#I am a grand slams main so this might be off a bit but whatever

[lilacs-stash]

Okay Lightbrush being the last ship to get together in the bright lights polycule. Fantube being the first ofc they got together in early season 2, then I'm not sure when Fanbulb happened but I'm guessing sometime after the maze ep? Testbulb after alternate reality show ofc. Paintbrush wasn't actually with anyone during S2 they started dating Fan and Test tube in between seasons. Lightbrush only starts dating post show but Paintbrush realized they were in love with Lightbulb during S3. It's almost mid night do you see my vision

also unlabeled & married Fantube, queer platonic testbulb. The rest are romantic and dating

[leiawritesstories]

Piano for Relaxation

Happy Nessian Appreciation Week! I love these two together and I love writing them. Oh, this will be fun! *grins maniacally*

Prompt 3: Music

Warnings: Absolutely none

Word count: 1405

@nessianweek

~

Despite how much stress she was under, and as a pre-law student her default stress level was “high,” Nesta Archeron never failed to spend a spare bit of time at a piano. Some days, she was lucky enough to steal an hour with the University of Velaris’s prized Bösendorfer grand, which lived on the stage of the concert hall, some days she settled for the baby grand in the recording studio, and some days, she was relegated to one of the crappy and usually out-of-tune uprights in the practice rooms. 

This Thursday evening, she’d managed to get into the performing arts hall before it “closed” for the night. She scoped out the practice rooms and recording studio, mentally scratching the studio off her list of pianos since the “recording in progress” light above the door glowed red. Daring a peek into the concert hall, she smothered a little squeal. The stage door was unlocked, and probably would be for the rest of the night, leaving her free to play the best quality piano on campus. 

She carefully placed her messenger bag by the leg of the piano, retrieved her worn brown leather music portfolio, and set it on the piano’s smooth music rack. Going through her usual warm-up motions, she stretched her fingers and hands, shook out her wrists, and rolled her neck. Then, with a musician’s soft pre-performance exhale, she lowered her hands to the polished ivory keys and began. 

With scales, of course. How else would a musician begin practicing? Fifteen years of piano had ingrained a set of warm-up exercises into Nesta’s muscle memory, and she played methodically through each, from scales to arpeggios to rhythmic exercises, chord progressions and exercises, and her old nemesis, octaves and tenths. 

Now fully warmed up, Nesta opened her portfolio, closed her eyes, and leafed through the scores, opening her eyes after a brief moment. Her gaze landed on the page and swept to the top, seeking the piece’s title. As it happened, she’d passed the first page, so she flipped back a few pages to reach the beginning. 

Rachmaminoff Piano Concerto no. 2 in C Minor, Op 18, II: Adagio sostenuto. 

A favorite.

And an extra challenge to play solo, sans the orchestral cues. 

Nesta debated pulling up a recording of the concerto for background, but decided against it. Using the cues and her knowledge of the concerto, she merely played the first few chords, then slipped gracefully into the floating melody, doing her best to make the music a true sostenuto. 

Her whole focus shifted to her hands on the keys as she played, all sense of her surroundings lost to the lush concerto. Rachmaninoff might have been one of the banes of pianists’ existence, but damn her if she didn’t love playing him. Especially as her very favorite mid-movement run came up. Her fingers flew over the keys in an intricate dance, rolling out the spritely chords and arpeggios, trilling up to the top of the phrase, and slowly descending back into adagio. This movement, one of her comfort pieces, never failed to drive away the pressures of her degree, not even when she was playing bits of orchestral accompaniment with the piano solo. 

So deeply lost in the music was she that she didn’t even register the footsteps that crossed the stage, or the presence of another person by the piano. 

Her consciousness lifted from the piano as she played the final chords, letting them decrescendo into silence before opening her eyes. And then nearly slamming her knee into the underside of the keyboard as she started. 

“God, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” gushed the blonde woman standing by the back of the piano. “I just heard Rach II coming from the hall and had to listen, and then find out who was playing it so brilliantly.”

Nesta flushed. “I’m all right, and so is the Bösendorfer, and thank you so much but I’m definitely not brilliant.”

“Yes, yes you are. Or at least that was. I’ve played piano for fourteen years, myself, and never once have I been able to perform Rachmaninoff like that. Aelin Galathynius, by the way,” said Nesta’s audience. 

“Nesta Archeron. Fifteen years, myself. And before you ask, no, I’m not a music major. That’d suck all the joy out of playing.”

Aelin nodded. “Amen to that, and nice to meet you, Nesta. I’m not in music either, but I do play sometimes, usually when I need an escape from the living hell that is cardiology. I’m hoping and planning to be a surgeon. Hooray for expensive schooling!”

“Good Lord, that sounds horrible. But as an aspiring lawyer, I’ll toast to years and years of expensive school and then more years of struggling to pay student loans on a crappy salary.”

“Ooh, a lawyer. Do you have a specialty in mind?”

“Civil, preferably business litigation. I want nothing more than to stop corruption and see that companies are receiving all of their rights, and this is my path to that goal.”

“Impressive. So is Rachmaninoff just a side hobby of yours, then?”

Nesta smirked. “Yes and no. Yes, it’s not my main focus, but no, it’s more than a hobby. It’s how I relieve the intense stress of my life.”

“Me, too,” grinned Aelin. “You know, there are currently two grands on this stage…”

Nesta looked across the stage, where the music department’s other grand, a mahogany Steinway, sat. “That there are. Care to join me? You pick the piece.”

Aelin’s grin turned devilish. “Good thing I warmed up in the recording studio, then.”

Nesta smothered the questions she longed to ask as Aelin carefully folded back the cover of the Steinway, sat down, and shook out her hands. 

And launched into the opening chords of Saint-Saëns’s Danse Macabre. 

With a smirk to match Aelin’s, Nesta took up the phrase. Fresh indeed was the memory of playing this very piece as a duet at age sixteen, with her teacher as the second pianist. Two skilled pianists plus two excellent-quality pianos plus one magnificent piece equaled the notes echoing through the dark, empty concert hall. The Danse wound down, final notes fading into silence, and Aelin and Nesta looked at each other and burst into a two-woman round of applause. Which somehow became a six-hand round of applause, causing both women to turn sharply toward the stage door and notice a broad male frame taking up most of the doorway. Nesta rolled her eyes. 

“You know, most people would either walk away when the piece ended or make their presence known to the pianist,” she deadpanned. 

Cassian Ilnair flicked on a backstage light, granting a view of the grin creeping across his face. “I’m not ‘most people,’ sweetheart.”

“That much is obvious.”

Observing the exchange between the two, Aelin smirked, closed and covered the Steinway, and headed for the door. “I’d better leave you lovebirds alone. Whatever you do next, don’t do it on the Bösendorfer!” Snickering, she left the concert hall, footsteps clicking off towards the dorms.”

“She seems delightful, who was that?” inquired Cassian. 

“Aelin Galathynius, probably my new piano person,” was Nesta’s reply. “Now if you’re done gawking at a real instrument, I need to close up the piano, finish an argument and sleep, preferably in that order.”

“You won’t play for me?”

“Cass, I’m entirely sure you just listened to that whole duet and probably some of the Rach I played before that.”

Cassian widened his eyes in innocence. “But that wasn’t for me, Nes. And Aelin’s right, you are brilliant.” He placed a finger to Nesta’s lips. “No protesting, Lawyer Archeron, you and I both know I tell no lies.”

Nesta snorted. “Right. I am serious about the sleep, though.”

“I know, I know. Far be it from me to deny a chronic insomniac her precious sleep.”

“Uh huh. About as far as your bed is from your minifridge full of caffeine and alcohol.”

“Touché, sweetheart.”

Closing the stage door behind her, Nesta headed for the campus apartment buildings, Cassian at her side. 

“I mean it, Nesta. You’re a brilliant pianist, whether or not you believe it. And you’re going to make an even more brilliant lawyer, sleep or no sleep.”

“Don’t be smarmy, Cass.” But she was smiling, softly, as her fingers tapped out a bit of Rachmaninoff on the soft, worn leather of her sheet music portfolio.

[krypticss]

FIVE DAYS — Hvitserk.

Hvitserk x Reader

PROMPT: 12.  “I feel sick… so anxious and sick and like my heart is trying to beat its way out of my chest.”

SUMMARY: The reader goes missing after they raid York.

WORDS: 1.845

WARNINGS: none?

“I feel sick… so anxious and sick and like my heart is trying to beat its way out of my chest.”

It had been five days since the Vikings invaded York. Five days since their conquest had gone as smoothly and as gratifying as it could possibly have.

Five days since anyone had seen you. Hvitserk had walked day and night, through every inch of the town, looked through every house and under every block of stone. You were nowhere to be found. Before you left Kattegat, a feeling haunted him, something dark and filled with sorrow. He should not have let you come, he knew it in his gut.

“Brother,” Ivar wiped his lips of the remnants of ale, “had something happened to her, we would have found her body. It’s (Y/N), she is fine.”

Hvitserk’s leg bounced up and down, his hands passed down his face. The plate in front of him was untouched, he found no appetite in himself.

“Eat. You will feel better.”

The plate flew to the nearest wall as Hvitserk hurled it with all his strength. His body burned with the frustration, nothing would simmer down the fire in his eyes. The words spat from his mouth before they could be contained, “I don’t want to eat, I want to find (Y/N).”

His brother was unbothered by the petty behavior. Hvitserk might have been the oldest, but he rarely acted as such. Ivar shrugged.

“Don’t eat, then.”

He huffed, and paced around the old church. Ivar was insufferable. He didn’t understand. How could he? He didn’t know what if felt like to love you. To have your bare skin pressed against his chest as he laid kisses on your head. To feel your smile intoxicate his being to the bone.

To not have you by his side was waking up to a morning without the sun.

Hvitserk would rather face an army on his own than to bear the thought of you joining the gods so soon. You could not go to Valhalla. Not yet. He wouldn’t allow it.

“We must gather the men and search for her.”

Ivar contained his laugh, but the taunting smirk remained on his face, “You would have us leave York?”

“Some of us.”

“You see, brother, this is why I am in charge.”

“Don’t push me, Ivar.” He warned.

Ivar might underestimate him, treat him like waste, but he could never forget, Hvitserk was more than capable of unleashing chaos and walking out unharmed. He was still a son of Ragnar, after all.

“Two men will accompany you. Don’t wander off too far.”

Hvitserk’s jaw clenched tight, it was not what he had in mind. If it was up to him, he would have half the town looking for you. He nodded, nonetheless.

“Good.” Ivar smiled and sipped on his drink. Hvitserk was ready to leave the church, the confined space had become enough to suffocate him breathless, much more with his little brother around. As he opened the grand doors, Ivar called out to him, “She would be disappointed.”

He was frozen in place. Fingers clasped the handle tight, nearly breaking his bones. Every breath became more rapid, every heartbeat echoed louder in his ears.

“All this time,” Ivar continued, “and you still underestimate her.”

Hvitserk made sure to slam the door behind him.

-----------------------------

The group had been on the road for three days when they came upon a small farm east of York. Hvitserk, a shieldmaiden and one of Ivar’s most trusted men. The sun had barely shone its rays in the sky. It was quiet. The cold breeze ruffled the tree branches above them. If they concentrated enough, the heavy waves could be heard as they crashed in the distance.

Hvitserk’s heart fluttered with hope. It was the only place that consisted of more than trees and dirt in miles. You had to be there. They rounded the farm with care, but no living soul was to be seen besides the sheep and cattle. At last, they checked the wooden hut, where the farm owners were likely to be asleep at such early hours.

With his axe in hand, he slowly opened the door. Its hinges creaked to announce their arrival, but the room remained still. It was empty. There was a door, left ajar. It led to the only other room of the house. Hvitserk approached it, his boots pressed hard against the floor with each step.

The door burst open once he was within reach, a round shield was thrown towards him. Hvitserk was barely fast enough to block the impact with his forearm. He did not bother to attack its owner, he recognized the familiar patterns of the paint that dried on it.

He had watched you paint the shield with delight. Your favorite part of fights and battles was not the thrill of violence, or the trial of skill. It was testing your weapons to their limits until they broke and you could improve them. And then, at last, decorate them. You loved painting your shields until they became uniquely yours. So your friends could find you miles away on the battlefield.

You were nothing like Hvitserk. The thrill he found in action, you found in watching. The love he found in talking, you found in listening. The two of you were not similar, and that’s why he loved you with all his heart. The broken pieces of you seemed to fit in each other with perfection.

“Stop! It’s me!” Hvitserk laughed as he blocked your blows. Joy consumed him, so much he could take on the whole of England right then and there.

You stopped your axe mid air and took the moment to analyze the man before you. Within the adrenaline, you had failed to recognize his voice, but the laughter was unmistakable. “Hvitserk!”

The axe and shield dropped to the ground and you threw your arms around his neck. Hvitserk held you tight, taking in the feeling of having you in his arms. The scent of your hair, your body warm against his.

“I thought I lost you,” He mumbled against your shoulder.

You pulled away from him with a frown but kept your bodies entwined. “Lost me? Why would you have lost me?”

“You disappeared, (Y/N),” He breathed, “I searched all of York, and I couldn’t find you. No one could find you.”

“During the raid, I saw a man leave the town with a child. She cried and screamed, and he dragged her with so little care, it felt… wrong.” You explained, your hands dropped from his neck and you sat at the table. “I followed them. When they got here I saw how he mistreated her and I intervened.”

“You killed him?”

“He attacked me first.” The words came out more aggressive then you had intended. “I waited for her mother to arrive, but she never came. I would ask the child, but… I do not understand a word she says.”

Hvitserk’s sigh was heavy with emotion he had to hold. “Have you stopped to think she might not have a mother? Or any other family? What will you do then?”

You bit your lip, “I will take care of her.”

“No, you will not.”

“Yes, I will.” You stood up, your lips pulled tight into a frown. One of the few similarities the both of you had, one could be just as headstrong as the other. Arguments turned into fights, and fights tended to not end well for either of you. “It is not your decision.”

His voice was low, his hands slid to your waist gently, “(Y/N), if you wish for a child, I will be more than happy, you know this. But not like this.”

But it wasn’t so easy. The gods knew you had tried, both intentionally and unintentionally, but there had never been a sign of you bearing a child. It vexed you. So much, your worst fight had been when Hvitserk suggested the possibility that, perhaps, you simply… couldn’t. It wasn’t unusual. You refused to accept it, but a part of you hung onto it, in the back of your mind. A poisonous seed among your thoughts that always told you it could be true.

“It’s not about that,” You shook your head, “I cannot leave her alone.”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw the two warriors share a look as they fidgeted in the spot. Whatever they had been here for, it most certainly wasn’t to witness a couple arguing. Recomposing yourself, you cleared your throat.

“Forgive me,” you smoothed out the night gown you had been wearing, “You must be tired. There is ale on the jar, I will arrange a place for you to rest.”

Inside the bedroom, the little girl hid under the bed in fear. You gathered the furs you had been using for yourself and some clothes from her parents so you could make a decent bed for your companions. You set everyone in the main room of the house to not frighten the girl.

The sun was high in the sky as the two warriors slept. On the other side of the room, you and Hvitserk were still wide awake. His chest heaved up and down with each breath, his heartbeat faint as a dream against your head. Your thumb rubbed small circles on his arms, he was the most relaxed he had been the entire week. Even so, he couldn’t find it in himself to fall asleep. He finally had you in his arms, and he didn’t want to miss a second of it. He was afraid he would wake up and you wouldn’t be there anymore. Blown out of his reach like petal in the wind once again.

“Why did you come?” Your voice was a whisper, barely audible. But he heard you.

“I was worried about you.”

You lifted your head to rest your chin against his chest, “I can take care of myself, Hvitserk. This was a simple raid.”

His fingers played with your hair, he was lost in thought. He knew you like the back of his hand. You were a shieldmaiden. A viking, just as much as he was. Strong, determined, headstrong. Hvitserk also knew the other side of that. The adventurer, fearless free spirit. The part who would be the first to run to the top of a hill to find what was on the other side, whose curiosity could not be eased. It was not hard to believe that you ran from York without a note of warning. In fact, it sounded just like you, running to the rescue of the innocent.

