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zepskies · 7 months

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Smoke Eater - Part 5

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,000 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, house fire, perilous situations, angst, hurt/comfort

Part 5: “Twitterpated”

“Hey there, beautiful,” Dean said.

His voice alone was enough to cause a shiver tingling down your spine.

You couldn’t help but giggle as he once again drew you into a kiss. He held you close by the waist. Feeling his hands spanning your lower back was doing things to you, but you knew you had to keep a level head here.

“Dean,” you said. Your lips curved against his. “We’ve said hello about three times now.”

“Wanna make it four?” he suggested. His voice was deep as sin.

Damn this man, you thought. He was a professional flirt.

But you laughed, and he smirked at the sound. He resisted letting you go when you playfully tried to pull away. The two of you were standing in the middle of your small office, in front of your desk at work. A large bag of takeout was perched on your desk, but neither of you cared about food just yet.

Dean liked the look of you in your navy blouse, tucked into a trim pair of pants, down to your smart heels.

“Tell me you didn’t go up all 20-something flights of stairs in those daggers you got on,” he remarked.

You followed his gaze down to your heels.

“Oh no,” you said. “I’ve got a backup pair of sneakers that I came to work in. Then I slip these on behind my desk. No one’s the wiser.”

Dean enjoyed that playful little smirk you gave him. He still couldn’t believe you’d walked all those stairs, but he guessed he couldn’t begrudge you for your lingering fear of elevators.

“Yeah? What else do you get up to behind that desk? Besides work, that is,” he teased. You guffawed and playfully hit his arm.

He chuckled and finally released you. You’d already dragged a spare chair next to yours behind your desk, so he began helping you unearth the various containers in the bag he brought. All the while, he surreptitiously took an inventory of your office.

It was all very neat and organized, just like you. You had a large window right behind you, which let in some much-needed natural light. There were tile floors, like the rest of the building, but while your desk was an old wood, clunky thing, you had a double monitor setup with an organized file system on either side.

As you pushed things aside and made room for the food, Dean noted the way stray pieces of hair fell from your clip, framing your face. He itched to take that clip out and make that hair wild, maybe even wrapping it around his hand.

Instead, he reached out and tucked a few strands behind your ear. It earned your attention with a soft blush.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothin’,” he grinned. He was treated to one of your shy smiles as you continued in your task.

Soon you and Dean were once again sharing good food and conversation. You explained what you did for work, being a Senior Sales Representative at Savage & Co. He listened, offering interjections here and there: gems like, Josh sounds like a fucking idiot. And, so does your boss. You couldn’t disagree.

In the back of your mind, it was still a bit strange for Dean to be in your office. It felt rather intimate for a second date, but you supposed coming to your place of work wasn’t so new to him.

“You sure are killing that chicken,” Dean remarked, as he watched you carve into a large drumstick with fork and knife. He shot you a teasing smile. “You know it’s already dead, right?”

You gave him a dry look, despite your amusement. “I’m starving! All I’ve had today is a cup of coffee.”

He frowned at that. “What, you can’t take a break for an egg McMuffin?”

“Ha!” you cracked, and took a sip of lemonade. “There are no breaks around here.”

Dean hummed, though you could see he didn’t like it.

“You sound like Sam,” he said.

“Oh, your brother?”

“Yeah, Mr. District Attorney,” Dean said in a mocking voice. But his smile betrayed his fondness, and his pride for his younger brother’s accomplishments.

You remembered then that Dean’s father was a police officer as well—a real life homicide detective! You ruminated on that when you and Dean moved on to dessert. You had a scoop of frozen yogurt, while he started to dig into a slice of blueberry pie.

“You know, it’s amazing to me that your entire family went into public service, from all angles,” you said. “It’s impressive…and really noble, actually.”

Dean offered you a quirk of a smile. It told you he wasn’t typically one to be comfortable with praise, as he carded a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, well. It’s a living,” was all he said.

You shook your head with a smile. His humility seemed genuine, and you found it endearing as hell.

“And you’re the eldest, right?” you asked. Dean nodded around a mouthful of pie. He set down the little tray between you for a moment.

“Yeah, though you wouldn’t know it looking at my brother. Around sixteen, he shot up like a damn weed. Friggin’ gigantor.”

You giggled at the image. Now you were truly intrigued, and hoped to meet both Sam and Dean’s father in the future. Though for right now, you glanced down at the slice of pie resting between you, all glossy blueberry filling and flaky crust.

You raised your cup of frozen yogurt to him. “Wanna try a bit of this, so I can try a bit of that?”

You went for a piece of pie with your fork, but Dean snatched the tray out of reach. He eyed you with a bit of admonishment.

“Hey, now. I got you your fake ice cream or whatever,” he said. You rose brow at him, both incredulous and amused.

“What, you won’t share with me?” you asked.

A smile twitched at his lips, but he stayed firm.

“Sweetheart, I’ll get you whatever you want, but here’s where I draw the line.”

You laughed in disbelief. But then an idea made your smile slide into flirtation. You set your dessert aside and rolled your chair closer to his. Dean watched you as your hand slid up his arm, and your pretty eyes met his.

“Okay, what if I make it worth your while?” you posed.

He tilted his head. His hand found the curve of your waist and slid around, bringing you even closer.

“Oh, yeah?” he challenged. “If you really want my pie, that’s gotta be damn worth it.”

Another giggle bubbled in your throat, but you continued to play your part.

“I have a few ideas,” you said. Your fingers drew a path down his chest, over the soft gray Henley he wore. You could feel the warmth of his skin underneath, and the firmness of his body. His grip on your waist tightened a fraction.

And he smirked. “Tell me…”

Your lips were a whisper from his. He smelled like spicy cologne and blueberries. Two of his fingers came to brush your hair away from your cheek…

But as usual, your boss had the absolute worst timing. The sound of your office door opening was like a gunshot ringing through the room, making you and Dean separate from one another with a jolt.

Nick Savage strode in without knocking, as he was wont to do. (No matter how many times you asked him not to.)

“Hey, what’s your progress on the Greenway account…oh,” said Nick, pausing where he stood.

He took note of Dean in the room and straightened his posture. His expression changed from its lazy gait, to a more tightened one. You swore you could spot a tinge of annoyance as well, like he was surprised that he hadn’t caught you alone in your office.

“I see I’m interrupting,” he said.

Holding in a sigh, you looked over at Dean and found him similarly assessing Nick.

“This is Dean. You might remember him from last week, when the elevator broke down. He’s one of the firefighters who got me out,” you said. Your hand fell on your companion’s arm. “Dean, this is—”

“Her boss,” Nick said. He seemed to lighten up and give Dean a smile, reaching over to shake the man’s hand. Dean obliged him.

“So I’ve heard,” he said. His tone was pleasant enough, but still more reserved.

Nick purposefully shifted his attention back to you.

“Report? Greenway account?” he repeated.

Your lips firmed into a line, though you slipped back into the professional patience you had to maintain at all times with this man.

“I’m still on my break, but I’ll have the report to you by end-of-day,” you said.

Nick tsked at you with a shrug. “How’re you gonna get that account locked down if you’re not trying to conference with Mr. Greenway? He’s headed to China in two hours.”

You had to reign in an annoyed tick in your brow. But you didn’t notice how Dean was watching the exchange between you and your boss with a thinly veiled frown.

“I’ve called three times, Nick. He’ll get back to me.”

“Hmm. I wonder if Josh is taking that same approach,” Nick wondered with mocking sincerity. “I’ll go ask him.”

He finally turned to leave, though he stopped short, giving Dean a lazy salute. “Nice to meet you…”

“Dean,” he reminded.

“Right.” Nick slid a pointed finger your way. “Greenway. 2:00 p.m.”

You were silently simmering by the time your office door closed behind him.

“Well, he’s a delight,” Dean remarked.

“He’s a dick,” you huffed and tossed your napkin down. But you grabbed your desk phone to make a quick call—to Mr. Greenway.

Dean frowned, but he covered it up by wiping his mouth with a napkin, subtly clearing his throat.

“I should head out then, let you get back to work,” he said.

His words made you pause. You had a reply ready on your tongue, that his suggestion was probably for the best.

But then you actually looked into his eyes. Guilt prickled in your chest as you realized what you were doing. Not only were you letting Nick get under your skin again, but here was a man who’d brought you lunch. Who was willing to sit in an uncomfortable chair to spend some time with you, and you were about to brush him off.

You hung up the phone without dialing.

“No. I’m sorry. Stay, please,” you told him, and grabbed his arm to keep him in his seat. You pushed your desk phone away with your spare hand and gave Dean your full attention, along with a smile.

“Where were we?” you asked.

Finally, Dean’s reserved expression eased as he relaxed in his chair, and subtly leaned towards you. He thumbed at your cheek with a smirk.

“I don’t know, something about making it worth my while.”

You bit your lip on a deeper smile.

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded. You crossed the ever-closing distance to give Dean a proper kiss. Your hand found his cheek, and your thumb brushed back and forth across the stubble there. You tasted sweet, sweet pie on his lips.

Even after you parted softly, Dean went back in for a second taste of you. This time it was deeper, as he angled into the kiss. He once again brought you close, just shy of dragging you into his lap.

His hand reached behind your head and succeeded in taking the clip out of your hair. He tossed it on your desk and sunk his hand into the soft strands while his lips continued to devour yours.

It was a small move, but you found it both soothing and exhilarating. You shuddered when you felt his fingers brush the back of your neck. It had you contemplating locking the door of your office and forgoing the rest of lunch…but your mind was competing with your heart, warning you to be cautious. To protect yourself.

Really, you’d just met Dean. You had no idea what to expect here, even though your heart was tripping up over his slightest touch.

Still, your face was warm when you eventually parted from him. You chanced meeting his eyes, and you blushed further at what you saw.

The truth was, Dean had been contemplating laying you out flat across your desk. But he tried his best to keep it down to a simmer behind his eyes, a bright and gleaming green.

“Worth it?” you asked. Your voice was a mere whisper, despite your smile.

He returned it, and gave you one last kiss.

“So worth it,” he said.

Dean wasn’t sure he liked this.

The start of his shift was usually the time for him to be relaxed, but focused. He knew who he was and what he needed to do when he entered the firehouse. It was his second home, perhaps even the place where he felt most comfortable.

And yet, he nearly burnt his hand while pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“Shit,” he muttered. He jolted and hopped back a step as scalding brown liquid splashed between his feet. It had Benny and Meg looking over from the common room, where they sat at the dining table.

Dean looked at the mess he created and tried not to sigh. He wasn’t awake enough for this…or maybe, he didn’t want to admit that he’d been thinking about you.

Your smile, your eyes, your voice, your occasional shyness, versus the way you dealt with your boss like a pro. Your confidence that was damn sexy, and had Dean imagining what you’d be like taking his orders, or giving them right back, shoving him down into a seat, straddling his thighs, his hands hiking up your skirt…

Dean shook his head a bit sharply to try and clear it.

He circled into the kitchen in need of a paper towel. But he bumped right into Jack, who was making breakfast. It sent the salt canister flying out of his hand and dumping into the pan of eggs.

“Oh, fuck. Sorry,” Dean said. He really did sigh this time. Now they’d have to wait even longer for breakfast.

“Uh, it’s okay. I can save it,” Jack said, though his brows were furrowed as he contemplated just how he was going to do that. He took a wooden spoon and tried to scoop out the mound of salt on the still-sizzling eggs.

Meanwhile, Dean’s lips pursed as he went over to grab a few paper towels. Once the mess by the coffeemaker was clean, he poured himself a tall cup and took a seat between his friends. Benny shot him a glance as he sipped at his own mug.

“You all right, brother?” Benny asked.

“Just fine,” Dean replied. He tried to sound breezy, but neither Benny or Meg bought it. She eyed him with a smirk.

“Heard you went on a date the other night,” she said. “A real one, with chocolates and flowers and all that shit.”

Dean shot her a sharper frown. “Who the hell told…oh. Perfect. Goddamn it, Cas.”

He should’ve known that big-mouth bastard couldn’t be trusted.

“Nope,” Meg said. Her eyes were dancing mischievously, and Dean knew he was in for it this morning. “Your little girlfriend is best friends with my cousin.”

She tossed a sly look at Benny. “You remember Andréa. You two were sucking face hardcore the other night. And giving quite a show to the local pedestrians. Have you called her yet, by the way?”

Benny cleared his throat, but he looked both unrepentant and tight-lipped about his business as he stayed sipping his coffee. Dean shot him a smirk. Until Meg directed her cutting gaze back to him.

“And you,” she said, just as slyly. “Dating your own damsel in distress. How fucking predictable.”

Dean’s lips firmed into a line, while Benny’s brows shot up.

“You really went for it with Elevator Girl?” he remarked in surprise. “I saw you two talkin’, but didn’t think you’d pulled the trigger.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “All right, first of all, let’s stop calling her ‘Elevator Girl.’ She’s got a name.”

Once he’d told them your name, however, their smiles deepened. And Dean knew it was about to be a long shift.

“Ooh, he’s got it bad, bad,” Benny shook his head.

Meg made a “cute” face at him and reached out to shake Dean’s chin, smirking when he slapped her hand away.

“Look at him, all twitterpated,” she teased.

“I’m fine,” Dean all but gritted out.

Benny chuckled, but truthfully, he was happy for his friend. It seemed the time had finally come when Dean Winchester was hooked on a nice girl. Hopefully one he intended to keep seeing.

“If it’s that serious, you should bring her by the Roadhouse again,” Benny said.

Dean snorted into his coffee. “Yeah, like I’d want to subject her to you degenerate clowns.”

“Well, if you expect to keep it going with this girl, she’s gotta meet us eventually,” Meg pointed out. Dean shot her a look.

“Oh, she’s definitely not meetin’ you,” he said.

Meg’s brows knit together. “What? I’m perfectly pleasant.”

Before Dean could utter a retort, a familiar alarm bell tolled on the intercom speakers. There was a working house fire over in Bellmont—the wealthier part of town. Truck 79 and Rescue Squad 5 were called, along with Ambulance 7.

All hands on deck.

“Okay, Jack. You’re staying on my ass once we get in there. You got it?” Dean told the Candidate.

“Yes, Lieutenant,” Jack agreed. It was only his second real fire since he joined Firehouse 25.

By now the team was in full gear, with jackets and helmets and belts. The Chief, Bobby Singer, was at the helm. He and Dean shared a nod.

“All right, Dean. Head in. Lafitte and Ramirez will vent the roof,” he said.

Dean nodded again. “You got it, Chief.”

While two of his team got the firehose ready, Dean fitted his mask over his face. Already the fire was at a full blaze. They had a limited time before the fire grew too wild to safely maneuver. They’d know when the flames started smoking black. The Chief would let them know on their walkie talkies, and Dean would have to pull his team out.

But first, there was a family of four trapped inside the large two-story house. He fully intended to get every single one of them out.

Thanks to the mask, he could hear his own deep breaths in his ears as he entered the house. A quick look back confirmed that Jack was on his heels, and Gordon was right behind him.

“Okay, clear each room. I’m going right, through the kitchen,” Dean called out the order.

“I’ll take left through the living room,” Gordon replied.

Dean shot a thumbs up. “Copy that.”

Then they got to work.

The flames were high and eating up the walls of what would’ve been a pristine open kitchen. The room was clear, so Jack and Dean kept moving forward until they reached a long hall. They had to hasten single file until Dean opened up the first bedroom with his crowbar.

“Fire Department, call out!” he shouted.

He didn’t hear anything, but that didn’t mean the room was clear. It was a child’s room, a girl if he had to guess. There were stuffed animals strewn across an unmade bed with pink bedsheets. He checked the closet while Jack looked under the bed. Neither man found anything.

