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ldwritesstuff · 3 years

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Fallen Kingdom

Holy Shit this blog is alive, whaaaa?????

Anyways, I was scrolling around on @ingapotejtoo‘s Blog and I saw his recent drawing of a royal portrait and the rambles of an Anon there as well and it got me a-thinkin. So here is what I came up with. I hope you enjoy.

“Tubbo you have to hold still,” The Captain laughed.

“But I wanna go to the garden!” the youth named Tubbo whined.

“The painter is almost done, just wait,” The Captain beamed.

The child fussed a bit before settling back down. Portrait day meant getting dressed up in their finest attire and standing around for hours while the painter worked to capture their image. The prince of the kingdom, still a young child, wasn’t amused by this. He would rather be out playing nations or with the bees. The good king of this land, referred to as the Captain, smiled at the boy. Sure he kept a stern face for the portrait but how can one not smile at this kid? It had been a long time since the once mighty sailor had settled down here after finding the orphan Tubbo at sea. Granted he liked to argue that Tubbo was a gift from the goddess herself, the only explanation he believed in.

“Alright, done!” the painter said, flipping the canvas around.

The Captain and Tubbo looked to see the fine work of art. The Captain, dressed in royal red robes with gold accents stood proud. The golden crown sat on the king's head with the diamonds shining brightly. Around the Captain's neck had red and gold jewelry and a green and gold ring on his finger. Tubbo sat next to him on a stone pedestal with a green and gold necklace to compliment the Captains own. Tubbo even had his own little blue cape to match his father’s. Tubbo beamed in the portrait compared to the stone faced Captain.

“Another job well done,” the Captain hummed.

“Can we go play now?” Tubbo whined, clearly done with all the sitting around.

“Let’s go get this hung up first and then we go and play before lunch,” The Captain answered.

Tubbo smiled at that, hopping down from the stone pedestal. The servants grabbed the painting and marched it to the ballroom. The Captain followed with Tubbo holding his hand. The palace gleamed from a recent cleaning for spring. Being inside for most of the harsh winter months drove the little prince insane, much with the rest of the palace staff along with the child. The Captain took it all in stride with how rowdy he could get sometimes. Thankfully spring came around and now Tubbo could run around the estate and play in the sunshine.

“How does this look your highness?” the servants asked as they hung it on the wall.

“A little to the left and should be perfect. All who come and enter the grand ballroom can see it,” the Captain proclaimed.

“It’s pretty Captain,” Tubbo said.

“Indeed. Now then, I think the garden awaits us? After we change out of our serious clothes” The Captain said as he ushered the little one along.

“You get to be the bad guy this time,” Tubbo chirped.

“Alright, but i’ll win this time,” The Captain smirked.

Happy times

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A distant memory.

The once great king walks among the ruins of a once mighty kingdom. Houses burned to the ground, the streets overgrown. Remains of a coup surrounded the king without a crown. The Captain let out a sigh as he pushed forward. His dark brown hair slightly disheveled from the journey here. The man swore to never return, the bitter taste the sight left in his mouth. He had settled down in this hidden valley to get away from the war and fighting. But his enemies reminded him of the path he took a long time ago.

The remains of the castle stood on the hill, abandoned and lifeless. The worn warrior climbed the steps with his sword tapping his side. This place, once held life and joy, now a sarcophagus of lifeless and haunting memories. The night when it all fell still burned in his mind. All he knew is that he failed, he failed his subjects and more importantly, he failed the ones he loved. The reason for all of this glowed softly in his inner coat pocket. He had half a mind to chuck that thing into the nearest river and never see it again. But at the same time, letting the enchanted Eye of Ender fall into anyones hands but his own would bring about a greater end.

Inside the crumbling castle walls, he gazed upon the torn gold and red banners. The Captain blinked slowly and continued along his way. The initial anger burned into a numbness that has lasted him years to today. At one point, he ended up in the ballroom and gazed upon a torn painting. The Captain’s face slashed out and the prince torn to shreds. He reached out, his hand brushing the remains of the canvas. They were happy, everyone was, and now many long gone. How alone the Captain is in these lands.

The man made his way around the empty palace, everything destroyed and a bitter reminder of a different life. His room long gone, a fire had raged through there during the night of the attack. The prince’s room had been ransacked but he dared not to go in there, far too painful for him even to this day. So he continued, up and down the halls, searching for something and yet nothing.

At one point The Captain found himself on the balcony, the one where he dived from after being cornered. How he got there in the first place, the memories all too vivid.

There was an explosion, the little hand that was in his own disappeared. The Captain looked back to see rubble and fire. The people, no, monsters, who started this all began to swarm. A hot rage filled the Captain as he tried to push passed them, to get to his son, a chance to save him. But the attackers pushed back just as hard as he swung his sword. The Captain never cries, not for anyone. But the tears that flowed from his eyes as he screamed with every swing couldn’t be held back.

He was out for blood. He wanted them to pay for getting his son killed, for invading his kingdom. But they were too strong and he was forced back. The Captain found himself cornered on the balcony. He saw the kingdom burning, the screams of his subjects rang out in his ears.

“Give us the Eye of Ender and you might live,” one shadow hissed.

“You attacked my people, burned my kingdom and killed my son, give me one reason why I shouldn't destroy it now?” The Captain growled.

The people hissed in fury. Why should The Captain care? He lost everything all in one night. No, they won't take from him anymore. If they wanted this trinket so badly, they’d have to go through him now. After all, he had nothing left to lose.

The Captain climbed onto the railing as they pushed forward.

“Give it to us,” they hissed.

The Captain smirked, a broken smirk. He looked at the people, the fire glowing in his eyes, any life void from them now.

“Tell your master you have failed, long live the king,” The Captain said.

The crownless king looked at them, gave them a two fingered salute and then fell backwards. Their cries of fury didn’t reach the Captain as the wind whistled past him, falling down, down, down. A few tears fell from his eyes as he plummeted to the ground.

But the stop at the end wasn’t one he was expecting. The river that ran at the base of the castle caught the Captain and swept him away. The Eye of Ender, the curse that caused all of this, hummed and glowed in his pocket.

The Captain took a deep breath in, giving his head a shake. He didn’t realize how tightly he gripped the old railing until the pain registered with him. His hand now slightly red, burned a little. Someday, someday he would take revenge but even after that, what is the point? Everyone is gone. His son is dead and his subjects either dead or scattered. No, this kingdom would remain in ruins, a reminder of dark forces and a once thriving place. The Captain turned away from the balcony and back into the castle.

Back at the entrance, his foot hit something. He looked down to see an old crown with the diamonds in it dulled from the dust. The night his kingdom fell is the night where he lost his crown and swore to never put it back on. The Captain didn’t deserve it. But he did pick it up and stashed it away in his coat. Maybe he still had an inkling of hope that things could return to normal. But those hopes dashed when he looked at the destroyed throne.

“Never again,” he muttered and left the palace.

#captainsparklez #tubbo #Fallen Kingdom AU #LD Writes

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occasionalfugo · 3 years

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Catching up.

So I’ve been gone for a bit. And I still kinda am, but I’ve decided to clean this blog up a bit anyway. I’m trying to revamp most of my social media to become a full-time artist, so I figured it also applies to this blog. There’s years worth of art stashed here which might be useful for resumes and stuff.

This cleanup doesn’t mean that I will come back here 100% but it would be more comfortable to potentially come back to something clean and full of positive emotions, rather than old sad associations. So I’m slowly deleting the more unsavory posts and will look for a better blog theme.

Also here’s an update on everything that has happened while I was gone (from around the start of 2020 to present day) for those, who are interested.

Fugo and blog stuff:

Aged 23 last month.

Grew his hair out back to ponytail length (might update icon soon).

May undergo some other visual changes if I come back here.

On-blog year has moved to 2008.

Some blog canon got re-written to shave off the edgy mistakes of my younger self. Might be re-written more in the future. A better story update will come with the blog theme update.

Some trashy posts are deleted. More might be deleted sometime soon too. Best stuff will be left alone, no worries, I’m only getting rid of cringe.

Mod:

Changed name to also being Fugo.

Got engaged with a wonderful and caring person.

Generally softened due to previous point. Got my mental shit together, so to speak.

Was finally diagnosed with some disabilities (ADHD and various physical issues).

Started writing a novel with my partner and it’s going to be the best thing I’ve ever created when it comes out.

Worked two different jobs and ended up quitting them for health preservation.

Got kicked out of my queerphobic family in the first few months of the pandemic.

Had to hop apartments a little bit, now more or less settled in a better one.

Slowly making money doing art to buy the most essential living necessities (food, meds, basic utensils, better furniture, ect.).

Generally okay, step by step I’m getting better.

I can now be found at @funkboyart, so feel free to follow or reach out. I reblog funny posts and occasionally post art. Most of my art updates go to my FurAffinity though.

If you’re reading this - I appreciate you sticking with me for so long. Or just only now finding this blog! I’ve watched JJBA ask community change and shift in so many ways over the years and it’s safe to say that it’s pretty dead at the moment. So I really appreciate you still following this blog, even though I can’t promise a comeback.

Though... Actually I can. If I don’t come back sooner, you can be certain I will be here if/when Stone Ocean gets an anime. See you then!

#mod talks #info #03.11.2021

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eternalnight8806-3 · 4 years

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A Very Feudal Christmas

OMG OMG OMG I MADE IT!

Ok, dear anon, I am so sorry for the delay in your gift. I’ll admit I had a bit of trouble with the prompt you gave me. But I do hope you enjoy this secret Santa gift of mine!

Category: Romance, fluff, Christmas theme

Pairing: InuKag

Words: 3,346

Rating: General or Teen

Also read on AO3 or FF.net

Tagging: @inusecretsanta @keichanz @noviceotakus-blog @hinezumi @morikothehalfangel @cstorm86 @digital-art-monster @cammysansstuff @redflamesofpassion @heyy-ahriii

The snow touched one of InuYasha's triangular shaped dog ears and he flicked it in response. Yellow eyes looked up at the dark sky and the falling snow. He smiled as he thought about whatever this “Christmas” surprise was Kagome had in store for all of them. She had taken it upon herself to force them all to take a few days off from shard hunting to celebrate this holiday from her time.

InuYasha still didn't understand the strange custom. Kagome had forced him to cut down a tree with Tetsusaiga and she had taken it inside Kaede's little hut. There, she had fashioned little baubles and decorations from plants, berries, fabric and other found items available to her. On the very top she placed a five point star she had managed to make from twigs and twine. Once the star was placed, she stood back and admired her work.

“Isn't it beautiful, InuYasha?” she asked him.

“Keh. I don't get it, Kagome. What's the point of all this damn stuff?”

Sighing, Kagome shook her head and tried to explain it again. “It's an old custom from the west. It brightens up the house during the winter and it provides a place to put all the presents under.”

Shippo leapt up onto Kagome's shoulder and looked at her excitedly. “Presents?”

Kagome giggled and ruffled the kit's hair. “Yes, Shippo, presents. We all get eachother a present, or sometimes we just choose one person to give something to randomly so evertyone still gets a gift but no one has to spend too much money to buy everyone gifts. That's called a secret Santa.”

“Santa?” Shippo looked puzzled at the word as he spoke it.

“Santa is a magical man who's supposed to live up at the north pole with all of his helpers who make all of his toys for all of the children in the world. Then, on Christmas Eve, he loads up his sleigh with all the toys, hooks up his eight flying reindeer and delivers them to all the children.”

“In one day?” Shippo asked, wonderously.

“Yep. He's magic, remember?”

“Wooooow...” he said as he looked on, a sparkle in his big eyes.

“Keh. Sounds like a load of crap to me,” InuYasha grumbled as he slumped down on the floor.

“Kagome turned to him and glared. “You live in a world with demons and magical swords. You can't believe a man can use some kind of magic to do something wondrous like bring joy to children?”

InuYasha flushed at her scolding. “I... I guess...” he mumbled.

Miroku stepped forward and pulled Kagome's attention from the grumpy hanyou. “Tell us more about this “secret Santa” custom, Kagome.”

Smiling, Kagome clapped her hands together and happily replied, “Well, we all write our names and a few ideas for things we would want or need on a piece of paper and then fold them so we don't know who's is who's. Then we place them all in a container and swish them around to mix them up and we all draw a name one at a time. We don't tell who we got and then on Christmas morning we reveal who our secret giftee is.”

“Ohhhhhh Kagome can we do it? Please, Kagome, pleeeeeeeease?” Shippo begged, jumping up and down excitedly. Kagome laughed boisterously and nodded her head at the happy fox child. She bent over her giant yellow backpack and pulled out a notebook and pencils. Carefully, she ripped six pieces of equally sized paper and handed one each to Kaede, Sango, Miroku, Shippo and InuYasha, keeping one for herself.

Over the next several minutes the sounds of scratching, erasing, and heavy sighs were heard throughout the tiny hut as each of them thought about what to put on their slip of paper. Finally, they each had something written and folded their papers. Kagome grabbed a small bowl and had each of them place their paper in it. She used her hand to swirl them around for a few seconds before she leaned down in front of Shippo and said, “You pick first, Shippo.”

