#northernlightswriteblrs

[pixxiesdust]

Crimson Snow (pt. 1) • Bakugou Katsuki

Summary • We all know the story of Little Red Riding Hood. But all stories, especially ones passed through spoken word, can change with time. This is the true story of a girl who wandered into the forest, wearing a cloak white as snow, and left on the back of a beast with a crimson cape trailing behind her.

Pairing • Shifter!Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Word Count • 4.9k

Tags and Warnings • Fairy tale AU, kidnapping, experimentation, violence, blood, swearing, angst, eventual happy ending (just not in this part oops)

Note • This is a fic for the @bnhabookclub event! It’s also my first time writing for BnHA, so thank you to the lovely @lesbian-peanut-writer​ for reading over it for me! I intended for this to be a one-shot but it started to get very long so it’s going to have one or two more parts.

part 1 • part 2 • part 3 • part 4

–

It is dark inside the hunter’s mansion.

You can’t even guess how a hunter could ever make enough to buy a mansion. Maybe he inherited it from a family member. Or maybe, just maybe, the hunter has a side business that makes him profitable amounts of money, like kidnapping young women. Oh, just an example, of course. It definitely isn’t your reality or anything.

And the room isn’t exactly dark. The hunter left a candle on the ground for you when he locked you in this room, and a full moon shines through a small window near the ceiling. But it just feels dark. The room is pristine and is devoid of furniture. There’s no dust to be seen and the air carries traces of lemon, probably from whatever soap someone used to clean. There's something off about this place that makes you shiver and wrap your white cloak tighter around you. 

Before you can do anything else—not that there would be much to do in an empty room—the lock clicks and the door swings open, revealing the hunter that had brought you here. You immediately take a couple steps away from him, back straightening. 

The hunter doesn’t move. He only stands in the doorway, hands behind his back, studying you. 

You glare back, ignoring the plague doctor mask that covers the bottom half of his face.

“You’re filthy,” he says. You look down at yourself, taking in your wrinkled dress and the mud that has crusted over the pale green cloth, all from struggling to escape the hunter when he came upon you in the forest. His outfit—a full suit, the type noblemen wear—is perfectly clean and crisp, even though he had kidnapped you in it.

“At least your cloak is clean."

It is, and you have no idea how. 

“Change into this and keep the cloak on.” He pulls out a set of clothes for you—all white—from behind his back and tosses them at you. You don’t move to catch them, watching as they land on the ground. He throws a pair of white slippers on top of the pile. “You have two minutes. I’m afraid it won’t be pleasant for you if you make me wait.” He exits the room and shuts the door behind him, turning the key in the lock.

You hesitate for a second. Can you escape? But the only exit besides the door is the window, and it's so small that you won't be able to fit your shoulders through it even if you could reach it. So you take off your cloak, letting it drop to the ground. Two minutes isn’t a lot of time to change, especially with the layers you have on, but you manage. You finish with getting your feet into the slippers and fastening your cloak around your shoulders just as the hunter reopens the door. 

“Come,” the hunter says, moving back into the hallway. 

You follow.

The hall is just as clean as the room you were in, though it’s even darker because of the lack of windows. You follow the hunter in silence, slippers quieting your footsteps. As you turn the corner, the wall to your left is replaced by a railing as the hallway opens into a balcony at the top of a staircase. 

A door is at the bottom of the staircase. Your heartbeat quickens.

The hunter walks closer and closer to the stairs. He passes the wooden railing of the staircase and you throw yourself into action, pushing past him and flying down the stairs, skipping three steps at a time. Chest heaving with every breath, you sprint to the door, nearly tripping in your haste. With trembling fingers, you struggle to slide open the bolt, and a heavy thump behind you makes you whip your head around to look. 

The hunter is now on the same floor as you. How? you wonder as you manage to slide open the bolt. He must have jumped over the railing. What kind of monster is he? You wrap your hand around the doorknob, turning it all the way, pulling the door open, you’re free–

But your entire body jerks away from the door as the hunter yanks on your cloak. One gloved hand wraps around your throat, pulling upward so you struggle to stand on your toes and air no longer flows freely into your lungs. “It’s such a pity,” he says, watching as you scrabble at his fingers, trying to pry them away. “I was expecting so much of you. I’m disappointed that you tried to escape; you were the purest one I’ve found yet.” 

Anger burns in your veins, as powerful as your fear. And though you gasp for air, chest burning, you manage to spit out two words. “Screw. You.” 

The hunter tightens his grip in anger. A wave of darkness overtakes your vision and your body goes limp in his hand, struggling no more.

Chisaki Kai lets go of your throat, watching your body fall to the floor. “Filthy,” he mutters, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, wiping his gloved hand on it. “Such crude language, too. It matters not; I will cure her. And I will cure the beast as well.” He folds up his handkerchief, taking care to fold the used part on the inside, and tucks it back into his suit pocket.

“Chronostasis. Bring her to where our other guest is residing. I’m afraid you’ll have to chain her up. She’s a bit flighty at the moment.”

“I’m sure you’ll fix that soon, Overhaul.”

–

You first feel the cold stone leaching warmth from your back. Shivering, you slowly sit up from the ground and look around, immediately freezing when you see a massive wolf lying halfway across the room.

Room? It’s more like a dungeon. Stone floor, stone walls, and stone ceiling. An array of sharp tools hang from one wall and heavy chains dangle from metal rings attached to the others. You shudder, this time not from the cold air. 

The hunter walks into the room, not sparing you a glance as he strides towards the wolf. Looking at him makes your throat pulse and you wince as you gently press on your skin. If you could look into a mirror, you’re sure that five finger-shaped bruises ring your throat. You start to move towards the nearest wall as quietly as you can to avoid drawing the hunter’s attention to you, but the rattle of chains makes you freeze. There’s weight attached to your left ankle. Before you even pull up the hem of your white dress, you know that you’ll see a metal shackle wrapped around it. Your eyes follow the chain to an iron ring in the wall, and your heart sinks when you realize that it’s impossible for you to break free.

The hunter moves to the wall that has all kinds of deadly instruments of torture hanging from hooks embedded in the stone. He stops in front of a table pushed up against the wall. His gloved hand plucks a syringe off the table and deftly twirls it in his fingers as he approaches the wolf. Your heart skips a beat as gleaming crimson eyes snap open and the wolf starts to growl, a low rumble filling the air. It struggles against the cuffs wrapped around each limb, the thick silver collar around its neck, and the band of metal clamping its muzzle shut. The hunter bends over the animal, jabs the needle into the wolf’s neck above the collar, and pushes the plunger, emptying it of the misty purple solution.

The hunter steps back and places the empty syringe onto the table. He stands and watches the wolf. Waiting.

The wolf starts to shake, rattling the chains attached to its limbs. Its growl grows in volume until it tapers off into whimpers of pain. 

Your heart aches for this beautiful, wild creature that is now subject to the cruel hands of the hunter. “What are you doing?” you cry out over the wolf’s misery.

Yellow eyes gleaming in satisfaction, the hunter does not look away from the wolf as he answers, “I am curing him. I’ll purify him from the disease that has taken hold of his body! And when the filth is purged, he will thank me for it.” 

The wolf growls again, which grows quieter in volume, before he collapses onto his side and his red eyes close.

“But you’re hurting him!” 

“No one is ever redeemed without a little pain,” the hunter says, almost poetically. He leaves the room, pushes the door shut, and locks it behind him.

You get up from the ground, wincing when sore joints pop and shift as you stretch. You want to see how long the chain running from your foot to the wall is, so you walk toward the middle of the room, toward the unconscious wolf. When you’re right in front of the wolf, the chain is at its limit and you can’t move your left foot forward anymore. 

If the wolf were awake, you wouldn’t even think about trying this. But it hasn’t shown any signs of waking up, so you sit down on the ground in front of him. You sit there for a bit, studying him. 

The first thing you notice is the color of his fur. It’s a cream color, just a few shades off of pure white, but most of it is matted and dirty, or is clumped into spiky tufts, held together by dried blood. It makes you sick to think about the amount of time this animal has been in captivity, subject to the hunter’s cruel experiments. And if the hunter can do this to an animal without feeling remorse, what will he do to you?

The next thing you notice is the size of the wolf. Looking at him from the tip of his muzzle to the end of his tail, he’s definitely longer than you are tall, likely the length of the larger horses people own in your village. If he stood up, you think his back could reach your waist. He’s certainly larger than any of the dogs that people in your village own. And even though he's likely been a captive for a long time, there’s still muscle on his bones. If you met him in his full glory in the middle of the woods, you’d probably run off screaming. 

In addition to the sorry state of his fur, the areas around his restraints look strange. You reach out a hand towards his head and use a finger to gently stroke a line between his ears, past his eyes, and stop at the silver band that is tightly wrapped around his muzzle. Anger heats your blood as you take in the puffy flesh around the band. The hunter had tightened it so much that the band digs into the wolf’s muzzle, and when you try to gently nudge the band down to get a glimpse at the fur underneath, the band doesn’t budge. 

You eye the sliding bolts on either side of the muzzle.

It’s dumb to even contemplate it, but the silver band looks painful. Besides, the wolf hasn’t stirred at all since he fell unconscious. Even if he does wake up, he’s held in place by all the other shackles, and surely you’d be able to tell when he is starting to come to. 

You fumble with the first bolt for a minute before it slides open and the right half of the band loosens. 

The wolf shifts. You freeze. He doesn’t move again, but lets out a noise of pain. Your panicked expression softens and you work on the next sliding bolt. 

It opens, and the band is loose enough for you to gently pull it off with one hand. Your other hand supports the wolf’s head off the ground until you finish taking the band off and set it down by your side. Your breath hitches and your eyes widen in horror at the sight that the silver band—no, the sight that the torture device reveals.

A ring of exposed skin goes all the way around the wolf’s muzzle. There’s no fur left, as if the silver band had burned it away. The skin is pink and angry like your hand was after you once spilled a kettle of boiling water over it.

Is there poison or something on the inside of the silver band? You shudder and rub your hands on the stone ground. You didn’t touch the inside of the band when you removed it, right?

Are the other shackles doing the same? You move until you can get a good look at the wolf’s front legs. Thankfully, the silver cuffs aren’t as tight around his legs as the band was around his muzzle. You slide one of the cuffs up his leg a bit, taking in the missing fur and irritated skin that rings his leg where the cuff was. A quick peek under the cuff on his other leg shows the same thing. 

It just looks so painful. You’ve only been wearing the metal shackle around your ankle for a couple hours at most, yet it’s already growing uncomfortable. The wolf seems like he’s been here for a while now, and if there is some sort of poison on the inside of his shackles that eats away at his fur and skin, he must be in so much more pain.

You can help him, you decide. The dress the hunter made you change into has multiple layers and is frilly with ruffles and lace. It makes you sick to think that he wanted you to change into the dress and keep your white cape because it made you look "pure." You shudder and push away the thoughts of the hunter.

If you rip the lace off the hem of your dress, the hunter surely will notice with his observant, amber eyes and might deem it necessary to punish you for it. You don't want to find out what that entails. So you lift up the outer layer of the dress and rub one of the thinner layers underneath between two fingers. This will do.

It takes a bit of effort, but you manage to rip three uneven strips of cloth that work as makeshift bandages.

You pick up one of the wolf’s paw with gentle hands, noticing the size of it compared to your own, and set it into your lap. You start wrapping a strip of cloth around the exposed skin, taking care to not press down hard. The cloth goes around the wound a couple of times, before you tuck the end of it under the rest. 

Sliding the shackle back down the wolf’s leg so it covers the bandage, you let out a little hum of satisfaction. It shouldn’t hurt the wolf so much anymore.

Now onto the other leg. You move the wolf’s leg off your lap, take up the other one, and start bandaging it too. You’re concentrating so hard on covering all of the wound that you don’t notice the wolf starting to shift.

A growl fills the air, and before you can try to move out of the wolf’s reach, sharp teeth latch onto your left wrist, freezing you in place. 

Your heart pounds heavily in your chest as you slowly look into the wolf’s crimson eyes. You wriggle your left arm just a little, trying to pull your hand out of his mouth, but he’s biting down hard enough that it stings—although he hasn’t broken skin. 

“Hey,” you say softly, trying to keep your fear from bleeding into your voice. “It’s okay. I’m sorry if I startled you–” He growls, causing another spike of fear to shoot through your veins, but you continue. “I was just trying to bandage your legs so the shackles won’t hurt anymore. I think the hunter put something on them to eat away at your fur and skin, maybe some kind of acid.”

You continue to explain what you are trying to do, keeping your voice low and even, finishing with “–you’re so...so magnificent, and wild, and I don’t like seeing you suffer at the hands of such a monster.”

The wolf stops growling and lets go of your hand. You quickly pull it back against you, looking at your wrist. There’s little imprints of where his teeth were, and it does sting, but there’s no blood. 

“Thank you,” you tell him, meeting his eyes once more. “I think it’s better if we help each other here, don’t you? It’ll be easier to escape if we’re both in good health. Would you let me finish bandaging your leg?” You wait for a second, then huff a small laugh, wondering why on earth you’re talking to this wolf like he can understand you.

Then the wolf shifts and you freeze, but he just places the leg you were bandaging back into your lap. You look at him for a moment, amazement shining in your eyes, before continuing where you left off. When you finish, you make sure the cloth doesn’t peek out from under the shackles, so the hunter won’t see them and remove the bandages or do something worse.

You have one more strip of cloth left, and you look at the wolf’s muzzle. “Would it be okay if I bandage your muzzle too? The silver band that was around there looked like it did the most damage.” The wolf huffs and turns his head to the side. “I’m sure you can handle it,” you say with a smile, “but there’s no need to make it worse.”

He turns back to face you, red eyes boring into your own. You reach out a hand slowly with your fingers curled towards you and let him bump his nose into the back of your hand. “Okay then,” you say, and start wrapping the cloth around his muzzle over the injury.

You’re just tucking the end of the cloth under the rest of the bandage when the wolf’s ears perk up. A low rumble fills the air and the wolf turns his head toward the entrance to the dungeon, baring his teeth even with the bandage on.