“I know,” He pursed his lips, “when it concerns you, (Y/N), I tend to act by my heart, not my head.”

Your expression softened, “How could I ever blame you for that?”

[bamon4bamily]

TVD 10x02 - While My Guitar Gently Weeps (part 1) Enjoy! =)

Cut to - Munich, Germany. Elena is in one of the lab morgues. She is leaning against the freezers, writing in her diary.

 Dear Diary,

Today will be different. I will start fresh. Be someone new. New year, new life, new diary. I’ve come all this way, thanks to my father, but I need to step out of his shadow, and make it on my own. I have to stop doubting myself… As that cute guy Sam told me, I was chosen for a reason. It’s time I start believing in myself and become the Elena Gilbert I always wanted to be. Away from Mystic Falls, the drama, the supernatural, the pain…  

But, just between us, I feel like something is off… I mean, I’m glad to feel different, it’s just that in a weird way, I don’t feel quite like myself… Maybe it’s because the nightmares have come back… They are so vivid, as if I were living through it once more. The freezing water, the air escaping my lungs, the despair of knowing they were with me. That horrible feeling, over and over again… I thought I had healed, as much as one can heal from something like that, but I can still feel her hand slipping away… At times I think my dad blames me for letting her go. If he only knew the real reason both of us survived, maybe he wouldn’t resent it so much. Regardless, I will forever be thankful to Stefan for saving us that night. Although he still blames himself for not being able to save my mother, there was nothing anyone could have done.

Okay, enough about the past, I need to move on, build a new life for myself, and maybe, even find a new love… No vampires this time! Whatever comes, I’m living my life to the fullest! Letting myself be free… No fear, no guilt, no insecurities… Project Munich, here I come!

 Suddenly, she hears a noise. If it weren’t coming from one of the freezer drawers, she wouldn’t be startled, but since it clearly is, her heart starts pounding. She approaches cautiously… 

Before she can even grab the handle, the drawer slams open…

SAM: Boo!

ELENA: Oh my god, Sam?! You scared me half to death!

SAM: (Smirking) Good thing it was just half way. Wouldn’t want you dying on me.

ELENA: Well, what if I had a heart condition?! I could have!

SAM: A heart condition, or died?

ELENA: Well, both… But you know what I mean! You are so weird!

SAM: This coming from the girl leaning against body freezers in the middle of the night…

ELENA: At least I wasn’t lying in one of them like some kind of zombie!

SAM: It’s surprisingly relaxing…

ELENA: (Mocking) Being a zombie or lying in the freezers?

SAM: I suppose, both… (they crack up).

ELENA: Anyway, what are you doing here?

SAM: I like to come here to think… It’s quiet. You?

ELENA: Same… Guess we’re a couple of weirdos…

SAM: A little eccentric is all. (They smile in complicity). I will confess though; I do have an alternative motive…

ELENA: Oh, god. Please don’t tell me you are a psycho killer. I’ve dealt with enough of those…

SAM: I’m not going to ask why, but I do want to ask you something…

ELENA: (With a suspicious face) Uhm, okay… what?

SAM: Do you like picnics?

ELENA: That question isn’t helping your psycho case… But, yeah, I do. Why?

SAM: How about you and me, tomorrow… Wine and cheese in the main garden?

ELENA: (Kittenish) Are you asking me on a date?

SAM: Depends… is it a yes, or a no?

ELENA: Depends… is it red wine, or white?

SAM: Red, of course! What kind of a psycho drinks white wine?

ELENA: Plenty… And, you literally just met me, so there is a risk I might actually be one of them.

SAM: (Flirtatious smirk) I’m willing to take the risk, if you are…

ELENA: What the hell! Life is too short to play it safe.

SAM: I like the way you think. It’s a date then!

ELENA: It’s a date.      

SAM: Huh, I totally thought that was going to fail…

ELENA: You never know until you try, right?

SAM: (Smiles) I guess you don’t… Listen, it’s really late, do you want me to walk you to your dorm? I know this place is infested with military, but what if you run into a ghost? Pretty sure they would be clueless about how to handle that.

ELENA: (Laughs) Neither would you. But, you are not nearly as scary as they are, so I’d rather take my chances with you.

SAM: (Teasing) I happen to be a paranormal aficionado; I know how to handle a ghost.

ELENA: Oh, really?

SAM: I’ve seen all Ghost Busters movies a million times! I know what I’m doing!

ELENA: (Sarcastic) A Ghost Busters fanboy, that’s very comforting… (As they are walking out) Oh! And don’t think that just because I agreed to go on a date with you, I won’t get you back for the near heart attack you gave me … I happen to be a real horror movie aficionada; better watch your back…

Cut to – Mystic Falls Town Hall. Matt has been officially sworn in to take office as the new Mayor of Mystic Falls. Although he is worried about Edward’s abrupt decision, especially knowing the context behind his un-rational behavior, he can’t help but feel proud. This is what he had wanted all his life. And, given Edward’s current psychological condition, this decision was probably for the best.

 COUNCIL SPEAKER: Mayor Donovan, I speak on behalf of all my colleagues, we welcome you to this body of representatives with open arms, and ensure you that you have our full support, respect, and commitment.

MATT: It is my honor to have been entrusted with this duty. I will work day and night to rightfully serve our town, my home town. I will forever be grateful to Mayor Powell for believing in me, and giving me the opportunity to give back to the people that have built this town from scratch. In my first order of duty, I hereby announce the newly appointed Chief of Police, Sheriff Jackson. A woman of honor, courage and morals. I am certain she will serve this town with honor, loyalty, truth, knowledge and commitment. Please, give her a round of applause.  

SHERIFF JACKSON: Thank you, Mayor Donovan. I wear the badge with pride. I am humbled and honored to be given this responsibility. Trust that my team and I will follow the example you gave to us, and will serve and protect this community with the same passion and commitment you did. We might be in different offices now, but we will always be family.  

MATT: Always! Thank you, Sherriff Jackson. I have no doubt that you will surpass both mine and my predecessor’s accomplishments. In closing, I’d like to say that although we face many challenges ahead, I’m confident that we can overcome any obstacle by working together, always prioritizing people. Mystic Falls is a town built by its citizens, for its citizens. It is our duty to ensure the wellness and prosperity of all. Once again, thank you. Time to get to work! (They applaud).

Cut to – The Mikaelson mansion. Abby and Klaus are talking about Hope settling-in at the Salvatore School, among other things.

 ABBY: Hope looked so happy... And her dorm room is amazing! At the main house and a single! How lucky was she!

KLAUS: I had to “persuade” Alaric to make sure she was given the best accommodations.

ABBY: (Smiles) I’m sure you did…  

KLAUS: And how is Bonnie settling in her new home? I honestly cannot comprehend how she could voluntarily agree to spend day and night with Damon Salvatore. Are we certain he is not compelling her?

ABBY: (Smirks) You know he can’t, although I kind of wish that was the reason (they laugh). From what she told me this morning; the house is beautiful. Guess we’ll have to wait and see, if she ever invites us over.

KLAUS: She will, love, give her some time. They just moved in together, they need their privacy.  (Suddenly, the door opens, in come Elijah, Rebekah, Kol, Freya, Marcel, and Danae, suitcases and all). Uhm, excuse me, what is this unexpected visit about? Our family reunion isn’t until spring…

ELIJAH: Lovely to see you too, brother. Do pardon if our sudden arrival interrupts your tea time, but we are in a bit of a pickle. We have been cursed out of New Orleans; and, the last time I checked, this was also our home.

KLAUS: I am gone, for not even a month, and you somehow manage to get yourselves thrown out of what is rightfully ours? How exactly did that come to be?

MARCEL: Why don’t you ask Kol…

KOL: Oh, come on, Marcellus, it’s as much your fault as it is mine. And, don’t act so innocent, Elijah. You had your hand in this too.

ELIJAH: (Fixing his cufflinks) Maybe a little…

REBEKAH: While you boys decide who is to blame, I’ll go settle down in my bedroom.

KLAUS: You can’t. We turned it into a games room.

REBEKAH: (Indignant) Excuse me?!! How dare you!? Why my room?! Why not Elijah’s or Kol’s!?

KLAUS: Yours was better fitted for the purpose. Nothing personal, love.

REBEKAH: Oh, I’m sure it wasn’t… (Turns to Abby) And definitely nothing to do with you, right?

ABBY: (Sarcastic) Of course not, I wouldn’t dare! This was all him!

KLAUS: (Smirks) Traitor…  Anyhow, dear sister, there are plenty of other rooms you can choose from.

REBEKAH: Whatever. I’ll go find myself a room you two haven’t ruined, yet.

FREYA: I’m coming with. You people forget I’ve never been in this house!

DANAE: Really? I thought you had. I mean, even I have stayed here.

FREYA: And, thanks for rubbing that in, my love.

DANAE: No ill intentions, hon. I’m just surprised.

FREYA: (Sarcastic) Guess being a Mikaelson didn’t grant me the privilege, but being Klaus’s best friend’s girlfriend sure did.

KLAUS: Oh, don’t be so dramatic, sister. You are here now, are you not?

REBEKAH: Forget him, sis, this is our house too. We’ll give you the grand tour. Once we get dibs on the best rooms (they leave).  

KLAUS: So, dear brothers, care to explain to me exactly how you got yourselves into this “pickle”?

ELIJAH: We will. But we are going to need something stronger than tea…

ABBY: Oh, it’s not tea. We just pretend it is, so we don’t feel like we are day drinking.

KOL: Who cares about that! We are vampires, love; we can do whatever we want!

KLAUS: KLAUS: (Sarcastic) My loving brother Kol, can we please go back to the topic at hand? I’d like to know exactly how long I can expect to have you all around.

ELIJAH: It is going to be a while…

MARCEL: If not forever.

KOL: (Mocking) Look on the bright side, Marcellus, you’ll have time to get to know Mystic Falls. Despite what some believe, it is quite the charming little town… And, our home sweet home, for now… Better get used to it.

Cut to – Pietro’s mansion. Him and Darius are having a “secret” con-call after their board meeting.

 PIETRO: I’ve had just about enough. We need to retaliate for this. You didn’t see the aftermath, this place looked like a slaughterhouse.

DARIUS: Courtesy of your ripper brother, I presume?

PIETRO: Not sure which one of them did it, or if it was the three of them, but I had to get a professional cleaner.

DARIUS: You should really consider getting video surveillance, clears these types of doubts right up.

PIETRO: Never, those things give me all sorts of peeping Tom vibes. Anyway, I’m sorry about your witch friends, I’ll make it up to you.

DARIUS: I warned you not to play games. Now we’ve lost a coven of very talented witches, three potential recruits; we are clueless as to where the others are, and made the rest of the board members believe everything was going according to plan… (Sarcastic) Kudos!

PIETRO: Don’t you dare give me attitude about this, you have messed up worse than I have.

DARIUS: True; fair enough. Let’s not enter into panic mode, it’s a minor misstep. We’ll find them soon enough. In the meantime, as per Augustus’s orders, it seems like I have to find a replacement for Kai…

PIETRO: That was certainly an unexpected surprise. I thought he would be pleased with his progress.

DARIUS: I’m beginning to think Augustus feels threaten, more so after I shared Kai’s recent achievements.

PIETRO: Did you sense something was off with him during the call?

DARIUS: Well, the Augustus I know would have had Kai killed if he wanted him out of the game, not fired.

PIETRO: And it’s strange that he was willing for this Tamara thing to take more time, as long as Kai was off the task.

DARIUS: (Teasing) Maybe he’s starting to like his hostage situation; Stockholm syndrome type of thing?

PIETRO: (Smirks) Perhaps… Regardless, both Kai and Katerina would have been excellent for the field battle; they have stamina, and are surely gifted in terms of the supernatural.  

DARIUS: I know. But there are plenty of fish in the sea. From what Veritas showed us with the Munich project, and the “gadgets I’ve been working on with Kai, soon we might have even stronger pawns to play around with.

PIETRO: Hey, I had a lot to do with the Munich project. I’m not letting him take all the credit! I led that project for years, set all the ground work, and the money.

DARIUS: Don’t be so defensive, my friend. We all know you did an excellent job. But, you have to give him some credit, Veritas is hardcore when it comes to discipline. As soon as he brought in the military, voilà!

PIETRO: (Snarky) His leading style borders on dictatorship, I prefer a motivational approach.

DARIUS: I’m with you on that. He sure as hell can scare the shit out of anyone into doing anything. Just ask Aletheia…

PIETRO: He is the oldest vampire in existence, and a psychic one, nonetheless; of course he can. I’m not ashamed to admit it; he has almost made me “piss my pants” once or twice.

DARIUS: I can say the same. You know, it’s truly fascinating that the so called “Originals” are oblivious to the fact about their true origins… I’m sure Veritas would have a blast with them, if they ever manage to figure it out.

PIETRO: Oh, I’m sure they will, if not for their wits, definitely once our plans unfold.

DARIUS: I call dibs on first row seats!

PIETRO: I want the full behind the scenes experience! (They laugh).

DARIUS: Well, I have to run now. I need to go fire my star employee and the Russian spy…

PIETRO: Good luck. We’ll talk soon.

Cut to – The Bamon home. The gang is in the “Batcave” planning their next move.

SAGE: (Starting to worry about Pietro’s retaliation for their escape). We are 100% sure this place can’t be found, right? I’m not very familiar with the witch stuff; or the vampire stuff for that matter; I’m a newbie.

BONNIE: Don’t worry, there is no way anyone can find it.

SAGE: Not even that Darius guy?

BONNIE: Especially not him.

SAGE: Can’t they track your cellphones?

BONNIE: Not while the house is cloaked. Beauty of magic.

SAGE: This magic stuff is really cool!

BONNIE: You ain’t seen nothing yet… But, fair warning, it can get a little weird…

CAROLINE: (Teasing) Just a little? (They laugh)  Don’t worry, you are in good hands.

SAGE: Sorry; freaked out for a moment… Pietro can be quite vicious when he’s angry, and I’m sure he’s fuming right about now.

DAMON: Don’t be scared, Stefan and I got years on him. Now, back to the mission at hand. How are we going to break into this place without Kai?

STEFAN: What if we give our brother a taste of his own medicine? He can be our way in.

DAMON: I love when your mind goes devious, brother. What exactly are you thinking of?

STEFAN: There is an upside to having an Original vampire in town, and one who just happens to be in love with Bonnie’s mom… I’m betting he’ll do just about anything to get on your good side, Bon.  

BONNIE: Stefan, you are a genius! 

And, he does owe me big time! But, let’s avoid the whole “being in love with Bonnie’s mom” thing; still freaks me out.

STEFAN: Not another word on that, Bon.

DAMON: Ah, blackmail, deceit, and compulsion, my kind of tactics!

BONNIE: I’ll call my mom to invite them over for dinner, then we’ll guilt trip them into their part of the plan.

SAGE: Bit lost again, what’s an Original vampire?

CAROLINE: Oh, Sage. There is so much for you to learn about the vamp world. Stick with us, and you’ll learn everything you need to know.

SAGE: That would be amazing! Been pretty much self-taught since I was turned, which was literally just weeks ago.

CAROLINE: I know firsthand how important it is to have a mentor when you are new at this. We got your back.

SAGE: Thank you, I’ll take all the help I can get.

CAROLINE: We’ll help you with the supernatural, you’ll help us with the Science; win, win. The sooner we get these guys, the sooner we can go back to our normal lives.

SAGE: Deal! To be honest, I was thinking about fleeing back to Germany the moment I got away from Pietro’s claws. Forget all this craziness and just return to being a student, with a new blood craving. But I think academia is pumped up to be more than it really is. What good are all the fancy titles without being on the battle ground? I’ve done my fair share of studying, it’s time I apply my knowledge for the common good, and this seems like the perfect cause to do so. Now that we know they are okay; I have no reason to go back. (Turns to Bonnie and Damon) Don’t panic, I’m not planning to stay here. As soon as we take care of this, I’m going back home to NYC; I really miss it.