Positively beaming, Shippo reached his tiny hand in the bowl and drew a name. He opened his paper and smiled gleefully. Kagome moved on to Sango, then Miroku, Kaede, and InuYasha, until there was only one paper left that she took for herself. She opened it to discover that she had drawn InuYasha's name. He had only written one thing below his name, 'Acceptance'. Eyes brimming with tears, Kagome tucked the slip of paper into her jacket pocket and quickly wiped them away before anyone could notice.

The next few days went by with everyone talking in hushed tones and quickly clamming up when someone came into view. Shippo had basically disappeared, but they knew he'd be back by Christmas morning. InuYasha was the strangest of them all. He kept to himself even more than normal, not even speaking to Kagome. She had hoped he would ask her advice on his gift, but she knew he was probably trying to figure it out on his own. As for Kagome, she had a big plan for InuYasha. Unfortunately, it wasn't something he could unwrap in the traditional sense, but she looked forward to giving it to him anyway.

Kagome awoke Christmas morning to a very excited Shippo jumping up and down on her chest and yelling, “Kagome! Kagome, wake up! It's time for Santa!” Smiling, she rubbed her eyes and smiled at the young boy.

“Alright, Shippo, I'm up. Go tell the others I'll make some breakfast with Kaede and then we can open presents, ok?” Shippo happily bounded away to do as she had asked of him. As she sat up, Kagome stretched out her arms above her head and looked around the small hut. Kaede was already up, with a fire started in her fire pit. She had put on some rice and as a special treat had gathered a few eggs from the locals to make for the group for this special day. Kagome also had a special surprise for everyone stashed away in her backpack and she couldn't wait to see all their faces when she let them try it.

Rising from her pallet on the floor, she walked over to Kaede and looked down at the small pot of rice she was stiring. “That looks so good, Kaede. I'm starving!”

“Aye, child. We best get these eggs ready before InuYasha busts down my hut and Shippo loses all his patience and tears into his own gift before it's time.” Kagome giggled as she grabbed another pan to make the eggs in.

She had just cracked the last egg into the pan when Miroku, Sango and Shippo all joined them. Kagome frowned and looked down at Shippo. “Where's InuYasha?” she asked.

“I dunno, Kagome. I looked everywhere. Even in the sacred tree. I couldn't find him anywhere.”

Kagome's face furrowed into a frown. It wasn't like him to disappear without telling them, except in the case of... But no. Surely he wouldn't do that to her on Christmas when he knew how much it meant to her? She pulled in a deep breath to keep herself calm and to stave off the tears that threatened to fall.

The group ate in mostly silence, sensing Kagome's tension. Even Shippo's cheery mood had dampened somewhat. But then, something magical happened. Shippo's ear flicked, his nose twitched and he shot up from his spot on the floor and ran off out of the hut in the direction of the forest.

Kagome quickly tried to go after him, but the young kit was too fast for her. “Shippo!” she called, but he was already out of sight beyond the treeline. Sighing, she returned to her own spot on the floor and shoved the food in her mouth with obvious annoyance. It was just as she had finished her last bite of egg that Shippo came bounding back in the hut, followed by InuYasha.

Kagome breathed a huge sigh of relief, along with the rest of the group. But she glared up at him anyway. “Where were you, InuYasha?”

Face flushed, he responded, “I was... gettin' my gift. Sorry I'm late...” he said, sheepishly. Kagome smiled up at him and grabbed the bowl of food she had saved for him and handed it to him as he sat down next to her on the floor. He began shoveling in his mouth in pure InuYasha fashion and she couldn't help but giggle. He looked over at her, his cheeks puffed up from all the food and said, “Wha?” through his mouthful.

She simply shook her head and said, “Nothing, InuYasha. I'm just glad you're here is all.” She then stood and walked over to her backpack and rummaged through it until she found her special surprise for everyone. Everyone looked at her curiously as she pulled out little paper packets and a few long thin bars with the word 'Hershey's' in big letters on the wrapping. “Shippo, could you go get a small bucket of milk from Ichiro, please? He knows you're coming.”

“Sure, Kagome,” he said as he happily ran off to complete his task. He returned moments later with his prize and Kagome smiled as she took it from him and poured it into the kettle she had placed over the fire. Miroku and Sango watched her with much curiosity as she stirred the fresh milk. Once it was warmed, she opened up the paper packets and poured the contents of them into the milk, turning it a medium shade of brown. Shippo's eyes widened. “What kind of magic are you using, Kagome?” he asked her.

Kagome chuckled and shook her head at the kitsune. “Not magic, Shippo. Just something from my time. You'll see when it's all done. You'll like it, I promise!”

She continued stirring the now brown milk until it was fairly well steaming. It was then that she opened up the bars and broke the contents of them up into the milk, stirring them in as well. As she stirred, the milk turned an even darker shade of brown, and Kagome's eyes gleamed. Finally, she poured the concoction into six mugs and went back to her bag in search of one more thing. She pulled out a small bag of small, white fluffy looking things and placed several on each drink before handing a cup to each of them in turn. They each looked at the drink and sniffed it carefully. InuYasha studied it most of all, staring at it with wide eyes and flicking ears.

“It's called hot chocolate with marshmallows. It's something we drink in cold weather in my time. It's really good, I promise. Try it,” Kagome prompted.

Slowly, each of them took a small sip. Shippo's eyes grew twice their normal size and he exclaimed, “Kagome, this is amazing!”

Miroku nodded in agreement, “Indeed, this is very good, Kagome.”

Sango simply stated, “This is common in your time? It seems so special...” Kaede agreed.

“It's easier to make in my time. We don't have to milk cows to get milk, we just buy it at the store. And we have this thing called a microwave that heats food up for us much faster than traditional cooking,” she stated.

“Woooooooow, Kagome. Your time must be so fun!” Shippo exclaimed.

Laughing, Kagome said, “Sometimes, yea. But honestly I'd rather be here, with you guys.” She looked around them all to the tree in the corner of the room. “Now, are we all ready to open our gifts?”

Shippo shot up and said, “Me first, me first!” As he ran over and grabbed his package and handed it to Kaede. “Merry Christmas, Lady Kaede.”

Smiling, Kaede untied the twine holding the box together and opened the gift she had been given. Inside the box was a new handmade basket decorated with flowers and ribbon. It had 3 separate compartments. “Oh Shippo, this is so beautiful,” Kaede exclaimed.

Beaming, Shippo said proudly, “I made it! It's for all your herb collecting. So you don't have to mix everything up or carry different baskets.”

“Thank you, child. I will cherish it,” Kaede said as she patted the boy's head. “Now, I believe it's my turn, then?” She said as she stood and made her way over to the tree and retrieved her own gift, handing the package to Shippo with a large smile on her face. “Merry Christmas, dear.” Shippo could hardly contain his excitement as he tore open the box. He peered inside and with careful hands pulled the item out and held it up for everyone to see. Kaede spoke softly, “It's a charmed spinning top. Once you use it, it won't stop spinning until you speak the magic word.”

“Oh Lady Kaede, thank you so much! This is the best thing ever!” Shippo said as he ran and gave her a huge bear hug.

Chuckling, Kaede patted his back and said, “Of course, child. Yer very welcome.”

Miroku stood and silently walked over to the tree and picked up a small box. He turned, sighed deeply, and handed it to Sango. “Merry Christmas, Sango,” he stated, obviously nervous.

Sango looked into the violet eyes of the monk and with shaking hands opened the gift he had presented her. The box contained a piece of forearm armor, matching her current armor, with one small difference. This piece contained a hidden blade with the words 'My Dearest' inscribed on the blade. “Now be careful, Sango. The blade is dipped in a permanent poison that I'm told works on humans and most lower level demons alike. Supposedly it won't ever need replenished,” Miroku said as he stared at the young taijiya.

“Oh, Miroku, it's the most beautiful thing I've ever received. Thank you so much,” she said as her face turned a hefty shade of pure pink. She carefully set her gift down next to her hiraikotsu and walked over to the tree to retrieve her own gift. She stood in front of Miroku and handed him her present, hands trembling.

Miroku looked at her with wide eyes and wordlessly opened the gift. He looked inside the box with wonder as he pulled out a bundle of fabric and let it fall open. It was a small, formal kimono. One obviously meant for a child. Shyly, Sango spoke, “It's for your first child. For, you know, after we defeat Naraku...” Her words trailed off as he looked at her with his eyes positively sparkling.

“Sango, this is the most precious thing you could've given me. Thank you so much.” With those words he wrapped her up in his arms and gave her a tight embrace, making the slayer blush even deeper. She returned his affections, however.

With that, the whole group turned to Kagome. It was time for her gift to InuYasha. Smiling, she stood and walked over to him, taking his hand and leading him into the center of the group. They circled the confused hanyou and each of them held out their hand and touched his arm or shoulder. Kagome stood in front of him and spoke softly, “InuYasha, here, in this family, you are always accepted.” She turned to Shippo.

“You're like a the most annoying big brother in the world, but of course I accept you. I don't know what I'd do without you and Kagome around.” Shippo turned and looked at Miroku.

“InuYasha, you're brash and harsh with your words, but you have the biggest heart of anyone I've ever known, save Kagome. You fight for what's right and protect the innocent. Anyone would be proud to call you Ani*. As proud as I am.” He turned to a smiling Sango.

“You're brave, cunning, quick witted and god awful stubborn. Your heart is always in the right place, even if your words don't express it well. I'm proud to fight beside you and call you Kazoku*.” She turned to Kaede.

“InuYasha, I thought for a very long time that ye were the reason my older sister was slain. Since learning the truth and gettin' ta know ya, I've learned that yer much more than meets the eye. Yer smart, fiercely protective, and ye have one of the biggest hearts of any man this old woman has ever known. Ye are like the Mago* I never had.”

Finally, it was Kagome's turn to speak. “InuYasha, we all love you. Here in this family you will always have a place. You will always be accepted, no matter what happens. Always know that, ok?”

InuYasha stood speechless and looked at each one of them in turn. No one had ever displayed this much affection for him in his entire life. He was overwhelmed and didn't know what to do with himself. “K-Kagome...” he said, softly.

She smiled at him and took his hand. “I know,” she said as she led him outside and away from the group to the one place she wanted to take him, the sacred tree. There, he stood trembling in front of her. She gently touched his cheek and smiled at him. “Do you understand now?” She asked him. He simply nodded.

After a few moments to compose himself, InuYasha reached into his haori and pulled out a very small, modern looking, beautiful, glittery forest green box and handed it to her. “It's not much... your mom helped me with it...”

Kagome looked up at him in shock. “That's where you've been? At my house?” He nodded once. “Oh, InuYasha...” she said, as she held the box tenderly. She pulled off the lid to the box and peered inside. It held a silver heart shaped locket on a long silver chain to match. She pulled the necklace from the box and opened it up. On one side was a tiny picture of InuYasha, looking as grumpy as ever and on the other was an engraving. It read, 'You have my heart in full'. Kagome's eyes brimmed with tears as she read the inscription. “InuYasha...”

“Ah, damnit wench, ya weren't s'posed to cry!” He said as he took her shoudlers in his clawed hands.

She looked up into his amber eyes and gave him the brightest smile he'd ever seen from her. “No, InuYasha, I'm crying because I'm so happy.”

“Oh...” he said as he looked down, embarrassed.

“You know, there is another Christmas tradition I wanted to show you...” Kagome said, quietly.

InuYasha looked back into her chocolate brown eyes. “Oh yea?”

“Look up, InuYasha.” His head swiveled back and looked above his head. There, hanging on a red ribbon from one of the lowest branches on the tree, was a plant he didn't recognize. It was green with tiny white and red berries.

“It's called mistletoe. When two people are under it at the same time they're supposed to kiss.” Kagome said, voice shaky, but sounding confident.

InuYasha looked back down into her entrancing eyes. He hesitated only for a moment before taking her face into both of his clawed hands and bent down to capture her soft, pink lips with his own. She gasped at the intensity of the kiss. Every word unspoken, every feeling not known, poured into her very soul. In that moment, she was sure he loved her. She was sure she was his first choice. She was sure she wanted to be with him, forever. Her nerves tingled as the kiss came to an end and she shook in his arms as he barely pulled away.

“Merry Christmas, Kagome.”

She smiled against his lips. “Merry Christmas, InuYasha.”

*Ani- informal brother in Japanese

*Kazoku- family in Japanese

*Mago- grandchild in Japanese

**I do apologize if I have used these words incorrectly. I did try to look up the proper meanings, but the internet only tells so much!**

#inuyasha #kagome #inukag #a very feudal christmas #secret santa 2019 #inusecretsanta

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bryonysimcox · 4 years

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Remember to Breathe: Weeks 24, 25 and 26, Spain

Sometimes life runs ahead of you. As three weeks since my last post have elapsed, I remind myself to take stock and breathe.

I started with such good intentions. A blog post a week, documenting our adventures driving East in our van. An intention I kept pretty strong until the past few weeks, which have passed in a daze. I’m not sure if it was lack of time or lack of motivation that stopped me from writing, but I do know that as our travels ground to a halt and I have had less adventures to report on, it has been harder to see the purpose in writing a blog. And yet, it is in truly extraordinary times like these, where we find ourselves all living altered lives amid a global pandemic, that writing has value - not just in exploring the things we’ve done but the things we’ve felt.

