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timelord-winchester-22b · 4 years ago

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do u think u could do bucky x autistic!reader headcanons if ur up to it? i’m autistic and i cant stop reading over the ones u have posted they make me so happy! thank u so much i love ur blog!

I'm not as into Bucky as I am some other Avengers characters, so I hope this still managed to do his justice! (I will be typing this on the spot in my phone like the others however)

Also I'm so glad you like them! I was hoping someone would enjoy some additional autistic!reader content and according to my inbox as of late they have!! So without further ado:

Bucky is probably not the first member of the team that you met. You probably wouldn't have thought to talk to him if you'd met him on the street or something.

He had a reputation, a resting bitch-face, and a big metal arm, not the type of person you'd go start a friendly conversation with

Which means you probably knew some of the other Avengers first, or worked for Stark Industries?

Let's go with that.

You worked at Avengers Tower. You were one of a kind, irreplaceable, because you saw the world differently

You were good at your job, thankful that Tony had found you, because you enjoyed it too, and he always made sure you had whatever accomodations you needed

Perhaps, you thought one day, he was trying to ease his guilt by finding someone like you to "look after"

Or perhaps he was just a very reasonable boss who could see how valuable a worker you were

You saw Bucky in person for the first time trying to get Tony's attention from an Avengers debrief without distracting anyone else

He was playing with his phone

Steve noticed you and asked what you needed, drawing everyone's attention, which caught you a little off guard

Tony rushed the both of you out of the room, seeing your discomfort, but not before you and Bucky met eyes and he offered a soft reassuring smile where everyone else in the room offered only their confusion

You couldn't help but think about it for the next few weeks

You saw him around a few more times, but you had still never spoken a word in front of him

He became curious about Tony's cute assistant. There was something different about you, he thought, but he couldn't quite figure it out

Every time he thought he had picked something up from your mannerisms, you were gone again and he was still confused

Then a sensory overload that was on the fast track to a meltdown, and you were trying to get to Tony's work office, a bathroom, that empty room you had access to on the other side of the kitchens. Whichever empty room was closest

But you couldn't think, weren't exactly sure where you were, and then you were running into someone

You heard your name, but your eyes couldn't fix on the person long enough to determine who it was, still looking for an escape, covering your ears as sound still drifted down the hall.

There was a light hand on your shoulder and you were guided through a door, and then it was gone

It was quieter, and you managed to find a corner to curl into until your senses stopped screaming at you

By the time you had calmed down and remembered that there was someone else there, he had calmed down too. You would never know how panicked he was to find you like that.

You were surprised to find Bucky of all people, sitting on the floor across from you, waiting patiently

"Are you alright?" He asked. You nodded.

"anything I can do?"

You shrugged

"well... Let me know. I'll just wait here, we can leave whenever you want"

You were both there for an hour

You fully expected him to leave at some point, but he sat right where he was, somehow giving you just enough attention so you wouldn't feel like you were a trouble to ask him for something, but not enough to make you uncomfortable

After that you realized that outside of Avengers missions, he basically had nothing else to do

So whenever something was going wrong, you found yourself looking for him

You asked Tony for him one of these times, and he was surprised because he didn't even know you two had properly met

Before anyone knew it, Bucky was spending almost all his free time with you

He tried to help you work a few times, but stopped after quickly realizing he would end up doing more harm than good

He'd just keep you company while you worked

He's still very behind on pop culture, so if your special interest is a comic, tv show, movie, book, etc. He's immediately willing to watch/read whatever it is with you

You two ended up spending lots of time watching movies and shows outside your special interest too, helping him catch up

You revised Steve's list of things to catch up on

(really really really hope you don't hate Tony, because he just kinda.... Ended up in there somehow)

#avengers x reader #autistic!reader #autistic!reader headcanons #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x autistic!reader #avengers x autistic!reader #platonic tony stark x reader #tony stark x autistic!reader #kinda accidental #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes x autistic reader headcanon

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catboyithaqua · 3 years ago

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Character headcanons for Doppo boy!!!

DOPPO MY BELOVED

Under a cut bc s*xual *ss*ult mention

1: sexuality headcanon

DEMI KING hes absolutely demisexual/demiromantic i literally cant see him in any other light idk why i just cant. Hes forever demi to me. Honestly all of mtr are

2: otp

Hifudo 👉👈 i really dont think there needs to be much explanation besides im really predictable and these two really make me soft also mtr poly :0 i feel like hifumi kinda counterbalances the issues im abt to talk abt with jakurai/doppo

3: brotp

Matenrou and jyudo!!! Jyuto/doppo are canonically friends and i want that to be explored more! But from what i know they have a fun dynamic and its good to see :)

4: notp

Again w all ships im fine as long as it isnt gross, but if there is a ship that rubs me the wrong way a little its jakurai/doppo - theyre kinda,,, therapist/patient like in canon even if thats not their relationship, and im totally ok if u ship it!! But personally thats kinda how i feel abt it

5: first headcanon that pops into my head

Hm. I hc him as closeted nb - in particular the arb event with jyuto kinda reads as a nb person afraid theyre gonna be outed rather than discomfort due to how hes dressing/dysphoria... and also, he was literally knowingly being set up to be sexually assaulted in order to catch a predator, yeah id be uncomfortable too buddy.

6: one way in which I relate to this character

Oh god so many,,, losing sleep?? Debilitating depression/anxiety/self deprecation issues??? Fear of confrontation until it becomes about our friends then we lose our minds?? Repressed anger??? Bullying messing with our self esteems and making us pushovers??? Like so many LMAO

7: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character

God bless him hes so incredibly awkward and like me too, its more of a secondhand embarrassment because i can see myself doing the same embarassing awkward shit honestly

8: cinnamon roll or problematic fave?

Baby. Cinnamon roll. Not problematic enough to constitute as a problematic fave i love him

Thank you for the ask!!!!!

#asks #hypmic

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typewriterghcst · 4 years ago

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Title: Comme Il Faut

Rating: Gish, but there is a. uh. Suggestive Joke right before the cut

Fandom: The Cat Returns

Characters: a younger Cat King and Natori

Summary: He missed out on a lot of cardinal priming for his eventual position. Now unofficially under his advisor’s discreet tutelage, the new Cat King can’t quite say he’s sorry to have never been forced to learn the finicky etiquette surrounding a proper meal… but a bowl of homemade soup for his trouble isn’t that bad a motivator.

Notes: For the prompt ‘Over a cup of tea’ from this meme, which I again chose on my own bc I mean. I might as well right……. anyway, hopefully this won’t spiral out of control like the dancing one did rip Also despite the prompt being ‘over a cup of tea’, on a whim I changed this to ‘over a bowl of noodles’ because the Mr. Ping muse is evidently still hanging around even all these years later Filled with headcanons and some references to a much longer fic in progress detailing this particular part of their relationship coughs

&&&

“Your paw is in your lap again.”

