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imagines-ahs · 1 year

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Chapter Forty-Four: Flame.

Summary: Wilhemina Venable felt it was finally time to leave Kineros Robotics and get a job with people who weren’t such morons like Jeff and Mutt. What she didn’t expect, however, was for her new boss to be so damn insufferable. She didn’t expect to fall in love with her, either.

Tag List: @mayfair-fleur @mistysswampmud @paulsonsratched @msvenablx @notmeellaannyy @rwoolfe @golddustdykes @lovingsarah @slut-for-sarah @geinobinarie (message me to be added if interested!)

A/N: Once again, I'm so sorry for the delay. I'm positive things are going back to normal now! With that being said, I know this is not the most eventful chapter, but things are coming hehe thank you for reading!!

Venable chuckled as she kept on staring at the screen. I really want to pick it up.

Billie Dean watched Wilhemina; it was clear she needed to talk to Emma. It was clear she had a lot to say. So, she reached for her waist and caressed it. “You can talk to her… if you want to.” It wasn’t fair for Billie to decide how Venable should or shouldn’t act when it came to something that involved her, too, after all. I need a cigarette. The thought came flying once again. Billie Dean ignored it.

Wilhemina bit her lower lip. She kept on staring at the phone, watching as Emma’s name kept on glowing. She closed her eyes, trying to decide. I have Billie Dean right beside me, in bed, kissing me, and I still want to talk to Emma? Fuck Emma. Venable put the phone aside as she shook her head, setting it up to ‘no disturb’. Then, she turned back to Billie and kissed her lips, slow and gentle. Billie Dean blinked in surprise, but reached to cup Wilhemina’s cheek nonetheless. “No,” Venable whispered. “I want to focus on you.”

Oh God. Billie’s stomach twisted. She nodded slowly, breath heavy as she leaned to kiss Wilhemina again, lips lingering there. She could feel her heart beating in her ears still, blood rushing through her body. Her lips longed to go lower, to follow south and taste all of Venable’s skin, but that was too fast and they both had agreed to take things slow. Billie Dean wanted to take things slow. But her body kept on growing warm as her lips caressed Wilhemina’s, feeling her tongue dancing along with her own and the hand on her waist caressing it increasingly firmer. Did she kiss Emma like that? Did it even matter? Billie decided it didn’t as her lips slipped lower, testing her own self control. Her ears picked up on how sweetly Venable sighed, head bending back and eyes closing. Billie Dean kissed her jaw softly, slipping to her neck and stopping to pay attention to the light pulse she found in there. The skin tasted even more like lavender, and the hand that caressed her own had now moved to cup the base of her head. Wilhemina pulled Billie closer, fingers tangling in blonde hair as she leaned back against the pillows. I want to mark her as my own. Billie Dean didn’t have consent for that. Not at all. So she didn’t, but damn she wanted to. So instead, she settled on lightly—barely—nibbling on Venable’s pulse point, soon soothing it with the pad of her tongue. Wilhemina’s breath hitched. Billie Dean thought she was about to combust. Both of her hands now caressed Venable’s waist, pulling her closer. “Mm,” she hummed, soon moving to the other side of Wilhemina’s neck. The angle was now weird, and accessing the skin was hard. I should stop. But how could she, when Venable clearly pulled her closer and caressed her hair. Billie could feel her underwear growing damp already. Her lower stomach burned.

Taking a deep breath, Wilhemina gulped. I want her on top of me. She didn’t know how she had gotten so brave, but it had indeed happened. Flashes from the fantasy she had with Billie Dean invaded her mind, and her brain struggled to comprehend that it was, now, truly happening. Her body felt hot all over. “Billie,” she breathed out. Instantly, Billie Dean pulled slightly away, honey eyes meeting her own. They were darker. Venable felt herself trembling, hand squeezing Billie’s waist gently. “S-straddle me.”

Blinking twice, Billie Dean gulped. Her mouth had gone dry. Her ears were buzzing sweetly, picking up on every and each stimuli around her and, at the same time, not picking up on anything other than Wilhemina at all. Straddle me. The words echoed in her brain, and her hands stiffened where they rested on Venable’s waist. She took a deep breath to try and put her brain back into place, for the thoughts inside her head made absolutely no sense; they were all mingled together in a delicious heat that flushed her cheeks. “Isn’t i-it too fast?” She barely managed to breathe out. Her hands, however, now pulled Wilhemina closer again, contradicting the slow pace of her words.

Venable felt intoxicated; in other times, she sure would have gotten insecure with the words, but Billie Dean’s body language reassured her that the words were merely careful. “I-I don’t know,” she breathed back. “I just want it.”

As soon as the words hit her ears, Billie Dean felt all the control she was struggling to hold onto evaporate from her body. She took a deep, heavy breath and moved to carefully get on top of Wilhemina. Two long legs got to each side of Venable’s body, hands holding Wilhemina’s shoulders as support. Slowly, Billie Dean allowed her weight to drop on top of Venable’s thighs, eyes moving to dark brown ones. Wilhemina had made sure to pull the covers away, leaving their bodies glued to each other. They both took a deep breath. On her waist, Billie felt the way Venable caressed her on top of the pajamas, hands slightly trembling. Billie Dean gulped. “Y-you’re so beautiful u-up close…” Her fingers nervously caressed the place where they lay on Wilhemina’s shoulders.

The hair on the base of Venable’s neck had stood up. The room suddenly felt absurdly warm. Billie looked just like she had imagined she would in that angle. “So are y-you...” Her hands struggled not to tremble so much. Subconsciously, she pulled Billie Dean closer. Now, their hips met. Wilhemina’s lower stomach screamed. “Are y-you uncomfortable?”

“No.” Instantly, Billie shook her head. “No… a-are you?”

“No.” Wilhemina licked her lips. “No, I j-just… I wanted to c-check, since I was the one to a-ask you to… straddle m-me.” Shut up. You’re embarrassing yourself, the cruel voice inside Venable’s head jumped out along with her nerves.

Opening up a small smile, Billie Dean leaned closer. She pecked Wilhemina’s lips. “I’ve thought a-about doing that… before,” she whispered. Their faces were back at being inches away.

And just like that, the voice inside Venable’s head melted away. “Have you?” Wilhemina whispered back, lungs heavy as they let the air go. But this time Billie Dean didn’t answer; not with words. She simply nodded, and they kissed again, because frankly, they both couldn’t handle themselves anymore. The kiss was significantly harsher in intensity, carrying passion along with something more carnal. Wilhemina held herself not to let out any sounds at the delicious feeling of Billie’s tongue inside her mouth mixed with the lovely weight on top of her, clouding all of her senses and constantly reminding her of the position they were at. Wilhemina pulled Billie Dean closer and closer, wanting to merge into one, wanting to feel everything she could. Her hands ached to slip lower; to cup the fat of her buttcheeks, to feel the grind of her hips just like she had done with Emma. It was a mistake with Emma. It wouldn’t be a mistake with Billie Dean, but right now, it was too soon.

Not moving her hips was a hard task. Billie had to constantly stop herself, for the burning inside her stomach kept on stealing her thoughts away. She nibbled on Wilhemina’s lower lip and slightly pulled on it, smirking at her when their eyes met again. Taken by surprise, Billie Dean felt a pair of lips now attacking her pulse point. Before she could stop herself, a small whimper left her lips and filled the air. Her cheeks burned. Her body froze. That’s embarrassing. But she felt the way Venable’s lips turned up against her skin, kissing her neck with even more gusto. Billie Dean bit her lower lip, hands holding herself against Wilhemina’s shoulders as her eyes closed and her head kept on bending back. Venable kissed her neck lazily, taking her time. It drove Billie insane. We can’t have sex already. But Gosh, did she ache for it. At a particular spot Wilhemina kissed, Billie Dean squeezed her shoulders and whimpered again. “Mgh…”

Underneath that Goddess she called Billie Dean, Venable felt her ears buzzing loudly. I don’t think I’ve ever been so attracted to someone. She had to take it easy. They had agreed to go slow. Besides, was she even ready for Billie to see her back? My back. The reminder of her body was like a bucket of cold water being thrown all over her. Wilhemina snapped back to reality. Her eyes opened. She took a deep breath against Billie Dean’s neck, pecking it one last time before moving back up to her lips. They kissed again, and Venable’s digits slipped up to caress the straight line of Billie’s spine, so different from her own. The fire inside her stomach disappeared; or rather, forced itself to hide from her own body. Slowly, Wilhemina pulled away. She stared at honey eyes. Will she leave when she sees me nude? They both panted softly, and now one of Billie Dean’s hands caressed the fiery hair, thumb stopping to caress the bone of Venable’s cheek. You sound good, Wilhemina wanted to say, you feel good, you smell good, you look good. But she couldn’t. All of a sudden, the voice was back inside her head and her throat closed up to words. So she just stared at Billie Dean, wishing she’d stay no matter what. I like her so much it hurts.

Billie could see how Wilhemina’s eyes had changed; how she seemed so distant, so… hazy all of a sudden. I should move. But Venable had been the one to ask for that. “Are you alright?” She whispered instead.

Venable nodded. Her eyes moved away from honey ones for a second, ashamed of being caught. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Billie Dean offered a small smile. Her thumb kept on tracing Wilhemina’s cheekbone, pouring adoration with every movement. I’m so fucking horny, the thought came flying inside Billie’s head. She cleared her throat and ignored it. Slowly, Venable’s cheek rested against Billie Dean’s palm. The smile on Billie’s lips grew. She now leaned closer and kissed Wilhemina’s nose. “Should we watch that movie?”

With her cheeks tinting, Venable nodded once again. “Yes.” How can she read me so well? Wilhemina couldn’t count how many times she had already had that thought today alone.

Billie carefully moved to get up, struggling to put her weight on her legs instead of using Wilhemina’s body as support. She couldn’t risk hurting her back. The muscles in her thighs burned. I really should go back to the gym. But she never had the time and, quite frankly, going to the gym sucked. Yes, she had signed an yearly subscription at the fanciest gym in her neighborhood—which she used for only one out of the twelve months—and still, dragging herself there had been hard. People stared and judged and she judged herself. I don’t think I need to be all muscular, anyways. But cardio would for sure help her lungs, due to all the smoking. Not the time to dwell on that. “I need to use the bathroom,” Billie Dean said softly.

Venable nodded, sitting up a little better and reaching for her cane. “I’ll be in the living room getting everything ready.”

“Alright.” With a smile, Billie Dean walked to the bathroom door and disappeared to the other side of it. Inside, she sat down on the toilet to alleviate her bladder. Pale cheeks turned red as she saw her underwear, now considerably more saturated in color. This is embarrassing. Billie put all the feelings and thoughts it evoked aside and moved to finish her business. Once she was ready, Billie Dean walked to the living room with quiet steps; there she found Wilhemina setting a tray with a few snacks on the center table and couch covered with a blanket. She smiled. “That’s sweet.”

Venable squeezed her eyes shut as the voice startled her. Thankfully, they weren’t facing each other. Wilhemina pretended nothing had happened and turned around with a small grin. “I don’t have many snacks… we can order something.”

Honey eyes laid on the tray; it had two glasses of juice, a few bombons and a small bowl with peanuts. That’s utterly Wilhemina. If it were Billie’s house, she knew the tray would be full of junky food. Embarrassing. She walked closer to Venable and reached to caress the small of her back. “That’s perfect.”

The weight of Billie Dean’s hand was becoming part of her. Wilhemina bit her lower lip. “Alright.”

Billie Dean nodded. She pecked Venable’s cheek and moved to sit down on the couch, underneath the covers. Wilhemina quickly joined her. Purpura watched them from the dining table on the other side of the room, eyes nearly closing from sleep. Once Venable settled her cane aside, Billie reached to wrap an arm around her waist and pull her closer. I can finally do that. “Any ideas in mind?”

Wilhemina wouldn’t dare admitting it yet, but being held was something she had never considered herself fond of… until Billie Dean did it. Her body still struggled to relax, not really allowing its tone to reach its full resting position, but at least she wasn’t flinching anymore. Venable reached for the remote and turned the TV on. “Not really… do you?” She quickly opened Netflix.

“No…” Billie Dean hummed. Without really noticing, she began to play with Venable’s hair, nose stroking gently through the locks as she thought. “What about a comedy?” Wilhemina hummed in agreement, even though she truly feared the outcome of watching a movie that would probably be full of stupid jokes. Billie didn’t like the sound of the hum very much, so she tried thinking of something else. “What about… Jaws?”

“Jaws?” Even though she didn’t mean to, Venable’s voice came in a surprised exclamation.

“Yes.” Billie chuckled softly. She lifted her head a little to stare at brown eyes. “Why? Bad idea?”

With her own oceans fixated on Billie Dean’s, Venable shook her head. Emma. Emma was the bad idea. “No, it’s just… it’s a funny coincidence.” Was it really? Billie hummed, encouraging her to continue with her train of thoughts. “I watched that movie with Emma, uh, before.”

“Oh.” The words were definitely not nice, but Billie Dean kept her emotions inside. Am I jealous already? Yes, yes she was. Very much so. A lot. “So definitely not Jaws.” She let out a weird chuckle.

“Yeah…” Venable offered an uncomfortable chuckle back. She looked away and to the TV. Ugh.

Billie now chewed on her bottom lip. Had Wilhemina and Emma cuddled like that? Had them watched Jaws at that same couch? No… she said Emma didn’t come around. Why was she even thinking about it? Venable kept on looking through the movies, eventually slipping through the animated ones. “Have you ever watched Ratatouille?”

A big frown clouded Wilhemina’s senses. “Ratatouille?” The only thing she knew with that name was a dish. Her eyes scanned the TV and she happened to read that very word on top of bright colors on the screen. She clicked on it to get a summary. “This one?”

Billie Dean nodded. “It’s a classic.”

“Is it?” I can’t believe we’re watching… that. “I thought it was a children’s movie.”

“Well, all movies can be for adults if you watch it as an adult.” Billie eyed Wilhemina, who nodded with somewhat of a frown. I don’t think that was a good idea. Of course Venable wouldn’t be into that sort of thing; she had refined tastes. Suddenly, Billie Dean felt very inadequate. “It’s a silly movie, you’re right.”

“I didn’t say that,” Wilhemina quickly defended herself. But I do think that. Billie didn’t have to know about it. “We can watch it.” She supposed she could give that genre a try… for Billie Dean’s sake. If the movie ended up being that stupid, she could always watch the way Billie’s eyes focused on the screen instead.

“We really don’t have to.” Suddenly embarrassed, Billie Dean shook her head. “Truly. It was a stupid idea. It’s a guilty pleasure of mine, but I can do it alone.” She avoided Venable’s eyes, cheeks tinting.

I made her feel bad. Wilhemina clicked on the screen and pressed ‘play’ before Billie Dean could say anything else. It worked, for Billie closed her mouth and reluctantly leaned back against the couch. Venable could see, from the corner of her eye, how Billie Dean played with the rings on her free hand. Licking her lips, she paused the movie. Billie looked at her. “I’ve never really… watched many animated movies. It’s a genre I’m not familiar with.” It reminds me of my childhood. And all the things I couldn’t do. Billie Dean nodded. Her fingers were still loosely resting on Wilhemina’s waist. She caressed it. Her own cheeks slowly began to fade back to their normal color. Venable wished she could speak more about it; wished she could elaborate better, explain better. But she couldn’t, because she herself didn’t really understand the aversion against such a harmless thing. It’s for children. I’m not a child. But Billie Dean wanted to watch it… Without saying anything else, she pressed play again. The air seemed heavier. But Billie still leaned her head against Venable’s shoulder as the colorful images began to appear on the screen. Wilhemina took a deep breath and pressed a small kiss on top of the bed of blonde locks.

As the movie began to roll, Billie Dean made sure to pay attention to Venable’s reactions. All of a sudden, it was like they were back at the plane, with Wilhemina being at a place she rarely ever went to. Brown eyes were fixated on the screen, and Billie could see how, from time to time, Venable let out a small laugh—almost embarrassed, but very much wonder-filled. Billie Dean saw the same Wilhemina that thanked her for ordering pizza at the hotel room; the same Wilhemina that had never traveled by plane before and had never seen the clouds from up close. This is special. She wasn’t sure what place she had reached, but it was no ordinary place inside of Venable. Did she watch movies as a child? Billie Dean knew Ratatouille from start to finish, and so she took her time with paying attention to Wilhemina’s reactions, to how her eyes sparkled with something awfully similar to childlike wonder. She saw Venable transform, right in front of her eyes. And as soon as the movie ended, Wilhemina blinked and transformed again, but not so much, not completely. Billie had struck gold. Reaching to pause the credits, Venable was met with a kiss on the lips as soon as she turned back. She chuckled. Billie Dean smiled brightly. “Did you like it?” She knew the answer already, but she wanted to hear it anyways.

Venable nodded. “I didn’t think those movies could have nice plots. The art is beautiful, too.”

Billie Dean chuckled. There’s no one like her. “I like watching those when I’m down… they warm my heart a little.”

Wilhemina hummed. She could see that… she could very much see that. And part of her ached with misery and wished that her child version could have experienced what she just had. Perhaps her life would have been more colorful. She wasn’t sure of what she was feeling, but she knew she was vulnerable and she knew it was different. I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it. Taking a deep breath, Venable looked down at her hands. “Thank you,” that was all she managed to say with the gigantic hazy cloud that hovered her thoughts and didn’t allow her to fully access them. Billie blinked once in surprise, but only nodded. It was clear Wilhemina didn’t need words right now. Hesitantly, Venable looked back at Billie Dean. “Are you hungry?”

So that’s her way of changing subjects. Billie found it sweet how much she cared about food—or rather, about how much Wilhemina worried she could be hungry. She shook her head. “Not yet, no. The snacks got me full.”

“Right. Tell me when you are, we can order something.” For all Venable cared, they were spending the day together. The contrary didn’t even cross her mind.

“I will. Thank you.” Billie Dean leaned to give her a kiss on the cheek. Wilhemina turned around and pecked her on the lips right after. Billie smiled. She wrapped her other arm around Venable’s waist and hugged her tightly. Faintly, she heard a small laugh leave Wilhemina’s lips as she hugged her back.

This is the most affection I’ve received in years. How sad was that realization… but also, how good was it to let her walls down for a moment? To live and not survive? I think I can live with Billie Dean. With that in mind, Wilhemina closed her eyes and nuzzled her nose on Billie’s neck. Floratta Blue was still there, but only faintly. “Billie?” She murmured.

“Yes?” Billie Dean didn’t dare moving. She kept Venable close in her embrace.

I like you a lot. I worry you’ll go away. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so comfortable around anyone as I do around you. It’s too soon, but you mean a lot. “I love how you smell,” she murmured.

With the corners of her lips moving up a little more, Billie kissed the top of Wilhemina’s head. “Thank you. It’s Floratta Blue.”

“I know.” Venable had kept that information ever since she first found it out, back when she barely knew Billie Dean.

A faint chuckle left Billie’s lips. She makes me smile a lot. “I didn’t think you’d remember… but I’m also not surprised.”

Wilhemina looked up ar Billie Dean with a playful frown. “What do you mean?”

Billie shrugged. Her eyes met brown ones. “You’re attentive… which is one of the things that made me fall in love with you.”

In love with you. Venable bit her lip so hard it nearly bled. That wasn’t any new information, but said out loud like that just felt different; made it way more real. Her cheeks blushed. Her tongue felt loose inside her mouth. She wanted to giggle like a teenager would, but held herself. “So are you.”

The blush on Wilhemina’s cheeks didn’t go by as unnoticed. Billie Dean’s heart fluttered sweetly. “I try.”

“You do.” Venable was adamant about things she was sure of. “And I appreciate it a lot.” Not a lot of people took the time to pay attention on her.

Nodding with the blush on her cheeks meeting Wilhemina’s, Billie leaned to peck her nose. “Good. I like it when you’re happy.”

“I like it when you kiss my nose,” the words flew from Venable’s mouth before she could stop them. I’m already red on the face anyways. Let Billie Dean know it all.

“I’ll make sure to do it more often, then.” Billie leaned and instantly kissed the skin again. Wilhemina chuckled and pulled Billie Dean closer to kiss her on the lips, hand caressing her cheekbone. Billie felt herself melting once again. Her lips moved sweetly against Venable’s, hands pulling her closer by the waist. Slowly, Wilhemina pulled away. Billie Dean searched for her eyes with her own. Venable didn’t say anything; she just stared, appreciating the warmth that honey always managed to bring her. I love her. Billie bit her lip to keep the words inside, because it was too soon and not possible to love someone in such little time… right? Right? Purpura meowed softly, interrupting their moment.

Blinking once, Wilhemina looked away and to the cat. “Hi, darling.” Purpura meowed again and walked towards them, slowly climbing on the couch and on top of Venable’s legs. They both laughed. “Do you miss me?”

“She’s not used to sharing you,” Billie Dean teased.

Wilhemina smiled to herself as she reached to pet the cat. “You need to get used to it, darling.”

With her inner cheek trapped between her teeth, Billie smiled to herself. I want to have her to myself.

#sarah paulson #ahs #american horror story #ahs apocalypse #ahs murder house #ahs hotel #fanfiction #fanfic #lesbian fanfic #lesbian #ahs fanfic #Would you Swallow all your Pride?#WYSAYP #would you swallow all your pride #Billie Dean Howard x Wilhemina Venable #wilhemina venable #billie dean howard #rabexxpaulson

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astrowaffles · 1 year

Note

A through Z for the ask game >:]

HI JAMMIE

this is another long one, bear with me!

A - Ships that you currently like a lot. (They don’t have to be OTPs because not everyone has OTPs.) Friendships, pairings, threesomes, etc. are allowed.

Uhhhhh well obviously I'm loving the gojo & megumi father-son shit at the moment, it really heals the depression. ALSO @grungeeuvu (alt. account @grungiiuvu) has gotten me back into MXTX, especially TGCF, so fengqing is top of my romantic ship list at the moment. I keep meaning to write something for them. Whoopsies.