It’s been a busy three weeks here in Spain that’s for sure. Suzi the Van has brought us her fair share of dramas, especially when we discovered a burst coolant pipe a few days before we were booked to do a video shoot over an hour’s drive away. In a series of rather fortunate events, we found a Toyota garage and a super friendly mechanic who helped us navigate old Japanese parts diagrams and who wasn’t picky about our mix of Spanglish and hand gestures! He managed to order us in a specific genuine part (which was admittedly pretty pricey for what is effectively just a section of pipe) and George fitted it himself which was brilliant.

Doing our own repairs and maintenance on the van can be incredibly rewarding at times, but also super frustrating when we don’t have the tools or space that we need to do it effectively.

We’ve definitely realised that living minimally and with no fixed address can be a real pain when it comes to needing to do practical things, and we both dream of having a workshop and stash of tools and materials one day! Nevertheless, George’s pipe installation worked a treat and he changed the oil and fuel filter a few days later too - which also wasn’t without its dramas (but that’s another story)…

(images) Repairing the split radiator pipe in the van

Measures to manage the pandemic are still very much in place here in Spain. But they do at least mean that elements of ‘normal life’ can continue in a managed way, and so now that people are allowed out and about, we’ve been able to resume filming. We’ve been working with a small tourism company based in Valencia called Valtournative to help create some promo videos - a job we had originally booked way back in March before Covid-19 had taken a hold of Spain.

Valtournative is run by a bunch of genuinely lovely people including Danny, director and tour guide extraordinaire. He is the kind of business owner who wears his passion on his sleeve and his deep fascination for the Spanish countryside and the stories embedded within places is infectious.

As soon as it was safe to do so, we headed out with them out on some of their tours, firstly to an incredible vineyard and winery called Chozas Corrascal and later to some thermal springs in the town of Montanejos. What Valtournative does best is taking people out of the city and into the incredible natural spots around Valencia, which is of course is an even more appealing type of tourism, for its ability to enjoy yourselves in a safe and spacious environment, given the Covid-19 considerations. For Broaden to be filming amid grapevines, tasting organic wines, exploring small rural villages and swimming in natural springs… well, it’s a bit of a dream really!

(images) Filming at the vineyard and winery of Chozas Carrascal with Valtournative

(images) Filming at the Fuente de los Banos in Montanejos with Valtournative

As commercial work with Broaden grows, it’s not only a way of sustaining ourselves, but a kernel of hope that the future holds activity, exchange and adventure again. That things will get better.

I’ve also been building some exciting projects with AnalogueBryony, my collage-making practice. The wicked Manchester-based rock-pop outfit ‘Glass Caves’ recently released their single ‘Eye to Eye’ which features a collage I made as its artwork, and I’ve finished a few private commissions which I’ve been really pleased with as well. It’s strange to see AnalogueBryony grow as an enterprise considering how long I’ve been just plodding away at making my collages as a project for myself.

Being able to generate some income from my collage-making is huge for me, but I also have to remind myself that it’s first and foremost a creative process I can tap into to care for myself (something I explored in my post from Week 22). It’s probably no surprise that while I’ve been super busy making commissions, I haven’t found the time to make art just for fun! That said, I have at least managed to pop into MiKENGO cafe in Valencia a few times, and seeing my art on their walls in my show ‘Stop Making Sense’ is always a humbling and surreal experience.

(image) The final artwork for Glass Caves’ ‘Eye to Eye’ single, which you can listen to here.

Amid all the doing, there’s feeling too. Whilst these three weeks have been chokka block with stuff, I’ve forgotten to stop and take stock at times.

In many ways, ‘doing’ things all the time is a form of distraction. And after the enforced slowing-down that came with lockdown, I guess I’m not alone in suddenly trying to cram it all into this de-escalation phase - both to distract myself from the reality that life is still not as it was, and to make up for the ‘lost time’ of the months that have just passed. Working on building Broaden, releasing videos such as our new documentary about the town of Portland in New South Wales, making collages, generating work, it’s all a form of ‘being productive’. And I know that sometimes I turn to these things when I don’t want to stop and think too much.

I guess when I sat down to write this blog post after a bit of a hiatus, I thought to myself ‘what’s the overarching message’? And the message I concluded with, a message to myself, is that I need to remember to breathe.

Breathing means taking stock, looking at what’s come before and what’s ahead, and being kind to yourself. I think it also means being honest, and not fooling yourself into thinking that everything’s okay just because you’ve been busy.

(images, left to right) Moments of breathing: an incredible sunrise on the drive to a video shoot, an evening on the balcony, the deserted town square in Corbera looking blissful.

Sure, it’s an honour to be busy and especially to be occupied with wonderful creative projects, but I’ve got to remember the low points, the spectrum of emotions, the mundane everyday routinesm the frustration of still not being able to see family, the uncertainty about the future, the despair at global powers who seem to have taken climate change completely off the table. Breathing means taking it all in - the good with the bad, the doing with the thinking.

So why am I sharing this with you? It seems, yet again, that a personal insight could in fact be of value to others, that the idea of breathing, and of giving yourself the time and respect to feel all sorts of emotions about this topsy-turvy trainwreck of a year is an idea we could all benefit from.

Just because the initial hype of coronavirus and the full lockdown it triggered has subsided a bit, doesn’t mean it’s not genuinely affecting our lives, our livelihoods and our mental wellbeing. And perhaps that’s another reason I haven’t written for a while, that I haven’t wanted to admit to myself that while George and I are busy, it’s still a struggle to stay positive and keep our heads above the water. But the irony is that in admitting it, in remembering to breathe and in writing this all down, I suddenly feel a whole lot better.

Have a wonderful week of doing, thinking and breathing.

#life in a van #Travel Diaries #Bryony & George #Gratitude #Videography #digital nomads #Reflection #Breathing space

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zult-of-zephyr · 4 years

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Get To Know Me(me)

I was tagged by @rose0jam and @adelinegryffindor

Nickname: Uhhh, I don't really have one? Some people call me Zeph, but only people close to me irl.

Real name: Zephyr Jeznach

Zodiac sign: I’m a Libra in my Sun and Rising, with my Moon in Virgo. I was born in the year of the Snake (White). My celtic sign is the Butterfly. My birth Tarot Cards are the Moon and the Hermit. My birth Playing Card is the 8 of Clubs. I'm kind of OBSESSED with all of the birth identity things.

Height: 4'10"

What time it is: Currently 7:26 am, Monday, Central Standard Time

Favourite musician(s): I LOVE Cab Calloway, Mother Mother, Doja Cat, ABBA, and Colter Wall to name a few. I love music a lot, and I actually love a bunch of individual songs rather than artists. My current kick has been 1960 songs about witches.

Favourite sports team: I don't like most sports, tbh. I'll root for my themster whenever they do a sport, but I'm not big into sports. I am the reigning champion in messy twister in my pagan community though!

Other blogs: My reblog blog to maintain this blog is @zult-reblogs . I have a nsft blog, which I won't list here, mostly for nsft reblogs. I have a blig for stashing my D&D content, @the-brandy-bunch. My old blog is @zephyr-sketches , but I had to leave because of my ex/ stalker and Tumblr's nsfw content purge, since the comic I was working on at the time was literally about a sex worker.

Do I get asks: Sometimes. Mostly by the wonderful @cats-and-coyotes !!♡

How many blogs do I follow: 354! I follow A TON of art blogs, Snape blogs, and Monster Blogs. I also follow quite a few reblog blogs because I like having my dash chocked FULL of delicious content.

Any Tumblr crushes: Shout out to everyone with cool blogs(those not liated are still cool)! @blooeyedspazz , @sadttitude, @snapecentric , @monster-bait

Lucky number: 109

What I’m wearing right now:

Navy Longsleeve V-Neck, and a Full Length Polka Dot Skirt

Dream vacation: To travel around the world free of charge and do all of the creative pursuits I've ever wanted to do.

Dream car: Robin's Egg Blue Convertible Bel Air

Favourite food: Pizza. It has the best texture of ANY FOOD. I can't taste so this is very important to me lol

Drink of choice: Cold Mint Tea, any Cold Tea, and Sprite!

Languages: English, a decent amount of French, and a handful of both Gaelic and Cherokee.

Instruments: I Sing, and I'm currently learning Guitar (Persephone) and Mandolin (Currently Unnamed) !!♡

Celebrity crushes: I'd never had a legit celebrity crush until recently, and it's Henry Cavill. Him and Tim Curry's voice are the only celebrity crushes I've ever had.

Random fact: I'm scarily accurate with my palm readings and once read that someone had a dead twin. I was correct. I also once read that someone's love life was about to have a major upset. The next week his long-term girlfriend dumped him. I have a bunch of stories like this, and my divination skills are surprisingly good for an atheist.

I tag whoever wants to do this and whoever I tagged as my Tumblr Crushes!!♡

#zult of zephyr #zephyr speaks #get to know meme #personal

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cath-with-a-c · 5 years

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This is the comment I woke up to on Friday morning. The amount of bigotry hiding behind the almost polite and seemingly thoughtful wording is astonishing.

I’ve responded to it already, informing the individual behind it that I won’t be discussing the points of the comment with them, as they’ve resorted to personally attacking me, which is...dumb. I mean, attack my work all you like, it either helps me grow as an author by learning from my mistakes or as a person by growing a spine and defending my work. But coming after someone who has no connection to this and can’t defend themselves because they are no longer with us? Low and disgusting. (Also wow, they’ve taken the time to find the only truly personal post I have on tumblr, and it’s more than a month old, what a commitment to come off as pathetic, really)

Anyway, while talking to that particular individual is out of question, I still kinda wanna address the certain things in the comment because wow, my first queerphobic comment and an excuse to talk more about “Nothing and Everything”, my boys and myself? How can I pass that?

(this is like... a long-ass one... prepare yourselves)

(I’m gonna refer to the commentator as “Fox” and, probably, “them” because well, I don’t know what their preferred pronounce are)

NB! I’m using the term “queer” as an umbrella term to mean everyone who isn’t strictly straight and/or cis-gender.

Let’s start from the top

The best part about slashfic writers is that when they write about child abuse, child sex abuse, and drug and alcohol abuse while including gay characters, is that they’re really writing about the lives of gay men without realizing it. To you, gay men being abused and that being the arbiter of their homosexual identity is too homophobic to fathom. But you still confirm it in subtle ways, and that always brings a smile to my face.

Now, English isn’t my first language, so I might be missing something, but If Fox meant being the arbiter of as in defining, being the reason for, than no, it’s not homophobic. It’s just dumb. One, there isn’t a single relevant scientifically accurate study on the abuse causing someone to “turn gay”. Two - there might be a correlation (and it’s not necessary there, I’m just guessing), but the cause and effect will be the other way around, queer kids get abused more because they are queer, not become queer as the result of the abuse. And, most importantly, three - in terms of sexual orientation, you can’t turn someone queer, as well as you can’t turn someone straight. It’s something you are born with and discover as you go along.

And also the other two queer characters, Rob and Penny, weren’t abused by their parents and/or other family members, but we will touch on that later.

“The Brotherhood had no problem with homosexuality” - Of course not, and neither do the Templars. It’s the Current Year. You can marry/have sex with whomever you want, whatever you want, whenever you want.

Ignoring the fact that this was taken out of context, and the whole phrase has a slightly different meaning, there are two things that are factually wrong with this statement. First - even in the Current Year, there is a ton of places where being openly queer is dangerous, from the countries that have “anti-gay” laws (ranging from “you can be gay, but stay quiet or go to jail” to “die a horrible death for being gay”), to certain, let’s say, traditionally oriented places in the US. Second - this is not Current Year. The bulk of the story takes place between 1998 and 2003, this phrase is taken from the chapter taking place in 2003, 16 years prior, things were, let’s say, slightly different.

Also, I don’t understand why Fox tried to make this sound sarcastic, we are talking about two societies, with one canonically being for freedom and choice and the other one relying on public favor to propel their agenda, of course, none of them will have qualms with the GRSM community,

“Honorary gay parents of a gay kid” - Well no wonder the kid is gay. Look at the environment xe/xim/xer grew up in.

I like how Fox uses the non-binary pronounces referring to Penny, when the only thing that has been said about her/them is “I’m into girls.” Also out of 16 kids on the Farm, only 3 are confirmed to be queer. They’ve all grown up in the same environment, so that statement is... meaningless. And in case Fox was referring to Rob and Des turning Penny “gay” well, they’ve also been close with Sam and he’s - what a shock - straight! So again - meaningless.

I’m gonna skip Fox shitting on my friend’s art, again - such remarks are low, pathetic and not worth discussing, let’s get to the juicy stuff.

It’s amusing, no, to have a pansexual – an individual who is attracted to ‘all genders’ - writing about gay men so much? How many genders are there? Thousands? 51? All on the spectrum? Regardless, tumblrinas are as big on their sexual identities as they are on their activism. In this case, we have a person – presumably female – getting wet over two dudes banging. I’m simply wondering if they packed enough lube and had their enemas. Maybe it was hidden in their stash?

Well, as a matter of fact - they didn’t have lube in their stashes because the only way to get it was to essentially ask one of the adults going to the city to get it for them, can you imagine a 16yo asking something like that? Death from mortification would be the most likely outcome.