BONNIE: (Smiles) We’re not panicking. And you can stay here for as long as you need.

CAROLINE: Okay, just so we are all aligned. We’ll get Klaus to compel Pietro, but how exactly are we going to get to Pietro? We can’t have Klaus show up at his house and be like: hello, I’m going to compel you now…

STEFAN: We’ll make sure he’s alone and lure him outside. Then Klaus, Damon and I, will take it from there. Three against one, should be a piece of cake.

DAMON: Sounds like a plan. Now, on to a crucial matter. (Turns to Bonnie) First time having my mother-in-law over for dinner, what should be the menu?

BONNIE: (Smirks) Whatever you want will be perfect.

DAMON: How about Italian? Play it safe...

BONNIE: Ooh, gnocchi arrabbiata?

DAMON: Perfetto!

CAROLINE: (Giddy) Aw, I love domestic Bamon!

DAMON: Don’t think you are just going to stand and watch, you are all helping!

The only one that gets a free pass is Bonnie, she has somewhere to go.

BONNIE: Oh, yeah, I almost forgot about that…

CAROLINE: Bon, are you sure you don’t want one of us to come with you?

BONNIE: I’m sure. Thank you, Care. I’m gonna head out now before it gets late. I won’t be long (kisses Damon). 

I love you...

DAMON: I love you too. Head message me if you need anything.

BONNIE: I will (she leaves).

STEFAN: (To Damon) Are you okay?

DAMON: I’ll be fine when I know she’s fine…

CAROLINE: I still can’t believe he’s back! He better have a damn good explanation, otherwise I’m going to send him right back where he came from!

DAMON: You and me both, Blondie... 

Alright, I need to keep my mind busy, so let’s get to work. Making gnocchi is a mission on its own!

 TVD 10x02 (part 2) coming soon. Hope you stop by, read, and enjoy! =)

[littlemisslol-fic]

Varigo week continues!!! @alistairwrites these prompts are so fun omg

Day Two: First Kiss 😘😘

They said that if you wanted a favor, you could always go ask the Witch of the Iron Wood.

 Varian’s sure it’s bullshit, of course it is. Witches aren’t real- the only magic that he’s ever come across is from artifacts and space rocks; things that, no matter how you looked at it, are already goddamn weird to start with. Magic is just a type of power they have yet to harness, something celestial and ancient- but within the parameters of science.

 He’s never believed the rumours, that if you went to the woods bordering Corona and the Iron Kingdom and walked so deep into the woods you risked getting lost, you might come across the esteemed witch. For a price, they said, the witch would grant you a single wish and be done with you. Your debt would be paid, and you’d wake up in your own bed without a clue as to how you got there, with your wish fulfilled. Varian’s never believed it, never wanted to believe it- he’s a man of science, damn it, and he’ll stick to science, thank you very much.

 But…

 Then his dad had gotten sick.

 Something in Quirin’s lungs- potentially too many cold mornings working in the field, maybe too long trapped in the amber, or perhaps just a stroke of bad luck- had festered and eaten away at him, leaving the man nearly bedridden in a matter of weeks. Varian, only twenty, had been forced to listen as the doctor recommended that Quirin start writing an airtight will, just in case, to assure that Varian would be taken care of in case… in case Quirin didn’t make it.

 Varian had worked himself into a tizzy, refusing to leave his father’s side, brewing medicine and other alchemical solutions in an attempt to find a cure, a fix-it, something, anything, to save his father. But nothing had worked, and Varian was at his wits end.

 So when someone had spoken of their own failed trek to find the witch, Varian- desperate as he was- had packed a bag and started running.

 It was a long shot, longer than he liked to think, but if there was even a semblance of a chance that this Witch of the Iron Wood could help his father… then Varian was willing to try. So he’d packed a bag, left his father in the competent care of Old Corona’s best physician, and had started the three-day trek to the Iron Wood.

 The forest was ancient, and it wore its years well. Grand trees stood nearly thirty meters tall, gnarled and drooping with ivy and vines, covered every inch of the woods in a way that suffocated light and sound. Standing at the threshold Varian had nearly turned back- what good was he to his father if he ended up lost in the woods… or dead?- but the memory of Quirin’s pale face and limp chest spurred him forwards, allowing the woods to swallow him whole.

 He’d wandered for a two days, tripping over twisted roots and sleeping in trees to keep himself away from curious wildlife. It’s on the third day, when Varian’s well and truly lost, that he stumbles upon the cabin. It’s plain, humble. well kept but obviously old in the way the creeping ivy had grown close around the building, digging deep into the stone over the course of years.

 It's set in a small clearing, surrounded by a lush garden of herbs and plants Varian has no name for- he’s never been one for the apothecary side of the sciences- and a prim, well built fence. It’s a modest cabin, made of cobblestone and thick wooden timbers, with a single chimney merrily spitting a small plume of smoke. The windows are large, and Varian can catch sight of rows of plants poking out from under the curtains inside.

 The cabin is warm, inviting.

 Suspicious.

 Varian approaches with caution, walking forwards with a tenseness to his shoulders. He can’t be sure if this the cabin, or just a cabin, but it’s best to approach as if it were a trap- better to be wrong and look strange, than be too casual and end up dead. Birdsong rings through the calm clearing; sunlight beams down in shining pillars that sets the grass aglow. He doesn’t trust it for a second.

 There’s a little stone path that leads up to the front door. Varian follows it with a measured step, ignoring the happy little bees that gently float between the flowers. For all he knows, this is a trap. The Witch of the Iron Wood could be a con artist, a thief, hell, even an actual witch who wasn’t super into the idea of helping people so much as sacrificing them for weird witch-spells.

 Magic bullshit. Can’t be too careful.

 Still, Varian wasn’t raised in a barn; when he reaches the oak front door he still knocks like a normal person, and waits for an answer. It doesn’t come. Curiously, he raises his hand to knock against the old door again, only for the door to swing wide open by itself with a long, drawn out creak of old hinges.

 “Oh, that’s creepy.” Varian mutters to himself, peeking into the dark interior of the cabin beyond. “Super creepy.”

 He peeks behind himself, looking back down the path with a grimace. He could just turn around, go home… but then what if Quirin wasn’t improving? What if he was worse, and Varian had turned away from an option to save him because he was scared? Varian’s hands clench at the thought, so tightly he can feel his nails through his gloves. He turns back around and gazes into the darkness in front of him.

 Teeth grit, Varian walks forwards into the cabin.

 The interior of the building is just as well maintained as the exterior. The room Varian steps into is a great room of some sort, a larger space with a small kitchen pushed to the side and a series of mismatched, but well loved, couches and chairs surrounding a large fireplace in the very center of the room. Hanging above the fireplace is a large cauldron, filled to the brim with a smoking, bright purple concoction. The light from outside filters through the wall of plants Varian had noticed while outside, keeping the interior relatively dark.

 “This place just keeps getting creepier,” Varian grumbles into the empty air, approaching the cauldron with hesitant steps.

 “Well, thank you, I built it myself.” Comes a snarky voice from behind, startling Varian into flinging himself forwards, hiding behind the cast iron cauldron. For a brief second, he considers making a break for the door-

 Which slams shut of its own accord.

 Perfect.

 Varian risks a peek up and over the edge of the cauldron, the steam hazing his vision over as he crouches on the floorboards. Before him stands a blond man, looking at Varian with an expectant expression. It tugs at his pale face in an attractive way, tilts his glasses askew in a way that compliments the choppy blond hair and pony tail the taller boy sports. He’s dressed in green, a similar shade to his honestly stunning eyes and-

 Wow. Wow okay time to tone that down.

 Varian peeks over the lip of the cauldron a little more, sizing the taller man up. The other stands between Varian and the door, he’d have to get around him to get out-

 “So, what is it that you want?” The blond asks, and Varian realizes how out of place he is.

 “I- sorry!” Varian crows, stepping back from the cauldron as if it’d burnt him. “Sorry, the door was open, and I’m actually looking for someone that lives out here, and-”

 “Listen.” Blondie cuts him off. “I know that you’re here to ask your favour, so. What is it? Gold, immortality, love? I don’t have all day, spit it out.”

 “I-”

 “Wait, no, I bet you I can guess. You look like a nerd, something to do with fame? Glory?”

 “No!”

 Blondie raises a brow. There’s a brief second of pause, before Varian finally fully creeps out from behind the cauldron. He takes a breath. For dad, he thinks.

 “My name is Varian,” He starts. The blond man raises a brow, looking rather confused to be given a name. “What’s yours?”

 “H-Hugo.” The blond stutters a bit, like he wasn’t ready to be asked that. Varian smiles.

 “Hugo,” He repeats. “Nice to meet you. Are you the one everyone’s been calling a witch?”

 “Sure am.” Hugo replies, taking a step forward. Varian feels his face light up, even as he’s passed by in lieu of the cauldron. Hugo begins to stir the liquid, looking at it judgementally. He twists around towards one of the plants on the windowsill, plucking a leaf off it and tossing it in. The mixture goes a shade of green, not unlike pea soup.

 “Great!” Varian chirps, “I was wondering if you’d be able to help me?”

 “Yeah, your wish, right?” Hugo mutters, “That’s all anyone ever cares about. So what is it you want?”

 “I- that’s a little sad.” Varian says, “No one ever just visits you?”

 “Nope,” Hugo says, popping the p. “And neither did you, so spit it out.”

 “My… my father is sick.” Varian finally says, looking to the floor. “I’ve tried everything I can think of to help him get better, but nothing works.”

 Hugo pauses in his stirring, looking back to Varian with a calculating look. “You realize you could ask for anything, right?” He says, “Eternal life, endless fortune, riches beyond your wildest dreams.”

 “I didn’t think that was real.” Varian replies, frankly. “I thought you would just be a skilled healer. That’s all I was looking for.”

 “Just medicine.” Hugo says, as if he thinks it’s a joke. His face twists into something confused when Varian nods.

 “Just medicine.” The shorter of them says with conviction. “Nothing else. Whatever your price is, I’ll pay it; I just want my father to be well again.”

 Hugo looks to Varian like he’s grown a second head. Varian looks at him with a schooled expression, choking back the anxiety boiling in his gut. If this didn’t work, if this Hugo couldn’t help him, then Quirin would surely not have long left-

 “Fine.” Hugo says, “I think that’s a stupid wish, but who am I to stop you from throwing it away?”

 Varian’s expression must do something stupid, because Hugo laughs. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” He mutters, reaching forwards towards Varian with a grin. The shorter of them feels his face heat up in a blush, going red at their sudden closeness, but winces when Hugo reaches up and tugs a single strand of hair from his hair.

 “Ow,” Varian whines, rubbing at the spot the hair had been tugged from. “Why’d you do that?”

 “Ingredients.” Hugo chides, “And unless you’re going to stop asking stupid questions, you can go wait outside.”

 Varian pauses at that, quietly taking a seat on one of the chairs. Hugo looks at him with another questioning expression, but eventually the blond shrugs. “Suit yourself.” He mutters, and goes back to his work.

 Varian watches with rapt attention as herbs and other ingredients get tossed into the cauldron in precise amounts, the mixture going every colour of the rainbow over the next hour. Hugo works quickly, focused on his… potion? Elixir? Varian’s not sure what to call it actually. While Varian keeps from asking questions, that doesn’t stop him from watching with a keen eye as the mixture continues to bubble. After an hour, it eventually turns a rather pleasant shade of lilac purple and stops smoking. Hugo looks smug about it, so Varian assumes the mixture must be finished.

 Hugo takes a small pipette from a nearby shelf of strange looking glass instruments- Varian would kill to be able to know what they all did, though Hugo doesn’t seem apt to share- and uses the tool to transfer some of the mixture into a small, glass vial. He does this three more times, making a total of four, before placing them into a small bag.

 “And done.” Hugo says, more to himself than to Varian. He twists around with a smarmy grin, holding the bag out. Varian looks at it with a sense of wonderous apprehension, reaching out a hand but stopping himself before he can touch the crushed red velvet. He stands from the couch, pursing his lips.

 “What’s the trade?” He asks without malice, but with a hefty amount of suspicion. Hugo’s smile draws wider, and Varian brings his hand fully back to his chest. Always a catch, with magic, something cynical in him groans, absolute bullshit.

 “Well,” Hugo muses, “There’s always things that I need from around, though to be honest I’m pretty stocked up on anything I could want.”

 “Surely there’s something?” Varian says with a hint of panic- Hugo wouldn’t make the stupid potion only to refuse to trade Varian for it, right? The previous anxiety rears its head again; stupid magic, honestly, always being so contrived.

 “There is one thing,” Hugo muses, eyes trailing on Varian’s face. The shorter man feels himself blush again as Hugo steps close, cupping his chin in a way that feels scarily intimate for someone he’s only just met. “One, tiny thing…” Hugo says, trailing off. Varian can’t help but feel a little thrill, pressing closer, unconsciously, to the extremely attractive man in front of him.

 “Anything.” Varian says with a small grin of his own, having half an idea of where Hugo might be going with this from the way the blond’s gaze lingers on Varian’s own lips. He’s not against it, not at all; Varian’s not the type, usually, but something about the blond in front of him draws him in. Hugo’s smile widens at the permission, leaning forwards.

 It’s a chaste kiss, a little too soft and sweet for strangers, but one that Varian can say he enjoys. He’s never been kissed before, but if this is what it’s like- the smooth press of lips against his own, the soft feeling of a body pressed up against his front- suddenly all those romantic ballads make a lot more sense.

 Varian’s eyes slip closed, barely registering as the bag is slipped into his hands. After what could be hours, or merely seconds, Hugo pulls back. Varian keeps his eyes closed, hoping to entice the blond to come back and kiss him again.

 “Have your father drink that twice a day, every twelve hours.” Hugo says, his tone somewhat sad. When Varian opens his eyes again, he is standing in his bedroom, alone. He brings up a dazed hand to lightly touch at his lips, blinking in shock.

 The sudden silence rings in his ears.  

 BANNER

 “Well, Olivia.” Hugo says to his beloved pet, “Another few hours to go, and then we’ll break for dinner.”

 He’s out in his garden, weeding. Nimble, long fingers deftly pull undesirable plants from his herbs, tossing them into a nearby pile. Oliva, small little mouse that she is, does her own work of yanking out the smaller plants, working on her own pile. Hugo smiles as she chirps her assent at his idea, plopping a rogue dandelion on her pile with a squeak.

 It had been nearly a week since Varian had come to ask for his favour from Hugo- the blond couldn’t help but miss his company, to be honest. After the few hours they’d spent together, Hugo found himself to be a little enamoured. Hugo’s had dealt with every thrill seeker in the book, those who came to his cabin demanding fame, or glory, or riches, but he’d yet to encounter someone who had been so willing to make the dangerous walk to Hugo’s home for the sake of a family member. Varian had asked his name before asking for his help, had commented that it was sad that no one visited him. He’d been… genuine. Nice. Treated Hugo’s skills like they were less something to be demanded, and more like a gift to be asked for. He had been sweet, and it made something in Hugo bitter.

 It was a lonely life, out in the woods, but a peaceful one. Hugo was willing to live alone if it meant he was mostly left to his own devices, though times like when Varian had arrived, he couldn’t help but feel the sting of the isolation creeping in. Perhaps that was why he’d asked for the kiss, though now Hugo felt rather stupid about it. What else could he have asked from Varian? Something more useful for sure. Supplies, food, anything really to save him a walk. But instead his stupid brain had seen a pretty boy and gone totally blank. Hugo can’t help but be a little concerned at that- if he started giving things out for free, he’d surely be in trouble when winter rolled around. 

 Oliva squeaked again, this time something that sounded concerned. Hugo looked up from his plot of dirt to see her rush over to him, the little mouse scrambling up his shirt to perch on his shoulder. He looked up to where she had come from, seeing a familiar figure standing on the edge of the grove.

