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goddessofmischief · 3 years

Text

Blue Monday, Chapter Thirteen - Loki x Reader

TW: Mention of the word ‘suicide.’ Not discussed in graphic terms.

Author’s Note: It’s been a long journey! There is still so much more story to tell, so please send me questions or feedback if you liked this chapter!

Previous Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

...

The last day of Amora Freyadottir’s life had begun like... well, almost any other.

Loki had woken up next to you. His Amora.

The pair had risen in synchronization, methodically buckling up armor after armor, sword after shield.

And when you were both ready, you’d descended down the stairs together, one perfect unit, marched down to the castle courtyard, where Odin and several other highly-trained soldiers were assembled. He’d instructed you on the mission-

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to escape the flood of memories that had suddenly fallen into your mind.

"I’m... I’m what?”

“You,” said Mobius. “You’re Amora. You always have been.”

“Loki, I don’t... I don’t understand,” you stammered. “You lied to me, you swore you knew I wasn't her, you swore it-”

“I didn’t,” Loki promises. “You aren’t. These lies are simply a diversion to distract us from Mobius’ misdeeds.”

“Oh, Loki,” said Mobius. “Poor, poor Loki - if only that were true.”

He gestures, and a T.V.A. guard rushes in, restraining you both.

“Our story begins in Asgard, I think,” Mobius spoke, sipping from a tumbler of whiskey that had magically appeared. “Yes, that’s the one. Asgard. You and Loki had just marched off to the battle of Vanaheim... a terrible, terrible battle. Oh, they found you in pieces, Y/N. You died a warrior’s death.”

“Not me,” you said, stubbornly. “Amora did.”

“Yes, well... Loki got kinda despondent after that... not all that surprising, since he obviously loved ya-”

You glanced at Loki. He paled.

“And, well, Loki usually gets what he wants... and he decides he wants you back. Only problem is, he wasn’t sure how to do it. You were about as dead as it gets, sweetheart. So he studies, right? He studies for months and weeks, until he finds the plan that works best for him... that he’s going to reincarnate you.”

“No,” you argue, stubbornly. “No. No, that’s not true, it’s not true, it can’t be-”

“Crazy, right? I thought so, too. But I saw potential, in his failures, cause, the thing was... I’d started to see where things were going, even then.

The Earth was on the verge of nuclear war. The stars, divided by piracy and battle. In the middle of all of it... the two of you. I’d been trying to leave this universe for a long, long time - only problem is, the Watchers have kept me here. Something truly cataclysmic would have had to happen in order to let me destroy it - and, well... this little Romeo and Juliet story was a pretty good disaster-in-the-making, if I do say so myself. I knew if I stoked the fires of it, Loki would find a way to make the universe burn.

Soon enough, our friend Loki here uses a considerable amount of dark magic to reincarnate your soul into that of a mortal. He’d thought... well, I imagined he thought that once you reached a suitable age, about the age you are now, he’d give you your old memories, and find a way to make you immortal again. But you just couldn’t stay away, could you, Loki?”

“What does he mean?” you asked.

“I don’t know,” Loki stammers, and Mobius snaps his fingers - and suddenly, Loki’s eyes glow bright green, and a single tear rolls down his cheek.

“I visited you,” Loki whispers, slowly. “In your dreams, I -”

He paused, removing his glove and resting his palm on your forehead. You couldn’t see everything, not just yet - so many of your memories were still blocked out.

But you saw him. You saw him... throughout your life. Long walks, chess games, dives into swimming pools. He’d appear in your dreams, even. You were never alone.

Never.

“You didn’t have any friends,” Loki said. “And... I didn’t want you to be alone.”

“But if you were there, for everything... why can’t I remember any of it? Why can’t you?”

“Well, you can’t remember much of anything, can you?” said Mobius. “Only... the moments without him. The moments with your father. And, of course... your would-be death. But you never could remember what drove you to make that choice, could you? Only that you did, that cold Monday morning, and that I saved you, and swept you away to a life with us. You have wondered, haven’t you?”

You had.

“That was my work. I needed you to get to a point of desperation, so that the T.V.A. would seem the perfect option for you, so that you’d feel you had nothing else left. The thing was, when I made Loki forget... I kinda altered his memory two years before yours. So I doomed you, you see. I left you for two years, without him. He abandoned you... or, so you thought. And without your protector, well, you were a mess, weren't you?”

You had been.

“And without him to stop you, you made the rashest decision you could. You made an attempt upon your own life - and thus, my plan fell into place.”

“So it’s my fault,” said Loki. “If I’d never visited you... none of it would have happened. You’d never have thought I left you. Mobius never would’ve been able to manipulate us. It’s my fault you... died. Or, almost did.”

This was almost too much for you to comprehend. You were Amora? Loki had known you all your life? His leaving caused your depression, and set Mobius’ plan into motion?

But something more important stood out, too -

You loved Loki.

And he loved you.

Somehow, that had to mean something.

