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dancingkirby · 6 years ago

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Jonerys Week-Day 1-Foreshadowing.

Rated: T. Takes place between Seasons 7 and 8.

The instant that Dany was awake enough to arise from her bed, she ran over to the porthole and looked out. Her heart lifted when she saw blue skies. Yesterday, it had rained all day and night, and all of the passengers had had to stay in their cabins and listen to the dragons’ shrieks of discontent. Dany knew that she should be grateful that her room, furnished with all of the luxuries that were possible on a seagoing vessel, has protected her from the rain and wind. Nevertheless, it had been tedious waiting for the hours to pass by.

No, that was not completely correct. The daytime hours had certainly elapsed slowly, but the night, when Jon had paid his usual visit, had been quite enjoyable. Still, today she was eager to get out and enjoy some fresh air, and she even had an idea for an activity for them to do while on the deck.

She looked in her trunk until she found the required item. Opting to not disturb Missandei with a request for hot water and hair restyling, Dany washed up as well as she could with the water that remained in the basin, rubbed her teeth with a cloth, and dressed. After scribbling a quick note informing her friend of her whereabouts, she set off for Jon’s cabin. (They had decided to maintain the fiction that he spent the entire night in his own room for the nonce, if only for the sake of politeness.)

When he opened the door in response to her knock, the first words out of his mouth were, “You look lively today.”

“Yes, I was wondering if you would want to join me for a walk on the deck,” Dany answered in a bit of a rush; her relationship with Jon was still new enough that even being in his presence made her feel giddy and quite unlike her usual self. She showed him the small, ceramic jar in her hands as she added, “Perhaps we could amuse ourselves with this.”

“Of course,” Jon answered automatically. Then, as he looked at the jar, “What is that?”

“I am not certain myself,” Dany admitted. “It was a gift from Dorne. Ellaria Sand gave it to me when we met, among other things. Unfortunately, I was not able to test it out before she was captured.”

“From Dorne?” Jon echoed. He stretched out his hand, and Dany handed the jar over to him. He examined it carefully from every angle, and shook the liquid contents within. “Are you certain that this is meant for outdoor activities?”

“By order of your queen, you are to cease that train of thought immediately,” Dany replied, trying (and failing) to keep a straight face.

“You were not so reserved last night,” Jon reminded her.

“Jon Snow!” Dany admonished. She would have said more, but she was laughing so hard that she had to ben over double to regain her composure. When had the last time been that she had done that? Perhaps never.

When she stood upright again, Jon was looking at her somewhat bemusedly yet not unkindly.

“Ellaria said that her children liked to play with this in the water gardens,” she explained, still short of breath.

“And you take her at her word?”

“Why would I not? She has…had…no reason to harm me.” When Jon still appeared unconvinced, she said, “Let’s just see what happens.”

“All right. You are my queen,” Jon conceded, and let Dany lead him to the deck.

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They soon found an ideal location on the deck: relatively quiet, yet not completely isolated. Dany saw Drogon and Rhaegal flying a short distance away, although the sun was climbing in the sky and making it nigh on impossible to tell which was which. Jon stood nearby in case he was needed for the traditional male duty of jar-opening. However, Dany was able to pull out the cork stopper on her own, and felt quite pleased at her accomplishment as Jon applauded her. The liquid inside was colorless, slightly viscous, and smelled of soap.

“Now what do we do?” Jon asked.

Dany dug around in her coat, located a small pocket sewn within, and withdrew a small wooden wand with a hoop affixed to one end.

“Ellaria was rather vague on what would happen,” she admitted. “Doubtless she wanted it to be a surprise. She did say that one sticks the hoop end of this into the liquid and then blow on it.” She pretended not to notice the poorly-concealed smirk that Jon made at the wording.

When she removed the wand from the jar, she noted that the hoop had formed a sort of film on it. Intriguing. She blew on it, but to her disappointment, the force of the air popped the film. She thought about this, and decided that she may have blown too hard. So she tried again, and couldn’t hold back a gasp of delight when a stream of bubbles were produced.

And what marvelous bubbles they were too! Small, to be sure, but glistening with all number of shades of red and blue and yellow and purple as they drifted in the breeze. Dany had seen so many amazing things in her lifetime, and while this was not on the magnitude of hatching three dragons, it felt miraculous in its own small way. Judging by the way Jon was gaping at the bubbles, he was equally enthralled. He wordlessly reached out his hands, and Dany gave him the jar and wand in kind.

Back and forth they passed these objects, until they grew so adept at this game that they were making new bubbles faster than the old ones could disintegrate. As they became surrounded by the colorful orbs, Dany felt a sort of giddiness. It was like, for this brief moment, she was reclaiming a fragment of her lost childhood. After a while, she broke out into an impromptu sort of dance, twirling in place and letting the bubbles dance around her. Everything else–including Jon–seemed to fade into the background. She was only vaguely aware that passing crewmembers were shooting them odd looks.

She wanted it to never end…but of course it did. The jar’s contents could not last forever. As the last of the bubbles began to pop, Jon turned to look at her. He had a strange look of longing in those dark eyes…not lust, but something subtly different. It appeared that he had been as touched by this activity as Dany had.

Finally, only one bubble remained. The wind was propelling towards Dany, and she stretched her hand out by instinct. For the briefest instant, it made contact with her skin, and then it popped, never to be seen again.

Dany felt a sense of sadness which she did not fully understand. However, this was quickly forgotten as Jon pulled her into an embrace and kissed her.

#fanfic #jonerysweek #jonerysweek2019 #jonerys #jonerys week #jonerys week 2019

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edream93 · 6 years ago

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I’m Hooked On All These Feelings (Harry of Auradon AU) Part 9

Hey everyone! Sorry that I haven’t updated since October. It was a combination of being stuck and just having a lot of different stuff going on in my life. I’m honestly not 100% satisfied with this chapter but let me know what you all think. This is also posted on on AO3 or FF.net. Here’s the link for Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6 , Part 7, and Part 8 of the story so far.

TRIGGER WARNING: There are some abusive elements in this chapter. Nothing too detailed but if you’re uncomfortable with that but still want a basic summary so that you can continue on with the story, just message me or shoot me an ask.

She was laughing at her.

She. Was. Laughing. At. Her.

She was laughing at her.

(Why was she laughing at her? Didn’t she care? Didn’t she knew what it did to have someone who was so integrated into your soul to laugh at you?)

The mocking laughter followed the half-fae as she slipped down the wharf, arms frantically pinwheeling as if the air would become solid, providing something that would halt her slippery path.

Disbelief quickly turned into anger once she was able to grab a railing along the side of the wharf, keeping her out of the shark infested waters. The laughing that had followed her suddenly turned into worried shouts colored with concern but that still didn’t cool her fiery ire.

No one was supposed to be laughing at her.

She wasn’t supposed to be laughing at her.

“You give her too much freedom,” her mother had mentioned offhandedly once or maybe a hundred times before. “She doesn’t know her place. The hierarchy of life. That she is untouchable only because she is yours.”

And Uma was Mal’s, claimed from the very first time they met.

Mal swung herself silently back onto the wharf, just behind Uma’s frantic form searching over the side of the wharf, ready to jump into the shark infested waters. When Uma’s voice was tinged with worry, with fear, Mal preened at Uma’s concern (“For me. Only for me,” she thought.) before reaching out and tapping the teal haired girl on the shoulder.

The look of relief on Uma’s face was addicting and on this wharf surrounded by the dregs of the Isle, Mal found it too precious to share with anyone else. So she poured a bucket of shrimp on her best friend and laughed at her as she had just been laughed at.

Fair is fair after all.

By the end of the day, everyone had heard of Uma’s new nickname either through the spreading gossip or by the smell alone.

“Shrimpy,” everyone, even Ursula, called her. Because “Uma” was something that Mal wanted to hoard all to herself, in name...and in person.

Uma was Mal’s.

It was never said but everyone knew it.

A week after the incident at the wharf, Mal watched as the Gaston twins shoved Uma to the ground, doing it again when she tried to get up. They laughed as mud and other Isle filth covered the girl, mingling in with the shrimpy scent that still lingered. They taunted her with crude and horrible words, punctuated every so often with their fists.

“Seriously, Mal? Again?” Jay sighed from the wooden crate he sat on with a practiced tone of boredom, despite the tension in his body. He tossed a knife he had pocketed earlier off of one of Shan Yu’s men into the air, catching it’s hilt it with little effort. “Why let Dumb and Dumber mess with your claim?”

Mal rolled her eyes. She thought he would get it. That he would understand the need to keep what was his close and under control. After all, though he denied having anything to do with it, there was a reason why Cruella’s sniveling little runt never got anything more than a little rough housing at school from anyone other than herself or Jay after the thief had seen a beating taken too far nearly kill the boy.

“Because she needs to be reminded of how things are run so she doesn’t forget her place,” Mal casually leaned against the crate. Somewhere deep inside her she purred that her Uma bit back each scream and groan she was inflicted.

“I still don’t get it,” Jay mumbled irritatedly. “Wasn’t that the hole point of dumping shrimp on her? She’s weak. Why not just move on and forget about her?”

