#(which is a shock in and of itself but ANYWAY) (ohhh sort of like the mordred situation tbh)

[nextstopparis]

me explaining how everything would’ve been different after bbc merlin episode 2.08 the sins of the father if morgause had juST USED THAT DAMNED CRYSTAL SOONER and seen arthur actually fighting uther and being lied to and manipulated back into thinking uther was right because tHEN SHE COULDVE SOUGHT HIM OUT BUT ALONE THIS TIME AND DEFENDED HERSELF AND GOTTEN ARTHUR ON HER SIDE and then when she reached out to morgana the three of them would’ve teamed up and brought uther to his knees

[makeste]

my biggest worry about the UA traitor is that it won’t feel significant as the major characters suspected in being it don’t play a big role in the story leading up to now.. like aoyama yes he might cause shock but hagakure?? she doesn’t done much imo but i do think she is the traitor i just wish hori given her some spotlight early on to lead to the moment and the suspense yk

fwiw, you're not alone, anon; I see this concern crop up pretty much every single time there's a U.A. traitor discussion. but the thing is, there's an underlying assumption here that the sole purpose of a plot twist is to shock people. and I would argue that's not true. imo, a well-written plot twist serves many purposes, and shocking the audience is only one of them, and far from the most important one. (in fact, I'd argue that it's not even strictly necessary.) here are four that I can think of right off the top of my head.

they catch and hold the audience's attention. this isn't the case for all plot twists, but it's certainly true for ones which the author chooses to deliberately dangle before the audience, as Horikoshi chose to do with the U.A. traitor plot. if he really wanted to shock people with the reveal, it would have been better for him not to call attention to it in the first place. there was no need whatsoever to have Present Mic bring it up back in chapter 83. but he chose to go that route because he wanted the readers to notice, and he wanted them to start thinking about it and to start speculating about the traitor's identity. it gets the audience excited, and it gives them an incentive to keep reading to see how the story will play out.

they encourage the audience to engage more with the story. the U.A. traitor plot is easily one of the most talked-about elements in the entire story. at this point I don't think there's a single teacher or student character who hasn't been the target of suspicion at some point or other. and again, this was a conscious trade-off on Horikoshi's part, because it would have been much easier to blindside readers with the eventual reveal if they weren't out here forming all of these exhaustive theories. announcing that There Is A Traitor pretty much guarantees that no matter who it ends up being, someone will have predicted it ahead of time. but the trade-off is that fans are paying closer attention to the story, and continuing to think about the plot even when they're not reading the manga, and engaging in more discussion with their fellow fans. and all of that is more than worth the loss of the shock element imo.

they add new layers and depth to the story. this is the hallmark of all of the most iconic plot twists. anyone can write a story and tag on some sort of half-assed unpredictable heel turn at the end in order to try and surprise people and make themselves look smart. but the best plot twists are the ones which actually make sense, and which have foreshadowing sprinkled in throughout the story, so that when you go back and look at everything a second time it makes you go, "ohhh, that's why." a good plot twist should be just as enjoyable to read the second and third time around, even after the shock value has expired, because the satisfaction of seeing a well-planned and executed plot development is still there. and with the very best twists, the story is actually even more enjoyable to go back and reread afterwards, because the knowledge of the twist adds new insight and context and perspective to all of the previous scenes.

and last but not least, they add suspense. there are plenty of ways to keep your readers on their toes that don't necessarily involve surprises coming out of left-field. and this is another thing that the author gains when they make that calculated sacrifice of announcing a plot twist ahead of time. the reader is no longer going to be shocked, because they're now anticipating it -- but that anticipation is a great consolation prize in and of itself. and so with this particular plot, for instance, there's more to the U.A. Traitor Mystery than just the question of who it is. there's also the questions of why, and most important of all, the question of what will happen when everyone finds out? and those questions add a ton of suspense to the story. when will AFO call on Hagakure again? what will he ask her to do? what's going to happen if and when she finally gets caught? how exactly is Aoyama involved in all this? and how will the other members of class A react?? each of these questions has enough inherent suspense that you could make a separate cliffhanger out of each and every one of them if you wanted to.

the thing that everyone always seems to overlook is that the reveal isn't the point. the reveal, when it happens, is going to be a one-time thing which will only be in play for a single chapter at most, after which the plot needs to still be able to stand on all of its other merits. so for instance, suppose that Horikoshi does go for shock over substance, and decides to go with someone "unexpected" like Ochako. sure, you get the shock value, because no one seriously expects it to be her. and maybe to some people it would feel more impactful, because she has a closer connection to Deku and the other characters. but the trade-off is that a twist like that would make absolutely no sense. it completely lacks the careful foreshadowing of the Hagakure/Aoyama twist. and it would detract from Ochako's character development, rather than adding on to it, because it would completely undo so much of what her character journey has been about up until now. all of that sacrificed just for the sake of a one-time twist, which a good chunk of readers would be spoiled for in advance thanks to the weekly spoiler leak cycle. ymmv, but to me that would absolutely not be worth it, and would be a huge waste of both Ochako's character, and of all the careful work that Horikoshi has done to weave this whole plot together.

on the other hand, the fact that Hagakure has had next to no spotlight up till now is exactly what makes her the perfect candidate. with her there's no need to worry about undoing years of carefully planned character development. there's no need to worry about the twist not making sense, or not holding up to the scrutiny of hindsight, because all of Hagakure's interactions with the other characters have always been curiously superficial. we know next to nothing about her family or history or motivations. her character is pretty much a blank slate, which makes her pretty much the only person in 1-A whose betrayal wouldn't feel awkward and forced and completely unnatural.

and as for everyone who's already made up their minds that her betrayal would lack any impact, I think they're both underestimating the amount of impact that any betrayal from one of class A's own would have, and also underestimating Horikoshi's ability to deliver when it comes to ninth-inning backstories. Dabi's backstory came pretty late in the game as well for instance, and that didn't take away from its impact at all. and the same goes for Hawks as well. just because Hagakure doesn't have any backstory yet doesn't mean she's not going to get one. and if you think Horikoshi doesn't have something good cooked up after all this time, then I don't know what else to tell you, except just, "wait and see."

anyway so yeah. and also just a reminder once again that even though fandom sometimes gets bogged down in this kind of discussion involving our personal opinions as to who would be the best traitor candidate, or the most shocking or meaningful or unexpected, etc., at the end of the day the actual evidence we have all points to Hagakure. I know I sound like a broken record at this point, but yeah lol.

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

Hogwarts No.1 Ship

Fandom: Harry Potter  Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader Word count: 3.4k Summary: You - Rubeus Hagrid’s niece and a surprising slytherin - have a crush on the Slytherin prince himself, but you are sugar and he is spice and there is no world where the two of you would fit together...right? Warning: Swearwordsm concussion, broken bones, but mostly fluffffffffff Requested by the amazing and patient (I’m really sorry it took so long) @onlycherryblossom​: Hi! I love your work and I was wondering if you could right a Draco Malfoy x Reader. you know, the one we talked about. It'd be so awesome! i hope you have a good day/night! (I won’t put our chat in here so that I don’t spoiler anything)

Hogwarts had rarely ever known two students who were as opposite to each other as Draco Malfoy and Y/N Hagrid. Draco - who was the embodiment of how people imagined the stereotype of Slytherin to be - was (most of the time) a prideful, cold, unempathetic prick, while you were a selfless, positive thinking, kind and gentle soul that could‘ve been a descendant of Helga Huffelpuff herself. The two of you did have one thing in common though. Your house. The hat had made you both into Slytherins which was on Draco’s side not surprising at all, but quite a shock for everyone who had talked to you for even a minute. Probably the biggest shock was courtesy of Rubeus Hagris - Half-Giant and your adopted uncle (on his father’s side) - who insisted that the hat must have made a mistake, but was quickly shot down by Dumbledoor who assured that the hat didn‘t make any mistakes. After some initial tumbling though, Hagrid realized that the house didn‘t make the person and that it didn‘t matter in what house you were sorted into, you’d always be his little pumpkin. And he was quite right. Even after you had been a Slytherin for just about five years, you had only grown more kind and loving - having bonded with many people in the other houses and years, but not quite as many in your own house. You’d call Blaze and Millicent maybe something close to friends and Pansy tolerated you which is why you gave her the title of ‘good acquaintances‘, but other than that you didn‘t really have a lot of contact with them in your free time. The most complicated relationship you held though was the one to the aforementioned Draco Malfoy. In a weird twist of fate the two of you somehow became the main ship in Hogwarts (with Harry and Ginny or Harry and Hermione as close second) even though you couldn‘t remember more than two or three times that you had talked to the boy outside of a classroom or study environment. Sure, he had never bullied or teased you which already differentiated you from most of the students, but you simply explained it by the fact that you were a good student - especially in potions class - and behaved well enough to gain a number of house points which made you into a good asset to Slytherin and as such made you a less logical target. Now all in itself that would‘ve been more than fine with you, but for some stupid reason your heart decided to betray you against it‘s better judgement and fall for him. Somehow, even after years of seeing him kick others down and behave like a complete douchebag you couldn‘t help but blush slightly at the mention of his name and feel your heart flutter when you walked by him in the hall or in the common room. The worst part was in potions class where he sat right beside you after Snape deemed your former partner as way too unqualified for one of his best students and exchanged him for Draco. Working with him in and of itself was actually rather nice. He was a good student and did his work thoroughly and mindfully, but you found it hard to concentrate when his hand brushed yours as you read a passage in the book or when he poured ingredients in the coultron that you were stirring. You really tried to ignore your feelings and ban every thought of him, but it seemed like you weren‘t doing the best job at it since your uncle kept asking about what it was that was distracting you all the time. On a rainy October day fairly at the beginning of your fifth year you decided you had enough. You were sitting in your Uncles hut with a plate of more or less edible cookies in front of you and a cup of something that was surely supposed to be tea when you finally gathered the courage to say what you had been meaning to say for weeks now. “Uncle Rubeus, can I ask you something?” Hagrid turned to you with his usual smile as he patted fang who was drooling all over his lap where he had laid his head. “Course ya can pumpkin. What’s it about?” “Uhm...well… you know there is this boy that I-“ “Ohhh Ah see,” Hagrid quickly interrupted you before you could even ask the question, “Ya know, usually I’d be more than happy to help ya with every question you have but ah really don’t thin’ I’m the right person for this, I’m sorry.” A little bit disappointed but not really surprised you just sighed and shook your head, telling him that it was okay, before bidding your goodbyes and making your way back to the castle quietly mulling over what exactly your plan b should be now that plan a had failed and you still had no idea what to do with or how to get rid of your stupid crush on Draco.

“You know what I would do if I were you?“ Ginny asked and pointed the end of her quill at you. The both of you were sitting in a corner of the library where you had planned to help her study for her upcoming potions exam, only for her to basically interrogate you until you admitted that you had an unlucky crush, even though she luckily hadn‘t pushed you to tell her who the guy you had a crush on was. “I‘d probably just tell them, I mean what do you have to lose. Either he‘ll say yes and you‘re happy or he says no and you just avoid him like he doesn‘t even exist - which would honestly be the appropriate reaction if he refuses a snack like you. See, no real downside to it.“ “Oh really? Hmmm, I wonder why you haven‘t told Harry how you feel yet then,“ you teased her and tapped your chin. Ginny‘s face immediately started to rival the colour of her hair and the way she crossed her arms in front of her chest and pouted reminded you of an overgrown toddler - but in a cute way. “I-I don‘t like Harry, okay? I mean I did when I was like ten because he was famous and I was a child,“ she tried to make sure you really knew how silly she wanted you to believe she thought it was by drawing out the word child for a good few seconds before rolling her eyes and looking to the side, “And anyway, it‘s not like he‘d date his best friend’s sister…“ “Oh Gin,“ you immediately felt bad and grabbed one of her hands with yours, “Have you looked at yourself? You‘re amazing and if Harry doesn‘t see that through his stupid invisible cloak and these glasses than he doesn‘t even deserve you.“ “Even though I admit that yes, I am amazing, this isn‘t the topic that we should be conversing about right now, remember? I think there‘s a certain blond Slytherin that you should be worried about more right now.“ Immediately blood shot right to your cheeks and you quickly looked around to make sure no one could‘ve heard her before leaning forward and hissing: “What? No? I don‘t like Draco? Why would you even think that? I never said that he is the one I have a crush on.“ Ginny just raised her eyebrows in an unimpressed manner, leaning back in her chair and picking the quill back up to play around with while she talked. “Listen honey, I‘m not judging you or anything. Don‘t get me wrong, I still and probably will always think Draco is a major asshole and doesn‘t even deserve to breath the same air as you-“ “He isn‘t that bad…“ “Yes he is, but anyways, no matter what I think of him I also know that you are a clever girl that knows how to protect herself and who knows, maybe you‘d even have a good influence on him.“ Images of you and Draco together with your friend group laughing and having fun crossed your mind and you could feel your heartbeat fasten involuntarily. “That‘s all great and good, but like I said, I don‘t have a crush on Draco,“ you gave the hope of getting out of this situation with the lie you‘ve been telling yourself for months still intact one last try, but Ginny didn‘t give it the time of day. “Oh please, I see the way you look at him in the dining hall and how your eyes are always on him when he‘s playing quidditch and just now you defended him even though the two of you aren‘t even friends. My love-radar is pinging like crazy around the two of you which is why I, Ginny Wealey also known as the love witch-“ “No one calls you that,“ you interrupted her only to be shushed by an evil glare. “I, Ginny Weasley, will help you in fulfilling your desire and getting together with Draco and I already have the perfect plan.“ “No no no no, please don‘t! Don‘t do this! Ginny no!“ you tried to make your point clear but she was already cleaning up her stuff and getting ready to leave. “Don‘t worry oh sweet Y/N, the next time we‘ll talk everything will be set in motion,“ she winked before dashing off leaving you standing in her figurative dust with your mouth agape for a few seconds before you let your head sink onto the table. This would definitely take an interesting turn…

After that you definitely started to actively avoid Draco which was - surprisingly enough - not as easy as you thought. Somehow he was almost always at least in your near vicinity. Besides the obvious factors of class (where you tried to focus on working and on praying whatever Ginny had planned wouldn‘t happen) and when you were eating in the great hall (where you had resorted to sitting at the very end of the table as far away from him as possible) he seemed to also be there in your free time. You were relaxing in the common room? He was there reading a book. You were outside with Harry and co.? Guess who’s coming their way to insult them (while not saying a single bad thing about you). By now there were just about three places where you were sure that he wouldn’t be able to pop up at any given moment. Your room, the bathroom and the potions classroom on Wednesday and Friday afternoon when class has already ended. After Snape had realized that he had some real potions-potential sitting in front of him he offered you extra credit as some sort of teaching assistant which basically meant that you helped him prepare lessons, helped him grade the first to third years tests and that you cleaned up and organized the potions classroom twice a week. Now usually, knowing that you were more than capable of handling the potions and ingredients standing around on your own after having seen you do it for a few months, you‘d be alone while you cleaned up except for the occasional visit of your professor to tell you which ingredients you should put on the students desks for the next class, but for some reason the next Friday - three days after Ginny had made her promise to you - the door already stood open and you could hear Professor Snape talking to someone. “I really expected better of you, your action is the reasons Slytherin has lost 50 housepoints and I hope you know that it is on you to gain them back, no matter your status,“ Snape‘s voice carried to where you stood and you wondered who the student was if Snape went so easy on them with his lecture. Usually you‘d be afraid for your life after losing even ten house points so getting such a calm reaction for 50 must‘ve really meant something. Your questions about the identity of the student were answered when you entered the dungeon room and immediately felt yourself freeze. Of course not even you (time dependent) sanctuary was safe anymore. Of course Draco just had to stand there and look at you without any identifiable emotion in his gaze. “Ah, Miss Hagrid, right on time as always,“ Snape nodded after he also noticed you and you felt slightly more at ease knowing that with him there nothing could really happen. “Should I come back later?” you asked politely, not sure if you had interrupted something. “No, you may stay. Mister Malfoy over here has got himself caught trying to sabotage McGonagall class, a childish act which I would’ve expected of the Weasleys but really not from you. As a punishment he will be the one to clean the potions classroom bi-weekly from now on until he has regained the house points lost. You’ll supervise him.” “I’m sorry, I’m not quite sure I understand.” “Malfoy will do all the cleaning but since he has no experience with it I can’t just leave him alone so, since you’d be here anyway, you can watch him and make sure that everything goes orderly.“ It wasn‘t really a question as much as a command, something that you were used to from Snape, so you just nodded and bid him goodbye as he went to his office, leaving you and Draco behind. By now you had seen through what was happening. This was Ginny‘s plan. Somehow she must‘ve managed to blame Malfoy for the prank on McGonagall - something rather extreme given the taken house points- hoping (or somehow knowing) that his punishment would force you to spend at least an hour with him alone in a dimmed room twice a week. Inwardly you cursed your friend, while outwardly you tried everything to avoid directly looking at Draco as you explained his tasks to him before you sat down at your usual place and pulled out a book really hoping you could get him to not talk to you that way. Either your plan was working great or Draco just really didn‘t care for you, because an hour later you still hadn‘t exchanged any words, instead he dutifully, but slightly pouting, had done his job while you shot him the occasional glance to make sure he was doing it correctly. “I think that was all, you should be good to go now,“ you told him with a small smile, relieved that you were finally free to leave the room and with that the tension that had built up inside you as a mix of nervousness and fear. Draco had opened his mouth to respond when a third year came rushing inside with at least twelve books in her arms that almost towered over her which she quickly placed on a table, slightly out of breath. “Professor Snape sent me. He said these have to be sorted and put away.” You could probably feel Draco’s sigh before he had made it and - not really fond of spending more time so frustratingly close to your crush and yet so far - you just nodded and told both of them that you’d take care of it and that they could leave, which both promptly did. You took the books and carried them to the back of the room where a sole, old bookshelf was standing - since the students mostly had their own books - and started putting them away when you heard a sickening crunch before suddenly the shelf including books came crashing down at you and before you could even think to pull out your wand, the world turned black.