With a growl, you kicked Mobius across the room.

Loki turned to you, and without wasting a moment -

The two of you ran.

“Loki!” you found yourself shouting, tempted to shake him and make him listen to you.

“We can’t just run!”

“Why ever not? I’ve used this strategy - it’s worked for me, many times.”

“Because your last enemy didn’t have access to every timeline in existence! We can’t hide - he’s just gonna follow us there!”

He considered this.

“Fine,” Loki said. “How about this - we’ll fetch some back-up.”

You had to admit, your heart began to pound a little faster about the idea, just imagining the heroes you and Loki could recruit.

Alternate Iron Man. Alternate Black Widow. Perhaps even Thor himself-

“I’m sure me, being me, would be more than willing to help.”

Just like that, all those hopes came crashing down, all at once.

“Uh... what?”

"Well, in this scenario, I can really only trust myself, darling. You of course can understand. We’ll simply locate a variant of me... and enlist their assistance.”

You shrugged, helplessly.

“I... I guess.”

By this point, you figured you were going to die, anyway. You may as well just give in to his flawed logic and see where it would lead you.

“But I’m not dealing with another Lady Loki,” you insist, as Loki started to focus his energy on programming the tesseract with coordinates. “Not again.”

“No, no, of course not... then again, we would have gotten along, had I not possessed something she wanted. So, it seems to me... all I have to do is find a ‘me’ that hasn’t yet lost his Amora.”

“Okay, how do we do that?”

Loki focused on the tesseract.

“There,” he uttered, after a moment. “It’s... it’s programmed. It’ll take us somewhere, I know not where... to me. A me who has a version of Amora with him. That me will have no need for jealousy, and I’m sure I can reason some way to tempt them to aid us-”

“And... we’ll take her with us, too? The other Amora?”

“Jealous already, darling?”

“No,” you said, raising your gun to blast an approaching T.V.A. soldier. “Never.”

He grinned, and takes your hand.

And together, you both disappear into the icy-blue light of the Tesseract.

...

Taglist:

@bepo-is-sorry @the-obelisk @buckybarnes1982 gorgeourrific-nerd @suwupremeleader @sserpente @tripleyeeet @kcd15 @rorybutnotgilmore

#blue monday #blue monday: a loki story #blue monday on disney +#loki blue monday #blue monday masterlist #loki x reader angst #loki #loki imagine #loki disney+#loki x reader #amora #amora the enchantress #loki and amora #loki x amora #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader

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whenimaunicorn · 3 years

Text

The Heart of Admiration - Part 7

Charles Vane x OFC

In which some things are left unspoken that perhaps should be said, and others are uttered that definitely should not have been.

Prompt: “Looking for mermaids?” Content: introspection, sex-negative attitudes, crass objectification, angst, angst, angst. Catch up here.

Notes: I’m embarrassed to admit how long it’s been since I posted the last part, so I’m not even going to look up the date. Especially since this chapter resumes right where the last one left off! I hope you can remember what was going on with all that “Mrs. Vane” nonsense, because none of the other characters are letting Hope (or Charles) forget it... Also, fair warning, this ends on an cliffhanger, but I do have most of the rest already written and hopefully will be able to put it out in a more timely manner. Words: 2300

It's so much worse than she had thought. Bad enough that Captain Vane might now have the impression that she feels some romantic inclination towards him, but to learn that it’s spread to the entire crew, too? Jack’s words have set her to brooding all the more intently. Hope barely even noticed him depart.

Because . . . she doesn’t feel that way about Charles Vane. Does she? What face could she be making, that Jack thinks he sees longing in her eyes when she contemplates their captain? A ridiculous notion.

And yet. Hope has never believed in lying to herself. A capable woman faces all of the facts head-on. To do otherwise would leave a lady trapped. Outmaneuvered. Society thrives on the soul-numbing lies it requires women to tell themselves. And Hope’s most fervent promise to herself was to leave that sort of thing behind.

No self-deception, then. When she thinks of Charles Vane, her chest warms. His presence on deck sets her heart beating faster, and the effect is not solely due to his authority, is it. He doesn’t speak much, but when he does she listens eagerly, interested in every rare glimpse into his mind.

Bother. Jack might be onto something.

Those stray thoughts she suffered through in the wee hours last night may not only have been sparked by Vane’s unusual proximity. The warmth in her body spreads lower.

When she turned to piracy, leaving Society, she abandoned its restrictions. This included a short period in which she satisfied certain curiosities. So her maidenhead is gone. Its passing was . . . anticlimactic. She hasn’t thought much about sex since then. Pities the women required to perform that marital duty on a nightly basis, if she’s being honest. And she’s quite motivated to keep to her course now, a life of independence that will hopefully culminate in the acquisition of a small fortune sufficient to set up her own comfortable retirement by the time age starts to stiffen her joints.