“All right, moving on. First bedroom clear,” Dean said into his walkie talkie. “Going upstairs next.”

“Master bedroom clear,” Gordon commed in.

Jack and Dean continued to the second floor, where the flames were thickest. It was getting harder to see, and even harder to breathe, despite the mask.

“We’re almost outta time, fellas,” Bobby radioed.

“Just a couple more rooms, Chief,” Dean responded. The first and second bathroom was clear, as was a linen closet in the hall. He had a feeling about this last room though.

He opened the door and nearly got a flaming piece of wall dropped on his head. He jumped back at the same time Jack helped pull him to safety.

Dean breathed deeply. He didn’t have time for thanks, but he reached back and pat Jack on the arm before he entered the bedroom. It was another child’s room, this time for a boy—with green walls, and a school uniform on the back of a chair.

“Fire Department!” he said, though it nearly died on his tongue at what he saw.

There in the far corner, on the other side of the twin bed, was a man kneeling on the floor. He was doing his best to cover his wife and kids. His back was charred beyond recognition.

Dean snapped to attention when he heard one of the kids whimper.

“Fire Department,” he repeated, as he rushed to them. He and Jack peeled the man off his family as carefully as he could. Dean hauled him onto his shoulder.

Meanwhile, the man’s wife was crying and holding her children as tight as possible: a boy that looked about 10 years old, and a young girl. The mother’s glassy eyes widened with hope when she saw Jack and Dean.

“We’re gonna get you out. Come on,” Dean reassured. His hand on her shoulder was both supportive and urging her up onto her feet. Jack helped get her kids up as well.

Gordon joined them as soon as they were out of the room. He picked up the boy while Jack carried the little girl, and Dean had an arm wrapped around the mother while he still carried the father on his shoulder.

They made it out of the house just before the ceiling started to cave in at the doorway.

Meg and Chuck were waiting for them with a gurney, where Dean carefully laid down the man he carried. His wife hovered close with her kids as Meg began calling out instructions to her partner, trying to take the man’s vitals, all while they wheeled him towards the ambulance.

Just before they would’ve brought him up into the ambo, Meg halted them with a hand. Her other gloved hand was poised at the man’s wrist. She listened closely for a few more seconds in concentration…

And she sighed through her nose. She removed her stethoscope and met the wife’s eyes.

“I’m sorry. He’s gone.”

Dean’s heart fell into his stomach, but he held the woman as she fell apart. Jack and Gordon did the same for the kids. Behind them, the rest of the team were dousing the flames and black smoke consuming the house with the firehose. Chief Singer let out a heavy breath, but he continued issuing orders as needed.

Dean stared at the pale, soot-stained face of the man he’d failed to save. The woman’s cries rang in his ears, and he continued to support her as she fell to her knees and gathered her children close.

He understood their pain.

Not for the first time, he wondered what his father must’ve felt…the day his mother died.

Dean was a seasoned firefighter. He’d seen enough of the horrors this world could produce, and he had an internal catalogue of shit he’d rather forget. But he knew, as he later got back onto the truck for the long ride back to the firehouse.

He knew this day would be another one to be imprinted on his memory.

“You’re quiet,” Sam noted. He ate dinner in relative silence with his brother, in the apartment they shared. Dean met Sam’s eyes.

“Long day,” Dean eventually said.

Sam didn’t like the sound of that. Before he could probe further, Dean’s phone vibrated on the small dining table.

Dean slowly reached for his phone and saw the new text message, from you.

Hey, thanks again for lunch yesterday. Hope I get to see you again soon. ❤️

It briefly lightened him, almost bringing a smile to his face.

It soon fell, even though his thumb hovered over the keyboard to reply. His mind was blank. Right now, he couldn’t think of a damn thing flirtatious, or charming, or even human enough to say to you.

“Dean,” Sam said, earning his attention. “What’s wrong?”

Again, Dean hesitated. He blew out a slow, heavy breath and sat back in his seat. He ran his fingers roughly through his hair as he thought and thought.

But if anyone might’ve understood where his head was at, it was his brother.

“What do you think would’ve happened if Mom had made it out of the fire, instead of Dad?” Dean asked.

To say that question shocked Sam would be an understatement. Yet to his credit, Sam internalized most of his reaction. He tilted his head as his brows furrowed.

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. Dean’s question was impossible for his mind to even wrap around; mostly because he never got the chance to meet his mother. The house fire claimed their home when Sam was barely six months old.

All he knew was his father, and Dean.

Dean shook his head and wiped a hand over his mouth, an anxious gesture Sam knew well.

“She would’ve been just as messed up at Dad, but…I don’t know. Ignore me. I don’t know what the fuck I’m saying.”

“What made you think about that?” Sam asked.

“Today,” Dean said. Though he paused, he managed to say it. “It was a house fire. A mom and two little kids, boy and girl. Their dad just laid over ‘em, took the brunt of it.”

“Jesus…he didn’t make it, did he?” Sam deduced, from Dean’s eyes and his tone. Dean shook his head slow.

“I’ve seen a lot of shit, Sammy, but…”

This was why Sam worried about his brother. He admired the hell out of him, but he also worried.

Sam had a ring in his nightstand. He’d picked it out last month. Part of him was hesitating to move forward, not because he thought his girlfriend of three years would say no to marrying him, but because he didn’t want his brother to be alone.

“You don’t have to look at me like that. I’m okay,” Dean said, levying him with a knowing look. His lips gave a wry turn. “Nothing a couple shots of Jameson won’t cure.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, that’s what you need.”

“Right. Like I haven’t caught you up late with your mistress, Johnny Walker,” Dean tossed back.

Sam’s lips pursed, but the point was made. He spent his days putting murderers, drug dealers, rapists, and thieves on trial. Some days were darker and more unreal in their realism than others. And he could only burden Eileen so much.

Still, he didn’t like the look of Dean, who got up from the table and took his half-full plate of spaghetti to the sink.

Dean went up to his room and showered. He’d done so at the station, but showering was one of those methodical things he could do to try to ease his mind, besides working on his car. It provided an alternative to drinking.

But it didn’t work this time, as he knew it wouldn’t. He lied in bed after getting dressed, just staring up at the ceiling.

He checked his phone and saw your text, still waiting on an answer. He hesitated…but his thumb hovered over your name. He called you instead.

“Hey,” your soft voice greeted him. You sounded surprised to get his call, but also a little sleepy, like you were on the verge of going down for the night.

“Hey, yourself,” Dean said. “Sorry, were you about to get to sleep?”

“No, I’m awake. What’re you up to?”

“I’m home. Been a long day,” he admitted.

“Yeah?” you asked. “Dean, are you okay?”

He heard the perceptive shift in your tone. Against his best efforts, he should’ve known you would pick up on the threads of his mood. But he smiled at the sincerity in your voice. True concern.

“Yeah. I’m good, sweetheart. How’re you?”

“Uh-uh. Not so fast,” you replied. “…Did something happen at work today?”

He sighed. “Yeah, but uh…we don’t need to get into it. It’s okay.”

“You sure?” you asked. “I’m a good listener.”

“That you are,” he said, with a deeper smile. “You know what’ll help me?”

“What’s that?”

“Tell me, how bad did you wanna knuckle-dunk your boss’s teeth in today?”

“Oh my God. On a scale of 1 to 10?”

“Lay it on me.”

“20,” you replied. “You met him, so now I can tell you without exaggeration. He’s the Chief Asshat among asshats.”

Dean chuckled. It crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“What’d he do this time?”

You explained your latest frustrations. Then you continued to make him laugh with all the creative ways you’d imagined ending your boss for his dickish behavior, demanding reports, pitting you against your coworkers, being a general pain in the ass.

The rusty can opener in the break lounge was Dean’s personal favorite.

Hearing about your day, and the colorful adjectives you used, managed to lighten him. For a little while, it even took his mind off his troubles. And you admitted that venting to him about your violent fantasies was its own form of therapy.

“Damn, do I gotta worry about you?” Dean teased.

“Only if you get on my bad side, Lieutenant,” you said. Your voice was nearly a purr.

It had him smirking, with a tendril of heat lacing down the back of his neck.

“All right, then. I promise I won’t make it a habit,” he said. “Gotta keep you nice and sweet for me.”

You laughed then, in a way that had him imagining your pretty blush.

He ended up talking with you about everything and nothing, well into the night.

AN: 🥹 *sighs* Anywho, I know this chapter was a little shorter than usual, but I hope you got a kick out of Dean's first meeting with Nick. And we got a snapshot of an unfortunate "bad day" at the firehouse.

In Part 6, we'll get deeper into the murder mystery, along with a taste of jealousy...

Next Time:

“Uh, no, that’s okay,” you said. “I’m waiting for someone.”

“What?” Gordon asked.

It was getting busy in the bar, making it loud enough that you could understand why he hadn’t heard you. You leaned over towards his ear.

“I’m good for now, thanks,” you said, raising your voice a bit. Gordon leaned in even closer and chanced resting a hand above your knee.

“You sure?” he asked. He gave you a smile that was all smooth sex appeal and confidence, without being arrogant. It was undoubtedly attractive, but you were more shocked than charmed in your blush.

You instinctively leaned back when you felt his hand on your thigh.

Keep Reading: PART 6

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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#Twitterpated #Smoke Eater #Part 5 #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #firefighter AU #dean winchester AU #spn #supernatural #zepskies writes

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dracobrooklyn · 3 months

Text

Durge Headcannon #2

|| MDNI || 18+

Durge's relationship towards the other Party Members If you don't know, this is about if Cannon Durge was a Companion instead of a playable character. These are my headcannons so not everything is cannon. If you want more Durge check this Masterlist here

also the Tav!Reader is in a Fem!POV

CW: threesome, murder, and killing.

Durge very much is in love with Tav!Reader, after connecting with you, how kind and patient you are with the White Dragonborn. He very much loves the way you comfort him, how you talk to him almost anything that comes to your mind, he loves listening to your voice. So How does he feel about the other Members of your party around you? And around him?

Astarion

Safe to Say Durge isn't a huge fan of Astarion. The pale elf being very much cocky, arrogant, and never gives you any respect. Durge glares maybe even curls a lip growling softly. He could care less about what happens to the elf. Even when he found out he is a vampire! He quickly get's over protective over you, a slave to Sanguine. He wasn't gonna let you get bitten by this coward. If Astarion tries to flirt with you, Durge comes up from behind you protective. Besides Durge want's you, he be a better match than Astarion. He actually cares about you, this vampire just wants you as a blood bag that's all. Even when you and Durge become a couple, and Astarion offers to join you both in a threesome, Durge would flat out say no, end of story, he rather smear Knoll shit onto his face than let Astarion share the same bed roll with you. He's fine with you and Astarion being friends but... if Astarion tries to pull something on you, Durge won't hesitate to beat the shit out of him... maybe kill him if he get's away with it.

Shadowheart

He does not mind the half elf girl, the cleric that isn't too bad around you. She does at least give you some sort of respect as an ally and maybe even a friend. Shadowheart might be one of the few people that maybe notices Durges feelings towards you. She even was amused with the idea but even questioned, how would a DragonBorn be like in a relationship. Though Durge is a strange one, especially when he has no memories of his past. She might even be protective of you the reader if she finds out what Durge has done hurting and killing their enemies. The way he does it, if it's over the top. Shadowheart will confront Durge about it. She be weary of him and tell you if she is not sure if Durge can be trusted.

Karlach

Durge actually likes Karlach. Despite her very positive upbeat attitude. He does like her, she treats with you respect, is kind to you, and does not talk down to you. I like to think Karlach kinda finds Durge attractive. Being a DragonBorn and all, she may even might notice Durges smitten face when he looks at you in love. Like a love sick puppy. She smile and comes up from behind him giving him a good slap on the back and say "twitterpated aren't we solider?" causing Durge to trip on his words blushing trying to change the subject while she has a shit eating grin showing her sharp teeth. She might even try to hook you two up. Maybe... maybe even join in the sex action. Durge might actually consider it... if she didn't burn you both. He would say yes as long you were okay with it of course if you were interested. But if Karlach (like Shadowheart) finds out what kind of things Durge did. Oh boy oh boy, consider the friendship bracelet gone. She would get in between you and Durge glaring at him burning with anger. (no pun intended)

Lae'Zel

Heh uh... she may like Durge because of his blood thirsty fight in battle. And he may appercaite that... but if she calls you weak and useless because you are not as battle hungry as she is. Durge will snarl. Step right up to her and speak up. "I will you not have you speak so lowly of her, she's the one that got you out of that trap, she's the one that saved the druids grove with our help, she is the one keeping the peace between all of us, you should thank her, because I would have ripped your arm off." causing the Githyanki woman to narrow her eyes at him. She might tsk at him or making the last retort walking away from him. Durge won't interact with Lae'zel unless he really has to. But if she threatens to hurt you, he will not hesitate to rip her apart. Oh if she even tries to seduce Durge, he will lean so close to her face in a low whisper "Even if you and were the only ones in this plain of existence, I would rather be a mindflayer than share a bedroll with you." And honestly that might hurt her a little but she won't show it of course. Durge heart is only to you, and only you.

Wyll

Would they be dude bros? Maybe? Durge does not mind Wyll at all. The man has honor, he's protective, he treat you with respect and that's what Matters to Durge. Though if he does come a little close towards you, Durge makes a look at him as if "nu uh, mine." Wyll would get the message though. Like Karlach he might even help Durge hook up with you. Give Durge advice what to say but most importantly Wyll will just tell Durge to be himself. Yeah which one? Durge also would also feel bad for Wyll with his mishap being a warlock and all. Durge would definitely spit down at Mizora feet just to stand up for Wyll. Fuck that bitch honestly.

Gale

Funny guy... stop flirting with my girlfriend don't you already have a lover? Durge very much has mixed feelings with this guy. He can be useful but when he learns that he needs to eat magic items to live or else he will explode and die? WHAT? Why the hell is he with party again? Oh cause he's infected too. When he learns about how his lover is goddess, I mean yeah he must think she is pretty-- oh she's actually a goddess. Oh... poor chap. He definitely would be a little jealous that Durge has you instead of him, but he would give Durge advice to "Seduce" a woman. Durge not sure if they would work... maybe one night he will use that advice. Maybe... eh. But Durge wouldn't pity Gale for doing that to himself where he explode not given enough magic items to eat. Also ticks Durge off cause he finds an item he can use to kill enemies and then Gale looks at him as if saying "for me?" while Durge growls wanting to roll his eyes in the back of his head pissed and just hands it to him. Also Wizards vs Sorcerer. Mortals enemies for life (no just kidding). But Gale will boast about being better than Durge when it comes to magic causing the DragonBorn to give Gale a side glance glare. "At least I was born with magic and don't have to kill myself for it." Durge would say causing Gale to frown.

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the-cat-at-the-theatre-door · 7 months

Text

"You're so pretty."

Victoria's movements are soft, half formed, as though she'd not quite thought the action out before it started. She feels her ears heat up with embarrassment. It had been happening more often lately - moving before she can think clearly, as though dealing with two separate entities within herself, brain and heart. Perhaps Jennyanydots' amused diagnosis of "twitterpated" was not too far off the mark; there had certainly been enough reasoning to back it up.

Plato blinks, slow and confused, as though being pulled from a dream. And perhaps he was; he'd been staring at Victoria for the better part of an eternity, focused, but very clearly somewhere else. He did that sometimes - disappear somewhere she couldn't quite follow him, eyes hollow and dark. Victoria wishes she knew where he went; perhaps one day he'd tell her.

The staring, she couldn't fault, however; she'd been staring at him right back.

"What?" he asks, furrowing his brow.

"Pretty," Victoria signs again, submitting to having been caught, exaggerating the movement so he'd get it. Perhaps he'd been half paying attention, and only seen the tail end. "You're very pretty."

