#☆

[the-malevolent-kitchen]

Due to the announcement that I just reblogged (I forgot to address a long time ago due to inactivity), I'll be retheming my blog! Please don't mind if the blog gets messy for the next couple of days

Also I have not forgotten Allen stimboard requester I'm so sorry it's taking so long I'll try to get that done asap 🙏

[bloodpen-to-paper]

QSMP Awards 2024 Summarized

-The audio was scuffed for the first half. I don't mean a little crispy. I don't mean with a slight echo. It was fucked in every way imaginable. The audio sounded like it was going through a blender. Then it kept getting too loud, then too quiet (so much so we couldn't hear), all while being way too crispy. Charlie Slimecicle monologued to the audience while the team was trying to fix it but since the audio was both too crispy and too quiet we couldn't actually understand anything he was saying. This carried on for about 7 minutes with him holding two microphones, neither of which was working, before the stream crashed (again)

-All the staff are apparently Cucurucho, with one of them being a "main Cucurucho"

-Missa wore a "Quackity my beloved" shirt. I could not explain to you what the blazer over it was supposed to be.

-Everyone else at the ceremony was shown through discord call. I'm convinced Charlie has never seen German or Lenay's faces cause he did not know it was them until Quackity said their names

-The screen was supposed to switch between showing all the people on the discord and it kept switching between the same four people. If I have to hear Q, Charlie and Missa chant "Foolish" or "Pol" ever again-

-Mariana showed up and Charlie immediately went into bitter ex mode. He also hit on Mariana. Multiple times.

-We got a patented Ironmouse "coño" and chat lost their shit over Luzu existing, as expected

-Mariana looked like Michael Jackson, Bad's background could've been the set of Breaking Bad, Roier had a ski mask, lots of people learned what Lenay, German and Vegetta's looked like for the first time, and Mike had a kawaii filter

-Somehow Bad didn't even get nominated for Best Cucurucho Jumpscare, showing that even non-red carpet events can produce award snubs (congrats to Bagi!)

-Though I yearned for Maximus getting nominated for his Eh Vegetta prank, we all knew the win had to go to Vegetta for the mines

-The audio eventually became bearable but the echo never fully left. At some point there were like three or four overlaps of Vegetta giving his acceptance speech

-Acau won for Best Death from getting killed by an enderman (in my heart Foolish's accidental death by Pomme's sniper that got him eliminated from the elections won, but we did get Quackity dying to a fly as a nom so I feel complete. Also congrats to Acau!)

-The Qsmp shop is officially open! We got eggie merch :]

-Quackity forgot to roll clips for the Best Purgatory 2 Moment nominees and almost read out the winner before we got the montage (Wuant won! It was the clip of him being told he lost and he accidentally did a flip. They weren't able to get the acceptance speech on stream so we saw it from Quackity's phone)

-Funniest QSMP Moment nominees were all fucking hilarious, its hard to pick just one but Maxo winning for when he respawned after a lore-heavy moment in Pierre's bed to his own moans being remixed into a song absolutely deserved the win

-Saddest QSMP Moment was unnecessary and the admins will be hearing from my lawyers for making me relive Dapper's first lost life, Dia de los Muertos and the end of Purgatory 1 (Jaiden and Roier saying bye to Bobby won, Roier changed his screen to black and white and held up what looked like a mini Cucurucho being used as a cross)

-Best QSMP Original Song was played prematurely when the category was Best Language Exchange, and we got a spoiler for the winner (YD and Hugo's exchange won and YD's audio was muted so we just saw her Vtuber model getting excited)

-The aforementioned Best Qsmp Original Song had Gordinho Gostosinho looping aggressively over Charlie singing the Juanaflippa song, which I hope to god gets clipped cause it was hilarious (I'm glad the Roier and Cucurucho rap got nominated). Charlie was very confused why they had him announce his own win.

-Best PVP unsurprisingly went to Etoiles for his colosseum Code fight, after all he is the Best🔥 (the other noms were great too, we had Philza vs Tubbo in Purgatory, Bad and Maxo eliminating El Quackity from the elections, and a cute sparring session between Pac and Richas)

-Best Qsmp Fails went to Fit for that time Pac's internet cut out during their date (of course he bragged about his Brasilian boyfriend after learning he won for best loser)(also if it was up to me Quackity's fly deaths would've been added to this category just sayin')

-The audio problems were revealed to have been roleplay the entire time. Yep. All part of the lore.

-Speaking of, most of the winners who were in the discord call could not be heard so they had to give speeches through Quackity holding his phone up to the mic

-Best Roleplayer went to Roier for his Doied arc (the screen prematurely showed him before they could read the announcement, and his speech was him kissing the camera)

-Worst Server House went to Mariana accompanied with the classic clip of him reacting to the admins roasting his started base; Mariana was part of the discord call but left at some point so he couldn't give a speech, to which Charlie jumped on the opportunity to roast his absence like a shark smelling blood (they rightfully nominated Quackity for his clip of Acau reacting to his failure of a starter house, and apparently Carre's base is just his bed on a dirt plot)

-Most Iconic Clip went to Pac for stealing the Qsmp Logo (the other lovely noms included Foolish and co. accidentally closing their house door after a creeper came in an attempt to shut it out, and Tina reacting to a mob giving Felps a blowjob)

-The Most Bankrupt Islander went to Niki for being broke, we stan (during the nom montage we got a passa tudo mention)

-The Creator Who Spent the Most Time on the Server Award went to Bad, which was shocking to no one, although they did use his Barbie Girl clip for the nom montage (they also used Fit wearing a wig for his clip)

-The Qsmp cake for the one year anniversary had the text "FELICIDADES ALBERTO". We do not know who Alberto is. Pol was losing it.

-Tubbo won for The Creator With the Most Deaths (106), while The Creator With Fewest Deaths went to Philza (he only had 1!). Philza was able to be heard through stream but the hosts didn't know this so they would hear him from Quackity's phone and repeat what he was saying even though we could hear him

-Everytime the camera cut back to the hosts Charlie, Quackity and Missa had more cake on their faces

-Most Distance Traveled (in Minecraft) went to Etoiles (6,000+ km jfc)

-Creator With the Most Mob Kills went to Pierre (162,960 mob kills. what the fuck.)

-They accidentally read the award for Creator With the Most Damage Taken (Foolish) during the Best Builder announcement, confusing the shit out of everyone, especially cause the screen showed Mike instead of Foolish. I am still unclear who won Best Builder

-Creator With the Most Blocks Placed went to Mike!!! (MIKE WIN VAMBORAAAAAAAAAAA🇧🇷🇧🇷🇧🇷)

-We had to uncomfortably sit through Missa feeding Charlie cake (and just Charlie in general)

-There was an In Memorium segment of the passed eggs (Quackity shat on a grieiving Charlie for Flippa only lasting 11 days, but in Charlie's words, "to you it was 11 days; to her it was a lifetime"). Charlie commentated and had nothing to say about Trump because he didn't know jack shit about Trump (though he did make a wall joke which is exactly what Maxo would have wanted godbless🙏)

-The stream ended with the discord people saying goodbye, while Roier was holding up the mini Cucuruchos and didn't move the entire time. I know he wasn't frozen because he blinked.

-Maxo sent in his acceptance speech video last minute and Quackity hyped it up as a mysterious final entry but Charlie guessed it was Maxo and spoiled it on accident

-Speaking of, Maxo's entry was him walking around heaven looking for Trump </3

-Charlie gave a heartfelt speech about the people he met through the Qsmp, all while looking like ate out frosty the snowman <3. Missa simpy thanked Alberto (we still do not know who Alberto is)

-Tubbo wasn't present in the discord call because he thought him streaming meant he couldn't join. After the stream Quackity called and Tubbo realized he was allowed to join the whole time

-We ended on a montage of various moments, with a message of excitement looking forward to the next year!

And of course, here are the screenies I managed to nab of the hosts slowly deteriorating into cake

[astarlow]

I'm currently unmotivated to write anything long and especially after the devs did us so dirty for the PVE announcement so here are some headcanons, imagines- whatever you want to call this to comfort me from the fact we're not getting the PVE we were promised 4 years ago

Overwatch crews

Slumber party whenever a mission is accomplished. Don't matter if everyone's weary as hell, with Lena and Hana running around you are sure to get yourself a slumber party every month. If said mission isn't a success though, it's more of  a chill hangout with the members of the team Hana, Satya and Angela will bring your ass to a shopping spree. Whether you like it or not so be prepared because with them, you're gonna spend the whole day out there. Honestly though, if you don't like it Lena, Fareeha and Brigitte are by the arcades or the sport terrain near the shopping alley. So whenever you feel like it, you can go there to play with them There’s another tradition going around, twice a month, a member of the team cooks for the rest of the crew. It started with Mei, Aleksandra and you talking about your culture’s food. Mei offered to cook for you two to taste Chinese cuisine which you gladly accepted. In return, you two would also cook your culture’s food. With time passing by, other members joined the tradition and now, Echo chooses who would cook for this month’s tasting food session It turned into a competition when Lena decided to vote for the best month’s food Mei, Ana and Brigitte for the moment are on the podium sharing the first place Lena and Hana have zero points. Lena almost burnt the kitchen once. Luckily, you were there to put out the fire She doesn’t have the patience to wait for things to cook For Hana, ever since she entered MEKA, she didn’t have the time to prepare food. The best she could do is boil water and put it on her noodles. Though, ever since she joined Overwatch, she has had a little bit more time so she takes lessons from Mei and Brigitte. Lena watches but never fully join because else, it’ll turn into a mess Every week, Vivian holds a shooting session training. The best shooter of the week gets a gift from her and is exempted from chores for the week Ana has been exempted from participating in this shooting session ever since she won five times in a row

Talon crews

Olivia doesn't stop her pranks, so either you decide to team up with her to prank the others or you go against her. If you prank her, she will at least remind you this once a  week. "Amigo/amiga, how could you do this to your best friend in the world?" sighs dramatically while placing an arm on her forehead "Can you believe this? My best friend, betraying me..." Or "oh no, the betrayal. Who could have foreseen  such an event?" Amelie is more often than not the victim of Olivia's pranks. It's gotten so bad one time Olivia and you couldn't set a foot near the base or she would snipe you from afar She's "kind" Enough to not use real bullets but let's say you had bruises for the following weeks Moira is a target you two don't prank because you've been under her wrath and let's just say, it's not pleasant at all Olivia does try to get all of you to enjoy some vacation time. She does separate Amelie and  Moira, because she knows Amelie is showing more and more emotions and she doesn't want her to return to that cold emotionless assassin Talon turned her into. So for her sake, she keeps Moira away from her When Olivia, Amelie and yourself are out for a mission or a vacation, Amelie will make sure to make at least one comment on the food. She grew up with the finest food so she knows what good food is or not. You once bought her a baguette from a supermarket, she did not appreciate it. She could have stopped if not for  Olivia's intervention "It's just a baguette, how bad can it be?" And that's how you all three didn't get any sleep because of Amelie's monologue on baguette Olivia is a lot more laid back so she takes you sightseeing and if she trusts you enough, she takes you to her hometown. She even lets you meet up with Baptiste.

No-faction Ladies

Kiriko

Kiriko is dragging your ass across the city and showing you the finest spots If you're dating, it's one of your monthly dates to walk around the city and discover new paths or stands/shops. Even if she knows her city like the back of her hand, she's still pleased you're enjoying showing her shops you like She also practices her kunai throwing with you. It’s a lot of fun for her to see you mess up so many times. Although, you get closer to the target with each training session and she holds great pride in seeing your progress She trusts you enough after some time spent together, as well as some missions done together, to show you the group in which she belongs: The Yōkai You spend some fun times with them and seeing as they all have some masks, you decided to craft one for Kiriko. Of course, it’s a fox one. Kiriko loves it so much she doesn’t wear it, in fear she breaks it but she places it in her apartment.

Junker Queen

Odessa doesn't get out of Junkertown a lot, if not at all since she got her Junker Queen title. So if you're travelling fairly often, you give her pictures of your travels. "Oi! You should take me out here, sounds lots of fun!" "I tried, you say you were too busy ruling things around here." "Ey, doesn't mean I can't get to travel from time to time with me partner." Every time you come back from your travels, whether it is for business or for yourself, you always tell how you trip went down. Of course, with pictures to accompany your story. Odessa finds it easier to follow if she has pictures in front of her

Ashe

Liz loves to experiment with her outfits, if you have any good idea she’s going to bring it to life. If one of your ideas doesn’t please her, she’s going to give you interesting feedback. She is a firm believer in constructive criticism She often asks BOB to watch over you when she’s gone for a heist but sometimes, it does seem like you’re the babysitter You teach BOB about some customs he might not have been aware of. It’s a lot of fun watching him learn new things

ps: i still have a lot of asks from the 700 celebration event, I'll try to get to it as soon as i am a little bit more free

[fencer-x]

HAPPY SASAMYUUTAI OPENING DAY!

I've just returned from the very first show, and now you people have to hear me shriek about it! I took copious notes, so sit back, relax, and let's crack open a cold one with these boys. There will of course be spoilers, so if you're waiting for the stream on the 31st to watch the show, then go on, git. Everyone else, behind the cut!

"How many people went?"

It's only opening day, so there will be more people at later shows (I was 8th row today, but I'll only be 15th row next Friday), but the theater was filled to about 50% capacity. It should be noted that more people will probably be attending shows that have after-talks with the cast, which this one did not, so it wasn't as 'in-demand'.

Before the actual show started, they had an announcement over the speakers to tell audience members the rules of the theater (normal stuff). This is often done by actors in character for musicals and plays based on anime and such, so this time it was Miyano delivering an announcement from the 'Disciplinary Committee' XDD He was interrupted about halfway through by Sasaki who was mostly there to distract and flirt.

The opening 'credits' where they introduced the cast were hella gorgeous. They overlaid this beautiful moving night-sky-scape over most of the set, and there was a kind of laser light show almost that was really intricately choreographed. I can't wait for the stream so everyone else can see it and hope it comes through. It was kinda breathtaking!

For the play itself, let's get one thing clear: they had to trim a LOT of fat. They shrank nearly 7 volumes down to just 2 hours of time, which is like half the anime. I was worried that was going to result in a rushed product that didn't have any of the heart of the original. However, while I won't say it was PERFECT, and it DID feel a bit rushed, it was still true to the original manga, I thought, and they did a great job of snipping and rearranging and revising scenes to allow a more rapid pace. Kudos to the scriptwriter!

Anyone who's read the manga knows that the first volume has a LOT of flashbacks and isn't really told in chronological order. The scriptwriter wisely said "fuck that" and told the story in order. So we start with the fight scene and then develop Sasaki and Miyano's relationship from there.

Sensei mentioned in the pamphlet interview that they had actually ADDED a few scenes from the manga that didn't make it into the anime, which was shocking to me considering how much they needed to shorten it, but they did indeed add a few scenes--even some ORIGINAL scenes. One of those scenes was a scene of Kuresawa and Miyano talking in the nurse's office after Miyano escorts Kuresawa away from the fight. It's here that Kuresawa mentions the reason for the fight (a scene we don't see until much later in the manga, and even then it's between Kuresawa and Sasaki). It was a nice little addition to help you understand that these two were already friends. The early minutes of the play have a fair bit of Miyano-Kuresawa-and Tashiro bonding scenes that reinforce their friendship for the audience.

Hanzawa is also introduced VERY early; we actually SEE him talking to Miyano a bit before he asks him to deliver the printouts to Hirano in chapter 3.

One way they increased the pace of the action, too, was to actually just…increase the pace of speaking. These boys' mouths were ROCKET SHIPS, and this was particularly amusing when Miyano went on his long and rambling rants XD his word vomit nearly became just that.

One thing that I found a little jarring, though, was the interspersing of monologue and dialogue. In the Live Reading events, we saw the lines that were meant to be in the characters' heads given a bit of echo-y reverb, which worked well. They tried it here too, to much less success IMHO. This was mostly because the lines were going so quickly and the switch between internal/external happening back and forth and back and forth. There were more than a few times I was like o_O before recalling "oh right that was supposed to be said in his head."

In the play, Sasaki reads the manga he first borrows from Miyano on the same day as he receives it, giving his thoughts on the manga he received in the morning later that afternoon. Miyano is shocked, since he EXPLICITLY told Sasaki not to read it in public, but Sasaki assures him he did it on the rooftop, where no one would see. I assume this was a change to avoid having to do scene changes and indications of time passing, and it worked nicely I thought. Sasaki sneaking off to read porn on the school rooftop seems likely XD

There was no Valentine's Day scene and no pocky scene, but we did get the cookies scene and Miyano explaining how he got into BL. And of course the BLEP made it in a-okay, fret not! Ogasawara's introduction was retained as well.

I also don't know HOW it wasn't fixed in rehearsals, since it must have been happening all the time, but these boys were dropping their cell phones left and right when they would bend over and it would slip from their pockets. Sasaki dropped his first and continued on with a scene, and then Miyano in another scene dropped his and it clattered OFF THE STAGE and into the audience and Kuresawa had to jump down into the audience seats to recover it lmao.

Some scenes had to be removed entirely or merged with others to streamline the show, and one of those was…Sports Day. Yes, the entire confession setting was changed lol. This wasn't SO bad actually; Sasaki confesses quietly on the train, Miyano quietly freaks out about it, and then we immediately segue to the next day where they're talking about a new manga (as at Sports Day), and Miyano is reflecting that WHEW they're acting normally and he had nothing to worry about and maybe he mishear--"I'm in love with you, Miyano."

The mask scene where Sasaki watches him sleep as well as the phone call were of course retained and were quite cute.

The next major scene is when Miyano learns he's been volunteered to do the drag pageant, and Hanzawa's laughter is quite creepy here. A+++ job to the actor. When they rope in Kuresawa to play backup to Miyano's entry, Hanzawa tries to get Tashiro to cross-dress as well…and actually wears him down. This leads to a scene that will likely be a daily ad-lib scene, where each show has a different bit of ad-libbing here. Hanzawa brings out a paper bag that he says has an outfit he's sure will look great on Tashiro. The thing is, I think the costume staff put things in there WITHOUT TELLING THE ACTORS WHAT IT IS, so they get surprised by the contents as well. Today, it was a pair of what looked like knock-off Minnie Mouse ears, complete with a bow.

Shortly after this scene, Kuresawa tries on his schoolgirl outfit and makes his appearance as 'Tasuko'. When he swans out on stage, he asks a random audience member in the front row if he looks good. When she inevitably says he does, he apologizes and says he has a girlfriend already.

It's around here that a few scenes get rolled together. There are two separate scenes of Miyano trying on his pageant outfit in the manga: chapter 22 and chapter 23. These are combined into a single scene, with Hanzawa giving the talk to Miyano from Chapter 22 rolling right into him getting called away and Sasaki finding Miyano in Chapter 23, even though in canon these seem to take place on separate days.

We then move into the cultural festival itself. At one point, Tashiro, Miyano, and Kuresawa run around looking at all the booths. Tashiro spots one waaaay in the back, and they squint to read it: "Sasaki and Miyano…is getting…a movie!" XDDD cue clapping from the audience for anyone who managed to miss the announcement before.

At the Badboy Fortune-telling Cafe this time, we actually get Ogasawara in addition to Sasaki and Hirano. Unfortunately for Sasaki, this means he gets chewed out from both sides about not looking rough enough around Miyano. They drag him to the side to do a My Fair Lady (My Bad Boy?) on him in another segment that will probably be ad-libbed daily.