She’s surprised, then, to find the notion hidden in the depths of her mind that with Vane, such intimacy could be different. The way his hand had molded itself around her thigh last night, the feel of his arms around her and his breath against her neck when he’d smelled her perfume. Her body had responded so much more vigorously than expected.

But it was probably just the drink. And reactions such as those are always fleeting, aren’t they. Such feelings are not an acceptable reason to risk her respectful place on this crew by tumbling into bed with its captain.

Hope turns away from the rail, puts her back to the sea and gathers her thoughts into a forceful summary of conclusions. Yes, it seems she is harboring a certain affection for Charles Vane. But it’s manageable. Not something she is going to allow to interrupt her plans. If she can just figure out how to wipe the dreamy schoolgirl look off her face that certain perceptive members of the crew have apparently noticed, she should be fine. Because it’s not like her feelings are returned. He would have made a move by now. She remembers her early suspicions, that Vane might be attracted to her, but things had settled, quite comfortably, between them since then. She’s almost embarrassed to have been prideful enough to have thought it.

That issue being settled, she marches herself back up to the helm to adjust their course and sets her thoughts to things that are truly important.

~*~

Fellows pulls through; the cache is there, and no soldiers in sight. They make quick work of hauling it all onto the Ranger. The sun is slanting low by the time they’re done; they’ve had to swing around the long way to avoid being spotted by anyone that could later connect their ship to the theft.

Days like these remind Vane why he’s so grateful to have such a skilled navigator, who can locate their position so precisely that they can leave the sight of land and come back in at such an exact, advantageous angle. Swoop in on the cache from nowhere, and swoop right back out again. They’re like ghosts today.

Rich ghosts. He’d never hear the end of it if he ever drove her away with his clumsy, misguided affections.

Vane knows he will have to be very careful tonight. Their ship could not be seen returning from the location of the cache, and there was not enough time to return Mr. Fellows home from a more roundabout angle before sundown. Which meant their guide was spending the night on the ship, bunking with the crew, and Hope . . . Hope would of course be sleeping in the captain’s quarters with her “husband.”

Vane exhales, fingers gripping the railing as if the wood might impart some of its steadfastness. To have had her unexpectedly in his arms was one thing. A pure, heavenly moment that had caught him by surprise. It was quite another to know that she was to spend the night with him again. How could he possibly stay calm, and feel her body just beside his, in his own narrow bed?

It would be a simple thing to sneak a hammock into his quarters, of course. He feels his face burn a bit as he becomes aware that he’d like to pretend that particular solution had just never occurred to him.

Hope’s smart. She will definitely think of it herself, anyway.

~*~

Hope finds herself down by the guns. It’s not her turn to help with the cleaning and re-setting, but she doesn’t want to be anywhere near Fellows, or Vane, or the boisterous crew in the mess. Besides, she likes being seen doing extra work; helps combat many of the prejudices about a lady on board. She settles in next to Stevens, one of the handful of her old Starling crew that had been accepted with her into the Ranger’s fold.

“Mrs. Vane,” he says by way of greeting just as she starts the scrubbing. He doesn’t say it like the other crewmen had. There’s scorn in his voice, and perhaps a hint of a question.

Hope scowls. “Not you, too.”

Stevens nods, as if she’s passed his test. They work in companionable silence for a while, until the only other man on this deck stretches, stows his tools, and exits via the ladder. Probably sneaking off now that Hope has effectively taken his spot. Only then does Stevens speak. “Been hopin’ you’d come talk to me.”

Hope looks up, without pausing her work.

“Seem to be finding your place here.”

“Everyone has use for a good navigator.”

“More than that. Look like you’re fitting in.”

“Do I?”

“Or is this just what you do. Make people like you. Find your way to the top, the inner circle, even if you’re just making the best of it.”

There’s a bitterness to the way he’s speaking, but Hope doesn’t feel like it’s directed at her, necessarily. Stevens has always had friendly feelings for her, that’s why he followed her to this crew. She decides to say very little, invite him to say a little more. “Can you blame me?”

“Guess not. You’ve always had a way with people.” He glances at the hatch, though there’s no one there. “Big take today,” he comments.

Hope grunts in agreement.

“Biggest we’ve had, since leaving Nassau.” He puts a little more oil on his rag. “Big enough to make up for the Starling.”

Hope’s hands stop moving. She forces them to continue. “I . . . hadn’t thought of it that way.”

Stevens sniffs, a sudden rush of nose-clearing air. “We have. Me and some of the boys.”

He has to mean the rest of the Starling crew. There’s four more of them, those that Vane hadn’t seen a need to punish for her brother-in-law’s stunt, fine seamen who hadn’t seemed like a mutiny risk to Jack when he recruited them out of the splinters of that disbanded crew. Hope had even vouched for them.

Apparently Jack can’t be right about everything.

“With your help, Hope, it’d be easy.”

~*~

Vane’s quiet contemplation is interrupted by Jack’s voice. “Looking for mermaids?” he asks, joining his captain on the deserted stretch of deck and staring down into the dark waters alongside him. The ship is safely hidden in a cove, and most of the crew are down in the mess for their nightly meal.