Seriously though, I write what I like about whom I like. The only thing it has to do with me being pansexual is that I have more confidence in writing non-straight characters and relationships because I know it’s fine, and my queerphobic background can’t silence me anymore. Also - Desmond isn’t gay, he is bisexual. Rob is gay, true.

The amount of genders is still up for debate, in my personal opinion it’s all on the spectrum, and the only reason gender issues don’t come out in fiction as much as sexual orientations do is that gender in a lot of cases is a more personal thing than orientation, that’ll inevitably reflect on the inter-character dynamics. A lot of genderqueer people are fine with using male or female pronounces, which to an outsider would put them in respective categories. There are, of course, androgynous people, trans people, non-binary people and others for whom gender and the perception of their gender are important in day to day life - and there are more and more stories featuring them.

Also, on the note of pansexuality - it’s not “attraction to all genders,” it’s having an attraction to the person regardless of their sex or gender, those labels play an insignificant part in me deciding to pursue a relationship. (Also also there might be like a ton of things to discuss in regards to how sexuality relates to gender identities, but not here, not now)

And yes, I’m afab, so yeah, “female” and I do “get wet over the two dudes banging”. Fox got me. Now what? Shame Fox seemingly can’t conceptualize that I “get wet” because I wrote those boys in a story that contains a hard emotional journey full of heartbreak, and I do revel in the short happy moments they’ve got together. The sexual/sensual part is hot because it’s those particular two guys, not just random two guys.

Oh, and the last thing here - I don’t know if it’s news for Fox, but not all people in a homosexual relationship engage in anal sex. Especially teens in their first relationship. Just saying.

Let’s skip another personal attack part, here we go, sorry that the phrase is broken up

she educated a pansexual SJW into confirming every negative and dirty secret in the gay community: a brutal, abusive father, societal ‘homophobia’, drug and alcohol abuse, and feeling inadequate compared to heterosexual people.

Tbh, this is the part of the comment that had me confused for a moment, as I mistook Fox for one of the “hardcore gay” people, that think that with letters added to LGBT and by putting everything on the spectrum we somehow affect negatively the “real” gay community. The next paragraph cleared this shit for me tho.

Right off the bat - SJW isn’t a dirty word, Fox shouldn’t try to sell it as one. And I won’t label myself as a SJW, because as of now, I lack the commitment to the cause.

For the next part, I’d really, really like to quote a line from one of my fav vines “Bitch, where?” but for the sake of politeness, I’ll go with “Citation needed,” because from all of the things mentioned, the only one that is really prominent in the text is the “brutal, abusive father”. Societal homophobia isn’t exactly in the text (pay attention, teen Rob is cautious about adults being homophobic, it’s a valid fear a lot of queer teens have prior to coming out, but the general atmosphere isn’t homophobic. If I wanted it to be, adding a scene of public shame/shunning for someone caught in the act wouldn’t be hard), no drug and\or alcohol abuse (1 scene of teens trying drinks for the first time doesn’t count - surprise, teenagers try drinking), and feeling inadequate is mentioned once as a fear of a nine-year-old Penny, who has no frame of reference other than heterosexual behavior of the others, and is corrected almost immediately by Rob.

Was this about Assassin’s Creed? No, not really. Despite you being a HUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE fan, you don’t really respect these characters. Miles is a douchebag, it’s true, but he’s respected even by Otso Berg. That should tell you something.

(I’d like to see an example of Fox-approved, really-about-Assassin’s-Creed fanfiction, for a future reference, but alas, they’ve commented from as guest)

Interesting how me not liking or respecting Bill, canonically abusive douchebag known for alienating people because of how cold and manipulative he is, translates into me automatically not respecting every other character in the series.

Also, I don’t see how Otso Berg respecting William as an opponent should sway my judgment. I’ve mentioned here on my blog that I like Garnier de Naplouse as a villain - how self-assured he is, and how much quiet intelligence he has. Do I like him in general as a person? No. Do I respect him? No. He tortured people. I relished in seeing Altair murder him.

With Bill, him being a douchebag and abuser is a deciding fact for me, I do not respect abusers, no matter how great they may be. But tbh, on the leadership front, I can’t quite decide if Bill is a fine leader given the circumstances, or if the number of instances of him being canonically shitty as a leader is big enough to call for his removal.

You crafted him into a predictable homophobic dad, albeit he isn’t Christian. I was waiting for the Bible to be thrown at Desmond.

Again - citation needed. One instance in the text of Bill being homophobic. Not abusive, not overly-demanding, but homophobic.

(Spoiler alert - there isn’t one.)

As for the Christian associations - well, it’s in the tags. Literally. In this story, the Brotherhood is a cult, like the JWs, or the LDS church, but with Creed instead of a holy book. And I guess I succeeded in conveying the feeling.

In another Tumblr post, you wrote about how William is very abusive to Desmond, and how that is inexcusable. You bring up Nikolai and putting his child out in the cold as punishment, and earlier, cited Philosophy Tube in regards to solitary confinement (which really shows a lot). How do you explore this concept?

I wonder what me citing Philosophy Tube shows, except for maybe that I find Olly to be a very pleasant narrator and that the themes he touches on are rather interesting (Olly is precious, protect Olly).

I think I was rather unsubtle with showing what exactly abuse, inflicted by Bill, did to Desmond. And not, not “turn him gay”, about that in a moment. I don’t delve like deep into what was happening in Desmond’s head because this story is from Rob’s perspective. Not Desmond’s.

This story isn’t about the relationship between Bill and Desmond. It’s about Desmond not living in a vacuum all those years on the Farm.

Write William being SO abusive he turns his son gay. You make him so homophobic Desmond reacts by engaging in self-destructive behaviour and, in turn, becoming your average gay man. Your OC, Richard, Robert is merely the bridge.

“Bitch where?!“ (c)

1. Desmond isn’t gay. He is bi (because I’m keeping it as close to the canon as I can and I love Elijah to death). It’s in the tags, and it’s in the tags rather than stated because Desmond’s sexual orientation isn’t the point of this story, 2. Bill isn’t homophobic, at least not openly. There’s a different issue within the Brotherhood, the fact that they expect everyone born into the Brotherhood to have kids of their own. This is the source of Rob’s unease and perceiving adults as not reacting positively him or any other kid in a queer relationship. 3. If I wanted Bill to come off as homophobic, I’d portray him like that. Using slurs, for example. 4. Bill abuses Desmond not because he thinks his son is gay - he thinks his son is weak. In general. Not related to orientation. Like in the fucking canon. I’m merely turning the abuse factor up to eleven. 5. No one abused Rob, his father is shown in the text to be one of the best parents on the Farm - and Rob is gay. No one abused Penny, her family is mentioned briefly, but I specifically did it in a way that shows that they are nice - and she is a lesbian. Another boy, Colin, got abused by his strict mother - and he is straight. Desmond got abused by his father - and he is bi. There is no correlation between abuse and being queer. 6. Desmond's self-destructive behavior came from him being abused on a daily basis for most of his life and having no way out. Again, if it was linked to his orientation Rob would do that stuff too. He doesn’t.

You make these characters gay because, as a ‘queer pansexual person’ you can. But you don’t really make them human. In fact, every single negative stereotype you want to protect yourselves from our oh-so-bigoted society are confirming them, while simultaneously denying that they exist.

In short, everything and everyone acted the way I expected to, and was written the way I expected a queer pansexual to write them: meaningless, with only the sexual identity taking place. Funny how that’s the only identity politics that’s allowed. Everything else is oh so bigoted.

I’m not denying the existence of the stereotype, I’m just not acknowledging it as valid, because it’s not. It’s like blaming violence on video games - you’d be hard-pressed to find a youngster who doesn’t play a semi-violent game of some kind, with blood and murder, but every time someone brings up that another shooter was playing those games, they forget to mention how many youngsters play and don’t commit murder as a result.

The same way Fox keeps bringing up the “abuse turned Desmond gay” without acknowledging that there’s a ton of straight teens that get abused worse than Desmond in this story, or the two queer kids right in the text who weren’t abused.

It’s also funny that Fox is adamantly holding to the “sexual identity” thing, despite the fact that it came up only in 5th chapter (with 4 chapters before that having nothing to do with sexual orientation) and it’s not even an identity/orientation thing. It’s the “relationship between Rob and Desmond” thing and “Desmond is clinging to as much happiness as he can because he has none” thing. The only time orientation comes up in term of identity it’s when Rob talks to Penny and thinks of himself as a closeted gay man, but it immediately switches back into the “relationship between two people” again.

10.

You call yourself an AC fan?

Yes. Yes, I do. Ain’t nothing some bigot on the internet can do about it ;)

(If you read this through to the end, I applaud you, thank you for your time <3)

#Assassin's Creed #Desmond Miles #william miles #my writing #nothing & everything - AC #bigotry #queerphobia

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archangelgabriellives · 5 years

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Bear

[part 1][part 2] PART 3 [part 4]

Word count- 1k

Warnings- dialogue, so much dialogue

SAM!!!!

Sam gasped, taken aback at the voice shouting in his mind.

“Oh, shit! He’s alive!” he cried, twin looks of relief on Dean and Cas’ faces. “I can hear him. He just called out my name!”

Sam laughed, letting his body finally relax at the knowledge that Gabriel was alive.

“Well, don't get comfy,” Dean chided, though a smile was on his face, “see if that connection thing worked.”

“Can he hear you now, Sam?” Cas blurted out at almost the same time, the look of fear on the angel’s face unsettling Sam out of his revery a bit. But he didn't say a word, just sent his brother and the angel a reassuring smile as he closed his eyes again.

Gabriel?? Is that you?

Sam! Oh, thank my Dad! Where are you?! I need help!

The fear in Gabriel’s voice stung Sam throughout his whole being. He scrubbed his hands down his face, as he looked up at Dean.

“He says he needs help.”

��What?” Dean’s features scrunched up in confusion. “He’s an archangel. Archangels don't need help.”

“Sam did say he thought his grace was depleted,” Cas answered. “And we should help him if Gabriel needs it, grace or no.”

“I’m just worried about him being safe,” Sam muttered to himself, but caught the side glance from his brother.

Gabriel? We are back at the bunker. Where are you? We can come and get you.

Um, Gabriel sounded unsure in Sam’s mind, I don't really know. I've been hiding in this cave for a while.

A cave?

There’s so much fucked up shit out there, Sammy. I can't even summon my blade. I don't wanna die here again.

“Oh, shit.” Are you still in the alternate universe?

“Sam? What is it?” Castiel asked.

Yeah.

Fuck.

“Gabriel. He’s still over there.” Sam looked up, shock in his eyes and defeat sinking into his bones again. “He woke up in the apocalypse world.”

“Shit,” Dean repeated as he hopelessly fell into Sam’s desk chair.

While the brothers were at a loss, a look of determination fell upon Castiel. His hands clenched at his sides and his eyes glowed with grace. “We’re getting him out of there, Sam. You tell my brother that.”

He turned quickly, stalking out of the room with his coat billowing behind him. Sam and Dean only stared, caught off guard by the outburst.

“Um,” Dean started, “I better go with him before he goes nuclear. Keep me posted.”

“You too.”

Both brothers gave the other a lackluster wave as Dean left to follow Cas down the hallway.

Gabriel.

Yeah, Sam?

Looks like Castiel is going to go through every book in our library to get you home.

Sounds good, Sam a lam.

Hey, Sam said with determination, not liking the way Gabriel sounded like he was giving up, we won't stop until we find a way to get you back here. I won't stop. I need you back here, with me.

Sam could hear Gabriel’s small laugh through their shared connection, and for a few moments after that, they sat in silence.

Dean thinks we’re doing it, Sam thought suddenly, immediately feeling his face go a bit red.

Oh yeah? Sam could sense Gabriel’s tension melt a little. What’d you tell him?

To mind his own damn business.

Nice one, kiddo, Gabriel thought with a smile. That work?

Not really.

Ha! Gabriel barked a laugh, Typical Dean. But think of all the ways I can tease you like this in front of him.

Gabriel, this is serious. Sam was happy to hear a little bit of that familiar snark coming from the archangel. He pulled his legs up and pushed himself back so he was leaning against his headboard with a smile on his face. We need to find a way to recreate the portal spell without all the ingredients. Are you safe for now?

I think so. This cave isn't deep, but nothing wants to come in here. And I’ve got some big rocks to hide behind.

Sam frowned, knowing that any safety in that world was short lived at best. They had to get Gabriel out of there now.

The big question is how are you alive right now? We saw- Michael, he...he…

Stabbed me?

Yeah. Sam wrapped his arms around himself.

It’s ok, Sam. I’m ok now.

No, it won't be ok until you are back here and I can give you the grace inside me.

You- Why is there grace inside you? Who’s grace?

It...it’s yours. I think it’s what connected me to you.

Sam, I think it’s what woke me up. I was dead. A goner. “Death launched me into the Empty,” dead. Then I miraculously wake up after you let in a bit of my grace? Yeah, I’m thinking those things are connected

But why would your grace being in me bring you back? N-not that I’m complaining, or anything.

I've got no idea, kiddo. We can figure it out if I make it back there.