In today's scene, Ogasawara tells Sasaki to deliver a one-liner from a 'badboy with two completely different sides to him' (kind of like the trope of the badboy who adopts a kitten), and Sasaki comes up with: "Yo bitch, can't believe you kept me waitin' for our date, but gosh your makeup looks absolutely divine."

After this, Ogasawara drags Tashiro away for a 'Become a Badboy' experience, which Tashiro is absolutely stoked for XD "Become a badboy in body and soul!"

At the drag pageant, we finally see Miyano all dolled up and…I'm sorry XD;;;; to Miyano's absolute delight I'm sure, he doesn't look ANYTHING like a girl, let alone a beautiful one lmao. They tried! But they failed.

A new scene is added among the four third-years as they reflect on this being their last cultural festival together ;;;;; and then when they decide to go watch the fireworks together…Sasaki of course peaces out to go be with Miyano, much to Ogasawara's irritation, who must be bodily dragged away by wingmen Hirano and Hanzawa.

The fireworks in the fireworks scene were tbh a little underwhelming, because I expected them to do more effects like they had in the opening, but otherwise it was just lovely. They REALLY paid loving homage to sensei's hand fetish. We are being fed well.

One scene I was DELIGHTED to see newly added was…the New Year's extra! Yes, to streamline things and/or give more of the cast time to shine, they switched the movie date for this scene. I definitely didn't mind, as it's a scene we didn't get to see in the anime (and they stuck fairly close to it), and also we got to see more of Miyano's KagiHira brainrot when Hirano showed up with Sasaki rather than his roommate on his arm.

But it wasn't just them showing up…Hanzawa showed up too--WITH HIS BROTHER. Yup, Masaomi is actually in the play for a couple of different scenes with quite a few lines! HANZAWA MASAOMI, WHO WAS NOT EVEN MENTIONED IN THE PROMOTIONAL MATERIAL FOR THIS PLAY, HAD MORE 'SCREENTIME' THAN KAGIURA AKIRA IN THE ENTIRE ANIME. The Kagi-kun erasure is real.

It's during this new year's scene that Miyano realizes his feelings and decides to confess, so we quickly segue into the next bit with all the near-misses of Miyano trying to corner Sasaki and failing. The almost-kiss in the stairwell was done really well and seemed natural. After Sasaki runs away and Miyano reaffirms his own feelings for Sasaki, we even get some shoujo doritos like in the anime. Throwback!

The kiss scene was….something. In a very good way. Of course, the actors weren't actually going to kiss, so if you're hoping for that, get outta here lol. Even without Covid, I doubt they would have had actual lip-locking. You don't usually see that here, even for actual BL plays. So I was wondering how they were going to hide it. They did it really tastefully, angling their bodies so you couldn't see their actual faces but they were clearly still 'kissing'. One thing I REALLY liked, though, was that while in the manga, Miyano keeps his bag on his shoulder when they kiss, here--perhaps because of bodily logistics, maybe it kept sliding off--they have Sasaki take the bag from his shoulder for him when he steps in for a kiss. And he just does it…so slowly…and carefully, peeling it off of Miyano and gently setting it down before cupping his cheek. It got me. That's some good shit right there.

And that, friends, is the "Sasaki and Miyano" stage play! It was a fantastic show, and I can't wait to go again (I'll be back at it Friday!). As a reminder, the final two shows will be livestreamed on the interwebs, so everyone will be able to see it in living color next Sunday Japan time (Saturday 11 PM EST and Sunday 3 AM EST). Details like cost and how to watch haven't been announced yet, but I'll definitely post them here.

Hope this was somewhat coherent!

[finishinglinepress]

NEW FROM FINISHING LINE PRESS: Matrimonies by Elizabeth Dominique Lloyd-Kimbrel

ADVANCE ORDER: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/matrimonies-by-elizabeth-dominique-lloyd-kimbrel/

Juxtaposing elements, forms, and voices – elegy and lyric and narrative and monologue, metered and free, experiential and ekphrastic and a tad esoteric, known, assumed, observed, (mis)remembered, and imagined, ‘mixing memory and desire’ – the poems in Matrimonies offer vignettes and perspectives on what “wedded” can mean.

Elizabeth Dominique (E. D.) Lloyd-Kimbrel, whose car masquerades as a branch library, has been writing for rather a while. Over the years, in-between various employments and academic endeavors, geographical locations and life events, she has published biographical, critical, and scholarly articles and essays as well as poems and creative non-fiction. Cover art by Gillian Haven

PRAISE FOR Matrimonies by Elizabeth Dominique Lloyd-Kimbrel

“I enjoy the range and how visual the poems are. The Andrew Wyeths, for example, capture the paintings I have always responded to. Elizabeth Lloyd-Kimbrel portrays shifting moods and stories that play like notes on the piano.”

–Gillian Haven, artist and author/illustrator of Lydia and Pandora

With these wry, agile, and deeply felt poems, Elizabeth Lloyd-Kimbrel announces herself as a poet committed both to the craft of poetry and to its power to explore the meanings that are to be found in every aspect of life. Her acumen and commitment are etched into every line of Matrimonies. It is a collection that prompts the question: where can I read more of this poet’s work?

–Kevin McCaffrey, author of Laughing Cult

Elizabeth Lloyd-Kimbrel’s nearly magical cadences transport the reader to a new aural dimension that is not enjoyed in most current poetry. Combined with her sonorous language, the reader could overlook the stark details of her narratives. This is a good thing as it forces the reader to slow down to be aware of all of Lloyd-Kimbrel’s honed skills in this eminently worthwhile collection.

–Gary Metras, founder of Adastra Press and author of Vanishing Points, River Voice II, and Francis d’ Assisi 2008.

Elizabeth Dominique Lloyd-Kimbrel’s nimbly crafted and keenly felt poems commingle myth-fluent musings and ekphrastic eyefuls with soul-mating synergy. Via an exquisitely original poetic mind and voice, Matrimoniesbraves and basks in the wedding of nature and culture, illuminated by the golden slants of light of literary, artistic, and familial forebears and companions. These poems engage in the serious play of time-travel, reconstructing reminisced scents and echoed sounds, roses to rosaries, places of memorable meetings, stops and starts and returns. The strategic repetitions with twists, the structures of stanzas and line breaks, and sometimes poke-and-push indentations, reveal a rich lexicon of technique, form, and mechanics. Lloyd-Kimbrel’s images flow, glow, and linger long after reading: from the sensible sensation of a buttery, unadorned (even archetypal) snack cracker to those madly rushing, barely punctuated, wedding waters.

–Anne Ciecko, videopoet and associate professor of film (UMass/Amherst Dept of Communication)

Please share/repost #flpauthor #preorder #AwesomeCoverArt #read #poems #literature #poetry #marriage #life

[kaalogii]

— needle and thread (yami sukehiro x reader x damnatio kira)

one crushes you like his cigarettes as the other, strangely, has the kinder heart.

warnings: slight angst

Soft fingertips glided delicately along rough stone walls. The owner paced their steps through the halls as they listened intently to the stories being echoed throughout. Their presence generously acknowledged by those who came across them, though their response had been a pained smile. 

“Pardon me for disrupting your stroll, but Chairman Kira has requested your presence in the garden,” A servant of House Kira had suddenly informed Y/N, breaking them out of their thoughts. 

“Yes, thank you. I’ll be on my way,” Y/N moved their occupied hand to their side, missing the rough texture as they ventured to the garden to accompany Damnatio Kira. They maneuvered through the castle walls with ease, once again lost within their own thoughts. 

Y/N had lost count of the days or ...could it have been months? Whichever it may have been, Y/N wasn’t exactly time focused, nor bothered to be. All that had been important to Y/N was fulfilling their duties in the Clover Kingdom. House Kira had been kind enough to offer their home as a stepping stone for peace to the eldest child of a neighboring kingdom. 

If only Y/N had remained obedient and loyal to their royal duties, their mind would be free from pressing personal issues. Though, Y/N had been granted free will from their own kingdom and the Clover Kingdom, they wished they hadn’t strayed afar from the nobles. Then perhaps they wouldn’t have met Yami Sukehiro. 

Their meeting had purely been an accident. Though Yami had convinced it to be fate. Y/N had strayed away from their escort in the beginning of their stay in the Clover Kingdom due to their natural curiosity of the kingdom they’ve learned of in their youth. Yami had once again been on the search for his wild animals and took a sudden interest to the strange individual that peacefully stumbled upon his, secretly, beloved pets. 

It had been at that point on where their many secret rendezvous’ had begun. Y/N had been new to the idea of love, unsure of what it truly holds. Young and naive, Y/N blindly stepped into the abyss, only holding onto the strand of thread Yami allowed. 

“You look troubled” Damnatio Kira’s voice broke Y/N from their thoughts. They weakly smiled as Damnatio stood from his seat to pull theirs. As Y/N got comfortably seated, Damnatio returned to his own, silently eyeing Y/N. “Are you unhappy here?”

“No,” Y/N had been honest as they reached for their teacup to take a much needed drink. Damnatio had hummed in response, taking a drink of his own. The pleasant combination of gentle waterfall and the chirping of birds had comfortably drowned the silence between them. 

“I summoned you here out of the servants concerns,” Damnatio returned his teacup to the table, catching Y/N’s attention. “Normally I wouldn’t be bothered with quizzical issues being brought to my attention. Especially from servants, but the mention of your name had resulted in the exception,” Y/N placed her teacup onto the table, bringing her hands to her lap. “Our duty is to keep you comfortable and safe, for the sake of our kingdoms,” 

“Yes, I understand,”

“The members of my family had left your care in my hands at the beginning of this arrangement. I concluded you to be a responsible adult and let the rumors of your rendezvous with foreign scum to be a temporary phase. Though it seems as though it is not the case. Am I correct?” 

Y/N fumbled with their fingers, averting their gaze from Damnatio’s fierce one. They took notice of the difference in angered expressions they received from Damnatio to Yami’s. Though Yami had only directed anger toward Y/N on the many occasions of Y/N expressing their love for the man. Y/N continued to do so, concluding that anger had been Yami’s choice to express his feelings for the individual. 

“I love him,” Y/N softly blurted loud enough for Damnatio to hear. 

“You love him?” Damnatio had been amused. “Absolute beauty of royal blood loving foreign scum? A disgrace. That isn’t even the worst of it, correct? I’ll answer for you.” Y/N returned their gaze onto Damnatio, focusing onto green eyes. “Surely you’ve heard the rumors. Even I have heard them all. Yami Sukehiro does not love you,” Y/N flinched. 

Damnatio’s words pierced Y/N’s heart although they knew his words had been true. The rumors had begun as soon as Yami and Y/N had their first interaction. They, themselves, had been warned by the members of Yami’s squad to be wary of their captain’s true intentions. Their words and warnings hadn’t been enough, for Y/N had been too far down in the abyss to think otherwise. 

“Now that one subject is out of the way,” Y/N listened to Damnatio as his tone changed. “It appears our families have been working with one another, which I assume we would both agree to be excellent progress in terms of our kingdoms,” Y/N hummed in agreement. “Both sides have agreed to take a step to complete the alliance between our kingdoms by proposing the idea of marriage between you and I,” 

“Marriage?” Y/N searched for any indication that Damnatio’s words were false, finding none they awaited for him to continue. 

“I agree that this is sudden, but I did not dismiss the proposal when it was presented to me. I believe this is a good opportunity for us. I understand you may feel opposed to the idea, but I ask you to carefully think over the proposal,” Damnatio studied Y/N, expecting an outburst but received none. 

“A word of advice,” Damnatio continued. “Don’t allow your naivety to control your emotions. I assume you are smarter than you currently present yourself to be and you are willing to listen to information presented in these rumors you hear about regarding your unfortunate situation with Yami Sukehiro,” Damnatio watched as Y/N tensed. “If you’re looking for love and if you consider the proposal given to us by our kingdoms, I will devout myself in learning to love you as you deserve,” 

Y/N had risen from their seat. “I am grateful for your concern. If you could excuse me for a moment, I have much to think about,”

Damnatio nodded, silently watching as Y/N disappeared from his eyesight. 

The sudden situation had added onto the troubles Y/N had been dealing with in their inner monologue. As they battled the concerns, they were unaware of the location their legs had been leading them to. 

Deep down, Y/N had known the “love” Yami Sukehiro had shown them was nothing more than filling the void for his own loneliness. Along the way, Y/N had mistaken his words and actions for something deeper than what they had been. Yami had twisted their perception to the newfound idea of love into what he decided for them to believe. As a result, Y/N had blindly given everything to the man in every form; emotionally and physically. To the outside, and to Yami’s knowledge, Y/N had been another pet of his he held onto with a simple piece of thread. At anytime, Yami could break the connection, but for reasons unknown, he never had. 

A theory the servants had on the situation had been the idea of Yami Sukehiro using Y/N as a ploy for revenge on Damnatio regarding previous events involving the Black Bulls. The silly theory of the servants of House Kira had actually been correct, unbeknownst to them and others whose ears had the rumor fallen onto them. 

Y/N had been brought out from their thoughts as they sighted the door belonging to the hideout of the Black Bulls. The door had mysteriously opened by itself, from Y/N view as they stepped into the hideout. Although appearing that way, Y/N missed the sight of the member called Henry, who solemnly looked down in pity from his room at Y/N. 

Oddly familiar sounds echoed through the hideout, though Y/N couldn’t place the familiarity of the sounds. Deciding not to think further of it, they continued through the halls as they used the sounds as guidance until reaching the familiar door of Yami’s room. Y/N heart sank at the realization of the familiarity. Their actions moving ahead of their mind as they gently opened the door to come into view of the lewd sight of Yami and his fellow Clover Kingdom captain, Charlotte Roselei. Quickly, Y/N closed the door and made their way in returning to the Kira House. 

Hours had passed after the initial event and Yami had remained clueless to what had occurred outside of his walls. He groaned as he awoken from his slumber, dismissing the weight present beside him. Charlotte’s arms wrapped around Yami’s bare frame as he attempted to remove himself from his bed. Before he could perform further action in getting away from his minuscule hookup, a message from the Wizard King had arrived for Yami. The message played presenting an overjoyed Julius. 

“Weddings are lovely this time of year, but before weddings come engagements! I am honored to present the news in regarding the unity of two kingdoms as we solidify our alliance by joining two members of the highest seats from each of our kingdoms. With great honor, I announce the engagement of Damnatio Kira of House Kira and Y/N L/N of House L/N. I wish the couple a happy engagement and a promising marriage! That is all, good day!”

Yami settled into his bed, welcoming Charlotte’s sleeping embrace contrasting his previous attempts to get away from the woman. He reached onto his table, retrieving a single cigarette and his lighter. Yami took an elongated drag of his cigarette before exhaling. The smoke from his exhale had hidden the lone tear gliding down his face. He chuckled to himself before taking another long drag.

“I don’t give a damn.” 

[jjmaybanksbaby]

Where It Leads (Rafe Cameron)

Summer III

Part 05: With Some Other Girl

series masterlist | previous part

summary: Rafe’s actions surprised you when there’s no awkwardness lingering from last summer.

a/n: New summer new drama!! We're more than halfway through this series and I might post the final two parts within a week so be on the lookout! That's all! Enjoy part five xx

word count: 2.2k words

Nowhere on the East or West coast did seafood quite like The Wreck. During your summers in the Outer Banks, you made sure that practically every other meal consisted of their to-die-for shrimp or amazing crab. For your birthday, back in October, your mom had even looked into getting food from The Wreck shipped to you before realizing that might have been a stretch.

You waited at the bar for the girl with the curly golden brown hair, and especially kind eyes, to return from the kitchen with your order. The smells of the food cooking made your mouth water.

A boy, who looked about your younger brother's age slide onto the bar stool next to you. His dirty blond hair fell into his eyes, clearly in need of a good haircut.

"Leave the customers alone, JJ." The girl set a paper bag with your food down in front of you, grease staining the bottom.

"I wasn't even doing anything, Kie," JJ protested.

"You're total's $40.53. Do you need a receipt?" She asked, taking your mom's card from your outstretched hand.

"I'm JJ, by the way." He held out his hand for you to shake but the girl - Kie, was it? - smacked it away.

"She's way out of your league, idiot. Sorry about him," she said turning to you.

You smiled at the both of them, their playfulness reminding you of your own friends from back home. "Nice to meet you, JJ." You picked up your bag of food, turning to leave.

"She was so into me." You heard JJ whisper to Kie as you walked to the front door.

"No way, is that y/n?" You froze, a few steps away from the exit, knowing exactly who that voice belonged to. "Hey," Rafe called again. "Get over here."

You'd been back in the Outer Banks a total of three days. You definitely hadn't been planning on seeing Rafe Cameron so soon. Well, after how last summer had ended, you hadn't really been counting on seeing him at all.

You spun on your heel, plastering on your best fake smile, and headed in the direction of Rafe's voice.

It's okay. Act casual. He's just an old friend. There doesn’t have to be any weirdness. You said to yourself, trying to calm your nerves.

Rafe was seated in a corner booth at the back of the restaurant, his arm slung over Phoebe’s shoulder who, herself, was sitting practically in his lap. Her expression looked especially irate at the fact that you were interrupting their - what was going on exactly? A date?

"Uh, hey guys," you said, approaching their table.

"Y/n!" Rafe repeated. "You're back for the summer?"

"Yeah, we got in a few days ago.”

"How are you? How's the boyfriend?"

Why the fuck was Rafe asking about Evan? You wondered, your eyes narrowing trying to gather some explanation from Rafe's face.

"We actually broke up. Last September. He hasn't been my boyfriend for a while." Correction, you'd gone back to Oregon and hadn't stopped thinking about Rafe, for the second year in a row. It didn't seem fair to Evan so you’d tried to let him down gently, the week before auditions for the fall musical no less. It became pretty clear how torn up about it he was when he started crying during the monologue portion of his audition and the tears weren't the kind you forced out solely for a performance.

"How sad," Phoebe said, turning her lip down in a fake pout making it clear she couldn't care less.

You just smiled back at her, not wanting to give any kind of validation. You could feel Rafe eyes on you.

"Okay, well, I guess I'll see you around." You turned to leave. Your mom was waiting outside in the car, probably wondering what was taking so long.

"I hope so," Rafe replied.

☼☼☼

You blinked your eyes open, adjusting to the bright sunlight filling the room. You rubbed the sleep from them, yawning.

Holy shit. This was definitely not your bedroom; this was Rafe's room. The events of last night came rushing back, the morning bless falling away.

You'd run into Cleo at the grocery store after your mom had sent you to get an onion she needed for dinner. Cleo had been buying chasers for Sawyer's my-parents-aren't home-and-they-left-the-liquor-cabinet-unlocked party and invited you. And you went. Which was probably the first mistake of the night.

Rafe had greeted you at the door with the kind of smile that screamed "I don't even remember our fight last summer." You'd opted to ignore the white powder under his nose, likely the reason for his bloodshot eyes.

The party had run dry after a few hours so Rafe offered to grab some more from his house since his whole family was in the Bahamas house for the weekend. You’d went with him because what the hell. The night hadn’t even been the least bit awkward. Mistake number two.

You sat on the Cameron's island counter as Rafe riffled through the cabinet, trying to decide which bottle Ward was least likely to notice was missing.

"Do you trust me?" He’d asked.

That was a loaded question but you’d nodded your head yes. He'd pushed your knees apart, stepping in between your legs like that's where he belonged.

