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[csinstruments]

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[houseofwolvess]

idk how the fuck im gonna clean these bitches... this is nasty

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Off The Beaten Path.

Part One

Summary: Nivea Douglas takes Terry Richmond into her home after he saves her. Terry doesn’t want to be a burden, but Nivea insists.

Author’s Note: back with another story for Terry! This one will be short chapters. It’s just easier to write. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Obession, Smut, Primal Kink.

Silently, he prowled through the forest, crushing grass and twigs alike beneath his unsteady stride. His unseeing eyes flicked across the trees that passed in a blurry mix of greens and browns, searching mindlessly for his next victim.

He was only sixteen.

The evening sun had already started to set, casting the quiet forest in a haze of blood red hues. The forest was dead silent. His heavy steps were enough warning to send its usual inhabitants scurrying away to their hiding places. Even birds dared not to frequent the sky above his path, well aware of what consequences would await them. Instead, the forest remained hushed, as if every living thing was watching with bated breath as he trudged a path through the rich amber oak trees that shifted lightly in the crisp evening breeze.

He welcomed the numbing sensation in his sore, aching limbs when the crisp, winter air had grown colder and stronger.

Though he refused to look, he knew that bruises already painted the majority of his wretched flesh. Most of the pain had faded to haunting memories, however, his most recent mark still burned. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he continued on his path. One leg moved after the other in a steady rhythm. What little control he had left was slowly removed as the curse flowed through his bloodstream, igniting the beast.

There was nothing he could do now but watch the creature inside of him surface, taking full control to do it’s bidding.

Suddenly, he heard something.

A light, airy laugh rang out throughout the clearing. It was a jarring sound, bright, beautiful, and full of life, unlike anything he’d ever heard. Momentarily, he could feel himself surface, gaining control to savor the enchanting sound. However, the moment came and passed in a breath and the beast came forward, regaining control of his body and forcing him back to become a prisoner in his mind once more…

———

Present Day:

Nivea could almost taste victory as she sprinted along a winding dirt path towards the finish line. Her bohemian locs swept up into a ponytail oscillated across her upper back and the forest green GymShark matching set she wore felt more compressed from the amount of sweat that seeped from her pores. Heart pounding, ragged breaths unheard because of her AirPods, Nivea charged ahead, ignoring the burning in her glutes and thighs.

Beyoncé– America Has A Problem pounded her eardrums pleasantly. Her pink and green HOKA running shoes cushioned her size eight feet from the gravel and twigs. Running along Moon Seed Loop was an early morning ritual for Nivea. She’d been doing it faithfully since moving into her new Victorian style home with a wrap around porch.

Acadiana Park is a jewel in Upper Lafayette. It’s a beautiful place to wander with your kids, family and friends. An afternoon along the trails is more than just exciting—it’s an easy way to work in some exercise and learn a thing or two about the Park’s rich, natural landscape. Expect to see countless varieties of trees, fish and birds along the trails and beautiful waterways.

Nivea was hired as the sole Veterinarian for a pet clinic not too far from her home after moving to Louisiana from Phoenix, Arizona. She started out at The University of Arizona and after graduating she moved to the UK to study abroad and later received her doctorate. It granted her opportunities to spend time in Australia, South Africa, The Caribbean, and New Zealand. She’s in her early forties now, never been married, dated here and there, only having one long term relationship with a guy she knew from high school.

To be daring is to be bold, adventurous, and a little nervy. It’s a quality possessed by people who tend to take risks. Nivea had an audacious approach to life. Leaping off cliffs, skydiving, mountain climbing, swimming with sharks, even the little things like getting a tattoo or racing a motorcycle and even crowd surfing. Reckless and venturesome. Athletic and beautiful. She’d gotten those qualities from her late father. He was a veteran haunted by memories of the war.

Her mother, a free–spirited woman born in Trinidad and raised in New York, took a chance and moved to Phoenix where she’d met Nivea’s father who at the time still served in The Military. Nivea didn’t stay in one place for too long, a military brat who embraced a new scenery. Like her mother, Nivea didn’t have a problem with change. She embraced it.

Just like she embraced the burning in her lungs and the way her muscles ached. At the end of her run, Nivea slowed down and began smiling in victory. She placed her hands on her hips to catch her breath before pausing her music. Cracking her neck, Nivea perched her back against an old oak tree to settle her nerves before making the trip back to her car.

She licked her full, bottom lip, tasting the saltiness of her sweat. The sheen along her honeyed-skin gave her a glow similar to gold. The sun's rays tickled her melanin skin as she pushed her toned legs to the end of the forest and toward her parked vehicle. She dusted her edges with her fingers, reminding herself that she was in need of a hair appointment since it had been some months since her last one.

Her Toyota 4Runner in a desert sand color came to life with a click of a button on her key fob. Beyoncé’s mezzo–soprano voice could be heard from the speakers since her Bluetooth had connected. Nivea removed her fanny pack and opened her driver’s side door, flinging it in the passenger seat before taking a generous swig of water from her navy–blue Yeti cup. Keys in the ignition, Nivea didn’t waste time driving off, leaving her tire tracks and dirt dust behind.

_________

Sitting in his pitch black Dually, a sudden early fall rain showering it, his iridescent eyes were unwavering and intense beyond the boldness of his thick lashes as he watched his new obsession sprint through the forest. Like clockwork every morning, he waited to see her, an overwhelming sensation growing within his chest cavity so strong. Large, calloused hands grip his steering wheel firmly and his nostrils flare.

The first time he saw her, his heart fell. The second time he saw her, his heart fell. The third time, fourth time, fifth time, and every time since, his heart had fallen. He stared at her, and each time a sudden, overwhelming, and involuntary feeling of deep connection and devotion would consume him. It was immediate and intense. She’d thrown a wrench into his routine. Couturie Forest was one of the few areas he could escape and not feel as if he’d run into trouble.

She is the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her hair, her eyes, her lips, her body that she worked so hard on, the way she walked, the way she smiled and laughed and the way her cheeks dropped when she’s mad or upset. The way she dragged her feet when she was tired after a long shift. Every single thing about her is beautiful.

He stared at her, tracking her with his eyes, taking in every detail even from the distance between them. When he sees her the world stops. It stops and all that exists for him is her and his eyes staring at her. There’s nothing else. No noise, no other people, no thoughts or worries, no yesterday, no tomorrow. The world just stops and it is a beautiful place and there is only her. Just her, and his eyes never leaving her.

He stared. He traced with his eyes that flicker between a kaleidoscope of colors, sparkling with longing and his stomach tightening because of the powerful, almost gravitational pull that feels inescapable. She’d trapped him and he hadn’t even smelled her yet. Licked her. Traced his fingers along her skin. Filled her.

When she’s gone, the world starts again, and he doesn't like it as much. He can live in it, but he doesn't like it. He’d just walk around in it and wait to see her again and wait for it to stop again. He loved when it stopped. It’s the best fucking thing he’d ever known or ever felt, the best thing, and that, beautiful woman is why he can’t ever just leave.

A part of him wished he knew how to quit her. The strong sense of loyalty and dedication to her made it nearly impossible. Quite frankly, it is impossible. Once it happens…it happens. This wasn’t fate. Fated mates are predetermined or destined partners. No…this was sudden. Sparked immediately. An unbreakable connection that awakened his protective instincts. It was so instantaneous. He’s far from that. He needed to be in control at all times.

Turning the key in the ignition, his truck rumbled to life and suddenly his tires began to move him beyond the damp soil and onto the roadway. Jaw clenched, the sun began to peek out, his eyes appearing to have golden flecks in a sea of green. He tapped the brake pedal with his boot–covered foot until her 4Runner came into view. As soon as it came into view, his heart fell again. He waited and then he was off, trailing behind her.

The ride lasted twenty minutes and he found himself staring at her beautiful body swaying up the steps and toward her front door. He stroked his bottom lip with his thumb, staring at the home. He couldn’t get too close because she had surveillance. It wouldn’t look good showing up uninvited. He had to settle for watching her. Hoping that he would introduce himself to her. It’s been a long two weeks.

_________

Nivea took off her shoes within the foyer of her home. Her Great Dane with its square jaw and imposing size galloped up to her and stood on its hind legs to greet her. Nivea giggled at her dog, rubbing it before walking away. Before taking a much needed shower, Nivea made a quick stop into her uniquely decorated kitchen with its vintage appliances and greenery. She opened her Big Chill Retro Fridge in a canary-yellow color and grabbed a pitcher of filtered water.

Nivea proceeded to pour the water into a tea kettle on the front left burner of her 1950’s vintage oven. Flames ignited the pot and Nivea took that time to prepare her ceramic mug with some organic lavender tea. She scooped some tea herbs from a mason jar into the mug and retrieved her tea spoon. Coco, Nivea’s large yet gentile dog, followed her towards the kitchen table, earning a few scratches behind her ears.

Staring out of the large window overlooking her garden, Nivea thought about her date that evening. She’d agreed to go to dinner with a man named Ian who’s German shepherd she’d taken care of. Nivea was wary about Ian for a while, because he’s recently divorced. The man was persistent in asking her out, even when his legal troubles were ongoing. That charming smile and carob skin distracted her and she couldn’t help but smile whenever he’d come in with his dog. Ian with his salt and pepper locs, well–muscled frame, and charisma.

The whistle of the kettle had Nivea standing from her seat. She turned off the stove top and poured the water into her mug. Nivea allowed it to steep for five minutes before taking a small sip of the hot tea, shutting her eyes as the immediate calming and therapeutic effects wash over her. With her tea, Nivea left her kitchen and made her way up the stairs to her bedroom. On the second floor landing, she paused to sip her tea again.

What was she going to wear? A dress? Jeans and a cute blouse? Heels? Flats? The sound of the shower beyond the master bathroom filled her spacious bedroom as she combed through racks of clothes within her narrow walk–in closet. Multiple dresses were left discarded as she tossed them to the side. She still had hours to go before her date, but the thought of entering the dating scene again sparked her anxiety tremendously.

While nervousness is expected when meeting a new person, dating anxiety is more intense and long lasting. Nivea’s long term relationship caused her emotional and physical pain. Her ex fiance had been controlling and manipulative for years, one of the reasons why she’d left Arizona behind. While he moved on as if nothing happened, Nivea lived in fear of meeting someone new.

Nivea settled on a ruffled halter mini dress in red with a black moto jacket and distressed black heeled boots. She pinned her locs up and undressed herself, tossing her dirty athletic attire into her bin. She entered her bathroom and stepped into the shower. Nivea took her time cleansing, exfoliating, and moisturizing. Back in her room, she slipped on a thin, graphic T-shirt and loose sleep shorts with fuzzy socks. Locs in a messy bun, Nivea left her room with her mug in hand to enter her office for a bit of light reading.

Entering her office, she opened her window to allow a breeze in. The smell of rain and grass filled her nose as she curled up on her reading chair. Opening her smut book to where she left off, Nivea pursed her full lips to fight the urge to smile. She couldn’t wait to finish where she’d left off. Meanwhile, the black truck out front hadn’t made an effort to leave.

___________

“Table for two, please.”

