#*line not lime ffs

[kisuminight]

There are so many things that are just hanging around and percolating in my head about this one AU and I'm just going crazy about it? Also it's making me wish that I could draw, but alas.

So, DSMP Blade System AU, what do the Blades look like?

Well, for one, Blades are basically computer processors that are running an aether-based hardlight hologram for their body and they don't have a biological reproduction. So physically apparent sexual dimorphism is something that they can look like having, but they don't really have biologically sexual traits (not that this would stop a Blade from having fun if they want to). Also, a Blade's gender and pronouns are whatever they want them to be. Anyone's gender and pronouns should be whatever they want them to be, even in real life, but it's very unwise to try and mis-gender someone who can pull a weapon out of thin air if you piss them off.

This is a very long way of saying that I am trying to keep everyone's pronouns as they were in canon, no matter the choices I am making on their "default" appearance.

A Blade tends to have a "default" appearance that they take whenever they are first Awakened. This includes things like clothes, hair styles, and even hybrid traits. Some things, such as accessories that they gained in life, will drop like an item when a Blade reverts to core crystal. Regular clothes usually de-materialize with the Blade.

A list of Blades and their default appearances under the cut.

~

I have mentioned that c!Dream's default outfit in this is probably something like Yulia Jue's concept art from Tales of the Abyss. Dream tends to dislike the outfit and change out of it as soon as he can after experiments with c!Punz. His main issue with it is that it shows off his shoulders (aether lines visible) and has a window in the front that shows his core crystal (when shattering it is the one thing every Blade fears), and Dream has spent a while in this AU trying to hide that he is a Blade. He really would prefer if his default outfit was a hoodie, but Aegis Blades are always Peak Dramatic with their looks and this was one of the few things he retained.

Dream is discomforted by it, but not dysphoric? Like his main irritation is that sometimes he forgets to take off his hoodie before he and c!Punz run their experiments post-Staged Finale and then his hoodie gets...eaten, for lack of a better word. And it's just like ffs, not again. And then he steals Punz's hoodie until they can get him a new one.

The rest of his appearance includes slightly tapered ear points--not largely pointed, but just a bit of a tip, and long-ish hair (about the length in the concept art I included, but curly). Since his core crystal is green, it gives him a very woodland/forest elf-healer vibe if you manage to spot him in one of the few times he is relaxed and not hiding behind his mask. Post Staged Finale, post-Red Banquet when ew!Ranboo drops Dream off with the Syndicate, he uses this first impression as a way to throw off any of the members of the Syndicate who seem like they might figure out that he has a technique to keep his memories (and still remembers pre-Staged Finale stuff).

I'd say that his core crystal is closer to a bluer green than the yellow-toned lime-green that he favors for his hoodie, but the saturation of the aether makes his aether lines that lime color, except brighter and a bit more diffuse? I'm not really sure how to describe it. I've mentioned before, but it is a diamond/rhombus shape and located at the base of Dream's throat.

~

c!Techno does not get his anime pretty-boy look. Nope, this Techno is closer to a big bipedal pig. Obviously not completely--he does have hands. But his feet end in hooves, and he has a tail! He also has a long mane that he likes to braid. Since c!Techno is a Heartstealer, he cannot return to his core crystal. It's been so long that he doesn't really remember his default outfit, only that it had a lot of straps and buckles. The fabric is long since gone, but most of the straps were durable enough that they survived and were re-purposed for other things, such as billets for his horse saddles.

Techno's core crystal was originally a dove gray/silver, and his aether lines shone brightly against his pink fur. Becoming a Heartstealer tinged the aether with blood, so now his core crystal and aether lines are a dusty pink, like rose quartz. They can be hard to see against his fur. His core crystal is actually located on his back, between his shoulder blades. It has a diamond/rhombus shape.

Techno has lots of gold jewelry. He has his emerald earring (for emerald duo) and his crown, but he also has some tusk rings, a golden cuff that goes on his tail, and plenty of other things. While he has hands instead of hooves, he does have a black claws made out of the same material. The keratin extends back all the way along the finger, and it is jointed. The underside of his fingers are normal (finger pads are important for gripping things!).

~

c!Philza is an Aegis. Techno has only seen his default outfit once, when things got really bad. In the aftermath, the Goddess of Death showed up to reAwaken her Aegis Blade (Phil only requested to have his memories stopped the one time, now he is back to remembering after every death). Phil actually usually wears (most of) his default outfit. He is specifically wearing the bottom most and top most layers of it. Newly Awakened, he has about an extra 3 layers between them, and they're all flow-y and flutter-y with the sleeves artfully tied up so they won't get in the way of his bow skills.

The hat is the exception to this. Phil received his hat from Techno shortly after they became friends. Techno picked it up off the killing fields alongside Phil's core crystal, and gave it back after he was Awakened.

Phil's wings healed very quickly, the same way any other Blade's wounds would heal. He just can't use them at the moment because DreamXD's lockdown of the End and other things includes the ability to fly. As an Aegis Blade, Phil could get around this if he really wanted to, but he doesn't flaunt his powers much.

His core crystal is his crimson hardcore heart. It is located at the base of his throat.

~

c!Punz is also mostly using his default outfit. He basically just put their white hoodie on over it. I picture it as something like the outfit Canaan wears in the Canaan anime, except the top is black instead of red, and he has a grey scarf. Punz's medallion is also part of their default appearance.

He doesn't have any outstanding hybrid characteristics. Punz looks like a regular human Player, all the better to blend into the background.

His core crystal is indigo, and his aether lines are slightly lighter in color. Punz is almost constantly using their passive ability to disguise/make people Not Notice their aether lines, but he keeps their hoodie on anyway. Their core crystal is triangle-shaped, and located at the base of his throat.

~

c!Callahan has a default appearance that includes his antlers and deer-like ears. His original default outfit was a simple tunic and pants, that he changed for the Captain America outfit and the onesie.

His core crystal is a golden color. It is rounds and located over his heart, on the front of his chest.

~

c!Skeppy's default appearance is to look like a diamond statue. He is functionally indistinguishable from carved diamond until he starts moving. The way seeming-diamond moves like skin and muscle even if it looks and feels like sold rock can be a bit disturbing to those who are unused to golems. His eyes look like polished deepslate, and so does the inside of his mouth. His tongue is a ruby.

Skeppy's core crystal was originally round and colored pale blue like a diamond. It was located at the base of his throat. When he and Bad preformed their ritual, he took Bad's heart and Bad received a chunk of his core crystal. Now, his core crystal looks like a deep teal crescent. The aether lines are even darker, colored with a tinge of the blackness that comes from having Bad's heart.

~

c!Slimesicle - I'll be honest, I don't know that much about him or his content creator. I'd probably say that he is currently using his default appearance, which does include the shirt with the three heart markings on it.

He has the physical appearance of a slime hybrid, but he isn't actually slimy or generate any type of slime/mucus (because Blades are mimicking appearances, and do not carry over innate traits).

His core crystal is hunter green. It is a square shape and located on the side of his head. Because the core crystal is in an unusual place, Slime is one of the few Blades that has aether lines on his face as well.

~

Here is the concept art of Yulia Jue I was mentioning:

[adecila]

I just saw this 👀

Don't know, what do yo think? 🤔

I think it's crazy how as soon as people start speculating (or even just joking) that Emilia and *insert attractive man here* should date (!!! So not even claiming they are dating) there's some message on DM to shut that harmless rumour down for some reason.

Gonna be honest, this reads as something written by a pressed stan and sent to DM just because they didn't like how people were rooting for Ben. Let the man live. And most of all let Emilia live ffs.

[dark-muse-iris]

When I see paragraphs of warnings and disclaimers on some fics now, I just know you weren't there back when all we had was a ship name and the citrus scale. (*eyes well up*)

I once read a fic that was pitched along the lines of "this is a Wolverine/Rogue lemon/lime that goes full LEMON then a little grapefruit I'm soo sorry guys I don't know what happened."

And THAT WAS IT! THOUSANDS OF HITS OFF MERE SCRAPS OF WARNING!

....but it was 🔥👅🔥👅🔥👅🔥👅🥵🥵🥵🥵 Jfcccc I would die if I found that gem again! I'm pretty sure it was purged during the early 2000s FF ban of the good shit. 😭😭😭

[spencersawkward]

I love your ff first of all, I'm obsessed and second of all I would ask you a suggestion, idk if maybe is that too much and you're totally free to not do that but you ever thought to do something in the line of the knive kink? I think it will be awesome

i'm so sorry this took so long! big thanks to my guardian angel @voidsfilm for giving me inspiration bc i literally struggled with this one more than i should have. never written a knife kink but i’m glad i tried lol.

summary: reader finds an antique knife that Matthew's kept in a drawer.

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, fingering, oral (male receiving), knife play (no blood drawn), Soft!Dom MGG, degradation and praise.

word count: 3.6k

masterlist

if there is one thing I absolutely despise, it's working out. getting sweaty, running until my legs hurt and my lungs are burning for air... not really my thing.

but when Matthew brought up the idea a couple months into our relationship, I couldn't say no to him: he had a goofy smile on his face and the kind of look in his eyes that made me relent and ask what kind of stuff he wanted to do.

I think that I've found the one thing that Matthew can't make fun.

"I'm gonna pass out." I bend over and set my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. Matthew slows to a stop a few feet ahead, turning around and making a strained expression.

"oh, come on." but his voice is pretty breathless, too. he gently guides me off the path so that we don't get in the way of the other people out enjoying the day. a couple walks by us with their dog, strolling calmly, and I feel a rush of envy. if our workout routine had consisted of a few pleasant ambles around the city, I would have been totally willing.

"Matthew, I wanna go home." I whine impatiently. the only nice thing about this is that he's got one of those stupid sweatbands on his head to keep his hair out of his face, and it makes him look like a 1980's housewife.

"we can go home in fifteen minutes." he smiles, puts his hands on his hips, stretching in an exaggerated way.

"do you promise?" I brush a piece of hair out of my face.

"promise," he's lucky he looks so cute in his workout outfit. "we can even get one of those fancy juices for you on the way back."

"seriously?" I light up. this might actually be worth it; they have this amazing mango and lime combination that I can't ever manage to recreate with our own blender.

"if you beat me to the rock, then sure." he references the enormous boulder in Central Park that we both gawked at on our first date-- ever since then, it's been the end point for our runs. my lips curl into a grin.

"you're on." I take off, making sure to push him out of the way in order to gain a head start. he lets out something of a protestation but is quick to follow. I can feel his feet pounding behind me, trying to catch up.

I may not be good at running long distances, but I'm sure as hell faster than he is.

...

it's quiet when I step out of the bedroom, drying my hair with the towel and wandering into the living room. Matthew is sitting at the table with his sketchbook, drawing god knows what while he waits for me to finish up.

"what are you up to?" I ask softly as I plop down across from him. my head is slightly tilted while the towel rubs my scalp.

"I'm not really sure." he shrugs, frowning and holding up the notebook from a distance as if that'll help him figure out what to do.

"can I see when you're done?"

"of course," he sets it on the table again, then runs a fingertip across his chin. "actually, can you do me a favor?"

"sure."

"I have a set of colored pencils in the desk over there," he points to an old piece of furniture under the window. "would you mind getting them for me?"

"yep," I reply, getting up and leaving the towel on the table. "least I can do after kicking your ass."

on the walk past him, Matthew grabs my waist and pulls me into him, attacks me with tickles. I squeal and hit his shoulder.

"stop!" I laugh.

"you barely beat me!" he gives a dazzling smile and finally lets me go. I lightly smack him upside the head and head over to the desk, rifling through the drawers for the colored pencils he wanted.

as I push around various art supplies, glue sticks and random paintbrushes that look to be on the brink of falling apart, my fingers pass something cool and metallic. I grab the thing and pull it out.

it's a knife; like, a fancy one with an intricately decorated handle and what seems to be a pretty dulled edge. before he can notice what I've found, I start to move the thing between my hands curiously. there's a nice weight to it, but it's definitely old.

"hey, Matthew?" I ask warily.

"yeah?" so unassuming and sweet.

"why do you have a knife?"

there's a scratching as he gets up from the table to walk over to me. I lean against the desk. Matthew doesn't seem too bothered by what I'm saying at all, only gently taking the weapon out of my hands and examining it himself.

"oh, yeah!" he lets out something like a laugh. I raise an eyebrow and wait for him to continue. "do you remember when we went antiquing in Cape Cod, like, a month ago?"

"yeah." I nod at the memory. he'd been lucky enough to get some vacation days and we'd spent them sitting by the water with glasses of wine and nothing but time to talk. it really was a great trip, now that I think about it.