“I’m so so so sorry, you were right I shouldn’t have interfered, if I’d just listened to you you wouldn‘t be lying here now,“ Ginny whined from beside your bed where she had been sitting for the past twenty minutes apologizing over and over again and blaming herself for the broken arm, leg and the concussion that had you unable to leave the infirmary for the next three days to a week. “Ginny, how often do I gotta tell you, it isn’t your fault! I would’ve sorted those books in anyways - no matter if you had pulled that prank or not - and it would’ve fallen anyways,” you tried to reassure her and gave her a soft smile. “But-“ “No but, okay? We can’t change the past anyways, and even if we could I wouldn’t because thanks to you, I don’t have to take that stupid DADA test.” Your attempt to lighten the mood seemed to work, because soon you and Ginny were back to your usual conversation-style and it relieved you immensely. It made you feel okay again. She was just telling you of a stung Harry had pulled in the Gryffindor Common room when she suddenly paused mid sentence and looked up. You followed her eyes to where they were placed firmly on a certain Platinum blond boy that looked simultaneously like he’d rather be everywhere else and like he was glad to be there, it was a sight to see. “I think I’ll leave for now, I’ll come back later with tons of sweets that Luna and I are going to steal from Harry’s personal stash,” Ginny said goodbye and gave you a wink as she walked away making you torn between wanting to roll your eyes and feeling yourself blush. Unsure of what to do next you motioned to the chair that Ginny had just occupied and Draco seemed to get the hint because he quickly sat down. “Hey-“ “Hi-“ “Sorry, you first.” “No it’s fine, you’re injured, you go first.” “Well, uhm-“ you took a deep breath to calm yourself down, “-I wanted to thank you, for bringing me here I mean, Madame Pomfrey told me you carried me all the way.” You looked away hoping that he wouldn’t see how nervous you were. “You don’t need to thank me, I couldn’t just let you lay there buried under books, your not Granger after all,” he said, seemingly trying to joke but immediately noticed that it was probably not the best thing to say given that you and Hermione were good friends. “Listen, what I came here for,” now it was Draco’s turn to take a deep breath, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something, but you were always with Potter or avoiding me or whatever, but after I saw you lying there… I guess I was just worried for you, I really don’t want you to get hurt.” Now that definitely caught your attention. For a second you played with the thought that this could possibly not be Malfoy but just someone else playing him with the help of polyjuice potion because he was definitely not acting like himself, but something in his word convinced you otherwise. “Thanks, I think, but would you mind me asking why? I mean...we’re not really the closest of friends,” you asked him, looking directly into his face to search signs of a possible answer. “Fuck it, I like you, okay? Happy?” You were completely stunned. Stunned, speechless, shocked. In all the time that you had been crushing on him you had never even really considered even the slightest possibility that he could reciprocate your feelings but now here he was telling you straight up. “You-You like me? Like like-like me?” You asked, just really wanting to be sure. There was a hint of nervousness and worry in his eyes, but he hid it behind a wall of annoyance. “You heard me, didn’t you? So, just get it over with, do you like me too or do you not, because if you don’t then I don’t want to waste my time any longer.” This definitely sounded more like the Draco you were used to and you had to giggle a little bit. “Yes, yes I like you too,” you confessed and like it was the most natural thing in the world you moved the uninjured hand over to where he laid on your bed and took it in yours. For the moment, you were caught in the shimmer of happiness and glee at having your crush there with you, definitely something more than your crush, and it would probably take a while until you‘d realize that there were some interesting things to follow, like telling your uncle about this for example...

[tobi-momo]

PROTECTOR {PART 2}

PART 2 of PROTECTOR

MASTERLIST

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Word Count: 1720

Warnings: cursing, descriptions of an injury- nothing major

Synopsis: You had a happy life. Completely and utterly perfect. Atleast that's how you acted. You may have had a hard childhood, but no one else needs to know that. You may be getting stalked by your insane ex-bestfriend, but it's okay. It'll all work itself out. Right?

YOUR EYES are ringing by the time you wake up on a couch, that is definitely not in your house. You slowly open your eyes to the sweet smell of caramel and laundry freshener. Why laundry freshener? The change of scenery has you confused, but so does the fact that you aren’t wearing your own clothes anymore. Well, your shirt anyway. You have a gray, oversized hoodie that is way too long for your arms. You weren’t small, but this sweatshirt definitely made it seem like you were. Who’s sweatshirt was this anyway? You grab the strings of the sweatshirt and rub them with your fingers, feeling the material in your hands. I guess you know where the laundry freshener came from.

You lift your chest in order to sit up before wincing in pain from the sharp sting coming from your tummy. 

What was that? 

You quickly lay back down to ease the pain, placing your hand on the hem of the hoodie, slowly lifting the bottom to look at the bandage covering what you know is the purple/black bruise on your torso, with patches of skin peeled off. You sigh in disappointment, but not surprise and try to sit up once again. 

You knew what, who, it was, you’re just disappointed you didn’t see it sooner.

You ease yourself into it, wincing at the pain at the sting of your wound before you feel a firm hand against your shoulder, pushing you back down to the edge of the couch. 

“Don’t even think about it.” 

You inhale sharply through your teeth and whip your head up to look at Bakugou. Of course he was the one to save you. Why would it be someone else? If you knew this, then why were you still shocked as if you were taken by him?

“Eat this. I’m taking you home after.”

You paint a fake smile on and look as if you were untouched and good as new.

“Oh, It’s okay, I can get home by myself, thank you for taking care of me though!”

He knows you’re faking, but it sure looked convincing. This had to take practice. How long have you been faking for? 

He tilts his head in a sort of confusion, and barely furrows eyebrows before deadpanning again. 

“Why are you smiling? You’re obviously hurt. Now eat this before I change my mind and kick you out.” He places the bowl of soup on the table in front of the couch and then extends his arms to help you up. With his left hand wrapping around the top of your back, he uses his right arm to softly place on your left shoulder and gently pull you up against the back of his couch, your back limp against the soft furniture.

His hands weren’t rough, but they weren’t exactly soft, either. You couldn’t really put your finger on it but his hands made you feel more at ease. 

You try not to show the pain in your face as he repositions you, although he doesn’t know why. He knows that you’re pretending that the pain doesn’t exist, but he doesn’t exactly know why. He raises his hand to your forehead, wiping away the beads of sweat gathering on your forehead. 

“You seriously don’t need to do this for me. I can manag-”

“Just shut up and eat the damn soup, (Y/N). Your mom called when you were unconscious so I-”

“Did you tell her? Did you tell her what happened?” Worry splashed across your face as you bring your hands toward your temple, massaging it with your fingers in order to try and keep your composure. 

“What? No, I just told her that you ran into me and that I’m walking you home. Which is why you need to hurry the hell up and eat the soup before I make you starve.”

You let out a loud sigh, shaking your hands and rolling your head back to calm yourself down. The blondie observes your motions and he wonders what could’ve made you react like that, but he stays silent as you make your way towards the bowl and spoon on the table. 

“Wow, this is really good, Bakugou-kun! What are you, like a five-star chef or something?” Your expression lights up while his expression stays flat as stands up, going to clean his mess.

“No, but whatever brand that the soup came from certainly is apparently.” You giggle at his remark as you go back to your soup. He halfway turns his head to look at you with a side eye, but turns back. He was so confused. Why are you acting like this? He wanted to ask you so many questions and he wanted to figure you out but decided not to say anything.

He finishes cleaning the kitchen when he comes up to you, sitting on the couch across from you. With his legs wide and his hands clasped in between them, he slouches and stares at you while you eat.

You blow on your soup, thoroughly enjoying it, and look up to see him red eyes beaming at you.

“Uh, did you have a question? Or something?” 

He wasted no time and immediately responded. “Who was that guy? I’m guessing you know him, right? That doesn’t just happen at random, you know.”

You reposition yourself, suddenly uncomfortable with our seating arrangement, and close your eyes while slowly inhaling through your nose. You had to tell him. You can’t just lie. I mean, you were good at it, but it seems like he genuinely wants to know. Fine, let’s give it a shot.

“You promise not to tell anyone? No one? Ever? Not a single soul? If you do I-”

“Just fucking tell me, jesus.” 

You let out a sigh and set your bowl down on the table, finished.

“He is my ex.” Bakugou’s eyes widened. Ex? You were only 16, why would an ex do that? “Ex best friend, I mean.” You smile and let out a breathy laugh as you grab the hem of your gray hoodie to help fidget with your fingers. 

He slowly went from confused and shocked to feeling tricked. He doesn’t like to be tricked. He’ll let it slide, this time. 

“It’s a long story, something I don’t really want to get into right now, but I should be fine.”

“Fine? Have you seen your stomach? You feel terrible and I know it.”

“Seriously, Bakugou-kun, I’m good!” You let out a cute chuckle and put a bright smile on, even though you know he isn’t buying it.  

“I’m sure. Now let’s get you back home before the hag gets back.”

“Hag?” You look at him in genuine confusion as he walks over to you, offering his arm to give you something to grip on. You refuse, and by now he should’ve seen this coming.

“Dammit, (Y/N), just take my fucking arm. It’s not that hard, just do it.”

You don’t want to get on his bad side, especially after your injured torso, so you let him help you by grabbing his left arm while he uses his left to grab the left side of your back to keep you balanced. 

Standing up with you clinging on Bakugou’s arms, his chest and yours so close you can feel his body heat even through your sweatshirt. With you grabbing on his toned biceps and him holding up your elbows, you two make eye contact. You gaze at each other, looking into each eye, observing the little details in his eye. He did the same to you. His soft expression and small, opened mouth gazed at you in pure peculiarity. As he opens his mouth wider to ask what he’s been wondering all along, the front door swings open with Bakugou’s mother and father walking in. 

“Katsukiiiii! Where are youuuuu! I have groceries!” 

You both pull back, but keeping your grip on each other, while you both turn to look away. 

“Katsuki! I swear to god if you are doing anything to that girl-”

“SHUT IT DAMN HAG WE’RE RIGHT HERE!”

Oh, that’s who he was talking about.

“Ohhh (Y/N), so nice to meet you, well, when you’re awake. Sorry you had to deal with this ungrateful little child-”

“STOP TALKING ABOUT ME LIKE THAT!”

“I GET TO TALK ABOUT YOU HOW EVER I WANT NOW SIT YOUR ASS DOWN BEFORE I MAKE YOU!”

“YOU DON’T SCARE ME OLD HAG!”

“SAY THAT IN FIVE MINUTES WHEN I’M DONE BEATING YOUR ASS!”

Wow, should've seen that coming…

Bakugou almost drops you as he starts to walk to his mom with full fists. You didn’t even realize that his hands were digging into your arms and that he brought you up against his chest with your torso bending in a way that made your head stick out the side of his body. You wince and hiss in pain as you quickly push back and squeeze his arm, stealing his attention from his mom to you. He looks down at you and sees the pain in your face, so he gently pulls you back from him only slightly before you squeeze his arm again in pain. 

“How much does it hurt?” Both him and his mom are worried, his dad just entering full of bags, almost blinding his eyesight. Bakugou’s mother quickly helps out her husband, leaving you and Bakugou in the living room alone. “Answer me, how much does it hurt?”

“Not that bad.” You start to sweat again, if Bakugou hadn’t fed you and wasn’t holding you up you’d probably fall unconscious to the floor. He lifts his head to look at the ceiling, rolling his eyes in annoyance as you lie to him again. 

“I swear to God, (Y/N). Answer me honestly. How. Much. Does it. Hurt.” He articulates the last sentence in hopes to get it through your obviously thick skull.

You feel dizzy as you lean onto Bakugou, your vision getting blurry and head knocking into his chest. Your grip loosens as you finally lose consciousness and fall into his arms. And again, he catches you. Almost as if on instinct, he switches from his hands holding your elbows to his arms wrapping around your back, one of his hands catching your head from falling back too rough, and he kneels you down to try and pick you up. 

TAGLIST [OPEN]: @jazzylove , @bakug0ush0e​

send an ask^

[one-piece-dumpster-fire]

*fidgets* your Killer spooning hcs were incredible and made me doodle fluffy things for days,,, could I please have something short and sweet with Killer and his s/o cuddling, maybe while watching a terrible movie? I live for casual fluff. (I'll return the favor with Crachelle fanarts ;v;)

Ohhh this is good, this is really good and wholesome!!! I actually went through my blog to check which request you meant and couldn’t help but notice that I’ve only written very little for the masked noodle man yet… Which kind of shocked me xD And there is no need to repay me or anything, after all, I am not… a vendor😂? Haha but you certainly caught my interest with that idea~ and I would also really love to see the fluffy Killer doodles you did :D! (and this gif is from le-monde-de-one-piece btw^^)

Movie Night with Killer headcanon

the idea of spending an evening watching movies with you was actually introduced pretty early on into the relatioship, although Killer was a bit hesitant at first. You see, he’d much rather just focus all of his undivided attention on you and the task at hand(cuddling without embarrassing himself), but then again, this special time together  also offers a good opportunity to get to know each other’s preferences while still being able to cuddle, so here we go!

if horror movies existed in the world of One Piece, then Killer would definitely be the biggest fan of the slasher sub-genre (I know, shocking right?) so whenever it’s his turn to choose a movie you already know what’s coming… (although he does make sure to pick rather tame ones, and you definitely can’t compare them to the caliber he watches with the rest of his crew during their Pirate Movie Nights)

as you know, he is a bit shy when it comes to initializing cuddling sessions, buuuuut, it’ll take of itself this time- as soon as the first jumpscare or slash flashes across the screen you’re in his arms, without him having to even lift a finger! Oh thank the lord for movie night…

while you’re cuddled up to his side it might seem like Killer’s full attention is on the screen, but actually he can’t help but look down at you almost every 5 seconds to make sure you’re comfortable and feel safe in his arms. There is also a warm blush on his face, but that’s one of the reasons why he likes to keep his mask on during nights like this…

sometimes he can’t help but chuckle to himself while you cling to him during those ‘scary’ scenes. Now you don’t really see or hear it, but the way his head and mask moves clearly implies that your reactions are giving him great satisfaction…

Oh how dare he tease you like this! Clearly this calls for some sort of revenge… and here it is, the number one way to get back at Killer during a movie: tickles. Bonus point if it’s also during a scary moment or jumpscare. Being tickled doesn’t actually make him laugh, but it’s definitely satisfying to see his head jolt upwards with suprise or to hear him gasp (now, whether your tickles really caught him offguard or if he’s just playing along with your little joke to make you happy is up to you to decide ;))

another way to tease him is to, well, talk about the similarities between the movie antagonist and him!

