#he was technically entirely tucked in but it was off center visually....

[sootonthecarpet]

bf borrowed my cozy blanket for a nap but before he agreed to use it he made me promise to take it back after he fell asleep. bro your blanky??????? no way

#all I did was sneak up on him and tweak it so the picture of a cool rainbow polar bear it has on it was in the middle #he was technically entirely tucked in but it was off center visually.... #kind of a hazard for him cause the larger of our two cats Loves to nap on this blanket. he may get crushed like a ripe plum

[iwriteaboutkpopsometimes]

Hyunjin "Play With Fire (Feat. Yacht Money)" (원곡 : Sam Tinnesz) | [Stray Kids : SKZ-PLAYER]     ~A Love Letter~

I talk about why I love this video so much and deliver an excruciatingly detailed play by play of it, but why read a two thousand word, five page essay on a three minute video when you can just go watch the aforementioned three minute video? Forget me spending hours writing this, why are you here, seriously, it would take you significantly less time to watch the actual video. Regardless, enjoy my attempt to refrain from saying the same three things, “he's so cool”, “I love him”, and “this is so good”, in exchange for a  more, hopefully, academically professional sound.

Watching him perform never fails to put me in a trance, it’s incredibly captivating how precise and sharp while simultaneously lively and energy-filled his movements are. This video feels reminiscent of enjoying a movie I’ve seen countless times, memorized every line of dialogue from, and genuinely think of every part as the best it has to offer. I greatly missed seeing him dance and having this as his grand welcome back into the spotlight is nothing less of a gift. Every second leaves my heart pounding and as excited as the last, as he continuously tops himself the longer I watch. I feel that revisiting the video is the least I can do, for giving it only one view doesn’t feel morally acceptable if I intend to truly appreciate it for that art that it is. Dramatic of me? Perhaps, but I can’t help but perceive it as more than just this one video that was uploaded onto their YouTube channel. It isn’t just about all of the work he and others put into the making of this particular video, his choreography for the song was a result of years upon years of practice and learning different techniques. A performance this good doesn’t only involve technical skill though, but also skill in regards to one’s inner mind. To have confidence in one’s self, to hit every move powerfully, to know what you’re doing and be unapologetic about it, that is skill. Sure, the performer is at the focus of any performance, but don’t forget that it’s also about the audience, it is after all for the enjoyment of the viewer. If the audience senses your doubt and insecurity and uncertainty, it will make your stage that much less enjoyable. Whatever you feel, they can feel too. When I watch him, I don’t feel any of that. In fact, I feel the exact opposite, I feel inspired, motivated, confident, excited to advance in my own endeavors. The emotion that this video evokes from me goes beyond anything Stray Kids or K-Pop or even dance itself, it makes me want to be a better person, be kinder to myself and work harder. That might sound like a lot for one video to do for someone, but it’s the truth. All of the details, even down to the individual frames, it all works together to create the most gratifying viewing experience. At the time of writing this, the video has just hit five million views and has over one million likes, only a mere three days after its initial upload.

The first shot of his footsteps alone,  as he goes to stand in front of the mirror, I already feel this sense of importance coming from him, delicate, yet powerful. The setting, cold and empty, yet inviting, it makes room for him and gives him just enough light to be seen, for he doesn’t need all that much help to surely shine. The credits that pop up use a dark shade of pink-red for it’s background color and white text that acknowledges the same deep red imagery and text associated with the material of the original work. His outfit is neat and pristine with some sparkle, resembling one a prince would seem fit. He stares at his reflection, holding a sheer white ribbon in his mouth, gathers a section of hair behind his head and proceeds to tie it with said ribbon. The music starts as he finishes tying and lets his arms fall down at his sides. The over the shoulder shot looking into the mirror, shows that his expression is neutral, almost calm. This can most certainly be described as “the calm before the storm”, except the storm itself is antonymous to a tragedy, because when the singing starts, it’s as if his performance persona was turned on by a switch, a charismatic possession that took place in a matter of seconds that sends chills down your spine in the best way. His previously neutral, calm-like expression and gently resting arms are quickly replaced by the sudden placement of his right hand around his neck and a look that resembles more of  a vengeful, hesitant, and somehow playful one. Similar to what I’d imagine a villain would look like right before being bested during an epic fight sequence at the climax of a film. It’s satisfying to see him popping to the beat’s rhythm, his arms, wrists, and head smoothly illustrating the flow of the words, his focus and the secure angles he’s able to form before even fully utilizing his lower body. On the line “Got secrets I can’t tell”, he delicately places his pointer finger in between his teeth, as he turns back to meet the camera with his eyes, the shot now semi-closely focusing on both Hyunjin and his reflection as opposed to just one or the other. He extends his right arm, his hand forming a fist, and the camera movement making it as if I’ve been punched and sent flying. He stumbles to the middle of the room, does an opening gesture with his arms, like a proud baker showing off their completed wedding cake, along with a dramatic spin incorporating his thin, white, flowy cape. Reaching the pre-chorus, we get to see the room more clearly, like the stone pillars and the contrast of the small, warm lights on the walls to the grand grayness radiating from the large window that makes him appear as a near silhouette. There’s a certain holiness about him spending a count with his head down and arms out, much like the Crucifixion of Christ, before showcasing more of a demonic energy when he faces the window with his body, but bends backward and looks to the camera upside down. He rips off the cape, tosses it behind him, to his right. This could symbolize a transformation, an abandonment of a particularly purer image of oneself, a liberation. The music picks up, and the manner in which he dances is like a visual representation of one’s inner turmoil combined with an agenda to seduce those watching, wanting to dance for himself while taking us along for the ride. Now that the first minute of the video is out of the way, let’s continue.

The music fades into the background and the video takes on a sudden widescreen and grayscale appearance as he falls back on his right hand, flings his left hand over to his right shoulder, as though he’s been shot, and is being supported by his knees. He leans forward, places his right hand on the ground in front of him, uses his left hand to push his right knee over to achieve ideal balance, setting up his body roll. He extends his right leg back, getting close to the ground, and there’s something quite feral, yet intimate about the way he traces the length of his arm with his face and left hand. It looks like he’s taking out his frustrations through his moves while never sacrificing the detailed quality of the performance as a whole. It reminds me of how it’s more than common for artists to use their pain in their art, whether it be a point of well-intentioned expression with a specific purpose or simply an outlet for them to channel into. Hyunjin is the definition of aggressive elegance. The fullscreen, colorful display and music entirely return when he spins and lands on the ground in a Spider- Man esc pose, the room a lot warmer than even before the stylistic grayscale section. There’s hints of red, acting as a match that’s set to illuminate and ignite the puddle of gasoline that is him and his performance, that replaces the once colder, icy blue that previously enveloped his silhouette. He bounces to the beat showing off his proud, devilish smile that, instead of striking fear, makes me feel proud, as I’m essentially rooting for the villain in the movie. If the transition to the grayscale widescreen was him getting shot, then the transition back to fullscreen color is him emerging from his grave, an awakening. His shirt is no longer neatly tucked into his pants, but rather, hanging very loosely and mostly unbuttoned. He covers his face with his left hand, pulling it down for just a second before revealing his expression that has swiftly reverted to a roughly indifferent one. The inner conflict has greatly subsided, and focuses on the hesitant-free embracing of his newly discovered self, one of immense confidence and sex-appeal. Although, something about the flow of how he averts his gaze, looking to the left and not the lense, while pointing and doing body rolls at the camera, covers his eyes with crossed arms, and then allows for his hair to cover his eyes as well, makes me feel like he doesn’t want the viewer to know he is still at least a little bit shy. He quickly makes you forget though, because the next and final minute exaggerates everything he’s shown us up until this point, taking it to a whole new, spectacular level.

The bridge of the song creates a slower, softer atmosphere, which is beautifully interpreted with how Hyunjin carries himself during this part. Bigger gestures that blend into each other seamlessly, centering on really taking up the space he’s in. He gently and precisely lowers his body to the floor, collecting a white rose between his teeth. As soon as he returns to his upright stature, the setting changes dramatically. His hair now completely down, he’s under a spotlight in an otherwise pitch black and foggy room. There’s blue and red light reflecting off of his white top and his skin as he dances. This part feels more humane compared to the rest, with more of an obvious balance between sharp, impactful moves and tender, compassionate ones. He draws attention to his shoulders, brings his hands and feet close to his body, and showcases his red lit back. I particularly enjoy when he flicks his wrists and twists his ankles to the right in unison on the second syllable of “unstoppable”. For the “legendary animal” part of that line, his arms create a cage-like structure by doing a climbing motion and carrying it over all the way to the left. A cage in which he destroys the walls and breaks out of, shown by him punching downward on beat. From holding the rose in his mouth to holding it in his hand, he brings it over his head to his left shoulder, and raises his heels. He carries the rose down and around his left arm, his left arm momentarily resting at his waist, his right arm extended downward, he raises his heels again. His whole body lowers as a rigid wave starts at his up flicked wrists and subsequently elbows and shoulders. This collection of gestures results in petals falling off of the rose. He then inevitably throws it into the void, out of the reach of the lovely spotlight. I see this spotlight dance as a danse macabre, or dance of death. The white ribbon, white shirt, and white rose all coming together to illustrate this innocent and pure quality to him, that through this dance, he finalizes the renouncement of. He is more than ready to embrace a new and different side of him, but especially to get rid of the older and repetitive side that felt restrictive more than anything. The spotlight dance ends with Hyunjin looking directly into the camera, tracing his right hand down his chest and to his side, and the camera backing away. The last chorus of the song brings us back to the oh so familiar main room, Hyunjin’s hair back to being tied up, the lighting is the same, but there’s something that stands out. His shirt is on the verge of being completely unbuttoned and that allows for something alluringly shiny to be fully in view compared to before. The video comes full circle with Hyunjin’s hand around his neck, he stands in the hallway, and walks away a new man as the screen fades to black. 

As I wrap up this essay on Hyunjin’s “Play With Fire (Feat. Yacht Money)”, original song by Sam Tinnesz, Stray Kids: SKZ-PLAYER, the video has reached six million views, a million more than when I first started writing this, and I feel proud to have spent a day simply pouring my heart and mind out on this wordy display of my appreciation. Don’t be fooled though, for my necessary research, I guess you could call it, for this project may no longer be so necessary, I shall continue to watch and applaud the masterpiece and experience that is this video for my own personal enjoyment, much like how this whole piece was written for my own personal enjoyment. It was an interesting challenge to properly voice not only the contents of the video but also my thoughts and feelings on it. Hyunjin is a highly valued dancer, member of Stray Kids, and person and five pages isn’t ever going to be enough to fully explain the respect and admiration I feel for him and his various projects. I think he’s really cool, I experience all sorts of fiery euphoria watching him dance, his rap and singing alike are addictive as hell, and he’s pretty, haha. I missed him a lot while he was inactive, and I’m so happy to have him back and doing great things as per usual. I’m excited to see what he and the rest of the group have left to show us this year. I advise you to watch the video if you haven’t, but somehow ended up reading an essay on it first, and if you’ve already seen it, watch it again, yeah. I’ll leave you with lovely thoughts and lovely vibes and I hope you too can appreciate the work he’s put into the video, as well as my work on this essay. Thank you for taking the time to read my love letter, essentially, and bye for now ^ ^

#straykids #stay #hyunjin #skzplayer #lovestay #kpop

[alexboehm55144]

Alex Final Wars 2: Dark Alex , Chapter 36 - The Island

"One hostile spotted," Skye said, scanning the island shore with her scoped rifle. "He's alone."

"That's a long shot, though." Captain Boehm noted.

"I got it. Thankfully the water isn't too choppy."

The fox aimed down her scope, but she was not only looking at the target visually.

Skye squeezed the trigger, the projectile zipping across the water and hitting the head of a Chinese soldier, putting him down.

"That was really good," JayJay said, the boat the team was in continuing to advance towards the shore.

"Foxes can use the Earth's magnetic field to gauge distance and more accurately hit their targets."

"Oh yeah, I heard unevolved foxes use that to help with hunting."

"I guess that explains why there are so many fox sharpshooters," Alex said.

The boat reached the shore and the team disembarking onto a pavement tarmac with large fuel silos nearby.

"Isn't this where it all started?" JayJay asked. "This war?"

"Yep, this is where the Chinese fired on a US warship, sparking off this war," Alex said.

"Main building should be over there," Jack whispered, pointing past the silos to some structures on the other side of a runway.

"Alright, let's get in, get the data, and get out."

The four mammals slowly advanced through a maintenance area containing pumping equipment and storage crates. The whole team was dressed in jet black camouflage uniforms, complete with hoods and capes to further obscure their forms from detection. JayJay had even dyed her fur an ashen light gray for this mission, and the whole island was shrouded with overcast cloud formations. The entire area was dreary and gray in color, from the storm clouds overhead to the rough tarmac to the unassuming buildings made of standard concrete.

Skye pointed ahead towards a Chinese human soldier that blocked the team's path, the trooper's back to the Heroes. Captain Boehm moved forward, stowing his rifle on his back and drawing his carbon fiber knife. He snuck up behind the trooper and, in a flash, struck. The Heroes leader covered their mouth with his hand and plunged the blade into their neck.

The captain dragged the trooper back and tossed the body behind some small containers, and the team continued ahead.

"Look over there," Jack whispered, pointing out at the tarmac. "They must be doing maintenance on their planes."

Chinese fighter jets and bombers sat out in the open on the runway, surrounded by maintenance equipment and technical personnel.

"We can use that to cut across the runway," Skye noted.

"I'll take point," Alex said. "Follow my lead, and stay low. Skye and JayJay, keep your tails down and matted."

The four mammals slowly moved out onto the tarmac, taking cover behind a fuel truck. They could hear the technicians chatting and discussing their work.

As they paused for a moment, Skye stabbed the fuel tank with her knife, and there was a slight gurgling noise as a stream of fuel started to leak out. Every bit of gear destroyed now was one less thing the Chinese could use in combat.

The human captain peeked around the corner and took note of where the technical personnel were, before quickly moving under a parked jet, his team following suit.

Maintenance crews walked back and forth nearby, oblivious to the US soldiers sitting nearby. If someone turned in their direction and looked under the jet, they would be spotted.

Jack breathed rhythmically, calming his nerves. As a ZIA agent, this wasn't his first time in hostile territory on a stealth mission.