The cool evening air transitioned into toasty coziness as they entered a semi–crowded Steak House. Pleasant, savory smells and the clatter of utensils against plates teased their senses. Nivea clung onto Ian’s bicep as her eyes swept over the restaurant in anticipation. The hostess, a pleasant Asian girl with long, shiny black hair and a pointy face, gathered two menus before leading them away from the booth and towards a table shrouded in a low ambiance.

“Thank you…”

Ian worked to pull out Nivea’s chair. She smiled at him with her ruby-red lips. Ian pushed her in closer before taking his place across from her. They locked eyes for a brief moment before staring down at the menus before them.

“I know I’ve said it before, but…you look beautiful.”

Nivea smiled, “Thank you, Ian. You look very handsome.”

Ian wore a black Lacoste polo shirt and khaki pants with black dress shoes. He had a fresh retwist, locs falling over his broad shoulders.

“Did you work today?” Ian asked.

Their waiter made his way over, a tall, white male with sandy brown hair and dark blue eyes that reminded Nivea of the Pacific Ocean. His name is Ben. Ben filled their water glasses and vowed to return shortly to take their orders.

“I had an off day. Went for my morning run in the forest and spent the remaining day inside. Something I cherish when I can since my schedule is full most of the time. You?”

“Detective work never dies. Working this case that’s taking a toll on me…”

Ian released a stressful sigh.

“…do you want to talk about it?” Nivea questioned cautiously.

“Nah. I don’t want to unsettle what’s supposed to be a romantic evening,” Ian smiled faintly, “Tell me a little more about you, Nivea. What does a Veterinarian do for fun?”

Nivea chuckled, “I make the most of life. I love to travel, I’m an adrenaline junkie…yes, yes. While I do love a good time, I have my moments where being alone with my Coco is enough. Reading, meditating, gardening…I do a little bit of everything.”

“Kickboxing? Let’s not forget that.” Ian mentioned with a smirk.

“Oh yeah, how can I overlook that,” Nivea replied sarcastically, “Didn’t mean to startle you with my high kick.”

“That leg is lethal,” Ian laughs, “I mean, seriously. We could use you on our team.”

Nivea giggled behind her hand, “How would I be of use to you? What would a kick do to take down an armed killer?”

“You’d be surprised.” Ian quipped.

“Sure,” Nivea’s dimpled smile increased, “Tell me about the case.”

“Eager, are you?”

“Let’s just say…I’m a true crime lover. It fascinates me.”

Ben made his way back over. Ian ordered a bottle of red wine and oysters.

“This case isn’t for the faint hearted, Nivea.”

“My heart isn’t a home for cowardice,” Nivea replied.

Ian looked upon her with a deep stare that seemed intrigued and surprised by her words. Nivea simply smiled, one brow arched.

“Okay. I’m sure you’ve heard about the missing hikers from Monroe?”

“I have. The two couples…”

“Yeah…well…they’ve been found. And…all four are dead. Bodies mutilated and buried beneath a slashed tent on Palmetto Island Campground.”

“Goodness…mutilated?”

“Disfigured. Large slash marks and bludgeoned.”

“You don’t think an animal had something to do with it?”

Ian shook his head, “We’ve looked into that. There’s no way. Their wallets and other personal belongings are missing as well. Someone did this. No eye witnesses.”

“Jesus,” Nivea accepted her filled glass of wine from Ben, “Any signs of a struggle? Defensive wounds?”

“Yes. You could tell they tried to escape. Two bodies were found away from the campsite. They received the worst possible attacks.”

“Scary…”

Ian nodded his head in agreement, “Shaken up?”

Nivea glanced over at him with a tiny hint of a smile, “A little. Maybe I should be careful running alone in the forest while a killer is at large in Lafayette.”

“Maybe you should run on a treadmill for a while instead.”

Nivea giggled.

“I’m serious, Nivea.” Ian said.

“I’ll be fine, Ian. I run along the Moon Seed Loop trail.”

“What difference does it make? You’d be better off in a gym.”

Nivea shifted in her seat. Ian sensed her unease.

“Sorry. I just…I want you to be safe.”

“I appreciate it. Really. I know it’s in your nature to worry. But I’ll be fine.”

Ian took a sip of his wine. Their oysters arrived and Nivea ordered red snapper.

“Fish at a steakhouse?” Ian teases.

“I’m pescatarian.”

“Oh–I didn’t know—”

“It’s okay. I used to love red meat at one point. That was ten years ago.”

“Next time, I’ll take you to my favorite seafood place.” Ian vowed.

Nivea smirked beautifully, “Next time?”

“Absolutely. I’m going to do whatever it takes to win your heart.” Ian confessed.

“Woah there, tiger,” Nivea said, “Still have to get through date number one.”

“I have a lot of work to do then.”

“Damn right,” Nivea replied.

“It’s worth it. You’re worth the trouble.” Ian said.

“Good trouble.” Nivea replied with a tilt of her glass.

They shared a look. One filled with excitement and anticipation.

“Why Lafayette? Phoenix is a great city.” Ian asked.

“Got tired of the desert.”

Ian laughs, “Seriously. Why the sudden change?”

Nivea shrugged a single shoulder, “I wanted a fresh start. My love life was at its end. They offered me a hefty salary here. I’ve always loved Louisiana. Didn’t see why not.”

“Ex boyfriend?”

“Ex fiancée,” Nivea dramatically enunciated.

“Oh? You were engaged?”

“To a narcissist. One of which scarred me for life. One I kept going back to even after he’d proven to me time and time again I meant nothing to him.”

Nivea drank some of her wine to conceal the tightness in her throat. So long ago yet so fresh.

“I’m sorry, Nivea. I know what it’s like.”

Nivea cleared her throat, “Your ex wife?”

“Shannon. We built a life together. Had two children. She had an affair with her personal trainer. Threw away almost twenty years of marriage.”

Nivea didn’t know what to say. She’d been cheated on in the past, but in the same breath, she’d done the cheating herself. New dick to numb the pain. That ‘we shouldn’t be doing this’ rump. She could recall how good it had felt to have another man make her cum on his dick and take his cum down her throat. Going back home to her ex fiance with the stench of another man on her.

“The divorce was amicable I guess?” Nivea asked after a long, awkward pause.

“It was. However, it left its mark on the kids. My daughter is taking it the hardest.”

“She’ll come around I’m sure.”

“I hope.” Ian responded in a solemn tone.

Nivea perked up, grabbed her glass of wine, and raised it.

“Let’s toast to new beginnings.”

Ian lifted his glass high and both of them clinked them. Ian watched Nivea down her wine in one sip. He chuckled into his glass.

“More?”

“Hell yeahhh! Whoops—”

Embarrassed by her outburst, Nivea giggled into her hands. Ian simply laughed.

“Sorry, I’m a bit of a wine–o.”

“No worries. I love when you let that side of you show.”

Nivea’s tawny–brown skin tinted beneath his gaze as she fought the urge to smile.

________

A Week Later:

Sitting in anticipation of seeing her again left him feeling anxious. It’s been too long since she’d entered his life without any real connection. He’d heard her voice through a window and as she was leaving work, but he hadn’t smelled her. Touched her. All of which he longed for. He occupied his usual parked spot hidden from view, dressed in a black T-shirt and Wrangler Jeans. One elbow propped up against the open window of his truck while his other hand gripped the steering wheel.

Checking the time, he should have expected to see her pass beyond the trees. However, an uneasiness settled in the pit of his stomach. She’d never missed a trail run. It was a part of her meticulous routine. Had she overslept? Did she decide to skip a run? Why would she alter her routine? Frustration and worry coursed through his body as he contemplated leaving his truck behind to search for her.

He kept a distance because he knew what it looked like stalking her. She’d be afraid, call the police, and he couldn’t have that. Not when he needed her so badly. Stroking his bottom lip with his thumb, his ever–changing eyes moved about, hoping to spot her. Minutes stretched on and so did his patience. His mind drifted to the worst possible scenario. One he was all too familiar with. Begrudgingly, he opened the door to his truck and climbed out. His heart hammered away behind his mended ribs as he walked along the gravel leading into the trees.

He made his way onto a trail, pausing his steps. Eyes searching from one end of the forest trail to the other, he allowed his sensitive sense of smell to pick up her scent. His keen eyes paid close attention to any disturbance in the forest before him. Trampled vegetation. Disturbed soil. As these can leave behind unique scent profiles.

He was far away from his truck now, the smell of lemon peel, oak moss, and mint burned his nose. A metallic smell made his muscles tighten and his tongue tingle. He picked up into a run, trailing off the beaten path, away from what her usual route would be. As he ventured into the wilderness, the metallic–like scent grew stronger, enough to make him lose sight of his destination. His footsteps paused a few feet away from a man-made ditch, and as his eyes peered into it, there, he’d found his latest obsession.

She was unconscious, filthy, and bleeding from a laceration on her head. He frantically jumped down into the ditch and scooped her into his arms. His nose crinkled as the smell of blood seeped in. He pressed two fingers against her neck, faintly making out a pulse. She’s alive. Relief washed over him. Standing, he cradled her limp body in his arms. He hoisted her up and onto the ground carefully before hopping out of the deep darkness of the ditch.

He couldn’t leave her there, she needed to go to the hospital immediately. As he made his way over to her, he caught a whiff of something unfamiliar. Something unwelcome. His eyes searched around him, fists tightly clenched. The trees lashed and crashed against each other like drumsticks in the hands of a giant. It was eerily quiet. He could sense something watching. A painful groan from her captured his ears and he immediately focused all of his attention on her.

She stirred on the ground, face frowned and her eyes moving beneath her closed lids. Terry held his breath as he crouched down to look at her. He placed one hand beneath her head for protection, his eyes staring down into her beautiful face. When she opened them slightly, his lips parted to speak.

Her soft locs in his calloused hands he adored. Her tawny skin was a work of art with her arms covered in tattoos. Lips plump and soft. She’s a goddess. Pools of brown peered up at his face with difficulty. She furrowed her brows, trying to make out who this stranger was as the sun above made him less distinguishable. She parted her lips to utter a few words, but it required energy she didn’t currently possess.

“It’s okay…you’re safe now. I’m gonna take you to the ER.” He spoke softly as her consciousness began to fade again, “Just hang in there…I got you.”

Her head lulled as he picked her up. Quickly and carefully, he made his way back to his truck. Once there, he flung his back door open and placed her on her side with her head reclined on a wrinkled flannel shirt of his. He slammed the door shut and rushed to the driver’s seat. Truck rolled to life and he took off with a quick burst of speed so fast he almost collided with a tree.

The nearest emergency room wasn’t too far of a drive. What would have been twenty minutes on back roads took him ten minutes or less on the I–10. As he drove, weaving his way through traffic, he would look back to check on her, making sure she was okay and not bleeding out. As his truck screeched to a stop in the visitor parking lot of the emergency room at Ochsner Lafayette General Medical Center, He quickly left his car to grab her.

Bystanders watched as he carried her through the automatic doors. Medical staff rushed over, surprising him with how diligent they were with getting her to a room. His heart thumped as he watched them place her on a gurney and secure the safety rails. Sweat doused his body from head to toe. The adrenaline was running through his body. He could make out someone trying to speak to him, but his eyes were glued to her distant figure as she traveled down the EMS corridor and towards the resuscitation area.