The look this pointed but nonchalant observation earns him is affronted, exasperated, as the younger cat sets his unoccupied paw back on to the flimsy table before them.

“I don’t know why all this baloney matters, Natty. Is anyone really gonna give a crap if both paws aren’t on the table at all times..?”

“Well, they may come to the unfortunate conclusion that you’re feeling perhaps a bit feisty, but I suppose if that doesn’t bother you, then…”

Natori doesn’t have to look up from his work to know the new king most likely wears an indignant, scandalized look; he hears him shift in his seat anyway, leaning back, crossing his arms grumpily. When he speaks, it’s with a very characteristic sullen mumble.

“Don’t be crude.”

It’s here that Natori finally turns his attention from the portable stovetop to his companion, and it’s with a contrite smile, at least, which seems to appease Claudius somewhat.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I shall behave.”

Claudius scoffs. “All you do is behave. Someday, I’m going to order you to live a little, and you’re gonna just keel over because I finally found the one thing you can’t do.”

“There’s worse ways to die, I suppose.”

“Not many.”

Then, silence, as Natori doesn’t respond in favor of adjusting the flame and fanning his (for once uncovered) paw over the foaming pot. Just a few moments of this is all it seems to take for Claudius’ minuscule store of patience to run dry. He flops onto the table before him with a dramatic groan, muffled only slightly by the surface his face is now smushed against.

“This is so boring—! If I’d had to do this as a kid, I woulda kicked my tutor in the shin.”

Upon the deadpan knowing look he gets from Natori, the king amends himself, “...Okay, I would have kicked more tutors in the shins. Whatever, isn’t there something you can do to make this less excruciating?!”

“Isn’t that what the soup is for?” Natori asks mildly.

“Oh, yeah. How’s that coming, anyway? Smells pretty good.”

“It won’t be long.”

In the silence that follows, Natori waits for another plaintive outburst from Claudius, but to his surprise, it never comes. Claudius instead seems to find absorption in his own thoughts, and it’s not long at all before he makes them known.

“Where’d you learn this stuff, anyway?”

“The cooking or the boring etiquette?”

“The cooking, duh.”

Natori hesitates, stirring the noodles briefly; he unintentionally gives the impression that he’s reluctant to reveal the truth, which only intrigues Claudius more. “...My grandmother taught me.”

"Did she teach you how to sew, too?"

"Yes," Natori answers patiently. In the fleeting time Claudius hasn't been paying attention, his advisor has already filled two bowls with noodles and is now ladling relatively clear, tawny broth over the top of them. Distantly, he feels his stomach growl in anticipation.

"Would you like some doubanjiang?"

"Some wha..?"

Wordlessly, Natori hands the jar to Claudius, who wastes no time at all in scrutinizing the paste or giving it a cautionary sniff.

“This stuff spicy?”

“It is spicy.”

Claudius hands it back. “I’ll take a rain check on it, then.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Gimme some extra beef, though.”

Natori complies, but once more without a word, and the reserve irks Claudius just slightly. He knows he isn’t, but it feels somewhat like he’s being ignored. He clicks his chopsticks together, and whether it’s out of impatience or peevishness, Natori’s chiding response is the same regardless— a mild, “Misusing one’s eating utensils is generally not recognized as acceptable behavior, sire,” as he places one of the bowls before the king.

Claudius grins at his advisor as if he’s come out the victor of some covert competition, but Natori can not for the life of him puzzle out what that competition might be. He might even wager the king himself doesn’t really know.

Then, seeing Claudius preparing to pick up his bowl and most likely gulp it down, he hastily adds, “A proper meal is one that’s savored.”

Claudius pauses mid-lift and shortly after deflates in frustration, plopping his bowl back down again. “Yeah, yeah, alright. We’ll do it the respectable way.”

Spoken while stabbing at a piece of beef with one of his chopsticks querulously. Natori resists the urge to put his head in one of his paws, making the mental note to address that another time.

“...you know, when I’ve been king long enough, I’m getting rid of all this stuffy rubbish.”

“The elders will decry the new regime as vulgar extravagance,” Natori remarks with a tickled laugh.

“They’ll get used to it.” Then, after finally taking a bite of his soup now that his momentary petulance has worn off, “Hey— your soup is actually good.”

“You sound surprised— not necessarily the most polite of ways to issue a compliment, I might add.”

“That’s not how I meant it,” Claudius grumbles. “I just… I mean…”

What he meant is consigned to remain a mystery, as he never does pick his trailing thought back up, descending instead into apparent morose rumination. Natori doesn’t rush him, unsure himself over what to say.

It had been not two weeks ago the two could hardly stand to be in the same room together without taking veiled potshots at each other, if not outright quarreling, at least when not accompanied by King Aelius or other companions. Reaching an understanding and two very genuine apologies did not make for an instant camaraderie on their own.

“...Thank you,” Natori does eventually settle on, his eyes still averted. “I-It’s not anything special, but I suppose it does remind me of home.”

Claudius looks up from his soup, and the stormy brow he’d been sporting softens some. He, too, then averts his gaze.

“Sounds nice.”

“I’m sorry,” Natori says, and though it feels like the proper response, he can’t explicitly trace what reasoning has led him to it.

Meanwhile, Claudius only shrugs, popping the last piece of cubed beef from his bowl into his mouth and propping his head against one of his paws (the other is, once more, folded in his lap below the table). “It is what it is.”

Continuing on, in a way Natori would have previously read as defiant or vindictive, he offhandedly stabs his chopsticks into the few remaining noodles and leaves them there, and the look he spies on Natori’s face when he turns his attention to his advisor tells him he’s probably committed a number of faux pas.

With a sardonic snort, he says, “Guess I got a long way to go, huh?”

Natori, while rather gently and methodically removing the chopsticks and laying them beside the king’s bowl, offers a more optimistic (if shy) angle. “You’ll get there.”

“With this soup, I will.”

Ah. One truth revealed, it seems. Natori meets Claudius’ wide smirk with a faintly playful look of his own, head canted just slightly in knowing amusement, and the tacit agreement seems to be all the king needs to add yet another inscrutable victory to his ongoing arcane list. Motivation and indulgence are often inexorably wed, after all.

#the cat returns #jfjfkd;a i finished another small drabble in record time :v #i started this one last night holy c rap #it's not very long but wOW is that a fast turnaround for me l mao

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thiefcat-niao · 6 years ago

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Ending the Session (Chapter 2)

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! �� Characters/Ships: Gemshipping (Thief King Bakura/Ryou Bakura); Ryou Bakura, Thief King Bakura, Atem, Yugi Mutuo, Zorc Necrophades Rating: T Length: Chapter 2 / 3; 2400 words

Summary:

Into Ryou’s lonely apartment comes a spirit, an ancient power that speaks and manifests through the Ouija board kept beneath the bed. It calls itself Tou, and claims to be human. Ryou believes.