She fumed. “You don’t need to get it,” Mal crossed her arms. If he didn’t get it, then it wasn’t her job to explain the rules of the game, the hierarchy of the Isle that was her birthright as Maleficent’s heir, how a part deep deep within her craved both for Uma’s affection and pain.

Jay let out frustrated sigh, glancing over as one of the Gaston twins, shoved the small teal hair girl into the side of the building, a loud crack heard even from their distance.

“They’re going to break her,” Jay tossed the knife deftly back and forth between his hands. A nervous tick, Mal noticed.

“Get rid of them,” she ordered and for once, Jay didn’t fight her. He merely hopped down from the crate on quick silent feet, scooped up several large pieces of rocks, and tossed them with easy aim at the twins. The two boy’s thick necks swiveled towards his direction, scowling as he gave them a one finger salute.

Mal didn’t even watch as Jay took off laughing as the Gaston twins forgot their prey, chasing after the quick footed thief and his taunts. Instead, she made her way towards what was hers until she was crouching in front of the crumbled semi-conscious form of her favorite plaything.

Uma’s left eye and cheek was swollen and angry looking, her bottom lip split, and if the shallow breathing indicated anything, her ribs may have also been bruised as well.

Despite the beating, despite the taunts and cruel names, her dark brown eyes looked at Mal fiercely, never wavering.

“J-just...kill me.”

“Don’t worry,” Mal said taking Uma’s chin in her hand, her face softening. “That isn’t what I want at all. You’re mine after all. No one will take you from my side. No one,” she promised just as the other girl fell unconscious.

---

“Do not give me that greedy little look of yours,” Maleficent closed her eyes exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of her nose. She had to remind herself that her tadpole of a daughter was just a limo ride away from getting her off this damn Isle. She couldn’t kill her...yet... “I have already told you, Mal. You cannot bring your little pet with you to Auradon.”

“Then I guess I’m just not going.”

The entire room went silent, and if it wasn’t for the fact that there was no magic on the Isle, Mal would have sworn that the crack of thunder that shook the decrepit remains of the Bargain Castle was her mother’s doing.

“Mal,” her mother purred with so much sweetness in her voice that the hairs on the back of Mal’s neck stood to attention at the hidden danger.

The Mistress of Darkness pushed herself from the makeshift throne she had regally sprawled herself on, sweeping across the room, all patch worked cloak and squeaking floor boards towards her only spawn. Mal held her breath, jaw clenched as her mother’s twig like fingers grasped bruisingly her jaw. Jay, Evie, Carlos, and their parents were long gone, off to go pack and plunder and cause some last minute mischief before the royal limo arrived for them.

It was just Mal and her mother.

No one was there to witness the dark fairy’s hand move from her daughter’s jaw down to her neck with inhuman speed and strength. Mal choked, tears already beginning to burn against her glowing eyes, chipped black nails digging futilely into her mother’s unrelenting grip.

“Now you listen up, naughty girl of mine,” Maleficent smiled cruelly, bringing Mal close to her face. “Everything you have is because of me. You live because, at the moment, I wish it so.” A pale bony finger traced down Mal’s cheek, a poor counterfeit of affection. “Not one little tangled purple hair on your hornless head has been touched by the filthy vermin that scurry around this Isle because of me.”

Without warning, she dropped Mal with a push, turning around as if she couldn’t bare the sight of the girl struggling to fill her lungs with air.

“I don’t do it out of love, but as a reminder. Do not cross me, girl. There are worse things than death, and I am one of them.”

Mal glared at her mother’s back. Outlined by the dim light that managed to get through the dust coated windows, Maleficent looked like shadows breathed with life and the essence of all the nightmares that plagued Mal every nightmare.

(Scratch that. Her mother made her nightmares look like blissful dreams.)

“Bring your pet and its...toy,” Maleficent finally conceded

Mal bit the inside of her cheek as she got up to her feet. Before the smirk could grow on her face and she could sneak out of the castle, Maleficent called out to her.

“Remember, heir of mine,” she sighed over her shoulder, as if she found the task of talking to her own flesh and blood tedious and beneath her. “If you fail in getting me the wand, you are replaceable, as tiresome as that would be to cultivate a new heir.” Her glowing green eyes connected with Mal’s. “Don’t forget that, my dear.”

Mal’s teeth ground against themselves but she didn’t say anything else, knowing that she was dismissed. She slipped out of her mother’s castle, tugging the collar of her jacket up high to hide blooming hand shaped bruise on her neck. Keeping to the shadows, she took alleys and cut through nearly abandoned buildings until the smell of rotten fish, rum, and seaweed hit her like a wall.

Ignoring the leering gazes of the drunken pirates, Mal plowed through anyone who was in her way as she stalked through the Isle’s usual scowling crowd. She didn’t even pause when she came to the entrance of a building that looked like it was one weak wind of being blown away. Instead, she pushed through the set of swinging doors. The rowdy noise of the shady establishment instantly silenced at her grand entrance. All eyes were on Mal.

The sounds of pans and canisters dropping on the floor along with Uma’s curses and Gil’s bumbling apologies were heard from the beyond the kitchen doors before the object of Mal’s search came stomping out, scowl set deep on her lips as she tossed a tray of undoubtedly half rotten food in front of a customer.

Mal smirked internally when Uma freezed in her presence, catching the minute way the other girl seemed to shrink at the sight of the half-fae. Mal preened at her attention.

“Pack your things, Shrimpy. We’re heading to Auradon to steal a wand.” Her green eyes narrowed at Gil’s much larger form standing dutifully as always behind Uma. “Your idiot too, I guess,” she snorted before leaving, not even waiting for a response.

Uma would come. Afterall, she was Mal’s. And no one would be able to take her from Mal’s side. No one…

...except for a young sailor with eyes as deep as the sea.

---

“I hope you understand the difficult position recent circumstances have put us in.”

Mal tilted her head to the side. Her face scrunched up in confusion as she looked at Fairy Godmother. “I-I don’t understand, ma’am,” she frowned, worrying her bottom lip.

Fairy Godmother cleared her throat. “I am referring to the disappearances of Uma and Gil and their apparent connection to Harry Jones’s unfortunate magical induced visit to the school’s infirmary. We have still yet to find them and have no way of knowing whether they’ve attempted to go back to the Isle or not. All we have to go on is the evidence from Harry’s room when he was found and Prince Ben remembering you offering him a cookie,” the headmistress said pulling out a plastic bag with a half eaten cookie in it. “A cookie that we found, upon further inspection, to be laced with a love potion.”

“I- We had nothing to do with that!” Mal exclaimed, leaning forward in her seat. “I mean- I mean…” she paused,hands covering her face before a choked sob escaped her lips as she brought her legs up to her chest. Her hands moved from her face to clutching her hair tightly in trembling fists.

Fairy Godmother gasped, startled by the girl’s sudden tears.

“She was my best friend. Uma was my best friend and she...she...lied to me!”

“Oh dear heart,” Fairy Godmother got from her seat, moving around her desk to place a calming hand on Mal’s shoulder. She was startled when Mal suddenly clutched onto her, sobs growing stronger. For a moment, the woman didn’t know what to do, seconds seeming to drag before she put a hesitant but reassuring hand on top of the girl’s purple head before her maternal instincts took over and began stroking Mal’s head soothingly.

After a few moments, Mal’s sobbing began to settle down a bit tas she clutched onto the older fairy’s powder blue suit. “I had told Uma-,” she sniffed. “I had told her that I thought Prince Ben was cute. I mean, he’s so kind and-and good!” Mal laughed wetly, pulling away slightly to wipe at her nose with the back of her sleeve. “Ben’s...so, so good. There’s no one like him on the Isle. I couldn’t help but fall for him. Uma saw that. S-she said I should make cookies and give them to Ben. That she would help. I-I get so f-flustered around Ben sometimes that she said it would be a good idea to have an icebreaker. We made the cookies together but I didn’t know she put a love spell on them. I would never do that to Prince Ben. Never. I want- I want to be good. I-”

“Shh-shh, dear heart,” Fairy Godmother pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, wiping the remainder of Mal’s tears. “Obviously Uma and Gil have deceived us all. I’m so sorry you had to go through something like that. To have put your trust in the wrong person.”

Mal nods, giving the woman a shaky smile. “Thank you.”

Fairy Godmother spent a few more minutes doting on the girl before letting her leave the office. Mal gives the woman a wave and a small smile as she leaves before turning back into the hallway where Evie, Jay, and Carlos are waiting for her.

Her smile melts away into a sneer once the doors are closed and it’s only the four of them in the hall.

“Idiot old fairy,” Mal spits before tossing Jay a used menthol stick that he had swiped from one of the theatre kids that had trouble crying on cue.

Mal didn’t even look to see if the others were following her as she stomped through the halls of Auradon, hands twitching at her side, green sparks dancing dangerously at her fingertips at the thought of Uma and what she would do once she got her hands on her.

Her mother had been right. Uma had never understood the hierarchy of life and her place below even the very bottom in it.

But that was Mal’s fault, she acknowledged. She had been too soft. Had bruised Ursula’s spawn but never really broken her. It was a mistake that she would be sure to never make again.

After all, there are worse things than death, and Mal would make sure that for Uma and her little sailor, she would be one of them.