 “Hi, Hugo!” Varian said with a grin, holding up a small basket. “I was wondering if you wanted some company?”

 Hugo… short circuits. “What?” He asks dumbly as Varian walks towards him. The shorter man pauses at the gate, his face asking to be let in. Hugo nods, still stunned as Varian- Varian had come back????- lets himself in and strides over to Hugo with a smile.

 “Well, you said no one ever came to visit.” Varian said softly, “So I thought I’d change that.”

 “You… don’t want anything?” Hugo asks, struck stupid.

 “Well, I mean, I want to talk to you.” Varian flushes, biting at his lip. “And I wanted to thank you. And so does my dad! He helped me make this for you.” Varian shoves the basket at Hugo with a sudden motion, as if embarrassed to have it now that he’s dragged it all the way here.

 “He’s doing better, then?” Hugo says, taking the basket without thinking. It’s got some weight to it. A peek under the lid shows about four loaves of fresh bread, tucked away and kept good by a thick towel.

 “Much, thank you.” Varian says earnestly, “He was up and walking the day after I came to see you.”

 “That’s good.” Hugo muses, lost in thought. No one had ever come back to see him after they’d gotten their wish, let alone to thank him and bring him another gift.

 Varian nods with a smile, one that’s bright and happier than the one he’d worn before. Hugo likes it on him. “It’s fantastic.” He breathes, “I owe you more than you could ever know.”

 “Nah, we’re even.” Hugo says, flushing at the memory of Varian’s lips on his. “Your debt’s been paid.”

 “Oh,” Varian says, looking sideways. “Well, I mean, if you’re sure you don’t want to- uh. Again. Never mind.”

 Oh.

 Oh.

 “Hm.” Hugo muses, catching on quick, “Actually, you know, I think something went wrong the first time.” 

 Varian perks up at that, looking to Hugo with a small grin. “Oh?” He asks, “Should we- maybe…”

 “Sorry, goggles.” Hugo shrugs, leaning forwards, “Looks like we’ll need a second payment.”

 “Aw, shucks.” Varian rolls his eyes, leaning forwards with a smirk, “Whatever am I going to do?”

 “Eh, we’ll figure it out. Put you on a repayment plan.” Hugo grins, teasing for just a second more before Varian grabs him by the collar and drags Hugo down into a fiery kiss, their smiles melding together in the quiet of the grove. When they split for air, Varian smiles.

 “I can live with that,” He says, and Hugo can feel the grin splitting his face as he leans back down.

 Their third kiss is the best one yet.

[kingarise]

There is Only One Master of Me

Blue eyes gazed around the chamber with thinly veiled distaste, tapping a nail on her goblet in an attempt to calm herself but it only made her more agitated. As if sensing the young human’s loosely leashed temper, the other beings at the party shied away from her, giving her a large berth, walking past her as if on eggshells and those closest to her containing their gossip to whispers. Not that it helped. Lucette already knew what they were whispering about, the constant glances between her and her target of wrath making it obvious.

Everyone heard about the rejection of the marriage proposal by her father. Everyone knows about his failure of the Wolf Knight’s grand test.

And everyone most certainly knew that Lucette was furious with her once lover. Alessio had failed her. Whatever task her father has asked of the man had apparently been too great for the god kin to handle and he refused. And thus, Artorias refused him as well. As soon as her father told her about Alessio’s refusal to his question, Lucette felt her heart burn with the flames of wrath and throb with the sharp sting of betrayal and heartbreak.

    ‘How did I manage to fall in love with such a coward?! Surely whatever Papa asked him couldn’t have been so arduous to cause a God kin much difficulty! Was he too unintelligent to complete the task or was his pride too stiff to bend? Matters not. If he could not handle Papa, then he most certainly would not have been able to handle me as a wife. What an embarrassment.’

Worse thing was, he had the audacity to show his face at the party and was throwing her longing glances from across the crowd. And yet, still cowered away from her instead of walking up to her himself. Despite his failure, he still expected her to do the work?! Useless!

   ‘Fine. He wants a show, he’ll get one. And the main jester will be him, not me.’ Lucette decided, throwing back the rest of her wine and slamming the cup on the table, standing up, drawing people’s attention.

Thankfully for her, Lord Gwyn wasn’t present at this event. Unfortunately for her, that meant that Ornstein surveyed the event in his place. Symbolic, of course. A statement from the King that whether he was physically present or not, he had eyes and ears everywhere. Hopefully she won’t get another 5 hour lecture about her undignified behavior after this. Or worse, tell her father.

At the thought of the possibility of her father hearing of this, a prickle of doubt crept into her, making her pause. She didn’t want to stress him more than he most likely already is. He was probably hurting from her pain too. But at the memory of Alessio’s empty promises, pathetic begging for another chance as she stormed away from him in tears that day, a storm of anger and recklessness swept her up into its arms and pushed her to call out confidently. Or perhaps it was the wine. She did add in a few drops of God kin alcohol into her own.

   “Lord Alessio!”

At the sound of her voice, all conversation stopped and heads turned, some towards her, others towards the man addressed. Alessio, for a split second, looked like a fish out of water before he schooled his expression into one of docility.

   “My lady?”

Lucette smirked, pleased that he walked into the trap. A dog will always come when called.

   “Do you dance, my lord?”

A hint of a smirk grew on Alessio’s lips, a glimmer of pride sparking in his eyes. He thought that she has calmed down from her anger and came crawling back to him. Poor fool. Even a dog knows to sniff a treat before eating it.

   “If it pleases you, my lady.”

And there it was, the charm that had caused her to fall in love with him in the first place. What a shame that she didn’t know at the time that charm was empty without action behind it. Lesson harshly learned.

Huffing a laugh, she stepped onto the dance floor, the other couples having cleared the space. A crowd of eyes followed the two as they drew closer, soft whispers filling the air alongside tension and anticipation.

   “Play the Volta” She ordered, not looking away from the familiar green eyes before her. As the music filled the room, the two past lovers got into position, starting off with a clap.

   “Lucette.”

Starting to speak already? She had expected he would’ve lasted until after the first jump. But this week has possibly been a lesson to her about her high expectations for this man.

   “You have been avoiding me.”

   ‘No shit, you imbecile.’ She mentally rolled her eyes at the astute observation, giving him a cocky smirk with a head tilt. He gives her a look of confusion, tilting his head in question. They continued the dance, Lucette skipping with a spin on the fifth step, turning once again to meet with Alessio.

   “Let me explain myself-”

   “I wouldn’t recommend that. The last time you tried ended quite terribly, if I recall correctly.” She cut off his weak lead in, her eyes now physically rolling. She is so sick of hearing that sentence. “Let me explain myself,” he says. What a beggar.

   “Very well then. I will state it bluntly. Your father disapproves of me. Always has. Along with that beast of his-”

   “Sif. Her name is Sif. and you will give her due respect.” She interrupted with a hiss, now glaring at him. Any partner that couldn’t respect Sif appropriately was best thrown out. She was being absurdly generous giving him this false disguise of a chance to speak to her again.

   “Sif. They have both disliked me being with you from the start. Your father looks down upon me. For what reason I know not.”

Does he genuinely not understand? Or is his pride tied too tightly around his eyes, blinding him?

   “Hn.”

   “Because they know I would do anything for you.”

Except the necessary thing to get her father’s approval for marriage. Except swallowing his pride.

As they progressed through the dance, she could tell that Alessio was getting tired of the false pretenses of dancing and simply wished to speak with her. Lucette cared not. He will indulge her until she sees fit to stop.

   “Lucette, say something!”

   “What do you want me to say, hm? That I forgive you? Most certainly not. That I love you? That flower has already wilted. I have no words for you. You have made it quite clear that you were never mine.” She hissed at him, her throat growing tighter as the feel of heartache threatened to consume her.

   ‘Hold onto the anger. Hold onto it.’ She moved to do the next step of the dance, turning away from him, but a harsh grip on her bicep pulled her back, stumbling into his embrace, drawing gasps and exclaims of shock from those watching. Before her rage could fully set off for daring to lay a hand on her in such a way, his hands wrapped around her waist, lifting her into the air.

“For Gwyn’s sake, enough of this petty anger. You will always be my Lucette!”

Enough.

With neither warning nor hesitation, she backhanded him across the mouth, causing him to drop her on her feet. Whirling around, Lucette glared at Alessio with eyes of blue fire, mere seconds from ripping off his head right then and there.

   “I am NOT your Lucette! I never was and never will be! And if you think that you could sweet talk me into falling into your arms like some empty headed maiden, you are a bigger fool than my family and I have thought! You would serve better as Sif’s chew toy than a man since that thing behind your eyes and between your ears is empty and lifeless-”

   “Lucette. Enough.”

At the sound of Ornstein’s voice behind her, Lucette bit sharply on her tongue, halting her tirade. As much as she wished to tear him apart right then and there, she knew Ornstein would not appreciate a direct order being ignored. With another sharp look at the pitiful man cowering before her, she gave a small curtesy to Ornstein out of courtesy and made her way to the doors, the crowd hastily parting to let her pass. Before she could leave however, she decided to make an announcement. For any and all of the God kin in the room who wished to try their hand at taming the wolf’s daughter in the future. Spinning around, she faced the crowd again, her gaze sweeping over them with unfaltering heat.

   “There is only one master of me. And he is not in this room.” She called out confidently, daring anyone to argue against her. With that parting message, she turned away and left the party, the doors slamming closed behind her. Let them chew on that. And if they ponder over who she was speaking about, then let them. Only the ones that know her know who she meant.

Later that night, as she braided her hair for bed, she distantly heard the entrance door to the Wolf Suite open and the familiar clacking of nails and metal on stone.

“3...2...1” She softly counted down, grinning as the noises drew closer and in strode Sif, greeting Lucette with soft barks and attacking her face with licks.

“Hahaha Sif! I already had my bath! And you are still dirty from the day.” Lucette giggled, pushing the large wolf away from her face. Sif huffed, offended at the implication that she was dirty and finally released Lucette from her slobbery greeting, laying her head on her lap to receive her due head scritches. Which Lucette happily complied with, always happy to pet Sif’s fluffy self. A knock on the doorway drew both of the girls’ attention, Sif’s tail beginning to wag at the sight of Artorias.

“Good evening, Papa.”

“Evening, Starlight.” He greeted, bending down to kiss her hair, ruffling Sif’s fur.

“How was the ball? I hope you did not partake in too much wine.” He asked, giving her a playfully stern look.

“No no, only a cup. As for the ball...Well, it was surely eventful. That is certain.” She answered, eyes focused on her hands petting Sif. She could hear the clink of armor as her father shifted, looking at her with a questioning look.

“Did something happen?”

‘You’ll find out one way or another. Might as well give a small idea for what’s coming.’ Lucette huffed, finally looking up to look her father in the eye.

“I saw him there. At the ball.”

From the sudden appearance of tension in the air, she knew that he knew who she was talking about. Artorias kneeled down beside her bed, making his height match her own, large hands that Lucette has seen smash grown human armored men into pieces, tenderly cupping her own.

“Did he attempt to speak to you? What did he say, starlight?”

When she opened her mouth to speak, all that came out was a sob and that sound released the floodgates. She wept in her father’s arms right then and there, the crush of defeat overwhelming her after so long held back. With no more anger to distract her, all she had left was grief for the love that was swiftly killed. She could hear her father cooing to her gently, one arm wrapped around her as his other softly stroked her hair.

“He….He wanted me to... forgive him. Implied that you and Sif somehow sabotaged him.”

Sif very much did not appreciate Lucette’s ex’s attempt to switch blame, a growl rumbling lowly in her throat, soothed away by more head pats from Lucette.

“And what did you say in return?”

“I refused, of course. To do otherwise would be an insult to myself and you and Sif. I could never have such low respect for myself to do so.” She spat out, a flash of anger running through her before fading away. A part of her regrets confronting him but the majority says that he deserved it. That he’s lucky Ornstein stopped her.

“Do you wish for me to...speak with him?” Her father suggested darkly, leaning back to look her in the eyes, his own filled with silent promises of vengeance and retribution on Alessio for causing her pain. A tempting offer but she turned it down.

“No. I think the public humiliation I caused him was enough. If he tries again though...well, I did promise Sif a nice bone one of these days.”

At the mention, Sif’s tail began to wag eagerly as father and daughter shared matching mischievous grins.

Indeed, there was only one true master of her. And she loved him dearly.

[fortunatelycooltrash]

So people love to say that America doesn’t have free healthcare because the quality would sink and the waits would go up. Now, while those are valid worries despite being no excuse for the atrociously high prices of even minior procedures, I’d like to share some bullshit that I’ve experienced involving normal US hospitals and medical branches alike.

My root canal is going to cost 2500 dollars because it is not covered by most dental plans despite it being a completely necessary procedure that directly affects my health. Absorb that then absorb the fact this plan covers some of braces. The crown alone is costing over 1200.

I almost died in a hospital waiting room because my ‘stomach ache’ that was causing me so much pain I was sick with it wasn’t severe enough to qualify for immediate attention. Undiagnosed Appendicitis.

My nephew and sister almost met their end because an incompetent doctor misdiagnosed my sister with a URI. She had type A flu.

My cousins father had a doctor who refused to diagnose him despite him coming back constantly because of lethargy. Said he couldn’t find anything wrong. Her father was poor and had really bad insurance. Finally he went to another doctor and was diagnosed with kidney cancer. He could have lived if he had been diagnosed a year or two prior before it spead but by the time he got his diagnosis, it was too late. He died, I believe, a few months later but I was young so he might have made it a year or longer.

I suffered from chronic nosebleeds as a child to the point that blood didn’t even scare me anymore. The doctor told my mother that it was coming from wounds inside my nose and I was most likely picking at it and there was nothing medically wrong with me. My mother, knowing even as a child I knew not to waste her money, took me to another doctor. Severe Anemia. Still suffer from it too this day. Have to take those horrid tasting red pills🤢.

My aunt constantly butchering her budget because she needs her insulin and it’s cost keeps getting higher despite it remaining relatively the same. Luckily my state is looking to cap it at 100 though if that will actually go into effect isn’t determined yet.

My mom, bless her, repeatedly going in for her back aching only to be told pain was normal for someone of her weight and age. Nope, she is a nurse and turned people that were 300 pounds or more. She had completely blown her back and had a pinched nerve that was so severe she could barely stand without pain. The doctor that diagnosed her was surprised she could even walk.

My sister, having a grand mal seizure in the nurses office of a high school. They told her to stop faking. That bitch wasn’t even a real nurse so this one doesn’t count but I had to mention this because why the fuck wasn’t a registered nurse hired?

My (other) aunt having minor chest pain then suffering a heart attack in the waiting room because they had her wait so long since she didn’t seem serious. I’m sure that’s going to have lasting damage that could have been easily prevented.

My sister giving birth and getting a 28,000 dollar bill for a room and care for her and the baby. She was there for a day and a half. She didn’t even have a long or complicated delivery.

My mother being told she was completely fine to continue working despite having an off feeling about her third pregnancy(about 24 years ago) the doctor told her there were no complications and she could go on as normal. She miscarried her seven month along daughter three days later because her placenta was underneath the baby and tore. That doctor is still in practice.

The nurses in my mothers delivery room ignoring both her and the monitor. Which, if they had been looking at, clearly desplayed my older brother with his umbilical core wrapped tight around his neck. He lived because my moms main doctor walked in and had a conniption fit when he noticed the vitals dropping. He’s the doc my sis uses now. A good man.

(Same bro)My older brother turning blue everytime he cried being brushed off. Hole in his heart that has since closed.

When I was younger, I slipped in the shower and hit my head so hard against the metal lining of it(stall shower) that the skin split open and abscessed. My doc treated the abscess but did no further testing after a 4 hour wait. As we were leaving, I don’t remember much of this week my mom told me, I vomited and passed out in the parking lot. Had a concussion.

My brother being misdiagnosed with the flu, strep, and a few other things over the course of a few weeks before one doctor finally tested him for HIV. It was positive. Luckily he only had one partner. Unluckily, the partner was the one that gave it to him via cheating on him.