Read on AO3 Previous Chapter – Next Chapter (Coming Soon~)

Chapter Two: A King of Thieves

For nearly a week, Ryou spoke to the spirit daily—sometimes twice daily. Yugi commented that Ryou seemed happier, when they met for coffee. Ryou shrugged off the comment, mumbling some half-truth about doing well in his classes. In reality, his homework hadn't been getting done with quite the level of diligence he usually held himself to.

Ryou hadn't learned much about how the spirit, Tou, had lived, but it didn't much matter. He had learned, in his estimation, many far more important things. Tou was pragmatic, for instance, and jaded, but had an unexpectedly lively sense of humor. At first Ryou had struggled to detect the spirit's jokes, through the toneless board. But he'd also grown far more attuned to the feel of Tou's presence, in his apartment, and fancied that he could sense Tou's general emotional state.

It worried Ryou that the spirit would grow suddenly tense, at times; would flicker with what appeared to be anxiety, or at least agitation, and usually request and end to the session. While Tou always offered fatigue as the explanation—and sometimes it was; Ryou could feel the weight of the spirit's exhaustion—those times were different. Ryou wondered what could cause a spirit like Tou to feel that way, and decided he had no basis with which to even form a hypothesis.

"i know whats keeping me here..." Tou had said, "and its not a thing you can help me deal with..." Ryou wished that that weren't true, but accepted it nevertheless, and so didn't pry.

Ryou stood, one evening, at the stove, preparing diner. The apartment was quiet. He was looking forward to speaking to Tou, later, but for the moment was quite enraptured in his cooking. The sizzling strips of meat made a pleasant crackling, and Ryou hummed along with the sound. They filled the apartment, too, with a heady aroma of meat and herbs, and Ryou bent in over the stove to assess whether or not he needed to add more of any particular seasoning before checking his rice on the rear burner.

The pepper grinder, on the far side of the counter, struck the ground with a jarring crash, and Ryou jumped. He looked around; heard nothing, save for the sizzling of beef in the pan. He glanced down at the pepper, rolling pensively across the floor.

"Tou...?"

The pepper grinder picked up speed suddenly—bumped into Ryou's foot. He smiled.

"Give me a second, okay?" Turning back to the stove, he lowered the heat; checked his rice again, and then scampered from the room. When he returned, he had the Ouija board tucked under his arm. He placed it beside the bloodied cutting board on his counter and opened it.

"Hello, Tou!"

"your dinner smells maddeningly good...” was the immediate reply, and Ryou chuckled.

"Is that all you wanted to tell me?"

"its important...” The pointer moved rapidly, a challenge to read, even for someone as practiced as Ryou. "youre a really good cook...”

"I didn't realize you could smell."

"i can hear and see and smell... i just cant touch or taste... no body yknow..."

"Fair enough."

"i want some of your dinner so badly i could die..."

"I wish you could join me," Ryou said, honestly.

There was a pause, and Ryou tilted his head; waited patiently. He could tell that the spirit hadn't left.

"thanks for talking to me...”

"Of course!" Ryou said, surprised. "I'm happy you want to talk to me, too!"

"its not so common for humans to contact us... not so common for them to be so open either... usually they get freaked out the first time they manage to make contact and then never do it again and usually theyre these stupid kids drunk or just real jerks not the likable type at all...

It was a long, rambling message, and Ryou waited for the pointer to still. Then he said, "I've used the board a lot. I've gotten responses, before, but never a spirit who's come back more than once or twice, let alone actually initiated the contact. It's really nice!"

Again, there was a pause, and when the pointer moved it did so rather slowly. "how do you know im not a bad spirit...”

"I don't, I guess, not for sure. But I don't think you are."

"when i told you i was called tou that was a bit of a lie... half a lie...”

"Oh?" Ryou tilted his head; waited for the spirit to continue.

"i was called touzokuo... king of thieves...”

"Oh. That's a cool title."

"cool you say cool...” The pointer moved so fast it almost jarred Ryou's hand free, and he jumped. "hahahahahaha... youre weird you know that... king of thieves is what they call a bad guy... i was a bad guy when i was alive...”

"That doesn't mean you're a bad spirit, now that you're not alive," Ryou said patiently, and the pointer fell still. There was the faint smell of something beginning to burn.

"youre a kind person to say that... but you should be careful... i had quite a reputation as not only a thief... but a killer..."

"I don't sense any blood-lust from you now, though," Ryou said, and the spirit was silent. "You aren't a bad spirit. I may not have any way to know, but I'm sure of it."

The pointer stayed still, for another moment, and then moved toward "goodbye." Ryou hurried to ask another question before it got there.

"What was your favorite food, when you were alive?!" he blurted—the first thing that came to his mind. To his relief, the pointer stilled.

"roast pig..." was the slow response, after a beat. Ryou smiled, relieved.

"Really? I'm more of a dessert person, myself, but savory foods can be really good. Especially when you're hungry."

"aha... thats very true..."

"Were you hungry, a lot? Is that why you became a thief?"

"dont try to make excuses for what i just told you..."

"I'm not," Ryou huffed, a bit indignant. "I just want to know you better. I want to understand you."

"i was hungry..." the thief said, after a moment. "i was angry too... i wanted to get back at the whole world..."

Ryou considered that, then said, "I wish you could join me, for supper."

"your foods starting to burn... you should get that... itd be tragic to ruin it..."

Ryou nodded, but as he went to leave the board, some near-physical force held his hand to the pointer.

"r-y-o-u" the spirit spelled out, with a force that surprised the human boy. "end the session... never leave without saying goodbye... youve used the board enough to know that..."

Ryou hesitated, then nodded. "Sorry. You're right, of course... Goodbye, Tou."

And the pointer, in response, moved to, "goodbye".

... ... ...

Ryou stifled a yawn; popped a piece for chocolate into his mouth, and took a swallow of coffee. The apartment felt unusually empty—devoid, in a rare moment, of spirits. And, though he knew he should sleep, Ryou had to take the opportunity to do research while he had the apartment to himself. So there he sat, at his desk, the light of the computer screen tinting his white hair light blue.

"King of Thieves... Thief King... Touzokuo..."

So far, he hadn't found any historical figures matching those titles, but they were sufficiently vague enough to render standard search engines all but useless.

It was three in the morning; Ryou took another sip of his coffee.

'Didn't he say... wait, that garbled message...'

Scrabbling through some papers beneath his bed, Ryou found the notebook he'd had during his first conversation with the spirit that called itself Touzokuo. He returned to his desk, then looked at the word that hadn't made any sense, at the time; the word he'd assumed to be some sort of spiritual typo: nedjem.

Ryou ate another piece of candy; it had a pressed brown sugar center inside of milk chocolate, and he let it melt in his mouth, feeling the graininess as he rubbed his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He typed "nedjem" into the computer, and hit enter.

At first, nothing interesting showed up—the search engine tried to autocorrect his query to needed. So he tried "meaning of word nedjem," and hit enter once again.

A... carob pod...?