#disney descendants #tw: abuse #mal descendants #uma descendants #jay descendants #harry of auradon #descendants au #descendants fanfiction #descendants fanfic #Maleficent #edream93 fanfic #edream93 fanfiction #i'm hooked on all these feelings #this story got way darker than I initially intended #oh well

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soft-sarcasm · 7 years ago

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mark lee: almost-almost.

33. “Be a little quieter, I’m trying to take your makeup off.” + 44. “I can hear your smile through the phone.”+ 15. “I love just being around you.”

Pairing: mark lee x reader.

Request: Anonymous: Hello, i know youre not writing for the dreamies but do you write for mark...? If so can i request a drabble with prompt 33? Thank you so much and have a great day! + @anothernctzen: Helllooo can I have mark lee with 15 and 48 for the drabble game? Thanks in advance! 💞

Genre: fluff, sleepy and pouty mark.

Word count: 2+k.

a/n: so obviously I don’t know what a drabble means because I literally am only writing pieces over 1k but oh well, hopefully you guys aren’t sick of them yet. I had yet to do one of these drabbles with over two prompts so this was definitely an experience but when I was writing the storyline just seemed to meld together. Anyway, hope you guys like it and feel free to request if ya’ll want. (also i’m tagging you @kaylee-jade-camp and this has it’s own title because three pompts is too long.)

request a drabble.

In theory, it is far too easy to say you’re going to do a multitude of productive things. The difficult part is even the completing of these tasks but rather conquering the ever-menacing foe of procrastination and actually gearing up to do the 101 productive things you list for yourself to do every day. The feat is made especially difficult when one is not just combating laziness but also the struggle of being pinned down by another human onto the bed you’re already having to coaxingly convince yourself to leave. Everything becomes even more strenuous and taxing when the aforementioned human looks incredibly peaceful as they continue to sleep on, most likely oblivious to how inconceivably difficult they’re currently making your life.

Just the peaceful expression on Mark’s face was enough to make you want to throw in the towel and just stayed curled up with him in bed for the rest of the day. Unfortunately, despite the endearing, unconscious pout on his lips and the smudges of day-old makeup that was a side effect of him coming straight to your apartment (and in turn straight into your bed) after a music show; you needed to get up. As reluctantly as ever, you extracted yourself from his grip as carefully as possible, wincing at each and every creak you made as you tip-toed away from the bed.

Wednesday was the only break in your class schedule which meant that it was also the only day you had to catch up on all of the non-school related work that you had otherwise been neglecting. This meant the mundane things like washing and folding clothes, scrubbing your apartment of the dirt that Mark always teased was ‘nonexistent’ due to your near obsession with keeping your living spaces permanently immaculate and food shopping because your fridge was just depressing at this point. Thankfully for you- you had always been an earlier riser which meant it was usually easy to lug yourself out of bed at the latest 7:00 in the morning. However, as previously stated, adding Mark into the mix usually made the parts of you that wanted to be productive so you could relax and the conflicting opposition that much rather procrastinate and cuddle with Mark battle it out in the early hours of the day while he simply slept peacefully on; unaware of the internal war that was happening within the person he had cuddled to his chest.

Today productivity had won which meant you were grabbing a discarded hoodie from the floor over your oversized t-shirt and leggings that you most definitely had not worn to bed the night before, never. After having something to shield you from the cold that you were now so painfully exposed to due to the lack of having the perpetually warm Mark Lee wrapped around you, you grabbed for your phone that had been dutifully charging throughout the night before scampering out of the bedroom as quickly as possible so to not further disturb it’s unconscious inhabitant.

Your next course of action was attempting to fill your washing machine and clean the lingering dishes in the kitchen sink with as little noise as you could muster. Every small clutter of plates or silverware made you cringe and your spine prickle as you cursed the paper thin walls of your shoe-box apartment. Finally, you pressed the button labelled ‘Regular Cycle’ on the machine and listened carefully for the quiet mechanical wire before sighing in relief as no noise of consciousness emerged from your bedroom. Now that the most pressing and time-conscious tasks were done, you were able to complete your venture in acquiring the true necessity of life; food.

You could only hope as you scrambled to grab your handbag and slip out of your apartment that the previous day’s workload would be enough to keep Mark asleep until you returned home from the shop that was thankfully in walking distance from your building. There had been once when you had snuck out to grab two lattes from a coffee shop on one of the few mornings he had actually slept over and you had received a stern talking to when you had returned back as Mark had awoken to your absence. It had been a tedious thing, taking him seriously that day while he stood before you, shirtless and hair ruffled by sleep as he attempted to berate you for giving him no warning of your departure. His gripe was made all the less convincing when he had conceded to your lax apology of a pout and a kiss on his lips.

Your body was half but half inside the seemingly endless meat-filled freezer as you painstakingly searched for the cut of beef you both wanted and could actually afford. Your fingers pried petrified package from petrified package only to be halted by the shrill sound of your ringtone that made you instantly recoil from the frost-bitten produce. Instinctively, you grappled for the cellular device, mindlessly running your near frozen finger over the ‘Answer’ button with no inherent caution.

“You left without telling me again.”

You could almost feel the sulky pout that accompanied Mark’s opening statement and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, going back to surfing through meat packets as you kept your phone pressed to your ear, “I’m getting you food.”

The pout most likely increased, “But you didn’t tell me- I would have gone with you.”

“Yeah right,” You scoffed, having to concede to a cut that was not in your usual price-range for the sake of your sanity and your fingers, “And have my trip take at least twice as long because you’ve gotten distracted? No thanks. Besides, you were asleep.”

“I’m not anymore,” He further brooded and you could hear the distinct rustling of sheets that meant that he was still in bed, “And I take great offence to that previous comment about getting distracted.”

“Good,” You snarked, a taunting smile twisting like smoke at the corners of your lips as you reached for a bottle of Mirin, checking the price only briefly before throwing it into the cart that carefully peddled along under the guidance of your hand. “But anyway- you had no reason to mope, I’m almost done anyways.”

“Almost done or almost-almost done?” Mark pestered like the persistent idiot he was and you had to suppress the chuckle his adamant childishness summoned, “And stop laughing at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you,” You instantly rebuked, attempting to smoother your grin to no avail as you joined the line that thankfully only contained two other sleepy-eyed customers besides yourself.

“I can hear your smile through the phone.” He stated all too dryly and you could help but squawk out a laugh that resulted in you getting side-eyed by the clerk who was busy restocking the shelves to your right.

“Don’t worry love,” You soothed, placing your chosen items onto the counter, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“You better- otherwise I’m leaving you.” Mark declared adamantly, “But only after I eat breakfast, might as well get some sort of compensation.”

“Honey,” You crooned as you pushed open your door, a task that proved rather difficult as your hands were currently occupied by heavy-weight shopping bags, “I’m home.”

Mark’s only sign of recognition from his spot at you the tiny table you had purchased for the sole purpose of not being falling into the student trope of eating dinner at your coffee-table was a disgruntled hpmf. He scowled at you as he further cocooned himself in the comforter he had completely wrapped around himself, nursing the cup of coffee you had left for him in the microwave in the hand which was also the only part of him besides his face that was visible.

“Finally,” Was all he curtly grumbled out as you shuffled past him in the direction of the adjoining kitchen, “I see you meant almost-almost instead of almost.”

“Is that a Canadian thing or is it just a Mark thing? Because I have no idea what the difference between almost and almost-almost is.” You questioned as you began to distribute your purchases into their designated positions.

“Almost means that I’m two minutes away, almost-almost means that I’m almost, almost ready to leave.” He clarified while begrudgingly trailing after you into the kitchen where he took a seat on the counter.

You took a moment to glance back at him, placing down the sugar you had been busy pouring into its container so that you could quickly scamper over and press a kiss to his jutted out lip, “You learn something new every day.”

His glower only increased at your taunting as you resumed your previous task and left him moping in his blanket on the opposite counter, “I really don’t like it when you leave without telling me.”

“Sorry,” You gave an uncommitted shrug, “I didn’t think it would be necessary because I thought I’d be back before you woke up.”

“I can’t sleep without you,” He griped and you couldn’t help but coo at his endearing admission.

“Well then I’m actually sorry,” You said in complete sincerity shutting the fridge after you had successfully finished resuscitated its contents, quickly swiping one of the few remaining packets as you toddled back over to Mark. “I thought you would want some food seeing as I didn’t have any and you love food so much.”

“We could have ordered,” He countered, only half watching as you began to extract a makeup wipe from the freshly opened packet, “And anyway, I would have been fine without food anyway if it had meant you being here when I woke up. I love just being around you.”

You couldn’t help but scoff, shaking the makeup wipe slightly before raising it to his face to work at the remaining smudges of eyeliner and concealer that still littered his skin, “You’re being awfully confusing you know. I don’t know if you’re annoyed or hopelessly in love with me.”

“Both,” He simply summarised, blinking furiously as you attempted to remove the faded black line from the corner of his eye, “But you know it is rather rude to just leave with no warning, I mean what if one of these times you’re kidnapped and I just think you’ve gone out for some coffee. I mean really you should-”

“Be a little quieter, I’m trying to take your makeup off.” You butted in after you missed a particularly resilient spot of mascara for the second time due to the amount his head was wriggling as he continued to spew out his rambles, “And I already said I was sorry, are you really going to keep whining?”