Me, almost dying of a violent case of strep throat because they said I had a sinus infection. My fever peaked at 104 then, blessedly, broke. I do not remember this as the memories of the days I was sick are incredibly fever burned but I remember wrapping blankets around me because I was so cold.

The strep attacked so quick and harshly that if I had lived alone it probably would have killed me since I wouldn’t have been able to get help and I would’ve kept trying to get ‘warmer’ and helped raise my temp over 106. You typically don’t come back from that one unharmed. If at all.

My older bro(cord baby) being told suffering from auditory hallucinations was a common thing(not wrong but they should have actually asked about his family history and idk, did more??) he had undiagnosed bipolar disorder. He is medicated and much happier now.

Me breaking my gotdamn pointer knuckle and the x-ray person getting blurry x-rays that she used despite the fact that they weren’t accurate. Thank you bitch, now my abnormally short pointer finger clicks because it began to set wrong.

Theres a few more but I’m currently giving my bro a hard time for texting me a text meant for his bf so imma bounce for now. May add more later. The whole point to this was to show people that don’t want free health care because the ‘quality would go down’ or the ‘wait would be too long’ that the wait is already long enough for you to die anyway and the quality already sucks ass if you’re poor because they will not diagnose you correctly.

Or They will misdiagnose you then blame YOU when you sue(happened to my mom in that miscarriage one but because he hadn’t wrote a release back to work she had no actual proof he’d told her she could.)

Or They will overcharge you for things that have a far cheaper value simply because they can and you can’t do anything about it because you need that procedure or medicine to keep your health good.

I can understand things like heart surgery or transplants, you know, the big major stuff not being free because yeah that shit takes a fuck ton of resources and care so I get it, I do. I can reasonably say “Yup that should cost thousands.” I mean, I’m don’t even avocate for fully FREE healthcare, I just want a limit on their overpricing bull shit to where it matches with economic standards.

You can’t expect someone with an average 7-4 job that pays 10/hr(oooh ya, y’all think I’d go higher? Guess what, young people starting out their careers also get sick!) to drop thousands upon thousands of dollars for whatever. The sad thing is I can say ‘whatever’ and you can actually think of multiple things that aren’t that major or that resource draining yet still cost thousands.

Even someone making 15/hour couldn’t do that and I’d be hard pressed to say even 20-25/hr could do that. They may have it better and be able to pay it off faster but they’d still be in debt for a while or have to work years after their planned retirement to make up for the lost savings if they were lucky enough to have them.

I’ve also heard people complaining about it raising taxes but you’ll spend way more getting something done at a hospital then you’d spend on those taxes in a year.

Besides, if you’re so pissed about taxes then to even it out protest the stupid taxes. Your house? Taxed. Your inheritance that you gain but also leave behind to care for your family? Taxed. Your property that you bought 100% full price paid? Taxed every year. Your car? Taxed.

How bout getting pissed about those instead of getting pissy about people getting their health fixed? There are plenty of ridiculous taxes so I don’t know why people are so against having one that actually helps people.

Sorry for this rant, I know it’s not centered around my profile theme but I am majorly pissed off that I’m about to have to let a tooth rot out of my head because my insurance decided that: covering something cosmetic like braces? Yeah! Covering a completely necessary surgery that can actually harm/kill the person via infection if left untreated? Nope, that costs us more!

I can’t drop two fucking grand on dental surgery. It’s just not happening. I don’t know anyone who can do that shit. Anyone who gets pissed off about me posting this: go slam a hammer against your tooth until it cracks down the middle, exposing your nerve to the harsh unforgiving world then let it develop a cavity around it.

Afterwards, try to eat literally anything: hot, cold, hard, soft, it doesn’t matter. You’ll cry, I promise. Now imagine being told the only way to fix that is to cough up over two grand and if you can’t well then oh fucking well? Kinda hurts ya a bit. Not nearly as much as the tooth but still.

Hell, I know dental probably wouldnt even get covered if they made healthcare reduced or free but this whole situation has reminded me just how fucked you are if you get anything remotely wrong with you in the U.S

[littlemarvelfics]

Come Back... Chapter One

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (eventually)

Word Count: about 1,000

Warnings: none

A/N: Ahh! Chapter one! I’m real nervous about keeping up with this and figuring out where to take it. Our boy Bucky is coming soon I promise! Please please please let me know what you think! This GIF was all I could think of. Send me an ask for a tag! You can find the series master list here and my main masterlist here. 

Previous Chapter

The next few hours seemed to go by impossibly slowly. You had finished your writing assignment and you had spent some time looking at old pictures. Pictures of you, Steve and Bucky as kids and through your teenage years. The three of you had been practically inseparable. Until Bucky decided to leave. Shaking your head to dispel the unpleasant memory, you slammed the photo album shut and put it away. You heard keys in the door and tilted your head in the direction of the door when it opened. Your boyfriend, Josh, wandered into the living room where you were curled on the couch.

“Hey, did you get dinner started at all?”

“Well hello boyfriend, I’m great thanks for asking,” you replied sarcastically.

He just raised his eyebrows in response.

“No, I didn’t. I got distracted,” you sighed.

“Oh,” he responded, clearly annoyed. “Well, I’m gonna get some stuff for work done. Call me when it’s ready?”

“Yeah, sure,” you said distractedly. And then you remembered your phone conversation with Steve earlier.

“Wait! Josh!” you said leaping off the couch after him.

He stopped and just hummed in acknowledgment.

“So, I got this invitation to a wedding in my hometown. I thought it might be nice if I went. I was hoping you would want to come with me?” you asked hopefully.

“I mean… why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’? So we could spend time together? So you could see where I grew up? So you could meet some of my old friends?”

“We spend time together already. I’ve already been to your hometown and you don’t talk to those people anymore so meeting them shouldn’t really matter.”

“I don’t even know where to start with all this,” you sighed. “We don’t spend time together because you’re always working or out with the guys. Which is fine or whatever. You haven’t been to my hometown, you’ve been to my parent’s house. They moved when I graduated high school. And these people are the reason I am who I am, so I would say they’re pretty important.”

“God, you don’t let anything go do you?!” Josh yelled, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Why are you getting mad at me right now? What could I have possibly said?” you said, desperately trying to keep your cool.

“Your dig about going out with the guys!”

“I barely even said anything! Can we please just go one week without another fight?!”

“Apparently not! I didn’t know I decided to move in with a psycho bitch!”

That stopped you dead in your tracks. You could feel any resolve you had breaking.

“Okay. That’s fine. Just fine and dandy,” you said tears threatening to spill.

Josh gave you a heavy sigh.

“I’m gonna go work.”

You didn’t say anything as he walked away. You took a deep breath. You never knew what to say when he started in on things like that. Maybe you were acting a little crazy. He was just telling you that he didn’t want to go to a wedding that you didn’t even want to go to either until Steve called you earlier in the day. Regardless of what he said, you needed to eat so you started on some pasta. About 15 minutes later you were standing at the stove, stirring the sauce when you felt two arms circle around you and a kiss on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry baby,” he whispered into your hair. “I’ve just been so stressed at work. I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.”

You sighed deeply.

“I know. I shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s fine,” you said in a tone clearly indicating it was anything but fine.

Josh either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“We can go to the wedding. Maybe it will be nice to get away for a little bit.”

You smiled and turned around in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Really? You’ll probably have to take some time off work. Steve texted me that he wants me to meet Peggy and reconnect with everyone. Plus, then I could give you the grand tour.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll figure it out,” he said, giving you a tight-lipped smile.

“Okay! I’ll book plane tickets tonight!” you replied, giving him a quick kiss before turning back to the stove to finish up dinner.

After eating dinner and cleaning up after, Josh headed out to meet some friends at the bar. You snuggled yourself up with your phone and a good book. You typed out a simple text to Steve.

Y/N: Hey Stevie. Count me and a plus one in for your wedding.

Steve: Yes! Wait plus one? Who?

Y/N: You said I could bring a plus one right? It’s my boyfriend Josh Phillips.

Steve: Yeah of course you can! I just didn’t realize you were dating. Who is he?

You paused before typing a simple reply.

Y/N: He is Josh and he’s my boyfriend.

Steve: Do I get anymore info?

Y/N: I dunno. He’s our age. Works for his dad’s company. We’ve been together about a year.

Steve: Gotcha, sounds boring which is not like you at all.

Y/N: Steve! Hush. He’s… stable.

Steve: Sure. A load of fun. The wedding’s on a Saturday. What day are you coming out?

Steve: Also where are you gonna stay? With me please?

Y/N: I dunno. I was looking at plane tickets. Maybe Wednesday afternoon? Leaving Sunday night?  And you want me to stay with you? The week of your wedding? Because I’m saying a big old hell no to that. Does Clint’s family still run that inn? Maybe I could get a room there?

Steve: Clint actually runs it himself now. But yeah, that’s where we’re getting married. I’ll text him and see what’s what. Hold on for one sec.

You put down your phone and thought about how easy already was to fall back into a casual routine with Steve. You would be lying if you said you didn’t miss him. You missed all of them. Even Bucky. You might be mad at him but he was still the first boy you ever loved. Feelings like that don’t just disappear. No matter how badly you wanted them to. Your phone buzzed again.

Steve: Alright m’lady. You’ve got a room Wednesday through Sunday. At least let me pick you up from the airport?

Y/N: Awesome! And that I will allow. Thanks Stevie!”

Steve: Anytime buddy. G’night.

Y/N: Night! :)

You shot a quick text to Josh letting him know the plan. You waited 30 minutes with no reply. Not that he ever answered your texts when he was out with the guys. So without his answer, you booked the plane tickets and hoped for the best.

Next Chapter

TAGS: @lovely-geek   @slender--spirit @londonlozzy

[infinitetesimally]

Colossal Carrot Catastrophe

It’s been forever since I actually wrote about macromicro One Piece stuff, and I’m not caught up at all. But, here we are. A commissioned piece by a friend about Carrot causing havoc for a bunch of tiny cities.

An alabaster horizon rumbled contemptuously, an echoing sigh that blasted over the atmosphere accompanied by cataclysmic quakes that rocked the very foundation of the world below. Those countless below who stared up at their devastator were helpless before such monolithic might, and how unfortunate too that she seemed awfully annoyed and bored; a terrible combination of a predicament to find one’s self in.

The Thousand Sunny had traveled far across the ocean blue, accruing many an occupant and seeing sights so wondrous many would hardly believe such fanciful anomalies. One such group of travelers would be the unseen passengers that dwelled throughout the ship’s hold, imperceptible to the naked eye, yet many in number. Enough so one might say they have their own localized civilization that could be perched upon a fingertip’s edge.

By either chance or fate they had gone living their lives in undisturbed peace, unaffected by the titans that dwelled above. Save for today however. Carrot, the Strawhat Pirates most recent fuzzy recruit, had taken to wandering about the ship in a fit of boredom. It was docked on a supply run, and the remainder of the crew was out and about on the island, leaving her to her lonesome. She would join them, but nothing on the island either caught her attention, so she figured staying onboard would be the best way to wait things out.

Fortunately for her the ship itself had plenty of accommodating features, but however quite unfortunate for the microscopic lives that would soon be bereft by her simplest actions. The furry skyline that was the white of her toes rose high into the air with a sonic rumble that deafened all within its vicinity, generating windstorms that could part the clouds and upturn solid structures from their foundations.  It cast a shadow for an unendingly vast distance, stretching over dozens if not hundreds of homesteads, regions, townships and villas. All gawked skyward, right before the footpaw dropped with cataclysmic might that smote everything to fall underneath it into soft, squishy oblivion.

Carrot began strolling about the Thousand Sunny, humming mildly to herself while she stayed unaware of the havoc wreaked just below her soles. Perhaps she simply mistook it for grains of dirt or miniscule debris getting caught underneath, but whatever was caught would go unnoticed or uncared for. Stamp. Stamp. Stomp. A twist of the heel as she turned a corner, a drumming of her toes, a tapping of the foot as she paused to debate what to do.

A loud grumble from her stomach was a key indicator as to what she should do next, another explosive blast for any survivors in her wake, or even trapped upon her, to witness such an explosive ripple that roared through the air. “I know! Some carrots oughta fix that riiiight up.” She mused aloud to herself, heading for her new destination.

The kitchen was not too far from where she was, entering it with a keen eye on the lookout for her favorite food: that wondrous veggie in which she shared her namesake, the brightly chromatic orange root, the sweet, crunchily satisfying carrot. Just thinking about it made her mouth water and her stomach growl all the louder, so she hastened her search for it. She remembered there being a whole crate of them in the pantry, and made her way to where she last saw it posthaste.

‘Miles upon miles’ below, a desperately clinging speck gasped in attempts to hold onto a single fur strand that could house their entire home and more upon the surface of its tip, feeling the rocking and swaying of her body like a living continent on the move in a rhythmic pattern. They gawked upwards, higher and higher still she rose beyond the heavens into a distant blur beyond all vision, colossal curves rising into an atmospheric distortion while any sign of her visage above was blockaded by a behemoth bust that jolted and swayed in sync with her movements. It was an equally beautiful and yet terrifying sight to behold.

Her nose could easily sniff out her targeted quarry, honing in on it within seconds of approach. Making a beeline to the crate, she shoved aside all other distractions around it, in the back of her mind she’d bother to clean up the mess of spilled ingredients later, but for now she dug into the sealed container, ripping off the top. Her ears and tail twitched in delight at the sight before her, a hoard of carrots perfectly preserved, ripe for her to munch into.

The puny passengers the Strawhats had accrued over their journey were a resilient bunch when left to their own devices, having endured the journey of countless miles as well as populate a multitude of environments. They could never be prepared for the streaming light that poured in blindingly from above, only to be eclipsed by the looming moon of a cutely rounded face with a twitching nose and large, excited eyes peering down upon them all. Across the orange landscape, hundreds of thousands gawked at the sight, only to feel a sense of disconcerting dread when she licked her lips.

Excitedly grabbing a bundle in her arms, a rather ridiculous and comically large amount that obscured her entire upper body, she scurried over to a nearby table (surprisingly not dropping a single precious one) so that she may sit and snack to her heart’s content. Letting them drop onto the table in a pile that nearly stacked to the ceiling, Carrot bounded to the adjacent seat, almost shaking from the meal she was about to enjoy. “I hope they’re fresh-ah who am I kidding I’d eat them anyway.” She giggled aloud to herself.

Her tail twitched and wiggled in tune with her own hips as she prepared to sit down, a grand spectacle for the residents of the seat she was about to claim. Life thrived anew in every crevice and grain of the woodwork; foolish were they who built upon the furniture’s surface for they were about to suffer the Armageddon of cataclysmic bunny booty about to drop like a descending meteor upon a planet’s surface. Each cheek a rounded living landmass, parting the atmosphere and reclaiming the sky as their own with such mammoth visage no one could look anywhere else and not witness the all-encompassing view. With a seismic slam that roared over the landscape in seconds after impact, entire civilizations crumbled in mere moments; and all Carrot had to do was wiggle and adjust her seating.

Grabbing at one carrot, the long-eared gal took a moment to appreciate it, gazing admirably upon its form, even letting it trail underneath her nose and enjoying the absolutely luscious scent it purveyed. Oblivious to the chaos around her fingertips, as well as the hurricane-level gale she caused just by sniffing (she’d no doubt feel a tingle later that could cause a sneeze from several hundred city blocks lining her nostril), Carrot opened her mouth wide and savored the first bite. Furry maw parting, revealing rather cute buckteeth within, it was anything but to those upon the soon to be devoured veggie.

A hot gale roared over everything first, replacing the air with a warm miasma that stifled and made those weak of constitution faint. Just her breath alone blasting entire city-specks and their populations off the map to those too close at first, the first witnesses to her all-consuming hunger. Into the abyss it went, only to be chomped off with a great echoing gnash that thundered as a tolling bell. Miles by miles, bit by bit, it was ravished until nothing but the stem remained. Even then, she briefly considered eating that as well, but it was tossed aside for another carrot soon after.