Vane replies with a rather rude gesture.

“No, there’s only one maid you’re interested in.”

Vane looks up sharply.

“Has a nice ring to it, ‘Mrs. Vane.’ I suppose that’s why the crew can’t seem to stop saying it.”

He grunts. “Torturing her.”

“Maybe just a little.”

Jack lapses into silence, but Vane is certain that won’t last for long. Maybe he should walk away now, avoid the question that is sure to be coming next. However . . . Vane can’t stop asking it of himself, either. So he may as well just let Jack say it.

“I’m out of more subtle advice,” Jack says. “And you never were one for subtlety, anyway. So here’s this: if you want her, just take her already.”

Not exactly what Vane thought he’d hear. He shifts, looks more squarely at Jack, and plays dumb with his reply. “I have.”

“Not onto your crew. It’s obvious how much you want her in your bed.” He’s eying Vane closely.

Is this what Jack thinks of him? He’d always pegged Jack as a bit of a romantic, seeing how well he treats Anne. He’d been bracing himself for a conversation about deep feelings. Not this crassness. “And as a member of my crew,” Vane growls in reply, “she’s got full rights here. I can’t have her by force.”

“Who says you need to force her?”

This is not what Vane wanted to hear, either. The last thing he needs is to build up a false hope. “Lay off, Jack. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He turns squarely back toward the water.

“You really can’t tell.”

“I’ve tried flirting with her, Jack. When we first got her. She rejected me quite squarely.”

“Sometimes I wonder what it is you consider to be ‘flirting,” Charles, when most of your experience is with whores who already know how your coin spends.” Or girls looking to yoke his power, but at least Jack was kind enough not to mention that part. “Is it possible your approach lacks a certain . . . art?”

“Don’t say you’re offering to teach me,” he growls.

Jack’s hand flutters in the air. “You’re a lost cause anyway.”

“I’ve already resolved to never try again.”

“But why?” Jack leans over the rail, seeking his eyes. “She’s as smitten as you are; I don’t see how you can’t see it.” He sighs. “You’re too much alike, too proud and too timid, both at once, to see what’s right in front of you.”

“I know what’s in front of me,” Vane retorts, choosing to ignore the accusation of cowardice. Because he likes Jack. He’s let him get away with worse without rearranging his face over it. He can let this one go too. He takes a deep breath, and feels himself scowling. “I’m not going to say anything to her. Leave it, Jack. You weren’t there this morning. When she woke up and found herself in bed with me . . . she made her lack of interest abundantly clear.”

Jack is shaking his head. “I can’t believe that. More likely you’ve scared her off with your extreme stoicism. How is she to know of your interest, if you’re not giving any signs of it?”

Vane looks over from the corner of his eye. “If I’m not giving any signs, then how can you be so certain that you know my heart?”

Jack claps him on the shoulder. “Because I know you too well, Charles. I know your tells. And you’ve gone through too much trouble to capture this bird.”

Vane growls his disagreement with that choice of phrasing.

Jack keeps barreling on. “Yes, yes. She’s a great value to the crew. But that’s not why you took her.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Is that not what you did? You saw what you wanted, and you got control of her. We didn’t have to come down so hard on the Starling. But you needed to stake your claim. Now I feel like we’re all just holding our breaths. I’ve never seen you like this. You took her, I don’t understand why now you won’t take her. Tough as she is, she’s too much a maid to be the one to take the initiative. She might even be a virgin still. In need of a strong, experienced hand like yours to guide the way.”

Vane grunts, he can’t help it. He’s been trying so hard not think this way, but Jack’s words bring unbidden images to his mind. Hope’s wide eyes, looking up at him from his pillow. The softness of her flesh; the sounds she’d make if he—

Jack’s still talking. “God knows you both could use it. And she won’t be getting it anywhere else, not with you looming over her as you are. So why don’t you get on with it? Scoop her up and throw her in your bed. Hope’s not more than a bird you’re keeping in a cage if you keep going on like this.”

“Is that what I am.” Hope Wickham herself materializes from the shadow at the end of the deck. How long had she been standing there, listening, fuming? Long enough, judging by the look on her face. Charles Vane feels his heart sink down to his knees.

On to Part 8

Taglist is open: @navigatrixnarrations @ladyhubris @summertimesadness101 @23orso @n3rdybird @bitchyikes

#charles vane x ofc #charles vane imagine #black sails fanfic #the heart of admiration fic #charles vane x hope wickham

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welllpthisishappening · 3 years

Note

Newbie here for all the hockey and Captain Swan nonsense (and pretty much everything else on your blog!) Can I request either "bloody kiss" or "a hoarse whisper “kiss me”"? Also, I definitely am interested in what Big Bang you just completed!