Once the coast was clear again, the team moved quickly. Going from under the jet to a ditch on the other side of the tarmac.

Skye pointed out two more guards standing near the door to a building.

"I've got the one on the left, on my shot," Alex whispered.

"I got the one on the right."

"3... 2... 1..."

Two silenced shots went out in unison, the guards dropping at the same time.

The team began to advance, but suddenly, alarm sirens went off, the high-pitched whine bringing everyone to alert.

"What? Is that us? But how?" JayJay asked.

"Ok, plan B." Alex said, "Jack, Skye, you take those 2 structures."

The human pointed to a pair of buildings a dozen or so meters away.

"I'll take that building."

He pointed to a military building that was closer to the group.

"JayJay, you take that building."

He pointed to a larger and unassuming building sitting near the tarmac.

"Once you find any reports or hard drives, call it in!"

"Will do, be safe, everyone!" Jack said, the 4 mammals splitting up and going in separate directions.

"Team B! Launch!" The captain said into his radio.

Offshore, another rubber boat began to move at top speed towards the shore, purposely trying not to be stealthy at all.

The boat hit the beach, and the 6 warriors inside, Eris, Laval, Kion, Jasiri, Nick, and Judy, all jumped out into battle. They were all dressed in the black special forces uniforms that team A was also wearing.

Team B immediately opened fire on the Chinese forces that had assembled near the tarmac, forcing the hostile troops to run for cover.

"Team B! Squad on your left!" Toothdee said through the radio.

Jasiri and Kion turned to their left to see more hostile troopers advancing. Still, knowing the hostile troops were coming, the pair swiftly struck them down with gunfire and sword strikes.

"Thanks Toothdee!" Kion said.

"No problem, I'll keep providing overwatch via satellites and drones."

The group continued advancing, gunning down and slicing through hostile soldiers in their path. The Chinese forces were no match for a group of experienced and prepared Heroes.

While most enemy troopers were becoming fodder for the reaper, a group of veteran troops had coalesced around the airplanes in the center of the tarmac, firing back with mounted machine guns.

The group of heroes took cover in ditches or behind structures, bullets whizzing by.

"Toothdee! Launch a cruise missile! Leave nothing but rubble and ash!" Eris said into her radio.

"Affirmative! Requesting targeting!" The Heroes commander aboard the typhoon said.

"Jasiri! You have the targeting laser! Mark a target for the missile!"

Jasiri tucked one of her pistols into its holster, reached into a pouch on her belt, and pulled out a large laser pointer. The activated the laser and pointed its sharp green beam towards the group of Chinese soldiers engaging the group.

"Target marked!" Jasiri said.

"Affirmative, coordinates received," Toothdee said, "launching missile."

A large missile blasted out of a compartment on the typhoon and shot into the sky, quickly nearing the Chinese-controlled island.

"We should get down," Eris said, crouching and using a wing to cover herself and another to cover Laval.

The deafening sound of a jet engine grew closer and closer before the missile turned sharply and dove toward the ground. It impacted the veteran Chinese formation in the center, obliterating soldiers and causing debris from equipment to fly into the air with a massive boom. A bright orange fireball lighting up the dark, gray world.

"Wow," Nick said, "that's an impressive firework."

While most of Heroes continued to battle against the Chinese forces on the island, JayJay had reached her assigned structure. She found a door for medium-sized mammals such as herself and tried to open it, but the door was locked, forcing the wolf to bust the barrier down with a powerful kick.

She entered the darkened building, peering through the shadowy veil with her night vision. It was a warehouse containing boxes of equipment and supplies, containers of oil, among other materials.

But before the wolf could continue to investigate, all of a sudden, she was struck from behind. Adrenaline and instinct kicked in as JayJay retaliated with an elbow jab and kick, leaping away from her attacker and spinning around to face them.

It was like looking into a mirror. The one who had attacked JayJay was her counterpart. Also sporting light gray fur and clad in an armored black outfit built for combat and tactical use.

But JayJay noticed something else her counterpart had and felt a lack of something around her waist.

"My belt!" JayJay said, looking down at her own waist and looking at the weapons and gear now in her counterpart's paws.

"It's mine now." Dark JayJay said, "Did you really think you and your friends could sneak onto this island undetected? I'm a wolf. I recognized your scent the minute you stepped on this island. After all, we have met before. I know your scent."

"You disgust me. I look at you and wonder what the hell happened to that version of me."

"You chose to bottle up your rage. I chose to embrace it. If you ask me, what your doing isn't very healthy at all. I wonder what your boyfriend will think when he finds out about this dark side."

"No! He accepts me, despite my flaws. He loves me."

"And he will never see you again!"

Dark JayJay raised her counterpart's SMG and opened fire. Still, JayJay dodged before the attack could hit and retreated into the depths of the warehouse.

"You won't hide from me!" Dark JayJay said as she kicked over a storage shelf next to the door. The object and its contents falling down in front of the exit.

"Alex!" JayJay whispered into her radio as she hid behind some oil drums and watched her counterpart prowl around the warehouse. "I'm in trouble! My counterpart is here! She stole my weapons!"

"What?! Ok, I'm coming. Just hang on till I get there."

"I'm trapped in here with her!"

"You're stronger than her. Evade her and strike if you can. Claws and paws are still dangerous tools."

JayJay disconnected the call and moved from where she was, just as her counterpart passed by.

"Come on, JayJay..." the wolf thought to herself. "Your ancestor fought in world war 1. You can do this!"

The young hero scurried under a storage shelf and got behind her counterpart. She grabbed her enemy and managed to land several good punches and kicks before her dark opposite opened fire again, forcing JayJay to retreat once again.

"You are no match for a hunter like me!" Dark JayJay yelled, firing and watching her counterpart run through the warehouse before eventually losing sight of her.

JayJay once again took cover and studied her counterpart's movements. Dark JayJay was now routinely checking behind her, watching out for any more surprise assaults. But while she was looking behind her, she wasn't looking down near her feet. Thinking quick, JayJay slid under a storage shelf with tools on it, grabbing a metal pressure gauge and tossing it nearby.

Dark JayJay heard the noise and moved to investigate, which is when JayJay made her move. The wolf grabbed her counterpart's legs and pulled, causing her enemy to fall to the ground. With her opponent stunned, the warrior jumped out from under the shelves, grabbed a wrench, and smacked her counterpart multiple times with it.

Red drops of blood flew through the air as JayJay managed to land some good strikes on her enemy. Still, the villainous wolf managed to kick her counterpart away and once again fired wildly, attempting to hit her attacker.

JayJay ran on all fours, shots whizzing nearby as she widened the gap between the two wolves.

Once she was safe again, the Heroes operative studied her opponent again, looking for an opening. Dark JayJay had wised up again. Now, in addition to looking behind her, she was keeping an eye on her feet. Wary of attacks from below. But not above.

JayJay began to climb up one of the shelves, this one holding heavy metal containers. Every step was tedious, going slow, so she didn't make any noise and alert her counterpart.

When her counterpart passed below, JayJay grabbed one of the containers and jumped down. She slammed the container into Dark JayJay's head, knocking her down to the ground, before pouncing on top of the wolf and slashing at her with a swarm of claw strikes.

JayJay was in a furious rage, determined to destroy her counterpart once and for all. And when her anger faded, it was done. Dark JayJay lay dead, covered in claw marks and staring up at the ceiling with a blank expression on her face.

The heroic wolf wondered how close she was to ending up in the same position, lying dead while her counterpart claimed victory.

Footsteps approached, and JayJay turned to see captain Boehm moving closer and closer, rifle at the ready, inspecting the two wolves.

But both mammals looked the same, which one was heroic and virtuous, and which one was cold and filled with malice.

The captain took one look at the victorious wolf and saw something in her eyes. He somehow knew that she was his, that this was the virtuous and sweet-hearted JayJay. But, also being a logical and cautious man, he spoke up.

"What did you do that prompted me to say 'ow' and wonder what you were doing?"

"I was nibbling on your ear! And I told you it was a wolf thing."

The captain immediately stowed his rifle on his back and reached down to help JayJay up.

"Are you ok?" The captain asked.

"I'm fine..." JayJay said, reclaiming her weapons, "... I did it."

"She was no a match for you. I knew you could do it..."

The captain put his hand on her shoulder.

"It's strange, though. She looks just like me. It's like seeing myself lying dead somewhere."

"I know. These counterparts are like a glimpse into some dark part of the soul. Sowing nothing but destruction and despair."

There was a pause, the pair reflecting on these counterparts and looking at the wolf lying dead on the floor.

"But if today is any proof...." Alex said, ".... good has triumphed over evil."

"Thank you."

The moment was interrupted when Jacks's voice came through the radio.

"Alex, I've recovered a set of documents marked with... what I think are classification markers? I can't tell. It's in another language."

Skye chimed in as well.

"I've found some documents and hard drives. I managed to bag them."

"Ok, in that case..." The captain said, opening the radio channel to all heroes, "both teams return to the boats. We have what we need."

000

A few days later, everyone was assembled in the briefing room on the typhoon.

"This is like a crowd of school kids," Toothdee said to Alex, looking out at their friends and comrades.

These mammals weren't exactly the most professional people in the world. Even though they were awaiting an essential official briefing, they weren't really paying attention.

Haida, Retsuko, and Judy were busy talking, JayJay was bushing her fur, and Nick was busy munching on some blueberries.

Meanwhile, Laval and Eris were hugging while Jasiri and Kion watched something on their phones.

Even Jack and Skye, who were trying to set up something on the presentation screen, were busy flirting and teasing each other as they worked.

"I kinda like it." Alex said, "it makes our little band of warriors feel more alive, and like actual people with lives, traits, and quirks."

"Heh, That we can agree on."

"Ok! The screen is working now." Skye said.

"Alright, EVERYONE! ATTENTION, PLEASE!" Toothdee said, and the room Immediately quieted down as everyone focused.

"Well, at least they are attentive when they need to be." Alex joked, getting a small chuckle out of Toothdee.

"As you know, we recovered documents and servers from the Chinese facility on the island we raided a few days ago. With the help of the ZIA, federal authorities have gone through the recovered data, and the necessary information is what you will see today. Remember, this island is where the war began, and what you're about to hear is radio traffic from that day."

Toothdee clicked a button on a remote. A portion of a radio call started to play, having been translated by the ZIA.

"Weapons locked on US warship. Preparing to fire."

"Hostile warship is readying its weapons."

"Dispatching interception team."

"Hostile warship is firing warning shots, returning fire."

"Direct hit on enemy vessel."

Murmurs went through the group of mammals in the briefing room. What they were hearing was the event that started this war—the first battle in this conflict.

"But there is more..." Toothdee continued, "according to reports we discovered, it is believed that our dark counterparts instigated this attack."

A gasp and another round of murmurs went through the group of mammals.

"We know more about the depth of our counterpart's involvement with the Chinese, but a lot remains hidden."

"Do we know where the counterparts come from?" Kion asked.

"Not yet, but there is only one counterpart left. We're on the cusp of eliminating this threat entirely."

Alex chimed in to make a vow, a guarantee to his friends, and maybe even the world that the threat posed by these dark doubles would be wiped away.

"I'll see to it personally that my counterpart is destroyed."

#creative writing #fanfiction #my writing #fanfic #Alex final wars 2 #jayjay #Alex boehm #skye winter #jack savage #Kion priderock #Jasiri outlander #nick wilde #Judy hopps #action adventure #eris #laval #zootopia #Zootopia fanfic #zoophobia #zoophobia fanfic #the lion guard #the lion guard fanfic #legends of chima #legends of chima fanfic

[swan--writes]

Hey! How about "It's Still Rock and Roll to Me" for the Feb asks?

I did not edit this. At all. Not a single sentence. Heard you were having a rough time though, so I wanted to get this out tonight. I hope you feel better, and if you need to talk you can chat with me!

Warnings: VERY negative self-talk, total despondence, just a really bad day man

Words: ~1,380 (this will probably be the longest request I write this month)

What’s the matter with the clothes I’m wearing?

You held the thick paper with one hand, shading with the other.

Can’t you tell that your tie’s too wide?

The radio played softly in the background. You sat hunched over your wooden kitchen table, the light hitting the page just right through the window.

Maybe I should buy some old tab collars?

“It’s a sign,” came a voice from over your shoulder.

Welcome back to the age of jive.

“What’s a sign?” you murmured. You didn’t look up from the comic strip you were working on. It was your morning warm-up – a pointless little piece about two chairs having an existential debate à la Calvin and Hobbes. Personally, you agreed with the sturdy, elegant armchair, but of course, the folding chair had the final word.

Dewey turned up the radio, then set his briefcase on the bench beside the door. Dewey with a briefcase was still a very…very strange sight, but Peggy and Ned had given it to him for his birthday a few days ago and damnit, he was going to use it whether he liked it or not.

Your boyfriend came to stand before you. “Look at me.” Serenely, you obliged. Shiny oxford shoes, grey pants, scarlet and burnt orange knit vest over a white button down and orange tie, floppy wavy hair. “I look ridiculous. I can’t go out like this, there’s no way.”

Where have you been hidin’ out lately, honey?

Raising an eyebrow, you let go of your pencil and stood. “Well yeah, you gotta tuck your shirt in.” Dewey’s breath went shallow when you straightened, only a few inches from his soft, stunning body. “Where’s your belt?” You lifted your leg over the chair you had been sitting on and hopped away from the table, heading over to the coffee maker.

You can’t dress this trashy till you spend a lot of money.

“Uh, it’s in the bathroom. Always forget it.” You smirked at his breathy tone, loving the affect you had on him. “Um…” Dewey’s feet seemed to carry him toward the bathroom before he had made a decision. Swaying to the music, you poured the rest of the coffee you had made earlier into a travel mug, spooned in some sugar, screwed on the top, and shook it. He always swore he could tell when his coffee was stirred, and apparently it threw off his whole day.

Dewey came back into the kitchen, going to stand where he had been moments earlier. His button down was tucked in now, and he wore a belt. You walked up to him, handed him the travel mug, and loosened his tie.

“You’re trying way too hard, love.”

“Right,” he laughed shakily.

Everybody’s talkin’ ‘bout the new sound…

When you slipped his down out from his collar, you could feel the heat radiating from his neck. You smiled at him sweetly, kissed his cheek, and smacked his hip gently with the tie like you would with a dish towel. “Enjoy the meeting.” He nodded, picked up his briefcase, and rushed through the door before you could do anything else.