Plato wasn't much for laughing, Victoria had come to know - smiling, yes; Plato had developed such an easy smile over the year spent with them when they could coax it out of him. Laughing, on the other paw, not particularly, though he was never able to put quite into words why that was. Perhaps he was self conscious of the way it sounded; perhaps he hadn't much in regards to a sense of humour.

Be that as it may, for some reason, that affirmation plasters bewildered scrunches between his brows and his eyes practically disappear under his eyelashes. It even gets that odd, wheezing noise he'd make when particularly amused.

The queen could only be partially annoyed and a teeny bit embarassed - he was very handsome when he smiled, afterall, one fang hanging slightly lower than the other. An in consequential flaw that did nothing, Victoria thinks, flustered, than make him even prettier.

Victoria huffs. "What's funny?"

Plato tosses the motion back haphhazardly, as though brushing the thought aside. "You're funny."

"Not funny." Victoria frowns. "I'm serious."

Plato sobers immediately, smile gone as quickly as it came - it's like a candle being blown out; a night and day difference. The temperature in the clearing seems to cool as he continues to study her. There is an undeniable feeling creeping at the back of Victoria's neck that she may have mis-stepped somewhere, but all she'd said was...

She presses on, feeling an ache begin deep in her chest. She repeats herself, motions firm. "You're very pretty."

"I am not," he says after a long moment. There is an expression on his face that is difficult to read - he does not look embarrassed or pleased, even humbly so; he almost looks as though he is about to cry.

"Yes you ar-"

"You-" he points at her firmly, cutting her off, jaw set. The motion towards her is quick and harsh as a result, unsheathing his claws in the process. He startles as she does, horrified, staring at the space that has swelled between them; he is a breath away from scratching her.

"You," He points to her again after a moment, claw carefully pulled back this time. "Are very pretty. Not me. Look." He motions to the whole of himself, as though that were enough to dissuade her feelings. It only steels her resolve further.

"You look-" she insists, touching her paw pads to the delicate skin of his cheek to demonstrate. Plato flinches as though she'd hit him in retaliation; it looks to have been a struggle for him to resist moving away, but the desire is clearly there. There is fear burning in his eyes -anger and remorse and upset - like a bird trapped in a cage of teeth, waiting for its bones to snap in on themselves after the hunter had toyed with its prey.

Victoria pulls back, tangling her paws in her lap. The ache becomes a gnawing hurt. The fear in Plato's eyes burns hotter, guilt shining just beneath the surface.

"Please." Plato sets his jaw, and the fear fizzles slowly - forcibly - last of the flame suffocated. But he does not get near her again. He is gone to that place she cannot follow. "I cannot...do not lie to me."

"I am not lying," she manages, tears at the precipice of her eyelashes. The silence grows even heavier between them

"Then," he continues at last, breath hitching eyes wide and astonished, and Victoria feels ice settle at the base of her spine. After a moment, his expression dulls again. The smile on his face returns in a flash, a plaster over a wound, but it is bitter, cool. Empty. "You are being cruel? I did not think you had it in you."

#have this half finished nonsense too idk #Plato #Victoria #platoria #my fanfic #fanfiction #plato has body and self worth issues due to years and years of abuse #You walk in another world #Everything that touches you is moonlight and stardust; turns to gold in your grasp #I could only hope that being in your presence should do the same to me #I am stupid to think so #hahaha i'm sad #about this universe i mean #idk if this requires a tw but like plato has a very poor opinion of himself #and he's not mad at victoria - not at all - he is devastated that even she (in his twisted minds eye) would be cruel #and play with his feelings because he can't tell genuineness from a hole in the wall #but thing is victoria is 200% serious and besotted #not meant to imply any abuse or anything like that - macavity is just very close to plato's surface #in more ways than one and it terrifies him that he'll hurt her like macavity hurt everyone else #and the fact that victoria could be cruel in his mind? breaks his heart

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bcbdrums · 1 year

Note

As much as I love Drakgo and KimRon don’t you think the ships felt a little one sided?

i'm not totally sure what you mean. do you mean, in terms of the characters' feelings for each other?

if yes, there's a lot apparent in canon as far as Kim/Ron are concerned.

facts:

Ron has entertained the idea about he and Kim as a couple for a long time

Ron chooses to stay friends in case being a couple didn't work out

Kim "waited 12 stinking years for [Ron] to kiss [her]" quote from Homecoming Upset, indicating clearly that she's liked him from the very beginning

that's...really enough right there. it's unspoken since we don't get to see about romance from Kim's perspective that much (because to talk about it is to be vulnerable, and some vulnerabilities heroes don't reveal) but her comment about the twelve-years thing shows that she was almost certainly just as concerned about hurting their friendship as Ron was. it's not one-sided, it's just that we're not allowed to see Kim's vulnerable side in this way.

now on to Drakgo. Drakken comes to Shego's rescue with a giant robot in Go Team Go. she comes to his rescue in: A Very Possible Christmas, Clean Slate, Graduation... Shego comes back out of jealousy in Mad Dogs and Aliens. that's twice she leaves a vacation for him, once she comes back just because she wants to, and in Graduation puts herself in dire harm's way to save him.

Drakken fantasizes about Shego water skiing in Kimitation Nation and that's also the episode where he calls her "dumpling," not a typical pet name for just one's sidekick. Shego is constantly hanging around Drakken in a bathing suit, tanning and hot-tubbing in the lab which is wholly unnecessary. in Graduation she even changes out of the swimsuit to her normal suit in front of him.

their relationship is an old married couple vibe, not a twitterpated teen first love vibe. so they come across differently than our teens Kim and Ron.

this is just a handful of examples, but i could go on... point simply being, it's not one-sided in either case.

i think the reason people may not see it is...because the show isn't a romance. it's an action cartoon. the romance was never the focus. the show was meant to end with So the Drama, the kiss being the final scene, and all of S3 teased it blatantly even with Kim and Ron poking fun at it themselves when talking about Agony County, the in-show soap opera they watch. ending on making the ship canon is a perfect ending, but the romance was never ever the point. it's all there, but it's never in your face because....that's just not with KP as a show is about.

appreciate the ask, Anon!

#queued post #kim possible #ron stoppable #shego #drakken #drakgo #kim x ron #ask answer

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sabraeal · 8 months

Text

don’t speak boyshit, Chapter 9

[Read on AO3]

“Inomata-san?” Most girls would be thrilled to be the object of attention for the Prince of Third Year, utterly breathless by the way his gaze follows them across a room, seeing sparkles with every bat of his eyelashes. “You’re looking very...determined this morning.”

The rest of the female student body might also squeal at the wisps of blond curling over their desk, thrilled that Yagi-kun deigned to rest his head so close to their own fingers. But Maria simply frowns, dropping her pencil case near enough to endanger his well-being. Or at least the integrity of his haircut. “I didn’t ask you.”

His smile tightens by the smallest flinch, imperceptible to anyone whose vision blurs to pink and bubbles when he breathes.

“Inomata-san.” It’s impressive how normal he can seem when there’s no chubby cheeks around to entice him. “I’m only trying to be friendly.”

“You should try that on someone who would appreciate it,” she suggests, sliding into her chair. It takes a moment for her to organize all her limbs-- girls may stop growing at her age, but she’s still never gotten used to all the extra inches-- but when she’s nearly folded and tucked, Yagi’s still there, curious. “There’s a whole classroom full of girls who don’t know you well enough to know there’s something wrong with you.”

One end of a perfectly shaped eyebrow twitches. “You really don’t mince words, do you?”

Maria squints down at him, the same way Galileo must have when he stared into the sun. “I’m not trying to impress you.”

The blinding brightness of his smile doesn’t blur or dim, but this close, Maria could swear a nerve jumps in his jaw. “That much is clear.”

“Yagi-kun...” After three years as the sole female in the Advanced Course who is safe to sit next to the Class Prince-- a dubious honor doled out her first year after the disastrous mid-term seat change-- she’s nearly in expert in the gradation of weariness in Nezu’s sighs. This one suggests that he should have stayed home if they were going to be in this sort of mood today. “Stop bothering Inomata-san.”

With all the speed guilt can provide, Yagi springs up from his seat, smile dialed up to its max wattage. “Ah, Chuukichi-kun, good morning! I wasn’t bothering her, we were only--”

Nezu slants her a dubious glance.

“I was handling it,” she assures him, “but thank you.”

“H-hey!” That sunny smile shines itself close to a grimace. “I mean it. I was just trying to compliment her.”

With a toss of his head, the wild thicket of Nezu’s hair parts just enough to reveal a rare glimpse of his forehead-- one that is furrowed with incredulity. “Uh-huh.”

“Really! Inomata-san came in with a spring in her step. Or, er--” his voice falters under the strength of their combined stare “--as close as she comes. I assume this means that you had some progress with your romantic endeavors.”

It’s Maria’s turn for her eyebrows to take a hike up her forehead. “Excuse me?”

“That’s what you’ve been frowning over the past few weeks, isn’t it?” He darts a glance at Nezu, as if confirmation might come from that quarter, only to be met with resounding confusion. “You said Inomata-san asked you about boys just a few weeks ago, right, Chuukichi-kun?”

He has the grace to flinch under her glare. “Ah, yes, but I didn’t think you’d, er...”

Be interested, the slope of his shoulders says. His glare, however, implies, didn’t think you’d run your mouth off about it.

“I was surprised you didn’t come to me.” Yagi’s popularity has always been one of life’s mysteries, another sign that she’s not like the other girls in her class, a statistical outlier destined to go uncounted. But looking at him now, all concerned and earnest and every inch what a class president should be--

Well, it’d be easy to get twitterpated under this sort of attention. If she didn’t know the precise amount of tissues he goes through when the children play house.

“I’d be happy to help you.” Under the spotlight of his smile, it’s a struggle not to shrink back, to raise a hand to make some shade. “Between the two of us, I’m sure we can figure this guy out.”

Nezu snorts. “You’ve never even been on a date.”

“Neither have you, and you got to help,” Yagi reminds him with his usual maddening calm. “I’m a boy, aren’t I? I’m sure that’s enough similarity for Inomata-san to--”

“Absolutely not!” The very idea that she could apply advice from this man and apply it to Kashima-- her skin shivers at the thought. “The two of you don’t have a single thing in-- in--”

(Shouldn’t it bother you that you’re stuck here with us? Usaida’s grin says he already knows the answer. I think most seventeen year olds would prefer to be celebrating with their friends.

Oh, no no! Kashima’s smile isn’t even the littlest bit strained. I like being here. The kids are so excited, and er... He must forget she’s here, playing house with Kirin in the corner, since he mutters, I think they’re a little easier to deal with than my classmates sometimes.)

“Really?” Yagi arches one of those perfect eyebrows of his; a girl three rows back squeals. “Not one thing?”

(He’s getting too big for it now, Kashima sighs, listing close enough to her that the cotton of his button-down brushes hers, but sometimes I just want to-- to-- it’s charming, how red he flushes --pinch his cheeks! Just a little.)

“It just wouldn’t work.” Her fingers curl, nails too short to cut her palms the way she’d like. It’d be grounding, if they could. “A-and you’re too late anyway! I already found someone else to help me.”

Yagi blinks, jaw so slack he could catch flies with it. “You don’t say. Who offered to...?”

“That’s privileged information.” Maria stifles a grimace. It’s the same answer her father pulls from his pocket every time she pushes too hard and too long on why she isn’t allowed to go to sleepovers, or about the Sunday plans that are too rigid to allow her to see a movie on Saturday, but-- well the last thing she needs is word getting around that she needs help from Kamitani. He’s not even in the Advanced Class. “And in any case, their advice will be much more helpful than anything you could give me.”

There’s a moment where that sunlight flickers, Yagi’s mouth flirting with the beginning of a frown before his mood clears to bright skies once again. “Is that so? I would have figured that someone as logically-minded as yourself would have wanted as much data as you could collect.”

He would have a point, if he was anyone else. As it was... “There’s no point in collecting from what’s sure to be an outlier.”

Nezu chokes. Impressive, since he hadn’t even seemed to be eating anything, but Yagi leans over, pounding him on his back until the sputtering stops.

“Well, if you’re sure,” he says, giving Nezu one last slap on his back for good measure. “I’m always here, if you change your mind.”

Maria’s mouth pulls as thin as her patience. “I won’t.”

Not as long Kamitani follows through, at least.

It’s not that Maria is impatient, per se. Excited, perhaps. Eager for the rush of data analysis, definitely. But impatient? Restless?

Certainly not. During homeroom, she doesn’t even think about the oddly powdery pages of those test booklets, never quite holding fast to the strokes of her pen. Even as far as first period, she never once dwells on the unique pleasure of being finally being the one that wields the corrective marks, scrawling red over what’s already written--

And then Yagi is called to the board, chalk squeaking as he works out a differential equation in his neat hand, clean enough it could have come from a textbook. The girl beside him flushes, hand trembling with the effort to make her bubbly numbers look as professional as his. In the end, it’s a failure, her own nerves making fours into x’s and b’s into sixes, until she has to write the whole thing out again, chalk dust dotting her uniform as she trudges back to her seat.

But the boy after them-- his answer has more in common with chicken scratch than letters, so cramped that even sensei has to squint. Maria snorts; no one will be asking her to letter any banners, but at least her handwriting doesn’t require the teacher to crouch down, as if being level with the mess might help untangle it. That sort of disaster seems to be entirely the purview of boys, Well, excepting Yagi-kun.

It’s only logical then, that she thinks of it. That her mind suddenly projects Kamitani’s test booklet into her hands, completed cover to cover. It falls open, draping over the smooth wood polymer of her desk, and--

And it’s utterly illegible. A thicket of hiragana that cuts as she tries to wrap her mind around it, brambles pricking at her palms she as teases out individual strokes. With the way he keeps his room, it could hardly be anything else; even if Kamitani gives her that booklet today, she’ll have to spend weeks wading through his answers, trying to uncover his meaning. Her syllabus will be in shambles.

The lunch bell isn’t the same complicated set of bings and bongs as the one that marks the start of homeroom, but Maria’s on her feet at the first note, out the door fast enough that the squeal of her school shoes puts a flourish on its final one.

“Mari-chi?” Kawata leans her hip against the door of 3-C, sipping at a strawberry milk. “You’re back today too?”

“Uh...” Her shoes skid to a stop just shy of that speculative stare, suddenly aware of how her hands are utterly empty of excuses. There’s no papers to pass to the office, no official business to shield her from scrutiny; even her lunch is left back in her bag, forgotten in her rush. “So it would seem.”

“Oooh, who are you looking for this time?” Yamane cranes her neck out around the corner, gaze sweeping up and down the hall. “Yuki-chan, maybe? You guys haven’t had lunch in a while.”

“Yuki just stepped out to drop off some papers for sensei,” Kawata informs her, bumping Yamane to the side. “I’m sure she’ll be back in just a few minutes, if you don’t mind waiting.”

“Ah, but I’m not, er...”

Honesty may be the best policy-- at least, that’s what Father always says-- but Yamane’s grin goes a little sharp, like a small puppy about to bite the neck of her favorite squeak toy, and only just clamps around the impulse before the girl asks, “Or maybe you’re here for someone else? Kashima--”

“Not him either!” she squeals, loud enough that a few passerby give pause, and oh, this isn’t worth it, not at all. There’s no point in making a spectacle of herself when it would just be easier to find that annoyance after school, or maybe even--

“What’s all the noise about?” Kamitani’s scowl is already firmly set when he insinuates himself in the doorway, but when he catches sight of her, it furrows deeper. “I should have known.”