“What is it?” 

His head snaps around toward you and you’re taken aback at the ferocious expression on his face. He lowers his head so his nose points at the silver band on the ground next to you. You pick up the band, looking at it, then at the wolf. “This?” you ask. His growling grows louder as he nudges hard at your hand. Your eyes widen. His growling stops. And then you hear them.

Footsteps.

They’re growing louder and louder with every step. 

“Shoot, shoot, shoot.” Your heartbeats pick up speed as you slide the silver band over the wolf’s muzzle. Despite your haste, you try to not let it touch his muzzle any more than necessary until it’s over the bandaged part. You fumble with the sliding bolts for a moment before you get them closed, grimacing as the silver band tightens again, digging into his muzzle. At least it shouldn’t burn his skin anymore. “Sorry,” you murmur, stroking him behind his ears. You reflexively press your lips to the top of his head before you scoot back against the wall, pulling your chain with you.

You don’t see the wolf’s red eyes widen in surprise, but you watch him shift onto his side, returning to the position he was in when he collapsed from the hunter’s injection.

The hunter enters the room, still dressed in a full suit with the plague doctor mask covering his nose and mouth. He’s carrying a plate, though you can’t see anything that is on it from your position on the ground. He sets the plate on the ground a couple of steps to the side of the wolf. “I’m sure you’re hungry,” he says. “It wouldn’t be good for my guest to starve to death.”

Guest? You stifle a scoff. If this is how he treated his “guests,” you don't want to see how he treats his enemies.

The food on the plate is clearly scraps left over from a meal. But the sight of food makes your stomach growl in hunger. Hours must have passed since you last ate—an early dinner before you headed to your grandmother’s house.

You’re hungry and you need to eat, even if it is those scraps on the plate. But you’re not going to do it until the hunter leaves the room. You won’t allow him to watch you scarf down leftovers like some pet, eager to take whatever he gives.

So you stay in your spot against the wall, watching as the hunter moves to the other side of the wolf. 

He eyes the still animal. 

You hold your breath, wondering if he can tell that the wolf is faking it.

The hunter turns his back on the wolf, and you exhale in relief–

But he spins around, swinging his right foot forward, pointed toe of his boot smashing into the wolf’s side. The wolf jerks, eyes snapping open, a yelp of pain leaving his throat. He gets onto his feet and lunges for the hunter, straining against the chains, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

The hunter only looks at the wolf before he turns around, moving to the table. He picks up a syringe filled with the same purple fluid as before. As he walks back to the wolf, you recall the immense pain that the wolf experienced after the last injection.

“Hey! Stop!” you shout, getting to your feet. 

Both the hunter and the wolf turn to look at you. You freeze for a moment, having no plan in mind to prevent the hunter from administering the syringe. But you can’t just not do anything. So you march toward the hunter, going as far as the chain around your ankle allows, then cross your arms over your chest. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, huh?” you sneer, “Trying to pick on something you’re so afraid of that you chained him up so he can’t fight back?”

The hunter closes the distance between you and him with two long strides and his empty hand suddenly grips your face, holding you in place. You glare at him defiantly, despite the nerves coursing through your veins. 

“I was not planning on working on you tonight, but if you insist, we can get started,” the hunter says, fingers tightening on your skin. You don't let yourself flinch. “Unless you will behave?”

You keep your eyes on his own as your lips curl up in a smirk. “How about,” you say, body tensing, “you go screw yourself!” With that, you push your weight into the hunter’s body, snatching the syringe from the hand by his side, and throw it to the ground. A hard stomp with your right foot shatters the glass, and you hold back a whimper of pain as shards pierce through your slipper and cut into your skin. Misty purple liquid pools on the stone, soaking into your shoe and seeping into cracks in the floor.

Chest heaving, you straighten up and glare at the hunter. His yellow eyes meet yours before they narrow into slits. “Very well," he says.

The air is forced out of your lungs as the hunter drives his fist into your stomach. 

Gasping for breath, you fall to the ground and curl up on your side, disregarding the glass and liquid. Over your rapid inhales, you can hear the wolf snarling and pulling against his chains.

“You’re lucky I still have more of the cure left. It would have been worse for you if I had to stop and make more.” 

You can only work to pull air into your lungs and watch through watering eyes as the hunter returns to the table and picks up another syringe. You manage to choke out a weak “No!” before the hunter drives the needle into the wolf’s neck and presses the plunger. 

As the hunter places the empty syringe back onto the table, the wolf starts to convulse, sinking to his belly. The hunter looks on for a moment with satisfaction before he leaves the dungeon.

You stay on the ground for a few more moments to catch your breath, letting the pain in your stomach recede to a dull ache before slowly sitting up. Crawling to the wolf, you sit down in front of him, frowning as his body twitches periodically. He’s unconscious now, and you hope that he can’t feel the pain that the injection causes him. But you can make him a little more comfortable.

In smoother movements than the first time, you slide open the bolts on either side of the silver band. Removing it from his muzzle, you set it to the side. You rub your fingers over the copper pin that keeps your cloak on your shoulders before you unclasp it, sliding the cloak off your back. A shiver runs down your spine when that extra layer no longer warms you, but you ignore it as you fold up the cloth. You raise the wolf’s head, slide the folded cloak underneath, and gently lower his head onto the makeshift pillow.

Sighing, you move to where you had shattered the syringe, glass and liquid still on the ground. With careful movements, you pick up the needle and as many pieces of glass that you can. You get to your feet and hobble over to the wall that your chain connects to, wincing each time your injured right foot hits the ground. At the wall, you move as far along it as your chain allows you to, before bending down and letting the needle and the glass pieces slide off your hands. The shards tinkle like bells as they hit the ground.  

With your hands empty, you’re able to crawl until you return to your spot in front of the wolf. You take off your right slipper, now partly stained red, to examine the cuts on the bottom of your foot. Thankfully, you can't find any glass in your cuts. Ripping up a strip of cloth from one of the under-layers of your dress, you bandage up your foot as well as you can, and put the slipper back on.

Your foot stings, your stomach aches, and your ankle is getting rubbed raw by the shackle. Everything that has happened since the hunter kidnapped you weighs down on your shoulders and chest, making it hard to breathe. You just want to be free.

Tears start forming at the corners of your eyes and you blink hard, trying to hold them back. I can be brave, you think to yourself, I’ll make it. 

But you’re tired, and in pain, and you’ve had to witness and experience cruelty at the hands of the hunter. So you lay down, head resting on part of the cloak that the wolf isn’t using, ignoring the cold, hard floor that draws the warmth from your skin.

Your shoulders start to shake and the tears finally fall, and you can’t stop them from streaming down your face. 

Keeping one hand over your mouth to muffle the sobs, you let out all the sorrow and anger and fear in those salty tears, before exhaustion overtakes you and you slip into a deep, still, sleep.

–

Bakugou Katsuki is barely conscious from the injection, but the smell of salt is so heavy in the air that he notices it immediately and it wakes him up further. He slowly raises his head from something softer than the stone floor, a quick look revealing a familiar folded cape that was not there when he fell unconscious. 

His ears twitch when he hears your teeth chattering, even in your sleep. He ignores it and tries to fall back asleep, but the sound continues right next to his head because you're also on the makeshift pillow.

A displeased rumble fills his chest. Annoying, he thinks. But you helped him when you saw the burns from the silver band and shackles, and Bakugou does not like being indebted to anyone.

So he shifts to his human form, wincing as the cold air of the dungeon brushes across his naked skin. “Fuck!” he hisses. No wonder your teeth were chattering. He lifts your head from the cloak and pulls it out from under you, then sets your head back down on the ground. Shaking the cloak out, he drapes it over your still form. 

His own body starts to shiver so he turns back into his wolf form, wincing at the unnatural pain that wracks his body as his bones and muscles shift. It’s those goddamn experiments from that fucking Plague Doctor. I won’t have much time left if it continues, he thinks. His red eyes look over your sleeping body.

You certainly showed bravery—or stupidity—today, willing to bandage his wounds despite the fear he could smell on you when he took your wrist between his teeth. And you stood up to the hunter, although it was useless to try and stop the injection. 

Maybe, Bakugou thinks, maybe we’ll make it out of this shithole before it’s too late. 

He shifts his paws under your head so you’re not pressed against the floor, and rests his own head next to yours. The warmth of your body seems to alleviate some of his pain, and sleep is quick to pull him under, taking him to a better time and a better place. 

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnhabookclub #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha oneshot #bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #northernlightswriteblrs #type: text #type: fanfic #fanfic: reader insert #fanfic: series #series: crimson snow #my writing #type: anime #anime: boku no hero academia #ch: bakugou katsuki #type: network #network: event #network: bnhabookclub #network: northernlightswriteblrs #my writing: fic

[cowperviolet]

Your Downton-y Meals Masterlist

So, you are writing something set in the period between 1900 and 1914. You would like to describe a lavish twelve-course banquet at an upper-class wedding, a breakfast in the Titanic’s second-class dining room, or an era-appropriate snack in an Alpine meadow, but you are not quite sure what menu would convey the right impression? Luckily for you, I have a research addiction and too much time on my hands, as well as pages of notes left over from my research for my Gothic Edwardian f/f!

Here is a list of foods you can use for any particular meal (not at once... usually. Again, twelve-course dinners existed). Note: it’s very much upper/upper-middle class-specific. In other words, as promised, Downton-y. 

Breakfast:

Porridge

Whiting

Devilled kidneys

Cold grouse

Tongue

Ham

Omelette 

Kedgeree

Cold, sliced ptarmigan

Grilled waffles (if your characters have the means and the curiousity for electrical gadgets)

Post Toasties - basically crisped flakes of corn (it originated from the US, but grew popular on the other side of the pond as well)

Buckwheat cakes (mostly a US thing)

Cornbread (ditto)

Smoked kippers

Fried turbot

Calf’s liver

Baked apples

Bacon

Pancakes

Truffled French sausages

Gently-fried cutlets

Lunch:

Anchovy salad

Ham

Oysters

Spring chicken

Roast beef

Beef fillet with mushrooms

Grilled lamb’s kidneys

Hungarian-style chicken - i.e. with pepper, paprika and Bechamel sauce.

Teatime:

Ginger biscuits

Egg sandwiches

Cucumber sandwiches

Scones

Petit fours

Buttered muffins

A cake is possible, but it really depends (then again, your characters could be emulating royalty - King Edward a.k.a. Bertie a.k.a. Edward the Caresser had three sorts of cake, including a chocolate one, served at his afternoon teas).

Sandwiches/snacks for travelling:

Ham sandwiches

Tongue sandwiches

Sardine (smoked or oiled) sandwiches

Beef sandwiches

Mutton sandwiches

Anchovy sandwiches

Cream-based fillings: shrimps, lobster, salmon

Salad-based fillings: lettuce, celery, water-cress, radishes

Sweet-based fillings: jams, marmalades, chocolate

Dinner:

Crabs

Oysters

Lobster mousse

Ham in champagne (yes)

Soup, usually consommé or cream-based

Turtle soup

Broiled salmon

Turbot

Poached sole in cream sauce

Broiled cod in parsley sauce

Smoked haddock

Flounder

Asparagus in hollandaise sauce

Partridge

Grouse

Quail

Pheasant

Duck

Veal cutlets

Saddle of lamb

Desserts:

Custards

Cheese

Tarts

Ices

Plum cake

Sponge cake

American strawberry short-cake

Tapioca pudding 

Apple dumpling 

#writing reference #writing resources #writers resources #writing advice #writers' problems #edwardian era #edwardian #edwardian history #british history #american history #1900s #1910s #history #northernlightswriteblrs

[asoftplxcetoland]

[ Introducing…CONOR O'SULLIVAN ]

BASICS | conor seamus o'sullivan. 38. dci for the met police. guilt complex. biker. dad friend. cis male. bisexual.

APPEARANCE | 6'1″. blond hair, blue eyes, surprisingly nice smile. naturally aggressive eyebrows. dresses smartly for work but hates ties. most comfortable in jeans and a henley. a litany of scars from a lifetime of trouble. you can tell he lives in the gym.

PERSONALITY | reliable and steady as a rock. natural caregiver and tends to be the overprotective dad figure to literally everyone. puts everyone he cares about before himself all the time. his guilt complex is his cross to bear. super organised and detail orientated. more intelligent than he's given credit for. authoritative at work, lets everyone else take the lead in his personal life. kinder than more people realise. takes on more responsibility than he should. blames himself for literally everything that's ever gone wrong in his life. really should be going to therapy. will always rush in to save someone else. overprotective af.

BACKGROUND | oldest of six born to northern irish parents in london. grew up going to church every sunday and went to catholic school for most of his education. the troubles were a constant backdrop to his childhood and he's still never quite sure what he believes. spent a year after he finished his a-levels working in a bar, until he and his boyfriend were attacked on their way back from a night out. still blames himself for danny not surviving. entered the police academy as a way to make things right. worked hard as a beat cop until he gained the notice of his superiors and started moving up the ranks. nearly lost his career when it came out that his sister was involved in in drugs. very nearly stepped in to protect her, but didn't—and still wonders if he made the right choice now. made detective ten years ago and has never looked back. took over the investigation into the kelly gang over a year ago and signed off on the undercover operation that led to sophie's injuries. currently beating himself up about it.

RELATIONSHIPS | still goes round to his parents every other week for sunday lunch. difficult relationship with his siblings, after everything with ellie. best friends with sophie since they entered the police academy together. generally respected by his colleagues, even if they think he's a grumpy bastard who needs to take a break every once in a while. likes to tease raj. lowkey in love with summer for years.