Funny, but it’s still rock and roll to me.

You spent the full day drawing comic after comic, writing plotline after plotline, singing along with old song after old song.

Nothing seemed to turn out right. You tried turning off the music, it was too quiet. You tried turning it up, it was too distracting.

Oh, it doesn’t matter what they say in the papers ‘cause it’s always been the same old scene.

You moved with the sunlight. You took breaks, dancing around the living room of the apartment you and Dewey shared.

There’s a new band in town but you can’t get the sound from a story in a magazine…

You doodled aimlessly in the cheap sketchbook Dewey had given you for your anniversary. But nothing you tried helped. Nothing worked. Eight hours and you had not produced a single goddamn worthwhile thing. How – fucking how did this become your job?

Aimed at your average teen.

Eventually, you collapsed onto the couch, your legs hanging over the arm.

That’s how Dewey found you when he came home after music coaching. The plan had been for him to get changed and get a drink with Ned and some other guys they had gone to high school with. The plan had been that you would be at home working all day. The plan went out the third story window and crashed to its rather graphic death the moment he saw you lying half-on the couch, staring at the ceiling with your hands clasped on your abdomen like a corpse.

Ooh, what’s the matter with the crowd I’m seeing?

“Honey, what are you doing?” he asked, not entirely without humor but clearly concerned. You couldn’t see him, he was standing at your feet and you were still staring at the ceiling, but you imagined a creased brow and a nervous smile. You shrugged as best you could with your shoulders pressed into the cushion beneath you.

Don’t you know that they’re out of touch?

“Chillin’. Maxin’, relaxin’. How are the kids?”

“Stuck up little brats.”

Well, should I try to be a straight-A student?

“Talented brats,” you pointed out. He made a playfully indignant noise. “You love those guys.”

“Yeah…” For the first time since Dewey had left that day, you smiled.

If you are, then you think too much.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly. It wasn’t often that his tone became this gentle, but when it did you knew you couldn’t brush him off if you tried. Dewey came to sit on the couch. You thought he would sit beside your head, but instead he slipped his soft, strong hands under your head and the center of your shoulders and lifted your head into his lap. He stroked your hair and leaned back, clearly prepared to listen to you.

Don’t you know about the new fashion, honey?

“Nothing I do is good enough,” you rasped, gravity pulling an involuntary tear from the corner of your eye.

All you need are looks and a whole lotta money.

“That’s not true.” You shook your head at Dewey’s insistence. What did he know about visual arts? This was your job, not his. And you were failing. But trying to explain it to him would be too much, and you knew it.

“Forget it,” you said, stretching an arm across your torso. “Can you just scratch my arm?”

It’s the next phase, new wave, dance craze, anyways…

“Uh-uh, not until you talk to me.”

The sigh that escaped you nearly took out a lung tissue sample. Dewey just raised his eyebrows and waited. You forced yourself to speak through your readily tightening throat. “We all have industry standards, and I am falling miserably behind.”

It’s still rock and roll to me.

“Are you?”

“Yes,” you insisted.

“Y’know who else fell behind?” You simply watched him and waited. “Every artist who’s ever lived. Me. This time last year, I was a basement-dwelling trashcan who literally impersonated my best friend so I wouldn’t get kicked out.” His voice was flat but sympathetic, pressing against the doubts crashing through your head and trying to force them behind the dam that had been in place that morning. “So get out all the dumb shit. Trust me, I know it’s in there.”

At that, you had to laugh. You couldn’t help it.

He laughed with you and slowly started scratching your arm soothingly. “I’m serious, let yourself make terrible art! We went to the battle of the bands with a song written by a ten year-old because I couldn’t write anything worthwhile. It’s okay to make bad art–even just art that you think is bad. Just make art, a’right?” Dewey lifted your hand and kissed it.

“But it’s my job,” you protested, voice cracking.

“Technically, teaching was my job, and look how that turned out.

“It turned out perfectly.”

“I almost got arrested, Y/N!”

Everybody’s talkin’ ‘bout the new sound…

“Yeah, yeah,” you grumbled. He laughed at you and nuzzled the back of your hand.

Funny, but it’s still rock and roll to me.

.

.

Buy Me a Coffee?

#school of rock broadway #school of rock bway #school of rock musical #school of rock #school of rock fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #dewey finn #dewey finn x reader #dewey finn x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #dewey finn x self insert #songfic #song fic #angst #comfort #fluff #it's still rock and roll to me #billy joel #request #february

[welllpthisishappening]

Contact Light (1/2)

Emma Swan has never been one for big, overwhelming...anything. And as far as she’s concerned space is both big and overwhelming and just a bit terrifying because she’s fairly certain her connection to gravity is slightly tenuous when he glances in her direction. But that’s neither here nor there because she watches all his stupid space documentaries anyway and keeps letting him glance in her direction and, at some point, she learns the first words uttered by a human being on the moon. Contact light. It’s not common knowledge. That seems, almost, oddly appropriate now.

Rating: Mature for swearing and a copious amount of making out and more swearing and eventually some angst.  AN: @onceuponaprincessworld sent the prompt: “Ok, so Killian is new in town and David is inviting him on his house for Thanksgiving where he meets Emma, David's sister, who also happens to be the one for who he moved into town in the first place, with a lot of kisses maybe secret dating or maybe it in start of their dating or whatever you feel like writing! Thanks.” This is...not entirely that and also absurdly long and I have no excuse except that’s how I live my life. They make out a lot.  Also living it up on Ao3 if that’s your jam. And if you want to read the rest of the CS prompt-a-thon.

She was going to murder him.

Or strangle him.

Which was kind of on the way to murdering him.

Semantics or whatever.

She hadn’t felt that way in a long time, actual years, and she wasn’t sure if her current murder-like tendencies were because of the smirk on his face or the way his eyes seemed to follow her around the apartment or because she just wanted to make out with him for the rest of the day.

Probably the last one. Definitely the last one.

It still caught her off guard sometimes.  

And really at the beginning she would have punched him square in the jaw if he’d even suggested it, but he also probably would have laughed at the idea of it and that probably should have a been a sign.

Something about inevitable or some other word that Emma absolutely did not believe in because this was the real world and not...a Lifetime movie. Although maybe it was if she murdered Killian. There always seemed to be a lot of murder-type plotting in Lifetime movies.  

And baby stealing.

She absolutely wasn’t stealing anyone’s baby. Except maybe Ruth Jones who was so goddamn adorable it sometimes hurt to look at her. No. Emma wasn’t stealing a baby.

And she wasn’t going to murder Killian. This was not a Lifetime movie. This was...probably a Hallmark movie or a made-for-Netflix special with lots of sentiment and feelings and lessons learned. Emma absolutely refused to learn any lessons.

“It’s going to be fine, Swan,” Killian promised, the sentiment falling out of his mouth seemingly every other minute and she kept pacing in the middle of her living room.

He caught her around the wrist, pulling her up short and eyeing her with the kind of meaning that didn’t belong in thisbecause there was no name to this, it just was and now it was going to exist in the same city for the first time ever and, maybe, exist in front of her brother.

“We have to follow the rules,” Emma said again. She’d written them down. She made Killian put them in his wallet. “To the letter. For real.” “I’ve understood the other twenty times you’ve told me already, love. Trust me, I’ve got it.” She wasn’t sure she believed him. Or, rather, she wasn’t sure she believed herself because he’d come to Portland for her, but no one else knew that and no one else could know that because David might have an actual aneurysm if he found out his little sister and his best friend had been doing...whatever –  everything – right under his nose for the better part of the last two years.

“Yeah?” Emma asked, hating how nervous her voice sounded and how Killian blinked twice before he answered.

“Yeah,” he nodded. She sighed, sagging forward slightly, but she didn’t argue when he tugged her back towards the couch, tucking her against his side and kissing the top of her hair. “Nothing’s going to go wrong, Swan. We just need to...stand at least six feet away from each other at all times. And then we tell your brother and we let the chips fall where they may.” Emma laughed, but there was a nervous edge to it, pressing her face against the button up he had on and it was a fancy eventor so David explained when he sent out the group-wide e-mail invitations a week before and Killian had spent the majority of the night making of fun of that.

“You need to be less attractive,” she accused. “It’s frustrating.” “I’ll work on it. In the meantime. Six feet and no trying to make out in that one corner of the apartment that’s almost invisible from the rest of the living room if you’re standing the right way.”

“You’re making this difficult already.” “I’m just saying.”

“I know you are. And I’m just saying that there are rules and expectations and we can’t make out in that corner you can barely see because of the weird layout in their apartment and…” He cut her off. With his mouth.

And really that was how this had all started and how it continued and, eventually, evolved into something that Emma hoped, one day, to tell the whole goddamn world about.

She was the most stubborn person in the entire history of the entire universe though and then several others because Killian, naturally, refused to accept the possibility of singular universes and one reality and she’d watched Cosmos something, like, eight-hundred times.

It freaked her out.

“Space is just so...big,” Emma said, what felt like a million and two years ago sitting on a couch in an apartment that wasn’t hers just off campus of a college she didn’t go to and wasn’t, technically, supposed to be visiting. Her brother wasn’t there.

Her brother was visiting Mary Margaret in Williamstown. For the entire weekend. And Emma was in upstate New York, with her feet draped over Killian’s legs and she wasn’t sure who suggested she drive up, but she did and he kept making her watch shows about space.

Killian quirked an eyebrow at her, glancing up over the top of the bottle in his hand and it was stupid and absolutely playing unfair because she was totally freaked out by even the concept of space and he knew it. “I think that’s kind of the general idea, yes, Swan,” he drawled, a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth.

She wanted to smack it off. Or kiss it off. It was an oddly similar feeling.

“Who came up with that idea?” she challenged and the smile was a full-blown grin or smirk and for someone who was vaguely terrified of space she certainly had a lot of questions about it. “Like...who just decided space was big? And we’re just bouncing around in it?” “We’re not bouncing anywhere, love. That’s how gravity works.” “Well, that’s stupid.” “Take it up with Sir Isaac Newton, not me.”

Emma grumbled under her breath, twisting her lips into something that was almost a scowl, but might have just been the visual representation of how much she fucking hated space. “You didn’t answer my question, though.” “To be perfectly honest, Swan, I’m a bit a loss as to what the question really is. You’re just mumbling insults about Sir Isaac Newton.” “Well, what did he ever do anyway?” “Gravity, we just did this. And an object in motion stays in motion. And proved that we weren’t at the center of the universe after all, it was the Sun. I’m sure Galileo was very excited to hear the news.” Emma rolled her eyes and he was teasing her and that might have been Killian Jones’ favorite activity. Second only to forcing her to watch documentaries about space.

She had no idea there were so many space documentaries until she started letting Killian force space documentaries at her.

And maybe, well, maybe it wasn’t nearly as much of a battle as Emma liked to pretend it was.

He’d always kind of been there, not quite in the middle of her life, but far from the edge of it – friends with David and always teasing her even when she threatened to punch him in the face.

He’d laugh and do that stupid tongue thing that Emma absolutely, positively never thought about and the blue in his eyes would get bluer somehow and he’d lean towards her and mumble take your best shot, Swan in her ear.

She’d swat at his arm.

He’d laugh some more.

And he was always there. Killian was David’s best man when he, finally, married Mary Margaret and he looked unfairly good in a tux and with a glass of champagne in his hand, waxing poetic about friendship and romance and life together and Emma didn’t think about either.

Of course not.

Killian was her brother’s best friend.

She’d known him since he was sixteen and had just moved to Storybrooke with his mother and Liam was already gone – enlisted just after college, but he sent checks home and postcards from ports with palm trees and different words for different stars in different hemispheres and when all of those things stop coming and a uniformed officer showed up on the steps of the Jones house, Emma was the one who held onto Killian until he stopped crying.

“Your shirt’s a disaster,” he mumbled into her shoulder and she couldn't really laugh, throat too scratchy and eyes too red and her left arm had gone numb from Killian’s weight resting on her side. She didn’t say that.

“That’s alright,” Emma promised and it was.

It was alright.

It was easy.

Emma stopped hating him at some point and started texting him and he answered and then started texting her and she responded in, like, point five seconds.

Easy. Totally.

He was there and she was there and he’d tease and she’d threaten and everyone kept telling them it was only a matter of timelike that was something that was even remotely normal.

It wasn’t.

A matter of time was not easy and they were...easy. They were acquaintances who were forced to dance together at David and Mary Margaret’s wedding and pose together and both of those things were a lie because there were photos of Emma wearing Killian’s tuxedo jacket just outside the reception hall with another glass of champagne in her hand and maybe she kept it on her phone.

She was smiling in the picture, calm and easy and he was leaning towards her with his hand halfway to her hip like he wanted, but couldn’t quite rationalize it and she’d clearly spent far too much time listening to Mary Margaret and even more time listening to Ruby because Emma kind of wanted too, but she absolutely did not say that out loud because they were not a movie.

Hallmark or Lifetime or whatever.

Whatever.

“Nothing happened?” Ruby asked for what felt like the eight-hundredth time and Emma resisted the urge to slide down the booth in the coffee shop they’d been going to for actual years. “Like...really, nothing?” Emma shook her head and Ruby let out a sigh that was far too distraught for how absolutely not involved she was in the situation. “I don’t know how many more times I can tell you the same thing, Rubes,” she muttered.

Ruby sighed again. Belle tried to smile. It didn’t really work.

“But, like...really, nothing?” Belle asked. Emma might have actually growled. “I’m just saying, you know, it’d make sense. And something happening at a wedding where you both look absurdly good in black tie type clothing and were, you know, maybe a little not quite sober...You guys have known each other forever and it’s…” “No.” “But...” “No,” Emma repeated and the word felt heavy on her tongue. It felt like a lie. “We...I mean we danced that one time, but that was…

“True love,” Ruby shouted, drawing a handful of stares from people just trying to enjoy lattes and overpriced scones. She glared at a table full of college kids, heads practically flying off their shoulders at the sudden noise. “Well, it was,” she muttered. “They’re...you don’t get it. They’re in love. You’ll understand some day.”

Belle held up her hands in mock-surrender, shaking her head quickly, like that would slow down the attack and Emma nearly knocked over her coffee.