"Tilt your head back," he'd instructed and you had.

Rafe uncapped the bottle of Malibu, pouring it straight into your mouth. He’d hummed with satisfaction as you swallowed the liquid. Your eyes locked as he ran a thumb up your neck and over your chin, whipping away the bit that had spilled before he brought your lips to meet his. It was by far the hottest thing anyone had ever done.

The kiss had tasted salty and coconutty, like the drink he had just poured into your mouth. He moved his other hand to your hip, pulling you in closer.

You'd only broken apart to fumble your way upstairs and into his room, shedding your clothing on the way, your lips finding each other's again and again, kissing like there was some ticking clock counting down the seconds.

You remembered the way Rafe's name had tumbled off your lips with his hand between your thighs. How his blue eyes held yours as he pushed into you. The sweet praises that he whispered into your ears as the both of you came underdone together. The way it all felt so fucking right, like the universe apologizing for the last two summers.

You hadn't meant to fall asleep, to spend the night in Rafe Cameron's bed but he'd wrapped his arm around you and your head fell to rest on his chest and sleep just came.

You kept your movements slow afraid of creaky floorboard as you slipped out of his bed. Sneaking out without Rafe waking up was sure to be the path of less resistance. Hadn't last night been a drunken mistake?

Your shorts had landed next to the bed and your bra was hanging from the door handle, the irony of that wasn't lost on you.

Rafe cleared his throat. "Good morning," he said. Oh, shit. So he was awake.

"I was just looking for my shirt," you replied.

The Cameron's front door opened with a bang. Cole and Milo's voices filled the house seconds later.

"Dude," Cole hollered. "Who'd you fuck last night? Some chick's panties are on your staircase."

Rafe's eyes meet yours and he leaped out of his bed. "Linen closet," he hissed, pulling open the door of the hallway closet and pushing you inside. "Stay here."

His footsteps echoed as he rushed down the stairs, stopping at the bottom to pick up your underwear and shove them in his back pocket.

"I need a fucking boat day," Rafe said to the boys. "I'm hungover as fuck. Can you go see if the Yeti coolers' in the garage? I think Ward brought it up from the boat last time."

"Uhh, yeah, sure," Milo answered. "C'mon Cole."

The sounds of their chatter disappeared and Rafe ran back up the stairs, pulling open the closet. "Okay, the coast is clear."

"Rafe, should we...uh...you know...talk about it?"

"What's there to talk about?" He asked back.

"Right," you answered unsure if you really believed that casual sex with Rafe Cameron was a possibility. "Can I have my underwear back?"

He shrugged, a smirk growing on his lips. "Nah, I think I'm gonna hold onto them. For safekeeping." What kind of bullshit patriarchal move was that? He looked over his shoulder to the lower level. "Milo and Cole will be back any second, you should probably go."

☼☼☼

You silently thanked your yesterday-self for having left your window unlocked just in case. You closed it quietly behind you and dove into your bed. The door to your bedroom swung open seconds later.

"Why are you still in bed y/n? I told you yesterday that we were going dress shopping for Midsummers today at noon. It’s less than a week away. Get up, please," your mom said.

"Sorry, mom. I'll meet you downstairs in ten."

"Hurry up." She pulled the door closed behind her as she left your room.

You breathed a sigh of relief, throwing off the covers you had hicked up to your neck to hide last night's outfit. Shit, had you really slept with Rafe Cameron? And then he brushed it off like it wasn't going to change things? As if whatever was going between the two of you couldn't get more complicated.

☼☼☼

The light bounced off the three-way mirror you were standing in front of, making the bedding on the dress sparkle.

"Turn around," your mother instructed. Apparently, this year's Midsummers’ theme was Hollywood Glamour like it was the fucking Met Gala or something so she'd been forcing you and in out of red dresses for the past hour and a half. "I really like this one y/n. The bow is so cute."

You resisted rolling your eyes. The bow was hideous, plus the high-low skirt screamed middle school dance. The bedding was itchy and you’d hardly had the dress on for five minutes.

The front door chimed announcing a new customer and Phoebe's figure appeared in the reflection of the mirror.

"I'm gonna go try on a different one, mom," you said, trying to duck into the changing room before Phoebe had the chance to see you.

"Wait, wait wait." Your mom grabbed your hips pulling you back in front of the mirror. "I just think this looks perfect on you, sweetie. Look," she stepped behind you, using one hand to twist your hair up into a makeshift updo. "you can wear your hair pinned up like this and we can get you a sparkly headband. It'll be gorgeous.”

You definitely weren't wearing any kind of a headband based on the fact that you weren't twelve anymore but, more important, you needed to get out of Phoebe’s line of sight like now. "Yeah, okay, mom. That sounds fine. We can get it then."

"Aw, honey. Do you not like it?" She asked, cocking her head to the side. "Cause we can try a different score. Even though this is the only dress store for thirty miles," she mumbled under her breath.

Phoebe glanced over from the front counter, her eyes meeting yours in the mirror. Your mother's voice became muffled as panic rose in your chest. You hadn't even thought about it last night but now all you could remember was Phoebe with Rafe's arm wrapped around her at The Wreck.

Phoebe abandoned her position at the front of the store, walking over to you.

"Hi y/n!" She started, her voicer reaching an octave that screamed fake niceties. "You must be y/n's mom. You two couldn't look anything more alike." That was a lie. You and your mom couldn't look more different. It was your older sister who was practically your mother’s clone.

God, what game was Phoebe playing?

"Oh my gosh.” She took half a step closer forcing you to notice the couple inches she had on you. "Is this your dress for Midsummers? It's so cute," she said, somehow managing to pronounce cute with two syllables.

Another lie. The dress was terrible.

"I'm just picking up my dress too. Custom-made." Phoebe flashed a smile to your mom. "I'm trying to talk Rafe into getting a matching bow-tie but he refuses. Boys," she giggled.

Shhe must have registered the look of surprise on your face. "Oh, did he not tell you we were going together? I wouldn't take it personally. We've been going together since freshman year. It's tradition at this point."

The saleswoman returned from the back of the store, a garment bag in her hand. "Well, I've gotta run. See you around!" She pranced off, her vanilla perfume lingering in the air.

"She seems nice. I'm so glad you're making friends here, honey.”

"Oh, yeah. She’s the best." If your mom heard the sarcasm in your voice, she chose to ignore it. "I'm going to try on the black one," you huffed, heading back into the changing room.

It wasn't like going with Rafe to Midsummers was in the realm of possibilities anyway, so why was it bothering you so much that he was taking Phoebe? Either way, there was nothing stopping you from making Rafe wish it was you on his arm instead. Petty wasn’t usually your style but something about the memory of Rafe’s lip on your neck being fresh in your mind made all rational thoughts go out the window. Game on Phoebe.

taglist! @oreoenthusiast13 [drop a ☀️ in my inbox or messages if you want to be added]

[joonsdiary]

worth fighting for (05)

pairing: jungkook x female reader genre/warning: a pinch of fluff, a dash of angst / royalty au, historical au / tw: the constant yearning is ever omnipresent, oc/reader in constant denial, would probably consider this slowburn word count: 5,559

summary: fresh out of the perils of war, jungkook didn’t think that his task as the newly appointed general would be to look after you.

                                                                       FIVE.

“No, you need to grip it harder.”

You roll your eyes at Jungkook’s command but follow his instructions anyway. Beads of sweat roll down the nape of your neck but you pay it no mind, focused on the task at hand — so to speak. Getting down and dirty is not a current concern for you; either way, you’re due for a bath soon. You lick your lips as you stare at him, eager to gauge his reaction. The general has proven to be hard to please, but you intend to impress. You did not want him to think you’re going into this blindly and without experience.

The anticipation in Jungkook’s eyes is palpable as he awaits your movement.

You charge towards him and swing deftly at his direction, which he dodges with unbridled swiftness. Clenching your jaw, you grip the sword’s handle as instructed seconds prior and turn to swing at him once more. Instead of avoiding it, he raises his right hand to block your sword with his. The unmistakable echo of clashing metals gains two pairs of eyes who look up from their task to witness the event.

“Good. You’re already getting better.” Jungkook pants as he lowers his weapon. You mirror his actions as a small grin creeps its way up to your lips. Not too far from where you stand, Jimin and Miyoung clap encouragingly. Jimin hollers for extra effect and you face to wave at them before bowing, earning a louder applause.

You chuckle at their antics and face Jungkook, curtsying towards him as you do. He knows it isn’t meant to be a serious gesture, so he waves you off, nodding his head with a look of encouragement apparent on his face.

It took several days of convincing before Jungkook agreed to teach you the basics of sword fighting. He wasn’t too keen on the idea — and you have a feeling he will never warm up to it despite agreeing — especially since he knows your father does not approve.

“But the king isn’t here to stop either one of us, is he?” You reasoned with him one morning when he had been busy embarking the carriage with extra supplies. You had all agreed to stop by a small village, taking precautions to conceal your true identity.

(It has been easy for Jimin and Miyoung, not so much for you and Jungkook. But you manage, nonetheless.)

“I just know he would not approve,” Jungkook murmurs, followed by a quiet, and how dare you speak of your father in that manner? He does not look at you, too focused on securing the blankets so they won’t fall as you continue trekking the bumpy roads.

“He had no problem when Hoseok taught me,” you attempt to reason with him. “Plus, it’s only been three days since your injury, and you’re still not at your full capability. You could use an extra hand.”

“But you’re supposed to be the one who needs protecting,” he seethes. You can tell he wishes for you to drop the matter.

You won’t budge, of course.

Stubborn as a mule, or so Jimin puts it. You’re aware he means it as a form of endearment but being compared to an animal never felt like a compliment.

He makes his way to the front of the carriage where the horses are and asks Jimin if he’s all settled. The older nods and grins, cheekbones protruding and eyes shifting to adorable tiny crescents. Jungkook turns to you once more.

“What happens if you’re the one who gets injured next time?”

You try not to read too much in the way his eyes gazed into yours, round and filled with worry. Ignoring the rapid thundering of your heart against your rib cage, you shrug. Feigning nonchalance always seems to work.

“I know I won’t be harmed if I learn from the best, right?”

The statement was untrue – Jungkook’s injuries are a testament that no matter how skilled one is in combat, they’re still human, and therefore vulnerable. But you figure boosting his ego will do the trick.

So, here you are on your second day of practice, trying to shake the rust off your joints. You still remember some of the moves Hoseok taught you; it’s just a matter of trusting your instinct as you continue sparring with Jungkook. Although he hasn’t made you learn anything too complicated yet, his reason being that he is technically still injured. He argues that moving around puts too much strain on himself.

Yet you see him carry loads of heavy items all the time. He sets up the tents, starts the fires, and occasionally tends the horses. You know he isn’t by any means holding you back – it’s just a matter of trying to coax him into teaching you more difficult movements. The man is easily swayed with words, after all.

“Your Highness!” Miyoung calls out and waves at you. “Are you ready?”

“I’ll be right there,” you shout back, before turning to Jungkook to hand him the sword. “Thank you for today.”

He grunts in response and motions for you to lean it against the rock as he carefully cleans his with a cloth. There is a sudden pause, more on your part, unsure which parting words to say to him.

Do you just leave? Or does the situation warrant some sort of goodbye? See you later, perhaps? The schedule for today did not guarantee that you’ll see him again in a one-on-one situation any time soon and saying see you later seemed way too informal. So, after thoroughly searching your brain for something, you come up with —

“I’m going to bathe now,” you announce aloud.

His expression morphs into a grin at your revelation and you berate yourself mentally. It’s not like you needed to declare it to him as if he already didn’t know. Now it just seems like you’re trying to invite him to go into the lake with you as if to say – ‘I’m going to bathe now; would you like to join me?’

Idiotic, pea brain, airhead —

His chuckle interrupts your thoughts, a deep rumble that comes from the back of his throat, sending your nerves in a frenzy for reasons unknown to yourself.

“I know.” Gods, you’re itching to smack the haughtiness out of his face. “Do you wish for me to join you?”

“I knew you would say that.” You roll your eyes despite the warmth creeping from your neck up to your cheeks. You are probably a whole tomato right about now. “I just said it because I wanted to make sure you’re aware, in case something terrible happens.”

Not quite. But you slipped up and you’ll rather make up a believable lie than admit otherwise.

“You didn’t say no.” He taunts you; the small grin now forms a smile that occupies his whole face. “I’ll take that as a go-ahead —”

“No, you degenerate.”

Jungkook grins as he watches you stomp away, grumbling to yourself about god knows what. He pinches his hot earlobes, hoping you didn’t notice their bright crimson tint.

//

“You seem to be having fun, Your Highness,” Miyoung drawls on the last two words, her tone teasing. Your stare is cold, but you realize you genuinely have no idea what she could be referring to, so your brows knit in confusion. She moves behind you, grabbing the strings of your dress before pulling it tight, drawing a hiss from you. Realizing she hasn’t answered your cause for confusion, you voice your concern.

“What do you mean?” You tug the damp strands of your short hair, twirling it absentmindedly between your fingers. Fun is not the word you should use to describe the events leading up to today. The conversation a few nights back after getting attacked — and you admitting that perhaps killing said attacker didn’t leave you feeling gratified — left Jungkook more distant than he usually is. It took plenty of coaxing and promises to let him teach you and although he’s hesitant to show you advanced movements, it’s infinitely better than nothing.

“I’m sorry I had to interrupt your alone time with the general,” she carefully loops the strings into a taut bow. You exhale out a scoff, hating how little room you had to breathe.

“It was hardly ‘alone time’, with you and Jimin so close,” the words are out of your mouth before you realize the weight of their meaning. “I didn’t mean –”

“Duly noted. If you were so privy to time spent with him, you should’ve let me know sooner.” She turns you around and you’re met with the playful glint in her eyes. You know she will not drop the subject despite your protests, as you’ve learned from her numerous taunting.

“It’s good that you’re releasing some of that tension, though,” Miyoung continues her one-woman monologue when you don’t respond. You tilt your head to one side as your eyebrows twitch. “You’re too tense around him even more than usual lately.”

“I’m not —”

“And who could blame you? With those massive shoulders of his. Don’t deny it, Your Grace. I saw how you looked at him the other day while dressing his wounds.”

“I wasn’t —”

“I mean, the man stands as if he’s a mountain daring to be climbed. Don’t mind if I do.”

“Miyoung!” Your voice is apprehensive, hoping it’s enough to chastise her. But it had been too late; the images you’ve been trying to push out have seared themselves into every nook and cranny of your brain. You’re reminded of the way his undershirt clung onto his sweat-clad body after hours of jousting. It had been particularly difficult to keep your eyes from trailing anywhere down south of his collarbone.

The short trip down the memory lane coloured your cheeks the slightest hue of crimson. It’s enough to warrant Miyoung’s descent to a fit of giggles.

“Speak of the devil,” her attention is caught by confident footsteps behind you and you don’t even have to think twice because who else could it be? “Your meal order has arrived.”

You give her an exasperated look before spinning on your heels. Your breath catches.

You hadn’t particularly noticed how much taller he is compared to you — there was never the need to point out such obvious discrepancies or make a big deal out of them. It was a simple fact of the matter. But now that Miyoung has pointed it out, it was tough to wedge it out of your system.

It hasn’t always been that way since you’ve grown immune to her taunts about Jungkook. It reminded you of your sheer inelegance more than a month ago — when he had discovered you traipsing in the middle of the night with Luna in a feeble attempt at liberation — and how warm and sturdy he felt underneath you. How strong arms helped you up your feet, regaining the balance you had lost. How far you need to lean upon your toes to be able to reach his lips with yours. A mountain daring to be climbed.

You gulp as he approaches, his figure easily towering yours.

Miyoung asks something behind you as soon as Jungkook is within earshot, but with all the blood rushing to your eardrums it’s quite a challenge to understand anything and everything going on around you.

“I just couldn’t turn down Her Highness’s invitation for a bath, could I? Although I suppose I’d arrive a little too late.” Jungkook taunts, eyes gleaming with playfulness. But you blink up at him, mouth slightly agape and throat dry. He swipes his hair away from his face, a look of confusion replacing his frisky demeanour. Oh, how must it feel to run your fingers through his soft locks?

“Are you alright?”

The worried look on his face is enough to return you down from whatever cloud you’d been in. Face flushed, you blink up at him before giving Miyoung a slanted gaze, who is studying you with the same distressed look. Surely, you’d have said something by now. That’s how it is with you and Jungkook and your back-and-forth banter.

“I, um,” your eyes are frantic, searching for something to land on other than him. His hand reaches for yours , but you flinch back—perhaps a little too excessive as the corner of his mouth turns to a frown at your reaction.

“I need a moment.” To breathe, first and foremost.

You didn’t wait for his reply, absolving yourself of his overwhelming presence, brushing ever so slightly against his forearm as you walked past him. You frown at your reaction.

“Your Highness —” Jimin comes bumbling by, but you quickly cut him off with a terse smile.

“Enjoy your bath.”

You are absolutely floored, the wind knocked out of your lungs and all. The realization couldn’t have come at more perfect timing. Of course, you like Jungkook. Your attraction to him is palpable; you aren’t fooling anybody by continuing to deny otherwise. Not Miyoung, at least, who probably saw this long before you had.

The question is: when did I not like him? It feels like I never stopped.

You groan at your thoughts and pause mid-walk to squat low on the ground, burying your face in your warm and sweaty palms. Denial is your middle name, and that has been your game since forever. Feigning ignorance of your feelings becomes your second language to the point where you’ve deluded yourself against any form of admiration towards the said general.

I’m fooling myself. Again. You can’t bear the thought of potentially embarrassing yourself like you did many moons ago trying to get Jungkook to watch that stupid play with you.

At least you’re not in denial any longer. Suppressing your feelings might be better in hindsight now that you’re aware of them.

…Or maybe not.

How naïve of you to think that pretending your feelings didn’t exist — despite being fully aware of them — is a better alternative to any other option. But you’re not one to back down from any challenge.

The next few days are not exactly breezy.

There’s the usual bit of travelling, the occasional settling down when the weather isn’t too great, then more travelling. You’re growing accustomed to the little schedule you have going on. Except Jungkook has increased your training hours. And even though it had been your goal to be taught by him, he hasn’t given you much to work with, either. It had been the same tiresome dance over and over again.

True to her word, both Miyoung and Jimin did not linger within earshot every time you practiced with Jungkook. Turns out being in close proximity to the very person you’re attracted to when you’re trying hard to close yourself off to those same feelings can backfire. Hard.

“You’re too tense,” Jungkook utters, seemingly out of the blue. But you know it’s not a random observation. He circles you, one hand clasped behind his back and the other holding a wooden sword. He insists that you practice with props recently, citing that you’ve been ‘too preoccupied in your daydreams recently’ and that ‘it’s too dangerous to spar with real swords if you’re distracted.’ Yeah. Whatever. You’re too tired, both physically and emotionally, to argue with anything Jungkook says, so you go along with what he decides for the sake of your inner peace.

“Why does everybody keep saying that?” You snap at him unintentionally. His eyebrows quirk up in interest and your heart hammers wildly in your chest.

“Oh, so it’s not just me that noticed.”

There’s a pause, and you watch him carefully from the corner of your eyes, gauging whether he’ll strike at the very moment or not. He doesn’t, and in your impatience, you attempt to take a jab on his torso which he dodges with finesse. He grabs your arm and twists it in a way that does not hurt so much as to unhand you of your weapon. You wince, nonetheless, and he quickly let go.