B - A pairing–platonic, romantic or sexual–that you initially didn’t consider, but someone changed your mind.

my jjk moots are going to think i'm insane for this, but itafushi. It did NOT occur to me when I watched the anime, but then someone suggested it to me and then I rewatched with new eyes and ... yeah. itafushi canon.

also kuromikashou. I'm a fan of that now, too.

C - A ship you have never liked and probably never will.

the rats are going to absolutely hate this announcement, but ushioi and oikage. Hate them both. oisuga? sure. iwaoi? love it. oihina? don't see it as a long term thing, but don't care. even atsuoi is passable. But both ushioi and oikage really irriate me for zero reason.

D - A pairing you wish you liked but just can’t.

bokuroo. they make total logical sense and they'd be hilarious together, but to me they're besties. sorry guys :(

E - Have you added anything cracky/hilarious to your fandom? If so, what?

i hear lots of good things about my JNT Rulebook, which is a whole load of crack. Also, for AOT i wrote Chaos Theory, which earned comments like "I had no idea funny fics were possible for this fandom". If you are a long-term aot girlie, I am so sorry for your loss.

F - What’s the longest you’ve ever been in a fandom?

Uh, I'm not sure? The first fandom I contributed to was PJO. I was there for maybe two years, and that's probably my record. I'm just over one year on haikyuu now. I'M SORRY I JUST KEEP CHANGING INTERESTS

G - Have you ever had an OTP? If so, do you remember your first one? Who was in it?

My very first OTP was probably Eadric & Emma from The Frog Princess series. It doesn't really have a fandom but god, I loved those books... OR Ash & Serena from Pokemon. They were good too.

H - What is your favorite source text for fandom stuff (e.g., TV shows, movies, books, anime, Western animation, etc.)?

I mainly watch anime at the moment and usually they have more active fandoms, so I'm happy to stay with them. With books, you can never be sure that anyone else has ever read them.

I - Has Tumblr caused you to stop liking any fandoms, if so, which and why?

Nope, because I am good at staying away from scary people. #slay

J - Name a fandom you didn’t think about until you saw it all over Tumblr.

Supernatural. No explanation needed.

K - What character has your favorite development arc/the best development arc?

From Haikyuu, it's got to be Hinata, hasn't it? And he's weirdly underrated, considering he's literally the main character.

From other fandoms, I love Yona from Yona of the Dawn. She goes from literal spoiled princess to some kind of warrior queen, PLUS she gains emotional maturity. May we all grow to be like her.

L - Say something genuinely nice about a character who isn’t one of your faves.

You know what, guys? I do think Goshiki's cute. I do understand wanting to put him in your pocket. Personally, I don't, but I totally see it.

M - Name a character that you’d like to have for a friend.

Sugawara. He's top tier friend material - chaotic, funny, caring, and would definitely feed into your delulu.

N - Name three things you wish you saw more of in your main fandom (or a fandom of choice).

My main fandom is probably haikyuu, so I wish I saw more of:

Appreciation for the writing!!!

Love for main characters. It sounds weird, but the fandom is full of people who have a pet side character who barely has any lines. This is GOOD, all character deserve appreciation, but can we get some applause for hinata??

Love for rarepairs. This sounds even stranger, considering my last point, but we need to get used to letting people ship whoever the fuck they want. As long as it's legal.

O - Choose a song at random. Which ship or character does it remind you of?

After a good old shuffle of my 94 hour playlist, I got Bad Romance by lady gaga. This is gonna come out of left field because I've never mentioned this fandom before, but it's sherliam from moriarty the patriot.

P - Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas).

I've mentioned this to friends before, but we totally need a TGCF hosptial au. Mu Qing is a surgeon, Feng Xin is a physiotherapist, Xie Lian is either a GP or an anesthesiologist, and Hua Cheng is some random reception guy. Mu Qing is always bullying Feng Xin for not being a 'real doctor'. Hualian are married. you see where I'm going.

Q - A fandom you’ve abandoned and why.

Harry Potter, for obvious reasons.

R - Which friendship/platonic relationship is your favorite in fandom?

I would die for Nobara & Itadori & Megumi. They deserved to be happy forever.

S - Show us an example of your personal headcanon

I wrote whole sections of fanfiction based off my headcanon that Megumi has flat hair like Toji, but he styles it spiky to be like Gojo. I KNOW the canon disproves it. I don't actually care.

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending?

Nope, because I am non-confrontational and uncreative.

U - Three favorite characters from three different fandoms, and why they’re your favorites.

I'm going niche on this one - well, more like going into fandoms my followers probably aren't into.

Ayame Sohma, Fruits Basket. Loving brother, perfect example of how to make reparations, and also literally fabulous. And gay.

Ooharano, All Out!. Voice by Ian Sinclair, very good at his sport, hilariously sarcastic. Emotional backstory that was just never mentioned again???

Siatrich Wynknight, The Reason Why Raeliana Ended Up At The Duke's Mansion. Very funny, likes to be a bit evil for the giggles, thinks it's funny when his younger brother endangers national relations. Gay.

V - Which character do you relate to most?

GUYS I HAVE NO IDEA. I'm probably closest to Bokuto or Kageyama - and that seems odd, because they're different people, but that's how I am.'

Also Gojo. Don't tell my readers I said that.

W - A trope which you are virtually certain to hate in any fandom.

Exes to Lovers, my beloathed. Hate it so much, I can't even explain why.

X - A trope which you are almost certain to love in any fandom.

CHILDHOOD FRIENDS CHILDHOOD FRIENDS "I KNOW THE PARTS OF YOU THAT YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW YOURSELF" MY BELOVED

Y - What are your secondhand fandoms (i.e., fandoms you aren’t in personally but are tangentially familiar with because your friends/people on your dash are in them)?

RWBY, ITSV, Demon Slayer.

Z - Just ramble about something fan-related, go go go!

I guess I've always been interested in the idea of a true morally grey character, because sometimes there are characters that are described as morally grey, or even evil, when they're actually Just A Guy (*cough* Oikawa *cough*). The only character I can think of is probably Dazai from BSD. Everyone has an opinion and very few of them are correct. There is no way you can say he is a bad person, because many of his issues come from the fact that he is an orphan, raised by the mafia, and someone who took the opportunity to leave when prompted. Also, in his life after the mafia, he made a genuine effort to make good on his promises and fix his life, including saving Atsushi.

HOWEVER, you can't say he's a totally good person. He lived well in the mafia, because he didn't care about killing people and perhaps even enjoyed it, depending on how you view certain scenes. Many people would say that he's still not on anyone's side, he's only on his own side. This is debatable, but it's still there. PLUS you've got his continuation of the cycle of abuse through Akutagawa, and his willingness to pretend to betray his friends in order to get the outcome he wants. Everyone else is just a pawn to him.

I'm still undecided on him, but I'm proud of every fan that says "he's morally grey" rather than cutting it up into black and white. Remember that BSD was written for the stray dogs, not the ones who have lived happily all this time...

Thanks for the ask!

#astro speaks wonders #jammie 👹#bsd #haikyuu #all out #fruits basket #moriarty the patriot #yona of the dawn #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #hq #why raeliana ended up at the duke's mansion #tgcf

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xexiar · 10 months

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I feel like talking some lore about my characters from my own story. Tallest to shortest: Kensi(600 yrs), Eric(27), Emma(17), Damon(11). Just some magic lore.

…

Eric is the only person who isn’t a dragon.

Emma and Damon can not use magic on their own. They don’t produce their own source. During this time magic has long been nonexistent throughout bloodline. Especially when the last pure blood Blood Dragon died over 30,000 years ago.

So, anyone who can use magic has gotten the ability two different ways.

1) a borrowed source

2) selling their souls to a “deity”

Mind you, there’s elves and all such of fantasy creatures. But they can’t do spells or such. They have to stay in range of their magical source for life

Dragons on the other hand comes in 2 forms. Clans who passed down their magical sources. And then those who hunt down to steal other people’s sources. It’s why the Red Dragons are one of the strongest military country in their current age, also the oldest is about 2,000 yrs old.

Even though a pure Blood Dragon no longer exists, those related to that race are the lesser Blood Demons. It’s just those who can trace their mix blood origins back to a dead race.

Emma, is a child of a black/ice dragon and a sand dragon. She has no Blood Demon in her. Her father is from the same continent as the Red Dragons.

Damon is son of the 20th pure son of the eldest Red Dragon king. While his mother is the 3rd niece - 18th daughter, 100th granddaughter of the same bloodline. Red Dragons are a highly inbred culture.

Kensi is the son of a blood demon black dragon mother and 1 of the old gods. He has not only a magical source due to his mother bloodline, but also (mostly due) because of his father. Kensi is “king” of his reasonable territory in part to his mother.

But after the 300 yr war Kensi became king to 200 countries, ally to about 6 small nations, 3rd ruling party next to his cousin and Victor (Damon’s father). Under military agreement he cannot rule over the Red Dragon country or the Sea Dragons.

Eric’s mother is a mix of 70% human, watered down blood elf, blood demon, and some forest elf. Weird combo but it’s been 30,000 years, pure bloods are extremely rare. His father is also one of the old gods.

Eric’s magical source is complicated compared to Kensi. This is in part, before mother met father, she had long traded her soul for magic. She is what the humans call “witch”. Since her source isn’t borrowed.

A “witch” is the human corpse of a person who traded their soul for power. They’re no longer capable of being human. And you can always tell who they are by the smell of death they bring.

Some witches are acceptable, depending on the region and circumstances of their creation.

So when Eric is born it creates a phenomenon, because he shouldn’t even exist. He was created out of pure magic inside of a corpse.

Emma and Damon borrows their magical source from Eric for the next 10 years until they meet Kensi.

Kensi decides to take Emma as his heir and trains her to be able to use his source.

When Damon becomes of age (100) he has to go through a long process to become part of the Red Dragon’s kingdom. In a sense, it’s not only his birthright but also because of his father. After which he has to follow their customs for a “mate”

Dragons in this world comes of age (adults and have the ability to breed) at 100 years old. They’re also able to fully change into dragons at this age. Most customs, depending on country and region, there’s a process everyone has to go through.

For example, in the region they currently live in, there’s no rules in choosing a partner. Besides being of age to mark each other. For the red dragons it’s one of those “I choose who you can marry”

Think medieval betrothals. Red dragons are the equivalent of old England if you want a real world example. Damon doesn’t like his grandparents customs.

#writer notes #oc lore

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peachcitt · 3 years

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20 questions: writer's edition

@carpisuns tagged me in this a while ago and i kept on meaning to do it and then i didn't but now i am!! so!! there!!

1. how many works do you have on AO3?

2. what’s your total AO3 word count?

607,518 (jesus christ)

3. how many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

11!

miraculous ladybug, percy jackson, yuri on ice, the magnus archives, avatar the last airbender, banana fish, supernatural, hannibal, tales of arcadia, v*ltron, lady audley's secret

the rest is under the cut<3

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

1. friendship bracelets (atla; zukka)

2. bloodsucker (atla; zukka)

3. messy advances (atla; zukka)

4. chat noir's white french man hit list for feminist purposes (ml; adrinette)

5. about emma martin (atla; adrinette)

5. do you respond to comments, why or why not?

i used to be so good at it!!! i really want to and eventually i will!!! but i got behind a while ago (maybe right after i finished bt to be quite honest) and now my ao3 in box is. it's quite unruly. but i'll answer all of them eventually it'll just take a while :")

6. what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

it may be a tie between in the same sun (ml; adrinette) and bread and oranges (ml: emilie/nathalie)? i normally go for tidy, wrapped up fluffy endings because that's what i like to see, but these are the two fics that i just let myself. not wrap up? like. they end, but there's no ending and that's on purpose, and they could be hopeful but they could also be very sad. and maybe that's angst

7. what’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

oh god i don't know. you could honestly take your pick from the majority of my one shots and 'happiest' is of course subjective but i'll go with: lucky to be yours (ml; adrinette), the shades of reassimilation (pjo; solangelo), and doomed from the start (tma; jonmartin)

8. do you write crossovers? If yes, what’s the craziest thing you’ve written?

not usually. a ml x undertale au.

9. have you ever received hate on a fic?

not really? i mean ive gotten annoying stuff like people giving me criticisms i didn't ask for or people saying "i normally don't like stuff like x and it's still weird but congrats for pulling it off!" but not hate which is pretty cool

10. do you write smut? If so what kind?

well . not . hm. i'll just say no here :)

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of!

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

a while ago someone asked if they could translate bone tea in russian i think and i said yes but i never heard from them again. so who knows!

13. have you ever co-written a fic?

no but i think it could be fun with the right person

14. what’s your all time favorite ship?

i think this is self explanatory from the Everything About Me but lovesquare. also percabeth<3

15. what’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

no one be mad but i have 2 pjo fics on wattpad that i don't know if i'll ever get back to. also the ml x undertale crossover. i never say never though so who knows

16. what’s your writing strengths?

one time maryssa said i write very nostalgic and i have since taken that to my head. i think if im in the right headspace i can do dialogue very well too

17. what’s your writing weaknesses?

i don't really like describing environments unless i think it's A Metaphor which means that most of the time my works take place in the bare abstract of places to someone who doesn't share the same brain as me. also: kisses. every time i write them i feel like im being very cliché and therefore try my best to write them as little as possible

18. what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in fic?

i don't really do it unless it's a specific term of endearment (ex. alya calling marinette mignonette which is a personal favorite of mine/the obligatory lovesquare chaton/ adrinette calling each other ma moité in bt) or a little signifier to show a character is speaking a language other than the main language of the fic (eiji saying moshi moshi in hes&osm) because i don't know other languages and therefore am terrified of sounding stupid in another language. also when fics write in prolonged periods of language-other-than-english for seemingly no reason it really breaks my immersion so i try not to do that

19. what was the first fandom you wrote for?

percy jackson. unless you count the harry potter au i wrote when i was 7

20. what’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

i have so many it's ridiculous. can you tell i hate making choices. here are some of my favorites: bone tea (ml; adrinette), happy endings, the sun, and other steps to madness (bf; asheiji), doomed from the start (tma; jonmartin), those benevolent stars (ml; ladrien), double dare (ml; ladrien), chat's hit list (ml; adrinette), guessing game (ml; ladynoir), a hypothesis, an experiment, and a coincidence (ml; adrinette), and her golden ghost (ml; adrinette)

thank you so much for tag maryssa!! and i tag anybody who read through this entire thing and would like to do it!! go ahead and say i tagged you i don't mind<3<3

#tag game #fic talk #i hate making choices so much wjbkjbgkfdljkghkj #it's even worse because im the type of person that takes 'write what you want to read' to heart so i reread a lot of my fics #which means that i like them all for their own reasons. all 62 of them<3 #also sorry im just now doing this. i didn't mean to push it off for so long this is so embarrassing #i literally sat down to do this before doing homework. i feel so ridiculous i have so many things to do but here i am and you know what?#maybe i deserve it. maybe that's okay

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metalandmagi · 4 years

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The Lesser Known Best Girls of 2020

Anime this year has had its ups and downs, but do you know what gets on my nerves? When people ignore all the amazing female characters we’ve gotten and just assume Chizuru Mizuhara from Rent-a-Girlfriend is the best girl of the year (who is also amazing and deserves to be worshiped). Sure, we have Tohru Honda, Nobara Kugisaki, Abby, and Chika and Kaguya. But when will people start noticing the other MVPs of the year?

So this is an appreciation post for all the anime girls nobody has talked about from 2020 (at least, the new ones…sorry continuing series girls like Asirpa and Chihaya and Myne).

1. Kazuya’s grandma from Rent-A-Girlfriend. Because she constantly roasts Kazuya, she’s the reason this hot mess of a show exists, and without her, we would not get to know Chizuru.

2. Makoto’s mom from Ikebukuro West Gate Park. Because she’s the perfect blend of no-nonsense mentor and pure cinnamon roll who does more to solve people’s problems than her son. Why can’t she be the protagonist?

3. Swindler/Ordinary Person from Akudama Drive. Because she has gone through some of the most character development of the year, from a somewhat bland but still sweet cinnamon roll to a crispy bun who has seen some shit and has come out the other side. Or at least I hope she does, the show’s not over yet.

4. Makoto Ohno from Diary of Our Days at the Breakwater. Really all the girls in this show are best girl material, but Makoto is the perfect senpai who is underrated and unjustly ignored…just like this show. Please watch this show, it’s the most wholesome watch of the year without being annoyingly moe.

5. Minare Koda from Wave Listen to Me! Because she’s a hilarious boss ass bitch who represents all the women watching anime as jaded adults, and she practically carries that entire show on her own.

6. Natsume from Deca-Dence. Because she’s basically an adult version of Emma from The Promised Neverland with the addition of a mechanical arm and a cute pet.

7. Catarina Claes from My Next Life as a Villainess. Because she’s so fun to be around, she accidentally turned herself in to the protagonist of the harem game…and she never has to end up with anyone to consider her ending successful.

8. Somali from Somali and the Forest Spirit. Because I would cut off my own arms to ensure her happiness. Apparently, most people don’t realize Somali is a girl and everyone forgot how adorable this show is.

9. Chiyuki Fujito from Smile Down the Runway. Because she’s a great example of a typical determined anime protagonist who isn’t annoying and is easy to root for. And she ended up getting side-lined in her own anime in favor of the male co-protagonist.

10. Arte…from Arte. Because she never gives up and constantly deals with people belittling her artistic abilities, but she’s still a kind person who doesn’t have to act more masculine to respect herself…..just ignore the hair thing at the beginning of the show.

11. Oden/Hina from The Day I Became A God. Because she’s hilarious and effortlessly endearing, and she gets bonus points for her big “love confession” being familial and not romantic…cuz that would make the show very…different

OR NOT I GUESS! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK PA WORKS? AM I THE ONLY ONE WEIRDED OUT BY THIS?!

Oh well, she’s a good girl either way, even if the show’s ending grosses me out.

*editing this in after the fact* 12. DEAR GOD HOW DID I FORGET NOI FROM DOROHEDORO!? SHE LITERALLY GOT ME THROUGH SO MUCH OF THAT SHOW! Everyone’s favorite super buff lovable antagonist. She’s the perfect woman, nothing more to be said.

And finally, the best girl of the year:

Sayaka Kanamori from Keep Your Hands Off Eizoken. Because her design is unique, she’s a shrewd, brilliant business girl, and without her, the show would go nowhere because the other girls would spend all day daydreaming about making an anime and never actually do it.

And some honorable mentions:

Michiru Kagemori from BNA. Because her design is awesome. I just can’t remember much about her…personality wise.

Jing Xialian and Sophia Taylor from Appare Ranman. Because despite being the token women in an otherwise all male cast, they are the most interesting and entertaining characters in the whole show. They just need more screen time. Seriously, I love Appare, but I wish they were the protagonists.

Anyway, thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

#i was just bored okay #anime #best girl #long post #keep your hands off eizouken!#diary of our days at the breakwater #akudama drive #the day i became a god #ikebukuro west gate park #arte #deca-dence #appare ranman #brand new animal #wave listen to me #smile down the runway #somali and the forest spirit #my next life as a villainess #dorohedoro

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welllpthisishappening · 3 years

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Emma Swan, Olympian is not a phrase Emma Swan, totally normal person, ever expected to hear.

But she never expected one night at a party hosted by her college's baseball team to change her entire life, either. So, it should really come as no surprise that Emma Swan, Olympian, is now something of international sensation. Or that her husband has become a bit of a social media star.

——— Rating: Teen with sports feelings Word Count: 7.5K AN: As promised and because of who I am as a person, I wrote Olympic fic. I can neither confirm nor deny that there is an actual plot here, but there is a surplus of fluff and sports-based feelings. So, that’s something. Thanks to the Detroit Lions, specifically, for posting this Tweet and to my husband who is very much aware of what content I want the internet to provide me. Operation: Make Killian a New York Yankee as often as possible continues.

|| Read on Ao3 if that’s your jam ||

———

No one told her the questions would start to blur together.

That would require media training, Emma imagines. And no one is giving a first-time Olympian in a sport that only a handful of people marginally believe warrants notice from the IOC any sort of media training. She got, like, an orientation packet. With a lopsided staple in the top left corner. On her commercial flight. That she booked herself.

Twenty-plus hours crammed into a seat that she’s only a little concerned did permanent damage to her right knee, with a meal that was so chewy Emma was about four seconds and one exasperated, entirely exhausted exhale from asking if it was, in fact, made of plastic.

Mostly, the staple is what’s still managing to frustrate her. As frustrated as she can be at the Olympics. No one is supposed to be frustrated at the Olympics. Not really. Not while experiencing the pinnacle of athletic achievement, the calluses on Emma’s fingertips some sort of badge of honor that she’s wearing with at least a modicum of national pride, and everything is fine.

Her qualifying time was absurd. Where absurd is a compliment and very close to a record she’s suddenly determined to shatter.

So, she’s alone.

Big deal. So is everyone else. This Olympics, at least. Plus, Killian wouldn’t have been able to come no matter what the state of the world was. Even so, the quiet stands are admittedly weird. All these empty arenas with empty seats, the distinct lack of a roaring crowd no more obvious than when the world’s best athletes step to the line. Staring at the climbing wall in front of her four hours earlier, Emma swore she could hear every single beat of her heart echo between her ears.

And that’s—well, solitude is par for the course with an adolescence like hers, half-filled suitcases and brand-new faces in brand-new towns, but she’d gotten used to one town, and the town is actually a city, and the city has long since felt like home, and her fingers reach for the rings dangling above her Team USA t-shirt. They did give her an absolute shit ton of t-shirts, so that was nice.

Except—

Something keeps tugging. Nagging at the back of Emma’s consciousness, almost like she’s forgotten her keys on that flea market table they found in Park Slope two weeks after they moved into the apartment. Because for as well-versed Emma may be in that singular sort of existence, she’s also well-removed from wanting it, and at least three of her knuckles crack. Curling around her rings.