Mark’s lip jutted out just in time for you to swipe the applicator across it causing him to recoil at the chemical taste and for you to grin at the disgusted look on his face, “Fuck that’s disgusting.”

“Well they aren’t really for eating,” You cooed, giving the left side of his face a final wipe before pulling back, satisfied with your work, “That’s what the food I just went and got you is for.”

Before Mark could voice any further complaints, you smothered his gripes with your lips on his and you couldn’t help the feeling of coy satisfaction as you felt him gradually melt under your presses. He was further sedated when you pulled back, reaching out from his blanket fortress to grab for you when you attempted to step back.

“Nuh-uh, I’m not done yet.”

You allowed yourself to be pulled back, wrapping your hands instinctively around his neck, “I thought you were annoyed with me.”

“I am,” He clarified, a content smile threatening the edges of his mouth, “But I’m also hopelessly in love with you.”

“As you should be- I’m a catch.”

“Alright, maybe I’m just annoyed.”

DRABBLE MASTERLIST.

#nct scenarios #nct u scenarios #mark scenarios #mark #nct #nct 127 scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct u #nct 127 #nct dream #writing #nct smut

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unfolded73 · 8 years ago

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Another New York City Serenade (7/7) - COMPLETE

Thanks again to everyone who read/liked/reblogged/commented/kudosed/sent me messages or otherwise flailed at this fic, helping me to survive the winter and the hiatus. I love you all.

Summary: With the visitors from Arendelle gone and Gold banished, Emma and Killian’s relationship continues to deepen, especially when an excuse for a road trip away from Storybrooke falls into their laps. (A S4 hiatus story).

Beta: @j-philly-b

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3895 this chapter/30k overall

(tagging @kmomof4 @this-too-too-sullied-flesh @cherrywolf713 @stardusted-nymph upon request)

CHAPTER 7

Killian opened his eyes to the now-familiar surroundings of his room at Granny’s, faintly lit in the pre-dawn glow. He groaned, stretching his limbs in an attempt to banish the ache caused by too many hours sitting in Emma’s automobile the previous day. They’d both been exhausted when Emma pulled into town, and had limited themselves to a brief goodnight before he climbed out of the car and Emma drove off to pick Henry up from Regina’s house.

The whole trip to New York felt a little bit like a dream now. As he got dressed, Killian caught himself staring at a stray earring of Emma’s he had found on the floor the previous week and had neglected to return to her. He picked it up, squeezing it tightly between his fingers to reassure himself that she was real. That he hadn’t somehow dreamed up their entire relationship.

Belle was already working behind the circulation desk when he arrived at the library after breakfast. “Killian! Glad to see you made it home in one piece,” she said as she loaded returned books onto a cart. “Before you ask, I’ve been looking, but I haven’t found any sign of that crystal at the pawn shop.”

“Wasn’t really expecting you to, love.” He took a deep breath, trying to feign optimism about the task that lay ahead of them. “We’ll find some other way.”

Belle’s lips flattened out in an attempt at a smile. “I hope so. Was it a good trip otherwise?”

“For the most part,” he said.

“‘For the most part?’” Her head tilted to the side as she regarded him. “I was hoping for your sake it would be a bit romantic, at least.”

Killian wasn’t sure what to say to Belle. There was a lot of unfortunate history between them, and much he had to be ashamed of. If their alliance was growing into a friendship, what was appropriate to share with a platonic female friend who was grieving a heartbreaking betrayal so recently?

“It was.” He reached for something innocuous to tell her. “She took me dancing at some sort of club; quite different from the balls in the Enchanted Forest.”

Belle laughed. “I bet it was.” She started to turn back to her books, but seemed to think better of it. “Are you okay? You seem a little bit down.”

“I’m not, I’m… I don’t know.” Belle just watched him, waiting. “We quarreled while we were there, and although in the end she forgave me quite easily, it left me feeling disconcerted.”

“It’s normal for couples to argue, Killian.”

“I know. It’s not the fact that we argued, it’s what it made me realize about myself.”

Belle came out from behind the circulation desk to stand nearer to him. “And what’s that?”

“I spent centuries only motivated by a quest for vengeance. And then I met Emma, and she… it was like she filled up all the broken places inside me. Revenge no longer drove me, or so I thought.”

“But?”

“I shouldn’t be talking to you about this, love. The last thing you need is to be burdened with my dark musings.” He scrubbed his hand over his face.

Belle was unimpressed with his angst. “Just tell me.”

“There was a moment in New York, after we realized that Gold had stolen the crystal, that I swear if he had been standing in front of me, I wouldn’t have hesitated to kill him right then and there.” He sighed. “It made me wonder if I’m no better than I was. If perhaps there’s some dark part of me, some weak part that I’ve tried to bury, for whom Emma is just a distraction.”

If he expected Belle to flinch or shy away, she didn’t. “We all have darkness, Killian. It’s just a matter of whether you allow it to rule you.”

“Some of us have more darkness than others.”

“Perhaps,” she conceded. “But do you know what I think? I see the capacity for a lot of good in you. I see a lot of kindness. You just have to put your faith in the man you know you want to be, not in the man you fear you are.”

~*~

Emma sat across from Henry in the diner booth at Granny’s and watched as he dug into his huge piece of chocolate cake.

“How’s the cake, kiddo?”

“Fine.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “You didn’t have to buy me cake just because you were out of town for a few days, you know.”

“I didn’t buy it because of that… mostly.” She shrugged. “I felt a little guilty for leaving you behind, that’s all.”

“I told you, I get it. I mean, I don’t get it in the sense that I don’t really understand romantic stuff. But I get it.” He took another overly large bite, chewed, and swallowed. “So you think the crystal you guys were looking for is gone forever?”

“Probably. Belle can’t find it, so either Gold destroyed it or he took it with him. But I’m sure Belle and Killian will find another way to get the fairies out of that hat,” she assured him.

“Yeah.”

In fact, Killian and Belle had redoubled their research efforts, and she’d seen little of him since they returned to Storybrooke. Emma’s mind drifted back to the last morning in New York, the way Killian had woken her gently by tracing a finger over the top of her hand where it rested between them on the bed. Even though he woke up at the crack of dawn, it had been nice, waking up together. Now they were back to stolen moments wedged in between all of their obligations.

“Do you think you and Hook are gonna move in together?” Henry mumbled, his mouth full of chocolate.

Emma almost spit her cocoa out, and she had to overcome a coughing fit before she could respond. “What? No. What?”

“Mom, it’s not that crazy. He’s staying at Granny’s, you’re crammed in with grandma and granddad and the baby.”

“Yeah, but that’s not a reason to move in together.”

Henry rolled his eyes. “Obviously, but also you’re dating.”

Emma allowed herself to picture it. Him being the last person she saw before she closed her eyes every night and the first person she saw when she woke up. His toothbrush next to hers in the bathroom, his rather terrifying straight razor beside the sink. Perhaps occasionally beckoning him into the shower like she had on that final morning in the hotel, their hands on each other slippery with soap, then her back pressed against the cold tile, Killian dropping to his knees and encouraging her to prop one leg up on his shoulder...

Shaking herself, Emma picked up her ice water and took a sip. “It’s way too soon to move in together.”

With a shrug, Henry dug into his cake again. “Okay.”

“But just hypothetically…” Emma said. “If, far in the future, we did move in together… you’d be okay with that? You wouldn’t mind?”

“If I mope about it, will you buy me more cake?”

“Henry, be serious.”

Henry looked up and seemed to consider it. “I don’t know. I like Hook, but it would be weird.”

“Too weird?”

He shrugged again. “Ask me again when the idea doesn’t make you spit your cocoa on me, I guess.”

“I didn’t—” Emma stopped her protestation and nodded. “Okay. It’s a deal.”

~*~

Pulling out his mobile telephone, Killian saw that an unfamiliar number was ringing him. Of course, other than Emma and now Belle, all numbers were unfamiliar. He pressed the Talk button and held it to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Hook, it’s Mary Margaret,” Snow said. “I was wondering if you wanted to come over to the loft and have lunch with me today.”

He gaped a bit like a fish out of water. “To what do I owe the honor, milady?”

“Settle down, I’m not inviting you to a royal ball, it’s just lunch.”

“In that event, I will forego any formal attire and would be happy to accept.”

A couple of hours later he was knocking nervously on the door of the Charmings’ apartment, wondering how bad, on a scale from understated disapproval to banishment, Snow White’s ulterior motive was for summoning him to eat a meal with her.

“Come in,” he heard Snow call, so he opened the door and walked into the sunny space.

She was stirring something in a large stew pot on stove. “Make yourself at home; this should be ready soon. How are you, Hook?”

Killian busied himself with hanging his jacket up. “I’m well. And yourself?”

She sighed. "Neal is teething and waking us up at all hours, but I’m fine otherwise. He’s napping now,” she explained.

Killian walked over the breakfast bar and sat on one of the stools. “At least the lad is healthy, yes?”

“Oh, yeah. We just had a checkup with the doctor last week and he’s doing great.”

“Glad to hear it.”

A silence settled between them as Snow busied herself returning spices to her spice cabinet and tidying up the kitchen. “I’ve hardly seen you since you and Emma got back from your trip.”