When, Gabriel. Not “if”.

Ok, Sam.

And Sam frowned at the tight laughter echoing in his head.

So, I’ve traded and stored bits of my grace all over the place, Gabriel changed subjects quickly. Where did you find your stash?

In town, surprisingly. There is, well was a thrift shop, and the owner was going around killing hunters so he could steal...whatever he wanted, I guess. Whatever he thought he could sell.

Wow, what a dick.

I know. We took care of it, but we found this old ratty teddy bear in his hidden room, and that had the vile hidden inside it.

There was a moment of silence in Sam’s head, and his anxiety started ratcheting up again.

Gabriel?

No…

His voice shook, fear lacing his voice.

Gabriel, please. What is it?

It was hers. No, please. Not her, Gabriel whispered, and Sam could hear the tears falling.

Who’s? Tell me, Gabriel.

It was Hel’s. It was my daughter’s bear.

Bear

@lovingrevolution @idabbleincrazy @just-another-rp-nerd @maddiefangirl4 @thislumpoffuckicallabrain @strawberryeet @professional-trickster @aspenhearne @destielandsabrielshipper2017 @franthehorsegir @nikithegreat @ace-of-black-hearts @smmywinchester45 @akhuna01 @dontcallmenymphadorayouassbutt @staycejo1 @shipper-trash-bag @quakerlasss

Everything tags

@doctor-zyre @ourloveisforthelovely @authoressskr @superwhoavengelocketc-blog @sumara62 @mscrazycatbitch @emmii4 @redberrysweets @space-time-paradox @tgpanther @anxietywontmakethewordsgo @l4life @acarpouschimerical @warlockwriter

I’m not going to add my sabriel tag list just yet. It’s still on the implied side, so I’ll wait a bit.

#bear #gabriel #sam winchester #grace connection

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acaseforpencils · 5 years

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Maddie Dai.

Bio: I've been cartooning for The New Yorker since 2017. I was living in New York, and decided to take a cartooning class with the great Emily Flake. I hadn't really thought about single panel gag cartooning prior to that, and if I'm honest, I wanted to take another class that didn't end up having enough people. But a colleague persuaded me to take this class with him, which I probably don't thank him enough for. So let me take this opportunity now. Thank you Isaac.

Find this print here!

Like any excellent teacher, Emily helped me to tap into the hidden stash of cartoon ideas that lurked within, and with her encouragement I started submitting cartoons to Bob Mankoff. He told me right off the bat, "Well, first of all, you can't draw". So any advice I give about drawing from here on out should be taken with the knowledge of that interaction.

Tools of choice: I use a pencil, black ink pen, erasers, and an iPad pro. This is my process: I sketch the idea with pencil. I go over it with pen. I erase the lines. I scan the picture. I do the brushwork over the top on my iPad. I am not one of those people who is extremely dedicated to certain brands or pen tip widths or whatever, because it feels a little beyond my skill level, and I don't know if I'd wield the tools deftly enough to notice a difference. It'd be like needing a fancy guitar when you can only play three chords. I will say in college I liked writing with Le Pens, but upon using them for cartooning I found the black ink turned kinda brown over time. That is truly the only critical opinion about tools I can give. I hope they don't sue you or me for this.

Tool I wish I could use better: Oh, all of them. Pencils. Pens. Erasers, even. I started drawing cartoons with india ink and a nib as per Emily Flake's tutelage, but when I went to present my cartoons Bob Mankoff said to me "Why do all these drawings look so muddy?" (I don't want to present Bob as unsupportive. He has been a true gem to me and gently steered me in ways that ensured I had a career.) But needless to say I changed my artistic tactics. I'd also like to get better at watercolours, because I get asked to make wedding invites, and that feels potentially lucrative.

Tool I wish existed: Not explicitly a drawing tool, but I would love a Mary Poppins style bag/storage container to keep old bits of paper, drawings and unread New Yorker magazines. Like what is the plan— am I meant to just keep collecting these forever?

Tricks: Because there is so much rejection as a cartoonist, I suggest finding an additional motivating factor when the love of a cartoon or idea does not extend beyond your own sweet mind. When I started out, I was going through a break up, and found it energizing to imagine how much I would come across as *thriving* if I got a cartoon in The New Yorker (I cannot confirm whether the relevant persons also consider(ed) me to be thriving). Motivation can be so useful! Prove your bullies wrong. Have a nemesis. Pretend you're curing a disease with your cartoons. This may be unhealthy advice — do not run it by your therapist.

Misc: Isn't it insane how the Apple Pencil charges on the iPad pro? I cannot believe this was approved.

Website, etc.

Website

Prints

Instagram

Editor’s Note: If you enjoy this blog, and would like to contribute to labor and maintenance costs, there is a Patreon, and if you’d like to buy me a cup of coffee, there is a Ko-Fi account as well! I do this blog for free, and your support helps a lot! You can also find more posts about art supplies on Case’s Instagram and Twitter! Thank you!

#Maddie dai #how to draw New Yorker cartoons #art supplies #art process #art interview

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icecubelotr44 · 5 years

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Clear and Present Danger (15/16)

I’m... still sorry?

Summary: Homicide detective Killian Jones has been searching for a way to bring Milah’s murderer to justice. There’s only one small problem: Robert Gold is the captain of the same homicide division. Enter Emma Swan, Internal Affairs investigator, looking into Gold’s shady dealings. Between the two of them, can they unravel the web of deals and lies that have gotten Gold to where he is?

Rated: T, for violence, some dark themes, angst, and whump (you expected different?)

TW: character death, mention of past self-harm, fatal car accident, school hostage situation

Other ships: mentions past Millian in a good light, Outlaw Queen, Snowing

Art credit/link: The totally awesome @cocohook38 made the cover you can see above and on her blog here. Later in the story, she’s illustrated some key points to the fic and I can’t thank her enough for her work! Chapter Four’s art is HERE. The amazing art she did for chapter 14 is HERE. Go show her some love!

Beta reader: @gusenitsaa took on this monster without probably knowing exactly what she was getting into (what do you mean 100,000 words?!) and any mistakes that you find are probably me being stubborn and ignoring her advice! Thank you!

A/N: Written as part of the 2018 Captain Swan Big Bang Challenge. You can catch up with all the other fics that are complete by following @captainswanbigbang and/or subscribing to the Group Collection on AO3 and/or the C2 on FFN. This is complete in 16 parts and will be posted every Sunday from now until its completion.

Take it away, It’s going to be a bumpy ride.

Word count: ~ 6,950 (100k Total in 16 chapters)

From the beginning: AO3 / FFN

Current Chapter: ao3 | ffn

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: VIGILANTISM

The problem, it seemed, with telling Hades to go to Hell in a handbasket was that he was no longer willing to take Liam’s phone calls. That, in turn, made it far more difficult to find the bloody bastard and take the price of Killian’s death out on his worthless hide before sending him to the Underworld. Liam seethed, listening to the police scanner as Emma called every contact she had who owed her a favor or six. Part of him wanted - needed - to call David, to have his partner by his side for what might very well turn out to be his last suspect chase.

Liam didn’t much care if he survived this or not.

That, coupled with the questionable legality of this venture, was most of the reason Liam hadn’t let Nolan or Locksley know where he and Emma had holed up. They’d both either jump at the chance to help and end their careers or they’d try to be the voices of reason, slowing Emma and Liam down and letting Hades get further away.

Hades wasn’t walking away from this. Not while he was still breathing.

Emma looked nearly as furious as he felt. Contact after contact either refused to answer the unknown number from the burner phone she’d bought or they couldn’t - or sometimes flat out wouldn’t - help.

“Son of a bitch!” she shouted as she slammed the ancient looking flip phone closed. “Just answer the goddamned phone!”

Liam knew better than to ask, to speak, practically to breathe lest he turn her ire onto himself. They’d both been short the past two days, had had their fair share of fights with each other over trivial things.

It seemed that Killian was the only thing he and Emma could agree on. He didn’t deserve to die like that. He deserved to be avenged.

Bloody hell, he deserved to be happy and healthy and alive, grousing over Liam’s needling and Emma’s… well, he deserved to be able to know the love they both shared for him. Killian would be pissed at what they were doing. Not that Liam thought for an instant that his little brother wouldn’t do exactly the same if their roles were reversed.

God, he wished their roles were reversed. Killian was the good cop. Killian was the hero. Liam was just the baggage he had to carry around. The worthless git who couldn’t keep up with the image his little brother had of him. It was Liam’s job to protect Killian from the world, not to… not to murder him, himself.

Liam shut those thoughts down as quickly as he could, but not before they’d doubled him over like a sucker punch to the gut.

“Stop thinking about it,” Emma commanded, fixing him with a glare that would have cowed every instructor at the Academy.

Liam nodded, filing the emotions and the memories away for a time more suited to a glass or ten of scotch and no bloody demon to vanquish. There would be time to mourn Killian later.

If there was a later.

“Have we learned anything new?” Liam asked rather continue to dwell on that happy thought.

Emma shook her head. “Everyone I’ve managed to get a hold of is either a dead end or ‘will look into it’,” she said the last bit with every bit of mocking derision she could muster up.

Liam was a little impressed by it. He’d thought his little brother had cornered the market on dramatic, but now…

No! he thought angrily at himself. This was not the time. Killian and all the feelings associated with him other than vengeance needed to stay locked in a box.

“Hades must know by now that I’m coming for him,” Liam threw in sadly. “I almost wish I hadn’t-”

“Don’t,” Emma ordered again. “You can’t do that to yourself. You were under his thumb for far too long, Liam. It was the right thing to do.”

“It got Killian ki-”

Emma stomped her foot and strode forward, jabbing Liam in the chest with her finger. “Gold got Killian kil… it was Gold’s fault, not yours. He was coming for us either way; the timing was just…” she trailed off.

“There was never going to be a good time for Gold to show up,” Liam agreed half-heartedly. “But if Killian had been in top form… if he hadn’t been so hurt…”

“Then Gold would have changed the status quo so that Killian had no choice but to… to…”

It seemed neither of them could finish their sentences when it came to Liam’s little brother. He scoffed, almost genuinely. “My God, could I ever rile him up calling him ‘little brother’. He used to love it, you know? When we were very little, he’d go around telling anyone and everyone that he was ‘Liam Jones’s little brother’. He’d say it like it was something to be proud of.”

“It is, Liam,” Emma allowed. “He loved being your brother. He always did.”

“Aye.”

They lapsed into silence for a while, both pouring over document after document on their respective laptops. Between the information the department had on Hades and Liam’s documentation of every meeting he’d had with the man and his lackeys, they had plenty of paper trails to follow.

But none of them were worth a damn if Hades had decided to go to ground after learning that Killian Jones was dead right along with Robert Gold. The man had far too many contacts and far too much capital to be caught if he didn’t want to be found. Hubris might be his downfall, however, and it was Liam’s only hope at the moment. It was all he had going for him.

If his little brother’s death was going to mean anything, then Liam had to finish what he’d started. Had to truly finish it.

Only then could Killian rest.

Emma pounded the desk in frustration, shaking the box of pushpins and the flashlight that balanced precariously against the lamp.

“We’ll find him, Emma,” Liam tried to reassure, but it sounded hollow, even to his ears. Hades’ bank account statements were as good as frozen, his assets untouched. There was nothing to find on paper; they were just wasting time here.

“We’re wasting our goddamned time!” Emma echoed his thoughts as if he’d spoken aloud.

Liam nodded, shutting the laptop and folding his hands on top of it. “We are. Hades has no reason to do anything rash right now. Killian’s de- he’s no longer a threat. Nottingham’s death means that anything that ties Hades to Gold is hearsay at best. I’m…” he trailed off, eyes wide as he stared at Emma.

“No.”

But Liam’s brain was already spinning.

“No, Liam,” Emma said again, looking angrier and angrier as he continued to stare.

Liam grinned ferally. “It’ll work, Emma. You know it will.”

“How would we even contact him? You’ve already tried.” She nodded at Liam’s burner phone.

Liam shrugged. “Turn on my actual phone. You know he’s tracking me. Make it seem like I’m running…”

“There’s no guarantee he’d come himself.”

Liam raised an eyebrow. “The last man standing who can take him down? He nearly lost everything trusting Gold to take care of Killian. He’ll come, Emma. He’ll be there to make sure.”

“Killian wouldn’t want this, Liam,” Emma tried.

“Well he’s bloody well not here to stop me, now is he?” Liam shouted, whirling on her.

Emma’s eyes widened, but then her nostrils flared. “And whose fault is that?” she screamed back.

Liam felt like he’d been shot.

“I…” she gulped and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Liam. I didn’t mean that.”

Liam sat down - or, rather, his legs gave out and dropped him in a chair unceremoniously. “Doesn’t make it any less true, lass. Let me make it up to him. Let me be the bait.”

“He’d kick my ass if I did,” Emma reminded him.

Liam laughed humorously. “Aye, and mine, too. But he didn’t even get a chance to get closure for Milah before… I need to do this, Emma. Please.”

Emma nodded slowly, still looking anything but happy about his idea. “I’d rather be with you than try to stop you, I guess,” was her only answer.

“I’ll take it, lass. Now,” he ordered, not giving her a chance to change her mind, “we have a lot of work to do.”