"I found it there." he still hasn't looked up and I realize that there's something he's not telling me. I don't know what I'm missing, but I start to get nervous.

"...why?"

"I was gonna ask then, but I guess I just forgot." his tongue darts out across his bottom lip as he lifts his face to meet my gaze. my heart thuds when he opens his mouth again. "I kinda wanted to try something."

"like?"

"I've been thinking about maybe using knives... in a sexual way."

"what?" I frown, confused by his wording. Matthew seems to realize that he's phrased it awkwardly and shifts his stance. he keeps glancing between the object and my face like he's worried about scaring me away.

"I don't mean I'm gonna stab you or anything," he laughs. "I just mean I think it sounds fun."

my hand finds his, brushing my palm over the steel to touch it myself again. there's a curiosity that burns through me now, something I'm a little unsure about but not enough so to deny the possibility of trying it.

"what do you wanna do with it?" I peek up at him. he bites his lip. we're speaking in gentle tones and I notice that our bodies have gotten closer within the last few moments. a warmth, a tension.

"like, pressing the blade flat against your skin while I fuck you." he takes the thing and demonstrates. the cool silver rests on my neck, too dull to really threaten a serious cut if he were to move too quickly. a shiver runs down my spine at the sensation of the metal.

I gulp, feel the curve of my throat push against it when I swallow. it's nice.

"oh." is all I say. Matthew is watching me intently, but he doesn't make any motion away from it. like he's entranced by the sight of me with a knife to my throat.

"are you interested?" he asks.

I mull it over. on the one hand, weapon play is something I've never considered in my sex life before. Matthew and I aren't vanilla, but this hasn't crossed my mind. that said, now that I can really feel it, there is a desire forming in my stomach. it would be a strange, new sensation.

"yes." the confirmation makes him smile a little. he lowers the thing and instead wraps me in his arms, kisses me passionately until our tongues are dancing over each other. I love how he holds me, our torsos against each other while my body leans slightly back to accept the weight of his touch.

he goes to my head like alcohol. and it's even more surreal when I feel the blade move under the hem of my shirt to rest against my back. I smile into his mouth. he doesn't do anything with it, just leaves it to remind me.

he starts to rut his hips against my lower stomach, getting aroused at the proximity of our bodies and the heated nature of our kiss. there's an urgency to all of it, like he's holding back. I don't want him to hold back; I want him to give me everything he has, everything beneath the surface.

my fingers twine in his hair and tug on the ends, causing him to groan into our embrace. there's no way we're going to make it all the way to the bedroom with the way he's grabbing at my body, so I stumble backwards towards the couch until the backs of my thighs hit the arm of it.

"you're horny." I giggle slightly when he pushes the hem of my shirt up my body, his nails dragging over my ribcage and trailing the object along with it. I feel the excitement growing.

"I'm just glad you're willing to try this." he murmurs the words, holds our foreheads together before his lips eagerly seek mine out, again. somehow, even with a weapon leveled against me, I can sense the love in every single action. I wouldn't have said yes if I didn't trust him to treat me with the utmost care.

I work at the buttons of his shirt, pushing it over his lovely shoulders and arms as he unclasps my bra. we're fervent, greedy in our movements, trying to kiss despite the attention needed to remove our clothes. mostly we just tangle up in each other until there's nothing left but my shorts for him to shove down my legs. he keeps his pants on.

"c'mon, beautiful." he mutters, pushing my legs open so that I'm sitting on the arm of the couch. he tilts my head and leans closer to suck on my bottom lip, and then starts to massage my tits. I can feel the handle of the weapon against my nipple.

when he reaches to slide his finger between my folds, I hiss out a breath at the cold sensation of his skin.

"is this because of me or the knife, baby?" he asks, corners of his mouth twitching up while I moan into his mouth. he starts to rub my clit with the collected wetness, teasing me too much. I want to fall back, but I can't. I won't let myself.

"both." I find myself turned on by the way the blade sits against my ribs again. the edge is just sharp enough to elicit a reaction from my body.

"feel that?" he angles the thing the slightest bit. I exhale and nod.

that isn't the response he's looking for, however, because he moves it so that it's under my chin. goosebumps on my skin while I pant uselessly against the weapon. I can feel it press harder with every breath out of my lungs, and I love it. I love the risk it brings out of me.

while Matthew dips his index inside my pussy, I writhe against it and tilt my head even more so he has better access.

"look at you," he lets out a dark chuckle, thrusts into me to the last digit. "you want more of this, don't you?"

"yes, sir." I breathe. my neck is actively moving against the metal. I glance down at his body and see his erection straining against his pants, craving release but finding none as he plunges his fingers in and out of me. I can hardly breathe from sheer focus on the sensations he's giving me right now.

"what are you looking at, sweetheart?" he quickens the pace of his movements and uses the object to make me focus on his face.

"you're hard." the words nearly die on my lips. he stares darkly at me, lifting his brows just enough to make me question whether I should have spoken at all. I bite my lip in anticipation.

"and what are you gonna do about it?" his voice is raspy as he stands back, removes his fingers from my pussy, and lets me drop to my knees. I'm weak both from the stimulation and from the loss of it, but I make quick work of undoing his belt, pulling the pants down his legs until I'm face-to-face with his cock. it sits against his stomach, throbbing impatiently while he watches. he uses the metallic point under my jaw to angle my face up to his.

"are you gonna suck me off, baby?" he smirks. I nod rigorously with wide eyes and an open mouth, dragging my tongue along the underside. Matthew's nose scrunches up for a moment at the shock of contact when I tease the head. all his concentration is on watching me wrap my hand around the shaft and pumping him gently. "spit on it."

I obey and spit right onto the tip before rubbing my thumb over the top to gather the precum. as I start to swirl my tongue and move my lips onto him, he throws his head back, lets out a wanton noise. it urges me on. I take every moment with a deliberate attention to the veins and sensitive spot he has.

"that's it, that's it." he rasps while knotting his hand in my hair. the other keeps the knife pressed to my throat. he lets me move on my own for a bit, gauging my desires from the way my eyes attempt to memorize the sight of his face above me, that jaw dropped in licentious craving. I can tell that he wants to fuck my face, but I go slow just to draw it out a little. it makes the soreness of my jaw worth it when he gets all impatient and flustered.

I hollow my cheeks and bob on his dick, bat my lashes, pull myself off him for a second just to kiss the tip.

"can I use your mouth?" he asks through a restrained groan. I open it and nod, sighing at the feeling of his fingers twining through my hair again before he pushes back into the opening. now that he's got full control, he starts to develop his own movements, sometimes meeting his thrusts by pressing my face against him.

he gets deep in it, never losing his grip on the knife, until my nose is pressed to his stomach. my throat closes instinctively around him even more tightly, and he lets out a guttural moan.

"such a cute mouth when I'm using it." he thrusts until I gag and then he's smiling. "get up."

he removes himself so fast, my eyes water at the sudden lack of blockage in my throat. I gulp air while he hooks his hands under my arms and hoists me up. I'm about to turn around so I can lift my leg and give him better access, but he sits me on the arm of the couch and parts my thighs.

"I wanna see your pretty face." he leans down and pecks my cheek. I smile at the surprising tenderness-- although it doesn't last long. steel sits against the space between my neck and collarbone. it's only a moment before he positions himself between my legs and slides his cock into me.

my back arches and I look him in the eyes, gasping.

"fuck, baby." he drags out the first word as he inches inside. I mewl helplessly at the way he stretches me out, my pussy clenching every few seconds. he keeps one hand on my lower back to support me and bring me closer to his pelvis, and then we're staring into each other's eyes as he finally settles in it.

his hips start to thrust into me, hopeful for any kind of contact while I accustom myself to the shape of him. it happens every time, despite the amount of times we've done this. and I'm bad at patience, but he's worse. his body stutters against mine.

"is it good enough, sir?" I ask quietly. he tightens his grip on my back and on the blade, the edge threatening my skin the perfect amount. I suck in a breath at the way it stings a little.

"you're doing perfectly." he recognizes what I want to hear as he finds my sweet spot and begins to hit it repeatedly, smoothly works my body. I swear there are planets in my eyes when I stare at the expressions on his face, both of us so wrapped up in each other that every other thought becomes obsolete.

he moves the knife to under my chin to rest on my throat.

"feel that?"

I nod so the edge bites more. he smirks.

"just to show you who you belong to."

my hips push up to meet his thrusts, needing more stimulation, more friction. what I want is for him to be relentless, to slam into my body with the kind of hunger I know he has. there are sounds, movements, that he's made before that make me want him to use them. but he's withholding, probably hesitant about the dangerous object on my pulse point.

"I belong to you, sir." I egg him on. he likes the sound of that, grunting and starting to pound into me.

"yeah? you're my dirty little whore." he speaks through gritted teeth. I shiver.

"mhmm."

"I use you how I want, when I want." his fingertips dig into my skin and he yanks me closer so that he can hit a new angle. I let out a surprised noise when he brushes my g-spot. it's otherworldly and I expose more of my neck to him.

"my little slut likes pain, huh?" he nudges the weapon harder into my skin. it doesn't draw blood, but I can sense the mark it'll leave. I love it.

"yes, sir." we're both getting needy, but we can't hold each other the way that we want to in our given positions. my palms are occupied on the arm of the couch to hold myself up and one of his hands is too busy holding the object for us to fuck as deeply as we need.

"are you gonna take it like a good girl when I cum in it?" he mutters. he runs his tongue over my jawline and the weapon nicks my skin. I moan at the mingling of sensations that's building all across my body.

"yes, sir." I plead. it's nearly unbearable, how much I want him. we're chasing our orgasms and I know what will finish me off. he knows, too.

Matthew drops the knife. it clatters to the ground, but there's no time for me to register it with the way he grabs my hips and lifts me into the air, my legs wrapping around his waist while he keeps fucking into me. he maneuvers us with shocking ease, laying me on the couch and positioning himself at the right moment so that I can drag my nails over his back and keep my thighs locked around him.

"mmm... baby, I'm gonna cum." he drives into me recklessly, both of us finally able to cling to each other. the angle is just enough to stimulate my clit and I nod, using the leverage of my legs to pull myself to him and roll my hips for friction.

Matthew slams my body into the couch, grunting in my ear as he finds his climax inside me. it's so deep, I have to work to keep the yell inside, but he's not done. he rides it out and plows into me while I reach the edge.

"tell me how it feels." he orders in my ear. I sigh.

"so-- so good, sir." my voice is thin. "I'm close."

"show me." he leaves bruises on my hips with his hands. I feel the knot finally snap, every muscle in my stomach spasming chaotically. I finish with a loud moan, begging him to drag it out further. my vision nearly goes black at the tide that threatens to overtake my body.

"Matthew--" I gasp. he moans quietly at the way I say his name, still rocking his body into mine while I come down from the shocks of orgasm. it's nearly overwhelming, the pleasure running through my body.

slowly, we come to a stillness and he drops his head into my shoulder, panting. he doesn't let go at first, but then he withdraws from my pussy and lets me take a rest. I lay there on the couch while he kneels between my legs, pressing gentle kisses to my neck.

"I love you." he repeats it over and over.

"I love you, too," I hope he can feel the meaning, despite the sheer exhaustion in my tone. he runs his fingertips across the red marks where the thing went a little too deeply, but I'm not worried about it. "we should try that again, sometime."

"you liked it?" he smiles brightly. I love the lines by his eyes.

"definitely."

he lets out a cheerful noise and buries his face back into my throat because he knows how much it tickles. I screech and giggle, my legs kicking wildly around me. more contented than ever before.

[higharollakockamamie]

Famitsu Survey Page 2

Page 1 (Player Demographics and Char Race/Gender) Here

Q5. What's Your Favorite Battle Job?

When we asked about your favorite battle job, the one we got the most responses for was Dragoon. We saw a lot of opinions that said "I liked the Dragoon character in other FF series entries" or "The trailer for Heavensward made me long to be one." White Mage ranked second. A lot of comments talked about the appeal of being a healer: "I'm all about being in charge of whether the part lives or dies." Bard came third. We got a lot of opinions about liking the abilities that support the party.