“I’ve been spending much of my time in the library, trying to find another solution to free those that the Dark One imprisoned.”

She tilted her head at him. “You do look tired. I hope you aren’t working too hard.”

“Poring over old manuscripts is tedious and frustrating, but I wouldn’t call it hard work. I spent many a year on my ship demanding hard work of sailors, and before that having it demanded of me. The gentleman’s labor of library research is easy by comparison.”

“You always worked on ships?”

“Aye, from the time I was a boy. My brother Liam and I were indentured from a young age. Once Liam was able to buy our freedom…” He clenched his jaw, shoving his shameful memories of that time aside. “Long story short, we were able to join the Royal Navy.”

“Ah, that must be where your education and manners come from,” Snow said, seemingly delighted at this new piece of the Captain Hook puzzle. “I always thought you seemed very well-spoken for a pirate — when you chose to be, anyway.”

“I certainly have the Navy to thank for any formal education. I've also had a lot of years since in which to catch up on my reading.”

“I suppose that's true,” she said with a chuckle, checking the contents of her stew pot.

Killian cleared his throat. “It probably won’t surprise you to know that I was trepidatious about your lunch invitation.”

“What, did you think I was bringing you here to order you to keep your hands off my daughter?” she said with a laugh.

“The thought did occur.”

Snow rolled her eyes. “It’s a little late for that, and it’s not like I have any say in who Emma dates, and what gave you the idea I disapproved of the two of you anyway?”

He flushed, looking down at the countertop. “It sort of stands to reason.”

“Well, relax. I have no intention of issuing any royal proclamations when it comes to Emma’s love life. I swear my only motivation in inviting you here was to feed you a home-cooked meal, because I would imagine those have been in short supply for you lately. Or maybe always?” Snow said as she ladled stew into a bowl. “I’m trying to duplicate a fish stew that our royal cook used to serve when I was a girl, and I figured who better to taste-test it than our local pirate?”

Killian grinned. “In that case, I am at your service.”

“Good,” she said, putting the bowl in front of him. “Let it cool off a little before you try it.”

Stirring the hot stew with his spoon, Killian let the steam warm his face. “You were right that home-cooked meals have been a rare luxury in my life. My father could barely be bothered to put any kind of food in front of us most of the time.”

“And your mother?”

He swallowed. “I never knew my mother.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.”

Killian shrugged. “You can’t miss what you’ve never had,” he said, knowing it was untrue even as the words came out of his mouth. He took a bite of the stew, savoring the flavors of it. “This is delicious. Best thing I’ve had since I came to this realm.”

“You’re just saying that,” Snow said, blushing faintly. “Although you are welcome to eat with us any time if it comes with such lovely compliments.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“It’s not an imposition.” She sat next to him with her own bowl. “You know, I’ve watched you work to be a better man and to win my daughter’s heart. I’ve watched you learning to live in this realm, and I’m sure it’s harder for you than you let on most of the time. But there’s one more thing that I’m going to insist that you also learn to live with.”

“What’s that?”

Snow reached out and put her hand over his hook where it was resting on top of the table. “Family.”

~*~

Emma pulled her sweater off over her head, her hair collecting static and briefly sticking up in all directions. “We have half an hour before my parents get back.”

Killian’s hand froze as he pulled the end of his belt back to unbuckle it, and Emma’s gaze dragged down from his kiss-bruised lips and zeroed in on the bulge in his jeans. “That’s cutting it rather close; are you sure about this?”

She rucked her own pants down her legs, sitting down on her bed in the loft to remove them. “Am I sure I need to get laid right now? Absolutely. It’s been almost a week and I am willing to risk it.”

“That’s easy for you to say, you’re not the one that your father will lock in the town jail at best if they walk in on us.” Nonetheless, he continued efficiently removing his clothes. His nimble fingers working the buttons of his shirt and revealing more and more of his chest was stupidly mesmerizing, and she took a few seconds to watch him work.

“Just keep an ear out for the door downstairs and it’ll be fine,” she said as she reached behind her back to unfasten her bra. She let it slide down her arms before she tossed it away.

“Stop,” Killian said as her hands went to her hips to pull her underwear off. “Let me.” His warm fingers on one side and his hook on the other, he slowly slid the fabric down her legs, and Emma couldn’t help but shiver at the raw desire she saw in his eyes.

They got under the covers together and he pressed her down into the mattress and God, she was so turned on she hardly would’ve cared if the whole town walked in on them. She writhed underneath him, letting her legs fall open and shamelessly grinding against his erection. As Killian leaned down to kiss her, the muffled sound of her cell phone ringing reached her ears.

“Ignore it,” she mumbled against his mouth before he suggested otherwise.

“I was planning on it.”

The ringing stopped, and then almost immediately started again.

“God dammit,” Emma groaned, pushing Killian off of her and fumbling beside the bed for her jeans. She pulled the phone from her pocket and answered the call. “Hello?” she said impatiently.

“Mom, did I leave my 3DS at the loft?”

She sighed heavily. “I don’t know, Henry, I haven’t seen it.”

“Can you look for it?”

Killian’s mouth descended on her collarbone, his teeth teasing her skin. “Not right now,” Emma said through clenched teeth. “I’ll look later, and I’ll bring it to Regina’s if I find it, okay?”

“Thanks!”

“Sorry about that.” She tossed the phone onto the bedside table and reached down to close her hand around his cock, making him gasp.

His hips flexed, his erection sliding through her fist. “On second thought, I fear half an hour may be an optimistic assessment of my prowess tonight, love. I feel like I haven’t made love to you in an age.”

“Same here.” His hand slipped between her legs and it was Emma’s turn to gasp. “Fuck, just get inside me, I don’t need foreplay,” she gritted.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Emma wrapped her legs around his waist and he lined himself up and pushed into her, making both of them moan. “By all the gods, you feel unbelievable,” he said against her mouth. He started a quick rhythm, his pelvis grinding against hers at the apex of every thrust, and he felt so good, so good…

Emma’s phone rang again, and this time the ringtone told her it was a forwarded call from the sheriff’s station.

“Don’t you dare answer that,” Killian said.

“I have to, it might be an emergency.” She reached over and grabbed for her phone, almost dropping it before she managed to answer the call.

“Sheriff,” she said, trying to school her voice to neutral. Killian stilled, but the sensation of him inside her was quite distracting.

“We’ve got a problem, sister.”

Emma almost laughed out loud. Of course it was Grumpy. Of course. “What can I do for you, Leroy?” Killian collapsed against her, whispering swears into the crook of her neck.

“Grand larceny is what’s going on. I had some very valuable ... vintage magazines in a box in our garage, and the box has been stolen.”

“Vintage magazines?” Emma groaned, not a little bit because of the way Killian’s tongue was running along her skin. She had never been so simultaneously aroused and disgusted in her life, assuming ‘vintage magazines’ meant what she thought it did.

“That’s what I said. Vintage magazines.”

Without really meaning to, Emma flexed her pelvic muscles, squeezing Killian from the inside. He groaned softly into her ear. “I can come out and take a look first thing tomorrow morning,” she said into the phone, her other hand coming up to stroke Killian’s hair.

“The trail will be cold by then! You need to come take a look now!”

I’m with my boyfriend, she was tempted to respond, and he is literally inside me while I’m talking to you. Imagining the look on Grumpy’s face in reaction to such a proclamation made her bite her lip to keep from laughing. Instead she said, “Are you sure one of your brothers didn’t just borrow them?”

The line went silent, and this time when Emma flexed her pelvic muscles, it was entirely on purpose. Killian whimpered and moved inside her, like he couldn’t help it. She shivered as she felt his teeth scrape against her neck.

“Happy! Did you take my magazines from the garage?!” Emma winced and held the phone away from her ear. If Grumpy was covering up the phone speaker to shout at his brother, he was not doing a very good job. Her other hand left Killian’s hair and scratched down the firm plane of his back.

There was a muffled response that Emma couldn’t make out through the phone, and then Grumpy said, “Sorry to bother you, Sheriff,” before abruptly disconnecting the call.

Emma let her hand drop and the phone fall out of it onto the rug. “Sorry again.”

“You are a vile temptress,” Killian responded, pistoning his hips. His thrusts picked up speed, his hot breath panting out against her neck, and it felt wonderful, but Emma had lost the pleasurable momentum that had been driving her forward. Figuring they didn’t have time to slow down and get her back in the mood, she made all the right noises, encouraging Killian until he spilled inside her with a pained groan.

After a few seconds, he lifted his head and regarded her. “You didn’t orgasm, did you?”

She gave him a half-smile. “Strangely, Leroy’s voice in my ear talking about his missing porn was not the turn-on you might think. Don't worry about it.”

He slid out of her, settling at her side. “But you were so… hungry for it a moment ago.” His hand trailed down her stomach, his voice velvety as he enunciated each word.

“I know, but now I...” She stopped talking as his fingers slid inside her, her head tilting backwards on the pillow. The sensation of their combined fluids coating his fingers was strangely arousing, and she gasped as he used his thumb to circle her clit.

“Yes... Killian…”

“That’s it, my love. Let me see you come.”