Or threw it at Ruby, who, at some point, transitioned from dramatic sighs to disappointed laughter and both of them were equally annoying to an Emma who was doing her best to ignore the inevitable.

“We’re not suggesting that,” Belle said. “No one is suggesting that. We’re just saying we would understand if something did happen and maybe, eventually led to something of the true-type variety. At some point. In the distant future.”

Emma kept looking at that picture.

She looked really happy in that picture. She wondered what Killian’s hand would feel like on her waist. And...stop it.

That wasn’t easy.

Her phone buzzed on the table, like it was trying to prove a point and Ruby nearly cackled, head thrown back and Emma was going to bite her lip in half.  

“Shut up, Emma grumbled. “I’m not...you all need to find a hobby or something.” Ruby stopped laughing long enough to shrug and glance in Belle’s direction, something very specific passing between them. They’d talked about this. They’d planned. They’d plotted. God damn. Emma tried to remember all the reasons she couldn’t throw coffee at her friends.

“Give us, like, six months and we’ll start asking when Mary Margaret and David are going to move out of that tiny, little loft and buy a great, big gorgeous house with an enormous backyard,” Ruby said. “Then we won’t be concerned about why you haven't started making out with Jones at every conceivable moment.”

“Not every conceivable moment,” Belle corrected, waving her hands again and Emma’s lip was bleeding. “That’s just unreasonable.” “Oh, yeah, that’s the only thing that’s unreasonable,” Emma hissed. Her phone buzzed again. And Ruby’s eyes were going to fall out of her head.

I’ve run out of wedding leftovers.

Swan, are you ignoring me?

I have a life. I am not at your text message beck and call.

Is this your not so subtle way of telling me that I’m bothering you, love?

Stop it.

What? You know what.

I promise, love, I absolutely do not. What’s got you so busy with life things, then? You can’t be with David and Mary Margaret. They’re far too busy standing in the ocean.

Yeah...I don’t think that’s what they’re doing on their honeymoon.

He sent her back a string of emojis that didn’t really make sense, but still managed to get his point across and Emma was far too busy being vaguely charmed by the whole thing to notice whatever Ruby and Belle’s faces were doing.

That’s disgusting, Swan. I don’t want to think about that.

You brought it up.

I don’t care. Where are you?

Ruby coughed pointedly and Emma’s phone crashed back on the table, drawing a hiss of air out of Belle because only Belle would be worried about the state of Emma’s phone when her heart was threatening to hammer its way out of her chest.

“What?” Emma snapped and Ruby’s smile looked almost predatory. “God what could you possibly be grinning about?”

“Nothing,” Ruby said, shaking her head slowly as she slung an arm over Belle’s shoulders. “I have no thoughts about this whatsoever. C’mon, babe, let’s go find a hobby.”

They were gone a moment later, leaving Emma alone at a booth with just the stares of some very confused co-eds to keep her company. She sighed, grabbing her half-finished cup of coffee and downing the lukewarm liquid before she could think too much about how she hated lukewarm coffee and she texted back as soon as she stepped onto the sidewalk outside.

She called when she got home four hours later to find that her internet had just…”stopped working,” Emma sighed, staring at the phone screen in her hand and Killian widened his eyes.

It was not the first time she’d said that.

“So you’ve told me, Swan,” Killian grinned, running a hand through his hair and she didn’t even try to stop herself from rolling her eyes. “You’ve got to restart your router.” “I did that.” “We’ve been sitting here for nearly forty-five minutes love, I promise, you have not restarted your router yet.”

She ignored the endearment and whatever it did to her stomach and whatever Ruby would say about that, huffing out an exhale instead. Killian laughed at her. “Then what have we been doing?” Emma demanded, trying without much luck to slide across her floor back to whatever he promised was a router.

“Mostly just you yelling at me. Loudly.”

“That’s because you’re not helping. At all. I call in my time of need and you just sit there doing that stupid eyebrow thing and don’t help at all and…” She ran out of air. “What am I supposed to be doing with the router?” Killian tilted his head, the ends of his mouth ticking up and he was hours away, but David and Mary Margaret were somewhere doing something that absolutely was not standing in the ocean and Emma didn’t know who else to call.

She didn’t really think about calling anyone else.

“Stupid eyebrow thing,” Killian echoed, pausing between every word for dramatic effect. “Tell me something, Swan, what exactly is a stupid eyebrow thing?” “That’s not the point of this phone call! You’re an engineer! Engineer this!”

He did the eyebrow thing again. Emma fell back on the ground, holding her phone above her head and it couldn’t have been a very good angle, hair splayed out under her and bags under her eyes because she’d spent the last four nights trailing some skip and trying not to fall asleep in her car and Killian knew all about that too.

He made her text him when she got home.

“A civil engineer, Swan,” he corrected and she made a noise in the back of her throat that wasn’t particularly adult. She wanted her internet to work. She wanted to stream...something...anything, maybe even that one space show that made her fall asleep like some kind of Pavlovian experiment because she really, really wanted to sleep. Just, like, for days. “I’m not programming anything, love.” “Just building ships,” Emma muttered, closing her eyes lightly. She heard him laugh. And could picture exactly what his face looked like – eyes probably just a bit too bright and smile just a bit too enthusiastic and she wished he wasn’t several hours away.

She’d watch whatever space thing he wanted.

She’d fall asleep, but she’d watch, at least, five minutes.

“That’s not really true either, love,” Killian said softly. Her eyes snapped back open.

It wasn’t.

He’d gone to school on as many scholarships as he could apply for – Liam was gone and his mom was...not great, sick and getting sicker and the only option was government funding and a ridiculous amount of loans he was only just starting to pay off and every scholarship application he could find.

Emma knew. She helped him fill them out.

It was exhausting. She still complained about tendonitis in her wrist and Killian promised that’s not a thing, love and then, usually, twisted his own wrist as if to prove his point.

It worked, though, he got into school and graduated manga cum laude because, of course, he did and David sat next to him and Emma cheered from the back row reserved for friends or family and she was pretty certain she was both for both graduates. Mary Margaret cried.

It worked and Killian got a job because, of course he got a job, he was smart and talented and a slew of other adjectives that would probably just serve to further Ruby and Belle’s cause.

Structural analysis.

On ships. To make sure nothing went wrong. The way it had with Liam. No one talked about that. Emma knew.

Killian left Portland and he went to Boston and he fixed things and Emma missed him. More than she was ever willing to admit out loud. Or...to herself.

“Yeah, I know,” she said and his eyes lost some of that distant look that always seemed to sound like warning bells in the back of her mind. “But I feel like you should be able to will this to work anyway. Just mind meld it or something.” Killian scoffed and they were back to normal, whatever normal was for them and it might have just been this. “That doesn’t even make sense, Swan,” he sighed, rolling his eyes for good measure. She shrugged. “Did you find the paperclip? You can’t hit the button with anything thicker than a paper clip.” They went on like that for another forty-five minutes and there were more dramatic sighs, on both sides of the FaceTime call that was probably destroying her data because she still couldn’t connect to her wifi and the whole thing dissolved into muttered insults under their breath and faces that grown adults who, just a few days ago had danced in black-tie outfits, shouldn’t have made and Emma threw her phone across the room when her battery died.

“Ah, shit,” Emma sighed, pushing herself off the ground to grab her phone and the screen still wasn’t cracked. It started buzzing as soon as she connected it to the USB cord hanging off the side of her laptop.

Did you just hang up on me?

My phone died. Because this is taking several lifetimes to fix.

Yeah, I don’t think you can just restart your router anymore. There’s something wrong with your wiring or something.

And you’ve only just now figured that out? I’m not actually there, Swan. I’m trying to hypothesize based solely off your descriptions, which leave quite a bit to be desired, and an admittedly shitty FaceTime connection.

That’s rude.

She swiped her thumb across the screen, hitting the first name on her recently called list and ignoring the tiny, little seven in parenthesis next to it and she really called him all the time. He answered before the first ring had even finished ringing.

“Go to sleep,” Emma said, but it sounded more like a command and it was late and they were never going to fix this. God, she’d have to read a book or something. And call the internet people the next morning.

Killian laughed. “Swan, you called me. And you’re the one who’s gotten something like four hours of sleep in the last week.” “It’s more than that and you know it. Plus with my crappy internet, I’ll probably get to REM way before I normally do because of some scientific study I’m not willing to acknowledge in any other situation except this very specific one.” “See, you’re saying words, but I don’t think you’re realizing that they’re not making sense in that specific order. Also it is nine o’clock at night. I don’t know what kind of sleep schedule you think I have, but it’s definitely incorrect.” Emma’s shoulders sagged and she was back on the floor, leaning against the front of her couch with one leg awkwardly thrown out in front of her. “Something about the brain being active while it can still hear noise,” she mumbled. “The millennials or whatever.” “Or whatever,” Killian grinned. She assumed he grinned. She knew he did. “And maybe it’ll fix itself overnight somehow.” “You know that won’t work.” “Yeah, I do."

"You really should go to sleep,” Emma said. “It’s late and you’ve got that huge presentation thing in two days and you’ve got to do experiments.” “Analytical methods,” he corrected softly and her eyes were already starting to close again. She climbed onto the couch, propping her neck up on the arm and she’d probably regret that in the morning, but it was almost comfortable then and she didn’t want to move.

She didn’t want to hang up the phone.

God, she was going to kill Ruby.

“Evaluating logistical operations,” she mumbled, voice starting to slur. It was a good thing she caught the guy already. She’d never have lasted another day in the field.

It sounded like Killian smiled again. “I knew you were listening, love,” he said softly.

“Sometimes.” “That’s enough.”

Emma must have fallen asleep at some point because she nearly fell off the couch when she woke up, a knock on her door and her phone was dead again and maybe being thrown around most of downtown Portland that afternoon had actually done more damage than she originally thought.

There was another knock and Emma stared at the door like it was a portal to another dimension or a wormhole – which absolutely freaked her out more than space when she learned about them while being forced into a multi-city viewing party of some new hour-long special on Netflix two weeks before.

“It’s just me, Swan,” Killian called, a soft thud on the other side of the door when he, presumably, fell against it. Emma wasn’t sure she was awake. “Did your phone die again?”

She blinked twice, licking her lips and wrapping a blanket she’d kicked off at some point around her shoulders as she padded across her living room.

Killian was standing on the other side of the doorway, a knowing smile on his face and jeans that were just absolutely unfair. He held his phone up, waving it in her face and he laughed when Emma swatted at his wrist. “Is it dead?” he asked.

“Why are you asking questions you already know the answer to?” Emma countered, falling back into banter easily. He was wearing sandals.

She’d never seen him wear sandals in his entire life.

“It’s polite,” Killian reasoned. He did the eyebrow thing again, taking a step forward until Emma didn’t have any option except to move and she gasped when she nearly tripped over her own blanket.

His hand fell on her hip.

“Try not to die on me, love,” he muttered, flashing her a grin and her mind was racing, trying to sprint to Boston and back to Portland and she’d never resented the shitty battery tendencies of iPhones more in her life. “Where’s your router?”

Emma blinked. He hadn’t moved his hand. “What?”

“The router. Or just...all of your internet connectivity.” “I thought we decided it was broken. You said my descriptions left a lot to be desired. I’m going to call the internet person tomorrow.” “The fact that you’re referring to them as internet person gives me pause.” Killian squeezed his hand and grinned, moving around Emma when her legs, just, decided to stop working. She was frozen in the middle of her own living room with mascara smudged under her eyes and a blanket hanging off only one shoulder. “What…” she stammered. “What are you doing here? How did you know where to go?” He didn’t answer, already crouching on the side of her TV stand and clearly focused – the way he got when he was trying to figure something out and Emma barely gave herself a moment to consider how she knew that before her legs decided to, suddenly, work again.

She felt like she was sprinting towards him.

And he’d never been in her apartment before.

He stayed in hotels or with David and Mary Margaret when he came to Portland and he came to Portland less and less recently, building some sort of name for himself in Boston. Literally.

“Killian,” Emma said, resting her hand on his shoulder. He flinched. “How did you know where to go? Why did you even try to go?” “We really need to work on your sentence structure, Swan.” “You are avoiding my question.” He glanced over his shoulder, four different colored wires clutched in one hand. “I’m trying to save face,” he admitted, shaking a piece of hair away from his forehead. It didn’t work. Emma sat down next to him. On the floor. “And I asked Belle. Who was then sworn to secrecy because I don’t want to hear anything from Lucas about any of this.” “This?”

“You caught the guy yesterday, right?” Emma nodded slowly, still not entirely sure she understood where all of this was going or if she was even awake. “So you’ve got two days left on your mandatory recovery period and I can’t imagine what you’re going to do without internet over those forty-eight hours.”

“You’ve got a presentation in two days. There are powerpoint slides and charts to print out and laminate. You don’t have time to be fixing my internet.” “No one is laminated anything, Swan. It’s not 1995. And I have an assistant for all of those things. This is, well, I can fix this. I just needed to do it in person because your 4G is more like 2G and at some point in the next two hours we should figure out if you can upgrade your phone too because that can’t be safe.”

She was absolutely dreaming. “I don’t....you don’t have to play internet white knight for me.” Killian’s eyes flashed up towards hers and then, maybe, away from hers and, possibly, towards her lips and it was jarring. It was...like the Earth stopped rotating on its axis for a few moments and then started turning the wrong way.

She knew all about the Earth’s rotation.

“I’m not,” he promised. “I just...it wasn’t that late.” “You live two hours away.” “Eh, an hour and forty-five without traffic.” “That seems like pulling at straws,” Emma argued and that’s exactly what it was, an argument and a lifetime’s worth of everyone promising eventually and inevitable and she probably moved first. She’d argue that point as well though.

He made some kind of absurd sound when she all but launched herself towards him, throwing his hand back to make sure they didn’t crash onto the floor and his other hand found its way underneath her shirt and they both groaned when one of them moved their hips.

Emma twisted, trying to get some kind of leverage and it just ended with her straddling him in the middle of her living room, knees on either side of Killian’s hips with her fingers anchored in his hair. She pulled back, not entirely sure what she was doing or what he was doing, but he didn’t look nervous. He looked absolutely certain.

And that was enough.

She definitely kissed him first that time, ducking her head and slanting her lips across his and that thing with his tongue should be absolutely illegal when he was using it on other human beings.

Or just her.

She just wanted him to use it on her.

She didn’t say that out loud.

She kept kissing him.