Ryou's eyes widened slightly as he stared, surprised, at the hieroglyph that had appeared on his screen. He clicked on the first result, and read aloud, "Ancient Egyptian hieroglyph signifying 'sweet,' represented visually by a carob pod and thought to be said as 'nedjem.' One instance documents a doubling of the symbol, presumably read 'nedjemnedjem,' to indicate a pleasing concubine."

Ryou took a deep breath; tasted the sugar thick on his tongue, and took a drink of coffee to wash it down.

Ancient... Egypt...

It made sense, the more he thought about it. Though he'd passed off the spirit's reference to Anubis, Anubis being a fairly well-known symbol of death even in modern times, it made a lot more sense if he considered it as an influence of the spirit's original culture.

So what did I ask? Why "nedjem"?

He had asked what the spirit was called—Tou. He'd asked what the spirit was—h-u-m-a-n. He'd asked if the spirit had made contact with the living before—once or twice.

Ryou ate a marshmallowy piece of candy that got stuck in his teeth, and momentarily distracted himself getting it out with his tongue.

Then, it struck him.

"youre odd... different from others ive talked to..."

"Really? How so?"

"n-e-d-j-e-m"

Ryou's hands flew to his face, and he tried not to read into the odd answer, now that he knew what the long-extinct word meant. After a few more fruitless internet searches, he'd worked himself into enough of a frenzy that the mere thought of sleep was impossible. And, the internet having failed him, he reached for his cell phone and knocked his pencil holder off his desk in the attempt.

... ... ...

"Hnn..." Yugi Mutou raised his head as his cheerful ringtone cut through the silence. He dragged himself to the side of the bed, ignoring the bleary, angry muttering of the man sleeping beside him, and observed the time on the glowing screen—3:47—and the name. "Unh... Ryou-kun...? What is it...?"

"Yugi-kun! Ah, I'm so sorry, did I wake you?"

"Ryou-kun, it's almost four in the morning..." Yugi stifled a yawn; listened to his friend squeak and shuffle frantically on the other end of the line.

"I-I'm so sorry! I-I forgot, for a second... haha! I can call back tomorrow, if—"

"Ryou, I'm awake. What's up?" Yugi settled in, arms folded beneath his chin and atop his pillow.

"Ahh—! O-Okay, then... well... has Atem ever mentioned a legendary Thief King, from Ancient Egypt?"

"Thief King?" Yugi echoed, and was startled when his bed-partner bolted suddenly upright. "Atem! What's—?!"

"Who's on the phone, Yugi?"

"Great Ra..." Yugi breathed, and Ryou made a questioning sound. "Hey, Atem just woke up... Do you want to talk to him?"

"Oh Yugi, that would be wonderful! Are you sure he wouldn't mind?"

"Give me the phone, Yugi," Atem commanded, though his eyes were shadowed with sleep and his hair was sticking out to the side, as opposed to his usual vertical spikes.

"He wouldn't mind at all," Yugi told Ryou, and then held out the phone to his boyfriend.

"Oh! Atem! Sorry to bother, at this hour, I just... got all caught up, and—"

"Out with it, Bakura," Atem commanded, and Ryou squeaked. "What's this about the Thief King?"

"I just... well, you're an Egyptologist, after all, and that's where you're from, anyway, so I figured if anyone would know anything about—"

"Where did you hear about the Thief King, though?" Atem demanded, and Ryou swallowed audibly.

"So there is something..."

"Bakura, tell me where you heard that title," Atem said, his voice low and almost threatening. Yugi pulled worriedly at the sleeve of his nightshirt.

"I just... I mean... a friend. A friend mentioned him." Ryou's voice was shaking.

"Don't lie to me, Ryou Bakura."

"Atem, don't scare him," Yugi implored. "You know how he is..."

"O-Okay..." Ryou began hesitantly. "Y-You know how I like to play around with Ouija boards, occasionally...?"

Atem scrambled up; stumbled from the bed, much to Yugi's increased distress, and cursed as he tripped over a discarded piece of clothing. "You didn't. Tell me you're not going to say what I think you're about to say, Bakura. Tell me you don't have the spirit of the Thief King in your apartment."

"Well, not at this exact moment, but—"

"Great Ra!" Atem fumbled with his coat; threw it on over his nightclothes as Yugi began to follow him from the bed. "Okay, Bakura, I need you to leave that apartment immediately, do you understand? I'm coming to get you."

"Wait, what?!" Ryou spluttered, and Yugi called out his boyfriend's name in confusion. Atem ignored them both.

"This—this is why Ouija boards have a bad reputation, Ryou," Atem continued, hopping into his shoes. "You've gone and summoned something bad, now, something very bad, and—"

"Tou wouldn't hurt me!" Ryou objected suddenly, and Atem cursed.

"Listen to me, Ryou—the so-called Thief King is a demon-god. You know I was a pharaoh in a previous life, don't you? I lived during the same time as the Thief King."

"You knew him?!"

"I killed him, Bakura, when he tried to kill me! After he—!" Atem cut himself off; muttered a curse. "He isn't human—he's a demon, as I said, a demon called Zorc, who took on human form to kill the pharaoh—to kill me, and those I loved."

"That doesn't make any sense!" Ryou objected.

"He's deceiving you! He's the best damned liar I've ever met in any lifetime, believe me, and now he's lying to you! I'm coming over, okay? You stay on the phone with me now, and—Bastet!" Atem cursed.

Yugi—a few steps behind him, on the way to the door—yelped. "What?!"

"Little asshole hung up on me!" Atem fumed; handed Yugi his phone. "Try to call him. We're going to his apartment."

"Atem, is he... really in danger...?"

"Not unless he's done something really stupid like opened a portal..." Atem muttered, flinging the door open and flying down the apartment stairs, Yugi on his heals. "Gods... let him be safe... I can't lose another friend... not to that bastard Thief King... not in this lifetime..."

#gemshipping #thief king bakura #ryou bakura #yu-gi-oh #fanfiction #fanfic #niao writes things

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hogsteeth-archive · 6 years ago

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alright then i answered one of them oc questions things for both versions of ira bc like. why wouldnt i. first answer is 1976 58y/o rhodesian ira, second answer is 201x 16y/o houstonian ira. i just wanted to figure out how different they really are. questions from here. if readmores still dont work on mobile im sorry lmao

what are some things they have strong opinions about?

