#i hope i did it justice <3 thanks for giving me the opportunity to draw cas in a waistcoat

[riverwithoutbanks-art]

(click for better quality)

Based on this lovely lovely piece by my secret valentine, the talented @j-k-t-e for @destieldtiyschallenge! Please go look at their wonderful art and thank you so much to Sheep for organising this event! It was a lot of fun <3

(tag list in the comments now - tell me if you want to be added)

#destieldtiys2024 #j-k-t-e art #i hope i did it justice <3 thanks for giving me the opportunity to draw cas in a waistcoat #spn #spn fanart #supernatural #supernatural fanart #castiel #destiel fanart #dean winchester

[fforsythiaaa]

Sweater Weather Tarot

Y’all, never have I ever created fan art or anything... and I still haven’t. Because I can’t draw. But after @lumosinlove mentioned a Sweater Weather tarot deck, I had to cross over this amazing story (which you should 100% read immediately) with my only other creative talent -- reading tarot.

Click through for the Major Arcana as Sweater Weather. (Please, please, someone make my dreams come true and illustrate these.)

spoilers abound, read the fic first!!! 0 - The Fool - James The start of the tarot encourages us to think about the hopeful, confident feelings we have at the beginning of a journey. James is overly excited about welcoming Sirius to the team, about Lily’s pregnancy, then later about Coops and O’Knutzy. He’s a tad oblivious - the main caution that the fool gives us -  but we all wish we had his optimism.

1 - The Magician - Dumo The magician is the one who sees all, knows all, and makes shit happen. Can you think of anyone who better represents creative problem-solving, using intuition to guide actions, charisma, power, benevolence? Daddy Pascal all the way.

2 - The High Priestess - Natalie Even though she’s a relatively minor character, it’s clear to everyone that Natalie knows exactly who she is and she acts like it. She’s a bad-ass who knows what she wants and gets it. That’s the high priestess - balancing our internal and external drives, goals, and motivations.

3 - The Empress - Lily I know, I know, put the pregnant lady on the card featuring.... a pregnant lady? The empress encourages us to embrace our compassion, empathy, and healing powers; she tells us to bring new things into the world, whether that’s literally small people or creative projects or new relationships. She’s so supportive of Loops, James, and Sirius that she deserves this (my favorite card!)

4 - The Emperor - The League Is is cheating to put a kind of abstract body here? The emperor represents the structures in our life that give us rules and regulations. Sometimes, that’s a good thing - we can all use a little routine and structure for stability. Sometimes it can feel oppressive. The League is responsible for bringing all our favorite characters together, but its power makes them feel scared of breaking the rules.

5 - The Hierophant - Minnie A hierophant is a religious leader; in the tarot, he taps into The Rules and uses them to provide guidance on the journey. Minnie, as Sirius’s agent, knows how to guide him along that traditional path as a star hockey player without too much damage to who he is inside. She’s going to work within the system to give the press some Brothers Black drama to distract other news, but she’s proud as hell when he snaps back at nosy reporters. She’s the best.

6 - The Lovers - Coops What did you expect??? In the Tarot, this card isn’t just about romantic relationships with others - it’s also about our relationship to ourselves. Sirius and Remus are both healing and building their relationships with their own identities throughout the course of their careers and lives in SW. Their growth together and individually is what makes them perfect for this card.

7 - The Chariot - Finn This card represents action, action, action - even if you’re not sure which direction that action is headed in. Finn dates June, kisses Leo, runs after Logan, shares their relationship with team... all of this to keep himself moving forward. Maybe it’s not a linear path, but he’s sure as hell skating running down it.

8 - Justice - the Blizzard Honestly I think this card is such a perfect pairing with the High Priestess. Justice asks us to think broadly about what is fair, to ourselves and to others. At Remus’s during All-Stars, Kasey sums up perfectly how Sirius's reaction wasn’t fair to anyone involved -- it’s a moment that really hit home for me what a stand-up guy he is! 

9 - the Hermit - 36 Missed Calls It’s good to take time out to retreat and evaluate yourself, your life, your next steps. The hermit isn’t a “bad” card, by any means. But we can’t hide forever, and we have to choose when our self-reflection is going do the most good, for ourselves and for the ones around us.

10 - Wheel of Fortune - O’Knutzy The wheel reminds us that sometimes it’s best to go with the flow and trust that the right opportunities will present themselves at the right times. Sometimes you just gotta wait 8 years for your missing piece to show up, okay? I’m not crying. 

11 - Strength - Sirius TW: coming out, being outed, abuse (mentions, not graphic) This card always gets me because the Waite-Smith illustration reminds us that strength doesn’t always look like we would assume. Sometimes it’s just surviving, just making it another day, even if you’re not doing the most “courageous” thing. It’s hard to not be out, it’s hard to come out, it’s hard to be outed. And it’s hard to experience abuse and hard to have abuse in your past. Sirius knows a thing or two about strength, okay, plus this card has a lion on it, so there you go.

12 - the Hanged Man - Leo Where the hermit retreats to do his self-reflection and thinking, the hanged man takes his time to reflect out in the open. His upside-down position represents considering that what’s expected of you might not serve you. The most observant guy on the team could teach us a thing or two about stepping back to step up.

13 - Death - Regulus Listen. LISTEN. Death is a great card to pull in the Tarot. It signifies the end of an old chapter and the beginning of a new one. When Regulus and Sirius cut off their mother and Reg agrees to come back to Gryffindor, he ends that chapter of the Black brothers’ lives, allowing a new one to start.

14 - Temperance - Arthur I’m 100% basing this on the snippet that Haz shared where Arthur tells everyone not to bring their relationship drama onto the ice. He’s clearly so happy, but there’s also a game to play and a cup to win. Balance, boys, everything in balance.

15 - the Devil - Paparazzi & Press Sure, we’re mad at the paps and want to characterize them as negatively as possible, but truthfully they’re more complicated. The paparazzi and the press represent the temptation of caring about what others think... it’s fine to care a little bit, but when you care to the point of sacrificing yourself and your own growth, you’ve given into a dangerous temptation. 

16 - the Tower - Greyback, Walburga, and The Photo When everything falls apart in a spectacular mess, that’s the tower for ya. Greyback, Sirius’s mom, and the photo are the ones that set off the chain of obstacles that Sirius and Remus overcome in SW. Of course in hindsight we’re glad the tower fell so that we can build up a better one, but wow, did it have to suck so much? Like the death card, the tower also paves the way for new beginnings, but we can grieve the way it happened. 

17 - the Star - Remus You thought it would be Sirius, didn’t you? Well the star is a “dreams come true” card, and Remus knows something about that. Even when his hockey career was ended before it began, he pivoted and created a new dream to go by; his dreams of love may have taken a back-burner, but now they’re coming truuuue <3 thanks for letting me be so corny

18 - the Moon - Logan The phases of the moon remind us that nothing is permanent. Even if there’s some mystery about what’s going to come next, our worries aren’t going to prevent the sun from rising. Logan was perhaps a little reticent to move from his “ignoring feelings” phase into “yay love amazing relationship” phase. He hid a little bit from himself and from Finn. But it’s all going to be great!

19 - the Sun - Julian & Adele We look to the sun for happiness, confidence, inspiring happiness in others -- the next generation is certainly a source of that. Hazelnuts love Julian and Adele because they represent how amazing life can be for our favorite Lions.

20 - Judgement - Hazel @lumosinlove She’s engineering the whole show. Us Hazelnuts can only wait with bated breath for her to bless us with the next chapters of Sweater Weather and Coast to Coast! 21 - the World - the Cup *knocks on wood* *throws salt over left shoulder* This card is the end of the journey in the Major Arcana and it’s achieving our goals - growth, love, stability, creativity, new knowledge, whatever your heart needs or desires. It’s not just about winning a championship for our characters.... it’s about living a complex and fulfilled life, with love, hockey, self-confidence, family, friends, and maybe a Cup, too. *knocks on wood again*

#sweater weather #lumosinlove #coops #o'knutzy #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #wolfstar #tarot #wolfstar tarot #fanfiction tarot #rider-waite #waite-smith #coast to coast #c2c #sw

[guardianreadersofthegalaxy]

My July ‘20 - June ‘21 film ranking:

1.       His House (AKA ‘Walls… I Scream’) – A Sudanese couple seek refuge in the UK, but are unable to escape the horror they left behind. It’s a tried and tested horror formula: a strained family unit try to come to terms with shared trauma against the backdrop of a serious social issue. But it’s really well executed. The understated tone left me unprepared for the brazenly nightmarish imagery.

2.       Sound Of Metal (AKA ‘Deaf Becomes Him’) – A punk drummer and recovering addict deals with a sudden and severe loss of hearing. I wish I’d gotten to see more of Riz Ahmed drumming with his shirt off but maybe that’s point? The sudden silence hits Ruben and the viewer like a tonne of bricks with ‘point of hearing’ sound design ensuring you empathise. Olivia Cooke is great too and the desperate romance between addicts really appealed to the angsty teen in me, until it resolves in an appropriately mature way.

3.       The Dig (AKA ‘Ralph Fiennes A Boat’) – On the eve of World War II, a wealthy widow hires excavator Basil Brown to dig up an Anglo Saxon burial mound. The stakes are low but it’s just nice to spend time in the countryside with these characters. I normally like shaky-cam and creative sound mixing but both are overused enough to be a bit distracting. Where director Simon Stone really shines is with his handling of the cast, who give some great naturalistic performances, particularly Ralph Fiennes who seems to be channelling Toby Jones.

4.       Nomadland (AKA ‘Van Clan Thank You Ma’am) – After losing her home, unemployed widow Fern takes to the road to join the American nomads. Why are non-actors so good at acting? This is pretty light on characterisation, to the extent that it wasn’t until halfway through that I started to get a grasp of Fern’s personality, but it makes up for that by immersing you in the nomad culture, as well as showing you tonnes of lovely nature porn. Paid for by the tourism board of Nevada.

5.       Mank (AKA ‘So What If It’s Not Citizen Kane?’) – Alcoholic screenwriter Herman J. Mankiewicz draws on his experiences of 1930s Hollywood while writing the screenplay for ‘Citizen Kane’. I was more interested than emotionally invested. The old timey aesthetic felt like a gimmick, and though it was cool to hear Nine Inch Nails playing jazz tunes, the black & white gave me a headache. The real highlight was the late Jack Fincher’s screenplay, with tonnes of snappy and insightful dialogue.

6.       A Quiet Place Pt. 2 (AKA ‘Now With Talking!’) Pursued by monsters with powerful hearing, the Abbot family struggle to survive after the apocalypse. Remind me to always see horror in the cinema from now on. The big screen and sound system, and your inability to pause for a pee break, make all the difference. Though I prefer the first ‘Quiet Place’, this was a scarier watch, by virtue of me seeing it in the theatre. ‘Pt 2’ mostly lives up to the original, but lacks the emotional punch of its ending, and suffers from being split into two plots that don’t overlap.

7.       In The Heights (AKA ‘I Am Not Throwing Away My Shop’) – An adaptation of the Tony award winning show about Washington Heights’ Latin American community. It’s not easy adapting a stage musical for the screen, particularly a good one. And while I’ll still credit Lin Manuel Miranda’s source material for any and all gooseflesh I got, director John M. Chu did a pretty respectable job, with some nice creative flourishes. A lot of changes were made, many to the film’s detriment, but some provided new opportunities for characterisation.

8.       Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom (AKA ‘I Miss Theatres’) – A 1920s Chicago blues band embark on a tumultuous recording session. This has all the strengths and weaknesses of a play. The spectacles of cinema are done away with in order to spotlight the many duologues and monologues in a way that feels unnatural for a film. But the source material is excellent and the cast definitely do it justice.

9.       Tenet (AKA ‘Taco Cat’) – A mercenary known only as ‘The Protagonist’ gets caught up with time travel, a Russian oligarch and the threat of Armageddon. This is way too long and the endless, inaudible exposition gets dull very quickly but the inventive and heart-racing action sequences more or less make up for that. The male actors all play their roles with charisma while Elizabeth Debicki is left to do the emotional heavy lifting.

10.   Saint Maud (AKA ‘I’m Walking On Thumb Tacks Oh-oh’) – A hospice nurse and recent Christian convert believes she must save the soul of her terminally ill patient. I never say this, but Saint Maud should have been longer. The first seventy minutes go for slow building tension but that leaves the last half hour with not enough time to bring things to a head. The creepy atmosphere is carried by the music and visuals more than the understated performance of the two leads.

11.   Luca (AKA ‘Started Out As A Fish, How Did I End Up Like This?) – Young sea monster Luca ventures onto dry land to see the world with his friend Alberto. It’s a much breezier story than Pixar’s ‘heavy hitters’ but there’s nothing wrong with that. The underwater animation was so beautiful I was disappointed when things moved to dry land but fortunately the seaside setting was just as evocative. Plot-wise, it’s pretty standard coming-of-age fare, with any pubescent ‘awakenings’ relegated to subtext.

12.   Soul (AKA ‘Jazz’) – A New York school band teacher struggles to escape the ‘Great Before’ in time to play a gig with his hero. This is absolute treacle to the eyes and ears as you’d expect from Pixar, and the narrative theme, of living for the sake of it rather than obsessing over your goals, is insightful and well delivered. The problem is that the story did too good a job of getting me invested in Joe’s hopes and dreams for me to be on board with his final epiphany. Perhaps it’s a lesson I still need to learn, and when I have, maybe I’ll appreciate ‘Soul’ more.

13.   News Of The World (AKA ‘Not Enough News’) – A travelling news reader takes a dangerous journey through post-civil war Texas to return a young girl to her relatives. This is one of the most unremarkable films I’ve ever seen. The plot is fine but predictable and its execution is forgettably competent across the board, with few distinguishing features. It adequately killed two hours of a lockdown evening, but then so would a screen of white noise.

14.   I’m Thinking Of Ending Things (AKA ‘The Arty-Farty Film For Clever Cloggses’) – A young woman goes to visit her new boyfriend’s parents as she contemplates ‘ending things’. This would have made a great short film in that it seems very deep and, for the 50 mins before I stopped watching, doesn’t really have a plot. Problem is it’s 135 mins long and I can’t take that much unbroken weirdness. Directing, acting and writing choices are all so offputtingly deliberate that watching it felt like listening to a band where every member is soloing at the same time.

15.   Uncorked (AKA ‘Billy Sommeliot’) – A young man from Memphis dreams of leaving his parents’ barbeque restaurant to become a sommelier. This is just kinda follows the formula of ‘young working class guy wants to do something his parents don’t approve of’. It’s competently made but not very imaginative and wastes the opportunity for some great food porn.

#my post #film ranking #ranking #his house #wunmi mosaku #sound of metal #riz ahmed #the dig #carey mulligan #nomadland #chloe zhou #frances mcdormand #mank #david fincher #gary oldman #a quiet place part 2 #emily blunt #in the heights #lin manuel miranda #anthony ramos #ma rainey's black bottom #chadwick boseman #viola davis #tenet #christopher nolan #saint maud #luca pixar #soul pixar #pixar #news of the world

[neverheardnothing]

thanks for the tag @willroland :)

why did you choose your url?

well i grew up on the internet in the early 2010s so i was obsessed with starkid which lead to musical theater in general which lead to dear evan hansen which lead to will roland which lead to be more chill which lead to joe iconis and that hasn’t lead anywhere else because i’m so far up this man’s ass he could tell me to jump and i’d give him 5 million dollars for a bloodsong of love revival. anyway. funny enough it was because i was so up will roland’s ass that i gave joe iconis’ music outside of bmc a chance (back when he tweeted out a thread of joe iconis songs the night before the tonys). and he was right. he has taste even if all i see from him nowadays is globe twitter. anyway. never heard nothing (along with the bar song, try again, and last on land) is the quintessential joe iconis song in my humble opinion. but also my opinion is backed up by joe so. i’ll just let him say it.

here’s a link to the song. listen to it if you have any interest in joe iconis and his work.

any side blogs? if you have them, name them and why you have them

yeah this is actually a sideblog. my main is @cockbiteproductions which is personal + rooster teeth. every day i want to throw rocks at mcyt fans but i myself am a rooster teeth fan and so my house is very glass and breakable. and then there’s marvel @sebastianskywalker (can you guess who was excited by the idea of sebastain stan playing young luke? lol). star trek @jimtiberivskirk. star wars @fulcrumahsoka. anime @kvchiki. and that’s the important ones. i use this one and my main the most though. which is already almost not at all these days.

how long have you been on tumblr?

hahahahahaha. 2012. fuck.

do you have a queue tag?

yeah it’s “swiss fucking queue” which is from when michael jones says “swiss fucking cheese goddammit” in his impossible game rage quit. everyone on my main gets it but i hope anyone who sees it on my sideblogs gets confused because it’s the same queue tag across all my blogs.

why did you start your blog in the first place?

i was about to say “well my first blog was fandom” and then i realized that applies to literally all of them. so yeah. fandom. i generally make a sideblog when i want to make new fandom friends because none of my current friends are into the thing i am into. it works well.

why did you choose your icon/pfp?

will roland. because will roland. when my bio said “joe iconis and will roland” it wasn’t lying. but anyway i like projecting on characters wrol plays.

why did you choose your header?

it’s off this set lol. same photoshoot as the one from my icon.

what’s your post with the most notes?

lol it’s this shit gifset i made of nik dodani as jared in the deh movie trailer. he actually reposted a video of him scrolling through it on his insta story. which is unfortunate because it looks like shit. i usually have flux on while using any device and i turned it off while making this but i guess my brain is just fucked about it now because it’s 1. way not bright enough 2. way too yellow. ugly as shit.

how many followers do you have?

on this blog? uh i think getting close to 400 idk tho. idc. i just come here to scream about musical theater i rarely care about clout.

how many people do you follow?

idk around 750. a girls gotta sustain like 5 different blogs. that + never using tumblr anymore means i never see what anyone posts ever unless i go to their blog directly lol.

have you made a shitpost?

this blog is 1/3 shitpost 1/3 rando reblogs 1/3 ranting about joe iconis shit no one else cares about

how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ post?

im spiteful so it’s an immediate no reblog from me. but i also dont really blog about social justice or anything much anymore. so unless a post has drastically altered how i think about a topic for the better i dont reblog it.

do you like tag games?

yeah! they’re fun. i’ll take any opportunity to talk about myself. + i generally learn something about the person who tagged me.

do you like ask games?

yeah! i get too anxious about reblogging them though lol i dont want people to think i want attention even though im an evil little attention whore.

which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

famous? on this sideblog? no one lol. not necessarily famous but @nothingunrealistic is probably one of the people that has the most longevity in the deh fandom on here so they have a decent amount of followers from that i assume. @unproduciblesmackdown and @kkamikazed also draw good fucking art so they get clout like that lol. i think @annabelle--cane is also like. decently large? idk. no one in this tiny niche subsection of musical theater tumblr is really tumblr famous though. that’d be a nightmare lol. wait there might be one person i think that’s a sideblog but i can’t remember who lol.

do you have a crush on a mutual?

thank fucking god no. could you imagine?

well i already mentioned @nothingunrealistic​ @unproduciblesmackdown @kkamikazed and @annabelle--cane earlier so i guess them. only if yall wanna tho. also @talkfine​ @rovermcfly​ if yall wanna do this. and anyone who wants to talk about themself go for it.

#teresa talks #oh hang on #about me #hang on wait maybe. talkfine and you can bond over the whole mcyt + musical theater thing actually

[twilightknight17]

...today, on P5S...