AESTHETIC | leather jackets and motorbike oil, coffee just this side of too sweet, vinyl records, sleepless nights and rumpled sheets, grazed knuckles, traditional pubs with real ale, heavy sweaters and thick scarves on a winter's day, combat boots and cuffed jeans, strong hands with the softness of a saint, citrus and sandalwood, writing by moonlight, quiet control until it falls apart

THEME SONG | don't let the devil take another day — stereophonics

[ out of the blue | tag | excerpts | ko-fi ]

#violetvineyard #northernlightswriteblrs #thequeerlibrary #romancewritersanonymous #writeblr #writing #my writing #character intro #character introduction #character inro post #character introduction post #writers on tumblr #writing community #fiction #fiction writer #romance #romance writer #contemporary romance #contemporary fiction #contemporary romance fiction #romance writers #out of the blue #blue: intros

[sourrcandy]

my wip introduction 🌙

killer empire - wip intro

“we ride or die.”

genre!! ya / thriller / sci-fi / cyberpunk

length!! 2 books, each around 100k - killer empire, solar rising

themes and tropes!! badass young ladies, space ships, aliens, planets, lgbtq+, galaxy spies, adventure, war, truth, friends to lovers, lovers to enemies, battle couple, and lots of mutual pining!

warnings!! mature language, violence, sex, torture, character deaths, alcohol, gore and horror

pov!! first person / single pov

status!! first draft

basically marvel meets star wars and had a baby with brooklyn nine-nine

synopsis!!

“Why should we trust you?”

You might believe that you’ve been told the truth. But what if we told you everything you know is a lie. What do you think the liars would make of us then? Tha bad guy?

As a child, Lilith Park was told that she had the world in her hands, and all she had to do, was take it for a spin. Now, aged 21, the youngest trained agent to join the Galactical Security Agency, she has been enlisted into the most elite squad of agents ever to roam the galaxy: the ZODIAC project.

When members of the Interstellar Council started vanishing before meetings and conferences, ZODIAC was dispatched to find the disappeared ambassadors before the major political event of the year: 

But when fellow comrades of ZODIAC started disappearing during missions and investigations, it’s up to Lilith and the remaining squad members to find out what happened to them and stop an empire from wiping the whole solar system. 

“Because we’ve been deceived ourselves.”

check out the wip page!!

｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ send me an ask, comment or reblog this post if you want to be added to the taglist!!

taglist!! @cookiecutterwrites

-> killer empire intro wip edits are inspired by @starshots ‘s “the crimson year” edit

#writeblr #wip introduction #wip: killer empire #writer #my wip #sci-fi #thriller #writblr #ya #new wip! #cyberpunk #northernlightswriteblrs #killer empire intro

[lucypcvensie]

forgetting them

Fandom: The Chronicles of Narnia Word count: 724  Summary: Susan deals with the loss of her siblings and tries to forget about their time in Narnia, but the memories remain within her Genres: Angst

Susan Pevensie tries to forget.

After the train crash, after the deaths of her siblings, all she felt was pain. Pain which gnawed through her insides and left her feeling almost paralysed. It took over her, consumed her everyday life. She couldn’t eat, she couldn’t sleep, she couldn’t feel anything else but grief for her three bright-eyes siblings, whom she would never see again.

She remembers the conversations they had with each other, all those precious hours spent together that is now all that she has left of them. She thinks of how her siblings spoke often about Narnia, about the times they spent there, ruling as Kings and Queens and all the adventures they shared.

‘Do you remember that time Tumnus got his horns stuck in the tree’  Edmund laughed, spooning porridge into his mouth

‘I miss him’ Lucy said, smiling softly ‘I miss everyone there’

‘We all do’ Peter replies, reaching out across the table to pat his sister’s back in a gentle embrace

She remembers patronisingly brushing off their excited chatter, dismissing their words spoken over the dinner table they shared. ‘Those were just silly little games we made up years ago. It’s high time we stopped speaking about all that nonsense and focus on the real world. Edmund, don’t talk with your mouth full.’

Of course, her siblings never did stop talking about Narnia, and soon Susan began to distance herself from them as she grew older, slowly but surely, until months would go by without them sharing so much as a simple conversation.

Then came the news of the crash.

Her grief and despair take a heavy toll on her, both physically and mentally. Susan’s face grows gaunt, stripped of the once-innocent and childlike glow. Her mind moves even further away from childhood imagination and towards the grim reality.

The years go by, and eventually the pain subsides. It leaves her feeling hollow and empty inside, as though something within her died along with her siblings.

She tries to replace this feeling, tries to fill up this gaping hole inside her with alcohol, men, and makeup. The burn of the liquor going down her throat helps to distract from the burn in her heart. She stays out late into the night dancing with strangers, hoping to feel something, anything to keep her mind occupied. The books she loved as a child are replaced by flimsy fashion magazines, her dressing tables now littered with lipstick containers and gaudy powders.

She tries to forget her siblings and the adventures they had together. She convinces herself that Narnia was simply a figment of their imagination, nothing more than childhood fantasy, a mere construct to help them get through the horrors of war. She believes she has forgotten that world with all its magical inhabitants.

But one dark night, as she staggers home alone after hours of dancing and drinking, a rat scurrying along the London alleyways reminds her of a brave creature that she used to know. An image flashes in her mind, of a talking mouse brandishing a rapier no larger than a pin. The rat disappears down a sewer, and Susan remembers where she is. She looks up at the road, then continues walking home.

Another night she is at a party, wearing a silk patterned dress and vivid lipstick. She turns around, and a woman dancing nearby her morphs into a water nymph, her movement smooth and graceful. She blinks, and the nymph shifts back into the woman.

A tour of an ancient castle brings to mind a flash of her home. But it’s not the home she is used to, the one lit by electric lights facing the dirty city. No, this home is a castle, illuminated by brilliant golden sunlight, looking over the sea. Cair Paravel. The delicate headband she is wearing almost resembles a crown.

These flashes only last for a fleeting moment, until she jolts herself out of it. But the involuntary memories draw Susan back into the past, into another world, if even for a moment. And though she brushes them aside, somewhere deep inside her, every time they surface she feels a slight pang of nostalgia and pain, and even deeper, happiness. The remnants of her Golden Age rule, a sweeter, happier place.

Susan Pevensie tries to forget, but she isn’t always successful.

#narnia #the chronicles of narnia #susan pevensie #my writing #my creation #userzebra #userharls #usermoh #usercharl #userashlyn #northernlightswriteblrs #narnianetwork

[lighthouseinabelljar]

Countdown

Prompt: A freak storm creates a power surge, and you wake up in an unknown world with only a sword, a shield, and a time limit

 Thank you @romaanovas for the prompt! I really needed something fun and quick to write.

A chirping noise wakes her up.

“No,” Kelsey groans, waving her arm to try and find her alarm clock. “Five more minutes.”

The chirping continues. With a moan she rolls over to give the clock a good, solid smack for its disrupted behaviour. She slaps her hand down on the wooden desk.

And gets a mouthful of sand.

Kelsey sits bolt upright and starts retching, trying to scrape the sand off of her tongue.

“Urgh!” she complains, “gross.”

She’s about to start yelling for her little brother, who no doubt thought this was an excellent prank, when she realises that her desk is not a desk at all. It is, in fact, an immense wooden shield.

“What the – ?” she asks, to no-one in particular, as she bends down to pick it up.

It’s a solid thing, but not too heavy, painted with a red and green design. She puts it back down and takes a look at her surroundings. She’s on a beach – a tropical one with crystal clear waters and a shoreline dotted with palm trees. A little bird sings a little way off, the source of the chirping.

“Okay… this is beyond weird.”

Kelsey shuts and wills herself to wake up now.

No such luck.

“Alright, Kelsey,” she says to herself. “Let’s go and see if we can find anyone to help us.”

She puts her hands in the loose sand to help herself up, but manages to cut her right hand on something sharp.

“Ow!” she cries, trying to stem the not insignificant bleeding, looking down at the cause of her latest troubles.

It’s a huge sword, with a large ruby set in the hilt. Kelsey shakes her head.

This is getting too weird, too quickly.

She gets up, cradling her injured hand, and wanders along the beach a little way. She spies a chest. Perhaps it contains treasure?

“Or,” Kelsey mutters to herself, “maybe it contains a map of wherever the hell this place is.”

She runs over to it and pushes open the lid. Sadly, there’s no map, but there are lots and lots of bottles. Most of them are empty, but one or two still contain their potions. Kelsey pulls one out and reads the elegant handwriting on the label.

In case of injury: Swallow

Kelsey looks down at her hand, which is still bleeding and shows no signs of clotting soon.

“Bottoms up,” Kelsey sighs, pulling out the cork with her teeth and downing the lot.

The potion causes a weird tingling sensation across her body. Not an uncomfortable one mind – more like the shiver you get when the sun comes out after a long time hiding behind the clouds. Kelsey looks down at her hand and marvels as she watches the flesh knit back together, and the skin grows over the top.

“Wow,” she murmurs, feeling her palm for any kind of injury.

There is none whatsoever.

Kelsey heads back over to where she had awoken, searching for more clues as to how she may have ended up here. But other than her own footprints, and the impression in the sand where she had been laying, there is no suggestion as to how she ended up here, why she’s here or indeed where ‘here’ even is.

She sits back in the sand with a huff. The shield holds no more clues so she turns her attention to the sword. It’s beautifully crafted, all silver by the looks of things and the ruby seems to be glowing slightly. She picks it up and makes a few slicing motions with it. It’s beautifully balanced.

There’s a zing! that rings out around her.

Kelsey jumps up, holding out the sword and looking around for the source of the sound. She can’t see a soul.

“What?” she asks to herself exasperated.

A seagull starts to cry in the sky and Kelsey raises her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. There are words now emblazoned across the sky.

Countdown to tutorial: 30 seconds

“What?” Kelsey asks again, this time more confused than anything else.

The crystal clear water of the beach begins to boil. The ruby at the end of her sword grows brighter.

And out of the sea, rises a huge monster – green, and dripping with seaweed from the depths of the ocean.

Objective: Kill the monster

The monster roars. The little bird takes flight with a cry of alarm.

Kelsey seizes the shield and squares up for a fight.

“Right – kill the monster. How hard could it be?”

And she charges.

#writing #my writing #writing prompts #northernlightswriteblrs

[currentlywriting]

So, I finally made a writeblr. I’ve been telling myself I’m gonna do that for a while now.

Okay. Hi! My name is Ayala (i went by Alex for a little while, though), she/her, I’m 16 years old. My other blog is @selinenuli I usually get overwhelmed by school and don’t post anything, but it’s summer soon, so hopefully I’ll be able to maintain some sort of consistency.

I write fantasy and sci-fi, romance, and the occasional fanfiction when I have enough time. Basically anything that gives me inspiration.

I have several WIPs, one that I work on more so than the others. I will probably post about all of those in the future.

Other than writing, I read and watch tv a lot. I also draw, and will probably post here some artworks of my characters.

Also, I’m an admin for @northernlightswriteblrs, though I have been terribly inactive there these past few months (or weeks. idk)

Anyway, I will attempt to keep this blog organised and post regularly. Hopefully even interact with some human beings

#writblr #writing #writer #writers #about me #intoduction #new writblr

[pixxiesdust]

“Shall we, Princess?” • Todoroki Shouto

Summary • You know absolutely nothing about Prince Shouto, but as the princess of a neighboring kingdom, you’re going to marry him anyway. A conversation with a stranger in the palace gardens sheds some light on Prince Shouto’s personality, and maybe this marriage won’t be so bad after all.

Pairing • Mer Prince!Todoroki Shouto x Mer Princess!Reader

Word Count • 5.1k

Tags and Warnings • Mer and royalty au, arranged marriage, fluff, mer culture, kissing, and a wedding.

Note • A fic for @bnhabookclub’s Mermay event! The wonderful members of the book club helped me brainstorm, sprinted with me, and a special thanks to the lovely @rivendell101​, @katsukook, and @sadistiks​ for beta reading this fic! I am a sucker for mermaid aus, so this was a joy to write.

–

The palace is large and luxurious, gleaming with wealth from top to bottom. Jewels and large pearls glimmer in the walls, and most of the decor shine of gold. Although you live in a castle too, you can’t keep your eyes from widening as you swivel your head back and forth to take everything in. 

“This way, Your Majesties, Your Highness,” a mermaid says, bowing. She straightens up and brushes soft brown hair out of her eyes, smiling at you and your parents, her cheeks pink.

She escorts you and your parents to the wing of the palace where you are to stay for the week until the wedding is over. Your expression sours at the thought of the wedding as you sink into your bed, staring up at the ceiling that’s embedded with little shells. How are you supposed to marry someone you’ve never met before?

The only things you know about the Todoroki Kingdom are things you learned from your history tutor and from listening to your parents’ discussions. You only know a bit about the King and Queen, and absolutely nothing about your soon-to-be husband: Prince Shouto.

What is he like? Is he kind to his subjects? Does he only seek power and glory and fame? Or is he like your parents: caring and just?

You’re pulled from your thoughts as your bubbly, pink-haired attendant bursts into the room. “Why in the seas are you already in bed? Haven’t you heard? You have a welcome celebration to get ready for!”

You groan but push yourself off the bed, swimming to a stop in front of multiple woven baskets, all filled with clothes and accessories. “What am I wearing for the celebration, Mina?”

She starts digging through the baskets and you move to help her, lifting up various pieces of clothing and stuffing them back when she shakes her head. 

“Aha! This one!” She pulls out long stretches of dark blue fabric that are the same rich shade as the main color of your tail, although your tail is sprinkled with silver scales that shine against the midnight blue. Like all traditional mer attire, the cloth can be assembled in different styles, draped artfully across your skin. Mina wraps one strip of fabric around your chest. She tucks the other pieces under the first one, letting them flare out behind you, swaying in the ripples that your tail makes as it gently fans back and forth, keeping you in place.

You’re quiet as she moves to another basket, pulling out strings of pearls and delicate shells. She drapes some around your neck, weaving others into the cloth so they glitter like stars in the night sky.

As a finishing touch, Mina sets a thin circlet of silver, sapphires, and pearls on top of your head that pairs well with the blue of your tail and the cloth. “There,” she says fondly, “You’re ready to go.”

As if on cue, a knock sounds on your door. Your father’s voice tells you that it’s time to make your way to the ballroom where the welcoming celebration is taking place. 