“This is not fixing the internet, Swan,” Killian mumbled, but she could hear the laugh just on the edge of his voice. She was half a second away from arguing the distinct lack of kissing until the kissing moved to her neck and behind her ear and over her collarbone and she’d lost all control of her body when her hips practically bucked against him.

It worked another groan out of him that she’d probably think about twenty-six times a day.

“I’m sorry, were those actually words?” Emma asked, grinning against his jaw and her shirt was a lost cause, twisted up between them and halfway up her stomach.

They were still on the floor.

“Are you actually making fun of me right now?” Killian countered. He pulled back to gape at her, but Emma couldn't quite focus on that when his pupils were blown wide and his shoulders were moving a bit than usual. “Currently, Swan?”

“Seems pretty par for the course, doesn’t it?” “Not when I’m actively trying to undress you.” “Is that what you were trying to do? You’re being awfully subtle then, don’t you think?”

She appreciated his wide eyes more than she should have, but she didn’t have long to linger on that particular look or how it looked on Killian when his hand was still under the hem of her shirt, before his mouth crashed against hers and she was dimly aware of him trying to stand up.

“What are you doing?” Emma laughed, yelping when he finally managed to get a bit of momentum under them and her legs wrapped around his waist on instinct. “God, calm down with your feats of strength.”

Killian grunted slightly and she was fairly certain it was because of her knee and its placement in what might have actually been his spleen. “Was this part not obvious?” he asked and she pushed her face into his shoulder when she started to laugh. “Fucking hell, Swan, you can’t do that. That is...distracting.” “Distracting from what? Are we not talking about the same thing here?”

“Swan.” “I”m serious.”

“I know you are, love,” Killian said, kissing across her cheek and back towards her mouth. He pulled away before she could kiss back. She nearly punched him.

They were moving, though, stumbling slightly down the tiny hallway in her tiny apartment towards her tiny bedroom and Emma made some kind of absurd noise when she fell back on the mattress. “Did you just dump me on the bed?” she asked, but she wasn’t sure Killian heard her when his eyes traced down her body and landed on the bit of skin where her shirt had ridden up again.

Emma pushed up on her elbows, lifting her eyebrows and trying to fight off the feeling in the pit of her stomach. She saw the muscles in Killian’s throat move when he swallowed. “Still with me?” she asked and it felt like a very big question.

“Yeah,” he breathed. He took a step towards her, kicking his sandals off and he hadn’t even taken his goddamn sandals off. Fuck. “I’m...good.”

“Ok, good.” It was, easily, the lamest thing she’d ever said. Killian didn’t seem to mind. “You need to take this off,” she muttered, tugging on the bottom of his shirt. “And if you scuffed up my baseboards I’m going to kill you.” “We really need to work on this whole swooning thing, Swan. First you’re not sure if I’m trying to undress you and now you’re talking about baseboards. It’s almost insulting.” “Yeah, that seems like a you problem.”

He flashed her look – amusement lingering on the edge of his gaze, but with something else that made her whole body feel as if it were melting into the mattress and she didn’t say another word when his fingers found their way underneath the shorts she had on.

Their clothes ended up in some kind of pile on either side of her bed, kicking at blankets and knocking off pillows and trying to avoid the lamp on the night stand next to Emma’s head. “You’ve got to…” she started. “That drawer.”

He stared at her for half a moment – which she’d eventually come to consider one hell of a confidence boost – and Emma rolled her head on the one pillow that hadn’t landed on the floor. “The drawer,” she repeated and he understood that time.

“Right, right, right,” Killian stammered, trying not to fall on top of her when he tried to move as quick as light or some kind of meteor and she needed to stop making space jokes in her head. “Good, yeah, that’s...responsible.” “Yeah, that’s definitely good for the mood.” He rolled his eyes at her, pausing quick enough to kiss the edge of her mouth and she smacked at his arm when he chuckled as soon as she tried to chase after him. “I’m not going anywhere, Swan.”

And it was like something settled or maybe she just caught her breath, but Emma didn’t care about the specifics of it because he was there and he’d always kind of been there and she’d watched so many goddamn space documentaries.

It wasn’t exactly good at first, a weird rhythm they were both trying to dictate or find and there was far too much sighing for it to be anything except frustrating for the first few minutes.

Until it was suddenly...the opposite of that.

It was good and great and a slew of other words and adjectives Emma would come up with if she weren’t too busy chasing friction and that tongue thing and trying to take a deep breath. He was everywhere all at once, hands moving and hips moving and she shifted against him, trailing her fingers down his spine until he hissed softly in her ear, mumbling her name over and over again as if he couldn’t remember anything else.

Emma kissed him as soon as she felt tension coiling at the base of her spine, fingers back in his hair and she couldn’t seem to stop touching his hair. She squeezed her eyes closed at some point, fairly certain several different stars exploded just on the edge of her vision and it was another goddamn space pun.

Killian didn’t leave.

Emma didn’t ask him to leave or tell him to stay. He just didn’t move. And neither did she, curled against his side with her head on his shoulder and her arm flung over his waist.

He texted her a photo of the charts two days later.

It went from there.

She visited and he visited and there wasn’t much of a schedule, just phone calls and FaceTime and one hour and forty-five minutes, without traffic, and they didn’t spend much time worrying about definitions when they were so busy kissing the goddamn daylights out of each other.

Killian was impossibly good at kissing.

And, Emma liked to imagine, he felt the same way because he’d barely stepped into her apartment, six months after that first step, before his mouth landed on hers and his fingers danced along her spine and it was absolutely a confidence boost.

“We don’t have time for this,” Emma mumbled, but the words seemed to get stuck halfway out of her mouth and maybe they could make time.

So they were celebrating Ruby and Belle and an engagement and Killian had taken Friday off so he could get there before five o’clock, but all of those things seemed to fall by the metaphorical wayside when Emma’s arms found their way over his shoulders, like she was trying to make sure he was actually there.

And maybe she missed him when he wasn’t there or she wasn’t there, but that wasn’t part of the plan and no one had actually ever used the phrase just sex, but that was definitely what it was. Right? Sure.

No, of course it was.

They were….getting it out of their systems. For six months. With alternating weekends and dinners that sometimes felt a hell of a lot like dates and nothing had really changed, there was just a lot more kissing and a lot less clothing.

Killian hadn’t really ever stopped kissing her, just pulled away from her lips and moved towards her jaw and that one spot on her neck that made her whole body break out in goosebumps and he always seemed very pleased with himself whenever it happened.

It happened every single time.

That didn’t mean anything. At all.

“We can be a little late,” Killian argued and for half a second Emma was ready to agree, to just tug him back into her apartment and, possibly, bolt the door, but then her phone started to ring and there was a schedule and he wasn’t supposed to be there.

He was supposed to be staying in a hotel – had told David he just wanted a little more space when he had to explain why he didn’t want to stay in the guest room of the house they’d actually bought two months ago – and showing up twenty minutes late, together, would probably send Ruby into some sort of crazed I knew it fit.

She felt like she’d run into a brick wall, slamming into something she wasn’t entirely aware was there until it reached out and hit in the face and it was painful and jarring and Emma suddenly realized she wanted to be late to this stupid, forced friendship interaction because she wanted Killian to stay in her apartment without a story or an explanation and it was the single most terrifying thing she’d ever thought.

She didn’t...well, he knew about Neal and she knew about Milah and that was part of the reason she’d argued againstinevitable for so long. Emma didn’t do relationships. It didn’t work, wasn’t in the cards or the stars, jeez, but she couldn't seem to stop kissing her brother’s best friend and there wasn’t enough oxygen in the world for the deep breath she was trying to take.

Emma shook her head, pulling back slightly and it was as if she could see the understanding settle on Killian’s face, the way his eyes dimmed just a bit and she swore something landed in the pit of her stomach.

It felt a hell of a lot like regret.

She wasn’t sure what there was to regret. And that was a great, big enormous lie.

“I just…” Emma started, but words were, suddenly, rather difficult to come by. Killian didn’t say anything, just lifted his eyebrows and waited and he was always doing that. He waited on her. “Maybe we should just, you know, take a deep breath.” His eyebrows didn’t move, but he blinked twice and his hand sounded like an anvil when it pulled away from her, crashing against his thigh and Emma tried to keep staring straight ahead.

She couldn’t.

God fucking damnit.

“A deep breath,” Killian echoed and it sounded a bit like a question and a lot like disbelief and they should have done this at any other time. “And what does that mean exactly, love?” She shook her head again, mostly because she couldn’t come up with anything else to do and she’d lost control of the situation and all of her body parts. “I mean...we’ve been….it’s not…” “It’s not.” “God, stop repeating me!” “I”m trying to make sense of what you're saying, Swan,” Killian sighed, taking a step back into her space and his hand moved again, thumb brushing across the curve of her cheek like he couldn’t stop himself. “This isn’t…” He cut himself off, pressing his lips together tightly and Emma tried not to punch him. They were both horrible at finishing sentences. “Is that about what your brother will think?” “No,” Emma yelled. Killian scoffed. “Well, no, not entirely! You can't tell me that you haven’t thought about it.” “I’ve thought about several different things, love and strangely enough none of the things I think about you have anything to do with David.” “That’s insane.” “It’s insane that I haven’t considered your brother’s opinion when I think about us? How is that insane? I couldn’t care less about what David thinks. Or anyone for that matter. It wouldn’t make a difference.”

She was positive the people on the sidewalk twenty-seven blocks away could hear her heart hammering against her rib cage and Emma still didn’t know much about gravity, but she was fairly positive it had just altered when Killian’s words seemed to land at her feet. “There is no us,” Emma muttered, staring at her feet and she’d never put socks on because he’d shown up early at her apartment to make out with her.

And make proclamations.

That she was absolutely going to ignore.

God, she was an idiot.

Emma tried to pull the air in through her nose, memories of some kind of breathing exercise Mary Margaret taught her when she was freaking out about finals sophomore year, but it didn’t work and Killian took a step back. She hadn’t noticed the bag sitting in her doorway still.

“What?” he asked softly. “Emma, I….” She was positive her head had never moved so quickly in her entire life because she couldn't remember a single time in the history of the entire fucking universe that he’d called her by her actual name.

And if she were being honest with herself, she probably would have realized he’d been calling her love more than anything else.

She was not being honest with herself.

“C’mon, let’s be honest, this is, I mean this was….” Emma stumbled over the words, still not able to finish a goddamn sentence and Killian’s mouth was hanging open slightly, shoulders moving like he’d run to her apartment from Boston.

“This was what, Swan?” “A matter of time, right? That’s what they all said and we’d just eventually stumble into each other and then it’d be over. I mean this isn’t…” Killian’s mouth twisted, something that almost looked like a sneer settling on his face and Emma felt like she’d just fallen into the pile of snow outside her window. She lived on the fourth floor. “Right,” he said, crossing his arms tightly and she didn’t consider all the reasons he did that until far later. “Right. This isn’t, well, it isn’t, is it?”

“Those were a lot of words in an order I didn’t entirely understand.” He laughed, a sardonic edge to the sound that sent a chill down her spine. “Ok, well, it’s good I got here early then, huh? I’ll see you in a little while, Swan.”

Emma stood in her living room for what felt like several sunlit days after Killian closed the door behind him and she was ninety-nine percent positive she’d missed the entire engagement celebration by the time her feet managed to move, tugging on boots that felt far too tight and a scar that she was fairly positive was going to strangle her at some point and she was the last one to get to the bar.

“Hey,” Ruby cried as soon as Emma shook the snow out of her hair. She was wearing some kind of light-up headband and bright red lipstick and a smile that seemed to melt some of the ice in Emma’s heart.

She wasn’t just an idiot, she was a melodramatic idiot.

“You’re late,” Ruby continued, seemingly unaware of whatever Emma was trying to deal with. “Jones is already like three shots in and I think he and David are doing some sort of unspoken challenge thing, but it’s probably going to be pretty entertaining and…”

She blinked when Emma didn’t immediately announce she was going to join in on shots and she barely had time to think about how well her friends knew her before Ruby was tugging her towards a corner and staring at her intently. “What’s going on with you?” she asked, tapping Emma’s shoulders the saw way she had when they first met at a cramped college bookstore, each trying to buy the same overpriced textbook.

They split it and shared it for the same class and it wasn’t the most conventional friendship, but Emma really believed Ruby could read her mind.

“Nothing,” Emma lied and Ruby didn’t even bother sighing. She laughed. “Honestly. I’m just...you know it’s been a long week.” “Yuh huh.” “It has.” “Sure it has. When’s the last time you haven’t had a long week?” “Should I be offended by that?” Emma asked, trying to slink further back into the corner when she could feel the rest of the group shooting furtive, almost painfully obvious glances in their direction. Killian hadn’t moved.

Ruby shrugged. “You can do whatever you want. You’re an adult, in theory, but I’m just saying that, at some points in the last few months, you’ve been almost...good.” “Almost good.” “Ok, now you’re being rude,” Ruby muttered. “And it’s real obvious you’ve got a thing going on. So don’t bother lying. You just happen to have out-of-city stakeouts for weekends at a time? That’s not even clever, Emma.” “I have to work!” “Yuh huh. So how come during those weekends you’re less likely to answer your phone than you are during stakeouts downtown? Something doesn’t add up.” “You are not a detective,” Emma argued, defenses rising automatically and she wanted to get drunk and make out with Killian and she didn’t want him to stay in a hotel. Fucking hell.

Ruby made a noise in the affirmative and that wasn’t what Emma expected. “True,” she said. “But you know who is? Your great big, overprotective idiot of a brother, who is also very interested in what you’ve been doing on those weekends abroad.” “I’m not going overseas.” “A turn of phrase,” Ruby hissed. “God, keep up with my interesting banter. Did you screw it up? Is that what happened?” Emma made a face, holding her hands up and shaking her head, but Ruby didn’t look deterred. She just widened her stance and Emma didn’t have anywhere to run. “That was definitely rude,” she grumbled. “And, yeah, maybe.” “Maybe...definitely?” “Absolutely.” “That’s dumb.” “That’s a pointed opinion from someone who just told me they thought I’ve been going abroad for weekends.” “Fucking a, Emma, that was a joke and you are doing a piss poor job of deflecting,” Ruby growled, an intensity in her voice that left Emma reeling. She was glad there was a wall to lean against. “Are you all in on this? Is that what’s going on? You freaking out?” “You’re not a journalist either,” Emma mumbled, but the questions were almost too on point and she kept thinking about the way Killian’s voice shifted when he said her name.

