#[ she's got a huge chip on her shoulder. MAIN VERSE] | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

quoteablebooks · 1 year ago

Text

Genre: Fiction, Adult, HIstorical Fantasy

Rating: 2.5 out of 5

Content Warning: Violence, Bullying, Child abuse, Child death, Physical abuse, Blood, Death of parent, Injury/Injury detail, Death

Summary:

Pawned by her mother to the King of Hell as a child, Lady Jing is half-vampire, half-hulijing fox-spirit and all sasshole. As the King’s ward, she has spent the past ninety years running errands, dodging the taunts of the spiteful hulijing courtiers, and trying to control her explosive temper – with varying levels of success.

So when Jing overhears the courtiers plotting to steal a priceless dragon pearl from the King, she seizes her chance to expose them, once and for all.

With the help of a gentle mortal tasked with setting up the Central Bank of Hell, Jing embarks on a wild chase for intel, first through Hell and then mortal Shanghai. But when her hijinks put the mortal in danger, she must decide which is more important: avenging her loss of face, or letting go of her half-empty approach to life for a chance to experience tenderness – and maybe even love.

This richly told adult fantasy debut teems with Chinese deities and demons cavorting in jazz age Shanghai.

Reading this novel has to be one of the most frustrating reading experiences I’ve had in recent memory. It was frustrating because this would have been a very good YA novel, a naive and angry protagonist who learns to trust others and stop lashing out due to the traumas of her past to come into her power. The classic coming-of-age story. The problem is, this is marketed as an adult novel and I got it in an adult fantasy book subscription box. For the life of me, I cannot figure out why this was marketed as an adult novel. There were no sex scenes and no swearing. Another huge issue I had with the novel was some of the immature language that was used. I can hear you all saying “just read it as a YA novel” but that is not what it is marketed as and therefore I feel as if I need to review it how it was marketed.

The start of the novel is rather abrasive as the first three pages are basically just an info dump of the world that we are entering into. After that, things smooth out a little and we get to see the world that Chao created in immortal Shanghai, the mixture of modern and classic that many Eastern Countries were battling with at this time period. One of the best parts of this novel is the way that Chao creates the worlds that Lady Jing moves through, full of color, vibrance, danger, and death. The horrors that Shanghai suffered are touched upon, though not the main plot point of the novel. Another issue with the writing I had was the immature language that was used. Lady Jing says “ta-tas” and “piss-fart” and other variations of piss-something throughout the novel. Now, I will say that I am not well-versed in Asian cultures so there is a possibility that the piss-something variations might be cultural, but I still believe that it was overused in the story. The language just added to the immature feeling to Lady Jing and the feeling that this novel should be marketed as YA.

Lady Jing as a character can be very unlikable, especially at the beginning of the novel, and she is written that way on purpose. As I stated before, this is a coming-of-age tale, which is another reason why I believe that this should have been marketed as a YA novel. As you spend more time with Lady Jing and learn more about her upbringing, it makes sense as to why she has such a chip on her shoulder and dislikes Celestials so much. Still, there were times that I wanted to shake her, which was reflected by some of the other characters in the novel. By the end of the story, I was rooting for her and she made a good deal of character growth, but she is never going to be one of my favorite characters.

The romance between Mr. Lee and Lady Jing was rather sweet, but once again is more like a first crush in a YA novel than an adult romance. Lady Jing is sheltered and does not have a lot of interaction with others due to their prejudice of her vampiric side, so it is the first time she has had romantic feelings. That being said, Mr. Lee is an adult male who has lived in Shanghai before coming to do his work in immortal Shanghai, so I would have experienced more mature romantic feelings and responses from him. His actions were almost immature and more in line with a YA novel than Adult. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Mr. Lee, he was a very sweet character, but he also seemed immature.

There are absolute areas of brilliance in this novel, but I think that the pacing is uneven and there were a lot of rough edges in this manuscript. I would have liked to be more polished before publication. Perhaps something will happen in the next two books in the series that will make the adult classification make sense, but right now it is still completely confusing to me. If this was a YA novel, I would have given it a 3.5 but as an adult novel, I have to be honest and give it a 2.5 rounded down to a 2 star. Now that I have a special edition, I have to decide if I want to pay a pretty penny for the second novel so that I have a matching set or let go of Lady Jing as this story wrapped up in a way that it could be a stand-alone.

#2.5 out of 5 stars #Shanghai Immortals #A.Y. Chao #book review #booklr

3 notes · View notes

limjaeseven · 4 years ago

Text

Coming Home (1/8)

Verse 2: Part 1 of 8

Pairing: Jinyoung X Jaebeom

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 1,545

Summary: Jinyoung doesn’t remember his past, but what happens when he does?

Warning(s): Character death

[a/n]: Written for @got7writerscollective‘s Flight Log: The Journey Project. This fic is the first part of an 8 part series based on Verse 2 by JJ Project.

The loud pitter-patter of raindrops against the slanted window of the attic Jinyoung lived in was music to the man’s ears. Though they matched the tears running down his pale cheeks, he loved the rain more, the act of nature being both overwhelming and soothing to his soul.

Jinyoung couldn’t remember how long he had stayed in the little room on top of an old lady’s house in the middle of nowhere. He couldn’t remember how or when he got there, he couldn’t remember a time before he’d lived in the attic, just ghosts of past memories plagued his dreams at night.

The rain though, the rain always reminded him of a past that he supposedly had before his current life, a past where he wasn’t alone, where he didn’t survive off of the meagre pay he got working four boring jobs, where he didn’t need to beg the old lady to let him stay for a month without paying the rent because he didn’t have enough money to buy food for himself.

There was only a single, old tubelight in the room that flickered every now and then, the small window being his only other source of light in the room. It was early in the evening, it had rained enough that the water would pool around his ankles if he were to step out. He sat on the windowsill, his fingers pressed firmly against the glass, as if he could feel the raindrops on his fingertips.

The flickering stopped when the light finally gave out, Jinyoung knew well he didn’t have enough money to replace it and he’d tried everything he could to fix it for months to no avail. Sighing, he turned back to the window, the thunder kick starting his dying heart instead of scaring him.

Jinyoung’s clothes were full of holes, frayed edges and snagged threads. He didn’t own a coat to wear in the winters, he just shivered in the cold and bought medicines to keep himself alive. His raincoat was a piece of tarpaulin he had stapled into the shape of a poncho to make sure he didn’t drench his work uniform. He didn’t grab it when he slipped on his worn out shoes and stepped out of the room.

The house had a back entrance, that’s what Jinyoung usually used, trying his best to keep away from the lady in the house. Her eyes always unsettled Jinyoung, she talked of a life he had never lived but she somehow knew about. She would talk about a boy, one that Jinyoung apparently knew well enough to call ‘hyung’, of spending nights with him, pondering over their future in cold nights in his childhood.

He let one foot hover in the air in front of him so that the rain hit his exposed toes from the holes in his shoes, relishing the cold shivers that ran up his spine. Leaning his body weight forward, he planted the leg firmly in the ground, pushing himself off the patio right under the harsh downpour.

It didn’t take long for the water to soak into his clothes and chill him down to the bone, the cold freezing his heart in the best way Jinyoung could imagine. His wet hair hung in front of his face, covering his eyes but he didn’t bother pushing them away.

His feet carried him to the front of the house, as if they had a will of their own, and made him walk down the long, narrow path that connected the house to the main road. Jinyoung didn’t know where he was going, why he was walking down this path at that time on that day. He had done it a million times before, as he went to and came back from work, but this time it felt different.