...

Honestly, I talk a lot of shit about P5′s writing sometimes. Atlus made some exceptionally questionable writing choices in places. But one thing that P5 absolutely gets right is invoking the sort of emotion that draws you into the story.

With that said!

P5 is determined to make me want to stab actual human beings instead of Shadows. This is the second time now!

But first, I’ve got a boss fight to do.

Doing the mech part of Konoe’s boss fight again, it was actually easier the second time. I had a much better grasp of what I was doing, instead of flailing around frantically.

Konoe himself was still just as hard, but ultimately he was easier than Shadow Joker because it wasn’t a one-on-one duel. He still beat my ass, though; I think I used all of my rescue pills.

Once he goes down, Konoe starts going on about justice.

Don’t call me by my name like we’re friends. We never even introduced ourselves.

It’s interesting, because they admit to Konoe that what they’re doing isn’t without its flaws. But a world where no one can think for themselves is meaningless.

Konoe acknowledges that in his quest to eliminate evil, he ended up being the evil one. He also admits that he was the one who killed his father. He calls that “evil” too, which I don’t actually agree with. We saw what his father was like in the Trauma Cell. His father killed his mother, physically abused him, and threatened to kill him. I think, in that case, killing his father is a rational end result for someone in that situation. Not evil, just desperation.

The Thieves don’t contradict him, though. Just make some comments about how now he can make up for his actions. His Shadow returns to his real self, the Thieves return to the real world, and Zenkichi promises that as soon as they take Konoe in and get his confession, he’s going to arrest Owada, too.

With the case closed, the Thieves decide that it’s time to go back to Tokyo. But not before one last night in Osaka. The idea of leaving makes Sophia anxious, though, because she feels like she hasn’t learned enough about the heart. But Akira and Morgana reassure her that she can still stay with them, even after they return to Tokyo, and they’ll keep looking for answers about who she is.

Sometimes a family is a guy, a cat, and one of the guy’s four younger sisters. ^_^

Tenboto is the tower, and the game asks you to invite someone to the top. However, this time, you can only invite either the group of girls or the group of boys, so I took the boys, since I took Haru on the ferris wheel before.

Morgana isn’t pleased that we didn’t invite Ann.

However, I really don’t see the problem.

Look at how he’s looking at Yusuke! Even Ryuji can tell that we’re having a moment. :D

Afterwards, the whole squad headed off to “Universaland” to celebrate together.

I had no idea that there was a Universal Studios in Japan, but apparently there is, and it is in fact in Osaka! They compared it to their trip to Destinyland the year before, but thankfully this one went a lot better. Everyone had a good time! We had so much soda! We were so hungover the nex--what.

...what is it with Persona characters getting drunk off soda? XD I hope you kids at least played the King’s Game so the hangover wasn’t in vain.

Zenkichi shows up to let them know that Konoe’s in custody. He thanks them for everything that they’ve done, for both Akane and him, and says he’s telling them goodbye for now, but they’re welcome to visit whenever they want. He promises a tour of Kyoto next time. Yusuke will be so happy!

After hours on the road, lamenting that vacation is coming to an end, Sophia suggests detouring to Yokohama for a fireworks festival. So the Thieves finally get to see fireworks, and Sophia gets to experience them, too.

........don’t make me go home yet. I just want to spend time with my friends without the world ending.

After the fireworks, you get to speak to each of your friends, and get a trinket from each of them. Ann gives you a handmade friendship bracelet, Makoto a phantom thieves keychain that Akane made, Ryuji a Feather Red Duke mask to match his Yellow Ostrich, Yusuke his sketchbook that he filled with pictures of the trip, Morgana a scarf in phantom thief colors, Sophia a pair of custom gloves to match the scarf, Haru a teaspoon from Hokkaido with a flower pattern that symbolizes familial love, and Futaba a good luck charm for keeping families together.

STOP, P5S, you’re going to make me cry. Let these kids stay close.

Right before they’re about to leave, they take a group picture for Sophia, which we don’t get to see. Which sucks. But then she realizes that she can smell a Jail, and Zenkichi calls in a panic. It’s never a good sign when someone calls and leads with “Are you watching the news?”

EMMA’s servers were shut down, but apparently reactivated, and now a Jail is covering Tokyo all the way to the outskirts of Yokohama, and it’s just getting bigger. Zenkichi promises to meet us, and Lavenza opens a Velvet door because she wants to talk.

She’s... legitimately unnerved.

Thank you, P5S, for giving me the opportunity to comfort my youngest sister in some small way. Now let me out of this cell so I can actually give her a hug. With the context from Royal that she has actual nightmares about being ripped apart, this is heartbreaking.

She says that she regrets that she has to keep asking us for help, but the dialogue options let you reassure her that you’ll handle it, and that there’s thinking to worry about.

I appreciate having dialogue to actually reassure her more than I probably should.

Now...

LAST WARNING

If you’ve been reading along and don’t want the finale spoiled, DO NOT GO PAST THIS POINT. As soon as we leave for central Tokyo, we’re going 90mph and not slowing down.

If I didn’t have work in the morning, I’d have finished this damn game tonight. X’‘‘D Curse being a responsible adult.

After leaving the Velvet Room, Zenkichi’s waiting at the RV, and when you enter the RV, that’s when you get the warning above.

So we are off to Tokyo to figure out what the heck is happening with EMMA. And the core location is, exactly like I wanted...

LET’S CLIMB TOKYO TOWER, BABY.

People are crowded around the tower like mindless cultists. The Thieves are confused and unnerved, and then EMMA activates the navigation on its own and flings them into the Metaverse. LET’S SEE WHAT’S UP THIS TOWER.

...oh.

......oh no...

Ohhhhhhh no this is Mementos. Why is this Mementos. This is not a tower. Oh god. Why this.

Oh, we are incredibly fucked, what is this.

EMMA says calls itself the “Ark of the Covenant and the guide for all mankind.” This fucking AI thinks it’s a god. Holy hell. Human cognition really needs to cool it with elevating ordinary things to god status. We’re so tired. X’D

......I FUCKING KNEW THAT I DIDN’T TRUST THIS WOMAN. OH MY GOD.

She goes off about how EMMA brought her into this world to help it become a god. How Konoe teaching EMMA about cognitive psience allowed it to pass the usual boundaries of AI. How EMMA has been manipulating Konoe all along. How EMMA’s going to fulfill all of humanity’s desires.

Ichinose-san, may I suggest that you go hang out with Maruki? He has too much heart, and you have none. You’d complement each other perfectly, and then I can shove you both off a building.

The kids, obviously, reject this bullshit.

Logic over emotion, to the point of utter ridiculousness. She complains that people always want solutions to their problems, but that when the solution is offered, they turn it down.

Maybe that’s because your solution is mind control. At least Maruki wasn’t flagrantly puppeteering people.

“Li!” you cry, throwing up your hands at me. “Is this it? Is this why you want to stab her? Did you just admit that she’s worse than Maruki?”

To which I answer, “Oh, no. It’s the next bit that makes me want to stab her.”

After she straight-up admits that she has no emotions, she manipulated us right from the start, she was the one spying on the Monarchs, and that all of her cheer and friendliness is an act, the Thieves are ready to fight Ichinose. And Ichinose reveals why EMMA wanted her help specifically. Because not only did she program EMMA, she created Sophia as EMMA’s prototype.

And she can voice-override Sophia.

The Thieves freak out, the game throws us into a battle against a murder-mode Sophie, and none of your teammates will attack her. They just hang back or let her whale on them one at a time, and I didn’t know what to do, and I didn’t attack her either, and Yusuke got knocked out...

And then it went into a cutscene.

Joker took a yo-yo to the face and was actually bleeding, and that was enough to snap Sophia out of it. She starts clutching her head, stumbling back, and eventually stumbles right off the edge while apologizing to Joker. He lunges to catch her, misses, Ryuji grabs him, and all the Thieves turn on Ichinose.

Ichinose does not give a shit. She just comments that maybe that’s why EMMA used Sophia as a failsafe, because it knew we wouldn’t want to fight one of our own. Shut the fuck up. You killed my little sister. I know she’s probably going to be fine, but it’s the principle of the thing.

She summons some sort of giant red crystal and blasts the hell out of us, sending us flying down even further into the depths.

We found Sophia; she won’t cut back on, so we have to get out of here so Futaba can figure out what’s wrong with her. And then, I am coming back, I am beating that woman to a pulp, and then...

Well. It’s bound to be easier to kill an artificial god than a false one. :3

#Li plays P5Scramble

[illfoandillfie]

Can I get a general career reading? With the art nouveau deck and the archetype oracle please.

of course darl! 

tarot: ace of cups, page of cups, justice, queen of cups,3 of swords, the fool, the tower, the hanged man, the world

okay!! we have some interesting cards here! something that drew my attention immediately was the first and last cards. we open with an ace which is the start of the minor arcana and all of the aces are related to new starts or new opportunities. And then we end on the world which is the last card of the major arcana and symbolises completion and fulfilment. so this seems to be a self-contained cycle you’re entering. 

I’d also like to just acknowledge how many cups cards there are here. The cups as a suit is related to emotions and the heart so this may be a highly emotional time or you may find yourself being driven by your emotions rather than logic or reason. There’s also a lot of major arcana cards which isn’t necessarily good or bad but it’s worth noting because the major arcana are generally related to Big life events or milestones whereas the minor arcana are more sort of every day things. so this seems like it’ll be a significant period for you. but lets have a closer look at it all. 

So like i said, the aces are related to new opportunities and the suit of cups is tied to emotions and the heart. So the ace of cups is related to new things or new situations that are cause for strong emotions. A lot of the time it’s connected to romance but in this career reading it’s probably more likely some sort of new opportunity, particularly related to creativity. There’s a lot of potential here, all you have to do is reach out and take the cup. But it’s not all happiness. The ace is being clarified by the three of swords which is a card of heartbreak and suffering, It can be through delays or absences, unrest or confusion. Any sort of disruption or incompatibility. This could indicate something going wrong at work. A worst case scenario could be being fired/retrenched but it could also be related to people you work with or just a tough work environment that you struggle with. Something here isn’t looking good though. The ace of cups can relate to intuition or spirituality as well so it might be that you’ve had a gut feeling something is coming or you might have noticed changes happening around the work place and if that’s the case I would definitely listen to your gut and prepare yourself for bad news. But there is definitely a silver lining here. The 3 of swords isnt the main card, the ace of cups is and that says to me that while something will go wrong it will open you up to finding something new which is a better fit for you. It might even be that the bad thing happens to someone else and consequently you take over their roll or something like that. But if you’ve been thinking about starting up some sort of creative endeavour, like an etsy store or writing a novel, this is the time to push forward with it. 

Then we have the page of cups and the fool. There are two court cards who appear in this reading so one may be someone you’ll associate or work with but it’s entirely possible that both of them represent you. The page is imaginative and sensitive. He’s a bit of a dreamer and often has his head in the clouds. This definitely fits in if you’ve been considering a new side hustle or if you’ve been thinking about making a change in your career path. the fool as a similar sort of energy but he’s less dreamy and more of a free spirit. he isnt worried about where he’s putting his feet, far more concerned with what he’s experiencing in each moment. He’s innocent, sometimes naive, but also courageous and more concerned with having fun. In relation to career and finances he’s definitely a symbol to take the leap - whether it’s selling art or putting your hand up for a promotion or leaving a job and finding a new one. The fool says go for it, especially if it’s something you’ve been dreaming about doing. There’s a very fresh and energized feeling in these cards and it seems you’ll soon be presented with an opportunity to follow through with your dreams. 

next is three major arcana. Justice is about doing things in the right way without cutting corners. The fool might be impulsive but justice is reminding you to do things right the first time so you don’t make a huge mistake that ruins all your plans. The tower is interesting in this position. I won’t sugar coat it, usually the tower is about a drastic, dramatic change. The kind of thing that shatters your world, sends everything crashing down around you. Together with Justice it could be a sign that some sort of truth is going to come out that turns things upside down for you. If you’ve been stealing office supplies or embezzling money (hopefully not) it is going to come out. On the flip side it could be about someone else’s lies being found out. If you’ve been involved with any workplace disputes recently the justice card is a sign that things will go in your favour as long as you’ve been honest and fair. And this could relate to that big change that’s going to open the new opportunity of the ace of cups. 

But I don’t feel like that’s exactly it. If the tower had shown up next to the 3 of swords i would say yeah that’s it. But with it being sandwich between justice and the hanged man  i feel like it’s something else. So let’s look at that hanged man. It’s a card related to sacrifice, release, and changing perspective. In relation to career it could symbolise feeling stuck or uncertain about where you’re headed. So together these three cards could be advice for you or a warning of sorts. They’re saying that the big change and taking that leap of faith the fool asks you to take, won’t be easy. There will be times when you feel like you made a mistake, like you’re in over your head and you’ve gotten yourself into a tower situation that is so much worse than whatever the 3 of swords you left behind was. You will think about throwing in the towel. you will think about giving up. But don’t listen to those voices. Justice is on your side and the scales will rebalance for you. It might take some readjustments, it might take rebuilding parts of your plan, it might take a fresh perspective. But you will be vindicated in your choice to try something new and things will clear up.  

Finally we have the queen of cups and the world. The queen of cups is a bit of an upgrade to the page from earlier. Of course, the queen may be someone you’ll turn to for advice or help. But I think she could also be you, closer to reaching your goal and the end of the cycle. The queen of cups is compassionate. She is calm and comforting. She symbolises devotion, pleasure, success. Where the page dreams and imagines, the queen creates and acts. She’s also a reminder that whatever you do as a job should help you feel emotionally fulfilled and not just financially. Especially since she’s being clarified by the world which is related to fulfilment as well as harmony and completion. The world comes at the end of a journey. It represents assured success and is associated with getting that job you want as well as graduations and celebrations. It’s a sign that if you take this opportunity that will present itself soon you can turn it into something you love and which can offer finance stability. The World is also about the start of a new cycle though. As one thing draws to an end, or one goal is reached, you see there is still further to climb and more to accomplish. 

I drew you 4 of the archetype cards as well as a few numerology and elemental cards. 

So the archetypes first. Thanks for requesting this deck by the way! I don’t often use it so it was nice to bring it out again! The thought behind these cards is that everyone’s personalities and psyche is made up of a number of different archetypes, some more evident than others. And these archetypes may change as you grow and also depending on the situation you’re in - you might act one way at work and another with your friends. I think traditionally these cards would be used to describe people but I’m hoping they can give us some insight on traits you can use in relation to your career as well as general sort of knowledge about the situation presented in the tarot cards. Each archetype as a light side and a shadow side which reflect both positive and negative aspects. 

The first archetype is the Alchemist. Light - transformation of base motives and goals into golden wisdom. Shadow: Misuse of power and knowledge that come through spiritual practice. - to me this really fits with the tarot cards. The main message of the tarot was to seriously consider whatever dreams or fantasies you’ve been thinking about in relation to your career to to go after them and i think thats what the light attribute is really getting at here. You have the power within yourself to turn you little goal into something big and beautiful. 

Prince. light - romantic charm and potential for power. shadow - using power for self-aggrandizement. This is interesting considering the number of cups cards we had and how often they’re linked to romances. The prince may be someone you come across, maybe someone involved in whatever the 3 of swords situation is. However, the prince is also seen as a ruler in training and if you’re appearing as the page of cups to start and gradually becoming the queen, then it’s also quite possibly related to your journey. 

Trickster. light - transcending convention, stuffiness, and predictable behaviour. shadow - manipulating others through duplicity. This card could be linked with the fool perhaps, unpredictable and kind of wild. It also reminds me a bit of that justice card, especially if you’re taking it from an angle of “someone did something wrong and they’re being caught out”.  

Child: Magical. So, according to the guidebook there are 4 archetypes that everyone will have one of but each of them have multiple versions. The child is one of those and here we’ve drawn the magical version. light - seeing the potential for sacred beauty in all things. The belief that everything is possible. shadow - pessimism, depression, and disbelief in miracles. believing that energy and action are not required for growth. this definitely feels like its related to the ace of cups and the 3 of swords, believing that something wonderful can come from something painful. It may also relate to the page who spends his time dreaming rather than acting, like the shadow attriubte. 

From the numerology deck we got personal growth, effort, and pride. personal growth indicates a time of significant growth and improvement and that is absolutely reflected in the tarot cards above. theres a lot of potential here and a lof of cards that suggest this will be a turning point for you. Effort is a sign that things coming will require some hard work from you, extra effort to overcome obsticles and challenges. but when the going gets tough the tough get going and you are definitely tough enough to handle it. And Pride to me represents that you will be proud of what you can accomplish through this hard work. 

Finally, the element cards: magnetism (attraction) and rock (endurance). there are magnetic forces that are pulling you towards this change and this opportunity. this could tie in with the intuitive message of the ace of cups, if you’ve been able to sense things shifting. rock is another card that points to things being difficult at times and it’s saying you have what it takes to get through them and to find success and happiness. 

#woof #this was a bit of a long one. #i dont think i can get through the last couple of readings tonight #since i have work tomorrow #but i will answer them asap #i might try and get them written up over lunch tomorrow even if i cant get onto tumblr to post them until after i get home #i'll defs try to have them up by this time tomorrow though! #i'd say i'd post them on wednesday when i normally have a scheduled day off #but this week i'm covering for someone and actually working weds and thurs #but dw! they are coming! #card readings

[illshowyourhurricanes]

In The Line Of Fire (Part 3)

Taking a break from requested drabbles for today to bring y’all the finale of this three-part series, brought to you from this prompt by sarahseleckywritingschool on Instagram. In part one, we saw Billy at Arthur’s place, and in part 2 we got a glimpse of seeing things through Ryan’s eyes (and get a glimpse into his mind). This is my first real foray into writing for Logan, and it is a doozy. He’s a beautifully written, complex character and I hope I did him and his story some justice. Parts one and two can be found in my masterlist. Please let me know what you think, I’m anxious about this one!

Trigger warning: mentions of / drug use and angst. All the angst.

Rating: R

Word count: 1649

Tag list: @obscurilicious @the-blind-assassin-12 @something-tofightfor @logan-deloss @lexxierave @madamrogers @yannii04 @gollyderek @carlaangel86 @bicevans @maydayfigment @thisisparadisemylove @delos-destinations @malionnes @thesandbeneathmytoes @crushed-pink-petals-writes

If anyone would like to be added to or removed from my tag list, please just send an ask!

Hugest of the huge special thanks fot @the-blind-assassin-12​ for encouraging and convincing me an infinite amount of times to actually write this.

The orange flame coming from the light blue lighter Logan held in his large hand reflected in his dark, glossy eyes. Leaning back in his chair, his feet crossed at the ankles and propped up onto his solid wood Scarborough desk, his gaze rose to land on the small baggie of white powder lying just to the right of his feet. Logan Delos was deep into his latest relapse, back off the straight and narrow illusion of a filthy rich, capable, responsible mother fucker and heir of a multi-million dollar empire. No, Logan had hopped onto another wagon, one that took him to places nothing or no one else could touch. He was in love with what it did to him, the instant rush of euphoria, being on top of the fucking world with his ego swelling with confidence and purpose—the rush followed by the numbing of the bullshit and the descent into the reprieve of the constant buzzing in his brain. A warmth spread through his veins and he knew that he was Logan Delos: untouchable, desirable, anything he could ever wish for right there at his fingertips for the taking. 