Muscles in her cheeks stretch, another nod and quick blink to avoid the threat of blinding via camera flashes. Someone really should have told her about this. She probably should have assumed. Human interest is the driving force of at least three-quarters of the stories in sports, and Emma’s not used to being the story, per se, but even she has to admit most of hers makes for a good one and they are still asking her questions.

Emma blinks again. Hopes she doesn’t look like a serial killer or the weird blonde, slightly sweaty cousin of the Joker, her smile starting to feel as if it’s painted on her face. She nods. Hums. Listens to questions that are startling in their tonal similarity to Charlie Brown’s teacher, and Emma wonders if Charlie Brown ever got a different teacher or what the school structure of the Peanuts’ universe is and, God, how old was Charlie Brown, even? To withstand that sort of consistent bullying. Was Linus the same age as him? No, right? How long did he carry the blanket around? Was Linus the same age as Sally? Why didn’t the red-headed girl with curly hair get a name?

She nearly falls out of her chair.

That might make the front page of several blogs. Possibly even the back page of a New York tab.

Careful to keep her feet on the ground, Emma lifts her head, directing her eyes toward the source of a question that must have been asked several times if the note of amusement mixing with deadline-based exasperation is anything to go by. Her smile definitely makes her look like a serial killer.

“Sorry, sorry,” Emma mumbles, and none of the oxygen she does her best to inhales makes it even close to her lungs. “I, uh—what was the question?”

The reporter grimaces.

“I wanted to know if you’d seen the video of your husband yet.”

Ice runs down her spine. Every single drop of wholly disgusting sweat falling in rivulets down either one of her cheeks freezes. Oxygen disappears from the room. Or so Emma assumes, what with the crushing feeling pushing down on her lungs and whatnot.

Her mind whirs. Races through possibilities and pitfalls with a speed that would be impressive if Emma weren’t already so close to that record, and she is going to break that record. Somehow she manages not to fall, though. From her chair or the metaphorical climbing wall in her brain, ignoring the sudden dryness of her mouth and the increasing size of her tongue.

Her nails are going to leave little half-moon creases in her palm.

“I don’t—” she starts, and eventually she will wish she was more articulate. For what turns out to be a very nice story.

Standing up, the reporter’s seat creaks as she moves toward the desk they deposited Emma behind after even. Several Olympic officials move to block her, but Emma shakes her head again, and she’s not exactly high-priority on the list of defensible athletes, anyway. So, none of them flinch when the reporter slides a phone closer to Emma, her crazed thoughts briefly lingering on how many phones a reporter could possibly need, but then her eyes drop, and she’s not sure if her ears can actually perk, but Emma certainly tries because she hears him yelling before she sees him.

Her smile shifts.

And the cameras flash again.

It starts, as with most things in Emma’s collegiate life, because Anna demands it.

She’s only half-listening, so Emma can never be entirely sure what it was, exactly, she was agreeing to, but in her experience, the agreement doesn’t matter so much as the action, and her roommate’s younger sister is unstoppable when it comes to action. So, Emma is dimly aware of a plan. Something about the baseball house and that one left fielder is in a handful of her classes.

David—something.

He’s got a girlfriend, too. A nice one. Who always smells like sugar when she slides into the seat next to David whatever his last name is, sitting in the row in front of Emma during their Tuesday-Thursday statistics class.

Emma hates statistics.

She doesn’t hate Anna, though. Or her roommate, one of the better college-based surprises, and either Anna has magic or Elsa is an enormous pushover because somehow all three of them are ready at the same time, and the walk to the baseball house isn’t far.

First-year players guard the door — passing out color-coded wristbands that absolutely do not do their job because it takes about six seconds of well-meaning flirting and batted eyelashes between Anna and a mountain of muscle masquerading as the team’s starting catcher to get them inside. With purple wristbands and two tickets for jungle juice instead of the keg.

“Victory,” Anna cries, twisting through the crowd. Half of it is already teetering on the edge of drunk, the rest free-falling into the pit of imminent hangovers, and Emma isn’t sure she’d classify their drinks as a victory, but it’s definitely better than watered-down beer.

And it doesn’t take long, really. By Emma’s shaky count, it’s not even a half-hour before the muscle — who introduces himself as Kristoff, and really is pretty cute, actually — returns, standing unnaturally close to Anna’s left shoulder, furtive glances shared out of the corners of their eyes. Emma rolls hers. Elsa’s appear perpetually stuck to the ceiling. It looks oddly sticky up there.

“Go,” Elsa says, and it’s not an instruction. Barely counts as more than a whisper, really. Anna lights up all the same. Like an alcohol-fueled Christmas tree.

Who does not need telling more than once.

Hands reach and smiles widen, Kristoff mumbling something that sounds like it was nice to meet you before he’s following Anna back to the beer pong table, leaving Elsa and Emma standing in the middle of a sea of raging hormones. All of which want to be there way more than either one of them does.

“Well,” Elsa mutters, “that was polite.”

Emma snickers into her glass. A mostly empty glass. That’s surprising. “Got that going for him.” “Plus, his on-base is nuts this year.”

“Say that again.” “On-base percentage,” Elsa repeats, making sure to do it slowly for maximum sarcastic emphasis. Emma’s eyes are going to fall out. That won’t end well. There are too many shuffling feet in this room.

“What does that mean?” “How often he gets on base.” Opening her mouth does nothing. Closing it does even less. Elsa looks overjoyed. “I know things,” she shrugs, “and I’m pretty positive Anna and Kristoff have been not-so-secretly dating since the start of the semester, so—” “You stalked your sister’s secret boyfriend?” “Stalk’s a very dirty word, don’t you think? No, no, there was no stalking. There was light research. One Google search and a single click to the team’s roster, and now I know he’s from Minnesota, too.” “Awfully convenient for the romance of the century.” Humming, Elsa takes a larger-than-usual sip before scrunching her nose in displeasure. At her empty cup. Emma has no idea how they ended up with empty cups so quickly. Suddenly the baseball house feels a bit like a time warp. Enter and drink and find the love of your life. Or something like that.

“I got next,” Emma says, ignoring Elsa’s laugh because she is not the sort of person who says things like that. It’s this house. This place. With its music and its happiness, and she’s not really a sports person. Can only marginally understand the joy of watching other people accomplish something. She has no idea what on-base percentage is.

Still.

Her feet move. Fingers curl over the rim of red solo cups, like the most cliché version of her college self. Her drinks get refilled. And it’s just as Emma’s about to let herself wonder if, maybe, sports aren’t all that bad and might even possess a bit of inherent romanticism, she slams into something.

Someone, more like.

Taller than her, he has to peer down his nose to glare at Emma. That’s fair. They’re both far more damp than they were ten seconds before. Some of that moisture ensures that the hem of his shirt sticks to his stomach. A very flat stomach. That draws Emma’s eyes because she’s human and slightly intoxicated, and it takes quite a lot more than she’s willing to admit to lift her chin, but then she’s glad she does. Even with the understandable glare.

“Shit,” she breathes, “your eyes are stupid blue.”

He narrows them. She hates that. Which is about all it takes for her to get royally pissed off, too.

“Can you pay attention to where you’re walking?”

The stupidly blue eyes blink. Darken a shade, like all his frustration is centered directly around his pupils, and the shirt he’s wearing is team-branded. Another baseball player, then.

“You ran into me!” Oh, Oh. Well, that sucks. He’s got a good voice, too. Eyes and voice and the few strands of hair that fall toward those eyes when he continues to glare at Emma likely aren’t supposed to make her stomach flip.

It’s the alcohol’s fault.

Or sports. Like, in general.

“Because you take up so much space,” Emma snarls He leans forward. Looms, really. Over her and around her, smelling like punch and body wash. It’s gross and absolutely wonderful. “Gotta pick a lane, love. Either I ran into you, or I was in the way.”

“It can definitely be both and there is nothing resembling love here.”

“So I can see. You have a name, wrecking ball?” “My shoes are never going to unstick from this floor.” To his credit, he does waver. His lips twist — which makes it all too obvious how much Emma is staring at his lips, but, seriously, the alcohol. Plus, it’s so hot in this house she can barely think straight. She wonders where he buys his body wash. He smells better than he should in this house. So, it's clear he considers. Ponders, even. Until his hands dart out and those hands are somehow warmer than every person in this house combined, heat scorching through Emma’s t-shirt as he lifts her off the ground.

Only to deposit her approximately fourteen inches to her left.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” “Look,” he grins, “you’re unstuck.” “Bastard!” “Eh, not technically.” “What?” “Not technically a bastard. Orphan, I suppose. But that’s kind of a mood ruiner, don’t you think?”

Emma’s fish impression is really going great. The grin becomes a smirk. Her stomach refuses to stay still. “Is there a mood to ruin?” “Might be if you tell me your name.”

Emma wavers, that time. Considers and ponders. Weighs the pros and cons while laughter drifts past her ears, consummate collegiate experiences that she’s only ever let herself be passably jealous of. A dark-haired girl’s talking to Elsa in the opposite corner.

And the hand hanging in front of her wiggles its fingers.

It’s still ridiculously warm when she grabs it. “Emma Swan.” “Killian Jones.”

Anna’s secret relationship becomes a real relationship no less than sixteen hours following what Elsa begins to call the Drink Incident.

And they become—

Baseball people.

Becoming baseball people is not bad. Not really. Emma likes the baseball team. She understands what WHIP is, now. Kristoff adores Anna, so that’s good. David, who does, in fact, have a last name, continues to be as nice as assumed, and his girlfriend sort of quasi adopts Emma. Mary Margaret Blanchard brims with positivity and an innate sort of joy that would usually annoy Emma, but most of that joy also serves as a direct counter to the snark that Killian Jones appears flush with. So, it’s something of a wash, really.

Plus, he’s a very sore Monopoly loser.

And Emma finds it endlessly entertaining.

“Stop that,” he grunts, glaring at the board with the sort of force Emma’s become accustomed to in the last few months, while she taps on the space in front of her, “I know how many spots it is.” Emma smiles. “So move, then.” “I’ll be bankrupt.” “Capitalism does that.” “Tell me more about capitalism, Swan.”

She doesn’t startle, so there’s that. Not much else, though. Not when a noticeable bit of equally familiar heat skitters down her spine. Her head tilts. His head remains frustratingly still, staring at the board like the spaces will change or Mary Margaret will tear down some of her hotels on Marvin Gardens.

Neither thing happens.

The heat pools. At the small of her back, inching dangerously close to that space between her hips, like it’s trying to tether her to this spot and this moment and its people. Baseball people. People who so clearly care about everything so much that even the cynic in Emma can appreciate it. Plus, they’re all ridiculously competitive.

David had to take a walk when Mary Margaret bankrupt him earlier.

“That’s about the extent of my capitalism knowledge,” Emma admits with a shrug, “I sucked at economics.” Pulling his gaze away from the board, Emma’s less prepared for the force behind Killian’s eyes than she was for the appearance of a nickname that might not warrant the title. It’s just her name, after all. But it sounds like more than that. Sinks under her skin with alarming ease, the precise tone of it wrapping its way around a variety of internal organs until they’re all beating at the same tempo and— “Move my piece for me.”

Kristoff groans. Mary Margaret chuckles. Elsa looks far too sure of herself. Knows everything, indeed.

And it’s not really a command, but there’s that same sense of something that found its way into the sound of Emma’s name and Killian’s voice, and he catches her by surprise. On a variety of levels. His fingers jump the moment hers reach out, all heat and an alarming size difference, his brows lifting when she turns her head.

“You’re taking this game way too seriously, you know,” Emma says. What she doesn’t say is more important, though. Because they’re not friends, really. They’re—acquaintances. Some kind of appropriate metaphor regarding a planet’s many moons and the tendency of those moons to orbit something far bigger than them. But they like each other, too. As much as they dance and twist, do their best to avoid getting hit in the batter’s box, Emma’s more comfortable bantering with him than just about anyone she’s ever met, a challenge in every conversation, and she’s rather loath to realize she’s memorized the different ways the blue in his eyes flash.

Now it feels a bit like a spotlight.

“Matter of pride, Swan.” “Is it just?” If there are other people laying on their stomachs in that living room, half-empty glasses by their hands and equipment stacked in various corners, Emma forgets about them. Quickly. Immediately. Killian doesn’t move his fingers.

He nods.

And Mary Marget only kind of gloats when she bankrupts him.

She dances when she wins, though.

It’s embarrassing. It’s absolutely, goddamn wonderful.

Realizing that baseball is a game of statistics ruins kind of Emma’s day. It makes Killian laugh. Her favorite sort of laugh. Where he throws his head back, an arm around his middle, and his shoulders shaking. Those same strands of hair she noticed that first night fall back toward lidded eyes, the corners of his mouth lifting in an angle Emma is sure she could determine if she just didn’t hate math so much, and it takes about four seconds, her head tilting back and forth twice and one swipe of her tongue to lean forward on the couch they're sharing, tilt her head up and press her lips to his.

Press is a vast understatement.

Crash, more like.

A bases-clearing double into the left-field gap.

She knows so many baseball terms now, it’s ridiculous.

It’s because she keeps going to games. With Anna. Without Anna. With Elsa. Without Elsa. With Mary Margaret every single time. And it creeps on so slowly, she’s practically a Jane Austen heroine, but then Emma finds she cares as much as everyone else. Screams herself hoarse at every crack of the bat. Jumps and fist bumps with startling regularity. Experiences the flutter of butterflies in her flip-prone stomach before ninth-inning rallies.

She memorizes statistics. Killian’s statistics, especially.

Because the Draft is a week away, and the nerves rolling off him are even more potent than his body wash. Bought in bulk from a locally-owned company, she learns.

Killian hates capitalism, too.

Which is only part of the reason she likes him, but right now all of the reason is centered around how it feels as if the world is shifting on its axis and what, precisely, he is capable of with his tongue. Quite a lot if this first time at bat is anything to believe.

Emma laughs.

Joy bubbles from the very center of her, pushing at the seam of her lips, and it’s not much of a seam when her mouth is open to accommodate tongue, but it’s enough of a sound that Killian pulls back. No glare. Definitely eyebrow movement, though.

“That’s not the best confidence boost, you know.” “I’m straddling you,” Emma counters, nodding toward the knees on either side of his, and she has no idea when her fingers found his hair. It’s very soft.

“How did that happen?” “What was that about confidence?”

Dropping his head, she gets a different sort of laugh, one that’s just as potent in its ability to settle into her bloodstream and the empty spaces around her heart, and sports have turned her into a sap. “I like you a lot,” Killian murmurs. Emma’s heart explodes. Metaphorically speaking.

“Good.” “Expand on that, for me.” She pinches his side, almost prepared for the way it leaves him bucking beneath her. Less prepared for the mutual groan it causes. Killian’s eyes widen. “I like you a lot,” Emma repeats, and his arms tighten, and her heart knits itself back together, and the second time through the kissing order is even better.

It starts, as with most things in Emma’s nearly-adult life, because Anna demands it.

“I just think it’ll be fun,” Anna says, not for the first time. And, not for the first time, she ignores the pointed look Emma and Elsa exchange. Elsa’s lips have all but disappeared behind her teeth “Think about it,” Anna continues, “we need something to do before the game, anyway. This way we’re—you know, staying active.” Emma’s eyebrows jump. Fly. Soar into her hairline where the level of her disbelief sits, all too aware of the ring hanging around her neck.

A Draft Day gift. As much as a family heirloom can be a gift. But Killian claimed it was good luck, his brother’s ring, because turns out that snark is at least a partial product of a wholly depressing childhood, and Emma supposes there’s something to be said for common ground. Understanding, too. Stories shared over weeks that turned to months that turned to years and seasons in the minors, and it absolutely figures Killian’s Major League debut is happening in Cincinnati. Where Kristoff plays.

It’s ridiculous how in love with him she is.

Killian. Not Kristoff.

Anna is still talking. “There’s nothing else to do in Cincinnati,” she reasons, which seems unfair to the city itself but not entirely untrue, and even the concept of chili on spaghetti grosses Emma out. “Also,” Anna adds, sounding as if she’s reached the final bullet point on her list of possible arguments, “I’ve got a Groupon deal for this place.”

Elsa blinks. “I didn’t realize Groupon was even still a thing.” “Surprise!”

Emma’s laugh isn’t entirely honest, but her sigh of acceptance is and—

Turns out she’s pretty good at it.

Goddamn fantastic, actually.

At rock climbing. Indoor rock climbing. Her feet push her up the wall with ease, the steady ache in her arms welcome and wonderful and a slew of other alliterative adjectives. That leave Killian grinning like a maniac, but it’s been a weird and equally wonderful day, without a hit, but two walks, so that ups the on-base, and Emma’s really, seriously in love with him.

“I don’t know what it was,” she says, preening just a bit under Killian’s stare. Hotel lighting casts shadows on his cheeks, slumped as he is against every pillow they could find. Even the ones in the closet. He’s not supposed to be in here for much longer, both of them aware of the team-ordained curfew hanging over them, but the pre-game nerves are long gone. Replaced instead with exhilaration and endorphins, the kind that could win Elle Woods a headline-making case. “But,” Emma continues, “I just kept moving, and the guy said it was, like, a course record. Is course the right word, you think?” Killian lifts a shoulder. Even as it’s covered in ice and tape. The play he made at third is going to show on loop. On TV. In Emma’s memory. She’s never yelled that loud before.

People took pictures.

And then she cried. Like a giant sap.

“This is your show, Swan,” Killian chuckles, pride infusing the words. As if she’s the one who deserves the pride today. It’s entirely possible she cried for multiple minutes after that play. They definitely showed that on the YES Network. Mary Margaret texted her no less than forty-seven times.

“I was really fast.” Killian hums, fingers fluttering enough to make it clear he wants her closer. Emma doesn’t argue. They’re a mess of limbs and mouths and that tongue thing they’ve collectively gotten better at giving and receiving over the years, hands that warm with the sort of confidence borne of repetition. Some joke about BP and finding your swing.

“Plus,” he says, a soft laugh at Emma’s noise of displeasure when talking means far less kissing, “becoming a rock climbing savant means more upper-body work, and you know how I love your arms.” Guffawing the way Emma does is not particularly romantic. Doesn’t matter. The sound comes, and the joy remains, a steady stream pumping through all her extremities and clouding her thoughts. In the best way possible. Before Killian, Emma didn’t know this could be that. Fun and easy, not quite simple, but something she’s willing to work for. Athletes are notoriously determined, after all.

Part of her wonders if a proclivity to rock climbing makes her an athlete, too.

“Please,” she says, laughter clinging to the letters even as she finds herself moved directly over Killian’s outstretched legs, “provide, in detail, everything you enjoy about my arms.” “I didn’t say enjoy.” “Were you misquoted, Jones?” His eyes flash. Glow, honestly. At her and because of her and athletes also know how to work their opponents. Goad them into making mistakes. Something about a pitcher’s duel and a battle in the box. Where the box is this bed. And Emma’s winning.

“I love your arms,” Killian says. Dragging his mouth against the column of her throat leaves goosebumps on Emma’s skin. Her back arches. His hand flattens. The compliments continue. Turn into promises. Guarantees. Of a future that’s spread out at their feet now, if only they reach for it.

Turns out Emma’s pretty good at reaching for things. When she wants them.

“This isn’t, like, free-scale, though, is it?”

Her heart cannot be expected to handle much more of this.

“Don’t worry,” Emma says, “all proper safety precautions were taken. Plus, I wouldn’t fall off the wall.”

Killian’s expression shutters. Not in any of that frustration Emma so clearly understood when his shirt was damp, and her shoes were unsalvagable despite his best efforts to get the school’s equipment manager to dry-clean them. No, it’s—it’s something big and important and unspoken, and Emma pulls his hand up. To rest directly over the rink that’s still tucked beneath her t-shirt.

His t-shirt.

It’s got his last number on it, at least.

“Would you catch me if I fell off the wall?” He doesn’t answer at first. Doesn’t mention the absurdity of a question that does not make sense, but those literal and metaphorical clock hands are ticking, and if they don’t replace his ice soon, they’re going to destroy these sheets. “Every single time, Swan.” “Right back at you.”

Killian doesn’t miss curfew, but it’s pretty close.

And Emma wakes up to twelve texts with links for indoor rock climbing gyms in the greater New York City area.

“Holy shit, this is hard.”

Grunting more than laughing, Emma’s fingers curl around the rock in front of her. Chalk cakes itself on the pads of those fingers, stuck beneath her nails and, somehow, the bend of her elbow. “Are you not an All-Star?” she asks, glancing at Killian.

“I do not see how that factors into this at all.”

“Huh, weird.” “Suspiciously sounds like an accusation.” “Weird,” Emma repeats. They’re halfway up a wall only one of them is really supposed to be on, but the other person several feet below them is faring far worse than the pair of them combined, so, that takes precedence in her mind. “He knows a lot more curse words than I realized.” “He’s showing off,” Killian grumbles, forehead resting against the wall.

Will Scarlet hasn’t moved in five minutes. Possibly six. Maybe a round ten. He's much better at second base.

“I cannot feel my arms,” he calls, and Emma’s laugh is better that time. Purer, somehow. As if happiness can actually have a sound. Even happiness that comes with sweat on her temple and a noticeable ache in her triceps and she sort of loves this.

Sort of is a vast understatement.

“Showing off, huh?” Emma asks. She finds her next footfall with ease, happiness blooming into confidence that’s become nearly consistent these days and weeks and years. It does not take her long to feel the stare that’s lingering on her. On her ass, specifically.

She glances over her shoulder. To find her fiancé smiling at her. And staring at her ass.

“Can I help you, love?” “Whatcha doing?” “Ogling you, obviously.” “Forearms feeling good?” He nods. Sort of. There’s a distinct slope to the back of his neck and more sweat on his brown than Emma’s. Not as much as Scarlet’s, probably. “Fantastic,” Killian drawls, “keep going, Swan, someone’s got to show us how to do it.” “Try not to fall off the wall, huh? Last thing we need is the might of the Yankees front office coming after us.” “I don’t think I can move my hands,” Will shouts. Killian doesn’t move. It’s impressive forearm strength. Blushing on the wall is not usually how Emma’s days go.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Killian promises, and Emma moves. He follows her. Up the wall and to the top, a quick brush of his lips against her shoulder that leaves Scarlet cursing even more, despite his presence on the floor, but then there’s lemon-flavored water and exceptionally soft towels and Emma’s caught a bit off guard by the question.