His feet dragged along the small stones that covered the soil underneath his feet, pushing them around. The sound just added to the sensations that racked up and down Jinyoung’s lean, almost malnourished body. He almost reached the turn to the road when his toes hit something hard in the ground.

Bending down to squat near the object, Jinyoung dug around the item to pull it out of the ground. What he found was a small tin, rusted with the ravages of time. The reddish brown colour of the iron oxide didn’t help him identify the origins of the box, but he forced it open anyways.

Inside was a watch, its gold plating chipping away around the left side of the metal strap. It wasn’t running, stuck at 1:31:23, but it looked like it was well worn in its time, the locking mechanism loose from the likely wear of the accessory. Jinyoung didn’t know who it belonged to, but it reminded him of his own watch, one that never worked properly, counting the same second over and over again.

Jinyoung didn’t remember getting his own watch, the old lady said she gave it to him and his ‘hyung’ when they were still young, but he had no memory of it. He had no memories of his parents, his childhood, his friends, his school, just broken pictures in his mind from a place full of greenery, dark forests and endless roads. He wasn’t alone though, whenever he dreamed about the place, there was always someone next to him, behind him, in front of him, but whenever he turned to see their face, he woke up.

He thought that the man was the ‘hyung’ the old lady talks about, he had the same broad shoulders, black hair, slim waist and long legs she described. He didn’t know his name, but it felt like it was stuck right in his throat, his body refusing to voice it out. That didn’t make sense though, Jinyoung had never seen a place like that in his life, at least he had no actual memories of it, just those pictures in his mind, just those phantom voices.

The voices hurt the most, they spoke of times Jinyoung didn’t know about, of things Jinyoung never did, of people Jinyoung never saw. He thought it was just his mind playing with him, because the old lady would talk about the same memories he didn’t have, but it would always be after he’d heard the voice, after he’d had the dreams.

Suddenly though the rain stopped, instead he heard the pitter-patter against a sheet of plastic. He stood up and felt a warmth behind himself, his nose filled with the scent of almonds and chocolate. ‘Jaebeom’ he whispered. He had never heard the name before but he somehow knew it. He didn’t bother turning back, he knew that the man would disappear the moment he tried.

He instead took in the warmth, and suddenly his clothes weren’t soaked anymore, the watch was no longer in his hands, but wrapped firmly around the wrist that held onto his hips, a chin coming to sit on his shoulder. ‘Jinyoungie’ the voice whispered in his ear, and the world around him turned black.

When Jinyoung opened his eyes, the umbrella was gone, the man was now sitting with his back against Jinyoung’s back, in the middle of a road that came from nowhere and led nowhere. He had a phone in his hand, headphones coming from it that sat in his ears, narrating a book he’d never read. Jinyoung blinked and the world went black again.

This time he was in front of a huge signboard, one that pointed in two different directions at the centre point of a T Junction. His fingers were laced with Jaebeom’s, their backs still pressed each other’s though this time he was standing. His eyes closed again and the world went black again.

He saw things he hadn’t seen before every time he opened his eyes, they all somehow felt familiar though, as if he’d experienced them in another life. He was in a clearing in a field when he stood next to the man and looked up to gaze at the skies but suddenly rain was hitting his face. He was back in the field, there was no umbrella over his head, there was no warmth behind him, just the cold water hitting his already soaked skin.

Jinyoung didn’t know when the tears started falling, he just remembered falling down to his knees, the watch tightly held in his hands as the memories came flooding back to him, the picture of Jaebeom’s smiling face looking at him as they stargazed that night in the middle of nowhere in Hokkaido, Japan.

He remembered the faces of his parents, his sisters, his friends, but most importantly, Jaebeom’s. He remembered the last time he saw the man and lost all his strength, his breath thinning as the hypothermia kicked in. His heart tried to keep moving on, but the voice of a Japanese reporter was all he heard as his brain shut down and he fell flat on the gravel.

BREAKING NEWS

Actor Park Jinyoung of Icarus and When My Love Blooms fame, age 30, found dead in front of his childhood friend’s house. The man died of hypothermia while being out in the rain for over four hours in the middle of the lowest temperature rain recorded in history.

22 notes · View notes

searchingwardrobes · 5 years ago

Text

The Early Leaf’s a Flower: 1/11

I can’t believe this day is finally here! I have worked so hard on this, and I am both nervous and excited to post it. This is a re-write of Someone to Watch Over Me. I changed the title because the focus was no longer on Emma’s “imaginary friend” watching over her, but equally on Emma and Killian and how, when, and why the wardrobe brings them together. There’s also a theme about growing up and loss of innocence, which is why I took the title from one of my favorite poems, “Nothing Gold Can Stay” by Robert Frost. For those of you who loved the original fic, I haven’t done away with little!Emma and little!Killy. As a matter of fact, there’s more of it with parts from Killian’s point of view, where the original was just from Emma’s.

The biggest change in this is that I have completely thrown out canon. Emma and Killian are the same age in this, and the plot focuses on Neverland. I had just finished re-reading Barrie’s Peter Pan with my daughter when I started this, so it became a mixture of Once’s Neverland and Barrie’s. I love how that part in particular came out, and I hope you all do as well!

Massive thanks to the mods of the @captainswanbigbang ( @optomisticgirl , @phiralovesloki, @shippingtheswann , and @spartanguard). @optomisticgirl in particular helped beta when my original had to bow out and also encouraged me when I doubted myself (enduring really long pms in the process!) @shippingtheswann, I just don’t have words to express your beta skills in this! Emma and Killian’s relationship as kids would not be what it is without you, for one, and you just overall made me so much better as a writer. @distant-rose, thank you for encouraging me to write Milah the way I envisioned her and helping me create an awesome pirate crew for Killian. And finally, every single one of you in the discord chat for your constant encouragement, advice, and sprinting.

And now I will shut up and get to the fic! Therefore, tags at the end :)

Summary: She saw eyes that were the blue of the forget me not peering at her through the cracked door of the wardrobe. He saw hair as gold as the buttercups. Why does the wardrobe keep bringing them back to one another, if fate keeps tearing them apart? Or maybe fate has her reasons . . .

Rating: M for eventual sexy times, violence, canonical major character death, and attempted rape

Trigger warnings: vague references to child abuse (physical and sexual), violence, and eventual positive Millian

Words: about 3k in this chapter

This fic is complete and will be updated every Monday.

Also on Ao3

Emma: Age 10

Emma’s palms are damp with sweat as they clutch the small duffel in her lap. Another social worker, another foster home. Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins had been nice enough, but their biological sons? Emma shudders as she thinks of their sneering taunts and cruel pranks. She loosens her grip on her duffel bag so she can rub her thumb over the birthmark on the inside of her left wrist. Sometimes the flower-shaped mark becomes red and raw from the nervous habit.

Sighing, she watches the scenery go by outside the car window. Emma tries to keep her mind blank, knowing that getting her hopes up will bring nothing but pain. Yet she can’t help the anticipation swirling in her stomach.

The social worker pulls into a modest gravel drive just off the busy highway. The house looks old, and so does the woman who stands on the porch that spreads across the entire front of it.

“That’s Martha,” the social worker tells Emma, “she’s your new foster mother.”

Emma steps out of the car hesitantly, her eyes trained on her feet. Martha tells her hello, but she only mumbles a response. Instead of looking at her new guardian, Emma takes in the front of the house. Dingy white paint covers cracked shingles, the banister lining the porch is broken in places, and the red brick steps are crumbling at the corners. Emma doesn’t really care about any of that, however. Not when brilliant blooms crowd the ground beside the steps and in front of the banister. Emma reaches her hand out tentatively to feel the soft, blue petals.