He was Logan Delos, a man that others chased and craved like he chased and craved the drug there at his feet. A fuck, a needle, sleep, repeat; Logan lived a lavish, hedonistic lifestyle and he was in control; he decided when he’d do the drugs, how much he’d indulge in how often. He decided. 

That point in his life had passed. Logan was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a liar, not even to himself. He was a failure, a junkie, the regrettable piece of shit his father had no qualms reminding him of. Here you are, Jim. Take a look at your son. 

Logan’s lip curled in disgust at the mere thought of his father, and the only reason he let himself think of that wretched bastard as his father was strictly biological. He had never and would never be a “dad”; he didn’t have the capacity. “You’re a disappointment,” he muttered, words James Delos had directed toward Logan so many times, he should be desensitized by now. Should be. “You’re a piece of shit, Logan. This company will never be yours. You’re a junkie.”

A junkie. Logan flicked the light blue, plastic Bic lighter on, lifting his thumb seconds later and extinguishing the flame. He was mesmerized by the immediate lighting and extinguishing of the flame, allowing himself to get lost in the simplicity and complexity of creating fire with one finger. The spoon he used for cooking the powder down into a liquid was right there by the baggie Logan was considering. Fuck it, he thought, and he tossed the lighter onto his desk carelessly, feet hitting the floor and propelling his chair closer toward the table. 

One large hand scooped up both the baggie and silver spoon— Logan relished in the fact that one of Jim’s overly expensive, custom made silver spoons was a constant in his heroin kit— a whisky tumbler half-filled with days’ old water, and a hypodermic needle. Leaning down closer to the desk’s mahogany surface, the baggie was unzipped, spoon perched between his thin and index finger on the ready. The tip of his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth in concentration, he tapped the plastic bag until he was satisfied with the amount of white powder that spilled out into his spoon. Baggie set aside, traded out for the needle, he drew up a small amount of water, slowly filling the spoon, the remaining water shot out into the garbage can kept under his desk. 

He needed that lighter again, and he carefully reached for the spot it had landed when he’d tossed it, the far corner of his desk. He balanced the spoon precariously as he retrieved the lighter and an expression of arrogance and pride passed over his features, vanishing just as quickly as it had appeared. Logan was ritualistic in the way he used heroin, and preparing it was a big part of that. This was one of those times Logan preferred not to experience; his craving had turned into a need, an essential substance with a vice so strong, it brought with it an overwhelming anxiety. His hand trembled as he held the lighter beneath the spoon. His palms were damp with sweat; he was agitated and his arm itches like he’d been covered in fire ants. The Delos estate could have been on fire and Logan would remain sitting with the task at hand. Nothing else mattered. 

Finally, the heroin was liquified. Eagerly, he dipped the tip of his needle into the shallow solution, slowly drawing the drug into the syringe. He dropped the spoon with a clatter, turned the needle point upward and tapped on the side of the syringe. Tiny air bubbles appeared atop the solution and Logan slowly, carefully, tediously applied pressure to the plunger until a drop of the solution dripped from the needle. Any air had been evacuated. It was time. 

Logan was shaking, both from anticipation and need. Small beads of sweat were beginning to appear at his brow. With his sacred drug—his lifeline— he pushed his desk chair back, standing and taking long strides to reach the other side of his expansive bedroom. 

He didn’t even pause as he flipped the light switch to illuminate his walk-in closet, full of expensive designer casual wear, but mostly with suits— Brioni and Gucci, Tom Ford and Burberry. Neat rows of impeccable shoes were lined up perfectly by shade and style. But Logan noticed none of this. He had tunnel vision, and  he went straight for his tie rack. He needed a silk tie, easy to knot yet strong enough that it wouldn’t break while serving its purpose. 

Snatching a tie he knew would do the trick, he allowed it to unroll itself as he left his closet. Holding the capped syringe between his teeth, he used both hands to hold each end of the necktie to his upper arm, at the halfway point of his elbow and bicep. Deftly, he knotted it around  his arm securely, but with enough give to unknot easily when it was time. An authentic Stefano Ricci, Jim. 100% silk. Easily over $1500. Your junkie, ticking time bomb, fucking failure of a son doesn’t skimp on the details: designer ties as tourniquets to shoot up his pure, white heroin. Only the best for a Delos. Right, dear old dad?

He felt his lip curl in disgust as he sat back in his chair, syringe still held between two rows of perfectly straight, startlingly white teeth. Pumping his left fist several times over— open and squeeze, open and squeeze— he watched as his skin below the tourniquet began to discolor. With two long fingers of his right hand, he struck his forearm several times, barely noticing the very visible track marks at the crook of his elbow, the newer one that was halfway up the inside of his forearm. He was looking for a vein. 

Bingo.  

There it was, popped out and bulging, an inch below the crook of his elbow, a long patch of skin free of any track marks or puncture wounds. Not for long. His teeth gave way as he reached for the waiting syringe holding the one thing in his life that gave Logan back the love he felt for it. If— when— it killed him, he’d die feeling un-fucking-touchable. His only regret would be missing the opportunity of Jim Delos’ horrendous smile at the sight of his only son’s corpse. 

It was miraculous the way Logan could manage to steady his shaking to inject. He bit at the orange cap over the needle, spitting it off to the side. Holding the syringe precariously like a cigarette between forefinger and middle finger, he dipped his head to hold a dangling part of his tie between his teeth, just as he had the needle. 

With one sting of the needle puncturing his pale skin, Logan yanked his head back, the loose knot he’d tied in his RIcci necktie unraveling and falling away. It was a deep red, the color of ox blood, and a bitter laugh escaped from low in his throat. And then, Logan pushed the plunger. 

By the time he finished and tossed the used needle and syringe to the side, Logan was only able to lick the residual drop of blood from his arm when the rush began. There was the familiar warmth coursing along with the circulation of his blood, from the core of his body down into the tips of his toes and fingers. Without a warning, Logan felt and indescribable euphoria that nothing could hold a candle to, not even an almost violent orgasm causing his entire body to quake. 

Heroin was a paradox. With the euphoria came a sense of calm and a heaviness of his body. With the pleasure would come the pain. Everything eventually collided, but Logan relished in the crash. He needed it, and he accepted that. The only thing he could rely on was something that would never refuse him what he sought out. The only thing that wouldn’t pulverize his heart and his pride, wound him with a hole too deep to heal. 

The heaviness and calm gave way to any sense of strength, Logan’s head falling back and rolling from side to side at the back of his leather desk chair until it fell slightly to the right. He was unable to keep his eyes from closing, long hair falling over his forehead as he nodded. An amalgamation of jumbled, broken thoughts floated through his mind, past the fog of disorientation that would inevitably fade into sleep: Wrong… this is the wrong door.. where’s the fucking.. it’s the wrong world. This is all an illusion. 

#in the line of fire #part 3 #itlof3 #logan delos #tw: drug use #my writing

[carlatsukinamistolemyhamsandwich]

These Fanfics of Shin and Carla of nice and all...but we want the story on how Carla Tsukinami stoke your ham sandwich! The greedy bast*rd he is...

Anon, this is one of my favourite asks ever and I love you. Thank you so much for giving me an opportunity to shamelessly insert myself into the world of DL I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it :)

I wrote myself as a nameless herione (because I don’t think most of you know my name) which also means you can treat it as a reader insert if you want to, but bare in mind this is based on how I would react in this situation and there are some details that are a bit specific to me.

“Hm, I wonder if I’m allowed up here?” The girl glanced back at the door to the rooftop of Ryoutei Academy, trying to spot any sort of kanji that could translate to “Keep Out” but found none. Shrugging to herself she concluded that if anyone caught her up here when she wasn’t supposed to be, then she would have to play the confused foreign student card and hope for the best.

A mild scolding seemed better than going back to the cafeteria anyway.

She looked down at the slightly sorry looking lunchbox in her hands and loosed a sigh. It was only her second day at her new school and already she felt herself desperately missing her friends and the familiarity of her old school. 

The other students had all been pleasant enough- aside from the boy with glasses in her class, who she’d caught eyeing the hemline of her skirt with obvious disapproval, as though it was somehow her fault that whoever made the school uniform had not done so with five foot nine female transfer students in mind- but the thought of trying to navigate getting food when almost all of the signs were in kanji she didn’t recognize made her gut roll with anxiety.

Besides at least the rooftop was pretty, with troughs of well kept roses lining the space and a perfect view of Kaminashi town, just beyond the iron railing, the lights from the small shopping district a warm glow against the midnight blue sky.

The girl walked over to the edge of the rooftop, intent on giving herself a moment to admire the townscape when a nearby rose caught her eye. It’s petals were such a dark red, they looked almost black in the modest illumination provided by the few lights lining the roof. She crouched down on the balls of her feet and set her lunchbox carefully to the side. Something about the scene, the dark flower with the night sky behind it, made her fingers itch with the urge to sketch it. 

“I don’t think I could do the dark colors justice with my watercolors and I can’t do realism with markers so maybe colored pencils would be best?” She muttered to herself she tried to find the perfect angle for some reference photos she could use later, while reaching into her pocket for her phone. “Acrylics could work I guess but I don’t have any canvas here and I-”

“What are you doing?” A low voice came from right beside her ear. The girl let out a high-pitched shriek and jolted in surprise, barely catching her balance in time.

She loosed a breath before turning her head in the direction of whoever had spoken, but before she could, they spoke again.

“Hahh, that’s no good… Hmph!” A rough shove sent her sprawling into the roses. Thorns scratched at her skin and she cursed as her hands plunged in the damp mulch, just barely stopping her from face-planting into the dirt. The rest of her however, was not so lucky, and she knew from the way her torso had landed in the soil that her skirt’s hemline had just become the least of her worries as far as her uniform was concerned.

A cruel laugh came from behind her and she turned to look up, filled with some mixture of anger and embarrassment. 

But whatever had been brewing petered out the moment she laid eyes on the culprit. He was quite possibly the most beautiful boy she’d ever seen; short choppy, strawberry blonde hair framed pale face with an eye the most incredible shade of gold. 

He was utterly stunning.

The effect was promptly ruined however, when he opened his mouth, face twisting into a sneer.

“Haha, how pathetic, crawling around in the dirt.” He continued to chuckle as she pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, wincing slightly at the way they stung where they’d scraped against the ground. 

“Heehhh, aren’t you going to say something?” The boy asked, the humor in his expression dying down as he regarded her as one might a spot of mould on a piece of bread. “Or is it that you’re so stupid, you can’t understand what I’m saying?”

The girl froze slightly, unsure how to navigate whatever was going on. Was this guy a bully? Her strategy for dealing with bullies until now had generally been to avoid them or ignore them, neither of which seemed like a good idea here.

“Oiii Miss idiot, are you going to keep ignoring me until I do something like this?” Before she could react the boy placed a heavy black boot on her hand and started to put his weight onto it.

Shit.

“What do you want from me?” She blurted out, praying silently that she hadn’t messed up the Japanese grammar, which really shouldn’t have been a concern given this encounter could feasibly end with a broken hand.

The pressure stopped briefly and she took the chance to tug her hand out from her under his shoe and get to her feet. The girl was a little surprised to find that the boy was no taller than she was, although his general aura of menace certainly made him intimidating enough without needing any extra height. 

“Ah, so you can talk. As for what I want… why don’t we start with an apology for shrieking in my ear earlier? It hurt you know?” He made a show of obnoxiously cleaning out his ear with his finger and the girl found herself completely lost for words. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, there were a lot of words swirling in her brain, all of them English and not to be used amongst polite company.

Biting back the urge to tell him to fuck off, she reminded herself that she was currently alone with this guy on a rooftop and angering him further probably would not end well. “I apologize for shouting in your ear, you surprised me. I’ll be going now.” Lunch forgotten, she went to make a hasty retreat to the rooftop door but was stopped short when the male put himself directly into her path. 

“Not so fast, you haven’t answered my question yet. What were you doing up here, sticking your head into the roses like some kind of animal?” The girl tried to keep her breathing even, as she felt panic rise in her veins.

“I wanted to take pictures as drawing references, I didn’t realize that-” an arsehole like you would show up “-someone else was already here, forgive me, I’ll be on my way.” She went to take a step around him, when the boy took a step towards her, forcing her to take one back. Soon her back was pressed up against the railing and she internally cursed.

“You just wanted to draw some pictures of the flowers? Isn’t that a bit childish? Well, I guess you still wear kid’s underwear so I shouldn’t be surprised.” The girl spluttered and instinctively went to yank down her skirt, a slightly ridiculous action, considering he must have seen everything when he pushed her earlier. 

“That-that doesn’t have anything to do with it,” she said, eyes on the ground as her face burned with shame. “Please, just let me leave.”

“You know, you still sound pretty demanding for someone who’s shaking and is covered in mud. Also,” he paused, sniffing the air briefly before glancing down at her knees, “ah I wondered where that awful scent was coming from, geez human blood really isn’t appealing at all.” The girl looked at her legs and caught sight of red liquid staining her knees, but that wasn’t what made her pause.

“Human blood? What are you-” A cold dread spread through her as she looked back up at the boy and the inhuman color of his iris. This had to be some sort of awful prank right?

“Oh, maybe I spoke too much, but that reaction isn’t bad, haha. Hey, what do you think I am?” He asked her, opening his mouth just wide enough to reveal a pair of gleaming white fangs.

“That’s… There’s no way… You can’t…” The girl struggled to process the image in front of her, trying to find some sensible sounding explanation. He had to be a nutjob with fake fangs right? A nutjob who liked to terrorize girls on rooftops and happened to go to a night school.

“Ah how boring. Shouldn’t most girls be crying with fear by now? I don’t want to but, would you react a bit more if I pierced you with these fangs?” He lowered his face and panic surged through her. Lunatic or something else, she had no intention of being bitten by him. The girl went to shove him away from her, but before she could blink he had her arms pinned above her head.

“It seems you still haven’t learned that I’m not the sort of person you should fight back against. Hey, how much would it take to make you cry?” His grip on her wrists tightened and she winced at the strength in his grip. “Your wrists are pretty thin, I’d barely have to use any of my strength to snap your bones.”

“Please stop!” She begged, as she silently prayed for someone, anyone to intervene.

“Oi Shin, what are you doing?” An incredibly deep voice came from the entrance to the rooftop and the girl said a silent word of thanks.

“Huh,” Shin looked over his shoulder, allowing the girl a glance at her savior. He was tall, with long white hair, that appeared dyed pink at the tips. A dark scarf covered the lower half of his face, while above it were a pair of piercing golden eyes. 

A shudder ran down her spine as her gaze locked with his for a moment, suddenly feeling a lot less safe than she had just a moment ago.

“Ah brother, I was just having a bit of fun.” The girl wasn’t sure which part of this statement horrified her more. That her so called savoir was actually related to the demonic pile of steaming garbage in front of her or that this was Shin’s version of fun. 

“That’s enough, we have matters to discuss.” The man walked over from the door to the roof, his footsteps stopping just behind Shin.

“Tch,” Shin let go of her arms, only to grip hold of her chin, moving his face uncomfortably close to hers. “Hey, if you tell anyone about what happened here, I’ll rip your tongue out, got it?” His fangs caught the light as he spoke, and the girl felt very close to tears as she muttered a soft yes. 

Shin flashed her that nasty smile of his before letting go. “Well then, get out of here!” 

Needing no further prompting, she hastily got away from him, pausing only to grab her school bag. As she did so, she caught sight of her lunchbox in the older boys hands and faltered. 

“Go!” Shin yelled and the girl concluded that the ham sandwich and peanut butter flavored chocolate bar contained in the hundred yen tupperware were not worth her life as she borderline ran to the rooftop door, slamming it shut behind her. 

***

Carla watched the girl flee from the rooftop with a dispassionate expression. 

“What exactly did you do?” He asked, more concerned with trying to keep their low profile as they furthered their objective than anything else.

“Nothing much, I just toyed with her a bit. She’s only a human so it doesn’t really matter does it? More importantly, why did you keep hold of that?” Shin nodded towards the plastic container in Carla’s hands. 

Carla said nothing as he opened up the box and pulled out a modest sandwich wrapped neatly in clingfilm. Removing some of the wrap, he sniffed it briefly before muttering.

“I thought so.”

Shin took a deep breath through his nose. “Ah, I see, a dry cured ham sandwich huh?”

“Normally I would never eat something prepared by human hands but to take away the taste of that polluted blood, it can’t be helped.” Carla lowered his scarf and took a bite of the sandwich, chewing a few times as he deemed it to be palatable before swallowing. “Oi Shin, take this.” He threw a plastic wrapped bar at his brother and Shin caught it without effort.

He turned it over in his hands before spotting the reason why his brother had given it to him. “Peanut butter huh? Well at least it seems that girl’s good for something.”

#own post #my writing #self-insert #I realise that the heroine/me is a bit lackster but that's because while I get embarrassed chronically easily #I don't get angry very easily at all and my normal strategy when faced with anything unpleasant is to try and leave by all means necessary #Also I genuinely do stop to take photos of flowers because I want to draw them #I love that upon being given a chance to insert myself into DL I just used it to have Shin bully me #I could have gone on longer with this but i think 2000 words of me is enough for anoyone #This is based on the idea of me being 18 (which I was when I started this blog although I was in Uni already) #and spending my final year of highschool at Ryoutei Academy

[sapphicsylvari]

The Rise of the Dread Fleet - Chapter 1: Liberation

Sorry for the long wait! I’ve had some IRL issues that sapped all my life force, so I wasn’t really in the condition to write - regardless, on we go, Yoho.

Featuring @nouru-vi‘s Captain Sebba! <3 I hope I did her justice.

@tyrias-library

 Laughing Gull Island lies ahead, its fortifications looming threateningly on the horizon, along with several ships already sieging the fort, golden shimmers from their hulls.

Vaixx climbs up onto the railings, holding on to a rope.

“Listen up!” his voice bellows over the deck, and the crew turns their attention to him. “The Lionguard are running a major assault on Laughing Gull. Under normal circumstances, we would reinforce their defenses, but nothing about this is normal. Rowan Gaets is dead, and with him dies our control of this ship!” He pauses, looking down at the pirates on deck, leaderless and without direction. Their journey to Lion’s Arch had been put on hold by a large fleet of Lionguard moving south, forcing them to hide. As soon as Vaixx had figured out where they were heading, he’d made a decision. No more hiding. He raises his voice again.

 “We are free, my brothers and sisters, and free we will remain! Today, we break Taidha Covington’s yoke and set sail for new horizons! Man the cannons! Light up the sky! Slay the tyrant, once and for all!” Cheers erupt from the crew, as they rush to battle stations and Cariyen at the wheel starts bringing the ship in. Raxxi raises a white flag over their Jolly Roger, signaling the Lionguard not to attack them as the Rascal approaches their fleet. Vaixx jumps off his vantage point and rushes to the front of the ship, and balances up the prow. He’s close enough to make out the happenings on the Lionguard flagship, as it struggles under Taidha’s counterfire. An Asura appears to be leading them, clad in Lionguard Captain’s attire, shouting orders over the roaring battle. Her turquoise hair is whipped by the wind, moving like the arms of a terrible sea creature as she maneuvers about the deck.

 “Lionguard!” Vaixx cries out, drawing the Captain’s attention. “You’re wasting your time! There is another way in!” She grits her teeth and gestures to him, beckoning him on board. After a moment’s hesitation, Vaixx orders Cariyen to approach further, until he can comfortably jump off the prow, onto the Lionguard vessel.