You swim behind your mother and father, keeping your shoulders back and chin tilted slightly up. Although you never asked to marry someone you’ve never met, you will do it for your parents and for the sake of your kingdom, and you will do it in a way that will not bring shame to anyone. 

A young merman with bright blonde hair and a dark stripe running through it bends at his waist to you and your parents. “Your Majesties, Your Highness, welcome to the Todoroki Kingdom. On behalf of the royal family, I hope you enjoy the festivities.” He straightens and pulls open the large doors, swimming out to the little balcony overlooking the ballroom filled with mer dressed in their finest outfits. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, esteemed guests from a neighboring kingdom: the royal family!”

All heads swivel towards you and your parents as you swim into the ballroom, down from the balcony to join the mer.

You stay by your parents’ side as you look around the ballroom. The floor, walls, and ceiling all reflect the light of the crystal jellyfish that float around the room. Glittering gems are embedded into the surfaces, an obvious display of wealth. A mat made of woven seagrasses and shimmery cloth stretches from one column to another, forming a surface that holds all kinds of foods and delicacies. Mer swim by and pick their favorites off the mat–ooh is that seaweed-wrapped cod? You perk up at the sight of one of your favorite finger foods and open your mouth to tell your parents that you’re going to go get some, when your mother hooks her arm in yours, and places a hand on your father’s arm before slightly tilting her head in the direction of three mer. 

They’re all finely dressed—well, all the mer are finely dressed, but they stand out the most—and crowns of gold, rubies, diamonds, and pearls rest on their heads. 

The royal Todoroki family. Or at least three of them.

The mermaid with soft white hair and a purely white tail seems to notice you first. She rests a hand on the older merman’s arm, drawing his attention. The younger merman turns to look at you and your parents, and you straighten up as you study him. 

His hair is something you’ve never seen before, half white like his mother’s while the other half is the bright red of his father’s. And his tail is beautiful, a mix of red and white scales that form a pattern unique only to him. Your eyes trail up from his tail to stop on his face, and your gills stop filtering water for a moment. His eyes! One is a silvery grey, the other an icy blue, but both are narrowed at you as you take in the skin around his blue eye, red and puffy and scarred. He’s waiting for your reaction, and you can only tilt your head in his direction in a small nod to hide your embarrassment at being caught staring. It’s not that the scar makes him any less attractive—in fact, your face has grown hot from studying him—but you’re curious as to how he got it. Very few things in the ocean could get hot enough to burn skin badly enough to make a permanent scar. 

You’re pulled out of your thoughts when they come closer and your parents move to meet them halfway, you swimming beside your mother. “Welcome to our kingdom,” the mermaid says, “We hope you’ve found everything to be pleasant so far.”

“Thank you for your hospitality, your majesties. You have a magnificent kingdom and we are honored to be able to see it for ourselves,” your father replies.

“Please, call me Rei. This is my husband, Enji,” she says, resting a hand on the older merman’s arm, “and my son, Shouto.”

Your eyes stray to the younger merman at the sound of his name. So he’s the one that you’re going to marry. Your father introduces himself, your mother, and you, then starts talking about the celebration and the wedding, though you tune him out as you continue your study of your fiancé. His tail keeps capturing your attention, although you had already looked at it once. Then your eyes move up to his torso, chest, and arms, and you watch as his muscles subtly flex with the small movements of his tail. He’s certainly fit, and the gold cuffs around his left bicep only emphasize that fact.

Your eyes move further up to his face, once again looking into his eyes. He’s staring right back at you and raises an eyebrow, his lips tilting up in the smallest smirk. You blink once, then turn your head away, now intently focusing back on the food.

As you mourn for the last piece of seaweed-wrapped cod that gets picked up by a passing merman, no doubt an important noble, you don’t notice your fiance’s eyes move up and down your body, from the silver circlet on your head to the deep blue tips of your tail. 

Rei notices this interaction out of the corner of her eye and can’t help but smile softly at her son. Her future daughter-in-law certainly seemed to be attracted to him, and, well, it wouldn’t hurt for them to be attracted to each other.

Your parents draw deeper into a conversation with Rei and Enji, and you slip away from them to finally take a look at the food. As you swim, with the pieces of cloth floating behind you in an elegant trail, you notice some of the younger mer looking at you with curiosity, but the mermaids especially seem to have a bite of viciousness in their eyes.

You’re familiar with the type, so you keep your back straight and your head high with pride, letting a mask of indifference settle over your face. 

Their whispers travel to your ears as you swim past them.

“That’s who the prince is marrying?”

“I’d be a much better fit than her.”

“I can’t believe the prince is going to leave this kingdom for one like that.” This comment bothers you the most. Yes, your family’s kingdom isn’t nearly as big as the Todoroki Kingdom, but it has its own culture and atmosphere that is special to it. But the mermaid who said that is right. Shouto would have to leave this place of splendor and wealth for yours. Since he isn’t the oldest, he isn’t the crown prince, and the arrangement your parents had made means that he’ll have to move to your kingdom and will take his place by your side on the throne.

The mermaids grow louder in the rude comments, and you force yourself to keep swimming to the spread of food. As much as you would like to snap back at them, it wouldn’t reflect well on you, your parents, or your kingdom, and would only enforce their opinions that your kingdom is full of “barbarians” and “savages.”

So you float near the woven mat that bears the weight of all the elegantly plated snacks and pick up one half of a mussel shell with glistening orange salmon roe resting on it.

“She’s such a prick, too, all rude and stuck up. His Highness doesn’t deserve to get bound to a sea hag like that.” High pitched titters sound behind you, and the water seems to press into you from all sides. 

You need to leave.

Clutching the shell in one hand, you maintain your calm expression and perfect posture as you head toward a set of open doors that leads to someplace that is not here. To anyone else, it would seem like you were going out for a gulp of fresh water, but a set of observant grey and blue eyes catches the slightly faster flicking of your tail that gives away your unease.

–

The doors lead to a beautiful garden, with all types of brightly colored corals and seagrasses. Fish dart in and out of the swaying foliage and you forget your worries as you spin around in a slow circle, wonder filling your eyes. Like the rest of the castle, the garden is resplendent and well cared for. You swim further into the garden, stopping to peer at the more exotic looking plants. 

A large rock rests on one side of a row of densely growing kelp and has been sanded down so it’s round. You settle on it, tail fitting into the dips and curves of the rock, and start picking at the salmon roe on your mussel shell. 

You put one orange sphere into your mouth and bite down, relishing the pop it makes and the salty flavor that spreads on your tongue. You eat a few more, and despite the bit of joy it gives you, your mind wanders back to the mermaids’ comments in the ballroom.

Blowing bubbles out of your mouth in frustration, you start talking to yourself. “Sea hag,” you scoff. “Isn’t she the hag for saying those things? And my kingdom isn’t ‘uncivilized, undeveloped, and barbaric,’ it’s perfectly fine, thank you. Though it isn’t as large as this kingdom,” you gesture out in the general direction of the garden, “it has its own charm.”

“Size shouldn’t matter,” a voice says, low and calm from the other side of the seagrasses. You shriek and jolt off the rock, nearly losing your salmon roe in the process. “I apologize for startling you,” the voice continues, “but I couldn’t help overhearing your frustrations.”

“Who’re you?” you ask, settling back down onto the rock. It’s a little funny talking to someone you can’t see, but the mystery of it all fills you with excitement. “Are you one of the visiting mer from the other countries, or are you from here?”

“I’m native to the Todoroki kingdom, but I have been to many other kingdoms before, including yours, Your Highness.”

You sputter at the term, unsure how to feel about the merman knowing who you are. “Please, don’t call me that.” You hesitate for a second but make up your mind, so you open your mouth and tell the stranger to call you by your name.

“Are you sure?” he asks. “If someone comes by and hears, would that not be bad for your reputation?”

“Oh! You’re right.” It’s not like I have much of a good reputation to begin with, you think bitterly, but keep your voice lighthearted as you speak again. “You can just call me princess then! Your Highness is too long, especially since we aren’t in a formal setting right now.”

“Very well, princess.” The voice nearly purrs out the last word, making your face heat up like it did when you had studied Prince Shouto.

“And what shall I call you?”

“If you’re ‘princess,’ I suppose ‘prince’ will have to do.”

You laugh a little at that, then fall silent.

The stranger starts to speak again. “I meant what I said, the size of a kingdom shouldn’t matter. We all know the blue-ringed octopus isn’t a large creature, but its venom can take down a full-grown mer in minutes. You clearly treasure your kingdom and I’ve enjoyed the things I’ve seen there myself. So don’t let the displays of this one discourage you.”

Your heart grows warm at the words of the merman. “You’re right,” you reply. “And it comforts me to hear that you liked the things you’ve seen of my kingdom. I’m just worried that the prince, Prince Shouto, I mean, won’t be accustomed to my family’s palace.” You pause as you hear an awkward cough from the other side. “He’s the one I’m engaged to, though I’m sure you already know that. What’s he like, the prince?”

It’s silent for a long moment and you’re starting to wonder if the merman left you when he starts speaking again. “What do you want to know?”

Humming for a moment, you pop another salmon roe into your mouth. “How does he treat the mer of this kingdom?” 

“Well,” the merman says, “he doesn’t look down upon them. He wants to do what is best for them, to keep them all safe, and to help them prosper. He visits as many parts of the kingdom as he can every year, and he’s argued with his father about doing more–” he cuts off, then adds on quietly, “He gave up the left side of his face for the kingdom.”

Your eyes widen and you sit up straight on the rock. “The scar?”

“Yes.”

“Can you–” you stop. “Nevermind.”

“Can I tell you about it? I can if you’d like, though it isn’t a very pleasant tale.”

“No!” you exclaim, then wince at how harsh you sounded. “I just think it’s better to hear it from Prince Shouto himself. I’m grateful that you’re telling me these things, and I didn’t know that you’re so familiar with the prince, but something like this sounds really personal and I’d rather hear it from him. But thank you.”

The merman is silent. You wonder if you were too rude, or if you hurt his feelings.

“Don’t you think it’s ugly?” he finally asks. “The scar?” 

The merman’s voice sounds a little strange when he asks the question, but you disregard it as you think carefully before answering. “No. It’s part of him, just like the sunspots we get if we stay in shallow waters for too long, or the dimples on mer’s faces when they smile. He shouldn’t be ashamed of it, especially if he got it for a reason as noble as saving his kingdom.” You pause for a moment, then add on quietly, “I saw him for the first time tonight and I think he’s really handsome, from his hair to his tail to his eyes.”

There’s no response from the merman. “Um, are you there?” you ask hesitantly. “I didn’t scare you away by saying that I think Prince Shouto is attractive, right?”

“I’m afraid I have to go. Thank you, princess.”

“Wait- wait, don’t go! I’m sorry if I offended you!” You shoot up from the rock, tail flicking powerfully to rise up above the wall of kelp to peer over the other side. 

But the merman is gone. The only sign that he was there is the stirred up particles of sand that slowly sink back down to rejoin the others on the ocean floor.

Your face falls in disappointment. You had enjoyed talking to the merman. If you saw him again—or heard him again, you’d make sure to apologize for anything you did. Maybe you made him uncomfortable by talking about the attractiveness of your husband-to-be.

Blowing out bubbles in frustration, you turn around, only to watch a few orange spheres of the salmon roe fall onto the rock and into the sand. Does everything have to go wrong today? “Not only did I scare away an excellent conversation partner, I dropped my snack!” 

It is about time for you to head back anyway, so you swish your tail and shoot up above the garden. Holding the now empty mussel shell in your hand to dispose of later, you return to the ballroom, gracefully swimming past all the other mer who were making fun of you earlier, no longer upset by their previous comments. 

“Blue-ringed octopus,” you whisper to yourself as you rejoin your parents who are now talking to other visiting dignitaries and noblemer. Smiling pleasantly at them, you allow yourself to get swept into conversations for the rest of the night, traveling from mer to mer.

But somehow, whenever you look away from the mer you are talking to, you always catch a glimpse of red and white scales, sparkling under the light of the jellyfish. And you can’t help but think back to the conversation you had with that mystery merman, and think that maybe this arranged marriage won’t be so bad at all.

–

Little do you know, those same thoughts run through Shouto’s head. “It’s part of me,” he whispers to himself as he joins his older siblings, who immediately start teasing him about swimming off during a celebration to welcome his fiancée.

–

The rest of the week seems to pass by in a flash. Your days are filled with events, one thing happening after the other, all in preparation for the wedding.

You only get to see Prince Shouto a couple times over the days. Though you wish to stop and talk to him, Mina always catches you and rushes you to your next location. All you can manage is a nod and a smile before swimming on.

And soon enough, after days of parties and meeting all kinds of important mer and trying on your wedding outfits—why you need more than one is beyond you—the day of your wedding is upon you.

Mina bursts through your bedroom door well before the first rays of sunlight have struck the ocean, using her pink tail to flip the woven seagrass blankets off your sleeping body. “Wake up! It’s your special day, princess!”

You groan and bury your head in the soft sea sponge you had slept on, trying to block out her excited chatter. Her hands come down on your shoulders and pull you off the sponge.

“We have to start getting ready!” Mina drags your body through the water and out the bedroom door to another room two doors down where your wedding outfits are. She lets go of you to open another door in the room, poking her head out to call in the other attendants.

As the other mer swim in and start pulling out the pieces you’ll need to wear first, you rub the sleep out of your eyes and stretch so you’re more awake. Hands help you undress from your thin sleepwear, and start draping the layers and layers of pure white cloth in artful arrangements over your body. The cloth makes one loop around your neck before coming down to cover your chest, leaving a wide expanse of your back bare. Then they wrap around your waist and trail down around your tail, fanning out behind you like the graceful tentacles of jellyfish and sea anemone. 

Mina helps you slip on thin, silver bracelets onto your wrist and attach silver cuffs around your upper arms. She pulls out strand after strand of small pearls and little shells and sparkling diamonds and threads them through the cuffs and bracelets, forming priceless sleeves that softly clink against each other when you move your arms. The other attendants weave more strands of pearls and diamonds into the pieces of cloth, which sparkle and reflect the light of the crystal jellyfish all over the room.