“Those are forget-me-nots,” Martha tells her, “they’re my favorite flower.”

“The blue is so bright,” Emma says shyly.

“Aren’t they?” Martha leans down closer to Emma, chuckling as her knees crack. “Despite these old bones of mine, I tend these flowers carefully. Want to know why?”

For the first time, Emma looks directly at Martha, and the woman’s kind hazel eyes put her at ease. She nods silently.

“My Alfred, God rest his soul, gave me a bouquet of these before he left for Korea many, many years ago. Forget me not, Martha.”

The woman chuckles, and Emma tries out a tiny smile. “And you didn’t?”

“No,” Martha says, as she rises, extending a hand to Emma, “and he came home to me. We raised two kids in this old house, and now that he’s gone and my children have moved away, I get a bit lonely. I’d like us to keep each other company, Emma, if you want.”

Blinking in surprise, Emma looks at Martha’s hand, then at her face. She’s never had a foster parent or social worker ask her what she wanted. The question gives her the courage to take Martha’s hand.

Emma examines the woman as she takes her inside and shows her around the house. Martha looks to be in her seventies with brittle gray hair and deep wrinkles. Yet her smile is kind, and her hands are soft as they gently give her slim shoulders a squeeze. The house is at least a hundred years old with cracked, peeling paint, and scuffed hardwood floors. A monstrous, black pot-bellied stove radiates heat from the corner of the main room. Like most old houses, one room leads into the next, and Martha gently steers her through the doorway next to the stove. She tells her this will be the room she shares with Lindsey, the sullen teenager with a permanent scowl on her face. Emma looks around, taking it all in through her wide jaded eyes. There’s a fireplace in this room, but it’s bricked up. A small space heater instead runs in the corner of the room. Martha tells her this used to be the dining room, and a set of French doors line one wall. A long, low piece of furniture sits in front of it to block the door, but through the beveled glass, Emma can see the foyer and the front door that she knows leads out to a massive front porch complete with a swing.

Martha shows Emma her bed, and she’s surprised to find that she gets the larger one. A massive double bed of thick, dark wood with tall posts. Lindsay’s twin bed, just a simple metal frame and mattress sits in front of the room’s one window.

“Lindsay couldn’t sleep in that huge bed, so I got her that cot,” Martha explains with a shrug. She sets Emma’s bag beside the bed and then pulls a small step stool from beneath it. “This thing is so high off the ground, you’ll have to use this to get in. It’s a very old bed.”

Emma eyes the stool and tries to hide how pleased she is with the bed. It’s ornate and obviously an antique. It’s like something out of a movie. She’ll feel like a princess sleeping in that bed. All her life, she’s wanted more than the cots or metal twin beds she usually gets in foster homes. She flings her duffel right on top, lest this Lindsay change her mind and steal the bed away.

But the best thing of all is the wide space between the bed and the hardwood floor. No monsters can lurk there. In this bed, in this room, with Martha who tends flowers despite her creaking bones, maybe she’ll finally feel safe.

*****************************************************

Martha wears a faded house dress covered in tiny blue flowers and blue terry-cloth house shoes on her feet. She dons an apron to make supper, and Emma thinks of old black and white TV shows. Maybe this place won’t be so bad. Maybe Martha will one day tell her, “I love you, please stay. And why don’t you call me grandma?”

Emma tries to push that fantasy aside. If it doesn’t come true, she’ll be disappointed. Again. Martha asks if she wants to help with supper, and she eagerly agrees. Martha lets her pour the macaroni noodles into the boiling water on the stove, warning her to go slowly so she doesn’t burn herself. She then lets Emma stir the noodles so they won’t stick together while she expertly chops an onion into tiny pieces.

“These are the chicken pot pies,” she explains next, handing Emma a fork. She shows Emma how to slowly poke the fork into the crust to make each family member’s initials. Emma grins as she presses the fork into hers, then turns the fork sideways to make three more straight lines. “E” for Emma.

Martha’s kitchen table is of chipped formica that was probably once a bright blue but is now faded. The metal chairs with matching blue leather seats are like something out of the 1950s. Emma sits at the table with Martha and the other foster children the woman has taken in. Besides Lindsay and Emma, there’s also a little boy named Tyler with wide eyes and a sad, fearful face. His parents and sister were killed in a car accident, and he’s only here temporarily while his aunt and grandparents argue over who gets to keep him. Emma has a hard time imagining family, much less one who will want you so badly they would fight about it.

Martha hands Tyler a little plastic box shaped like a loaf of bread. She tells him to take out a card and pass it around the table. On each is a Bible verse, and they can’t eat until they’ve each read one. Lindsay rolls her eyes but does as Martha asks anyway.

Emma’s verse reads, “When my father and my mother forsake me; then the Lord will take me up.”

Martha takes a surprising interest in hearing about each child’s day. Lindsay’s eye rolling, Tyler’s quiet sadness, and Emma’s nervousness doesn’t phase the woman at all. After the meal, everyone helps clear the table and do the dishes. It’s a small kitchen, and several times Martha bumps softly into Emma or brushes against her. Each time, the woman laughs and gives her a tentative side hug. When she does, the elderly woman’s scent washes over Emma. It’s a distinctive smell that Emma can’t quite place, but it’s comforting and makes Emma want to bury herself in a bear hug with the woman. However, she refrains. She can’t seem too eager; it might scare Martha and then she won’t want to keep her.

The bathroom in this house is in an odd place: off the kitchen. When Emma goes to brush her teeth, she sees two jars on the pedestal sink. Inside one is a pinkish cold cream, and in the other is powder with a fat, fluffy puff resting on top. Emma lifts both to her nose and sniffs deeply. Yes, the combination of the two. That’s Martha’s scent. Emma eyes the makeup puff as she screws the top back on the cream. She simply can’t resist it, she lifts the puff and starts patting the powder onto her face. She starts and almost drops the puff when Martha suddenly steps into the room. Emma wilts. This will be her shortest stay at a foster home ever. A new record. She waits silently, heart pounding, for the yelling, frustration, and inevitable punishment.

But a smile simply deepens the crows feet around Martha’s eyes as she chuckles softly. She wets a washcloth and swipes it across Emma’s face.

“This pretty face doesn’t need makeup,” she tells her with a sparkle in her eye. “Of course,” she continues, “pretty is as pretty does.”

Emma cocks her head to one side and wrinkles her forehead, “What does that mean?”

Martha pats Emma’s cheek gently, “It means our hearts are what make us truly beautiful. The way we treat people and the things we do are far more important than what we look like.”

Relief washes through Emma when it sinks in that the woman isn’t going to punish her or even yell. Lessons on true beauty aren’t exactly what Emma is used to in a foster home, and she’s not quite sure how to accept it. Martha helps her off the stool, then takes her hand. She leads her to her room, tucks her in, and says a short prayer. Emma bites her bottom lip, wanting so badly to request a hug, but afraid to do so.

“Could I give you a hug and kiss good night?” Martha asks, and Emma thinks that the old woman looks just as nervous as Emma asking.

Emma beams and pulls her arms out from under the covers. The woman gives her a good, firm hug. Over her shoulder, Emma notices for the first time a large, ornate piece of furniture in the corner. There are a large set of doors in the top half, and two drawers on the bottom.

“What is that?” Emma asks in a shaky voice, pointing, when Martha releases her from the hug.

“It’s a wardrobe,” the woman explains, as she tucks the blankets back around Emma. “Old houses didn’t have closets, so people put their clothes in those.”