"I like spears, so I started as a Lancer, and Dragoon has been my main job ever since. The trailer for HW made me love it even more." -Fil/20s/F

"Red Mage's skill rotation is comparatively easy to understand, and since you can contribute to the party with healing and reviving, it's easy to participate even in content you're bad at." -Dotani/20s/F

"Bows were my favorite weapon to begin with, so I started out playing as an Archer. Also, I liked the Bard job quests where you're taught to sing to protect your comrades. It got even easier to play in Endwalker, so it's really fun." -Lime/30s/M

"As a White Mage, it's fun to play while dodging difficult mechanics, curing my allies with a pure healer's inherent healing power, and thinking about the efficiency of hitting out at the enemy. Glare glare!" -Sabocha/30s/F

"Summoner! With my Carbuncle partner by my side, wherever I go I'm never lonely!" -Bahamucho/20s/F

"You know through the job quest that 'the source of a Dark Knight's power is love,' and I felt like that really fit with my character's personality." -Mikosuki[or more like Miqoluv, maybe]/30s/F

"I like healers with lots of options for getting the party back on its feet in irregular situations." -Pika/30s/M

"Paladins have a lot of techniques for overcoming crises, like covering allies and developing their defense. For the people and for my friends, I want to become a good knight." -Grimm FairyTales/30s/M

"Firepower reigns supreme! Black Mage is fun once you figure out the skill rotation." -Mochamaru/20s/F

Q6. What's Your Favorite Gatherer/Crafter?

Culinarian was a popular gatherer/crafter class. A lot of votes said it was because, in between playing battle jobs, you can make your own food to use. The next most votes went to none in particular. This was split between "I play all gatherers and crafters, so I can't narrow it down to one" and "I don't play gatherers/crafters at all."

"I like to cook in the first place, so hearing Culinarian's sound effects of chopping on a cutting board and things sizzling in a frying pan soothes my heart (lol)." -Tachibana/20s/F

"Whose favorite is this dish...It's great that those kinds of little details that don't come out in the main game show up one by one in cooking." -Hyaku/20s/F

"Those times when I become a Fisher, stand with my line out, and enjoy the scenery and background music while I wait for fish are blissful times." -Aria/30s/F

"I first started Miner as an ingame gathering class when I saw that Minfilia had been doing it. I like the 'clang clang' sound effect when you mine!" -Dobako/20s/F

"While doing ocean fishing with a strange sense of purpose, I got a Momora Mora minion. After that, on a friend's recommendation, I took on the challenge of [???] fishing*. Now I'm a Big Fish, and a splendid Fisher." -anna/20s/F

"I remember that when I had some idea of the total price of desynthesis, I worked hard at raising the skill through Alchemist, which doesn't have much stuff to desynth. I suffer and love it in equal measure." -mari/30s/F

"The Botanist artefact gear (overalls) is cute!" -E-Knock/20s/M

"I sell handicrafts IRL, so I like to see my character making things as a Weaver. It's also nice that you can make minions and clothes." -Chocomint/30s/F

"I like the Culinarian class quests, and I'm really glad when I can make people happy or get compliments for the food I make. The coffee biscuits have been a big help (lol)." -Ruko/30s/F

"I like to fish IRL, so it's fun to be a Fisher and angle for things I could absolutely never fish up in reality." -F'alchion R./30s/M

"Weaver, indispensable for making stylish gear! I also like the guildmaster Mr. Redolent Rose!" -Bird/30s/F

"I like all the classes so much that I've gotten the Pteranodon mount, so I can't choose." -Plum/40s/F

*[Even with a bunch of googling I can't make heads or tails of this one. It's something called ヌシ釣り(lord fishing?) that appears to open at level 50. I don't do gathering class stuff much so I'm in the dark. If you have any idea what it is please let me know!]

[lexiepiper]

Reflection

Hey @danthectoman, I was your backup Truce gifter! I hope you enjoy this bitter(sweet) Dan thermos fic!

I know my blog’s formatting sucks, I haven’t been able to change it yet, but you can read it on Ao3 or ff if you’d prefer.

.

There wasn’t much else to do but seethe.

His body, compressed down to mist, strained against the smooth metal walls. He pressed, and prodded, and tried again and again to pop the seal, but it held eternally firm, and he was left with nothing but thoughts in the darkness.

So he softly settled, like low-lying fog across fields, and sulked.

His anger pulsed at first, and every time he thought about things, his core would flare and he would pound himself against the lid once more. Still, it never budged, and he always ended up sinking back into simmering stillness before his thoughts caught up with him and his fury inevitably swelled again.

It was a dark, stagnant cycle, and he didn’t know how long it had been going on until a tiny thought wormed its way through the haze of agitation. Jazz would be disappointed.

It caught him off-guard, and he paused in yet another attempt to break the seal.

She would be, wouldn’t she?

The thought held a bite of anger, and he coiled in readiness to throw himself against the lid again, but before he could lose himself in his rage he managed to picture her. Time had worn her smooth, and she was little more than long red hair pulled away from her face with a teal headband, and fragments of smiles and hugs that always carried more love than he ever felt from anyone else. He pooled again at the bottom of the thermos, trying to fit the glimpses of memory back together. He couldn’t picture her fully, but the more he tried, the more she slid into place in his mind.

His parents followed quickly, and sorrow pricked his core when he realised that he couldn’t remember what his mother’s smile looked like, or the scent of the aftershave that his dad had worn. It had been so long since he’d allowed himself to think about them, and now this tiny effort was far too late.

The deep, hollow ache in his core flared up, like an old wound that never really went away, and he curled in on himself. He wanted to stop thinking about them, to make the yawning emptiness fade into the background once again, but he just couldn’t stop himself… His family sprang back to the forefront, whose faces were blurred by time, and who had never known the truth about him. He wondered if things would have been different, had they known. He tried to picture it — ghost hunting with his parents, or making ectocookies, or trying to dodge Jazz when she ruffled his hair after he had easily caught The Box Ghost yet again.

The imagined scenes brought a fresh wave of pain. He’d never told them, and now they’d never know, because they were dead. They were dead, and it was his fault.

He had no physical body to cry with in the thermos, but he burned with the thick heat of grief, and Dan wrapped his misty form tighter around his core. He stayed there, pressed against the cold circular floor of his prison, while his core trembled and his mind dwelt on the little things that made up the people he’d lost. If he thought about it, he could almost smell Sam’s shampoo, or picture the shape and colour of Tucker’s glasses. He didn’t remember if Jazz’s shirt had been black or white that day, or if his parents had been holding hands when they walked into the meeting. He spared a small thought for Mr Lancer too, but then returned to trying to recall what his mother’s perfume smelled like.

He dug deeper into his memory, and every resurfacing detail felt like pulling out a splinter. It was painful in the moment, but once he stopped fighting the memory, and allowed the thoughts to linger, the pain was not so much that of continual hurt, but more akin to the ache of healing.

Sam’s shampoo had been a vegan one that smelled like roses, and Tucker’s glasses were large half-moons with black frames. Jazz’s shirt was also black, his mother smelled like orange blossoms, and right there at the end, they had been holding hands.

He missed them.

He missed them, and there, coiled as compressed ectoplasmic mist, he realised that he still loved them.

He had no mouth or throat, but Dan’s amorphous body clenched and spasmed in the closest thing to a cry, and he tried to remember as much as he could.

He reached for old memories, of the sound of screeching locker doors, and that his mother would always fold his socks so that the edges lined up perfectly, and how sand felt when it crunched and squeezed between his toes, and Dan realised that his family and friends weren’t the only people he missed.

He missed rain on his skin, and the taste of lime, and the way it felt to sleep in jeans after a long day, and a million other little things that made up the sum of life.

He missed Danny.

He missed himself.

He’d never thought that before, so swept up in the rage of abandonment, and then… then the rage of bloodlust. His core shivered, and he tried not to think about it. He tried to dredge up those nicer, softer memories, of picnics and sunsets and life, but every attempt was swept away by the sheer force of blood-drenched gloves and dying, screaming souls.

He’d started with himself, and then had never stopped… but now that he’d been stopped, and left in a soup can to rot? Now, he had time to think, and the more he thought, the more he remembered.

People had been so easy to kill. At the time, it gave him a rush of excitement, of winning the hunt… but now, if he’d had a stomach, it would have been rolling with bile. Unlike the hazy memories of happier times, he could picture every person he’d killed in crystal clear detail.

They rushed him, breaking through the mental walls that he tried to throw up, until all he could do was cower at the bottom of the thermos and face how each of them had looked in their final moments. Each terrified expression drove shards of revulsion deeper into his core, and these visions continued in an unrelenting wave until he had revisited every single victim, and felt the horror and guilt that had been so absent when their lives had ebbed away beneath his cruel fingers. He didn’t know how long it took, but when it was over, all he could do was lie there and steep in the blood that stained his soul.

He wished he had never done it.

He would do anything to have never done it.

As soon as the thought presented itself, Dan felt a vibration stutter through his prison. The thermos shuddered, and then the compression was gone, and Dan burst out of the darkness into a light that burned his eyes with its sudden intensity after so long in the darkness. He curled in mid-air, pressing the heels of newly-formed palms against freshly-made eyes and hissing in discomfort.

When he finally came to himself, the first thing he noticed was a soft, repetitive ticking. It was strangely familiar but misplaced, like the wrong lyrics being sung to a familiar tune. Dan shuddered, dropping his hands and squinting in the light. His core fluttered with the strain of his unrelenting emotional storm, and if he were a weaker being he might have worried about it collapsing due to stress.

He glanced around, frowning at the sight of a ghost screwing the cap back onto the thermos.

“Who are you?”

The ghost regarded him with red eyes, one of which was struck through by an impressive scar. “You know who I am.”

Its voice rasped like sand shifting, and brought to mind the endless dunes of a desert, eternally changing with the ravages of time.

He did know. “Why now?” Dan snapped, but the snippiness was somewhat lost from his tone as his core heaved with fresh guilt. “When I first learned of your existence, and searched the Ghost Zone, I could never find you.”

The ghost didn’t respond, and Dan shook his head as anger finally began to trickle back into his core. It pushed the guilt aside in its demand to be felt. “You… you hid from me!” he shouted, flinging out an arm for emphasis. “You knew what I would do, but when I came to find you, to… to fix this,” he gestured to himself, “you left me on my own! What did that other Danny have that I wasn’t good enough for, Old Man?!”

The ghost of time rippled, and his form changed into a younger man. “Come,” he said, and floated through an open archway set in the wall.

Dan paused. The room he’d been released into was nothing more than a small alcove, with a pedestal that must have housed the thermos up until now. Frustration bloomed in him, but it was quickly overcome with a spark of disbelief.

He was free?

After so long, it felt impossible. He immediately yearned for open spaces, whether the expanse of the Zone or the wide blue sky of Earth, it didn’t matter. He just had to get out of here.

He could run, but if that strange cloaked ghost with the ticking clock in its chest really was who Dan suspected, then he doubted that he’d get very far. Besides, it’s not like he had anywhere that he could run to, anyway.

Loneliness ripped through him, and Dan clenched his teeth and flew through the archway before the crushing grief could come pouring back. “Hey!” he shouted, speeding to catch up with the figure that was floating leisurely down a long, narrow corridor lined with large clock faces that all displayed different times.

The other ghost reached a door recessed between two massive clock faces just as Dan caught up. “Come, Daniel.”

The simple address struck him like a blow, and Dan recoiled, his hand flying to his chest to clutch at the HAZMAT. “That’s not my name,” he choked. “I’m not… him.”

The time ghost paused with a hand on the ornate doorknob. “Maybe not the way you used to be,” he demurred, “but in many ways, Daniel, you’re still you.”

Dan’s core clenched, and the shadows behind the clocks deepened as his hair flared in an inferno of white flames. “Don’t you get it, Clockwork?” he shrieked, the slight tether of self-control crumbling away. “I killed people! Millions and millions of innocent people! I murdered children, and can still see their faces, and feel their blood dripping off my hands! I am not your precious Daniel!”

Clockwork’s hand dropped back to his side, and he turned so that they were facing each other. His gaze was soft and achingly sad, and the ticking of the clock inlaid in his chest sparked a pang of longing that Dan didn’t even know he could still feel.

He shoved it away. “Why didn’t you save me?” he choked, and his core felt like it would smother him. “You saved him, with your time travel and your second chances. What was so special about him, anyway? Why did he get them back, while I became his lesson?”

Clockwork folded his arms across his chest. The watches lining his wrists flashed in the brilliant light of Dan’s hair. “Saving comes in many ways, Daniel. If I wasn’t going to help you then you’d still be in that thermos.”

“I don’t need your help,” he snapped.

Sad red eyes bored into his. “Don’t you wish that you could take it all back?”

The question pierced him to his soul, and Dan faltered, sinking so that his feet hit the tiles. His knees buckled and he sagged, leaning against the wall and grasping his chest as a half-forgotten sound squeezed where his ribs should have been and wormed its way up his throat and out through gritted teeth. It took a moment to recognise the sob for what it was, and by then, another one had broken out as well.

He tamped down on the emotion, blinking burning eyes and leaning heavily against the wall. “Yes,” he choked. “I… I want nothing more.”