“Excuse me, Sir?!”

A woman in teal green scrubs shouted for his attention from the reception area. He allowed his eyes to sweep over her and then the reality of where he was and what he needed to do hit him. He took long strides towards the desk, bracing himself there as he tried to calm his nerves.

“Can you tell us what happened? Who it is you brought in and what’s your name and relationship to the patient?”

Another woman with ceil–blue scrubs and a scrub jacket with little faces of children printed on it sat typing away at a registration computer.

“Uh, yes…I’m not sure what her name is. I…I found her…”

His eyes glanced around him warily.

“Found her where, sir?”

“Unconscious. In a ditch. She’d fallen in.”

The two women shared a glance with each other, one that told him they weren’t very trusting of him.

“Where was this?—”

“Moon Seed Loop.” He replied abruptly with a deep voice.

“The trail?”

“Yes,” he stroked a large hand down the front of his hair, “I don’t know her. I just saw her laying there and rushed to bring her in.”

The woman asking questions seemed to relax after those words but still kept an eye on him.

“Did you try performing CPR?”

“No. She’d woken up at some point before going back out.”

“Okay, and what’s your name to put on file?”

“Terry Richmond.”

“Contact? Unless you wish to stick around.”

“I’ll stick around.”

Terry peered into the waiting area, not too thrilled with sitting amongst a bunch of people. But he refused to leave without making sure she was okay.

“Alright. We’ll keep you posted.”

“Thank you.”

Hands in his pockets, he made his way towards the waiting area filled with sick patients.

__________

Plain walls.

The beeping of a monitor.

Fluorescent lighting.

A whiteboard listing her information.

The name of the nurse taking care of her and the physician.

Metal side rails caging her in.

Stark white linens and pillows beneath her head while she lay in Fowler's position.

A hep–lock was placed in her arm and connected to an IV secured with tegaderm. She’s still wearing the GymShark pale blue set but it was covered in dirt stains. Her head pounded from an intense migraine as she tried turning her head.

The pulse–ox on her finger beeped as she moved. Suddenly her curtain had been pulled back and an older white woman with ginger hair and a freckled face appeared. She wore navy blue scrubs with a name badge that read Leslie.

“Hello, Miss. Douglas. I’m nurse Leslie. Glad to see you awake.”

Nurse Leslie sauntered over to check her vitals. Nivea touched the back of her head over a tender spot and felt staples.

“A pretty gnarly lac ya’ had there. Thank goodness the young man that brought ya’ in found ya’.”

Slightly disoriented, Nivea sat up completely in her hospital bed, “Young man?”

“Yes ma’am. Now, can you confirm some things with me, Miss Douglas? Dr. Laphaun would like for me to give you some Tylenol. Just tell me your name and date of birth please.”

She groaned In discomfort, “Nivea Douglas. March twenty first. Nineteen eighty two.”

“Thank you. Here’s your Tylenol and some water…”

Nivea accepted the medicine and washed it down with the water. Her mouth was so dry from dehydration.

“Fluids are nearly done.”

“Leslie,” Nivea placed her cup down and reclined back, “is the young man a detective?”

“I don’t think so. Doesn’t look it. Looks more like a handy man. Tall, muscles, pretty eyes…ring a bell?”

“No—where did he find me? I was out for my morning run and—”

It was cold. She felt her pulse accelerate as her sneaker–clad feet imprinted the dry grounds of Mount Seed Loop. The air thickened around her as she ran faster. Paramore kept her going as she mouthed the words Hayley Williams sang. As she crossed a bridge, an intense wind picked up, causing her to sway slightly. Nivea slowed to a stop, bracing herself along the bridge. Her dark brown eyes focused ahead, and there, staring her in the eyes, was a wolf. Its piercing amber eyes didn’t waver. Nivea took two steps back, and the wolf took two steps forward. A low growl sounded from its muzzle and all sense of animal awareness left her body and was replaced with a fight or flight response.

Nivea ran, leaving the trail and entering beyond the trees. It was behind her, darting between the trees after her to attack. She didn’t know where she was going or why she thought running into the forest was a good idea, but soon, the wolf stopped chasing her, possibly finding something else more interesting. Nivea tried to stop running, but she tripped over an uproot and fell into what appeared to be a perfectly concealed ditch. Nivea gasped, too startled to comprehend what was happening. Her head collided with a sharp stone and her world went black…

“Almost ready for discharge, Miss Douglas. Dr. Laphaun will be in again to check on you before we release you. I’m assuming the young man waiting is your ride home? If not, we can call you an Uber.”

Bemused, Nivea tried to recall if she could remember the man that saved her from an almost fatal accident. Visions of a figure looking down at her flashed across her eyes, and words she couldn’t discern before.

“It’s okay…you’re safe now…”

A man’s voice. A voice of resonant quality. Gruff and husky.

“Can I see this man?”

“Sure! I’ll go grab him for you…”

Nurse Leslie exited the room and Nivea watched her turn down a hall. The distant sound of voices and a ringing phone could be heard. Nivea didn’t know what to expect when that curtain opened. But whoever this man is, she’s forever grateful for his kindness.

A knock to the frame separating her room from the outside startled her.

“Miss. Douglas. It’s Dr. Laphaun. May I come in?”

“Yes,” Nivea sat up, “You can come in.”

The curtain opened to reveal a white male with a bald head and tired eyes. He approached her left side.

“Just doing one final check. Your vitals are stable. Let’s take a look at your head again…excellent. So, I see you’re a veterinarian! How exciting.”

“Yeah,” Nivea gave him a small smile, “Neurological exam good? MRI results?”

“All good. You’re a lucky woman. As I’m sure you know, rest is a crucial part of concussion recovery. Once your symptoms improve, a gradual return to normal activities is recommended. I suggest taking at least a week off from exercise. Maybe your practice as well to be sure.”

“I have a lot of appointments this week, Dr. Laphaun—”

“All that I’m sure can be postponed, Dr. Douglas. The dogs and cats would be grateful to have a competent provider taking care of them.”

“Okay,” Nivea replied with a sigh, “Tylenol, elevate the head, cold compresses if swelling occurs…anything worsens I’ll be back.”

“All the above.” Dr. Laphaun said.

Another knock brought Nivea’s attention to the curtain. A nervous tickle in her stomach.

“Looks like your knight in faded jeans arrived!” Dr. Laphaun jokes.

The curtain opened to reveal a man standing at 6’3 with a body mass index that took up most of the entryway. His eyes are indeed pretty. Hypnotizing. An array of colors that seemed to change whenever the light hit. Sculpted jawline, generous lips, tattoo–covered arms, skin a toasted brown from the intense sun of Louisiana. His black T-shirt stretched over what had to be a well–sculpted torso and the faded jeans Dr. Laphaun was referring to fitting his lower half snug in all the right places. He had a rugged look to him with dark, almost black hair that stood out boldly. Thick, dark lashes and brows with hair that Nivea could tell grew out of control if he didn’t keep it cut low.

Nurse Leslie worked to remove Nivea’s hep–lock. Dr. Laphaun made his exit after shaking the Adonis’s hand. Nurse Leslie informed Nivea where her things were and asked if she needed help out of bed and into a wheelchair.

“I’ll be back with a chair.”

Nurse Leslie left the two of them alone. Nivea locked eyes with the man who was staring back at her unblinking. She broke her eyes away as she tried to swing her legs over the edge. Immediately, the man was by her side, one hand on her back and the other reaching out for her hand.

“Woah, woah. Careful…”

Nivea cast him a wary glance.

“I’m Terry.” He finally introduced himself.

“Nivea.”

Silence stretched on as they locked eyes. Nivea didn’t know what came over her, but she leaped into his arms, circling his neck with her arms in a choking embrace. Terry quickly secured her waist with his hands so she wouldn’t fall. Nivea cried against his neck, the smell of his scent crowding her nose. It was earthy and warm.

“Thank you, Terry! You saved my life!”

Terry was rigid against her.

“Okay, oh!–I’m so sorry—”

Leslie turned beet red. Nivea moved away from Terry with a sheepish smile while rubbing tears from her eyes and snot from her nose.

“Giving Terry here a proper thank you for saving me.” Nivea giggled softly.

“What a lovely young man,” Leslie patted him on the back, “Think you’ll be okay to wheel her out to ya’ truck? If you want ya can pull up and I’ll take her out.”

“Good idea,” Terry patted his back pocket, retrieving his keys, “I’ll be out front.”

Leaping into action, he hurried out of the room. Nivea’s eyes never left his brawny back until he was out of sight. Leslie helped Nivea into the wheelchair and with all her things, they left the room and towards the emergency room exit. Terry’s pitch black dually truck sat high off of the ground. Leslie stuck around to make sure Nivea could be safely transferred.

Terry lifted her up into his arms and placed her on the seat. Leslie smiled before waving goodbye to Terry and Nivea, turning to enter the emergency room. Nivea kept an eye on Terry as he fastened her in. He shut her door and made his way around. Nivea did a quick sweep of his truck, finding it pristine and cozy. It smelled of Royal Pine. He entered the truck and started the ignition. Terry placed his cell phone on a magnetic phone mount, keying in his passcode and pulling up the GPS. Suddenly, he picked up his phone.

“Sorry,” he gave her an apologetic nod before placing his phone back on the mount, “Where to?”

Nivea elevated a brow at him in wonder.

“536 Sterling Grove, 70503.”

“Got it. Let’s get you home.” Terry said.

@theereinawrites @bombshellbre95 @planetblaque @trippyscotch @megamindsecretlair @thesweetestdrug @theblulife @blackerthings @deja-r @kanafunee @kaylabuggggg06 @skyesthebomb @blyffe @gwenda-fav @beenathembo @dremmmm @novaniskye @melaninhawtie @urfavblackbimbo @avoidthings @rose-bliss @xo-goldengirl @kinginwithbreezy-blog @mysecertdiaryofableedingheart @sirenmouths @kokokonako @creartivefairy @soulfulbeauty19 @therealmrsrhodes @hrlzy @nayaesworld @playgurlxoxo @gg-trini @brattyfics @flydotty @writingsbytee @shiania @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @kismet83 @aristasworld @sl33p-deprived-princess @erynnnn @itssbrie @melaninangel @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @sweettea-and-honeybutter

[the-oblivious-writer]

I Will

Shauna Shipman x Reader

One-shot

Summary: You weren't sure when your crush on Shauna Shipman blossomed; maybe it was when she tripped Randy Walsh down a flight of stares because he kept stealing your glasses and calling you four-eyes, or maybe it was when she practically carried you off the field when you sprained your ankle during practice... it could have been a number of times. Either way, you never pursued your feelings towards Shauna, assuming they were one-sided. However, a cliché game of spin the bottle proves you otherwise.

Warning(s): Mild alcohol references (so underage drinking), kissing/making out (not explicit but certainly passionate), light sensuality, and no crash au.

Notes: watch episode six whenever you get the chance (idk how I'm gonna make it through another week without my girls 💔).

The Yellowjackets victory party was in full swing, the living room of Jackie's house transformed into a teenage playground of questionable decision-making. Music thumped through speakers, empty pizza boxes created precarious towers, and the distinct scent of whatever Misty had mixed into the punch lingered in the air.