Emma says nothing as Martha brushes a kiss to her forehead and tells her goodnight, but she eyes the wardrobe warily. It’s the perfect place for monsters. She squeezes her eyes shut as Martha brushes her hair back from her face. Emma tries to tell herself that the boys at the last place were probably making things up. There’s no such thing as monsters . . . right? Yet she can’t forget the panic that had clawed at her when she was locked in that dark room . . .

“Sleepy, huh?” Martha chuckles, tucking her hair behind her ear. Emma lets her believe she is, waiting to open her eyes after the woman is gone.

A few minutes later, Lindsay comes in, rubbing her wet hair with a towel. Instead of pajamas, she’s dressed in tight jeans and a skimpy tank top. Emma sits up in bed and watches curiously as the teenager slips into a pair of boots.

“What are you doing?” Emma asks as Lindsay slowly and quietly opens the window.

“None of your business, kid,” she snaps, tossing a backpack out the open window. “Just don’t snitch. Got that?”

Emma nods as she pulls the blanket to her chest. Why should she care what Lindsay does? The teenager disappears out the window, and Emma falls back against the mattress with a sigh. She can’t remember the last time she had a room all to herself, and it makes her a little nervous.

She eyes the wardrobe warily, sitting up in bed and scrambling back against the headboard. She clutches the handmade quilt Martha had tucked around her in sweaty fists. Did it just creak open a little? She squints in the dark. Through the open slit of the wardrobe, she swears she sees a pair of bright blue eyes, the color of the forget me nots in Martha’s yard, looking at her. She gasps and throws the covers over her head. She counts to twenty slowly, squeezing her eyes shut. The wardrobe door makes another long, rusty sound. After another count to twenty, she slowly eases her head out of the covers.

The wardrobe door is shut tight.

Killian: Age 10

The sea is calm as glass, the air still and stifling. The sailors are antsy and on-edge, praying to every deity for wind. Rowers are sent to the galley every day to make some headway, and it��s exhausting work. Killian isn’t big or strong enough at just ten years of age, but Liam, at twelve, is. The elder Jones collapses into his bunk each night with sore arms and blistered hands. Killian prays the wind comes soon so he can have his brother back.

Perhaps his absence is why Killian’s mind is so distracted lately with thoughts of ginger curls and hazel eyes. His mother’s touch was always so gentle, her voice soft and lilting, her smile and eyes bright. He remembers her being sick; her eyes losing some of their brightness, and her laughter coming less often. But she still smiled. She still held him whenever he crawled into her sick bed. She still kissed him with her soft lips.

Killian remembers she would sing, too, with that lilting voice that was so different from his father’s deep, critical one. Every night, he was lulled to sleep by her lullabies. He begins to sing one now as he knots rope.

She stepped away from me

And she moved through the Fair

And fondly I watched her

Move here and move there

And she went her way homeward

With one star awake

As the swans in the evening

Move over the lake

Killian jumps as an empty bottle of rum shatters against the railing to his right.

“Shut up, boy, and get back to work!”

But to Killian’s surprise, the other sailors yell at the first to leave him alone. The lullaby reminds them of home, they say, so let the boy sing. And sing he does, passing the long, weary, windless days. The sailors who normally terrorize him are lulled by the bright, clear voice that only a child can possess. It changes the morale of the crew to such an extent, that the captain even sends him below to encourage the rowers with his songs. That is the best development of all, for now he’s near his brother; the only family he has.

A few nights later, Killian Jones can’t seem to get comfortable in his hammock. The ship creaks and sways, men snore loudly all around him, and the air smells, clogging his nose and making him gag. Nevertheless, his days are so brutally exhausting that sleep comes swiftly. Even last week when he was forced to sleep on his stomach because of the bloody lashes criss-crossing his back, sleep had claimed him easily.

But not tonight.

He shifts again, his hammock swinging with the motion. In his new position, he sees something in the hold that is completely out of place: a large, wooden wardrobe. No one would keep such a nice piece of furniture in the damp, dark hold. Killian furrows his brow in confusion - the large, bulky thing isn’t even moving an inch as the ship sways, which should be impossible, and it surely wasn’t there when he first went to bed.

“Liam, Li-am!” he whispers, poking at the hammock above him. Liam just mumbles in his sleep, something partially intelligible along the lines of leave me alone, Killy. Exasperated, Killian huffs and swings his scrawny legs over the edge of his hammock. He moves silently and cautiously across the wet wooden boards, his hand trembling as he reaches up to grasp the knob on the door of the wardrobe. He opens it a crack and gasps when he hears voices, female voices, on the other side. He glances behind him, but when he sees that no one else is awake, he crawls up inside the wardrobe. It is deeper than he expected it to be, and instead of a back, there is another set of doors. Killian is comforted to still see the ship’s hold through the open door he just crawled through, so he turns back around and pushes slowly on the second set of doors, opening them only a little.

He sees a bedroom, lit with soft light from a bedside lamp. A little girl about his age, with blonde hair the color of buttercups is being tucked into bed by a soft, wrinkled old woman with a gentle smile. Killian watches, fascinated, as the woman asks for a hug. He’s been surrounded by nothing but rough, loud men for so long, that he yearns to receive a hug for himself from someone so soft and warm. The little girl smiles as the woman embraces her, her eyes shut tight as she relishes the hug. But then her eyes, the color of seafoam, open and he quickly shuts the wardrobe as quietly as he can. His heart pounds in his chest as he hears the little girl ask the woman – her grandmother? – about the large piece of furniture. The girl’s voice wobbles as if she’s frightened, and Killian hopes she didn’t see him.

He thinks that maybe he should go back to his hammock, but he can’t get those sea green eyes out of his mind, nor the way the girl’s hair had shimmered like gold from the lamplight. He’s never thought long on any lass, or found any of them pretty. Most women he sees on his occasional stops in port are loud, brazen, and considerably older. This one, however, is different. She’s his age, for one, and there’s a softness about her that he hasn’t known since his mother was living. So finally, he musters up the courage to open the door a crack once more. This time, those green eyes lock on his, and the girl gasps and dives under the covers. He frowns as he pulls the door shut once more. He hadn’t meant to frighten her.

The next morning, he thinks he’ll talk to Liam about the wardrobe and the little girl on the other side. But when his brother teasingly upends his hammock, depositing him unceremoniously upon the floor, Killian rolls over to find the wardrobe is gone.

tagging: @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @teamhook @bethacaciakay @let-it-raines @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @courtorderedcake @xhookswenchx @vvbooklady1256 @profdanglaisstuff @carpedzem @ekr032-blog-blog @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @kday426 @ultraluckycatnd @lfh1226-linda @sherlockianwhovian @shireness-says @superchocovian @scientificapricot @tiganasummertree @delirious-latenight-laughs @ohmakemeahercules @branlovestowrite @snidgetsafan @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @jennjenn615 @nikkiemms

#cs ff #csrt #captain swan rewrite a thon #cs canon divergence #cs neverland au #childhood sweethearts #angst #soul mates #magic wardrobes #little!emma #little!killy

85 notes · View notes

puzzlepcice-a · 5 years ago

Text

senses and other oddly specific headcanons.

tagged by: stolen ! tagging: you, you right there !

1. what does your muse smell like? she smells woodsy, like a campfire, smoke, pinecones. also like fresh rain in the early morning when there's dew on the ground and honestly?? like soil but in modern verses clem has a hazelnut, cherry scent to her, mostly because it comes from the conditioner and shampoo she uses on her hair.

2. what does your muse’s hands feel like? clems has have a few scars on them, and for the most part they're smooth to the touch, but her fingertips are calloused from all the years she's worked with her hands wielding both knife and gun. in modern verses though she has the softest hands ever, and while she's not big on fingernail polish, occasionally she paints them baby blue or a nice creamy yellow when she's feeling bored.