“Are there leagues for this?” Will asks. “Because you should probably be winning things for this.” Emma blinks. Considers. Wonders. Turns to Killian.

He’s still smiling. Broadly, in fact.

“We could look.” They do. They fill out paperwork. Buy fancy climbing shoes that Emma claims cost too much, but Killian’s a pushover and even more stubborn and she wins the first race she signs up for.

Plus, ten more after that.

Emma climbs indoor rock walls. Killian hits home runs. Occasionally they do these things simultaneously, and it usually leads to her nearly falling off the wall because everyone in her Tribeca gym knows what it means when WFAN is playing on the speakers.

Sometimes they shout out John Sterling’s home run call with him.

She gets better. He gets better.

They do end up destroying sheets in various hotels across the country. For various reasons. Not all of them post-game or ice related. There are games and events. Wins and losses. Back page spreads that Emma frames and hangs on their apartment walls, right next to other, smaller frames, with the same smiling faces who, once upon a time, called a sticky-floored baseball house home, and Killian’s fingers are warm in hers when the tears prick her eyes at Anna and Kristoff’s wedding.

There are stories. Think pieces and hot takes on a variety of drive-time radio shows. Those are all about Killian, though. He’s the athlete. The true one, some stories say. It’s impressive what Emma does, they admit, but it’s a hobby, and she’s got a grown-up career, anyway. So, she’s got more climbing records than she knew ever existed, but she’s not doing it for press, and both Mary Margaret and Anna weep at her and Killian’s wedding.

She wears her ring on a chain next to her other one when she climbs.

Every time Killian notices them hanging there, Emma swears, his eyes brighten. It’s her favorite thing in the whole, goddamn world.

“What is this?” He doesn’t answer. Just holds the sheet of paper he must have printed out in the clubhouse because they certainly don’t have a printer at home, and one of the edges is bent. Like he had to fit it in his back pocket.

“Going the stoic route, huh?” Emma quips, but there’s a noticeable hitch in her pulse. One that’s been there for weeks. Since the rumblings started, and the rumors began, whispers of possibility, and first-ever has a very nice ring to it. One side of Killian’s mouth tugs up. “Oh, that’s not fair.” “I’d like the record to show, that the only reason I didn’t know immediately was because I was in the trainer’s room, so—” “What were you in the trainer’s room for?” Killian ignores her. Well, sort of. His eyes shift, and his gaze holds, and Emma knows. Right down in the marrow of her. What the paper is and how Scarlet is the one who printed it out, but she’s even more confident Killian carried it home, and that does something funny to her entire worldview. Widens it and minimizes it at the same time, focusing on this and them and the possibility that creates.

In an athletic sort of way.

“My shoulder’s kind of sore.” Emma scoffs. “Oh, that’s pointed.” “I’m sure your shoulders are fine. Golden, even.’ “This is not your best work, you know that?” “Look at the paper.” “Did you fold it yourself?” “And then took a car back home. You really didn’t see yet?” Emma shakes her head. He knows the answer, too. He’s the one with the Google alert, after all. Because she’s still a bit of a pessimist at heart and an adult with a real job, and this is too much and abjectly terrifying, and the last thing she expects is for Killian to crouch in front of her.

One of his knees cracks.

“Don’t,” he warns, even as Emma does her best to swallow her laugh. Warm hands land on her thighs, a quiet steadiness that helps the state of her pulse and makes the possibility of the unknown a little less overwhelming. The lines crossing the center of the paper are absurdly straight. “You’re going to go.” “Oh, that sounded like a decree.” “A suggestion.” “A strong one.” “Mmhm, with the utmost confidence.” Emma makes an impressive sound. “Who’s doing your media training? What an impressive vocabulary you’ve got on you.” “Ready and willing to use it in a persuasive manner.” “Keep talking like that, and you won’t have to.” The smirk disappears. Evolves into a grin that is only Emma’s and only appears in moments like this, support clinging to air molecules and the ends of hair that constantly seems determined to fall into Killian’s eyes. “Passed, huh? All cool with the IOC.” “Decidedly cool. Officially an Olympic sport, now. Although the name could use some work. Sport climbing lacks a little oomph, don’t you think?”

“What would you call it?” “Emma Swan wins Olympic gold.” “Kinda wordy.” “Prophetic,” Killian corrects, hands shifting and pulling, and Emma has to widen her legs. His head’s at a very good kissing angle. “You’ve already got the qualifying numbers.” “You looked at the qualifying numbers?” “Don’t insult me like that. What do you think I did in the backseat?” “Planned the entire 2020 Olympics, apparently.” “Not the entire Olympics,” Killian counters, "just the part involving you. And maybe my individual expectations regarding the United States baseball team, but that’s another conversation altogether.”

“Naturally.”

“You’re using that voice.”

Widening her eyes does nothing. Emma didn’t expect it to. Not after years and games and events because rock climbing has events, and one time Mary Margaret made her a sign. Killian held it. He’s taller, that’s why.

“Don’t,” Killian repeats, “this is happening.” “Yuh-huh?” “You heard me. It’s your turn, now.” Melting is an impossibility. Like, for a human. Even so. Emma feels like she’s melting. Some of that pessimism evaporating under the warmth of Killian’s gaze and his hands and the determination in the precise angle of his chin. Same one he uses when he steps into the box with runners in scoring position.

Lumping herself into that group isn’t as insulting as Emma once believed it would be.

“God,” Emma groans, “that’s romantic.” “You’re really selling it, love.”

“This is supposed to be a hobby.” “One you’re exceedingly good it. World record good at it.” “I like you.” “That’s my end game, yeah.” She laughs. Smiles. Continues melting. Which is easier once they get rid of their clothing, and their bed is way more comfortable than any hotel they’ve encountered. And she falls asleep with Killian’s lips against her ear, Emma Swan, Olympic gold medalist whispered on loop like it’s a mantra he’s been practicing.

They postpone the Olympics.

It sucks. Everything sucks. Baseball sucks. Gyms are closed. Emma gets creative, and Killian gets research-prone. They build a makeshift wall. She tosses him BP.

People write stories about it.

It doesn’t help.

Until—

Time passes. Some things change. Others don’t. Their wall stands up to the elements of their building’s courtyard, and Killian’s hitting better than ever this season, a victory Emma’s going to claim as at least partially hers. And then the Olympics are back, and it’s qualifying and racing and a record that’s just out of reach, but she’s good enough even without it, and, this time, she’s the one packing a suitcase.

He kisses her.

Does the tongue thing.

Holds onto her like he’s only a little afraid she’s going to fall off the wall, but now the wall is international competition, and Emma’s freaking out a little.

“I love you,” she says into the crook of his neck.

His arms tighten. “I love you too.” “Gold medal?” “Gold medal.” “Hit some home runs while I’m gone, huh?” Lips graze her temple. Her forehead. The bridge of her nose. Emma might be crying, and Mary Margaret’s definitely recording, a small mob of red white, and blue surrounding them. “I’ll see what I can do,” Killian promises.

“Good.”

He hits three before her first qualifying round. So, Emma takes that as a challenge. She’s an athlete now.

It’s why, she figures, her fingers don’t slip on her first run.

Her feet are sure. Her breathing is steady. There’s no one cheering her name, but she’s long since memorized the exact way Killian’s voice lifts above a crowd. How he pushes up on his toes to watch, as if standing up taller makes sure he’s closer to her. Should she need him when she falls off the wall. Only, Emma doesn’t fall, and she’s got no intention of ever falling and—

Her laugh shudders out of her in a watery sort of way that makes the journalist still standing in front of her flinch ever so slightly. Twitter makes sure the video starts playing again as soon as it finishes, which is somehow the best and worst thing that has ever happened to her. Best because, well, Emma’s honestly not sure she’s ever seen her husband like this.

Worst because she’s very nearly goddamn crying. Again.

Bobbing on the balls of his feet in front of his locker, whoever’s recording the video — it’s Scarlet, obviously — is practically frenzied behind the camera, barely able to contain their laughter. Killian doesn’t notice. He’s holding his own phone, all five of his free fingers firmly entrenched in the back of his hair. It’s gotten softer with age, Emma thinks.

She can’t stop watching him.

Every inhale is a clear struggle, the bobbing turning into pacing and quiet mumbling she can hear perfectly. As if she’s standing right in front of him.

Or at least slightly to the side. So as not to stand on the logo in the middle of the clubhouse.

Athletes are notoriously superstitious, too.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” Killian chants, another noticeable snicker from Scarlet, “right there, right there, and pull, pull—Swan, pull up!”

“I did pull up there,” Emma mumbles. To the reporter, maybe. Or the world. Possibly her husband. Who was definitely more nervous about the first run than her.

God, that’s romantic.

Killian’s still talking. Shouting, more like. It’s a miracle Scarlet hasn’t fallen over yet.

“Faster, faster, you can go faster than that, Swan—” Emma clicks her tongue. “That’s kind of insulting.”

There’s an appropriate titter of laughter from the peanut gallery, which is a joke she was not trying to make, but she’s also dangerously close to swooning in the middle of press and she should have asked the Yankees for media training. Someone would have made sure she didn’t make a total ass of herself.

“Show me the time,” Killian yells, another demand that isn’t that. It’s too wobbly a string of words to hold any real power, just the supportive sort of desperation Emma’s felt in a variety of ninth innings and series-clinching moments. “Faster! Faster!” “Talking to the time or the judges or your wife?” Scarlet asks.

Killian nearly snarls.

Emma blinks. Hyperactively. Crying is not usually her shtick. More camera flashes...flash, Emma barely noticing them with her eyes glued to a phone screen that isn’t hers because she at least knows not to bring her phone to a press conference, and she can only imagine how many text messages she’s gotten.

Even on the other side of the world.

They post the times.

She knows because Killian gets some rather impressive height on his celebratory vertical. Fingers abandoning his hair, his fist pumps the air, and Scarlet’s not laughing so much as he’s whooping, a steady stream of yeah, yeah, yeah in the background. And for about half a breath, Emma’s worried Killian may turn one of his ankles on his landing, but he’d think that was insulting, and she’s really just full-on swooning now.

“How many people have seen this?’ she asks the reporter, already knowing the answer.

The reporter smiles anyway. Emma should learn her name.

“Pretty much the whole world.” When Emma was a kid — the sort of kid who believed alone was better, and there was strength in singularity, that would have terrified her. Bowled her over, really. Left her running without looking back, desperate to shed any sort of notoriety because notoriety meant attention, and attention meant inevitable disappointment.

Maybe that’s why she was never much of a sports person.

Sports disappoint you. They build you up and let you down, a sharp and sudden fall without a safety net. But sometimes. Sometimes, every so often, something wonderful happens. Sports lift you. Right up an indoor wall. Because, she knows, sports’ power comes from belief, from surrendering yourself to something bigger and better, and she’s back on that alliterative kick, but the tears are barely clinging to her eyelashes now and Emma herself is bigger and better, now.

In an international, decidedly romantic sort of way.

The video’s playing away.

“Let’s go,” Killian cries, and there it is. Her sound and their sound, cheering across an ocean and time zones that are still kind of messing with her sleep schedule.

Emma’s smile stretches.

“Let’s go,” she repeats.

It ends, as with most things in Emma’s gold-medal-winning life, because Anna plans it.

Stepping out of the terminal, it takes less than a full breath for the cheers to start. For the banners to lift and the tears to flow, a small platoon of support covered in the sort of patriotic gear they definitely got from the Old Navy in Herald Square.

Flashes burst behind Emma’s eyelids because she’s got to blink or she’ll definitely fall over. Her legs wobble beneath her, contending against a wave of triumph and jubilation, which is sort of the same word, but they’ve got a game at the Stadium tonight, so she doesn’t expect, she just hopes and reaches, and he has to twist around both Anna and Mary Margaret.

It’s wonderfully cyclical.

As is the way Emma slams herself against him. On purpose, this time. Killian’s arms tighten, more cheers and shouts, and people a few feet away start chanting USA over and over. Emma barely hears them. Her feet aren’t touching the ground, so she’s kind of preoccupied.

They’re all arms and mouths, and her legs wrapped securely around a body that probably shouldn’t be supporting hers when she knows he slid into second two nights ago, but Killian clearly has no intention of letting her down, and the medal around her neck bumps against her rings.

“You’re a very good cheerleader; you know that?” He hisses. In what, Emma can’t imagine. Embarrassment, if the red tips of his ears are anything to go by, and she’s got ideas as to why that is and how long the conversation about social media with Scarlet went, so Emma does the only reasonable thing.

She slams her lips against her home-run hitting husband’s, doing her best to make sure the gold medal doesn’t mistakenly impale either one of them, and the world tilts again. With victory and sports-based support and the sort of love that comes from believing in something bigger.

And better than Emma could have ever imagined.

“I didn’t want to steal your thunder.”

“Please,” Emma scoffs, “don’t insult me like that. Plus, I’m claiming every one of those home runs as my own, so comparatively—” He kisses her before she can say anything else.

That’s for the best, probably.

“Your arms looked ridiculously good the whole time.”

Her laugh doesn’t even sound like her when Emma hears it played back — another video that someone tells her goes viral, only she doesn’t care about hits or site traffic, just about the particular shade of blue in Killian’s eyes, and she wears her medal to the game that night.

Because they’re a sports power couple, now.

Or so the New York Post back page claims the next day.

Emma frames it.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #cs fic #captain swan fic #hook heel #this is also apparently my 50th work on ao3 #which is just patently nuts #so if you guys have been clicking and reading all these words know that i am a little in love with you

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intothewickedwood · 3 years

Text

Once Upon A Time Rewatch: 6x19 The Black Fairy

Peter Pan! So weird to think they were married but I mean they’re both kinda obsessed with collecting children that aren’t their son which is a weird coincidence.

Aww baby Rumple!

Malcolm looks so happy to have a baby. It seems it was the loss of Fiona that made him resent Rumple. Perhaps he could have been a father with her support but he just couldn’t handle being a single father. 

I wish we got to know more about fairy lore

Rumple was born in winter. He’s totally a Capricorn!

Aren’t Saviors meant to save realms from dark curses? But the dark curse wasn’t created yet. Maybe they retconned it and they’re just meant to save people.

That dragon egg is awfully convenient. What happened to the characters going on quests to find things like this? It’s too easy to wake Blue up.

Snow straight up strangling the Blue Fairy. I know it’s not her but I think Snow deserves that opportunity. 

Quick thinking Rumple with that cuff! 

Why does Emma have to have sleepy time too?

Is the shack Rumple was born in the same place he and Milah lived in? Probably not.

Yep. Really shouldn’t have given her that book of prophecies. What did they expect? Fiona to be overjoyed her son would die at the hands of a great evil?

Wait. It’s not possible for someone to turn themselves into a fairy? There must be something about Fiona. There’s something about that family, I swear. It seems they were all destined for great power and great evil.

Regina teaching Zelena to drive is the best thing ever but she totally could have escaped with Henry on her broom if things went wrong. If people in New York saw her and Henry flying high defying gravity they’d just think it was promo for Broadway’s Wicked.

Lmao! Omg Zelena! This scene is glorious!

Oh yeah, baby Robin could fit on the broom too. They’d make it work!

Regina: “I trust him to raise you.” Lol. So true but now I need all the fics with Henry raising his little cousin and Auntie in New York. 

The Black Fairy is so freaking creepy singing a lullaby to Blue.

The hatred emanating from the Black Fairy for Blue gives me shivers. 

And then she’s like “I’m so happy we get a chance to play,” and sits down like a child. Chills, I tell you! Like, Blue has completely destroyed who she used to be.

What was she going to do to the child if she’d found one with the crescent mark? 

Aww. Rumple breaking down and saying “I would do anything for you, son.” This man freaking loves his children. 

How did they end up in Rumple’s dream when Gideon was the first to be sprinkled with the night night sand?

Hook: “How do we know you are actually you.” Regina: “Because it’s me!” Sounds legit.

Aww, Hook just called Regina “love”. Are they getting along again, now? I saw a meta the other day that noted how Regina only started to dislike Hook when he got serious with Emma and I’m pretty sure that’s true. Interesting!

I wanted to see a proper witch fight dammit! For a show with so many sorcerers, we deserved more magical duels.

But omg Zelena suddenly running the Black Fairy over and her flipping over the car is the best thing in existence! 

Aww the sisters’ little smiles to each other. 

The sacred vault of the fairies? Are they, like, religious? 

This poor woman. I feel so sorry for her. She’s just desperately and feverishly trying to protect her baby. What did they expect from her? Most mothers would go to those lengths if they were told their child would suffer such a horrible fate. That would bring anyone to the end of their tether.

Omg wtf. “He’s destined to die so that other children may live.” That is a beyond cruel thing to say to the face of a mother. What the hell? Omg the pain on Fiona’s face. No child should be sacrificed for another. How heartless of the fairies.

So did Emma replace Rumple as the EF’s Savior or can their be multiple Saviors? 

Agggh this is so horrific. Poor Fiona finding out she is destined to kill her own child. She’s devastated. 

Oh, did she get the crescent scar when she was disarmed? 

Oh cool, the Black Fairy can project memories! That’s quite a unique power.

Blue could have saved a lot of people by remotely teleporting their hearts into her hands from the EQ’s or Cora’s and yet she didn’t.

She has a point. Even if she severed her destiny so she wouldn’t be the one to kill him, he could still be in danger from some other threat.

Blue, what the hell! Summoning a portal was absolutely uncalled for. What because she dared to upset you as you were so desperate for him to become the Savior for some reason? Probably part of her long-game evil plan. So what if he didn’t become a Savior?! Blue’s going on like that was the worst crime. She was just trying to protect him and you separated a doting mother who was no longer a danger to him from her child! You had no right! She is so self-righteous, I swear to god. It’s nothing to do with her. Who does she think she is?! Blue has ruined so many lives and gotten away with it because she believes she’s all high and mighty. She’s just as much of a villain as any other on this show. It makes me so mad. Poor Fiona. No wonder she hates Blue. 

Fiona: “I promise you son, I will spend every moment of every day trying to find my way back to you!”

I think she let Rumple hate her because it was too painful and she didn’t think she deserved his love. 

There are a lot of parallels between Rumple and his mother’s stories. They are much alike. 

Malcolm genuinely loved Fiona. He said she was the love of his life. Gosh I needed backstory with those two! After her he felt the only way he could be happy again was to return to childhood and Neverland so he didn’t have to think about Fiona. It was too painful. Easier to pretend he’d never loved. 

Malcolm must have lied to Rumple and told him his mother had abandoned him.

The fairies imply Fiona is dead to cover their own asses. They won’t say they banished her because they damn well know he’d fight them to get the love of his life back.

Lol. Sorry but calling your child Rumplestiltskin just to spite him is hilarious. What does it mean? Oh! It means “Little Rattle Stilt.” I mean it could have been worse it could have been “Little Sh*thead.” 

Also the Fairies hearing him blame the baby for his wife’s death should have rung alarm bells. They should have put him in a home where he’d be loved and cared for. Nope, just leave him with this guy who hates him.

Eww. They put a heart on the dinner table.

Giddy Up’s got his heart back! Yehaaaw!

“A seafaring man does not take superstitions likely.” So he is superstitious! He allowed a woman on his ship for years so maybe superstitions are different in the EF.

Oh my God, next week’s the musical episode!!!! I can’t wait!!!!

#ouat #once upon a time #rumplestiltskin #mr gold #mr. gold #the black fairy #ouat 6x19 #6x19 the black fairy #ouat rewatch #ouat rewatch 2019

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imagines-ahs · 2 years

Text

Chapter Fifteen - Ash.

Tag List: @devriesgoode @mistysswampmud @paulsonsratched @msvenablx @notmeellaannyy @rwoolfe (message me to be added if interested!)

Billie Dean nodded and closed the door. Now, in solitude, she let out a groan. I don’t want to think about it. So she wouldn’t. To make matters worse, they hadn’t even touched the ice cream.

In the living room, Venable was still sitting down on the table. She stared at their food, not really knowing what to think. The air felt tense, weird, uncomfortable. It’s just my head. But Billie Dean had stopped smiling all of a sudden, and then she just walked away. The ice cream was still there. I think I saw a mini-bar in my room. She grabbed it and walked into her bedroom, closing the door behind her. Near the small table, the mini-bar stood. She opened it and found countless of drinks and snacks, and then when she opened the fridge, it only had some ice into it. The ice cream fit, thankfully. Wilhemina placed it there and got to the bed, ready to stretch her back a little. It popped. With a sigh, she reached for her phone. I’m not in the mood to answer Emma. So she didn’t.