You sat cross-legged in a circle of your teammates, acutely aware of Shauna Shipman's knee occasionally brushing against yours. The same knee that had impressed you earlier with its precision during that game-winning penalty kick.

"Alright, ladies!" Jackie's voice cut through the chatter as she placed an empty bottle in the center. "Time to elevate this championship celebration. Spin the bottle—with a twist."

Taissa groaned. "Please tell me the twist isn't something Misty concocted."

"Hey!" Misty protested from across the circle, adjusting her glasses indignantly.

"Seven minutes in heaven," Jackie announced with theatrical flair, gesturing toward the hallway closet. "Spin lands on someone, and you both disappear for seven glorious, uninterrupted minutes of... whatever."

Your eyes inadvertently flicked to Shauna, who was busy examining her fingernails with sudden, intense fascination.

The game progressed with typical teenage awkwardness. Van spun and landed on Taissa, their seven minutes returning them both with conspicuously mussed hair. Lottie and Laura Lee somehow spent their time discussing biblical interpretations of closet spaces, according to Lottie's cryptic explanation.

Then Shauna's turn arrived.

She spun with surprising force, the bottle rotating in hypnotic circles before gradually slowing. Your heart performed an impressive series of gymnastic maneuvers as the bottle neck inched past Jackie, past Misty, and landed—unmistakably—pointing at you.

"Well, well," Jackie smirked, "our midfield dynamic duo gets some quality time."

Shauna's eyes met yours, a complex blend of emotions swirling behind them. "Ready, teammate?" she asked, her voice carefully neutral despite the slight crack on the last syllable.

You managed a nod that you hoped appeared more casual than you felt.

The closet was smaller than it appeared from the outside. Coats pressed against your back, and the distinct smell of Jackie's family's fabric softener surrounded you. The door clicked shut, plunging you into darkness save for the thin strip of light beneath the door.

"So..." Shauna's voice came from somewhere very close. "Seven minutes."

"Approximately four hundred and twenty seconds," you replied, immediately regretting the nervous calculation.

A soft laugh escaped her. "I didn't realize we had a human stopwatch on the team."

"Sorry, I just—"

"Don't apologize," she interrupted. Your eyes had adjusted enough to see her outline, the curve of her profile as she leaned against the wall opposite you—all of twelve inches away. "It's cute. Your brain does this... thing... when you're nervous."

"I'm not nervous," you lied automatically.

"Right," Shauna whispered. "And I didn't spend the entire second half watching you instead of focusing on defense."

The air between you seemed to compress, heavy with unspoken words.

"We don't have to do anything," you offered, though your racing heart betrayed a different preference. "We could just talk about the tournament or—"

"Is that what you want?" Shauna asked, suddenly closer. "To talk about soccer strategy in a closet?"

Your breath caught. "Not particularly."

You felt rather than saw her smile. "Good. Because I've been thinking about kissing you since that practice where you nutmegged Coach Martinez."

"That was three months ago," you managed.

"I'm aware of the timeline," Shauna replied dryly, her hand finding yours in the darkness. "I've been keeping track."

When her lips finally met yours, it wasn't the hesitant exploration you'd imagined. Shauna Shipman kissed with the same focused intensity she brought to the soccer field—purposeful, skilled, and utterly captivating. Your back pressed against hanging coats as her hands found your waist, steadying you both in the cramped space.

You responded with equal fervor, fingers tangling in her hair, drawing a soft sound from her that you immediately committed to memory. The kiss deepened, months of sidelong glances and lingering high-fives transforming into something electric and undeniable.

"I should have spun that bottle weeks ago," she murmured against your neck, her breath warm and sending shivers down your spine.

"Technically," you replied between kisses, "you could have just asked me out instead of waiting for party game divine intervention."

Shauna laughed against your lips. "Where's the drama in that?"

Your response was cut short by her mouth finding yours again, more insistent this time. Time became meaningless, measured only in heartbeats and shared breaths.

When Jackie's voice eventually called "Time's up!" from the other side of the door, you reluctantly separated, both breathing heavily.

Shauna reached up to gently fix your disheveled hair, a surprising tenderness in the gesture. "So," she whispered, "want to discuss strategy over coffee tomorrow?"

"Soccer strategy?" you asked with a raised eyebrow.

Her smile was visible even in the dim light. "Among other things."

As you stepped back into the bright living room, met with knowing smirks from your teammates, you caught Shauna's eye across the circle. The look she gave you promised far more than seven minutes.

Jackie glanced between you two and rolled her eyes. "Well, that's one way to improve midfield communication."

Shauna's deadpan response—"Very efficient use of practice time"—sent the team into howls of laughter, while her fingers discreetly found yours behind the cover of Jackie's throw pillow.

Some victories, you decided, were even sweeter than championships.

[anothermaletfwriter]

Soft and Sweet Macademia

Braydon was your typical jock, he loved to workout with his homies and be with his girl. She was Bethany, a nerd. Not that competitive gamer nerd he dreamed of, but rather a bookish one. They met a party and she instantly fell in love with him as he fulfilled the “nerd x jock” trope she had long yearned for.

Today, he was dragged by her to the bookstore for a special promotional event. In the brightly lit modern store that made him regret not bringing his sunglasses inside, a large bright green banner with low quality black bold typography said “Try An Extrasensory Novel today.” There were brightly green bookshelves of new trending books below it. A scent of macadamia nuts punched his nostrils.

“What the fuck?” He sniffed the air like a weirdo, “Do you smell that?”

“I don’t smell anything. The nearest coffee place is on the other side of the mall,” Bethany said, fixing her freshly dyed red hair. She had painted his white bathroom like a crime screen in an attempt to save hundreds of dollars.

“You must have lost your sense of smell then. It’s so pungent.”

“It’s not a spill. There’d be ants crawling all over this place right now.”

“It’s driving me fucking crazy,” Braydon dug his big hands into his scalp, subtly flexing his bicep, which was tightened by his white compression shirt, “I need to find out where it's coming from.”

“Right,” She rolled her dark eyes and flashed an attempted smile, “While you have your Telltale Nut moment, I’m going to the fantasy section. Wanna join me?”

“No. You know I don’t care about that stuff.”

“Are you kidding me?” She looked up at him, only reaching up to his chest. Her eyes ready to kill the muscular jock in front of her. “I play your games with you, watch those movies with you. Is it much to ask wish for my boyfriend to be actually into books I like. Plus dressing in a dark academia style.”

“More like I’m gonna dark macadamia nut in you when we get home after this," From his towering view over the shelf, Bethany walked herself to the other side of the store, her arms crossed. He imagined her annoying grumbling to herself. He knew she wasn’t a perfect fit so why should she assume he was?

The scent intensified as he knelt down on the bottom row of the shelf. His long legs extended far out, acting as a trip hazard for any unfortunate passersby's. While he had expected a spill of someone’s overpriced coffee, the smell lead him to single out a specific book. He swiped it out, brushing through the pages for any soaked spots but he couldn’t find any. The scent seemed to emanate from the entire book itself. He landed back on the cover, which was unappealing and bratty. While the background was a flat color of an obnoxious green, the text was a horror show. It was stretched out and in low quality. It read “Absolute Calculus: Being Open To Changes in Extrema”. It appealed to the jock as he was familiar with the concept of calculus, notably from the math classes he had to take for his finance degree. He believed he was better than the rest of his field as he took harder math classes than them.

Turning to the back, the blurb was soft and easy to the eyes with its soft tropical fruit palette of oranges to greens. It was a self-motivational book. Its main thesis pointed out the ultimate cause of human suffering: simply being unopen to novel things. It included knowledge, lifestyle and even experiences. He needed this

By the time he had flipped to the table of contents, he didn't realize he was getting smaller in height and build. His clothes became oversized on him, resembling more pajamas than a casual attire. While he was repulsed by some of the chapter titles, including accepting your non-het sexuality, he was unable to put the book down. This wasn't him. No matter how hard he pushed on his now dainty fingers, his eyes and hands were glued to the book, turning the multiple pages. He felt himself deflating and shrinking. He noticed that his once mountainous biceps had become nothing but flat plateaus and his impressive set of pecs deflated into a meager chest. He coughed violently as his Adam's apple shrunk, turning his mountainous voice into a soft dainty one.

What the fuck was happening? His soft fingers with nails painted in green flipped to Chapter 4: Self-acceptance is the key to accepting others. He tried to scream for Bethany to help but he didn’t know her. It would be rude to call out a stranger. But that couldn’t be right? That was his girlfriend. No, she was just a random book girl at the same store as him. His experiences of throwing week long benders and sleeping with a carousel of women afterwards faded. They seemed more like videos he had watched online than a lived reality. Visions of conquests of women replaced by men conquering him. The book had converted his heterosexuality into an irreversible total homosexuality. He was no longer the buff jock that sat next to the hot girls so he could be grouped together with them back in college. He was the quiet gay guy that sat in the back of the class, often wooed by the more upfront and passionate gay men that wanted him and his body. His eyes, once clung to women, had shifted its vision to guys. He wasn’t one to be picky, as he liked everything from twinks to hunks and everything in between those two. Even the dad-bod was something that turned him on.

Chapter 12: It’s All Perfect As It Is. With a dizzy head, he finished the book and returned it to the top shelf, struggling to place it even on his tippy toes. Brady felt a quick chill breeze through the room. He dug his hand underneath his oversized fuzzy hoodie and felt the smooth stomach flatten out. His memories of Bethany and her red-hair morphed into a different person. It was another Asian twink, they held their hands together in a cozy apartment and played on their Nintendo Switch. The earthy charcoal cologne he recalled using became sunshine vanilla perfumes that his boyfriend, Jeremy, purchased for his birthday.

The slim twink approached him, hugging him from the behind. Brady was only up to his shoulder. It felt good with his liking to being the little spoon.

“What took you so long, Babe? I looked at ten books while you were just looking at one?” Jeremy chuckled.

“Nothing out of the ordinary. You know I like taking my time with books.”

"Well there's other books in this store, babe," Jeremy teased, bopping Brady's nose.

They checked out the rest of the store, leaving with a few romance books purchased in their pink heart decorated totebag. They bumped into another couple on the way out and briefly apologized to them. He looked at the tall muscular man dressed in his beige jacket and black shirt, wishing that he was also into guys. He whispered to Jeremy about jokingly asking him if he wants to be their 3rd if they see him another time by himself.

Jeremy and Brady cuddled on the couch together, their bag of books untouched on the clean coffee table. Jeremy was always the one to initiate, including a make out session with Brady. Their lips were soft and fruity as they embraced each other with their tongues on their soft couch.

They spent the rest of the day on an impromptu spa night. They applied a green jelly mask, consisting of green tea and aloe vera, to their faces and wore cute soft pink headbands. It was a typical zen they practiced every week. Stress and such can cause more damage than one could imagine. They turned on the TV to watch the adaptation of CardiacPauser, Jeremy and Brady’s favorite series. Before they returned to the couch, they took a picture together in their bathroom, holding each other with their large smiles. It was just them and the rest of the world. This is what he was meant to be and nothing else.