“You need to be patient. You’re going to get hurt attacking blindly like that.”

“I know,” you mumble, fingers skimming lightly over your wrist. They burn, not because his touch is painful, but because his hand feels soft, leaving lingering feelings in the pit of your stomach. That is something that has been happening a lot as well. Any sort of physical contact with him makes you feel inebriated as if you’d puke all the contents of your stomach from a mere touch.

“What is it that has you so wound up like a tight rope lately?” Jungkook attempts to circle back to the conversation as you pick up your wooden weapon.

You do, you almost say out loud. But you keep your lips sealed shut and get into position instead. You wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, to demand an explanation to how he has managed to pull your heart right out of your chest and dangle it teasingly in front of your face. Out of reach. Your poor, poor heart. Give it back, you thief.

“How cruel,” you find yourself muttering loud enough for Jungkook to hear.

“Hm?”

He straightens up as if he’s ready to soak in all you have to say. To be fair, you haven’t given the man much to work with, opting to shut him out completely. You don’t make a conversation when it’s not necessary and only spend time with him during practices. It’s not like there is a need to do so outside of it, anyway. Despite your current circumstance, you’ve attempted to the best of your ability to stay as far away from him as you possibly can.

Which makes your current situation laughable. Alone in the middle of a dense grassland, surrounded by the wind and the mountains that stretch miles and miles away. You and him.

“I said, you’re cruel for overworking me. I don’t remember agreeing to increased practice time.”

“I don’t remember you opposing it, either.” He wears an easy smile, which ticks you off even further.

You inhale between your gritted teeth and take another jab at his torso, this time accidentally hitting the wound that’s only beginning to heal. He grimaces in obvious pain and panic surges through your veins. You quickly drop your wooden sword as you approach him with caution, unsure of where to place your hands so you hover like a half-wit.  

“I — Jungkook — I didn’t mean to, I swear.” You lower your hands, wringing them together as your head bows in shame. He exhales a short chuckle and your breath catches at your throat at his unexpected reaction. You expect to be reprimanded for being so careless.

“Good thing we opted for these rather than the real thing, huh? You would have had to stitch me up all over again.”

His placid attitude did nothing but put a wrench in your heart, squeezing it painfully. You almost wish he’d lash out at you, just so the task of pushing him away came easier. Why won’t you let me hate you?

“You’re doing that a lot lately, too.”

Startled by his words, you look up at him and meet gaze for the first time in a while, unwavering. Oh, how easy it is to lose all trails of thoughts as you navigate your way through the depths of his eyes.

“You’re distant — unfocused. You’re jittery and nervous all the time. You mumble a lot, which is frankly starting to become irritating.”

He closes the distance between the two of you, eyes scanning you with curiosity. His piercing gaze disarms you, rooting you to your spot.

“You haven’t been shy before when you berate me to my face, loud enough for all the world to hear. What’s stopping you now?”

Jungkook grins, teasing. He was trying to get a reaction out of you; picking your brain for some sort of response. Is that what he thought you’d been saying under your breath recently? That you’re badmouthing him? It’s not exactly your fault either that it turns out you’ve been mumbling some of your thoughts out loud.

But you do not dare give him the satisfaction of an answer, knowing that you’ll just continue circling one another. The only difference is he’ll leave unscathed, while you stay to pick up the pieces of your shattered feelings. So, no, you are not about to lay bare for him to step all over your poor feelings.

Lay bare.

You want to slap yourself at the image you’ve mentally drawn. Now is not the appropriate time for such scandalous thoughts. Or ever.

“I lost you again just now, didn’t I?”

You manage a tight smile. Guilty as charged. Jungkook doesn’t return the favour, however, his forehead creasing in confusion — or is it worry? You did not want to dwell on the thought for too long.

Jungkook shifts his weight between his legs, swaying back and forth slowly. It’s clear that he has a lot on his mind, so you wait for him to speak.

“Are you having second thoughts?”

Your eyebrows arched, eyes questioning. It seems like a running theme now — him talking while you refuse to say anything.

“About this whole,” Jungkook pauses, hands gesturing aimlessly like a mime, “…arrangement. We’ve only been travelling for a little more than a week. It’s not too late to return and ask your father to reconsider everything.”

You shake your head, letting out a breathy laugh.

“Tempting, but no. It’s not like I have a choice,” your tongue slips, not intending to say the last sentence out loud.

You pray he didn’t catch any of what you’ve said, but the devastated look on his face tells you otherwise. He steps close enough that you feel his warm breath on your forehead. The smell of firewood and soap intertwines, and you presume he’s wearing a freshly washed shirt. Your head begins to spin as your knees weaken, threatening to give out at that moment.

Be still, heart.

You clear your throat and gather your wits before taking a step back, the tall grass tickling the back of your legs.

“What I mean is that I’ve made up my mind. I can’t just back out now; the implications would be devastating. Not just for me, but the whole country.” For you, too.

The thought of Jungkook being swept away to another war was too much for your mind to wrap around. You couldn’t possibly do that. Not to him. The possibility of sacrificing more lives senselessly when you’re

Jungkook’s mouth opens like he’s about to say something, but you shake your head once more as if to say we’re done talking about this. You know Jungkook understands; he’s one of the few people whose sense of duty comes before anything and anybody else.

That’s why the next words that come out of his mouth knock you off balance.

“Would it hurt for you to be selfish and put your needs before others?”

*  *  *

Jungkook blinks back in surprise. He has no idea where that statement stems from. But it felt appropriate to say, courtesy be damned. He wasn’t speaking as a general giving advice to the princess, but rather from one friend to another.

Since when were we friends, anyway? The thought sends a funny feeling to Jungkook’s stomach.

He can tell that you’re just as surprised as him, and for a split second, he can sense your vulnerability. He hadn’t witnessed it when the king bore you the news of your demise, and you didn’t show flashes of weakness either when you were almost kidnapped. He had always known you to be strong-willed, independent, and resolutely stubborn. A force to be reckoned with.

The thought makes Jungkook chuckle, and you eye him with suspicion.  

“What’s so funny, Jeon?” Any hint of weakness along with the heaviness of his statement vanishes as you snap at him. That particular conversation, it seems, will need to be shelved for another day.

Jungkook dips his chin, opting to answer your question with an inquisition of his own. He isn’t quite finished with you just yet.

“Is that all there is to it, though? You’re peeved about the increase in training hours?”

He’s unsure of what your answer will be. But even if you’d ask, he wouldn’t reveal that he was doing this with the intention of finding out why you’d been distant lately; more than what he’s used to, anyway. He hadn’t even noticed how much time you spent with him until you began avoiding him. Gone are the days of jabs and banter and are replaced with silence and brooding; a total opposite of that one moment you shared your aversion to violence and reluctance to hurt people. You had shared your concerns and broke down your defences only to build them back up again.

Is he wrong to assume that in the few weeks you’d spend together, some sort of friendship was formed? It appears so, seeing the way you expertly dodged his every attempt to close the gap — both literally and figuratively.

He tries to test his theory by stepping forward. As if on cue, you take one step back. The desire to keep you at arm’s length brews within him, the feeling intensifying at your every attempt to evade him. He wanted nothing more than to grab you by the arm and shake both your shoulders, demanding an answer to the question that had been driving him mad the past couple of days.

So, he does exactly that. You yelp in surprise, but his vice-like grip remains. He accepts your lack of protest as consent and doesn’t let go.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

As his eyes search your frantic ones, his mind wanders to a particular memory that sets this whole thing off. It evidently has something to do with whatever he’s said or done because he didn’t observe the same change in demeanour with Miyoung and Jimin. He’s the problem—that much he knows of. He comes up empty, however; there had been nothing he said or did you that stood out to him in particular.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jeon,” you croak, voice pitched and unnatural. “If I was avoiding you, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, but not physically. You’ve been out of it lately. Care to elaborate?”

Jungkook needs to know. If he had so much offended you in any capacity, he wants to make sure to do right by you. But apparently, you have other plans. With your mouth set in a straight line, your head shakes from one side to another. What was it about him admiring your tenacity for stubbornness? There are times he wishes for you to give in and not resist so much.

“Do you mind?”

Your voice is meek, a mere whisper, and it’s enough to snap him out of his stupor. Frowning, he retreats his hands, letting them fall nimbly on his side.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he sighs and his heart wrenches as he steps back. “If you really don’t want to share it, I won’t pry.”

You nod, visibly relaxing. He picks up the discarded wooden sword and continues. “But you have to stop being so…rigid. It’s not going to make it easier for you. Or for me.”

He grins, pointing at his lower torso. If you weren’t going to let him in on whatever secret you have, he at least hopes to smooth away some tension.

“You deserve it,” your eyes glimmer with humour. She’s back.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mm,” you nod fervently, grabbing the sword from him. “For overworking me. I’m still royalty, you know.”

“That you are,” he resists the urge to tousle your hair playfully. “But if I remember correctly, your exact words to me were: ‘Don’t treat me any differently than you would any other trainee.’”

Your lips purse, gaze scanning him dubiously. “You got me there.”

There’s a beat of silence before you speak again.

“I didn’t mean to, though.” Your eyes fill with worry as you eye his torso, and Jungkook fears you’d spiral once again and close off on him.

He shrugs in good nature and slips his hand underneath his shirt, feeling for the bandage. The worries which stemmed from that event that led him to believe he’s unqualified for this task are beginning to feel foreign and far away as the skin of his wound slowly heals.

Yet he couldn’t help but ask.

“Why the sudden interest in brandishing swords? Do you truly deem me unfit to protect you after I got hurt?”

He didn’t mean to sound defensive, but it does bruise his ego a lot more than he’d like to admit. He wants to save you the trouble of aching muscles and hours wasted on practice, but you somehow cannot accept ‘no’ for an answer. He feels almost cheated for being coaxed to coach you.

“I never said you were,” your tone is clipped. “I thought we’ve already gone over this. You need all the help you can get, especially if we come across something like that again.”

“You’re a better archer. It’s safer, too. It puts you at a distance from potential attackers.” Jungkook presses.

“Would it hurt to know about sword fighting?” You challenge him, and the air of friendliness vanishes once more.

“Yes, it would,” Jungkook deadpans, pointing to the spot where his injury is healing. “As I said, proximity when it comes to close combat proves to be more d—”

“You think arrows are any safer? In case you forgot, I killed somebody with it,” your voice rises as you get closer to him.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying! You need to play up to your strengths. Stick with what you’re good at,” he reasons, trying not to raise his voice out of respect. There’s a pause in the conversation, and Jungkook thinks you’ve dropped the subject.

Although the silence is short-lived. “Is that why you refuse to teach me anything beyond the basic skills?” your gaze is filled with anger, your every word laced with frustration.

“Yes,” Jungkook says earnestly, but fear pools in the pit of his stomach. It was the first time he felt that perhaps he should have opted to not tell the truth. But he can no longer take those three letters back, no matter how much he wants to. He’s starting to feel torn between his own decisions; making you angry had not been his intention.

“You’re not making any sense. You said I was brave.” Jungkook watches your lips move, but the words barely register in his brain.

“You are,” he says, almost exasperatedly. The back and forth dance between both of you is beginning to carve his patience thin. The air hums with intensity as neither one of you is willing to back down.

“You say that yet you won’t teach me advanced combat,” you assert defiantly.

His temper ignites as he grits his teeth as his jaw clenches with indignation. But he is teaching you. Maybe not in the way you wanted, but he’s still making the effort. What will it take for you to understand that he is merely trying to keep you from getting hurt?

“Either you trust me to be able to handle it, or you think I’m too delicate to be taught. It can’t be both, General Jeon.”

Oh, so you are back to being formal with him. Jungkook resists the urge to roll his eyes. “The answer is still going to be a no.”

He turns, wanting to leave the conversation, but your next words have him rooted to the ground.

“Hoseok wouldn’t have kept me from learning. I wish he was still here.”

“Yeah, well, I wish it had been me who died instead of him, too.” Jungkook answers without missing a beat, the phrase tasting rancid in his mouth.

Jungkook knows he will never eclipse his brother. Not in talent. Not in the outpour of attention he got from his parents. Not in his easy-going nature that has people enamoured by him. Most certainly not in your adoration for him.

How does one compete with a dead person? He chuckles bitterly at the thought.

He keeps his back to you, shielding you away from the storm brewing in his eyes. He attempts to blink back the tears pooling in his lashes as he focuses on the horizon.

“Jungkook, I —”

He begins to walk away before you can get another word in. Somewhere deep in the crevices of his mind, the thought of wanting to be held back swims without restraint. For you to reach out, hold him, and tell him it was going to be alright.

But the reality is much harsher than the tiny little daydreams in his head, and you make no attempt to stop him in his tracks. Each step he takes feels as if he’s being dragged deeper into quicksand; he simply can’t escape the dread that follows.

Given the choice between having his heart ripped out from his chest for the second time in his life or getting stabbed in the torso, Jungkook thinks he prefers the latter.

— prev ; next ; series masterlist

taglist: @apurpledheart @mygukandonly @fan-ati--c 

[cyberdva]

Breaking Up With My Girlfriend Prank (GONE WRONG) - C.B. ☆

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Summary: In the midst of the popular Prank War, Colby had the genius idea of pranking his newly announced girlfriend. A prank that would completely backfire on their relationship. Colby would go through thick and thin for his girlfriend, but even his dramatic acting messed something up. Can he fix it?

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Main Masterlist

Colby Brock Masterlist 

Word Count: 2k

Date Uploaded:  4/7/20

Warnings: Mild Swearing and Mentions of Sex

A/N: I have so many Colby ideas lined up…. quarantine work is currently kicking my ass, so I apologize!

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“Colby this is your worst idea yet.” Corey had merely walked through the door and was already pounded with chaos. The infamous prank war had been escalating further than planned. It had gotten progressively worse. The ideas these guys had were coming to a point of destruction. Not just the house, some of the pranks had begun to take effect on their relationships. Aaron was frequently locked in his room playing video games rather than hanging out with everyone.  People outside of the five core roommates had been dragged in. Anything for the views they say.

“Well I mean the fans have been requesting it. I’m one-hundred percent sure she won’t mind after I tell her where the cameras are hidden.” Emotions in the Trap House were only invisible barriers. So many times videos were filled with violence, purposely made for entertainment use.

“No wonder the fans wanted it… they all want a chance to date you…” Colby made his way to the staircase and paid no mind to the advice his friend was dealing him. Corey made note of the rabid fangirls that wanted nothing, but Colby for themselves. He was an unstoppable force and sometimes that led him to his own fall. Colby was back in his room, alone. It was oddly quiet. Perfect timing to begin filming..

“What’s up guys? It’s Colby Brock! Today I’m back with another prank. This one might not end too well,” His cheeky grin filled his face, on the inside anxiety ate away at every inch. “As you know, I have a wonderful girlfriend and the prank war is at its peak, so I’m breaking up with her.” A pause for dramatic effect, this needed views so he could win the war. “As a prank.” He extended his hands and put on a big smile. In his mind, Colby convinced himself that this was going to go smoothly.

“I’ve been dating Y/N for a couple months now and I felt it was time for her to get in on the action. I guess it’s an initiation…” Colby fiddled with his rings, he felt that everything around him was cloudy. “Sorry, I’m really nervous about this…” he giggled. His fingers found themselves running through his hair. With pupils wide, there was no denying this had to go horribly wrong. 

“She should be on her way over here in a few minutes. Flabby post-its thrashed their way around as the heading wind of the opened window left more than to be desired. The camera’s microphone crackled. Even the universe somehow knew how utterly stupid this idea had to be. It felt wrong. He could say he cheated on her? Why would he do that? 

‘Fuck.” Colby knew the audio files were now unusable. There was no energy left to redo this, he’s seen Corey and Sam do this so many times and their girlfriends were completely fine… after a while. He was being too hard on himself. His lungs filled with the cold, nightly air. He could do this. It’s just a prank. The window slammed shut as Y/N car slowly pulled into the long driveway. He could do this.

Colby had put too much effort into his emo-like inner monologue that reality even slipped away from himself. He made mere seconds to hide the camera and get into position. The video quality jumped even lower as Colby snatched a stray shirt on the scum-ridden floor. He tried his best to find a second angle, he fumbled with an extra camera and stuffed it on his dresser, underneath a towel. 

“Okay guys, she just got here. I have no idea what I’m going to say, but I hope she forgives me.” Another nervous laugh on cue. He was sweating like he had just come back from the gym. The large front door slammed shut. He received a text…

Y/N: I’m on my way up! I’ve been missing you all day!

“Shit.” The sound of feet hitting the trashed staircase filled his ears. He looked normal, a bit more jumpy than normal, that was all. She was right outside her door, her hands gripping the door handle. With one last look at the cameras Colby flashed his eyes to his window. The weather grew dark and grim. Rain threatened to spill at any given moment. The door was now wide open and closed with a short click.

“Hey Colb… how was your day? Anything eventful happen?” Colby made no emotion, it was not that hard to do. He gave no reply which Y/N thought was odd. She dropped a small bag filled with what would most likely be food. She looked up at him. The silence was sickening.

Her eyes skewered around for possibly a camera. It seemed scarily unusual for something like this to happen. “Are you oka-”

“We need to talk.” His voice was stern as ice. As stern as an icy pond found on a freezing December Sunday. Y/n’s pupils dilated, it wasn’t the friendly greeting she was expecting. Far from it likewise.

“What do you mean? Did I do something wrong…” she plopped down onto his sheer bed. The awkwardness was indescribable. It was the first time the pair were unable to converse. It seemed fake, like a problem that would never arise. Colby rose from the bed, fist clenched. Y/N fell backwards into the mattress.

“It’s not really you. It’s me.” That is the phrase bound to start some sort of trouble. No one really knew what was going on.

Y/N’s face contorted, “I’m sorry. Yesterday we were having sex and today there’s a problem?” She stared down at her sweaty palms, small portions of rage and sorrow were quickly brewing. “Sorry, that sounded really harsh.”

Colby smacked his hands together and a clapping noise echoed, “This is what I’m talking about.” He turned around to hide his smile. This was a situation where even he couldn’t keep his face straight.

Baffled, Y/N sat with a raging passion, “What the fuck do you mean?!” Seriously! I assumed everything was well.” She didn’t know what to do next, honestly. Where to do amongst all of this. 

“We need to break up.” Hell began again. This wasn’t what Y/N was expecting, tears fondled sporadically across her waterline and danced their way down her face like a drunken ABBA member. Her body jolted in a manner that was unthinkable. She left in a flustered hurry, Sam saw her waddling down the stairs and tried to make a headspace to connect the dots. He was interrupted by Colby stomping his way downstairs in sheer panic, equipped with a camera.

“It’s just a prank! Y/N! It was fake!” 

The grand door slammed shut.

++++

“Devyn, has Corey ever pulled this shit with you? Seriously. He seemed so convincing. Do you think he secretly meant it.”

“Knowing Colby, probably not. You’re acting like he’s a stranger. You’ve known him for how long now? Two years?”

“It really wasn’t so thoughtful of him.” The eerie ambience of the phone static paired with the pitch black

“It was a prank. They aren’t meant to be thoughtful Y/N… well semi-excluding Jake’s pizza prank.” She sighed into the phone, “Not wanting to over excite you or sound mean. You’re kind of overrea-” She hung up the phone, Y/N knew she was reacting unlawfully, she just wanted this to leave an impact. I guess it would be better for the video anyways...her phone vibrated. Four missed calls from Colby. 