Finally, Mina removes a crown from a box. It’s made of white shells and more pearls, and it’s just as beautiful as the rest of your outfit. Mina swims before you, holding the crown gently in her hands. “I’m so happy for you,” she says, blinking hard.

“Are you adding to the ocean again?” you tease, though you’re also blinking rapidly. 

Mina raises the crown above your head and gently settles it on you, using both hands to make sure it is in place. “There,” she says, then swims a tail length back. “You look perfect.” She looks at all the other attendants and thanks them for their hard work as they smile, nod, and exit the room. “If Prince Shouto’s jaw doesn’t drop to his tail, I’m gonna slap him with my own.” 

“Mina!”

She grins and flicks her pink fins before taking your hands in her own. “I’m so glad to have grown up by your side. Your kingdom couldn’t ask for a better princess, and I couldn’t ask for a better friend. It’s been an honor, Your Highness.”

“Oh, Mina,” you say, swallowing hard to keep your voice from wavering. “I love you so, so much.”

“Of course you do! Now come, let us go see your prince!”

–

As per tradition, the to-be-wedded parties are to meet at the entrance of the throne room. So you swim behind your parents, who are also dressed in elaborate outfits that glimmer when the light shines on precious jewels. They come to a stop in front of Enji and Rei, and the four of them converse, blocking you from seeing your fiancé. 

Then the grand doors to the throne room swing open, and the Todoroki King and Queen enter the room. Your own parents kiss you on your forehead, and your mother tells you how proud she is, before they enter the throne room. 

You get your first look at Prince Shouto in his wedding outfit, and your lips part as you stare.

He’s wearing the same silver cuffs and bracelets that you are, though they lack the strings of pearls, shells, and diamonds. The rest of his arms are bare, and your eyes trace over his sculpted muscles before sliding down his bare chest to where his abs meld with white and red scales. The only piece of clothing he wears besides the bracelets, cuffs, and matching crown of shells and pearls on his head, is a white cape that fans out behind him, mimicking the pieces of fabric of your own outfit.

“Wow,” you breathe, and his own eyes—which had widened as they traced your body—snap up to meet yours.

“I’m pleased to meet your approval,” he says, voice low and calm, carrying a hint of amusement. “You’re stunning yourself, princess.”

The purr sends a shiver up your spine and you stiffen in realization. “It’s you?” you exclaim. “You were on the other side of the kelp!”

Shouto nods, then looks at you with uncertainty. “Does that disappoint you?”

“No! Of course not!” You shake your head rapidly, unknowingly dislodging your crown with the movement. “That makes me feel a lot better. To know that I’ve talked to you before, and that we can get along, and that you truly don’t mind my family’s kingdom.” 

You stop for a second, watching as Shouto looks at you with soft eyes. Then your own eyes widen in horror and you bury your face in your hands. “I told you that I think you’re handsome!” you wail. “And I’m pretty sure that scared you away!”

A gentle hand wraps around your wrist, and you let Shouto pull your hands away from your face. “I was flattered,” he says as he reaches to grab your crown that has started to drift away. “I was shocked to hear that my scar doesn’t bother you, and that you still find me attractive anyway. And I was especially overwhelmed to hear that from someone as gorgeous as you.”

He sets your crown back onto your head, and you smile as he concentrates on making sure it is secure. His hands move down to cup the sides of your face, and he runs his thumbs over your cheeks. Your own hands reach up and cover his own, and you smile and tilt your head more into his hands.

“I am honored,” you say, “that someone so caring and thoughtful and someone that would let himself get hurt for the sake of his own kingdom will be by my side and help me rule my own.” You let go of his hands and he lets his fall back to his sides, watching as you rest your hands on his shoulders. A small flick of your tail draws you two even closer together, so you’re pressed chest to chest, faces a mere scale’s width apart, and you lean in to press a gentle kiss to the scar. 

Shouto’s eyes flutter shut, his chest both warm and tight with emotion. You slowly pull away, and his eyes open again, flames of passion burning in them. One arm slides around your waist, the other hand cupping the back of your head, and his red and white tail wraps around the dark blue and silver of your own. He slowly pulls your face back towards his, eyes flickering from your own eyes down to your lips, which part under his heated gaze. 

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please do,” you whisper, and your eyes close as he leans in.

Warm lips press against your own, which soften and mould around his. One of your hands leaves his shoulder and slides up his neck and into his hair, tugging gently. A soft sigh escapes his mouth at the action so you do it again, the corners of your lips turning upwards at the sound. Shouto notices your amusement and takes it upon himself to kiss you harder, lips moving together until he nips just the tiniest bit at your lower one. Your squeak of surprise makes him chuckle, and both of you pull away slowly, lips darker and swollen.

An awkward clearing of the throat makes you jolt and turn your head towards a green-haired merman, who looks just as embarrassed as you are. Shouto turns slowly, unwinding his tail from yours, though he keeps his arm around your waist.

“Y-your highnesses, it’s almost time for you to, um, enter the throne room,” the merman says, sunspotted cheeks turning red.

“Thank you, Midoriya,” Shouto says, giving his long time friend a small smile and a nod.

The throne room doors slowly swing open, revealing hundreds of mer dressed in elaborate clothing, all who turn to face the two of you.

“That’s our cue,” Shouto says, and offers out his hand to you, palm up. “Shall we?”

“We shall.” You smile at him, which he returns with an upward quirk of his lips, then place your own hand in his.

Your tails flick in tandem as you swim into the throne room, with high ceilings and walls that glitter and gleam. Many crystal jellyfish float and bob around, illuminating the room. Strings of pearls and precious jewels stretch from column to column, scattering light. The mer clap and cheer, fanning and swishing their tails in ways that create millions of bubbles that brush past your skin on their way up, causing the cloth of your outfit and the cape around Shouto’s shoulders to spread out behind you, creating an elegant trail of white.

You see your parents, King Enji, and Queen Rei waiting at the other end of the room. Hand in hand, you and Shouto swim to them and stop before them. 

As King Enji starts to speak, you tilt your head to look at Shouto who smiles softly at you, which you return brightly. Queen Rei swims to you and you watch as she threads a strand of pearls and diamonds from your bracelet to Shouto’s.

Rey swims back to her husband’s side. “With this, they are bound for eternity, even when they become one with the sea,” Enji announces, voice booming through the throne room.

“We are bound for eternity,” you and Shouto say together, “even when we become one with the sea.”

“And now, this promise is to be sealed with a kiss.”

You turn to face Shouto, who arches an eyebrow playfully. “Shall we, princess?”

As you pull him closer to you and twine your tails together, red and white against midnight blue and silver, you slip your untied hand to his dual-colored hair, and he gently cradles your neck, drawing your face closer to his.

When your lips are just about to meet, you smile at him sweetly.

“We shall, my prince.”

–

Taglist • @bnhatrashh​ @simplybakugou​ (thank you both for being so encouraging during the sprints!) @bnha-homeroom​ (and thank you so much for helping me with the kiss scene!)

#boku no hero academia #bnha oneshot #bnhabookclub #bnha x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shouto #northernlightswriteblrs #type: text #type: fanfic #fanfic: reader insert #fanfic: one-shot #fanfic: au #au: fantasy #type: anime #anime: boku no hero academia #ch: todoroki shouto #my writing #my writing: fic

[pixxiesdust]

Crimson Snow (pt. 3) • Bakugou Katsuki

Summary • We all know the story of Little Red Riding Hood. But all stories, especially ones passed through spoken word, can change with time. This is the true story of a girl who wandered into the forest, wearing a cloak white as snow, and left on the back of a beast with a crimson cape trailing behind her.

Pairing • Shifter!Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Word Count • 6.8k

Tags and Warnings • Fairy tale AU, captivity, violence, blood, swearing, mentions of nudity, fluff, angst, eventual happy ending.

Note • This is the third part of a fic I originally wrote for @bnhabookclub​’s Provisional License Exam Event! Thanks to the lovely @unbreakableeiji​, @fanfic-me-up​, and @etegomanere​ for betaing! 

part 1 • part 2 • part 3 • part 4

–

“There,” Bakugou grunts as the shackle around his ankle pops open. It reveals a red ring of skin, rubbed raw and burned by the cuff, making you grimace in sympathy. A matching ring circles his other ankle, and you think there’s a set on his wrists too, but those are obscured by the bandages you wrapped around him in his wolf form.

“Your turn.” He flips the knife in the air and catches it by the flat of the blade, holding the handle out to you. “Get this shitty collar off me.”

You eye the knife wearily before taking it into your hand. “You want something sharp next to your neck?”

“You gonna try to kill me?”

Eyes widening, you shake your head rapidly.

“Then, I’ll be fine.”

“If you insist,” you say, then wait expectantly. 

He looks at you, frowning. “What’re you waiting around for?”

“I can’t move any further!” Shaking your left ankle, the chain rattles with the movement. “Come here.”

“Hey!” he snaps as he closes the distance between you, flinching at the pain from his ribs. “I’m a wolf shifter, not a dog!”

“Oh really?” you ask airily, sitting up on your knees to get a better look at the collar around his neck. “I couldn’t tell. You still came anyway.”

You hide a smile as an irritated growl ripples through Bakugou’s throat. 

One of your hands reaches out to cup his neck, keeping it steady as you carefully try to fit the tip of the knife into the opening in the collar. “How badly are you injured?” you ask quietly, knowing that he might not admit to anything willingly. He opens his mouth to respond, but you cut him off with a quick shake of your head. “And don’t try to hide it—I heard a snap when Overhaul kicked you, and you winced when you moved.” 

But the most obvious sign is the large bruise that spans his ribs, a majority of it deep purple, with putrid yellow and green on the edges. He’s shirtless, but he managed to make some sort of covering for his lower half out of your cloak.

Bakugou wrinkles his nose, not wanting to admit his weakness. But when you stop working at the lock and sit back to stare at him expectantly, he snaps at you, red eyes flashing. “I’m fucking fine! I’m not some weak-ass who collapses after a couple of hits.”

“I’m not saying that you are,” you reply calmly. “But I need you to be in the best shape possible if we’re going to escape.”

He exhales slowly and nods. When he speaks this time, it’s with a lot less aggression. “I’ll be fine. Shifters heal quickly.” Bakugou unwraps the cloth bandages around his wrists, letting the fabric drop to the ground. 

“Wow,” you breathe, stroking the fingers of your free hand across his wrist. The skin is smooth, with no sign of the blood and irritation you had seen on his wolf form. You drop your gaze to his feet and find that his ankles are looking better than they were before.

Bakugou draws his hand back to his side, and you realize that you’ve been resting your fingertips against his wrist. Pulling your own hand back, you duck your head down for a moment in embarrassment before you start picking at the collar’s lock again.

“What does Overhaul put on the inside of these shackles?” you ask. Your brows furrow as the tip of the knife barely fits through the small opening for the key. Bakugou had gotten the shackles off in just a few minutes, and you’re even more astounded by his speed. But even though it isn’t working well, you persist, wiggling the knife this way and that. 

“Huh? Put something on them?”

“Your skin looked really irritated and was even bloody when you first took the shackles off. Even mine doesn’t hurt as much. Did Overhaul put some kind of poison on them?”

Bakugou is silent for a moment, then a tremor runs through his body that makes you jerk the knife away in fear of hurting him. He scoffs out a laugh, amused by your question. You look away from his neck and stare into his eyes, pouting. “You want me to hurt you or something? What’s so funny?”

His lips curl up at the corners before he starts speaking. “It’s not what he put on them, sweetheart, it’s what he made them out of.”

The term of endearment makes your face feel hot, but you don’t bring attention to it. Instead, you eye the pile of chains and shackles by Bakugou’s side. “Iron? Steel?” He shakes his head, and you guess again. “Silver?”

“Silver,” he confirms. “It’s a metal that can burn wolf shifters when it’s in contact with them. That wannabe Plague Doctor likes using them so much ‘cause they make me weak,” he hisses out the last word, contempt filling his voice.

“If this is you weak,” you say, “then I’d be terrified to face you at your strongest.”

“Whatever.” Bakugou turns his face away from yours and crosses his arms over his chest. “Now stop getting distracted! Get this thing off me, and let’s get the hell out.”

You put the tip of the knife to the keyhole of the collar and sigh. “The knife isn’t working well on this one.”

“Then you’re not doing it right,” Bakugou snaps.

“If I can’t fit the knife in the stupid keyhole, how the hell am I supposed to unlock it to get it off you?” your voice is raised by the end of it, and you duck your head down when you realize that you’ve basically yelled at him. “Sorry,” you say. “Though I don’t think I can work with the knife on this one.”

Bakugou is quiet, thinking hard. “I–” he starts, then stops and swallows. “Don’t apologize. You’re new to this–” he ignores your eye roll and your scoff of “clearly,” and continues, “–and I need to remember that.”

“Some apology,” you say, though your voice is softer now and is more amused. “So what do I do? We need something a lot thinner than the knife and– oh!”

“Oi!” he exclaims as you push the handle of the knife into his hands and scramble to your feet. Ignoring his shout, you limp to the wall and move as quickly as you can to the pile of glass you had deposited earlier.

“Where is it?” you mutter as you gingerly look under the larger pieces of glass. A glint of metal catches your eye, and you pick up the thin needle with care, pinching it between your thumb and forefinger. 

Now that you have what you’re looking for, you quickly return to Bakugou. His eyes widen at the sight of the needle in your hands, but he nods when he realizes what you plan on using it for. 

You kneel down in front of him. Before you start using the needle to pick at the lock, you wipe it down across the front of your dress, smearing a bit of dark red and light purple on the white cloth. You don’t want any more of the wolfsbane serum to get near him. Bakugou had said that it only was damaging if it actually entered his body, but you don’t want to take the chance.

“Alright, let’s get back to it.” One hand supports the other side of his neck while the other carefully brings the needle up to the keyhole. Slipping the point in smoothly, you wiggle and twist it, listening intently for any sounds. 

Click.