The ancient ghost sighed, and it sounded like the faraway chime of a forgotten clock. “Come,” he said again, reaching for the handle once more and swinging the door open. “You are my ward, Daniel, no matter what form you take. I would fight all powers in the realms to give you peace.”

Dan blinked as an undeniable warmth wrapped itself around his core. “Oh,” he breathed, and for a moment, the pain melted away and he felt like Danny Fenton for the first time in what could have easily been a thousand years. It was nice, but overwhelming in its abruptness, and he sank to his knees. “But… but I’m still half Plasmius,” he managed to say past the swelling comfort that cocooned him like a blanket.

Clockwork shrank until he was in the form of a child, his eyes once again level with Dan’s kneeling form. “Without that half, you’re not stable,” he said, and laid a tiny hand on Dan’s shoulder. “You were stronger, and absorbed him. You have his powers, and his temper, but beneath that, you’re still Daniel Fenton.”

The comforting warmth continued to thicken around him, and Dan screwed his eyes shut and leaned his forehead against Clockwork’s shoulder. “Are you adopting me?” he choked as he recognised the bonds forming between their cores.

He felt the other ghost nod. “Technically, you’ve been my ward for over a thousand years now. I just had to leave you in that thermos until you came to your senses.”

“What, you left me in time out for a thousand years?” Dan retorted, but the words lacked any bite.

Small fingers brushed through his flaming hair, and he forced down a shudder at how unexpectedly nice it felt.

“You needed to experience regret,” Clockwork explained, and gently pulled back from the hug. “You had to want to change the past so badly that you’d do anything. You weren’t going to change until you were ready to.”

Dan leaned against the wall again. He still felt wonderfully warm and cared for in a way that he never had, not even during his distant, fleeting time alive. “I do,” he said, and tried not to think about how cheesy this all was, “and I will.”

Clockwork smiled then, and the scar that slashed through his eye crinkled with the expression. He reached out a hand and Dan grasped it. “Come,” he said, shifting into the form of a young adult and pulling Dan off the floor with the change. “You have some time travelling to do.”

[sailtoafarawayland]

Oh, Captain!

Summary - Emma think’s she’s hurt Killian and deals with the consequences, saving him from himself just might be the one she didn’t see coming. 

Rated for all, no warnings. 

Tumblr Exclusive for now- will be posted over at AO3 and FF (Farawayland) when life allows. I just needed to write some happy what with all this not happy I’m watching on the news. Most likely a one-shot. 

Chapter 1

Emma’s heart was in her throat.

He knew.

He knew, and she hadn’t even been the one to tell him.

“Don’t!” she pleaded, catching up to him and snatching at his sleeve, her fingers seizing the thin, black fabric and wrapping around his forearm. “Killian, please…”

The warmth of her hand, the chill of her fingertips—they were always so cold, despite his many attempts to warm them—stopped him in his tracks, the tension between them slackening as he allowed himself to be swayed back toward her, but she held on tightly, too afraid to let him go.

Afraid of what he would do.

“Am I supposed to simply let it go, Emma?”

She could hear the outrage, low and dangerous, in his voice—and it hurt, because she knew it was her fault.

“Belle shouldn’t have said anything—I told her not to, that I would handle it. I just wanted to wait until after tonight. I was afraid if you knew he’d kissed—”

“He kissed you?” Killian growled, his features darkening as he yanked his arm from her grasp, the prop hook clattering to the floor between them as he stormed toward center stage where Neal was mid-scene with Tinkerbell.

“Shit,” Emma groaned.

Belle probably hadn’t mentioned that, had probably only implied she’d seen Neal hitting on her and refusing to take no for an answer, but had left out the part where he’d tried to steal a kiss.

Emma didn’t know why she had so much trouble with words—why the things in her head couldn’t just exit her mouth in the right way, or at least in a way that didn’t always make things worse. It should have been so easy to explain—that the minute Neal leaned in, she’d shoved him halfway across the library, and if that hadn’t left an impression, she had a right hook ready. That in that moment, she’d been so sorry that she’d insisted on keeping her relationship with Killian a secret. That she wanted nothing more than to have been sitting there with his hand wrapped in hers, for everyone to see—no one else trying to take what wasn’t theirs.

Emma wavered where she stood, not sure how to process the shit show everything had become in such a small space of time. Killian was seething, his black leather coat flaring behind him as he stalked across the stage—much to the surprise of the cast performing. Ashley stumbled over her line and twisted her hands in the lime green tutu she wore as Killian reached them, his long fingers wrapping around Neal’s shoulder and jerking him into an about-face.

The gasps of confusion from the opposite wing were audible as everyone tried to figure out why Killian was on stage when he shouldn’t be, and the murmurs from the audience were no better. She was sure they were all wondering why Captain Hook was confronting Peter Pan out of nowhere. Time slowed as she watched Neal’s features twist from surprised to nervous, her eyes snapping down to Killian’s hand as he clenched it into a tight fist. She couldn’t take her eyes off the chunky, heavy jewelry from the prop department adorning his knuckles.

Props that she knew he was about to drive into Neal Cassidy’s face.

Principal Gold’s son.

The man who always had it out for Killian.

“Shit.”

Her boyfriend was about to get expelled, and it was all her fault. She should have told him earlier, but she couldn’t fix that now. She had to do something—anything—now.

Trying not to think about how far from normal this opening night was turning out to be, or how Wendy had no place in this scene, she rushed after him, doing the only thing she could think of to keep him from getting thrown out of his senior year.

“Oh, Captain!” she cried, feigning exhaustion and leaning heavily against the backdrop of painted, wooden jungle. She paused for a moment, catching her breath and glancing warily behind her, as if she were afraid at any minute something dangerous was going to pounce from the bushes.

Three sets of eyes from center stage turned to her, along with every head in the packed auditorium.

She caught her breath and tidied the blue bow perched on top of her perfect curls. “You found me! I thought I would be trapped here forever—”

Killian’s grip was still white-knuckled on Neal, who was starting to squirm uncomfortably, and Ashley looked like she wished she could actually turn into a ball of light and fly away, but she could see the curious sparkle in Killian’s eye beneath a cheekily arched brow, and it gave her the bravado she needed to keep going. She had no idea where this scene was headed with her at the helm, but it didn’t really matter.

Saving the play wasn’t the point.

Saving Killian was—the rest would just be a bonus if she could pull it off, so she continued.

“—stuck caring for Pan’s lost boys, washing their socks, cooking their meals, and do I ever get a thank you, Wendy—what delicious coconut salad, Wendy? No, never!” Righteous indignation flooded her face and she straightened her dress brusquely, angling toward the audience as she arched an eyebrow and rested her hands on her hips. “And let me tell you, not a single washing machine or microwave on the whole island.”

Not waiting for the reaction, but smiling inwardly as the wave of laughter rippled through the crowd, she turned her attention back to the strange trio that was a squeamish looking Peter Pan, a very nervous fairy, and an inscrutable Captain Hook. Relief washed over her as she saw Killian’s face losing that dark edge as she approached, her breath catching in her throat as they locked eyes. It may have been a cliché, but he’d always been able to do that to her, to just steal her breath away. It didn’t help that he looked sinful as anything in that pirate get-up. She thanked her lucky stars that he’d tossed that ridiculous wig and hat in the trash and decided to give Captain Hook his own spin.

He met her halfway between the wing and centerstage, letting go of Neal’s arm without a backward glance. To her surprise, the spotlight followed him, bathing them both in its glare as they came together. Her hand brushed along the rough stubble of his jaw before settling on the back of his neck, his arms circling her, and though he was dressed as a pirate, the possessive squeeze of his hand at her waist was all him.

There was anger and regret simmering, she could see it in the way he held his jaw, but there was also happiness, and laughter, and something more in the warmth of his eyes—something she would catch glimpses of sometimes when he thought she wasn’t paying attention, but she knew what it was, and that he held back for her—because she’d been so insistent about keeping everything between them a secret, because for some reason she was terrified if she admitted what she felt, and what she wanted, that she would lose it. It was a silly thing, and now it had hurt them.

“I never thought I’d fall in love with a pirate—” and it was not how she thought she’d tell him she loved him, so it was probably good that technically it was Wendy telling Captain Hook—“but you see me when no one else really does—made me realize that I have dreams, Captain. I can do anything I set my mind to. I can be anything—a lawyer, a sheriff, a high-end fashion designer specializing in faux-crocodile-vegan-leather accessories…”

She had no idea where that came from, but the raucous laughter from the audience made her feel a little better—at least they were having a good night. Then her gaze slipped to the side and she finally saw all of the horrified faces of the cast and crew watching the debacle from backstage. Well, maybe there was no way she was going to save the show, but even if Gold let loose, he couldn’t put the blame solely on Killian now. She was in the thick of it too, and she doubted he’d go so far as to expel Sheriff Nolan’s daughter.

“I’ve yet to see you fail, Wendy,” Killian asserted, and though the name was wrong and he was projecting enough to reach the back of the auditorium, she knew the words were meant for her, because he’d always believed in her, always believed in them.

She hated that she had been so afraid of what this could be, that she hid it away, worried if she put her heart out there, it would all fall apart.

“While I used to think that catching that crocodile was my happy ending,” Killian continued, grinding his jaw at the thought of the sneaky reptile, “I know now that it’s you, it’s always been you, so tell me, love,” and he dipped his lips closer to hers, teasing a kiss before turning his gaze on the audience, a rakish grin spreading across his face as he gestured broadly over the crowd, “will you sail away with me?”

“Always,” she breathed, “to the end of the world, and time!”

There was a roar of noise from the audience—laughter, clapping, whooping, whistling—and while she had no idea where the words had come from, what came next, well, that was no mystery. She grabbed her pirate, hands fisted in his jacket as she rocked into him, bodies swaying as their lips clashed. It didn’t matter that they were standing in front of the entire school, every detail illuminated by the hot spotlight—in that moment, there was nothing but the two of them.

It wasn’t until they broke apart—and if people hadn’t known about them before, they sure did now—that Emma heard anything outside their bubble, but then it hit—the crowd was clapping and laughing, perhaps at the insanity of it all, but who cared. Gold’s voice was cutting through the chaos backstage, reaching that thin, forced pitch that meant he was furious, and Belle was already picking up the pieces. Neal was grumbling and nursing his arm—maybe the best acting he’d ever done—beating a retreat from the stage, and the rest of the cast and crew couldn’t take their eyes off of her and Killian as they scrambled to close the curtains and help Belle figure out what came next.

Emma tugged Killian into the wing and back through the stacks of equipment and props to a quiet corner, wanting to find a place they could speak, but also to remove him from Gold’s eyesight as quickly as possible.

“I’m so sorry. I should have—”

“Emma,” he murmured, tilting her chin up so she could see the truth in his words. “I’m not upset with you. How could I be?”

“It was my fault. If I hadn’t insisted that we keep our relationship a secret, then he…”

“Oh, Swan. It is not your fault that Neal assaulted you.”

“Assault is a little…look, if he had known we were together, he wouldn’t have tried to kiss me.”

“He shouldn’t have tried to force a kiss on you, regardless. You’ve been more than clear, for years, that you have no interest in him. Though, maybe I shouldn’t have lost my temper and stormed the stage,” Killian admitted, ducking his head and scratching his ear in that way that always made her heart flutter. “Thanks for saving me from myself, lass.”

“I meant what I said, Killian,” she whispered, her voice dropping as she pushed the words out before they could crawl back in. “I think…I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.”

“Are you sure it’s not just the hook, Swan?” he teased, giving her the out, because he just understood her that well, but she could see the hope in his eyes, and suddenly all of that old trepidation was gone.    

“You’re not even wearing the hook,” she pointed out. “I’m sure, Killian Jones. I love you, whether you’re a smoldering-eyed pirate, or not.”

“You think my eyes smolder?”

“Stop it!” she laughed, shaking his shoulders gently as he waggled his brows at her, the both of them enjoying the smile of the other before he grew serious once more.

“And I love you, Emma—so much.”

“Yeah, I know.”

 *     *     *

Gold’s fury had tapered down to mild annoyance by the next morning, no small thanks to Sydney Glass and his cover story on their humble production. He’d praised the comical genius of their work, calling it far from ‘just another retelling of the same old story’. He highlighted the unexpected romance and praised the heartfelt acting of the two leads, whose whirlwind chemistry swept the audience away. He even went so far as to paint the play as a tongue-in-cheek examination of eternal youth versus personal growth, and while Emma thought that the whole piece was a little lofty, she was more than happy that there hadn’t been any blowback on Killian for his stage-crashing.