he has sort of a cioranian attitude to the value of life, like, hes one of them “theres always reason to kill a man, theres no way to justify his living” types. he doesnt believe in nationalism per se but he does believe in war, hes literally a mercenary, and hed probably get along just fine with someone like mike hoare, but hes not one for unnecessary cruelty. hes kind to who he considers innocent. if he was alive today i can see him getting grouped w/ like, anti-natalists, right-wing “primitivists,” people who browse /fo/, people who think theyll thrive in the post-apocalypse even though they cant even spin yarn, people who dont understand fallout, you know, those types, but i like to think his attitude wrt civ is closer to perlmans or, well, mine. its a good thing he doesnt live in internet times. he thinks technology makes people complacent and weak and hes fallen into the trap of the “noble savage” myth; sign of the times. he could just as easily live off the grid in like, alberta, but he chose to stay in southern africa bc of his colonial attitudes & fetishization of the “less developed.” (sidenote, if youre like, new here n reading this for some reason, yea i write like really really bad characters were talking irredeemably evil here, just like, know that im aware of that.) also he detests hippies for both bad and good reasons ⸻ not much, really, hes an opportunist, a hedonist, hes selfish, goes w/ the flow. he thinks denying yourself pleasure for no reason is microfascism — not in those words — and while he doesnt think that selfishness leads to a bettering of overall society, hes no randian, he feels justified in what he does. hes uh, a mercenary in spirit and ive always intended to have him join the marines n later work for a pmc but were nowhere near there yet

what traits do they like in other people? what traits do they not like?

he likes people (men, that is) that are exactly like him. he likes Narrator bc hes just as quiet, as patient, as stubborn, as antisocial (using that the right way here, i like, know about psychology), as violent, as old-timey-ly masculine as he is. he can tolerate clade (his former accountant) bc she keeps to herself and shes loyal to a fault, but he doesnt go out of his way to like, actually talk to her. he likes will bc he reminds him of what he was like as a child living with his matabele mother. ⸻ he hates everything he perceives as weakness, but hes not all that open about that, i think hes not even 100% aware thats what it is. he needs to be talked back to. he lacks compassion, doesnt know how to deal w/ anyone whos less resilient and abrasive than himself.

do they have a significant other? if so, who?

i mean, theres Narrator — thats kinda what this whole thing is about. but theyll never think of each other that way. its complicated. theyre uh… closer to being marlow and kurtz than to being boyfriends. idk how to explain it. its bad. ⸻ hes fake-dating millah for appearances and secretly seeing jack, im not sure about the details either so im not getting into that, but hes eventually gonna meet will; ive written their first encounter like ten different ways and i still dont really know what i wanna do w/ them........ also Complicated

whats their friend group like? what role do they play (leader, mom friend, etc.)?

he lives in a hut he built w/ his bare hands on the edge of the kalahari. his friends are one horse and one vaalboskat. ⸻ he uses his friends but they use him too. hes reasonably popular bc hes athletic n wealthy, but i think the only one of his friends who really truly sees thru his act is millah, and bc he doesnt take her seriously as a threat, she has more control over him than he realizes.

do they care about their physical appearance? whats their routine like?

nah ⸻ not really. he showers too often and his hairs kinda dry but other than that hes like. Normal. idk i dont care about these things

do they have any physical or mental disabilities?

i dont think so ⸻ he has adhd

what would they die for? kill for?

oh hes not picky. he joined the military at 17, hes made peace w/ the prospect of dying. hes been more uncomfortable w/ the thought of growing old, actually. and again, hes literally a mercenary. not a big deal to him. ⸻ i dont think hes selfless enough to die for anyone. hed kill to protect the people he cares about, but thats more just bc hes possessive. im sure thats gonna come up eventually. i cant really write shit w/o weaving murder in somewhere.

do they have any magical powers or abilities? if its a realistic world, what religion do they follow?

absolutely the fuck not i hate magic. hes not religious, actually feels a little intimidated by religion. in one version of his story he spends his 50s on east nusa tenggara where he doesnt live far from a church, and he makes peace w/ the concept of god thanks to the influence of catholic-raised Narrator, but i doubt hell ever actually step foot into a church, or temple, or mosque, or what-have-you. hes internalized some things during his upbringing though that he doesnt classify as religious. little superstitions. he likes to keep objects that may be used for divination around his house, but he never touches them. ⸻ not religious, but if he had to pick, like to pretend, hed say baptist.

do they celebrate any holidays? how do they celebrate?

nah ⸻ like, the regular american ones. hell welcome any excuse to drink and to socialize, and id say his favorite holiday is the 4th of july, really just bc he likes warm weather and theres not a lot else you can celebrate in the middle of summer. hes not attached to the significance of any holidays. hes not crazy about christmas but he likes his family well enough and hell go along w/ it all, just to have sth to do. hes not good w/ time off.

if they were the protagonist in any book series, what series would they choose? alternatively: what would be their favorite book?

he doesnt really read but hed feel right at home inside heart of darkness or maybe the thin red line. or maybe sth by mccarthy ⸻ hes 16 he hasnt read jack shit. i wanna say deleuze would probably resonate w/ him bc hes a total self-insert but i really dont know. i try to keep the intertextuality way low bc i hate that shit in most fiction, so like, i try not to think too much about other books here

do they have any vices?

uh he drinks and he occasionally smokes opium but compared to most of my characters hes pretty okay wrt that ⸻ yea like… all of them. already said hes a hedonist make of that what u will

do they play any instruments?

nope ⸻ violin but he hasnt been practicing a lot lately

what would their favorite ride at an amusement park be?

hes never been to one ⸻ i feel like hed be into sth really lame… like you know that video by jenny nicholson, top ten lame things to do at disney world? sth like that. like hed go just to get a specific food item or to admire the infrastructure

what animal would they say best represents them?

hyena 100%. the spotted kind. id say tortoise also but hed find that insulting ⸻ id say hyena but hed be reluctant to answer that bc hes a Youth and he knows what a furry is

how do they act when theyre drunk?

vulnerable. little more talkative. he talks to himself (or the cat, rather) sometimes ⸻ more abrasive/tactless/impulsive. he talks w/ his whole body and feels like moving/running bc, again, self-insert

which era of history would they most like to live in?

the old west, like early to mid-19th century, maybe late 18th. that or like the really olden days, like mid-paleolithic ⸻ idk maybe like ten or twenty years earlier. i think he fits the 21st century pretty well. hes a curious person though and if he had a time machine hed go Everywhere at least once

whats their favorite food?

ah thats. complicated actually i have a whole list of foods that remind me of Narrator but ive never gotten around to making one for ira. hm. he likes poultry, like ostrich. white fish. dry/salty foods. sour fruit. breadfruit. fatty dark meats, blood sausage. hes not picky though, hell live on pap and water if he has to. ⸻ i genuinely dont know. im not used to the contemporary western setting yet like… pop tarts exist in the same world as he does and im not comfortable w/ that yet. like, branded food articles wrapped in plastic. thats so weird to me. i guess he likes (american) pizza w/ greens on it, like spinach? and seafood. sour candies, maybe, i dont think he has much of a sweet tooth. he puts salt n butter on potatoes and cottage cheese on pancakes.

what songs remind you of them?

conveniently theres a whole playlist rite here

whats their favorite season and why?

dry season. he doesnt like cloudy/foggy weather bc it makes him feel trapped when he cant see as far. ⸻ summer. i honest to god think people liking cold weather is a conspiracy like im not sure thats even biologically possible. like summer is the obvious answer here

which d&d class would they play as?

nah we dont do nerd shit round these parts

whats their favorite expletive?