You push the needle to one side of the hole, brows furrowed as you get the collar to unlock. “There!” you breathe, pulling the needle out and tossing it back towards the corner you had gotten it from. 

Bakugou nearly rips the collar off with the force that he uses, sending it skittering across the dungeon floor until it hits a wall. A band of angry red rings his throat, skin peeling, and you wince in sympathy. 

“What?” he snaps as he moves around to your left foot, knife in hand.

You blink at him. “Nothing! Just can’t wait to get out of here.” 

He only responds with a grunt as he concentrates on the shackle around your ankle. He works on it for a couple seconds at most before his back stiffens, and he stops moving.

“Shit!” 

“What’s wrong?” you ask worriedly. Bakugou doesn’t reply. He only presses the handle of the knife into your hands and pushes himself to his feet in one fluid movement, running to where your chain is connected to the wall. 

He looks at where the last chain link is connected to a metal ring that is embedded into the stone wall at a height that is level with his head. You get to your feet and move closer to him, watching as Bakugou wraps your chain around his left arm once, before doing the same to his right. Both hands grip the chain tightly, and he presses one foot to the wall. With a grunt, he starts pulling on the chain with all his strength, muscles in his arms and back straining and flexing.

Nothing happens for a moment.

Then with an ear-piercing screech, the metal loop pops out of the stone, sending little fragments of rock flying. Bakugou stumbles back a step but easily regains his balance. Without taking a second glance at the hole in the wall, he bends down and starts gathering the chain in his arms until he nears you.

“Take this. We gotta go.” He dumps the chains into your waiting arms, and takes the knife out of your hand. His urgency can only mean one thing. 

Overhaul is coming.

Bakugou starts running for the doorway of the dungeon. You follow, grimacing as the chains rattle in your arms. You hug them tighter against your body in an attempt to keep them from moving around so much. 

Beyond the doorway, a hall stretches on either side, with other openings that likely lead to other dungeon rooms. A staircase lies right in front of you, leading upstairs.

But that’s where the footsteps are coming from.

Bakugou looks back at you, red eyes flashing as he jerks his head to the left before heading down that hallway. You stay right behind him. He ducks into the nearest doorway and presses against the wall, in a spot where he can peek into the hall without being seen. You do the same, chest heaving already, although it’s more from nerves than it is from physical exertion.

The footsteps grow louder and louder, until Bakugou catches sight of a figure crossing the hallway and into the dungeon where the two of you had just escaped from. The footsteps stop, and you can only imagine Overhaul taking in the empty room with his yellow eyes. 

Then the footsteps are louder, angrier, as Overhaul walks around in the dungeon. Neither you nor Bakugou can tell what he’s doing, but it can’t be good.

A shadow falls through the doorway, and Bakugou presses his head back against the wall, you mimicking him. Out of the corner of his eyes, Bakugou watches as Overhaul stalks out of the room, clutching two large knives in his gloved hands. They glint in the low light, and Bakugou recognizes them from the wall of torture devices in the room you two were kept in.

Overhaul looks up and down the hallway. Bakugou catches sight of slitted yellow eyes, and his heart skips a beat as he realizes that this could easily be the end for both of you if Overhaul decides to check the room you are in first. 

After another moment, Overhaul turns on his heel and walks into one of the other rooms further down the hall. A few seconds later, he exits, walking into the room beyond that. Bakugou exhales softly with relief.

As soon as Bakugou notices that Overhaul is systematically checking the rooms, he knows it’s only a matter of time before both of you are found if you remain here. So he watches and counts, keeping track of the seconds it takes for Overhaul to enter, look around, and exit each room. And once Bakugou knows the timing, feels it running through his mind and in his blood, he turns to you. 

He presses a finger against his lips, waits until you nod, and then scoops you into his arms, careful to angle the knife away from your body. You keep the chains tight against you to muffle any sounds. You don’t know what Bakugou is planning, but you can only trust him.

Bakugou looks again, watching as Overhaul exits another room. As soon as Overhaul disappears around the wall of the next room, Bakugou throws himself into action, sprinting out of the room and up the stairs, skipping three steps at a time with large leaps. He does not slow, not even with the weight of you and the chain in his arms.

He’s moving faster than what is normal, you realize, and when you look up at his face, his crimson eyes are glowing bright, and his lips are stretched back in a silent snarl, emphasizing his lengthened canines.

It’s the power of a wolf shifter.

He looks wild, ferocious, and untamed, but a shiver of something that isn’t fear runs through your body. Gratitude, perhaps, that he’s on your side. Excitement.

Bakugou reaches the top of the stairs and looks around, head swiveling back and forth as he takes in the room full of all types of weapons. He’s trying to figure out where to go next as you notice the windows that are set close to the ceiling. 

You whisper, “Up. We’re still partly below ground.”

He doesn’t have the time to confirm what you said, but he puts his trust in you and runs through the weapon storeroom and into the next room–

–and knocks over a set of pots on the ground. 

They’re sent flying, scattering across the kitchen floor with loud clangs and clatters. There’s a shout from the dungeon, and you look up at Bakugou with wide eyes.

“Fuck!” he hisses, and starts running again, leaping over the fallen pots to make it out of the kitchen. You bounce in his hold with every step, but he keeps you clutched tight against his chest. 

After exiting the kitchen, there’s a flight of stairs leading up, and Bakugou doesn’t hesitate to take them. The stairs end, and you find yourselves in a living room, with a couple of seats arranged around the fireplace. You shudder when you notice the animal heads mounted on the walls, and a low rumble starts in Bakugou’s chest. The animal heads are all stuffed and preserved, not a hair out of place, but their eyes are wide open and lifeless, staring into the air.

But you have no time to stop and take in the room, not when Bakugou can hear Overhaul knocking into one of the fallen pots in the kitchen downstairs. And he can hear footsteps from the floor above as well, coming from Chronostasis. 

He runs across the living room, which then leads into an elaborately furnished dining room. But finally, finally, he runs into a hallway with a staircase going up to a balcony, with a door in the wall opposite the stairs. When your breath hitches and your heartbeat speeds up in excitement, Bakugou knows that this must be the way out. 

“Let’s get the fuck out of this place,” he says and bends down, letting your legs slide out of his arm before letting go of your waist once you’re steady. He grips his knife in one hand and scoops half your chains up with his other and runs down the hall for the door. 

Once you get there, breathless from keeping up with Bakugou, you reach out with a hand to slide open the bolt like you had the first time when you tried to escape, but Bakugou dumps the chains back into your arms and pushes the knife into one of your hands. You fumble to take it, some of your chain escaping and slithering to the floor.

“Watch and learn, sweetheart.” With a smirk that makes your face go hot despite the circumstances, he turns to face the door and grasps the handle, pulling with all his might.

Then there’s a pop, and Bakugou stops straining, looking from his hand to you with wide eyes. Laughter bubbles out of you as you eye the empty space the door handle occupied moments before. 

“You just taught me exactly what not to do,” you tease.

He growls at you, eyebrows furrowed, red eyes flashing in an effort to intimidate you into silence, but it only makes you laugh again. 

Thump.

The sound is hauntingly familiar. It’s booted feet striking the floor after a tall drop. It will lead to panic and pain and a loss of consciousness. Blood freezing in your veins, you turn to look over your shoulder.

It’s not Overhaul. 

But it’s someone who wears a plague doctor mask just like Overhaul does, with white hair that reaches his chin. And his eyes are a cold grey, reminding you of steel and stone and a blade that was dragged across your collarbone–

Bakugou roars, the sound echoing off the walls and drawing your attention back to him. His muscles strain and flex as he faces the door, and you can’t tell what he’s doing until you hear the cracking of wood.

Your mouth falls open in shock.

The door comes out of the frame, wrenched entirely off its hinges. He readjusts his grip on the door, slipping his hand out of the hole where the handle had been to grasp the side of the door instead. 

He leans back, muscles in his arms and shoulders shifting, then launches the door into the air, straight toward Chronostasis. Bakugou doesn’t wait to see if it connects before he grabs your hand and tugs you outside into the night—the first time in two weeks that he’s been able to breathe in the earthy scent of forest and dirt.

You start to run, nearly flying with every step as Bakugou tugs you through the air. Each leap takes you further and further away from the place of captivity and torture.

But as your left foot hits the ground, it’s jerked out from under you. Your hand is ripped out of Bakugou’s hold, and you hit the ground hard, the air in your lungs being forced out at the impact.

You push yourself up with your hands and try to scramble to your feet, but you’re dragged along on the ground by your left ankle.

“Bakugou!” you scream, clawing for purchase in the dirt, but there’s nothing for you to grab onto, and the particles only slip out between your fingers. You manage to flip yourself onto your back, eyes locking onto Overhaul, who has the end of your chain in one gloved hand and is reeling you in like a fish. 

Then something passes above you, a shadow against the night sky, and Bakugou lands in front of you. He lets go of the knife in his hand and snatches up your chain. Muscles straining, he pulls hard on the chain to prevent Overhaul from moving you any further. 

“I got you,” he says through gritted teeth. And he digs his feet into the ground, keeping his weight low, leans back, and yanks the chain.

Overhaul is forced to let go. The iron flies out of his grip. 

Bakugou quickly reels the chain in, gathering the links into his arms. He turns to you and helps you up, and he passes you the chains. “Hold them tight,” he instructs, before bending down to pick up the knife–

–and an arrow pierces through his back, the tip of it coming out at his right shoulder. 

Crimson droplets scatter through the air. Some land on your dress and seep into the white fabric.

“Bakugou!” you shout, eyes wide with horror.

He grunts and looks down at the wound, eyeing the red that seeps down from his shoulder. “Fuck,” he hisses, then looks toward the mansion at Overhaul and Chronostasis, the latter having avoided the door and managed to pick up the long-range crossbow that he had shot Bakugou with.

The hunters start advancing. Overhaul flips the two long knives in his hands, blades gleaming as the full moon’s light shines on them. Chronostasis reloads his crossbow and aims it at Bakugou.

Bakugou bends down and picks up the knife. He turns and steps close to you, putting his whole body between yours and the hunters. His eyes gleam in the dark, two rubies that burn with the desire to fight—with the desire to protect.

He presses the knife into your hand. You accept it, gripping onto it tightly. 

“What are you waiting for?” Your heart pounds in your chest, the sound echoing in your ears. “We have to go!”

He rests a hand on your shoulder, the weight and warmth of it a comfort. “No. You have to go.”

You blink once before fully processing what Bakugou said, then open your mouth to protest. 

“Don’t,” he commands. “I am a shifter. My people will come to me.” He draws his hand back from your shoulder and moves it to pull the cloak off from around his waist. He’s completely bare now. But the situation is dire, and Bakugou keeps speaking, so you keep your eyes on his own as he shakes the cloak out and wraps it around your shoulders.

“But nobody knows that you’re here, so no one will come for you.” The words are harsh, and his voice turns deeper as he starts to change before your eyes, but you do not fear him. 

“So run! Go home!” He roars the last word, showing canines that have lengthened to impossibly sharp points. His hand pulls away from the clasp of your cloak, and his nails are now claws, long and deadly. And finally, he straightens up and steps away from you. He’s taller than before, muscles flexing with the movement. 

He’s ready to fight.

Looking at Bakugou now, in his half-shifted state, you know that he has always been designed to fight, to maim, to kill. 

But you are not afraid.

Your eyes are damp and you loathe to leave him, but you know that you’d only be a distraction. A weakness. And now, he cannot afford to be weak. Not if he plans on fighting two hunters, and leaving the victor.

So you do not show your sadness. You hide the cracks in your aching heart. You only smile at him, gazing into his crimson eyes.

“Don’t lose.”

Bakugou barks out a laugh, harsh and low. “As if I could.”

Then an arrow slices past Bakugou’s thigh, and another splash of blood stains your dress.

And you run.

–

You race into the forest, clutching the knife in one hand as you hold the chains tightly against you. It’s dark, and your eyes can only make out the vague shapes of branches and bushes that claw at your dress and cape. 

But the full moon is a blessing, and it scatters soft light on the forest floor whenever its beams can make it through the layers of leaves.

The sound of fighting—snarls, claws on metal, angry shouts—quickly disappear behind you as you push on. You pause for a moment, and look back in the direction that you came.

Bakugou had told you to return home. He’s strong, but you had left him to fight against two hunters that had captured him before. And he helped you when both of you were in the dungeon, just as much as you helped him. Could you really leave him like this?

But what can you do? The skill you have with the knife in your hand can never measure up to that of Overhaul. 

You look forward again at the dark branches that loom before your eyes. And you start running once more. But this time, you weep bitterly, letting tears slide off your cheeks and drip onto your dress, onto the chains, and onto the forest floor.

–

“Die!”

Blood races through Bakugou’s veins as he ducks under Overhaul’s silver knife. More blood flows out of the wounds on his body. Those injuries are barely closing, despite the quick healing that shifters have, because they were caused by weapons of silver.

But he fights on, slashing behind him with his claws to cut into Chronostasis’ side. He must keep fighting, even as Overhaul opens another cut on Bakugou’s arm, more crimson droplets soaking into the dirt.

He must fight. To win, so he can leave this place behind, though Bakugou knows in his heart that he cannot defeat both hunters when he is injured like this. Or to lose, but last long enough that he has given you time to get away and return to your village without the hunters chasing after you.

A burning pain erupts on his back; a new wound cuts through skin and flesh.

A sharp bite of silver on his thigh.

A sting on his neck, then his body seizes up and erupts with pain. Flames lick at every muscle, making them tremble and jerk, and Bakugou’s legs give out beneath him. He collapses to his knees, darkness closing in on his vision.

He hears Overhaul’s voice but can’t make out the words. Bakugou only thinks about you—hoping that you made it home—before a wave of pain sweeps over him and pulls him under, and he finally gives in to the darkness.

–

You’re lost.

You can’t recognize anything in the dark, and even if it were daytime, you aren’t familiar enough with the forest to know where you are and where you need to go.

But you don’t need to head home. 