Overall, opening night hadn’t been a total failure, and Belle had been more than capable of a hasty rewrite for their follow-up performances. While Neal wasn’t thrilled with his sudden decrease in lines, Emma was hardly going to complain that she got to kiss her smoldering-eyed Killian Jones on stage each night—and if the hook and pirate costume went missing from the prop department for some reason, she doubted anyone would notice.

 END

[ahs-source]

Happy Friday! Welcome to this week’s Fanfiction Friday! Thank you to those who submitted these fantastic works for this week’s Fanfiction Friday. Let’s celebrate these wonderful works that you can all read while in quarantine! Please stay safe!

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I truly believe there isn’t a sound as horrible as the sound of my alarm. The repetitive chimes shoot straight to the center of my brain. It’s horrible. My bones crack as I attempt to get out of bed, a groan instinctively leaving my throat. I was dizzy, the light peeking through from between my blinds making my head throb. My shitty alarm clock read 6:27AM. 15 minutes until my ride gets here.

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Turns out, one of the past tenants summoned a demon and then trapped him here, and now he's upset with you invading his territory. Uh-oh.

Demon AU

Run Rabbit Run (Completed) by @maso-xchrist​​​​ (Tumblr) Relationships: Michael Langdon x Female Reader | Warnings: PURE SMUT. Non/dub-con, chasing, violence, mimicry, knifeplay, cutting, stabbing, choking, hanging, & blood consumption. In other words, not for the faint of heart! | Completed (1/1 Chapters) | 6k+ words

A single heart beats in the outpost.

Security Blanket (Completed) by @mxnstersarehuman​​​​​​ (Tumblr) Relationships: Kai Anderson x Female Reader | Prompt: Hey could you write something maybe for a softer Kai Anderson x reader idc what I’m sorry I know this isn’t really specific just softer Kai thanks if you can! | Completed (1/1 Chapters)

You hear the slam of the door and immediately know Kai is home. Things had been so hectic as of late and he was always so busy with his cult so you always made sure to stay up for his return home just so you could see him. Even if it was only for a few minutes before fatigue took over and you both fell asleep.

Kai was a terrifying person, mean and vindictive and manipulative and cruel, all things that he had never been towards you. Everyone in the cult had thought you were crazy for accepting his proposal of a date when he had offered a year ago, but you saw something in his eyes when he asked you. His request wasn’t demanding like you would’ve expected, rather polite and genuinely inquisitive as to whether you actually liked him romantically.

So of course you had said yes.

thanatos (Completed) by SophieGraceJ (AO3) Relationships: Michael Langdon x Mallory | Tags: Immobilisation kink, Smut, Rape/Non-con Elements, Creepy, Blood and Gore, fairytale!au, Snow White!Au, dark!millory, this is dark, Death, cosmic horror kinda | Completed (1/1 Chapters) | 2537 words

“There’s something in these forests.” “Something … something venomous. It’s been killing me since I arrived here. It is what drains me of life, what keeps me bed ridden.” “But I cannot leave. I protect the people. Now I pass this onto you, this destiny is yours now Mallory.”

She fell, fell deep into the grave, body unmoving. At first, she suspected it was sleep. But it wasn’t. No.

Her eyes blinking again, vision clear. She could see, hear, smell … but not touch. Couldn’t move a finger, couldn’t wriggle her toes, couldn’t open her mouth to gasp when time passed.

He met her gaze, and his eyes widened. Only just discovering an intimacy. He smiled some more. This time, it reached his eyes, although they wept with tears, copying her own.

The Devil Incarnate (Completed) by jeromevaleska​​​​​ (AO3) Relationships: Michael Langdon x Female Reader | Tags: POV Second Person, Eventual Smut, Banter, Slow Burn, Family Drama, Lots of plot, Reader-Insert, Explicit Language, Slow Build, Sexual Tension, it starts off when miriam brings michael into her home, there will be smut ya'll already know, Reader-Interactive, Eventual Sex, there's some tension between you and michael, you don't trust him at all, Porn With Plot, i'll add tags as the story goes on, Love/Hate, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dysfunctional Relationships, Explicit Sexual Content, Developing Relationship | Completed (23/23 Chapters) | 142022 words

You're Miriam Mead's daughter, and you two have a complicated relationship to say the least. You think she's more than a little bonkers with her religious beliefs, and no matter how much she has tried to make you follow the same dark path, it's in vain. But when Miriam welcomes Michael into your home, you start to question everything and you just might become a believer.

the love that discovered the sin (Completed) by @lvngdvns​​​​​ (Tumblr) Relationships: Michael Langdon x Female Reader x Timothy Howard | Warnings: Fingering, oral sex (fem. receiving), threesome, rough sex, double penetration, anallingus, anal sex, vaginal sex, degradation, choking, cum eating, religion kink, biblical allusions/perversion of scripture, all things blasphemous and unholy. Literally just sacrilegious PWP. (+ crack ship pairing) | Completed (1/1 Chapters) | 4.4k words

“Bless me father,” she breathes into Timothy’s ear as she crawls astride his lap, slipping a finger underneath the rim of his collar and pulling it free in a single, effortless motion, “for I have sinned.”

Untitled pt. 2 (pt.1 here) by @writerforprompt​​ (Tumblr) Relationships: Kai Anderson x Female Reader | Warnings: Oral Sex, Manipulation, Mention of Drug Use, Vaginal Sex, Dark Themes, Pregnancy | Completed (1/1 Chapters) | 2350 words 

You were kneeling in between Kai’s legs, head tilted towards the sky, arching your throat into his grip. You brought your chest forward to make sure it was directly within his line of sight. Based upon the number of hungry glances he shot down your plunging neckline, you’d say it was.

Thank you to those who sent in these works! Please continue sending submissions to ahs-source.tumblr.com/submit or through the Tumblr mobile app to continue celebrating the writers in the community!

Previous FF Fridays: 1 | 2a + 2b | 3 | 4a + 4b | 5 | 6

[marcholasmoth]

OSRR: 2603

oh my god i am exhausted, and my feet hurt and my back hurts and my foot is scratched to hell because it was itchy as fuck, but let me share some highlights:

we saw a tiny lizard this morning. he was very cute.

i got a "happy birthday" and "my first visit" buttons and people wished me a happy birthday ALL day

we ate at CINDERELLA'S CASTLE

we got to SEE CINDERELLA

SHE WISHED ME A HAPPY BIRTHDAY

i cried right there

i never realized i had a favorite disney princess and then this happened and now i know that cinderella has always been my favorite (and honestly i should've realized it a while ago)

i was so happy to wave at her oh my god i never knew that cinderella telling me to have a happy birthday was everything that i ever needed in my life

earlier in the day, i tried lime dole whip and it was actually pretty good, because it's not ice cream. it has no dairy in it at all, so it didn't make me sick. it was the regular ice cream that did that.

for breakfast this morning i had scrambled eggs and potatoes and bacon and sausage and a waffle that was fluffy and soft and shaped like mickey mouse and it was quite delicious

i finally found a set of ears i wanted, and it turns out that they're sold out in magic kingdom, which was where we went today, but they appear to have a large stock of them at animal kingdom in the shop right inside to the left, and we're going there bright and early tomorrow, so i'm getting ears tomorrow

i bought a few pins today and after lunch at cinderella's castle we got cards with her autograph on them and i'm totally framing it

WE WENT ON SPACE MOUNTAIN

IT WAS SO FUCKING COOL

IT WENT SUPER FAST AND IT WAS SUPER DARK AND I LOVED EVERY SECOND OF IT

oh my god i wanna go again

the boo bash was tonight, so we brought second outfits to change into, and it was a great idea because i needed something that wasn't crazy hot or wet so that was good

earlier after we had our ice cream and dole whip stuff, i lost my phone! so i had to leave the party in line at the winnie the pooh ride and go in search of it, but everyone was so nice! and so helpful! and i got it back in a few minutes, and i was able to get back into line with everyone else :)

at the end of the day, just before the beginning of the boo bash (where the park stayed open and there were free things), there was the fireworks display and i subbed openly through the whole thing. there's really no way to describe it except transcendental, really, because it's not necessarily life-changing, except it kind of made me realize that i believe in good things, that i have huge dreams and want them to come true, and that it's not a sham. it's real. much and good fortune and dreams coming true are real, love is real, and i was so emotional about all of that and realizing that i finally have people who love me and care about me because i'm me, i just couldn't handle it. it was amazing. just openly sobbing.

we also saw a sickass fire-breathing dragon as part of a parade. it was maleficent and STEAMPUNK and it was SO COOL.

it was a really wonderful day.

i'm so excited for tomorrow.

that's all. no contact from joel (although i did wanna get him something) and also no contact from FF (which i expect is because they're busy and they exist on a different schedule and i'm afk 100000% this week) so i'm unsurprised. but i'll be happy to talk to them. i give them occasional updates.

i'm fucking tired and sore so i'm gonna go pass out now.

[tenroseforeverandever]

Chartreuse

Characters: Ninth Doctor; Rose Tyler; Jack Harkness

Pairing: Nine x Rose

Tags: Limes; Fluff; Humour; Drama; Jack being Jack; language; one-shot

Summary: Panic ensues when Rose doesn't recognize the colour chartreuse, but in the end, the repercussions of her misjudgment are nothing like what she expected.

Notes: Written for a “Guess the Author” prompt in the Doctor x Rose Discord: “Oh, shit! Oh, fuck! That was the wrong button.” It was supposed to be a maximum of 500 words, so I failed at that spectacularly, but my muse was insistent.

My undying thanks to @aintfraidanoghosts, @rose--nebula, and mrsbertucci for helping me brainstorm ideas for this fic and coming up with some killer Jack-lines that I was able to adapt to fit! You are all geniuses and I love you! @rose--nebula and mrsbertucci, your betaing was, as always, stellar. Where would I be without you? <3<3<3

All mistakes are well and truly mine. Read also at: AO3; FF; Tsp (when approved)

------

Chartreuse 

“Seriously,” Rose leaned back against the TARDIS console and gazed up at the infinite ceiling above her, “the Doctor’s jus’ my friend. That’s all!”

Jack’s head and shoulders slid out from under the console. He scoffed and fixed Rose with an expression that could only be described as incredulous. “Yeah, right. You keep tellin’ yourself that, Rosie.”

“Well, it’s true, innit?” Rose countered, unable to prevent the flush that burned over her cheeks.

“I’m just sayin��, play your cards right, and your status could be upgraded to friends-with-benefits.” He gave her a lascivious wink and disappeared again. The clatter of his tinkering resumed. 

“I wish…” Rose huffed, folding her arms heavily across her chest.

“Hand me that hyperspanner, will you?” His hand shot out to accept the tool and Rose smacked it into his hand a bit harder than was strictly necessary.

A few seconds later, Jack’s voice sounded from under the console again: “Hey, I need you to do something for me…”

Rose grinned. “As long as it doesn’t involve me takin’ off my clothes!”

“Clothing is always optional, in my books, but I’m sorry to say, nudity isn't strictly necessary, so you’re off the hook... this time!”

The cheek of him! “Dream on!” 

“Hey, cut me a little slack, dreams are all I got these days. Can’t get any action around here when you and the Doc only have eyes–” 

“Right,” Rose quickly cut him off, refocusing his attention on the task at hand, “w’at d’ya need me to do?”

“Okay, okay I’ll back off. Promise! Do you see that little panel of buttons, just to your right?”

Rose turned around and scanned the console, quickly locating the multicoloured panel. “Got it.”

“Need you to do this quick, okay? I’m just unhooking everything right now and this flow regulator is no lightweight.”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

“Do ya see the chartreuse one?”

“Chartreuse? Seriously? Pull the other one! I mean, mauve was bad enough but–”

“C’mon, Rose! Get the hell out of the 21st Century and just find the damn button! My arms are falling off, here!”

“All right, all right! Don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Rose concentrated on the buttons in front of her. Chartreuse was sorta greenish, yeah?  “The one at the middle left?”

Jack groaned. “Urrrghh, no! That’s the jade one. Top row!”

Rose rolled her eyes and redirected her attention. A deep, bright greenish one glinted at her cheerfully. “Oooh, I got it!”

“Okay, now, on my mark, I need you to press and hold it for about a minute. That should be enough time for me to reattach the regulator. Ready?”

“Jus’ say the word!”

“Go!”

Rose stabbed at the button depressing it with a satisfying clunk. “Done!” Keeping her finger firmly on it, she leaned back and contemplated the ceiling again. “It’s jus’…” she addressed Jack again, pausing as her voice seemed to echo through the console room (a bit weird, that…) “It’s jus’, the Doctor says he’s danced, yeah, but what does that even mean? Does he even ‘ave all the necessary bits?”