She moved her pelvis in time with his fingers, closing her eyes and focusing on the sparks of pleasure he was creating, reaching and climbing and there, she was almost there, almost—

Emma came with a soft moan, squeezing her eyes shut and allowing the pulsing ecstasy to wash over her. She gradually relaxed every muscle in her body, letting go of his shoulder where she had been gripping it, her hand dropping to the bed.

“That’s better,” Killian said, a smug smile on his face. His hand dragged across her thigh, and she was a mess and the sheets were definitely going to have to go in the laundry, but all she could do was meet his smile with one of her own.

The door downstairs opened. “Emma, we’re home!” her mother called.

“Okay, I’ll be down in a minute!” she yelled back, pressing a finger to her lips and staring wide-eyed at Killian.

They did their best to clean up and dress as quietly as possible, Emma quickly running a brush through her hair as Killian buttoned his shirt and vest. Baby Neal was downstairs screeching at random intervals, which she hoped was distracting her parents from wondering what she was up to. Even so, it felt ludicrously obvious what they had been doing as the two of them descended the stairs to the main part of the loft. David certainly seemed to find it obvious, narrowing his eyes at them and glaring.

Killian kept his distance from her parents, bidding them a polite good evening before he made his excuses and turned to leave. Emma followed, pulling the door closed and giving him a sheepish smile.

“Sorry about that.”

“Not to worry. Tell your father to give me a few days to get my affairs in order before the execution.”

“We can stay at your place tomorrow if you want,” Emma said with a chuckle.

He put his arms around her, pulling her close. “Can we fall asleep together?” he asked, his voice soft and vulnerable. “I find I don't sleep half as well when you aren't with me.”

“Yeah.” She kissed his lips, his cheek, his ear. “Sure we can.” Pulling out of the hug and taking hold of his hook, she added. “Let me know if you come across any other magical items in Belle’s books that are in any far off locations. Chicago, maybe? L.A.? I hear Paris is nice.”

“Anywhere you want to go, Swan, I will be at your side if you’ll have me.”

Happiness swelling in her chest, Emma smiled. “I think I’ll have you.”

END

#cs ff #captain swan #cs smut #my fic #another nyc serenade

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multibetkenya · 5 years ago

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BREAKING!!! HOW TO MAKE MONEY FROM FIXED MATCHES

The day all sports betting enthusiasts have been yearning for is finally here. Anyone who has ever placed a bet in any field in the vast sports world must have come across the highly sought after fixed match package. You were probably getting nowhere with you low stake placements that kept on failing and found yourself surfing the internet for a fixed match package that would skyrocket your winnings, right? Look no further as we have finally cracked the enigma code and are ready to serve you with various tips on how to make a bucket load of cash using the highly sought after fixed match market. Brace yourselves; your journey to a million shillings a week is underway. Below are the steps you need to take to land yourself fixed match surebets and you’ll be on your way to bankrupting ‘Muindi.’

This could be you…

BECOME A REFEREE

Fancy your hand at refereeing? As part of becoming a Ref, we have outlined the clear pathway from grassroots to the top of the game in officiating.

Step one

Those interested need to complete The FA Referees Course with your local County FA (must be 14 or over) to become a Level 7 ref (14/15-year-olds become Youth Referee).

Step two

You can then apply for promotion through Level 7, 6, 5 and 4. These involve training, law of game exams and observations at a handful of your matches. It is important that you try your hardest not to fix your matches at this level as it could greatly affect your chances of landing you full badges. If you must, strictly stick to minor elements of the game such as number of corners but you’ll need to have your assistant referees in the loop as well.

In terms of timescale, you must typically spend a minimum of one season at each level through 7-4, but if you are excelling, a conversation can be had with your County FA to see if you are appropriate for promotion between level 6 and 4. At this point you are on the very cusp of landing a proper match to fix so just keep your head down and keep your assistants close by as you’ll need them later on.

Step three

Once at Level 4, and also through levels 3, 2B and 2A, your promotion is dependent on a merit table produced by club and observer marks. Promotion from 2A to the English Football League and beyond, also includes an interview. I’m sure you already know how to conduct yourself during interviews, remember to show respect as it’s a big thing in the refereeing world.

The final promotion is to the International List, at this point you will land your first proper match. Now, make sure your assistant referees are the same ones who climbed up the ladder with you. It is at this point that you can award dubious penalties, grant over 12.5 corners per game and send anyone that compromises the chances of you landing a winning slip off. It doesn’t matter what he does, the slightest contact or over celebration should warrant a straight red card.

Most importantly, place your bets using a friend’s account; we wouldn’t want the FA cup snooping around our accounts now would we? Lastly, ensure the friend I just mentioned above isn’t the kind that would run away with your winnings.

BECOME A PRO SOCCER PLAYER

If the refereeing path seems long and tedious, this is the next best thing and also leads to landing the coveted fixed match.

Step 1: Have a Burning Motivation

If you want to become a professional soccer player for the money or fame, then stick to playing for fun. You need to have the sort of drive and passion where playing at a top level matters more to you than getting paid top money. To have the sort of grit and determination to get through all the stresses, downs and pressures of playing professionally, you need to have a true love for the game or you’ll just end up being very unhappy.

Lucky for us, making fixed matches and all the millions of shillings that come along with it is all the motivation we need.

Step 2: Train 10,000 Hours

Recent studies have found that the key to success in any field is practicing a specific task for a total of around 10,000 hours. Therefore, a player must train and/or play football for at least 10,000 hours before reaching ‘world class’ status. That’s around 3 hours a day, 20 hours a week for 10 years.

I know it’s a lot of work but just visualize all the millions you’ll make once you start playing pro and fixing matches. Think of that Porsche Cayenne S Turbo or that house on the hill with the infinity pool plus the trip to Santorini that you know you deserve.

Now toil away and keep your eyes on the prize.

Step 3: Create a Killer Video

A promo video of yourself these days in the modern age of high-speed internet and YouTube is essential to getting as much interest as possible. If you have a good video that makes it easy for people to assess your skills, it’s easier to get opportunities with teams. As the agent who discovered Messi, Josep Maria Minguella said: “I only discovered Leo Messi through video”. Get family or friends to film you training and playing and make sure the video quality is excellent. The aim is to go viral and for that to happen you may have to edit the video a little bit to capture you in the best light.

Do something remarkable in the video and scouts will take notice. Ensure that you consult at least one social media influencer in your country to help in spreading the word. For example, if in Kenya, it would be wise to look up the likes of Huddah to help sell your brand.

So there you have it, the first steps towards becoming the professional football (soccer) player you dreamed yourself of becoming. Good luck on the journey!

Once you make it to the top, it’s all smooth sailing. Score twice and take off your jersey twice if you placed a bet that would need you to get carded off. Start a fight if you needed at least two sending offs, let easy goals in if you’re a keeper if your bet was in the over 2.5 goals category. Pretty simple stuff, right?

JOIN A FOOTBALL ASSOCIATION

If the 1st two methods seem like too much work for you, worry not, there’s one other way which could also empower you with the ability to generate fixed matches and rake in millions. Join any football association and climb your way up the ladder.

If you’re thinking global and long term, the UEFA should be your be all end all goal. The beauty of joining such an organization is that you get access to lots of markets from Azerbaijan to Northern Ireland! Once you’re in a position of influence, all you have to do is hold the lower leagues and their respective associations ransom.

For example, you could tell the Kazakhstan Football Association to throw some matches or you will pull some funding and Im almost certain they’d agree. They badly need the money to keep their leagues afloat which gives you the upper hand.

If you’re wondering how you could land a job at the UEFA, just visit their website and click on the careers section. They are a non-discriminatory association which means the odds are in your favor already. We wish you the best of luck.

BUY A FOOTBALL CLUB

Ok this seems like a bit of a stretch but hey, they say it takes money to make money. The beauty is that when it comes to this particular route, you don’t have to take it alone. Remember that Chama you formed 4 -5 years ago? Money has been piling up and since all the investement ideas have been crappy so far, it’s just been earning interest. Brian was suggesting you start building flats but I think buying a local club would be the better investment. Bear with me for just a moment as I walk you through how using that money to make an offer to Sofapaka could be the best deal you’ve ever made.

The beauty about a fixed match is that you know the outcome way before the teams are even out on the field and this will result in some really juicy odds. Now picture this, you’ve just bought sofapaka and they are set to play against Thika United on Saturday. Place a bet on your team conceding over 5.5 goals. This would give you odds ranging from 15 to 23 odds. Now stake really high, im talking about as high as the bookies will let you. You could even place multiple bets across all the bookies form Sportpesa to Betika. Assure the players that they will each get bonuses once the day is done. Now just seat back and just let the good times roll.

By the time the season is done, you should be rubbing shoulders with Chandaria and CK over some 30 year old bottle of scotch with Dangote just a table away from you.

Now, if all the above tactics seem rather unrealistic, you still have the time and tested option of sticking to placing your bets based on thoroughly researched matches as opposed to misusing your Chama money on fixed matches.

At Multibet Kenya, the matches provided have a 70-80% chance of winning. When it comes to football, guaranteeing 100% win is the sort of language only con-men use when they are planning on how to bleed you dry. There are a lot of unpredictable occurrences when it comes to a football match: the marquee player may get sent off in the 1st minutes, he may get injured, own goals occur, goalkeeping errors to mention but a few. Hence, I’d highly advise you to steer clear from anyone selling you 100% fixed match unless he owns the club, plays for the club, is a member of the football association in question or he/she is set to referee the match on offer.

