ‘em,” she explained, putting one hand on her hip with her other hand jutting up her index finger, like a professor explaining a vital point. With his mouth in an awed “o,” Tenko nodded understandingly.

With a small “hup!” and a slap of her powerful thighs, Rumi straightened back up to her feet and offered Tenko a hand. He shyly rolled up the sleeve of his sweater so he could grip it tightly and allow her to pull him to his feet. Rather than letting go, she just laced their fingers and tugged him out of the small hallway.

“B-but—!” he protested, the pale skin of his face flushing with a bright red blush. Rumi flashed him a toothy grin and waved her half-dissolved lollipop emphatically.

“So you don’t get lost again, silly!”

Tenko swallowed loudly, clearly unsettled by her decision, but did not protest. He just tottered alongside her, holding the bag of carrot marshmallows to his chest as Rumi led him back into the depths of the mall.

“Now, let’s see,” she hummed thoughtfully as she swiveled her ears to and fro, “do you remember what your parents were shopping for?”

“School clothes,” Tenko answered quietly. “For me and my little sister…”

“Okay. There are lots of big department stores here, so we’ll just make a circuit of the mall, starting with that one!” she decided with a point of her lollipop to the closest store, a two-story clothing store that carried both casual and dress items. “We’ll eventually have to run into them. Do you think they’ve noticed you’re gone?” she asked as she toted him through the sliding glass double doors. Tenko let out a small sniff and shrugged.

“I don’t know… Daddy was yelling at my mom for spending too much money on my clothes, and I ran away while they were arguing,” he explained miserably. Rumi raised her eyebrows in shock. Her parents never yelled in front of her, and she couldn’t fathom her father being angry about how much money was spent on her. If anything, they loved to dote on Rumi and make sure she had everything she needed. Parents come in all kinds, she realized solemnly.

“I’m sorry, Tenko. That sounds really rough. I’m sure your mom and dad will work it out, though,” she reassured as she offered him a smile. Tenko peered out from beneath his bangs, and Rumi was relieved to see his lips curl up just a hint.

“Yeah… They argue a lot, but they always do.”

Rumi tried not to let her heartbreak show on her face. She couldn’t imagine what it was like, having to live with parents who bickered day in and day out. She almost had half a mind to abandon Tenko’s parents and take her home with him instead! Actually…

“Hey! Why don’t you just come live with me?” she posed, stopping in the middle of an aisle to give Tenko a huge grin. “My parents are awesome! They never fight, and they would give you all the clothes you could ever want and more! I’m sure you’d be much happier.”

Tenko gaped at her in utter bewilderment. After a few seconds of processing the rabbit girl’s ludicrous suggestion, he flushed and looked down at the toes of his Velcro sneakers. The plastic bag of marshmallows crinkled under his fidgeting fingers.

“That does sound nice, but… Even though my parents argue, I couldn’t leave them. I love my Mommy, and my sister, and my dog…” he said uncertainly. Rumi wriggled her nose, then shrugged with indifference.

“All right! If you say so!” she said in a sing-song voice before tugging on his arm again. Tenko squeaked as he was suddenly jerked forward, and he clumsily fell back in step with his headstrong companion. Rumi hummed a pleasant tune as she swiveled her ear, scanning the sounds drifted just above the racks of clothes in the large carpeted spaces on either side of the tiled pathways.

Young women perused the latest trends, holding up cute shirts and dresses to their frames with pursed lips. A businessman chatted to his boss on the phone as he compared how a tie would look with his dress shirt. Two young children played hide-and-seek amongst the racks while their grandmother looked on with a pleased chuckle— but Rumi didn’t hear any sign of Tenko’s parents. Just as she was thinking about moving on to the next store, a frantic cry drifted down the whirring steps of the escalator.

“Tenko?! Tenko, where are you?”

“Honey, he couldn’t have gotten far—”

“This is your fault!” the woman snapped; Rumi could hear the air rushing around her dress as she whirled on the man speaking. “You made him feel guilty! You should be ashamed of yourself, taking out your anger on our child! Tenko has nothing to do with our finances and you know that.”

“Honey…”

“Oh, my poor baby… He’s probably lost and alone and upset… Tenko? Tenko!”

Tenko couldn’t hear his mother calling as Rumi could, so he scrunched up his face in confusion as the girl sucked in an excited breath.

“Come on, Tenko! I think I found ‘em!” she grinned as she took off for the escalator. Rather than riding them up, she hopped up the steel steps, practically dragging the stumbling boy behind her. She jerked to a halt once she reached the summit, causing Tenko to bump into her back with a yelp. She frowned deeply, ears turning furiously to pinpoint the upset mother’s location.