„Hey Killer, that bad guy kind of looks like you, doesn’t he? Don’t tell me you have a side-career as actor in horror movies, haha!“

„…..mhhh, would it suprise you?“

„HAHA! Hah… ha… no.“

throughout the movie, your cuddling positions often tend to switch. Most of the time you start by simply leaning against him and clinging to his arm, but after a while that isn’t really enough and he’d either offer you to rest your head on his lap or silently pulls your legs over his own so you can be even closer

but no matter which one you’re watching, at some point you’ll always fall asleep during the movie. And since Killer tends to be more focussed on you than the screen anyways he notices it right away, and will allow you to stay in your position until he is convinced that you are deeply asleep. Only then will he get up and carry you to bed, where he immediately joins you and continues the cuddling session, but without you really noticing it 

[d3uteragonist]

Review of Queen Of Theives

I’ll give a short review of each route and give it over all first season a score of 1-7! This is about as spoiler free as I can make it! This is mostly personal opinion though so take this with a grain of salt

Overall: I REALLY like queen of thieves, it’s quickly climbing my list of favorites, much to my shock and delight. I was skeptical of a new series after the disappointment sweet enchantments turned out to be (I was SO excited u guys ;-;) and even more so when I found out the thief series had a Latina MC, but once I got to actually reading it, I didn’t mind so much. It was actually pretty nice being able to see myself in this MC despite my early suspicions and complaints. I really respect the lack of predictablity these routes have. They’re MUCH less inclined to stick to a status quo as Lovestruck loves to do, every character (havent read Leon yet) has a different pace of progression, some developing faster or slower than others and I really enjoy that. It’s less “it’s episode 10 so now we kiss” and more “the events leading up to this scenario lead to this specific level of intimacy to maybe we’ll kiss right now or maybe we’re not even close to that” which if you’ve read my post about Lovestruck’s element of surprise, you’ll KNOW how absolutely relieved I am about it. This series is a much needed breath of fresh air and I’m here for it.

Nikolai: ohhh Boy,,, my favorite one 😔 Nikolai Stirling is a pan criminal mastermind who stole my WHOLE HEART. If you’ve read or at least heard of Lucien’s route you’ll know he takes the “Cold unfeeling man” trope a little too far, being just plain direspectful and rude. Nikolai is the opposite. Yes he does cater to this trope but unlike Lucien he is given likable characteristics early on and has a very charming and intriguing character dynamic with MC, which is the highlight of the route. There’s also this constant level of sexual tension that’s very exciting 😳 The plot itself is pretty thrilling and fun, if a little surprisingly simple. 7/7

Vivienne: What a woman! Vivienne Tang is a striking lesbian falling under the “sultry seductress” trope. Before Zoe was revealed I was hesitant about a seductress character, since Vivienne was the first woman we knew about. However, when I started reading I found I didn’t mind one bit, although mostly for..... biased reasons. I personally really enjoyed the level of sexual tension Vivienne’s route had to offer, although I’ve heard from some that it feels one sided to them. Her strength tricking people using her sexuality (even though the actual heist has little to do with that) so I’d argue that it’s good writing if even the reader is left feeling flustered and confused. Personally I love the heist itself and it’s got some fun twists. 7/7

Remy: Geez! This route is just plain fun. Remy Chevalier, is a bisexual French conman. He’s flowery, dramatic and romantic which is always a good time. Although I won’t spoil anything, he does show surprising moments of possessiveness and if the MC wasn’t so quick to assert her own independence I’d be a little worried. Nonetheless his character is very intriguing and likable. The highlight of this route is actually the heist and developing MC’s skills. I loved the thrill and sense of accomplishment this season had to offer, although it has nothing to do with MC’s actual talents in art which left me feeling somewhat confused. I also didn’t feel like Remy felt particular feelings for MC until the end of the season which felt a little worrying watching MC fall head over heels in love with him. I still very much enjoyed this season tho 6/7

Zoe: Oof. This route is somewhat of an enigma in comparison to most of the entire app. Zoe Banks is a cool lesbian hacker. She has an aloof persona and MC’s personality sort of shifts to foil it. MC is much more hyper, borderline manic in this route. She almost feels like a different person, but that’s not what’s odd about this route. It’s the surprising lack of romance/romantic tension especially compared to everything else we’ve seen within the series. It’s pretty risky to have a route be THIS slowburn but Zoe and MC’s friendship is still definitely delevoped the most, but many readers might not find it satisfying enough. The plot and heist is still pretty enjoyable and I liked it a decent amount. I also found myself really liking getting to know Zoe, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little disappointed in the lack of romance. 5/7

Jett: Jesus christmas. This route is wild. You know how so many routes are advertised as hot and cold, adventurous and passionate, but turn out to be kinda normal??? Yea no this one’s for real. Jett Slater, a bisexual daredevil with an appreciation for art, would not disappoint if you’re looking for excitement. This is the sort of “Let’s blow something up and make out” kinda route.  Every route advances differently in terms of physical and romantic affection and if there was a scale, Zoe would be on one side with Jett on the other. There’s little romantic developments, which is made up for with physical development which doesn’t happen very often with Lovestruck. Jett also has the most upfront character flaws which, although add nuance to his character, can lead the reader to be a bit frustrated with him. A couple times he comes across as a jerk but at the very least, MC doesn’t let herself get pushed around.  He’s also got the best mini cg’s lol. In terms of personal taste I didn’t like this route that much, but I think that’s more of a Me thing than anything else. 5/7

Leon: ohh geez. Oh shit oh fuc my heart. Leon is the token het and normally I think making ANY character het for no reason is a little obnoxious, I’ll let this one slide bc he’s the driver he has to b straight. Anyways I LOVE Leon. He’s as sweet, gentle and as old fashioned as I expected. He’s a surprisingly very compelling character. The things that make him jaded and mysterious aren’t necessarily different or unique compared to some of Lovestruck’s other characters, but learning about him through MC’s eyes feels impactful. She’s not more naive or childish which is a big relief. I also really enjoyed the heist, it was equal parts exciting and romantic. And oof that ending!! That’s all I’m saying. 7/7

[vyladromeave]

From The Ashes

a/n: hhhhhh so i wrote this for practice but here i am posting it anyways. kinda edgy. ok who am i kidding its very edgy. based off this hc i have that since shadowknights are basically the shadow lord’s weapons, they get “forged” like one when they become a shadowknight. yeet. its from vylad’s p.o.v if that isn’t obvious enough dfshjfsjghdh. alternate title is What The Fuck What The Fuck Everything Is On Fire What the F u- (also, i finally got an ao3! you can read this fic here!)

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The first thing he feels is heat. Its burning his skin, but it hurts less than he feels it should. All he can see is a field of orange and red around him, and it's making his nerves go numb. The heat feels more like needles covering every inch of his skin. The liquid flames seem to almost shape his body, reform him anew, but thats what catches him. Anew from what? Reshaped from where? And then the memories hit him all at once.

He was stabbed. Stabbed? Betrayed. A knife through his back. The location of the wound, just off-center and to the left on his lower back, flares up in pain. This pain isn't like the ever present needles burning into his skin. This time it hurts. But the memories won't stop. Who stabbed him? A friend? No. Family? That sounds familiar. A brother? It was a brother yes, his memories return to him in a storm. It was Zane's fault. For a second, he's almost shocked, but then he realizes that he really should have seen this coming. Zane had always wanted him out of the way, always treated him as if he were a stranger, a thief, someone who did not belong.

As his memories returned to him, so did the pain of the lava (He was pretty sure by now that it was lava that he was floating in). It started to burn away at him, from both the inside and out. His lungs burned. He had no way of knowing how long he had been under the surface, but right now he needed air. He thrashed around, and started swimming in the direction he assumed was up. He had no way to tell up from down, and no idea if the direction he was going was the right one, but by the time he started to doubt himself it was too late to turn back around. His body felt numb, his lungs felt like weights dragging him down. Just as black started creeping into the corners of his vision, he broke the surface of the pool.

He took a deep breath of air- real air- and coughed up the lava that had crept into his lungs. Sure it was bitter, and acrid, and tasted like ash and candle wax, but it was air. He was breathing. He wasn't dead. Not fully. That thought gave him the strength to pull himself out of the pit of lava and over the edge. The cold air stung against his skin- his armor? Looking down, he was dressed in obsidian black metal with red highlights. It struck him as odd, but not as odd as taking a bath in lava, so he simply accepted it for the moment and just laid there on the floor.

The world around him felt different from the one he knew. He wasn't quite sure if it was the I think I just died or the this is not the world I used to live on thoughts that he felt tangling at the back of his brain. He wasn't quite sure how they'd got there in the first place. Everything that he knew and everything that he'd just experienced warred with each other in his head. He had just died, but now he was breathing. He'd known the Earth, but this clearly wasn't anywhere there. He'd never touched real armor in his life- his father had never allowed it- and yet here he was, laying on the floor of some lava ridden cult in a full suit of it. It was pretty safe to say he had no idea what the hell was going on. He was pretty sure that the panic of the whole situation was so much that it had basically collapsed on itself. He had no strength or motivation to do anything but lay there.

And then​ there was noise. A voice. A figure stood in the doorway (How long had that been there for? Was the figure always standing there?) clad in a similar armor to his. He stared at the figure cautiously, eyes wide, like a deer in headlights. And then the figure spoke.

"On your feet, soldier."

Soldier? He wasn't a soldier, he wasn't even an adult. He didn't trust his voice to respond, his throat ached and his lungs still felt like they were on fire. Instead he sat up slightly and shook his head weakly, but the figure didn't seem to take that for an answer. Lacking the energy to argue, he decided to tough it out and speak up. His voice was rough and hoarse, as if he had been screaming for the past couple hours. (Which he figured could have been possible. Who knows what happened before he'd regained consciousness here).

"I'm not-"

"Not what? If you aren't going to obey our lord's orders, then I'm sure he'd have no problems with me tossing you back into the lava."

His eyes widened, not so much out of fear, but more out of shock at the situation at hand. He tried not to let the soldier's words phase him. He was well versed in diplomacy (the one thing his father had cared to teach him), and figured that bending to the person's intimidation would only make things worse. He kept his voice level.

"That's not what I meant at all. I just want to know what's going on." Slightly risky, but the person seemed honest so far, if not brutally so. But the soldier rolled his eyes in response, as if he'd had to explain this a hundred times already.

"You are a knight of the Shadow Lord now. You are his blade, his weapon. He chose to spare you, save you from the fate of death, reforge you in flame as any trusted blade would be."

He could've imagined it, but it seemed as if the figure had a mocking tone. Formalities and speeches did not seem to be his point of interest. In fact, he gave up on the fancy speech shortly.

"You know, there aren't a lot that survive that process. I'll be honest with you, there aren't many of us right now. We're building up from nothing. But the fire inside you burned brighter than the fire around you, and that sort of willpower is gonna get you a lot of places. You might just make it around here."

He paused for a second, and then the figure turned around and started down the hallway behind him. He made no motion to follow, but Vylad had no intention of being left behind. He stood up, albeit a bit clumsily, and followed cautiously after him. The other soldier, although he tried to hide it,  seemed almost excited to lead. Vylad wasn't very eager to find out where they were headed, but he was reassured by the other person acting less like a soldier and more like an average human.

"I'm Zenix, by the way. Remember it. I'm gonna be the best of this place eventually. You got a name?"

"... It's Vylad."

"Ohhh as in like, the bastard son of O'khasis? Man, didn't know that was a common name. Yikes."

"... Yeah. Rough luck, I guess."

They continued down the hall together.

[nightblink]

Blink Reads Oathbringer - Chapters 112-113, Interludes 12-14

Yep, everything’s blowing up in their faces.

Chapter One-Hundred-and-Twelve – For the Living

Still nothing solid on who that ninth Unmade could be from Hessi, though she wonders if she's “conflating two Unmade into one”. Possible, but mmmmm...

“Kaladin remembered a woman's kiss.” That is not how I was expecting this chapter to start. But! MORE TARAH INFORMATION. GOOD. She's still basically an unknown at this point, so more info is always good.

Cultural note: dresses of an old-fashioned Thaylen style – an apronlike front with straps over the shoulders and skirts that ended right below the knee; a buttoned shirt underneath, often in a bright colour

HUGS. SHE'S HUGGING HIM AND HE'S COMFORTABLE AND HAPPY, AAAAAHHHH

It would take forever for tall-and-skinny beanpole Kaladin to find a spear long enough for him to wield properly.

'Slightly plump, with a round face and firm build, Tarah's beauty was a subtle thing. Like an uncut gemstone. The more you saw of it – the more you discovered of its natural facets – the more you loved it. Until one day it struck you that you'd never known anything as wonderful.' Um hello yes snagging this happily to add to my demi-romantic!Kaladin headcanon, along with general note of Tarah's appearance

Haaaah. She has to follow her own path. She won't stick around just to be with him, just as he wouldn't do so for her. She has a point, too - “Maybe someday you'll learn how to be there for the living, not just for the dead.” Kaladin continues to carry the weight of those deaths; he did throughout his time as a slave, in Sadeas' warcamp, and still shoulders it now. He's got such a gentle, soft, caring heart, and it doesn't heal easily when it bruises or breaks, especially as he refuses to let go of the pain of those deaths.

I'm- I'm glad this is ending amicably; I was wondering if she'd end up just another name on the list of those who died/Kaladin believes he failed. THANK YOU FOR NOT FRIDGING TARAH FOR THE SAKE OF MANPAIN, BRANDERSON.

More really cool Shadesmar trees: 'taller, more statuesque ones with deep crimson trunks and limbs like burnt-red crystals that, at the ends, burst into a small collection of minerals.'

Kaladin's still attracting windspren every now and then. What is it that they're drawn to about him right now that's causing them to pop over even a little from the Physical Realm?

So the uncorrupted Oathgate-spren look like a matching pair of salt-and-pepper shakers – one iridescent-black, one prism-white, as opposed to the corrupted black-and-red that we saw back at the Kholinar Oathgate.

And there's an army in their way. Of course.

Chapter One-Hundred-and-Thirteen – The Thing Men Do Best

'Dai-Gonarthis' is our possible last Unmade, then, and maybe one that packs immense destruction as its main ability – perhaps even as much as to destroy Aimia?

“Did you really think that you belonged here? That you were native to Roshar?” Oh come on, Stormfather, why would they think otherwise, when all they know of their history has been here? They didn't even know much about four thousand years ago, much less anything before that, and after the destruction of the Desolations? After the continuing apocalypses that would wipe out 90% of the population? They'd lost all knowledge of what came before, much less so early as that. At least their originating from Shinovar makes sense to believe from their point of view – but complete aliens?

Where. Did. The. Humans. Come. From. Between the Rosharan System blurb in Arcanum Unbounded and the main SA series itself, we know that they have to be genetically distinct, and everything else in the Greater Roshar System screams 'deliberately created this way'. There are spren on Ashyn, aren't there? Were Rosharan-humans originally created by Adonalsium rather than by Shards or transplanted from Yolen, and put on Ashyn instead of Roshar?

“It was not only the truth of humankind's origin that caused the Recreance. It was the distinct, powerful fear that they would destroy this world, as men like them had destroyed the one before. The Radiants abandoned their vows for that reason, as will you.” Okay, that makes a lot more sense. I'm still shocked that it was enough that they would kill their soul-bonded spren to do so, but they essentially looked at themselves and went I have the power to physics-nuke a planet and that's more than enough to shake anyone to the core.

[winces] And the bridgemen get it. “Invaded by people trying to reclaim their homeland. Storms. I'd be mad too.”

Except they've been co-opted by Odium, their fellows transformed by the Everstorm into mockeries of the Radiants – powerful, but still mockeries, and ones that consume the soul of the body that they inhabit, and in the end, they and/or Odium will destroy Roshar so that there is nothing left for either Humans or Parsh/Dawnsingers.

Their unwavering faith in Kaladin is beautiful and heartwrenching at the same time. Dalinar, on the other hand… he's losing hope that Adolin and Elhokar will ever return. 'No news is good news' doesn't quite count when the city they were in has fallen to the enemy and no information was coming out of Kholinar before that anyway.

!!! So- what the Vorins call the Tranquiline Halls could in fact be a reference to the origin of the Rosharan-humans?

Honor sounds like he was going a bit loopy before he died, though even before that, he was egging on the Radiants, perhaps pushing the war even when peace might have have been brokered and Odium's power over the Dawnsingers broken.

“They tried to protect the world. I blame them for their weakness, their broken oaths. But I also understand. You have cursed me, human, with this capacity.” Character development even from the Stormfather, greatest of spren of Roshar. Who would have thought?

[winces] The coalition alliance is cracking along every seam it has. And Taravangian has the sheer gall to say that he's sorry, when he's the one who orchestrated all of it! ~~FUCK OFF, YOU MANIPULATIVE OLD TURDBUCKET~~

“I tried my best to hide this.” “So we could continue living a lie?” “It is, in my experience, the thing men do best.” I… I would say something along the lines of 'fucking ouch', but- but instead I'm reminded of that one Terry Pratchett quote from Death in Hogfather – the one about needing to believe the little lies so that we can believe the big ones: 'JUSTICE. MERCY. DUTY. THAT SORT OF THING.'

That's not what Dalinar or the Stormfather sees, of course, but at the same time……

End of Part Four

Interlude Twelve – Rhythm of Withdrawal

The Fused's/Odium's plan for Venli stumping for them now involves her forced into a hermit cave, an essentially 'primitive' existence, and I'll bet it's to help the image of how they want to portray her – the last of a people that had held out against humans for centuries, millennia, now but a dying predecessor to those who will rise and fight.