3. what does your muse usually eat in a day? throughout the day she’ll eat a bowl of rabbit stew flavored with a couple of spices, or cooked rabbit during her times travelling with aj with occasional (and safe) berries she picks off of bushes and gives to aj. and if they're lucky they scavenge an abandoned campsite, she snacks on stale potato and barbecue chips, or beans and canned peaches. in modern she likes snacking on either ice-cream sundaes, strawberry pudding cups she finds in her fridge, a bag of cookies, and a burger with extra mayo, extra pickles, onion and ketchup. as you can see she has a v balanced diet.

4. does your muse have a good singing voice? clementine hums to herself sometimes, but she's never been confident to actually try her hand at singing. ( edit. I saw a cameo of melissa hutchison singing “the night will be over soon” as clem and I was shook bc it was so pretty what.)

5. does your muse have any bad habits or nervous, ticks? she has a habit of thinking before speaking and that can get her into trouble with people, leading them into thinking she's insensitive. that goes for her abrasive side that can put people off and just think she's this tiny ball of aggression ( which is only half true excuse me) but its just a habit she needs to break. nervous tick wise sometimes she unconsciously rub the back of her neck when she's uncomfortable and start messing with her curls back there, and touches and rubs her arm that was stitched when she was eleven, its mostly when she's idle and doesn't realize she's doing it until later.

6. what does your muse usually look like/wear? she usually wears her layered hoodies over her yellow shirt, cargo pants, high boots and her signature baseball cap she got from her dad. modern-wise,, clem likes staying comfortable and likes off the shoulder shirts, plain baseball tees, crop-tops with a hoodie tied around her waist, spaghetti straps tank tops/boxers during the days she lounges around the house. and dark washed jeans, ripped shorts with high-top converses, rarely will you see her in a sundress in the summers but with doc matrons on. she likes short dresses occasionally with stockings, and she cant stand flipflops.

7. is your muse affectionate? how much? how so? clem is v affectionate person. when you actually get close enough to her asdg. rolling out hugs, shoulder bumps goes for both parts platonic and romantic for her with a lot of teasing on her end. in her main twd verse she’s a huge snuggler and likes playing with her s/os hair when they’re just falling asleep, watching their back if get assigned to go on a supply run that day. they win huge brownie points if aj likes them and they treat him nicely, though. you gotta earn the goofballs blessing first before any hand-holding or kisses happen lmao. in her modern verse it goes all the same, except clems the type to make them a playlist of songs that reminders her of her s/o and send it to them. or sneak out of her own house (if she gets grounded) to invite them out on a date to the pier for some icecream and wanna hit the beach straight afterwards. she absolutely loves dates to the arcade too since she babysits aj a lot and they play a couple of games together with his other friends. she also a sucker for mementos and wanna take a thousand pictures with her s/o in silly and sweet poses.

8. what position does your muse sleep in? clem is pretty all over the place when she sleeps, but her most common positions is on her back with a hand on her stomach or curled up on her side and, well, drooling.

9. could you hear your muse in the hallway from another room? probably because if clem’s mad, everrrrybody knows shes mad sks.

#/ MANNERISMS #aaaa this was sm fun to do!

7 notes · View notes

passionpluto · 7 years ago

Text

Premiere Nebula Project!

I’m about a third of the way through the first step of my magical girl project. It’ll be in novel form, though idk if it’ll be YA or adult. (The mains are adults, but it reads like YA at times, so it’s a bit of a tough call.)

Anyway, the plotline is that magical girls (or Actresses, in this ‘verse) are created via genetic engineering, so they’re a little like Captain America-style super soldiers. However, the company that makes them kidnaps children and experiments on them to create the Actresses, and they clone the kid shortly afterwards so the parents never know they’re gone. All this takes place in Olympia, a fictional “island of athletes” with its own government--imagine it like what would happen if all modern Olympic athletes lived in the same country so they could do events year-round.

(Since a lot of this story revolves around citizens/immigrants of foreign countries, I’m going to do a ton of research to make sure everything is right/politically correct for each place.)

An ordinary woman named Omega Clow stumbles upon this strange secret after learning that her roommate is really an Actress. And so, she’s forced into the Actress world, one way or another, alongside eight other Actresses who call themselves the “Premiere Nebula.”

So, without further ado, here are some descriptions of the first few Actresses who show up in this thing:

Omega/Actress Bijou--Lightning powers, family comes from Mexico. Got turned into an Actress at a very late age, so she’s new to the gig. A bit more anxious and fearful than the typical MG lead, but still big-hearted to a fault. Does Cielflight (the national sport) and loves to paint. Theme color is rainbow, costume is Renaissance-themed.

Valka/Actress Espoir--Light powers (an incredibly rare Actress ability), family comes from Greece. Loves being a hero, but secretly has a chip on her shoulder about being considered “inhuman.” A mentor type who’s been hurt a lot in her life. A smart jock who loves Cielflight (the national sport) and strategy games. Theme color is blue, costume is mythology/goddess-themed.

Io/Actress Chevalier--Laser powers, family heritage unknown. (Valka found her as a runaway, and she hates mentioning her birth family.) The snarky, troubled “muscle girl” of the team, who also happens to be a little mysterious. Her hobby is filmmaking, and she’s actually a huge movie nerd once you get to know her. Theme color is purple, costume is armor-themed.

Koto/Actress Platine--Asteroid/rock powers, Filipino descent. A clone who was forced into the country’s military, and basically the story’s “reformed bodyguard” character. She’s super nice once you get to know her, but as with a lot of sci-fi stories like this, she was trained not to be real emotional, so it’s hard to get her out of her shell. The one thing she is 100% emotional about is her magical partner, Aerienne. (Partner in both senses—they fight together and love each other, Uranus/Neptune style.) Theme color is brown, costume is military-themed.

Stelle/Actress Aerienne--Wind powers, Swiss descent. Disappeared several years before the story’s beginning after fighting Alarice, the leader of a hostile Actress rebel group called the Firebrands. She was kept as a hypnotized captive for many years, and was cursed with an addictive magic-draining ability. The reformed character who wants to become the hero everyone always thought she was. Theme color is green, costume is dancer-themed.

Xue/Actress Ame--Ice powers and empath magic, mixed Chinese-Nigerian descent. Part of the original magical girl duo, “Alabaster Dragons,” which purified and protected brainwashed Actresses, alongside her sister. The nicest ice elemental you will ever meet, though she’s a little overbearing with the empath magic. Before the Firebrands attacked, she was planning on getting her Master’s in Psychology and becoming a therapist, but since they captured her partner/sister Lueur, she’s been laying low, preparing for attack with the Premiere Nebula. Theme color is pink, costume is Victorian-themed. (I’m very tempted to change it to Qi Lolita, though, so I can keep the frills without completely “Westernizing” her look.)

Epine (dark), Lueur (fire), Nymphea (water), and Alarice (magic-stealing jack of all trades) will come in a future post!

#my writing #premiere nebula #long post #magical girl #my post

6 notes · View notes

apvxoxo · 7 years ago

Text

Apple Girl Pt.1

I randomly thought this up, and I actually like where this is headed more than my other story lol. Hope you guys enjoy <3

The store clerk was giving Paula a hard time again. Every time we ever went into the record store he would badger us without fail. Trying to push us to buy more than we could afford. "Sir," I shot my eyes to her in fear . She has the worst temper for a 16 year old girl. I can only imagine what she'll conjure up. "Could you please give us some space. We know what were looking for and we don't need any assistance." He eyed both of us head to toe. Putting both hands in the air in surrender, "Well I'm over here if you can't find your way"

"Oh we will, thank you." She pushed a caustic smile at him rolled her eyes and went back to shuffling through the records.Her finger nails filed through the bin so fast her nail polish started to chip right on the edges.