He lands on the deck and has to orient himself for a second before he spots the Captain waiting for him.

“Keep the damage coming!” she calls out to her crew, then grabs Vaixx crudely by the arm and chaperones him into what he assumes are her Captain’s Quarters.

The noise dulls behind the closed door and she turns to him.

 “Pirate.” she spits the word like it’s profanity. “You have information, then spill it. I have no time for intrigue.”

“Neither do I. I want Taidha gone, just like you.” Vaixx says, keeping his head held high. “There is an underwater passage on the north side of the island, leading directly into the heart of the fort, as a last-ditch escape opportunity. Taidha kept this a secret, and comforts herself in the knowledge that only her Captains know about it.”

“That implies you are one of those Captains?” “Incorrect.” Vaixx crosses his arms. “I was First Mate to one, who recently died. Taidha would take control of my ship if she learned of it, and hunt me to the end of the world, should I betray her. Thus, she must die.”

The Lionguard bares her teeth. “You expect me to just let you go after this is over, don’t you? So you can take over her fleet?”

 Vaixx grimaces. “I have no interest in anything related to this woman anymore.” he assures her. “You can continue dulling your claws on her defenses, losing lives and resources with every second, or you can let me aid you. Your choice.”

 Seconds later, the door to the chamber flies open and the Lionguard steps out, Vaixx following close behind. “Keep the bombardment up! Buy me as much time as you can!” she orders her crew, then pulls a rebreather from her coat. “You lead the way, pirate.”

Vaixx nods and signals to his crew, then dons his own rebreather and jumps overboard.

 The water muffles all sound from the battle, and no marine life has stuck around long enough to become a casualty in this fight. It’s almost peaceful. The peace is disturbed by the Lionguard hitting the water next to him, and a group of combatants from the Rascal approaching them, led by Raxxi.

Vaixx takes the lead.

 It’s a long, silent swim around the isle. Vaixx forces himself to remain calm as he guides the group to a small, concealed hatch in the ocean floor. He jams his sword under the heavy trapdoor and levers it open. A cloud of dust spills into the water around them when the door falls open. The Lionguard gives him a long glare before she descends into the tunnel the hatch had revealed. Vaixx follows her.

Taidha Covington’s fortress is strong and the Lionguard assault barely puts her in distress. She has no need to use this emergency escape route yet. Thus, the passage is empty, unguarded, allowing Vaixx’ team to slip inside the fortifications unnoticed.

The tunnel opens up into a small room after rising above water level and the infiltrators can step onto dry ground again. The Lionguard is the first to take off her rebreather. “Very well. Now what?” she asks and Vaixx steps up to her side. “Now we brace for the battle. Taidha is likely surveying the struggle outside from a vantage point. She should be relatively easy to spot once we’re out in the open. “She will also be surrounded by her allies.” The Lionguard remarks sourly, probably regretting going alone. Vaixx can’t blame her. She’s all alone, in an enemy stronghold, surrounded by pirates. “I can make a diversion.” Raxxi pipes up snapping her fingers and letting lightning crackle between them. “All we need is some bad weather.” “Right. You can the others, distract Taidha’s flunkies. My new Lionguard friend and I will finish the job.” Vaixx decides and a displeased noise draws his attention back to said Lionguard.

“I am Captain Sebba.” She introduces herself, then stabs her index claw into Vaixx’ chest. “And I am not your friend, Pirate.” “Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Vaixx responds, his tone equally sharp. “Are you gonna argue about terminology with me or do we want to make the kill?”

 Ten minutes later, the final stage of the assault is announced by a crack of thunder over Laughing Gull Island. A raging storm, conjured out of clear skies descends upon the small landmass, vicious winds swirling and straight up lifting pirates off the ground, hurling them in the air, then dropping them. Lightning strikes come down, hitting people and setting fires, all way too calculated to be natural.

Vaixx has left Raxxi at the exit of the building they had been concocting their plan in, guarded by his men as she sits cross-legged on the ground, fists clenched, eyes closed, in deep focus over the hell she’s unleashing upon Taidha’s men.

Captain Sebba, who has revealed herself to be a Mesmer, is holding Vaixx’ hand to keep an invisibility spell up on both of them as he leads her toward one of the larger structures, passing through the chaos that has ensues over Raxxi’s magical storm. Yet again, Vaixx is thankful for his small size, as it makes evading people a lot easier for him. “The spell will fail as soon as we attack.” Sebba’s disembodied voice informs him as the slip into a half-open set of doors and ascend a staircase made of crude driftwood. “She’ll be alone. All we need to do is kill her.” Vaixx responds and stops dead in his tracks. “Do you hear that?”

Heavy footfalls from up ahead, but neither of the two Asura have to guess for long. Taidha Covington herself is barreling down the stairs, cutlass in one hand, flintlock in the other, and expression of raw anger on her face. Vaixx feels a sting of fear as Sebba pulls him to the side, to avoid colliding with Taidha.

“She’s leaving the building!” she hisses and the thin veil of invisibility falls off them both.

Taidha freezes, then whips around, pointing her gun at them. For a second disbelief dominates her features. “Vaixx?” she asks, a mixture of surprise and anger in her voice. “You are behind this?” “Not at all, Admiral.” Vaixx replies sarcastically and mimes a salute. “I just pitched in to help.”

He waits for neither a response, nor Sebba’s contribution. In a flash, he’s upon Taidha and thrusts his cutlass forward. Clashing metal rings in his ears as she parries, forcing his sword arm aside and points her own weapon at his throat. “You little shit.” She growls. ��Rowan’ll have your fucking head for this.” “Rowan’s indisposed.” Vaixx responds and avoids backward, just to dive underneath her sword and flank her. “Mutineer!” Taidha curses, just as Vaixx gets her by the shin, severing a tendon. She cries out and a gunshot shakes the building.

Vaixx stumbles back, having yelped in pain. He only barely managed to dodge, causing the bullet to glance his shoulder. His sword drops to the ground as the strength leaves his arm and warm blood soaks his coat sleeve. “Fuckin’…” he snarls and throws his offhand dagger at her, pinning her left arm to the ground and causing her to drop her gun. A breeze of air hits him as Sebba rushes past him, in a daring leap, landing with her knees on Taidha’s stomach and bringing her rapier down upon her.

The scream is cut short by another loud crack of thunder from the outside.

When Sebba steps back, Taidha Covington is dead on the ground, a profusely bleeding stab wound on her chest. The rapier had pierced her heart. For a moment, Sebba looks like a rabid animal, murder in her eyes and blood staining her pretty face and fancy coat, a harsh contrast to her regular demeanor. She turns around, bends down to Vaixx and drags him to his feet.

“Nice throw.” She compliments him, her breathing still shallow as she helps him steady himself. “Will you be fine?” “Nothing a serving of strong liquor can’t cure.” Vaixx groans, trying not to wince as Sebba moves him. “Thanks.” “Don’t thank me.” Is her response to that, but Vaixx does sense a hint of respect for him in her voice. “So, you gonna arrest me now?” he asks, as casual as he can. “Oh, I absolutely should!” Sebba says, as she helps him toward the door. “But we had an agreement. And I never go back on my word.”

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #gw2 fanfiction #tyriaslibrary #My writing #pirate saga #the rise of the dread fleet #admiral vaixx #captain raxxi

[thisgirl-writes]

Professor’s Assistant - Part 4

Summary: College Junior, Sophie starts to develop a crush on her Political Science professor. Will it drive a wedge between her boyfriend Cody and her? Will it stay just a silly admiration?

Word Count: 1,604

Warnings: Swearing

Part 3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of your weekend was spent cleaning the apartment in between homework breaks. Your procrastinator boyfriend was out with his friends instead of working on his classes. You took the opportunity of having the place to yourself to not only clean but to listen to your favorite playlist, “All Out 80s”. You connected your phone to play through the TV, it was something you did regularly when Cody was out. Partly because you two had different tastes in music, and because you needed music to clean. Since you were the only one to clean the place. You hit the “Shuffle Play” button, you smiled to yourself as you heard the opening chords to Guns N’ Roses, “Sweet Child O’ Mine” plays through the TV. You let the music take over and push the fight with Cody out of your mind. The only thing you focused on was cleaning the apartment and singing along to the songs you grew up listening to with your dad.

You weren’t sure how long you had cleaning, well it was more dancing than cleaning, but still. You had gotten lost in the music, you were right in the middle of your overly dramatic cover of “Don’t Stop Believing” by Journey when all of a sudden the music stopped. You walked out of the bedroom to see if your phone had maybe just disconnected when you saw Cody standing there with your phone in his hand.

“Oh hey sweetie, I didn’t hear you come in”

“Yeah, no shit you didn’t hear me come in. You were blasting your shitty taste in music” Cody said nonchalantly. You knew it wasn’t his favorite music, but this was the first time he used that phrase to describe his feelings about your taste in music.

“Very funny, Cody”  you said, hoping that he was just messing around and that he didn’t really mean it.

“I’m serious. If you’re gonna listen to this crap in this apartment, at least use the airpods I got you. That’s why I got them. So that I don’t have to hear it” He shot back.

“I don’t want to argue about our tastes in music right now. How was your time with the guys?” You asked trying to change the subject.

“Yeah whatever, you know I’m right. Look I just came back to grab my charger. I won’t be back until late. Don’t wait up for me.” Cody said as he walked back out the door without saying bye to you or anything.

“Then what did you turn my music off for” You mumbled to yourself.

Even though you didn’t have many friends, you still had one really good one, Tori. Tori was your random roommate who became your best friend from freshman year, the one year you lived on campus. Since Cody wasn’t going to be at the apartment for dinner, and since it was a Saturday night, you decided to see if she was up to have a girls' night.

“Hey girl!” You said into the phone when Tori picked you the phone.

“Girl what's up?”

“So Cody is out with his friends and I wanted to see you were up for a long-overdue girls night?” You had crossed your fingers as you asked, hoping she would say yes.

“Welll…. “ She dragged out, “Of course girl! Bitch this is way too overdue!” You're relieved that she wanted to have a girls night as well, you needed time with the only friend who didn’t abandon you when you moved in with Cody.

“Perfect! This is just what I need tonight!”

“Yes! Me too girl, me too!” Tori replied

“Same place same time?”

“You know it!” She yelled into the phone, which made you laugh. “Oh wait! Quick question. Are we dressing like it is a chill kind of girls night, or are we dressing like its single girls night and you need a rebound kind of girls night?” 

You rolled your eyes at her “question”. You know what she was hinting at, she didn’t keep it a secret how she felt about Cody, but she supported you.

“I do not need a rebound, but how about we dress like a mix of the two?”

“Girl this is why we are friends, I like the 3rd option. Besides, maybe you will end up finding someone who will make you want to have a rebound”

“Tori, enough with trying to get me to break up with Cody, I love him.” You remind her. You know she means well, but she is entirely too blunt to have any form of subtly to her.

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop. For now.”

“I know, just pick me up when you’re ready”

“Will do. Bye bitch!”

After you hang up the phone, you searched your closet for something to wear. After about 10 minutes of picking through your wardrobe, you decided on a simple white t-shirt that had a deep v cut, and a pair of ripped skinny jeans

You left your long wavy brown hair down, switching it up form the normal messy bun you wore your hair in. Since it was girl's night, you decided to take a little bit more time with your makeup than your normal routine. During the week your routine consisted of mascara and blush so that you didn’t look like death with how pale your skin is thanks to your European heritage. Tonight you added eyeliner highlighter, you couldn’t contour your face, but you did love a good highlighter and lipstick. Before Cody, you wore lipstick all the time, your go-to color was red, but Cody said he didn’t like you wearing lipstick, so you stopped.

You had forgotten how much confidence you got from something as simple as crimson red shade of lipstick, you enjoyed the boost it gave you. As you finished your makeup, your phone let you know that you had a text from Tori saying she was parking now, you sent her a text back letting her know that the door was unlocked and she could just walk in.

A few minutes later as you were giving your look for the evening one more look in the mirror, you hear the apartment door open and heels clicking on the tile floor.

“I’m here girl! Let's get drunk tonight!” Tori exclaimed as she walked through the apartment.

“If we both get drunk, how are we getting home?” You ask, not wanting to take the risk of walking anywhere after the sunset.

“You’re joking right, do you not uber anywhere?” Tori asked you looking completely dumbfounded by your question.

“No, actually I don’t. I either walk or Cody drives.” You respond.

“Lame! Girl it is the best thing ever... Like cheaper than a taxi too!” You just shook your head at your best friend. “Don’t give me that look, I am telling you it really is the best option, this way we both can drink!”

“Okay, I trust you, so let's get going thing, this night is long overdue!”

“That’s my girl!” Tori yelled. “Also girl, I am loving this look, and may I say that red lipstick should be your signature thing, because DAMN GIRL!”  You felt the blood rushing to your face when Tori gave you a compliment in her own very Tori way.

“Oh, um thanks. But I wouldn't go as far as saying a signature color. Lots of people wear red lipstick very well” You reply as you try and draw the attention off of you.

“Cut the shit, not everyone can pull it off that well, and you know it. It’s your signature color, you look fucking amazing we are going to get drunk. End of Story.” Tori stated as she grabbed your hand and started walking out the door, not giving you a chance to change anything about your outfit.

The ride to the bar wasn’t long, so there wasn’t a whole lot of time for the two of you to catch up. You did manage to tell her about the cause of the argument with Cody over Professor Evans. Earning an “Ohh girl” from Tori when you described him to her. When the uber came to a stop, you took a deep breath before sliding out, it was honestly the first time you had gone out without Cody since the two of you had been together. With a quick yell from Tori, you thanked the driver and you headed over towards Tori and you linked your arm with hers as the two of you headed in.

“Let’s have some fun!” Tori says to you

“Lets”

“Girls night!”  Tori yells as you walk through the door causing several people to stop and look at you and her. Your arm was still linked with Tori’s as your eyes scanned the faces staring back at you. Without notice, you stopped in your tracks when you recognized a face looking back at you, with a slight smirk worn across his face, Professor Evans.  

“Girls night just got a whole lot more interesting”  You mumbled to yourself as you made your way to Tori who was no at the bar.

“Okay girl, what do you want first? Jack & diet?”

“Shots first” You replied to her question.

“Ohh, girl! Yes, but why?”  Tori questioned your response.

“6 people down.” You said quietly as Tori slowly turned to look. “That’s my 307 professor”

“Damn girl, you did not do him justice,” she said earning an eye roll from you.