he like, barely talks ⸻ nothin weird thats for sure, we campaign for simple straight-forward language in this house. having a Favorite is inherently at odds w/ that. bad question

whats their favorite candle scent?

no scented candles in the desert ⸻ sth fruity but not sweet, like mixed berries, sth red or purple

how do they feel about death?

he doesnt ⸻ hed feel cheated by life if he died young. he has a lot to see and do and itd like, bum him out not to get to do that but hes not afraid of death

do they collect anything? whats their most prized possession?

he lives pretty austerely but he does keep little rocks and gems and bones and pieces of wood n such. also coins from all the countries hes been to bc hes a simple old man. i wanna say his most prized possession is his hogs tooth bc he does value the marines a lot still. its where he first met Narrator :-) ⸻ he really appreciates gifts people give him, things that remind him of people. jack carved him an eagle once

do they play any sports?

no ⸻ nothing too organized. i dont think hes on any school teams bc idk if he has the time but that might change. he does run/hunt/fish/shoot

what one place do they really want to visit and why?

he likes deserts, wide open spaces. hes been to the kalahari n namib but not the gobi/sahara/simpson etc, so, those. no ice deserts though those scare him ⸻ polynesia/southeast asia, just tropical places in general. bc theyre nice what do you want me to tell you. tropics good

what languages do they speak?

northern ndebele, afrikaans, english (w/ various influences), some vietnamese ⸻ english, some cajun french, some spanish

what are some items they always carry? what weapon do they favor using if they exist in a world where weapons are necessary?

hes got his fal obviously and he does always carry a knife, just to be safe. more out of habit than actual necessity (not to imply rural areas were safe in the late 70s, but he lives in the literal wilderness, hes not much of a target. stays away from roads and all that.) ⸻ man hes really not as classy as i want him to be :/ he probably has like, a glock 17 w/ ten thousand pointless modifications n some uglyass stipling pattern. hes a little bit paranoid + irresponsible n carries all kinds of shit he doesnt need, mostly way too much cash

which emoji would they use the most?

no ⸻ he doesnt have a phone, hell maybe use a burner if he has to. this is an anti-phone household

what fantasy race would they be? if they already are one, pick a different one.

absolutely not

do they want to start a family? if they already have one, describe it.

no ⸻ no

what stereotypical high school clique would they fit into?

hed swing between the jrotc kids n the stoners honestly, but still mostly keep to himself ⸻ hes like, too much of a jock for the Delinquents, too much of a Delinquent for the jocks. hes really only popular bc hes rich-ish n blessed w/ good looks, and by association w/ millah

whats one thing that they dont need do they waste the most money on?

he doesnt ⸻ everything. hes really wasteful. he buys more food than he can eat, clothes he never wears, etc etc, hes terrible

what kind of shoes do they wear?

combat boots or just traditional sandals. the terrain around his house is mostly grass and flat boulders so he goes barefoot a lot ⸻ regular tennis shoes, nothin too fashionable bc he cant be bothered to keep up w/ trends, but usually clean n new. hiking boots when hes not w/ his regular friend group

do they believe in ghosts, aliens, and the occult in general?

really dont like how aliens are always grouped in w/ esoteric shit bc like, thats like asking if you believe in atoms honestly. no shit “aliens” exist thats like not up for debate. both iræ would agree w/ me here. 70s ira doesnt believe in like, Ghosts per se, but he has some vague concept of spirits that he got from his mother. he sees/feels them when hes half asleep. ⸻ 2010s ira doesnt believe in jack shit

which deadly sin do they most correspond to? which heavenly virtue?

nooo cardinal sins dont work that way theyre not hogwarts houses. its so much more complicated than that thats impossible

if you had to choose one tarot card to represent them, what would it be?

hmmm four of swords? knight of coins? eight of cups? this is hard ⸻ seven of swords? nine of cups? the devil? i dont know

what do they consider to be their best quality? what actually is their best quality?

his strength, which is really just his callousness and lack of convictions. and uh. i guess his independence ⸻ same here for the first part. and. maybe his loyalty? i dont consider loyalty a good thing personally idk

what do they consider to be their worst quality? what actually is their worst quality?

his lack of social skills maybe? he doesnt need them too often of course but like, the first time Narrator showed up at his doorstep he was genuinely nervous and that did fill him w/ some semblance of shame and in his eyes he should be good at everything, so like. that. really its his lack of conviction and his timidness/avoidance of the world ⸻ his dependence on others/lack of discipline. really its his lack of compassion, like, obviously

#ira #ricky pwease come online

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thejacketandthehook · 8 years ago

Text

CS Fanfic: Spoilers

Title: Spoilers 1/1

Author: thejacketandthehook (aka everystareverywhere)

Summary: Emma Swan has a soulmate tattoo on her ribcage that gives her pretty big spoilers for the Harry Potter universe.

Disclaimers: I own absolutely nothing

Rating: General Audiences

Author’s Notes: So I was inspired to write this based off of these two prompts: so if in the soulmate au the very first words your soulmate ever says to you are tattooed somewhere on your body since the day you are born imagine having something like ‘man I cant believe dumbledore died’ tattooed on you. imagine being spoiled for a book series that doesnt even exist yet. imagine worrying about this dumbledore guy your whole childhood while not knowing who he is. imagine knowing dumbledore dies before jk rowling even thinks about it. (@dondaario)

So you finally find your soulmate. After years of knowing that dumbledore dies and the entire franchise being ruined, you find him. You’re in the theatre, dumbledore is dead and you hear it. ‘Man I can’t believe dumbledore died’ by a guy walking right by you and in you’re rage you shout ‘You! You’re the one!’ The guy stops, looks at you, his own arm to read the words, then back at you and he says, “That’s not really how I imagined that being said” (@littlelions101)

A30

The mark had been there since the day Emma was born. As she grew older she knew what it was: her soulmate mark. At first she was excited; a soulmate mark on her meant somewhere out there would be someone who would love and care for her, correct? But if life told her one thing it was this: life is pain. Prince Charming did not exist. Fairy Godmothers were not coming to save her. And soulmarks meant absolutely nothing.

However, that never really stopped her from wandering what in hell her soulmate was talking about. The words "Man, I can't believe Dumbledore died" were as mysterious to her as how the mark ended up on her ribcage. Just below her left breast the words appeared and she had no idea who this Dumbledore person was or why her soulmate couldn't believe they died. Were they a political figure? Someone of great importance? She hated wearing bikini tops because someone always noticed the words. And since soulmate tattoos were the all the rage, especially among teenage girls, she was usually bombarded with questions. "Do you know who he is? That Dumble...guy?"

No, actually she had no clue. It wasn't until she was almost seventeen that she finally figured it out. The Harry Potter series was huge, but not so much in the beginning. And between foster houses and making sure she had a place to sleep every night, she didn't always pay attention to what was going on in pop culture. It actually wasn't until her boyfriend at the time, Neal and she snuck into a movie theater to see the latest craze: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.