God, he called her Emma.

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Another deflection. I’m going to assume that was a blanket yes, then.” Emma sighed, forcing the air out of her lungs like it had personally offended her and Ruby almost smiled when her whole body fell forward. “Ok, tell me one thing,” Ruby continued. “In this great, big secret of a whatever you’re doing, this guy, I’m assuming it’s a guy?” “It’s a guy,” Emma confirmed.

“You happy?” She considered that for a moment – memories flitting through her brain like she was watching them through a Viewfinder and it wasn’t just about the making out or the sex or inevitable and she was so goddamn happy when she was with Killian.

It was easy.

“Yeah,” Emma whispered. She really needed a drink. “Really happy.” “Then stop being stupid about it and go tell Jones he’s real good at making out.” Emma nearly fell down the wall. Ruby cackled. “Please,” she laughed. “You think I don’t know things? I know things, Em. I’ve got sixty-two senses of knowing things. And I know he showed up at your apartment six months ago and you’ve only been going on these little excursions for the last couple of moths and he’s running through PTO like that’s his actual job.” “How could you possibly know that last part?” “Ariel told Belle who told me, obviously. Because we don’t have secrets.” “That was heavy-handed,” Emma sighed. “And I...I don’t know, Rubes, I...he’s David’s best friend. We weren’t really planning on this, it just kind of happened and, like, two hours ago I told him I didn’t think there was an us.”

Ruby made a noise that sounded a bit like a gag. “Oh my God, that’s so you it’s almost scripted. No wonder he’s been trying to drown himself.” “I didn’t….”

“Think,” Ruby finished. “Yeah, I get that. If there was an Olympic sport for shooting yourself in your own foot, you would win gold at the summer and winter games.” “How long have you been waiting to use that insult?” “Actual years. Listen, I know we’ve always been about how you guys should just, you know, whatever and get it over with, but this is, well, it’s obvious this is different. And Jones came in here looking like some kind of ghost person whose sole job in the afterlife was to test as much rum as possible. Even David realized something wrong and he’s the single most obtuse person on the planet.” Emma sighed. “I really fucked up.” “Oh, I know you did, but if science is sixty-two percent reactionary, then you’ve still got time to engineer a fix here.” “You’re on a roll.” Ruby’s eyes practically lit up. They nearly matched her headband. “I know, right! Even I’m impressed. It’s because I’m all in love and love will do that to you. And don’t bother saying heavy-handed, that wasn’t my best work. But what I’m saying, Em, is that he clearly cares and he has since forever ago. Although, you know, maybe don’t start making out here because I’m not entirely sure David won’t kill him.”

“You’re a beacon of support,” Emma said, but some of the ice in her spine had thawed and maybe that was what hope felt like.

Ruby clicked her tongue, shrugging slightly and possibly winking before announcing they were all going to do shots and no one could argue with someone wearing a light-up headband.

And, really, Emma tried. She tried to talk or approach or whatever someone who, just a few hours ago, had promised her maybe-boyfriend that they were operating under labels, should do, but nothing worked and by the time six o’clock turned into one o’clock, she’d done a questionable number of shots and Killian had already left.

“Here,” Belle said, the words slurring just a bit and they’d probably put that bar in the black for the entire year just on their group’s alcohol consumption that night. She pushed a sheet of paper towards Emma and the letters weren’t quite perfect, but it was an address. To a hotel. A few blocks away. “It’s by the water,” Belle added, like Killian would stay anywhere that wasn’t by the water, and everyone knew.

Except David.

God, Emma hoped David didn’t know.

“Thanks,” Emma mumbled, squeezing her fingers around the paper and waving towards a slightly wobbly David and a vaguely entertained Mary Margaret. “I’ll uh...I’ll see you guys later.”

“Text us when you get home,” David shouted, but she barely heard him, waving a dismissive hand over her shoulder and she sprinted to the hotel. She nearly killed herself six times.

There was ice everywhere.

She was out of breath by the time she skidded to a stop in the hotel lobby, drawing a curious stare from the guy behind the desk. “Can I help you?” he asked cautiously, like she was going to rob the place.

“No, no, no,” Emma said, shaking her head and already moving towards the closest staircase. The piece of paper in her hand claimed he was staying on the ninth floor. “I, um...I’m fine, thanks.”

The guy didn’t look convinced and she didn’t blame him – she was far from fine and maybe just a little drunk and her legs were already protesting the idea of nine flights of stairs. She didn’t give herself a moment to consider that before she was climbing and trying to breathe and the romance of it all seemed to wane just a bit when she realized she was actually sweating.

“God fucking, shit, hell,” Emma breathed, trying not to pass out in an abandoned hotel hallway. The ink on the paper still clutched in her hands was starting to smear a bit, but she’d memorized the numbers on her sprint through downtown Portland and she could see the door just a few feet away like it was taunting her.

She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to knock.

She could hear footsteps behind the door, like he was pacing and her stomach clenched at the thought. She knocked. And the pacing stopped.

He didn’t say anything and that felt decidedly unfair, like the ball was in her court or something. She licked her lips before she knocked again. Still no answer. “God dammit,” she grumbled, resisting the urge to kick at the door too. “Killian, I...it’s me. Can you just open the door? For two seconds. And then I’ll…” Emma didn’t finish, nearly leaping back when the door swung open and he didn’t look drunk. He looked pissed off. “Hi,” she said softly and lamely and she didn’t know what else to say. She was having trouble breathing again. Killian crossed his arms again, narrowing his eyes slightly and Emma tried to swallow back the wad of actual emotion she could swear was lingering in the back of her throat. “I, um...Belle told me you were here.” One of his eyebrows moved. “Did you ask?” “No, I…” Emma shook her head and Killian sighed, uncrossing his arms to run one of his hands through his hair and this was not going according to plan. There was no plan. “I mean, I would have. I wanted to know where you went. I wanted to….apologize.” Killian stared at her, like he was taking stock of the words, or maybe just Emma, and she wasn’t sure which one made her more nervous. And she realized rather quickly, he wasn’t going to say anything. He was going to let her talk.

Of fucking course he was. “I’m sorry,” Emma continued. “For, well, you know, being me and pushing with both hands and that’s just how I react when I want something too much. I’m so certain it’s all going to blow up in my face, some kind of fight or flight syndrome that should probably be studied at some point. And, really, it’s all stupid because I’m really happy and this is...it’s been good, right?” Killian nodded slowly, leaning against the open doorframe with his feet crossed at the ankles and Emma tried not to growl when he didn’t use actual words. “So I guess I’m just, well, I know I fucked it up, but I’d like to fix it or we could just...go back to before and you can send all the text messages you want and I’ll let you know I don’t die on stakeouts, but I can’t…” She huffed out a breath of air, blinking quickly when she realized she was on the edge of crying and this was absurd. He was distractingly good looking.

“You can’t what, love?” Killian asked, reaching out to rest his hand on her hip and Emma’s entire body felt like it exploded into flames.

“I can’t lose you.” His eyes widened slightly, but it didn’t take long for him to react, pulling her flush against him and they fit together so goddamn well and he was always so ridiculously warm and that tongue thing was absurd.

Emma sighed against him, pressing up on her toes to reach him better and they may have stood there for days or years or the rest of theirs lives. It didn’t matter.

She was all in. In some kind of decidedly overwhelming way that made her stomach flip and her pulse pick up and Killian laughed when he kissed that spot.

“I’m not going anywhere, Emma,” he whispered and it was exactly what he’d told her the first time, with one very important distinction.

“Good,” Emma smiled, arms wrapped around his waist and face burrowed into his shoulder and she didn’t argue when he started walking them backwards into the room. “But, uh...maybe we don’t tell David just yet. I really think he’d kill you.” Killian barked out a laugh, pressing a kiss to the top of her hair. “Oh, no, he absolutely would. We’re good as is for now, right love?”

“Yeah. We are.”

#cs ff #cs fic #captain swan ff #captain swan #cs #thanksgiving prompt a thon #there is so much making out in this story #there are so many words in this story #i wish i had a light-up headband like ruby's #i would wear it unironically

[starlighting-with-vixx]

Series: An Unexpected Casualty

Title: Marigold - Part 1 Characters: Poppy/Reader, Monsta X Warnings: dumb cops, crooked cops, drugs, death, Wonho, stupidity Genre: Multifandom AU, Dramedy, Tragedy, Romance Word Count: 4300 (the long ones were a bit much, right?) Summary: Everything you hate about your life occurred on a Monday. Tuesday through Thursday is filled with chaos, and internal conflicts happen on Friday. That leaves just two days to brace for it to happen all over again.  Author’s Note: The first part of the fourth installment in the Unexpected Casualty series/universe. This is the last group. Enjoy! –> View All Chapters <–

Victory was so close you could taste it. There was only one man left to find and you weren't going to let him get away without a fight. He was headed towards the exit and you were prepared to ambush him as soon as he entered your vision. Your finger hovered over the trigger as you heard him approaching and you readied yourself to spring on the count of three.

One… Two… Thr--

“Poppy!” A pair of hands slammed down on your desk startling you and causing the words ‘Game Over’ to flash across the screen of your laptop. Not only was your record tanked, but also the losers you were playing against would continue to brag about their unexpected win for weeks.

You were brought back to the deafening noise of several telephones ringing and the shuffling of papers on nearby desks. Two years ago you could have said you loved the sound of the police station, but after a series of unfortunate events you hated the place and very much wanted to quit. Unfortunately, you were too damn good at your job to find something else to do and you couldn’t necessarily leave the people that had helped you get through the most difficult time in your life. They too had suffered a major loss along with you.

You looked up at the man that had caused you to lose your number one ranking. “What did I tell you about playing video games while on the job?”

“Nothing,” you replied. “Because I don’t work for you, Kihyun.” You rolled your eyes and unhooked your controller from your personal laptop before closing it and shoving it underneath your desk. Personal gaming was a direct violation of work performance, but it was an exceptionally slow day at the precinct, so you wanted to pass the time. Besides, if the Captain--the only person you answered to-- hadn’t said anything about your behavior then you guessed it wasn’t a big deal. “What do you want anyway?”

“That's Sargeant Kihyun, Poppy.” He dragged his finger across his badge that let off a slight twinkle underneath the fluorescent bulbs of the precinct.

There once was a rumor that he shined it every night right before he went to bed, which was later proven to be an accurate assumption when he pulled out the buffing paste one day after a suspect was brought in and knocked it off his shirt with disorderly conduct. It was like his existence was under attack with the way he dove under a desk to retrieve it. Kihyun had only reached Sargeant status about three months ago when he was promoted to work on a long unsolved case that had recent developments.

The unsolved case was none other than the murder of your late boyfriend and colleague, Officer Lee Minhyuk. Two years ago on your birthday your boyfriend of three years had taken you out to dinner to celebrate. Unbeknownst to you, a red light had been aimed right in the center of your forehead while you were enjoying your meal. So your boyfriend, as truly in love with you as he was, valiantly jumped in front of the laser pointer and took the bullet in your stead.

It was still unknown as to why you had been targeted, but thanks to Kihyun, the precinct was able to connect Minhyuk’s murder to another one of a local young woman that had occurred a month after. Each case had one similarity, a single red bullet was found in both victims. Through undercover operations, Kihyun was able to track that lead to a group of assassins infamous in the underground networks of the area due to that staple piece of evidence. His accomplishment had earned him his fancy new title and he never missed a moment to rub someone's nose in his success.

Even though Kihyun had recently been promoted, nothing really changed in terms of justice. The murders were still left unsolved and there had been an increasing number of weird deaths around the city, some involving red bullets and some not. The team of assassins was almost impossible to track down. It was as if their existence was entirely fabricated. The precinct had a visual on a potential suspect, but the guy practically vanished out of thin air, so they couldn’t keep an eye on him--and there also wasn't enough evidence to prove that he was even a part of it in the first place. The only thing that changed in the past three months was Kihyun’s increased insistence on making your life miserable. He thought he could boss you around now that he had a new title, but like him and everyone else that worked there, you had to attend combat training, so you knew how to kick his ass if necessary.

Most days you truly believed he was being a complete ass towards you, while other days you chalked it up to him still grieving that his best friend, your boyfriend had died. When Kihyun had first gotten to the force five years ago, Minhyuk was his first partner and the two became the best of friends as they arrested drug dealers, petty thieves, and parking violators; and they threw just about everybody that was minding their own business on the wrong side of the street behind bars. Their boredom caused an overuse of resources that resulted in a financial strain on the precinct and required the Captain to send ‘suspected’ criminals home with hand written apologies every day.

The two were inseparable even when Kihyun moved to the crime scene investigations unit as a detective where he could make better use of his skills. Their close camaraderie resulted in you and Kihyun becoming close friends, as well, once you and Minhyuk started dating. Kihyun was even the one that urged Minhyuk to ask you out. But after his death, Kihyun’s attitude toward you had started to shift and you sometimes thought he blamed you for what happened.

He dropped a huge stack of folders onto your desk. “I need you to double check all these case files and see if we missed anything in regards to these frequent murders around town. There has to be some kind of connection.” He placed his hands firmly on his hips waiting for you to acknowledge his request.

You looked at the behemoth of papers on your desk and realized it was the same stack of files that you had checked three days ago. The same stack you were told needed to be checked and ran against the evidence database, collated, and then filed alphabetically but also in order of occurrence. You had spent six hours filing those folders in the precinct’s prehistoric file room, which was filled with cobwebs and dust because everything was digitally formatted on a computer for faster access, and mostly everyone liked the ease of using the computer. However, as soon as Kihyun was promoted to sergeant, he suggested that paper copies should not be ignored because he didn’t trust computers enough to keep everything safe and accessible should the system be hacked or shut down. In your mind, that was actually code for being technologically inept.

The only reason it took you six hours was because someone had spilled hot coffee all over their shirt and needed help shedding off said shirt before he caught first-degree burns. Luckily, you saved him from any possible injury and in return he thanked you by pinning you against the wall of paperwork and helped you shed your own blouse. As a result, re-reorganizing most of the old files had to be done since the two of you had knocked them off of their old, rickety shelves.

“Poppy!”