It was more difficult than he’d thought, however, to come up with a good place to stage the showdown. It always worked out so well in the movies: find the equivalent of an Old West style box canyon, stash weapons behind every crevice, and then call out the bad guy in the black Stetson.

In reality, it was a lot more effort to find unregistered weapons. For all Liam had been under Hades’ thumb, he’d never really crossed the line more than he’d had to. Not like most of the man’s minions, and certainly not like Gold had done. He had his own, personal weapon stashed away in a safe in the apartment, of course. And Emma had a small arsenal to her name, apparently. But as much as Liam didn’t care what happened to him, he didn’t want this to end up with Emma rotting in a prison cell for his vendetta.

Killian would come back from the dead to murder him if Liam survived that. And he’d haunt him in Hell for all eternity if he didn’t.

The ‘where’ was the easier option to figure out. Hades had any number of warehouses near the Harbor that he used for shipping goods and property overseas. Not all of them were monitored at all times and they could use his own holdings against him. Liam knew of one, in particular, that was right on the water and had a speedboat moored just outside. He and Hades had met there several times, the water and a rented boat of his own giving him a quick getaway if he’d needed.

Part of Liam wanted to finish this on the Jolly Roger… damnit, Killian, I’m not calling her that anymore… but he couldn’t bring himself to risk the ship. The Jolly had meant too much to his brother, to both of them, to risk her now.

And, goddamnit, he’d keep calling her the bloody Jolly Roger for as long as she was seaworthy. No matter how much it made him feel like a fool to captain a storybook character’s ship.

Liam still thought the Jewel of the Realm sounded much more regal, but he’d lost that bet a long time ago.

Finally, a contact of Emma’s - a woman named Lily who Liam trusted about as far as he could throw her - came through with a cache of weapons that they weren’t to ask as to the origins. All they needed to know, she’d assured them, that any ballistics trace would lead back to some very cold cases with suspects who were either already doing life or had been shot down before they could be taken into custody.

Liam didn’t want to know anything else.

Neither did Emma.

It took them another three days to scout the area and assure that it was currently unused and unguarded. Slowly, he and Emma began moving in the stolen weapons into blinds and slips throughout the office where they planned to confront Hades. They mapped the exits and likely places for Hades to order his own men for backup.

They were as ready as they were going to get.

“I still don’t like this,” Emma mumbled as she rubbed charcoal over her face. She had her own hiding spot picked out where she could be overwatch for Liam’s back. “I’d rather be down there.”

“I’m not go-”

“I swear to God,” she interrupted, “if you say that you’re not going to risk me over this, I’ll shoot you myself. In the ass.”

Liam gulped. The statement was funny, but the look on Emma’s face and her tone of voice was anything but. He nodded his acquiescence, but didn’t say anything else.

“The first sign of trouble, and I’m down there, you understand?” Emma asked, punctuating each word with a step towards him. “I won’t sit by and watch while Hades kills you just because you think you owe some kind of penance to Killian for what happened at the cabin.”

Liam opened his mouth to deny it, to tell her to stay put, to… he didn’t even know anymore. So he did perhaps the first smart thing he’d done since they started talking and shut his mouth.

“Good.”

God, Killian would kill him if he let anything happen to Em- no. Killian wouldn’t kill him. Killian couldn’t kill him. Liam sighed, checking the clip of the unfamiliar Sig Sauer for the fourth time. It was full, there were three extra clips stashed in various pockets, and there were a number more strategically placed throughout the warehouse.

Liam really didn’t want to know the details as to how they’d gotten their hands on so much ammunition.

“I think we’re ready,” Emma said quietly. Liam still heard the uncharacteristic waver in her voice. “I’m going to head out and get in position. You’ll wait until 7:30 tonight and then turn on your phone, right?”

Liam resisted the urge to roll his eyes, checking the clip again even as he eyed the SIM card from his normal phone resting on the table. They were both on edge, knowing what this meant and refusing to muck this up over some trivial detail. “Aye. And then I’ll take Storrow up to the Harbor and set up shop in the office, looking for the keys to Hades’ boat. We’ll get him, lass.”

Emma nodded. “We have to,” was the last thing she’d say to him before all hell broke loose hours later.

***

Liam waited by the door. He paced the length of the hallway. He checked and rechecked his weapon. He brought out the cleaning kit and meticulously went over every inch of the gun Killian had given to him that day at the cabin. He paced some more. He made a bowl of pasta before staring at it until it cooled and then tossing it in the rubbish.

He wasn’t nervous. No, not at all.

Finally, after what seemed like days, it was time to go. Liam checked the clip on his Sig for the umpteenth time, pried the back of his phone open, and inserted the SIM card. Two minutes - and a lot of cursing - later and the phone was on and broadcasting his location to whoever was looking.

Liam was positive that Hades was looking.

He left the ratty old apartment with its mice and questionable stains behind and headed down to the street, finally getting annoyed with his phone trying to explode in his pocket and turning it on silent.

There were over a hundred messages from David alone.

Liam was caught up in the need to call his partner again, wanting Nolan at his back when he did this. But no, he wouldn’t put David through that. Liam would rather have the man pissed at him forever than risk being gunned down - or worse - in front of him. Besides, David had a family to provide for; Liam had nothing to lose.

It seemed the car ride took forever and yet was over in the blink of an eye. Liam pulled into the warehouse’s parking lot and stashed the old beater deep in the shadows of the building. Emma was here somewhere, hiding in the catwalks with as good of a view as she could find of the office.

He was trusting her - and no one else - to watch his back. Liam hoped that Killian’s trust in her hadn’t been misplaced.

Not that it matters as long as I get Hades first, Liam thought derisively as he slid open the door just enough to squeeze inside. This would be over before it began if he tripped some kind of silent alarm or a well-meaning patrolman saw the door opening.

It was eerie inside the building, the cold winter’s evening doing nothing to combat the chill. The moon’s light filtering through broken window panes cast everything into sharp contrast, making Liam jump every time he moved. What was that line? You’re not paranoid if people are actually after you. Liam was certain that several people were after him, and any number of them could be hiding in the shadows.

Despite seeing images of hitmen and lackeys behind every box, Liam made it to the office unscathed. He set his phone down on the desk and started rifling through the drawers. He saw the keys under some files in the first one he looked through, but the boat wasn’t really his goal.

“Did you really think you could steal from me after turning your back on my generous offers?” an oily voice echoed through the room.

Hades.

Hades was his goal and the bloody bastard had sauntered right into their trap without a care in the world.

“You bloody bastard!” Liam shouted, coming around the desk to face the man head on and this wasn’t the plan. “My brother-”

“Your brother was a crimp in my plans and the only thing keeping you from reaching your full potential within my organization.”

Liam stumbled to a stop. The man was deranged. He’d thought that Killian was holding him back? His head started shaking before the words even formed. “If it wasn’t for my brother, I’d have put you behind bars the first time you cornered me on the Jolly Roger. Killian was your only bargaining chip and your lap dog killed him, you… you… you demon!”

Hades shrugged. “An unfortunate mistake and one I would have rectified myself if you hadn’t taken out Robert yourself. He was under orders not to harm Killian, if you remember correctly. That was part of the deal we made. A deal that I never went back on, unlike you.”

“Don’t you dare speak his name,” Liam hissed vehemently. “You don’t deserve to even think about my brother.”

The smirk on the bastard’s face had to go. “Your brother was… shall we say, becoming problematic. He and his little princess were coming far too close to discovering my ties to your depart… I’m sorry, it’s not yours any longer.” - he nodded to Liam’s side, where he’d been stabbed the year before - “Regardless. They were going to erase my ties to Killian’s department and I wasn’t going to stand for that. Robert got cocky. Just. Like. You.”

Liam heard the muffled shouting before Hades was finished and his heart sank into the pit of his stomach. He pulled the Sig Sauer from the small of his back finally and aimed it at Hades’ heart. “I can end you; right here, right now.”

“Ah ah ah,” Hades tutted, not flinching with the barrel of the gun pointed at him. “You might no longer care about yourself, but what about…”

He turned his back on Liam as the door to the office opened again.

“Miss Swan, how nice of you to join us.”

Emma hated waiting. For coffee in the morning, for leads to come in, for stakeouts to come to fruition, for Killian to… nope. She hated waiting. She hated being kept on the sidelines even more, and this… this felt a lot like being sidelined. She shifted in the rafters again, her burner phone off but still digging into her hip where she was lying uncomfortably on it. She should have just left it in the car - there was no one she could call now and no one who would be calling her. Liam was the only one with the number anyway and he had no reason to get ahold of her.

They knew the plan. They had gone over it so many times and it was a good plan. It would work and Hades wouldn’t be leaving here alive. A tiny part of Emma was screaming in the background about justice and vengeance and vigilantism, but the part of her that had been consumed with grief after losing Killian shut it up quicker than she could blink. Gold may have been the reason Killian had died but Hades was responsible and she wasn’t going to give him a chance to wield his power from a prison cell.

No, Hades was going to find his end here, today, and Emma knew that of all the things they disagreed on, she and Liam were on the same page with this.

Now she just had to find a way to keep Liam alive throughout this whole mess.

Emma rolled her shoulders, trying to work out the kinks before she had to actually focus. They’d agreed that she should get here hours ahead of time to scout out the location, but there wasn’t a soul within 500 yards of the place and nothing was moving in the cavernous room below her other than rats.

Which left Emma with far too much time to think. She thought about what Killian would have thought about all this. She thought about what might have happened with them if he’d had time to come to terms with Milah’s murderer being dead. She thought about why she’d been so frightened of him and what they could be together.

She thought about the words she hadn’t said to him and if he knew she’d believed them.

Hours passed slowly, the dripping of water somewhere to her left doing nothing to speed up time. She’d counted to a thousand and then backwards by sevens, she’d memorized the alphabet backwards in French, she’d named every capital and its state that she could remember - and would swear she got all 50 if anyone ever had reason to ask.

Finally, when it seemed like she was going to have to resort to naming every animal she’d ever heard of or something equally as ridiculous, Emma heard the warehouse door screech open. She risked a look at her watch and frowned. It was barely 7:30. Liam shouldn’t have even left the safe house yet, never mind gotten through traffic and made his way into the building.

It wasn’t Liam.

Emma watched with bated breath, trying to see around an upright without moving. She could just see the shadow of someone standing in the doorway, hands on his hips and not moving. There hadn’t been anyone here for days; it seemed highly unlikely that Hades would - all of a sudden - decide to use it on a Wednesday night in February. Unless…

Unless Hades already knows you’re here. The voice in her head sounded suspiciously like Killian, which was enough to give her a moment’s pause. He… or she, she supposed, was right, though. If their trap was actually a trap for Liam, for them, then she had to get out of there. She had to warn Liam. She had to-

She had to take better stock of her surroundings. No one could possibly know where she was in the warehouse, if they even knew she was already here. The place was huge and the scans they’d run over the past few scouting trips hadn’t revealed any cameras or wireless signals broadcasting off site. If there were cameras they’d missed, they were on a local feed and whoever was here hadn’t even come in the building yet.

Don’t panic, don’t give your position away prematurely; Emma’s training ran through her head even as she mapped possible exits. She’d left herself three egress points from where she lay - the path up to the roof behind her as well as left and right along the catwalk. Unless her interloper had friends, she had options.

Emma froze as a man finally walked around the I beam that had hidden him and stopped in a beam of light filtering through a window. He was tall and skinny, his head darting back and forth wildly as he looked around the room. There was something familiar about him, but Emma was sure she’d never seen him before. He wasn’t looking up at her, though, and that allowed her to breathe a little easier.

All she had to do was wait for him to move, to figure out why he was there, and she’d be set. She could text Liam to let him know there was an unaccounted for variable and that would be that.

It seemed to take an eternity, but finally the jumpy man left, sliding the door shut and leaving the warehouse blanketed in silence once more.

Weird, Emma thought, her own sharp gaze flicking wildly around the room below her, trying to figure out what he’d done. Why he’d been there. Who he was. She slid the burner phone out of her pocket and flipped it open, glad that - for all its lack of features - it remembered her brightness preferences. Emma squinted in the darkness, trying to make out enough of the screen to pull up the texting page and then Liam’s number.

She never expected to be blinded by every one of the warehouse’s lights coming on in an instant.

Emma couldn’t bite back the cry of surprised pain as she slammed her eyes shut against the bright light that assaulted her vision. She blinked rapidly, shielding her eyes from as much of the light with one hand and scrabbling to find the phone she’d dropped with the other. She’d only just brushed over it with her fingers when a sound to her right startled her.

The next thing she heard was the crash of plastic shattering against concrete after her phone careened off the catwalk.

Damnit!

Ignoring the phone, Emma rolled onto her back, pulling her sidearm and aiming it at the noise she’d heard first.

A burly man stared back, his own weapon trained on her chest and how in the hell had he gotten there without her hearing him?

“Get up,” he snarled, gesticulating with the weapon. “Leave the gun.”

Not bloody likely, Killian’s voice echoed in her ear as Emma got slowly to her feet. She eyed her other two exits as she stood, surprised to find the spindly man she’d been watching aiming his own weapon at her from the ladder behind her. How had he gotten there so quickly?