In her bedroom, Billie Dean stared up at the ceiling as she lay down on the bed. She kept focusing on not thinking about Wilhemina, which only made her want to think more about her. I made her smile. Venable had opened up with her today. It brought a sense of pride into Billie Dean, as well as something that felt a lot like despair. And then, from somewhere inside her, the crave for nicotine shot through her whole body. Billie Dean bit her lower lip, brown eyes falling on her purse. I have a pack of Marlboro there. She shook her head and looked back up. But the craving kept on growing. I shouldn’t. She had decided she would stop, and it wasn’t being as hard of a task as she thought it would be—mostly because she had been focusing on the sketchbook Wilhemina had gotten her—but also because it was easier to stick to her word now that she had someone else counting on her, too. But right now, it all felt heavy and hard. Harder. With a sigh, Billie Dean reluctantly got up and walked to her purse. Inside, she reached for the coral sketchbook as well as the pencil and eraser Venable had gotten her. Her hand brushed against the pack of cigarettes, and with a gulp she pulled away. Getting back to her bed, Billie looked through the pages; they were mostly child-like doodles of flowers and Nature. She flipped into a blank page and began to doodle. It wasn’t flowing. I need a cigarette. But she also said she would quit, and Billie Dean was someone who stuck to her word. She doodled a little more, scribbling random lines and shapes which didn’t reflect her imagination at all. Her mind struggled to create a scenario, focusing on situations instead. And she hated it. She hated it because the situations were unpleasing ones of Wilhemina’s lips on another woman’s… a tall, brunette woman with sapphire eyes. “Fuck it.” Billie Dean pushed the notebook aside and got up to grab the Marlboro in her purse. Hasty fingertips guided a cigarette to her lips and she quickly lit it up, eyes closing as she took a first drag. God, it felt good. Billie Dean walked to the huge window and opened it a little, leaning against it as she smoked. Her body instantly calmed down, lungs filling with smoke. How come anything deadly made her feel so alive? I’ve never had a normal relationship with death, after all. Once the cigarette had disappeared, Billie Dean could manage to think a little better. She closed the window and got back to bed, placing one of the many pillows bellow her feet; they were slightly swollen. On the bedside table, Billie could hear her phone vibrating nonstop. She sighed and hesitantly reached for it; Carmen had texted her a billion of times. Ignoring the messages, Billie Dean set an alarm for an hour and put her phone on no disturb, ready to take a well deserved nap. Her eyes had grown heavy and she definitely didn’t want to think about everything her mind insisted on thinking about.

Without realizing and with a book in hand, Wilhemina had fallen asleep. When she woke up from her slumber, the first thing that came across her mind was to check the hour; she did, and they had only an hour before the driver would come pick them up for the set. Billie Dean needs to eat. Setting her book aside, Venable got up and stretched herself. “Mgh,” she groaned, back popping. Slowly, she got up and walked to the mini-bar. Wilhemina was quite sure she had seen some granola bars there, and as she opened it, there they were. Venable reached for two of them as well as the ice cream they had bought. Looking around, Wilhemina searched for a bowl; there were none. I’m pretty sure I saw some in the living room. With the food in hand, Venable quietly followed there. Indeed, there were a few silverware and dishes there. Venable scooped a generous amount of ice cream into one of the bowls, and then she broke the granola bars in two and placed the pieces on top of it. To herself, she only got some ice cream. Why am I so worried about her? It was a question Venable wasn’t sure she could answer. She simply did. And she didn’t know if it was normal or not, for she had barely had any situations like that before. I used to do that to Lisa. That was a long time ago. Wilhemina shook the bittersweet memory away and grabbed Billie Dean’s bowl and a spoon. And then, with quiet steps, she walked to Billie’s bedroom door and knocked on it. “Billie Dean?” Venable could hear some movement inside, so she stood there and waited. After a minute or two, Billie opened the door with messy hair and makeup not nearly as flawless as it was before. And still… breathtaking.

“I fell asleep,” Billie Dean explained with a tiny, sleepy smile. Her eyes fell on Wilhemina, and then down to the bowl in her hands. It couldn’t be for her… could it?

“I’m sorry to wake you up. I took a nap as well.” Billie Dean shook her head at the words, dismissing them. “We have an hour before the driver comes pick you up. I assumed you should eat something…” Almost shyly, Wilhemina motioned to the bowl in her hand. “It’s ice cream with some granola bars.”

Billie Dean could physically feel her chest fluttering. Wilhemina had taken her time to prepare her some food—even if it was mainly just scooping it out of a container. She took notice of the hour and took care of Billie Dean’s well-being. Who did that to her other than people trying to take advantage? Billie bit back the urge to get teary-eyed. “You didn’t have to…”

Wilhemina shrugged. She knew she didn’t. And Billie Dean was looking at her with those eyes again. “Here,” she handed the bowl to Billie.

“Thank you.” Billie Dean smiled to herself. She grabbed the bowl and walked to the table in the living room, soon being joined by Wilhemina. She sat down and took a first spoonful. “This is good.”

Venable mirrored Billie Dean’s actions, humming as she tasted the rich ice cream. “How come you always manage to find the best food?” she asked softly.

Billie Dean chuckled. “I just go for what I like.”

“Makes sense.” Venable chuckled back. She took yet another spoonful.

Billie Dean watched Wilhemina, and part of her felt bad for just storming to her bedroom like she had done. But she needed to rest for later, and Venable seemed to have done so, too. Her eyes fell down to Venable’s bowl, and she realized she had no granola on it. “How come you have no granola?” Billie frowned.

It took a minute for Wilhemina to understand the question. “Oh,” she looked down at her bowl. “I had only two bars in my bedroom. You need it more than I do.” Billie Dean would be the one working until late, after all.

Billie Dean knew Wilhemina was a caring person by that point, but the extent of it was not failing to surprise her. “I think I might have some more in my room.”

“It’s alright,” Venable shook her head. “I’m alright with only ice cream.”

“Are you sure?” Billie Dean asked. Wilhemina nodded. “Not even a piece?”

“I’m alright. I promise.” She’s sweet.

“If you say so…” Hesitantly, Billie got another spoonful. She kept on watching Venable, paying attention to how classy she managed the spoon and how absolutely lovely she looked, with hair falling down her shoulders and corners of her lips raising up at each spoonful. How long has it been since she has had ice cream? Wilhemina looked like everything was new to her. In her mind, Venable focused on the cold, delicious taste in her mouth. She didn’t know why she had denied herself those simple pleasures before, but sugar was definitely something she rarely ate before working at Billie Dean Howard & Co. She just wasn’t drawn to it, really; her childhood didn’t involve a lot of sugary things, both metaphorically and literally. After becoming an adult, sugar didn’t come naturally. Billie Dean kept on getting more and more intrigued by Wilhemina the more she spent time with her; what an unique person she was. Her soul is different. It wasn’t common for Billie Dean to feel that type of energy; one that had considerably shifted and changed over the course of such a small period of time. When they first met, Billie had noticed Venable’s energy wasn’t the usual, but now it seemed to have blossomed and it stood up between the crowd. I need to know more about her. “Tell me about you?”

Uh? The question seemed to come out of nowhere. Wilhemina blinked twice as she looked up at Billie Dean, spoon in hand. Why did Billie Dean want to know about her? She was nothing special. My life is boring compared to hers. Or to anyone else’s. “What would you like to know?” She sat up a little better on the chair and reached for a napkin to wipe her lips clean just in case.

Everything. Billie Dean wanted to know everything. And then the conversation they had on the plane flew back into her mind, and she remembered the one question Wilhemina had asked her that had caught her attention: ’Do you talk to them still?’ It had been regarding Billie Dean’s own parents. No one had ever asked her that; people always assumed. It was the natural thing, after all; to never lose contact with your family. But Wilhemina had asked her that question in a way that was so nonchalant that Billie Dean just couldn’t shake it off. “Do you still talk to your parents?”

Wilhemina gulped. She gulped hard and struggled not to open her eyes a little more out of surprise. What was she supposed to answer to that? Venable usually had no trouble lying to people when it came to that—it was a way of protecting herself. But lying to Billie Dean, after everything she had seen and everything Billie had shared with her… it just felt wrong. Maybe I don’t need to protect myself around her. It was too soon to tell, even though that question barely crossed Wilhemina’s mind and if was, already, an indication of an answer. “No.” The answer came after a minute, low and short. It was the truth. Her truth. Saying it out loud felt wrong. Billie Dean wasn’t surprised with the answer; she was expecting something like that. People with Wilhemina’s understanding usually didn’t have an easy life. She nodded, giving time for Venable to gather her thoughts. But Wilhemina wasn’t counting that Billie Dean would want to know more. Nervously, she looked down at her bowl of ice cream, mindlessly playing with the spoon. She’ll never see me the same again. Wilhemina hated when people felt pity for her. She couldn’t stand it. But she was in a position she felt she couldn’t deny Billie Dean an answer… but most importantly, she couldn’t deny herself the chance of opening up to someone she felt she could trust. All her life, Venable carried everything alone. “I…” she began, eyes still on the ice cream. I’m sweating. “I have never… I have never a-actually met them…” Wilhemina licked her lips nervously. She couldn’t bring herself to look back up at Billie Dean, for she had opened a door Venable had never explored before, not like that. And then her mind just crashed, and she began to talk like she had never done before—not with her therapist, not with anyone. “I was abandoned at an orphanage when I was a week old.” The hand holding the spoon had begun to tremble; Billie Dean stared at it. “I—I have never met a-anyone from my biological family. I was never adopted, either.” Wilhemina gulped yet again. Funny enough, she didn’t feel the need to cry. “I d-don’t know where I’m from.” Finally, but hesitantly, she looked back up. Wilhemina was scared of what she would find, but Billie Dean stared at her with the same chocolate eyes she always did: Without an ounce of pity, with nothing but kindness in them. For perhaps the first time in her life, Venable didn’t regret talking about her past.

Billie Dean was the one to gulp now. Her eyes were glued on Wilhemina, and her thoughts seemed to have stopped. She didn’t know what to think. She didn’t know what to say. All she knew was how her chest tightened and her heart expanded. But Billie didn’t feel pity, no; she felt weirdly proud. “I admire you a lot.” In her tense state, Venable let out a chuckle—not a defensive one, just a chuckle. That was unexplored territory; she didn’t know what to expect. No one had ever gotten her that far. “I do,” Billie Dean insisted. She reached for Venable’s free hand on top of the table, caressing it with her thumb as she was used to doing. This time, Venable reached back. Their eyes kept on glued to each other. And Billie Dean didn’t know what to say, once again. “Thank you,” she decided to go with what was true to her heart. “For trusting me.”

To all the things she was expecting, a thank you wasn’t one of them. Venable nodded, and her eyes struggled to maintain themselves on Billie’s. “Y-you don’t have to keep thanking me.”

“I do.” Billie Dean squeezed her hand. “No one ever talks to me. No one ever cares to really talk to me.” People talked to Billie a lot, but they never opened up to her; they never connected with her, took their time to know and get known by her. It was all liquid. Superficial. “I appreciate it. I appreciate you. Thank you.”

Venable’s heart was beating fast, she had realized. And Billie Dean’s grip was a little firmer, almost as if she was scared Wilhemina would run away. It caused Venable to actually feel appreciated, like Billie had said. The corners of her lips turned up into a sad smile. “You’re the first person I open up to…” It felt natural to confess that.

Billie Dean felt lucky. She felt lucky and special and weirdly happy. “Thank you,” she said, once again. “I’m here for you. And I’m glad you seem to believe in me when I say that.”

Did Venable believe that? She didn’t know. But she seemed to do so. After pondering, she nodded. “Thank you.” It was her time to thank Billie Dean. Her eyes fell down to their intertwined fingers. Slowly, Wilhemina caressed Billie Dean’s hand with her thumb. “Me too… for you.”

“I know.” Billie Dean offered her a genuine, sweet smile. Wilhemina’s eyes met hers, and she offered a smile back. Gently, Billie pulled her hand away to finish her ice cream. Venable did the same.

I feel so safe with her. What a weird feeling it was. Venable stole a glance of Billie Dean while she was distracted, and she made herself a mental note to help her clean the smudged mascara before they left. “Could you rest? For later?”

“Mhm,” Billie nodded as she ate. “Could you?”

“Yes.” Wilhemina took another spoonful. “But you’re the one who needed it the most.”

Billie Dean shook her head. “You’re working, too. A lot.”

“Nonsense,” Venable protested. “I’m only working on the report. You’re the one… dealing with the other side.” Wilhemina didn’t think much about her words; she still wasn’t sure of what she believed, but she did believe Billie Dean. “It’s draining.”

Billie Dean nearly stopped eating when she heard Wilhemina’s words. She blinked once. Then twice. Than another time. And the pause was so long Venable thought maybe she had said something wrong. When was the last time someone saw me? She couldn’t remember. “It… it is. A little. But your work is just as important.”

“But not as tiring.” Wilhemina appreciated what Billie Dean was doing, but that wasn’t the point. Billie seemed to understand that, for she nodded with a tiny smile. “I’m glad you could rest.”

“Me too.” Billie Dean ate the last of her ice cream and leaned back on the chair. Venable did the same, wiping her lips right after. After a second, Billie looked over to the clock on the wall. “Oh God,” she sighed.

Wilhemina frowned and looked up. “Is it time, already?”

Getting up, Billie Dean nodded. “Yeah. I need to go change.”

“Okay.” Wilhemina got up as well.

“After I change, I’ll put that protection on you.” Billie Dean stopped at the doorway of her bedroom.

“Okay.” Venable smiled a little. Billie Dean smiled back at her and got into her room.

Wilhemina quickly washed the bowls and walked into her bedroom as well. She made sure everything she needed for tonight was in her purse, and then she retouched her makeup put her heels back on. Just as she was about to get up, her phone vibrated in her pocket; she reached for it. There was another notification from Emma: ’Everything alright in there? I’m almost going home… I’m sorry if I said something wrong.’ Along with the text, Emma had attached a smiley face. Wilhemina bit her lower lip; she had never answered the previous messages. And now she feels bad. Venable quickly typed her an answer: ’You didn’t say anything wrong. Things got a little busy here, we’re leaving for the set again.’ She sent the message. And then she began to type again, for how far was it that Emma was always the one to pay the compliments? ’You’re beautiful, too. I love your eyes.’ Once she hit send yet again, Wilhemina got up and went to the living room. In a matter of minutes, Billie Dean entered the room as well, dress back on and purse on her shoulder.

“The protection is quick,” Billie Dean said to Wilhemina, who nodded. “I just need you to sit down in a chair for me.” She reached for one of the chairs around the table and pulled it to the side. “Here.” Venable sat down on it once she put her purse on the table, asking no questions. Billie Dean set hers on the couch and began to rub her hands together.

“Should I close my eyes?” Wilhemina asked softly. Billie Dean hummed an ‘yes’, and so she did. With her eyes not on demand, Venable focused on the other senses; she could hear Billie humming and mumbling to herself while she stood behind her, as well as feel what seemed to be hands passing close to her head and shoulders. Venable had no idea how any of that worked, and the idea of being put a protection on didn’t make much of a sense to her. But it made to Billie Dean, and she had learned to hear Billie Dean when it came to those things. The hands kept on passing close to her head and arms, almost touching her. I’m glad I have my back pressed against the chair. Just to make sure Billie Dean couldn’t touch it, Wilhemina pressed herself back a little more.

“Think of something good,” Billie Dean murmured out of a sudden. “There’s turmoil right now…” Venable would be lying if she said she wasn’t impressed. And a little scared. Billie seemed to be able to read her mind sometimes, and it was definitely an odd feeling. Wilhemina nodded anyways and began to think about Purpura, focusing on her happiest memories with her. After a minute or two, Billie Dean took a step back. “You’re done.” She smiled down at Venable.

Wilhemina opened her eyes again, allowing them to adjust to the light. “Thank you.” She blinked a few times before getting up. Venable turned to look at Billie Dean. “Oh, your makeup is a little smudged.” She was only now reminded of that.

“That’s true. I forgot to fix it up.” Billie looked around and found a napkin. “That should do. We’re a little late and my makeup wipes are somewhere in my suitcase.” She was about to start rubbing it underneath her eyes when Wilhemina reached to gently stop her arm.

“You’ll hurt yourself. I have some right here.” Letting Billie Dean go, she reached for her purse and pulled a pack of wipes out. “Let me help you.”

Oh? Billie let the napkin go and turned to face Venable. She stood still while Wilhemina leaned closer and gently began to wipe under her eyes. With Venable so concentrated, Billie Dean allowed her eyes to fall to her lips. They were close. Very. I need to stop with that. But how could she? Wilhemina was revealing herself to be someone Billie Dean didn’t know she needed. Hesitantly, she looked away from her lips and to Venable’s eyes. I wonder how many things she has seen. Billie wanted to know it all. When Wilhemina took a step back, Billie Dean smiled. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Venable examined her face just to make sure everything was in place. Billie Dean was always nice to look at. “All set.”

With a chuckle, Billie turned around to grab her purse and phone. Of course she had a thousand of notifications, as well as a missed call from Carmen. “Shit,” she murmured to herself. Wilhemina looked over at her from the trashcan in the corner of the room. Billie Dean quickly went to her texts, seeing Carmen had let her know a few minutes ago that the driver was on their way. “The driver is arriving. We need to go.” With hushed steps, Billie Dean guided them outside and to the elevator. Venable kept quiet, watching the way Billie’s whole demeanor had changed; she was back at being professional… at being used to being put down. When the elevator’s door opened, Billie walked outside in hushed steps, and Venable couldn’t help but notice how nervous she was. They soon found the same black car from earlier.

“Ms. Howard?” The driver asked.

“Yes. I am so sorry to keep you waiting,” Billie Dean was quick to apologize. She knew how things went when she got late.

“I’ve barely arrived. It’s no problem.” He opened the backseat door for them, and Billie got in, followed by Wilhemina. The drive began, and with that came silence between them. From the corner of her eyes, Venable watched how Billie Dean played with her long nails, lip between her teeth and eyes glued on the window.

She’s nervous. “Billie Dean,” Wilhemina called quietly. Billie seemed to not have listened, for she didn’t even flinch at the words. Venable tried again. “Billie Dean, are you alright?”

Now, Billie slowly turned her head to Wilhemina. She gulped, letting her lip go as she nodded. “Yes—yeah. I’m just a little nervous.”

“Why?”

“I’m late.”

Venable frowned. She reached for her phone and checked the hour. “It’s not seven yet.”

“I know. But it will be when we get there.”

There’s no show without you. Wilhemina figured saying that wasn’t the smartest idea. It was confusing, though, to see such a nervous Billie Dean when it came to a show she owned. As far as Venable was concerned, people had to adapt to her, and not the other way around. “If we end up being late, that’ll be five minutes at the most.” Venable absolutely despised being late as well, but Billie Dean seemed to feel something a bit different than what she did.

Billie Dean hadn’t expected Wilhemina to understand; not even she herself fully did so. But what she did understand was how aggravated Carmen got when she ended up doing something out of schedule, especially in a property that was costing so much to rent. They had worked together a few times before, and it had been anything but pleasing. But Wilhemina was right; five minutes wouldn’t hurt anyone. Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “I know…” She looked back out of the window, and Wilhemina took it as a boundary. She left Billie Dean alone, allowing her to calm down on her own.

When the car parked in front of the same old property from earlier, Carmen was already outside waiting for Billie Dean. The car had barely turned off when she opened the door on Billie’s side. “We need to get you dressed.”

Hello to you, too. Billie Dean sighed to herself. “Yes.” She eyed Wilhemina before stepping out of the car, being instantly pulled inside by Carmen.

“Dressing room, first thing. How’s your makeup?”

“It’s still… here.” Billie Dean had fallen asleep and not given a single fuck about her makeup. She needed to rest. The makeup could be done again.

Carmen sighed as they got to the dressing room. “Go change and I’ll get someone to retouch it for you.”

“Alright.” Billie Dean closed the door to her dressing room and let out a loud sigh. I’m a show monkey. That was exhausting. At least I can smell sage. The crew had cleansed the place as she had asked to, which made it easier to be there. The screams and whispers weren’t as loud in Billie Dean’s mind; at least not for now. After setting her purse on the couch, Billie Dean began to get changed. She had barely reached the last button of her dress when Carmen slammed the door open and ushered the makeup artist and the hairstylist inside. Without saying a word, she just sat down and allowed them to doll her up as they always did.

Wilhemina had found herself a corner once again, in a spot where she could watch Billie Dean once they began filming. She was counting Billie would call her for help if she needed anything. Why do I care so much? Venable simply did, and she was already getting tired of answering that same question to herself. She cared about Billie Dean in a way she hadn’t cared about anyone in a long time. She’s my friend. That’s how friendships worked, after all. Or at least, that’s how Wilhemina thought they did.

Filming began thirty-minutes after Wilhemina got settled in, and with it came low lights and a foggy atmosphere. Billie Dean stood in front of the cameras and began to speak, letting everyone know she’d be contacting and, hopefully, releasing the trapped spirits in that house. Carmen watched her behind the cameras, and before Billie could finish her first paragraph, she began to shake her head. “No, no, no. Cut!” she yelled. Billie Dean frowned as she looked over at her. “Billie Dean, you need to show more emotion. Make it seem real.”

“It is real,” Billie Dean was quick to shot back at her. She could hear a man chuckling from the other side of the room. Her insides began to boil.

“It’s not looking real to me,” Carmen said.

Taking a deep breath, Billie Dean nodded. “I’ll do better.” Carmen nodded, and they began filming again. From the corner, Wilhemina watched closely. It was hard to show much emotion when Billie had to remain neutral in her light; she couldn’t appear afraid or nervous. She had to be confident, but not so much. The entities there were bad ones, and they knew exactly how to take advantage of any emotions. With a firmer tone of voice and with more pauses between her words, Billie Dean began speaking again. Carmen shot her a thumbs up, and Venable had to control the urge not to roll her eyes. After Billie explained what she was going to do, they cut.

“Cut!” The director yelled. “Let’s prepare the lights for the release.”

“Lights?” Billie Dean arched an eyebrow.

“We have a whole set of fog and lights prepared to make things more thrilling,” Carmen explained excitedly.

Billie Dean clenched her fists so tightly she was sure her nails had poked through the skin of her palms. How many times had she made it clear that she needed candles and nothing else? Other lights and fog and whatever thing they could think about wouldn’t help in what she had to do. Billie Dean needed to concentrate; get herself to another frequency. That wasn’t easy to do. “I—I don’t need lights.”

“We thought it’d leave the episode more interesting than just your acting,” Carmen said.

They think I’m fucking acting. Billie Dean was having a hard time to keep her feelings at bay. Slowly, she took a deep breath. “Lights will make my job harder,” she said firmly, but still calmly.

“How could they? They won’t interfere in anything you do. It’s all fo—“

“She said no,” Wilhemina said, calmly and collected as always as she slowly approached where they were filming. With straight posture and a hand holding her cane, Venable held her head up high. Silence made itself present in the room, saving from the bumping of her cane on the floor. It echoed through the walls.