“Shut up and drink, because this is gonna be a long night,”  You said as you downed the shot in front of you.

~~~~~

Previous

Tag List: @patzammit, @denisemarieangelina

#Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans imagine #chris evans x original female character

[polar-stars]

Hi! I dunno if this was already obvious, but I LOVED WHAT YOU DID FOR THE TRAINING CAMP SOOOO MUCH!! So I wanted to ask, what was your thought process for coming up with the challenges and characters who would feature in them, particularly the first and second ones? Love you :3

ahhaaaahhhhhhhhHHHHHHH //lies down//

I- I am so glad you enjoyed it ;w; Especially since it’s your favorite arc in canon, it makes me happy to hear I did a well a job on it. Because I was a little unsure if I did do it justice haha ovo;;;

I don’t know if I can reconstruct the entirety of my thought-processces throughout writing the arc, but I’ll try:

Regarding the alumni I chose: a lot of Shokugeki Fanfics that take place in the future and tackle a future Trainings Camp like to have the entirety of the 92nd Generation (+ even some of the senpais) show up at it. I don’t really want to let the canon characters enter all at once in SnKimiko but rather let them drop in one by one until a much later arc (2nd year) where the adults get a bit more relevance in general. Not a lot but a bit. I did end up going for Takumi and Ikumi, because Takumi was introduced in Trainings Camp and I thought that would be a nice throwback. The other alumni were also there mostly for throwback reasons, plus I wanted to introduce the admiration that Kimiko has for Kojiro Shinomiya actually meep (as well as that little Mini-Plottwist ahdh). Rui and Shigemichi got chosen rather spontaneously but I wanted someone from the 91st or 90th Generation there (because I thought it wouldn’t make sense if it’s constantly just the 92nd Generation that gets to do all the stuff) but thought it was way too soon to get the former Elites there. Adding to that, I just like Rui quite a lot 😌. Lastly, there’s Akari Miyano who’s pretty much the Easter Egg within Trainings Camp. I don’t know if I got it across well enough but who she actually is, but well she’s not a fanmade character by me but an actual canon character from Shokugeki. She’s a One-Off in Shokugeki though and not really a name that I think is present to anyone. 

I chose Rui as first examiner because she’s a character I was always curious about and I wanted to attempt getting some more character into her. Additionally it presented me with a good opportunity to introduce her most precious son. 

Mika and Hiroshi got added to echo Takumi’s and Isami’s introduction, but I wanted to handle things a tad bit differently considering that, different to their dads, the two were already formally introduced beforehand anyway. I wanted to make Kimiko’s and Mika’s rivalry an aspect. But once again, Mika had already more time to sink in as character than Takumi did and she already loudly declared herself as Kimiko’s rival...usually with not much acknowledging from Kimiko. So in the end, I decided that the first day of Trainings Camp would be a great opportunity to have Kimiko truly realize Mika’s capability of standing toe-to-toe with her. To not just have them face off against each other so early, I thought about the whole Itsuki-situation and how Kimiko first focuses on someone else. 

Regarding the challenge with the colors of ingredients, that’s just something that came to me some morning if I remember correctly. I wanted to do something that does involve a sort-off limitation and giving the students a limit through the ingredients they can use was an idea. I then thought I should add one color that has a wide array of ingredients going for it making it the more easier choice, that being yellow (lemons, bananas, potatoes, corn ...etc.) and one color with not a lot of ingredients going for it making that one the more harder challenge to work with, that being blue. At the same time, mixing these two gives green which is another color with a wide array of ingredients (spinach, green apples, salad, pears etc.) This challenge is also supposed to showcase that both Kimiko and Mika have quite the creativity going for them while also putting them on even level, with Kimiko being able to craft a good dish out of the color that is the hardest challenge while Mika is the only one to come up with the idea to mix the two colors presented to her. 

When it comes to the 2nd challenge, that majorly started out with me wanting to introduce Kazuo. I wanted to get his introduction done in Trainings Camp because I wanted him being introduced before his sister Ran. Ran will actually get her introduction insanely soon and she’ll also become pretty active rather soon as well. So yeah, I had to get Kazuo into Trainings Camp somehow. Somewhere along the lines, I got the idea of having him team up with Kimiko while also adding Takayuki to it. Takayuki was added for three reasons: simple reoccurrence as a character, he’s with Kazuo most of the time anyway, I thought it would be fun having him team up with Kimiko as well given that they last met as opponents. Another good factor that actually dawned to me a little bit later is that all three characters have older siblings in the Elite Ten and that fact often being pointed out to them by other students. 

Given Itsuki’s introduction on Day one already, I also thought this would be a nice opportunity to hint more onto a certain antagonist by also getting Emi into the spectacle, as a slight fun challenge on the side but also as a means to introduce the “Mafia”. 

Akari Miyano’s role in Trainings Camp was something I had already thought up ever since 2016 and I thought inserting her and the plan I had for her here would be perfect. Again, she’s much of a little Easter Egg.

I don’t really remember anymore how I came up with the challenge that is presented to the trio, but I think it does have something to do with the topic of harmony in a sense. And harmony is what our trio struggles with at first, so I thought it would be a good challenge. 

Regarding how things played out in the end, that just mainly came to me in the flow while writing the thing actually: The main dish task falling onto Kazuo who has the most eccentric style of cooking out of the three and that being something that Kimiko is at first doubtful about, additionally making him cook Mika’s dish (and Mika only cooked one thing yet which was a main dish) got me to introduce his heavy crush on her; Takayuki making too extravagant appetizers because he so badly wanted to the main dish; them being sabotaged by one of the Mafia’s member but not by Akiko (despite the one hint that she’d be the one to do so in the beginning); that finally leading to them working together; Takayuki’s first mistake of making too filling appetizers turning out well in the end while Kimiko’s everlasting creativity leads to her helping out Kazuo....that just all kind off came naturally to me while writing ;w;

When it comes to the Breakfast Challenge, I quickly decided I want Kaori to shine there. She already shone on the lines on Day 1, when she impressed Takumi, but I wanted her to shine in front of Kimiko, giving that the two will have a rivalry as well. In contrast to Kimiko’s and Mika’s rivalry which is similar to Soma’s and Takumi’s in which both parties are basically equal in skill; Kimiko’s and Kaori’s rivalry is much like Soma’s and Akira’s in which one of the two legit outdos the other one at that point in time. I also figured that the Breakfast Challenge is just perfect for Kaori, as her main gimmick is to energize people which is something that people look for in a breakfast in the early morning and while she does not have her father’s sense of smell, she does still have a good understanding on the utilization of fragrance which therefore gives her a large advantage on drawing customers to her stand. 

Sorry for getting so rambly ;w; I hope it wasn’t all too much all over the place (it probably was) and that I worded things at least a little decently....meep. 

But thank you so much for the question and the interest. I am super glad you enjoyed Trainings Camp so much!

Love ya too Emi ;w; !!

#Gofer answering to stuffz #Shokugeki no Kimiko Stuffz

[web-of-fics]

Recovery

Requested by: anon (If youre comfortable writing that stuff, could you do a platonic tony x reader one where she is close friend of avengers and has a restrictive eating disorder and tony starts picking up signs about that and confronts her about it and comforts her and reassures he's gonna help her in her recovery? Thank you lots :)

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Starring: Tony Stark x she/her reader; fellow Avengers

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Fandom: MCU 

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Chronology: after The Avengers (2012) and Spider-Man Homecoming (2017)

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Warnings: reader displays symptoms indicative of restrictive food intake/food avoidance--please read at your personal discretion or stop reading if at any point you find that this narrative does not serve your mental wellbeing

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Summary: Reader pays her old friend Tony Stark a visit. He senses something is amiss and reaches out to her about it. 

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Writer’s note: Anon, I want to take a moment to thank you for submitting this request. You possess great courage for reaching out about something that can be a vulnerable topic and I hope I did it justice. :) 

    If there are elements of this prompt that resonate with you or anyone else reading this, please be kind to yourself during your personal recovery journey. Some are long and some are short, and some almost seem futile when they just keep going in circles, but no path ever goes in a straight line, and every step is progress.

    I also want to mention that I happen to be in a counseling program now, so I will do my best to write an accurate portrayal for this character. However, it is based on my knowledge rather than experience and I am still learning. I do not claim to be an expert on anything and welcome this as an opportunity for constructive criticism as well. 

    If anyone reading this is in need of professional help, I encourage you to seek it out. You deserve it. Although I cannot provide therapeutic help for anyone on here, I am willing to branch into writing mental health-related fics for those who are interested. <3

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Words: 1552

✎_____________________________________________________________________

“Y/n,” Tony said your name more like an announcement than a greeting as you entered the room. Moments before, he’d been addressing the rest of the Avengers about something or other related to impending doom. What else was new? You just hoped it it wasn’t more deep sea fish-looking alien spaceships causing mass destruction. Ever since that whole battle of New York you haven’t quite been the same.

You waved once in acknowledgment of everyone surrounding the expensive-looking lab equipment radiating a neon projection into thin air and made for the kitchen.

“Who is that?” said an unfamiliar voice belonging to an unfamiliar face as you passed by.

“Y/n,” Tony repeated before continuing his science talk.

“Is she an Avenger?”

“No,” Tony said mid-sentence.

“Then,” the person leaned forward from his seat on the couch, “what is she doing here?”

You opened the fridge and poured yourself a glass of the nearest open bottle, not bothering to see what it was. You swirled it mindlessly, watching the exchange like it was something mildly interesting on TV and you were too lazy to search for something more exciting.

Tony turned his full attention on the man.

“She’s a friend. She’s allowed in at her leisure. Open invitation.”

Tony’s mouth turned up in your direction as if laughing at a private joke between the two of you. He made eye contact briefly.

You brought the glass to your lips.

The new guy laughed in bemusement.

Tony took a step toward him. “What’s funny?”

“It took me years to be called an Avenger after we became friends but she can just... strut around our super secret complex whenever she likes?”

Soundlessly, you put the glass on the counter and draw your thick sweater tighter around yourself.

“Ah,” now Tony was smiling, but more in the sense of baring his teeth than enjoying himself. “I see your confusion.” He addressed the man directly. “We’re not friends. We,” he gestured between them, “are coworkers.”

He turned to a screen and waved his palm over it. “And I am giving a presentation. And you are listening to me with your mouth shut,” he enunciated every syllable by the end of his sentence, then shook off the interruption and continued lecturing about his discovery.

You turned away to hide a grin and strolled elsewhere in the complex to leave Tony to his business. You weren’t a fan of stopping in unexpectedly but it had been a particularly tough week. Tuesday had been your father’s birthday. Thursday had been your mother’s. 

Outside, you ran into Pepper, exchanged congratulations about their recent engagement, and offered to help prepare for the ceremony if she needed it. She shared that she was on her way to pick up lunch and offered to pick up yours as well. You declined, telling her just ate but you’d take her up on the offer another time, and is she sure she doesn’t need help ordering flower arrangements?

“I’ll let you know,” she said, smiling and waving as she summoned one of the many Stark cars and peeled away.

You shivered in the breeze despite the shining sun helping to warm the earth. Lately it seemed like you were always cold. 

You made for the library and decided to pass the time learning what you could from the first book you picked up. Unfortunately for any small talk you ever attempted to make with the Avengers, you were a professor of anthropology and not biochemistry or engineering. You flipped open the book in your hands and read the title page. Maybe learning the gist of quantum physics would help with that. 

You were on page 150 when the door opened.

“Knock knock,” Tony said.

You marked your page and stood.

“Tony!”

“Thanks for stopping in,” he said warmly.

“Anytime,” you replied. You grinned. “Open invitation.”

“Always. And,” he added, “you’re invited to stay for dinner.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Am I? Are you sure I’m not intruding on an Avengers-only occasion?”

“He doesn’t know anything,” Tony said, catching your meaning immediately. “He’s new, you’ll have to excuse him. But if he even looks at you during dinner I promise I will kick him out. This is a purely social gathering. No shop talk allowed. You’ll fit right in.”

He walked over, placed his fingers on the book and shifted it slightly in his direction. He nodded once.

“You should sit next to Romanoff. Come on,” he nodded in the direction of the door, “you can help me cook.”

“I don’t remember saying I was available,” you said, following him anyway.

“I know,” he said, “but I also know that you are, in fact, available. I had Pepper check your schedule.”

You cross from one building to another in silence. He holds the door open for you as you reenter the kitchen together and adds, “she also told me you ate lunch when I know for a fact you strolled in here, poured that,” he pointed to the glass of orange juice, still filled and gathering condensation where you left it on the countertop, “and went to read up on a topic you know nothing about for several hours.”

You laughed and picked up the glass. “I knew I forgot something! I sat down with that book and couldn’t for the life of me remember what it was. And hey,” you pointed at him accusingly, “I knew nothing about quantum physics until several hours ago. Now I do know something about it.”

He raised his palms. “I wasn’t questioning your intellect.” He looked pointedly at the glass in your hand. “Your new eating habits, however, are what struck me as odd.” 

You looked at him. “I didn’t realize making a sandwich and taking it to the library was considered odd around here.”

“Uh huh,” Tony said and opened the fridge. Every ingredient remained untouched.

You didn’t say anything. His look of concern now felt like the world’s most intense spotlight. You sipped the juice, deciding a few ounces wouldn’t do you any harm and the Vitamin C ultimately made the calories worthwhile. 

“So what’s on the menu for tonight anyway? I’m famished and so incredibly curious to learn what someone like Thor considers an acceptable meal.”

Tony shut the fridge and gazed steadily at you.

“Are you? Famished?”

“I—yeah, sure,” you said, uncertain what answer he wanted and growing less sure your eating habits could still slip under his radar. Not that anything ever avoids his notice. 

He started gathering ingredients and various pans from the cabinets.

“And not that I don’t appreciate the chance visit, but why drop in today? We haven’t talked in...”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Where were you when... that... all happened?” he asked.

You knew he was talking about the bizarre invasion that destroyed the city beyond anything you’d ever seen. Like many others, you lost your family that day. You still weren’t used to spending their birthdays mourning instead of celebrating. 

You shared your experience of that day with Tony as he cooked up a Mediterranean dish and disclosed his own trauma of that day to you. You were shocked to learn he was still recovering from the effects, and his concerns were only mounting. 

“New York will never be safe again, will it?” you said quietly.

“Hey,” Tony stopped stirring and held your face gently. “New York is protected as long as we’re around.”

He returned to stirring the sauce. “We can’t save everyone all the time, but helping even one person is always worthwhile.” He pointed the wooden spoon at you. 

“Today that person is you.”

You sniffed--pretending you were interested in smelling food instead of fighting back tears--and stuck your tongue out to lick the spoon. It was warm and savory. For once, your mouth didn’t feel like cotton and recoil at the taste of sustenance. Maybe you could stomach this tonight. And maybe another meal after that. 

Tony also tasted the spoon, nodded, and set it on the counter. 

“I think it’s time we assembled for dinner,” he said. 

- - - - - -

As dinner was served, you and Natasha excitedly caught up on recent developments in your lives--hers far more action-packed than yours--but she was just as genuinely interested in listening to you ramble about faculty drama and unruly students. 

The new guy introduced himself to you and attempted to crack jokes as often as possible throughout the evening. He grew on you.

Thor ate three platefuls of whatever Tony had concocted--you still weren’t positive what the vegetable-heavy dish was called, but in the grand scheme of things it didn’t really matter.

And you were able to eat several forkfuls of food without resistance. You shrugged your sweater off and hung it on the back of your chair, accepting a cocktail from Tony as he brought a tray of them back to the table, stealing glances at you all the while and smiling to himself. 

Although dining with the Avengers was only the first step back to engaging in your regular diet, you felt better knowing you didn’t have to walk that path alone as long as you had Tony Stark by your side. And you never knew him to be a man who abandons a friend in need. 

_______________________________________________________________________

Just one more before bed? Click here for a masterlist of my fics!

#take care of yourselves #may is mental health month #tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #tony stark x y/n #platonic #friendship #x female reader #x f!reader #xfemale!reader #xfem!reader #iron man #iron man x reader #iron man x you #iron man x y/n #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel x y/n #mcu #avengers #the avengers #fic #fics #fanfic #fanfics #fanfiction #reader is female #female reader

[neonganymede]

Number 22 for mchanzo please? Love u ❤❤❤❤❤❤

Aahhh thank you!!

22. “Choose me.”

Jesse McCree looked aroundhis room and found it bare. Nothing to suggest he’d ever been there. Nothing tosuggest he might come back. Nothing of himself within these grey walls he’d calledhome twice.

He slung his bag over hisshoulder. Paused. Tried to stifle the reluctance brewing in his stomach.

Leaving was for the best.It was a mantra he’d repeated a countless number of times in front of hisbathroom mirror. Leaving was for the best. The more he said it, the less hebelieved it, and the more he wanted to just unpack and stay instead of being a fucking coward—

Jesse took a deep breath. Bestto leave on a high note, anyway. Nothing had happened. Nobody would suspect thereal reason he wanted to leave. And if they did? Maybe he could get out before someonecalled him out on it.

Leaving was for the best.Maybe one of these days, he would believe it.

Jesse left his room, emptyand devoid of any trace he’d been there. Later, if anybody realized he hadn’t beenthere for breakfast or training, then one of them might go check on him. Find nothingbut the faint aroma of tobacco.

Maybe it would be Angie,and she could get all annoyed with the realization he’d been smoking in hisroom. Or maybe Genji, who probably wouldn’t tell anybody for a while; he’dunderstand and give Jesse the opportunity to get a head start.

Probably, though… Hanzowould be the one to check on him. He wouldn’t be there for their morning practiceor for lunch, which both of them attended religiously if they weren’t out on amission. Hanzo would probably go to his room and knock. Wait. Call out for him.Wait.

Hell, maybe Hanzo wouldeven kick down the door. McCree got a little chuckle out of that. Probably not.He’d just ask Athena where McCree was.

And then Athena would tellHanzo that Jesse wasn’t on the base anymore. Left early in the morning, beforethe sun was up. Didn’t even have the decency to fucking say goodbye, just ranoff.

Likea fucking coward.

McCree shoved away thethoughts as he continued down the hallway, careful to keep quiet. The lastthing he needed was somebody hearing him and coming out to see what the noisewas. Then he’d have to explain, and explanations were messy.

He thought about stoppingby some of their drinking spots. The ledge atop the watchpoint, where Hanzoliked to monkey himself up and McCree used the stairs like a normal fuckingperson. The lounge, where Hanzo had fallen asleep on him for the first time.Hell, he even thought about stopping by Hanzo’s room to just stare at the doorlike a fucking creep, but no. He avoided all of those places.

Just made for the door,fully intending on vanishing into the dark cover of morning twilight. He madeit pretty far, too. He was outside, headed for the open road. Ready to leave everythingbehind him (again) and everybody he ever cared about (again) and not look back.

“Going somewhere,gunslinger?”

McCree stiffened. Shit. He turned around to find Hanzo leaningagainst the wall and watching him. Not the Hanzo that everybody was used toseeing, with his hair up and his clothes pristine. No, this was Jesse’s Hanzo, whose hair was free and a little disheveled and who wore sweatpantsand a t-shirt in place of his usual garb. This was the Hanzo that not many knewexisted but which Jesse knew intimately.

This was the Hanzo that he—

“Funny,” continued Hanzoin a tone that suggested he did not find this very funny at all, “I do notrecall you mentioning that you might be leaving. Is there a mission?”

McCree ground his teeth.Fucking Shimadas and their sneakiness. He should’ve known one of them wouldcatch him. He just wished it had been the damn ninja and not the one he’d beenhoping to avoid.

“No,” McCree saidcarefully.

“No?” Hanzo repeated, andthere it was. That signature Hanzo Rage that came out when he got a little angrierthan normal. He likely knew what McCree was up to and didn’t understand it, sothat pissed him off. “Then where would you be going with all of your belongings?”

McCree might as well be bluntabout it. “I’m leavin’, Hanzo. And I ain’t comin’ back.”

Hanzo was quiet for amoment, digesting this. When he spoke, his voice was curt and emotionless, theHanzo that McCree had first met who didn’t want to get attached to anybody andespecially not the cowboy.

“Why?”

“I got my reasons,”answered McCree, not wanting to get into this with him. Maybe with somebodyelse, but not with Hanzo.

Hanzo leveled him with aglare. “Which are?”

Jesse looked at Hanzo andsaw the distress gleaming behind the mask of anger. He deserved an explanation,but what did McCree say? That he couldn’t stay here anymore because just thesight of Hanzo made his stomach queasy? That the sight of Hanzo smile brightenedhis day, even when he was tired and sore after a long mission? That nothingmattered more to him than the evenings they spent together, drinking andtalking about nothing and everything or even just sitting in silence and appreciatingeach other’s company?

That Jesse was so fuckingin love with Hanzo that he was stupid with it?

No. McCree couldn’t sayany of that. Not when it might sour their friendship, even if McCree neverintended on seeing Hanzo ever again. He wanted Hanzo to remember him fondly, ifno other way. As friends.

Jesse wanted to throw up.

He picked the bestbullshit he could come up with, something Hanzo might believe. “Listen, Han, Iain’t one to work with groups—”

“Neither am I,” Hanzo interrupted.“Try again.”

Jesse huffed. “I hatesittin’ in one place all the time—”

“As do I,” Hanzo sneered,a bit triumphant. “I can do this all morning, Jesse.”

“Fine. I got one you ain’t gonna measure up to.” And McCree made hisbiggest mistake: stalking closer to Hanzo, as if proximity might help him gethis point across. “Overwatch ain’t justice. It’s never been justice. Yeah, maybe it started out like that in the beginnin’,but that wasn’t what it ended up bein’. It was all money and politics, and thefuckin’ victims ended up comin’ second.”

“Overwatch is different now,is it not?” Hanzo pointed out, a little quieter than before. He was staring atMcCree’s face with something akin to fear, as if he’d just realized that McCreewas serious about leaving. As if he’d just realized he might never see McCree again, so he had to soak inall of him while he had the chance.

Or maybe that was justwishful thinking on McCree’s part. Probably. He just couldn’t see a scenariothat ended happily for him. In every daydream he’d ever concocted where he toldHanzo the truth, he always ended up being called a fool because who could ever love a man like him? Hanzoprobably didn’t even like men, and ifhe did? McCree was probably at the bottom of his list.

“Yeah, it’s different now, but I know how this’ll go. We won’twe workin’ under the radar for long before somebody catches us, and then they’lleither take us down or build us back up. And if it’s the second one, then Overwatchshould ‘a just stayed dead. We’ll end up bein’ all about money and politics again, and that ain’t justice. Not to me.”Jesse paused to catch his breath. Some of that might actually have been true,which was good for him. Hanzo might earnestly believe it if there was an air ofreality to it.

“So the way I see it, I gota choice to make: do I stick around and see what’ll become of us the secondtime around or do I go out on my own again and make my own kind o’ justice?”

Hanzo’s eyes were dark andstormy, like that quiet moment of intensity before he unleashed hisdragonstrike. McCree held his gaze as he waited for Hanzo buy his bullshit andlet him go, and he tried not to think about how much he would miss this assholearcher. Already, he felt the hole of yearning expanding in his chest, and he wonderedwhat would happen first—if he would get over his feeling for Hanzo or beswallowed by them.

At last, Hanzo reached hisdecision with a quiet huff and a tilt of his chin. McCree didn’t have long tofigure out what he was so frustrated about before Hanzo’s hands were curledinto his serape.

“You have one more choice,”he growled and then pulled McCree in.

His hat fell to the ground,but he didn’t care. His serape was strangling him, but he didn’t care. All hecared about was the hard press of Hanzo’s mouth against his, kissing him withsuch determination that McCree was too stunned to even react. By the time he realized he should do something—at leastkiss the man back, dammit, how long have you been dreaming about this? —Hanzopulled away again, breathless and overcome with emotion.

“Choose me,” Hanzo encouraged, his voice rough and inviting. ”Stay.See this through. And if you do not like the direction the reformed Overwatchis headed, then we will leave together.”

“Together,” Jesse repeated,dumbfounded.

“If you will have me, thatis. I do not wish to presume….” Hanzo’s eyes shifted downward, momentarilyplagued with doubt, and McCree reached up to brush his fingertips along Hanzo’scheek.

“Darlin’,” he said, stillstunned but determined to work through this before Hanzo got the wrong idea. “I’lltake anythin’ you’re willin’ to give me.”

Hanzo looked back up athim, relief etched on his face. “Then we are in agreement? You will stay?”

 Jesse thought about all ofhis fake reasons for leaving and the one realreason, whose hands were still tangled in his serape as if to keep himleaving by sheer force. He supposed he really couldn’t leave now, could he? Still, he should probablydraw this out a little bit more, not give away his real motives just yet.

“I dunno,” McCree said,turning away a bit only to be jerked back by Hanzo. “I might be in need of alittle more convincin’.”

And Hanzo’s eyes narrowedknowingly, his lips curling up in a smirk. He began to lean in again, slower nowthat the urgency was gone. “As much as it will take.”

“That’s good,” he mumbledagainst Hanzo’s lips, much more prepared this time. “Cause I’ll need convincin’for a long time.”

#writing prompt #overwatch #mchanzo #angst with a happy ending #gleeyatch

[decandantfics]

Stronger Together - Only Love

A/N - This was a tough story to write - I really had to work at it, so I hope it's okay! Many, many thanks go to Kashariak for the amazing prompt for this story. She really does have the most fantastic ideas, and if you've never checked out her stories, I urge you to go there now (or just as soon as you've finished reading this!). So thank you, and I hope I did your idea justice! ❤

'5...[A nervous gulp]...4...[Twitching fingers]...3...[Uneasy shifting from foot to foot]...2...[A visible shiver down his spine]...1...[A full-body flinch]...Roll the titles!' Standing backstage together, Ant and Dec listened tensely to the countdown to the first live semi-final of Britain's Got Talent 2019. Or rather, Ant listened while Dec observed him, his mind completely zoning out of the countdown as he noted his friend's obvious anxiety. They had nearly two minutes left before they went live to the nation together for the first time in over a year, and both boys were understandably very nervous, especially as the show opener was hardly a walk in the park for them. But Dec was more concerned about Ant at the moment than the fact that they had to perform an intricate song and dance routine starting in about a minute and a half. Ant was now chewing on his lip, his right foot tapping out an irregular staccato beat on the floor. "Ant, look at me," Dec nudged Ant's elbow, jostling him out of his panicked train of thought. As Ant's worried, slightly frantic eyes met his own, Dec let out a little sigh and squeezed Ant's arm before pulling him in for a hug. Their cheeks pressed up against each other, Dec took the opportunity to whisper into Ant's ear, for only him to hear, "I believe in you, and so does everyone else. We all want you back, and you know it. And if you need me, I'll be right there beside you. It's going to be great; I can't wait to be back up there with you!" Pep talk finished, Dec gave Ant one final reassuring pat on the back, reclaiming his place on Ant's left side while their countdown to going live began.

An appreciative smile lighting his eyes, Ant took a deep breath as he and Dec stepped up to their mark in perfect sync. Maybe this was going to be all right, Ant thought to himself, glancing again at Dec who had now switched into professional mode....He seemed different somehow to how he used to be before a show. They both always went quiet in the minutes before a live show started, but Dec would always still be up for cracking a joke, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. Now he looked frighteningly serious, a moment of extreme vulnerability showing on his face before a flinty mask of stoic resilience covered it, almost like he was gearing up for battle. Was this what Declan Donnelly, the solo performer, looked like? Ant ran out of time to ponder this sudden change in his friend as the music to their routine blared through their headsets. Feeling an arm wrap around his lower back for a brief moment, Ant turned his head to see Dec giving him a tight, but encouraging, grin. They were now mere seconds away from going live, and the butterflies in both men's stomachs were going wild as they cleared their throats one last time before their microphones switched on. Minds now fully focused on the task at hand, the boys began the routine, striding briskly 'round the corner, Dec slightly in front of Ant: 'All on one show, ready to go, live on BGT!'

Entering the theatre to rapturous applause from the audience, Ant and Dec were officially back, interacting with the crowd as they made their way down towards the stage. Dec wore a broad smile, a light in his eyes that hadn't been seen on live telly since March 2018, while Ant looked more nervous, his intense concentration on remembering the song's lyrics and choreography evidenced in his tense features. Ant was beginning to enjoy himself, however – man, had he missed doing live telly – and was soaking it all in, savoring the buzz that came with their job. It was all going really well he thought, until they got to the bit with the judges. He and Dec were each supposed to pull a pair of ladies' knickers out from behind each of the female judges, pretending to steal Alesha and Amanda's underwear before tossing the undergarments behind them. It all went a bit pear-shaped for Ant at this point, as his nerves had increased his clumsiness substantially, resulting in him completely missing the pair of underwear draped over the back of Alesha's chair and pulling up nothing but air in his closed fist. His heart stopping for a moment, Ant raised his gaze to the camera – had everyone watching at home seen his blunder, were they now laughing at him, making jokes about him being uncoordinated because he was a "druggie drink driver" (a cruelly unfair description of himself that he had seen so many times on social media that it was now deeply ingrained in his mind)? 'Stop it!' Ant scolded himself, realizing that his moment of tortured panic had cost him a second of time as he was now slightly out of sync with Dec. Recovering quickly, Ant cleared his mind of anything but the task at hand as he and Dec leapt off of the judge's platform and skipped over to the stairs leading to the Hammersmith Apollo's stage. Despite a judge's buzzer ringing out unexpectedly, neither man flinched, carrying on with the routine as if nothing had happened. Ah, here came their favorite bit of the piece – 'It's...Good...Ti-...ming!' Now back in perfect sync, the boys jogged onto the stage and up onto the set where the backing choir were standing.

'Almost there now,' Ant thought gleefully, more than relieved to be nearly finished with the nerve-wracking routine. Oh. What the heck was his next line?! Panic taking hold of his mind, Ant froze momentarily, his horrified gaze meeting Dec's as his eyes told Dec everything he needed to know – it was time to ride to his friend's rescue. Thankfully, Dec remembered the next line, but because of that brief moment during which Ant had silently communicated his need for assistance, Dec had to cut the lyric short: 'Two hundred and fifty thou-...to win before the final bow,' – Ant's voice finally rejoining Dec's on the last two words as Dec focused his full attention on Ant. Their gazes met for a moment as they unconsciously stepped towards the other, Ant making a half-grab for Dec's mic as his frenzied mind tried to remember if the next line was his or Dec's, the break in the flow of their alternating lines having brought his thought process to a screeching halt. Dec was now standing slightly in front of Ant, pressed up against his arm in what Dec hoped was an inconspicuous show of support. The last thing he wanted to do was further his friend's embarrassment and heighten his panic by drawing attention to his blunder. Dec could sense Ant was still unsure as to the next line, so angled his body in towards Ant, subtly nudging Ant's arm with his elbow as he half held his microphone in front of Ant, indicating it was his turn. And just like that, everything was fine again, the remainder of the lyrics flowing back into Ant's mind, Dec's calm handling of the situation and discreet, yet reassuring, actions having alleviated Ant's internal distress and allowed him to continue on as if nothing had happened. He could feel Dec's supportive gaze on him again as they entered the final stages of the performance. Having been boosted up onto the glittery "BGT" prop, the boys were hoisted into the air as they sang the closing phrase: 'Live on B..G..T!'

Dec was now full-on staring at Ant, a massive grin on his face – they'd done it, they'd made it through, and Ant had been amazing! Oh, it was so, so good to not be alone on stage anymore. Last year's live shows had been absolutely horrific, each day a constant reminder of the man he was so desperately missing. But that was in the past now, Dec reminded himself. He had Ant back, and he fully intended to enjoy every second of this first show back with his best friend.

Ahh, that was better. Ant was now wearing a relieved grin as they both held onto that last note for as long as they could. He was clearly feeling a lot better about things now that that nightmare of an opener was out of the way. I mean, seriously, what a way to return to live telly after over a year away! The nearly 4,000-strong audience was giving them a standing ovation, their whistles and cheers deafening. Right, it was time to get this show on the road! Ant's raspy voice rang out, "Well, hello, and welcome to the first live semi-final of Britain's Got Talent!" And just like that, they were off, the non-stop rush of a live TV show sweeping them along with it. Perhaps the opener could have gone a little bit better, but Dec certainly didn't care – all that mattered was that he had his friend standing next to him, happy and healthy. His dream had come true.