Jack’s howls of laughter hurtled around the console room the way her voice had. “Are you kidding me? Have you seen how he looks at you?”

“He does not!”

“Yeah, he does! In fact, ogles would be a better word to use. Add in a bit of drool and doe-eyes and you get the picture. Believe me, Rosie, only someone with all the necessary bits looks at another person like that. I’m tellin’ ya, forget dancing; give him a little encouragement and you and the Time Lord’ll be doing the Horizontal Tango in no time.”

A few seconds passed in silence before Jack’s impatient bark startled her. “Hey! You’re supposed to hold down the button and keep holding it!” His face poked out, frowning up at her.

“What the ‘ell do you think I’ve been doin’?”

His face distorted in panic. “Wait! Why can I hear our voices?” He clambered up to stand beside her.

“I know, right? Thought that was bit–”

“It’s like they’re being… Oh God!” Jack’s voice reverberated especially loudly around the room, and his eyes snapped to where Rose’s finger was firmly depressing the button. “Oh fuck!” He swatted her hand away from the console.

“Oi!” Rose snapped, but she noticed her voice had stopped echoing.

“That was not the right button! Tell me,” he faced her, hands on his hips, “how is that chartreuse?”

“Seemed chartreusish to me. And it was in the top row like you said.” She shrugged, guilt warring with irritation. How was she supposed to know exactly what shade of green chartreuse was?

“That’s emerald, sweetheart!” Then he stabbed with his finger toward a button two to the right of the apparently-emerald one. “This is chartreuse, right here!”

Rose’s stomach sank as she peered at the greenish yellow button Jack had indicated. “So, the one I was holdin’ down? That’s why our voices sounded–”

“Oh, it’s way worse than that. Pressing that button initiated a ship-wide broadcast–”

“Yes, it did.”

Rose wheeled around at the smug sound of the Doctor’s voice. He stood, leaning against a coral strut, leather-clad arms folded across his chest, icy-blue eyes boring into her. Gulping around the lump in her throat, she replayed in her mind all the words she and Jack had spoken while she’d been holding down that bloody button. Oh God! She’d been talking about his bits, for fuck’s sake! And there was something Jack had said about doing the Horizontal Tango… She’d never wanted to vanish into thin air so badly in her entire, miserable life. Forget dancing; she’d be lucky if the Doctor didn’t drop her at home, pronto, after this escapade.

He unfolded himself and strode toward her. Rose jutted her chin out, ready to accept his censure with some level of dignity.

Jack threw his hands up in surrender as the Doctor brushed aggressively past him. “To be fair, Doc, I defended your bits!” he declared, practically throwing Rose under the proverbial bus.

She groaned.

“And what would you know about my bits, Harkness?” the Doctor snarled.

“Not nearly enough,” Jack leered at him with a filthy smirk, “but you’re always welcome to–”

“Shut up, Harkness. And while you’re at it, scram! I’ll deal with you later.”

“Promises, promises…” Jack beamed as he backed out of the room, shooting Rose a cheeky wink and a double thumbs-up from behind the Doctor’s shoulder. Rose just gaped at him. How could he possibly think this situation was positive in any way whatsoever?

His eyes never leaving Rose’s, the Doctor waited until the sound of Jack’s footsteps receded into the depths of the TARDIS. Then, he stepped toward her, effectively trapping her against the console. He glared down at her; ice blazing with hot, blue flame: that was the only way she could describe his eyes. She ducked her head, feeling small under his scrutiny.

“Rose Tyler.” Her name rolled out of his mouth, low and gravelly.

She forced herself to meet his gaze again. “A-about w’at you may ‘ave ‘eard…,” she stammered, rubbing her forehead with shaking fingers, “…well, you know how conversations with Jack go? Completely off the rails, yeah?”

He was silent, only the slightest narrowing of his eyes and subtle twitch of his brow indicating he had heard her words. He took another step, impossibly closer, forcing her to lean back against the console to maintain eye contact. Then, he placed his hands on either side of her and leaned in, so their foreheads were nearly touching.

“Seems to me,” he growled under his breath, “you were the one questioning my virility.”

Rose could feel his breath, cool against her cheek, his lips so close to hers. Her own lips parted in anticipation, a yearning ache forming deep in her core. Coupled with his proximity, it stirred in her a reckless bravado and she tilted her head ever-so-slightly, encouraging him. “Well, it seems to me,” she purred, “you ‘ave somethin’ to prove, then, yeah?”

Something rumbled deep in his chest and he moved ever closer. (Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Just a little further…) He was so close, a hair’s-breadth was all that was left between them. Rose’s heart throbbed out the long, tense moments, but she didn’t dare move. She had thrown down the gauntlet. It was his to pick up.

Then suddenly his lips were on hers, possessive and demanding, yet wonderfully soft and welcoming. She opened to him, unstintingly, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing the edge of her lips, sending a jolt of desire tingling from the base of her spine, all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes. Instinctively, her hips bucked in response, thrusting against him, and meeting the undeniable evidence of his arousal.

She gasped, and he broke the kiss, offering her a cocky, lop-sided smirk. “I hate to admit it, but this time Harkness was right.” He chuckled softly. “I do have all the necessary bits.”

“Yeah, ya sure do,” Rose choked out, hardly able to believe what was happening.

Chuckling again, the Doctor helped her to stand upright, then cupped her face reverently with both hands and bestowed her with another passionate kiss. Rose’s knees turned to jelly when, next, he whispered in her ear. “May I have this dance, Rose Tyler?”

“You… you mean dance-dance, yeah?”

“Yeah, if you’re willin’… And I promise you, love,” he added with a roll of his eyes, “it will not be anything so gauche as a ‘Horizontal Tango.’ Bloody Harkness.”

She nodded, giggling, unable to form words.

“And speaking of whom,” he wrapped an arm around her, guiding her away from the console, “I think we’d best take this somewhere more private.”

Many fantastic hours later, Rose lay panting and sated on the rich, burgundy sheets of the Doctor’s bed. He had proven, time and again, without a doubt, that he had all the necessary bits and knew how to use them spectacularly well.

[duhragonball]

oh yeah jojo, uhhh foo fighters for the character ask too

Give me a character and I will answer:

Why I like them: I was trying to do a first-come-first-served order with these, but I’m gonna skip ahead to FF, because I feel like I need some positivity after roasting Hit earlier.  

I don’t want to get too spoilery with this, since Part 6 hasn’t gotten an anime adaptation yet, and a lot of folks haven’t read it, but Stone Ocean is one of my favorite parts, and Foo Fighters is one of the highlights in it.  

When I went through Parts 1-7 (and most of 8) in 2017, I got really burned out on Stands somewhere around Parts 4 and 5.    I sort of hoped that Araki would introduce some new big concept every few parts, the way he switched from Hamon to Stands in Part 3.   Instead it was sort of like “Hi, welcome to Part 5, we’re still doing Stands, so good luck learning all their names and powers.” 

Since then, I’ve come to appreciate why Araki stuck to his guns.    The whole point of Stands is that they can be used to do just about any kind of story you want to do.    If Araki wants to do a zombie story, he doesn’t have to scrap everything and invent a zombie scenario; he can just introduce a Stand User with zombie powers.  Parts 7 and 8 introduce new concepts and powers, but the Stands are still there, because the idea is versatile enough that it can take a back seat when needed.    

Anyway, FF is a good example of what I’m talking about.   At first, Mista felt like a warmed-over Polnareff, and La Squadra seems like they’d fit right into Dio’s gang, but Foo Fighters didn’t seem much at all like anybody I’d seen in JJBA before or since, and that’s one of the reasons I like Part 6 so much.   It’s a prison story, but for her it’s this whole new world to explore, and I like that fresh perspective she brings to things.  

Why I don’t: Nothing to see here.

Favorite episode (scene if movie): That fight with the Feng Shui guy was pretty cool.  

Favorite season/movie: Part 6 was the only part she was in, so that, I guess.

Favorite line: “Fred Hoyle, an astronomer, once said 'It is wrong to assume, even statistically speaking, that organisms spontaneously appeared on this Earth... There is a preexisting intellect of the cosmos that designed the origins of lifeforms...'... so, it can be said that intellect preceded even the big bang and that every organism and matter itself is guided by that intellect, and is part of that larger intelligence.”  

I don’t know why she said all of that, since she was trying to handwave her own existence, but whatever.   I sort of want that to become a meme, like the opening monologue of the Bee Movie. 

Favorite outfit: There’s only one, as far as I’m concerned.  Sometimes I try to come up with my own sort of JoJo outfit, something inspired by high fashion, but I really have no clue how any of that works.    And I probably never will, since Araki clearly based FF’s signature look on Mr. Green Jeans from Captain Kangaroo.

OTP: None.

Brotp: Jolyne.   

Head Canon: There’s a minor dispute in the fandom over whether that green thing on her head is a really chic haircut or a ridiculous hat.   I personally think it’s hair, although I can see the hat argument has some solid points.   

But let’s say it is a hat.   What’s her hair look like underneath, then?   Is she bald?   Yeah, maybe, I could see her pulling that look off.  Just this layer of green stubble, that’d look cute.    If she has any hair at all under that thing, it can’t be very long, since you never see it poke out from underneath.   

So maybe if she took the hat off, you’d see the exact same hairstyle that all the fanartists make the hat look like.   And that way we’re all right.

Unpopular opinion: Everyone from Part 6 should have just crashed Part 7.   Imagine Foo Fighters strutting around in lime green chaps, drinking water out of spitoons.  

A wish: I don’t see a lot of glamour fan art of FF.    There seems to be three main approaches to depicting the character: Cute, goofy, and chubby.   It all works, that’s what makes the character so appealing.    One minute she’s gulping down a big cup of water, the next she looks badass.  

But, I see a lot of fan art of Hermes where she looks like she’s at some red carpet event, and Foo could pull off that sort of look.    I say this mostly because she has this ultra mod hairstyle/hat.   You look at all the Hot Pants fanart of her in modern clothes, and Foo Fighters could rock that just as easy.  

Of course, that sort of thing is probably out there somewhere, and I just haven’t found it.      

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: It already did, though : (

5 words to best describe them: She is the best Pokemon.

My nickname for them: Foo, I guess.

[themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy]

Ya know that homecoming Sene where Liz almost falls down the elevator shaft can you do that but it's the reader instead (they fall a little bit farther)

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Lmao this just made me think of Gwen falling to her death :))))))

You had been in the elevator with everyone when it had happened

You had no idea what was going on

But one minute everything was going fine

And the next everything was light and then everything was dark and you couldn’t breathe and your stomach was in your throat and someone’s elbow was in your side

You weren’t sure if you were screaming or not, but the elevator only fell a little bit and then stopped for some reason

People started climbing out of the top and you were pushed to the back of the line ffs

A few people got out and then it fell even further

All but three people got out, you and two others before you fell even more

You were definitely screaming now

Your head actually hit the ceiling as you stopped, something had grabbed you from the top

You looked up and saw The Freaking Spider-Man sitting and pulling you guys up

But he wasn’t really sitting in a good position and he slipped forwards

He not only fell into the elevator but his momentum made the elevator fall, and this time no one was there to save you

You were crying as you fell, but you did catch him flinging his arm up into the air and then something white came from his wrist and then you stopped again

He got up, holding you all steady in the shaft as firemen and rescue workers came to get you

You were the only one left in the elevator and just as you reached for The Spider-Man’s hand the elevator gave out

You knew that this time you had to be done for

It had been like three near-death experiences in five minutes and there was only so many second chances one can get, right?

You didn’t feel the web on your hand, but you saw the Spider-Man reach for you

Your body was in total shock, your hearing was cutting out every once in a while and you’re pretty sure your legs would never hold you up again

Your face was inches from the bottom of the elevator shaft when you stopped falling

And it wasn’t hard stone or concrete that broke your fall

It wasn’t anything at all

It was air

You were sobbing now, body shaking with each sob

You felt yourself slowly being raised up all the way back onto the top of the building where a helicopter was waiting for you

You looked at your hand and followed the sticky string back to Spider-Man’s wrist

You looked at him with wide eyes and tear-stained cheeks

“You saved me, thank you so so much, I would be dead, I would be dead holy sh-”

“It’s okay, you’re not dead, you’re okay. Are you hurt anywhere?”

His voice was so soothing and his hand was on your back as he helped you into the helicopter and he helped you lay down in the stretcher 

The last thing you saw was his mask as he fled, still hearing his sweet dreamy voice and still feeling his hand on your back before your eyes closed and you passed out

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[unfolded73]

No One’s Father (knightrook ff, 1/1)

Rated G, 2200 words, canon compliant through 7x16

The familiar voice carried over the din of conversation at the bar. “Another scotch, please, Roni. And also a club soda with lime.”