Oh, no more individual talks? You're right, Venli; Odium probably doesn't want you and your people to realize their history of long ago as Dawnsingers, or how close the world has come to complete and utter unlivable destruction in Desolations past.

!!! She's going to the assault on Thaylen City with the rest of them? OOOOO. Sanderson please let her meet Dalinar in person that'd be great

Yeaaaaah, the Everstorm's sent to push them onward – maybe even awaken new Fused on the way there (especially since Rine says that the “strongest and most skilled of [their] number have yet to awaken”, which is… oooof.)

Interlude Thirteen – Rysn

RYSN RYSN RYSN!!!

Who is very much not happy to be confined to a desk, no matter how 'important' the job may be. Someone needs to invent a kind of wheelchair stat so she can have some freedom of movement.

That Thaylen Gemstone Reserve is going to be important. This is the second time they've mentioned it in only the last few chapters.

That 'Wheeeeeeeeeeee.' has me cracking up istg

She still has her grass! And her insectoid gift from Relu-na! Chiri-Chiri is an adorable name for the larkin; it sounds like an onomatopoeia. Her own tiny iridescent not-axehound!

“You just ate.” Thank you branderson for somehow capturing the exact exasperated tone of voice that all pet owners everywhere know by heart.

Vstim is past seventy! I'd originally though him early sixties or something when I read their WoR Interlude. By Earth calculations, that would now make him… at least 77, and still sauntering around the world to trade up until taking this position. Damn, he's spry.

I love that she has her own little guardian crustacean. Chiri-Chiri: U WILL NOT HURT MY HUMAN

Hmm. Looks like the Growth Surge can't heal wounds that are past a certain point. Hobber's paralysis healed, but he did that by taking stormlight in himself, not receiving healing from an outside source.

Ohhh, Rysn bowed out of going on further expeditions herself- you and Renarin need to have a long talk together on disability, I think.

W A N D ER S AIL

Vstim, you are a gem of a mentor and friend.

“a stuffy meeting with old Kholin and his soldiers” - which in the end turned out to be anything but dull and stuffy, but fair enough.

All of the security – and the assertion that the vault has never before been robbed save through embezzlement – makes me all the more certain that we'll see a robbery happen in this interlude.

Oh, so she does have some sort of wheelchair…? Sounds like it needs a bit more optimization in order to get her into and through more places, though.

!!!! 'The King's Drop' – like Honor's Drop, I believe was the one mentioned earlier? A perfect gemstone that would never lose light? Which would explain why it's still alight after two hundred years without ever being taken out to refresh its light. 'The size of a child's head' daaaaayum but that's a big gemstone. But… I wonder what the other, more mundane objects in there are being kept for, if they're important enough to be secured in the same area as the King's Drop?

“They say it's a chunk off the Stone of Ten Dawns.” That's more mythology and one we don't know about what is the Stone of Ten Dawns tell us Sanderson-

“The queen's guard killed Tlik.” WHAT. JUST. SO CASUALLY STATED. WHAT. Oh no oh noooo, Rysn's knocked to the floor and he's going after Vstim I hope Vstim ends up all right oh noooo

Aw shit, whoever the thief is, they're ignoring the damage – another Radiant associated with Taravangian, perhaps?

Smart decision to use the rope and tie the ruby to her, and if the one killing everyone really is a Radiant, then reducing the available amount of stormlight via Chiri-Chiri will actually be a good thing.

Alone in the darkness, men dead and dying around her as she realizes that there's no way for her to step to load the crossbow, the thief-murderer advancing on her, but at the same time-

“Yes. Yes, I care! I want to sail my own ship!” YEEEEESSSSS

!!! It wasn't a Radiant but a Fused? There's a type of Fused that have the ability to use a Voidbinding that's equivalent to Lightweaving? UM. This is the first that we've heard of that. Also, Chiri-Chiri can feed off of voidlight as well as stormlight.

Odium and the Fused want the King's Drop – or at least one of the perfect gemstones – but for what?

Interlude Fourteen – Teft

TEEEEEEFT. Last POV we had from you, you were falling back into moss-addiction, to the point of selling your Bridge Four coat for money. Sounded like you were stabilizing a little bit there for a while, given Kaladin and the rest of your support group, but then started sliding back again recently.

[winces] Then again, I could have been reading him 'maybe getting a little better' as him just being functional, as outlined here in such viscerally honest terms.

Looks like there's someone who we saw last time who still hasn't given up on him, though. The honorspren is still there, still standing at his side. Has he- has he sworn Oaths already? And how many?

Oh shit. They've got trouble at Urithiru too?! SHITSHITSHIT THEY GOT ROCK AND TWO OTHERS AND THE HONORBLADE-

Rock and Bisig are still alive thank the Heralds but they may not be for long unless they get help, and Renarin was still in Thaylen City, though he left the audience chamber-

An unfamiliar man – who could have been anyone from one of Taravangian's spies to one of Ialai's to maybe even a Fused, now that we know there's a kind that can Lightweave – ...and they were wearing Teft's coat.

He's never going to stop blaming himself for that.

[slushblock]

Fell - Chapter 2 - Notes...

Okay, so I really wasn’t planning on continuing this so soon, but I had a fairly meh day at work that was only survived by the fact that about half of this - in particular, the dialogue - wrote itself and kept me amused. You’d be surprised how often that happens with my writing; or maybe not, considering how infrequently I do it.

When I said it wouldn’t be a continuous story, I more meant it wasn’t going to be a day-by-day gradual thing. There are still a few more things to do before I feel it’s sufficiently tied in with the rest of my stuff.

Weather’s cooling down so maybe I can draw responses again soon. Until then, have a thing. It’s a bit longer than the other one but that’s because it’s mostly banter.

Axl woke up. Not to grass and the canopy of a strange, magical forest, but to the familiarity of his own bed and room.

At least, as familiar as a bed and room could be that he’d built himself over a week ago, in the matter of less than a day. He still didn’t quite believe it, but he’d stopped constantly questioning things after the third night.

He rolled his eyes and sat up, examining his arms and chest. Yep, all still intact. Just like every other time, yet he couldn’t shake the habit of checking. Even his dark gray armor had little more than scratches in it, and those were just because he was bad at making good looking armor.

It also felt nice to be dry. Axl glanced to the window, at the pouring rain he was just out in. He never liked the rain; he liked it even less when he had to wear armor, and even less with the ridiculous giant killer fish that came out during this weather.

He kicked his legs over the bed and stood up, reaching into his coin pouch and depositing whatever he had left in the bank on the dresser. Stretching his arms over his head with a yawn, he headed down the stairs to the workroom. An anvil and forge were located conspicuously in the center, on a reinforced stone floor, with a brick chimney to vent the forge’s heat and smoke.

The guide was sitting by the forge, reading a book and seeming oblivious to Axl’s arrival. Axl scowled, but appreciated it. All the better to not get some snide lecture as he went to sit himself down at one of the other tables. He picked up a small book of his own, a journal he’d started to keep, and flipped it open, jotting down a quick note. “Fell. Again. Of course,” me muttered, sarcastically, before tossing the book back down on the table with a hefty sigh, kicking his feet up.

Axl looked over at the large clock he’d built. 7:24 pm. Good. It was about time to head back down, anyway. Not that he wanted to be out there in the rain again any time soon. He reached into the small bag at his waist and pulled out a strange, shiny scroll, unrolling it and going over its contents for a bit, to make sure he had everything he needed before descending to his inevitable something-th death in the caverns below.

The clock ticked, almost slower for the wait, after Axl put the scroll away and stared at it. He knew he could go down now, but he needed some time to collect his bearings and remember his paths.

Tick… Tick… Tick… There. The minute hand hit 30 and Axl stood up. He didn’t have high hopes, but it wasn’t like he had anything better to do. Maybe he’d find something genuinely worthwhile one day.

However, just as he was about to kick open the trapdoor by the loom, the guide looked up sharply and snapped his book shut. The sudden movement caused Axl to pause and glance over, just as the other man stood up and quickly walked over to the door. Axl flailed slightly and reached into his bag, pulling out a silver sword that had no business fitting in a bag of that size, looking manic, “I swear to GOD if you’re letting in wet zombies-!”

“Don’t swear to the gods here,” the guide smiled as he pulled the door open, “You’ll regret having ever known they existed.”

Axl was ready to fight, but instead of a soggy, shambling corpse, a girl in her late-teens stumbled in.

Where she stumbled in from was anybody’s guess, but Axl’s best guess was from a grungy punk rock concert. Or, at least, a grungy punk rock garage. Leather jacket, fishnets under ripped denim pants, very, very short white hair, and a few too many piercings. Most notably, though, was a bright red, if beat-up v-shaped guitar hanging off her shoulder with a rose-and-thorns strap, which couldn’t have been good to be poured on by the rain like it was.

“What… the crap,” she gasped for breath, ignoring the fact that she’d just run into a stranger’s cabin in the woods to begin shouting, “Were those... zombies?!”

“A shining welcome to you, too,” the guide smiled, as he closed the door behind her. As if to accentuate her question, a loud scratching and snarling could be heard against the wood of the door and the walls outside, though it was soon drowned out by the gradually strengthening downpour. The girl gave a start, suddenly very keenly aware that she was being stared at. She looked around, bewildered.

Axl held up a hand in a half-wave, expression awkward, “Uh… hey.”

The girl took a moment to absorb the scene around her, from the utilitarian furnishings including but not restricted to an anvil, a loom, and a sawbench, but to the strangely nondescript guy who’d let her in, and the armored dork with his hand up, “...Okay, am I going crazy?“ She began, before a realization clicked, “...What are you wearing?” She peered at Axl’s armor, “Is that… lead?”

“No!” Axl reflexively snapped at the ludicrous question, before realizing he was in a ludicrous world, and she was, in fact, correct, “...Well... ...Yeah. Sort of.” He put his hand behind his head, embarrassed, “Doesn’t really feel like it, though.” He gestured with a thumb over to the guide, “Stronger than copper. Genius over there said it was stronger than iron, but I never found any-”

The girl just stared at him, looking somewhat mortified. This man was a loony.

The rain punctuated the uncomfortable silence like an inelegantly long string of ellipses, before Axl decided to break it in an ever so slightly more awkward fashion, “So, uh…” He held up his arms, gesturing toward her in a half-shrugging manner, “...Who... are you?”

The girl sighed heavily. Okay, he was a loony, but at least he seemed like a genuine and mostly harmless loony, “...Aura. Just call me Aura.”

“Actually,” The guide piped up, having returned to his seat by the forge, book in hand, “it’s Anna Paulette-Rhodes Anderson.” He smiled, wryly, opening his book and beginning to read it, “Aura’s her stage name.”

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa!” Aura threw her arms up as she whirled to face the other man, looking horrified, “Cool it with the creepy-”

The guide idly flipped a page, not looking up, “Her band name’s None of Your-”

“Okay, holy crap, STOP-” She unslung the guitar from her shoulder, gripping it tightly and looking just about ready to wield it as a weapon, “How do… Who are you!?” When she got no further response, she turned to Axl, eyes wide, “Who is this creep!?”

Axl felt a little bad for her, but at this point, he knew how she felt a little too much to correctly display his sympathy, “Hell if I know. He hasn’t told me, either.”

The girl’s eyes darted between them, before she relaxed, slightly, hesitantly slinging the guitar back over her shoulder, “Fine, whatever,” she tried to ignore the man who had returned to reading his book and pretending to be oblivious, and turned to Axl, “You?”

“Axl,” he began, before shooting a glance over at the guide and adding, “… Colin Eyre,” before the smarmy fellow could add it for him.

That was enough to get Aura to relax fully “...Haha, cool,” she mumbled, running her hand over her hair, “Axl, like in Guns ‘n-”

“-Don’t.” Axl snapped, before looking apologetic, “...Yes. My mom was a huge fan.” Saying that, though, his face contorted in realization, “...Ugh, I haven’t even thought about…” He pulled his helmet off and held it under his arm, running his armored fingers through his hair, “I’ve been gone so long, everyone’s probably worried sick… I’ve been dying so much I didn’t even think about-”

Aura tensed up again, “Wait, what?” She sounded genuinely shocked, somehow more than before, “Dying!?”

“Yeah, I… ...o-ohhh…” Axl trailed off, expression going grim, then worried, then very, very uncomfortable as he took in a sharp breath through his teeth,  ”...oh. Right.”

He knew things looked weird but the tension in the room made it feel like it had just gotten a lot worse, and it was already pretty bad, “Look it’s hard to explain, but… Ever since I got here, I…” He began, before his own thought process derailed him on a sudden tangent, “...wait, how did you get here?”

She hesitated, glancing sidelong at the guide, who continued to say nothing, but his insufferably knowing smile said more than words. “Well, since there’s no hiding anything from King Stalker Creep over there anyway,” Gritting her teeth, she finally managed to hiss out, “I was setting up to play at a venue and,” It almost seemed physically painful for her to admit, “Well, okay, shut up, fine, I usually steal crap from the venues I play at, and while I was rummaging through the drawers in the dressing room I found this weird mirror, and-”

Axl’s expression darkened as he looked towards the ground, “Another one…” He mumbled, almost inaudibly and not meaning to interrupt her story, but doing so all the same. Aura blinked.

“Heh, I guess you found one too, huh?” Her eye and cheek twitched slightly, vaguely annoyed but also somewhat relieved that she wasn’t suffering this alone. Speaking of suffering...  “Well, whatever. What’s this you said about dying, again?”

“Oh, right… It’s kind of hard to explain, but…” Axl helplessly gestured over to the book on the table, “Well, I guess that’ll explain it. Sort of.” He put his helmet back on, a little too roughly and with a quiet “ow” before adding, “It should at least give you an idea what you’ve gotten yourself into…” He paused, looking at her confused expression, before feeling guilty, “...completely on accident.”

Aura shook her head and dropped her soaked guitar on the ground, string-side to the table with a twang that made even Axl cringe and whisper “oh god” before she shrugged and muttered, “Don’t worry about it, it’s an old piece of crap anyway.” She picked up the journal. On the cover was scrawled, in awful handwriting, the words “Death Notes”.

“Great, a friggin’ weeb,” she mumbled under her breath as she opened it. And frowned. The handwriting inside wasn’t much better.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing,” she idly dismissed, before quickly glancing across a few pages. Her eyes narrowed a bit, unsettled but with an appropriate amount of morbid curiosity, “You know, I can’t help but notice like a third of these just say “Fell.””

“Look,” Axl shot, defensively, before adjusting his glasses, “...Look, my prescription is at least three years out of date, and it’s dark down there. Even WITH torches.”

“Uh-huh,” she didn’t believe him, as she started looking a bit more closely at the more unique entries, “What’s a chasm creatur-”

“-purple place, ”Axl cut her off, looking momentarily mortified, “dontwannatalkbouddit.”

Aura’s eyes went slightly wider, before she half-rolled them, “Oookay,” she continued to read, “...Slime... bats... piran-… ...’Giant effing spinning skull’-” she snapped the book shut, “-look, are you kidding me?!” Aura slammed the book down on the table, only to shudder at a particularly loud gurgling hiss and rattle on the door from outside.

“I mean… just listen to what’s going on out there. You saw it yourself on your way in.” Axl’s expression was genuinely pained, if only because it hurt to not be believed after he’d gone through all that himself, “I’m not joking.” He gestured to the door, shoulders drooping, “It’s been like that every night, and that’s not the worst of it here. I really wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy, but it’s how I gotta live, now.” His head lowered to match his low shoulders, “And how I, apparently, gotta die.”

“And you… remember every death?” The girl seemed to be warming up, somewhat horrified to think about what that must have been like considering some of the more… detailed entries she’d managed to catch a glance of, “Like, you wake up... and remember how you died?”

“Yeah,” he forced an apologetically pained smirk, adjusting his glasses, “My death perception really sucks.”

After a brief pause, Aura rolled her eyes with a groan, whispering to herself, “Oh, son of a-”

“Oh come on!” Axl slapped his thigh, the loud clang from the metal on metal making him go “ow-!” again, only slightly louder this time. Taking a moment for his ears to stop ringing, he continued, “After watching your innards become outards at least four times in about a week, what other way is there to cope than to try to find a way to laugh about it afterward?”

“I can think of a few things..,” Aura scowled. She still felt very bad at how very honest this guy’s words felt, but at the same time it was all way too far-fetched for her the more she thought about it, “Ugh, I can’t believe this. This has got to be some kind of elaborate joke. A really bad one.” She pulled out her phone; a slick black smartphone, and tried to turn it on. It wouldn’t. “Oh, come on- are you KIDDING? I JUST charged you!”