“And you are?” Carmen turned to look at her.

“I’m Billie Dean’s assistant. I help her with her job, and, right now, you’re not allowing me to do it correctly.” Wilhemina side eyed Billie, seeing she was staring at her. “Billie Dean said no lights. So, no lights she’ll have. If she said it makes her job harder, it makes her job harder. No questions asked. Or should I add the contestations on the report?” Venable gave a shot in the dark.

With a sigh, Carmen reached for her temple. She massaged it for a second before nodding. “No lights,” she murmured. Wilhemina squeezed her cane in victory.

Billie Dean nodded, shifting a little. She was surprised at how Wilhemina had stood up for her, and how easy it had been for her to do so. “Have you—have you cleansed the place as I asked you to?” She focused herself back.

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” Billie Dean looked over to the director. “Ready when you are.”

Smiling to herself, Wilhemina sat back down on the chair she had been at before. As she did so, she eyed Billie Dean one last time and, just like earlier in the car, she mouthed her a ‘thank you’. Venable shook it off and got back to work.

#ahs #american horror story #ahs hotel #ahs apocalypse #ahs murder house #Billie Dean Howard x Wilhemina Venable #wilhemina venable #billie dean howard #Would you Swallow all your Pride?#rabexxpaulson #fanfiction #fanfic #lesbian story #lesbian #lesbian fanfic #ahs fanfic #ahs fanfiction

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sonnetthebard · 3 years

Note

can you do a oneshot with peip spy paul and secret ccrp boss melissa? (yeah this is cause of the stuff sent to hatchetfieldtheories so what lmfao)

Um hell yeah I will! I have read the original theory, but you're also going to get my take on it because I got ideas just by reading the prompt lol. Apparently @hatchetfieldtheories and I are now getting lumped together and I am perfectly okay with that.

Genre: Action/ Thriller kinda?

Words: 2727 (once again... perfect)

TL;DR: Paul's cover as a PEIP agent is blown, and he finally gets to meet exactly who he's fighting against.

TW: Swearing, Guns, Violence, Murder, Blood.

______________________________________________________

Paul sighed, reading over his report before he sent it in. Was the report work related? No. Well... yes and no. Not for his job at CCRP technical. But as an agent of PEIP? It held information that could be absolutely crucial to the work they were doing. So it kind of had to be perfect. One mistype, a spelling mistake, could change the entire context of how it was read and how his superiors reacted. Perfection was key. Especially with what he had found. God, had he found out a lot.

Paul hadn't originally worked for PEIP. No. No, it was a bit of a long story. But... to sum it up, Paul had been caught dead in the centre of a world-ending event. An attack from what had looked like aliens at first but was actually an entity named Pokotho- or Pokey. Paul had very nearly died. He'd almost caused the end of the world. He had almost thrown a grenade dead into the centre of the meteor that was playing host to Pokey and his hivemind formula- which would have simply spread the spores. Luckily, one PEIP field agent- a Xander Lee- had managed to keep himself safe while his unit was infected, and he was able to stop Paul before he made a world-ending mistake.

Xander, through a lot of science Paul did *not* understand, was able to send Pokey back into his own dimension. The world was saved. It still kind of felt like a sci-fi fever dream. Most days, it still didn't feel real. The Hive had healed those it had destroyed, so... most people came back. Not Charlotte or Sam, because they weren't technically killed by the Hive. But Ted, Bill, Alice, Deb, Emma, and even Hidgens were back completely unscathed. Paul and Emma had actually gotten a chance to go to that movie. They were dating now. For three months, to the day. Paul had a bouquet of roses ready to surprise her with after work. He knew she wasn't usually big on the sappy romance stuff, but... he kinda was.

It was about a week after what was now widely known as the 'apotheosis' had passed when Paul got an email from Xander asking a favour. A very classified favour. Since Paul knew about PEIP and what it stood for. Apparently, they'd been picking up suspicious activity from CCRP for months, and they'd been trying to figure out which of their agents to send undercover. But every alias they'd made up had been rejected for an interview. So Xander got the idea that since Paul worked there, maybe he could keep an eye out for them. And as dangerous as it seemed... Paul said yes. The work PEIP did was too important to risk delaying. He was briefed through text, and he learned his job online in a matter of days. Ever since, he had been PEIP's agent in CCRP. And PEIP was more than right to be concerned.

Paul hummed, satisfied with his report. It was concise, precise, and detailed everything he'd seen. Which was a lot. This week... this week, he'd finally made his breakthrough. He was able to sneak to a higher level. Sylvia's level. She was talking on the phone about temporal breaches, trans-dimensional fluctuations, and lots of other jargon he didn't even come close to understanding. He'd bugged her office with a microphone PEIP had sent him so that they would understand more clearly. And when he'd snuck to the lower level, he was finally able to get past that second level of security. And what he'd found there was... eerie. He hadn't gone in. He just looked through the window. But it appeared there were hundreds, if not thousands, of... himself. Just standing there. He'd left a camera. Needless to say the report was more than full of information.

Paul heard the click of heels behind him and he quickly pressed send, closing the tab. He faked looking through his analytics before the clicking stopped. Paul could practically feel the presence looming behind him. At first, he just kept working as if he didn't notice. But... then it started to bug him. Because whoever the heeled coworker was who had stopped behind him was, they hadn't moved yet. He slowly turned, trying not to show any nerves. But he was a terrible liar, so he had a feeling that wasn't working. In front of him stood... oh good, Melissa. He sighed in relief.

"Hey Melissa. How's it going?" Paul asked.

"I need to see you for a moment... in Mr. Davidson's office." Melissa told him shyly.

"You need to see me?" Paul asked, still getting up nonetheless. This was Melissa. She was a sweetheart. She probably had a computer problem.

"Yeah... don't worry, it won't take of your much time." Melissa bit her lip, walking away. Paul followed.

"Did Davidson's computer crash because of that solitaire again?" Paul guessed.

"Um... no. No, this isn't about Mr. Davidson's computer." Melissa chuckled nervously.

"Uh oh... Paul's getting called to the principal's office!" Ted taunted teasingly.

"Shut up, Ted!" Bill groaned. "I'm trying to finish my report! Can I not have peace for five minutes?"

"You can... if you move to another department." Ted smirked. Paul only knew he was smirking because Ted had popped his head over the cubicle to watch him go by.

"I'm not in any trouble." Paul rolled his eyes. "Go back to what you were doing."

"Alright, alright!" Ted snickered, raising his hands defensively and lowering back into the cubicle.

"Sorry about him." Paul sighed, seeing the way Melissa blushed. "I swear he's not as much of an asshole as he seems most of the time."

"Oh, it's fine." Melissa shrugged. She walked into Davidson's office. Suddenly, her demeanor completely switched. "Ken, I'm going to need this office for a minute."

"What?" Paul blinked, his heart immediately sinking to his stomach. There was a pit in his stomach, and it was growing by the minute.

"Sure thing, Mel." Mr. Davidson nodded, getting up and walking out of the office.

"What's going on?" Paul asked, though there was no one specifically he was speaking to. He was just very confused.

"Why don't we sit?" Melissa offered, confidence oozing off of her as she took Davidson's seat behind the desk.

"Um... okay." Paul nodded warily, taking a seat. "Melissa..."

"Let me do the talking for now, Paul." Melissa sighed, leaning forward on the desk.

"Alright." Paul blushed, already intimidated. Yeah, he was totally agent material.

"You probably think you've been pretty slick, don't you?" Melissa chuckled lowly, looking at the cowering bundle of nerves before her. "Slipping bugs all over the facilities, sending your little reports while you're supposed to be writing reports for us... quite the secret agent, aren't you?"

"I... don't know what you're talking about." Paul lied.

"Paul, you're not that bright." Melissa scoffed. "In all your stealth and espionage, you seem to have forgotten that we have security cameras."

"On those floors?" Paul blinked. "I... didn't see any feed from them when I checked."

"Well we're not going to stream it to where anyone can see it!" Melissa rolled her eyes. "And you know exactly why."

"Yeah... yeah, I probably shouldn't have just assumed..." Paul sighed.

"So you admit it then? You're a spy?" Melissa checked.

"Well... yeah. Yeah I am." Paul sighed.

"For PEIP?" Melissa clarified.

"Who?" Paul tried to lie again.

"Paul, you used our network to send your files." Melissa rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, but I followed their..." Paul muttered.

"Which we're well aware of here, and well aware of how to overrule." Melissa sighed. "Really, Paul... you're sloppy."

"I'm not trained." Paul blushed.

"I figured as much." Melissa scoffed. "So they pulled you over to the dark side?"

"They saved my life during the apotheosis..." Paul shrugged. "When they told me something might be up here, I knew I had to help. And they were right, Melissa. Stuff is going on here."

"I know." Melissa smirked. "I oversee it all."

"You?" Paul raised his brows, a bit taken aback.

"Me." Melissa smirked. "You're probably thinking it's a bit weird... me, being in charge, choosing to take on the role of a secretary."

"I'm honestly just trying to wrap my head around you being in charge in general." Paul muttered.

"You want to know why?" Melissa asked. It was, of course, rhetorical. "It's actually pretty simple. The CCRP Technical department had some good cloning candidates. I wanted to be close to the action. Hand-pick who we used. And who would ever suspect anything of the shy, sweet secretary? You certainly didn't."

"So you hand-picked me?" Paul blinked in shock. He was doing a lot of that.

"You're a good size, amiable personality... smart enough, though evidently no genius." Melissa reasoned. "You, in mass, would make a great crew of workers for the Moon Project."

"Moon Project?" Paul asked.

"Oh, you've barely scratched the surface on what we're doing here, Paul." Melissa chuckled darkly. "But you won't be getting any further."

"What are you going to do to me?" Paul shrugged, a faux confidence in his tone. "There are people out there who know me. If I just go missing, they're going to get suspicious."

"Oh... Paul, you think I would tell you?" Melissa started to laugh. "You're so sweet! No. No, we won't be doing anything to you right now. But... let's just say PEIP won't be getting any reports from you in the near future."

"You brought me here just to tell me that?" Paul asked apprehensively. "To gloat?"

"Just to let you know that we knew, yes." Melissa sighed, she pulled out a cellphone, diverting most of her attention to it. "I like to deal with things myself. Handle things face-to-face."

"What are you doing?" Paul asked, a pit growing in his stomach as he watched the way she tapped at the screen.

"Wouldn't you like to know..." Melissa mumbled. "Go home, Paul. Take the rest of the night off. Go to your girlfriend's coffee shop. Bring her the flowers. Happy three months, by the way."

"I want to know what you're doing." Paul stated firmly. Melissa looked up at him before starting to laugh.

"Well isn't that just too fucking bad!" Melissa snickered. "Go. Before I call Ken back in and make you go."

"Okay..." Paul relented, getting up. He looked her dead in the eyes. "If PEIP is concerned about the work here, so am I. This isn't over."

"Yes it is, Paul." Melissa sighed. "Have a nice life."

"Life?" Paul blinked, freezing in the doorway.

"Sorry, did I say life?" Melissa chuckled. "I meant night."

"Right..." Paul bit his lip, admittedly uneasy. He tried to walk silently back to his cubicle... but with Ted Spankoffski around, there was no way he was getting out of this unscathed.

"So, did you get fired?" Ted popped up.

"Nope. Everything is fine. Davidson just needed a bit of help with his computer." Paul lied.

"Shit, he told me I'd be able to fix it next time!" Ted grumbled. "Is he giving you a bonus for it?"

"Nope. It was just a favour." Paul sighed.

"Damn... you fucking pushover." Ted snickered.

"Yeah, I get it, I let people walk all over me." Paul rolled his eyes. He picked up the bouquet of flowers from his cubicle, continuing to walk for the door.

"Hey, where are you going?" Ted furrowed his brows.

"As a thank you, he's letting me off early. So I can surprise Emma." Paul smirked. "We've been dating for three months to the day."

"Yeah you have... give her butt an extra squeeze for me, horndog." Ted teased. Paul blushed.

"Fuck you!" He called back, making his way out the door.

Paul felt something off the minute he stepped outside the CCRP building. Something deep in his bones. He physically shuddered under the weight of it, but... what could he do but keep walking. Yeah... yeah, it was probably just him feeling uneasy after the conversation he'd just had, right? Right... he was okay. Everything was okay. They were probably just gonna put a block on his communications with PEIP. No biggie. He'd survive it. He'd figure out another way to spy, and to get his findings to Xander. Everything was going to be just fine. He was going to be just fine.

He rounded a corner, walking across the street to Beanies. Just as he was about to reach for the door handle he felt a hand cover his mouth and another wrap around his waist, pulling him back. He tried shouting and screaming, but it was muffled. He resisted as much as he possibly could, but this person was stronger than him. Finally, they stopped in an alley, and the hand was removed from his mouth. Paul took a few deep breaths, setting the flowers down and raising his hands in surrender. At about the same time, he felt cool metal pressed to his temple. What a time to be mugged.

"I don't have anything on me to give to you. I used all my cash at lunch. All that's in my wallet is my driver's license." Paul stated levelly. "Believe me. You've got the wrong guy."

"No, Paul... I haven't." An almost identical voice sighed behind him. Paul blinked in confusion. He made a very, very stupid move and turned in the man's arms while his grip was a bit looser. He found himself staring dead in the eyes at... himself. His eyes widened. "You have everything I've ever wanted."

"You..." Paul breathed, before becoming suddenly very aware of the metal on his head. He took a sideways glance, seeing that it was a gun. He had thought it was, just... best to be sure. "Please. Please, you don't have to do this."

"Yes I do. It's either this or the moon, and... I don't want to go to the moon." The other Paul told him, voice shaky. He moved his finger to the trigger, hesitating. "Thank you. For the memories. For giving me the life I'm about to live."

Bang! There was smoke, and then a thud. Paul- the original one- fell to the ground, limp and lifeless. The death was almost instant, just as Paul 23 had predicted that it would be. He'd let go at the right time... and he hadn't gotten any blood on himself. It really had been his day! His cell malfunctioned and opened for him. Then he found the gun just... hanging there on the rack. He was free and armed, and ready to carry out everything he had fantasized about since he was made! It was like the stars had aligned for him! And as a cherry on top... Paul had even brought flowers. If the memories planted in his head were any indication, it was his and Emma's three-month-iversary. These would be absolutely perfect!

He stepped over his lifeless counterpart, rushing to get to the flowers before the puddle of blood forming by Paul's head got to them. he picked up the flowers tenderly, grinning. He took a look one final time at the original Paul, the the flowers. He set the flowers down, picking up Paul and propping him on a dumpster. He pulled out a small chip, slipping it in the appropriate place under his tongue. The finishing touch to his plan. Now... they would think this Paul was him. That he'd managed to erase his tattoo. He tossed the Paul in a CCRP marked dumpster, sighing.

He picked the flowers back up, walking out of the alley. God, this was great! He was about to finally step into the life that was rightly his. His brothers, the other clones, would kill to be him. But of course he wasn't actually going to let them kill him. No, unlike the real Paul, he knew to always be on the lookout. He knew he would never be safe. But for now... was it ever going to be worth it. He walked up to the door at Beanies, walking in. He saw Emma at the counter, and... he couldn't hide his excitement. He beamed, grinning widely. Like a small child. He walked up to her, holding the flowers out for the love of his life.

"Hey, Emma... Happy Three Months!"

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lovlydovlyjaycie · 4 years

Text

Ævi - The Protector

Hey, so this is going to be a mini series on something I have tried to do before. But I thought of a different way to make it shorter and to make it make more sense. I hope you like it, this idea has been in my head for honestly.. a couple of years now lol. I just decided I really want to put it down somewhere. And where is better than here? Am I right?! lol

Summary: This is set in 2010. There are no such things as superheroes. Right? Maybe Iron Man, but that is it. It has to be. Y/n was just trying to celebrate her birthday, but that quickly changed when she got a gift from a mysterious man.

Warnings: Fluff, violence, maybe one swearword

Characters: Y/n, Bjorn Ironside, Ragnar Lothbrok, Floki, Lagertha, OC Emma, OC Lars, OC Sanna, OC Nils, OC David Mentioned: Iron Man, Odin, Ivar, Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, Rollo

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 3

Bjorn Pov

This Frost Giant seemed to have gotten the upper hand on me. I was laying on the ground doing anything in my power to push him off, but nothing seemed to work. The Frost Giant got his sword and tried to push it against my throat, but before he could start doing that he fell limp. Y/n had killed him and the other Frost Giant. I knew she could fight, I was so proud of her. But she seemed to be a little distraught. “See you’re a better fighter than you think.” I tried making her feel better. I knew where were she was from before she got here, that fighting was not a skill you needed. But she was a natural, she just didn’t believe it. She had to let go of what ever thought was holding her back and I will keep reminding her of her to let go even if it is the last thing I do. After my comment she could only muster up a; “You’re stupid.” After all of that happened it made me laugh. She knew she did something incredible deep down. I quickly looked her up and down for injuries and I saw she had a cut on her arm. Or there used to be a cut, there was blood on her clothes but not on her arm. How strange. “Are you ok?” I asked y/n. Maybe it was blood of one of the Frost Giants. She also checked her arm like she was expecting a cut but nothing was there. ”I-I’m ok.. I thought I.. I’m ok-.” Then a sword went through her abdomen. Everything seemed to slow down and speed up at the same time in this moment. Her blood came gushing out the moment the sword got pulled back and I didn’t think twice and looked at the creature who did it. Another Frost Giant. The Frost Giant came charging at me, but I ducked away from his blows. In that time I picked up my axe I had dropped earlier and without thinking I threw my axe as hard as I could at his skull. I hit him right between the eyes and he dropped to the ground instantly.

Then I saw Y/n laying lifeless on the ground. This cannot be happening. A moment ago she saved me, a moment ago I kissed her, a moment ago I met her in the woods and she blasted me away. A moment ago she was alive. “No, no, no, no! Wake up!” I said as I kneeled down and held her head with my hands. “You are supposed to live! You hear me?! Come on wake up!” I yelled at her, hoping somehow she would wake up and this was all a bad dream. But nothing happened. Her cheeks were all gone of the red color it held when I was around her. Her eyes also looked like there was no life in her body anymore. “Come on wake up!” I yelled again. Nothing. I decided to pick her up and go back to the longhouse quickly. I don’t know why I felt like I needed to go there, but I did anyway. I also quickly picked up the sword I had given her also moments ago and ran as fast as I could.

Ahead of me I saw Frost Giants running. If this is the end faith had decided it and this is how I die as well. As I got ready for whatever the Frost Giants were going to do to me, nothing happened. They ran right past me. Was I dead as well? I can’t be right? Whatever that was I decided to ignore it and kept running towards the longhouse.

When I arrived my family was there. Ragnar, Lagertha, Rollo, Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, Ivar and my friend Floki. They all seemed bruised up from the fight. “What happened id y/n ok?” Lagertha was the first one to notice me coming in and holding y/n. That seemed to gather everybody's attention. And I moved forward towards a table that I could lay y/n down on. and put the sword next to her. “One of the Frost Giants got to her. I.. She’s gone.” I felt defeated. She was the one to save us all. I convinced everyone that she was the one. I still think, no, I still know that she is the one to save us all. But this.. She was gone, how could she be gone. Ragnar came standing right next to me and put his hand on my shoulder. “Then we have to save us. It is what the Gods intended.” He spoke. Was it? Then why would they send her. “She was never going to save us, she didn’t even know how to fight she was weak and now she’s gone.” Ivar said from his spot far away from where everybody had gathered to stand by y/n. “Ivar have some respect.” Sigurd retorted. “Oh shut it. You only liked her for what was under her skirt.” Ivar retorted. This seemed to piss off Sigurd and myself as well. “Enough! We don’t know if she was here to save us or not, but now we will never know. Like father said, we have to save us. We have to fight for Kattegat. And we will win.” I said loudly. How dare they disrespect a beautiful woman like y/n. They didn’t see her fight. I turned around and held her hand. “She was our hope and now we are our own hope. That’s what she was here for..... Hope.” And I squeezed her hand. But then she squeezed back. Was I imagining things? “Y/n?” I said softly.

Y/n Pov

I was surrounded by darkness, floating. I didn’t feel like me. Then all of a sudden I felt something squeeze my hand, but it didn’t feel like I was holding anything. I tried to squeeze back. And then I felt it. It felt like a hand. Slowly I started feeling my whole body again. And my I felt my stomach, it felt like I was on fire. I wanted to scream, but no sound came out, no air came out, nothing. Even more slowly I could feel my whole body again and then I realized I was not breathing. I gasped for air and sat up, my eyes wide open. I was couching up a storm trying to catch my breath. I quickly glanced around me and saw Bjorn, Lagertha and Ragnar before something bright surrounded me and I flew up. Bright colors were surrounding me and it almost looked like I could see stars behind all the colors. Am I dead? What was happening? I went at a speed I had never experienced before.

I wanted to scream, but then I landed with a thud on something that looked like glass or crystal. I looked around me and everything was gold. In front of me was a tall man with golden eyes. He looked like a VERY strong men. Compared to him the Vikings I met were nothing. I looked behind me and saw the weird rainbow and out came a whole table flying at me. I quickly dodged it and the man didn’t seem to be fazed that I almost got hit by a table. As I started to stand up looking back at the rainbow thing a sword flew out as well. This one almost impaled me and then it landed on in the stairs. It looked very stuck. Some more planks flew out of the rainbow before it closed.

I turned towards the tall man with the golden eyes. “Who are you and where am I?” I asked him. “You are in Asgard my child.” He said as a matter of fact. Like that wouldn’t confuses me. “Am I dead?” I wondered out loud. Is this where people when they die. “No, You are quite the opposite.” I walked around the stairs, but he stayed standing still in his spot. “Who are you?” I asked again. “Heimdall.” What the.. I am dead. There is no question about it. This can’t be real. “You seem confused.” He noted. “Well yes. This past week has been really strange. I got thrown into some weird place where everybody is a Viking. They have been telling me that they need me to fight some Frost Giants, which is apparently a real thing.. I think or this is still some weird dream I can’t wake up from. Then I got woken up in the middle of the night where I had to fight said Frost Giant and got ... Stabbed.... Are you sure I am not dead?” I was pacing around him but stood still in front of him for that last part. “You are not dead. It is not your time.” He was still staring at the place the rainbow was before, like I wasn’t even there. “How are you sure I’m not dead?” I asked. “Because I only see living souls and yours is very much alive and you will be for a very long time.” He can see the future? “Why am I here?” I asked him, like he had all the answers. “The all father wants to speak with you.” Who..?