No, you need to head further into the forest. Even though the trees grow thicker and the undergrowth scratches your legs and pokes at your feet through your thin slippers, you push on. You’re no longer running but keep going at as quick of a walk as you can manage. The wound on your right foot is stinging, and it likely has opened up once more. Your arms ache at holding the length of chain for so long, but you know if you drop it, the chain would only get caught on something and trip you.

Something rustles in the bushes nearby. It’s not the wind.

You whirl around in the direction the sound comes from, eyes straining to see in the dark. Nothing is there.

Something darts out from the bushes. You scream, but quickly cut off as the creature stands in a patch of moonlight, and you make out its features. It’s a chipmunk.

You blink at it. It cocks its head and blinks at you. You can see that the chipmunk’s fur is an odd color by the light of the full moon. It has more of a yellow tint than the usual brown, and it only has one dark stripe that runs up its back. It chatters its teeth and moves closer to you with bouncy steps. When it sits fearlessly at your feet, you study it more closely and feel something light and warm well in your chest. 

“Hey,” you say softly, keeping your body still, so you don’t scare it away before you finish talking. “You probably think I’m crazy, wandering through the forest at night and talking to an animal. But I know who you are. Or, more accurately, what you are.”

The chipmunk’s eyes are large and dark, and you think you see understanding pass across its face. “Bakugou told me that your kind is aware of everything that goes on in your animal form, so–”

The chipmunk suddenly scampers away, running up the nearest tree. You race to follow, shouting, “Hey! Wait! Please! I need– I need your help.” Your foot catches on a tree root, and it sends you sprawling on the ground, the chain and knife falling from your grasp. Tears fill your eyes from the pain and the loss of hope, and through your watery vision, you watch the chipmunk disappear into the branches of the tree. 

The chipmunk is gone, and the forest is still. You sniffle as you lay on the ground. Your whole body aches, and your limbs feel like they’ve been carrying weights, and you honestly want to give up and stay on the forest floor.

But you need to make sure Bakugou is okay. He never gave up on you. He never stopped helping you even when he could have gotten free without you slowing him down. So you need to make sure you can get to his friends and help them free Bakugou from the hunters.

You get back onto your feet and pick up the chains. This time, instead of carrying them in your arms, you wrap them around your shoulders, so you bear the weight of them on your back. You pick up the knife in your dominant hand, exhale loudly, and continue walking through the forest.

It’s not completely silent in the woods. Wind blows through the leaves, causing the spots of moonlight to dance around on the ground. An owl hoots from somewhere in the trees. Your feet kick up fallen leaves and break dry sticks with muted snaps as you trudge along.

Sleep pulls heavily at your eyelids, but you will not let yourself rest.

A dark shadow looms in front of you, shaped like an old tree that has been struck by lightning, the fire having burnt its bark smooth, though there’s something odd about it. You look at it for a moment before walking around it.

There’s movement in the corner of your eye. Before you can turn to look or raise up your knife, something heavy slams into you, knocking you onto the forest floor yet again.

Your head throbs, and your vision is blurry. But when it clears, you look up at whatever is pressing down on your stomach, and you go utterly still. 

It’s a bear.

Though you are still, your heart pounds rapidly in your chest. The bear holds you down with a massive paw, pressing hard enough that you cannot get up, but not so hard that it breaks your ribs. You stare up at it, but your vision is going fuzzy from your fear, and its black fur helps it blend in with the shadows of the night. 

But then, something moves onto the bear’s head and sits right between its ears. Your eyes manage to focus on it, taking a second to recognize the strangely yellow fur.

“Chipmunk,” you manage to wheeze.

The animal chatters its teeth at you from its position on top of the bear. The chipmunk is on the bear, and the bear hasn’t actually hurt you. You finally realize what this means, and your heart slows a bit.

“Oh!” you squeak out. “You both are shifters, then!”

A rumble comes from the bear, and you think it’s amusement. 

You look at the chipmunk. “That means you heard me. You know Bakugou?”

The chipmunk nods. Both it and the bear stare at you intently, listening carefully to every word that comes out of your mouth.

“I need your help. Bakugou and I were held captive by some hunters. We were escaping, and the hunters were chasing after us. They were about to get me, and Bakugou helped me but decided to stay behind, and I know he’s strong, but the hunters were doing terrible things to him, and I don’t know if he’ll make it out even though he promised–” You gasp, tears pricking your eyes, but you hold them back as the words keep spilling out of your mouth.

“Please help me! I’ll guide you back to the mansion and everything, but I can’t fight the hunters off myself. I won’t leave him behind, even though he told me to run. He saved me back there. I can’t– I can’t just go home and pretend that everything is fine!”

The bear lifts its paw off your stomach, and you get back onto your feet. You bend down to pick up your fallen knife, then look at the shifters.

“Well? Are we going to go back for him?”

The bear holds up a paw.

You tilt your head and look from it to the bear. “You want me to… stop?” Fury runs through you. “What the hell? I thought Bakugou is your friend!” 

But then the bear rapidly shakes his head and holds out his paw once more. You huff out a breath and try again. “If not stop, you want me to… slow down? Oh! You want me to wait!”

The bear and the chipmunk nod. As soon as you nod back and tell them that you won’t be going anywhere, they need to hurry back soon, the bear turns away from you and disappears into the forest, with the chipmunk riding on top of its head.

You sigh, sit down against a tree, and settle down to wait.

–

You must have dozed off while waiting, because you’re jolted awake when someone gently shakes your shoulder. Your eyes widen as you stare into a pair of unusual eyes; yellow irises that are surrounded by black.

“Hi! I’m Ashido Mina, but you can just call me Mina!” She stands up and steps back, clasping her hands in front of her as she rocks on her feet. “We’d love to get to know you, but Kirishima told us that we need to get going.”

You move the chains from your lap into your arms, pick up the knife, and get to your feet. “Kirishima?” you ask, then look beyond Mina at the three others that stand behind her. Your eyes widen as you take in a head of spiky hair that’s clearly a bright red even under the moonlight. “Shitty Hair!” you exclaim, then clap your hands over your mouth. That wasn’t exactly the most polite thing to say to a stranger—especially not a shifter.

Far from offended, the redhead grins at you, showing a mouthful of sharp teeth. “Looks like Bakubro told you about me! I’m Kirishima. I was the bear you met just a little while ago. Sorry if I scared ya, I didn’t mean to!” 

“Oh! You’re the bear? But your fur was black!” You point at the dark-haired male standing next to Kirishima. “I would have thought he was the bear.”

The shifter you’re pointing at grins and shakes his head. “Nah, not me. I’m a gecko! Kirishima here likes to dye his hair, but the dye doesn’t transfer over to his bear form. Oh, and call me Sero.”

“So if Kirisima’s a bear, Sero is a gecko, then you must be the chipmunk!” You look at the shifter on the other side of Sero. His hair is a darker blonde than Bakugou’s, and a black zigzag runs through it on one side.

“Wow, how’d you guess? I bet it was from our instant con-nut-ion.” He smirks at you and finger guns, throwing you a wink.

You blink at him. Then blink again. “I can’t even talk to you after such a bad pun.” You turn away from him and look at Mina, who snickers at your response. It’s only then that you really notice the color of her hair and her skin. The pink reminds you of the fancy ribbons sold at the market back home that many girls would save up to buy. 

“Oh, wow, you’re so pretty! What animal do you shift into? If- if you’re comfortable sharing, of course, I don’t know if there’s some sort of shifter policy–”

Mina squeals and bounds toward you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Aww, you’re so sweet! My animal form is a poison dart frog. But don’t worry, the poison isn’t an issue in this form!”

You smile at Mina, but are distracted as Kirishima starts moving. You look at him curiously and quickly shut your eyes when you see that he’s taking off his shirt. “What are you doing?”

Sero laughs at your obvious embarrassment. “He’s getting ready to shift. If the shifters with larger animal forms shifted with clothes on, they’d go through more than a set every day. It’s not that big of a deal for shifters to reveal skin.”

“Oh!” So that’s why Bakugou didn’t make a big deal out of being naked until you forced him to cover up with your cloak.

“Anyway,” Mina says, “we have to get these chains off you first. It won’t do you any good to fight the hunters with a pile of metal in your arms.”

“Exactly. It wouldn’t do for someone so flawless to get injured!” The chipmunk shifter winks at you.

You scowl at him before recognition flashes across your face. “Oh my gosh, you’re Dunce Face! Bakugou told me all about you.”

“Kaminari Denki, at your service. Did he tell you about my handsome face and witty charm?”

You smirk. “No, he told me about your bad puns and inability to get a girl.”

Kaminari’s jaw drops, and he clutches his chest dramatically. “Oh, the betrayal! The pain! The–”

He’s cut off by a sharp smack to the back of his head from Sero. “We don’t have time for you to badly flirt,” Sero tells him, then turns to you. “Kiri’s gonna help you get that chain off and then we can go and rescue Bakugou!”

Kirishima approaches you, grinning. He holds his hands out for the chain in your arms, and you pass it over to him, the metal links clinking together. “I’m going to shift to my in-between state, okay? That way, I’ll have enough power to pull the chain apart. I won’t be able to get the cuff off, but at least you won’t have to lug around the long bit!” He rattles the chain for emphasis and crouches down next to your left foot when you nod in agreement.

“Here I go!” The muscles in Kirishima’s back and arms visibly get larger, and a trail of dark hair covers his spine. He grasps onto the chain, one hand right next to the shackle on your foot, and the other just a couple of links down.

He starts to growl, the sound a deeper rumble than Bakugou’s. Then his muscles shift and strain, the metal links are pulled taut, and his growl grows in volume until a metal link finally gives out, breaking the chain.

Eyes wide, you watch Kirishima stand up with the broken chain in one hand. “I- You- Thank you!” you stammer. Shaking your left foot, it feels a lot lighter with the shackle and a couple of metal links dangling from it, instead of the whole chain.

Kirishima laughs, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “You don’t need to thank me! That was just the manly thing to do.”

“All right!” Mina claps her hands twice. “Since we finished with that, let’s get going. Kirishima! Shift!”

The bear shifter drops the chain in a pile underneath one of the trees. Then he reaches for the waistband of his pants, and you quickly turn around to face Mina as he takes them off. 

“So how are we going to get Bakugou out of the hunters’ mansion?” you ask her.

“We’re not sure yet!” She flashes you a blinding smile. “Bakugou’s the one that usually comes up with plans, it’s more our style to just wing it! If you come up with something along the way, definitely share it with us, though. Now get on!” 

Mina grabs your shoulders and spins you around, pushing you toward Kirishima, who crouches down in his large bear form.

“Get on? On Kirishima?”

“He’ll take us to the mansion pretty quickly! Also, you look like you could use the rest. It seems like those hunters weren’t the nicest toward you. Now, let’s go!”

You settle on Kirishima’s back, hands sinking into the dark fur, with Mina right behind you. She holds onto the clothes Kirishima, Sero, and Kaminari had thrown off when they shifted.

You tell Kirishima the direction you came from, and he sets off. With Mina behind you, Kirishima’s warmth beneath you, and Sero and Kaminari sitting between Kirishima’s ears, you feel a lot less alone and afraid than you were when you ran away from the hunters.

Biting your lip, your mind races as you try to figure out a plan for when you all get to the mansion. 

You’re going to get Bakugou back if it’s the last thing you do.

–

Series Tags • @steggy4ever​ @tspice283​ @wesparklebitch​

Other Tags • @simplybakugou​ @knifeewifee​ @gallickingun​ (thank you all for being so kind and encouraging while you sprinted with me!) 

#boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bnhabookclub #northernlightswriteblrs #type: text #type: fanfic #fanfic: reader insert #fanfic: series #fanfic: au #au: fantasy #type: anime #anime: boku no hero academia #ch: bakugou katsuki #series: crimson snow #my writing #my writing: fic

[cowperviolet]

A Fantasy Writer’s Guide to Entremets

Ok - I know that fantasy worlds don’t have to be medieval-influenced. However, most do tend to have historical elements from different eras worked into them; so why not entremets, especially since they have their origins in the feasts of antiquity, and have been deployed through the Middle Ages and Renaissance both? 

If anything, they fit the Rule of Cool. 

So, what are the entremets? To put it very simply, they are the elements of the feast that do not, strictly speaking, belong on the menu. They can be statues, performances, automata (I guess I should put steampunk in the tags), tableaux, even edible-stuff-that’s-just-really freaky. 

Here are some examples (most are drawn from the Burgundian court, because it was the most Extra one):

(Technically) edible stuff:

A lamprey burrowed into a river bottom - that is, a lamprey meat is roasted, then covered in a thick sauce made from combining its blood with spices and vinegar to create the effect of mud.

Cigne revestu - a cooked swan redressed in its skin and feathers.

Doreures - poultry is stuffed with a mixture of pork, bacon, eggs, spices, pine-nut paste, and currants, then roasted; the leftover stuffing is made into balls and roasted as well. Then everything is covered in gold and silver leaf. Because they can. 

Coqz heaumez - a stuffed roasted hen is seated atop a piglet and given a helmet of glued paper and a lance. These should be covered with gold- or silver-leaf for lords, or with white, red, or green tin-leaf, depending on the hen’s station in life, I guess.

Statuary:

The portrayal of the story of the Swan Knight - a wooden box with wheels is constructed; water-filled lead coffer holding a minever-covered parchment boat and a swan sculpture tied together with a golden chain are placed within.A cloth painted to represent water is then attached to hide men who are going to move the box around underneath. 

The Cleveland fountain - an octagonal Gothic tower in three tiers of gilt-silver. Liquid (can be perfumed/rosewater) rises through the central tube and issues from the mouths of the four animals at the top. Then it cascades down each level through spouts in the forms of human and animal faces. The water jets turn a series of wheels attached to bells, making everything whirl and ring.

Something I am going to leave as a direct quote, because I can’t even - ‘At a special table there was a high pillar, on which was seated an ymage of a young woman, nude except for her long blonde hair which covered her back to her waist; on her head was a rich hat; [she was] wrapped, so as to preserve propriety, in a cloth like a fluttering veil with Greek letters on it in many places, beautifully written in violet; and this ymage jetted hippocras from her breasts the entire duration of the supper. And near her, braced against the dresser, was another pillar, not as tall, but a little thicker, like a platform, on which was attached, by an iron chain, a very beautiful and entirely alive lion, as a sign to guard and defend the ymage; against his pillar was written on a charge in gold: Do not touch my lady’. 