“Hah, feel my pain, I thought the same thing,” Axl threw his arms out to the side in exasperation before pulling out his own dead phone to hold it up, while looking at hers, “Man, that’s fancy-looking. Where’d you get th-”

“Whoa, WHOA, let me see that!” Before Axl could muster any exclamation of resistance, she rushed over and snatched the old flip-phone from his hand to examine more closely, “Holy crap, this is ancient. Why do you even have something this ol-” She turned it over to see the stickers on the back, “...You have… Dragon Ball Z stickers… on your phone.”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with th-”

“Oh my-” She quickly thrust the phone back in his direction, eyes wide and staring off vaguely in the direction of the ground. As he took the phone back, she clutched the side of her head with the hand that was holding it, “Holy crap, you are a weeb. I’m stuck in an actual goddamn zombie apocalypse with a friggin’ weeb.”

Axl scowled a bit, though more out of confusion than actual offense, “Look, I don’t even know what that is, but I can tell from your tone it’s an insult and I’d really rather you didn’t-”

Aura stared at him, palms up in an exasperated gesture, “How could you not know? You don’t look that much older than me!”

“That…” Axl half-mimiced her posture and hand movements, feeling rattled, “...doesn’t mean a thing-??”

Aura groaned frustratedly, rubbing her forehead, “Frigging- I guess it makes sense that you don’t have internet with a phone that crap-”

“Hey, I’ve got an idea!” the guide suddenly piped up from his seat by the fire, causing both of them to jump. They’d gotten so engaged in their conversation - mostly due to Axl being genuinely thrilled to get to talk to another human who seemed to have come from the real world, as irritated as he was getting with the way the conversation had turned -  that they’d forgotten he was there. “Why don’t you, Ax, say what year it is?”

“How does that-?” Axl started, but cut himself off with a sigh, seeing the guide’s condescending smile and head-tilt, “2008.”

“...You’re out of your mind. It’s 2014.” Aura moved her hand from her forehead to her face, mumbling under her breath, “Sweet merciful Horus, why am I stuck with this-”

“Wha- No it’s not! It can’t be!” Axl tried to bring his own hand to his head, only to clang his helmet and look extremely startled and displeased by that before taking the helmet back off and dropping it on the table for the time being, “I know this is magic nonsense land, but there’s no way I was here for that long!”

“Never said you were,” the guide interjected before going back to his book. He seemed very amused by the banter as he chuckled to himself. Both Axl and Aura glared at him, at least coming to one unspoken agreement in that neither of them liked him.

“Forget it, I shouldn’t be surprised by anything anymore,” Axl droned, frustrated, throwing his arms up before reaching into his bag, “Whatever. I suppose if you’re going to hang here, at least for a little while, I might as well build you your own room…”

“First, what makes you think I want to stay here, second, how the Hell do you just build a roo- what is that?” Aura’s indignance was cut short upon seeing Axl pull the scroll out of the bag, which seemed far too small to contain it.

“This?” Axl looked down at it quizzically, as if only just then registering that it didn’t exactly look like an average run-of-the-mill tool, “It’s... hard to explain…” He unrolled it, turning it around to show Aura. There were a number of small symbols, almost like pictographs - a few accompanied by rune-like numbers - scattered about the strangely reflective paper in a grid, “You probably have one, yourself. Just reach into an empty pocket or whatever while expecting it, and it should be there.”

The girl didn’t even think to believe such a claim, but just to humor this crazy man, she did just that. She was surprised to find that she did, in fact, possess such a scroll, “What the-?”  She opened it, and furrowed her brow upon finding it was empty; just a strangely silvery, grid-like framework. “What is it?”

Axl shrugged, “Some sort of weird bag-of-holding thing. Extremely useful, as you could guess,” he gestured over to the guide with his head. Though still feeling tense and uneasy, he could at least appreciate that the earlier argument had diffused into this, “It’s one of the few objects Mr. Smart-Alec over there can’t explain in depth and with any certainty.” He closed his own scroll, but didn’t return it to his pocket, instead holding it in its rolled state.

The guide added idly, not to be shown up, “The working hypothesis is that it’s somehow linked to the mirrors that brought you two here.” He held up his hands with a strangely accepting smile, “I may know nearly everything about this world, and then some, but certain mysteries are still hidden from even me.”

“Yeah, well,” Axl shrugged, “I don’t think it matters how or why it works, just that it does.”

The guide half-nodded before regarding Aura, “When you arrived there were some tools nearby for you to pick up, but you probably missed them looking for shelter from the rain and zombies.” He pointed in the direction of the door with his thumb, “When the morning breaks, you might want to go back and get the-”

“Don’t bother, that stuff’s crap anyway,” Axl mumbled as he began to head up the stairs, “I have enough leftover materials to probably make you some better stuff. Hell, there’s a silver bow and some arrows in that chest by the anvil,” he pointed, “Made it for myself, but turns out I’m a godawful shot, but who knows, maybe you’ll be better.”

As the strange, armored man disappeared to the higher floors, Aura plunked down on the chair, feeling defeated by absolutely everything. With a sigh and an idle kick at her guitar, she picked up Axl’s journal of deaths and started reading through it again… this time, more thoroughly.

Was this what she had to look forward to..?

[wordshappensometimes]

Desperate Measures (Soulmate AU)

Summary: Soulmate AU, you and everyone you know has the first thing their soulmate will ever say to them tattooed to their wrist. But what happens when your tattoo bares one of the most generic, unoriginal greetings in the book?

A/N: No particular fandom here, but I wrote it so that you could insert/imagine whatever paring you’d want. I’ve had this idea for ages and finally finished the story i started a few months back. Soulmate AU’s give me so many questions I needed to imagine a least a few answers for my self... so many possibilities. (if you have other soulmate AU prompts send em my way!)

Words: 1,536

Warnings: some swearing, memories of an instance of abuse/fight

You sat in the busy cafe, minding only your coffee, your book, and your own business. It was more crowded than usual for a Tuesday, but as long as you were able to find a table for yourself you were fine with the extra hustle and bustle. You’d just finished your coffee when you felt a pair of eyes on you from across the room. You shifted slightly in your seat and endeavored to focus on your reading- the plot was just starting to get good and you were hardly sure you’d be able to put the book down until you finished it.

A few minutes later you noticed a young man- probably about your age- moving towards you from where he’d been seated by the window. He slowly made his way through the mass of people grumpily waiting for their mornin’ fix until he arrived at your table. He smiled almost sheepishly at you:

“Hey.”

“Zucchini” you replied.

“W-what?”

“Zucchini?” You asked, raising your eyebrows and smiling hopefully.

The man before you shook his head in confusion. “I-I don’t know what you mean...”

Your expression dropped slightly and you let out a sigh. “Sorry about that, worth a shot.”

The man continued to stare at you like you had 3 heads, so you lifted your sleeve to reveal your left wrist. The elegant cursive font and black ink was known to everyone, even those who hadn’t turned 18 yet, and upon seeing your mark the man immediately understood.

“Ohhh. Damn, that’s gotta be annoying.”

You laughed dryly. “Tell me about it.”

You looked down at your own wrist, examining the word you’d been wearing for 8 years now.

“Hey!”

Why couldn’t your soulmate have been a little more creative with their first words to you? Did they have any idea how many times in a given day people greeted each other with that simple, stupid word?

“Hey!”

You rolled your eyes slightly and looked back up at the guy who’d approached you with a smile.

“Don’t suppose you’ve got ‘zucchini’ written there, do ya?” You chuckled because you already knew the answer.

“Sorry, no such luck.” He pulled up his left sleeve to reveal his soulmate’s first words.

“Do you mind? I’m trying to read.”

You laughed aloud. “Don’t tell me you’ve been going around and bothering every person you see with a book?”

“Kinda seems like I have to, doesn’t it?” He shrugged his shoulders and chuckled.

You shook your head at the absurdity of it all. It was like as soon as everyone turned 18 they had a new mission in life: find their soulmate, figure out what possible context they could have spoken their first words to you in and approach every single person who looked like they might fit the bill. It was a common practice, really, so it didn’t surprise you, but after being dealt the most commonly used, least specific greeting in the book, you’d grown admittedly bitter about the whole thing. And besides, there was no guarantee that’d you’d ever actually meet your soulmate, so all that work could end up being for nothing.

“Well it was nice to meet you... Good luck.” The guy smiled sympathetically before turning to leave.

“Yeah, you too.”

You turned back to your book’s plot, which was progressing quite excitingly, unlike most other things in your life.

After reading for a moment you realized that you had zoned out and hadn’t actually absorbed any of the words you were seeing, so you went back and started the paragraph over again. Your eyes scanned the lines of the page once, twice, three times, but you couldn’t get the words to stick, couldn’t focus... couldn’t stop thinking about the damned ink on your wrist and the path you had thought your life was on not-so-long ago.

You rolled your eyes; how many years were you going to spend regretting this? How many more times were you going to have to relive the same pathetic story?

He’d said “Hey.”

You’d said “Hello there.”

And from the look of shock on his face and the blush rising in his cheeks you knew, you just knew, you’d found your one. Your destined match, your soulmate. He had your words, you had his, it was a match made in the stars.

You slapped your book shut and slouched back in your seat with a huff as the memories came back to you in a rush. God, you were so naive.

And he was everything you had pictured him to be too, the exact kind of guy you’d been attracted to your whole life... not that it counted for much- for most people it was soulmate or bust, why waste time building a life with someone who definitely wasn’t “the one.” But he was perfect, at the very least perfect to look at anyway. Sure things were rough at first, you were strangers to each other; there was a lot of catching up to do and the rest of forever to get ready for.

Bumps in the road were normal. This was normal.

A chill of disgust ran through your body. You slid your book into your purse, got up and made your way towards the cafe exit. Maybe a change of scenery would help get him off of your mind.

As you pushed open the door you remembered how excited everyone had been for you. Your mom cried, your friends threw you a party, you were on top of the world.

As you got to know each other, it didn’t seem like you had a whole lot of shared interests, and your world views couldn’t have been more different, but that happened from time to time with soulmates. You’d heard all sorts of stories of soulmates who started out hating each other until they finally figured out how to make things work.

You were a pessimist, he was blindingly optimistic. This was normal. You recycled with religious ferocity, he tossed his garbage out his car window. Totally normal for soulmates. You loved the beach, he couldn’t stand salt water... or sand. Normal, fine, whatever, you’d vacation somewhere else. You were in one political party, he, of course, was in another. A perfectly normal, though annoying bump in the road. You were a strict monogamist, he said that sleeping around was fine because your soulmate would always be there in the end. That was... not great, but just another bump in the road you told yourself.

You swung your leg over the seat of your bike, strapped on your helmet, and hopped your bike down off the sidewalk onto the street.

But how many problems did soulmates usually have? How many bumps in the road was normal? How many bumps did it take before you’d finally started to question whether he was worth all the time, tears and screaming.

Too damn many.

He thought soulmates should stay together, no matter what, you slammed the door in his face after he threw a bottle at you and never looked back.

You hooked a right onto 5th Ave, feet flying as you furiously pedaled along with traffic, your blood officially boiling from all the emotions that came with these unwelcome memories. Anger, remorse, shame. Oh god, the shame.

You’d wasted far more years than you’d like to count on a supposed soulmate, and while you hadn’t given up completely on the idea that they might be out there somewhere, you certainly weren’t actively looking for them anymore. The best you could do was live your life how you wanted for now and see what happened. But it seemed rather hard (read: impossible) to do that when you could barely manage to stop thinking about him. Shit, what if he was the one? What if you walked away from the only soulmate etched for you in the stars by destiny itself?

You shook your head. No, stop it. You told yourself you’d stop thinking like that. Well it’s not every day that someone walks out on their supposed soulmate. You’re better than this. Am I?

Suddenly the car you’re riding beside edges into the bike lane, forcing you up onto the sidewalk.

“Hey!”

Jumping the curb, you to swipe into a passerby and lose control of your bike. It slides out from under you and knocks into someone else, laying you out flat on the pavement.

You look up from your sprawled position on the ground to see fresh produce spilled all over the sidewalk and an angry pair of hands clutching a ripped grocery bag.

“What the hell?!”

“Oh!” You jump up to your feet, out of breath and absolutely brimming with indignation. “OKay, so it’s fine if I get hit by a goddamn car, but god forbid you drop your precious fucking kale!”

The angry expression before you immediately melts away into amused confusion which turns into laughter.

“And here all this time I thought that’d be yelled at me in a grocery store parking lot or something.”

A hand reaches to pull up a sleeve, but you don’t even need to see it to know. You know, and you know it’s for real this time. Well, sure beats zucchini.

[privatemessage]

Carla’s Coffee Bar: Mycroft

Mycroft reached Carla’s Coffee Bar just under ten minutes later, with more than a touch of trepidation. He’d been forced to postpone a finance meeting for this. He just hoped Lestrade wasn’t going to make a damn fuss.

He ordered two flat whites, and took a table in the corner.

He then sat down to wait. As he did, he checked his emails on his phone, hoping to ease some of his tension.

His heart leapt as he spotted a new private message from Dick - but there was no time to answer it. The door of the coffee house had opened with a jingle.

Here we go, Mycroft thought. 

He braced himself to be patient and tried giving Greg a smile, reminding himself that at least there was Dick to reply to when all this was over. He’d meant to write Dick something for days now. Real life kept intruding - real life in the guise of Greg Damn Lestrade.

“Flat white,” he said, nudging the cup towards the inspector as he approached. “I’m afraid I haven’t brought you any flowers.”

Greg took the proffered coffee. “Flowers… hmm,” he said. “I’ll forgive you, since your apology was so sincere… not. Look, shall we just start over?

Mycroft winced a little. He’d known this was going to be difficult. As the inspector sat down, Mycroft reflected to himself that this would all be so much easier if Lestrade wasn’t so… photogenic. He had one of those eternally likeable, almost mischievous faces, and it just did things to Mycroft. Lestrade was the sort of man who looked like he’d smell good.

God alive, I need to get laid… Mycroft thought. Before I go insane.

He lifted his coffee to his lips.

"Yes,” he said. “Perhaps we could. For Sherlock’s sake. You and I are both intelligent, reasonable professionals, after all… there’s no reason we shouldn’t get along.” He blew across the surface of his cup. “How has your morning been?”

“Not bad actually,” Lestrade said. “Thought it would be mayhem after my two days off, but the criminals seem to have taken a sabbatical. It’s quiet. Got all my paperwork finished by ten.”

Mycroft took a first sip of coffee, briefly closing his eyes. His heart belonged to tea and always would - but lately, coffee had been the only thing keeping him on his feet. Decent stuff like this, anyway.

“By ten?” he said. “Heavens… sometimes I haven’t finished mine by ten at night.”

He looked up over his coffee, briefly meeting Lestrade’s eyes. Sweet stars, but the man was attractive. Life is unfair, he thought.

“I - wondered if we might set up a visiting schedule for Sherlock. Alternate visits, perhaps. To take some of the pressure away from John.”

Greg nodded. “I can do most times until a case comes in… but as you know, work will pull rank, unless you can do some magic with the boss. Do you know how long Sherlock will be in for? You said something about test results in your email.”

“Oh - yes, of course…” Mycroft reached inside his coat, extracting the sheath of documents he’d been given by the clinic. “It’s - largely medical jargon,” he said with a frown, unfolding them and offering them to Greg. “Take a look if you wish. The short answer is they want to keep him in for two more weeks. His headaches are quite pronounced, and he’s still not entirely in control of what he says…”

He watched Greg drink the coffee, one eyebrow lifting ever so slightly.

“Good?” he inquired.

Tell me that it’s good, you beautiful bastard.

Greg reached for the papers. His fingers brushed Mycroft’s as he took them.

The brief shock of touch burned all ideas about gloating out of Mycroft’s head. He maintained a fiercely neutral expression as he busied his fingers on the coffee cup, drinking while Greg read.

“Well,” Greg said. “I hope they manage to keep him in for two weeks. Once he’s feeling better, he’ll be climbing the walls.”

“Mm… that might be our main challenge, I fear. We’ll need things to occupy him. If you have any challenging cases, now might be a golden opportunity for you to delegate… have a relaxing two weeks for yourself.”

Mycroft smiled a little, sipping his coffee. He was trying to ignore the slight tingling in his fingers where Greg had touched him. He was also trying to ignore the thought of pushing Greg up against the nearest wall.

“Perhaps head off to Mexico,” he suggested, eyes dark. “Sea, sand…”

What in God’s name am I saying? Oh, hell.

“I have about a dozen cold case files,” Greg said. “If you would okay it with the powers that be, I’ll release them into his care. Thing is, Mycroft… er…. I know you’re aware, but Sherlock can’t be seen to have anything to do with these particular cases. Suffering from a head injury, should any of these come to trial, they would be thrown out if word got out that he had a hand in the investigation and was not compos mentis.”

“I’ll see to it that his name stays off any records,” Mycroft promised. “If you need to attach a name to anything, put mine… it usually shuts down any awkward questions rather quickly…”

There was a pause.