[liulith]

Sooo about Vox and Alastor...

The Radio Demon controls radio waves. Guess what?

Over-the-air television: Television broadcasting through radio waves, from a transmitter (TV station) to a receiver (TV antennae)

Satellite television: A TV signal transmitted by radio waves from a satellite.

Cable television: Radio frequency signals transmitted via cables

Until the early 2000s, TV signals were entirely transmitted through analogue signals: for decades, the original television technology only worked thanks to RADIO technology.

Those antennae on Vox's head? They're 'rabbit ears'!! Dipole receivers, meant to intercept radio waves broadcasted by TV stations, convert them to radio frequency electric currents, and send those to the TV via a radio currents transmission line, to be converted and processed to produce pictures and sounds.

It makes perfect sense for Vox and Alastor to have been "pals". Alastor calls him an " old pal" mockingly, but there's no way Vox would have been able to implement any kind of TV technology in Hell without the help of radio technology - technology that Alastor had control over. For decades, TV was literally radio with pictures. Alastor used to tolerate him (despite Vox encroaching on his territory) at worst, but might have supported him at best!

In my opinion, the beef between them comes from Vox's transition from Analogue to Digital, aka the digital switchover.

When Vox asked Alastor to join his team, it's possible he suggested Alastor switches to digital radio broadcasting (better sound quality, less transmission power required, a compressed digitized signal that allows for more radio programs in the same radio spectrum...). Of course, Alastor didn't care for that.

Was Vox's transition (partly) motivated by a desire to be more independent from Alastor? In any case, he's certainly not that much more independent now: streaming television and the streaming platforms & other services available on digital TVs depend on internet connectivity. And Wi-Fi uses radio waves.

In other words: Alastor's radio waves still live in Vox's TV head rent free, in the most literal way possible :3

[kortac-sweetheart]

it's hot. it's way, waaaay too hot to be normal. you feel like you're dying. sure in reality it might be hyperbole but that's sure what it feels like. is this how it's supposed to be? god, this is terrible.

you don't even have the strength to open your eyes, limbs leaden and throat dry. someone's running a hand over your face... it's cool. a welcome relief from the heat no matter how fleeting.

"the first is always the most intense...poor thing..." keegan can only shake his head, sighing as he stands to fetch a cold compress. logan is left alone with you, sat on the far edge of the bed in fear of worsening your heat. his eyes flicker worriedly between you and keegan, wringing his hands anxiously.

"you sure they'll be fine?" it seems like keegan is only able to sigh today.

"positive. never seen one this intense though. but the only thing we can do is monitor them and wait it out unfortunately."

at that moment you cry out in pain, writhing on the bed and it hurts them, feeling like they got stabbed in the heart.

keegan kneels besides where you lie on the bed, grasping your weak hand in his and keeping his voice low.

"shhh, sugar. it's ok... you're gonna be alright. tell us what you need if you can.." he gently tucks a sweaty strand of hair behind you ear, hand moving to hold your weak one. he's worriedly chewing on his lips, and logan has never seen him like this before.

it's... scary. yes, it's scary seeing keegan so worried. he always had things under control and to see him now, it's unsettling.

he's snapped out of his reverie when you cry, barely even able to form words.

"a--alpha.. lo-- (pant) logan..." your face scrunches up in pain again as another wave of searing heat washes over you. they give each other a confused look for a second, you were in absolutely no physical condition to do anything remotely intimate.

"what do you need from him sweetheart? go on, tell him." he urges you further, and it's like logan's body moves on it's own, now sat next to you instead of the bed's edge.

"(pant) hold-- hold me... please..?" you barely manage to wrench your eyelids open to look at him. or rather, what you think is him. everything's blurry and fuzzy around the edges, and only a second passes before they're closed again.

as if he could deny you of such a thing.

he moves on instinct, lying down on his side next to you and pulling you in. he gently maneuvers your head to rest on his bicep, face buried in his neck and right near his scent gland.

(your skin is nearly searing him through his clothes, but he'll endure anything for you.)

his other arm holds your back, anchoring you to him and as his legs intertwine with yours it's like you can finally breath again. your tense muscles relax, ache bleeding from your body as you breath him in.

he smells like dewy cool night air, the kind that lingers after a particularly intense rain shower. there's also the scent of freshly laundered linen, there's no particular detergent smell but it still smells clean, an almost papery quality to it. also that kiss of oakmoss and leather, the kind that's worn-- it brings a little earthy goodness to his scent. and to top it off, there's always a sort of gunpowder smell clinging to him. whether it's actually a part of his scent, or it's permanently rubbed off on him from work you'll never know.

his scent lessens the burden of your heat, skin once burning hot to the touch now merely warm. logan sighs, a relieved one this time.

the hand on your back slowly creeps up to pet your head, his heart clenching happily as you sweetly lean into his touch.

"feel a little better, hm? that's good, you're doing good, sweetness." logan can't resist the urge to coo at you, carding a hand through your still sweaty locks. you take a moment to nuzzle into him a little before turning your attention to keegan.

the edges of his silhouette are still a little fuzzy, but the concern is still clear as day on his handsome face.

"doin' better sweetheart? need anything else? i'll fetch it for you." he's already halfway off the bed before you can answer him.

"no-- no, just... can you hold me, too? please, keegan?" that little "please, keegan?" has him falling for you all over again (quite literally), nearly uncharacteristically tripping over his feet to hold you.

in an instant he's also laying on his side, right behind you; chest pressed to your back, and his leg on top of yours' and logan's. his arm wraps around you and logan, pulling the two of you closer as he nuzzles into the back of your head.

you relax even further when you smell keegan's scent.

he smells like ripe, late summer blackberries. sugary, saccharine, and juicy ones macerated with fresh bundles of rosemary and english lavender. there's also a cool refreshing quality, like a cup of sweetened southern ice tea after a long day. and to top it all of with a bouquet of sweet german chamomile and a grounding kiss of myrrh.

his scent feels like it seeps into your bones, replacing that accursed heat with a mentholated touch. your head tilts back a little and bumps into keegan's shoulder, all too eager to smell more of that addicting sugary blackberry scent you've come to adore. it pulls a chuckle from the both of them.

"now now, slow down there sweet thing. you'll get a crick in your neck if you keep that up. you can smell more of me later--just rest up for now, alright?" keegan's palm leaves logan's back to firmly rub up and down your arm, shoulder to elbow, over and over again.

you want to whine, but ultimately he's right (like always), so you huff, settling down sandwiched comfortably between them.

"will do... (yawwwwn) g'night logan... g'night keegs...love..you" sleepily nuzzling your face into logan's chest once more before your breathing evens out.

"good night, sugar."

"night, sweetheart."

"we love you too."

they know you can't hear them, but they say it anyway.

[cacklingyeena]

If I could just. Ah. Throw my hat into the ring for a minute.

Tenna tickling headcanons! BEWARE DR CHAPTER 3 SPOILERS.

LEE HEADCANONS:

• On the scale of loving to hating being tickled, Tenna actually likes it… with a caveat. If he’s tickled on camera, he gets extremely embarrassed and plays it off. Behind the scenes, he’s much more willing to deal with it.

• He’s such a squirmer. The best way I can describe it is that he makes good on the “ant” in his name and tends to flail like, well, a bug stuck on its back! Limbs in the air waving all around. Watch out!

• You can use his unique TV “anatomy” against him! You can’t see it very well, but under the shirt are wires and a few buttons and dials here and there—if you can find them, they’re potent spots. Tug on a wire here, push a button there, he’s your personal Tickle Me Tenna! (Sold separately.)

• He has a volume knob hidden somewhere. The best way to tease him? Turn it all the way down and then tickle him silly. Tease him that nobody can hear him scream! It drives him nuts. (Just watch for him tapping out! Don’t break the poor thing!)

• Contrary to his bombastic, over-the-top camera presence, with his very rehearsed TV host laughter, his real laugh is more goofy and carefree. It’s a really hearty, silly guffaw.

• He’ll shriek if you get somewhere good, though.

• His most ticklish spots are his belly, his hips, his sides, and… the palms of his hands. He doesn’t quite get that one, either. He gets a little sheepish about it when it’s discovered.

• He likes being tickled for the undivided attention it gets him. So, typical tickle teases might get to him a little, but what really kills him? Stroke his ego a little and validate his want for attention.

Ex: “Aw, you’re so fun to tickle!”

• Did you know his screen turns into color bars when he’s extremely flustered? It’s so much his brain has to We’ll Be Right Back!

• He doesn’t get hoarse necessarily if he laughs too hard. If he laughs too much, his voice becomes kind of staticky and tinny, like the quality of his audio becomes very compressed. It’ll go back to normal once he can catch his breath, though!

But once he does…

LER HEADCANONS:

• IT’S! TIC! KLE! TIME!

• He’s embarrassed about getting tickled in front of a camera. But he will not give you that same dignity.

• His tickling is primarily retaliation for something.

• Suddenly you’re stuck in a physical challenge. Uh oh! You gotta hold your own prizes over your head! If you drop them, they’re gone! Nevermind that he’s scribbling you under the arms and trying to make your life absolute hell while the timer ticks down… a little more slowly than usual… but hey, time is never conveyed accurately on TV!

• Sometimes it’s a stealth mission. You have to hide somewhere in his provided rooms. He’ll come searching for you with the clock ticking down. When he finds you? However much time is left is how long you get tickled for. Only one problem… you do know that every inch of his studio is covered in cameras, don’t you? Because he WILL remind you as he’s looking.

• When he gets in that playful, vengeful mood? The fangs come out. The gloved fingers are wiggling. He 100% plays it up for the camera, too.

• When teasing, it’s actually more indirect stuff. It’s little things he laughs and comments to the audience as he’s tickling the daylights out of his poor victim.

“Wuh oh! Look out, folks! They’re getting hysterical!”

“Watch out there in the front row! We’ve got flying limbs!”

“Let’s get an audience vote! Where does that tickle spot have to be?”

• Though, the direct stuff is… just as bad!

“What? You wanna tap out already?! But you’re having such a good time! LOOK! The Fun-o-meter is just going up, UP, UP!” (accompanied by his gloved fingers crawling up their torso)

• He’s not immune to cuteness, though! If the person he’s tickling has a really adorable laugh, or if they squeal or snort, he gets that funny wobbly smile on his face before a flower sprouts from the tip of his nose and he erupts into an “AWWWW! ❤️” along with the audience. (This is arguably worse than being teased.)

• He likes using his size-changing to his advantage. It makes people very easy to pin. Or maybe he’ll shrink down real tiny and jump into someone’s shirt to scamper around!

• In private, he’s more of a cuddly, loving, but no less playful ler. He likes to gather his lee into his lap and wrap his arms around them with a big “c’mere, you!” before going to town on them.

• Oh, and better hope you’ve never watched any tickling scenes on his screen. And you better extra hope you’ve never rewound any. He noticed. He noticed it all.

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[thekingofwinterblog]

My Hero Academia - How NOT to do an Open Ending

In 2022, the American animated series Amphibia ended with an open ending that left all of it's ships up in the air, and the question of where the main characters would go from there up to the reader.