“What Kihyun?!” You had apparently zoned-out. You had been doing that a lot lately. It was a result of lack of sleep as you replayed inside your mind an impromptu tryst with one of your coworkers. Plus it was Monday and you fucking hated Monday’s.

“That’s--whatever! Did you hear what I said?”

Anyhow, none of those basic clerical duties were in your job description and you had no business even doing them the first time. You were a technical forensics specialist—a more modern term: a hacker that worked for the police. And a damn good one at that. You shoved the stack back toward Kihyun and watched as he knitted his eyebrows. “I checked these on Friday per the Captain’s request before I left. There's no connection between any of these cases and the new cases. Dates, suspects, evidence, nothing correlates.”

He shoved them back toward you. “Well check them again. You might have missed some-”

You shoved them back toward him again and this time a little more harshly causing your utensil holder to fall off your desk. “I didn't, Kihyun! I'm not checking these again. If you really want them checked then ask the kid over there who's been doing nothing but twiddling his thumbs all day.” You motioned toward Officer Changkyun who had just graduated from the academy. The rookie cop was hired around the time Kihyun was promoted and was already causing trouble with his ‘shoot in the air to scare, ask questions later, and hope you didn’t hit an artery’ mentality. His behavior was chalked up to the fact that he was a dorky drug dealer Kihyun arrested once that the captain decided to reform by making him work in law enforcement.

He looked up from the desk upon hearing his name, quickly tucking something into a drawer on his desk. “I have all these speeding tickets... and accidents... I have to report. I'm behind on my work.” He said in a very relaxed and even tone. You knew what his demeanor meant as you facepalmed. The guy was definitely high on whatever that was that he hid away. You sighed trying to figure out how the precinct got so messed up.

“Fine!” Yelled Kihyun causing the rookie to flinch and you to roll your eyes back into your skull. Damn, he was so dramatic. “I’ll check them myself. I can't get any of you lazy ass people to do any real work around here. No wonder crime rates are skyrocketing! We don't do our jobs!” He grabbed the stack and fumed towards his desk, rushing past Detective Hoseok who quickly spun in a circle in order to avoid another coffee catastrophe on his apparel. You prayed he wasn’t en route to your desk and tried to hide your face from him with your hand. But that was a waste of effort because he could clearly see you from where you were sitting. You had been avoiding him since the “re-filing” because he was the let’s-talk-about-our-feelings type and you were the forget-it-ever-happened type. Plus it was Monday. Your nerves were already bad.

“That's not true!” piped Changkyun. Oh, he must have not inhaled the strong stuff considering he was still coherent. You had labs that tested those type of things but he had yet another weird mentality of ‘I must be one with the streets’, so he tested the confiscated materials himself.  “We just found out who’s been tagging the highway en route to East Port!”

Kihyun stopped in his tracks and turned around toward Changkyun. “Yeah. We did. And then you let him run away because you were stoned and we never saw him again!” He threw the files on the rookie's desk and slammed open a seemingly random folder. But knowing Kihyun, it was the exact folder for the case mentioned because he memorized the order of how he stacked the files. Yes. He was that extra.

Hoseok simply shook his head and he continued to walk towards your desk. Your body betrayed you as you tensed up and couldn't lift your butt that was firmly placed on the chair. You had nowhere to go to be honest. The chance of escaping was very slim. The captain should let you have five lunch breaks a day. That would have given you ample enough time to hide from your sexual frustration—er, Hoseok and the rest of your idiot coworkers.

Hmm, five lunch breaks a day? The captain would never go for it, you thought. But as Hoseok continued to approach with a big grin appearing on his face like he had been dying to see or speak to you for the past three days, you changed your mind and decided to try your luck anyway with the captain. Quickly bolting from your desk, your boots clacked loudly against the tiled floor as you brushed passed Hoseok, who barely had time to open his mouth because he had to secure his coffee from spilling for the third time.

You safely made it towards the the captain’s office and rapped on the door before hearing a brief ‘it’s open’ in return. You opened the door and found your captain, Son Hyunwoo sitting on the edge of his seat, papers in disarray across his magnolia stained desk. He had his hands stretched out in front of him as he gazed at them like they weren't his. He was known to act super strange when he hadn't eaten, and by looking at the clock sitting on his desk it was about feeding time.

Son Hyunwoo had been captain since you joined the force five years ago. His father was Chief of Police of the city, so he was a shoe-in for the higher rank once he was deemed suitable for the position even though he was still young. He was number one in his trainee class and had the most arrests during his time as a lower ranking officer. He kept the precinct afloat for the most part, things only getting a little hazy after Minhyuk’s death. He tried his best to keep up the team morale but there was only so much healing that could go on at the time. Now he had to deal with the recent increase in crime, finding the person responsible behind the death of one his best officers, and keep both of his teams functioning simultaneously--his precinct and his wife and two toddlers.

Deciding that your conversation would be best heard if he had food in his stomach, you reached into your pocket and pulled out a granola bar you were saving for later and placed it on his desk as you sat down in the chair in front of him. You hated seeing your captain when he was hungry, he wasn't himself and the precinct would always be momentarily off balance. However, giving him candy was a direct violation of Code 514 from the annoying book given to you at the ethics training your precinct was forced to undergo every year: bribing city officials for special services. But you didn't care, half the shit that went on in that precinct was unethical.

“Captain? I have a request.”

“Mhm.” He replied without looking up from his hands. You pushed the granola bar even closer towards him, figuring he hadn't noticed it was there.

“I was wondering if I could have two lunch breaks? I'm still...emotionally unstable to be at work and the stress of the job and my coworkers, namely Kihyun,” you said his name under your breath, “is all starting to get to me and--”

“Okay.”

“Wait what?” That was too easy. “Are you sure?”

“Mhm.” He  was still looking at his hands, his eyes growing in size as if he was looking at sixteen fingers instead of eight. You picked up the granola bar and placed it underneath his hand, prompting his eyes to grow even wider and look at you. You noticed his pupils were dilated and he had slight perspiration above his left brow.

Considering his current state you decided to push your luck. “Umm…How about three lunch breaks? I think I’m still healing.”

“Make it five! Just to be sure.” He gave you a wonky smile before narrowing his eyes and then opening them wide again. You were about to make another comment thanking him for his surprising generosity when Kihyun burst through the door with obvious distaste on his tongue.

“You're giving her five lunch breaks?! I loved Minhyuk just as much as she did! He was my best friend too and I'm still hurting! As sergeant of this precinct I must interfere! This-”

“Back off Kihyun! This doesn't concern you!” That prick was eavesdropping on your talk with the captain. He most likely had his ear to the wall to listen in because that was the kind of shit he did.

“The hell it doesn't! You can't just get special treatment while the rest of us work our asses off to solve crimes around here. We work as a team and you're a part of that team.”

“And I will work. But I will have five lunch breaks.”

“That's impractical!”

“Five lunch breaks for you, too!” shouted the captain, scaring the hell out of both of you as he slammed his giant hands on his desk and continued to look at them like they weren't his. You were starting to become concerned about him.

“Alright. Cool.” replied Kihyun with a smirk forming on his lips like he had just proven he could be just as persuasive as you.

You gave him a scowl when a gentle knock was heard on the door. Hoseok entered and glanced your way but you averted your gaze and started fiddling with your hair to distract yourself. “Captain. I terribly miss Minhyuk as well, maybe-”

“Five lunch breaks for you, too, Hoseok!”

“Awesome!” He punched his arm in the air causing the coffee in his hand to drizzle down his arm reminding you of the very thing you wanted to erase from your psyche. You needed to get out of there and fast, but your route was blocked when Changkyun strolled in upon hearing the free lunch breaks the captain was dishing out.

“Captain!” yelled Changkyun as he made his way next to you, “I may be new, but—”

“You get five lunch breaks too!”

“What?!” You, Kihyun, and Hoseok turned simultaneously toward the captain. “But he's a rookie!”

“And I'm the Captain of this ship and I say he gets five lunch breaks. As a matter of fact, I'm going to put all this in the system right now.” He opened his laptop and laid his hands on the desk in front of it. The four of you stared silently as he sat motionless, not a single word being inputted into the machine.

“Umm, Captain?” asked Hoseok whom Captain Hyunwoo himself then shushed.

“Can't you see I'm typing?”

The four of you barely had time to discuss the current situation when Jooheon barged into the room. Jooheon was one of the precinct's best detectives if not the best detective considering he was the only one who ever got any work done. He had been promoted to detective about two years ago and even received a medal of valor for his commitment to protecting the city. He had successfully found a drug ring and was on his way to prevent the distribution of narcotics into the city; however, the perps he caught were located at a remote stable and he didn't account for them actually having horses. So he was caught off guard when Rémi the thoroughbred clocked him above his left eye with her hoof. He went unconscious and Hoseok actually made the arrest of the drug lord, which was bitter pill to swallow for Jooheon who had worked on the case for so long.  But he still was rewarded for his services so he got over it. But now he's forced to wear glasses in the field or Kihyun writes him up.

“And the embarrassment continues,” he said looking around the room at you all.

“What are you talking about?” asked Kihyun, planting his hands firmly on his hips. It irked you when he did that.

“I just heard from my buddy down in dispatch that a West Port officer arrested someone all the way here in East Port because none of our men were available. Do you know how embarrassing that is?! And then I find you all huddled in the captain’s office so it makes sense.”

Hyunwoo looked up from his desk. “Sense is a faculty by which the body perceives an external stimulus. We have five senses and every one of mine are on fire right now. I can smell the flames!” His nostrils flared with the last word, causing everyone to look at one another distressed.

Hoseok stared into your soul longer than you would have preferred, so you quickly stood up and placed your fingers on the captain’s carotid artery. His pulse was racing.

“Captain, what did you take?!” You asked a little panicked. If you cared about anyone in that precinct it was the Hyunwoo. He was your brother from another mother. You could always count on him. “Changkyun! Did you rearrange everyone’s sticky notes on their lunch again? I told you people have specific dietary restrictions!”

“No! I didn't! I promise,” replied the officer who made his way closer to the desk. Upon inspection, he noticed a wrapper and a lollipop stick scattered near a stack of paperwork. “Oh, shit!” He exclaimed upon realization of what happened to your captain.

“What?!” Yelled the rest of you in unison, including the captain.

He had a smirk on his face, which, as convoluted as it sounds, meant the captain was going to be all right. Now knowing exactly what was going on, you facepalmed for the second time that day before the next words came out of Changkyun’s mouth.

“Hey, Captain~,” he teased. “You're exceptionally high right now. On a new drug that's being pushed around in the party scenes. It’s like a very mild version of LSD.”

“That is correct. I am Hi. Hello. Good day. Nice to meet you LeSter D.” He made a derpy face and proceeded to spin around in his chair, but Hoseok rushed over and grabbed the chair before Hyunwoo made a third rotation. His arm muscles were flexing on display before you, and you couldn’t help but think he did that on purpose.

Jooheon quickly closed the door not wanting anyone in the hallway to hear what was transpiring in the office. “How'd this happen?”

“Looks like he finally got around to eating the Halloween baskets Kihyun prepared for everyone,” said Changkyun as he pointed towards an orange jack-o-lantern basket of candy on the floor.

Everyone peered at Kihyun who looked just as shocked as everyone else. “Don't look at me! I would never purposefully get the captain high. I mean, I too would like to become captain one day and I would need an outstanding letter of recommendation from him. So of course I didn't do this.”

“Then who?” Jooheon asked, crossing his arms.

“I did.” Replied Changkyun. “I was trying to get Poppy high with these baby drugs from a dude I know. Ease her tension, y’know? But I guess the baskets got mixed up. My bad.”

“Your bad?!” You screamed as you gripped the newbie’s collar in your fists. “Our captain is currently unable to perform his duties, you moron!”

“Poppy! Calm down!” Bellowed the captain causing you to almost jump into Changkyun’s arms.

“See. He’s fine,” said Changkyun. “He’s coming down from his high right now. It's a mini trip. Not long lasting. Plus he's a big dude so he’ll have no side effects. And the stick is yellow, which means it had the one with the non-addictive formula. My guy’s a genius in the lab. There was this one time--”

“Changkyun, enough!” cried Kihyun. “We need to speak in private. Follow me. Everyone else, back to work.” Kihyun ushered everyone out the room and you were the last to follow until something in your mind prompted you to turn around and check one more thing before you left.

“Captain.” He looked up at you as his pupils began to return to normal.

“I'm fine, Poppy. I’ll--”

“No.” You interrupted. “Empty your pockets.”

He stood up and did as you asked. When you gasped at the two lollipops he pulled from his pocket, a look of our shock engulfed his whole face. “I almost brought them home to my kids!”

You moved back towards his desk and confiscated the lollipops before they caused any more unnecessary damage. “I'll do away with these. We can be civil if you want to go home and rest.”

He nodded at you and you stepped outside, closing the door behind you. Upon turning around you were met with a very thick structure against your nose. You realized you were staring at a striped surface that was slightly raised on either side of your face. The surface also held two slightly almond shaped protrusions. Almonds that were always angry, it seemed, because they would never go down. There was no room for you to step back, so you were forced to look up and finally face Hoseok. His cup of coffee was long gone, but you were still engulfed by the smell that was now attached to his person. Your eyes moved up to see him staring down at you with a triumphant smirk on his face after finally cornering you.

“We need to talk,” said Wonho as he turned on his heels and expected you to follow him down the hall. Yet another thing you didn't want to deal with yet you had too or else he would never go away.

“I fudgin’ hate Mondays,” you groaned as you followed Hoseok down the hall.

Welcome to the precinct.

More to come! And it won’t take nearly as long! Thanks for reading! - Cheezy ^_^ & Dearly :3

#monsta x #shownu #wonho #minhyuk #kihyun #hyungwon #jooheon #i.m #son hyunwoo #shin hoseok #lee minhyuk #yoo kihyun #chae hyungwon #lee jooheon #im changkyun #monsta x scenarios #monsta x smut #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfiction #monsta x fanfiction

[xavierdominico-blog]

Ultimate Overwatch Review by me

Exists in a intersection between style and artistry, a crossroad where pure heavenly joy matches tasteful, bright design to make a rare spark of magic. The individual who has deadshot aim isn't any more precious than the individual who has the decision-making capability to understand when a well-timed capability will turn an involvement, or the individual who has the map-sense to locate the perfect places to put sentry turrets. While it did not just drown me in choices, maps, and manners, it is blessed with a large number of tactical layers, and not one of them came between me and my personal pleasure of its extreme, concealed teamfights, along with thrilling overtime comebacks. Overwatch does a excellent many things nicely, but above all , its achievement is built on the backs of its numerous exceptional characters. It is fitting that the principal menu is dominated by a single of these constantly; their varied looks, roots, and characters are all laid bare with each pose they hit. Reinhardt's enemy hammer lands onto his shoulder with a meaty clank that amuses a broadsword resting against a medieval knight's plate , and Tracer's jovial grin is simply temporarily interrupted with a rebellious bang which slides across her face, enticing her to blow it back into position until re-addressing the camera and trapping all over the area. They are so different that you would imagine them looking absurd standing alongside another, but through careful, subtle visual cues chucked in their gear and apparel, they figure out how to look as though they share a frequent Earth, even when they hail from other corners of it.