“Kick the rifle off,” Burly ordered, cocking his pistol and leering at her.

Emma turned to face him, putting Panic at her left and keeping Burly in front of her. She needed the rifle to watch Liam’s back once he got here, but she needed to not be dead in order to do that.

Emma hadn’t gotten as far as she had in life without learning how to improvise. She took four huge steps back from the rifle instead, raising her weapon in supplication and wondering how far he’d let her go before-

BANG!

A bullet whizzed over her head and slammed into the wall far behind her. Emma could hear the projectile ricocheting around the warehouse until, finally, it buried itself into something.

“That’s far enough, girlie,” Burly told her, his smile getting even more lewd as he blew on the barrel of the smoking gun. “Boss wants you alive for his grand finale with Jones.”

Emma resisted the urge to hang her head. If Hades knew who she was, and that Liam was coming, they’d never stood a chance.

She took another step back, watching Panic move steadily towards her and she wanted to swing the weapon down to bear on him, wanted him to back off, but Burly sent another bullet her way and this one nicked her ear. Hot blood coursed down the side of her head even as she ducked away from the pain, clapping a hand over the wound and hissing when she put pressure on it. Barely a graze, but enough to get the message across.

They had her dead to rights.

“Put. The gun. Down,” came the order from behind her. A third man that she hadn’t even known was there poking his head out of the hatch from the ladder she’d climbed hours before. His own weapon was trained on her back.

Well, shit.

Emma had no choice. She put the gun down.

“Very good, lass,” the third man praised facetiously, grinning as he climbed off the ladder and moved towards her. He motioned her backwards as he reached for her weapon, Panic’s own gun settling in the middle of her back.

She was trapped.

“This is some fancy hardware, love,” Burly commented idly as he picked up her rifle, swinging it around until the strap secured it to his back.

“Don’t call me that,” Emma hissed, every muscle in her body tensing for a fight.

The third man snickered and took another step forward, jamming the barrel of his gun under her chin and twisting. If not for Panic’s gun in her back, Emma would have made the asshole eat it.

“I’m going to have some fun making you scream,” he promised, and Emma named him Pain.

“Not if I get you first,” Emma whispered back, pleased to see a flicker of fear cross his features at her tone before he lifted his chin and grinned.

“Once the boss is done with you and your… did you switch brothers so quickly? Is that what this is?”

Emma bristled.

“Guess not,” Pain continued as if they were exchanging idle gossip. “Either way, I’m going to have fun breaking you when Jones is drowning in his own blood.”

Emma’s sarcastic retort was cut off when he reached out and pinched her bleeding ear, twisting and giggling when she tried to suppress the cry of pain.

“Enough,” Burly commanded. “Boss wants her quiet until Jones gets here.”

Emma didn’t have enough time to think about what that meant before the lights went out - metaphorically and physically.

***

When Emma finally came around, she was lying on her stomach with a gag in her mouth and one of the men sitting on her back.

“We’ve just got to wait for the signal, girlie,” the man sitting on her tapped the back of her head with what felt like his gun. Burly, then, she thought. “Then you and lover boy can be reunited.”

Emma didn’t know if he was smart enough to mean Killian or dumb enough to mean Liam.

It took a few moments but soon Emma heard the screech of the warehouse door and measured footsteps echoing over the concrete floor she was lying on.

Run, Liam! Get out of here! she muttered angrily as she thought the commands as loudly as she could. She could see Panic pacing the floor in front of her and hear Pain’s amused breathy chuckles to her side. This was her last chance. If she could just make some kind of commotion… if she could…

“Don’t even think about it,” Burly ordered as he slid the cool metal over her throbbing ear. “You wouldn’t get two steps before we took you out and Jones is already a dead man walking.”

Emma squirmed anyway, ignoring the way Pain kicked her in the side and Burly shouted for him to be careful - he’d almost nailed the idiot in the jewels. There was nothing for it; she’d have to wait for some more of Hades’ plan to work itself out before she could find a way to escape.

To keep herself and Liam alive until they could regroup.

All too soon, she was dragged to her feet, her hands still bound behind her and the dried blood on her neck pulling at the little hairs there. Emma’s eyes watered as she was shoved along, Pain and Panic each taking an arm as Burly prodded her with his gun.

She was going to make him eat a bullet first chance she got.

“Ah ah ah,” she heard Hades scold someone - probably Liam. Her heart sank. “You might no longer care about yourself, but what about…”

Emma stumbled as Pain shoved her out of Panic’s hold and into the room. He didn’t give her a chance to straighten up before he’d clamped one hand around her neck and jammed the pistol into the base of her skull.

“Miss Swan,” Hades continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted, brandishing - of all things - a nasty looking dagger, “how nice of you to join us.”

Liam looked broken, holding his weapon shakily on Hades but looking at her like his world had ended. And, she realized quickly, if they didn’t find a way to turn this on its head, it very likely had. They wouldn’t survive this without some kind of intervention and Liam would never rest if he didn’t avenge Killian first.

Neither would she.

“Let her go, you bastard. It’s me you want.”

Emma almost rolled her eyes. Leave it to a Jones to be chivalrous to a fault. Even when it was futile.

“Actually,” Hades spoke as if he were teaching a toddler, “it’s both of you. Did you miss the part where Miss Swan, here, is hellbent on taking down my entire organization?”

Pain shook her as if Liam needed the reminder that she was there. Emma’s head was spinning, stars beginning to cloud her vision. She needed to breathe.

“Let. Her. Go.” Liam commanded again, his hand shaking more violently as he raised the point of the gun a little higher.

“Here’s how this is going to work,” Hades began conversationally. “Miss Swan is going to keep us company for a little while. I’m sure my… associates will have some interesting things to show her. Then-”

Burly piped up. “Then you’re gonna-”

Hades nodded once and Pain pulled his gun away from Emma’s head long enough to put a bullet through Burly’s skull.

“I don’t like when you interrupt me,” Hades spoke to the corpse. Panic started fidgeting, hopping from foot to foot and swinging his own gun wildly from Burly to Liam and back again.

“As I was saying,” Hades continued, “While these two imbeciles are keeping Miss Swan company, you’re going to go down to the precinct and make sure that any files on me have been erased.”

Liam shook his head. “Not a chance. Let Emma go. She has access to the files; I don’t.”

Hades laughed. “I’m sure you can get… creative.”

“And what if I don’t? What if I” - he swung the weapon to sight in on Panic - “just take out your men one by one?”

Panic blanched, his eyes frozen on Hades while his gun hovered somewhere close to pointing at Liam’s abdomen.

Not a good shot, then, Emma thought, watching Liam warily.

Apparently he had the same idea, if the next few minutes of utter chaos were any indication. Emma sagged completely in Pain’s grasp, falling to the floor and nearly passing out when his hand tightened around her neck. But it gave Liam the opening he needed to shoot the bastard in the neck, killing him in the time it took Pain to sag to the ground and collapse on top of her.

“Liam! Look out!” was all Emma could yell from where she was pinned to the floor, watching in slow motion as Hades snarled, raising the knife and charging across the room. Panic fired his weapon, spinning Liam around and out of Hades’ direct path, but that was the only shot he was able to fire off as another bullet came out of nowhere, stopping him dead in his tracks as he looked down, comically almost, at the spreading flower of blood on his chest. He threw one scathing look towards the door before he hit his knees and fell, face first, onto Burly’s back.

“Detective!” a voice shouted from behind her, but with the adrenaline flowing and the fear taking hold, Emma had no idea who was shouting.

Liam’s left hand clutched at his shoulder as he turned just in time to catch Hades’ arm as it arced towards his unprotected back. They both fell to the floor in a tussle of limbs that left Emma lost as to who was whom.

“Detective?” a voice asked, booted feet in front of her as whoever it was watched the scene in front of him. Emma tried to look up, but only got as far as jean-clad knees before Pain’s bulk halted her movements.

“Fine!” she shouted. “Help Liam!”

Someone else kneeled next to her and Emma’s head whirled around, making something snap audibly in her neck and causing her to cry out.

“Hold on, Detective,” the other voice soothed, placing his gun on the ground in her line of sight before disappearing.

Seconds later, the weight on her back disappeared and Emma scrambled to her feet, snatching up the gun and pointing it at whoever moved.

Robin and David both stared at her with raised eyebrows before turning back to the melee at their feet. Every time one of them tried to get close enough to pull the grappling men apart, the knife slashed out and backed them up. Emma tried to train her gun on Hades, but it was a lost cause; there was too much movement to ensure that she wouldn’t hit Liam.

“Help him!” she shouted again, dizzy now that she’d paused for a moment. Adrenaline could only overcome so much and Emma had been unconscious for a considerable amount of time before this.

“We’re trying!” David shouted at her, looking as lost and terrified as she and Liam had felt after Killian was shot.

Robin peeled his gun out of Emma’s hands as she wavered, nearly stumbling into David. She couldn’t see straight now and relinquished the weapon as she started to buckle back to the ground. Arms held her up, slowing her descent, but couldn’t stop her fall.

She shook off the help, watching with bated breath as the two men rolled again. “Help him, please,” she muttered, not knowing how they could do anything but watch.

David was shaking next to her, resting on one knee and gripping his weapon as if he could will it to fire the right shot. “He needs this,” was all he muttered.

And then, it all ended in a flash of light and the smell of gunpowder and the pained shout that drowned out everything else.

Hades had gotten the advantage, one hand clasped around Liam’s as it choked the life out of him and the other raising the knife above his head. Robin was the one who took the shot, firing through the middle of Hades’ back and not taking any chances with a head shot. It didn’t matter; Hades was dead before he fell, but the damage was done. The path of his knife drove it into Liam’s side as he landed on top of him, and Emma heard the clink of metal chipping concrete even as Liam screamed.

“NO!” they all shouted, and time sped up as Emma scrambled to his side, securing the knife in her hand as David peeled Hades’ corpse off of Liam’s chest. Liam’s blood ran hot over her hand as she grabbed the shirt Robin pressed against the wound.

“Son of a bitch!” Robin muttered as he pulled out his phone. “Killian is going to murder me for this.”

Everything stopped.

Emma started to shake.

She couldn’t breathe.

Her hands went numb.

Her eyes started to water.

She’d never been this cold.

She couldn’t hear anything.

Nothing except Robin’s words echoing.

“Killian is going to murder me.”

Killian!

Is. Present tense.

Present.

Alive?

Emma’s eyes swiveled up, fighting off the blackness that was encroaching on her vision as she silently begged Robin to explain.

“Kil… Killian?” she croaked, her voice cracking on every syllable.

Robin nodded. “I tried to find you two. Bloody hell, would it have been too much to leave a damned phone on? I didn’t have time to tell you beforehand and then, by the time we got him settled, you were gone. He’s going to have my head for worrying you guys like this.”

Emma just shook her head, sure that it was some kind of oxygen deprived hallucination. “Wh- what?”

Robin shrugged apologetically, holding up a finger when his phone finally connected with a dispatcher.

Emma whirled on David, snarling when he tried to move her out of the way to put pressure on the wound in Liam’s shoulder. “What?” she screamed again, well aware that she sounded a little hysterical.

“I didn’t know, Emma. I swear, I wouldn’t have done this to him” - he nodded at Liam - “or to you. Robin got some credible intel from one of their sources that Hades had put a price on Killian’s head. He didn’t have time, and he didn’t think about anything. He just… he got Whale to fake Killian’s death. You two disappeared before we could tell you.”

Emma stared for another minute before she felt tears streaming down her cheeks. Jones was alive! Killian was… he was… they could…

Liam groaned, not really conscious and not aware that his life was slipping away and his goddamned brother was alive! Emma pushed down harder around the knife, careful not to slice her hand open but unwilling to let him slip away.

It wasn’t going to be enough. Liam went slack beneath her hands as his eyes rolled to the back of his head and then closed.

“Don’t you dare!” Emma shouted, pushing down harder on the gaping wound and ignoring the way her palm split open along the blade, their blood mingling together on the wadded up shirt.

Liam went frighteningly limp and Emma swore.

“You self righteous asshat! You don't get to die and leave me to tell Killian you were a goddamned hero!”

tagging: @killian-whump @gilliangrissom @nothingimpossibleonlyimprobable @courtorderedcake

#csbb #cs ff #cs fic #liam jones #brothers jones

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lord-kristoff-of-arendelle · 5 years

Text

I have been tagged in one of these things by @anybodylessgayso, so I guess we’re doing this.

Nickname(s): Jake. Snake. Snakes. Bo-bo by my parents (idk about that one). Exactly three people are allowed to call me Jakey, my siblings and Bonnie.

Gender: Dude, or El Duderino if you’re not into the whole brevity thing.

Height: 5′11″, 6′0″ if I’m in boots. Gotta squeeze out as much height difference as I can above her.

Time: 10:06pm CST

Where I’m from: Dallas, Texas. I’d specify the suburb but it doesn’t matter.

Hogwarts house: Gryffindor, according to Pottermore. I went through the typical pattern of “I wanna be a Gryffindor!” before later on deciding I was a Ravenclaw. So I guess when Nathaniel says in Crazy Ex-Girlfriend that “I think when people say they’re Ravenclaw, they really think they’re Gryffindor but they don’t want to sound too braggy” ... yeah I guess he nailed me. King.