With an appetite only matched by a few upon the seas, she ripped into the pile of carrots, hoping their chef didn’t need too many of them, but helping herself to as many as she could stomach, making a noticeable dent. Once she had her fill, Carrot sighed contently and leaned back in her chair, letting the comfort of a full meal settle. Several flecks of crumbs remained upon her lips, and she figured she might as well take care of those.

A nanoian tried to flee through the forest they had found themselves upon, spires of white fur stretching to the heavens, seeing in the distance just a mass of sheer pink bulldozing over the horizon, its approach signaled by shaking ground and the environment becoming noticeably moister than usual. Outpacing it was a fool’s errand, as them, as well as every other little crumb, was licked right up without a care, happily smacked and enjoyed.

She didn’t even notice the remaining few that had tumbled onto her chest during her feast, entire cityscapes trapped in the unending void of her cleavage. Smushed and crushed on all sides, while those on the surface of her breasts had to deal with the never-ending heaving of such unstable continents, constantly moving and shaking, whether from her breathing or even the most minor of movements. All they could do was cling in hopes of survival, while her face above blurred as a mocking monument.

With renewed vigor, Carrot stood up and stretched, those scant survivors having to bear witness to the rising of a gigantic goddess above, stretching higher and higher beyond all lines of sight. While she paused to think on what to do next, her ears perked, hearing a distant sound, a voice that seemed far away yet close. “Hello? Who’s there?” spoken to one of the specks that had made it to her ear in an attempt to get her to cease her devastation. If she just focused on it . . .

The sounds of footsteps and much closer voices interrupted such signs of hope. “Oh! They’re back!” Carrot grinned, quickly hopping back to the main deck, thinking an afterthought of she had simply heard them, leaving the nano fleck to be tumbled about in the darkest reaches of her cavernous ear canal, desperately attempting to communicate with her while even surviving mountains of the smallest bits of ear wax tumbling about.

Greeting approaching pirates, Carrot came to a stop before the crew’s archaeologist and navigator, both of them toting supplies on their run. “How was the trip? Is everyone ready to go?”

“Not just yet,” Nami replied with a shrug and a grin. “Robin found a book on this island’s local history, and is pretty interested in it. We’ll be docked for at least another day or two.”

“The others don’t mind,” replied Nico Robin, smiling slyly herself as she flipped through pages slowly, holding a rather worn tome that had seen better days. “Apparently this little island has a legend about even littler residents; people the comparable to the size of motes of dust, unaffected by the passage of time, able to build entire cities in a manner of hours or days.”

“This book recollects interactions with such smallfolk, and even claims some of the passages are memoirs from them. The author took a keen interest in them, and had managed to gather some of their culture in writings. Apparently we’re seen as incomprehensible gods, enormous titans to them, bringers of either ruin or great bounty.”

“I wouldn’t mind that now,” the orange-haired navigator swooned, wiggling her toes in delight, unaware of the cityscapes below loomed over by all three of them, trapped on all sides by the walls of Nami’s sandal, Robin’s boot, and Carrot’s paw. “Worshipped by millions, tending to my every whim. Sounds like the life. I wonder if their riches would be worth anything to us.”

Both present could only chuckle at her ego. “I’d like to investigate them. Do we have any magnifying glasses on deck?” Robin closed the book, the pursuit of knowledge ever her drive.

“I’ll help you look for some!” Carrot bounced, creating reverberating shockwaves across the deck’s floor, tumbling and tossing entire swathes of cities as if they were nothing. “I have good eyes and hearing, if I focus I can easily find them I think!”

As she said this, she began to tune in on her senses, keeping what Robin spoke of in mind. The smallest of the small, things so tiny you needed to be hyper-focused to even witness them. Carrot paused; peering around them, mouth a little agape.

“What is it?” Both inquired, looking at her queerly.

“Wow . . . they’re everywhere! You weren’t kidding when you said that! Here,” Carrot motioned to the floor just underneath them. “There’s tons right here at our feet.”

“I better go find that magnifying glass then,” Robin nodded, heading off, though, walking carefully, knowing she might step on some now. Nami let out a little squeak of annoyance, closing her legs and looking down with a blush.

“If I had known that, I wouldn’t have worn a skirt.”

“I’m sure they don’t mind.” Carrot giggled at the silly embarrassed human, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Crouching low and using the very tips of her claws, she pinched up . . . something nigh indiscernible between them, the digits raising up what appeared to be nothing but a grain of dirt.

The dark haired beauty quickly returned, magnifying glass in hand. Noticing Carrot had something, she nodded and quickly held the lens over the fleck caught betwixt her fingers. She pinched it so they it was between all three of them, the edges of the tool pronouncing their already buxom busts surrounding the fleck; Nami’s, Robin’s bronze-dark, the white of Carrot’s fur, but most importantly, it magnified and highlighted their prize.

Buildings, streets, a countryside and more, all isolated upon this single dot they observed. If they peered closely, even people could be made out. Robin grinned, excited for this discovery, while Carrot watched with keen wonder, and Nami grinned quite devilishly. At least Carrot now had something to entertain herself with.

[welllpthisishappening]

Where You Can Still Remember Dreaming (4/35)

Killian Jones, former crime reporter, was not happy to be home. It hadn’t been home in a very long time, after all. Home was an abstract construct that existed for people who didn’t know as many adjectives for blood as he did. Home wasn’t New York City, but it certainly wasn’t Boston or New Orleans either and he’d always gone where the story was. And he was positive Emma Swan was one hell of a story.

Emma Swan, pro video game player, desperately wanted to find home. She thought she had, a million years ago in the back corner of a barn and a town and faces she trusted. But that had all blown up in her face and it didn’t take long for her to decide she was going to control the pyrotechnics from here on out. So now she was in New York City and a different corner and she kind of wanted to trust Killian Jones.

Neither one of them expected a year of of video games and feature stories to dredge up old enemies and even older feelings, but, together, they made a pretty good team.

Rating: Mature. Word Count: 9.4 K of Emma Swan background and flirty text messages. AN: Hey, uh, let’s play some video games, huh? And learn why Emma didn’t really want a year-long feature story about her video game team. It’s time to try and qualify for the League (which is really a tournament, honestly) and I cannot thank you guys enough for the serious kindness you’ve shown in regards to this fic. It’s been incredibly nice. We’re just getting started.  || Also on Ao3, FF.net and tagged up on Tumblr ||  Tag List: @jamif ; @alicerubyfloyd ; @courtneyshortney82 ; @jennjenn615 ; @artistic-writer ; @onceuponaprincessworld ; @kmomof4 ; @nikkiemms ; @resident-of-storybrooke ; @whumped-natascha-remi-ronin ; @coliferoncer ; @strangestarlighttree ; @tiganasummertree ; @game-of-once-upon-an-outlander (Let me know if you want to be tagged or don’t or, like, how your day is going.)

She wasn’t sure what was more annoying.

The very loud alarm she could hear a few inches away from her head, whatever David was shouting on the other side of the door or the horn honking just outside the window of her room. It wasn’t her room.

It wasn’t even really a room, per se.

It was a...corner.

And David wasn’t really on the other side of the door, he was on the other side of a partition that Mary Margaret ordered off Amazon for nineteen bucks a week before Emma had descended on their apartment with one suitcase in her hand and the hope that, maybe, this could work.

This had to work.

They’d find out in a few hours if it could.

A few hours from now, Emma would walk back into the apartment with one of two options in front of her – either she was as much of a complete failure as that tiny, nagging voice in the back corner of her brain promised her she was and even the idea of playing video games professionally was absolutely insane or, and this is where the hope came into play, she was the quasi-captain of the only all-female pro Overwatch team in the league and they were well on their way to splitting a four-million-dollar championship check with their names plastered across the internet and a string of feature stories written about them on The Daily Caller and and a national spotlight that would, maybe, lead to more money.

God, those feature stories.

God.

Killian Jones.

She was going to see Killian Jones that afternoon. And that didn’t terrify her. Absolutely not. She was worried about the game. And four million dollars. She couldn’t even imagine four-million-dollars, let alone imagine winning an inaugural tournament that promised just historic. Probably with a comically large check.

It had nothing to do with Killian Jones or how blue his eyes were or how she kept replaying that slightly awkward, slightly strained, undeniably sweet conversation they’d had the week before.

“Shit,” Emma mumbled, slamming her hand on her phone and promptly knocking it onto the floor. She could barely make out David’s laughter a few feet away and what sounded like cabinets slamming shut and she hadn’t actually turned her alarm off.

“You know,” David shouted, throwing what sounded like a pillow full of bricks at the partition. The whole thing shook, nearly falling on Emma and her air mattress and it would almost figure that she’d get taken down by nineteen dollars worth of plastic before she even stood up.

She needed to be more positive.

She needed to find her super cheesy team-branded t-shirt. That cost more than the plastic partition.

“Were you ever going to finish that sentence?” Emma called back, finally pushing herself off the air mattress and half of it had deflated during the night. That wasn’t a sign. God, her phone was still making noise.

David chuckled again, kicking at another cabinet and drawing the mumbled reprimand of Mary Margaret – who was absolutely going to be late for work so she could see Emma off or something equally maternal. “Yeah,” he said, padding across the apartment and leaning around the still-wobbling partition. “You need to learn how to control your electronics. And work on your hand-eye coordination. It sounded like you nearly knocked off your whole little compound over here.”

Emma scowled, but that was as good a word for it as any. She didn’t bring much with her to New York – didn’t have much to bring to New York – but David and Mary Margaret had offered up, at least, three quarters of their living room without question, pulling an ancient air mattress out of the closet and buying an entirely new bed-set, with a questionable amount of flowers on the sheets, and pushing the coffee table against the wall so Emma had somewhere to keep her phone and her laptop.

It was, exactly, what they’d always done.

And Emma would never get used to it.

“Compound Godzilla,” David continued, eyes bright and wide and far too confident. In her. He was confident in her. Even when he was insulting her and comparing her to lizard monsters.

“Yeah, but you’re the one who’s going to have to deal with the damages,” Emma reasoned. “So you know, in the grand scheme….” “Of? “Of whatever joke you’re trying to make. Very badly I might add.”

“That’s rude, Em,” David said, but there was a laugh just on the edge of his voice and Mary Margaret was already humming under her breath. It was so goddamn domestic Emma couldn’t quite believe it was real.

She shrugged. “You need to work on your jokes. These are getting stale. And you’re the only who nearly knocked over the partition. I just almost cracked my phone.” “Whatever,” he grumbled and Mary Margaret’s humming had turned into open laughter, far too well-acquainted with whatever early-morning war of words Emma and David were staging in the corner. “I’m not going to provide you with any caffeine or the vast array of breakfast pastries I’ve procured from the place down the block.” “Did you just swallow a dictionary?” “Thesaurus,” Mary Margaret corrected, flashing a smile over her shoulder and she’d already taken a shower. Emma hadn’t even heard her wake up.

There was probably a reason for that. That stupid voice in the back corner of her mind did jumping jacks, bouncing off the sides of her brain as it tried to grab Emma’s attention and provide an explanation she didn’t really want to her – because the kids in the foster homes always cried, quiet sniffles and even louder wails, wondering what they’d done wrong and when someone would decide they were enough and they could leave and, maybe, get just a bit warmer.

It always seemed to be freezing in those houses.

And, somewhere in between Hartford and Minnesota and a few weeks on the street in Boston, Emma had developed the ability to sleep through anything – crying or wailing or chattering teeth or, apparently, Mary Margaret taking a shower a few feet away.

“Em,” David said, tugging on the edge of her sleeve and jerking her out of the past. “You went all glossy for a second there. Was it because I totally impressed you with my vast and detailed vocabulary?” She rolled her eyes, taking a step towards the kitchen and accepting the mug Mary Margaret offered her. “I promise,” she said. “It had absolutely nothing to do with that.”

David’s smile wavered for half a moment and he shot Mary Margaret a nervous look, meaning flitting between them and nearly becoming another sentient being right there in their kitchen. Emma sighed. “Ok,” she mumbled, taking a sip of hot chocolate-coffee hybrid and they’d bought her cinnamon. She shouldn’t have been surprised. “That’s not what I meant it like.” “Are you nervous?” Mary Margaret asked softly, a picture of support and belief and something that felt like certainty. Emma clearly hadn’t gotten enough sleep.

“About the game?” Mary Margaret nodded. “No, no, I am absolutely not nervous about the game. We’re good and we’ve practiced a shit ton, enough to drive Granny absolutely insane and we don’t even have to win. Technically.” “You’re totally going to win.” Emma bit back her immediate response – a string of practicality and low expectations that absolutely did not belong in the same room as Mary Margaret Nolan.

She’d been part of the package deal that came with arriving in Storybrooke and life with the Nolans and enough love to almost make up for everything else.

Actually, arrived was generous. Emma had kind of stumbled into Storybrooke, nothing more than a few dollar bills stuffed into the back pocket of her ripped jeans and a blanket clutched tightly in her hands and she just needed somewhere to sleep. She didn’t expect to find a barn and a corner that was almost, nearly, sort of warm.

David found her the next morning, legs tucked up underneath her with her blanket under her head and hay stuck in her hair. Honest to God hay.

She’d run away. The house had closed a week before and there just wasn’t enough money to support a run-down building and a dozen orphans that no one wanted. Including the national government. Or maybe just Maine. Emma never could remember who was in charge of that.

It didn’t matter.

The only thing she’d known was they were going to move her again and she was just supposed to agree to Florida and another fresh start and she’d started running before she’d even really considered any other option.

She was going to run again as soon as David found her, hand balled up into a fist and halfway through the air when he held up his hands in surrender and asked what she was doing here and promised a hot meal and maybe a shower if she’d just follow him inside.

Mary Margaret was sitting at the kitchen table with Ruth when the door slammed shut behind Emma. She gave her a new set of clothes and, it seemed, Emma had found a family.

Even when she didn’t want it.

Especially when she didn’t want it.

“I know, I know,” Mary Margaret said, nudging her elbow into Emma’s side with a familiarity that made her stomach clench. “You only have to be in the top eight. Doesn’t mean I totally don’t think you’re going to absolutely wreck.” David nearly dropped his coffee. “Absolutely wreck,” Emma repeated slowly, eyes flashing up towards a determined Mary Margaret.

“Yes. Absolutely. And completely. C’mon. That’s a gaming term!” “You’re just digging yourself into an even deeper hole here, M’s. You are painfully uncool.” Mary Margaret stuck her tongue out, rolling her eyes dramatically and jumping onto the edge of the counter next to Emma. She rested her arm on Emma’s shoulder, elbow pushing into the side of her neck and it probably would have been uncomfortable it weren’t so normal and, not for the first time, Emma was glad she’d stumbled back into this life.

“She looked it up,” David whispered conspiratorially before taking a far-too-large bite of bagel and, somehow, smiling at Emma. Mary Margaret clicked her tongue in disapproval, but it wasn’t a disagreement either and Emma wondered when she’d had the time.

Probably in between attacking major website editors with plans and making sure Killian Jones wasn’t actually trying to kidnap two kids from a summer program with the promise of ice cream on his lips.

Shit.

Killian Jones.

Emma needed to drink more coffee and get some food in her and a slightly more professional mindset. There were rules about that, right? Ethics or something. A reporter wasn’t supposed to date whoever he was writing about.

No, probably not. Definitely not. And she wasn’t thinking about dating Killian Jones or or a sentence that included both Killian Jones and lips or even really talking to Killian Jones – far too focused on the game and winning and keeping her personal life, decidedly, personal.

She could be a good story without the depressing history and vaguely troubled past.

Definitely not.

Primary fire, secondary fire, obliterate every enemy – and that stupid, annoying, asshole voice in the back of her brain. It would be fine. She probably wouldn’t really even notice him. For the entire goddamn day.

“I think she’s playing the game,” David muttered, pouring another cup of coffee and, God, he’d showered too. How had she slept through all of that?

“I’m thinking what the best way would be to take you out,” Emma lied and David didn’t look like he believed a single letter of it.