That might be a rather weird way to open an essay about how My Hero Academia failed, but the reason I do so, is to illustrate a point.

Namely that there is a way to do what Hori tried to do with MHA right.

Amphibia ending has the main human trio of that series reuinte after a long timeskip, with all 3 of them having found their passion in life and built careers for themselves, and while there are some suggestions that Sasha and Anne are a bit closer than what might be apparant on screen, it ultimately left the situation of their romantic relationship at this point, and from there on, up in the air withouth confirming or denying anything, beyond the fact that they for whatever reason drifted apart in highschool, but have come back together again at this point in time.

It left you with enough pieces to figure out the specifics, and how you can understand how things got from one point to another, while still giving all the characters a satisfying payoff, continued the shows themes, had no real plot holes, and wheter you ship any of the characters in question or not, it didnt ultimately matter for the quality of the ending.

The fun part about an open ending is that there is room to speculate, so long as it manages to balance all of the above.

A story does not HAVE to end on the main characters hooking up. it does not have to end with tying every single character up in a relationship and showcasing the beginning of the next generation. It does not have to have a definite ending that gives all the answers to be good.

That is one way to end a story, but it's not the only one.

There certainly are stories that NEED to end like that to be good, stories with a greater mystery, or revenge tales, or who's entire story was about one, specific romantic relationship are shit endings if they ultimately end on an open ending withouth answers.

within the context of MHA, Hori managed to weave this balance very well with it's villains.

The story of the Todoroki family in particular has all the definite endings, and tells us where all the players ends up... but it also leaves the possibility, and question of wheter or not dabi ultimately managed to make peace with his family or not up in the air.

This is a good, satisfying, tragic ending.

Spinner and compress both end up in jail for the rest of their lives, but Spinner resolves to write a book, that for better or worse will tell the league's version of the story. It's not AS good an ending as the above, but it still works just fine.

Clearly Hori CAN write a good open ending that still gives closure.

Which is why it's so baffling that MHA 430, ends up doing EVERYTHING WRONG as far as an open ending possibly could.

It has no closure, it has plot holes aplenty, it manages to leave the question of will they or wont they unanswered, not by being ambigious, but by telling us, in the most unintentionally agressive manner possible that it did NOT happen, and most damningly of all, it shits all over the Story's themes.

MHA ends with the cast all grown up in an "and the adventure Continues!" ending, similar to justice league Unlimited.

That's not a BAD way to end it... The problem is EVERYTHING ELSE in this chapter.

Because we learn WAY too much in this chapter. the gaps in the timeskip is filled... but not in a good way. instead in an infuriating manner that pisses you off if you actually starts to break it down.

Let's start with Izuku being forgotten.

So i have seen some people try to shut down criticism about the fact that Izuku didnt win fortune or fame, by noting that from the thematic point, being a hero was NEVER about that from Izuku's point of view.

And that is true... but this argument misses the bigger and more obvious problem.

The story REFUSES to tackle this from that angle.

As many have pointed out, this is a BAD outcome ending for Izuku.

He returned to being quirkless, he had to settle for a job that wasn't being a hero, he has been mostly forgotten after his one big highlight, and his friends have effectively begun to move on.

And he does not care.

At all.

Hell, a 14 year old izuku who for one brief moment gave up on his dreams to chase a more realistic future, has more genuine and mixed emotion and mixed feelings in one shot, than Izuku has about actually living through a much more bittersweet scenario.

Hell, the one moment Izuku has when he looks genuinely down in this chapter, is when Aizawa admonishes him for not being strict enough with his students.

Basically the premise here is sound. Izuku ended up in a bad personal ending to set up the return to actual heroics at the end of the chapter... And that could have worked if it committed to that.

If he was portrayed as actually having regrets about his lot in life. you know, the same thing All Might's ENTIRE STORYLINE was built around!

MHA has ALWAYS been a human story that confronted the fact that people had regrets, and problems, and they need to be honest about them to deal with them.

To not bottle everything up inside and pretend the problems arent there.

For the story to end, with Izuku doing EXACTLY THAT is a slap in the face that goes EVERYTHING this story has preached about how you need to communicate with the people around you. the entire point of chapter 429, the CHAPTER RIGHT BEFORE THIS ONE!

Then of course there is the whole "Everyone Growing apart" thing too.

Now, it's not as bad as the early translation made it seem, but the point still stands that despite the entire chapter right before the end then emphasises how everyone went their separate ways.

This chapter COULD have shown us moments where Izuku is still in contact with the rest of his class, but it does not. instead it emphasises how distant he is becoming from the rest of his former friend group. He is the lone one out, the one guy who seemingly is no longer in regular contact with the rest.

The reason for that, is that Hori wanted to make the moment where he returns to the fold that much more impactfull... but it does not work, because it basically tells us that none of the class was able, or willing to make the personal sacrifice to keep in regular touch with him during those 5 years.

But FAR more egrigiously, and spitting in the face of the Theme of actually communicating and talking with the people you care about, is HOW Izuku gets back into the game.

Apparently they spent the last 5 years pooling their money to finance a high tech suit for him to fight crime in.

And i get it. I get what Hori WANTED to do with this. He wanted to show "See, Class 1-A didnt forget Izuku after all, they still love him!".

Thats the intended message.

But the problem is, it does not work. and in fact, not only does it NOT work, but it completely goes against EVERYTHING that the story has been trying to preach for the entire 10 years of it's run.

The rest of class A never told Izuku about this. ever. Why? apparently because they wanted it to be a surprise. So they just let him go on with his life for 5 years, all while none of them really bothered to keep in regular contact with him.

There is... so much wrong with that.

But before going over the way it just hammers in the point that actually talking with the people you love isnt important after all, let's go over how this entire stupid plan could have backfired SO badly on the part of class A. Hell, it kinda did actually, if not quite as spectacularily as it could have.

What if Izuku had gotten married and moved overseas during this period? What if he had gotten married in Japan, but his entire family dynamic and plans had revolved around the fact he had a job that did not require moving around much and so got to spend a lot of time at home? Hell, even within the context of what actually Happened, U.A is still going to find itself suddenly short of one teacher who his classes relies upon, if he actually wants to go pro for real.

There are so many ways this stupid 5 year scheme of secrecy could have backfired, and it does not take a genuis to be able to see them.

basically the entire class planned out Izuku's life ahead of him withouth telling him anything about it, withouth giving him the context or preparation for how to plan his future with it in mind, and how none of them seemingly cared about how this might upend his actual personal life.

And thats just the logistical issues.

Morally speaking, this just repeatedly hammers in how this final chapters just completely abandons the themes of how you need to actually work, talk and discuss your personal matters and feelings with the people around you.

1-A did none of that.

They let their relationships with Izuku cool, when they didnt have to, seemingly with the idea that it didnt matter in the end because he'd join them anew as a hero later anyway, and they could catch up then.

Which leads me to discussing the one, actual ship who's ending actually DID matter from a storytelling perspective.

Izuku and Ochako.

Now i have seen so many bad takes across the web from the people who are happy this did not happen, or argue that it does not matter.

But the brutal truth is, it does.

And the reason it does, is not because Izuku HAD to end up with Uraraka, or even that they had to be together in the final moment of the series.

It's because one of the longest running stories of this manga had NO ENDING, NO RESOLUTION, and rather than that, it wants to suggest it might still happen anyway... Despite unintentionally KILLING IT in the most infuriating way possible.

Out of all of the cast, it is Uraraka's character who is butchered by this stupid 5 year plan, to the point it even taints her entire new character direction at the end.

Uraraka ends the story having reformed the Quirk system for people growing up, helping those with difficult quirks get past mental problems... But just all the rest of her class, she chose to neglect her relationship with Izuku under the seeming thought process that she could patch it up later... Or that she could finally confess her feelings.

I'll let Shigaraki speak for my feelings on this way of thinking.

"You heroes hurt your own families just to help strangers. You heroes pretend to be society's guardians. For generations, you pretended not to see those you couldn't protect and swept their pain under the rug. It's tainted everything you built. That means your system's rotten from the inside with maggots crawling out. It all builds up little by little over time."

The intended message of MHA is a refution of this... but in this final chapter, Shigaraki's words ring true, at least as far as class A is concerned.

As they became Heroes, they neglected the one amongst them who needed the most support and instead went off to, as shigaraki put it, Help Strangers.

They pretended that Izuku's situation in the moment did not matter, because in the long haul it would all be worth it.

And just like their predeccessors, it taints everything they do.

But Uraraka most of all. If you ignore the romance angle, she has started a massive program to help strangers in need... while also neglecting and frankly mistreating someone she loves and cares about her who needed her support in his weakest period.

If you do take Romance into account, it gets even WORSE, because then you have to accept that Uraraka ultimately rejected the message that she preached with Toga, the thing that got the blonde girl to turn coat for her.

She in the end did not manage to live a life where she actually was able to do what she wanted to do, and instead remained the exact same wishywashy girl who refused to actually be open about her feelings.

Instead, she, in her final shot of the series, is in the exact same spot she was back then. A girl who would forever pine after Izuku, but never be able to open up about it.

Which would be a bad enough way to end her character on... But then when you take into account that she also participated in the 5 year plan, and there is nothing to suggest she kept in touch with him more than the rest, just makes it so much worse.

I have said before that with this ending, Uraraka's love story was an objective waste of time, and i stand by that.

Hori didnt have to end the series with Izuku and Urarak married, engaged or obviously in a relationship, but by refused to actually make it happen, and lumping Uraraka in with the entire rest of the class, he instead did something way worse.

He made it abundantly clear that regardless of what Uraraka's feelings on the matter, the relationship to Izuku was not something special. She was NOT his Hero in the moment when he actually needed one.

Neither as a friend, or as a love interest.

Her actions tainted everything else.

And of course, there is the big plot hole of this chapter.

The single biggest, and most obvious hole that is just gaping through it, that for this story to work you have to completely ignore.

Namely that 1. All Might is one of the richest peoples in the world. Class A should not have had to actually fund Izuku's suit. All Might could, and SHOULD have done that all on his own. and 2. That this tech EXISTED 8 YEARS AGO!!!!

All Might's armored suit made him one of the most powerfull figures in this entire series.

Sure it was a bit experimental, but it WORKED! it was not some unstable prototype that coudl explode at any moment, it would have worked just fine as an actual permanent power up!

For this entire stupid 5 years of Sidelines Izuku to work, you have to just PRETEND this massive hole does not exist.

And it's not a small hole that you can justify that the characters didnt think about it. It's there, and it's MASSIVE.

The only reason it's not talked about as much as all the rest is that while this is the big Material problem of this chapter, everything else is so much worse because it attacks, destroys, and taints pretty much every theme MHA had over the course of it's long run.

---Edit---

Apparently there is a throw away line in the Trivia section of Volume 39 that All Might apparently spent almost his entire fortune on his Mech suit.

Meaning that while this isn't quite the plothole I assumed it was, it IS still TERRIBLY communicated within the story itself why All Might didn't just fund Izuku's suit themselves.

---

The themes that more than anything else was what set it apart from every other battle manga that ever existed. The Human themes of actually talking to the people around you that made MHA a special story, far more than it's superhuman battles ever did.

That is why so many people are pissed off about it.