The rickety door flung open and Y/N stepped outside. She convinced herself no one was watching. If Colby knew where she was he would most likely have a fit. The wind was the same  as it was, whispering secrets into the ears of anyone brave enough to listen. A branch cascaded to the asphalt that bounded the ground into one, swift motion. Y/n popped her heels onto the road. There was silence. A stray shopping bag floated past her ankles. Y/N Thought about how Colby was feeling. Did she really hurt him by leaving? Was he not kidding about what he said? Shit. She felt sad. Cried. If only she knew what was actually going on. Fuck this. Fuck Colby. Y/N stopped in her tracks, “No…” she thought. “Devyn was right. I’m going back” 

After a shitty teen-romcom reenaction Y/N made her way to the brooding boyfriend’s home. Colby sat in his room while Sam poked jokes at him, trying to cheer him up. He abandoned his phone on the stringy carpet and hoped she would get over it. She came back. 

“I hate you, you know?” Her small amount of makeup was splattered down, Colby’s spirits crushed deeper. 

“Just stay the night.. It’s the least I can do.” He begged. He pleaded. The last thing Colby needed was to lose her. 

“You actually think I would drive home after all of this happened, it’s like 12 in the morning.” She re-opened the bag from before and cracked open a soda.

“I’m so sorry. This got way out of hand and I didn’t mean any of it. I love yo-“

“Shut up Colby.”

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Part 2? Y/N does a break up prank on Colby? Send me an ask to let me know!

[hero-philia]

One out of Twenty

This is my present for @new-noveltea​, who was assigned to me as part of the BNHA Spring Time Event (@bnhaclaimedmysoul​) - Because she doesn’t ship herself with someone, I decided to go for a platonic story! I hope that you like it, Ash (^o^)

Summary: First days are hard, especially if you don't understand a word of what’s going on around you. But the enterity of class A is here to help you out! (English dialogue is written normally, Japanese dialogue in italic)

Words: 2856

On this particular morning you found yourself following a man that you had only heard of before. Completely dressed in black he didn’t seem like the most heroic guy, but people throughout the country called him such. Admittedly, it hadn’t been too easy for you to follow the news reports on TV, which featured a pretty fast spoken Japanese - A language that wasn’t yours in the first place.

The steps echoed through the empty hallway, where normally dozens of students were gathering. But the bell had sent them into their classrooms a few minutes ago when you had been waiting in the teachers’ lounge to make a fool of yourself in front of everyone. 

You gulped in order to suppress the memory how you had forgotten half of your introduction speech and had switched to English instead, even if you had known that most of your audience wasn’t able to understand you that way. At least you had earned quite some chuckles as you had changed the language in the middle of saying that your Japanese basically sucked, but that you were capable of speaking English.

For now you didn’t have to talk to anyone since the man in black didn’t seem to be interested in a conversation with you. He had simply advised you to follow him after the glorious embarrassment that many high ranked heroes had witnessed. What a good start.

Wherever the two of you were headed, you could just assume that it was your classroom. A room filled with strangers was waiting for you, maybe expecting you to come. Who knew what they had been told in advance. You didn’t know anything for sure at that point.

Nevertheless you hoped that you would be able to sit down again soon as sleep-deprivation was getting the best of you. The adrenaline in your body kept you awake and functioning, but your eyes started to feel heavy. Probably it hadn’t been the best idea to send you to school two days after your arrival in a completely different country with a new time zone. Last night the jet lag had robbed you of many hours of sleep, leaving you running on three - not consecutive - hours of rest. 

On a Monday. At eight in the morning. Definitely not the ideal combination.

Your teacher didn’t leave a lot of space for thinking when he stopped next to a gigantic door. For a second you fought the huge to look up in shock until it opened with ease. Once it had swung open, you caught the first glimpse of your new classmates. 

With the backpack on your shoulders you straightened your back and put on a smile before stepping in. Nineteen pairs of eyes followed the movements of their teacher, though many scanned you as soon as they had noticed your figure. Except for a pretty grumpy looking blonde in the second row and a another boy, whose red and white hair got your attention, with absolutely no expression on his face, everyone seemed like they wanted to ask questions about your presence.

Without caring about the reaction your teacher walked to his desk only to sigh loudly. He went on with a monologue that you didn’t understand at all. The words he mumbled didn’t match any of the vocabulary you had learnt as preparation for your stay. Your thumbs started to twist around each other while you tried to translate at least one sentence.

To absolutely no avail you listened to the short speech, focused to not show your struggles openly. Finally a word came up that you had heard before - ryuugakusei. You celebrated the achievement with a growing smile, which wanted to disappeared when it hit you what that meant. Ryuugakusei happened to be translated as exchange student. It was your turn to speak again.

„Introduction, please,“ the man in the front announced in English with a look in your direction. 

For some reason a boy with curly green hair gasped aloud to hurriedly open his notebook and stare at you with curious eyes. His hand practically ready to write in the speed of light. As no one said something about it, you tried to refocus on the task.

The words of your Japanese introduction, that you had carefully constructed with the help of four online translators last night, deleted themselves for the second time today. Failing at the teachers’ lounge was one thing, but not being able to introduce yourself in front of your own class was something you didn’t want to risk.

So screw the rules!

You pulled out your phone from the pocket in your skirt - god bless whoever made that decision - and opened the notes with your sentences. Before anyone would even have the time to stop you, you began to read them out loud. Saying your name, your age, where you were from and many details more.

„I will stay for the entirety of your second year. Let’s do our best together!“ You concluded in the end. 

Of course you took a short bow while your classmate gave you a round of applause for whatever motivation. Probably to praise your bravery, because your grammar and pronunciation must have been off completely. Then your teacher allowed you to sit down at the empty seat behind the green-haired boy. 

The following lesson progressed pretty much as you had expected it to. Not that you understood what it was about, though you could finally switch off your brain for a few minutes and silently take a breath. 

Shortly after, the bell sent you back into attention mode. You watched how everyone got up, went to the wall to your left, grabbed a box with a number and aimed for the door. While you were pretty much busy with trying to figure out what was going on, someone placed their hand on your shoulder. A girl with dark hair in a ponytail stepped into your sight.

„My name is Yaoyorozu Momo and I’m one of two class presidents. Our next lesson is quirk training at the gym, so just follow me. Your costume is waiting there as well,“ she said in a soft voice. 

„Your English is really good,“ you blurted out in surprise. „Thanks for telling me! I’ll be in your care, then.“

On your way to the gym the hallways were filled with students that were also changing their rooms right now. Even though the floor had looked kind of pretty in its empty state, seeing it being crowded gave it the impression of actually being in a school. No matter how many people you passed, most of them still stared at you. 

„They are excited to see a foreigner here. In Japan we aren’t used to being around people from Europe or America, that makes you really special,“ Momo explained with a giggle.

Her explanation made sense, yet you wondered why they were more excited to be faced with a foreigner than your classmates with quirks that affected their appearance. You literally had a boy with tentacles and a person with a bird head in your class. Having such a quirk was seemingly more common than being a foreigner, you thought. 

This whole center of attention thing went on in the locker room where you got reunited with your hero costume. A while ago you had handed it to an official of the exchange program at your home school and never saw it again. Until now. 

„You look really cool! I’m Ashido Mina. Call me Mina,“ a girl with pink skin commented. Her English pronunciation wasn’t the greatest, but it was easy to understand her name. Finally someone that you could actually call by name. 

Thanks to her a huge round of introductions started with the girls. At the end you knew like three names for sure, half of them to a certain extent and the rest was forgotten. 

Unfortunately the lesson itself asked even more of your brain since every student was asked to demonstrate his or her quirk. From what you could tell, some of them had arranged complete shows to present their abilities. Only you were attending without a certain plan, but the teacher hadn’t chosen the water area of the USJ for nothing. 

The blonde boy set off various explosions while yelling like crazy, a red-head didn’t even flinch when his hardened skin collided with the fire, another boy with black hair escaped the water last minute before a second blonde electrified the whole artificial lake. Last but not least Mina improvised a dance with elements of her acid simply consuming the ice that the boy with the scar and the resting bitch face had created.

„Okay, you are next,“ Momo made sure to let you know. 

When you stepped out of the group of students, you swore that the boy, who had been called ‚Deku‘ by the angry fire guy multiple times, intently wanted to pull out his notebook that obviously wasn’t there because he was wearing his hero costume. 

You bowed a little in front of your classmates to get their attention, „Please watch me!“

These very few Japanese words were certainly enough to do so, which made you feel their glances while you were walking up to the water. Your movements made the skirt part of your dress jump a little, but you didn’t have to worry about showing too much skin thanks to the pair of black shorts underneath.

„Our little exchange student knows what a lake is, doesn’t she? Can’t wait to see her face when she finds out that the water is not carrying her,“ Bakugou joked with crossed arms. For him and all the others it looked like you were headed for a dive. 

Instead of stopping at the sandy area, you continued to walk even after your shoes had touched the water. Like walking on normal ground you went on as if nothing had changed, causing the first mumbles of your classmates. 

In the middle of the lake you stood still, not moving at all. Everything you did was to focus on the water and the energy inside of your body as you took deep, yet calm breaths through your nose. Even your eyes were closed. From their perspective it looked like you had no idea what to do now that you had made it there. But then you opened your eyes, unknown to them.

Out of nowhere a huge wave surrounded you while it pushed itself towards the coast into all directions with your position being the center. Your classmates only gasped at the growing wall of water that was making its way into their direction. They lost sight of you when you disappeared behind the water. 

Preparing themselves to go into defensive mode, they didn’t know what was going on or what your intentions were. Soon enough you broke through the surface from behind, again using the water like normal ground and simply touching the monstrous wave with your index finger. 

As it had never existed, the wave got smaller within seconds. In the blink of an eye the lake returned to its not harmful state. 

„SHE DIDN’T EVEN GET WET!“ Mina cheered at the realisation that you had bursted through water, stopped a gigantic tsunami and walked on water without the tiniest sign of a water stain on your clothes or hair. 

An absolutely strange battle broke out when half of your class gathered around you during a heated conversation with each other. At some point you were sure that you understood the word quirk, but that was as much as you were able to translate again. So you tried to not look too confused once your mind wanted to convince you that you had heard ‚lunch‘ somewhere in between. Too many voices to keep track of asked you things that you didn’t even understand.

„Everyone! Back in line! This behaviour is inappropriate for future heroes. Just imagine how our new classmate must feel in a situation like this!“ The main class president interrupted the chaos, at least that was what you remembered from Momo. 

„But we want to talk to her!“ A third blonde boy exclaimed directly next to you, shooting a wink of glitter at you.

„Right, we need to talk to her!“ This time it was Mina that spoke, or rather yelled.

„You just want to have her all for yourself!“ Somehow this statement from the electricity dude shut up everyone, except for the class president that suddenly sounded like he was defending himself from accusations. 

Even after a few minutes had passed nothing really changed. You were still standing in the middle of people that were arguing with each other, especially since the teacher had ended the lesson. And you hadn’t gotten closer to finding out what the whole issue was about until Momo finally decided to help you out.

„They are fighting because all of them want you to join them at lunch. Welcome to the chaos that is called class 2-A.“

So they did what every aspiring hero with pride would do to solve such a problem - A representative of each squad had to participate in a battle of rock, paper, scissors. 

Several disappointed grumbles and screams of victory later Mina pointed her hand towards the ceiling: „I WON! SHE WILL EAT WITH US! THE ONE AND ONLY BAKUSQUAD!“

Everyone went back to their own squads, which made you realise that your translator wouldn’t be around during lunch. She had offered to come along, but Mina and three boys had told her that they would be fine. In the meantime you questioned at least Mina’s English skills when you got changed again.

In her excitement the pink girl practically dragged you back to the classroom where you grabbed your lunch and were then pulled to a place outside the building. Early in the morning it had been too cold to go out without a jacket, but now the warm sun of spring warmed your skin. 

It didn’t need any words to express your awe once you got to see the meeting place of the BakuSquad: A gigantic tree that blossomed in a corner of the yard. 

Wherever you looked at the ground, it was covered in white to pinkish petals from the tree and this way it wasn’t a big surprise that you had some of them on your head only a few moments after your arrival. The boys were already waving at the two of you arriving, except for the explosion boy as you had named him for now.

You sat down on one of the wooden benches that were standing around the tree, allowing you to sit close to the others but not too close to feel cramped. The first thing you did was to explain your quirk without words because your Japanese wasn’t good enough. 

Four of them widened their eyes at the sight of the water from your bottle hovering in the air above the ground. There you parted them into to two floating bubbles with only the movements of a finger to show what you could do. One bubble froze to ice, the other began to boil from the increasing heat you were providing, yet again with nothing more than a gesture. 

„But I can’t undo it, if I change their form. Now I’ll have to wait for the water to cool to drink it and I’ll use the frozen part as ice cubes to fasten the process,“ you admitted. 

You were met with questioning eyes that were exchanging glimpses with each other like they were trying to communicate. Just like that your smile turned into a rather insecure smirk.

„Idiots, she said she can’t undo it,“ a different voice grumbled. „And you definitely need to learn more Japanese to not fall behind in the future!“

It caught you quite off-guard that the explosion boy out of all people was able to speak English on such a high level. His scolding left you speechless for a moment and it stayed like this long enough for the others to regain their voice.

„Ooooh, Bakubro, what would we do without you?“ The boy with black hair said dramatically with the back of his hand touching his forehead as he leaned back a little. Not to be forgotten should be his very broken English and heavy accent, which he maybe did on purpose.

„We really love youuuuuuuu,“ the red-head followed suit.

All four of them launched themselves at the grumpy blonde at the same time, making him fall over in the process as he cussed words that no one would voluntarily translate. His friends didn’t get demotivated from his reaction and continued to hug him until he was about to use his quirk out of mere revolution purposes.

But they all turned around to look at you when you bent over laughing at the sight of them. Soon enough they giggled along, except for the explosion boy of course. Though even he had to admit that he had to suppress a chuckle. 

Welcome to the chaos that is called class 2-A!

-----

Posted: April 28th 2020 | Requests: Open | Match-ups: Closed

[pollylynn]

Title: Origami Forest WC: 800

“Which one of you is Nikki Heat?”  — Donald Salt, Tick, Tick, Tick . . . (2 x 17)

Her relationship with Nikki Heat is a complicated, constantly shifting thing that was supposed to be simple and eternal: She was supposed to hate Nikki Heat with all her might until the sun burned itself out. In her outward-facing life it is simple. It is eternal. She hates Nikki and her stripper name. She hates her dust-jacket nudity and her strategically held gun. Nikki Heat causes Kate Beckett nothing but grief. That’s the official story. 

But in the busy inner workings of her mind—in her heart of hearts—things have never been quite so simple as that. The name has grown on her. It has the hard K echoes of her own and she likes the terse way her alter ego deploys those three syllables. The cover art, in context, has a classic noir flair to it that she has to admit looks good on a shelf. 

But more to the point, she’s found from the beginning that she likes Nikki, with her blend of compassion and cutting through the bullshit. She likes her intelligence and the intricate workings of a heart that’s empathetic and self-protective in equal parts. She likes the way that Nikki talks and moves and how hard she works—how she is all the things he promised she would be.

She thought she had made her peace with her strange and secret crush on the woman who is definitely not her. She thought that her most pressing Nikki Heat–related problem from here on out would be to maintain the public–private divide on the issue, which is not a maneuver that she exactly has to strain herself to pull off. But then today arrived and she finds she is not at all prepared for the next phase of the evolution of her relationship with Nikki Heat: She is not prepared to be worried on her fictionalized self’s behalf. 

Worry doesn’t arrive all at once. She’s shaken by his abrupt announcement about Nikki’s impending arrival on the silver screen. She is annoyed with him for blind-siding her, but the official story is that she’s always annoyed with him, so, really,  the only thing that’s new is the sudden development of  her possessive feelings when it comes to Nikki. 

She is the very opposite of eager to play the Who Do You Want To Play You game. She digs her fingernails into her palms as everyone else preens and talks about their dream casting. She bites down hard on the inside of her lip and refuses to deal with the fact that it feels like an act of betrayal from every one of them 

But she knows that’s silly. She knows it will pass, and anyway, the movie Nikki will never be the real Nikki. So she’s not worried on her heroine’s behalf just yet.  But then, there is the man on the phone. Then there is Jordan Shaw. Then there are two dead bodies and the promise of more if Nikki fails.

It’s then that she worries. 

It’s displacement. Or maybe dissociation? She really should have paid far more attention back in her unfocused days in therapy, but unfocused or no, she spent enough time in the chair to know that her present preoccupations are not what they seem. The murderer has presented her—Beckett—with murders it was her—Nikki’s—responsibility to prevent. Jordan Shaw, with her Manic Pixie Dream Agent tendency to externalize her interior monologue, expounds on Nikki’s many shortcomings from the murder’s perspective. 

And it hurts her. It’s a weight on her already overburdened heart and mind that the world will think Nikki is a failure if she—Kate—can’t stop this horrifying string of events from unfolding any further. 

It’s about her mother, really, as all things are. It’s about the deeply personal grief she feels for the survivors of every victim, and the damaging narrative embedded deep within her that it’s not enough to bring killers to justice, she should be stopping them. She should be stopping every single one. It’s subtext filtering up to become main text, as subtext fucking will when she’s least equipped to deal with it. 

She’s worried about Nikki and how the world sees her, and that’s not at all what she’s really worried about.  But Sandra Keller falls through her door, and the talk turns to dogs. Nikki, as it turns out, is absolutely incidental to anything. She’s so irrelevant, it’s absurd to think of her as failing. 

And yet, she—Kate—is worried. In moments so fleeting that they might as well be imaginary she is tearful, she is possessive. She is annoyed, and she feels betrayed. With three bodies on her conscience, in moments so fleeting they might as well be imaginary, she’s worried about Nikki Heat. 

A/N: Not that this was ever a thing, but it might’ve been about exhaustion and irrationality if there were. (But there is not.) 

images via homeofthenutty

[mmanjuu]

please consider: yandere author & darling.

you’re not a prominent bookworm, but your adoration for all arts alike easily sinks through your personality and is expressed in your conducts and occurrences from daily events. that’s why, after encountering an individual in a somewhat secluded library, you’re instantaneously captivated by the animated work of art.

they’re beautiful and your limited vocabulary does no justice in describing them. mustering up the dwindling courage in your heart, you approach them with near silent footsteps. your heart rocks violently against your rib cage when they turn around, coincidentally to face you.

their beauty is a federal crime, you think, swallowing the developing lump in your throat. you share a handful of words, albeit your sentences are thrown with stammers— fortunately, your bashful self manages to obtain their phone number, a feat you can’t help but boast about.

you interact a bit more and end up as quite a pleasant match. love isn’t something you often partake in; frankly, the topic of affection isn’t suited for your reserved and perpetually shifting behavior. this relationship comes as a shock, but you’re definitely not denying the delight swelling in your heart.

they’re an author and their works are acknowledged in widespread regions across the map, something that adds to their unceasing charm. they whisper tales of literature and vibrant colors of fantasies in your ear as you fall into rest every night.

you couldn’t be happier— everything feels like a dream.

when you awaken to another morning (or so you assume), you’re alerted by the unfamiliar scenery enveloping you. this is the setting to a novel they’d presented you a few weeks prior, you realize in confusion. just as anxiety penetrates your senses, an echo resounds in your ears.

it’s your lover’s voice, but there’s an underlying poison lacing their every words. a shiver crawls your spine like malicious spiders preparing for a bite.