“I bought you baked goods. A plethora of baked goods.” “That was actually kind of nice,” she conceded. Her drink had gone cold. “God damn. Although there are a questionable number of cinnamon-raisin in there. What time did you have to get up to make that happen?”

David shrugged. Painfully early, then. “It’s an important day, Em,” he reasoned. “And maybe I just wanted cinnamon-raisin for the week.” “Yuh huh.” “How come you don’t have to actually win to win?” “We’ve been over this twenty times already,” she sighed, but she kind of appreciated too. If Emma kept running the plan, the one that decidedly ignored Killian Jones and his far-too-blue eyes and nicknames and on-the-record questions, then she could stay focused on the goal. She could absolutely wreck – as Mary Margaret would say.

“Humor me.” She took a deep breath and Mary Margaret reached over her shoulder, tugging the mug out of her hand to fill it with scalding hot liquid. God, it was like being fifteen again. Emma was a better video game player now.

“It’s a qualifying tournament,” Emma started. “So there are sixteen teams today, from all over the world, who didn’t get the automatic bid. It’s because none of us have fancy, corporate sponsors and we’re some kind of Overwatch plebs in the eyes of the league, so, they put us in a different bracket and make us play each other.

The seeds coming into this were a total joke though. They, literally, just put our team names into a hat and that Zelena lady who’s in charge of everything picked out pieces of paper and that’s where we ended up.”

David snorted over the top of his mug and he’d mixed peanut butter and cream cheese on his cinnamon raisin bagel. Emma tried not to actually gag. “Ruby’s very mad about that,” he said. “She’s brought it up every single time I’ve talked to her in the last forty-eight hours.” “How many times are you talking to her in the last forty-eight hours?” “A couple,” he mumbled and it sounded a bit like an admission. Emma’s pulse accelerated and she was positive she was missing something. David’s nervous glance towards Mary Margaret all but confirmed it and they were talking about her. God.

“Yuh huh,” Emma repeated, eyebrows pulled low and frustration brewing in the pit of her stomach and she was fairly positive they were talking about that phone call she’d made on the other side of the plastic partition on Friday night.

She was going to kill her whole goddamn team.

“And what seed are you guys?” Mary Margaret asked quickly, trying to refocus the conversation and keep Emma from throwing things in the middle of her kitchen.

“We are fifth,” Emma answered and maybe she was as upset as Ruby was about this whole seeding debacle. Maybe Killian Jones, award-winning reporter with a history Emma was positive was also a story, should write about that.

That, however, would require her to talk to him long enough to suggest story ideas.

What a mess.

“And playing?” David prompted. Emma rolled her eyes. They’d really gone over this twenty times already, had discussed it in detail in the back corner of Granny’s on Saturday night, Ruby’s voice rising with every sip of alcohol until she and Anna seemed to be having some kind of joint screaming match over seeding.

“Vivi’s Adventure,” Emma responded, dropping her head against Mary Margaret’s side and sighing softly when she felt fingers working their way through her hair. “It’s the dumbest name in the history of dumb names and that’s coming from someone who might actually have a lawsuit on her hands if we actually make it out of qualifying rounds.” “You can’t change your name,” Mary Margaret said. She was braiding Emma’s hair. And Emma didn’t move her head.

“I’d rather not get sued for four million dollars before I even get the chance to try and win four million dollars. That’s impractical.”

“But you made shirts,” David pointed out.

“Ruby made shirts. Or ordered shirts. No one asked her to do that.” “Are you even remotely surprised that she did that?” “About as surprised as you getting up insanely early to go get me bear claws from a bagel place that makes the best bear claws in the city.” David grinned at her, ducking his head to press a kiss on Emma’s temple and maybe being fifteen again wasn’t the worst thing in the entire world. “It’s only because we live a few blocks away,” he promised. “Any more than five blocks and I totally wouldn’t have done it.”

“No, then he would have called an Uber and woken up even earlier,” Mary Margaret mumbled.

Emma’s pulse sped up again, heart hammering against her ribs with something that felt like emotion and maybe sentiment and she couldn’t just start crying on Mary Margaret’s actual shoulder. That would have been weird.

Probably.

Mary Margaret wouldn’t have blinked.

She was, after all, used to that sort of thing. And David would have woken up at dawn to get Emma bear claws if he had to, if only to prove that she had people behind her and support in her corner and a slew of other athletic-based clichés that made her vision swim just a bit.

David hadn’t just gotten her to come into the house all those years ago. He’d gotten his mom to agree to Emma and everything that she came with – a mess of legal battles and paperwork and enrolling her in Storybrooke High that fall.

And she’d had her own room, across the hall from David, and Mary Margaret had helped her fill out a closet, the very first she’d ever owned, and the three of them spent the entire year together, the memories of those days still hanging in frames on the walls in Ruth’s house.

It had been good. It had been perfect – some kind of storybook lifestyle for a town with an absurd name and Emma could never quite believe her luck.

So, naturally, she’d gone and ruined the whole thing.

She had a tendency to do that. And David graduated, got into the University of Maine and that was hours away and Mary Margaret was gone as well, that perpetual smile and positivity that Emma had allowed herself to depend on in just a few, short months, limited to phone calls and text messages.

They promised they’d come back. They’d drive back down for weekends and Emma could come up and sleep on Mary Margaret’s floor, but Emma was sure – it was all over. So she ran. Again.

She was an idiot.

Only David and Mary Margaret found her. Again. And again. Over and over, every single team she absolutely fucked it all up, there they were, encouraging smiles on their faces and certainty in their stare and, usually, baked goods in their hands.

Shit, she’d totally started crying on Mary Margaret’s shoulder.

“Em,” David said slowly, eyes wide and hand falling on her forearm. “Are you crying? God, you’re totally crying. What’s the matter?” Emma shook her head, some of the braid Mary Margaret had already finished falling apart in the process, but the evidence was on her cheeks and her slightly puffy eyes and she could hear her phone buzzing from her compound a few feet away.

“That’d be totally lame,” she mumbled, dragging her knuckles across her face.

“The lamest. Is it because I put peanut butter and cream cheese on my bagel?” “That’s totally it,” Emma agreed and her voice was still shaky and just a bit scratchy, but David didn’t push, just tugged her away from the edge of the counter and wrapped his arms around her tightly. His hand found the back of her head, cupping her hair as he mumbled something that might have been encouragements in her ear, but Emma couldn’t really think when he did that, the actual feel of self confidence enveloping her as soon as she pressed her forehead into the crook of his neck.

“Five seed’s a good underdog story,” David continued, leaving another kiss on the crown of her head. “Tell your reporter guy to lede with that.” “Not my guy,” Emma mumbled. There it was. She was, almost, surprised it had taken them that long to get there. David had absolutely been gossiping with Ruby. “And,” she added. “He’s the one who’s won awards, doesn’t seem like it’s my place to tell him how to write his story.” “Yeah, but it’s about you. He should take that into account.” “Are you trying to protect me from the big world of journalism, Detective?” David pulled back, face turning serious quicker than Emma expected and that shouldn’t have surprised her either. “Yes,” he said simply and Mary Margaret made some kind of noise of agreement in the back of her throat.

“M’s, this was your idea,” Emma said, glancing over her shoulder. Mary Margaret shrugged. “And I still think it’s a good idea. He really did seem excited about it when I saw him on Friday. Even if he was being kicked in the side.” “I’m sorry, what?” “He was holding Roland. Or trying to, at least. I’ll tell you something though, Roland Locksley has never been more excited to have someone pick him up from summer camp than he was when Killian Jones showed up. He’s not nearly that enthusiastic about the assistant.” “You’ve lost me. And how old is this kid?” “Regina Mills’ assistant,” Mary Margaret explained. “She’s usually the one who gets the kids. Although Robin comes sometimes too. He’s nice. Better with the kids than the assistant. She always looks kind of stressed out.” “And did anyone mention why Killian Jones was picking up these kids? Or how he knows them enough to offer them ice cream?” “I don’t think you need to be well acquainted with kids to offer them ice cream,” David reasoned, one arm still slung over Emma’s shoulders as she tried to twist around and stare at Mary Margaret.

“That’s true,” Mary Margaret agreed. “But I don’t think that’s what was happening. He knew those kids. Like in a part of the family kind of way. They had nicknames and everything. It was painfully adorable.” “Jeez, that’s just like a thing for him isn’t it?” Emma asked, the words flying out of her mouth before she could even really consider them. Mary Margaret’s eyebrows practically jumped off her face.

“What?” “Nothing.” “Emma Swan.” She growled or groaned or maybe wondered if she could get out of the conversation without having to talk about any of this. No such luck. “He’s just got this nickname thing,” Emma muttered. “When he talk.” “Right,” Mary Margaret said, smile tugging on the sides of her mouth. Emma’s phone was still buzzing. “And you know this because…” “I’ve had two conversations with him.” “No, of course. Two conversations. You talk to him since that second conversation?”

Emma narrowed her eyes, pressing her lips together and ducking out from underneath David’s arm. “I’ve got to shower,” she said, already halfway towards the bathroom. “Ruby’s going to murder me if we’re late.”

It didn’t matter – Emma walked out of the bathroom ten minutes later, damp hair still wrapped in a towel, to find Ruby sitting cross-legged on the couch with a controller in her hand and a disgruntled David a few feet away from her.

“Why are you so bad at this?” she laughed, not moving her eyes away from the screen and David made some kind of impossible noise, trying to elbow her in the thigh.

“Why are you so good at this? And how do you keep getting all these bananas? Oh, shit, shit, fuck, God, stop laughing, Lucas.” “I’m sorry, this is just hysterical. It’s like the game got better and suddenly you’re complete shit at MarioKart.” She dropped another banana behind her and David let out another string of curses as he skidded off the course again, throwing his head back towards the ceiling and damning Ruby to several different afterlives, including, what sounded like, the seventh circle of Hell.

“For betrayers and mutineers,” Emma intoned, not quite able to keep the laughter out of her voice when David actually chucked his controller at the ground. Mary Margaret didn’t even look surprised.

“Stop quoting things at me, Em,” he hissed. Ruby lapped him. “God, Lucas, seriously. Stop showing off. It’s just embarrassing.” “For you or me?” Ruby asked, swinging her legs back onto the floor and she’d already won. She took a step towards Emma, eyeing the shirt she’d begrudgingly put on, and grinning, confidence practically rolling off her in waves. “I told you the shirts were worth the money,” she said pointedly, tapping on the emblem they’d gotten Anna to draw nearly a month before. “And it’s absolutely embarrassing for you, Nolan. I know I’m good.” David sighed again, dropping down onto the floor and pulling one leg up until he looked like a Renaissance painting – of MarioKart 8 defeat. “We shouldn’t have bought the new one,” he mumbled. “I was better at the classic version.” “Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Hey, did you get Emma bear claws for good luck this morning? I’m starving.” “Stop stealing my baked goods,” Emma said, but Ruby was already in the kitchen and Mary Margaret was already pouring another cup of coffee and they were going to be, at least, twenty minutes late. It was going to take forever to get crosstown.

“Too late,” Ruby said, mumbling through a mouthful of bear claw. “Have we complained about the seeding for this qualifying thing yet this morning because I’d really like to complain about that again.” “Too late,” Emma repeated. Ruby sighed. “How come you’re here? I didn’t think you were coming here. Are the rest of them coming here?” Ruby shook her head, confusion flashing across her expression when she glanced towards Mary Margaret. Emma tried not to groan. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?” “There’s a car outside.” “What?” “Automobile. Vehicle. Motor car. A sweet set of wheels.” Mary Margaret laughed loudly, the sound working its way across the entire apartment as Emma practically sprinted towards the window. Ruby was right. There was a car outside and a uniformed man leaning against the passenger’s side door, feet crossed at the ankles and a hat in his hand like he’d wandered straight off a movie set.

“What the hell is that?” Emma asked sharply, not sure why she was, suddenly, terrified by the answer.

“Did you not hear my sweet set of wheels explanation?” Ruby asked. “I can’t really come up with another synonym. You can ask your reporter when we get to the Theater. He’s probably got more. That’s his job, right?” Emma shook her head, mind muddled and thoughts moving slowly and she needed to dry her hair. And look at her phone. Oh fuck, her phone. She moved again, actually running across the several hundred square feet of apartment and nearly knocking over the partition while Ruby mumbled something her breath at Mary Margaret.

She had six text messages and she’d never actually programed his number in her phone, but she recognized the 718 area code and her heart might have actually been in her throat.

Good luck today, Swan.

Not that I think you’ll need it. You’re absolutely going to wreck the competition. God, that’s the lamest way to say that isn’t it?

Definitely lame.

True though. Even if that five-seed seems kind of absurd since your team actually has a pretty impressive win-loss record.

How did you end up a five seed? It doesn’t make any sense. This Vivi’s team hasn’t even won a competitive game yet. And they’re a four. This is just basic math. Even Singularity is garbage. And they’re the No. 1? You’ve got more wins than them. This is absurd.

Emma bit her lip, suddenly aware of the smile on her face and the way her breath had caught in her throat, knees not quite as straight as they’d been a few minutes before. He might be more upset about the five-seed debacle than Ruby and David combined.

And Emma could nearly imagine what his voice sounded like, the way he tried to rush over the words when he started talking about something he cared about and there was a sudden and distinct lack of oxygen in her compound at even the passing idea that he cared about her.

That was insane.

Impossible.

That was impossible. There were ethics involved. And one more text message.

The car’s for you, by the way. Courtesy of Mills Media. And how shitty the MTA is this summer. Just figured it’d be easier.

Was she still standing? She was. She might not have been breathing, but she was definitely still standing and somewhere in the realm of swooning until she suddenly and quickly got very, very frustrated.

She didn’t need a car. She didn’t need text messages from a phone number she, admittedly, probably should have saved on Friday night. She could walk crosstown quicker than the car could drive there.

Ethics.

And a deep-rooted stubborn streak that was probably her undoing. Or something less dramatic.

“Em,” Ruby said, approaching cautiously and that might have been the strangest thing that had happened all day. “M’s wants to know if you want her to braid your hair so we can get out of here. We probably shouldn’t keep that fancy driver guy waiting. Seems like a dick move.” Emma hummed noncommittally in the back of her throat, stuffing her phone in her pocket. “We’re not taking the car,” she said and Ruby’s eyes widened. “That’s...how did he even get Mary Margaret’s address?”

“I have no idea. But, like, that’s a thing, right? Investigative journalism or whatever?” “Are we the investigation?”

“Eh,” Ruby wavered, teeth bared as she tilted her head slightly. “Maybe not we.” Emma sighed, any sense of swooning as deflated as the air mattress at her feet. “That was almost kind of heavy-handed, don’t you think?”

“I almost don’t care. You should have heard David’s must protect Emma speech on Saturday night. You want to talk about heavy-handed, that was, like, the single most awkward conversation I’ve ever had and, once, Anna tried to tell me about how she nearly got engaged to a Tindr date the same night she met him.”

“What? God, I can’t imagine Elsa would be very into that idea.” “She wasn’t. There was, apparently, a fight if you can believe those two actually fought about anything in their lives and, just, trust me, it was weird and David is worried about you and these stories and he hasn’t told Mary Margaret about that and I’m not supposed to tell you either and Killian Jones blushed while holding a painfully adorable kid as soon as someone mentioned your name on Friday night.” “Were you not supposed to tell me that part either?” Emma asked archly, tugging her hair out of the towel.

“No, that’s painfully obvious. Everyone knows that.”

“Jeez. You are on a roll.” Ruby shrugged, but there was a tinge of disappointment in her gaze and Emma licked her lips. “We’re really not going to take the car?” “We’re really not going to take the car,” Emma said, the weight of her phone practically dragging her through the entire apartment building. “C’mon. Let’s go over strategy while M’s fixes my hair.” She did feel kind of bad about blowing off the driver – fancy hat clutched tightly in his right hand when Emma promised they were fine with walking and Ruby grumbled under her breath about it for the entire thirteen block walk to the Playstation Theater.