“So…” Greg said. “Have you ever been to Mexico?”

Mycroft eyed Greg over the rim of his coffee cup as he took another sip. Casual holiday chat, he thought. The peak of civility.

“Ah… only to check up on all the people I’ve had deported there.” Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “More of a - European city break sort of person. Art galleries. Opera houses.”

“Can’t say I’ve been to much of anywhere,” Greg said. “This Job isn’t conducive to family holidays. I was going to go to Barcelona before the divorce, but she took the plans when she took the cash.”

He seemed to pause.

“Was going to see the Sagrada Familia,” he said. “The idea of such an amazing building still being built after such a length of time… makes me feel quite small. Do you know it?”

Mycroft stared across the table in amazement.

“The Sagrada Família - …” he said. “Yes, it’s - magnificent. But then as are most of Gaudí’s designs. It’s… a Gothic masterpiece. You really must see it.”

He wondered if he was dreaming.

“You know Spanish architecture,” he said.

Inspector Lestrade was full of surprises. Mycroft had had him down as a beach-and-a-beer sort of man.

Greg looked at him across the table, an eyebrow raised. “You don’t like much… do you, Mr Holmes?”

Mycroft was still trying to reconcile the man in front of him, casually discussing Spanish architecture, with the man who had spent the week winding him up by e-mail. The question took him by surprise.

His brow contracted faintly.

“I like a number of things,” he protested. “Art. Tea. Literature. Peace and quiet.”

“So, do I, Mr Holmes,” Greg said. “So do I. I think if we got to know each other instead of biting each other’s heads off, we might have some things in common”

Mycroft found himself faced with a man perhaps far wiser than he’d wanted to believe. It made him feel uneasy.

’Things in common’, he thought. It quietened his heart.

What could he possibly have in common with the widely-liked, easygoing and brave Inspector Lestrade?

He was a politician who the public didn’t even know existed; an erotic writer who hadn’t felt someone else touch his skin in over a year; an older brother who always seemed to make the wrong decisions, no matter which ones he made.

He spent so much of his time on other people. And yet everyone knew him as a cold-hearted bastard.

He wondered if it was easy to be Lestrade. It looked it. Maybe Lestrade was just better at being who he actually was.

It took Mycroft a moment to find something suitable to say - some piece of light conversation he could throw out with a faint smile.

“Yes, well… perhaps it is easy to misread each other by email. Tone is difficult to interpret by text alone.”

He picked up his coffee, hiding his expression behind it as he drank.

Greg settled back in his chair.

“Oh, yeah…” he said. “Nice coffee, by the way.” He grinned.

Mycroft’s brief moment of pity evaporated at once. He was disarmed enough to flash a grin across the table, saying, with a delighted glitter of his eyes,

“Yes, inspector. Yes, it is. I’m glad your re-education about these things has now begun.”

A thought tingled into his mind.

“Stay there,” he said.

He proceeded to the counter, returning a couple of minutes later carrying a plate and two forks. Upon the plate was a slice of cake so richly filled with espresso and chocolate that it was almost black.

Mycroft placed it down upon the table, handed Lestrade a fork, and said, “Proper breakfast.”

As he sat down, taking up his own fork, he added,

“They call it ‘Better Than Sex’… the jury is still out, but it’s a viable contender.”

He waited for Lestrade to eat first, watching his reaction with interest. He was delighted to see Greg tuck in with gusto.

He was even more delighted by the groan.

“Ohhh… delicious.”

Mycroft gripped his hands together very hard beneath the table, his knuckles whitening. It wasn’t even noon, and he already knew exactly what he would be thinking about tonight when he got into bed. He would be thinking about it in some detail.

It almost wrote itself. Slowly he laved his tongue through the mess of crumbs and chocolate smeared across Greg’s chest, listening with delight to the groans it envoked, feeling the man arch beneath him. He took a second handful of cake from by the bed…

God on high. I must stop this. I must stop this now.

“Well, Mycroft…” Lestrade was saying. “You win the battle of the cake and the coffee!”

“Well,” Mycroft said, taking a moment to retrieve his thoughts from the floor. “I’m glad I could be of service.” He drank the last of his coffee. “This has been… productive.”

Greg coughed quietly.

“I’m expecting a phone call soon, Mr Holmes… as delightful as the cake and coffee have been, I should take my leave. Would you like me to drop in Sherlock tonight? We seem to have neglected to formulate a plan to visit him…”

“Ah - yes, if you could,” Mycroft said. “That would be rather convenient, actually… I have a personal engagement tonight. I probably won’t be contactable. But if you could leave me a short message to let me know how he is… I might not reply until morning.”

Mycroft had spent enough of his life telling diplomatic lies not to feel too guilty. In truth, his 'personal engagement’ was going to be entirely with himself, a pot of Earl Grey and his keyboard, then probably not long after to bed - though not to sleep.

The thought of his favourite reader flickered briefly across his mind. He felt strangely guilty - lusting after Lestrade, while somewhere out there was Dick, waiting for a reply to his message. But then, Mycroft supposed, they were not in a relationship. Dick could well have a partner. Hell, he might have a wife and children. He hardly belonged to Mycroft, nor Mycroft to him. The poor man didn’t even know his real name.

He would write to Dick tonight, he thought. Share a few messages. It would help distract him, however briefly, from the thought of Lestrade covered in cake.

“Well,” he said. “Thank you for… arranging this.”

Greg  stretched as he stood, licking his lips for any stray crumbs. His eyes flitted quickly over Mycroft.

He then reached out and offered a hand. “It’s been nice meeting you in less tense circumstances, Mr Holmes. Maybe we could…”

Mycroft’s eyes flickered over the outstretched hand. He knew something so simple shouldn’t have caused such a leaping of his heart, but it had - and he rather hated it. Touching palms with someone now made him feel as giddy as pulling a lover’s clothes off once had. It was a sorry state of affairs, he realised.

He forced himself to assume a professional expression, took Greg’s hand in a completely neutral manner, and shook it politely.

“Yes. Perhaps this is a better way of communicating. If we - find ourselves in tense circumstances in the future, then perhaps we should - …”

A mobile phone somewhere nearby started to ring.

In the same moment that Mycroft realised the phone ringing was Greg’s, he recognised the tune.

His brow darkened at once.

“Is that - …?” It was unmistakable. The surprising news that Greg was an Elton John fan was lost in Mycroft’s immediate annoyance at the tinny melody of ’Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word’. He stared at Greg, biting the end of his tongue. “I hope that’s not a recent artistic choice of yours.”

Greg grimaced.

“Oh, for God’s sake, lighten up!” he said. “A wise man once told me that when you’ve lost your sense of humour, you’ve lost everything,”

Mycroft glared.

Then he felt the edges of his mouth quiver slightly. His eyes glinted, as he told Greg,

“I always get my own back.”

He smiled; it reached his eyes.

Whatever retort Lestrade had been planning, it stuck in his throat. Mycroft enjoyed the transfixed expression for a moment - committing it to memory.

He’d be revisiting it later.

[cutegirlmayra]

Emotion Sonamy Prompt

Couple: Sonamy

World: Sonic X (loosely based off of. Mostly for Sonic’s character traits.)

Go!

“No!” Amy’s head shook, her fists up towards her, as electrical waves sparked different parts of her mind, coming from a secret mechanism that was tucked under headband without her knowing.

In her frenzy, unable to control her words or emotions, Sonic slowly advanced to her, seeing she was getting dangerously close to a cliff.

“Amy... Just think a sec..” Sonic was taking the moment very seriously... He knew something was wrong with Amy, she may be dramatic sometimes, but not hysterical.

He held a hand out, but she once again, in a violent movement, shook out her body to try and get him away, stepping back as some pebbles fell the depth of the cliff behind her foot...

“Urk..!” Sonic bit down on his teeth, a sweatdrop dripping down, seeing that this was getting dangerous fast!

He couldn’t talk her out of it, she was too far gone in... in whatever was wrong with her!

He had to move fast, to where she couldn’t react fast enough to fight back.

He narrowed his eyes and waited a second...

Something in him not wanting to have it come to this...

“Amy,.. just calm down. What’s wrong?” Sonic held out his hands, trying to talk to her.

Her swinging of her body never stopped, as she gripped her head, and then finally remained still. “Leave me alone.... alone... all alone...” She was muttering nonsense, so far as he was concerned.

He lowered his head.

“GO AWAY!” Amy’s abrupt shout made the ground under her begin to crack, and Sonic’s immediate instinct couldn’t be held back anymore.

“You leave me no choice..!” Sonic dashed forward, fast enough to get a hold on each arm.

“Let me go! Let me go!” She wasn’t even able to look at him, it seemed, as her whole body fought against him, moving back towards the edge.

Sonic used every bit of tension in his body... wishing he didn’t have to be rough with her... but she wasn’t making being ‘the nice guy’ easy!

He quickly tried to thrust her behind him, but her stance was unmovable. There was some sort of frenzied power she was summoning up, and she was even proving a challenge for him!

“Erk...A-Amy...” he suddenly saw her jolt, and looked up to notice a spark from her headband. “Huh..? Hmm.” he glared, realizing his next move.

He pulled her arms forward and himself back, using her energy against her, as she fell forward and grabbed her headband.

Since the mechanism was connected underneath it, he saw it slip a little, with chords and without thinking, immediately disconnected it, ripping it off her head.

The result of which was painful, as the chords were sucked off her skull and started flinging around sparks in the air, before Sonic let Amy stumble forward.

Her headband in one hand, and the mechanism in another, he quickly threw down the headband and broke the mechanism with his knee. “Ruah!”

Amy breathed heavily, as she followed the energy of being pulled forward and ran into the forest.

Sonic looked back to see she still wasn’t herself, and put a hand forward to rush after her, before hearing Tails...

“Sooooniiiccc!” Tails waved, flying down, and watching Amy disappear into the dense forest. “..What’s going on?”

“....” Sonic looked down, worried.

“Sonic..?” Tails turned his attention back to Sonic.

“Take this.” He gave Tails the device.

“Ah,..! This..?”

“I’m going after, Amy.” Sonic took off into forest.

“Wait! What is..!? Aaand you’re gone.” He sighed, before feeling a spark on his hand. “Ow! ...huh?” he looked at the device, and then nodded, turning around and flying off. “Knuckles! New plan! Meet me back at my place!” he spoke into an ear piece.

“But what about-?”

“Not now! I think something might have happened between Sonic and Amy! And I think this device might have a connection to it.” he held it up in front of him, and then narrowed his own eyes in conviction. “Hang on, Amy! Sonic!”

Furthering her run, the effects of the device started to wane, and she looked around her, before breaking down in tears, falling and losing all the adrenaline she had once had. Being able to think clearly, she looked around, gripping her head. “What... why did I do that..? Why was I...?” she felt so vulnerable, clinging to her arms to hold herself, she just wanted secure shelter, something to help her calm down.

As she cried, she looked around and started to get back up, clumsily, and dashed away.

Falling again on her face, she slowly looked up through the pain of the impact to faintly see a tree with a dark hole just under it.

She crawled to it, seeing some form of protection and comfort in it, and immediately brought her knees up and held her hand near her face. She was confused, not sure what had just happened, but was extremely upset about something, and couldn’t understand why.

“What would have Amy dash off like that?” Knuckles asked, as Sonic raced through the forest, taking any path, any direction... Amy’s headband held tightly in one of his hands.

“I don’t know... all I do know though, is that this device-” suddenly, his readings zinged to life, and he quickly looked up to his monitors. “Ah! Of course!” he quickly dashed to another monitor, typing things fast as a blue dot, moving wildly around the board, side to side, and a pink dot blinked a while away from him.

“Tails..?” Knuckles walked up to him, “Care to let me in on your discoveries?” he folded his arms, and made a bit of an offended face.

“R-right, sorry. It’s just...” he quickly turned on his communicator.

As Sonic dashed to and fro, he heard the mic on his ear turn on, and Tails’s worried voice flicker on. “Sonic! I found out what happened to Amy!”

Sonic turned to look back to the sound.

“Amy’s somehow gotten this thing to latch onto her head, it then sends pulses like sparks into certain parts of her brain, triggering emotional distress. Amy’s having an emotional episode she can’t just naturally come down from! You have to her find! She’s probably slowly coming too, but that doesn’t mean her body still won’t be suffering from the effects. You’ve just gotta make sure she’s okay, Sonic!”

Sonic, with every bit of being in him, ran quicker.

“I have her on my monitor, move west.”

As if on command, Sonic kept his face forward, and immediately turned to the direction.

“Now Southeast! Not so fast! Stop! It says she’s right around there somewhere.”

Gripping her headband, Sonic walked around and couldn’t see anything. “She’s not here, Tails.” Sonic kept a low tone, before his ear flickered at an odd sound. “Wait.. I’m getting something..”

He clearly... was hearing sobbing.

“!” his eyes widened quickly, and he took out the ear piece, “Found her. Keep the garage open, I’m bringing her in.”

“Sonic! Be careful! She’s still in a lot of emotional distress and discord! You need to be patient.. and... please, be kind! She can’t think straight, nor control what’s she feeling!”

“...Thanks for the heads-up Tails. I’m going in without you.”

“...R-right.. be careful...”

The communicator flickered off, and Sonic stopped right in front of the tree.

He slowly bent down, and moved under.

Her whole body quaked at the sight of him, and she kicked herself further into the tree. Her eyes looked terrorized, and shifted over him a billion times.

As he watched her, he completely forfeited the whole ‘talk it out’ strategy from before, and slowly moved in closer.

She duck her head down, “Don’t!... D-don’t come near me... I... I’ve never wanted to be alone... as much as I do right now.” she had her hands under her, as they shivered and she couldn’t control their shaking. “I... I want to be alone.. I want to be shoved under this tree and never come out! G-go away!”

“....You’re never alone... Amy.” Sonic just normally moved into the space available, and watched out for any resistance.

Surprisingly, she only flinched and brought her knees up again, trying to keep as far from him as possible.

“Ohhh... oooohhh...” Tails paced back and forth, clearly agonizing over the scenes of what Amy must be going through, according to his data.

“So... Amy’s having a bit of a crisis... and turning into a mess. It’s not like this hasn’t happened before, right..? She’ll be alright, the thing’s off her head, anyway.” Knuckles, not doing a great job of comforting, was trying to point out the positives to him, hoping to calm him down. “And this is Sonic we’re talking about. You know how Amy is.” he shrugged, as Tails furiously whipped around.

“NO! You don’t understand at all!” he quickly moved over to the broken device, and put a plastic bowl over it.

“This is Amy’s brain.” he explained, and then hit something on the keyboard.

Suddenly, A thousand sparks, mostly centered in one general direction, flew up at random moments, striking similarly to the same area.

Tails looked more serious than ever, “If this thing wasn’t broken, I’d calculate it’s speed to be 20 shocks per minute, which is mostly aiming for the trauma side of the brain. Whoever implanted this here, wanted this to cause a meltdown in it’s victim. In other words-! Even Sonic hasn’t deal with this kind of fragile imbalance Amy must be displaying! Her emotions are taking over and draining her. This literally is trying to simulate stress! Do you know what happens in Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?” Tails was almost shouting these things now, making Knuckles worried, seeing as Tails was also losing it over this.

He looked at the machine, seeing it’s effects burn a small portion onto the plastic bowl...

“The brain naturally creates a channel, literally carving it into itself, for stress that can’t be naturally released. Amy couldn’t naturally release this strain on her side of the brain, and because of where it was aimed, it literally PAVED A HIGHWAY in her mind! Making it easier for her to suffer from it again and again! Messing with the brain is never an easy fix! Sonic-!”

“Will find a way!” Knuckles finally blurted out, dropping his hands in the exasperated gesture. “Look. I may not be as fancy with mechanics as you are, Tails. But I know Amy. She’s tough. And I know she’ll find a way to... release or whatever you were saying, the stress from her head.” He put his hands on his hips, and waited for a reply.

“...But it won’t go away that easily...” Tails looked down, doubting...

“Let’s face it. Sonic’s probably not there for an easy fix, either...” Knuckles folded his arms. “He’s probably just as worried as we are... he’s just trying to stay calm and think things through. Isn’t that what you’re always telling us?”

Tails closed his eyes, accepting that this was as much help he could give Amy right now, and there was nothing he could do. “You’re right.” he lifted his head, and looked back to the screen. “If anyone can set Amy, even just a little bit back to her right self... then... she’ll be okay.” His eyebrows bended back, afraid his friend may suffer longer than just the coming out of the moment... it was an episode alright.. and he had no idea how long that thing had been on her head, and how long it had kept her from wondering about it...

“...Amy? Do you remember that time you were scared to jump... over the ravine?”

Sonic was laying on his back, hands under his head, as Amy continued to try and breathe calmly to the side.

“.. I... I don’t.” she admitted.