There had been a plan when she left 3-A, a course of action; one that involved dragging Kamitani from his desk and demanding the data she’d so patiently waited for. But now that he’s here, one arm braced against the jamb, buttons popped above the vee of his cardigan, like he didn’t even bother to dress right--

“There’s a tie in our dress code,” she snips, “as a third year, you might bother to wear one.”

His eyebrows spring free of their furrow, hitching up his forehead until it’s no longer a scowl stretched across his mouth but a smirk. He shifts too, slipping past Kawata to lean against the outer wall, limbs so long Maria has to step back to avoid scuffing his shoes. “That right?”

“To...” It’s terrible how she feels a flush working up her neck as he watches her, far too pleased with himself. "To set a good example. To the younger students.”

“To the younger...?” Humor leaves him in a huff. “What are you doing over here, Inomata? Looking for someone to nag?”

His edges might be blunted by annoyance-- a feeling that’s mutual as far as she’s concerned-- but she can see the gleam in his eye, the tilt of his chin. He wants her to rise to his bait, to admit that, yes, she’s looking for him. A challenge she’s willing to meet, except--

Except that Kawata and Yamane are right beside them, stares burning into the side of Maria’s head.

“I...” Maria clears her throat, letting the motion pull her spine all the straighter. “Not anyone in particular.”

His mouth pulls tight, frustrated his little farce has been foiled. Good. Maybe now he’ll learn that silly games earn silly rewards.

“Cool.” It’s indecent the way that he pulls the word so long; insolent even. And only made worse by the wall he pulls away from the wall, one vertebra at a time. “Guess I’ll just go back in and--”

“Wait!” If she’d taken more than a moment to think, Maria would not have reached out. And if she’d done more than react out of simple panic-- well, she certainly wouldn’t have grabbed him, fingers locking tight over the pulse fluttering in his wrist. “Don’t...!”

It’s bad enough that he is staring at her, the already muddled color of his eyes made muddier with incredulity. But Kawata and Yamane--

They’re right there, watching with entirely too much interest, and-- and she doesn’t know how to do this. To put a patch over this whole debacle and slip out unscathed.

“Er...” She turns to them, stiff, her grip wrapped so tight it’s little more than bone and tendon itself. “Would you excuse us?”

Kawata’s expression hardly changes; she just darts the smallest, subtlest glance between the two of them and squeezes out, “Go ahead...”

“Yeah,” Yamane adds faintly. “Take your time...?”

The girls are quick to scuttle back into the classroom, but their wide-eyed glances through the door are a reminder that this is hardly a secure location. Certainly not free from prying eyes, and if the searing pressure at her back is any indication, any one of them will feel welcome to relate what happens between Kamitani and herself to the nearest willing ear. Which may, most distressingly, be Kashima’s. “Come with me.”

It’s a pleasant surprise that he doesn’t struggle when she tugs him. She’s hardly gentle, either; panic and the threat of humiliation tightening her grip until her own fingers ache, she drags him down the hall with very little care to what obstacles might be behind her. Which there must be, it’s busy; most students in the upper school bring lunch, but there’s always a horde of boys ready to supplement their carefully crafted bento with the high-calorie offerings of the bread line.

One he might be in, if she hadn’t waylaid him. Not that the state of his stomach is precisely her top concern; she’s too busy shoving him into a stairwell to think about such petty things as physical needs. It takes climbing up one flight and down another before she’s content that there’s no malingerers, no underclassmen with big ears and bigger mouths to spread their business far and wide, and--

“You just about done?” he asks, utterly unimpressed. “I’ve got gym after this.”

Of course he has to ask her when she’s still catching her breath, winded from adrenaline and exertion. “Do you have it?”

His eyes narrow. “Have what?”

Oh, honestly. It’s not like she’s in the habit of just handing him things right and left. “You know what!”

She can practically hear the gears grinding behind that sour face; it takes entirely too long for his eyes to widen, for him to finally grasp the low hanging fruit of her meaning. “You wanted me to finish that today? Are you crazy? It’s got to be fifty pages.”

“Thirty-five,” she informs him, prim. “It’s shorter than most practice tests.”

“Yeah, but those tests are multiple choice,” he huffs. “Every one of yours is some...short answer or something!”

“Well, I’m asking for your opinion!” She tucks her arms over her chest, shoulders hiked high enough to brush her ears. “That should be easy for you, shouldn’t it? Since you love to give it entirely unprompted!”

“Me?” He straightens so quickly it’s a race to put space between them, her stepping back even as he looms. “I like to give my opinion--?”

If boys could breathe steam, Kamitani would. She can picture it, curling tendrils like smoke from a dragon’s mouth, all rushing from his nose in one great huff. That’s how he does it now, one huge exhale that seems to empty him right down to his toes.

“Fine,” he snaps, like even that’s more than he can chew. “I’ll get it done.”

Huh. Maria blinks. She hadn’t quite thought he’d give in; not that easily at least. “Tomorrow?”

He sneers. “Don’t push your luck. Soon, okay?”

Soon. Like she’s going to believe the timetable of someone who can’t move two feet to drop their underwear in the hamper. “You’re not getting my notes until you’re done.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He shoulders past her, heading toward the door. “I get it.”

Kamitani’s version of soon, as she suspected, doesn’t conform to any accepted definition of the word. Or at least, not unless she would like to make progress at the same rate continents separate and divide. At this rate, maybe she’ll get to have a conversation with Kashima that isn’t about schoolwork or small children by the next ice age.

Honestly, you’d think with her-- highly coveted, never shared-- notes on offer, he’d be able to answer fifty simple questions. But Tuesday blends into Wednesday, and Wednesday into Thursday, and there might just as well have not been a weekend for how little relaxation brings, since by Monday morning, she is just as tense as she was when she confronted Kamitani by the bike rack, as if she hadn’t done any work at all.

It would be one thing if he had approached her like a civilized person; Maria may be eager but she is not inflexible. If between two clubs, his schoolwork, and his homework he had needed an extension, she would have been happy to give it. But oh no, after five days of coming all the way over to 3-C only to find he’s already left-- for bread, for club duties, for a conveniently timed bathroom trip-- she’s left to conclude that this is not all just happenstance. No, Kamitani Hayato is dodging her.

Well, fine. If that’s the way he wants to play, then Maria can play too. He can keep on slipping out of every room she enters, using his club-- and the men’s facilities-- as a shield, but Maria-- Maria--

She’s memorized Kashima’s schedule. A data set that just so happened to include the days Kamitani would be at his club, if only to assure minimal interference when she did deign to come down after her own. Last thing she needed was some grumpy manchild complaining about how he didn’t like sweets when she showed up with two bins of extra desserts.

“Inomata-san!” Kashima’s eyes round when he sees her in the doorway, jumping to his feet to greet her. “I-is there something you needed?”

His gaze drops down to her hands, and, ah, yes, maybe she should have brought something. An excuse, for one.

“No.” A glance over his shoulder counts five children, as it should, and Usaida, even if he’s just napping, but-- “Are you the only one here today?”

“And Usaida,” he offers staunchly, even if the man doesn’t deserve it. It’s a point she might stick on, if she didn’t have other useless boys to account for.

Maria squints, glaring a hole through the green apron still hung on its rack. “Doesn’t the baseball club have the day off?”

“Ah, yes, it does! But Kamitani came by just a minute or two ago to tell me he wouldn’t be able to make it.” Kashima smiles, entirely too used to the habits of his fair weather coworkers. “Apparently there’s something he needs to do with the manager today. He explained it but...well, I’ve never really been all that good at sports...”

He shrugs sheepishly. An act she’d typically savor, coming from Kashima, but today, oh, today--

She’s too busy thinking, how convenient.

“Is that Kamitani-kun?” One of the first years-- Makino, she thinks the girl’s name is, or maybe Miura-- steps away from her station, standing on tiptoe to see over the sill. “I thought baseball club got canceled because of the rain storm last night.”

“Of course it did,” Inui sniffs loftily over her batter, too good to follow suit. Still, Maria catches her glance, that small bob up on her toes while backs are turned to take a peek. “But Summer Koshien is only months away. Even if the team doesn’t practice, he and the manager still have to come up with their strategy.”

She spares an ingratiating little smile for Maria. “He’s going to take us all the way to nationals, you know.”

A lofty goal for a boy who can’t even take his clothes all the way to the hamper. Or keep to a perfectly rational timetable.

“But isn’t...” Makino-- Miura?-- drops her voice to the precise pitch gossip travels at. “Isn’t the manager a girl?”

Another one of the first years slides between them, wide-eyed. “Oh, do you think that they might...?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Inui snaps, cheeks flushed. “You can’t possibly think he’d go after the team manager when...”

The rest of that thought catches between her teeth, ones she turns right on Maria. “I suppose if someone were his girlfriend, though, they might get nervous about something like that. You know, their boyfriend spending so much time with another girl. Especially if there wasn’t much special about them to begin with.”

It’s not until Tanaka-san murmurs under her breath, “Don’t take her bait, senpai,” that Maria realizes it’s even meant for her.

Inui simply stands there, saturated in self-satisfaction, so sure that Maria will react. That somehow, the insinuation that Kamitani has something going on inside his head besides a rotating system of baseball scores and bad attitude will send her into a tailspin. That him tolerating some girl was any of business of hers to begin with.

Quite frankly, it’s insulting. Or at least, it would be, if she wasn’t too busy being annoyed that he might have devised some legitimate reason to be unavailable. Air hisses through her teeth just thinking about it. Unbelievable. The lengths he’ll go to to avoid doing her a single favor.

At least she knows now: if she wants those lessons, she’ll have to be the one to set the syllabus. “Kaichou, could you--?”

“What do you think, Inomata-senpai?” Inui grits the words through her sunny smile, never once letting it flag. She expects the first years to giggle, to flank her as they always do, but this time they simply stare at the girl, as if drawing attention to their snide asides is somehow beyond the pale.

It’s tempting to ignore her; it’s not as if she actually cares about that poor manager being cooped up with hours of Kamitani’s irritating company. But the air stills, and she realizes that the entire club is watching their exchange, even Tanaka and Suzuki-san. For some reason, her answer matters.

So Maria lifts her chin, letting her gaze snowball into a glare as it slides down the steep slope of her nose, and says, “I think if someone has to worry about who their boyfriend is with all the time, that is either a reflection of their own insecurity or their own poor taste. Either way,” she continues, bored, “I think it’s hardly any of your business.”

Unlike Inui, Maria has no need to see a reaction, instead she simply turns on her heel and says, “Kaichou, may I ask to borrow some of your culinary expertise?”

Tanaka-san stares at her, eyes so wide it’s obvious when they slip behind her shoulder, and even more so when they snap back. “Ah...my expertise?”

“Yes.” She nods. “I’m curious about the way one would go about constructing a bento.”

“Inomata-senpai.” Tanaka-san’s hands tremble in the air, first toward the containers, as if she might grab them, then to her hair, as if that might soothe, before pressing them both firmly onto the lab’s countertop. “I appreciate that you came to me for this, erm, important advice, but surely...you must know how to make your own?”

“I do.” Her mother does prefer to make them-- if my mother did it for me, she says, checking her watch to make sure that she will not be late for her train, then I must do it for you-- but part of Maria’s duties have always including picking up whichever balls drop in the juggling act of between motherhood and making partner. Lunch happens to be one of the more consistent ones. “But that’s different than when you make them for someone else.”

“A-and that’s what you’d be doing?” Tanaka-san’s eyes bounce around from table to table, hardly pausing to rest. That’s what makes her a good president; even when she’s giving her attention to one club member, she’s always keeping an eye on the others. “Making it for someone else?”

A quick breath steels her spine. “Yes. Hypothetically.”

“So this is a...hypothetical situation,” Suzuki-san asks, her stool dragged close. “You would hypothetically use this information, because there isn’t someone you’re hypothetically using it for?”

“I mean that I would like to learn the basic rubric of creating a bento for another person,” she clarifies, “so that I could conceivably make a passable meal for anyone in the future, not just to please the person I would make one for right at this moment.”

Suzuki-san swings her head toward the president, weary. “I think I’m more confused now. Is there someone, or--?”

“That’s not what matters right now,” Tanaka-san declares breathlessly. “Is it? Inomata-senpai wants to know the, um, rules of making one. What other people would expect if you were to give them one. Some...common sense?”

Maria nods. “Yes, exactly. Common sense is just what I’d like. The sort of things that are considered standard. Or if there’s any, er, hidden meanings to what dishes are made.”

The last thing she needs is to find out that edamame is a signal that you’d like to be kissed, or a sweet omelet means you desire the receiver carnally, or whatever other terrible shorthand simple dishes have become in the hands of the romantically inclined. It would just be sleeve-tugging all over again.

“Hidden...?” Tanaka-san blinks. “Ah, no, it’s just usually what your boyfriend likes to eat. Or, ah, whoever you’re giving it to!”

“What if...?” It’s a struggle to keep from grimacing. “What if you don’t...know?”

Suzuki’s giggle is light, more bells than belly, and it takes the sting from her reply. “Then you ask him!”

Doing that will give her an excellent idea about what Kotaru likes in his lunches, but Kashima, well... “That won’t work. Is there anything that boys like in general?”

“Ah...” Tanaka-san flushes. “I’m not sure I’m the one to ask. I’ve only had the one boyfriend, and not for that long...”

“I made a bento once!” Inui offers. “It was pretty good.”

“Really?” Miura-- no, Makino?-- asks, curious. “I thought you said not even the babies would eat it.”

Inui deflates. “Well, sure. But it looked good, that’s all that matters.”

“No.” Suzuki’s smile is too wide when she assures her, “It definitely has to taste good.”

“Maybe you should ask someone who has made a lot of bentos,” Tanaka-san suggests. “Or, ah...has received a lot of them...?”

“Yuna-chan,” Suzuki coughs, “are you telling Inomata-senpai to ask a popular boy. A prince type or something?”

Tanaka-san claps her hands to her cheeks, shaking her head. “N-no! I mean, maybe, if she knows one--”

With a sigh, Maria feels her mood sinking straight into her stomach. “I think I just might...”

“Inomata-san.” There’s a distinct lack of enthusiasm in Yagi-kun’s greeting this morning, his customary smile fading to a frown as she heaves herself into the seat behind him. “Is something the ma--?”

“I think,” she says, begrudging every word, “that I might need to consult your...personal expertise.”

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astarab1aze · 3 days

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Brushes his knuckles over Hydre’s cheek before leaning up on his tippy toes to press a kiss to his lips.

An act of affection that took the hydric dragon by surprise, head tilting slightly, smug grin drooping into a nearly imperceptible line. It wasn't strange on its own, but it was soft and gentle, and it wasn't followed by a bite. And there was a cold light in Denali's eyes, a light that reminded him of auric colors cast across vast sheets of ice and the mirror-like scales of his silvered kin, golems glowing underneath mountains of snow and ice and winding caverns all leading into the heart of Miraglas. A homely sensation, in a strange way, that made him invariably homesick - and world-ending abominations like Hydre never got homesick.

So, he resigned himself to it, and thought for a time, arms snaking around Denali's middle to prevent him from pulling away. He breathed in the stench of death as if it were the finest perfume, and only too soon had his grin returned. Was he hoping to woo the hydra? That would simply never happen unless Hydre chose it for himself, but he would let him try, try to show him affection and care and all the little things mortals tended toward when they couldn't manage the oxytocin ravaging their brains. He even went so far as to lean forward, nose right into the crux of his neck to get a better vantage point, smell more of him, in a way that could be considered tender and sweet. Lips parting, dragging across pulse points and hollows, teeth not far behind. Though, this time, there was no hunger to guide the close of his mouth around dark skin, fangs grazing then digging in, sharp and cutting but no less slow. No less easy.