“Y/n.” I heard from behind me. From all of this going on I didn’t see anybody walking up towards me. “Who are you?” I asked the old man. One of his eyes was covered with a golden eye patch. “Who do you think?” I had my ideas, but saying it out loud made me feel like I was crazy. But he was waiting for me to answer him, So I just say it out loud. “Odin?” I was unsure of myself. This can’t be real. But he nodded his head. “Follow me y/n, we’ll get you some new clothes.” He told me as he started walking away. I looked down to now only notice the big cut in my dress and covered with blood. This only made me question even more if I was dead. But I decided to follow him anyway. We walked on a very long bridge going straight towards a golden.. castle? It was enormous. Was this really Asgard?

Odin had shown me around the castle, but it was all a lot to take in. He had introduced me to his sons Thor and Loki, his wife Freya and a handful of other people I already forgot the names of. It was a lot to take in. I was given new clothes, but I kept my belt I luckily didn’t lose in everything that was happening and put it on. Even though it was very ironic the tree became my symbol, it spoke to me. It also felt like they were playing a joke on me here as well, as I was given a white dress to wear.. again. I was asked to meet Odin outside of my chambers to follow him somewhere again.

We went into a room that was covered in gold again. Everything was gold here. I felt so small everywhere I walked here, because all the ceilings were so high and every room was so big. “Why am I here.” I asked Odin. I didn’t specifically mean this room. Just in general here on Asgard or with the Vikings. Although Bjorn was a definitive plus side to all of this happening to me, I’d still rather go to where I was from. “For many reasons. One to start with is that stone you have there.” He said pointing to my chest. I looked down and didn’t see anything. “I.. I don’t have a stone.” I responded. “You do. It is hidden right there.” He told me. He came closer to me and all of a sudden me chest started lighting up. It was the same light I saw when I touched the stone before. “You are it’s chosen protector.” Odin said like it was obvious. Then the light suddenly stopped. “Look I don’t know what has been happening and I don’t care, but whatever was just lighting up in my chest you can have it if it means I get to go home.” These last coulple of days made no sense and I just wanted to go home, everybody was probably so worried. “But the home you grew up in doesn’t exist. At least not yet.”

This confirmed what I have been afraid of. I am in the past. “I will never see my family again.” I said under my breath. My mom, my dad, Emma, Sanna, Lars and even Nils. “Not necessarily.” Odin spoke. “What?” I asked, from by the looks of Bjorn and everyone around me there it looked like I was at least a thousand years in the past. And that certainly is not someone’s average lifespan. “It needs a little more explanation. Come here.” He said walking towards a big golden table. On the table there was a tree. It looked like Yggdrasil.

“before creation itself there were seven singularities.” Odin started as the table started to light up. Above it was something floating, it looked like space. Odin continued. “Then the universe exploded into existence and the remnants of these systems were forged into concentrated ingots. Infinity stones.” He spoke as seven stones came in to view above the floating table. A blew one, yellow one, red one, purple one, green one, orange one and a slightly bigger white one compared to the rest. “These stones can only be brandished by beings of extraordinary strength. The blue stone otherwise known as the Space stone, yellow known as the Mind stone, red the reality stone, purple the Power stone, green the Time stone, orange the Soul stone and white the Life stone.” All the stones came into view one by one. “All these stones are powerful on their own. On their own the carriers can use the stone to wipe out an entire civilization. But to use more stones at once you need the Life stone to make it all work together. Because what is a soul, mind, power, time, space and reality all mean if it is not living. But soon after their creation the Life stone disappeared and was nowhere to be found, until you. Now a lot of people are trying to get the power you poses. Because once a group of people tried to use two of the stones without the life stone, but they were quickly destroyed by it.” I was shown images of all the death that was surrounding these stones. “And now you being here with the stone it means it is now possible to use more stones at once.” Odin went on to explain. “What if I give it to you to protect it? I’m not- I can’t protect it.” I told him. How was I supposed to do that? “The stone clearly has a life of it’s own and it chose you to defend it. Haven’t you noticed that anybody that came too close to you followed some repercussions?” He asked already knowing the answer. “The stone you posses shields you and gives you more power to protect you and the living around you. It has a very strong energy to keep the beings away that try to take it from you. Only you are it’s protector. You are the protector of the living as long as it’s needed. Maybe until you are back from where you are from. Vörðr Ævi.” Protector of Life.

Would that make me immortal? Protecting this stone until that time. And who is to say that I would be done protecting it by then. “So this stone is giving me strength, some kind of energy and immortality?” I asked him as he would know the answer. “Yes and I believe you can manipulate that energy in whatever way you want to.” Odin walked around the table towards me. “How would I do that?” I asked him. “That’s why you’re here. We are going to figure out how that works.” For some reason I got really excited. I felt really powerful. I believed him even though it all still sounded so crazy. “But the people on... Midgard.. There are Frost Giants there. If it all is true what you are saying, shouldn’t I be there before anything happens to them. If I am the protector of the Life stone shouldn’t I also protect the people that are living?” I asked him. “Then we better hurry up.” He said as the table stopped with its projection floating above it.

I had been training for three days, which was hard in general, but I was also trying to figure out how to use the energy I had to my advantage which was even harder. Diferent people were training me and I barley had any rest. One day it was Odin and Heimdall, other days I got to train with Thor and Loki and the last day I got to train with the Valkyries. I felt like Thor was a show off and Loki was usually more in the background of things, even though I noticed when he was not in the back he liked to make everything like a grand entrance. The Valkyries were amazing fighters and it was hard to keep up with them. The whole time I could only think that Lagertha would love to fight with them. But Heimdall and Odin were the hardest to fight with. My guess is because they knew what I poses. Odin had told me to keep the information of me having the Life stone for myself.

On the last day of my training Odin had brought me to Freya to put a spell on me that would make it impossible to detect I was possessing this power. It hurt to put the spell on me, it almost felt the same as when I first touched the stone. “It worked, I don’t feel any power on her anymore.” Freya said. Good I would go unnoticed. “This will stay between us. No one must know of your power as it could be far to dangerous for the universe to know.” Odin told me. “It is time for you to go back and I will ready my army to join you later. But before that I have one last gift.” Odin walked away for a second and then came out with a big box. “Freya and her maids made this for you.” He explained.

I opened the box and inside there were clothes or a suit. I pulled it out and held it in front of me. It was all a broken white color. The boots were gold and they would reach over my knees on the chest was the tree Yggdrasil in gold as well. Then there were some golden lines the accentuate curves. And lastly there was a long golden flowy cape that would reach the ground. “Thank you it is beautiful!” I told both Freya and Odin.

After that I suited up and followed Odin back to the Observatory of Heimdall. “What will I be facing down there?” I asked Odin. “The Frost Giants came in the possession of the space stone, that is how they got to travel to Midgard. They want to start another Ice age there.” I don’t know what I was expecting, bit it was not that. “How did they get it?” I asked. “Hela gave it to them. Chaos and death surrounds her.” So everything Bjorn told me was true. Hela was there with them. But they are all so strong and well trained and now I was supposed to stop them? How? “How am I supposed to stop all of them?” “I am getting my army ready as we speak and we will be there shortly after you arrive.

He didn’t gave me time to respond as he guided me towards where the rainbow was beaming. “You posses more power than you think y/n, now use it.” He told me. “I will keep an eye on you out there.” Heimdall said in his calm voice. I was about to walk into the rainbow before Odin said something. “Don’t forget your sword.” I took it from his hands and held it up. For a brief moment it seemed to light up. “Now it is ready to be used by someone powerful like you. Now go you don’t have much time.” Odin said and I turned and walked in the rainbow.

Everything was lighting up again and I could kind of see the stars behind the rainbow. It almost felt like this time it was quicker and I was back on earth, this time in my whole get up. I landed on the beach where everyone was staring at me. In the crowed I saw Bjorn running towards me. “Where have you been? Where you..?” He said as he looked up at the sky. “Yes. And now I’m here to help.”

...

Let me know what you think :)

Also the suit I’m having in mind is kinda inspired by Wonder Woman 1984. At least the boots would be the same and the shoulder pieces would be gold. Besides that I’m imagining it a one piece in white and not really like armor, like Wonder Woman has in the movie. And then of course a tree on he chest. Hope that makes sense :) And btw also no helmet.

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kirencer · 4 years

Text

febuary seventh (i’m seeing you)

Y/n and Spencer's relationship collide around a single day: the one where they first looked into each others eyes.

[Or, the all of the secret love letters they wrote during the beginning of their relationship]

Word count: (part one and two) 9.2k

Warnings: Language

Rating: Gen audiences

A/N: it was too long for tumblr, so I broke it into two parts!! Enjoy. GN! Afab reader (it’s important, trust me)

Part Two

Y/n looked up. They had just finished reading Spencer’s journal, the one dedicated to them. Spencer was kneeling and in his hand was a small box, the dainty ring he’d gotten years ago from his mom sat in between the white.

“Will you, Y/n L/n, do me the greatest pleasure by marrying me?” Spencer said with his anxiety showing through. Y/n gasped and threw themself at Spencer, wrapping their arms tight around him.

“Yes!” they cried, pulling away for Spencer to slide the ring on their finger. Then they took a deep breath. “Wait here.”

They disappeared into the two’s bedroom, rummaging through some things before running back with a black binder in hand. “It’s only fair if you see my unsent love letters, too.”

Spencer grasped it and flipped the binder open as Y/n guided him to the couch.

“They’re in order but aren’t as neatly organized as yours - I stopped writing before you did, though.”

————————————————

For Spencer Reid, february 8th 2008 10:17 am

It was yesterday, a little more than 24 hours ago at 6 am that I was on a bus. Tiny, white and cramped, but now I realize it was actually a ferry to the love of my life. Even though at the moment all I cared about was when I was going to get to stretch my legs next, it still buzzed with excitement because I was about to be in your city even if you didn’t come to see me, that would’ve been enough. Being three feet away from you is more than enough. Being Two inches away from you is bliss. But your head on my shoulder is nirvana.

But then, only two hours after I had started my d&d campaign (the moon isles or something) there was an urge to look behind me. I tried to ignore it but I looked anyway.

What I saw scared me. Not because I’m afraid of you Spencer, but because I was scared of myself. I wanted to run to you and hug you, but I was too scared of scaring you away that I didn’t. My head seemed to spin as a second glance felt like a hundred years. Then a smile broke out on my face and I looked away. At first I didn’t think it could be you, I half screamed at the two people sitting on the left side of me. “Don’t look now, but my boyfriend’s here” of course they looked and Sophia told me that you were walking over here.

My insecurities flared up, but I remembered that you love me, even though I'm tired and probably covered in acne. She said you sat down behind me and I risked a quick glance, or two, or three times every two minutes. I tried to act as normal as possible even though if I looked back I would see the smile that lifted your cheeks when I looked at you. It was hard to focus on my campaign because it’s cliche, but I could sense you behind me and I was shaking. My friends were hyping me up to say Hi and I was trying to not scream. I ran to the bathroom, splashed water on my face and tried to calm down. I ran back, probably looking a little too excited. Ok, I was totally too excited.

My campaign finished up, you caught me staring at you a few times and my friends told me you were looking at me anytime we all made a loudish noise. After that, you followed us to lunch, well, followed me. You stood beside me and I said Hi, you replied the same. Then you grabbed your stuff and seemed to have left. I visibly deflated, my one chance to see you and I missed it. Then you came back, with a takeout bag in hand and some fries. I didn’t mention it already but you looked adorable in your glasses, from afar they look too big for you but then you see the big warm eyes behind them. Your cheekbones are so nice and everything about you is handsome, even more than I could have imagined. Photographs don’t do you justice. I hoped you had liked your dice, I got the red and black ones but I was scared you didn’t like yours.

You sat directly in front of me and my friends (Deriasia and Emma) immediately made fun of me and I almost died. At that moment. When you smiled and laughed. My friends gave us their blessing, which kinda fit because you were as tense as if you were meeting my parents.

I asked you to sit with me during the next campaign and you did (we snuck you in without paying). You played with the first character I ever played (Bida the high elf wizard). I was almost too distracted to really compete in all the things, instead focusing on you. You let me use your journal to doodle, a weird eye and a girl. Did you notice me fiddling with my hands? If I didn't keep them busy I probably would’ve put my hands in your hair or grab your hand. I remember you asking me if I needed a hug. I said yes and I think that hug is the most important one I've ever had. You laid on me and I didn’t care what my friends would say, all that matters was you.

My skin in two weeks will not remember the feel of your hair, my lips will not remember your cheek, but my brain forever will. At that moment, physical immortality is not as important as the immortalization of those touches.

They linger in my head, fuzzy and soft on my skin but they’re there.

I remember you telling me not to buy you anything (i still got you a resin skull magnet and dice) I remember flirting with you, i remember it all. I remember how you know all of Sappho’s poems and fragments, I want to remember everything about you. I know I won’t, you’re the one with the crazy good memory, after all.

I wish I would’ve looked in your eyes and told you that I saw you. I wish I would’ve pressed my lips to yours, but then again there’s always next time. And next time I will, even if it’s right in front of the whole world. Because I love you. I really fucking love you and everyone can suck it. I love you.

And I think that’s all that matters.

____

I have waited almost six months to hold you in my arms, and now I wait longer. I hate myself, I didn't hug you. I should’ve.

I didn’t tell you I love you enough, I didn’t kiss you properly. I wish I did.

Currently my arms ache to hold you, my eyes burn to see you and my lips yearn to touch yours. I can’t wait to indulge myself in thousands of kisses, I hope they are as sweet as your skin. Kinda licked my lips after kissing your nose, cheek, and right under your neck. You taste sweet, I think I'm addicted.

I still feel the ghosts of your touch on my skin, I love it. I love you. I want to have your actual skin under my fingertips, to hold you when you wake up from a bad dream, to dance with you under the stars. Decide what song is ours and argue over how cheesy it is. Cry on the day we say our vows, cry at the birth of our first child, cry when they go to school, cry when they grow up, cry when I realize that we did it. I can’t wait to have life with you.

If there’s such a thing as soulmates then the word was made to describe us.

I love you.

____

I fell asleep, I woke up right before you texted me. I dreamt about you, in my mind I fell asleep with you in my arms. In my mind I am sitting in a cafe, right across from you drinking tea.

I prefer it to real life, by about an infinite percent. My friend came in and basically yelled at me to let him use my box, I told him to fuck off. I know I won’t be able to fall back asleep but I do hope to continue my dream tonight. Currently im trying to believe that you think i’m “stunning” it’s starting to work it’s way into my mind that i’m not ugly.

Spencer, I love you.

You have such an effect on me, the first week we were together you weaseled your way into my mind. You sprouted a tree that is still a sapling but has rooted to the core of my mind, slipping into my heart and spreading through my limbs. You’re almost a drug (the only one I approve of).

You’re poison, searing through my veins and warning my skin. But you’re not toxic, you’re candy, sugary sweet, something tangible that almost floats in and out of existence.

If you are a God, I am your most loyal patron.

____

Time is meaningless but it goes so fast, only eight minutes left to talk then my day ends. So many more ‘I love you’s I could say.

But time will not permit our love, that’s fine, I’ll wait it out till the end.

You’re worth it.

Seven Minutes

____

You always deny that you’re adorable, and that’s so adorable.

It’s frustrating sometimes because you’re so beautiful you deserve to know it. But oh well, i’ll just have to prove you are.

I told you I’d rather go on a date with you first before doing anything sexual. you also deserve to know your love is all I need, not your body (that’s just a perk)

You’re hot, sue me!

____

In the shower, I have most of my daydreams. Ranging from cotton candy clouds to a place where my parents accept me. However, the best daydream i’ve ever had is about a boy. A boy with chocolate brown eyes and a beautiful smile. Ding Ding Ding, his name is Spencer.

My dream is about his last name, well it involves it. I imagine myself talking to him while I say an important speech, in front of a crowd of people. I’m talking about our relationship, about how much I love you, and how much I can’t wait for the next chapter of our life to start. I always tear up when everyone is quiet at the end, and then you say what you have to say. It’s fuzzy and I don’t remember any of it (kinda want you to make your own in the future) but after you say it. It's time.

You say two words, so low only I and the person standing next to us can hear, “I do”

That’s the best day dream I’ve ever had, because I know it won’t be just a dream (I hope)

____

The best part of my day is looking at any photos from you: they always make me smile. Even when my day has been utterly terrible, your bright eyes are always a light in the dark.

I often don’t even need to think about you to have your smile in my mind, it’s just there, like a constant bright sunshiny beam. A single thought about you makes my day, a single touch my year, remembering that you’re mine makes my life a whole much better.

You, make living better.

I live for you, you’re all I ever want to have.

Je suis fou amoureux de toi.

____

So uh, you might have noticed but I don’t know how to talk to people, let alone talk to you.

It’s not that I have nothing to say, I have too much to say. It all bubbles in my mind and makes me jump on topic every three seconds. But when it comes to you, I'm stuck on which way to tell you I love you.

So, how about all of them?

I don’t need to focus on a single part of your face to know that it’s beautiful, but I do. All the parts work in harmony, like a choir. But individually they are still beautiful. I love every single inch of your face, individually and together.

I love you for your personality, I fell in love with a genius who is so much more than his memory or intelligence. Then I fell in love with a sweet boy who whined when I said self deprecating things. When we first met, I instantly fell in love again, with a shy boy who would look up at me from under his lashes.

Fuck, my mind is racing too much to distinguish anymore. But, I hoped I showed you.

That, I love you now, and forever will.

Happy Valentine’s day, my love.

____

Happy anniversary, god I can’t believe it’s been five months already. It seems just yesterday I was crying over whether or not I should continue liking you (i had told myself I wasn’t good enough for you).

Well, turns out I was wrong. I’m just enough for you. It doesn’t matter to me anymore if you’ll ever leave me, well, it does, `but there’s something more important, you being loved and being happy is what matters. And I can’t wait to give you what matters.

I love you babe! I’ll try to write more to show it.

____

My mind is a cavern of echoes, words (well a name) revertibrating in my skull.

The things used to be about art, school, anything slightly important.

But now, it’s filled with the most important person in my life. Analyzing the color of his hair (a warm brown), thinking of his eyes, thinking of his name and my name with a change; Spencer Reid (and sometimes Y/n Reid) has taken over my mind and burrowed into my soul.

I think if the red string of fate was real then we’d have been connected when we first met. Fuck, we are connected.

If we weren’t why would I have fallen in love with you? It was fate that I sent a letter to a wrong address, fate that I stumbled upon the boy that would change my life for the better.

Our souls are connected, being pulled because of the distance though, and I can’t wait to be with you. Not two halves of a whole, but two souls that fit like a puzzle piece.

I love you, and you love me. Even though I'm a coward.

When we have a daughter, her name should be Rhiannon. We will both dote on her like the goddess she is. Just a thought :>

____

You were in my house today. I think I'm dying, I'm wearing your sweater. It smells like you. I think you left it behind on purpose.

You smell really nice. It’s not like a cologne or anything, but it's nice. You’re nice

You kissed me. You’re a really good kisser. You should do it again and again and again.

I got the news yesterday, my transfer went in, I'm sending my letter to you tomorrow. I know you’re in my city but I'd rather it be like this.

I don’t think i'm going to write any more, don’t think that means i don’t love you!!

I am going to hold you for hours, I promise, I love you.

————————————————

Spencer finished reading and smiled up at his new fiance. “We were such dorks! It's crazy how similar we thought.”

Y/n nodded and looked down at their ring. “We were dorks in love! Um, so how do you feel about the name Rhiannon?”

“It’s pretty, but I don’t think we need to be worrying about baby names - we need to figure out how to tell my team we’re engaged.” Spencer quipped, wrapping his arms around Y/n before it hit him.

Y/n’s morning sickness, the weird secretive doctors appointment, and what they had just said. “No!” he whispers, a smile growing on his face, “I’m gonna be a dad?”

They nod and bury their head into Spencer’s chest. Spencer can’t stop the smile that beams across his face. He grabs Y/n and spins them around in his arms, “This is the best news!!”

He pressed a deep kiss to Y/n’s lips, then went onto his knees to wrap his arms around Y/n. “Jason Derek Reid if it’s a boy and Rhiannon Penelope Reid if it’s a girl.”

Y/n smiles and nods, “I was thinking the same thing.”

“Let’s be on the same page, forever from now on, okay?”

They nodded, Spencer’s hands finding place on their back as he pressed his lips right below Y/n’s navel. Y/n’s hand’s dug into his hair: “Forever.”

Years later the two do indeed wake up on a Saturday morning to impatient kids who demand to be made pancakes. Sometimes after a hard case they do dance at three am in their underwear. Sometimes they do a lot of things in their underwear. They’re together in every way imaginable.

And to them? It’s the most important thing that could ever be possible.