"I haven't read the book," Neal whispered to her as the lights dimmed and the music got louder. "There for kids. But I heard the movie is pretty good."

Emma nodded, as though she thought the same thing though she actually never even heard of Harry Potter until Neal brought it up an hour earlier.

And it was during the train scene, when Harry gets the trading card and reads "Albus Dumbledore" that Emma intakes a deep breath. Dumbledore was a fictional character from a children's book. So she waited with bated breath for the final scenes where this wizard would just keel over.

Only Dumbledore didn't die. He was actually alive and well at the end of the movie, which left Emma a bit perplexed. She looked around at the other adults and children as they left the theatre and looked up at Neal who was waiting for the people in front of him to move.

"But--"

"What?" he asked, turning his torso to look back down at her.

Emma pointed weakly to the screen, still rolling the credits. "It's just...Wasn't...."

He turned completely around to face her. "What's the matter?"

That's when she realized that he has never seen her tattoo. He had no idea that she was waiting for the headmaster to have a heart attack or get shot or something so he could die.

"Nevermind."

But now Emma was consumed. When did the headmaster of Hogwarts die?

But before she could pick up the books, Neal spoke about a home in Tallahassee and all thoughts of witches and wizards went right out of Emma's head. For Hogwarts was make-believe, whereas what Neal was suggesting was reality.

But as she mentioned before, life is pain. Instead of sunny days by the beach,she suddenly found herself arrested for Neal's actions. That bastard walked free while Emma got eleven months in prison for a crime she didn't commit.

Emma grew more and more depressed as she spent time in jail. No one ever came to visit her (since Neal was the only thing she had to family and friends), no letter was ever sent her way. Well, that wasn't exactly true. Emma did get an envelope with just a car key and a swan keychain with no note. Not that she cared that she had a car when she was leaving this dump.

Before Emma really hit rock bottom (though, at this point she was pretty sure rock bottom was her permanent residence), she escaped to the library. She did always found solace in books, and perhaps one of them can take her away from this hellhole. And that's when she saw it on the bookshelf: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. She quickly picked it up and scanned through it. It was well used, no doubt about that, but a quick glance at the end showed no ripped pages, so that was good enough for her. But then she noticed three other books: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets; Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban; Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

It was a freaking series! That's why Dumbledore didn't die at the end of the movie! Because he must die in one of the other books.

She quickly picked them all and escaped to a small corner of the room, wanting nothing more than a beanbag or chair for her to sit on. When she got herself settled, she opened the first one.

Of course she didn't finish the four books that afternoon, but by the time she got to the Goblet of Fire, she knew for certain that she was a Harry Potter fan. The books took her so far away from prison that she wanted to go to Hogwarts any chance that she got.

When she was released the first thing she did was try to locate someplace to work. Getting two jobs at two separate diners, she was able to save enough for a crappy apartment that barely had a door on the bathroom. But before she even got herself a television, she bought the four books for the series. And when she went through them again, she noticed something at the end of the fourth book: Coming Soon: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (06/20/03).

June 20?! Why that was only a month away! Emma could barely contain her excitement that another book was under way. How she longed to get lost in Harry's head for a while, since though his life completely sucked before he went to Hogwarts, it seemed to be picking up. He at least had friends and the Weasley family that treated him like one of them.

Emma had been passing a bookshop a few weeks later when she saw a sign that read: Midnight Release of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix June 20, 2003! Come join us as we continue Harry's story at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! Remember to dress up as your Hogwarts house!

Emma had no intention of dressing up at a Hogwarts house (though she would have liked to be place in Gryffindor along Harry, Hermione, and Ron), but going to the midnight release sounded like fun. So when the night arrived, she left her house at nine o'clock and was stunned to see the huge crowd outside the store waiting for them to open for their midnight release.

She had a load of fun talking to the other fans, guessing what might come next. She, of course, didn't mention her tattoo on her ribcage, giving away one huge spoiler about what was going to come soon. How could she tell these diehard fans that a beloved character was going to die? Emma herself was devastated at the news, and she knew about it long before she even had heard of Harry Potter.

When she finally got the book, a part of her wondered (much like she did with every book before) if this was the book where it was going to happen. She almost wanted to flip to the end, just to know for certain if the beloved character was going to get the heart attack she thought he was going to have years earlier. But she didn't want to know any other spoiler, so she carefully read every page, looking for any foreshadowing that J.K. Rowling may have left behind.

A year later, Emma had enough money to move from Phoenix to anywhere else in the country (besides Florida). After contemplating California, New York, Michigan, and Massachusetts, she finally landed on Boston. It was a city, much like New York, but not as congested. And since she was found twenty miles outside of Boston on the side of the highway, she had a small (tiny really) glimmer of hope that her parents might still be in Boston. But that was pipe dream, really.

After she was settled into a bigger apartment that had starling white walls and minimal furniture, she found out the third Harry Potter movie was coming out into theatres. When she heard about a midnight showing, she knew without a doubt she would be there.

Emma stood patiently on line when the person behind her bumped into her. "Oh, I'm sorry," a young woman said. Emma told her it was not a problem and then noticed how she was dressed up.

"Oh!" Emma said, turning fully around to get a good look at the woman who was probably her age. "You look great!"

With pixie cut black hair, round glasses, and a red lightning bolt mark on her forehead, the woman looked convincing like Harry Potter. She blushed lightly before ducking her head a bit. "Oh, thanks so much. You're not dressed up?"

Emma looked down at her plain white shirt and jeans. "No, not this time." She didn't want to admit that she couldn't afford to get anything resembling a Hogwarts scarf, let alone the whole wardrobe like the woman in front of her.

"Oh, well, I have a Gryffindor scarf here if you would like to wear it. It keep scratching the back of my neck. But you can wear it, if you'd like."

Emma took the scarf, genuinely touched by her giving nature. "Thank you."

"No problem. I'm Mary Margaret."

"Emma."

"Nice to meet you. How long have you been a fan?"

And just like that, Emma met her best friend. She and Mary Margaret spent as much time together as they could. Emma knew what Harry felt like when Harry was introduced to the Weasely household, because that's exactly how it felt for her. Mary Margaret and her whole family were so giving and wanted very little in return.

The next midnight book release (Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince) found both Mary Margaret and Emma dressed up. Mary Margaret was once again Harry Potter, and Emma wore a brown wig (purchased by Mary Margaret, even though Emma told her no) and a Gryffindor tie. Both girls were acting as though they were sixteen, but so did everyone else in the bookshop, so they didn't care.

As it got closer to midnight, the excitement level was going up in the store. Plus, the Starbucks attached to it were selling Harry Potter influenced beverages. Emma and Mary Margaret were both enjoying the Snitch when suddenly Mary Margaret was covered in a red drink covering her whole outfit.

"What the hell!?" she screamed as she stood up from the floor, turning around to see who did that to her.

"Oh my God," a young man said, looking horrified at what just happened. "I am so sorry. Let me get that for you."