“Huh? Really? Oh... well, you were very brave.” Sonic smiled, remembering the fond memory.

“I told you not to look down, but of course, you did anyway, and even then you trusted me to catch you. It wasn’t a long drop or anything, but I held onto you tight, and in the end, you thought it was fun.”

He turned back to look at her, “You sure you don’t remember that?”

“My head hurts.” she quickly responded, clutching her hand to her head.

“...Hm.” Sonic got up a little, moving over to her.

She flinched, “No-!”

He caught her hand gently, “Just... relax... Amy. I’d never hurt you.” he didn’t like having to say that. It left an uncomfortable feeling throughout his being...

He normally would never have to say that, it would have just been obvious.

He reached a hand and noticed the spots where the wires must have gone... and frowned deeply, seeing they had singed her hair.

“I... I remember... Metal Sonic.”

He moved his hand, immediately looking down to her.

She still was clutching her head, “I.. I remember his eyes... I remember how scared I was... I... I’m afraid. Even now I can see him!”

“Amy!” Sonic put a hand down, “Calm down!”

“No! I want to be alone! I want-... I want my head to stop throbbing!” she tried to push him off, but he ended up just embracing her.

As she fought him, he held her there.

The kicking, screaming, and crying was definitely not her, but from what Tails said, this was her body’s reaction to the mind’s distress. She didn’t have much control over herself.

When she finally lost the energy to go on, he lowered his head, his eyes completely shut and unseen in the darkness.

“...I remember that. I rushed in and saw you huddled up, much like this, and I remember the second you saw me too... and how fast that smile came on to your face.” He pulled back, and noticed she was exhausted.

He thought maybe she passed out, and even though that made his heart beat a second faster in panic, he had to say this... at least, it could be the last bit of comfort she hears before completely falling out of consciousness.

“... I would do anything... to keep that smile on your face always... Amy.”

He had to hold her under him as he crawled out, but after doing so, he felt her squirm, and realized she wasn’t completely knocked out yet.

“Amy?”

“Ughh...” she blinked her eyes a bit, and then held onto him tight.

“...I ...” she breathed out, eyes still closed, as one hand found his arm, and held onto it with the last of her strength. “I remember this... you holding me... after all that... I felt so happy... so relieved.. for once in my life... I had someone to help me when I was scared... or lonely... or depressed... I felt... safe...”

Her head dropped.

“Amy..? Amy!” Sonic shook her, but she didn’t seem to be responding. “Dang it!” he quickly looped her around and held her over his shoulder, moving so fast that bridal style would have been a hassle.

Getting her to Tails, who did in fact open the garage door as he was told to do, rushed her in and immediately checked for drama signs.

For a few days, the team would keep one member with Amy, while they finished the adventure.

When Sonic finally found out the reasons behind the device, that it was a test to see if it could work, he was fuming with rage.

Needless to say... that adventure ended quickly.

It was Sonic’s turn this time, and as Amy walked out of her room, she saw him reading on Tails’s couch, before looking up and stumbling to his feet, and then slowly rising off his knees, having falling off the couch in his surprise, and the two stared at each other.

“...Morning.” Amy loosely smiled, before it faded quickly.

She was leaning on the frame of the door, and one arm gripped the other.

She still looked a bit timid and frightened, unsure of herself or her surroundings, but Sonic took a deep breath and tried to not let that get to him...

as it... did before.

“Heh. I think you mean afternoon.” he gestured to the window. “You’ve been out and back a few times from sleep, Amy... you never stay up for more than a few minutes... but... I am glad to see you moving again.”

“...I’m sorry.” Amy turned her head away from his. “I caused you all so much trouble... I made the adventure suck, didn’t I?”

“... It wasn’t an adventure, more like a nuisance.” Sonic folded his arms, and Amy squinted her eyes more shut. 

“But that wasn’t because of you. It was because someone had done that to you.”

Amy opened her eyes and looked back to Sonic, feeling uncertain.

“...Does that mean.. you found out..?”

“Yeah. But we can talk about that later.” Sonic walked up to her, “Hungry?”

“Famished.” she smiled.

For the next few days, Sonic was almost gentlemenly. He would move her chair out for her, act out funny scenes to make her laugh, and even bring her food. “Chilidogs! From the best place in town!”

She giggled, and Tails finally confirmed her emotional trauma was being treated well.

“It may always be a scary thing in the back of your head... but now,” He smiled, relieved at the results. “At least you can laugh again. And not feel like you’ve got something firing a railroad through your skull.”

For some reason, after that moment, Amy felt Sonic be more protective of her during Eggman attacks, but would always smile when she noticed it.

Not only was it showing that the trauma may have affected him as well, but it also showed he meant what he said.

“...You’re never alone...”

(I wrote this starting at 2 Am, it’s 3:30 am, goodnight everybody!)

[kyberled]

extra sad part in Braig's story the entirety of the fact that his mentor is someone he clearly has an attachment too and yet,,,,No Attachments my dude

 Point out sad parts about my character’s story. || Accepting

Okay this is actually horrible because it seriously messed up his ability to form positive healthy relationships without feeling some sort of remorse or guilt or self-loathing, but tbh Obi’s one of the only relationships he doesn’t really feel those things with like at all (unless it’s a Really Bad Day, but this is one of the better ones) and might be the only one he doesn’t have hang-ups about. This is in part because that’s just how it’s always been. It’s the same reason he accepts the whole ‘no attachments’ thing to begin with, or any of the messed up stuff the Jedi believe - it’s always been that way, why bother questioning it? But there’s also the fact that Obi reciprocates and encourages, in his own way, the family bond, and this is a Jedi Master we’re talking about. Not just any master, too - it’s acknowledged, at least in the novels, that Obi-Wan is held up as one of the best Jedi in the Order - ‘a paragon’, I believe he’s called. It’s canon that other Jedi use Obi-Wan as an example for what their padawans should be, so, when he acts in an affectionate/familial way towards Braig, kiddo’s like, ‘oh, this must be okay, then’. I mean, he’s aware it’s against the Code, but he sees having a close bond with his mentor as a minor violation. Sort of like how getting a parking ticket is still breaking the law, but it’s not as bad as, say, stealing a car or murder. Falling in any sort of love, however, is right out (even though it happens a lot in real life; he just feels like it shouldn’t, and feels horrible when he does.)

So, it’s a pretty healthy relationship, ESPECIALLY as far as Jedi go. I mean, there is a bit of a problem as far as dependency goes, especially, I think, on Braig’s end - As Rodi said, ‘They’re so entwined. They literally need each other.’ But, you’ve seen how Braig’s biological dad is - I think we can both agree a bit of mutual clinginess is better than Eadric as a whole.

Tl;dr the principle itself messes with him a lot, and he really wishes he could be more open about having a father, but all things considered it’s arguably the best relationship he has with anyone, so. It’s actually the only thing that keeps him sane, most times.

AND FOR THE BONUS ROUND, I got the okay from Rodi to post some of my favourite bits from our IM/Skype threads, so, here’s proof that these two have been flagrantly breaking the Code basically since Braig was born (note most of these are gonna be from Obi’s perspective, and therefore were written by Rodi, not myself, since Braig’s already president of the Obinobi fanclub, and quite publicly so. Also, putting this under a cut because there are a lot them.)

“I just… I’m… I thought I was going to lose you.” He mumbles into Braig’s hair as he holds on for dear life. “I’m so glad you’re safe, that we’re both safe.”

(following a dangerous rescue mission that nearly went really wrong)

“I would never leave you.” Comes the stalwart response, quiet but firm in its delivery. He means it. He would have clung to life until the bitter end, and refused to leave Braig.

(same mission, after Braig voices his fears of almost losing Obi)

“I’m quick to get back on my feet,“ he replies, carding a hand idly through Braig’s hair.

(just frickin. Pet the child while having a completely unrelated conversation with someone else)

"That’s my boy.” He says softly, with a smile.

(!!!!!

Obi-Wan takes a moment in shock, before he returns the hug, chest aching as he holds his son. The boy he thought he’d failed. Lost forever.He doesn’t know how, but at some point they’ve crumpled to the floor. Did his knees give out? Either way, he’s clinging and holding on and weeping into Braig’s shoulder openly. His hands tremble and he can hardly believe it’s real. It is, though. Isn’t it? Braig’s here. Braig’s alive.

(THIS WAS FROM A REUNION VERSE WE DID WHERE BRAIG FINDS OBI ON TATOOINE AFTER O66 AND IF YOU EVER WANNA MAKE ME CRY HAPPY TEARS!!! HERE’S!!! HOW!!!!!!)

saggitariisms(PLS CONSIDER OBI TEACHING BABY BRAIG HOW TO WALK)chosenliar(o h my god)(walking along with tiny baby braig on his feet and holding onto his handssaggitariisms(Braig just looking at his own lil legs in absolute fascination. Looks wide-eyed up at Obi and just. Tiny curious baby sounds. This is new and he is confused)chosenliar(ohhh my gosh that is so cute i’m gonna cry _( obi probably is too g od)saggitariisms( w h enever he takes really big steps Braig just gasps because !! h e is flying!! maybe tiny little ‘whee’ noises)chosenliar(SOBS THAT’S RLY CUTE. Obi-Wan just grinning from ear to ear with this tiny baby on his feet.)saggitariisms(Braig just clinging to his hands and looking around at all the places they’re goin. New things to see. At one point he totally defeats the purpose to the exercise by pulling his feet up so he’s just swinging from obi’s hands)chosenliar(that just makes obi-wan laugh and he scoops braig up into his arms)saggitariismsBRAIG JUST BEAMING AND SMOOCHING A TINY BABY KISS ON HIS DADDY’S NOSE)chosenliar(OBI-WAN JUST NEARLY TEARING UP AND JUST LAVISHING TINY BBY BRAIG WITH KISSES(

(THIS ENTIRE EXCHANGE. It turned into a thread but this was the start and it was too pure)

Obi-Wan just sheepishly brushes them off and shrugs, holding Braig close. "If I can help settle him down for you, wouldn’t you prefer the help?”

(In response to nursery staff trying to get padawan Obi to hand Baby Braig over so they can put him to bed)

[4:02:17 PM] daddy-wan kenobi: learnin to walk[4:02:55 PM] Thirteen and a Half Screaming Frogs: om g[4:03:09 PM] Thirteen and a Half Screaming Frogs: When baby braig started walkin on his own he’d always hold his hands over his head[4:03:19 PM] Thirteen and a Half Screaming Frogs: cause he learned the basic idea by holding on to Obi’s hands[4:03:23 PM] daddy-wan kenobi: AW[4:03:44 PM] Thirteen and a Half Screaming Frogs: so clearly he had to pretend he was still holding on or he’d fall[4:03:52 PM] daddy-wan kenobi: that’s. so cute omg[4:04:41 PM] Thirteen and a Half Screaming Frogs: just the most concentrated look. Starin down at his lil feet and pouting as he held on to the air[4:05:45 PM] daddy-wan kenobi: obi-wan just chuckles and watches him go, so proud[4:06:41 PM] Thirteen and a Half Screaming Frogs: He probably only makes it a few steps the first time and then just plunks down[4:07:17 PM] daddy-wan kenobi: and obi-wan just grins and lifts him up again, SO proud.“look at you! you did so well!”[4:10:21 PM] Thirteen and a Half Screaming Frogs: Braig just lookin around wide-eyed, hanging on to Obi-s sleeves, then flaps his arms a bit.“Bwan!” He’s very excited.[4:11:03 PM] daddy-wan kenobi: “Yes, Braig. Very well done! Here, why don’t you give it another try?” Gently smiles as he sets him down, and then kneels in front of him, beckoning. “Come on, little one.”[4:13:21 PM] Thirteen and a Half Screaming Frogs: Braig just looks at his feet, then looks at Obi-Wan, looking almost concerned, but manages a few steps on wobbly little legs. Almost falls, but reaches out and grabs on to Obi as soon as he can.[4:14:45 PM] daddy-wan kenobi: He chuckles and holds Braig up gently, taking his hands and holding them, while crouching in front of him.“alright, let’s try again.”[4:17:46 PM] Thirteen and a Half Screaming Frogs: Braig holds on tight, curling little fists around Obi-Wan’s fingers, and frowns at the floor for a second. It always looks so easy when the grown-ups do it. Maybe he needs bigger shoes. However, that thought lasts about as long as any of his do, and he takes a few more slow steps, never letting go.[4:18:57 PM] daddy-wan kenobi: “there we go. one step at a time.” Obi-Wan practically coos at Braig as he leads him along gently, smiling. Eventually, he loosens his grip on Braig’s hands, allowing him to do all the holding and let go if he feels like it.

(ANOTHER BABBU THING THAT WENT ON FOREVER BUT F RICK DADAWAN AND BABBU WERE THE SWEETEST)

“Don’t!” He’s been trying to stand the whole time. Even with the wound in his side forcing him down, he fights it and forces himself back up. Finally, as Anakin gets the upper hand, Obi-Wan manages to stay on his feet and pulls his Saber. Anakin over Braig, Obi-Wan under Anakin, his own saber a barrier against his former student’s to protect Braig. Even so, his legs are trembling with the effort.

(AltSith!Braig hurt Obi in a fight. Anakin got protective even while Braig/Novius was just kinda stunned. Obi is still a dad.)

Just keeps smiling and reaches up to run a hand through Braig’s hair.  “I knew my padawan was still in there somewhere.” Just heaves a soft sigh and closes his eyes, breathing shallow.

(from the same thread as above where LITERALLY NOTHING WAS OKAY)

“Braig has been in custody of the Separatists and, quite clearly, Sith. When the report of his capture was made, I requested permission to mount a search. My request was denied, and I disobeyed the council and searched anyway. I tracked him down after he was kidnapped and intended to bring him back, not to be prosecuted, but to be aided. I will not allow anyone to lay a hand on him in harm.”

(Alt!Sith/Redeemed Braig ACTUALLY BEING LOOKED AFTER FOR ONCE)

In that moment, Obi-Wan /raises his voice/ as he turns around.  "He will /not/ be going to a cell!”

(more Obidad looking out for his ex-Sith son)

Omg Obi coming back with more than just rations, but a full meal. He called in a favour with the kitchen staff (some of which remember that little precious child who used to come see them) and got them to make Braig’s favorites

(upon hearing Braig hadn’t been eating well on the dark side)

Obi-Wan moves across the room and stands beside him. One hand on his shoulder. He’s not about to just sit in a chair while Braig stands in front of the council trying to defend himself.

(Trying to make Braig feel safe during the trial. Keep in mind this is after Obi already arguing for literal hours for Braig to be rehabilitated instead of punished)

"I love you too, Braig. I always will. No matter what side wefind ourselves on.”

(Obi-Wan to a slightly different Alt!Sith after a rather emotional conversation in the middle of an abandoned battlefield while hugs happened)

Gentle hushes follow the coughing, Obi-Wan placing his other handatop Braig’s head gently, smoothing his hair. “I wasn’t going tolet you die. I could never. Hush, now.”

(After taking a grievously injured Alt!Sith to a medstation and Braig being very confused)

Carefully, so as not to jostle and hopefully not to awaken, helifts Braig from the bed, taking a moment to settle him beforeheading for the door. He’s not letting this escalate further,especially with how assertive the med staff have gotten.

(In which Obi-Wan literally picks up a healing Alt!Sith and fuckin ditches the Temple because he doesn’t think the Order is handling this right and they get an apartment on Mandalore)

“I’m proud of you.”

(BRAIG ALMOST TEARED UP THIS IS LITERALLY HIS!!! FAVOURITE THING FOR OBI-WAN TO SAY TO HIM)

Hestarts at the rough treatment of his padawan, reading Braig’s fearand discomfort. His gaze moves from Braig, back to Maul, and backagain. “I… Y-You…” There’s a moment of silence, beforehe hangs his head. “I’ll give them to you… Just-just let himgo. Don’t harm him…”

(When Maul demanded the locations/coordinates of an entire system’s worth of medical stations in exchange for Braig’s life)

Hecan’t match Braig’s gaze, and he’s ashamed. He remembers, vaguely,hearing Anakin ranting about someone’s philosophy. ‘I know when it’stime to let my Padawan go’, he had said mockingly, making a talkingmotion with his hand, ‘Can you believe how ridiculous it is?’ Yes, hethinks. Utterly ridiculous, now that he’s living it. He /can’t/ letBraig go, and for once, the needs of the greater can’t outweigh thelife of this one small, wiry boy that he loves so much. He crops fromthe cuffs, knees giving out under him almost immediately, after hoursof disuse. He doesn’t make an effort to stand.

(same as above.)

“Y-You’vealways been my son. I love you, Braig. S-So much. I’m sorry… I’msorry.”