"Paula you don't think there all gone do you? I will be so devastated I just need this album I just.."

"Renee, enough. Look at me," she grabbed both of my shoulders positioning me in front of her,

"We will get it I promise. If i have to go to Jimmy Page himself. Were going to get this album." I only let out a small laugh, I felt defeated. All I wanted was the album, and I knew it would be gone by the time school was out.

" Paula what about the store on main st.? Could it be there?" She kept flicking through the music without hesitation of my inquiry.

"Renee, why don't you start looking through that box over there. Take a deep breath, and look." I scuffed my shoes on the floor slinging my arms at my side making my way over to the box. I knew it wouldn't be in there.I lazily flopped my hand onto the first record flicking it back with only one finger, nope. nope.. nope... This is hopeless.

"Paula lets just go home. I don't even want to look anymore it's just a waste of time." She sighed and rubbed her eyes with her thumb pinching the bridge of her nose in defeat.

"I can't believe you want to give up. This isn't just another album Renee this is Houses of the Holy were talking about. This is definitive of our music experience that we get this and you just want to give up?"

"Do you think I want to stop! I told you it would be sold out, I'm just as mad as you. And for the record, I'm the one who even got you into zep. So don't take this into your own hands as if you were the one who discovered them. You wouldn't even know jack shit about them if it wasn't for me."

She narrowed her eyes at me while sucking her lips in. I was defeated what can I say. It had been a long day and at the rate we were going I didn't even want to look at another bin of records ever again.

" Alright Renee. Have it your way. And next time I happen to discover something I'll be keeping it all to myself."

Not like you'll ever find something as incredible as led zeppelin.. moron

"Then you can just walk home alone! Fuck this!" She stormed out of the store pushing past customers, the old bell on the door almost fell clean off. I'm surprised the handle didn't bust. The kids stared back at me for some sort of apology, as if I was responsible for her actions. I just gave them that fake smile and slung my bag over my shoulder.

Fuck this is right.I made my way down the sidewalk avoiding all eye contact with the women who always fed the birds right on the bench near my apartment. I usually always strike conversation with her, she gives the best advice. But today, I was in no mood. It must have been at least 6:00 and I hadn't eaten since lunch, I pulled out the apple my mom insisted that I bring with me, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.I hate green apples and there was little bruises on it. I opened my mouth wide to take a bite, fuck being lady like. But my foot skid along the uneven grooves in the pavement and the toe of my shoe caught the divet where the sidewalk ends.I lunged forward just enough to toss my apple about a foot away.

"You have got to be kidding me " I leaned down to scoop the apple, I always avoided bending over on the street. You know how men can be. So I squatted down level to the apple it had rolled under the bus stop bench,

"That's weird" A snake-skin boot stood at the exact same spot ,and it was a huge boot at that. I'm not talking size 9 or 10 I'm talking at least 11..and a 1/2. Reaching my hand mindlessly under the bench a grasped the stupid apple. While sliding my hand out I accidentally swiped the boot

"Oh sorry, I'm just trying to grab something." A soft voice that sounded almost ..familiar replied. Wait, was he was British?

"That's quite alright love, what's got you on all fours down there anyway?"

I finally looked up to see who the hell was wearing snake skin boots in mid June,

"It was just this app.."

The snake skin boots, the British accent, the recognizable softness of his voice.. It can't be.

"An apple? All that for an apple huh? Must be a hungry girl." .. It was "Your.."

I had to stop while I was ahead. I couldn't let him see how starstruck I was. I would look like the million other girls. I had to stand out in some way or another. Paula always told me to act older, I still don't know what that means.

"Um yea, You know no big deal." Maybe act like I don't care? Is that what being older is like? His face grew warm and his smile grew, he patted the spot next to him on the bench.

"Would you like to sit down?"

"Oh sure, " play it cool, play it cool I moved my bag over my lap, neglecting to remember all my Led Zeppelin pins that covered it edge to edge. I scooted a comfortable distance to him as he peered down at my bag. He glared up at me without raising his eyelids.

"Nice pins. I uh, hear their alright."

The underlying tone of humor in his voice relieved some of the tension, of which I created.

"Thanks, Robert. Er..can I call you Robert?". Can I call you Robert? Was I brain dead? I guess it just felt polite. What a great time to practice my manners.

His eyes squinted when he laughed, and all his teeth were exposed. Oh how I loved the little chipped tooth.

"Well it is my name, I'd hope you'd call me Robert. But I guess that leaves out my introduction doesn't it? What's your name apple girl?"

"Renee," I could see the wheels turning in his head, how can I mess with her.

"Hmm I much prefer apple girl. Renee is so mundane . Doesn't really fit a girl like you, maybe a 30 year old but not quite you."

"Well, I think my mom assumed I would be 30 at one point so that's probably why she chose that name."

He laughed exposing his teeth again, and a newly discovered dimple. One deeper on the right cheek. Just one more thing to love.

"very true, but your what 18 19?" Oh shit. I can't blow this.. just lie. A little white lie wouldn't hurt, definitely not now.

“Uh yeah, 18. I just turned 18."

"Oh well, happy birthday then Renee. Perfect timing."

Jesus Christ this man had me in a trance. I wasn't even really listening to what he was saying just watching his mouth as he talked. The length of his upper lip would curl every time he spoke. I counted the times he would adjust his hair in between sentences.. 6

"Perfect timing? For what?" "Well to celebrate of course! I'm off to a party tonight and I still need someone to bring. Lucky enough I've run into you. You would like to go, yeah?"

Oh..my.. this couldn't be real. I shook off the excitement/nervousness building in my chest and conjured up an answer. "A party?.." He interrupted me,

"Well to be fair, it's much more of a get together if you like. Only a couple of people nothing crazy like the typical New York parties I'm sure your used to."

What New York parties. Hell, the best party I went to this year was my Nana's birthday and it was only fun because she got tried blowing out the candles and face planted the cake. So I'm not well versed in parties. But I couldn't turn this down. No fucking way. I'm going, Plus I could bring Paula. There is no way she could be mad at me after I tell her this.

"Well, could I bring my friend? I mean it's a bit last minute and I'd like to bring someone just in case."

"But of course, she can accompany our Jimmy over there. Have you met him? Well of course you haven't. Would you like to? Come on. He loves to meet the fans." My face was pale and expressionless, Robert got some sort of kick of seeing me so nervous. It must have been a control thing for him. I was able to hold enough composure around Robert, I can do the same for Jimmy. I hope.

"Jimmy ,c'mere someone you should meet"

He stood with his back facing us, his black curly hair caught the almost setting sun making it look almost auburn. He was just as tall and long as I'd imagined him. He spun around balancing a cigarette in his mouth, he immediately put it out when he saw us approaching.

"Well hello there, whose this?"

Robert held me around my waist with one arm. He was nudging me forward to shake his hand, I extended it apprehensively god he was beautiful too.

"Hi Jimmy, my name is Renee. It's really nice to meet you, an honor really. I just love your music and...well thank you for everything."

He kept my hand in his and smiled, such a sweet smile. Tilting his head to the side and nodding as I spoke. An unsaid thank you. It's my pleasure darling.

Robert spoke up after the extended exchange between me and Jimmy.

" Well, that's more than I got for an introduction. Wheres my bloody thankyou!"

Jimmy lessened his hold on my hand and looked to Robert impassioned, "Robert would you leave her be. Bloody hell, have you always got to be the center of attention?"