~~~

The first semi-final of BGT 2019 had been a raging success. Unlike the previous year's opening show, no technical difficulties – or thunderstorms – had plagued them, everything running as smoothly as it possibly could on this type of crazy variety show. An exhausted Ant and Dec were now seated in the back of their people carrier, lost in their own thoughts. Dec was still on a high – he couldn't remember the last time he'd had that much fun during a BGT live show – and felt like a massive weight had finally been lifted from his shoulders. He had his best friend, his beloved partner-in-crime, back, and he could not be happier. It really sort of felt like everything had returned to normal – even being in the back of the car together felt like a special treat for Dec, who had hated the long, lonely car rides he'd had to endure throughout most of 2018.

Their loyal driver, Joe, had been forced to perfect a look of impassive ignorance over the past year – the days when muffled sobs and pain-filled, heavy sighs were heard from the back far outnumbering the instances in which Dec seemed cheerful – after Dec had made it clear that what he did in the back of the car was his business and his alone. Joe had served as Ant and Dec's driver for so long that he was considered a good friend, and he held a deep respect and affection for the men he had grown to know so well. He had, on one of Dec's particularly dark days, felt the need to speak up – Dec had been crying solidly for 30 minutes, and Joe was, quite frankly, getting very concerned. He had asked if Dec was all right – maybe talking about it would help? – but was hurt when Dec had hurriedly wiped his face, suppressing the rising sobs, and told him that he was completely fine, thank you very much, and please just drive. So for Dec, after all the misery he had suffered in the back of this car, it felt like a new experience to actually be enjoying car rides again. He loved sharing a car with Ant – well, except for those smelly farts, he reminded himself with a wry smile – as it was a space where they could just relax and enjoy long chats with no fear of outsiders listening in or interrupting their solitude with requests for autographs and selfies. Yes, everything was pretty much back to normal, and Dec felt like he was on top of the world.

However, he was slightly puzzled, and – if he was honest – rather concerned by Ant's marked silence after they came off stage tonight. Ant had been unusually quiet after the show – he would often be a bit of a chatterbox while coming off the buzz of performing live, but tonight, he had seemed oddly withdrawn, almost to the point of being short with Dec every time his friend tried to start a conversation. The worry that something was wrong, that Ant was hiding something, had sharpened with each rebuff of Dec's friendly advances. Not much could cloud Dec's world right now, to be honest – tonight had been everything he had dreamt of, desperately held onto, at his darkest moments last year – but concern for his friend had now sharpened into a pointed stick, prodding viciously at his heart and mind that wanted nothing more than to be able to just bask in cheery contentment for once. True happiness had been a rare commodity for Dec last year, so the genuine joie de vivre radiating through him tonight felt foreign but oh-so-good. But seriously, what was wrong with Ant?

Ant and Dec were seated on opposite ends of the bench seat – the right way 'round, of course – making it relatively easy for Ant to completely avoid Dec's concerned eyes that were currently searching for his gaze. Dec just couldn't bear the unnatural tension hanging in the air between him and Ant any longer. They should be happy, celebrating the success of their first live show back together! Reaching out a hand, Dec tapped Ant's shoulder lightly while saying his name, expecting him to at least acknowledge his touch or voice in some form or another. When Ant merely grunted and then continued to completely ignore him, Dec unbuckled his seat belt and slid over into the middle seat, now sat right next to Ant, their arms pressed up against each other. "Right, you gonna tell me what's going on? Remember what we promised, no more secrets," Dec's soft, but mildly sharp, voice broke the silence. Internally, Dec was still crippled by worry for his friend, even though Ant seemed to be in a much better place mentally and physically. He was still incredibly hurt by Ant keeping him in the dark about everything for so long, and the fact that his friend had hidden so much from him scared him. His biggest fear was that Ant would shut him out again, that maybe he was just pretending to be okay because he knew how much Dec wanted him back. Dec couldn't bear to lose Ant again, it would break him. But if Ant wasn't coping well with being back, wasn't enjoying it, Dec was still more than prepared to give everything up for him if that was what it took for him to be happy again. Forget being on the telly, all he wanted was to have his friend back. Each moment of continued silence was like a pin prick in Dec's mind, worry now surging in his gut as his mind went into panicked overdrive, fearing the worst.

"How the bloody hell did you do it?!" Ant blurted out suddenly, eyes still stubbornly focused outside the window, the rigidity of his posture indicating the intensity of the emotions raging within him. Okay, that wasn't what Dec had been expecting, he had to admit. What was Ant on about? "What do you mean? How did I do what?" Dec questioned in a puzzled voice, hand coming to rest on Ant's arm in an attempt to turn his attention away from the decidedly boring – and darkened – scenery rushing past the window.

Ant finally met Dec's eyes, a strange sort of mixture of guilt and pain swirling in his green irises. "I just don't know how you did it, man," Ant's Geordie accent thickened with raw emotion as he continued, "The only reason I got through that opener tonight was because of you. I ballsed it up enough as it was, but I couldn't have made it through without you there." Voice now sounding decidedly teary, "You were the only reason I had the courage to go out on stage tonight. And it just got me thinking: how the hell did you do all of that last year on your own? I was terrified tonight, man. You're the only thing that kept me grounded, and I know it's always been the same for you – we've always relied on each other for stuff. Yet everyone keeps telling me what an amazing job you did on your own, how strong you were. How did you do it?!"

Dec had sat in stunned silence throughout Ant's emotional outburst – mouth hanging open – but now forced his lips to move. "I honestly don't know, Ant. I didn't really have a choice; I just had to get through it as best I could."

Both men winced at Dec's quiet reply, the interior of the van now charged with heavy emotions – the success of tonight's show long forgotten. A moment of silence followed Dec's response, each lost in his own dark, brooding thoughts.

"But why, Dec?" Ant's pained voice cut through Dec's heart like a knife, "I know we have the contract with ITV and all, but you could have said no, could have refused to do it, like. Everyone at ITV made it clear we'd always have a job to come back to when I was ready...You suffered, Declan, and don't try to deny it, 'cause I know it's true. I never would have agreed to the shows going ahead if I'd known what it would do to you."

"Don't be silly, Ant, you know ITV would have been furious if I'd forced them to cancel two of their biggest shows. It never would have ended well...." What Ant didn't know couldn't hurt him, Dec reminded himself, grateful for the murky lighting in the car that shielded his own facial expression from scrutiny by Ant. Dec repressed a shudder as a particularly dark memory flooded his mind. He had been forced to fight for Ant when a few of the less-than-pleased ITV bosses threatened to write Ant out of their joint contract, while at the same time magnanimously offering Dec a lucrative solo contract. However, those same haughty ITV executives had paled in the face of Dec's righteous fury and had soon found themselves eating their own words when Dec had unleashed a tempestuous tirade on them, ultimately leaving them with a decision to make: did they want Ant and Dec, or did they want neither of them? His voice hoarse from shouting so much, Dec had eventually marched out of the meeting room that day, head held high. He had saved Ant's job.

"But you've changed, you should have seen yourself tonight just before we went on..." Ant had been bothered by the transformation in Dec's normally fairly unflappable demeanor just before they went live that evening. Dec would get terribly nervous before shows, especially the first of a series – they both did – but this was something entirely different. And the slight trembling of Dec's hands hadn't gone unnoticed, either. It was as if a cloud had come over Dec's countenance in those few seconds before their opening routine began, making him look years older and almost sort of weary. Very unlike the Dec of past years who would be quietly nervous but visibly excited about the show to come. And Ant just hadn't been able to get that mental picture of Dec out of his head tonight after the show had ended and it was just the two of them again, in their shared dressing room. The Dec after the show was the one he knew – happy, bouncy, like an overexcited little puppy – and that had reassured him to a certain extent, but Ant had found himself becoming obsessed with trying to imagine what it had been like for Dec to go solo last year. And of course he was blaming himself for the worrying change he had noticed in Dec, the guilt over what he'd put his friend through choking him and making him withdraw into himself. He felt awful about snapping at Dec every time he tried to make casual conversation, and he knew it was making Dec anxious, but that's just how Ant was – guilt and worry made him grumpy, and once his mind took hold of something like this, it was very difficult to turn it off.

"No, let me finish!" Dec interrupted, not wanting to hear where Ant was going with that – he knew he had suffered a painful flashback to last year's first semi-final just before they went live tonight, and he had been really, really hoping Ant hadn't noticed. "Don't you see, Ant? I did it all for you, for us! The only thing that kept me going last year was you. I was saving our career, making sure you had something to come back to when you were ready. You want to know how I did it last year? Yeah, the public's support helped, but the only reason I was able to carry on was because I knew you wanted to come back and I wanted you back. Nothing of what I did last year was for ITV or anyone else – I did it all for you." Dec's eyes were fused with Ant's throughout, pleading with him to understand his reasoning behind going solo, why it was necessary to endure the endless stress and exhaustion of the past year.

"But how did you cope? 'Cause I never could, without you." Those eleven little words hung in the air, Ant's hushed voice holding a sort of odd trepidation.

"I didn't." The raw honesty in Dec's quiet reply was soul shattering, but both men had gotten far too used to the sting of truth over the past 12 months than to be deterred from tough conversations by the pain they caused.

Ant now sounded broken, self-loathing evident in every word he uttered. "I'm such a failure, Dec. I failed you, I broke our promise to always be there for you, I hurt you, Dec, and I can never forgive myself for that. I can't even hold myself together long enough to get through one song without mucking it up, and yet there you are, holding the fort all by yourself because your idiotic best friend goes out and gets arrested for drink driving. Sometimes I think you were right, maybe you would be better off without me."

The last sentence was nothing but a broken whisper, but it was like a spear being thrust straight through Dec's heart. In a moment of misguided anger in the immediate aftermath of Ant's arrest, Dec had uttered those words to Ant, and he had regretted them ever since. Dec had always had issues with controlling his temper, and when he was stressed, he had even more difficulty in reining it in. Even though he'd tried really hard to control the fury he was feeling at Ant's reckless actions, he had blown up at Ant the first time they met after the crash, and had said some things that still haunted him in his nightmares. At the time, Ant had seemed resigned to accepting Dec's anger, clearly feeling he deserved all of Dec's incandescent rage, but it had hurt far more than he would ever admit. Even though he had only been a few sentences into his incensed rant, Dec had stopped mid-sentence when he noticed that Ant was in tears, seemingly coming to his senses at the sight of his closest friend sobbing brokenly because of what he had said. Dec had felt terrible, berating himself for what he'd done, and spent the rest of their limited time together holding Ant in his arms, repeatedly apologizing and reassuring Ant that he still loved him, and nothing would ever change that. He'd fix it for them, everything would be okay in the end, he'd make sure of that; just focus on getting better and don't worry about anything else. But the pain that stung at Dec's heart every time he remembered those awful words and accusations he'd hurled at Ant was still as strong as it had been the day of his outburst. So to hear eight of the most hurtful words he had ever uttered - "Maybe I would be better off without you!" – being thrown back in his face with such utter conviction was like having red hot coals shoved into his heart and mind.