Hi, hello, welcome to this nonsense! You can absolutely request both of those things and I can semi fill those prompts with far more words than I was planning on writing. Eventually, maybe these prompts won’t all be canon, but that’s apparently the vibe we’re riding right now. Everyone else is welcome to partake in the aforementioned nonsense of this blog and the kiss prompts extravaganza so I don’t keep shouting about the book I finished this morning. It was real dumb. Like, super dumb. Anyway, here’s some making out.

“You know I could hear you?”

He doesn’t hear. Her. Emma. Almost hears. Words filter through a haze that appears to finally be catching up with Killian, eyelids fluttering and pulse steadying and he imagines a lot of that has to do with the placement of her fingers. Trailing across his forehead and just above one of his eyebrows, studying him with a sort of intensity that he knows only she has.

Fiancée. She’s his fiancée, again.

Even the thought makes his heart feel as if it’s going to beat its way out of his chest. Explode, possibly. That would be rather violent though. Could ruin the moment, as it were.

“When was that, exactly?”

He mumbles. Barely moves his lips. Can only manage to crack open one of his eyes and it’s not the one with the eyebrow Emma appears so intent on memorizing. Not that he’s especially opposed to the memorization. Of his eyebrow or any other part of him, not after another involuntary and far too long separation and he hopes Blackbeard drowns.

Somewhere off the coast of Neverland.

None of those mermaids are particularly merciful. In Killian’s experience, at least.

“Couple days ago,” Emma says, “the chest started talking.”

He opens the other eye. “Be more specific.”

“You’ve got an exceptionally dirty mind.”

“Chose your words more carefully then,” he challenges, but there’s no real heat behind his words. Not that way, at least. “Do you think we’re winning now?”

“In the non-existent True Love race?”

Smiling as widely and as suddenly as Killian does threatens the structural integrity of his cheeks. Both of them. Muscles strain from lack of use and recent frown-like tendencies, and furrowing his brow even a little bit sends a flash of pain through all of him. Gods, but he’s tired. And strangely comfortable. Stretched across sheets that apparently boast a rather high thread count, though he’s still a little shaky as to what, exactly that is, and even less sure it really matters, not when her fingers are so soft and his heart continues to do that erratic beating thing and—“Last I heard your mind-reading powers were a little suspect, witch.”

“I don’t think we’ve reached the insult portion of the evening.”

He chuckles. Keeps smiling. Doesn’t even consider pulling her fingers down. Despite the growing need to kiss directly beneath her ring for as long as she’ll allow. “Let me know when we get there, aye? And yes, I do believe we are. Winning, that is. Underworld challenges, magical doors fueled by magical flowers. Am I missing anything?’

“Sucks we didn’t get a rainbow kiss.”

“Perhaps that’s waiting in the wings. Of romance and whatnot.”

Listening to her laugh is his favorite thing in the world. Bar none. The way it flutters out of her occasionally, like she’s still a little surprised that it happens and Killian used to worry about that. Not anymore; not now, certainly. Now, he wants to keep surprising Emma. Wants to be surprised. To never grow entirely complacent or completely content. Although, he’s awfully close to content now. If he’s being honest.

Piracy often frowns upon complete honesty.

“Maybe,” Emma concedes, “and you’re not letting me tell my story.” “You’ve got very distracting fingers, that’s why.”

She rolls her eyes. Keeps tracing and it’s wonderful and comforting and—

Killian hisses. Grits his teeth before he can completely school his features, which makes Emma’s expression twist almost immediately and he’s not interested in that. Unless the twist is coming from the precise way her hips tend to buck when she’s beneath him. As it is, her eyes widen and his breath catches and she pulls her fingers away. From the gash he’d almost forgotten was on his forehead.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she chants, but he’s already moving, and using the hook he’d removed hours ago to tear off a corner of the shirt he also should have taken off is not quite as simple as he’d like. Takes a moment for him to get any worthwhile fabric off, dragging it immediately across Emma’s blood-stained fingertips.

“Stop that. Apologizing does not become you, Your Highness.”

“That’s stupid.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”

Her eyes widen. More. To an almost comical size, catching Killian off guard because he means those words as well. The syllables, too. Down to each letter and each sound that rolls off his tongue and he’d like to use his tongue for a variety of other things, but this feels important and a line they can’t come back from, and Emma’s magic surges. Jumps over him in a way that feels as much like a blanket as a semi-aggressive wave and he supposes there’s something in that contradiction. To the way he feels and the way they are and a True Love competition that absolutely does not exist.

He knows he’s not bleeding anymore. Neither one of them move the fabric from her fingers.

“I’m sorry,” Emma repeats on a whisper, shaking her head before Killian can so much as open his mouth to object, “for not thinking and not trusting and I—well, maybe the shell phone was another True Love sign. That puts us at three, at least. Definitely winning.”