The End

part one

#spencer x you #spencer reid x reader #ao3 #reader insert #writing #pregnancy

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thefallenchildofthestars · 3 years

Text

the perks of being a wallflower

i haven’t read the book yet and i do plan on it, i swear. BUT the movie comes off netflix today so i needed to watch it. my room doesn’t have a DVD player or i wouldn’t have bothered but it’s laright.

i love charles, he’s really relatable. not super enjoying the social settings, doesn’t participate in class, doesn’t have any friends. perfect. i like patrick too, he’s the popular OH SAM SAM SAM yes there is sam. the samantha. the trio of friends who you would die to have.

lmao i wish our high school football team was half as decent as theirs, maybe the games would be tolerable.

slut and the falcon. living room routine.

god i wish i could do high school over again. i wouldn’t talk to anyone i wouldn’t look at anyone i wouldn’t meet anyone i wouldn’t do anything other than my schoolwork. no dating, no friends, just my family.

i like the dynamic of him and his sister, it reminds me a lot of aubrey and i.

oh the cliche’s i live for it. come on eileen is a good song too. but standing against the cement wall drinking shitty punch watching complete chaos unfold.

and the cast of this movie!!! it’s to absolutely die for!!! i mean emma watson, obviously, speaks for itself. paul rudd as the fantastic english teacher support character. logan lerman? icon. erza miller is a really good actor.

i would love to do weed brownies in someone’s random basement and talk to random girls about giving marching band letterman shit and how its not a sport and how its pointless to give it to them.

“are you baked?” “like a cake”

oh im gonna cry at this movie what the hell. i wanna feel noticed and welcomed.

here we go the iconic scene, where its emma watson in the tunnel on the bed of the truck. where charle falls in love with sam for real this time, where it’s practically a visual tutorial of how to feel weightless and infinite.

i think that if i do end up switching schools (which will be kind of sad because then i don’t get to go to the cadaver lab) i will live my little indie movie fantasy.

the rocky horror picture show!!! oh it makes me so happyyy. i want a group of friends like this oh my gosh.

we accept the love we think we deserve.

okay season change, we are drifting into the christmas season. i wish that someone would study for the SAT’s with me,

below average!!!

i love the aggression towards mary elizabeth.

oh the stupid record for sam. and when charlie first puts on the suit!!! i think that is brendon urie on the wall but like i don’t think it fits the vibe. OH MY GOSH SHE GOT HIM A TYPEWRITER. IM GONNA CRYYYYYYYY.

write about us. i will.

i just want to make sure that the first person who kisses you loves you.

i love you charlie. i love you too.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. god this movie fills me up with stupid warm hope about life and love and oh my goddd.

the way that his brother and him talks about his mental health is so important. because im the only one who yk has gotten checked into a hospital (twice, thank you very much). who knows what’s going to happen next and im so sick and tired of not living my life but i also can’t live my life the way i want to while im at east because o people and that’s okay its not their fault, it’s mine really. but it would also be my fault if i never tried to give myself better. try to give myself tunnels and weed brownies and mixtapes and secret santas.

oh the record. oh the record.

i’m gonna have to sit down and watch the rocky horror picture show to get full context of the references to the movie but i’ve been meaning to watch it anyways.

sometimes i forget its set in the 90s. the outfits, the language, the everything. oh god mary elizabeth i forgot she liked him since the beginning of the movie and it’s lame because charlie loves sam. oh just mary elizabeth flirting with charlie is bad. like i just never see them together and them making out is weird and OH IT SWITCHES TO SAM. woah boyfriend?

i like that he still writes letters to his friend. it’s important to me. she really just bullies him for the things that he likes. and he just like wont break up with her.

OH OH OH YOU KNOW PATRICK he reminds me of conan gray!!! and maybe that’s why i like him so much oh my god.

WOAH CHARLIE REALLY KISSED SAM INSTEAD OF MARY ELIZABETH bruhhh. like he really should have just dumped her like a week or two later.

im worried about charlie now, because he’s getting worse again and mary elizabeth isn’t helping. and patrick got caught and now everything is going to shit and holy crap everything is rushing back and everything hurts

hearing the story about patricks breakup with his boyfried and then he kissed charlie and he was so okay abuot it because he knew that he was hurting and he just wanted him to be okay. and then everyone started getting accepted into college.

charlie is getting worse and the blackouts are getting worse and im worried that he is going to attempt and its the last day of his freshman year and i don’t want him to.

this gives very unrealisitc ideas about high school and it makes me very upset. but it’s okay. sam is still with her jackass of a boyfriend. OFC HE WAS CHEATING ON HER FUCK.

nothing hates u.

charlie kissing sam and calling her beautiful and it makes me so happy that he kissed her. i hate that she is crying when she kisses him goodbye and i hate that she has to say goodbye and now he’s going to be alone again because all of his friends are gone. and i cant breathe and hes in the hospital.

this movie broke me.

we are infinite.

#the perks of being a wallflower #tpobaw #books #book review #book reactions #mental health #mental health matters #the tunnel song #we accept the love we think we deserve #we are infinite

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lethal-liability · 3 years

Text

Ari's ranking of Imagine Dragon's discography

Here's something literally no one asked for! Anyway rankings are out of 10 and I'll have album stats at the end. Also any songs in the EPs that would later appear on Night Visions are just going under the album. I know that'll screw with their averages but I don't really care.

Imagine Dragons (2009) average rating: 7.2

I Need A Minute: 6/10 A nice fun song I used to like dancing around my room to. The lyrics are completely incomprehensible but I guess that's the point, I like it. The vocals are just a little bit too low

Uptight: 7/10 Funky beat, I really like the synth. I didn't listen to this one much as a kid but I really missed out this song kinda fucks.

Cover Up: 7/10 Some more funky bass and synth, getting into some of the more poetic lyrics that I like from them. Pretty solid.

Curse: 9/10 This 👏 was 👏 my 👏 favorite 👏 song 👏 back 👏 in 👏 the 👏 day 👏 Here's where my bias comes in cause this one gets an extra point purely for that. The lyrics don't really make sense but I would lay up at night coming up with complex amvs in my head to go along with it :) Still holds up to 11 y/o Ari's love.

Drive: 7/10 Again, another one I never really listened to as a kid. It's a pretty good, relaxing song, really different from the rest of the upbeat songs on the EP.

Hell and Silence (2010) average rating: 6.75

All Eyes: 6/10 Another funky song, nothing really special but pretty solid

I Don't Mind: 4/10 Honestly not a fan of this one, the synth is kinda annoying and the lyrics are kinda irritating

Selene: 8/10 Idk what to say I just like this song :)

Emma: 9/10 Honestly pretty much the same as Selene but with a chiller vibe, I like the raspier vocals. Extra points for that nearly yelled bridge HELL AND SILENCE I CAN FIGHT IT

It's Time (2011) average rating: 4.2

Tokyo: 3/10 Look I'm a sucker for funky synth OKAY. I don't speak Japanese but I don't have to to tell you Dan's pronunciation is really cringy. Deducting points for the kinda fetishy lyrics too.

The River: 8/10 This is one of those songs I like to listen to when I'm sad to make myself sadder so I can cry my feelings out. It's got a pretty, soothing melody and nice lyrics.

Leave Me: 2/10 This song used to make the feminism leave my body as a kid but I just can't bring myself to really do that anymore lmao. Come on Dan, that's two kinda gross songs on one album :/

Pantomime: 2/10 I. Really did not like this song as a kid. Like I had a playlist on youtube of all their music except this song. I was right.

Look How Far We've Come: 6/10 Hearing this song for the first time in like nine years was an experience. Not a bad song but dome of the lines are a little clunky.

Night Visions (2012) average rating: 7.33

Radioactive: 9/10 Ya know this is the song that got them famous and for good reason. It's a good song and great amv fodder.

Tiptoe: 8/10 It's gonna be harder to write about these songs going forward because these are ones I listen to regularly so I know I like them but yeah. Good song.

It's Time: 10/10 Radioactive may have been what got them famous but this was their first real big single and it was my favorite. I'm a big sucker for a mandolin and I think this is where they started to lean more into the folky sound than the synthy sound.

Demons: 9/10 Another one of their songs I used to listen to to cry and I don't listen to it much anymore because of that but it's still a good, poetic song that hits me in the feels.

On Top Of The World: 6/10 My mom had this as her alarm when I was in middle school so I couldn't listen to it for a long time. The lyrics are a little heavy handed sometimes and a little incomprehensible at others but it's an alright little tune.

Hear Me: 8/10 This album is a little confusing because they include some of their older synth heavy songs alongside their newer folky songs, but I won't complain with this song. Frustrated 13 year old me loved this song because I, too, felt that no one ever heard me when I talked. Ya know, 13 y/o things.

Amsterdam: 7/10 I have no idea what this song is about but it's pretty good.

Every Night: 5/10 This was their first and last try at what I call a "first dance bait" song. Ya know like Perfect by Ed Sheeren or Marry Me by Train? It's alright, just really heavy handed.

Bleeding Out: 10/10 Oh emo eleven year old me ate this edgy shit up. Is it a grimdark? Yes. But that's a plus for this song. This song makes me wanna scream every time I listen to it I BARE MY SKIN AND I COUNT MY SINS AND I CLOSE MY EYES AND I TAKE IT IN

Underdog: 6/10 Another cute song, not much to say about this one, it's alright.

Nothing Left To Say: 9/10 ANOTHER another song I cry to, this one still hits home for me. It's pretty and soothing but the lyrics are still heart wrenching. The instrumental at the end is nice and I like to fall asleep to it.

Rocks: 8/10 A nice upbeat song that is a little repetative but it's only about a minute long so it doesn't over stay its welcome.

Working Man: 5/10 This song isn't on spotify so I don't get to hear it often and I actually hadn't heard it in a while when I listened to it to do this. It's kinda trying to be a 9 to 5 type song but it doesn't really do it for me.

Fallen: 8/10 Another song I hadn't heard in a while since it's not on spotify but I'm more of a fan of this one. Another amv bait song to me but one with more of a triumphant vibe to it. I really like the vocals in the chorus.

Cha-Ching ('Til We Grow Older): 8/10 The hook of this song, cha-ching x3, has a big potential to become really annoying like some of their later songs (cough cough, Thunder) but they actually somhow make it work. This song hits me a lot harder now than it did as a kid cause god. Yeah. They're so right. We are all living until we grow older.

Smoke + Mirrors (2015) average rating: 9.06

Shots: 9/10 Hell YES my favorite album finally let's get into this shit. Anyway songs that make me wanna lay in a field of wildflowers. Well the music, the lyrics are pretty depressing. But that's what makes a great song ya know.

Gold: 9/10 Songs about the rich losing their humanity? Hell yeah. I fucking love the percussion and the synth in this one too.

Smoke and Mirrors: 10/10 The under appreciated masterpiece of this album in my humble opinion. Everyone always talks about Dream as the best song on the album but I really think it's this one. That yelled OPEN UP MY EYES gets me all the time I just really really love this song.

I'm So Sorry: 9/10 Real sexy bassline on this one. I can't tell what the fuck this song is about but I don't care because it goes pretty hard.

I Bet My Life: 8/10 I like the gospel vibes, especially the backing vocals, some of them out-sing Dan a little bit. This one also hits a little harder now that I'm grown up a bit.

Polaroid: 8/10 Another one with cool percussion, some of the lyrics are lost on me but I get the overall vibe of it.

Friction: 10/10 I have no clue what that string is at the beginning of the song but man does it fuck hard. God actually everything in this song goes pretty hard, I'm especially a fan of the vocals.

It Comes Back To You: 8/10 Nice chill song, I feel like this is one that's gonna hit in a few years. Not much to say about it tbh besides I like it.

Dream: 10/10 This song really does live up to the hype even if I like other songs better. It's really poetic and well composed. You really just have to listen to it to get it tbh.

Trouble: 8/10 The piano at the beginning is a little grating but it gets better. Again not much to say about this one, it's solid, just not one of my favorites.

Summer: 8/10 Another sexy baseline, another set of incomprehensible lyrics. I like it.

Hopeless Opus: 10/10 This one's a little weird but it was my favorite for a while. I like weird. Idk if anyone would agree with me but this one was kind of a self fulfilling prophecy, this really was a hopeless opus since, in my opinion, they've yet to make album as good as this one. Also. Guitar solo.

The Fall: 10/10 I like to put this song on when we get the first cold snap of the year after summer :) It's just really chill and I like the vibes and the vocals

Thief: 10/10 AAAAHHHHHH SONGS THAT MAKE ME WANNA RUN THROUGH THE WOODS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT

The Unknown: 9/10 Cool percussion, I like the intermediate piano, it's a nice touch.

Second Chances: 9/10 I like the strings and the vocals. Another nice chill song.

Release: 9/10 I like that this one is completely acoustic, it's a nice send off for a great album, if a little depressing.

Evolve (2017) average rating: 5.5

I Don't Know Why: 10/10 I have wanted to choreograph something to this song for the fucking longest time oh my god. I really love the vocals and the synth in this one.

Whatever It Takes: 5/10 This one's alright. It's not great but it's definitely not the worst. Perfectly average pop song.

Believer: 10/10 I am a little bit biased with this one because I use it for my OCs a lot but like. It's a really good song. And I don't watch TV so I haven't gotten it ruined for me by commercials.

Walking The Wire: 6/10 I hadn't listened to this song in a while and it's really not as bad as I remember. I guess you can really tell that he was having marital issues when they made this album and that didn't really connect with me back then. But I'm kinda into a little bit of it now.

Rise Up: 4/10 Another really average, inspirational pop song. I like the raspiness of Dan's voice in most songs but it sounds so over processed in this song I can't stand it.

I'll Make It Up To You: 3/10 Wow okay never mind the marital issues vibe is coming back real heavily in this one. Idk it's just such Straight People vibes, I don't like it :/

Yesterday: 1/10 I associate this song with someone I don't talk to anymore and really wanna forget so it's kinda running at a deficit already. But. Um. It's not a good song otherwise. It's another weird song but something about this one just doesn't work.

Mouth Of The River: 7/10 I think I liked this one when it came out, idk why I stopped listening to it. It's pretty good. Not great. But I like the river imagery. Well. I like river imagery in general.

Thunder: 2/10 hhhhhhhhhhhh why did they think this was a good idea. Probably their most notorious song, I know a lot of people cite it when they say Imagine Dragons makes shitty music. I just think it's tragic that this is one of the ones that got super popular for some reason. However as someone who teaches children's dance classes, however annoying you think this version is, you haven't heard anything until you have to listen to the KidzBop version twice a week for a year. Not a complete 0 because I do like some of the vocals that aren't. That Part.

Start Over: 6/10 Another one I hadn't heard in a while, but it's pretty groovy. Not as heavy handed as some of the other songs, and that flute in the chorus is pretty cool.

Dancing In The Dark: 8/10 I like this one a lot, the processing on the vocals is a little wonky but I like the vibes.

Next To Me: 4/10 Yeah this was the "please don't divorce me" song. It's. alright. Really heavy handed, they probably should've waited to release this one but you know.

Origins (2018) average rating: 4.8

Natural: 10/10 Another one I'm biased for because I associate it with a beloved OC. But It's still a good song. I like it.

Boomerang: 5/10 Another song that just has an awkward hook with awkward delivery.

Machine: 9/10 I like this song a lot more now that I know the band is really outspoken about their experiences with mormanism and escaping it. But the irony of a song with a nonconformist message from a pop band is not lost on me.

Cool Out: 5/10 Idk I don't have much to say about this one. It's alright.

Bad Liar: 4/10 Oh boy more divorced dad energy. Hhhhhh I'm getting burnt out on this. For the record I have no problem with people going through things like this, I'm just not into these vibes in my music, especially when they're super desperate like this.

West Coast: 3/10 East coast supremacy. Also why are you trying to be Mumford and Sons.

Zero: 4/10 You know, the Ralph Breaks the internet song? God. That sure was a movie. The song is better, but not by much. It is fun and bouncy but I don't like listening to it too often.

Bullet In A Gun: 5/10 I used to really like this song but now I just associate it with an embarrassing character I used to stan so :/ I do still like the lyrics even if I don't listen to it anymore.

Digital: 3/10 I can't tell if this song is pro or anti technology??? And the electronic melody is annoying.

Only: 4/10 Hhhhhh I'm so tired. I don't like this one.

Stuck: 2/10 idk man. bad.

Love: 3/10 Really trying hard to be the Beatles here. :/ That's really not a compliment.

Birds: 5/10 This one's kinda nice, a little more original but like. I'm so burned out on this theme. hhhhhhhh

Burn Out: 10/10 Speaking of burn out. lmao, no I actually really like this one. I just recently listened to it kinda intently for the first time and I just. Wow. The second verse really gets to me. I feel like this song has a lot of the poeticness I liked from Smoke + Mirrors.

Real Life: 0/10 Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh obligatory "PHONES BAD" song from the folk pop band. At least when Bastille does it they don't literally say "turn your phone off!" in the song. I'm so tired. I'm gonna take a nap before I listen to the next album.

Mercury - Act 1 (2021) average rating: 7.46

Okay I'm still tired but let's do this. Also I've only heard this album like three times so far so this ranking is most definitely gonna change as I listen to it more.

My Life: 9/10 Holy shit this song is fucking heart wrenching and I first listened to it at like just the perfect time for me to ball like a baby listening to it. Literally my only gripe is I wish the tempo would've picked up a little bit earlier.

Lonely: 9/10 This song is equally fucking depressing but it's upbeat and I eat that shit up. The vocals are a little weird sometimes but I really like the pre-chorus a lot.

Wrecked: 8/10 Okay so this album is just gonna be gut punch after gut punch huh? Look, I was really going through some shit when they dropped this album so I like really connected with a lot of it. But yeah I like this song.

Monday: 4/10 Alright. Not a fan of this one. The metaphor is kinda cute I guess, even if it implies that like literally everyone else things your sweetheart is fucking insufferable. Actually. Who tf thinks monday is the best day of the week? Like what kind of person? But, uh, musically, it's kinda annoying.

#1: 7/10 Self-care babie!!!!!!! Okay but this is a nice song. Yes we all need to learn self love it's a fucking journey babe.

Easy Come Easy Go: 9/10 I really like this one, it might be my favorite on the album. My only gripe is the bridge/3rd verse/whatever it's called is a little bit clunky

Giants: 8/10 god DAMN those vocals. This is another kinda weird song but I'm into this one like I am with Hopeless Opus.

It's Okay: 7/10 Honestly I'm kinda tired of hearing "it's okay to be not okay" Like yeah I've been depressed for most of my life now I think I got that at this point. But I am a fan of "I don't want this body, I don't want this voice, I don't wanna be here but I guess I have no choice." Like damn even my gender crisis? Y'all are really just hitting all my nails from the past year right on the head huh?

Dull Knives: 9/10 OKAY ROCK RIFF I HEAR YOU, I just wish it would've lasted through the song instead of going slow again during the second chorus. But yeah, songs that make me wanna scream in the woods in the middle of the night.

Follow You: 8/10 ME AND WHO???????

Cutthroat: 9/10 HELLO AMV BAIT I MISSED YOU I wish it was longer. Also, love Dan's screamo debut I wish he'd just fucking scream his throat raw more often.

No Time For Toxic People: 4/10 okay I think we've established that I'm not a fan of completely unsubtle songs so I don't think it should be a shock that I'm not a fan of this one. The music doesn't really save it either.

One Day: 6/10 M E A N D W H O ? ? ? Not as much of a fan of this one as Follow You though.

Additional Singles but only one's I've already heard because fuck you there are so many of these

Battle Cry: 6/10 I thought this one was from some soundtrack but idk. A transformers movie I think? I can't find anything on it. Anyway, okay song. I like the line stars are only visible in darkness. The rest of the song is kinda repetitive

Born To Be Yours: 8/10 I like this song a lot. I have no idea who Kygo is but I'm a fan of this beat. For the record, this is more something I would use for my first dance.

Destination: 6/10 Another song I haven't hear in a while. I enjoy the vocals from the other band members. But it is an itunes sessions song so it's a little messy, probably could have been better if they'd recorded it as a regular song.

I Was Me: 7/10 A nice sad acoustic song, not much to say, I like it

Levitate: 6/10 This one is from that Jennifer Lawrence Crisp Rat movie no one saw. It's okay. I like the sci-fi vibes.

Lost Cause: 4/10 This one is from the Frankenweenie soundtrack of all things. This is another grimdark edgy song, but it just doesn't have the staying power to me that Bleeding Out did.

Monster: 8/10 This song was my fucking jam as a kid and was the song that got me into Nightcore in middle school so you know it's important to me. Still a big fan of it.

Not Today: 7/10 I actually saw the movie this was from, Me Before You. I would say this is another first dance bait song but I think they were just trying to match the vibes of the movie. The song is better than the movie though. In case you were wondering.

Ready! Aim! Fire!: 7/10 continuing the trend of songs from soundtracks, apparently this song is from Iron Man 3? Seems kinda weird to put a song about rebellion and revolution in a movie about a billionaire 🤔🤔🤔. Anyway it has a more electronic, industrial sound than most of their stuff which i appreciate. Still have to deduct points for being from a marvel movie though oops.

Roots: 10/10 Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh I love this song. Another another biased one because I associate it with one of my OCs but like. It's a good song.

Sucker For Pain: 5/10 Ya know that song from the Suicide Squad soundtrack? The masochist anthem? It's alright, I mean Dan's part is probably the best, the rap is okay I guess, I'm not a huge rap fan so I don't really know what constitutes a good rap. I guess the appeal of this song was all the big names but it just gets tiresome that there's a new voice every 30 seconds. Really gimmicky but Lil Wayne's part is kinda funny so I'll give it that.

Warriors: 8/10 More amv bait, another one I could've sworn this was from some soundtrack but I can't find anything on it. Pretty solid song.

Who We Are: 6/10 This sing is from one of the Hunger Games Movies, I can't remember which one though. Anyway it's fucking incomprehensible but I like it.

Conclusion

Okay so in order from Highest to Lowest ranked the albums and EPs are

Smoke + Mirrors: 9.06

Mercury - Act 1: 7.46

Night Visions: 7.33

Self Titled: 7.2

Hell and Silence: 6.75

Evolve: 5.5

Origins: 4.8

It's Time: 4.2

See and this is completly objective because if you had asked me to rank my favorite albums I would've put Night Visions above Mercury 😠 I did have a good time going back and listening to a lot of old songs I hadn't heard in forever

anyway I'm tired and this post no one asked for is over 3k words so I am going to bed good fucking night

#long post #even with the read more hhhhhh #oh well #anyway #enjoy the most basic band that I like lmao #imagine dragons #ari screams into the void

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