The foul copper spilling onto his tongue filled him with a sense of possessive satisfaction, a wound that would heal but was deep enough to take a little longer than usual - lasting a few more hours, maybe a few more days. If Denali aimed to encourage romance between them, then he would just have to get used to what that really meant, and such was that he belonged to Hydre - and there could be no argument about it. He didn't much care if Denali found others to amuse himself with, be it some fuckwit to eat or another to fuck, because, In the end, who would he return to like a lovesick puppy? Some goofy teenager, twitterpated out of his wits like he'd gotten his first crush in that quiet sort of way. And that was the point, wasn't it? Denali already was.

Forked tongue lapped up every bit of blood, vacuous in nature. He wanted to be part of him in a manner that meant something; Well, surely being devoured would suffice. Inside him, rushing through his veins like a herd of a thousand horses, white-hot as any star on the verge. Surely, that would please him. Surely, he'd just come back anyway, stitch his body back together and recover. Return, time and time again as if he'd never been devoured in the first place. Surely, that'd mean something. A cycle begetting itself, forever...

#☿ || Asks.#✘ // Snow in an Ice Storm; Denali.#bedlamology #/ UwU

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jyndor · 1 year

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I want to know more of "I wish you could see you how I see you."

lol this is pretty much just jyn and cassian being absolutely gobsmackingly twitterpated by each other lol also in this they are the ages I'VE chosen because I reject all the canon both ways - fuck cassian being mid twenties in andor s1 because that's some early twenties behavior, but also no to jyn being 21 in rogue one, that's never been right to me.

anyway its gonna be them seeing the Inner Beauty as well as the Outer Hotness lmfao

Jyn would never forget how he looked to her on the tower, propped up against a beam for support behind the stuff of her nightmares, the man in white. The shadow of a smile on his lips, warmth and relief in his dark eyes. Dirty, bloodied but alive - and as beautiful as any man she’d ever seen. She remembered thinking that in that moment, beautiful. And he was, he always had been objectively, frustratingly handsome with his stupid sharp cheekbones and long lashes and slightly messy hair. But Jyn had been attracted to many people before, sentients more beautiful and with plumper lips or longer lashes. Beauty was nice, more than nice really, but beauty didn’t keep her by his bedside, waiting for him to wake up while her father’s monstrosity - her twin - loomed over Yavin IV.

Strong, sturdy hands that had herded her away from petty trouble on Jedha and towards her fathers and her new family with a cool grip on her waist. The scarf he’d offered her that smelled like blaster oil, wrapped around her head and neck, protecting her from the sun and prying eyes.

She supposed he’d snuck up on her like so few ever had, but she should have seen it coming - in the end, who else would it have been but the man who always seemed to come back?

She wondered why, what made Cassian Andor the sort of man who came back over and over again for a near stranger (or perhaps not a stranger, perhaps a mirror, perhaps an echo). Jyn Erso sat beside his bunk in the medbay where he slept and hoped she’d get the chance to find out.

Outside, above, the battle began.

/ /

Cassian Andor had not survived for twenty-eight-odd years by being indecisive. He was often reckless and determined, always in the service of something. Even when he hadn't realized it at the time. Even when he'd tried for caution and self-preservation.

But.

It hadn't always paid off. He'd fucked up a lot of things for himself and for others, people he'd cared about.

Jyn was beating the absolute shit out of a punching bag, fists and feet landing hit after hit,

and that's all she wrote lmfao

#my fic #ask meme #answered #asks #anonymous

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overseer-picard · 1 year

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You probably know the episode "Suddenly Human" best from this famous photograph.

But what you might not know is that it's actually not a bad episode at all, it just gets shoved to the side by it's three very big, intimidating disc-mates "Best of Both Worlds", "Brothers", and "Family".

Basically, the Enterprise finds these little alien teenagers getting irradiated on their damaged ship. So they save them. But one of them is (gasp) A HUMAN.

Side note: as a teenager, I thought this kid was the most beautiful creature to walk the earth and tried to draw him a lot, as twitterpated teenage girls do. And I remember my mom being supportive but also like :/ honey. there are so many others.

But anyway. This kid, Jono, was taken as a baby by these generic lumpy head aliens after his parents were slaughtered by them and he was raised by a captain dude named Endar (not to be confused with Andor, or Ender, or Endor).

We learn right off the bat these boys like to SCREAM. Like, literally. It's their sound of mourning and it's just a continuous howl. Jono immediately, and rightfully, gets yelled at by everyone within the first ten minutes.

Picard does some research and finds out that this kid is actually named Jeremiah and is the grandson of an admiral. So of course he's like "We gotta get this human boy back to human space so he can be a human with his ancient admiral grandma who is a human."

And everyone is like "Uh yeah, no duh. That's clearly the right choice."

But there's a problem. Jono only responds to Picard because he's a) the Captain, and b) a man. You see, these are sexist lumpy head aliens because we needed a strong reason as to why the obvious caretaker choices, Troi and Crusher, couldn't help more.

So Deanna is like "Captain. You will be this boy's father now." And Picard is like "I will literally yeet myself out an airlock and go get re-assimilated by the Borg if you make me do this"

Like, I cannot emphasis enough how much Picard does not want to do this. He even rehearses a whole speech about why he's not cut out for the horrors of parenting and Deanna is like "Wow, that was so well rehearsed." And Picard is just surprised Pikachu that she, an empath, could see through his carefully crafted lie.

So Picard accepts his fate and goes to talk to Screamy Boy but then his worst nightmare comes true: the child wants to move in with him.

And, because duty overrides Picard's inner reflex to just die, he lets the kid move in with him and he spends the entire time trying to not cry as he watches his precious things get smudged up with grimy child hands.

But things actually seem to be going well. Jono hangs up an edgy looking sparkle hammock because, and I'm guessing he's not wrong about this, the beds hurt his back.

I mean, look at this. I'd take a hammock over what is essentially a padded cinder block any day.

And then the highlight of the episode happens, Picard invites Jono to an invigorating game of Space Balls and he wears a beautifully revealing spandex number. Star Trek + Exercise Clothes = Beauty.

"You know, this whole hanging out with a teenager thing isn't so bad." -Picard, four minutes before things get bad.

Jono starts having conflicting feelings about the possibility that he might actually be a human so he does the only thing that seems reasonable: stabs Picard while he's sleeping.

I cannot get over the hilarious irony that the one time Picard tries to take on a parental role, the thing he fears most in life, he ends up getting stabbed.

But then Picard realizes that he's being stupid by trying to force this kid to accept a heritage he doesn't want and decides to give him back to Captain Endar.

And there's a genuinely very sweet little moment at the end where, before beaming off, Jono takes his gloves off (a payoff to an earlier scene where he said he didn't want to touch any dirty aliens) and gives Picard a little head boop goodbye, the same move he greeted his alien dad with earlier.

And Picard's artificial heart grew three sizes that day.

In all seriousness, I genuinely really like this episode even if it doesn't get that much attention. It's quite well written and has decently strong acting from the kid and the alien dad. I also love the ingenuity of the title, "Suddenly Human", because it gives several layers of explanation and commentary with just two words.

This is a "Good thoughts, good plots" episode.

#star trek the next generation #picard #suddenly human #episode review

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a-crimson-dawn · 1 year

Text

Kiss the Girl - Multi-Ship One-shot

Content Warning: Contains kissing, romance and cringe.

Genres: Romance, Comedy (?)

Pairings: Nozel x Dorothy, Yami x Charlotte, William x Mereoleona

Other characters: Nacht, Langris

Well, this was… awkward.

Rather unexpectedly, they had found themselves in the middle of a lake, on a boat - that part, he could explain, actually, by the nature of their mission, the baffling part comes later - surrounded by singing birds. That too, would not have been out of ordinary, had they not been singing a rather dubious ditty, something along the lines of:

There you see her

Sitting there across the way

She don't got a lot to say

But there's something about her

And you don't know why

But you're dying to try

You wanna kiss the girl

It did not help, that he couldn’t help but catch himself staring at her from time to time, unable to pull his gaze away from the red haired beauty before him for too long a period of time. There was just something about her, and about this location, and about, well… all sorts of things really, that drew his eyes towards her. And he’d been sure she would have noticed, as observant and sharp as she could be, trained to respond fast, quite possibly by all those years of survival in the wilderness.

And as the birds sang, the fish leapt out of the water, the insects carelessly fluttered around in the air, and overhanging branches dipped into the water, enclosing them into something of a wooden cocoon, wherever the water was shallow enough, or wherever there were small islands of land, it felt as if this strange, twitterpating atmosphere was difficult to escape. He was also certain that he was very much doomed. That those piercing turquoise eyes of hers saw right through him into his soul and his flustered heart, as it beat nervously out of rhythm in anticipation of her rejection. His stomach performing all kinds of acrobatics in that moment did not help the matter.

“Vangeace… do you know why those birds are serenading us right now?” He’d never known Mereoleona to be… awkward, and yet, here her voice sounded stilted and uncertain. And, perhaps it was the lighting, or perhaps his own wishful fantasies filling in the blanks in his vision, but he could have sworn he’d seen a faint blush appear on her face.

No, he was definitely delusional. Mereoleona Vermillion did not blush. Surely.

Yes, you want her

That didn’t mean the idea of her blushing didn’t have its… merits. Actually he found it rather cute -

‘Focus, you idiot, you’re on a mission.’

Look at her, you know you do

At the back of his mind, a small voice chipped in: ‘since when do birds singing in the human tongue like so? Parrots perhaps, but these are definitely passerine birds.’

Another, louder voice, was far too busy swooning over the lady, completely ignoring her confused looks. He could feel his cheeks heat up; he did want her, and had for a long time, and perhaps had he not been such a coward-

Possible she wants you too

“Any particular reason why you’re staring at me, Vangeance?” That almost sounded more as a tease than a question.

“N-no - I am not- I-”

‘Why can’t words form properly?’ His mind in chaos, at his head feeling rather warm and confused with all the conflicting and intense emotions, he could hardly think straight, let alone talk.

There is one way to ask her

It don't take a word

Not a single word

Her eyes seemed to light up then, and briefly, she looked away to coast, only refocus on him a few seconds later. Really, the side view was just as nice as -

‘Focus!’ But that cautious voice was already losing its strength.

Go on and kiss the girl

Faster than he could think, with his clearest thought being that one last line, guiding him through something he would have ordinarily done, he leaned in

and kissed Mereoleona Vermillion.

And so William Vangeance became past tense.

Except…

he lived, apparently.

Against all possible logic, against every rational thought in his mind, he kissed a woman who would surely loathe such an advance from him.

And she kissed him back.

---

It was only natural that his colleagues would not believe him.

Yami Sukehiro calling his retelling bullshit did not surprise him in the least. “Okay, first of all, Vengeance, how the fuck are you not dead? Second of all, why her? Third of all, you need to see a shrink, because there is no fucking way birds sing like that.”

Nevertheless, William still found himself embarrassed by the very idea. Granted, he’d made a lot of bad decisions, but they lived in a world of magic; he wasn’t sure why he would need therapy over something like this, as strange as it had been. “I think you may have a poor opinion of Lady Mereoleona, Yami… she’s no murderer…” At least, not when it wasn’t strictly necessary. Then again, he too had assumed he’d be dead by now… so it was rather hypocritical of him to judge. “Besides, I am sure you would have kissed Lady Charlotte two if you had gone there yourselves…”

“As, if,” Yami scoffed, glancing for a moment in the direction of the Blue Rose Knights captain. “Besides, Prickly and Sisgoleon aren’t even the same species. You weren’t kissing a lady back there, but a she-beast in human clothing. That was basically beastiality you committed, I hope you know that, Vengeance!”

“...” He raised a brow.

“...” Yami shot him an intent look. Did he really commit such a terrible faux pas in his eyes? Was he jealous perhaps?

“... That still wouldn’t be the most morally reprehensible thing I’ve ever committed,” William shrugged it off eventually. “Besides, Lady Mereoleona is clearly a woman… a human woman. A very human woman.”

Yami choked on the bottle of sake in his hand, then shuddered. “There’s something disturbing about the idea of you screwing her -”

“We didn’t-!”

“Something in the matter here?” a familiar voice boomed across the room even as a certain woman appeared beside them.

“Whatever you say, you kinky, delusional, masked bastard. I’m gonna prove you wrong on those words, and when I do, you’ll have to fess up to your weird fetishes in the next meeting, Goldie Guts,” the dark haired captain turned away to take his leave. No doubt he would enjoy every moment of William embarrassing himself, and honestly, he had far too little time to think to respond to that proclamation. Then again… it wasn’t like had much to worry about.

Even if he was suffering from auditory hallucinations, it wasn’t like he had much to “confess” about…

Right?

“So, about yesterday, Vengeance…”

---

Dammit, why did Vangeance even go to such a suss looking lake. Everything about it just felt off. Even so, he tried to remain his ever-so charming and calm self in front of Charlotte.

“So-er… Prickly… you… wanna get in the boat, or what?”

He had to admit, he found it somewhat endearing to see the thorny captain so out of her element. Clearly, she much rather preferred standing on dry land, as she looked at the small rowing boat with hesitation and reluctance. Or… maybe she just hated the idea of sharing a boat with him. That didn’t really explain the faint red tint about her cheeks.

“Are all men so impatient, or is it just you?” came an irritable retort. Well, that had taken her a surprisingly long time.

Still, he brushed off the comment, and grinned back at her. Even if they couldn’t get along as well as he’d hoped, winding her up and getting her nerves could also be entertaining. ‘A life with her would never get boring…’ He’d give her that much.

Finally she took a step into the boat, only to wobble -

and send them both toppling into the boat when Yami lost his balance trying to right her.

Smooth.

Although, the view from down there wasn’t too bad-

Now's your moment (ya, ya, ya)

Wait, where did that come from? And what was up with all those damned birds surrounding them? Animals - except for his beasts - had never been particularly fond of Yami.

He would have gotten up to check, but Prickly was still very much on top of him, looking flustered, confused, fumbling about, trying to figure out what to do, as if her brain had just short-circuited and somehow she didn’t know how to get back up again.

Didn’t help that she had managed to push the boat off the bank and it was now slowly headed in the middle of the lake.

Floating in a blue lagoon (ya, ya, ya)

Sure, there was nothing to fear for him - the lake was calm compared to the seas he was used to, and even if it were rough, he had now magic which he could use to protect them both, even if the boat toppled over - but it was more the isolation and… Charlotte’s… unhelpful panicking.

“Cool it, prickly, we’re not going to end up sleeping with the fishes, anytime soon,” Yami found himself reassuring her. This of course, only made her blush more, before glaring at him. “Besides, that’s more Vangeance’s thing, apparently, than mine.”

“I-I am not panicking. A good captain should always keep a cool head,” she insisted, in her haughtiest voice, pushing up against his chest as she sat up. Or maybe she had intended to hit him and then thought better of it. Who knew with women? “Don’t presume you know my emotional state,” she huffed, crossing her arms.

He was sure it was supposed to look intimidating.

Scolding and disapproving even.

It probably wasn’t supposed to look hot.

But he found that Charlotte’s alluring, fae like looks didn’t exactly lend themselves to “intimidating”.

And so he barked out a laugh, much to the woman’s chagrin. “Sure. Cool headed. Whatever your say, Briars.”

Boy, you better do it soon

No time will be better (ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, ya)

What was up with those damn feathered pests?

He hated the idea of having to concede to Vangeance. Especially since he wasn’t quite done holding a grudge against him over that elf fuck up.

Charlotte didn’t seem particularly fazed by the song though, and seemed to be looking at him more than at the birds, almost expectantly. Still, maybe it was because being so close to a guy was new to her?

“Enjoying the view,” he teased.

Turning a deeper red, she immediately looked away and would have probably stood up, if he didn’t capture her hand in his, holding her down. It was weird that she was looking at him with such a… lack of contempt, for one. She didn’t even respond with an insult that time.