This diversity continues to stand out once you select a hero and hit on the battle together. Even though the 21 characters (all of whom have been unlocked in the beginning ) are roughly grouped into one of four"functions," no 2 sense equally. The robotic, changing Bastion and the anarchic, explosive-tossing Junkrat are equally technically Defenders, however they could not play with any more differently from one another. The former appears for a comfy place overlooking a key choke point and transforms to a minigun turret to conduct stage protection; the latter plays an area-denial match by lobbing timed grenades over extended distances, which sit on the floor blinking angrily, as if to say"go someplace else" to encroaching enemies prior to bursting. This powerful sense of distinction is significant as it keeps team makeup plans from devolving into easy formulas. Notwo two Supports, and 2 Attackers isn't the magic solution to get a winning group. You need to appear much deeper -- and if you do, the authentic splendor of Overwatch's gameplay excels.

Each Tool From The Box Among the sudden keys to surfacing those nuances is the refusal to provide up crutches to lean on. With hardly any arguable exceptions, no personality is concentrated solely about one catch-all weapon or ability to the extent which you could find success by utilizing it independently. Tracer's double machine-pistols have a higher rate of fire but bad precision, a brief clip, along with middling harm if you are not scoring headshots. Genji's shurikens are exceptionally damaging and boast unerring precision, but their slow rate of fire and lengthy traveling time may make hitting a little moving target hard. Nearly every key weapon fits this mould: they are helpful, and in the ideal situation quite strong, but not flexible enough for a safety blanket to cling to. Not only do all these small details help distinguish personalities, but they pushed me to research their other skills looking for success.

You need to appear much deeper -- and if you do, the authentic splendor of Overwatch's gameplay excels.

And after I started looking more carefully, I could not stop discovering new items. Revisiting Junkrat's toolset, he does not have one standard, dependable gun to simply right engage an enemy facing him. Surehe could bypass grenades across the floor, leading his goal as best he could, but if you're good enough to win one-on-one firefights in this manner, you would not be realizing his entire potential.

One immobilizes enemies which wander to it, another blows them when triggered. In practice however, they may be much more. Steel Trap may be an escape tool, enabling you to disengage from battles with quicker enemies hoping to get on mind. Its positional alert upon being actuated enables it to double as a early warning system also, permitting you to know that somebody on the opposite team is trying to emphasise your defenses and holding them long enough for one to react. Or, plant a Concussion Mine along with a Steel Trap and only detonate it once you see it triggered as you are off someplace else peppering the object with grenades. You may even utilize Concussion Mine as a normal old grenade by pitching it in a bunch of enemies and detonating it manually since it gets there. Maybe most amusingly, you are able to detonate it beneath to rocket-jump up to otherwise-inaccessible places. Two skills on a single character opens up those chances, and as you might imagine, as soon as you get 12 characters scrapping over goals, using their skills to help and harm one another, additional layers of strategic nuance start to unfurl.

For instance: On her Pharah could be a significant headache by projecting herself into the atmosphere and hovering there while raining rocket-propelled passing down to opposing teams out of angles which leave both pay and positioning . Mercy's Guardian Angel capability allows her to swoop toward some other ally in scope, even up ones in the skies. Together with her capacity to slow her descent with her wings, she is the only character which may follow Pharah where she goes. So you wind up getting a lively duo flying all over the area -- that the one shoving rockets down people's throats while another switches involving recovery up her and buffing her already considerable damage output as necessary.

The amount of all of these minute particulars is that virtually every activity, even the ones that you repeat over and over, feel only a little bit magical.

Overwatch is loaded with synergies such as this: Reinhardt and Lucio, Zarya and Reaper, Torbjorn and Symmetra...there is no lack of opportunities for enthusiastic, coordinated drama, and if you reach a place where you feel comfortable shifting your personality on the fly at the center of a game to capitalize on feeble enemy group makeup, you truly feel as a strategic genius.

You can spend several hours enjoying Overwatch before getting to this point by correctly wrap your mind around all of the little intricacies it's tucked away behind its own sheen, but you don't have to just to get a fantastic time with it. Just trying out various personalities, popping off their skills, and moving throughout their entire world feels almost indescribably right, and it is all due to tiny, nearly imperceptible details. The lid on Junkrat's grenade launcher flaps and clanks about along with his every movement, Lucio's motion has only the slightest touch of inertia, which means you truly feel as though you're skating once you play with him. Zenyatta's reload cartoon may be my favourite; I never got tired of seeing him open his arms to unveil a brand fresh pair of orbs before clasping them with a gratifying, metallic thud. It is a little thing, sure, but the amount of those minute particulars is that virtually every activity, even the ones that you repeat over and over, feel only a little bit magical.

Overwatch's 12 maps are flush with luxuriant details, and in addition, they play a major part in extracting additional depth from the throw toolsets. The first chokepoint on Hanamura begs to get static defenses such as Torbjorn's turret or Symmetra's sentries constructed around it, and also for attackers with the ideal mobility abilities (watch Pharah and Mercy over ) the lengthy gap between the left side of their first and second catch point becomes a tantalizing chance to emphasise the defenders until they could reset themselves. Payload-escort maps such as Route 66 supply high ground on each side of the Allied route, establishing paranoia-inducing ambush situations where Winston's curved Shell Barrier becomes valuable for protection against dangers that may be coming from many angles at the same time. You are not only considering how your personality will operate in the context of your group, but also about what chances any map supplies, and ways to exploit them.

Each map is directly tied to a particular target type, therefore their structure is well-tailored into the activity available. You never get that much disjointed sense of playing capture the flag onto a staff deathmatch map, such as you could in other multiplayer shooters where maps need to adapt an assortment of modes. The upsides are more subtle, but important. Maps are concentrated without feeling constricted; there is no question about where you are headed or how to arrive, as each flanking route and side door finally puts you wherever you want to be. This manner, Overwatch's map layouts enable you to pick your vector of involvement without risking you becoming lost in which the activity is not happening.

Tying manners to maps within this one-of-a-kind fashion includes a little disadvantage as well though: Overwatch does not have a lot of different ways to change things up like most other games of its type do. This is not Halo where many maps encourage different team sizes, goals, and a ton of different altered rules. There is just 1 way to perform Volskaya Industries: it should always be strike the very first stage, then strike the second. This absence of customization allows for finely tuned action, but also cuts to the general width and wide range of their experience compared to other contemporary multiplayer games.

Overwatch takes pretty much every possible chance to create its throw and locales look like places and people instead of puppets and scenery.

However, like its personalities, Overwatch's maps are full of nuances that can take some time and repetition to understand, rather than simply from a mechanical perspective. Bits of narrative and world-building is discovered through the superbly conceived surroundings. Picture posters at the living room of a single map show the mech-piloting pro-gamer D.Va's actual name is Hana Song, which she had a picture career too. Another map includes a row of arcade machines, and should you just happen to be playing as Genji, the cyber-ninja may begin reminiscing about the number of hours of his"misspent youth" he burnt away playing with there. Occasionally characters that have a past and do not enjoy each others find themselves on precisely the exact same group, and you're going to hear about it. Overwatch takes pretty much every possible chance to create its throw and locales look like places and people instead of puppets and scenery.

Concerning attributes, Overwatch is merely a little thin, but it satisfies the majority of the fundamental expectations of a multiplayer shooter and in certain ways, surpasses them. Its remarkable stat-tracking, per-character controller mapping, and availability options stick out. Additionally, it does a fantastic job of identifying and devoting very good play to enemies and teammates through a publication commendation system along with a candy"Play of the Game" highlight reel. Matchmaking is fast and dependable, and the decorative unlockables are amazingly charming and come in a fairly good rate without paying for additional loot packs. Nevertheless, I dug the personalities' inventory layouts so far, I did not need to ramble too much from them anyhow.

Overwatch is an unbelievable accomplishment in multiplayer shooter style. It bobs and weaves virtually perfectly between becoming the quick-fix adrenaline strike you may need after a long day of work, along with the thoughtful, tactical multiplayer experience which becomes the middle of all evening-long binges with buddies. It may not possess the most exhaustive collection of maps and manners, but it supplies almost endless opportunities for thrilling, coordinated drama, and if you are the one in the middle of itfeels as though nothing else.

[buildercar]

New Post has been published on http://www.buildercar.com/by-design-volkswagen-arteon/

By Design: Volkswagen Arteon

Volkswagen has made a great many product errors during its 79-year history, but it has been supported throughout nearly eight decades by two homerun vehicles and their derivatives: the original Porsche- and Hans Ledwinka-designed Type 1 KdF “Beetle” and Giorgetto Giugiaro’s most successful design, the Golf. Some of the offshoots, such as the Karmann Ghia sports models and the Type 2 Transporter, were fabulous successes in their own right. Others, such as the rear-engine 411 and 412, are best forgotten. Of all the mistakes, the most egregious was the Phaeton, a V-8 version of which we evaluated as part of a Four Seasons test. It was a big, comfortable car that was woefully unreliable and burdened with absolutely the wrong badge. Yet it was so smooth as a highway car that it contributed to the acquisition of the only speeding ticket I’ve had since AUTOMOBILE began. I honestly didn’t know I was over the limit.

In 1955, when I drove the second of three VWs I possessed in the ’50s, I was asked to take a Cadillac studio engineer from the GM Technical Center to a dealership to pick up his Coupe de Ville after a routine service. He was utterly astonished by the perceived quality of the Beetle, which was better than his own car. It was built when VWs were still painted by dipping them in a tank of enamel, resulting in a magnificent, lustrous finish everywhere. Driving our Phaeton from Ann Arbor, Michigan, to California, a friend and I overnighted in Kansas City so he could show the car to his friend who loved it and called his wife over to see “your next car.” She was entranced by the lines and the leather, but one look at the big VW badge on the nose and she all but shouted, “Never! What were you thinking?” She was outraged by the disparity between the high price and the low prestige.

But there would seem to be a place for a more luxurious VW without the cognitive dissonance embodied in the too expensive and thus essentially unsalable Phaeton. The sleek CC was an approach, if not a terribly successful one. But this Arteon follow-up to it, unveiled at the 2017 Geneva auto show, might be the car to achieve VW’s dream of moving upmarket with the ultimate economy brand. At any rate, I find the Arteon’s clean, crisp, and tastefully understated yet efficiently aerodynamic shape to be compelling. I can imagine buying this car and remaining well satisfied with its appearance into the 2020s.

I find the painted patch of the roof awkward and would certainly paint it black if I bought one. The wheels are nice but look too much like the front fan of an airliner engine and too sporty for a family four-door. I could easily do without the chrome vent on the front door and fender, but I don’t really object to it. Because it is a bit generic, I can imagine the car staying in production for many years without any need for costly refreshment. Altogether, it’s a good — if plain — design.

1. The band around the wheel opening is slightly concave. An unusual and intriguing choice.

2. In plan view this line swells outward toward the rear, providing a shoulder/shelf above the rear wheels.

3. The roof profile is extremely sporty, even when seen from the front, yet there’s plenty of rear headroom.

4. The sharp peak of the front fender flows into the body side, providing a little flat area that disappears by the time it reaches the rear of the back doors. Nice surface work.

5. The second longitudinal crease in the giant hood stamping disappears at the front but aligns with the curious painted piece below the opening cutline, giving more visual length to the hood. Again, nice unobtrusive work.

6. There is major plan view chamfering so the car is aerodynamically efficient, but the hood centerline is as long as possible, enhanced by the painted transverse piece below.

7. Grille texture is extremely well proportioned and emphasizes frontal width without imposing poor drag-producing corners.

8. The black bumper strike faces are an excellent idea, easy to repair if necessary.

9. Blacking out the lower center makes the car seem slimmer than it really is and gives the impression of a central nacelle around the engine compartment.

10. This slanted, canted surface provides a sense of really cramming air into the corner inlets, which are designed to channel the flow of air to the side around the front wheel, resulting in reduced air resistance.

11. These are enormously impressive wheels on the R-Line model, looking very much like the front fan of a jet engine. But they’re really not appropriate for a family sedan. I’m sure there will be many other options.

12. In this high view you can see how the fenders are really cut back.

13. The dark glass roof is pleasant for occupants but is not particularly harmonious.

14. The metal roof panel could well be painted black to blend with the backlight and forward roof glass. Its profile is excellent.

15. This very small airflow trip strip across the back is doubtless something developed in the wind tunnel, but it looks just fine here, not too big or pretentious.

16. This substantial indentation allows for a hard crease line across the tail. It also provides a place for snow to accumulate.

17. The thin piece of bright metal carrying all the way around the rear end aligns with equally dimensioned trim along the bottoms of the doors.

18. Rear reflectors are tucked under the slightly protruding, slim rear bumper strike face.

19. It’s amazing how much class a trim piece that’s not just an equal-width rolled molding can impart to a car. It is well worth the additional cost.

20. The indented body sides strengthen the door panels, and if they can fill with snow, at least they move away from the body, with the cut lines well below. Again, a nice touch.

21. I’d leave this trim piece off, but it’s sufficiently unobtrusive to be unobjectionable.

22. Not entirely plain upholstery but pretty visually dismal all the same.

23. The interior of this variant is pretty drab and dark, but the controls on the door are nicely placed, and the grab handle is convenient.

24. Nice steering wheel with some functional controls, but why not some color to liven things up a little?

25. Having a screen rather than mechanical instruments is nice, but once again a bit of color would be particularly welcome.

26. At least the nav screen sparkles.

27. And this thin blue accent line is the only touch of color in the physical hardware. A pity.

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