Heart explosion does not hurt nearly as much as Killian expects. And his heart’s been yanked and squeezed and used against him, more often than he thinks is average. Even in this realm. So he’s got plenty to compare it to. Only now—well, he doesn’t think his heart is actually bursting and he cares less about the realm than the people in. About the flash of golden hair he noticed well before his eyes met hers and he knows he’ll think about the way she stumbled over her own feet in a magical doorway every single night for the rest of his already far-too-long life.

He only cares about her. That’s the point, he supposes.

“I love you too,” Emma says, answering a message from several days earlier. “How did you hit your head, by the way?”

“Blackbeard is a noted bastard.”

“God, fuck that guy.”

Scoffing is not laughing, but weariness is creeping back beneath his skin and Emma’s lips quirk up all the same. He’s staring, that’s how he notices. Unabashedly, so. And it’s entirely possible she’s blushing. “That’s the spirit, aye. You really could hear me?”

“Yeah. It’s, uh—there was tear magic involved, apparently, so I guess you couldn’t hear me?” She doesn’t mean for it to come out as a question. Killian knows. Shakes his head anyway. “Right, right, yeah, I figured, and I...well, I knew you wouldn’t leave, too. Even when I wanted you to have left.”

“You wanted me to have left?”

“That sounds shit, that’s not—” Emma’s nose bumps his. There’s not much room between them. So, he kisses her fingers. Makes sense. Plus, he doesn’t have much space to do anything else. “That’s not what I mean, not really. If you left, then it was just...another failure, you know. Would have made it easier to shove into the corner, try not to think about it because I could say I always knew it would happen, or I expected it. But that’s as shit as advertised and I know you’d never do that and I don’t want you to do that, don’t want you to leave, not again or ever and—”

“I think you should kiss me,” Killian interrupts. Gruffer than he’d like, and he’s not capable of magic anymore. Can’t rip hearts out of chests or threaten them with anything more than this realm’s poor food options, but he’s fairly certain the golden-haired woman lying impossibly close to him on these ridiculously soft sheets is all too aware that she already holds his heart in both her hands. And he can’t think of anywhere else he’d rather it be.

She moves. All arms and feet, fingers in his hair and mouth slamming into him, catching his gasp and his groan in equal measure while he tosses the goddamn hook on the floor. It falls with a clatter that draws laughter out of both of them and makes it easier to pull Emma against his chest, Killian already shifting onto his back while his tongue manages to accomplish at least a few of the things it would like to.

Nails scratch and hips do, in fact, buck. Desperately searching for a rhythm and tearing a bit more at clothes he’s willing to burn eventually. There’s no rainbow. No swelling or invisible orchestra, save for the roar between Killian’s ears, but he can’t bring himself to worry and finds it ridiculous to care.

He knows. Emma knows. The goddamn magical door knew. And his message got back, even if it wasn’t perfect. To her, just like he did.

For as long as they both should live.

#cs ff #kissing prompts #really the plan was not for these all to be canon #or for them to get longer #but let's not act like that's surprising #also very nice anon: my big bang is bellarke!#it's a beauty and the beast AU #it is also ridiculously long #that's not surprsiing either #really #because of who i am...like as a person #anonymous #laura rambles

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sushigal007 · 5 years

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A week with the Dreamers

Decided I’m gonna see how a text post with picturs works, and then maybe copy it over to LJ afterwards. Let’s go!

MY GAME!!!

So here’s Darren paying the first pile of bills.

Alas, after all the home renovations, there wasn’t enough left for the second set. So as Darren had a want to max out a skill, I made him paint all day long. Darren: Can I take a shower at least? Nope, sorry, sold the shower to pay for that cool wallpaper behind you.

They still don’t have enough money for a shower by the time Dirk gets home from school, but they can at least pay more bills.

I could swear Darleen’s grave used to be here? There’s even a mound for it. Still, that can be fixed with a little help from my friends boolProp and Batbox.

Darleen: See you soon. Spoiler: She didn’t show up again.

Anyway, once Dirk was done with the bills, I had him invite over Lilith because she’s my favourite and it’s so nice to play a household where people like her and are nice to her.

See? Autonomous hand holding! THEY ARE SO CUTE!

Angela: Bitch. Nobody asked you.

Lilith didn’t appreciate being stalked by her sister either, especially when she’s in the middle of having an important emotion.

Anyway, Dirk has a locked want to get into private school, so as it was the summer holidays, I sent him out to go and catch a nice, juicy fish.

Dirk: Hooray! Unfortunately this was the Hotel California lot I mentioned before, and it wouldn’t let him leave. Every time I tried, the action immediately dropped out of his queue, so I had to exit to the neighbourhood without saving and so he lost his fish.

Let’s try a different park.

I don’t recommend feeding that to the headmaster.

I don’t know if this is normal burglar behaviour or a mod I have, but it cracked me up to see her tiptoeing past the lot. Burglar: Shh, I’m being stealthy.

That’s better. Let’s go home and see how Darren’s doing.

Darren: BLIBBLEBLIBBLEBLIBBLE Smashing.