She don't say a word

And she won't say a word

Perhaps it was the song, weaving ideas into his head, but, with standard Black Bull impulsiveness he thought, maybe he could figure her out and end this awkwardness with a single move. ‘Until you kiss the girl.’ Though by the time his lips were pressed against hers, he was starting to wonder if listening to the birds had been a good idea.

It wasn’t that her lips weren’t soft.

Or that she’d stiffened against him, or in some other way showed a dislike towards the gesture. No, she seemed to relax actually, even parted his lips in invitation. He was sure she’d even temporarily embraced him, right until the kiss had ended and those arms pulled away.

It was just that at that point his mind was starting to clear up. And he was starting to remember Charlotte’s vicious streak.

The sound of her hand connecting with his face in SMACK! as he pulled away made him blink.

“Huh?”

“That was for Spade kingdom,” she breathed out, glaring at him. In a whisper she added, “you reckless idiot.”

Wait, what happened in Spade?

“And this,” she then added, leaning in, and cutting off his confused response with a kiss. As she pulled away, leaving him dazed, she continued, “is for everything else.”

Nevermind Vangeance’s singing birds.

Prickly was a far greater enigma.

“You know… I wouldn’t mind you calling me an idiot if it were followed by a kiss each time,” he found himself saying, nevertheless… probably because he was drunk on their kisses and the resulting brain chemicals, or whatever Mr Overly Serious had claimed was responsible for this love-y dove-y feeling he was experiencing right now.

---

Nozel had no idea what Sukehiro and Vangeance were talking about.

Something about talking birds, flying fish and women acting out of character… but somehow he got dragged into the conversation anyway.

“Hey, Lord KillJoy, wanna check out this magical lake?” Considering Sukehiro had literally dragged him into the conversation - much to the royal’s indignation - he clearly didn’t have a choice to say no. Dealing with Yami was almost as impossible as dealing with Mereoleona.

Except, to choose his cousin over Yami was infinitely more terrifying.

“What ridiculous notion are you choosing to bring up in front of me today, Sukehiro?” Of course, he knew what he was going to suggest - he’d overheard more or less all of their talk and wouldn’t put it past Sukehiro to make a competition about just about anything, but still… a confirmation couldn’t hurt.

Except, it could.

It very much could.

Especially when it involved spending time with a certain witch in the middle of a lake on a small boat, isolated with only his own confused feelings to keep him company. Feelings that didn’t seem to understand professionalism, or their status as colleagues, or the fact that he could absolutely not just fall for anybody he wanted to. He was royalty. Ultimately, he’d probably end up with someone of his father’s choosing.

Those infernal birds weren’t helping matters.

‘Keep a cool head. Don’t let feelings get in the way of what is rational and necessary…’ He’d tried to remind himself.

Dorothy, on the other hand, seemed perfectly calm; cheerful even. She had no qualms about any of this. In fact, she seemed to be enjoying herself. Dipping her hands into the water, looking up at the sky…

“Look how pretty this place is!” she stated the obvious, but this much went amiss with Nozel, who was focusing on something else that appeared far superior to the lake in its beauty.

‘Her eyes look beautiful when they’re open and full of wonder like this…’ an intrusive voice commented. He wished it would go away, but that same voice had much else to say about the woman he was forced to share a space with.

‘They’re just eyes,’ another voice reminded him sharply.

The music, however, didn’t seem to agree.

Sha-la-la-la-la-la

Don't be scared (sha-la, sha-la-la ya, ya, ya)

You got the mood prepared (woah, woah)

And as the boat slowly moved through the water, he couldn’t help but relax, as the lyrics weaved themselves into his mind, forming a warm, comforting blanket around his thoughts, allowing only some thoughts to the surface. The irrational ones. The soft ones. The scandalous and impulsive ones.

The ones that prompted him to regard the way her mouth moved too keenly. The ones that enjoyed her voice far too much. The ones that wanted to…

Well… he wasn’t really sure what they wanted to do, to be honest.

He’d never exactly given much time or thought to that in the past, and whenever something did pop up, he was normally quick to banish it.

But now he couldn’t calm his fast beating heart, or silence those thoughts, and…

…didn’t really want to.

Go on and kiss the girl

As she smiled at him, so sweetly, he couldn’t help but consider it. Wonder about it. How it would feel. How it would taste.

“Nozel-kun?” he saw her frown, as if in concern? For him? “Are you alright?”

Normally he would dismiss her worries and move onto the issue at hand, pretending as though nothing had happened. He had far too much pride to admit that currently he felt like some adolescent youth experiencing his first crush.

Sha-la-la-la-la-la

Don't stop now (sha-la, sha-la-la ya, ya, ya)

Don't try to hide it how

But he really couldn’t deny it, he was reminded by another intrusive thought, as his cheeks heated up. Besides, it was the perfect opportunity. No one else would see this. It was… just the two of them, really.

You want to kiss the girl

Which was how he found himself locking lips with the petite witch, closing the gap between them as he slowly gave into those impulsive thoughts.

Now that he had kissed her once, experiencing the sweet delight of it, along with her gentle touches, he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to stop kissing her. Or let someone else kiss her, for that matter. Or for her to disappear from his life. He couldn’t just let her go now. Now that he’d given in, he couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t lose another person.

“Hehe… you didn’t tell me you were such a good kisser, Nozel-kun…” the little witch breathed out as she pulled away from the kiss. “Nozel-kun…?”

He couldn’t help but pull her even closer, if that was even possible.

“Don’t leave…” he said.

“please.”

Her gaze softened, as their eyes met. “I don’t plan on it,” she promised, grinning. “You’re stuck with me for good, whether you like it or not!”

---

“That was quite clever of you. I’m almost impressed, Vaude,” Nacht exclaimed, once that final scene had ended with Dorothy and Nozel returning to land, and the witch taking a detour to meet up with Charlotte while the Silver Eagles captain went to report to the Wizard King as though nothing had happened. "I wonder how you'd managed to get those magical birds..."

“I’m not at all impressed.” The two men turned around to regard Charlotte’s annoyed look. “Must there have been a boat ride in your plan?”

Langris only offered a mock apologetic expression. “Well, I apologise, but your nobleness seems to have forgotten to point out that she was afraid of water,” he drawled out, though he looked far too smug for this to have been an accident.

She looked as though she was about to murder him. “I am not afraid of water,” she insisted.

“Well, I thought it was a wonderful touch, boys!” another voice chirped as Dorothy popped up behind them. “I’m sure your captains would be proud of your match-making efforts.”

“Or they’d try to kill us,” Nacht said with a strained smile, rather concerned for his well-being, what with the little witch possessing a big mouth.

“Speak for yourself. Not all captains are uncivilised apes.”

“I still disagree with your methods, Vaude, Faust… I don’t see where precautions could have possibly been taken with this- what if things did not go as planned?”

“And that, Captain Charlotte, is why we did a test run…”

“Well, that certainly explains why you two fools had insisted on dragging myself and Vangeance out to the lake.” Their conversation, it seemed, had been joined by an unexpected guest. A rather severe looking one.

Dorothy giggled. “Enjoyed yourself, Mereoleona, dear?”

The fire Vermillion crossed her arms over her chest. “I never signed up to be a test subject,” she glowered at the two men. It seemed to finally dawn on them how potentially screwed they were.

“Oh, but the two of you made such a cute couple!”

“You damn voyeur,” the older woman regarded the witch in annoyance, “don’t tell me you watched all of it.”

“Only up to the part where you kissed him back!” the younger woman exclaimed as if that was in any way comforting. “It’s really quite fortunate that they managed to pick a suitable partner for you on such short notice. It’s quite impressive too - I mean, I half expected you to eat him, to be honest.”

The lioness gritted her teeth. “Why does everyone seem to think I eat men?”

“I gotta ask though, Sisgoleon, do you eat your men during or after copulation?” had been Yami’s words when she’d been considering potential hookups - safe to say that she didn’t go with Sukehiro. And not just because Lady Roselei had very obvious feelings for the man - although no one knew exactly why she did, she was sure.

“In all honesty, I have to admit, I was impressed that Sukehiro even knew the word “copulation”,” Nacht commented. “Still, I was sure then that I definitely couldn’t use Sukehiro as a test subject. Otherwise, with his people skills we could have ended months behind schedule.”

“Well, I did tell you that my captain was the best choice,” Langris exclaimed smugly.

Mereoleona raised a brow. “Based on what factors?”

He looked away. “Based on me walking in on him plucking petals off of a flower debating whether you hated him or not – the most awkward thirty seconds of my life as a vice captain.”

“And that made us compatible in your mind because…”

“Because I was there during your game of Marry, Kiss and Kill,” Nacht supplied, “considering I was concealed, I’m not surprised none of you three women noticed me.”

Charlotte turned-lobster red. “D-does that mean -”

Nacht nodded, wincing. “It means I heard everything said during that lunch meeting.”

“Everything-everything?” she squeaked.

He shot her a serious look. “Everything.”

“I regret nothing.” Everyone turned to face Mereoleona. “What? I’m not enough of a prude to deny I speculated about some… things.”

“Things indeed…”

“I still think Nozel-kun is the prettiest of them all!”

And so, while Charlotte was too busy dealing with her desire to die a thousand times over having been overheard swooning over Yami’s best assets while quite possibly mildly inebriated, none of the three male test subjects - I mean, love interests - were any the wiser…

---

“Well, that was a weird fucking experience. I guess neither of us are single now.”

“... do you think that means she likes me?”

“Seriously, Vengeance, go see a shrink.”

“... everything I did was for nothing… my dignity is forfeit… I have ruined the name of the house of Silva…”

“Guess I should book us a group therapy session, then.”

“I mean, I know she kissed me back but maybe she just wanted to mess with me?”

“... I shouldn’t have put her in danger… now we’ll have to elope, leave the country and change our surnames to Schmitz.”

“Maybe she won’t want to see me ever again… I mean, she did say that she would rather not tell anyone about it yet. Maybe what she meant was that she didn't want to ever be associated with me-- it's not as though I can blame her for it...”

“...should I dye my hair - it will most likely stick out…”

“... what if we kiss again and this time the magic’s gone…?”

“... do they speak a different language in the Land of the Sun? You might have to teach me that, Sukehiro.”

“... how do you keep a woman interested in you, Yami?”

“Well, that’s it. I’m never taking the two of you out drinking with me again.” He should have remembered those two were lightweights.

#black clover #mereoleona vermillion #william vangeance #charlotte roselei #yami sukehiro #nozel silva #dorothy unsworth #nacht faust #langris vaude #kiss the girl #so it becomes rather chaotic at the end...#also Charlotte pulled an Astrid #and the end is just... two men's drunken ramblings randomly tacked on because I felt like it...#ignore the scheming going around the in the background and it's almost romantic though #maybe #or at least funny?

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gnattyplayssims · 2 months

Text

1958 Pt1 - The Meaning of a Rose

It was Love Day in Henford-on-Bagley and the Gnome's Arms was putting on it's yearly meet-and-greet for all the eligible young people in town. Kyler had insisted they attend and dragged Stefan along with him but it quickly became clear Stefan was the 3rd wheel

"Hi Kyler." A sweet voice chimed as they made their way to the back of the restaurant.

"H-hi Penelope. Fancy seeing you here."

"I mean you're the one who said we should go."

"No, right I did. I was just being...silly."

She giggled, "Come sit with me!"

"Yeah okay!"

Stefan watched in amusement as Penelope brushed off her skirt and straightened her hair while Kyler settled onto the couch as if they were the only two in the room. The two had been courting for some time now but they still acted like twitterpated birds when they saw each other.

"You look really pretty today, Pen."

"You really think so!? This sweater is so old but it's the nicest one I have. I think it smells kind of musty."

"No...um...you smell really good actually"

Stefan rolled his eyes but he couldn't help but smile. He was glad Kyler had someone.

Soon they were joined by Rosalie and her husband Mason. Even though the couple couldn't partake in the activities they'd still come for drinks and a chance to have an afternoon away from their infant twin boys. For awhile they just talked waiting for the activites to start.

"Oh Kyler, I forgot to tell you! Jazzy had her calf last night."

"Aw man, really!?"

"Yeah, I'm so sorry you missed it. I know how excited you were to be part of that."

"Did your dad name it yet. Cause I've been thinking over name's for months!"

"No I don't think so!"

While Kyler and Pen talked cows Rosalie turned toward Stefan. "I sure hope you're not thinking of running as soon as the activities start."

Stefan looked away, "Oh of course not!"

"Don't lie to me. You always bail and it's time you settle down."

"Eh leave him alone, Rosie"

Mason wrapped his arm around his wife and pulled her closer. Rosalie looked across at Kyler and Penelope who were in their own little world. "You just deserve to be happy like that Stefan. You're 24 already, it's time to settle down with a nice girl."

Stefan swallowed, "I know."

Just then the dinner bell went off and Penelope jumped to her feet. "It's time!" She grabbed Kyler's hand and pulled him off the couch "Come on let's go."

"Calm down Pen, I'm going, I'm going. Stefan you coming?"

"Oh yeah...I'll be right there. You guys go on ahead."

That was all the nudge Penelope needed as she turned toward the door and pulled Kyler along with her.

Kyler laughed, "Alright see you out there. Don't leave me hanging man. I saw a couple cute brunette's walk in not too long ago."

"Hey!"

"None as cute as you, Pen!"

As Kyler and Penelope ran out of the building, Rosalie turned toward her husband with a teasing smirk. She whispered something in his ear and he turned beet red and nodded. The two disappeared to a quiet corner and it didn't take a genius for Stefan to guess what they were up to.

Stefan sat in the silence that followed. He considered joining the activities but honestly he hadn't seen a single interesting girl walk in. Everyone expected him to settle down but no one made him feel the way Kyler clearly felt about Pen. He wanted to wait for a girl like that.

Kyler slipped out of the Gnome's Arms without being seen and took in the fresh country air. Someone was walking toward him and his heart flipped at how much they looked like Estaban.

As he got closer he suddenly realized...it was Estaban...right there in Henford.

Estaban stopped in front of him, a gentle smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "What are you doing here?"

"Your last letter said today was a special holiday."

"Oh yeah I guess."

"Are you leaving?"

"Yeah...it's not really my scene. I'm not really into...couply stuff."

"I brought this for you," He pulled a rose from behind his back, "You said it was customary on this day to give someone you like a rose."

"Oh um...Estaban it's beautiful but I think you misunderstand. The rose is for someone you like...romantically."

"I understand."

Stefan's heart was beating rapidly as he took a step forward and pressed his nose to the rose. He wrapped his hand around Estaban's and tried to focus on the rose's scent but Estaban hadn't moved and that just made him more dizzy. Estaban stroked his thumb and Stefan jerked away.

Estaban dropped his hands though they were still standing so close, nothing but the rose between them. "Estaban?"

"Yes."

"I'm not sure how it is in Salvadorada but...in Henford...men don't usually give roses...to other men."

"Ah...I'm sorry...I thought"

"You didn't know!"

Estaban took a step back but Stefan took his hand before he thought better of it, drawing him back. Estaban looked up at him and Stefan couldn't breathe.

He released his hand but Estaban stayed close. "I'm sorry Estaban. I'm really confused right now. And you make it worse."

Estaban nodded and Stefan moved past him as if they'd just been two strangers running into each other. Neither said anything as Stefan walked away. But as the distance grew between them, Stefan couldn't keep the smile from his face and Estaban knew Stefan just needed some time.

Back home Stefan stopped by the mailbox. He quickly ripped open the envelope when he saw the detective agency address on it. The results for the Omiscan plant were in and he scanned the page quickly.

"That's...that's not possible. There-there has to be some mistake."