Favorite show: Man, if you put a gun to my head I might say Better Call Saul. But, I mean, there’s also Breaking Bad, and Game of Thrones, and Parks and Rec, and Crazy Ex Girlfriend, and True Detective (season 1), and The X-Files, so ... yeah. Much to think about.

Favorite animal: Birds, probably. Doesn’t matter what kind. Honestly I just love animals in general, we’d be here all night if I ran down the list.

Favorite band/artist: Rush. That was easy. There are many bands and artists out there I love, but there is only one Holy Trinity.

Song stuck in my head: At the moment it’s basically a different song from Crazy Ex Girlfriend every day. Have you figured out yet that we just finished the series?

Last movie I saw: Endgame, I think. The blockbuster release schedule has just been flying by and there’s too many damn movies for me to see when I gotta spend $30 on each one.

Last thing I Googled: netflix because i was trying to find that nathaniel quote and i don’t have the site bookmarked

Other blogs: None. I’ve got two url’s related to the Cowboys stashed away in case I ever want to set up some kind of sports blog thing. That’ll probably never happen.

Do I get asks: I mean, I’ve only been back on this site for

Why this URL: I attended Texas A&M, the state land grant school that got its start as the agricultural and mechanical college (Texas AMC, before 1963). So despite it being a giant university now and my degree have absolutely nothing to do with agriculture, I am, in fact, Jake from the state farm school.

Number of blankets: I don’t have to answer that. I want my lawyer.

Followers: 26. We’re creeping up there.

Following: 101. You’re all Vault inhabitants.

Average amount of sleep: It’s usually 6-7. Lately I’ve been trying to make to have lights out by midnight to stretch that into 7-8, but it’s been ... mixed results. I’m a night owl, always have been.

Lucky number: [makes “I don’t know” sound]

What am I wearing: Underwear and undershirt and my robe.

Dream job: Tbqh probably working in a museum, buuuuuuut I also like having money for my hobbies too much to make that work, lmao. I’m currently working as a paralegal and who knows, if the right fit comes about I might just be a lawyer too.

Dream trips: Probably a nice grand tour of central Europe. Maybe start up in Scandinavia and work our way down to Italy. Maybe even a jaunt to Greece. Oh, also, I have to visit Cedar Point in Ohio and Magic Mountain in California before I die.

Favorite food: You know the Brazilian steakhouses where the gauchos walk around with meat on the giant skewers and carve it at the table? Yeah, that.

Instruments I play: I had a stint at learning guitar but that’s pretty much it. I can make this mechanical keyboard sing, though.

Eye color: Blue-green, basically, with a bit of hazel.

Hair color: Dirty blonde. It was lighter when I was a kid but it’s gotten a bit darker over time. My beard is red af, though, I get that from my mother.

Aesthetic: Mountains, forests, snow. Texas Hill Country. Porches with bugs and frogs making noise all around and Midnight Rambler playing faintly in the distance. The desert at night. Art Deco architecture.

Languages I speak: English, and despite three years of Spanish and two years of German (high school and college respectively) I’ve barely retained enough of either to haltingly work my way through a conversation.

Most iconic song: Invisible airways crackle with life/bright antenna bristle with energy (”The Spirit of Radio”, Rush). Also State of Grace by Taylor Swift but that’s because of Bonnie.

When I created this account: Basically after the Frozen 2 teaser came out I went back and nuked my old tumblr account (as it was filled with stuff I wasn’t happy with and belonged to a much different time in life) and started over here.

Best memory: Vacations Bonnie and I have taken on our own to Denver and Galveston (saw Frozen the Musical on its opening night in Denver), and Austin before we moved here. My last high school football game when I was on the field at Cowboys Stadium. The Mavs winning the 2011 NBA Finals. A&M beating LSU 74-72 in seven overtimes. Yeah there’s a lot of sports there.

Best pun: My comedic genius answers to no one but its own whims tyvm

Random fact: I have a friend who once had a threesome while watching Rent. We still, to this day, have not figured out how it was this friend of all people that managed to stumble into this. And yes, stumble is the perfect word for it.

I tag:

Shit man, if you’re one of the 26 and this strikes your fancy, go for it.

#me #text post

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thermopylod · 6 years

Note

Yutaba + 46

Futaba x Yusuke, “I’m in love…shit.”(~1900 words)

Futaba and Akira were 3 hours and 2 plates into their afternoon of retro gaming and curry-eating, and Futaba had been trouncing him well and good at Power Intuition and Punch Ouch. That must have been why he suddenly decided to use dirty distraction techniques to try to win a match.

“So, when are you going to ask Yusuke out?”

Yutaba jumped so high she knocked over the chair she was sitting on and fell down, prompting Akira to rush over to make sure she was ok. She shoved his well-meaning hands off, blushing a deep scarlet.

“Why would I do that?!”

Wasn’t Akira supposed to be super perceptive? He must be off his game if he thought Futaba had any interest in Yusuke. Which part of him was supposed to be attractive to her? The beanpole physique? The propensity for drinking paint water? The continuous flow of supremely boring art discussions? The horrible dietary habits? (Not that Futaba had much room to talk, but at least she ate, which was more than some people could say.) She stood up, brushing herself off, and glared at Akira. If he wanted to play matchmaker, he could go do that with Ann, or Haru, or hell, even Makoto would be a better target for his unnecessary meddling than Futaba.

“Because you’re into him?” he asked like it was some sort of obvious fact while he picked the chair up, proving that for all his interpersonal skills he really could be quite dense.

“No I’m not,” Futaba replied as she dropped onto the couch, assuming the conversation would end there. She’d had quite enough of fighting games for now; maybe it was time for round three of the curry…

“Coulda fooled me.”

Her head snapped up. So he wasn’t going to drop it. She sighed; Akira could be so persistent when he thought he was right, and she really had better things to do with her evening than explain to him why Yusuke wasn’t remotely attractive to her. Things like… cut her toenails. Or trim her split ends. Or maybe even color-code her closet. Anything had to be better.

She could feel her face still flooded with heat; she hated that that was her automatic reaction to awkward situations, and now Akira was going to read it as a sign or something, and had he gotten into Ryuji’s weird romantic manga stash again?

“I mean, you two hang out together all the time,” he continued.

Well, of course they did; Yusuke spent a large amount of his free time at Leblanc’s, and so did Futaba. He said it was for the atmosphere which “inspired the creative mind,” but she was pretty sure it was mostly because Sojiro always ended up feeding him when his stomach growled too loudly.

As for Futaba, since she didn’t go to school, it was either the cafe or her empty house, and since her change of heart she found that she appreciated being around other people sometimes. Not all the time, of course — she was still an introvert, nothing would change that, and closing the door onto her silent, quiet, empty bedroom was as relaxing as a hot bath after an excessively long day in the Metaverse. But sometimes, it was nice, having a few living, breathing people around to reminder her she wasn’t alone anymore.

And of course she often ended up talking with Yusuke; he was usually the only person under thirty in the cafe, and even his endless explanations of art movements couldn’t be as bad as discussing politics with the close-minded old regulars. If she got him on the right subject he could even be rather entertaining. He had a way of making scathing, offhand remarks without even appearing to realise it; sometimes it was like reading an oblivious snark blog and it took all she had not to laugh out loud, which inevitably broke the spell as he asked, completely confused, what was funny about the fiscally irresponsible choices of his classmate.

So clearly that didn’t mean anything. She opened her mouth to tell Akira as much, but he spoke first.

“Didn’t you even take him out to dinner the other day?”

She frowned. Take him out to… oh, right. She’d noticed he looked even paler than usual, with greenish undertones to his skin that he usually didn’t have unless he’d accidentally gotten paint on his face — not that she was paying any specific attention to his usually porcelain tone or perfectly blemish-free appearance. When she’d asked whether he was sick he’d told her to “please, not worry on his behalf,” which was the best way to make anyone worry.

(Futaba had read about reverse psychology, and decided that she was immune to that sort of mind manipulation trick. Therefore, the fact that she often felt the need to do the opposite of what she was told was simply her asserting her right to make her own decisions, and had nothing to do with any sort of psychology, reverse or otherwise.)

“When was the last time you ate something else than curry?” she’d asked him.

“Hmm… oh, yes, I had some bean sprouts on Monday. They were quite refreshing.”

“That… that was three days ago, Inari.”

“Well, I do have to wait for them to grow back. If I eat them too quickly, then there will be none left.”

Futaba had stared at him. It was a miracle he didn’t have scurvy at this point, really, and even if he was obnoxious and exasperating he was also a key member of the team. His ice skills were unmatched, so it would be a problem if he ended up in the hospital or on bed rest because he got less vitamins than a pirate from the 1700s. Figuring she could do something helpful for the team for once, she’d dragged him out to the closest restaurant that served salads and forced him to eat at least 3 different veggies, and also made him get a smoothie at the station on the way home too. He’d been excessively grateful, thanking her over and over, but he always acted like that around food. It hadn’t been a date or anything, just a smart tactical decision for the team.

“Then there’s the way you always hold his hand when we’re outside.”

Futaba blushed. That one was weird, she had to give Akira that. She’d just about fainted from embarrassment the first time Yusuke’d grabbed her wrist to drag her along in a crowd, but it had been a very efficient way to get through it quickly without getting lost — he had such long legs, she often had trouble keeping up. From then on, she’d started grabbing his hand anytime they were in a crowded area, and maybe when they weren’t too. It wasn’t some sort of romantic thing; she just felt safer that way. His warm hand in hers reminded her that she wasn’t alone, like a physical memento of the whole team’s support, and made it easier to deal with the slew of fears she still had. And if she’d started interlacing their fingers, that was only because their grip felt more secure that way. It had nothing to do with how soft his fingertips were against the back of her hand.

“And when we’re in the Metaverse, you always cast your support spells on him first.”

Now Futaba was getting annoyed. Had Akira been studying her or something? This was starting to sound like an interrogation, and he wasn’t letting her get a word in edgewise. He was wrong, and that was that. Did she boost or heal Yusuke first? Well, he was taller, so he probably just attracted her skill to him automatically; after all, she was casting them from above, so that would make sense. Or maybe he was the most injured, which meant he needed her help the most, and was she supposed to ignore that just because Akira would get weird notions if she didn’t? Clearly it wasn’t like she was doing it on purpose.

“But the main reason I asked, is that lately you’ve only made time to hang out with me when he’s not available.”

“How do you know when he’s available?”

“I am the leader, of this team, you know. I have all your calendars memorized so I can choose the best days to take us into the Metaverse,” he replied, ruffling her hair. “For example, I know Fridays are bad because that’s when your favorite anime airs and you’ll be distracted the whole time over missing it.”

“I am not — anyway, that’s not true, I don’t pick him over you!”

“Really? So you could have seen Yusuke tonight, but you came here?”

“Well, no, he’s at an art show, but that’s not the point! Anyway, I know you’re only here because Ryuji’s busy with his mom today, so you’re one to talk!” She stuck her tongue out at him, proud of her retort.

“Ah, but I have no issue admitting I love Ryuji,” he replied with a smug smile.

Futaba froze, and all her thoughts from the last fifteen minutes suddenly caught up with her. She spent all her time with him. She found him entertaining to listen to even though he was, objectively, really boring. She was familiar enough with his appearance to notice a slight change and worried about his health to the point of buying him dinner. She liked to hold his hand, felt safe in public when he was around, unconsciously prioritized him for support spells if Akira was to be believed, and would always choose hanging out with him over anyone else.

She slid limply off the couch into a pile on the ground, hiding her head against her knees.

“I’m in love… Shit!”

She heard Akira come to sit down next to her, and lifted her head to look at him when he laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Why him? Why me? Why? I never asked for this!”

Akira shrugged. “If you find out, let me know. I still can’t understand why I fell for my dorky best friend with the terrible fashion sense instead of one of the many gorgeous girls who throw themselves at me daily,” he said, trademark flirty smile on his lips as he posed with a hand beneath his chin.

She swatted at him and rolled her eyes. “You absolute narcissist.”

“I can’t help that I was born beautiful,” he said with a silly, over exaggerated pout, before smirking in a dangerously playful way. “So, back to my original question. When are you going to ask him out?”

“Never, oh my god, Akira!” Not in a million damn years. There was no change of heart strong enough to give her the courage for that, and obviously Yusuke didn’t like her back, so there was no point, and —

Akira was pulling his phone out, and she jumped at him. “Don’t you dare tell him! Or anyone else!”

He pushed himself away from her with his hands up, one holding his phone with the screen towards her. “I wasn’t going to, I just got a message!”

She looked at the screen suspiciously. There did seem to be a notification from the Phantom Thieves chat dating back just a few seconds. Still…

“If you tell anyone, I’ll send your full chat history with Ryuji to the group chat,” she threatened.

His gasp, entirely genuine, made her wonder if she ought to check it, then just as quickly realise the last thing she wanted to do was check it. “You wouldn’t!”

“Try me.”

#persona 5 #yutaba #fic prompt #I'm in love...shit.#yusuke kitagawa #futaba sakura #editing what's editing #thanks for sending the ask!#will post to ao3...at some point :P

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