It's also why MHA is such a textbook example of how NOT to do an open ended story.

Hori could have kept the details about Izuku's life, be it his personal or proffesional life incredibly vague, beyond the basics... but he choose not to, and instead peeled back the curtain... but rather than showcasing depth, it just made the whole thing fall apart by giving us the specific details that we did not need, and which pretty much tainted the entire ending down to it's core... All completely unintentionally.

He didnt have to show that Izuku had NO specific remaining bonds with any single members Class A that were still more important to him than the rest.

But he did.

He didnt have to go out of his way to show that Izuku was completely forgotten by society at large.

But he did, and subsequentially did not actually choose to explore that.

He didnt have to show us deep, long, internal monologues from izuku's perspective where he is cartoonishly at ease with his lot in life.

But he did.

He was too specific and detailed about the things he NEEDED to keep vague, and not specific about the details that we actually needed to know, and so it all collapses in on itself in a mess of broken Themes and morals, and shattered logic, and above all else, he managed to carelessly and unintentionally cheapen every single relationship Izuku formed with the rest of his classmates over the course of this story.

[deadhands69]

A New End: Wreckage

Tomura Shigaraki x Reader

Spoilers: Gigantomachia through Redestro (some divergence from canon) This series contains: gn/afab reader, angst, violence, mentions of blood/injuries, cussing, smut. sorry, as a heads up a few of these chapters got out of hand and ended up over the 2-3k average wc for this series.

previous - this is part 6 - next

[series masterlist]

|\/\/\| wreckage |/\/\/|

The league is grumbling more than usual, but at least it’s nice out today.

With Kurogiri’s recent capture, the Creature Rejection Clan robbery last night being less than profitable, and most of the league generally feeling like not enough progress is being made for the quality of life they’re enduring, morale is at an all time low. 

This morning, it was decided you would all go out for a walk in the forest near the mountains. Both to clear your head and exist in nature but also because Tomura has been searching for…something. Some ultimate weapon All for One left for him, but he doesn’t really know what it is or where to find it. That’s where you come in: your job is to lead the way, wherever feels right. And today, that’s the forest. Everyone is a bit annoyed, but without anything better to do or any excuses not to join, here you all are. Even Dabi tagged along.

Your quirk shot off a quick feeling of warning this morning when Eri hopped up to join. It was quickly decided she should stay, considering that the last time your quirk warned you against something in that way Magne died and no one here is comfortable letting a child take that risk. With the doors locked, snacks left out, and Spinner offering to come home within the hour, you were all on your way. Eri understood and seemed glad for the excuse to read the new books Compress brought her rather than being dragged around on yet another walk.

It's a beautiful day in the forest. You try to ignore everyone's shit moods for a bit and just enjoy it. The weather is nice, temperate. A few wispy clouds float through the air while treetops dance ahead of them. The breeze is cool but it's sunny enough you don't notice it much. A few images flash in front of your eyes, like usual, and you ignore those too. You're so lost in the moment that you almost don't notice the dirt road quaking beneath you. 

Suddenly, the ground flies out from under you and the shadow of a massive giant forms in the dust. Trees shake as he speaks and you keep your distance. You watch him go from angry to crying, everyone looks confused. A few league members step forward and attack to no avail. A voice brings your attention to the radio hung by a rope around his neck. Tomura talks to this person for a bit, is this who he has been looking for?

Twice burps and just as Toga starts to scold him for it, a dark colored sludge surrounds you, starting in your mouth and spreading. It isn’t painful, just disgusting in a massively uncomfortable way. Nothing in your body feels right and you can’t quite pinpoint where to place it. The sensation of spinning overwhelms you, but you can’t see anything to focus on. In an instant, your feet find solid ground and your vision returns – slightly.

The darkness around you is jarring. Having gone from a nice day in the forest to a darkened lab, both your eyes and mind struggle to adjust. Glowing purple tanks of what you’re assuming are nomu surround you. It’s unsettling, to say the least. This place has an awful energy. There's so much potential here and none of it feels right. 

A doctor greets you all, asking Tomura about his family which piques your interest - he rarely talks about them. All you've heard is that they died when he was young and he doesn't remember anything else. You wonder if the doctor means All For One or Kurogiri who are both in prison.

Tomura works to gain the doctor’s help for the league, but you still feel uneasy about it all. While you don’t have explicit words or images for your feelings, there’s something very off about the doctor. About all of this. The way he looks at everyone combined with your underlying quirk senses set your nerves off. He keeps saying he doesn’t know anyone but Tomura, yet he called Dabi by name earlier and looks at him familiarly. None of this adds up.

By now, you’re absolutely certain he’s the reason Eri wasn’t safe to join you all today, not the giant you encountered earlier. Tomura hands off the vial of blood along with the bullets for research. When asked, fortunately, he says he doesn’t have access to more without elaborating. The doctor eyes him skeptically, but moves past it.

Before you know it, it’s time to leave again and you’re all given communication devices and dropped right back where you started in the same nauseating sludge as before. 

Tomura steps forward to fight the oversized man you now know as ‘Gigantomachia’ as soon as his feet hit the ground.

After a little over two solid days of fighting Gigantomachia, the giant finally stopped to sleep. It’s been difficult for all of you, but mostly for Tomura. He lets everyone jump in and help but he’s the only one Machia cares much about. For obvious reasons, he can’t use decay so it’s been hand to hand combat against someone considerably larger and that’s taken everything out of him. Everyone else went home to sleep but you stayed with Tomura for the night. With the time you have, the two of you found a nice spot on some cliffs overlooking the forest. You’ll have a good vantage point and see Machia coming in the morning. Both of you are beginning to doze off on your sleeping mats while you watch the sun setting. 

“So, a few days ago. That's the plan, huh?” you ask, “level it all?”

“Hero society can't be an issue if there's nothing left of it,” he says, fidgeting with a rock. A few minutes later he asks, “how would you do it?”

“How would I destroy hero society? That's a pretty big question.”

“I'm sure you have some thoughts.”

You stare out at the expanse of trees ahead. Mostly green but yellows and reds begin to pop up in clusters here and there with the season. The low sun spreads a fiery tinge over everything. You’d probably find it ominous if you weren’t so tired.

Yawning, you continue. “Maybe I'm biased, with my quirk and everything, but I think I’d want to prevent it from ever being needed in the first place.”

“Hmmm,” he says quietly, before drifting into his thoughts. 

His eyes close and the warm light washes over him. It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful, in his own way. Moments like this make you wish you could bottle them and keep them forever.

“They're similar, our ideas. Mine just prevents any of that from being needed by getting rid of everything related to it. No more society means no heroes.”

“Yeah, but people will rebuild. They always do. Somehow.”

“Huh,” he considers, “so how else would you prevent it?”

“I don't know, that might take more than 30 seconds of thinking to figure out.”

You close your eyes to sleep, but your mind is still racing. Nothing you think up right now will be of any use but if you’re just conceptualizing anyways, you might as well keep talking.

“I guess making people care enough to not sit around waiting for someone else to fix it. I’m sure a lot of people want to help, but they don’t know how to. Just because a lot of heroes get into it for the wrong reasons doesn’t mean other well meaning people aren’t out there.”

“I don’t trust that,” he mumbles, half asleep. “I don’t think people care. They’re just content to say a hero will come along because they can.”

“We care. And we can’t be the only ones. There have to be more people like us, somewhere. The only difference is we know that waiting for someone else to fix it isn't an option.”

The sun settles below the horizon and the forest is still. It’s chilly, but everything feels at peace.

It can’t have been more than three hours and the crashing of trees echoes through the hills.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Tomura mumbles, rolling over and pulling the blanket over his head. Hoping for just one more moment of sleep but it’s no use. Gigantomachia has already spotted your location on the cliff and is making his way over. 

Tomura groans then stands to face him, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. It’ll be another long day.

The past two days have felt like a week already. After reinforcement showed up, you went back to the hideout to rest for the first time since this started and you ended up sleeping for fourteen hours straight. You woke up to Eri and Toga staring down at you, with Toga poking you because they thought you were dead. They discovered very quickly that you were not in fact dead, just sleeping and very startled by their presence. Given that it was the middle of the night (rest in peace any semblance of a sleeping schedule you ever had), you tucked Eri into bed and made yourself something to eat before heading out again.

Food has been more plentiful lately, with the doctor’s financial support. It’s been nice. Everyone seems to be doing at least a bit better after a few warm meals and you feel less guilty now than when you were feeding Eri whatever convenience store junk Compress managed to steal.

The next day was rough on Tomura. You brought him some food while you and Spinner tried to distract Machia, but he didn’t manage to eat much of it. His face is already split open in a few places, blood staining his clothes as well. The two of you spent the day helping where you could, but eventually had to call it when Compress and Twice arrived. Wishing you could do more, you left to get more supplies and rest a bit.

Even if you’ve spent huge chunks of time with Tomura this week, you miss the closeness of him. For the past month, you’ve been sneaking out more nights than not to make out. Seeing him in front of you, there are things you want to say. Do. He’s so close you could just reach out and touch him sometimes but the most you’ve managed has been an accidental hand brush that he immediately recoiled from. Now that he’s busy, you can only assume he’s moving on and doesn’t need you as a distraction. It hurts but you’re trying to accept that it is what it is because you know he still needs your help. You're trying not to let it get to you, thinking of anything else instead.

Today, it’s just you hiking out with supplies. Spinner is nursing a mild injury so he's spending the day playing Animal Crossing with Eri. Toga and Twice are asleep and Compress is already out in the midst of the fight. You had been doing great at keeping your feelings tucked away, but with the two hour hike, you find yourself crying uncontrollably. The tears pour so heavily that you need to stop, sitting on a log while you try to calm down from it all.

It's hard. The nights you spent with Tomura felt closer to love for you and, in retrospect, seemed more like stress relief for him. You wanted more than that. You still do. Every time you thought to ask, everything seemed so perfect at the time that you didn't want to ruin it. Happy to carry on, just assuming he felt similarly until the day came when that rift in intentions grew and forced you apart. Even if you had asked, it wouldn't have mattered. A life of villainy doesn't lend itself to cute dates. It's exactly like he said: you make him wish his life was different.

But you alone can't change that this is the life he has. The life that you have. He already knew this going into it.

There are ways you know him and ways you don't. You know how he takes his coffee because you lived together. You know what keeps him up at night, what haunts his dreams. At this point, you can even predict every itch he's about to scratch after months of watching the way his body moves to avoid it before giving in. While you've never seen him naked, you've felt enough that you have a pretty good idea of what that would be like too. You know every intimate detail about him and care so deeply for every tiny piece of his life with a tenderness that should never have existed in either of your lives. But you don't know everything.

You don't know what his perfect date would be or where you would go. You don't know what it would be like to share a bed with him. What it would be like for him to be the first thing you see in the morning and the last before you close your eyes to sleep. If you'd wake up in his arms or on your own sides with only your toes touching. You don't know what mindless show he'd put on in the background while the two of you cuddle up on the couch at the end of a long day, too tired to pay attention. Admittedly, these are questions you couldn't even answer about yourself at this point. That was never meant to be your life.

And now, sitting on a damp log deep in the forest, you find yourself heartbroken over a future that never existed for you.