"Ant, you know that's not true," Dec's wavering, pained voice became audible as he pressed himself even closer to Ant's side, desperate to provide his hurting friend with some form of comfort, but unable to meet his burning gaze, the shame of what he'd said causing him to shrivel up inside. "What I said that day, none of that was true, I wasn't thinking straight. It was me being an idiot, unable to control me temper. I can't tell you how sorry I am for what I said – I didn't mean any of it, you have to believe that." His raw voice now gained strength as he sought to convince his friend of the honesty of his words, "Yes, I was angry about what you'd done - I couldn't believe you'd ever be that irresponsible, putting others at risk like that. But I was angry at meself because I hadn't seen how much you were hurting. I should have realized, I should have known. I could have lost you – you could have died in that crash, Ant. I could have lost the one person in my life I can't live without. And that scared me to death." Voice now cracking with emotion, Dec continued, "I was so furious with meself. I went home and I cried, Ant – I'd gone and hurt you when you were already in such a dark place. I've never forgiven myself for that." Tears streamed down Dec's face as he bared his soul to his friend. "I've only ever wanted to work with you, Ant, so to think that you might never be able to come back – that we couldn't come back – terrified me. My anger wasn't about you, it was about me, and I took it out on you. I said I would give everything up if you could just be happy again, and I still mean that. I meant every word of it, Ant. I'm not gonna lie, the past year hasn't been easy, but like I told you in rehearsals today, it was all worth it. Tonight was the happiest I've been in a long time, and you are the reason for that."

Quiet sniffles were now emanating from Ant as he took in everything Dec had said, the guilt that had overwhelmed him earlier slowly dissipating, but his friend wasn't quite finished yet. "Without you, I felt vulnerable on stage – I hated every second of every show I did without you last year. But I had a dream, a glimmer of hope that gave me something to hold onto. And that dream came true tonight, Ant. You say you weren't there for me, but that's not really true. Everything I did last year was to make tonight happen – you were my strength, my only hope, through it all. I made a promise to you that everything would be okay, and by holding the fort while you were away I was making good on that promise. You were brilliant tonight, mate - I'm so proud of you! - and I couldn't have done it without you. So never say I'd be better off without you ever again, because we both know that's not true. All right?" Finally daring to look at each other again, tears shone in both men's eyes as the flame of the deep bond they shared blazed anew, setting their hearts alight. As one, they uttered three little words that could never truly express the depth of what they felt for each other:

"I love you."

#ant and dec #ant mcpartlin #declan donnelly #bgt #bgt 2019 #semifinals #fiction #decandantfics

[lokikingofasgardslover713]

The Forgotten Gods: Beginning

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MASTERLIST

Forgotten Gods

Loki Laufeyson x OFC Reader

Words: +4,000

From this Prompt by @beets1bears1battlestargalactica! Thank you love for the prompt! Hope no one minds because this may get a little dark before you see the light at the end. The first bit is just setting you up! I hope I bring justice to your prompt @beets1bears1battlestargalactica

 Warnings: None as of yet. This will get dark, but I will be sure to mark them as such!

A/N: Keep in mind that Sigyn, or as I shortened this name at times to   Siggy means victorious girl-friend or wife in Old Norse. So in other   words Loki and the others use it as a term of endearment for the reader. Also, Ostmen are what the Vikings called themselves, seeress is just as it sounds a prophet, Danelagh or Danelaw is England and Norrvegr is modern day Norway. The name Gyda mean warlike in Old Norse.

‘God she was so young, why did she have to be so young and why was it showing him that now was the time to remove her from the time line,’ Strange looked dishearteningly into the vision he was seeing.

A girl, or young teen actually, coming into her woman hood, long Y/H/C hair shimmering with light that spilled in between the golden columns, sprinting down the golden corridors of the palace itself, she was happy, smiling, Y/E/C orbs glittering with youth and curiosity. A beautiful golden shield strapped to her back bearing the insignia of the gods themselves, or more specifically one god. Dressed in leathers that looked dusty, as if she had been horseback riding recently. Unable to stop his own heart from breaking at the thoughts that he was about to destroy her world for the greater good, or Thanos would win.  

“Loki! No cheating,” the teen shouted while sprinting through the corridor, a mint green seidr misting over her hands, knowing that Loki was disguising himself to sneak up on her.

“I'm not cheating little Siggy,” Loki’ voice echoed in the air around her, stopping quickly and casting her own seidr to seek him out in the bright corridor full of columns.

The misty look of her own seidr tangling with his brighter green one that danced around with her own and the young woman strolled over to the column it came from, a young Loki peaking his black head out. The young god stepping out with a stupid smile plastered on his face because he couldn’t fake anything when he was around Y/N.

“You found me, took you long enough,” he smirked, Y/N stopping to look up at him, even at this age the fallen prince was tall.

“You cheated, and stop calling me Siggy,” Y/N blurted, “ if you are going to give me a pet name at least pronounce it right,” she finished poking her finger harshly into his chest making him take a step back while she scowled at him.

“I will use whatever pet name pleases me and there is no fair play in war little shield maiden,” he retorted unfazed by her accusations and daring to turn his back to her, stupid move on his part prompting Y/N to leap onto his back pushing him on the ground.

Proudly the young woman sat on his shoulders while the young man stayed on his stomach, leaning over so that she was face to face with him, muddy boots on each side of his head and smirking with a  bright sparkle in her eye at her accomplishment. Filling him tense and automatically calling her seidr to hold him in place, reaching down her hand to in front of his face.

“Give it back,” Y/N began, Loki peering into her leather wrapped hand.

“Give what back,” he smirked trying to turn to look up at her, seidr holding him in place, knowing he could get free but was afraid of hurting her.

“Come-on! You where the one who gifted it to me,” the young woman seemed to wine slightly, hitting him on the shoulder with the out stretched hand, “don’t make me start whining, because I know how much you loathe it. Or better yet! I’ll go tell Thor that you secretly love his newest trick he came up for distracting the enemy. What was he calling it? Dead fish? NO! I remember!”

“Siggy! Don’t you dare!”

“GET HELP,” she blurted excitedly, before a beautiful golden handled short sword appeared in her hand, it's silver blade glittering from the light the golden corridor was casting, sheathing it before jumping to her feet and jerking Loki up.

‘Damn, she’s a strong young woman also. She will put up a fight,’ Strange continued to assess, watching Y/N pull on Loki’ long coat to tug him down and place a kiss on his cheek, a blush rising up as he locked his arm in hers to walk down the corridor.

“I care for you little Siggy, have I ever told you that,” Loki spoke both walking slowly down the corridor.

‘How do I get her away from him without Loki knowing it was me? I need to act fast, there’s not enough time,’ the sorcerer fretted at the vision, he could hear Tony, the kid and the others speaking of a plan. He had to hurry this was the only way, Loki had to fall from the Bifrost, and she was the one thing from preventing it.

“I know, or else you wouldn’t put up with me chasing you around the palace,” Y/N spoke snapping Strange out of his inner turmoil to look back to the two love birds.

“You know what I mean dove,” Loki echoed, looking down to the young woman both looking at each other like star crossed lovers, which actually they were from all the bits of information Strange had been gathering through all the visions.

Y/N smirked up at Loki, they both had a feeling what this was, but didn’t want to admit it, they where still young, still in there prime, and they were Asgardian after all, centuries of life to live, more than that of the mortals. The aging of a god was slower, so they had decades, centuries before having to truly decipher their fillings, right? Loki was several decades old, while Y/N was younger than the raven haired prince, but that didn’t matter to her, he was kind to her, gave her gifts, sat quietly and wasn’t afraid to spar with her like Thor who treated her like a fragile doll. Though that could be because her father threatened Odin with war if he caught Thor fighting her like one of the warriors on the grounds, but nothing was said of Loki.

“Loki,” bellowed Thor’ voice, good lord, even now he was as big as a house Strange caught himself thinking as he came into the picture, maybe this was his opportunity.

Loki rolled his eyes before he looked away from Y/N to his overly excited and sweaty brother who looked several decades younger.

“What,” Loki snipped, allowing his irritation to show as he approached.

“Mother sent me to find you two. It's time for dinner,” Thor began before Y/N cut him off.

“She’s afraid you and those warriors three want leave anything for us or Lady Sif like the last time, remember? Before we made it back from our ride…,” she smirked, trying to continue but Thor cut her off.

“I told you I was sorry,” he seemed to whine, “but the cooks prepared more.”

“That is not the point, you made us wait,” Loki bit out, still holding Y/N’ arm tightly in his.

“You two better get cleaned up,” Thor spoke, changing the subject and immediately going back the way he came, his ego a little more deflated.

“I will go…,” Y/N began, moving to pull her arm out of his but Loki held her put.

“No, use my chambers, I insist,” he admitted, tugging her to follow to his chambers.

“The guest are…,” she began but allowed him to continue to lead her.

‘Oh come-on,’ Strange thought to himself impatiently, wanting the two to hurry up, not sure he could follow through with it if he had to watch anymore of this young romance blooming.

“Not fit for you, my lady,” Loki smiled down at her, blush rising up in her cheeks once again but Loki knowing better than to draw attention to it for fear of being cut.

“Ok,” she finally lamented as they paused at what he guessed was Loki’ quarters.

‘Now’s the time,’ he thought watching the chamber doors open, Y/N stepping in and the doors shutting.

Turning to walk back towards the bath, shedding her sword and shield to place them on the chase that sat just in the doorway she couldn’t help but to think of a bright future, one filled with Loki oddly enough. Toeing her muddy boots off outside of the baths before opening the door to step in.

A sinking filling taking bated breath as she emerged into a field of grass, a cliff in front of her and the ocean beyond that, a Midgardian landscape. Heart thudding loudly while calling her seidr to turn and look around the open field, alone utterly alone and preparing to call out to Loki.

“For what it's worth,” a man’s voice began remorsefully at her back where the cliff was and spinning ready to fight.

“I'm sorry,” the sorcerer finished, stepping forward to keep her from calling out to anyone, it was all Strange could do at the moment to keep Heimdall from discovering what he had done.

“Where, Lo…,” Y/N began, almost in a panic realizing the sorcerer was more powerful than she was at that moment in her life.

“I’m sorry, it's to save Midgard, it has to happen,” the sorcerer continued, taking her seidr so he could come closer, watching her stumble back on her ass, reaching back for the dagger she kept there, the dagger that wasn’t there now.

“Why does it need saving,” she whimpered watching him come closer, stopping inches from her splayed legs to kneel.

“You’ll understand when it's all over, I have to leave you here, but not for long, I’ll come back for you and make it right. I'm sorry I don’t have time to explain,” he continued, moving to reach out to her, but that was a mistake.

Quick to her feet, Y/N kicked Strange in the face on her way, turning to run across the field to gods knew where, but hoping to get far enough away to call to Heimdall. A burning ring around her ankles told her that it may not happen as she was jerked into the dirt, flopping over to her back, calling her seidr, a burning pain shooting through her body while she forcefully called it back. Seidr hitting the sorcerer in the chest to unwrap the burning hold his own had on her ankles, but Y/N had exhausted herself to call it back and collapsed to the crushed grass.

“I'm sorry, it want be long, I will be back for you,” was all he could think to say to the young woman while looking down at her exhausted body, blood trickling from her nose and mouth.

Tear rimmed eyes looked up at him in anguish, questioning why her, throat bobbing as she tried to swallow around the lump he figured was forming while trying to sit up but failed. How could he do this, he thought, his heart finally shattering to thousands of shards as he knelt next to her, calloused hand pushing the sweat matted hair from her forehead to take her memories, permanently. Hoping that the place his vision had showed him to drop her was the right one because there was no time to know for sure. It would be a harsh life with the Ostmen if he wasn’t able to get through to his past self to retrieve her and hold her in the Sanctorum.

“I'm so sorry,” was the last words he would speak to her.

Sitting up in darkness, slightly chilled and alone in the middle of a field of grass, wondering how she got there before hearing something the left. Getting to bare feet slowly to look in the direction of the noise spotting several men clad in furs and one holding a light aloft. This wasn’t right was it?

“Where did you come from beautiful one,” the one holding the light asked, his voice though gruff had a kind tone to it, stepping forward and flanked by the others, three in all.

“I don’t know,” Y/N answered boldly, her own voice sounding alien due to the language she used, their native language, standing her ground as the one who spoke stopped, holding the light so they could all see each other clearly.

Looking the men up and down, noting their dress, finding a familiarity in the cloth that covered them     and the furs that laid across their shoulders, weapons strapped to their sides, one at the back even carrying a shield who looked to be the oldest of the group and even their beards had a familiarity all their own. The one with the light seemed to be the youngest, towering over her, but the way he stood told her that he commanded authority. Lastly, the other looked to be middle aged, but cocky, something that she noted in the leering look he fixed her with.

“The seeress told us that the gods would send us a gift. Did the gods send you here,” the man spoke, daring to reach out to take her chin in his rough hand.

Continuing to take in their appearance, the word Ostmen echoing through her memory that didn’t seem to return anything but that word and a slight pounding to her skull when attempting to recall more. The one with the light taking advantage of her semi-addled state to tilt her face this was and that, even holding her chin up slightly to look at her un-marked neck.

“What do they call you,” the man asked her, his stature not much taller than her own, but he was bulkier, something about his bulk remined her of someone, but who, and forcing herself to focus to take a step back.

“I don’t know that either,” she admitted eyeing them all still unsure if they were a threat or not but having the filling she could take care of herself, reaching to the small of her back on instinct and wrapping her hand around the cold metal handle that resided there.

The one holding the torch continued looking at her closely, nothing marked her as a slave, a wife or claimed war prize. The young woman’s build telling them she was well taken care of and could very well protect herself if the need arose. Her leathers looked to have been meticulously fitted to her by someone that had fretted over details, from the laced sides of the pants to the shoulders that sported metal guards depicting something out of myth. The stature of her young adept body telling him that she was possibly a shield maiden but not sure of what clan she originated having never seen any with her features around, almost a goddess like appearance to her hair and eyes that danced in the fire light beautifully. The dried blood on her face standing out making it a disgrace that she was made to bleed.

“Then allow me to take you to the seeress, maybe she can help,” the man offered, holding out his hand and watching the young woman step back and drawing a beautiful gold and silver dagger, a snake engraved in the fuller.

“Easy little one, I'm not going to hurt you,” he spoke, making sure to show that he wasn’t going for any weapon and allowing her space, forcing the other two back.

“Our camp is below this ridge, back that way,” the man explained, hinting out to the faint light that she now noticed, continuing to hold the dagger close in one hand while her free hand went to her hip to rest on the push dagger that …. someone important had given her.

“Where am I,” she asked cautiously, something telling her to get her bearings before the fight.

“Danelagh,” he responded, the men still staying relaxed as not to provoke her, if she was what the seeress spoke of then they wanted no part of the fight that resided in her.

“Danelagh,” she asked, trying to remember where that was exactly, head beginning to ache but staying focused on the three.

“Yes, a successful outing I may add, and we return to Norrvegr shortly,” he informed her gently as if speaking to a child, one that began to cautiously inch around the group to glance quickly in the direction of camp.

“The seeress, they down there,” she asked, nervousness threatening to show itself snapping attention back to the men, more particularly the one who stood behind the torch bearer and was inching towards her.

The one with the torch turning on the man who had been eyeing her like a piece of meat, moving towards her. The torch wielder not making a sound as he drew his sword to knock the man on his ass.

“If she is who the seeress spoke of the gods themselves will strike us down,” the torch bearer bellowed at the other that laid sprawled out on the ground and turning back to the woman.

“She is nothing special! Look at her! Little shield maiden is shaking in fear,” the one on the ground spat back hinting to the young woman who looked worriedly at the group.

“Then go for her, find out what happens,” the one with the torch spat.

Features hardening the moment the man stepped forward, drawing his sword, but by then it was too late. The young woman, despite her larger stature for a shield maiden of their clan was lithe on her bare feet, grabbing his blade with her gauntlet protected hand to jerk it free and shoving the dagger into his skull. The moment over in a matter of seconds as the Ostmen slumped to the ground dead. Turning to the other two with blood dripping from the dagger and standing at the ready.

“Cunt,” the old man with the shield spat at the dead body, kicking it on his way to step in front of the young woman, towering over her more so than the torch holder and sizing her up before looking back to the other.

“Still a little runty, but then again still young,” he grunted before making a wide birth of her and hobbling down to the camp leaving the woman to puzzle after him and the torch wielder still puzzling over her.

“You are a scrappy little thing aren’t you,” he observed as he got closer, sheathing his sword, moving around her like the one with the shield, pausing less than a few feet from her, but far enough should she attack he had a chance at protecting himself.

“Care to join me, little warrior? Or should I call you Gyda? It will be awfully lonely out here when we leave, and the people of this land may not take to well to a lone shield maiden should they find you,” the man commented, watching her with a cautious smile, reaching back towards her cautiously and motioning down the hill.

“If I am to be called Gyda, then what do I refer to you as,” she asked, stepping forward, dagger still in her hand but at her side so he couldn’t take it easily.

The man cocking his head at how proper she spoke, it was odd to his ears, seeing as only nobility and certain others spoke that way, leaving him questioning what the seeress had been shown and had refused to speak off till he brought her before them.

“Bjorn,” the man responded, watching as the young woman carefully made her way down the hill with him.

Gyda sensed no hostility, perhaps quite the opposite when accompanying him to the camp, staying close once they entered, sure to take in her surroundings while stepping down to the shoreline, and the man hinting out to a ship on the water as well as a small boat beached on shore.

“Have a seat, it's safer for you on the ship,” he hinted, Gyda turning to notice that a crowd of men had gathered to watch what was taking place and Bjorn shedding all his weapons before motioning her to take a seat in the boat and wading ankle deep to push it off.

“The seeress,” she questioned, following her gut and getting into the boat at his prompting, noticing how young and lithe he looked compared to the others now that he was devoid of his bulky weapons and garments, was he a leader of some sorts?

“In Norrvegr, where I am to take you,” he spoke the moment the boat was shoved out into the water and jumping in to  grab the paddles.

“You said. What, why the ship, why….,” she was beginning to ramble, her head aching worse at the thoughts of what laid ahead and the attempts at retrieving memories at the same time, causing her to squint at the one in front of her, his form felt as if it was trying to drag out the memory of another that was young, lithe, another with emerald eyes that sparkled with a golden light.

“My men are wonderful at their profession, but I do not trust them with women they do not know, you will rest better there, it seems you have not had a good day,” Bjorn admitted to Gyda who was squinting at him, sheathing the dagger and rubbing between her eyes in an attempt to clear her head.

“No, I don’t believe I have,” she admitted looking up to realize that they were at the ship, and Bjorn stood, hand outstretched once more to help her to her feet and onto the ship.

Carefully Bjorn helped Y/N step on board, swiftly following behind, barking harshly to the ones stationed on board to step back and ordering another to go gather the men to leave while directing her below decks.

“My quarters,” he informed as they entered a room illuminated by a single candle, but she was able to see perfectly oddly enough, looking at the meager furnishings, a small bed, chair and what looked to be a chamber pot.

The light touch that caressed over her armored shoulder had her spinning on Bjorn who quickly stepped out of the way managing to relieve her of both daggers and forcefully sit her on the straw mattress. Holding tightly to the struggling young woman, it was all he could do to keep her in place,  the young woman stronger and quicker than any other, man or woman, he had come up against.

“Please my goddess! I'm not going to hurt you! I don’t wish to bring down the wrath of the gods themselves by hurting you,” he ordered her, and she finally stopped fighting, chest heaving and the plate of armor that resided their glittering in the light, a divot where an insignia had been.

“The seeress was very clear, and I trust everything that she tells me,” he admitted, watching the candle light catching her eyes.