“this is to keep you safe,” they coo. “it’s better this way, far away from everyone else, just you and me.” their tone is plagued by a revolting adoration and devotion, cherished feelings only for you. they proceed with their twisted monologue (as does any villain) and that time spares you a few moments.

before you even take a single step, vines are curling onto your body in a vice grip with thorns sinking into your skin. your jaw slackens and your head rolls back, all your strength escaping your bones in a matter of seconds. you can’t move, you register in a daze.

you can hear the smile dancing on their lips as they hum, “you’re in my little story now, you can’t run from an inevitable fate.”

a writer, they said— but what kind? they never announced contact with fans, but there’s bound to be a few when they’re so famed, right? the intermingling puzzles don’t match and something is crawling in your stomach, a terrible horror.

“i’m the author and you’re the protagonist. anything will happen as long as i have a pencil in my hand, and that means— ” a pause, and they continue with a pleased laugh. “you will never escape me.”

is this a nightmare? something with dark magic? you’re begging to whatever superior deity exists above to save you from this situation but there’s no return, at least not yet. then again, clinging onto hope brings nothing right now.

this isn’t the love you desired. where did the morning kisses and sweet conversations, the coffee dates and baking sessions, the story telling and movie nights— where did they go? a choked cry creeps onto your tongue but it only comes strangled.

 you lover is all smiles and laughs, purring about how amazing things will be from this point on, how they’ll always be protecting you from the evils of the world. how they’ll always give you a much deserved happy ending, with flowers and kisses.

this isn’t the happy ending you desired though.

  dedicated to @yandere-daydreams,, thought about creating yandere personas for authors i esteem, and they’re what first came to mind. please appreciate them; their stories and individual personality is both wondrous. i,, hope i don’t displease nor disappoint anyone,, 

[mellarkablegirl]

THE TIME OF MY LIFE

I promised a new chapter every Thursday and I intend to keep my promise. All your feedback and likes are so so appreciated.

CHAPTER1

The descent into Sydney International seemed to be taking forever and after a 22-hour long journey, I was in no mood for patience. My jittering and bouncing knee annoyed the distinguished looking man in the seat next to me , he’d introduced himself as Seneca at the beginning of the journey and one look at his sleazy smile told me , that the next 18 hours of my life were going to be an endeavor to ignore my seat mate. And If my disinterested looks and earphones weren’t enough to tell him off, I was sure my famous cold brushoffs would be quite enough. At least that’s what Gale always told me. Ahh, Gale, my stereotypically male best friend that I was sure I was hallway in love with. Gale was my first crush, on the first day of uni we got paired up for an icebreaker session. I hurt his ego by saying he was too skinny to play hulk and he shot right back by calling me Catnip. I expected for it to go all downhill from there, but weirdly enough we bonded instead. I developed a gigantic crush that just refuses to go away and he dated other girls (lots and lots of other girls) before he found his “one”, Madge Undersee.  That was off course until she stomped all over his heart and chose to move on pretty quickly. These days Gale spent most of his time moping around and being super clingy.

Pondering on my life so far seemed to be taking my mind of the creep sitting less than a foot away from me and the nervousness of what the next 6 months hold in store for me, so that’s exactly what I did. I quickly rehashed my inner monologue looking out over the blue ocean just off the Sydney coast. I was so glad that last window seat for empty and up for grabs! Anyway, here’s what I said(mentally):

“My name is Katniss Everdeen, I’m almost 21 years old, I’m from Panem , I study at the Polytechnic college with a major in Product Design , I’m doing a semester abroad program in Sydney Australia for the next 6 months , I’m going to miss my family , I love my family? I’m excited to get this ball rolling, I’m also a little nervous. “The sudden jerk of turbulence brings me out of my reverie, and with only minutes left to land I decide that this, this is going to be the time of my life and I am going to seize it.

The people here seemed so much friendlier and welcoming than back home, and their accents were adorable, the hospitality was pulling me in and I had to shake myself. Its barely been an hour since you’re here and you’re already getting soft, get a grip K! I wheeled my bags out and looked up the concourse calculating how I’d get to my new home, when a loud “Katniss!” echoed behind me. I whipped around, that voice I’d know anywhere. A little way up the concourse stood Cinna, or uncle Cinna as my mother would insist, he used to be my favorite relative before he up and moved to the other side of the world. He now beamed at me with arms open, it had been too long since I saw him and all of the emotions bubbled up and I ran into his arms, a little sob escaping here and there. An appearance of a familiar person suddenly quelled my fears, I wasn’t completely alone and this whole endeavor was going to be a walk in the park. That’s when I saw his wife standing behind, smiling encouragingly with a bundled-up baby in her arms. The cold out here was biting and Portia coming to the airport with baby Rue made me feel oh so special, especially in this weather.

“Come on squirt time to get you indoors and settled in “and with that we were off, on the car ride home we reacquainted ourselves with each other’s lives. Cinna now ran a full-fledged salon in the city and the small family lived in a cute suburban house just a few miles out of the CBD. Portia was a celebrity stylist and her flexible hours allowed her to spend more time with baby Rue who turned 1 this fall. Since the university residences wouldn’t open until next week, my first week in Sydney would be spent with Cinna and his family at their home. I settled in pretty quickly, Cinna and Portia were oh so welcoming but tiny little Rue had stolen my heart. I doubted I’d ever felt so connected and protective of a baby, save for when Prim was born.

Oh Prim! I almost forgot; it was almost time for our video call. Before I left, I promised my baby sister that I’d update her almost everyday on what I had been up to. But video calls were saved for weekends and special events. Looking at the clock I calculated the 5 and half hour time difference and decided it was too early to call home. So, I wandered into the living room, looking for something to entertain myself with. In the week that had passed I had spent most of my time outdoors, discovering the new city, going on lunch dates with Portia and stocking up of all the essentials I’d need once I moved into the dorms.

I was excited, I had been living alone for a few years as I attended Polytechnic but the whole vibe of this city was fascinating to me. The cultural diversity, the fast-paced life and the whole place in general made it seem like some kind of Hollywood production. Moving in day, dawned and it was cold. No one had warned me that Australia in June was as freezing as a tundra. But with the help of Cinna and a cute RA, that introduced himself as Darius, I was all set.  After a round of hugs and take care of your self’s I was finally left alone, not before I promised to keep Portia updated and drop in for dinner one of the days. As I plonked myself on the mattress, I let out a long sigh, here goes 6 months of new experiences I thought. Gathering up my stuff for the kitchen , I walked out only to run smack dab into a tall girl with a pixie cut and a sneer on her face , “Oh so you’re in number 8 “, she said “ Clove Richardson , the room across yours is mine and my friend Glim lives in number 1 , we’re both from the UK” she said extending her hand for a greeting. I was taken aback by the abruptness of her behavior but introduced myself nonetheless, she asked for my social media and swiftly added me to the group chat with all the girls that stayed in the apartment. I had moved into an 8-bedroom apartment in the student village right across from my campus. As she walked away, she announced that since I was finally here, we’d have a house meeting this evening.

Nodding my head, I started placing my bowls and utensils into a shelf when a quiet voice behind me startled me,” Oh I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you, I just wanted to get my groceries in. “I turned around and in front of me stood a waif like girl, she had a head full of curly auburn hair and the kindest pair of green eyes I’d seen ever, something about her seemed familiar but I couldn’t put my finger down on what.” I’m Annie Cresta and you must be Katniss? “she said with an enquiring look, I merely nodded. “Wait Annie Cresta? Do you happen to know a Finnick? Finnick Odair?” I asked suddenly remembering where I knew her from, “Why yes, how do you know Finn?” she asked a perplexed look taking over her face. I started laughing at what a small world this was, explain to her how Finn and I were good friends back in school and that he had mentioned his girlfriend ‘Annie’ multiple times during their conversations. Annie smiled, a tiny hint of mischief in her eyes and asked me how I’d settled in. I rehashed my run in with Clove and that I knew Darius. She invited me to the open barbeque later this week and all I could do was nod unsurely. I may have been hell bent on getting new experiences, but I sure wasn’t an out going person to start off with. For a matter of fact, I hated parties and large gatherings, but telling sweet Annie that there was no way I’d be found dead at that barbeque was just plain mean .I holed myself up in my room until a soft knock and Annie’s voice told me everyone had gathered out in the living room .

As I looked around the room, I noticed Clove taking to a beautiful looking girl with platinum blonde locks and expensive looking clothes, that I concluded to be the Glim she had mentioned before. Annie was speaking to a girl in mechanic overalls with her hair up in a high ponytail. I smiled at Celina the exchange student from Japan, who’d introduced herself to me during student orientation. The last two girls looked like twins but with completely opposing personas. “Listen up bitches! Let’s call this meeting to order and let’s get acquainted yeah? “the one in the overalls called out. “I’m Johanna Mason. I live in room 7 and I’m a forestry major” she nodded as if to prod the rest to follow her lead. Glim turned out to be Glimmer Roberts a data analytics major, Clove was in room 2 and a Business major. The twins were in room 3 and 5 and introduced themselves as Maria and Eva Leeg. Room 4 was Annie and room 6 was Celina and room 7 seemed to be empty so far. The girl assigned to it hadn’t turned up so far. A chore roster sheet was hung up and storage shelves divided up among the residents pretty quickly and efficiently. And rule sheets were quickly passed around. Just as I was turning around Annie called to me,” Hey Kat! Sorry can I call you Kat?” I nodded and chose to let her have her way, “Finn is coming down from Melbourne this weekend, and he wanted to know if you’d like to catch up “she asked. I nodded a little overenthusiastically, I was feeling a little left out and meeting with an old friend from home seemed to be a great idea. “I’d love too, I’ll text him and let him know, Thanks Annie! “I called as I retreated to my room.

After I texted Finn to let him know he asked if it was alright to invite another friend of his that lived in the area, I understood he had little time and agreed to it. I spent a bunch of time scrolling through Instagram, looking at what everyone back home had got up to in the last week. I wasn’t big on social media but Instagram and Tumblr had always been my weakness. Getting bored of it after a while I looked up at the clock on my study table, it flashed 8:30. Still too early to go to bed, I spent a while switching from the rather useless apps on my phone before I came up on Tinder.  I had all but sworn off the app after my last disastrous date back home, but decided there was no harm in checking out what Sydney had to offer. I swiped left on multiple Chris Hemsworth lookalikes with shitty bios before I stumbled upon the account of Darius, he was cute and had seemed to flirt with me when He helped me yesterday, so I swiped right on his goofy grin and besides he had a really smart bio too. I kept swiping for a bit before another one caught my eye. His name said Peeta, and his only picture was a shot of his eyes hidden behind a thick bound book. The quirked-up eyebrow and black framed glasses added to the adorableness of this picture. His bio said “Hummus where the Peeta is” and I genuinely cracked up I swiped right just as a notification for a match came in. For a second, I thought I had matched with cute bread guy. But the notification said Darius. An unknown feeling bubbled up inside as I deleted Tinder on an impulse. I threw my phone across the bed and pulled a novel from the nearby shelf, snuggling in to read myself to sleep. But I could barely concentrate, my mind kept wandering to bread guy. I berated myself, this is what you get for opening Tinder when you’ve sworn of it Katniss! Giving up hop on getting anything done tonight, I shut the night light and burrowed under the quilts and pillows on my bed. Willing myself not to dream of fresh baked bread and comfortable arms to snuggle into.

[jarienn972]

A Simple Spell - Chapter Seven

A Captain Swan Supernatural Summer Tale

I’m getting this update out a couple days later than planned due to a very busy week but I didn't want to wait until Monday to post it. I know I ended the last chapter on a pretty big cliffhanger (and just might do it again...) so I didn't want to delay the resolution for too much longer. Thank you, @lassluna for your beta assistance with a few corrections.  They were much appreciated!  Thanks again to @cocohook38 for the beautiful artwork above and to everyone involved with the @cssns event! I was hoping to have this finished before the summer officially ended, but real life delayed things a bit so it looks like we’ll run into Halloween season.

Anyway, when we left off, Emma had just learned that her mother, Ava, was Cora's sister making her a cousin to Regina and Zelena. It's not a surprise she's going to take lightly...

Read from the beginning on Tumblr: One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six

AO3    FF.net

Anger.

Betrayal.

Confusion.

Emma's emotions were reeling and amplifying with every second that passed. Ruby wanted to say something but she didn't even know where to begin so she chose to remain quiet, close by should Emma reach out, but also just out of reach should her friend decide instead that she needed to punch something.

They had to have known.  Regina and Zelena had both been old enough to have known that Ava was related to them.and David had to have known that his step-mother had also been their aunt.  Why would they have kept something this important from her?

Emma had so many questions swirling inside her head for her newfound cousins and even more for her brother, questions she wasn’t even sure how to ask.  All she knew right knew right now was that she was seething and then she heard the voices echoing from the stairway.

“Everything is set up,” she heard Zelena announce, but Emma no longer harbored any interest in the planned rituals for the full moon or even for anything related to magic in general.  She was hurting and the secrets that had been withheld from her were the cause.  

The moment Regina’s visage rounded the last corner and came into view, Emma lashed out, holding up the photograph that had tumbled out of Gold’s book. “When were you going to tell me?” she growled, practically shoving the picture into Regina’s face.

“Tell you what? Zelena just said that everything was ready.  Let’s get upstairs…,” Regina responded, barely glancing at the old photograph.

“Seriously?  I’m not talking about your damned rituals!” Emma glared as she waved the photo into Regina’s line of sight again. “This!  When were you going to fill me in on this little secret, cousin?”

“Cousin…,” Zelena repeated knowingly, although she was more than happy to fade into the background and allow her younger sister to take the brunt of Emma’s ire.

“Emma…,” Regina began, hands raised before her defensively as she sought to defuse the situation that they had indeed created.  “Emma, we always intended to tell you when you were ready…”

“When I was ready?” Emma scoffed. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?  Why would I need to be ready to find out that we were related?   Why did it need to be such a secret for me to find out who I’m related to around here?!”

“Okay...that’s my cue to leave,” Ruby said shyly as she threw her crimson cape on over her shoulders as voices raised which was probably going to lead to tempers flaring. She flipped the hood atop her brunette hair and eased her way back a few steps past Zelena. “I’m outta here…” she whispered, grimacing at the thought of what was to come.  “Em, call me later if you need to chat…”

Regina ignored Ruby’s exit as she attempted to plead her case. “You needed to be more confident in your magic first,” she explained. “You needed to trust us as your teachers so that when the time came, you’d understand…”

“Understand what?  I don’t understand anything right now except that all of you lied to me!”  Emma shouted back angrily. “This doesn’t have anything to do with magic!  You knew that my mother was your aunt and that I was your cousin the moment we met.  Why would you keep that from me?”

“You may not believe us, but we did it for your own good,” Zelena interjected. “It wasn’t supposed to be a secret, but you had to be ready for the truth…”

“My own good?  You sincerely expect me to believe that?  Hell, why should I believe anything that either of you tell me now? Did you only sign on to tutor me in magic because I was your cousin?”

“It’s not like that, Emma…,” Regina sighed exasperatedly. “You being our cousin was only a tiny part of the reason we agreed to tutor you in the magical arts. Storybrooke’s future depends on it…”

“What?” Emma asked in confusion.  How was anything in Storybrooke dependent on her?  “You’re making absolutely no sense…”

“We can explain…,” Zelena offered, but she knew Emma was aching far too much and wasn’t in the most receptive mood at that moment.  There was too much history to explain.  So much that Emma would need to be educated about before she’d understand and this night wasn’t going to be near enough.

“Oh, I’d love for you to explain it all to me, but not right now,” Emma spat  “Right now, I can’t even look at the two of you without wanting to punch you in your faces, and I still have to decide how to go confront my brother about his role in all of this!” She snatched Gold’s potion book from the stool she’d rested it on and tucked everything that had fallen from it back inside the leather bound cover. 

“Don’t be too hard on David,” Regina stated dejectedly, lowering her chin to avoid eye contact. “None of this was his decision…”

“Doesn’t make him any less complicit,” Emma reminded her cousin as she tucked the book beneath her arm before stabbing an index finger into Regina’s face with a stern warning. “We’re not done with this conversation.  All of you owe me some answers and when I calm down enough, I’ll be back for those answers.  Right now, I’m getting out of here before I do something I might regret!”

She stomped up the steps into the mausoleum and stepped out into the moonlit graveyard with Regina on her heels.  Regina could plead for her to listen all she wanted but Emma had already tuned her out.  All she wanted right now was someone she could vent to - someone who wasn’t family and who wouldn’t jump to judgement.

Only one person’s name came to mind and she could only hope that he’d answer his phone at this late hour.

**********

Emma didn’t even bother heading back to her car in her haste to escape the cemetery and the growing frustration gnawing away in the pit of her stomach.  She’d ended up taking a very brisk walk toward the harbor, wishing that the evening air would help clear her head and calm the maelstrom building within.  Nothing she’d done yet had been successful to quell her fiery temper  so she was pinning her hopes on someone else. 

Killian Jones had answered her brief late night call seeking a drinking buddy and, sensing her unspoken yet audible distress, had agreed to meet her at the dock.  Something was definitely not right with his new friend, the deputy, but he was chivalrous enough to lend a damsel an ear and allow her to vent all she needed.

“Is everything alright, Swan?” he asked stupidly, mentally kicking himself for such a ridiculous query when she was obviously visibly upset.  “You sounded quite vexed when you phoned so I’m concerned…”

“Vexed would be a severe understatement right now,” she grumbled as she neared.  As she drew closer to his position, even in the pale glow of the moonlight, he could see that her eyes were reddened and her cheeks dampened with trails of fallen tears.

“Why don’t we take a stroll away from here and find somewhere private where you can relay to me everything that’s weighing down your heart, Love?” he offered. “I believe you are in need of a patient, singular audience right now, not a noisy, crowded tavern…”

“As long as there’s alcohol involved, I don’t care where we go… I’m good with heading down to the Rabbit Hole, but if you have a better suggestion… I just want to drink until I can’t feel the betrayal anymore…”

He slid his hand inside his hip length black leather coat and withdrew a little piece of history - a weathered, dark brown glass flask topped with a cork plug. “There’s a small park that’s perhaps a five minute trip from here, right down by the beach.   The sea has always been a calming influence on me.  Perhaps tonight, it will be for you as well? I’ve plenty of rum here for whatever level of numbness you desire.”

“Rum, huh?” she chuffed. “Should have known you pirate types would have rum around…”

“Shall we then?” he offered, tucking the flask safely away until they reached their destination while simultaneously gesturing to the boardwalk that led away from the docks and down to the waterfront. “You can freely relinquish whatever is on your mind tonight, Emma.  You’ll find me to be an excellent listener.”

As they sat side by side on a concrete park bench, Killian proved true to his word, allowing her to air her gripes without commentary, breaking her monologue with only a few questions here and there for clarification.  Simply having him here by her side had already done wonders to lighten Emma’s mood, and although she was still bitter, Killian Jones had managed to temper the sting of betrayal with his mere presence. Most of the men she had encountered in her life had been dismissive - her former bosses, former lovers and even her brother at times, but Killian had shown a keen interest in all she had to say, no matter how trivial her ramblings might seem. Neal’s interest had been purely physical, as had most of her one night stands that came after that failed relationship so it was unexpected to have a man who actually wanted to hear her thoughts and legitimately cared about how she felt.