It doesn't feel better, but eventually the tears dry and the blurriness clears enough to continue walking. You press on, knowing that regardless of your feelings, he still needs your help.

By the time you arrive at the location Tomura dropped to you earlier, your eyes still feel puffy but you hope the redness has gone down. He doesn’t say anything, dropping to sit on a rock. He takes the hand off his face and sets it to his side, looking exhausted.

“The beast is down for the night so I will be taking my leave,” Compress announces, bowing to you as he wanders back down the trail you just came from. You throw him an extra water bottle for the walk home. 

From your bag, you pull out a thermos of soup and hand it to Tomura before digging for a first aid kit. He begins drinking the soup while you do what you can to clean his wounds. Some are pretty deep and probably need stitches, but you don’t have the supplies on you so butterfly bandages will have to do. 

“I didn't forget,” he says quietly while you work to scrub some of the dirt from his forehead.

“Hmm?” 

“I know what day it is, I saw it on my phone earlier,” you smile at him, but still have no clue how October 27th is important. He continues, “I wanted to do more or say more or something. I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do, not with everything right now.” 

“You don’t have to do anything,” you reassure him, “just hold still enough for me to pull this cut together.” You concentrate on placing the last bandage, “done.”

He smiles, setting down the empty thermos and curling up on your lap. You savor the closeness, wondering if your breakdown earlier was more stress than reality based. You try to remind yourself that this is what got you into this mess in the first place - nothing ever feels wrong when he's around.

Sleepy Tomura is sweeter than usual.

“I don’t know how I ended up with you,” he mumbles as he drifts off, “but I’m glad you’re here. You put up with being with me for a month.”

“A month? Is that–” when you look down, he’s already asleep. His breathing deepens as his chest raises and lowers slowly. His hands are curled into fists with a few fingers tucked under his jacket. Tiny cuts litter his face between the larger ones. You note the color around his eye that’s sure to darken over the next few days, but right now he looks so peaceful for what he’s been through.

Swapping the empty thermos for a blanket, you wrap it around him. Then you move your backpack behind you to lay back on. Your hand finds his hair, trying to untangle some of the knots without waking him.

The sky is beginning to darken, from purple to a dark blue. One by one the stars come into focus and you stare up at them thinking about everything he just said. All the worrying, seemingly over nothing. It doesn’t matter now, you let it slip away. This whole time he just assumed you were dating without questioning it. There are still things you don't know, and may never know, about him. You could fall into a massive hole of wishing your life was different, but you're done letting yourself feel that way. Sure, you may never know what movies he wants to watch as he slips off to sleep in the comfort of an apartment, but other couples will never know what this is like. Comforting him under the night sky after he spent three days fighting a giant without his quirk. It's the relationship you have in the life you can have it in.

Sleeping on a rock can’t be the most comfortable, but Tomura doesn’t seem to mind. He looks so sweet curled up with his head on your lap. You lightly move the hair from his face, knowing in a couple of hours you’ll be distracting Machia for as long as you can to give him a few more minutes of rest.

|\/\/\| a month and a half later |/\/\/|

You were just waking up when you got the call from Spinner. 

Flashes of chaos plagued your dreams, forcing you awake. You practically jumped on your phone when it vibrated near you. They were already on their way into town and being given a tour before all hell broke loose. What town and why a tour were your first questions, but he only shared his location with you and hung up. 

Not knowing how long you’ll be gone or when anyone will be returning, you tentatively begin getting Eri ready to leave. Along with you, she grabs her jacket, puts on her shoes, and your quirk hasn’t so much as flickered. You decide it’s probably safe but set some expectations just in case. You give her the rules of “don’t touch anything, don’t talk to anyone, and stay behind me the entire time we’re there.” She nods in agreement. 

“I almost forgot!” she exclaims, running back to her room and returning with her new gloves. They were Tomura’s idea. Since she hasn’t mastered controlling her quirk yet she needed some way to keep everyone around her safe from the effects of it. 

After packing a few snacks and some water for you both, you’re out the door. Gripping Eri’s hand tightly, you pull her along with you until stopping to throw her on your back. The weight of her prevents you from rushing, which is good. It gives you time to think. To actually look at the flickers of premonitions flashing before you. Not many of the league members are making impromptu changes, everyone is mostly acting exactly how they typically would so you don’t see much. Part of you wishes you would have paid closer attention to the dreams. It wouldn’t make a difference though, no one is answering their phones or even reading their texts right now.

You worry about Tomura. The last time you saw him, he looked absolutely exhausted. At some point, you saw him staring at a tree and tipping his head like it was moving. In that state, it’ll be hard for him to keep up with anything. Of course you’re concerned about the others too, but you at least know they’ve slept more than three hours this week. 

After a bit, it occurs to you that Eri will probably sense your anxiety if you don’t say something. Coming up with an idea on the spot, you start a game of ‘I Spy’ that lasts until you reach the border of the city. The two of you find trees, radio towers, and oddly colored rocks while giggling the whole way. You tell yourself it’s for her sake, but can’t deny how much the distraction helps you too. 

The city is already in ruins when you approach. As the dot on your map grows closer, you survey the wreckage. Most of it has Tomura written all over it. Every building in the row you’re walking through is upended. What was once a street lays in crumbles beneath your feet. For once in your life, this doesn’t calm you – you still need to know how your friends fared in all of it. 

“Remember our rules,” you say to Eri over your shoulder as you approach a group of people in an area that’s been leveled to the ground. From the crater ahead, a large man is being taken away on a stretcher. His legs are bloodied stumps under his tattered pants. You wonder what happened.

When you see a group of familiar faces, Eri jumps down to run up to Spinner and Compress. They’re a bit beat up, but not too bad. Tomura’s another story. His face is caked in blood and you fear that it’s his own. Wisps of his now white (????) hair stick to his forehead in clumps. One of his hands is badly bruised up to his wrist with his fingers – you feel sick knowing how much pain he's probably in. 

Seeing him on the ground like this, Eri rushes to his side while pulling off her gloves. You do the same, making it as far as brushing the hair out of his face before he shakes his head.

Weakly, he replies, “no. Don’t touch me. None of you, especially the kid.”

Spinner pulls her away and you overhear him telling her it’s not personal, something about him not knowing the reach of his quirk right now. 

It seems you missed a lot during your nap earlier.

“He was upright a few minutes ago, I think this is more exhaustion than injuries.” Compress says to you, “we should still get him medical attention before the shock wears off. He took a lot of damage.”

“Medical attention? With what money? And where can he even go without being arrested as soon as he walks, er is brought through the door?” you ask.

“None of that is a concern anymore,” you turn to find Dabi smiling behind you.

next - a new end masterlist - bnha masterlist

Taglist: @tomuratoucher @aryuunachigiri @shigarakislaughter @foxyboy0 @multifandomidk 

@cryptidfuckerofficial @minniessskii @vaval3ntin @ykyouluvme  @lou-the-naga-queen

@dummi666 @lotus-flower420 @nonominchan @softnfuzzy @mysticalhills 

@reireitaka @crwavee @baby-pink-flowers @drlucichen @frieren-imposter

@kitkat13001 @kennys-partner @amira-44820 @its-evee16

[ff12-ultimania]

Mist, The Energy of Ivalice

Mist is a natural energy that permeates the air and land of Ivalice. Though typically invisible, it can become visible when it reaches a certain density, taking on a colored hue.

The concentration, quality, type, and elemental properties of mist differ across regions, influencing local climates and environments. In areas where mist is exceptionally dense, it can cause mutations in living organisms and alter the surrounding ecosystem.

Throughout history, people have developed ways to harness mist for practical use. Early civilizations relied on magicite—minerals infused with mist—to perform magic. Over time, advancements led to the artificial compression of mist, allowing for the extraction of energy. This breakthrough spurred engineering innovations, including the creation of flying machines and other advanced technologies.

Today, mist powers much of the technology that sustains daily life in Ivalice, making it an essential resource for progress and survival.

[ranticore]

Centaur anatomy notes which I might turn into diagrams (courtesy of me in 2023)

The air flow is one-way, in the nose and out the mouth, the main body lungs do the most work and the human torso lungs work to strip out the last % of oxygen, so they are actually engaged on the lower chest exhale which passes air back out through the human lungs and mouth. In times of exertion they can inhale and exhale simultaneously using their two sets of intercostal muscles. Even non-athletic centaurs have very high endurance and good breath control. lower respiratory tract infections are extremely dangerous as are any conditions that might partially occlude the airway (like a common cold), so pulmonary health is very important to centaurs

cardiac system is similarly duplicated, there's a big barrel heart and a smaller human chest heart which aids in the circulation of blood from the upper lungs. the human half heart and lungs are larger than their equivalents in humans because the alimentary canal is not duplicated, so there's lots of free real estate in there (i.e past the human half diaphragm there's no stomach, liver, etc, those are all in the animal half)

a centaur can survive their upper-body heart and lungs ceasing to function (by trauma, disease, etc) but not the reverse. in the modern era, it is actually possible for a centaur to give a(n upper) heart transplant and survive but they would experience reduced quality of life as a result (having low tolerance to physical exertion). however it is an option for recipients whose lower heart has reduced function as this is life threatening

diet is determined by animal type. ungulates are nearly all vegetarians, they need a specialised diet high in cellulose and enough roughage to save them from getting painful ulcers. they drink spirulina water and consume specially-formulated hay/grass/etc products. they could eat a handful of plain grass if they wanted but there's not much flavour in that. grazers eat as many as six or seven small meals a day, carnivores would eat one or two.

the babies are all altricial like human babies. this means ungulates are born with their lower halves less developed than their newborn animal equivalents and can't walk for the first few months of life (coordinating six limbs is tricky). human chest handles the lactation as it's easier to cradle a baby there. i know we were all dying to know

flexibility is pretty good as previously mentioned but it does vary by species. the big cats can even climb ladders and have an easier time living in conventional housing

an ungulate centaur has two ways of lying down; sternal recumbency and lateral recumbency. in sternal recumbency the human half is held upright, in lateral, that's the full 'passed out' lying on ur side experience, and lateral recumbency is required for REM sleep. beds consist of thick pads or bedding (straw etc) and are usually ground-level. REM sleep time varies for animal type, for horses they'll need about 2 hours of it every day. they can nap and sleep shallowly while standing up. too much time spent lying down is bad for circulation as weight on hooves is actually a part of the circulatory system in horses, so they will spend most of their time standing to avoid issues with venous drainage. where a centaur is injured, a full body sling (suspended from a wheeled frame usually) can help them keep as much weight on their hooves as possible while also supporting them.

spinal injuries are very common in centaurs for obvious reasons, particularly torsion or compression fractures to the acute spine, which is the junction between the upper and lower body. this area is heavily reinforced and incorporates a structure similar to the stay structure in a horse's leg, which makes supporting the upright torso effortless. but all the reinforcement in the world won't stop nearly every centaur getting a sore back in their later years. ruptured discs are extremely common. in modern times, many would have brace implants fitted there. because there's more than just the torso's own muscles supporting it, it's easy for a centaur to hold their torso in what might seem like a high-effort position to humans (i.e not just upright)