Click here to see all the packages on offer, at Multibet Kenya, 100% is NOT guaranteed but you will land a winning slip more often than not.

As always, remember to bet responsibly and have some fun.

King Kong

#IFTTT #WordPress

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markhorrell-blog1 · 6 years ago

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Data Recovery: 10 Most Effective Computer Backup Tools

Donna GunterData Recovery: 10 largest Effective artificial intelligence Backup ToolsComputers Articles | February 26, 2009How complete you linger to task when your computer force down? conceding that you have a backup computer hates synchronized to your leading computer, it becomes full easier to move forward. However, if you restriction 123movieshub have to spot a different or imitated computer during yours is being repaired, here are 10 calculator backup engine to support you earn back rise and running quickly: absorb (c) 2009 OnlineBizU.comDespite my best efforts, this spent week I lost the two my constitutional and secondary computer systems. After losing my constitutional desktop certain years ago, I affirm I would never certify myself be caught beyond an running PC. at the time that they say, "the course to h*ll is tar with great intentions," and I earlier again was caught with my archetypal pants descending without an operating calculator when my desktop, which had prevail exhibiting part of problem light in the last month, died quickly and would not trend on.I suddenly went to my laptop, which I had indeed been sleepy about charge updated, and turned it on. promptly the bay update proceeding started, and asked me install duty Pack 3 for bay XP. receive done that successfully on my desktop, I wasn't too worried about whatever installation trouble on the laptop. However, upon do the installation, the turquoise screen of death appeared, which is NEVER a good hint with a Windows-based system.After trying for about an hour without success to revive my laptop (which is individual 8 turn old and still downward warranty), I knew that I was in trouble and outset looking for alternatives. Fortunately, my consort keeps a laptop on hand that he handling for sport when we travel, and he abundantly offered to let me install my programs and files on it before I put up repair one of my computers.After definitely acknowledging that there was no form I put up have likely this situation, I decided that I needed to s*ck it up, receive over, and move on. So, um making do with a partially customized laptop that will move until one or the other of my PCs is returned.Despite having retired through similar situations previously, I hushed learned a few new things forth the way about dossier recovery and computer backup. Here are the 10 most impressive tools that saved my bacon midst my late computer meltdown.1. Automatic backup software. ice been working 2 installed backups, Carbonite and Syncplicity. I have had to restore from Carbonite previously, and I found the process to be tedious and considerably confusing. So, several past ago I began proving Syncplicity over it action online approach to all backed rise files as well as the strength to synchronize an limitless number of computers. However, it receive taken a week to restore 20 GB of data with Syncplicity, and some of the evidence was wasn't really restored, despite what Syncplicity disclose me in my account. However, I can handily download this missing info to my computer from the accessible vault. sole process that makes this backup system easier is that I store all of my data notebook in My Docs so I embargo have to hunt them down in Program Files, or whereabouts they are typically stored.2. Email patient software. I still practice the dinosaur Eudora for my E-message client. tired habits succumb hard, I suppose. However, somehow I missed denominating some crucial Eudora folders to back up, and so I was initially using my webmail entrée providing by my hosting company to access email because of this lapse with Eudora. I inaugurate to annoy of that quickly, as I had no way to set up additional folders in the above-mentioned systems, so I next decided to manually configure Eudora and open folders and emails as I need them in the program. already stated experience acquire made me very tempted to advance all of my approaching and communicative email servers on all domains to Gmail conscientious to have access to everything online, come hurricane, flood, tornado, or artificial intelligence crash.3. Bookmark service. ism an eager researcher and resource collector, so having access to my bookmarks, or choice file, is vital to my day-to-day operations. I had prevail using Spurl, but because of constant periodic outages of their service, dive changed to Foxmarks. I like that this duty offers me the intelligence to entry all of these online, as sound as have them at my fingertips any second I right them from my Bookmarks menu as well as easily synchronize them to any computer.4. Contact management. Even still I don't use attitude for email, I execute use it for calendar and unity management. I had prevail using Plaxo as an online backup for my contacts, but it doesn't permit me to cache my synopsis about all contact. ice been working Airset now for different months, and it repeatedly syncs my contacts (with notes) and my calendar to their online service. I organize this scads more good than arduous to restore a backup PST information to perspective and later repeating that again during my primary computer is returned. Instead, I just make adjustment to contacts and my calendar on Airset, and I'll decent sync that to perspective on my desktop.5. Passwords. I've breathe using Roboform for generation to use me dominate my passwords. I've land my Roboform data in My Docs, so it was a breeze to reinstall Roboform and photograph the dossier folder to the new computer and permit me to entrance all of the scene requiring a password and username. Finally, something that worked seamlessly!6. Project Management. Smartsheet acquire been my project authority service for the end few months. I taste that it has the ability to create an item and allow you to adhere a script and review to that item. comparatively than enjoy to interrogation down word about a project, all I had to execute was log into my Smartsheet explanation and there it was.7. Software licenses. Roughly 99% of the new software I invest is downloaded and I don't pull a substantial copy on CD. Therefore, I compose sure that I have the downloaded version in a My Downloads folder that's a part of My Docs file, which is backed up regularly. And, I make a PDF photograph of the software license that I get by email and store in a groupware folder, likewise in My Docs. Lastly, I pick up a bona fide inexpensive program, Registration Vault, that give me reservoir all of my software license and purchase info and charter me to back rise my dossier to My Docs. during the time that I had to reinstall software on a unusual computer, it was straightforward to restore the Registration Vault files, get my software right number, and have a fully functional piece of software within minutes.8. Accounting. I help Quickbooks for my accounting needs, and while they do action an connected version, I haven't yet moved to that. Instead, I rearward up Quickbooks after every use in the My Docs folder. When I needed to invoice consulting clients at the outset of this month, all I had to execute was reinstall Quickbooks and restore my latest backup. I right away had lot I desired again at my fingertips.9. Alternate paper services. Some software I use, agnate CuteFTP and TraxTime, injunction permit statistics backups. So, I well do have to dawn all by with my FTP info and my time capture info when my calculator dies. comparatively than invest these business on the new computer, I just used a few free recourse to get me through. FireFTP, a Firefox add-on, has fashioned quite trim for me as my FTP client, and MyHours.com has erect in rather well for TraxTime, supposing it miss a less more impression for use than TraxTime.10. Email marketing. While not a tool, I spotted that the two text and HTML variant of E-message broadcasts thing in E-message marketing. I wasn't initially able to get my normal electronic mail client jump and running, so I was knowledge my voice mail from my webmail systems. I've receive 2 hosting accounts, and the modern one include a quite sophisticated webmail system and let me read hotly emails with no problem. The other, however, doesn't permit HTML viewing. So, those emails sent only in homely were public that I was impotent to read. If you're wise and your voice mail marketing plan permits you to express emails out in the two plain content and HTML, do it, even nonetheless it potency seem agnate a pointless pain. You just nevermore know according to what members of your series might be forced to ready your emails.As you might gather, I've perceived that accessible services have provided me with the greatest backup to service me through this brain crisis. My lesson? Duplicate as abundant as you can in online systems. In this way, yowl have entry to your data during you travel, when you have a computer crash, or although you're risk with a natural disaster. Article Tags: Data Recovery, Most Effective, Computer Backup, Email Client, Software License, Email Marketing Internet Marketing Strategist & Boomer Biz Coach done Gunter support baby boomers create effective online retirement businesses that they taste by demystifying the tools & strategies needed to market and grow their businesses online. To plea your FR*EE gift, TurboCharge Your connected Marketing Toolkit, visit her site at OnlineBizU.com. request Donna an Internet Marketing question at AskDonnaGunter.com

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trendingnewsb · 8 years ago

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MIA: This is a white country, you dont have to spell it out to me

Maya Arulpragasam is bringing dancehall, hip-hop and grime to this years Meltdown. Is the outspoken British Sri Lankan the best argument for positive cultural appropriation?

The Guardian said that you couldnt shag to my record. As conversational openers go, MIAs beats the banal niceties of, say, Hello, how are you doing?. Its no surprise that she charges straight into a chat about why her last album was considered too confrontational for the bedroom by this paper. Its an icebreaker moulded to MIAs very own design: abrasive, compelling, underpinned by sex. Yeah, she finally concedes with a grin when I suggest we move past it, you cant have it all, can you?

Its a theme she warms up to when we talk about her edition of Meltdown at the Southbank Centre, which were ostensibly here to discuss. Usually, I wouldnt do something like this, she says, slouched under an oversized khaki coat dress. [But the organisers] were like: Hey, you can do whatever you want. Still, putting on the South Banks annual festival, curated in previous years by the likes of David Bowie, David Byrne and Patti Smith, has turned out to be a fairly arduous affair for MIA who says she doesnt do computers at the moment.

They didnt tell me it was nine days long. I thought it was a weekend. And then all my lists were, like, Well, this person wont be in London and that person is doing Glastonbury. Organising festivals is actually really complicated, she stresses. It wasnt just about dreaming something and then it appeared. Programming literally means, like, programming.