“Rumi, my nose— Ah!” Tenko didn’t have time to complain about his nose slamming into her back as she took off towards the children’s section of the store. Their breaths came in little pants as their feet slapped against the tile; above the symphony of their frantic dash, the panicked chant of “Tenko, Tenko, Tenko!” gradually rose in intensity.

“Mommy?!” the boy exclaimed when he finally heard his mother’s call. “Mommy! I’m over here!”

As if summoned, a woman dashed out from between some racks of young boy’s clothes, head snapping around wildly. She appeared so suddenly that Rumi had no time to stop running; the soles of her sneakers slid uselessly over the tile as she all but careened into the woman’s legs. Tenko’s mother exclaimed in shock as the rabbit girl slammed into the plumes of her skirt, and Tenko behind her.

“Oh, my goodness—! Oh, Tenko!” she cried as the black-haired boy rubbed his nose, which had slammed into Rumi’s back again. She crushed Rumi against her legs in her attempts to bend down and hug her son. “I’m so relieved! Honey, why did you run off like that? You had me so worried—! Oh, what’s this?” Her babbles ceased when she registered Rumi’s indignant squeaks within the cloth of her dress. When she straightened up, Rumi crawled out from between her calves, gasping for breath. “Who’s this?”

“This is my friend Rumi! She helped me find you,” Tenko explained. Rumi tugged her lollipop off of the woman’s dress, plucked away the fibers clinging to its sticky surface, and then shoved the entire thing into her mouth. Her cheeks bulged around the large circular candy and drool dripped from her lips. She garbled a salutation around the lolly, but it came out as senseless gurgling. Tenko’s mother chuckled, endeared by Rumi’s antics.

“Hello, Rumi. Thank you for bringing Tenko back to me.”

The lollipop made a popping sound as she took it out of her mouth. She wiped at her lips with her wrist before flashing a rainbow-dyed smile.

“No problem! I’m gonna be a hero someday, so jobs like this are nothing!”

Tenko sucked in a breath of adoration. He clutched his mother’s skirts, looking around cautiously, before leaning in close to whisper to her.

“I wanna be a hero too…”

“Really? That’s awesome,” Rumi purred admiringly. “We can be hero buddies someday!”

“It sounds like you’ve made a really nice friend, Tenko.” At his mother’s praise, the boy shyly buried his face into her dress and smiled charmingly at Rumi, who continued to lick her lolly unabashedly. When he went to hand her back her marshmallows, she shook her head.

“Those’re yours! Think of it as a present!” Tenko looked wide-eyed at the bag, then crushed them against his chest, turning red in the face as he beamed.

“Rumi, dear, where are your parents?”

“I dunno. I haven’t found them yet. I was distracted lookin’ for you!” she shrugged nonchalantly. As Tenko’s mother exclaimed an “Oh dear!” Tenko gaped at her.

“Wait… You’re lost, too?”

“No!” she refuted with a stamp of her foot. “I am not! My parents let me go to the candy store alone all the time because I can find them! Duh!”

“Oh…” Tenko blushed, shrinking back into his mother’s skirts. Rumi snorted and shoved her lolly into one cheek, enabled by her rabbit-like pouches.

“Anyway,” she drooled around it, “I should go find them, I guessh. They’ll worry evenshually.”

“My, what a spirited young girl you are. I’m glad that Tenko found such a dependable friend!” the woman laughed. She dug into her purse to procure a pen and a notepad, scrawling something down before ripping off the sheet and handing it to her. “Here is my phone number. You can call and talk to Tenko anytime, and I’m sure he’d love to play with you again!” To emphasize his mother’s assumption, Tenko nodded eagerly. Rumi folded up the scrap of paper and shoved it down into her overall pocket before giving them both a thumbs-up.

“Bye-bye, Rumi,” Tenko said bashfully as his mother waved politely and began to lead him away.

“See ya later! Don’t get lost again!” she called, sucking on her lollipop as she watched them vanish into the rack of clothes. She listened for a moment, hearing his little sister squeal in delight in his return and his father begrudgingly offer an apology. While she still ruminated on the idea of stealing Tenko away, she supposed she could be satisfied with his family, for now.

She smiled around the lollipop as she heard Tenko whisper a shy, “Thanks for saving me, Rumi…” that only her attuned ears could hear.

With her mission accomplished, Rumi whirled on her heel. One set of parents had been located, but now she had another to find in the depths of the mall! At least she had her yummy lolly… Still, she found her steps quickening. She could hardly wait to tell them all about her new friend and hurry home so she could call Tenko on the phone so they could set up a proper playdate. She’d even make sure she had some carrots and ranch waiting for him when he came! She couldn’t promise any more carrot marshmallows, after all— they were her favorite! Although… maybe she could save a handful for her new friend. That's what friends did, right?

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#dustbunny #my hero academia #rumi usagiyama #tenko shimura #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia

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