He’d patiently allowed her to unload everything on him as she relayed the tale of how she had grown up wanting to know all about her absent family and how she’d always felt she had a much larger lineage, despite her mother’s denial. She told him how she’d come to find David through her research and made the decision to move from Boston to Storybrooke, hoping she’d learn more once she could immerse herself into her birthplace. Then, she admitted for the first time tonight that she never imagined that the rest of her family would conceal the truth from her. Regina and Zelena could have told her that she was their cousin, but the simple fact that they hadn’t left her to only wonder what else they might be keeping from her.

“Do you think I’m overreacting?” she finally asked him directly after bombarding him for nearly thirty minutes with her woes, fingers tapping nervously atop Gold’s book that rested on the bench to her right. 

“Well, I suppose it comes down to precisely what their reasoning for withholding the information  from you may have been. I’m not privy to their thought process, Love, but perhaps they felt as though they had your best interests at heart?” Killian replied with a shrug of his leather-clad shoulders.

“Best interests of what?” she retorted. “What interests would it serve to not reveal that I was related to them?”

“I wish I could answer that for you but I think you know that only your family will be able to provide those details for you.”

Emma sighed in defeat as she slumped back against the bench, taking a pull from Killian’s flask of rum - and damned good, strong rum it was.  In her head, she knew he was right, but her heart still burned and she wasn’t anywhere near drunk enough yet to desire another confrontation with Regina or Zelena. Or to confront David for that matter.  She was probably angriest with him right now because they’d been working side by side and even living under the same roof for months and he hadn’t even dropped a single hint that Emma might be related to the Mills sisters. There was absolutely no way that he hadn’t known as a child that his stepmother was a member of the most powerful family in town.

“I suppose I’m not going to have a whole lot of options except to confront them, am I?” she asked rhetorically as he wrapped a reassuring arm around her shoulders, eliciting an involuntary shudder from her at the unexpected, yet not unwelcome touch.  His eyes met hers for a second, ready to apologize and pull away from her, yet she responded with a smile and leaned into him instead. “Thank you for letting me rant like a madwoman tonight.”

“Anytime, Love, although if I may be honest, I’m actually surprised that you contacted me   I would have thought that you’d have reached out to a friend in this situation, not to someone you barely know…”

“I don’t know… That’s the thing, I guess. I don’t have a lot of friends here that I feel like I can turn to.  I feel like no one really knows me around here and yet there’s a part of me that feels as though I’ve known you forever. I feel like you probably know me better than anyone else and maybe it’s because you haven’t lied to me yet.”

“Why would I lie to you, Swan?  I want to get to know you - the real you - not push you away.  I can’t speak for the others, but there are times when honesty becomes a double-edged sword.  I’m quite certain that your family held what they believed were valid reasons for not being upfront with you. When you’re ready to ask them, I’m certain they’ll provide you with the answers you seek.”

“I suppose...,” she replied, sounding both dejected and hopeful at the same time. “But not tonight.  Tonight, I just want to not think about anything… Oh - and I guess I’d better figure out a place to crash.  I don’t want to see David’s face tonight or I might punch it and assaulting the Sheriff, even if he is your brother, is probably frowned upon.”

“You’re welcome to join us on the Jolly Roger, if you wish.  You can have my quarters and I’ll bunk with with the crew…”

“As lovely as that offer sounds, I really don’t need the town talking about me spending the night on a ship full of sailors.  David already thinks you’re a bunch of dirty pirates so I’d rather not give him ammunition. I’ll probably just go sleep on the sofa at the station.  Even though Graham’s working tomorrow morning, he won’t care.”

“As you wish,” Killian replied with a mock curtsy before snatching his flask back from her hand and frowning when he discovered it to be nearly empty. “One might wonder who the pirate is here…” he commented with a sinful smirk as he took a swig.

“It’s good rum,” she stated with a dismissive shrug.  “I’m usually more of a beer and whiskey girl but that stuff isn’t half bad.”

“And more than half gone,” he scoffed sarcastically before bursting into laughter.  Even in her slightly inebriated state, she couldn’t help noticing how his blue eyes sparkled in the moonlight. Forget whatever ritual Regina and Zelena may have had planned, here was the real magic of the full moon and her drunken little soul almost didn’t want the night to end.

**********

Even though she was feeling only slightly tipsy, Emma consented to allow Killian to walk her to the Sheriff's station, recalling only as she was fumbling for the key to the building’s rear door that she had left her car parked over by the cemetery. Oh well, it would be fine there for the night.  She’d go get it tomorrow after she sobered up. Everyone knew that the beat up old Volkswagen belonged to the Deputy so there was no fear that anyone would dare steal it. 

At least she’d been alert enough to remember to grab Gold’s potion book before they’d left the park. She was already questioning the veracity of his actual ownership of it and had added the shady pawn shop owner to her list of people she needed to confront over the course of the coming days.  Before settling down on the break room sofa, she placed the book safely inside her locker with the incriminating photograph and letter still pressed beneath the cover. Had it been merely a fluke that those telling items had fluttered out of the book when she’d dropped it?  Did Gold know they were inside already, sending her on a hunt to locate that specific volume intentionally? 

Those were questions that would have to wait until daybreak though as she yawned and stretched out on the faux leather sofa, pulling the royal blue and dark red plaid woven blanket off of the back to cover herself.  It didn’t take long for her to drift off to sleep, replaying the night in her mind.  She knew she’d probably regret some of the evening’s actions when the sun rose but she dozed off believing the hangover would be well worth it.

As Emma was making herself comfortable in the station’s break room for the night, Killian Jones was taking a leisurely pace on his short trek back to his ship at the harbor, grinning like a complete fool the whole way. He has no idea what to expect from his burgeoning relationship with Emma Swan but he fully intended to relish every moment spent in her company.  He tried not to think about the fact that he’d be setting sail in a few days, not looking forward to the departure.  He could only hold onto a glimmer of hope that should Emma reciprocate his increasing fondness for her, he would immediately start planning his return voyage to Storybrooke.

By the time he scaled the gangplank well after the midnight hour, he knew only a handful of crew would be awake so it wasn’t at all surprising to find the top deck of the Jolly Roger deserted. He crossed to the hatch above his quarters in a few long strides as he felt the growing chill apparent in the sea breeze.  Stooping to raise the hatch, his fingertips scarcely grazed the handle before finding himself struggling to breathe. Eyes widening, he frantically scoured the deck to find the owner of the unseen hands tightening around his throat but found himself still alone under the moonlit sky. He struggled against his invisible assailant, attempting to claw away whatever might be strangling him but to no avail. Unable to even shout for help, he succumbed to the darkness, falling unconscious atop the unopened hatch.

[tempestaurora]

WHUMPVEMBER #18: HOSTAGE

cute one today! AO3 KO-FI

It happened in less than a minute.

No build up, no monologuing, no preamble. One minute they were sitting in a diner, and by the time sixty seconds had passed, Peter was on the floor, there was mass panic and puddles of blood were seeping out across the black and white tiles.

Tony was on his feet then, forcing himself to look away from Peter’s prone body – there were still guns shooting, still screams echoing. He couldn’t get stuck on Peter when the building was going up, so as he removed himself from the booth, he pulled his watch into the emergency gauntlet, metal unfurling and slipping into place around his fingers. It was good for maybe three blasts, the repulsor that sat against his palm now. Three blasts and five men with guns still firing.

He shot the first one in the aisle between booths, watching them forced back into the host’s stand by the door. Tony ducked as a gun turned on him, the windows shattering as the bullets flew through the air, right where he’d been standing.

“Get on Stark!” someone yelled.

He put six and nine together in a heartbeat, staring into the eyes of a petrified woman beneath the booth he was hiding by. A diner he visited every Wednesday with Peter. Not being surprised by his presence.

They came for you, asshole.

He was up on his feet a moment later, jumping onto the booth and over the fake plant divider that ran the length of the diner. On landing, he rolled, shot with his repulsor at a gunman, sending him straight back into a table and chair that collapsed under his weight.

A bullet shot straight past his face and he swore, ducking away. Tony threw a nearby chair at the man who’d shot him, stopping him for just a moment before darting over and yanking the handgun he was holding.

Tony shot him once through the shoulder and a second time through the calf. The guy sprawled and Tony watched the blood spurt for only a second before he was turning, searching.

Five guys. There had been five guys and he’d only taken down two.

Then: Peter.

“Mr Stark!” Peter’s voice called out from across the restaurant.

Tony ducked down, making his way across the room via the guy he’d dropped near the door. With the gun raised, he moved out into the aisle where he saw Peter on his feet, an arm secured around his neck and a gun pressed firmly against his temple.

Bad guy number four.

Where was number five?

“Hey, hey,” Tony said, the back of his mind whirring through seven problems at once. When would the police get here? When would help arrive? “Come on, let’s not shoot a kid.”

Tony and Peter met eyes for a moment, and Tony couldn’t figure out what message to send to him. Be calm? You’ll be okay? I love you? The last one flew in and out of his mind too fast to catch or analyse, which was fine, because this was no time for analysing.

“Stark,” the gunman said. “Me shooting this kid is the least of your worries.”

It would never be the least, Tony knew. But there was a lot of other worries surrounding it, namely how he’d get Peter out of the situation, and how he was already bleeding profusely from his right shoulder, where a bullet had already pierced into his skin from when the gunners had initially entered.

Peter’s eyes had widened and his breath had caught and a second later he was shot through. He’d dodged, minutely, and it meant all the difference. The bullet would’ve gone straight through the centre of his chest if he hadn’t.

“I’ll be honest,” Tony said, his gun trained on the two, “you holding a kid hostage is pretty high on my list.”

The gunner smirked. They hadn’t even bothered to wear masks. Just cold blue eyes and a plain, regular face – like he could be anybody on the street.

“His name’s Peter, right?” the gunner asked. “Cute name. Cute kid. Won’t make a cute corpse.”

Tony was already stepping forward. “Don’t you fucking-”

“Let’s not, buddy,” a voice said behind him, and Tony felt the weight of a gun barrel press against the back of his head. Tony swore under his breath. “Gun, Stark. Give it.”

Tony met Peter’s eyes again. Be calm? You’ll be okay? I love you?

Tony Stark was an intelligent man, and an intelligent man could run the scenarios. He could see it playing out before him, moment by moment: he could refuse, shoot Peter’s captor and die – but Peter might make it out. He could give the gun over and be shot by his kid’s side. He could give Peter the all-clear to fight, and maybe then they’d both die, but maybe neither of them would-

No. It was too risky when there were guns to their heads to make Peter move. He wouldn’t make it.

Slowly, Tony held up the gun, pointing it to the ceiling and removing his finger from the trigger. A hand stretched out and took it, Tony’s hands wide open and raised in surrender. Outside, police sirens were nearing. Tony looked around the room in desperation for something to use, something to help – but all he saw were dead bodies, pools of blood and the scared eyes of the trapped civilians, watching Tony and Peter be held at gunpoint.

“What do you want?” Tony asked. “What can I do for you to let us out of this?”

The gunner tilted his head. “You think we want money?”

“I don’t know,” Tony replied. “You must want something.” Everybody wanted something.

Tony Stark wanted his fucking kid to be okay. Tony Stark wanted to live a good, long life with his fiancé, Pepper, and the kid he considered his son, Peter. Tony Stark wanted to feel peace right in his core.

But Tony never was one for getting what he truly wanted.

The gunner let out a bark of laughter and Peter winced as the barrel was pressed harder against his temple. “Say goodbye to Peter Parker,” he announced, “because the only thing we want is for you to be dead.”

Tony’s body went cold. There was no negotiating with people who wanted nothing other than your head on a stick.

“If you kill me, will you let him go?” Tony asked.

“Mr Stark-”

Tony spoke over Peter’s plea. “Let him go, come on. Let him leave. Then shoot me. He’s not the one you want.”

“He’s not,” the gunner agreed. “But he should at least watch you die, don’t you think?”

“No,” Tony ground out. “Let him go.”

He knew what the answer would be before it was said, so he let the words wash over him instead. They weren’t letting Peter go because Peter was going to die right after Tony. Tony was supposed to be their main event and Peter would be their encore.

Be calm? You’ll be okay? I love you?

“Peter,” Tony whispered.

“That’s it,” the gunner behind him purred. “Say your goodbye.”

He didn’t want to do what his soon-to-be killer said, but he didn’t want to lose this last moment with Peter. Not when he couldn’t think of an escape plan, not when it was still formulating in his mind, and they might not make it out of this-

Be calm? You’ll be okay?

“I love you, kid,” Tony said, meeting Peter’s eyes. “You mean everything to me, okay?”

Peter began to nod before the gunner’s arm tightened around his throat. One of Peter’s arms was soaked in blood, twitching – probably nerve damage, Tony thought – and the other was reached up, his fingers digging deep into his captor’s arm, but not so much that he’d retaliate and shoot.

“I’m sorry, Mr Stark,” Peter said, and Tony thought he might just fucking cry.

“Take that back,” Tony replied. “We’re not doing death bed apologies.”

The metal of the gun was so fucking cold on the back of his head.

Peter whimpered. “I was the one who broke the toaster.”

Tony almost laughed. “What?”

“The toaster. At the compound. It broke last month, remember? You ended up blaming it on Vision? That was me. I put too much in it. I was shooting for the stars and I missed and the entire thing set on fire – it was a disaster.”

Tony did laugh this time, but his head butted against the gun when he did so and the noise died in his mouth.

“I love you, too,” Peter said, like an afterthought.

Then Tony moved.

His plan was half baked and fucking stupid but he couldn’t think-

There were no better options. There were no answers here. They were either dying together or he had the goddamn chance to get them out alive, and Tony would take every minuscule chance he had.

They were here for him, not the kid. The least could do was try. For Peter’s sake.

All at once, Tony used his gauntlet’s last charge on the man holding Peter and ducked to the side at the same time.

All at once, Peter yelled and two gunshots went off in tandem.

All at once, Tony span suddenly, sending a punch into the gunner behind him and slamming their head on the table as a body thumped to the ground where Peter and the gunner stood.

Tony turned.

“No.”

He lurched down, ducking beneath the bullet that flew from the still-standing gunner, snatching the shiny, silver handgun that had been pressed against his head. Tony shot back, fast, the bullets landing solidly in the man’s chest, one after another, blood splashing as his body twitched, falling back against a table.

There was silence among the people of the diner, accompanied by a crude mix of police sirens from outside and an old Johnny Cash song playing over the tinny speakers.

“Peter.”

The gun in his hand clattered to the floor and Tony ran, skidding on his knees to Peter’s side where thick crimson blood was spilled across the ground. The booth he laid next to was splattered in it, a fucking Pollock painting of his kid’s insides.

“Peter.”

Peter’s eyes were open, but barely. His breathing was slow, rattling. There was an open wound in his shoulder, entire arm stained red, and there was another only a few centimetres away-

“Shit, kid, no, no, no-”

There was an entrance and exit hole.

Blood drooled out of Peter’s mouth and he coughed with the last slithers of his energy. Red came out, drenching his face.

“Ambulance!” Tony yelled. “Someone! Help! Get me an ambulance!”

Tony’s hands shook as he looked over his kid’s body. Peter drew in a breath and immediately choked. What was he supposed to do? The entrance and exit hole weren’t things he could just press and hold onto- no, they were in his neck.

The bullet had gone through one side and shot out the other side of his throat.

Peter Parker was drowning on his own blood and Tony Stark had no fucking idea of how to help.

Red and blue lights flashed, turning the scene in front of him neon and strobed. Peter, one second, red, then pale, then blue.

“Kid, kid, please,” Tony whispered, his hands finally finding purchase – one on Peter’s side and the other cupping his face, his cheek, his hair. “Please. Please don’t do this. Hold on. Hold on, someone will help.”

Be calm. You’ll be okay. I love you.

Peter’s lips moved a tiny amount, like he was trying to speak. His eyes were focused only on Tony, though they were close to closing, and Tony watched as his mouth filled slowly with blood that he’d have no choice but to swallow or breath into his lungs.

“Peter,” Tony whispered. “Peter.”

Peter breathed in the blood then spluttered it all back up. He took the moment after he recovered to breath something imperceptible.

“What? Peter?” Tony lowered his ear closer to Peter’s mouth, and waited, watching out of the corner of his eyes as tears he hadn’t known he’d been crying were dropping, one by one, into the blood on Peter’s face.

“Hol’… my… han’…”

Tony moved without hesitation, gripping Peter’s hand for all he was worth.

Around him, suddenly, was sound. So much of it. People moving, yelling. Wheels rolling on tile. Orders being shouted.

Tony only knew Peter, though. Only knew his kid, dying right before him on a random Wednesday afternoon.

“It’s okay,” Tony lied. “Just stay calm. You’ll be okay.” Fuck, fuck, fuck. “I love you so much, Peter,” Tony whispered. “So much.”

Peter didn’t close his eyes, but the rattle-like breathing stopped. The blood simply pooled in his mouth until it overflowed. His eyes lost their shine.

Tony was pushed aside suddenly as the paramedics moved to Peter’s side, shouting orders at each other as they assessed the situation. Tony kept his hand in Peter’s – there was nothing in the world that could make him let go.

Tony knew the paramedics would stop soon. They’d realise that Peter Parker was beyond saving. It would be a long, long time after this day before anyone realised that Tony Stark was, too.

[welllpthisishappening]

hi! I have a possible canon prompt for you..? I was reading the blue line one shot where everyones drunk & getting tattoos, which is just so fun & entertaining, and it made me picture canon emma & killian getting similarly drunk for whatever reason and probably just being really adorable and cute but also probably annoying the dwarfs (turn the tables since it’s usually the other way around) I don’t even know, maybe snow and charming are involved too cause Henry and Ella minding the kids?? Idek

This also includes first birthday balls (because I got that prompt a couple weeks ago and didn’t do anything with that, sorry anon) and uncomfortable not-quite-royals and scandalized Henry because there should really be more Henry in these family fics. And Elsa and Mulan. Give Elsa a canon girlfriend 2k4ever. Sorry this took forever, anon. The ever-continuing saga of Laura writes canon continues to get more and more ridiculous:

“I honestly cannot breathe.”

Killian’s eyes flash her direction, something that Emma is sure could be the actual, living embodiment of the word mirth in his gaze, but she’s far too focused on maintaining consciousness to be worried about the linguistics of her internal monologue. “It’s got to be almost over, love.”“You say that longingly.”He makes a dismissive noise in the back of his throat, gaze snapping back to the pomp and circumstance and they’ve been to their fair share of balls and royal events now, what with Emma’s princess’dom and an all-realm that seems obsessed with celebrating even the most menial things, but this is the first time they’ve attended a ball that was in honor of their daughter and, well, it was kind of, honestly, sort of…the worst.

Like. The worst.

Emma’s ribs are never going to recover from whatever her mother promised was the height of Camelot fashion and the linguistics of that sentence are just as absurd as ever. And, really, Emma doesn’t harbor any lingering resentment to the kingdom of Camelot.

She doesn’t. Honestly.

Guinevere has been wonderful and fantastic and Henry and Ella spent two weeks at the castle a month ago, documenting the history of several fantastic and magical items, but Emma’s got memories and dark corners and her brain really can’t function when she’s not getting consistent oxygen to it.