While Darren was doing some primal screaming in therapy, Daniel walked past and I had Dirk greet him, without thinking. And they both snubbed each other. I guess Dirk isn’t all that thrilled at being ordered to interact with his girlfriend’s abusive father. Dirk: Order me to punch him. That’ll thrill me. Tempting! Tempting. But no.

He got on much better with Mortimer Goth here. Dirk: Ghosts, you say. Interesting.

Ah, yes, this lot. Dirk rolled Romance as a secondary, so I sent him on a date with Lilith, but it was impossible to do anything because errors popped up on everyone every few seconds. I just checked and for the ten minutes they were there, I got 76 error logs. It was madness.

They did manage to get a cute dance in, but in the end I gave up, ended the date and sent Dirk home. I’ll have to send my playable buisness owner out to check on it.

Back home, I saw the double bed icon in Dirk’s queue and thought he was trying to sleep in the wrong bed, but turns out he was just tucking his dad in. Which is weird, but OK.

As a result of my big CC clear-out, a lot of my lots now have missing wallpapers, random bowls of fruit, that sort of thing, so I sent my rich townie business owner to a couple and then immediately sent Dirk to test it all by buying a snowcone, whereupon it promptly started to rain. So, exactly like summer here then.

Saleswoman: We also serve ice cream sundaes. Dirk: You’re an NPC. Don’t talk to us.

He’s had a locked want to earn money for a while, but he never rolls any job wants, so in desperation, I made him freestyle for tips.

To my surprise, he actually got a pretty big crowd of admirers!

Unfortunately, none of that translated into tips. Dirk: This is piracy. I’ll sue.

I made him fish instead because wow, look at that lake! That’s a well stocked lake!

Back home, I found out Darren had maxed out creativity when I wasn’t looking, so I decided to try and find his OTH, which wasn’t Arts and Crafts. I know I could cheat and make it so, but... that’s cheating.

Turns out it was nature. Darren: Important question. Can I eat this? Probably? I wouldn’t recommend it though. Darren: Then I’m not interested any more.

Dirk’s got a competitive streak, but as games contests don’t seem to work and he has a grand total of one cooking point, I ignore his wishes and try to find out his OTH too.

Whichh turned out to be tinkering. Unfortunately, there’s not a lot of tinkering to do in the house, other than jamming pointy things in electronics, so of course, I order Dirk to do it.

Terrible decision on my part, really.

Aaand he broke the television, so I made him jam that screwdriver right back in there.

Which worked!

I don’t know if this counts towards Darren’s hobby, but he seemed to enjoy it anyway.

I decided to reward him for his hard work by sending him to Pleasant Views, the local strip club. Not because I’m a dirty pervert, honest, I just wanted to see if the modifications I made to the pole worked. Which, yay, they did!

Now lets see how long it takes Tumblr to notice Darren’s naked Ken-doll body and nuke this entire post, even though it’s behind a read more (ETA: the anser is: immediately. It went straight into content violation and I had to appeal). At least Photofuckit only deleted the rude pictures. Until they put everything behind a $400 paywall, that is. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea after all. Darren: Are you kidding? This is the best idea you’ve had all week! I meant posting this on Tumblr knowing their purity bot can’t tell a sim male nipple from a close-up cumshot. My last five followers were all pornbots, btw. Just saying.

Then I spotted Florence and Jared Starchild snogging and noped out before they could find the photobooth.

Darren’s social was pretty low when he got home, so I had him invite over Brandi Boke.

Then he immediately took care of that social motive himself by inviting her upstairs for a quick one.

Brandi: I dare you to make that joke.

Then I spotted Nina and Dina outside and invited them in. Nina: I just wanted the paper, tbh.

Nina: Psst, Brandi, did you hear about Darren!? Brandi: No, and I’m really hoping this isn’t something that’s going to give me any regrets. Nina: I hear he knows townies! Lies. I used Monique’s gnome to remove them from his relationship panel.

Well, Darren and Brandi seem to be getting over Darleen and Skip. Darleen: Whatever. I’m dead, I don’t care. Just don’t sell my toilet.

And while those two are busy, Nina’s being a bitch. Dirk: Please, I already got electrocuted once today!

Never mind. It’s time to visit Camp Hades, where some of my teans are suffering from CC Purge Syndrome worse than others. Most of them I’m going to just leave until I get round to their households again, but Violet’s low-cut jeans have to go.

Should this worry me?

My main goal for this summer camp is to make all the various teens better friends, but also to indulge in everyone’s hobbies and happily, one of things Camp Hades offers is a restorable car, so Dirk gets to tinker in slightly safer condistions so long as you ignore the fact hat he’s doing this in his pyjamas with bare feet.

Nobody had a nature hobby, but I held a big ‘ol fishing party anyway, just because it’s a great way to build relationships between multiple Sims.

I didn’t take many pictures of summer camp because I didn’t want the post to get too long, but I did spot Jill Smith reading Jules O’Mackey a bedtime story.