A (thank God) fake fire-breathing lion - the sculpture’s mouth is lined with brass-lined mouth, with paper teeth glued within. Camphor and a little cotton are put there, and lit just before it’s presented to the guests.

A ship - such as a miniature anchored carrack laden with various merchandise, with miniature figures of sailors to complete the picture.

Spice-carrying miniature figures of animals -  these could be large elephants carrying castles, dromedaries with large baskets, unicorns, stags, etc. The animals would be bedecked with gold, silver and azure, their coverings decorated with gold thread and silk. Each of them carried the arms of a lord subject to, in one particular case, the Duke of Burgundy, with the name of the town or lordship. But really, any overlord fits. 

Tableaux/mini-plays:

These are highly specific things, tailored to each occasion - whether, political, pious, marital or simply entertaining - so I’m going to describe particular instances that can be, however, easily dismembered into elements:

The entremet of the Holy Church was something presented by Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy at his Feast of the Pheasant in 1454. It began with an armed giant in a long green silk robe with the turban on his head entering the room leading an elephant covered in silk. On the elephant’s back rode a lady wearing a white satin robe with a black coat and headdress (i.e. looking nun-like, but not quite). Addressing the noble company, the lady revealed that she was the Holy Church. As one does, she delivered a long complaint poem to those present, detailing her fallen state after the Turkish capture of Constantinople, and then asked for their aid. In the Ye Olde Photo Op, the Duke drew out a letter promising to aid his fellow Christians and had his herald read it aloud to the assembled guests. Having heard this assurance of aid, the Holy Church blessed him and was led out on her elephant. The evening culminated in the nobles offering immediate written vows to sign up for a crusade. 

The wedding of Charles the Bold and Margaret of York involved a series of carefully staged entremets chock-full of symbolism, given the touchy political nature of their union:

First, a man dressed as leopard came into the room riding a ‘unicorn’ caparisoned in a cloth painted with the English royal arms. The leopard held an English banner in one paw and a daisy in the other. Charles’ maître d’hôtel took the flower and presented it to the groom, saying: “Most excellent, high and victorious prince, my awesome and sovereign lord, the proud and awesome leopard of England comes to visit the noble company; and for your consolation and the consolation of your allies, countries and subjects, makes you the present of a noble marguerite.”

The second entremet was, in turn, dedicated to Margaret. A giant ‘lion’ entered, his covering painted with the arms of Burgundy.  Madame de Beaugrand, the dwarf of Margaret’s new stepdaughter Mary of Burgundy, rode upon it, accompanied by two noblemen. Madame de Beaugrand was dressed in a cloth-of-gold and violet version of a shepherdess’s garb and held a basket painted with the names of various virtues, a Burgundian banner, and a small dog on a leash. Then the ‘lion’ circled the room and sang a song welcoming the “beautiful shepherdess” who is “the source of hope, solace, strength, pride, peace, and safety for all the ruled lands.”

As a last note, possibly just to highlight the lavish and cosmopolitan nature of the court into which she has married, a highly realistic simulated camel saddled “in the Saracen manner” entered the room, with a man dressed in an Eastern fashion and two giant baskets on its back. He opened the baskets and took from them “birds strangely painted, as though they came from India,” and released them to fly around the room. They landed on various tables to the sounds of trumpets.

‘A marvellously large and beautiful stag entered the room, all white with large golden antlers, and covered in a rich covering of green and vermilion silk, as far as I could tell. A young boy twelve years old was mounted on the stag, dressed in a short robe of crimson velvet, wearing a little black slashed hat on his head, and shod in fine shoes. This child held on to the antlers of the stag with both hands. As he entered the room, he began on a song in a very high and clear voice, and the stag seemed to sing the tenor part, without there appearing to be any other person about save the child and artifice of the stag, and the song they sang was called ‘Je ne voy onques la pareille etc.’ [I have never seen her like].’ (Olivier de la Marche’s memoires, 1562). 

‘A watchman on the tower made as if to carry out his watch, and recognising that the tents and pavilions represented towns that were friendly, called for a fanfare of trumpets, which was performed by four boars from the windows in the tower. Then four lifelike goats appeared at the same windows, playing a motet on sackbuts and shawms; followed by four wolves with flutes, then four donkeys singing a song in four parts. For the fifth and last entremets, the watchman asked for a ‘morisque’ dance to entertain the company. Seven lifelike monkeys emerged along a balcony rail from a door in the tower. They found a mercer asleep by his wares and proceeded to play with them. They danced a morisque; then the tables were cleared and the guests danced’. (Ibid.)

#writing reference #writing ref #fantasy #medieval history #medieval #middle ages #writing resources #writeblr #writeblr community #writers of tumblr #history #history tumblr #northernlightswriteblrs

[asoftplxcetoland]

Introducing…OUT OF THE BLUE

posted at @andiwriteunderthemoon​‘s request as part of my 100 followers celebration!

GENRE | contemporary romance

STATUS | working on the first draft

THEMES | trauma recovery, falling in love, work family

POV | first person

FEATURES | workplace romance, sharing a bed, height difference, pining, true love, midnight phone calls, cooking as a love language, home is another person, tooth-rotting fluff, difficult sibling dynamics, guilt complexes, cops who never do any actual policing, midnight confessions 

AESTHETIC | there’s a pinboard for that!

CONTENT WARNINGS | organised crime, kidnapping, death, criminal activity, as always lots of swearing 

SYNOPSIS

The Met has been investigating the Kelly gang for years now, with Detective Chief Inspector Conor O’Sullivan at the helm. But their undercover operations have gone sideways, leaving his oldest friend grieviously injured after being held hostage and Conor blaming himself. It’s but the most recent incident in a lifetime bogged down by guilt and regret. 

And Summer Kennedy is just about done with it. 

A forensic scientist with the Met, she’s known Conor long enough to recognise his guilt complex and obsessive need to protect those around him as a trauma response, even when others can’t. When it becomes apparent three days after Sophie’s release from hospital that Conor hasn’t slept since, Summer opens her home to him in the hopes of giving him some sense of safety. 

She just doesn’t realise that she’s opening up her heart to him too. 

CHARACTERS

Summer Kennedy: 32, forensic scientist, consummate big sister, bad at her own emotions, likes her cat more than most people.  Conor O’Sullivan: 38, detective chief inspector, his guilt complex is a cross to bear, laser focused on the job, kind of really just needs a hug and some therapy.  Sophie Peterson: 37, detective inspector, sarcasm personified, incredibly angry at the world right now.  Raj Patel: 34, forensic scientist, an actual cinnamon roll, would really just like for everything to get back to normal thank you.   

[ out of the blue | tag | excerpts | ko-fi ] 

#violetvineyard #northernlightswriteblrs #thequeerlibrary #writing #writeblr #my writing #out of the blue #blue: intros #yes this is a terrible summary #no i have no idea what the plot really is #yes this is very basic tropey romance #no i do not care #in case you had not realised that is my niche #also there is no plan for this #at all #literally i started writing this the other night because i had the dialogue in my head and needed to get it down #it took a couple hundred words for me to find out their first names

[sourrcandy]

killer empire 🌙 writing excerpt

i’ve been pretty inactive on here so i‘m sharing the first page of killer empire to you guys <333 hope you like it ✨💕

taglist!! @rcvolutions, @cookiecutterwrites, @evilkids, @winnieleighwrites, @nefertiti-writes, @kimblewrites, @carumens, @robinsocean, @aphronysus, @highqueen, @valiant-wielder

-> send me an ask if you want to be added to the taglist!!

#wip: killer empire #excerpt #my wip #writeblr #northernlightswriteblrs #authornet #killer empire excerpt

[asoftplxcetoland]

[ from chapter three, monday 18th may ] 

Half an hour into another episode my phone buzzed on the nightstand. I glanced at it with every intention of ignoring it—only to see Conor’s name flash up on the screen.

I couldn’t ignore that, and hit pause.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” He greeted me apologetically.

“No, you’re alright, I was just watching some tv in bed.”

“Oh, okay.” He sounded…off. Enough that I was worried—although, when wasn’t I worried about him these days?

“Everything alright?”

“Uh, yeah, sorry—this was stupid.”

“Conor, it’s fine. Talk to me, yeah?”

“I can’t sleep,” he admitted, his voice quiet and defeated. “I’ve tried everything and I just….can’t. I haven’t been able to since I crashed at yours.”

“You could come over?” I suggested hesitantly.

“Are you sure?”

“I offered, didn’t I?” I teased, playful and friendly.

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you in a bit.”

[ out of the blue | tag | excerpts | ko-fi ]

#romancewritersanonymous #violetvineyard #thequeerlibrary #northernlightswriteblrs #writeblr #writers on tumblr #romance #contemporary fiction #contemporary romance #romance writer #romance writers #romance fiction #my writing #writing community #writblr #contemporary romance fiction #contemporary romance writer #out of the blue #blue: snippets #blue: summer x connor #context #as always conor is a disaster #and can only sleep when he's with summer #and summer has had a super long day at crime scenes #and is watching trashy reality tv #and yet makes space for him anyway #summer how do you not realise you're in love with him jfc

[asoftplxcetoland]

100 Followers Celebration!

so...there are now 100 of you following my nonsense (105 at time of posting, to be exact). which is ridiculous? thank you very much for following and being interested in what i write and the babble i spout, i really do appreciate it, and each of you lovely souls is an utter delight and i’m very grateful to have you. 

i thought it would be fun to do a little celebration, in spite of my total lack of graphics abilities lmao. so send me one of the following emoji for a thing! 

🐝for a playlist based on my music library! 🦔for a snippet from idiots in love!  🌼for an introduction to a previously unintroduced idiots in love character! 🌺for an idiots in love extra! 🌊for an introduction from my new wip, out of the blue!  ⚡️for an out of the blue snippet! 💧for an out of the blue extra! 

rules:

one. must be following me. new followers are more than welcome!  two. must reblog this post!  three. no more than two requests per person, and please don’t request more than one intro. if requesting an extra, please feel free to specify if you’d like a moodboard, playlist or deleted scene, otherwise i’ll assume it’s author’s choice! 

i’ll keep this running until i decide i can’t take on any more, tbh. and yes, i know i haven’t introduced out of the blue yet, so the only way you’re going to find out about it is if you ask! 

tagging some mutuals, feel free to ignore but i’d appreciate the boost! @merielxwritings @brookswriting @kentwrites @summersromance @pulcherri

#writeblr #violetvineyard #thequeerlibrary #northernlightswriteblrs #follower celebration #follower milestone #bea speaks #bea celebrates 100 #that's is that's the tag #icb there are over 100 of you interested in my nonsense #but i'm very grateful and it fills my heart with joy #dropping this in tags so it gets seen

[asoftplxcetoland]

snippet courtesy of @hannahs-creations as part of my 100 followers celebration!

I toed off my trainers and climbed under the covers as Conor settled awkwardly beside me.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said quietly, reaching out to gently touch the corner of his jaw. “You can rest now.”

He fought it for a moment, but eventually his eyes fell shut and his breathing evened out. I watched him for several minutes, noting the slow rise and fall of his chest as he slid into the depths of slumber. It wasn’t until I was quite sure that he was out for the count that I settled myself, pulling the covers up to my chin as my eyes drifted shut. The sound of Conor’s breathing was reassuring, a comforting lull that pulled me under.

[ out of the blue | tag | excerpts | ko-fi ]

#violetvineyard #northernlightswriteblrs #thequeerlibrary #writing #writeblr #my writing #romance #adult romance #contemporary romance #contemporary fiction #out of the blue #blue: snippets #context #conor is a disaster human with a shedload of issues who hasn't slept in three days #and summer is trying desperately to help her friend when he's drowning

[asoftplxcetoland]

Introducing…SUMMER KENNEDY

BASICS | summer jean kennedy. 32. forensic scientist for the met. runner. plant mum. her cat owns her. cis female. pansexual. 

APPEARANCE | 5′4″. dark hair, dark eyes, freckles in the summer. basically lives in her cosy sweaters. occasionally manages a nice shirt for work. usually a little on the rumpled side of things. actually works out and has the figure to show for it. 

PERSONALITY | nerdy, hyperintelligent goofball completely lacking in self-consciousness. much better at dealing with other people’s emotions than her own. acts like an overbearing big sister to literally everyone she knows. an absolute whirlwind of chaos, but has the patience of a saint. stubborn and demanding and kind of thinks everyone should agree with her. 

BACKGROUND | oldest of four and the only daughter in an upper-working class family from kent. spent most of her childhood leading her brothers into mischief and being their protector. lowkey had a crush on her year 9 chemistry teacher but it fostered her love of science and led to a biochem degree from warwick and a forensic sciences masters from king’s. went straight into the met after getting her masters and never looked back. 

RELATIONSHIPS | an absolute daddy’s little princess. struggles with her mum because she’s not a girly girl. loves her brothers fiercely and took them all out for lunch regularly when they went through uni. best friends with raj since their first day on the job together as babies. kind of love-hate banter with sophie. often claims conor is her favourite detective to work with even though approximately nobody understands why. lowkey protective of him. 

AESTHETIC | skinny jeans and too big sweaters, earl grey tea, chipped nail polish and messy buns, long runs by the water, streetlights through open blinds, autumn leaves underfoot, pin badges and denim jackets, smoking test tubes, plants everywhere, toothy smiles, melting ice cream on a summer’s day, gigs in shitty venues with sticky floors, screaming out the lyrics to your favourite song driving down the motorway 

THEME SONG | stitches — stereophonics 

intro courtesy of @loudwithlaughter as part of my 100 followers celebration!

[ out of the blue | tag | excerpts | ko-fi ]

#violetvineyard #northernlightswriteblrs #thequeerlibrary #writing #writeblr #my wriring #out of the blue #blue: intros #bea celebrates 100 #my writing