1958 Pt2 - Never Alone

#mizrahi legacy #dandy generation #decades challenge #sims 4 storytelling #ts4 storytelling #ts4 legacy

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enchantingkryptoniteheart-blog · 1 year

Text

-The Best of Intentions-

Chapter 2-

1 year later … 

Thorin and Kili were sitting in his office, staring each other down challengingly.

“Besides. I'm not heir apparent, Fili is. Therefore … I'm not held to certain expectations." Kili singsonged, while fidgeting with one of the daggers he had found on his uncle's desk. Thorin had taken to forging weapons again in his spare time, to rid himself of the compounded stresses of running and rebuilding his kingdom. His many years of perfecting the craft resulting in the most beautiful yet lethal weapons.  

Thorin could feel the corner of his right eye twitching. "Mahal and an aura." (Mahal on a cracker) He muttered as he rubbed his his face in his hands.

Kili snickered at his uncles poorly concealed murmurings. "Come on uncle. I know you are fond of her."  “Fond is a very strong word, Irakdashat.(Nephew)" He growled in exasperation.

Kili sighed and settled back further into the leather arm chair. "Uncle. She is my one. I know it. I feel it! Khie! Armani Adrian sign!" (My one! Ive been waiting for a long time!) Will you truly see to deny us our happiness?"

“Ne!(Don't!)" Thorin seethed, slamming his fist down on his desk as he stood up, looking at Kili with unbridled frustration. "That isn't fair! You know that I must handle this with care. I am not denying you! I am not keeping you from each other! You need to understand that this is not something I can allow without some diplomacy being done first!"

Kili growled with frustration as he stood up abruptly and turned towards the fireplace, still twirling the dagger betwixt his fingers deftly. He glared into the flames. "We have been patient. Our kingdoms are at peace! Why can't we use our love to unite us further!" 

Thorin clenched his jaw, fighting to keep his temper calm. Before he could form a terse reply, the door of his study flew open as Balin and Dwalin quickly stormed in. "More orcs have been spotted in the fields to the Western boarders of Mirkwood. No more than 20. On foot. No wargs. We are confident they were the ones that attacked the Dale caravan." Dwalin's rough brogue was brimming with eagerness of battle.

Balin was the only one of the two that sensed the tense situation they had walked into. He also had a fairly good idea as to what it had been concerning. He exhaled sharply through his nose and raised his eyebrows at Thorin's perturbed expression. The perfect time to slay some orc filth all the while working out some pent up frustrations.  "I have a platoon of our finest awaiting your command laddie. I know you have been wanting to get your sword wet with orc blood for a while." Balin looked at Thorin pointedly.

“Aye." Dwalin grinned. "Its been too long since you and I have fought side by side."  Thorin smirked with gratitude. He grabbed Orcist, sheathed and slung over the back of his chair and strode past his friends with renewed purpose.

“I'm coming with you." Kili was also eager for an outlet.

Balin scoffed. "You will have to fight your brother for that. Only one of you is permitted to go."

“He is already at the front gate, in his armor." Dwalin laughed as they strode quickly towards the armory.

“We shall flip for it then!" Kili fumed. His brother always seemed to be a step ahead of him.

“He isn't distracted by tall lasses tossing their locks and fluttering their eyes." Dwalin smirked, as if reading Kili's thoughts.

“Oi! I am not distracted!" The young prince scowled as his kin laughed loudly.

“Twitterpated is what ye are!" Dwalin grinned. "I like yer tree hugger laddie but she has ye wrapped around er pretty fingers . Don't even deny it!"

****

Thorin quickly fitted himself in his kingly armor of gold and polished steel. He was eager to get out, clear his mind while clearing his lands of the murderous orc gangs that still terrorized their lands.

Kili was grumbling to himself as he kept pace with his uncle, determined to not be left behind.  Thorin brought himself to full height, allowing the armor to settle before he moved and tested his mobility.

"We are Son's of Durin. Direct descendants of Durin the Deathless. We can never forget or forsake who we are born to be. No matter what." Thorin's deep grumble made Kili stop and look up at him as he strapped Orcist to his side. "You must understand that I am trying to balance both being an uncle, wanting nothing but for your happiness in this life, and that of being King. I must proceed with utmost diligence, to make sure that I honor our ancestors, and our people. Trust me when I say I will do right by you and your love Kili, but you must trust me."

Kili met the King's bright, icy gaze with his own; warm, earthen honey eyes just as striking. "I understand Uncle." Kili spoke softly as he slowly stood, fully clad in his armor as well. "I sometimes forget that I have to share you with all of Erebor."

Thorin smiled softly and chuckled while he patted Kili's shoulder fondly. "This doesn't change the fact that Fili is now my favorite nephew. Less of a pain in my arse."

Kili's smile of adoration fell immediately into a scowl.  "Oi! Just because he has the constitution of a sterile mountain goat doesn't mean he deserves the title of favorite!"

“Better to be a old, sterile goat than a simpering billy frolicking after the skirts of its shepherdess." Fili strutted into the armory with a catlike grin on his face.

“Enough bickering and get on with it!" Thorin growled good-naturedly.

Fili, still grinning from ear to ear pulled a gold coin from his pocket, only to have Kili smack his brothers hand away. "Nice try! We are using my coin this time, since you have bested me in the last three coin tosses."

Fili smirked. "Odds have always favored me."

“We will see about that Brother dearest." Kili returned the smirk. "I call heads."

The coin was flipped expertly into the air, a golden haze before hitting the back of Kili's hand.  "Heads!" The younger Durin whooped. Flipping the coin to his older brother, he ran past him and his uncle victorious.

“I guess that's only fair then." Fili grumbled, a ghost of a smirk still playing on his lips.  Thorin mussed Fili's golden braids. "Stand by. Keep your eyes open. There could be more out there lying in wait."

**** They rode for several hours, into the plains laid between Erebor, Dale and Mirkwood until it was too dark to press on. The crescent moon granted little light, and the night sky was blanketed with thick clusters of twinkling stars. No campfires were lit, allowing the dwarves to fully enjoy vastness of the celestial bodies.

Despite the reasons for leaving Erebor, Thorin was soaking in the beauty and tranquility of the night. He missed sleeping under the stars and breathing in the cool night breeze. He volunteered for first watch, his body not quite ready for sleep after the invigorating ride. He soon started to hear the snores of his men join in with the rustling of the long field grass.

They were camped on top of a large knoll that gave them visibility all around them, with Erebor and Dale to their backs and the vast darkness of Mirkwood ahead of them.

After a few moments, he heard Kili stir then get up to come sit with him.  "Ive missed this." Kili murmured as he gazed out. "Never thought I would, but I do."

They sat in companionable silence, back to back gazing out where the horizon of mountains and trees met the the glittering sky.

Towards the end of their shift, Thorin felt Kili stiffen. "What is it?" He whispered.

"Movement, in the valley below. I see torch lights." They got up and walked towards the edge of the camp that was closest to the torches. "Its that band of orcs, its got to be." Kili hissed. "There are at least 15 torches from what I can see. And they are moving fast."

At that moment, a loud animalistic shriek rent through the night, jolting a lot of the dwarven soldiers awake.  "What is it?" Dwalin whispered as he quickly joined them.

“Something is going on down there." Thorin growled. "That wasn't from an orc."

Another shout echoed up towards them, one of enraged duress. "Gather the men." We are going to sneak up on them. No one moves until my say so." The king's eyes flashed menacingly in the dark.

It didn't take long for the platoon of dwarves to ready themselves and make their way slowly down towards the erratically moving torch light, leaving a few of them to stay with their packs and horses.

Soon it became apparent what was making the loud shrieking noises and growls. As they got closer they soon realized the orcs were in the middle of torturing and toying with their wounded captives.

On one edge of the hastily erected camp was a giant wolf like creature tied down by the neck and back legs. It was significantly taller and far more majestic than any warg, and an intelligence was evident in the way it snarled and snapped at its captors. The wolf creature appeared to be either white or light grey under the matted dark brown and red stains that littered its body. One of its front legs was limp, hanging uselessly as it fought against its restraints and the orcs that jabbed at it.  Dwarven eyes narrowed in hatred as they watched the cruelty. "Its a dire wolf. Has to be.." Dwalin whispered low enough for only Thorin and Kili to hear.

“Where in Durin's name did they find a Direwolf?" Thorin growled, his blood boiling.

“My king, there is a wounded warrior with the other group of orcs!" a soldier crawled up behind them urgently. "I … I think its a lass." Their eyes widened in horror as they focused on the other gathering of orcs further down to their right.

“Show me!" The king hissed, gesturing for the soldier to lead the way. As Thorin and Kili crept away, Dwalin gestured for the platoon to divide, one to target the group with the wolf and for the other to follow them.

At first Thorin caught a glimpse of white blonde hair whipping around as the figure attempted to fight off three orcs.

The sound of steel hitting steel echoed above the raucous jeering of the orcs. One of them attacked from behind as the others served as a distraction, disarming the figure and wrenching her arm out of socket with a sickening pop. She yelped as she was tossed onto her back, her other arm still clinging to her last sword.

She.  She was a Dwarrowdam! Unlike any he had ever seen before.

He felt the rage from his warriors radiate around him. Kili already had his bow drawn, aiming for the orc that was standing over the she-warrior.

“Men khan ad hafar! (Your mother was a dog)" The dwarrowdam spat, as she defiantly stared up at the orcs surrounding her.

The orc bent down and picked her up by the throat, holding her aloft effortlessly. "Gazat glob! (Dwarf filth)" the orc crooned, as he watched her struggle for breath, her sight growing dark.

Before passing out, she was surprised to see an arrow slice through the orc's ear and exit cleanly out the other. The orc's eyes went blank with death before the pressure on her throat was lessened. As she felt herself fall, she heard the deafening cry "KHAZAD AI-MENU!(The dwarves are upon you!)"  She gave in to the blackness as a battle erupted all around her.

 The battle was a quick one. The orcs had been so distracted with their sick games they didn't stand a chance against the furious dwarf warriors. It was obvious they were a rag-tag group with no leader looking to pillage and plunder whatever they came across.  Kili had ran to the unconscious dwarrrowdam as Thorin dispersed of the last orc. Kicking the body of the fallen enemy aside in disgust, he rushed to his nephews side.

Kili had ran to the unconscious dwarrrowdam as Thorin dispersed of the last orc. Kicking the body of the fallen enemy aside in disgust, he rushed to his nephews side. Kili was stricken with fury and concern as he looked over the unconscious woman. "Mahal." He breathed, his body shaking in rage.

“Go grab a healers kit." Thorin ordered as he knelt next to her. Kili nodded as he jumped up quickly.

“Is she alive?" He heard Dwalin's gruff voice behind him. Thorin leaned over her, placing his fingers against her throat to see if he could feel a pulse. Suddenly, he felt movement under him and felt a cold, sharp blade press against his throat.  Angered and shocked yells erupted all around him. "Don't touch me filth!" He heard a strong yet feminine voice growl at him.

His voice failed him as he found himself looking into the most striking eyes he had ever seen. His heart stopped and his breath seized in his throat as he found himself lost in the turbulent sea of her eyes. They were of the palest sea-foam green, with flecks of jade and gold scattered across their depths.

At that moment, it felt as if someone had set his blood ablaze as heat surged through his soul. A tingling, almost euphoric high ebbed and flowed within him , blowing his pupils wide with the onslaught of emotions that threaten to pull him under. Then the realization hit. 'No!' His mind screamed internally at himself 'It was impossible!'

He was brought back to reality, and he felt himself grounded to the earth below him. Her breathing was shallow and labored as she held herself up, her one arm dangling oddly at her side, with the other one shaking with the exertion of holding his boot dagger up in her last defense.

He slowly raised his right hand away from the side of her neck in surrender. "Easy." He breathed gently. "No harm will befall you." He took notice of her eyes shifting to look behind him, and he motioned to his men to stand down. "We are here to help you."

Her breathing hitched, and for a moment her grip tightened on the dagger. "Who are you?" She gritted through her teeth, as her body began to shake in shock of her injuries and the adrenaline was beginning to wear off.

“I am Thorin. And the two behind me are of my Kin, Kili and Dwalin. We were hunting the Orcs that took you captive."

She swallowed with difficulty as she began to realize how outnumbered she was. The faint torchlight dancing across the angered yet cautious faces of the dwarven warriors that now surrounded her.

“Let us help you My Lady." He whispered gently. "We mean you no harm."

Her gaze came back to him. She searched his eyes for any hint of a lie. He slowly brought his hand to hers, still clasped firmly to the dagger handle. He gently covered her hand with his and slowly helped her lower it until she relented and let the dagger fall to the ground.

He heard several sighs of relief once she was disarmed. Kili slowly kneeled next to him with the healer bag grasped in his hand. "We will need to put her shoulder back in place before we move her." Kili spoke gently, not wanting to spook the woman who was still holding eye contact with his uncle.

“Will you let us set your shoulder?" Thorin asked gently. She nodded her head as she inhaled a deep but shaky breath.

Thorin moved behind her quickly to hold her up and motioned for Dwalin to assist them.  "Ok lass. On the count of three." Dwalin held her arm gently, preparing her for what was to come.

She gave a jerky nod and braced herself against the striking, dark haired dwarf that was holding her up.

"One …Two …Three!" She was biting the inside of her cheek, hoping to brace herself for the pain, but she found herself screaming in pain for the first time since the horrific ordeal started. The wet, popping sound of her arm going back into place along with the sharp searing pain that shot through her body overwhelmed her, darkness flickered across her vision and she found herself losing what little contents she had left in her stomach on the ground next to her.

“Easy lass. Here, take a drink." The deep voiced sounded so far away as the ringing in her ears increased in pitch. She felt someone place a water-skin to her lips, and she felt herself start to drink greedily. The cool refreshing water quenched the fire that was burning in her throat, chasing away the taste of iron and acid from her mouth.

“At least I didn't give that orc filth the satisfaction of my scream." She couldn't stop herself from muttering as she felt pure exhaustion weigh her down. She was losing the fight to stay conscious.

She didn't hear the dwarves chuckling at her sad attempt of self soothing. She heard commotion in the distance, of snarling and shouts of alarm.

Luna.

It was Luna.

She was still alive!

She tried pulling herself up, trying to force her eyes open fully. "Luna. Please, please take me to her. Help her." She found herself begging, desperately trying to stay conscious.  She felt herself being picked up; cradled protectively in strong arms, warm and safe. "Its ok. We will take care of your wolf. No harm will befall either of you." The deep voice soothed.

She had no reason to trust the voice. But she did anyway. It was a balm to the rawness that had been left exposed. It was security and warmth like a heavy, thick blanket. Bright blue eyes swam behind her closed eyelids, blue like the icebergs that flow in the frigid salt waters of her home. Jagged pieces of ice glowing on the black sands of the beach in the bright but cold rays of the sun. Eyes like the water gems peering into the depths of her lonely soul.

Thorin felt her grow heavy and then limp in his arms as he walked quickly to his pony. "We must make haste for Erebor. She needs a healer."

“What of the wolf?" Kili asked as he watched the poor animal pant in exertion. None of the warriors dared to be anywhere near the beast of myth.

“Milk of poppy. You should have some in our medical supplies. Put a healthy dose of it in a piece of meat. Hopefully it will eat it and it will knock him out so we can transport it." Thorin instructed calmly.

He turned to Kili and placed the unconscious woman into his arms so he could mount his horse. "Dwalin, we will send you back with a cart to retrieve the wolf. Hopefully we can find someone to tend to the animal as well."

Dwalin nodded in affirmation. "Ketnys is very savvy with the caretaking of beasts. As long as we keep it drugged."