Back home! Lilith had been walking past when Dirk left, so I quickly had him greet her so she’d be there when he got home, but Nina was very unhappy with this. Nina: There’s only room for one red-headed bitch in this town and it’s me. Brandi: This is fine.

Dirk: *suspicious looks* Lilith: It’s OK, she didnt do anything, it was the other one. Dirk: I know she didn’t do anything. That’s the problem.

Darren tried to smooth things over by influencing Nina to talk to Lilith, but Lilith wasn’t interested. So Nina pushed her when he back was turned, which I’d never seen before!? Damn, Nina!

So Dirk decided to cheer Lilith up with his penis.

You know your dad and Brandi had sex in that earlier, right? Dirk: Don’t care, busy.

Lilith: I feel better now.

Darren: Heeey. You had sex in that too? Dirk: Nope nope nope nope nope.

The next day, I sent Darren and Dirk to the pool to hang out, but I kept getting errors there too. Seems there’s a problem with all my musical instruments, so I’m going to have to troubleshoot that soon. :( At least it only takes five minutes to load the game now though.

Darren: Ahh, it even smells like her! You... you know that’s not yours, right? Darren: It is now.

I sent Dirk on a date with Lilith. As you can see, it went well. (Actually, it really did, they had a dream date, but shh, it ruins the joke.)

Dustin was walking past when Dirk got home, so I invited him in to play some games.

And the week ended with Lilith’s grandad phoning up to enquire about Dirk’s intentions. Which amused me at first, until I realised Herb’s probably Lilith’s only other friend.

So! In conclusion:

UBERHOOD INDEX

#sims 2 #uberhood #premades #dreamer #pleasant #broke #caliente #and more

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compfox214 · 3 years

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Games For Sony Clie

Free Games For Sony Clie

Games For Sony Clie

Free Games For Sony Clie Pda

Free Games For Sony Clie

Pocket Mahjongg for Sony CLIE 1.03 is a game inspired by the classic game of Mahjongg solitaire that has now come to your high-resolution color Sony CLIE. Apr 21, 2004 At 4.9 by 3.0 by 0.6 inches, the elegant, dark-gray Sony CLIE PEG-TH55 has the solid feel of a serious handheld. The 3.8-inch, 320x480-pixel transflective TFT screen dominates the face of the device. Palm Desktop for Clie This is Sony's version of Palm Desktop. It has been reported that this version of Palm Desktop which came on the TH55 driver disc works with ALL Clies. Image Converter 1.1 Excellent program for converting videos and images to Clie-compatible formats. Image Converter 1.5. Sony and the Environment How we’re reducing our eco-footprint through energy efficiency and recycling initiatives. Sony Pictures The hub for your favourite movies and TV shows. Sony Music Classic artists to today’s stars, local and global.

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GlassWave

As Sony is a media giant, it is no surprise that their latest handheld, the PEG-N710C, has support for playing digital audio. What is a surprise is that it has built-in support for the controversial MP3 format, which is the preferred format for music piracy. Sony would rather people use its ATRAC3 format which has copyright protection. The N710C comes with applications that can play both.

Sony handled this in an unusual way. The N710C comes with a version of its Palm Audio Player and desktop app combo that plays MP3s and a completely different set that plays ATRAC3 files. Neither can play the other format.

To store and play MP3s, all that is necessary besides the player is a regular Memory Stick like the one that comes with the N710C.

To store in ATRAC3, a MagicGate Memory Stick is required. Sony's MagicGate technology is intended to protect digital content. These are white, as opposed to regular Memory Sticks that are blue. Windows 2000 users beware, the ATRAC3 version of the desktop software requires FAT32 and won't work with NTFS.

How much music can be stored on a Memory Stick depends on both the size of the MemStick and the quality the file is saved in. At 132 kbps, a 128 MB MemStick can store 120 minutes of music. At 66 kbps, that jumps up to 240 minutes.

However, the 128 MB MemStick is only available in the MagicGate version and it costs a hefty $300. The largest regular one Sony offers is 64 MB for $140.

Of course, it doesn't matter how much music is stored if the battery is dead. Sony says that during audio playback with the screen off the battery should last about 11 hours but only 3 hours with the display on. They have added a convenient button to turn off the screen while playing music.

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MP3 Overhyped and Over Priced!

The most overhyped feature of the Clie is its mp3 player functionality. Compared to standalone mp3 players, the clie costs significantly more due to the excessive price of its memory sticks. Sony must make most of its profits off of selling these sticks and sell its pda at a loss, similar to the razor/razor blade analogy. The maximum capacity of these sticks is only 128 mb at $299 with unwanted copyright protection built in whether you like it or not! I read an article about new Creative Labs mp3 players coming out this September which will offer 6-10GB of storage for, you guessed it, $299 and compact at 3' x 6'. Doing simple math, you get 46 times the amount of memory for the same price! Check the link below to read the full article.

http://www.zdnet.com/products/stories/reviews/0,4161,2706731,00.html