(GUESS WHO KILLED BRAIG ANYWAY) (IT WAS MEEEEEEE)

Thetears don’t stop as Braig reaches up, but Obi-Wan does draw backenough to look down at him, cupping the hand on his cheek with hisown to hold it there, thumb soothing back and forth against Braig’sknuckles. He leans forward and presses a kiss to his crown, and thento his temple, then his forehead, soft, feather-like, so very afraidthat one wrong move will break him. He’s slipping away. He can feelit, like threads snapping all around him, the Force already lettinghim go. “I love you, Braig. E-Everything’s okay.”Everything’s not okay. “You’re going to be just fine…”

(HAHAHAHHAHAHAH I was sobbing.)

Hepauses, then nods, taking the book gently from her grip. “Thankyou.” His voice cracks as he glances down at the page. Hedoesn’t even need to look at it to say what’s there. It’s beenrunning through his mind since the moment Braig went cold in hisarms. “Braig, I loved you from the moment I met you. You were soimpossibly small, and I couldn’t believe you would… ever grow up.Even as you grew, I couldn’t believe what an extraordinary person youwere. Bright and inquisitive, never satisfied with what you knew,what you could do, you always hungered for more. When I took you as aPadawan, I was so afraid. What if you grew to resent me? What if thisyoung boy that I watched grow decides that he doesn’t like me as muchas he did when he was little? And yet, our bond was stronger than Iever dreamed. I loved you, with all my heart, and together, we grew.And now, you’re nearly grown and I’ve never been prouder of you.You’ve changed the lives of so many…  s-so many people, butmost of all, you changed mine. You taught me so many things, athousand more than I could have ever taught you. Most of all, youtaught me family and love, you taught me what it’s like to be afather, and a proud one at that.” There are tears on his cheeks,but he keeps reading, swiping a hand across his eyes defiantly.“You’ve always been my son. You always will be. And I’ll neverstop being proud of that. I love you… so much.” He breaks, hisvoice cracking to the point where he can’t speak. He has to turn awayand mop at his eyes with his sleeve, clutching Braig tightly in hisother hand.

(RODI/OBI WROTE A FUCKING EULOGY I WAS ACTUALLY IN REAL TEARS)

Absolutely nobody is getting close to Braig as long as he stillhas breath and life in his body.

(Best dad ever tbh)

“You will not lay a finger on my son.” He growls.

“Do not speak of him that way.” He hisses, clenching hisfist and constricting the Force around Maul. “I will never allowyou to harm him, ever again.”

He hesitates, the grip on Maul barely faltering as he considershis actions. Is this anger? Is this rage? He frowns, before makinghis decision. No. It isn’t. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Maul.I’m not doing this to you out of hate or anger.” He steps alittle closer, expression calm, even as he keeps the vice grip on theSith rigid and unforgiving. “I am a Jedi Master, yes, but I amalso father to that boy in there.” He stops just out of arm’sreach. “And this isn’t hate. It’s love.” He smiles, browslifting on his forehead. “I love him with every fibre of mybeing, so much so that I would fight with the ferocity of a thousandsuns to keep him safe. And you? You are not going to interfere. Iwill hold you here,” his grip on Maul tightens around the legs,trying to pop plating, to rend circuitry, “until his recovery iscomplete.”

(Obi at Maul, from various replies, after I decided some bullshit Force way to bring Braig back because I was not going to sleep heartbroken)

“I… Thank you. Thank you so much. I know it’s notappropriate, according to the council, but… he means the world tome. I love him with all my heart.” […] "Maul ridiculed me when I called him my son… but I love himlike one. If the council knew…“

(Obi TO ANOTHER JEDI MASTER. Like when I say these two aren’t subtle I mean there came a point they didn’t even bother trying to hide it any more)

He hushes softly, making comforting noises and petting his hairsoothingly. "I know, I know, but it’s okay. We all came out ofthis okay.” Obi-Wan hums, rocking Braig gently back and forth.“We’re both okay, and everything is fine. I’m here, I love you,and I’m so glad you’re safe.”

(Braig was a bit shaken after literally dying.)

“I would do anything to make sure you’re healthy, happy andsafe.” He assures gently, resting a hand on the back of Braig’shead a moment. “That’s what family does.”

(It got mushy but it was needed)

He hangs saber back on his belt before pulling Braig into acrushing hug. “I promise I won’t let anyone hurt you. It’sokay.” He whispers, holding him tightly to his chest. “You’reokay. I’m here.”

(More shenanigans and Space Dad making sure Braig feels safe)

He’s about tocontinue speaking, before he pauses, the words clicking in his headand hitting something tender. “… I beg your pardon?” Hekeeps his tone even, despite his expression hardening ever soslightly as he folds his hands in his lap and certainly does notclench them, hidden in the folds of his tunic.

[…]

“A danger…”He repeats softly, frown a little more prominent on his brow.“Master, Braig is a free-spirited child. He respects me. To takehim away from my guidance and place him with another not so equippedto deal with his… independence… would be a mistake.” He’lltry to be civil, at least.

[…]

He grips the fabricof his tunic even tighter for a moment before relinquishing it. “Andwho would you choose to place him with? Master Fisto has refusedanother Padawan, Master Ti is at Kamino full time…” He frowns,trying to find reasons why Braig should stay with him that aren’t ‘Ilove him too much to let him go’.

[…]

He sighs, looksaway, looks back. “No.” It’s abrupt and firm, and eventhough Obi-Wan looks momentarily surprised at himself for saying it,he crosses his arms and refuses to budge. “I will not entrusthis safety to anyone else. He has trained with me for two years, andhe will stay with me. The boy was just plucked from the maw of death.Making such an abrupt change now of all times would absolutelyunbalance him, foster resent, rebelliousness… I won’t stand forit.”

[…]

That’s done it. Hestands, irritated, and sets to pacing. “/With all due respect/,/Master/.” It’s bit out through clenched teeth. “But thereare far larger and more /pressing/ issues at hand than what /you/intend to do with /my/ padawan. A criminal was apprehended on the wayback to Coruscant. One who set a clone trooper into a murderousrampage with only three words. I’d figure that’s a larger issue thanBraig’s placement, and actually the issue I came to bring to yourattention.”

(Obi’s response(s) to being told the Council is now worried he’s too attached to Braig and it’s getting in the way of his duties so they think Braig might be assigned. This was, mind, a private conversation with Yoda.)

Like again. I just. Frick I love these two so much they’re literally the reason I made this blog I’m gonna c r y

[thecrownpetone]

Unnamed Vorefic 1

Felt like writing some more-or-less noncon vore, but couldn’t think of a good name, so…

Implied digestion, but… you can pretend they got out. Fic ends before it gets so far as cementing that the prey dies.

Involves the prey being shrunk down to a small size (about doll-size?) so… I think it’s Micro? Is that the right name? I think so, yeah…

A bit of NSFW. Or a fair amount. Not sure, really.

—————-

You never quite questioned why he’d seemed so keen on you. Why he’d wanted you to visit him after classes had finished - you thought you’d been doing well in his class; or at least well enough to not warrant staying after school.

Perhaps he just wanted your help with something. Maybe he just wanted to talk. And Professor Layton had always been a bit off. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d invited one of his students to talk with him these days - although you remember hearing stories that some students had been disappearing lately. Maybe he was just going to give you some sort of warning to be cautious before letting you be on your way? Or escort you, perhaps. Although it was still odd, since you definitely weren’t the only person in his archaeology class, last you checked. Which had been not half an hour ago.

It wasn’t possible that the Professor was the cause behind the disappearances though. It was Professor Layton-! Perfect gentleman and puzzle solver and most certainly not kidnapper.

You enter his office with a quiet greeting, following up with a question of why he wanted to see you since you’d wanted to get home as soon as possible - there were people going missing lately and you wanted to get home before it got too dark out.

There was a faint flicker of a darker sort of smile on the Professors face, you noticed, before it vanished. Just for the smallest of moments, he looked almost… intimidating.

“Ah-! There you are. My apologies; I don’t want to keep you too long but I’d hoped we could have a small chat…?” There. You see? You were right; he just wants to talk. Perhaps he’ll drive you home after, if it’s too late for you to walk home safely. Even if it isn’t, he’ll probably insist he drive you anyway. The Professor, you remember, is big on being a ‘proper gentleman’.

“You see…” He begins, standing from his desk and moving slowly towards you. His desk has what appears to be a thermos on it - an odd thing for him to have, really. It’s certainly not for tea, since he’s perfectly able to brew the drink anywhere he desires. Besides, it wouldn’t be like him to brew tea at home and store it in a thermos. Maybe it’s for his young friend, Luke?

“I would like your help with something.” Help? The Professor needed help? What with? What could he possibly need help with that he sees you as suitable aid?

You begin to bring up this question to him as he moves in close - oddly so - before something impacts with the back of your head; too soon after he’s slipped in behind you for you to have turned around to meet his gaze. You’re unconscious before you even hit the ground.

0o0o0o0

You wake up vaguely aware that you’re sitting on a couch, slowly becoming conscious of the fact that something is being eased down your throat - a liquid of some form that’s gliding down easily, especially since you can feel someones fingers massaging your throat, keeping your head tilted upwards to a degree, and rubbing gently, quietly coercing you into swallowing it. Confused and disoriented as you are, you allow yourself to keep drinking.

It has a fairly bitter taste. After a moment, the liquid seems to stop, and with a small noise of confusion you swallow what remains of it, down.

“Ahhh… There we go~” That sounds like the Professor. You groan again, forcing yourself to open your eyes and look at him. That darker look is in his eyes again. That way he’s looking at you that makes him appear much more intimidating than he should be.

And it almost seems as though he’s getting taller…? It’s after the neckline of your shirt passes over your face that you realize he isn’t getting taller - whatever he’s fed you is making you shrink, and fast. Almost in moments you’re buried in your own clothes, frantically trying to escape the many folds of your crumpled outfit - before everything shifts, and brightens as the Professor lifts your shirt up and frees you.

Without a word he reaches down, pinching your now very naked body between his fingers - you’re almost the size of a small action figure, if that - and lifting you up, up towards his face as he shifts your clothes and sits down on the couch himself.

For a moment his expression is flat, but then he grins, swiping his tongue across his lips. It occurs to you that perhaps your assumption about the Professor being the source behind the missing people might be wrong. And your assumption that he’d been kidnapping them.

You almost wish it had been something as simple as a kidnapping.

“I do apologize my dear. But do drop the spiel about how this isn’t very gentlemanly, hm?” He says, still sporting that slightly-mentally-unhinged grin of his. “I’m afraid we’re past that point, now aren’t we… Now then…down the hatch you go~” You’re too scared, at this point, to fight back. Too scared to do anything except watch, as he lifts you up higher into the air, watching him tilt his head back and angle his neck in such a way that his Adam’s apple presses against him from within. Slowly, almost teasingly, his mouth opens, drool clinging from his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

It hits you again that he intends to eat you, but after everything that’s just happened you still can’t bring yourself to fight back - can’t get yourself past the shock of what the Professor has been doing.

Gently, he lowers you, easing you into his mouth feet-first - his tongue tickling at the base of your legs as his breath drifts over you, warm and smelling faintly of tea. His tongue seems to drift between your legs, forcing you to part them as he continues to ease you down; you can feel it slithering up your feet, your thighs - and then it’s inside you. Or as best it can be, considering your current lack of size.

He seems perfectly content to wriggle his tongue around as he holds you still, which is unfortunate since with each movement he makes, you want to move as well - move against it and you can manage to move your lower half, struggling to match his movements as you coat yourself in slime with your struggles. He pulls away before bringing his tongue back - apparently enjoying what he’s doing to you. Although, you’ve forgotten, partly, where you are and what he plans to do, drowned somewhat in the pleasure of what’s happening now, in the pleasure of his tongue, thrashing against you as you yell in pleasure, bucking and grinding as best you can manage. Not that it’s doing anything for him, really.

Eventually you finish, panting, limp, and coated in slime, as he gently sucks the rest of you inside his mouth. Having shifted to settle beneath you, his tongue is squirming, silently lathering you in more slime but you don’t care because it feels good - and you still haven’t quite recalled where you are. Then, the wet, shifting tongue beneath you move upwards, and without a fight you slide back, your feet being taken by his throat as he quietly swallows, sucking you down halfway - although the sound is fairly loud to you, snapping you out of the pleasure-drenched haze you’d just been in.

With a yell, you begin to fight - not that it’s any use since with a second swallow you’re engulfed fully by his esophagus, wet, pulsing flesh sticking to your body as it works you down. You try to bring yourself to fight, though, surprised when you seem to catch on something - the wet flesh of his throat contracting against your body as it tries uselessly to move you.

You can hear the Professor choking.

His throat is grinding roughly against you, the Professor swallowing hard in his attempts to dislodge you and for a moment you’re filled with hope that he’ll have no option but to spit you out - when you feel his fingers working at you from outside, massaging against the lump in his throat and against you in turn; pressing you into the sticky wet flesh repeatedly until your body gives in of it’s own accord, and allows itself to resume sliding downwards. The feeling of his fingers against you from outside, slowly trails up your body as you ease down his throat, sinking past his collar and moving ever deeper inside of him.

You can both hear and feel the Professor gulping, aiding in your journey inside his throat - pushing you deeper and deeper, and deeper still. It isn’t long at all before the sounds of flesh contracting wetly around you is accompanied by the hollow whooshing of his lungs, a steady thumping in the background that you identify as his heartbeat.

Suddenly, your feet press against something, slowly pushing through what you assume to be the sphincter as your body is gradually squeezed into his hot, slowly shifting stomach.

As soon as you’re deposited, and laying shocked against the shifting stomach walls, the entire room moves, filled with a loud growling noise as it contracts once, twice, and settles before gurgling again. It seems his body already knows what it wants to do with you.

After a moment, you stand, moving around and trying desperately to find a way to force yourself back up into his throat - but not even the repeated, if not gentle, contractions of his stomach lift you high enough to properly reach the sphincter trapping you in here.

“Ohhh, you feel simply astounding inside me, my dear~” The Professor’s voice echoes, a bit muffled from the layers of flesh between you but no harder to understand. “Would you mind putting up a bit of a fight? I want to enjoy your every movement before I eventually digest you~” This comment enrages you somehow. Even though it’s what he wants you to do, you fight. You move and kick, and claw at his soft, slimy, fleshy insides, trying again and again to grip onto the stomach lining and tear, or bite, through it.

All it gets you is a series of moans as your captor - your predator - shifts again and again, making you stumble before falling back to the ever-convulsing floor of his stomach.

There’s the brief, faint sound of a zipper being undone before he speaks again.

“O-oooh, god, you’re acting as if you don’t want freedom~ Fight me! Struggle, kick punch, ssssquirm!” It occurs in your mind exactly what he’s no doubt doing, now, but it just makes you angry all over again how he’s enjoying how much danger you’re in. Again you thrash against him, gathering up what energy remains within you to tear at his stomach walls some more - trying desperately to ignore his moaning as you slam yourself into the walls of his stomach.

”O-oooooohohhhhhhhhh~~!!! Deeper! P-p-press d-deeper!!!” His response to your attempts to get free causes you to scream, focusing all your energy into fighting - slamming into the lining again and again as he moans, his heart racing somewhere above you, pounding rapidly as he does nothing but further enjoy every motion you make.

Your energy is fading, but still you attempt to make him sick - although the sudden pressure against his stomach from outside tells you he’s likely pressing back, now, in response to your slamming against his stomach. It just makes you try to hit back harder.

The room shifts and shakes rapidly as the Professor pleases himself, breaking you from your attempts to upset him as you tumble about. There’s a final loud moan as the Professor seems to finish, before everything finally settles down.

For several moments, there’s silence - or rather, a lack of your predator saying anything. Just his heart, lungs, and other organs working away in the background, the occasional gurgling of his stomach.

Then he yawns. You freeze, tumbling again as gravity swaps directions yet again - it feels as though he’s layed down, which would make sense of the yawn. Although it doesn’t bode well, since you’re still trapped in his stomach.

His stomach which is shifting just slightly, up and down, in and out - contracting regularly now as slime drips down the walls. The Professors breath gradually slows down, to the point where you know that he’s fallen asleep and nothing you do, no amount of struggling, seems to rouse him.

His stomach gurgles again - ominously loud, and much more so than any of the others you’ve heard so far. At the same time, the air is getting harder to breath - thinner. There’s only so much in here, you remember, recalling your fast-paced and panicked breathing as you fought to make him ill earlier.

His stomach is slowly filling with the slime dripping from the walls; where at first it was just around your feet, it’s now at your hips, and steadily rising, sloshing as his stomach begins to contract harder and faster around you.

With a panicked, terrified noise, you resume pushing desperately at the contracting walls of his stomach, hoping uselessly that something would make him ill.

But the Professor doesn’t wake, and regardless of what you do, the slime continues to rise higher and higher…