Surprisingly I wasn't shocked by their banter. I grew up with 3 older brothers. I learned to be comfortable around boys fighting. However these weren't exactly boys. I figured I should speak up, cool the air.

"Robert, you didn't let me finish. I was going to say, thank you both for everything. Your music has really changed my life. Goodness, you should really let people finish Robert."

He bit his lower lip and looked down to his shoes. Hands on hips, like a little boy who'd just been scolded. It felt kind of nice talking to him like that. Getting through the elation barrier he created. It was quite funny seeing him flustered actually.One more dig, then I'm done

"Patience is a virtue you know."

He blew air out of his mouth, lower lip covering the top blowing the frizzy curl from his forehead. He cracked a smile and looked to Jimmy,

"So, I've invited Renee here to Richards party. I figured it was perfect since I haven't got someone to bring and she's just had a birthday."

Jimmy looked back to me grabbing my hand once more he kept his eyes closely locked on mine. Lifted my hand to his mouth and placed a soft, kinda wet if I'm honest. Kiss

"Your birthday is it. Well isn't that lovely, how old? 16?" How the fuck did he..Well I can't be too taken back. I didn't exactly pass for 18 or even 16. Hell, I still got the occasional kids menu at restaurants. I just nodded my head in a neutral rotation. But I'm sure my expression read as, of course I'm 16.Robert interrupted looking to me shaking his head brows furrowed,

"No. She's just turned 18 Jimmy. Not as young as the ones you like. And besides she's got a friend for you anyway. What did you say her name was?"

"Her name is Paula, she will be so excited to meet you guys. I should probably go and tell her actually it's getting kind of late."

Jimmy looked to me eyes squinted still smiling, "And is she 16 too then?"

"I'm not 16!" I blurted out with a whine in my voice. These boys just give it right back, they love to tease you. But I know Paula could take it. She had a way with older men. Jimmy just kept that derisive grin on his face.

"Well, it's been a pleasure Renee. Tell Paula I can't wait to meet her, if she's half the lady as you I should be delighted." He walked back to the limo that had been waiting and shimmied his skinny boy inside. Robert took me under his arm again and cleared his throat,

"Sorry about Jimmy, you know boys. Once they've see someone else have it, they've got to have it too."

"Isn't that just all kids though? Not just boys?"

"Alright, you win. All kids do that don't they. Now can we get Paula on the way or she can meet us there?"

He thought I was going with him in the limo. He thought I was 18, he thought I had it under control.

Okay that may be pushing it a little. I had to go home anyway I needed to give my mom some excuse.

"Well do you think I could swing home first I've got to get ready and..You know how us girls are."

"Oh nonsense you look divine! Just come along with us I don't want to be late. We can swing by Paula's and then off we go. See just that simple."

Just that simple.

"But Robert, I don't.. I mean I have to.." He started pulling me along toward the limo urging me to the door, "Not another word. I've had enough, your coming with me and that's that." He shoved me into the back seat with Jimmy and Jonh Bonham. I sat closest to the window dividing the driver from the backseat, what was I doing. Robert shifted his way in close to me, he placed his hand on my leg. Might I add the size of this hand.

"Alright altogether right? Wheres Paula's house we'll get her first."

"She's right off of.."

My mind trailed back into the conscious, Paula's mom would see me get out of the limo. Paula's mom would see Paula get into the limo. Well if she even got that far.

"Well go on spit it out Renee" Jimmy chimed in while lighting another cigarette

"Cat got your tongue darling?"

I got myself this far I can keep going. Just keep cool. I replied to Robert while still looking to Jimmy who was now smiling,

"No, I'm fine. She's right off of porter street I'll tell you when to stop. "

I kept my eyes to Jimmy, Jesus it seemed like some sort of initiation to give the new girl a hard time. It wasn't like I was already a nervous wreck or anything.He put the cigarette in between his lips and crossed his legs. Softly batting his eyes.

Once we pulled up to Paula's apartment I tapped on the drivers glass, It was just transparent enough that I could see the irritated glare he gave me through the rear view mirror.

"It's right here, this tan brick one here." Thank god, her mom wasn't home yet I had just enough time if I scrambled.I touched Roberts hand that was still draped over my upper thigh,

"Okay I'll be back. She might be a minute but just wait okay."

"Not too long now, we don't want to be too late. We are the life of the party you know?" I can only imagine.

I smiled while my cheeks blushed and moved out of the limo. I lightly shut the door behind me and walked steadily to the door. Slowly made my way up the steps, opened the door. And as soon as I shut it behind me, I ran like hell.

I tripped and stumbled up the flight of stairs down the hall and twice to the right. I kicked and pounded my fist onto the door. My breath panting,

"C'mon Paula please.." She opened the mail slot to see who it was, once realizing it was me,

"Go home Renee I don't want to hear it. "

"Paula open up this is an emergency"

"Your definition of emergency isn't exactly accurate Renee. What could it possibly be."

If she makes me ask one more time I'm breaking down this door. "Paula, what does 3 of the four members of Led Zeppelin are downstairs in a limousine waiting for us to go to a party with them define as?"

It was a drawn out silence until I heard the lock switch, she even had the bolt locked.

She slowly opened the door stood in the doorway, hand on hip.

"Renee, what kind of a story.. I mean really you could just apologize you don't need to make up some lame story searching for my forgiveness."

I had no time to beat the shit out of her, I just pushed past her grabbing her arm and dragging her to the window. Both Jimmy and Robert were standing outside of the limo leaning against it. Jimmy still, cigarette in hand puffing out smoke through pursed lips,

"Look for yourself." Her eyes widened to the max, she put her hand over her mouth to muffle the scream.

"Renee! Tell me how you puled this off. What on earth are they doing here, I'm so proud of you" The rightfully deserved praise put aside, we needed to go.

"Just thank me later. C'mon Jimmy is waiting for you." She smiled and jumped in place squealing out of excitement, I grabbed her hand leading her to the door.

"Wait wait, what about Mom?"

"Forget it I'll just tell her your at my house."

"But didn't you tell the same thing to your mom?" Shit, I had left one component out of the equation. Something came over me, I didn't care, I needed to go to this party. I don't care if I never left the house again after this.It was well worth it.

"We will worry later just come on." We ran down to the lobby and looked in the mirror quickly before leaving. We looked to each other once more grabbing each others hands, lets go have the night of our lives.

We opened the door and looked to the boys still leaned against the limo arms folded.I was more desensitized to seeing them in real life. But Paula was just in the midst of the shock phase. She squeezed my hand all the way down the stairs and until we approached them. Jimmy smiled and stood up straight, Robert looked at me the whole time not taking his eyes away from mine.Jimmy flicked his cigarette and put out his hand palm facing up.

"You must be Paula, well I'm Jimmy." Paula apprehensive, placed her hand in his. Mouth slightly agape nodding her head, "Jimmy Page..Jimmy.."

He laughed a breathy laugh while putting his other hand on her forearm, he seemed to loved the girls who fawned over him. I assumed it just reminded him who he really was and what he really meant to people.

Robert was much more modest. So humble so..

"And I'm Robert, its a pleasure to meet you. And no need to thank me love. Renee has taken the liberty."

So dense.

Robert spoke up again, "Well girls let's get on then, enough of the run around yeah?" Jimmy puffed his cigarette once more before flinging open the door. Extending his arm to invite us in,first Paula then me.Robert followed sitting closest to the window Paula opposite to Jimmy and me in between them. Jimmy leaned into me softly whispering

"She's lovely. But ever so nervous, weird.." I only looked to him confused saying nothing with words, but my expression dumbfounded.I replied,

"What's weird? "You strike me as the nervous one. I guess I shouldn't be so quick to judge huh?"