She glanced over at Rumpelstiltskin as she finished filling a beer from one of the taps and nodded. Thunking the beer down on the bar in front of a customer, Regina set about preparing the requested drinks. It hadn’t escaped her notice when the two detectives had come into the bar with two uniformed police officers, seemingly for no other reason than an after-work drink. She couldn’t decide which was more unusual, the fact that they were there at all together, or the fact that Detective Rogers was currently laughing at something one of the officers had said, a huge grin lighting up his face.

Setting the drinks on the bar, she indicated Hook with a subtle tilt of her head. “He seems happy.”

Rumple turned and glanced at his partner before looking back at Regina. “He’s got Tilly off the street and staying at his place.”

Regina raised her eyebrows at that. “Wait, he’s not…”

Rumple shook his head. “Sound asleep as ever. If it’s occurred to him how much happier he is since he took her in, he has no idea of the real reason why.”

“So how?”

His lips quirked up in a half-smile. “You of all people know that curses can’t stop those who truly love each other from finding their way back together.” He glanced at Hook again. “But I have to admit, it’s rather inspiring to watch.”

“Has it melted even your cold, dark heart?”

With a chuckle, he picked up the glasses from the bar. “Impossible.”

Regina lowered her voice. “And the pills?”

“All the more important for Tilly to remain asleep, don’t you think?” he said softly, almost too low for her to hear. “Unless you’ve found a cure?”

With a frustrated shake of her head, Regina held a finger up to another customer trying to get her attention. “Believe me, you’ll be among the first to hear if we can find a cure for a poisoned heart.”

As if on cue, the door to the bar opened and Henry came in. He spotted Regina and smiled, his hand popping up in a wave.

“See?” Rumple said as he started to turn back to his table. “Love finds a way. It’s why those who employ dark curses will ultimately never prevail.”

“Detective Weaver, are you giving me a hope speech?” Regina said.

His perpetual smirk made another appearance. “Doesn’t sound like me, does it?”

~*~

Rogers reached for his jacket. “I’d best be getting home.”

Sergeant Jenkins looked up from his beer. “So soon, Eagle Scout? Is it time to alphabetize your soup cans already?”

The other cop who’d accompanied them on this little outing -- Liang, his name was -- gave Jenkins a sneer. “Come on, Jenkins, that’s not even a good burn.” He turned to Rogers. “Thanks for taking us out for a beer, man; I appreciate it.”

“Well, it was the least we could do given the help you gave us today,” Rogers said, surprised by this small kindness from a coworker. He finished pulling his coat on and reached for his wallet, intent on leaving some cash on the table, even though his club soda had no doubt been free.

“I’ve got it, Rogers,” Weaver said, waving away his attempt to pay. “Have a good night.”

Nodding his thanks, Rogers smiled and raised his hand to the group. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He caught Roni’s eye on his way past the bar, and she gave him a warm smile. It felt good, having friends; friends were something he’d had too little of in his life. It made him feel like a colorblind man suddenly granted the ability to discern vibrant colors, this recent discovery of what it felt like to have people around him who cared.

Rogers had lost his mother so young that he barely remembered her, and his father had been a drunk and a petty thief, leaving him and his brother to fend for themselves when they were young boys. After his father disappeared, Rogers bounced from one foster home to another, but his memory of that time was hazy. Even losing his brother was difficult for him to remember. He supposed grief could do that, burying trauma deep so that it wasn’t keenly felt.

He did remember enrolling in the police academy, though, and how he’d hoped that by becoming a police officer, he could begin to honor his brother’s memory. Every late night or early morning on the job, every appointment with his physical therapist after his accident, when he felt like giving up on learning to use his prosthetic hand, it was only the thought of his brother that pulled him through. At least, until the Eloise Gardener case hit his desk.

It used to awaken him at all hours of the night, this nagging sense that there was a girl out there, lost and alone, that only he could rescue. He even formed a mental image of her, and now that he’d faced down the real Eloise Gardener, it shamed him to remember that image. A blonde girl with shining eyes, dressed in a pale blue dress and a white pinafore, like something out of a storybook. In truth, Eloise Gardener couldn’t have been farther from that idealized fantasy his brain had cooked up. It was no wonder that finding her hadn’t stopped the sleepless nights, and that nagging feeling that there was a girl he needed to save.

Rogers approached his apartment door, reaching for his key ring from the pocket of his jeans. He could hear the thump of the bass-line of some kind of music coming from inside, and he smiled.

Opening the door revealed the music, if it could be called that, to be some kind of odd rap style, the likes of which he’d never heard before. Tilly looked up from the sofa where she’d been reading a book, and rushed to grab her new phone and shut the music off.

“What on earth was that?” he asked as he closed the door and took off his jacket.

“Swedish hip-hop,” she said. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” he said. “Just keep it down to a dull roar so that the neighbors don’t complain. Have you eaten?”

Tilly nodded. “I had some beignets at work, and then I had a bowl of cereal for dinner.”

“Not exactly a balanced diet,” he commented, looking over toward the kitchen. Tilly’s cereal bowl and spoon were in evidence, as was most of a half-gallon on milk sitting out on the table.

“You left the milk out again,” he said, picking the container up and whisking it into the refrigerator. He’d have to start buying milk by the gallon, the way she was going through it. He mentally added it to the list of things he needed to pick up at the market the next day.

He expected at most a distracted apology from the girl, same as he received the last time she left a milk jug sitting out on the table. What he got instead was a sort of high pitched keening sound, and it made Rogers look around in alarm.

Tilly had dropped her book on the floor, and as he watched with no small amount of horror, she knocked her fist against her forehead a few times. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she muttered.

“Tilly, stop,” Rogers said, rushing over to the sofa and gently pulling on her arm to stop her from hitting herself in the head. “It’s not a big deal, I promise. Please don’t do that.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” she said mournfully. “I forgot about the milk.”

“Tilly, I promise, I’m not angry with you.” He started to put his arm around her in what he intended to be a comforting gesture, but he held himself in check. The last thing he wanted was to make her feel unsafe in his home, and he knew the burden was on him to make certain she never thought for a moment that he had any lascivious intentions toward her. In truth, even the thought made his stomach turn over in revulsion.  

“You’re too nice to me, Detective. I don’t deserve anyone being this nice to me.”

“Nonsense, everyone deserves kindness.” He nudged her shoulder gently with his own. “Most especially you.”

She met his gaze, seeming to be searching for something in his eyes. “Why are you letting me stay here?” she asked.

“Because you needed a safe place to sleep,” he answered automatically, but he knew as soon as he said it that he needed to go a step further if he was going to reassure her. “Because helping you makes me feel more at peace that I have in…” He chuckled softly. “I don’t know, maybe ever. I know that sounds odd, but it’s true.”

“It doesn’t sound odd.” She leaned back against the sofa cushions, staring up at the ceiling. Rogers watched her, waiting for her to speak again.

“Back when I was in school, I used to try so hard to be a good student. The kind of student that teachers would smile at, you know? I would tell myself, ‘pay attention, Tilly, pay attention.’ But then I’d realize that the whole class period had gone by and I hadn’t heard a single word. And then I’d get up to go to change classes and leave my backpack sitting next to my chair. I’d walk into the next class with no book, no papers, no pencil. The other kids would laugh at me for being so stupid. Or they’d laugh at my dirty clothes. Or at the fact that I didn’t have money for lunch.”

“You were an orphan?” he asked. He’d never asked about her parents, and she easily could have been a runaway, or one of the many kids who get kicked out of their house because of their sexual orientation, but somehow he knew neither of those things were true.

Tilly nodded. “Never knew my parents.” Then she smiled sheepishly. “Well, I never knew my mum. My papa used to come to me in dreams.” She shrugged. “I know how that sounds, but I don’t know. I think maybe… maybe he died when I was little? And maybe his spirit used to watch over me.”

Rogers smiled sadly, thinking of his brother. “Maybe.”

“Anyway, the point is, my brain has always been a little funny. It floats around and decides to go places without my permission, and so I forget things. And I think the pills make it worse.”

With a glance over at the counter where Tilly’s pill bottle sat, Rogers struggled for what to say. He knew Detective Weaver had been ensuring that Tilly stayed on her medication long before he got involved, but now that she was living with him, it was falling to Rogers to remind the girl to take a pill every night before she went to bed. He wasn’t entirely clear on what kind of mental health issues the medication was treating, but the last time she’d gone off her medication, she’d shot Weaver, so he didn’t doubt their importance.

“I know the side effects may be troublesome, but it’s still important that you take your pills.”

Tilly’s face crumpled. “I hate that I need them.”

“There’s no shame in needing medication. You wouldn’t fault a diabetic for needing insulin, would you?”

“Yeah, that’s what people always say,” she grumbled.

“Perhaps because it’s true.”

With a watery giggle, Tilly wiped at the tears that were threatening to leak out of her eyes.

“Have you seen Margot-with-a-T again?” he asked, hoping to move her to a happier topic of conversation, but Tilly shook her head sadly.

“I thought she might come by the food truck since she knows that’s where I work, but she hasn’t.” She sniffled. “I guess maybe she’s not interested, you know… that way.”

“So you aren’t interested in the fact that I learned where you can find her?” he asked.

Tilly grabbed his arm hard enough to hurt, her blue eyes wide as saucers. “What do you mean? Where can I find her?”

He grinned at her excitement. “I just so happened to learn that Margot’s mother Kelly works with Roni at the bar. And Margot has been helping out there too.”

Squealing, Tilly leaped to her feet. “So maybe if I go down there now I can catch her?”

“Maybe.” She was already halfway out the door. “Put on a jacket,” he admonished, barely resisting the urge to add, and be home at a reasonable hour! He shook his head at his own foolishness, treating this girl like he was her father. Rogers was no one’s father, and likely never would be.

Tilly dutifully pulled her jacket on when he handed it to her. “See you later!” she called as she ran down the hall of the apartment building, not even bothering to pull the door closed behind her.

With a rueful smile, Rogers watched her go, a pang in his chest that he couldn’t quite explain. No more than he could explain the fact that he waited up for her that night, making certain she was safe in her room before he went to bed. No more than he could explain how this lost girl’s happiness seemed so inexorably tied to his own. No more than he could explain why the nightmares that had plagued him since those first days on the Eloise Gardener case were finally and mercifully gone.

[scienceoftheidiot]

This is incredibly true and it goes further than that.

They can't do basic stuff. Like, searching through files in a computer when you give them directions. Find the root of the file. Check where the problem is when something doesn't run - and I'm not talking crazy stuff. But like just like check if the software was started? Nope. Ctrl+alt+del? What is that?

I'm teaching high school kids this year, and when I myself was in high school, my family computer (ie my dad's job computer) ran under windows 2000 (which was already kinda old and above all shitty) then switched to XP, and I knew all this. I knew how to check where the problem with the router was. And, shit, I definitely knew how to download (emule and lime wire! Good old times!). How to damn look things up on the internet and dig and dig and dig. And I'm definitely not tech savvy. I'm just grown up in the generation that went from windows 95 to XP during their school years, where we got to discover internet. That was fun and crazy and dangerous, lol.

Half the kids I teach today didn't understand when I asked them to copy a short internet link. Didn't know where to copy it. They only know how to use their phones and that works with applications. Restarting a software because it doesn't work isn't in their line of thinking.

I'm NOT saying kids these days are dumb ffs. I'm saying the "kids know how to handle computers" was true 10 to 15 to 20 years ago. Not anymore. Because their digital landscape has changed a lot since we were the same age.

This might be a bit of a controversial statement, but based on my experiences working with people on the tech level, and husband’s experience working with kids, I kind of disagree with the statement that ‘kids these days’ are “so good with computers”.

I…don’t think they are. I think they’re good at navigating walled garden tech ecosystems like phones and tablets, not so much traditional computers.

I have dealt with a lot of younger people who think that because they have the “internet” on their phone (cellular data), it means they have internet at their house, for free. I’ve spent hours trying to troubleshoot why they can’t get a laptop online only to find out that they have no internet subscription, no router, no modem. In their minds, the laptop should “just be online” when it’s powered on.

This isn’t really a new thing, and it’s certainly not just aimed at kids/younger adults, because trust me - I’ve had to explain very basic computer concepts to all ages.

I’m just disagreeing with the claim that your average kid/young adult these days is some kind of computer genius just because they grew up with screens (which are, more often than not, apples to oranges when considering tablet/phone vs computer).