Kili gently transferred the dwarrowdam back into his uncle's waiting arms. Thorin then adjusted himself cautiously until she was held securely in the saddle in front of him. He was anxious to get her back to Erebor. He couldn't allow himself to think about the connection he now sensed bound them together. It was too much to acknowledge in the moment.

*********

Thorin was pacing in the front of the infirmary, still clad in his armor. They had returned in the early hours of the morning. She hadn't woken once on their fast ride back, and he refused to let anyone else carry her to the infirmary. His instant drive to protect her both confused and scared him, but it was too strong to simply ignore.

Quick footsteps approached him, pulling him from his chaotic thoughts.

“Thorin!"

He looked up to see his sister Dis and his nephews approaching him, concern written on their faces. "Any word on how she's fairing?" Kili asked.

Thorin shook his head as he continued to pace, his gaze on the floor.

“How bad is she?" Dis pressed.

"I couldn't get a full account of her injuries, it was too dark." Thorin grumbled in frustration. "How is the wolf?"

“They managed to drug it." Fili informed him. "Dwalin and Balin are down in the dungeons with it now. We had no other way to cage it. They used the biggest cell we have."

The dwarf king nodded. "Very good. We have to make due for now. Has it been seen to?"

“Yes. Katnys and her assistance were able to tend to its wounds."

Dis shook her head in shock, the concept of an unknown warrior maiden with a giant dire-wolf was hard to fully wrap ones head around. "Did she have any clan markings on her or her weapons?" She asked to no one in particular.

Thorin was getting tired of shaking his head, of not knowing any answers. "None that I've ever seen." He growled in frustration.

The infirmary door opened, and Oin walked out. "Gemlinn is finishing up with her bandages. She has several broken ribs, lacerations to her arms, torso and legs, fractured collarbone, bruised jaw." He prattled on gruffly while he fidgeted with something in his hands "But she will make a full recovery with some rest. I've given her a tonic to help with the pain and sleep."

Thorin felt himself letting out a sigh of relief. "What was a dwarrowdam, warrior or no, doing out by herself!" Dis exclaimed, horrified with the list of injuries.

“Your forgetting she has a pet wolf. Called it Luna if I remember right." Kili offered.

“A pet wolf!? Ive never heard of such a thing! Have you? A warrior maiden with a wolf? No other escort? Something doesn't sit right with it Thorin." Dis crossed her arms across her chest looking between her brother and Oin.

“I took this from her armor." Oin added as he handed it out for his king to take. "Ive never seen anything like it before, in all my years of treating warriors and fighting in battles."

Thorin's eyebrows furrowed. It appeared to be a shoulder guard, glowing with an eerie metallic sheen in the light of the wall sconces. It was cool to the touch, as if its silvery blue surface was repelling the heat from his hands. It was surprisingly lightweight despite the layering of the scale like material. "Its scales." He spoke frigidly when it began to dawn on him what the armor was.

“Scales?" Fili and Kili parroted in disbelief.  "Dragon scales." Thorin growled, his jaw clenched. "A frost drake."

Dis gasped. "What on the Valars green earth…”

“Frost drake armor; dire wolf mount … She is from the Northern Wastes." He looked up from the foreign armor in his hand and back up his friend.

Fili and Kili looked at each other in alarm. "The northern wastes? I thought it was thought impossible for anything to thrive there?" Fili asked as he approached his uncle's side to look at the armor.

“Apparently not." Thorin mused aloud, not knowing if he should be intrigued or disturbed by this piece of information. "Ive heard legends, of an ancient dwarf clan that hunted dragons and rode dire-wolf mounts into battle."

“Thousands of years past." Oin muttered, shaking his head. "Said to have disappeared long before Durin's Bane chased our kin from the halls of Moria."

“Laddie, you have to see this." Balin huffed urgently as he and his brother Dwalin joined them. Thorin, Dis and the princes turned quickly, to see Balin red faced and out of breath as if he and Dwalin had run all the way from the dungeons.

Dwalin stepped forward, holding out two swords. "I grabbed er swords after you had taken er. I didn't have a good look at em until we got back ere, after that wolf had been seen to."

Thorin stepped past his family and reached for one of the swords while passing the shoulder guard to Balin for him to examine. The sword was elegant in design, similar in concept of Orcist but smaller. The hilt of the sword looked to be made of the same dragon scale with a jade like stone at the center of the pummel. The blade was of a darker grey metal, intricately detailed with a dragon emerging from turbulent waves and breathing spears of ice and billowing clouds of mist. Thorin could tell from how the blade edge glinted in the orange light of the lights that it was wicked sharp.

“Laddie." Balin sounded nervous as he examined the piece of armor he handed to him. Thorin knew his closest adviser and one of his dearest friends had come to the same suspicion he had. "This … this is unprecedented."

Thorin had rarely seen Balin at a loss of words. "What is a dwarven dragon slayer of legend, never mind a lass, doing outside the plains of Erebor and Mirkwood in the hands of orcs?"

#thorin oakenshield #thorin and company #thorin durin #thorin fanfiction #thorin oakenshield x oc #thorin son of thrain #kili durin #fili durin #fili and kili #dwalin #balin #dis durin #erebor #the hobbit #hobbit thorin oakenshield #alternate version #alternate ending #hobbit thorin oakenshield x oc fanfiction #creative writing

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iwillgiveyoumyhappiness · 2 years

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Ok ok but imagine: being friends w the whole group & hooking up w yonghee on the down low and nobody else knows about it but one time after a long while of being w the group he finally gets you alone (or so he thinks) and you kiss & then Seunghun walks in 😳

I’m such a sucker for the whole secret relationship trope 😩 -yonghee anon

Nooooo, 'cause he would've been so careful and subtle up to this point, and he'd be totally embarrassed to be found out :')

Y'all would probably be having a game night at the dorms or something, and as you were absolutely dominating in a harsh one-on-one battle of Guess Who with Hyunsuk, you'd decide to get up and grab some snacks.

Maybe give him some time to mull over his options and suss out his next question.

The whole night, Yonghee had been watching you closely, utterly endeared by your laughter, grinning, and adorable little victory shimmey. In that moment, he decided that he just had to show you how cute you were.

Yonghee never did anything risky when you were close by the boys. He just wasn't interested in the teasing and complications. And if he was being completely honest... He liked having you as his little secret.

Something he didn't have to share with anyone else and that he could entirely call his own. He loved the guys and his job, but there was very little privacy that came with either.

He liked having his own little secret world to escape to—and he'd found it in you.

He followed you to the kitchen under the pretext of grabbing water refills for everyone, a couple of glasses gathered up in his hands and arms.

You grabbed some chips down from the cabinet, he started filling the glasses using the spicket in the sink. You both had smiles on your faces, enjoying the comfortable silence.

You'd finished grabbing your things, but you still waited for him, leaning casually against the countertop.

He met your eyes, smile widening. "Hey, beautiful," he said softly, so as not to be heard by the four rambunctious boys just one room over.

You hushed him unconvincingly, not being able to hide your growing smile and twitterpated giggle. "Someone's gonna hear you!" you chastised.

He chuckled, your words only spurring him on further. "You've been so cute all night, though..." He finished filling the last glass, setting it on the counter next to the others. "How could I just sit back and not say anything?"

He stepped closer, hands resting on either side of the counter where you stood, caging you in. Not in an intimidating way—a very safe one. One that blocked you off from the rest of the world so that it was just you and him.

"Whaddya say?" he started, leaning in closer. "Just one kiss? No one's gonna know."

You tried your best to list all the reasons why this was a bad idea in your head, but for whatever reason, nothing was coming to you. Well... He was nothing if not convincing.

"Oh, fine," you muttered, reaching up to cup his cheeks. "Just the one."

With a big smile on his face, he leaned in, closing the gap between the two of you with a gentle closed-mouth kiss ending in a playful 'mwah'. A short little peck, nothing more than that.

You ran your thumbs over his pretty cheekbones once he pulled away. "Okay... Maybe one more," you whispered.

He jumped at the invitation, leaning in for one more peck before you had to return to the bustling living room. He could already hear them starting to argue about some stolen Monopoly money.

Seriously, what would they do without him?

Yonghee pulled away with a sigh. "All righty..." He tucked some hair behind your ear, a loving look in his eyes. "Back to real life now, I guess."

You nodded, giving him one last comforting smile. "Back to real life."

When you both turned around with your bag of chips and his glasses of water, you certainly didn't expected to see a bug-eyed Seunghun with a slack jaw standing in the entry way.

"Seunghun!" Yonghee gasped, almost dropping the glass in his right hand. "I- what are you doing here?" He gave you an apologetic side-eye. This was not supposed to have happened.

"I- well, I..." Seunghun fumbled, trying to make sense of what he'd just seen. "Hyunsuk was cheating, and I just came to warn you, and then... And the counter... And the... Y'know."

Yonghee's cheeks turned red. "Ugh, Seunghun..." He wished he could hide his face. "How much did you see?"

"Everything. I mean—nothing. I- I don't know..." The older guy started backing away, bumping into the walls as he went. It was pretty rare to see him this flustered, so in a way, it was an achievement. He chuckled awkwardly. "I'll just... go now. Your secret's safe with me, I promise!"

With that he scurried away, leaving you two to stand in stunned silence.

"Our secret's definitely not safe with him," you chuckled, knowing the older boy all too well. He wouldn't try to tell everyone, it would just slip out.

Yonghee groaned, setting down the glasses and resting his head on your shoulder. Your fingers instinctively went to his hair. "I'm so sorry..." he mumbled, muffled by your shoulder. "I should've been more cognizant."

You shook your head. "I don't mind too much," you assured him. "Think of it this way. Now I can kiss you whenever I want."

Yonghee paused for a moment.

"...Yeah, I guess that's not so bad."

#kpop #kpop fluff #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #for anon #request #requested #kpop drabbles #kpopidol #cix fluff #cix yonghee #cix #cix imagines #yonghee #yonghee anon

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agallimaufryofoddments · 1 year

Text

For those of you who are also slow on the uptake, Chapter(?) 3 of the Baccano! ~from the 1700s~ manga released on January 25. The best time for us to buy it was release day, but buying it is better late than never. As always, (the prospect of) new Baccano! media depends on consumer support.

Buy it despite DMM's "DMN" DRM, for we have no choice.

On the one hand, I hate DRM. On the other, if selling this manga via a DRM-strict retailer/platform succeeds in making people purchase it when they would have otherwise tried reading it for free, then. Fine. FiNe.

Remember to rate each installment. I think it's possible to do it without leaving a review: read the chapter in your browser, click the star on the end page, then click five stars on the review input form that pops up. It seems to save my five star rating even when I navigate away from the form. Leaving reviews themselves wouldn't hurt, unless...they're in English...probably. Do you think we could get away with leaving machine-translated ones? How many strangely-written reviews would it take to sound the 'overseas purchaser' alarm?

Edit: Or maybe not. The ratings I ‘gave’ aren’t reflecting on the listings for 2 and 3. Maybe a review is necessary after all.

Chapter 3 reactions under the cut.

Looks like this depicts parts of LN11 Interlude II and Chapter 4. I did have to manually transcribe some of the dialogue. This took way more time than I can afford.

The opening scene depicts the killing of the 28th victim/witness, an aristocrat named Lord/Sir Alonso. This must be the murder that Larolf reports to Esperanza in the latter half of LN11 Interlude III? Larolf describes the victim as a "boy" who witnessed the Mask Maker right before Niki did in the novel, but this Sir / Lord Alonso is certainly not a child. Hm...

I believe the bit of Niki we see in this chapter is her telling Esperanza the food is delicious from the beginning of Interlude III. However, the manga seems to be omitting the part where Larolf reports [Alonso's] murder? It shows Niki walking away with a maid, whereas Niki runs away when Larolf makes his report...and there's no moment where Esperanza is angered by the bruise on Niki's face per the LN.

Moreover, am I right that the manga also omits Monica and Elmer's encounter with the bald man and Maiza in Chapter 4? There's no marketplace with children singing the MM song, no bald man, no Maiza...

...but the previous chapters also omitted Elmer's first encounter with Maiza, didn't they? So the mangaka's been deliberately holding off on Maiza's introduction from the start. I guess the manga's going to move the bruise reaction, Larolf's report and the bald man/Maiza-Elmer-Monica encounter to another day? How will that account for Elmer's wound, though, since Elmer doesn't show up to class after being stabbed?

I probably need to reread manga chs. 1–2 and actually take note of what was and wasn't adapted. I should do that anyway, since that would be useful for the wiki.

Okay, some positives...

Larolf depicted! (I only know because he was depicted in Chapters 1–2, so this is a belated celebration of a Larolf Hancletia design. Ch.2 gave us Huey's mother, too.)

Warehouse depicted!

Patisserie lady depicted!

Hey, it's Elmer's room at Esperanza's place!

Elmer wounded! Bandages on Mask Maker's arm are neat.

Monica has a lot of fun expressions. Manga is leaning hard into the classic twitterpated teen girl archetype and her 'tells' (big eyes, blushing), and these do serve the purpose.

Denkurou and Zank (albeit seen, not heard)!

Elmer's back scars...

Some mild complaints:

Zank's body should be as dark-skinned as Zank's head. Did the mangaka forget to color the torso? If this is a lighting thing where Zank's head isn't in range of a light source, then Denkurou's body should reflect that too. It's such a weirdly stark difference in hue that it really looks like a coloring error.

Am I allowed to feel lukewarm about Elmer's design? Maybe the fact that I've never seen Elmer with flat (slicked?) hair is throwing me off (aka it's throwing me off a lot), but there's something about his head's shape as well. The big forehead?　The eyebrows floating halfway up the forehead? The flat hair is contibuting to the forehead's largeness.

To be totally fair, this is gawky teen!Elmer, not adult!Elmer, and Elmer on the LN11 cover does have a rounder face (than adult!Elmer) that I guess the manga is honoring.

And...

Elmer's back scars.

I am whelmed. I guess I've built up my mental image of the scars for so long that probably any illustration is doomed not to meet expectations. It might be unfair of me, but I can't help think that a mangaka could go all out on the scars, since they only have to be drawn for 1—3 panels—honestly, why not just devote a full page illustration to it or one panel that fills most of the page?

Ex: Contain Monica's horrified expression + Huey going ??? to one panel. Overlay that (opt. and the next panel) with a small panel of Huey's face to emphasize Huey actively following Monica's gaze. Thus, rather than showing a Huey!POV of Monica looking at Elmer, you could dedicate one big panel exclusively to Elmer's full back and arms. Go all out.

There, one and done.

Here's the LN description of Elmer's scars for comparison.

Elmer was stripped to the waist, squeezing his clothes out, and his back…

…was covered in scars.

And it wasn’t only his back; uncountable scars covered the parts of his arms that had been hidden by his sleeves.

Currently, not a single wound was bleeding, but if all those scars became wounds again, he couldn’t even imagine how much they would have bled—

That was how mutilated Elmer was.

He might have had even more scars than Huey’s mother had in his memories of her.

They weren’t just cuts. There were marks as if something had been used to gouge out divots of flesh, and an enormous burn that covered the top half of his back. Not only that, but the burns appeared to be covering countless more scars.

Where's the enormous burn? Those scars are pretty countable. I see plenty of unmamrred skin. Yep, I'm nitpicking now. Please give my apologies to the mangaka; my expectations were simply too high. Ultimately, I am grateful that Elmer's scars have finally been depicted in an official publication.

(Quick! Enami! Draw Elmer shirtless as a 20th anniversary treat!)

Defying Description

Esperanza

#Baccano!#Baccano #Baccano! ~From the 1700s~#inexqueuesable #February 11th 2023 #Author: Rev #queueing and hoping it doesn't publish until I'm back because I might have more to add #Post: Text #11th #February #2023

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