He smiled again his eyelids heavy and peering down to my legs.I guess he liked more of a challenge. Which oddly, I had no problem giving it right back to him. I hope that Paula will loosen up, I'd like to divert most of my attention to Robert.

"Yeah,you know I thought you would be a lot cuter in person." He stifled his breathy laugh bringing his hand to scratch his chest, he kept his eyes on me while rubbing it

"Your nerves must have clouded your vision then yeah?"

“Maybe so Jimmy.."

Enough of this.I looked back to Robert who was fiddling with his fingernails,

"You know you shouldn't bite at your cuticles. It's really bad for your nails"

He paused to look up at me curling that side grin lips slightly puckered. He adjusted his belt buckle and extended his arm around me,

"I do a lot of things that probably aren't good for me love. I'm a big boy I can take it.But what about you? You must do something bad?"

I tried to think of something sexy to reply to that.. not a shock, I got nothing. I mean don't men like good girls anyway?

"No,nothing really. I'm pretty much a good girl." He bit at his bottom lip again. His eyes had that devious look like he is going to attack,

"A good girl huh? We'll have to fix that."

#robert plant fanfic #robert plant fanfiction #led zeppelin fanfic

51 notes · View notes

shiigures-a · 2 years ago

Text

While she thinks he has only the best interests in having a fair or cool fight, having her blade being doused in fire is going to do more harm than good.

"I know you are trying to help and make things fair for me to go up against an opponent random marine-san.....". Tashigi still doesn't have no clue that this person was the second in command for the Whitebeard pirates.

All she saw was a new recruit. "But the flames will hurt my sword and I can't have that".

@flambace liked for a starter.

#it can be when he is undercover lol;;#long post: tw #flambace #[ she's got a huge chip on her shoulder. MAIN VERSE ]

2 notes · View notes

tianasidhe-augurelt · 7 years ago

Text

FFXV Favorites Meme

I was tagged by @stopmopingstarthoping Thanks, babe!.

Instructions:

To celebrate a year of FFXV and the end of the first year of updates, let’s spread the FFXV love! I haven’t seen a tag meme like this for FFXV yet, so I decided to make one. If you see this and want to, copy/paste this list and share what your favorite things about FFXV are.

Favorite Chocobro:

Ignis. I have grown to love all of the bros, and originally I was drawn to Gladiolus. But over time, I kept finding myself drawn back to Ignis. Maybe it had to do with how cool and calm he was, or how elegant he was in battle. Hell, maybe it was all that exquisite food he cooks! But at some point, he crept his way into my heart (and into my panties, oh my).

Favorite Guest Party Member (including Ravus and Libertus from DLC):

Gotta go with my Ravy Gravy. The man is so compelling to me. Protective older brother who feels he is destined for far greater things, carrying a grudge for the protagonists, and who only wishes that his sister could have lived a full and happy life. Added bonus that his duel attack with Ignis is so perfectly choreographed. Ice dagger spinny!

Favorite Minor Character(s):

I’m gonna have to go with Iris. She kicks ass for the brief time she comes along with you, in true Amicitia tradition. I love her relationship with Gladio, and she’s so sweet.

Favorite Villain:

Fuck Ardyn, I’m picking Ravus. For the majority of the game, the chip on his shoulder is what drives him, but he’s so much more than just a villain. I do appreciate that he comes around to our side in the end, and bless SE for keeping him alive in the Alt Ending.

Favorite Kingsglaive Character:

Nyx. No contest. Love me some sexy firebending action, mmm! Wish he could’ve played more of a part in the main game, but he’s utilized well in the movie, so I’m happy.

Favorite Astral/Divine Being:

Normally, I would go with my babe Shiva, but in this case, I’m gonna pick Ramuh. Especially on first playthrough, having him trigger while hunting tough baddies like godsdamn COCKATRICES! Fry ‘em up nice and crispy!

Favorite Character Overall:

Overall, I’d have to go with Ignis. I have a major weakness for intellectual types, and the way he’s handled in both the main storyline and his DLC is exquisite to behold.

Favorite Weapon:

Nyx’s Kukris. Notmally, when in an MMO-style setting, I prefer a ranged weapon, but in this, I like being fast and striking multiple times, so daggers became my weapon of choice; plus it being a tribute to Nyx,

Favorite Location:

Top of the huge stone arches! The instant the ability to go up on them was unlocked, you bet your bottom gil I took advantage of it! They intrigued me the first time I saw them. I love the view, especially if I can get up there at night. Breathtaking!

Favourite Quest/Questline/Hunt:

Ignis losing his specs to a chocobo! I’m sorry, Iggy, but it’s funny!

Favorite Boss:

Ravus again (hey, I love my Ravy Gravy, don’t judge!) in Episode Ignis. It’s like he and Ignis are dancing.

Favorite Monster/Monster Family/etc:

TBH, I don’t have a favorite, though I do have a most HATED: Cockatrice/Kingatrice/Chickatrice. FRY ‘EM ALL, RAMUH!

Favorite Song:

Got a few.

Wanderlust (so peaceful and wistful)

Episode Ignis main theme - crying violins!

Stand Your Ground (BATTLE!)

Veiled in Black

A Retainer’s Resolve from Episode Ignis (So much raw power!)

Ardyn Boss Battle Theme (Extra Verse, Phase 1) from Episode Ignis (so fucking EPIC!)

Ardyn Boss Battle Theme (Extra Verse, Phase 2) from Episode Ignis (EVEN MOAR EPIC!)

Favorite Boss Theme:

Ardyn Boss Battle Theme (Extra Verse, Phase 2), Episode Ignis.

Favorite Non-Episode DLC/Update/Event:

Assassin’s Creed Festival. Never having played a single AC game ever, I was honestly surprised how much I enjoyed it. Again, it played into my desire to explore everything. Lestallum was built to be explored, and here we get to finally do so. Not quite as grand or flexible as Altissia in Episode Ignis, but certainly great in its own right.

Favorite Episode DLC:

As if you have to guess! :3 Episode Ignis game me all that I hoped for and more! Free exploration (with only a few caveats), lots of nooks and crannies, the BATMAN BROODING POINT DOME TOWER!... And my beloved Ignis (and Ravus) front and center. Besides the plot, I just love exploring Altissia and enjoying the architecture and window dressing. As any of my regular viewers can attest, I am a sucker for details and Easter Eggs (and eyecandy, ladies...).

Other Favorites of Note:

Just... how vast and free to explore the first huge chunk of the game is! Even in my first run, I progressed so slowly because I just loved running around and discovering things. While I did eventually grow a little tired of it after 4 runs and ~350 hours, my wanderlust was renewed with Episode Ignis. Add to that all the interesting architecture of the towns and outposts, plus ALL THE EASTER EGGS! OMG, so many! I’m still smugly proud of spotting the Chrono Trigger reference in Insomnia. I just wish there were more (which there probably are; hell, I spotted one in Comrades that I’d missed in regular Lestallum).

Fave Things to Do:

EXPLORE! After how bottled in that the FF13 games were (long narrow hallways, then pocket locations, then time limit), the sheer freedom of this game was so refreshing! I am seriously considering starting a brand new run just so I can explore and level grind from scratch again.

Chocobo riding is fun, though the racing is... ehh? Not really as good as earlier installments. Really, the lack of actual minigames in the main game is sad, but understandable. Gotta save something for the festivals.

I don’t feel like tagging anyone, so if anyone wants to do this and hasn’t already, go right ahead and claim I tagged you! :3c

#FFXV

2 notes · View notes