“Beautiful goddess of Asgard,” she heard Bjorn speak under his breath while he studied Y/N.

“Asgard,” Gyda asked puzzled, the word trying to conjure something, but nothing came of it, the look on Bjorn’s face telling her that he didn’t mean to speak out load.

“Yes, Asgard. Have you never heard of it,” he puzzled down at her as he released her to stand to his full height.

“No, what is it,” she questioned.

‘God what have I done,’ Strange admitted, looking to be sure that the right man found her, the one that would keep her safe till his now past self could retrieve her.

It still made him sick, of all the possible out comes this had to be the one that would drive Loki fall and found himself hoping that for once his powers where correct in the path it showed, sacrificing this young woman’s life, possibly wellbeing to bring down Thanos. But he couldn’t win, Thanos needed to be defeated, it was to save billions, it was for the greater good. He would have to be the one to bear the consequences if this came back to bite them all in the ass. Hoping when he made it back to fetch her, to hide her in the Sanctorum, to return her to Loki that he hadn’t turned her into a monster, another to defeat.

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Tags: @starscreamloki @beets1bears1battlestargalactica @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @readitandweepfics @loki-the-fox @linnyrero7-blog @gramaeryebard @mamapeterson  @aikibriarrose @captain-rogers-beard        @mamapeterson ​ @aikibriarrose @legolasothranduilion ​  @weehawkendawngunsdrawnyouron @lilypalmer1987    @buckysforeverprincess    @andiyholly   @nickyl316h 

#loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki x ofc #loki x reader #loki x plus size reader #loki x you #loki (marvel) #loki #sigyn #loki x sigyn

[wistfulcynic]

The Final Chapter, Raised With the Fume of Sighs

Summary: Killian Jones is madly in love with the woman across the hall, but Emma Swan wants nothing to do with him and his playboy ways. Until one stormy night when she dares to let him in and nothing is ever the same again.

Graphic Art by @rouhn

Available On: AO3

Rated: M for sexytimes

Catch Up: Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6 Ch7 Ch8 Ch9 Ch10

A/N: So here it is, the final instalment of my first multi-chapter fic! I have always wanted to try my hand at writing the sort of thing I personally like to read, and it's been great fun not only to do that but also to discover that what I like to read is what so many of you like to read as well. Thank you again to everyone who has read, commented, kudos-ed, liked, and reblogged, I am honoured and inspired by it all, and already looking forward to getting stuck in to the next story.

@wellhellotragic @teamhook @rouhn @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke

Chapter 11:

~3 1/2 years ago…

Killian stumbled into his new apartment and flopped on the sofa with a groan, flinging his arm across his face. He felt hideous, hung over in body and soul. The past few weeks had been nightmarish, a blur of bars and women and bad decisions that were meant to distract him but never truly did. No amount of rum or sex could fix the ruin of his life but he had no other tools at his disposal, no real idea of how to dispel his pain and guilt at Liam’s death and his shame at the end of his naval career. 

There was one small bright spot, he reminded himself. Despite the ignominious way he’d departed from Oxford, Killian found that after the better part of a decade away he was not opposed to easing back into academia. At least it would give him something to do besides drink and fuck. He’d been lucky to find the opening for an adjunct professor at Columbia, lucky that they were willing to sponsor a visa for him, give him the chance to start fresh somewhere new, somewhere he could earn his place. It was a real opportunity, one he desperately wanted not to fuck up. Which meant he had to pull himself together, Killian thought, his first class was tomorrow and he needed to be prepared for it, needed to plan, needed to be focused. He groaned again, cradling his aching head. He needed a cup of tea. 

Dragging himself off the sofa, he went to the kitchen and put the kettle on, then pulled open the refrigerator door. 

“Fuck.” He’d forgotten to buy milk. “Fuck, fuck, bloody buggering damnation, now what?” He really didn’t want to walk all the way to the shop in his condition, but tea without milk was unthinkable. Perhaps there was a kindly neighbour in the building who might spare a drop, he thought. Unlikely, but he supposed it was worth a try. 

Taking a moment to splash cold water on his face and run damp fingers through his hair, and put on some clothes that didn’t smell like alcohol and sadness, he went across the hall and knocked on the door directly opposite his own. 

It opened, and Killian’s world tilted sharply on its axis, shifting everything around him, altering the course of his life forever. The woman standing before him was a vision, sunlight shining through her pale gold hair, green eyes wide in the most beautiful face he’d ever seen. She looked like an angel, like a fairy tale princess, like— like someone who could never be within the reach of the likes of him. He stood, stunned, struggling for breath and for sanity, aware he was staring but unable to tear his eyes away. 

Say something, gobshite

Desperately, he groped for his charm, the one thing he could always rely on to get him through difficult situations. It came to his aid, as it always did, and he produced a dazzling smile. 

“Hello,” he said, “I’m Killian Jones, I just moved in across the hall. I was wondering if I might borrow a drop of milk.” 

For the briefest moment their eyes met and something flashed between them, a recognition, like calling to like, a profound sense of home. Then it was gone, so abruptly he thought he’d imagined it, and her expression slammed shut followed quickly by her door. 

“No,” she said, punctuating the flat declaration with the click of her lock. 

He stood outside her door for what could have been seconds or hours for all the notice he took of the passage of time. After… however long it was, he turned away and headed for the elevator. Suddenly, he felt up to walking to the shop. The air and the exercise might clear his head. 

He felt different, he realised, somehow… brighter. The pain and the guilt and the shame were still there, the sense of unworthiness, the general despair. And yet he couldn’t help feeling that in a world where a woman like that could exist and could live across the hall from him there might also be a place for hope. Hope that maybe he could pull through, that he could make things better, be better. Hope that he could discover what had made her slam the door in his face, in his face, for fuck’s sake —he paused for a moment to examine the reflection of it in a shop window; somewhat worse for wear perhaps, but still devilishly handsome. What had she seen in it that no one else did? She was intriguing, and she was bloody gorgeous, and against all probability it seemed she had relit a spark of vitality in him that he thought had died with Liam. For the first time since his brother’s death, Killian found himself feeling that there might be a chance for him yet. 

*.    *.    *.

Present day…

Killian burst into the apartment with such exuberance that the door nearly leapt off its hinges. “Swan!” he called, striding into the living room where Emma was on the sofa reading a textbook, and pulling his laptop out of his bag, “You’ve got to see this!” 

He opened the computer and presented it to her with a flourish. On the desktop was the home page of the New York Times. 

Green Enterprises Executive Charged With Misappropriation, declared the headline. Neal Cassidy, son-in-law to CEO Peter Green, has been charged with misappropriating company funds, he is being remanded in custody as prosecutors convene a grand jury. 

Emma’s jaw dropped, then she snorted. “I knew he was involved in something shady,” she said, “He couldn’t not be, it’s just who he is.” 

“Well it looks like seeing you again put the fear of the gods into him, love,” said Killian, not even trying to keep the glee out of his voice. “It seems that he had been doing a decent job of hiding his activities, but the day after the fundraiser his pattern changed and he got sloppy. He was trying to cover his tracks, but the bloody idiot only managed to draw attention to himself. He might as well have stood under a big sign that read ‘Criminal Activity Here.’” He grinned at her in satisfaction. “There’s no way Peter Green will let him get away with thievery, that man values loyalty above all else. Tamara has already initiated divorce proceedings. He’ll be persona non grata in every financial centre in the world, even if he avoids jail, which is unlikely given the power and influence of the people he crossed.” He set the laptop aside and pulled Emma into his arms. “I’d still like to punch his arsehole face, but I have to say, as comeuppances go, this one is pretty bloody satisfactory.” 

She remained silent, and he pulled back to look at her. “What are you thinking, love?”

She frowned slightly.“I’m thinking that I should be glad he’s finally got what’s coming to him,” she replied. “But I kinda don’t care. I meant it when I said I’m free from him. If he goes to jail that’ll be justice done, but it’s nothing to me beyond that.”

“You are far too good, my darling,” he said, raising an eyebrow, his grin tinged with malice.  “I intend to revel in his downfall.” 

She laughed and kissed his cheek, then slipped from his arms, sliding to the end of the sofa. He could tell that she had something to say, and needed space to prepare her words. 

“Killian,” she seemed suddenly nervous. “Do you know what today is?”

He did. “Er… Wednesday?” he said teasingly, but she was focused inward and failed to pick up on his tone. 

“Yes, but it’s something else too, kind of an anniversary. I mean, not really but just something you might remember, and—”

He decided to stop teasing, and took her hands in his. “One year ago today was the first night we spent together. Of course I remember, love, how could I not? I’ll never forget kissing you for the first time after years of dreaming about it, it was like all my Christmases had come at once. And as for what came after… well, it will forever remain one of the most extraordinary experiences of my life.” 

She flushed with pleasure at his words and at her own memories, but her expression remained troubled. “I’m so sorry for running away from you the next morning—”

“Darling, you have nothing to apologise for—”

“No, please, let me say this. I never told you why I ran.” 

He opened his mouth, but she shushed him and carried on. 

“I know you think it was because my past with Neal made me scared of getting close to people so I just automatically pushed everyone away, and that’s partly true. But if it had only been that I wouldn’t have run, just kicked you out before you’d even gone to sleep, or at least I would have done that if it had been anyone but you. I’d never fallen asleep with a man before except Neal, and when I woke up that morning, for a minute I didn’t remember what had happened, I only knew that I felt warm and content and— and loved, for the first time in my life. I felt like I belonged with you and I wanted to stay there with you forever, and I’d never felt any of those things before, not ever, not even with Neal. What I felt was stronger than anything I’d felt in my life and I barely even knew you, and that’s what scared me. I ran not because you were the same as the other men I’d been with, it was because you were so different. I just… wanted you to know that.” 

Killian was stunned. Although he knew now that Emma had never hated him as he’d once believed she did, he’d had no idea that she’d felt such a strong connection to him so early on, that the irresistible pull he’d always felt towards her had never been one-sided. He suddenly remembered their first meeting, the brief eye contact, the overwhelming sense of having found the missing piece of himself, quickly dispelled in the face of her blunt rejection. 

“Love,” he said slowly, “Do you remember when we first met, there was, well for me anyway there was a moment…” 

She nodded, looking slightly ashamed. “I remember,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You felt like home. You always have. That’s what scared me most of all.” 

Killian reached into his jeans pocket and withdrew a small, blue velvet box, caressing it gently with his thumb. It was old, the nap of the velvet worn thin on the edges. Inside it lay his most prized possession. 

“Emma,” he began, holding the box up where she could see it, not missing her slight intake of breath. “This was my mother’s. It’s the only thing I have left of her, the one thing Liam was able to save. My father sold all her other valuables, but this Liam took and hid from him, knowing what a treasure it was. My mother was given it by her grandmother who had also inherited it from her grandmother, going back I don’t even know how far. When Liam died and it came into my possession, I could never have imagined letting go of it, of the one thing that ties me to the mother I can barely remember. I do remember it on her finger, though, and I— I would like nothing more than to see it on yours.” He slid off the sofa and knelt before her, and opened the box. Emma gasped. “I know it’s not a traditional ring but we’re not exactly traditional people, and we’ve certainly not had a traditional courtship. This ring is a symbol of love and family to me, and I love you more than I am able to express, and I want you to be my family. You saved me from the darkness I was mired in when we met, pulled me into the light and into a life so marvellous I could never have envisioned it. I want to be with you every day until I draw my last breath and depart this Earth forever. And so, Emma Swan, will you marry me?”

He looked up at her face. Tears glistened in her eyes, dropping onto her cheeks as she tried to blink them away. She began to nod, swallowing hard, trying to force words through the constriction in her throat. “Yes!” she croaked, “Yes, Killian, yes, yes, yes!” Taking his face between her hands, she slid off the couch to kneel as he was kneeling, and began to kiss him, holding him tightly to her. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back until they were both breathless and laughing and he pulled away to take her hand and put the ring on her finger. 

“It’s so beautiful,” she breathed. 

“Like its new owner,” he replied with a brilliant smile, “It’s a wild pearl, small but flawless, much like you. Our family legend says that it came from somewhere in the South Sea Islands, what is now called Polynesia, brought back to England by an ancestor who had been a ship’s captain, some said a pirate.”

“Hah,” she said, “I always knew you had some pirate in you.”  

He chuckled. “The stones at the side are Bohemian garnets, added when the pearl was laid in this setting, probably sometime in the late nineteenth century. The ring itself is Welsh gold.”

“Killian, I— I’ll treasure it. I love you so much. I—” Overwhelmed, she kissed him again, wrapping her arms around his neck and toppling him backwards onto the carpet. When she broke the kiss he looked at her quizzically. 

“I love this carpet,” she said, stroking it. “I have since I first saw it, when I went to your place to stop you from leaving, to tell you I loved you. Every time I look at it I think about that day and how I almost lost you, and how I never want to be apart from you again. I want you to make love to me on it now.” 

He growled approvingly deep in his throat and kissed her deeply as he rolled her over onto her back, slipping his leg between hers and running his hand up her side, under her shirt, snapping open her bra and cupping her breast in his hand, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger until she moaned into his mouth. As he teased her breast she managed to unbutton his shirt and push it insistently off his shoulders. “Get this off,” she demanded, breaking the kiss and giving his shoulders a shove. Reluctantly he released her breast to sit up and pull off the shirt as she turned her attention to his jeans, undoing them in record time and reaching inside to grasp his cock. Now it was his turn to moan, looking down to see her hand adorned with his mother’s ring wrapped around him, stroking his heated flesh. He wondered if it was wrong that he found that insanely erotic. Nudging her off him briefly so he could divest her of her shirt and bra, he leaned down and latched his mouth onto her nipple, nipping it and bathing it with his tongue as she took him in hand again and he slid his own hand between her legs, blessing the stretchy leggings she wore. He stroked her clit with his thumb and slipped two fingers inside her, and her hand on his cock faltered under the onslaught of sensation from his touch. She revelled in it for a moment, riding his hand with small thrusts of her hips, then she pushed him away. “I want to come on your cock,” she panted, and yanked his jeans down over his hips then shimmied out of her leggings as he kicked the jeans away. She pulled him down to her, spreading her thighs wide as he positioned himself between them. 

“Don’t be gentle,” she commanded, “If I don’t have rug burns on my ass when we’re done, I’ll want to know why.” 

“It’ll be because this rug is made of silk,” he purred in her ear. Her laugh ended on a moan as he thrust inside her, heeding her proscription on gentleness, pounding himself into her as he lifted one of her legs under the knee and draped it over his shoulder, angling his hips to hit her in just the right spot. 

“Oh, that’s perfect,” she gasped, lying back and letting him fuck her for several long minutes, her hands flexing in the nap of the carpet before she ran them up her own body and took her breasts in a firm grip, pinching and rolling her nipples as he loved to do. He groaned at the sight of her touching herself, and her eyes flew to his. The combination of intense love and almost feral lust in his expression sent her flying over the edge and she came hard. He fucked her through it, letting her little gasping moans and the feel of her quivering around him drive his pleasure higher. Just as he was about to come she shoved him off her and onto his back. He snarled, and she laughed. “Patience,” she purred, straddling and sinking down onto him in one smooth move. She took his hands in hers, lacing their fingers together above his head, leaning down to give his mouth access to her breasts as she began to ride him. He took her nipple into his mouth again, more roughly this time, sucking it hard between his teeth and dragging his tongue across the compressed tip. Soon she was breathing in short, desperate gasps and she came again within minutes, letting go of his hands and collapsing against his chest. He grabbed her hips and lifted them, slamming them down to meet his as he thrust up into her, again and again, desperate beyond control, until he exploded into an orgasm so strong it was almost painful. 

They lay silent and entwined until their breathing steadied and the sweat dried from their bodies. “Gods, that was magnificent,” said Emma, finally, rolling off him and snuggling against his side, her head on his chest. “We’re sweating all over your silk rug,” she remarked. 

“I don’t care,” he murmured, still coming down from his high, too blissful to give much of a damn about such details. 

She traced random patterns in his chest hair with her fingertips. “Do you think we’ll still have sex like this once we’re married?” she asked, and he felt a stupid grin split his face at her casual use of the m-word. “You don’t think we’ll ever end up just doing lights-out missionary three times a year, do you?”

Killian had a sudden vision of himself and Emma, wrinkled and grey, making each other scream in ecstasy on the floor of a living room he didn’t recognise, in a house they had yet to buy. “No,” he said decidedly. “I do not believe that fate will ever befall us.” 

He could feel her hair brush across his chin as she nodded and her cheek flex against his chest as she smiled. “Good,” she said. 

 *.    *.    *.

~3 1/2 years later…

The wind whipped around Killian, ruffling through his hair and tossing up the collar of his shirt as he manoeuvred his boat out of the mouth of the Hudson and pointed her towards the open sea. It had taken far longer than he’d anticipated to get her ready for this voyage. A year or so’s hard work, he’d once figured, and she’d be set to go. That had been nearly four years ago, since which time life had consistently got in the way of his plans for repair and restoration of his beloved vessel. Yet Killian had no regrets, for the life that had thrown a wrench in his plans was far too good for him to wish it to be in any way different. 

The bright sound of laughter reached his ears and he turned to see Emma standing at the boat’s railing, the tiny blonde source of the gleeful noise perched on her hip. His heart swelled at the sight of them, as it always did. His wife and daughter, the two great loves of his life, his cherished Emma and his darling Hope, who was the symbol of her namesake for him in every imaginable way. Even after three years of marriage, even after Hope’s first birthday celebrated just the week before, Killian sometimes struggled to comprehend that the life he was living was truly his. A tenured professor, a husband, a father, what had he done to deserve to call himself any of those things, a dark voice at the back of his mind still sometimes needled him. Impostor syndrome, Emma called it. 

She had completed her MSW with flying colours and had been working full time at the women’s shelter for over two years. Like him, she still sometimes had doubts about her worthiness for such a role, had days when she felt useless and like nothing she did made a difference, but those days were growing increasingly rare. Emma had really come into her own over the past few years, her confidence in herself and her abilities growing by leaps and bounds as she let go of all the insecurities that had held her back in the past. Killian was absurdly proud of her. 

He needed to follow her example, he thought, to forgive himself for the mistakes of his past and accept that he had earned his life, that he was a far better man than he’d been seven years ago, that Emma and Hope loved him and he made them happy. He was working on it. 

He smiled as Emma came over to him, still laughing with Hope. The little girl held out her arms, the blue eyes she’d inherited from him sparkling merrily. “Daddy,” she said. He took her from her mother, balancing her on his hip with one arm while with the other he continued to steer. “Well, darling,” he said, nuzzling his nose into her blonde curls and breathing in her sweet baby smell, “What do you make of the boat? I hope you like her, as she bears your name.” 

Emma humphed. “I still think we should have called her the Jolly Roger.” 

“Swan—”

“In honour of your pirate heritage, Killian!”

“My very likely apocryphal pirate heritage!” 

“Still.” 

He shook his head in largely feigned exasperation and she grinned, stepping in close and wrapping her arms around her husband and daughter, stroking Hope’s hair and resting her chin on Killian’s shoulder. He turned his head to press a kiss on her cheek. 

And so the Swan-Jones family set out together for an adventure at sea, aboard the Lady Hope. 

-------

Sorry not sorry to anyone who thinks engagement rings should be diamond solitaires; I personally dislike diamonds and also think that sentimental softie Killian would want to give Emma something more meaningful.

#cs #cs-ff #cs ff au #raised with the fume of sighs