“Why did we agree to this again, though?” Killian asks lightly, leaning back against a column with his hand tracing idle patterns on the small of Emma’s back. A knight of the round table looks positively scandalized.

Do they still have a round table? They might not. She should probably know that. It kind of seems like a weird question to ask though.

Hi, Guinevere, sorry Arthur died, but you were kind of into Lancelot anyway, right and remember that time Arthur killed my husband? Right, right, do you still have knights and would they be interested in signing up for the all-realm police department? Yeah, that’s definitely a weird name for it.

“Swan,” Killian says. He turns on her when she makes a noise, like she’s surprised to see he’s there and dressed in full-scale pirate regalia because they may have been introduced with royal titles, but they’re still them and half the reason they did agree to this was because of the clothes.

Or at least that’s half the reason Emma agreed to it.

“You’re drifting again, love,” he smiles, fingers moving to the curve of her jaw while his hook settles on the jut of her hip and they’re really going to cause a scene.

That happens sometimes at these royal events – Emma’s not used to it and Killian’s kind of uncomfortable and she’s normal, she can’t be expected to not want to make out with her husband when he’s got that much leather on.

That’s just an absurd notion.

Surely the knights of the round table can understand that.

Probably not.

“It’s because I really can’t breathe,” Emma mutters, letting her head fall slightly and the jacket he’s wearing inexplicably smells like the ocean. She assumes that’s some byproduct of magic that she doesn’t actually want to talk about. “And don’t bother making a joke about how I still look good, I really can’t process compliments at this point.”Killian chuckles, pressing a kiss to the crown of her hair and the actual crown she’s wearing because she’s a princess, and Emma resists the urge to magic them anywhere else. They wouldn’t be able to leave Hope.

She’s the worst royal mother in the history of any of these realms.

“I really don’t think I’d use the word good,” Killian argues. “That’s rather lackluster, all things considered.”“You’re doing it right now.”“Complimenting?”Emma hums, and she feels his laughter before she hears it, which she assumes is also important to their general and continued happiness, but she might have been lying to herself about her lingering resentment towards the entire kingdom of Camelot. “We agreed to this, partially because you’d wear that vest and partially because it’s Hope’s first birthday and we’re supposed to be royal.”“I’m not sure what birthdays have to do with titles, but I do appreciate the first part of that sentence.”“Yeah, I figured you would.”

“You sound rather upset by that fact.”“No, I’m not. I’m just…” Emma sighs, shaking her head and she’s going to ruin her hair. She should have magic’ed her hair. Or invent magical hairspray. People would buy that. And then the knights of the round table wouldn’t be scandalized when her hair inevitably moved out of place after she inevitably started making out with her pirate husband.

Right there in the middle of a goddamn ball to celebrate the first birthday of Her Royal Highness, the princess of Misthaven, Hope Swan-Jones.

Emma had nearly fallen over when they’d used those exact words at the announcing – a term she didn’t actually know was a thing until Elsa whispered in it her ear.

“Aye,” Killian nods, an understanding expression that Emma appreciates because she’s not sure if she could actually explain the rather large maelstrom of feelings in the pit of her stomach. Although she assumes he’d be impressed by the use of the word maelstrom. “It is a little strange to be back here, isn’t it?”“You’re telling me.”

“We could circle back to your thoughts on my apparel, if that would help distract you.”Emma grins, slow and easy and she’s thankful for the wall behind her because she’s suddenly at very real risk of swooning. “First birthday parties are insane,” she mutters. “She’s not going to remember it. This is, possibly, supposed to be for us, but I think it’s more for my mom and diplomatic relations with Camelot.”“Are those being threatened?”“I honestly have no idea. Ask Henry, he’ll probably know.”“Where is the lad? I haven’t seen him since we did whatever that was on the stairs.”“The announcing,” Emma says, appreciating Killian’s very obvious disgust with royal traditions. “Elsa told me. That’s not something I knew off the top of my head.”“Ah, but you’re doing a very good job of looking the part of crown princess, darling.”He leans forward, hair falling dangerously close to his eyes, which really isn’t unfair because then Emma’s thinking about his eyes and how long they could feasibly be gone before anyone noticed they were missing and–

“Aw, c’mon,” Henry groans, appearing as quickly as if he’s the one in the family with teleporting magic. Lucy’s pressed to his side, Ella in a dress of her own that’s probably leaving lasting impressions on her spleen and Emma’s not entirely sure what her entire soul does when she sees her son holding her daughter, but it kind of feels like the fireworks her mother promised would happen at the end of the ball.

A goddamn ball.

For her kid.

“Didn’t this happen enough while I was growing up?” Henry continues, only half bothering to keep his voice down and Emma narrows her eyes. “You guys got to cross realms to do it now?”“Do it,” Killian echoes slowly. Emma hopes the knights don’t hear this part of the conversation. They’ll never be allowed back in Camelot.

That might not be the worst thing in the world.

Henry shrugs, tilting his head like that’s the majority of his argument and it was the same when he was sixteen too. Ella looks incredibly amused. “How come you guys aren’t dancing?” he asks. “You dance. I’ve seen you dance.”Killian twists, presumably to arch an eyebrow and Henry’s expression shifts slightly – like he’s about to get grounded for breaking curfew or lingering on the front porch with Violet for too long that one summer after they, well, defeated all of evil.

Emma needs to sit down.

She needs to get out of this gown.

She needs a drink. Several drinks.

“Is that actually code for something?” Ella asks softly, mostly to Henry, and Emma makes a strangled noise. Killian’s whole body tenses.

Henry chokes on the sudden surplus of air around them, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his lips together and his head shake looks as awkward as this entire moment now feels. Emma keeps mumbling oh my God under her breath. She’s not entirely sure Killian is speaking English.

“What are those words?” Henry asks lightly, something that sounds like laughter clinging to the question. “Those aren’t the usual pirate curses, are they?”“How often were you on the receiving end of pirate curses?” Ella grins. Henry grits his teeth, and they’re attracting a crowd, the quiet tap of heels and quicker tap of different heels and Anna practically squeals when she sees the baby in Henry’s arms.

“Not that much,” Henry promises, but both Killian and Emma click their tongues and Anna squeals again.

“That was impressive,” she yells. “Did you two practice that?”

“Anna, you’ve got to keep your voice down, or we’re going to have a shrieking baby on our hands,” Elsa chastises. Her voice lacks any real sense of threat though, mostly because she looks so incredibly happy and Mulan looks even better and there are already tiny snowflakes floating in the air above Hope’s head.

Emma smiles.

“Right, right, right,” Anna says quickly. “Sorry. I just…it was an impressive show of parental control, you know?”

Henry’s going to do permanent damage to his throat if he keeps choking like that. “Not on purpose,” Emma says evenly. The tips of Killian’s ears go red. “And it wasn’t really that much, but there were a few warranted pirate curses and what was that one thing?”

She glances at Henry, shuffling awkwardly on his feet as he tries to ignore Ella’s curious gaze and Killian’s decidedly paternal stare and Snow White is going to be disappointed none of them are dancing.

“What was the one thing?” Ella prompts, tugging on Henry’s shirtsleeve when he doesn’t answer immediately. “When was the one thing?”Henry shakes his head again.

“Is no one going to tell the story?” Mulan asks, and Emma knows she doesn’t imagine the note of disappointment in her voice.

Killian sighs. “He was sixteen,” he starts, Emma biting her lip so she doesn’t actually start to cackle. “And wanted to learn how to drive.”“Except Mom wasn’t around,” Henry adds. His mouth twitches when he glances at Killian.

“Exactly. Dealing with something from what was it, Swan?”“The Land of Untold Stories, almost always,” Emma answers.

“Of course, of course. So, something with the Land of Untold Stories, but the lad needed to practice driving and I’d gotten fairly good at working the machine–”“–Oh my God, Killian, eventually you can just call it a car,” Henry interrupts, but his jaw clacks shut loudly when he’s met with another vaguely paternal stare and pirate seems to just radiate off Killian in moments like these.

“Zelena let us borrow her automobile,” Killian continues, a rapt audience with wide eyes and a cooing baby and even more snowflakes. “And things were going well, until we started driving towards the town line and the wildlife decided to attack.”“What?” Elsa balks.

“It was diabolical.”“Or so the story goes,” Emma amends. “It was a rabbit. Ran into the road while Henry was driving. He swerved, drove off the road and really did more damage to the tree than anything else. Unless you’re counting Killian’s frayed nerves.”

“We’re not,” Killian intones.“It was enormous, Mom,” Henry promises, the same words she’d heard a few moments after the incident and a frantic phone call and the whole thing still kind of made her laugh because they’d both been incredibly worried about the state of the rabbit.

It had run back into the woods almost immediately.

“I’m sure it was, kid. Monty Python-esque.”“No one ever made claims that large, Swan,” Killian reasons. “But it was rather big and very much in the road and, well….it led to several curses and a variety of words that Henry was told never to repeat again.”

“It was a learning experience,” Henry chuckles.

“Did the Wicked Witch ever find out?” Mulan asks, eyes flitting around like Zelena will descend on them at the mere mention of her name and demand monetary payments for the damage.

Emma shakes her head. “There was, uh…some magic involved. Possibly my magic.”Anna and Elsa make almost identical noises of surprise and something that might just be glee, wide smiles and bright eyes and Hope absolutely loves the sound, tiny hands reaching up for either one of them. They spend a lot of time in Arendelle.

Emma probably wouldn’t hate her dress so much if she were wearing it in Arendelle.

“That is sneaky, Emma,” Anna accuses, but she can’t really argue with it and possibly mumbles something that sounds a bit like pirate under her breath if only to see what happens to Killian’s face. He smiles.

And kisses her hair again.

Henry groans.

“Shall we repeat ourselves, my boy?” Killian asks, but Emma’s mind gets caught on more linguistics and possessive pronouns or something. “It’s not as if you’re entirely unused to it.”“That was a confusing use of double negatives,” Henry says.

“And yet I’m fairly certain you kept up. That all-realm knowledge truly coming into play.”“Ah, that and like…a vast knowledge of pirate curses. What language was that before though, seriously? Mermaid?”“No, that dialect is far too hard to master. It was an old fairy curse, actually.”“Ah, well, yeah, of course.”Killian flashes him a grin – all white teeth and teasing of the parental variety and Emma knows Henry didn’t come over there just to rag on their kissing tendencies. “It’s kind of weird being here, isn’t it?” he asks, running a hand through his hair. “I mean…I know Guinevere’s, you know, trying to make everything not weird, but it’s–”

“–Aye, a little weird,” Killian finishes.

“And you guys looked kind…uncomfortable?”Emma winces, but she knows she can’t argue that either and her inability to breathe probably didn’t have much to do with the corset to begin with. Killian knew that. She’s a terrible liar. “We probably would have been cool with a first birthday that included crappy store-bought decorations and like…I don’t know, she really likes Doc McStuffin reruns.”“What is that exactly?” Elsa asks, genuinely curious and Killian shudders like he’s been told he has to watch more fake surgery on cartoon animals.

“Actual torture,” he answers.

Henry’s knees buckle when he laughs, eyes closed and an arm around his waist and it is kind of ridiculous, but they’re also at a ball and Emma’s seriously about to challenge that one knight to a duel and he might just be, like, security and they kind of look like they’re loitering. She wonders if they’ll ever make new Doc McStuffins episodes or if she and Killian are just fated to watch that one where Farmer Mack’s goats start acting strangely on repeat for the rest of their lives.

“Ah, damn now I’ve got the theme song stuck in my head,” Emma complains.

“Torture,” Killian repeats. “Actual torture. She’s not even a medical professional.”“She’s like…five years old,” Henry laughs. The other actual fairy tale characters around them look incredibly confused.

“That’s neither here nor there. Her practice is horribly run.”“Is there someone you can complain to about that?” Anna asks, and Emma has to actually cap her hand over her mouth to stop whatever sound she makes from echoing in the grand ballroom of Camelot’s largest castle.

There were multiple castles to choose from for this ball.

“Alright, alright, alright,” Henry says, waving his hands in an almost valiant attempt to keep this conversation on track. “Strangely enough we did not come over here to talk about you guys cursing in my youth or the car incident or Doc McStuffins.”“Who would have thought it,” Emma mumbles.

“We came over here to offer our babysitting services for one night and because we know it’s weird to be here, you know, after everything and…here.” He reaches into his pocket, a move mirrored by Kristoff who’d been entirely silent until he thrust a flask into the center of their small circle and Elsa twisted her wrist, a tray of actual iced shot glasses balanced on her palm.

“We don’t know the specifics,” Elsa explains. “But Henry filled us in on the…well, they’re mostly just lows here aren’t they?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Emma admits. “Death and darkness will do that to you.”“Right, so we’re going to ignore that entirely and–”“–Drink?” Henry asks, but all of them are already nodding and Lucy’s running back to the other side of the hall to find Regina because, well, that happened at a Camelot ball too and really none of them should have agreed to this.

“You didn’t start without me, did you?” Regina asks, a hand on Henry’s shoulder when she skids to a stop. He shakes his head. “Good, good. Guinevere wanted to discuss trade routes and I thought I was going to have to threaten fireballs if she didn’t stop.”“Diplomacy at its finest,” Emma whispers, working another laugh out of Killian and they haven’t really moved out of each other’s space since the making out got interrupted.

Regina lifts her eyebrows. “Would you like to try it? Camelot’s a landlocked kingdom and they’re greatest export is stone and knights for hire–”“–Are they really called knights? I couldn’t remember.”“I honestly do not know. I think there’s a petition to change it, but that’s so far down my list of things I care about, that I–”“–Do you think we could table the knight discussion for a moment?” Kristoff asks gruffly, and he looks more uncomfortable than the rest of them combined.

Emma nods. “Of course. Uh…happy birthday, Hope.”The small crowd echoes the sentiment, downing shots in magical glasses with an alcohol no one has actually named, but the liquid lands in Emma’s gut and she’s positive it sends a jolt of warmth through her entire system immediately. And she’s not really sure how it happens, but the music starts to fade a little and Killian’s arm never leaves her waist and, at some point, she realizes she’s rather drunk.

They all are.

Except Henry and Ella. Who have to look after kids. Like responsible adults.

“How did this happen?” Emma asks, stumbling forward slightly and both Killian and Elsa try to catch her. She lands on his chest with a not-so-soft thump and she hopes her mother doesn’t see her. This is not princess behavior.

Pirate, maybe.

But certainly not princess.

There are still snowflakes in the air, but they’re starting to look less like snowflakes and more like snowblobs and that thought leaves Emma snickering into Killian’s vest. He kisses the top fo her hair.

“I think that drink is rather potent, Swan,” Killian mumbles. HIs voice is still frustratingly even, but Emma knows he’s starting to feel the effects of the alcohol too, eyes glazed slightly and mouth going slack whenever he looks at her, like he forgets what she’s wearing and is struck all over again every time his eyes land on her.

It’s kind of nice, honestly.

“It’s troll’ish,” Elsa says. Her body’s wobbling quite a bit.

“What?” Emma snaps. “Troll. Rock troll.”“Can rock trolls get drunk?”“Not very easily.”

Emma laughs, the sound bubbling out of her like several different and metaphorical springs and Henry keeps muttering in Ella’s ear, quiet smiles and whispers and she resists the urge to point out the whole thing is kind of hypocritical. She presses up on her toes to kiss Killian’s cheek.

“I think it worked better on us than it did on the trolls,” Anna whispers. She doesn’t do a very good job of actually whispering.

“Maybe we should get some air,” Killian suggests. “It’s rather warm in here.”Emma doesn’t think he means to move his hand, but it shifts anyway, drifting down her spine and closer to her hips again “I think you’re drunk,” she says. Henry makes that choking noise again. “Kid, this was honestly your plan.”“Yeah,” he nods. “I didn’t come up with troll alcohol, though.”

“Please don’t use those words in that order again,” Killian mumbles. Henry salutes. “You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are, lad.”“And you and Mom are drunk at a ball.”“Again, your plan,” Emma repeats. “But, uh, yeah, if we go get some air are you going to tattle on Mom and Dad to me?”“Who are you asking?”

“Don’t tell Snow White and Prince Charming that we snuck out of the castle,” Regina says, and it probably isn’t fair for Henry to be on the receiving end of so much parental authority when he’s very clearly the most responsible adult in this situation.

Henry grins, wrapping an arm around Ella and she’s holding Hope now which is really probably for the best. “Sure thing, Mom. Don’t get into too much trouble.”

They do, in fact, get into plenty of trouble.

And earn a few more pirate curses and Emma almost gets the hang of Mermaid dialect by the end of the night, wincing every time she moves because there was apparently some kind of tattoo master in the city that doesn’t actually have a name outside the castle.

“You know that’s very fantasy,” Emma says, hours later. She’s propped on her side, blankets pooling around her waist and Killian’s eyes aren’t glazed anymore. If anything, they’re somehow even sharper, He keeps staring at her, gaze flickering from her face to her wrist and the ink that she knows, rationally, is dry, but it kind of feels like it’s working its way into her soul or something and they’re going to have a very stern talk with the trolls about the contents of their alcohol.

“What is?” Killian asks. His fingers dance along her side, working a path up her arm towards her hair and the shell of her ear and Emma can’t help but shiver. He grins.

He’s not wearing the vest anymore.

“A generic city outside the castle walls. One without a name, that just gets referred to as city and–”

He cuts her off before she finishes, which is honestly for the best because she forgot her point when her eyes fell to his lips and his own presumably dry ink on matching wrists and Emma had never really gotten the chance to be young and stupid, at least not in some cliche, John Hughes type of way, so she was going to be almost middle aged and very in love with her husband.

He kisses her with something that feels like desperation and matching, drunk tattoos and Emma could hear the fireworks going off when the needle pricked her skin.

She assumes that’s a sign.

Of something.

Like happily ever after or fresh chances and slightly brighter memories.

They fall asleep eventually, smiles still on their faces and limbs tangled together and Emma’s head pounds when the first pinpricks of light filter through the curtains the next morning.

“Go back to sleep, love,” Killian mumbles, mostly into her hair. It’s got a tendency to get everywhere. She never hung up her gown. It’s still in a pile a few feet away, next to Killian’s boots and sword belt. “It’s still early.”

Emma hums, letting her eyes flutter shut again and they’d never really come up with a second part of the plan for picking up their daughter. She’s never really worried when Hope is with Henry though, and she can’t do much more than burrow closer to Killian’s side when his hook wraps around her wrist and Emma knows he’s smiling.

She opens her eyes slowly to find just that, a slight twist of lips and almost palpable happiness and her thumb brushes over the marked skin on his right arm. “Any regrets?” she asks, careful to keep her voice easy, like it isn’t a huge question, but he’s already shaking his head and she knew the answer anyway.

“Not a single one, Swan.”He kisses her again, a quick brush of lips and feeling and he doesn’t wince when her feet collide with his shins because they’re always cold and he’s used to it. That’s nice too. Indefinitely.

They get a few more hours of sleep before there’s a knock on the door and a baby on the other side and Emma takes her gratefully, peppering her stomach with kisses while Killian draws patterns on her arm and Henry grins knowingly when he notices the matching marks on their wrists – a tiny black indefinite symbol and always and something death couldn’t touch.

Emma’s a philosopher when she’s hungover, apparently.

“Good call,” Henry grins. “Grandma wants to eat breakfast as a family.”

“We’ll be right there,” Emma promises, and they’re only a few minutes late, hangovers magic’ed away while they were still in their rooms and it might be the best ball they’ve ever gone to.