For all that Maya Arulpragasam didnt quite know what she was letting herself in for, one suspects the Southbank Centre didnt either; logistics aside, the mornings photoshoot has already been met with some flapping from the press officer made nervous by MIA climbing on the roof without safety clearance. Still, her lineup dancehall, Brooklyn hip-hop, depressive Swedish rap and Nigerian grime is perhaps the most underground the festival has seen in its 24 years. How much is she expecting to shake up its comfortable concert halls, cafe bars and conference-room spaces?

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Click here to watch the video for last years Go Off.

When I was a teenager in London, I would just get a Travelcard and go somewhere, explore the city and go to weird places, she says. I would never judge the place, like, This is middle class and white. This is a white country, you dont have to spell it out to me, but there wasnt ever a limit on where I could go or what I could do.

A long, elliptical digression on London then and now follows, which takes in the optimistic multiculturalism of the 90s, Tamil house parties, empire and British identity. Its the bento box of an MIA interview: individually contained ideas that dont obviously bleed into one another and yet, overall, make a collective sense if youre prepared to go with it. Thats the key thing about MIA: you have to be willing to go with her to properly get her. Given that she still looks and sounds like a beautiful, bratty, art-school upstart and is prone to labyrinthine tangents, its easy to portray her as inarticulate or unhinged. But MIAs intelligence is instinctive rather than intellectual, and fuelled by the political.

The Mehrabian maxim that reckons that only 7% of communication is verbal is one that might best be proven by the transcript of a chat with MIA removed of all tone, attitude, context and body language. Take, for instance, her explanation of why only the future remains relevant:

As humans, we dont use our past and our history to work out the importance of what our role is in the present, she says. And if you cant use the past to define your present, then it should not be an element that holds back the future. Greece is a perfect example. More than Britain, they were brought to their knees, and not a single white country thought about saving them. And it was part of their heritage. Its where their mythology comes from or their concept of capitalism and democracy comes from. Nobody cared, everybody cared about the modern. Right?

Kim Kardashian is actually more powerful than Greece. She has more money than the whole of Greece, she continues. Therefore, thats where the power lies. If you then define it that way, then you kind of just have to live with that. And maybe whats happening in modern society: that if youre going to judge it by that, then other countries are gonna come in and define the future.

In print, its a statement that seems lacking in logic and coherence. In the moment, Im fairly sure Im able to follow her and we go on to consider how and where this future is being defined (for the record: You cant ignore the fact that China is going to be doing their thing in the next 50 years) and how Arulpragasam believes the immigration issue has become a red herring covering up a truth that can explain the American and British swing to conservative populism.

With Brexit, the idea was to get away from Europe and reinvent our identity, she says. And really, that identity was going to be American, but then they gave us Trump! So, everyone now is like, Oh shit, what is Britain? Are we going to rewind back to the 1800s? We cant. Its too late for that. So, going forward, we need a charismatic leader who then va va vooms the British identity. And we dont have that either.

People thinking that Im a bitch is totally unwarranted … MIA. Photograph: Stephanie Sian Smith/The Guide

The prime minister has called a snap election on the day we meet. Does MIA have any faith in our political system? Or in the left?

Everyone keeps going, Corbyn cant do this, but its, like, well, who else is there? she says. If people just left him alone to actually do the job and actually gave him some support, maybe hed be different. Treating him with so much contempt fighting that takes all his energy. How the fuck do you expect him to do interesting things? In any case insists the estranged daughter of a Tamil revolutionary, politicians are people who couldnt get jobs somewhere else.

MIAs politics, unwieldy and unslick though they may be, have often made her an easy target for tedious sneering in the press; the most insistent narrative is that, like Banksy, shes big on arch, subversive statement but lacks substance. Or that she is a hypocrite for making herself the poster girl for the worlds most marginalised people. And yet, shes one of the best pop stars Britain has ever produced. For all the ear-clanging experimentation of her five albums, MIA has always kept a sleeve full of pop bangers Bucky Done Gun, Paper Planes, Bad Girls, Finally that have sounded like little that came before or since her. Even if she didnt have the tunes, here is an art-school refugee Sri Lankan single mother with a visual aesthetic co-opted by everyone from Vetements to Versace who was born into political rebellion and revels in controversy. Gleefully gauche and carefree, MIA is the best argument for when cultural appropriation works. Bland singer-songstress beloved of Radio 2 playlists she isnt. So how much has the criticism bothered her?

People thinking that Im a bitch is totally unwarranted because Im not, she ays. I just had to fight for shit, and I still do. I just dont care any more. I dont know. She stops and starts. What I deal with as an artist, the media, the public persona, its a walk in the fucking park, compared to how confusing the universe really fucking is. Theres so much beauty in it and theres so much mystery, theres so much confusing shit in it. That is way more interesting to think about than why, like, Patricia hates me. You know what I mean? I laugh. Its like, Who the fuck is Patricia? and How can Patricia say this shit about me?. It just does not matter to me at all.As it is, she says shes most preoccupied with how to be a functioning grown up, an adult and a mother to an eight-year-old son (whose father Benjamin Bronfman is son to the billionaire heir of the Seagram fortune) born into immense privilege.

When the war came to an end in Sri Lanka in 2009, it actually did affect me, she explains. Everyone was, like, What the fuck does she know? Shes, like, a pop star, but that was my life. It was 50% of who I was, it was my identity. I didnt know what to do with myself. So I had a kid. Its the year the cause died, but the year my personal cause my son was born. And then, OK, I have to figure out what to do in very small parameters: I have a son, how is he going to see his grandma, am I going to make it there on Saturday? Can I make sure that I dont mess up his head by being depressed about certain things?

She struggles to reconcile her upbringing poor and living in Sri Lanka for her childhood to poor and living on a council estate in Mitcham, south London, in her adolescence with her sons. Im not very straightforward as an immigrant. That whole My kids would never see the pain that I saw; Im not like that. Im totally up for reintroducing him to the pain. I dont have any qualms about that. Her problems havent changed, she says, because of money or better circumstances. Whether Im in a mansion or a council flat, I would feel the same anxiety waking up going: I need to write this thing in a scrapbook, wheres my notepad? I would still have all those problems. I might still overcook the fish fingers. Those things are not going to magically transform because your house has changed. At the beginning I thought that money couldve saved my family. Very quickly I realised that money is not the thing.

Her conflict in wanting to being huge and commercial versus credible and ahead of the curve has been a persistent tension threaded through MIAs career. When I got into the music game, it was never an option to shut up and make lots of money. she says. To be a huge pop star, I would have to be, like, Yes, I think bombing Afghanistan was a great idea, I love our democracy and what it has achieved. I love the American flag and Im going to make a jumpsuit out of it. I just think it was important to have all of those Arab Springs, and its great and lets drink Coca-Cola. I had to do that, and do it all in a thong. Could I have done that if it meant that my mum had the nicest house in Chiswick by the river?

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Click here to se the video for MIAs Bad Girls.

Does she worry about money now? If youre preaching living within your means, you have to, to some extent. But I also know that if youre someone in society that speaks out about injustice or political issues, one of the things that happens is that you get economically punished, 100%. I take that hit all the time.

The most recent, obvious example was MIA being forced to quit her headline slot at Afropunk last year, following a contentious quote in which she asked in an interview why Beyonc and Kendrick Lamar might not discuss why Muslim lives matter or Syrian lives matter. I dont regret [raising the issue], she says, with triumphant chutzpah. You saw how bad it was. And the Muslim ban didnt happen just with Trump, it was already happening under Obama. But you couldnt say that about him, you couldnt say that he introduced the Muslim ban, or banned seven different countries, or was already monitoring people, or dropped more bombs than Trump has. In truth, Obamas administration did identify the seven countries on Trumps list for additional screening measures, but it didnt bar their nationals. Shes already skipped ahead. The quantity of damage cant be quantified right now, she insists. Well have to wait the four years. After eight years of Obama, we kind of knew [his failings], but we just werent allowed to say them because he was so great. He was better than any person in Hollywood that I wouldve watched. He was really likable and just had loads of swag. That doesnt mean that you have to deny the truth, though.

This (and much more) comes moments after she tells me she has no time for opinions these days. She claims she doesnt read the news any more and that her primary sources for information are customers at the local kebab shop, taxi drivers and then sort of figuring it out. What about the state of the world? MIAs moment as an agitprop pop activist has never seemed more potent. Politics? I have no time for these things because Im so stuck in the zone. Ive become a hermit. [Meltdown] is actually giving me the chance to actually go out and meet people again. Ive gone for weeks without talking to a person, I do that happily. I tell her I dont believe her, as I suspect it would be a recipe for her to go fully barmy.

Im actually quite an extreme person, so I dont see that as madness. I see that as, like, solitude, doing a phase of solitude is not that bad. After declaring her fifth album AIM to be her final one, shes also trying to find new ways to channel her creativity. Im trying to write a film. I havent stepped into it yet because I want it to be good. Once you hit the start button you cant really stop it. She has, she tells me, the added complication of ADD to contend with. When was that diagnosed? I just have it. Dont even need diagnosis, its a waste of time, its a waste of the NHS. In truly blithe MIA style, she adds: Its just when you have too many ideas and not enough ways to get them out.

MIAs Meltdown is at the Southbank Centre, SE1, 9-18 June