[owlish-peacock36]

Time Stays; We Go On: Ficlet

So, the consensus was that you guys wanted it tonight, so here it is! Enjoy!!

FF Master List (That hasn’t been updated in months. Oops!)

The decorations were painful to the eyes. Lime green was a garish color to begin with, but when strewn around the gym in every corner? Absolutely vomitous.

Jamie wasn’t sure who approved such an awful color for their 15 year class reunion, but he knew he’d never forgive them.

15 years? God, was he already 33? That didn’t feel right. He wasn’t married. Didn’t have children. Hell, some months it was difficult to pay rent on time. But, the years didn’t lie.

He wasn’t an old my by any means, not yet. But, the days came and went faster than they used to, and he knew one day he’d blink and be 70. Christ, he was halfway to 70 now!

“Yer brooding.” Jamie’s sister, Jenny, sidled up beside him, navigating treacherous terrain with her large pregnant belly. Although the two were born five minutes apart, their appearances begged to differ. Where Jenny was small and dark, Jamie was large and fair. The only characteristics they had in common were their blue eyes and wide mouths.

Their personalities, however, were a different story altogether. They were too similar, both stubborn and determined. They fought often, but made up even more.Thick as thieves. A cliche, but the truth often was.

“I’m no brooding.”

“Aye, ye are. Ye’ve got yer brows all drawn together, and yer mouth all puckered.” Jenny imitated ‘the look’ surprisingly well, but Jamie was not impressed.

“Ye look like yer in pain.”

“Isn’t brooding emotional pain?” Her face was still stuck in ‘brooding’ mode.

“Yer face will get stuck like that, and I’ll no be the one to explain it to Ian.”

“Explain what to me?” As if he were the devil summoned by his name, Ian appeared at Jenny’s other side. Married for eight years, they were the definition of ‘opposites attract.’

“Jamie’s brooding.”

“I’m not. I’m just… thinking. It’s been 15 years since we graduated. We’re getting old.”

Ian looked positively offended. “Dinna put me in an early grave! I’m still a spring chick!”

“It’s strange though. I mean, I dinna recognize anyone here.”

“Really? Everyone looks the same to me. For instance…” A sly smile grew on Jenny’s face. “Is that no yer ex-girlfriend?”

Jamie followed Jenny’s gaze to a small blonde leaning against the punch table. Laoghaire MacKenzie--though, it probably wasn’t MacKenzie anymore--was a pretty girl at 16, and not much had changed in the years that followed, it seemed. But, Jamie was aware of the new, tight lines around her mouth that showed unhappiness, even when smiling.

“Aye, it is.”

“Why do ye no go talk to her?”

“Because, we dated for six months, and she gave me a black eye when I broke it off with her. I’ll no be going down that road again…”

Jenny sighed. “Perhaps thats for the best. She looks a right bitch nowadays.” Jenny was never one to mince words.

The heavy beat of an early 2000s dance tune shook the floor, and struck Jamie right in his nostalgic heart.

“Come, my dear. Let us dance!” Ian held his arm out formally for Jenny to take, but she was hesitant.

“Ian. Ye canna dance.”

“O’ course I can!” Without another word, he swept Jenny into the  midst of the twirling bodies in the dance floor. Using this time to take a break from socializing, Jamie wandered over to an empty seat next to an unfamiliar brunette.

“Is this seat taken?”

Her eyes widened at his sudden presence, but she shook her head and motioned for him to sit. “No, it’s all yours.”

Jamie watched his sister spin gracefully around the rhythm-less Ian. Jenny was right; he really couldn’t dance. He couldn’t help but smile, though. Those two were still so much in love, even after ten years and two children. Happiness radiated, and they glowed.

Jamie turned his attention back to the woman next to him. She was quietly nursing her spiked punch, staring out at the dance floor with a smirk on her lips.

“Hello.” She turned, surprised at the sudden conversation. “I’m Jamie. Fraser.” He held out his hand for her to shake.

She took it immediately, her hand cool and damp from her cup’s condensation. “I remember. I’m Claire Beauchamp.”

He remembered, as well.

He was pretty sure he never spoke more than ten words to her in all their schooling, but he had seen her many times. She was quiet and bookish, her dark curls always falling over her face when she read, like a ‘do not disturb’ sign. But, she was whip smart—salutatorian, if he remembered correctly—and intimidating as hell. Her gaze was calculating; the gears in her head were in constant motion. There were rumors that she only dated older men, and Jamie was inclined to believe them at the time. He would admire her from afar, the rumors keeping him at a safe distance.

He glanced at her hands, as was the habit of 30-something bachelors around attractive women. Her fingers were bare.

She was single, then.

“Weel, it’s a pleasure to meet ye, again.”

She laughed, a low throaty sound. “The pleasure is all mine. Again.”

They sat in silence again, Jamie tapping his fingers along to the song’s beat. Claire was the first to break it.

“So, Jamie… at the risk of sounding super cliche… what do you do nowadays?”

“I’m a book editor. Well… assistant book editor.”

Claire’s eyes grew wide and shimmery. “Wow… That’s great!”

“It’s okay. I would like to take the ‘assistant’ off my title eventually, but it’s fine for now. And you, Claire? What is it that ye do?”

“I’m a doctor.” Jamie saw her shoulders straighten and her lips quirk; she was proud, as she should be.

“Ye were always smart. I do remember that.”

Jamie thought he saw her blush, but the lights were so dim, he couldn’t be sure. “Thanks, Jamie.”

The music shifted to another fast-paced, beat heavy song.

“Claire?”

“Hmm?” She was nose deep in her drink.

“Would ye like to dance?”She spluttered a bit, coughing against her cup. “Ye dinna have to, of course.”

“No, no! I was just surprised you’d ask, is all.” She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “I would like to, and don’t think this is a stupid excuse not to… But I was actually going to head to the snack table before you sat down. I’m starving!” As if I’m cue, a small growl sounded from her midsection. Jamie chuckled. “So, can we head over there first?”

“Of course.” He stood up, holding out his hand to her. “Let’s refuel before we dance.”

***

Jamie and Claire milled around the food table, catching up in between mouthfuls of cheese and pretzel bites.

“So, She showed up in a white dress… for your sister’s wedding?!”

“Aye! It’s no a good idea to invite yer ex to yer wedding, I expect. And Ian wouldn’t have invited her, but their parents are good friends. But, that was remedied fairly quickly, I’d say.”

Claire rubbed her hands together mischievously, itching for the gossip. “Oooh, do tell!”

“Weel, our mam and Ian’s mam worked up a plan, see? That involved two full glasses of wine…”

“Oh, no!”

“Oh, yes! They were walking and talking, pretending to be minding their own. Then, they walked right into Em, spilling their drinks all over her.”

“I’m assuming red wine?”

“Of course! They were good actresses too. Apologizing, trying to wipe her dress. But the damage was done, and Em went home crying.”

“That is… amazing!”

They both doubled over, laughing. Jamie wasn’t sure of the last time he laughed this hard, so carefree. Sure, it was partly because they were both a bit tipsy, but it was also something about Claire’s presence that lit him up from within.

The mood shifted, as did the song. Slow and steady. Claire looked up at him through her lashes, her dark eyes flashing from the dance floor lights.

“I think I’m ready for that dance now.”

***

It had been a couple years since Jamie had been this close to a woman. A beautiful woman, no less. Claire’s body held a pleasant softness within the confines of a thick wool dress. She was fire, warm and engulfing. He would gladly burn.

Jamie’s hands tightened on her waist, pressing his nose against her curls. What they were doing could barely be considered dancing. They swayed a bit to the beat, but remained happily in each other’s arms.

“You want to know a secret?” Claire whispered against his cheek. Her breath smelled of rum and sweetness.

“Hmm?”

“I had a crush on you in school.” She spoke as if were the most casual comment, but for Jamie, it shook his world.

“Ye did?”

“Mmhmm. But you were too intimidating to talk to.”

“Me?” He tilted his head backward to look into her owlish eyes. “Ye were the most intimidating woman I had ever met!”

“What?”

“Aye. Ye were smart and beautiful and ye didna take any shite from anyone.”

Claire giggled low in her throat. “Well, I appreciate that.”

“I thought ye dated guys in college?”

“I date one guy in college and suddenly it becomes a habit. No, I was your secret admirer for many years.”

“Yer joking! I… I liked ye for so long. But, those rumors… They kept me away, see?”

“Well, damn.”

Jamie pulled her even closer, so their bodies were flush, knee to chest.

“And how do ye feel now?” The alcoholic mixture from earlier was making him bold.

But she was bolder. “My feelings haven’t changed.”

“Nor mine.”

Their lips collided, mouths open, breathing each other in. Jamie’s hands found Claire’s curls, wrapping them around his fingers. Her fingers found purchase on his shoulders, digging into his flesh.They were pulling each other closer, closer…

“Would it be forward of me to ask ye to come to my flat?” Jamie panted.

“Would it be forward of me to come to your flat?”

“Nay. I’d say it was a long time coming.”

“Then let's go.”

Jamie grabbed Claire’s hand, and, without a second glance backward at his sister and brother-in-law, walked out the door. He would have much to answer for later, but for now, he was glad to be out of that lime green hellhole and in the comfort of Claire’s arms.

[lab4fundofwebtech]

LAB #4: HTML Colors & Lists

INFORMATION

Colors are defined using a hexadecimal notation for the combination of red, green, and blue color values (RGB). The lowest value that can be given to one light source is 0 (hex #00). The highest value is 255 (hex #FF).

Only 16 color names are supported by the W3C HTML 4.0 standard (aqua, black, blue, fuchsia, gray, green, lime, maroon, navy, olive, purple, red, silver, teal, white, and yellow).

HTML provides a simple way to show unordered lists (bullet lists) or ordered lists (numbered lists).

CODE GIVEN

<html> <head> <title>My First Webpage</title> </head> <body bgcolor="#EDDD9E"> <h1 align="center">My First Webpage</h1> <p>Welcome to my <strong>first</strong> webpage. I am writing this page using a text editor and plain old html.</p> <p>By learning html, I'll be able to create web pages like a pro... <br> which I am of course.</p> Here's what I've learned: <ul> <li>How to use HTML tags</li> <li>How to use HTML colours</li> <li>How to create Lists</li> </ul> </body> </html>

QUESTIONS

1. Explain about the HTML code above.

The code starts with <html> and ends with </html>.The tag <head> contains the information of the code such as the title of the webpage, the code for the appearance of the webpage which is the CSS, the font you want to use in the webpage, and so on. This information is not visible to the users. It ends with </head>.

<title> tag is for the name of the webpage which in this case is My first Webpage. It ends with </title>.

The <body> part represents the visible part of the code. The background is colored with HEX code #EDDD9E using <body bgcolor="#HEX">. <h1> means header 1 which is “My First Webpage” which is aligned to the centre of the page by using code align=“center”.

The <p> here means paragraph. <br> in the between text is for new line. The paragraph ends with </p>.

<ul> here means unordered list. Here means, the following list will be in bullet form. The list will be in <li> tag and ends with </li>. The end of the list will be having </ul> tag.

The body ends with </body> and the code ends with </html>

1. Change the given HTML code by using an ordered list tags.

<html>

<head>

<title>My First Webpage</title>

</head>

<body bgcolor="#EDDD9E">

<h1 align="center">My First Webpage</h1>

<p>Welcome to my <strong>first</strong> webpage. I am writing this page using a text editor and plain old html.</p>

<p>By learning html, I'll be able to create web pages like a pro... <br>

which I am of course.</p> Here's what I've learned:

<ol>

<li>How to use HTML tags</li>

<li>How to use HTML colours</li>

<li>How to create Lists</li>

</ol>

</body>

</html>

3. List 10 colours HEX value in HTML codes.

Black - #00000

White - #FFFFF

Red - #FF0000

Green - #00FF00

Blue - #0000FF

Yellow - #FFFF0

Cyan - #0FFFF

Magenta - #FF00FF

Violet - #EE82EE

Orange - #FFA500

4. Provide a HTML code for definition lists.

<html>

<head>

<title>My First Webpage</title>

<style>

dl {

display: block;

margin-top: 1em;

margin-bottom: 1em;

margin-left: 0;

margin-right: 0;

}

</style>

</head>

<body bgcolor="#EDDD9E">

<h1 align="center">My First Webpage</h1>

<p>Welcome to my <strong>first</strong> webpage. I am writing this page using a text editor and plain old html.</p>

<p>By learning html, I'll be able to create web pages like a pro... <br>

which I am of course.</p> Here's what I've learned:

<dl>

<dt>How to use HTML tags</dt>

<dd>How to use HTML colours</dd>

<dt>How to create Lists</dt>

</dl>

</body>

</html>