This was the angriest Emma had ever seen Mary Margaret, who was turning as red as the drink currently going down her white shirt and black skirt. "Watch what you're doing, jerk!"

"I said I was sorry!" the man yelled back. Emma noticed that he too was dressed up, and was wearing a cheap red wig, with a Gryffindor necktie and robe. "Let me--I'll go get some napkins."

The man ran off to get napkins as someone nearby handed Emma some they had. Emma and Mary Margaret began wiping her off. She was muttering under her breath, when she suddenly took a deep breath and said, "What did he say?"

Emma was currently splashing a little water onto a napkin to get some of the red dye off of her friend's neck. "Who said what?"

"The guy. When the drink spilt on me, what did he say?"

"He apologized," Emma said distracted.

Mary Margaret grabbed Emma's arm forcing her to stop and focus. "Emma, listen. He said 'Oh my God, I'm so sorry. Let me get that for you.' Right? He said those exact words, right?"

"I guess. Why?" Emma asked the question, but she knew the answer before it came out of her friend's mouth.

"Because that's what I have tattoo under my arm!" she whispered back. She pointed to her right side, along the torso. "Just here are those exact words. Emma! I think I met my soulmate!"

Emma wanted to sigh. "How do you know for certain? That's a pretty common phrase." Not like you have a major spoiler for a humongous fandom written on your body.

"Because I know!" she almost squealed. "Oh, he's coming back now.

And the boy was back with plenty of napkins and apologizes coming out for the following five minutes. He didn't realize how close he was to her, was certain the bookcase was behind him instead. He'll pay for dry cleaning, buy her the book to compensate. Oh, and his name was David Nolan.

"Mary Margaret Blanchard," she smiled. "And this is Emma Swan."

(Months later, Mary Margaret told Emma that David actually had the words "What the hell?" written on his upper thigh, making his parents very curious on who he was going to marry in the future.)

But it was actually the next day, after Emma finished reading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince that her tattoo was correct. Only Dumbledore didn't just die, he was killed!

"I can't believe it," Mary Margaret said a few days after the book release, when both girls were able to get together to discuss what they had just read. "I can't freakin' believe it. Dumbledore died?!"

Maybe it was the mimosas, maybe it was the relief of finally being able to tell someone her secret, but Emma blurted out, "I knew it."

"You did not."

"I did too. I knew Dumbledore was going to die since before I can remember."

Mary Margaret, who fully believed that fairy tales actually happened, looked dubious. "And how is that, may I ask?"

Emma leaned a little closer, not to be overheard by the other customers. "Because of my soulmark tattoo."

Mary Margaret no longer looked doubtful. Now she look confused, as well as shocked. "Soulmark tattoo? You never told me you had a soulmark tattoo!"

"Because I knew you'd want to see it and I could let you with such a major spoiler!"

"I want to see it."

"Mary Margaret..."

"Please?"

"Not now. We're in a restaurant for crying out loud."

"They have a bathroom."

"No."

"Well, where is it?"

Emma gestured to under her breast. "On my ribs."

"I need to see it."

"You will. Just not now."

When they got back to their shared apartment, Mary Margaret barely closed the door before pulling at Emma's shirt. "For God's sake, woman, give me a moment!"

Emma finally took off her shirt and showed her tattoo to her friend. "Holy crap," Mary Margaret commented when she saw it. "You really did know Dumbledore was going to die the whole time."

"Every time I read a book, I was certain that was going to be the one where he died. This is actually such a huge relief for me. I always had to put make-up on it before going out, otherwise I was asked like a hundred questions."

Mary Margaret smiled. "You have a soulmark, Emma. Though, granted, I have never seen one that gives out such a major spoiler."

It was years later, after Mary Margaret and David were dating, then engaged, then happily married, that the three of them got there Harry Potter costumes on once more for the movie premiere of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.

Mary Margaret was certain that this was going to be the night that Emma met her soulmate, but the woman herself was less certain. Mostly because she didn't care if she met him (or her) tonight. If it wasn't for Mary Margaret and David, she probably wouldn't even believe in it in the first place.

After the movie was over, and everyone just sat in their seats in pure silence did David say, "You know, reading that was difficult, but seeing it on the screen. That was just unbelievable."

Mary Margaret started to agree as people started getting up and walking towards the exit. The three of them stayed put for a moment; the line was barely moving, so it wasn't like they were going anywhere.

Emma was about to comment on the rest of the movie when she heard it. A British accent not two feet away from her said, "Man, I can't believe Dumbledore died."

Emma jumped to her feet, pointed to him and yelled, "You! You're the one!"

The man looked over at Emma before looking down at his arm. Shaking his head, he looked back up and commented, "I did not think you were going to say it like that."

Emma almost climbed over the seats trying to get to him. "You! I knew what was going to happen years before I even heard of Harry Potter and it's all because of you!"

"Love, I'm sorry," the man said putting out two hands, as though telling her to calm down. "It's not like I planned that."

"Thanks to you, I had major spoilers to the franchise! I probably knew about Dumbledore's death before J.K. Rowling!"

The man had the gall to laugh. "I'm sorry, love, I really am. But like I said, I didn't plan it. I don't make the rules. I'm sorry if that's the first thing you heard me say."

"Excuse me, but you're blocking the aisle," commented an older woman dressed up like Professor McGonagall.

"Apologizes," the man said as Emma muttered, "Sorry."

They moved along with the rest of the crowd, Emma's arms crossed tightly across her chest as the man tried really hard not to laugh at the circumstances he currently found himself in.

When they were outside, Emma turned towards the man once more. Even in the crappy lighting, she could tell he was a good looking guy. He had dark hair and light eyes, with a handsome face and just the right amount of scruff on his cheeks and chin. He was also dressed up in a Ravenclaw scarf and robe, and Emma was pretty sure she saw a wand sitting out of his pants pocket.

"Look, we got off on the wrong foot. Killian Jones," he said, sticking out his hand.

She placed her hand in his and gently shook it before letting go. "Emma Swan."

"Well, Emma Swan, it is lovely to meet you. Sorry about the spoiler, but like I said before, couldn't really help it."

"I know," she admitted in defeat. "It just sucked knowing that major piece of information. Totally ruined a part of the series for me."

"I can just imagine. Perhaps I can make it up to you."

"How?"

He scratched his chin. "I was thinking dinner, but I'll take anything really."

She cocked her head to the side. "Are you always that easy?"

He grinned and she almost had to hold onto the wall, because oh holy hell. "You don't know the half of it." Giving a small cough, he said with a gently smile, "I do need your phone number. So that I can contact you and make it up to you."

Emma handed him her phone where he put in his number. When he handed it back, she sent him a text so now he had her number.

As she put her phone away, she said, "Dinner is a start."

"I'll make it up to you, I swear," he said turning to walk away.

"How?" she yelled when he got some distance between them.

He yelled back, "No spoilers."

#cs fic #captain swan #fanfiction #captain swan fanfiction #once upon a time #once upon a time fanfiction #harry potter #alternate universe

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