Emma ate another bear claw.

And tried not to drop the two cups of coffee gripped tightly in her hands.

She heard her name on the other side of the block, Anna’s hair obvious even in a sea of professional video game players and spectators and frantic-looking league reps who, clearly, had no idea what they’d gotten themselves into. Emma waved, hoping that would, somehow, stop the screeching from the other side of 44th Street, but it only seemed to drive Anna forward even more and, suddenly, she was nearly a foot taller, held up by a pair of hands that looked vaguely familiar.

She was clinging to Will Scarlet’s side, one of his arms wrapped tightly around her waist while she balanced herself on his shoulder and waved at Emma like she was trying direct several planes. And Killian Jones was very obviously staring at his feet a few inches away, a pen stuck behind his ear and something that might have been a credential around his neck and two cameras hanging off his left arm.

Emma bit her lip. And tried not to focus on the obscene amount of sugar she’d already ingested that morning.

“We should have taken the car,” Ruby muttered again, dragging Emma with her across the street as soon as the light changed.

“Emma, Emma, Emma,” Anna chanted, pulling herself away from Will and grabbing Emma by both her shoulders. Killian’s eyes darted up, one side of his mouth ticking up when he saw she was holding coffee. “You are missing everything. There has already been trash talking and people screaming into NY1 cameras and Tink totally dated the guy who’s Singularity’s captain and she said…”

Anna paused for half a moment to take a breath and Emma allowed herself one, quick glance towards Killian Jones. God, he was unfairly attractive. That was making this far more difficult than it should have been. Anna was still talking, detailing how Tink knew some guy named Greg and how shitty he was at playing Overwatch and how they were totally going to wreck and Emma barely heard any of it, lips dry again and both of her hands were burning from the somehow-still hot coffee.

Killian smiled at her, soft and maybe just a bit nervous and Emma tried to keep her expression neutral. It probably didn’t work if Anna’s continued exclamations were any indication. “Emma, are you ok?” she asked and Emma’s head darted up at the concern in her voice.

Elsa narrowed her eyes knowingly and Emma was struck with the rather sudden realization that they’d all talked about this. God, there was probably a group text. David had probably started it.

“I’m fine,” Emma promised. “NY1 is really here?” “It’s apparently an event,” Elsa said, a smile on her face as she waved a hand at the scene in front of her.

That was, definitely, one word for it. There were people everywhere, some of them already lined up in front of the doors to the Theatre and even more pushing their way down the block, cups of Starbucks clutched tightly in their hands and they weren’t the only team with matching t-shirts. That didn’t make Emma feel any better about the matching t-shirts.

Killian still hadn’t said anything, but Will was taking pictures and Emma tried not to be completely overwhelmed by everything around her. So, naturally, her eyes darted towards Killian again and that stupid, confident smile on his face. “You didn’t take the car,” he said slowly, muttering the words quietly enough that it was a conversational miracle Emma even heard him.

Emma rocked on her heels, not sure how to respond to a statement and Ruby elbowed her in the side – hard. “Ow,” Emma hissed, but Ruby just glared at her. “What the hell?” “Here,” Ruby said, ignoring Emma completely and pushing something into Killian’s chest. He didn’t move, didn’t even flinch, just glanced down and the smile turned just a bit more genuine.

“I didn’t think you’d remember,” he said. Ruby shrugged. Oh, God, it was a matching t-shirt.

“Please. Although seeing as we are an all-female team, this is absolutely not going to fit you and is now a gift for Henry wherever he is.” Emma nearly dropped the coffee again, stammering slightly and growling at Will when he pushed a camera lens in her face. “Wait, what? Henry like the one in Mary Margaret’s class?” Killian nodded. “What is going on right now?” As if on cue, a kid who couldn’t have possibly been more than twelve years old, skidded to a stop in front of them – both Will and Killian reaching out an arm to brace him. “Hook,” he shouted, head snapping up towards Killian. “You’ve got to come inside. There’s this whole table of merch and you can get a credit for download bundles to get new skins for characters and…”

His shoulders heaved when he ran out of oxygen, eyes wide when he realized there were two other people around now, but he smiled when he noticed Ruby. And Emma felt incredibly out of place. “Hey, Rubes,” Henry said brightly, ducking underneath Killian’s arm and only muttering slightly when she pulled him against her side.

“Hey, kid,” Ruby grinned. “You know you don’t need to get credits for that bundle. We’ll get you that in, like, a couple hours tops.” “Really?” Ruby nodded seriously, holding one hand out and Henry wrapped his pinky around her outstretched finger. “Let us wreck this qualifying tournament and then for sure.” “God, will everyone stop using the phrase wreck in regards to this tournament,” Emma groaned, feeling half a dozen curious eyes land on her. Killian grinned.

“Who else is using that?” Ruby asked and Emma tried to brush her off, nodding towards Henry instead. “Oh, right, right, Henry, this is Emma Swan. She’s our team captain and the best goddamn Overwatch player in the country. She could get you your codes in a couple minutes.” Henry’s eyes lit up and Emma bit her lip tightly, hoping the blush she could feel on her cheeks wasn’t too obvious. “It’s really nice to meet you,” Emma said honestly. “You were in Mary Margaret, uh, Mrs. Nolan’s class last year, right?”

“Yeah,” Henry nodded. “She used to ask me about the game all the time last year. She, uh, she knew I played and I told her about my mom.” It was some kind of miracle Emma hadn’t dropped the coffee. She glanced back at Killian – as struck as she was, with wide eyes and a half-open mouth and Will was still taking pictures. “Thanks,” Emma mumbled, not sure what else to say. Henry’s smile got even bigger.

“We should probably go inside,” Elsa said. The line outside the door was starting to move and they were definitely running late already, but there was some semblance of a schedule and Emma really just wanted this first match to be over.

She nodded, more than willing to let Elsa direct them into the main room and a check-in table and, of course, she’d just fallen into step with Killian. She could nearly feel him next to her, something that felt a bit like heat and almost like electricity radiating off him and he took a deep breath before she interrupted him completely.

“This is for you,” Emma said brusquely, holding her hand up expectantly and his lips twitched again. That was distracting. “I...I should have started with that. Buried the lede or whatever.” He laughed softly, taking short, measured steps so he didn’t move in front of her and his fingers were warm when they brushed over Emma’s. “Was that a journalism joke, Swan?” “A pretty good one, I think. Mostly because I don’t know any other journalism terms to make jokes with.” “Nothing?” Killian asked skeptically. He needed to stop looking at her. And talking to her. And asking questions. There was already an Overwatch game happening on the main screen. “Byline? Deadline? Something about quotes?” Emma rolled her eyes, taking a sip of coffee. “Congratulations on proving your ability to just shout out keywords regarding your job. Although I’m not accepting something about quotes.” “Too broad, huh?” “Exactly that.” “Noted,” he grinned and he hummed softly when he gulped his own coffee. “This is good.” “I’m not trying to poison you.” “Noted, again. And appreciated. If I ask you an actual question are you going to try and turn me to stone again?” Emma stopped walking, whoever was behind her nearly colliding with her back and she did drop the coffee. It was about time. “Oh, shit,” she mumbled, dropping down and one of her knees landed directly in a puddle of caffeine and two-percent milk.

Maybe this event wasn’t quite as much a disaster as Emma assumed – a person with a League Official t-shirt on appearing beside her quickly and there was a mop and promises that it was fine and Emma found herself being pulled back up before she even realized Killian had moved.

God, his hand was warm.

“Come here, love,” he said softly, wrapping his fingers around her wrist and tugging her away from the crowd. She followed him before she could come up with an argument, ducking behind the merch table Henry had been so excited about and it was, almost, quiet there.

“I’m fine,” Emma snapped, pulling her hand away quickly and wincing when it collided painfully with her side. He hadn’t even asked a question yet.

Killian nodded. “I’m not questioning that. Here,” he added, pushing his half-finished cup towards her. “You need the caffeine more than I do.” “Are you trying to tell me I look tired?” “No. I’m telling you that you’re the one who has to win an entire qualifying tournament today and that it only seems fair you to get at least some coffee out of the equation when, I’m assuming, you paid for it.”

Oh. She really was an asshole. And far too certain things were just going to go wrong by default. Mary Margaret would have some kind of hope speech perfectly prepared for this moment. Emma kind of wished she’d come with them.

“Not everything is some kind of calculated attack, Swan,” Killian added, ducking back into her eye line and smiling when she took the cup.

“What was your question?” she asked. His coffee didn’t have cinnamon in it. Damn.

“Why didn’t you take the car?” “Why did you send a car?” Killian shook his head, tongue pressed against the edge of his lip and Emma didn’t think she imagined the way he rocked towards her. “I asked first,” he said. “There are rules.” “I think you’re just making them up as you go along.”

“And I think you’re doing a very bad job of avoiding the question.”

She flashed her eyes up, but he didn’t back down, just lifted his eyebrows and stared straight at her, like he could read her mind or maybe like she was the open book he promised she was. Emma sighed. “I’m perfectly capable of walking a couple of blocks.” “I’m not questioning that.” “You really need to be more specific then.” Killian tilted his head – and Emma tried to keep her shoulders straight and her spine in line and she couldn’t remember having ever been looked at like that, like he was interested and intrigued and like he wanted to know everything, on the record, with absolutely no intention of putting it on the internet.

“I’m not one to just...accept things,” Emma said slowly. Killian didn’t respond, just moved his eyebrows again and kept staring at her. No, she thought, waited. He was waiting for her. “Especially from people I don’t really know. Who should have no idea where to send town cars.”

“Ah,” he laughed, running a hand through his hair and twisting slightly so his left arm was pulled behind his back. “Yeah, that was bordering somewhere on stalking wasn’t it?” “How did you do it?” “The receptionist at Mills is actually some kind of secret coding and internet expert. And she was very willing to do me a favor if I got Gina to get her and her boyfriend a reservation at TAO on Saturday night.” “The receptionist?” Emma repeated and Killian made a significant face. “You got a receptionist to...what, hack into some sort of record and find M’s address?” “She’s not trying to be the receptionist apparently. It’s a very involved story. But she saved the website on Friday and kept Robin from actually pulling his hair out or having some kind of episode in the middle of Broadway. So, you know, Gina owed her.” “You keep saying all these names and I have no idea who you’re talking about,” Emma admitted, appreciating his smile a lot more than she should have. “Gina is Regina Mills, right?” Killian nodded. “And Robin is…” “Her husband.” “Which makes Henry…” “Their kid. One of two. Roland is seven and obsessed with chocolate-chip cookie dough ice cream and being Henry.” Emma nodded in understanding, pieces of the puzzle, almost, starting to fit together. “And you know both of these kids well enough to pick them up from school, offer them ice cream in a not-creepy kind of way and then bring one of them with you on an assignment?” “Yes, yes and yes,” Killian answered. “Although Gina wasn’t happy about that last one. It’s apparently not very education-focused.” “It’s summer.” “My argument exactly, Swan.” She’d finished her coffee. Or his coffee. Emma wasn’t sure of the specifics anymore, trying not to linger on the fact that they’d somehow managed to share one cup of coffee that morning.

It felt like something important.

Emma turned her head, staring straight at him and maybe that was a mistake. Shit, his eyes were blue. He still had his arm twisted around behind him. “And you wanted to send me a town car to go thirteen blocks because…”

“It was a gesture of goodwill,” he grinned. “So you could get here easier.” “There wouldn’t be anywhere to park on 44th Street. How did Ruby know about it?”

“I have no idea.” He wasn’t lying – eyebrows pulled low and gaze intent and he wanted her to believe him. She didn’t. Jeez.

“I feel like we’re both missing a pretty big part of this game,” Emma muttered, taking a step towards him and she was close enough that her toes nearly brushed up against his sneakers. She could have moved, could have pulled her hands up and rested them flat against his chest like she wanted to and pressed her lips against his and maybe she’d thought of that a questionable amount since she’d swallowed some of her pride on Friday night and called him.  

She didn’t do any of that.

Because Emma Swan never got in the car – metaphorically or otherwise. Not anymore.

“How did this happen, Swan?” Killian asked suddenly and she realized they’d been standing in silence, staring at each other like they were taking inventory for far too long.

Emma licked her lips quickly, tugging them back behind her teeth as she tried to regain her bearings. She could make out the sounds of the game behind her, catchphrases that had been playing on an endless loop in her brain since they’d decided to do this, and she tugged self consciously on her t-shirt.

“What?” she asked a bit breathlessly. Killian’s gaze shifted, dropping away from her eyes and, maybe, down towards her mouth, but then he blinked and it was gone as soon as it came, features stoic and professional and good, she could deal with that.

“On the record,” Killian said, a recorder held loosely in his right hand.

Oh. Well, yeah, no, that was ok. They had to do that, right? He had to ask questions and write stories and that was the deal. That was what Emma had begrudgingly agreed to when Mary Margaret announced the plan and Ruby promised it was good for business like that even made sense in context, but they’d taken a team vote and Emma had been overruled and now she needed to answer questions.

On the record.

“Ask me an actual question,” Emma hissed, frustration back in her voice and there went flirting. If flirting had ever been on the table. Jeez.

“How did Emma Swan become the team captain of the only all-female pro Overwatch team in the league?” Killian asked. “Or, rather, how did you start playing video games?” “That’s a long story.” “I’ve got some time. And so do you. Your shitty five-seed matchup isn’t for another hour.” “Why do you know that?” “I can read, Swan. There was a schedule on the league site and something about streaming. You’re still not answering my question.” He shook the recorder slightly and Emma’s stomach flipped. She swallowed back the bundle of nerves in her throat, chewing on her lip as she tried to figure out the best way to answer. Killian nodded once, like he was agreeing to an idea he hadn’t voiced, and leaned towards Emma, half an inch away from her face and what was personal space when she could barely think?

“I’ll tell you what, love,” Killian said, low and intent and Emma could feel it. “We’ll go one-for-one, huh? On the record back and forth. You answer my questions and I’ll answer yours. No matter what.” She hadn’t been expecting that. “Why?” Emma asked sharply. It was an accusation. And Killian knew it. “We both need this to work, Swan. You asked me about Boston and what led me back to New York, well, this is it. A story. A good one. So I need this to work and your team needs the publicity. It’s a win-win for both of us, we might as well be honest with each other.” “You have a very high opinion of this whole situation don’t you?” Killian shrugged. “I think we could make a very good team, Swan. It’s up to you whether or not that works.” Emma considered that for a few moments, scowling when she realized he was absolutely and infuriatingly right. Damn. On the record. “My brother,” she said. “He’s the reason I’m here.” “Give a guy a second to get his recorder out, Swan,” Killian grinned, hitting a button on the square of plastic in his hand. She rolled her eyes. “Ok, brother. I’m going to guess he’s the reason behind the NYPD shirt before?” “Why do you remember that?” “Perceptive. And a journalist. It’s the details, love. So you and your cop brother started playing video games when you were kids?”

“No,” Emma said and Killian did something absurd with his eyebrows. “Ruth bought him a knockoff XBox for Christmas one year and we spent the entire break playing. Turns out I’ve got pretty good hand-eye coordination.” “Did you wreck him, Swan?”

Her eyes were going to get stuck that way if she kept rolling them, but Emma was smiling again and they kept bouncing through moods in this conversation. It felt like playing the game. She’d clearly lost her mind.

“You were right before, you know, that’s totally lame,” Emma said. “But, yeah. Every single time. And even now. Between David and Mary Margaret I was fairly convinced I was the greatest player to ever walk the Earth, but they were just both painfully bad at Halo.”

“And that sparked the interest as a career?” Emma shook her head and that was what she’d been dreading. There wasn’t any way to explain a year in jail and no high school degree and what talent did she have except the innate ability to kill her virtual enemies? Killian seemed to pick up on her concern, hand falling back on her arm and she shuddered at the touch.

When she’d gotten out of jail, she didn’t know where to go – didn’t have much more than a blanket with her name on it and the memories of everything blowing up in her face and Emma was barely making ends meet in Providence when David showed up at her apartment and told her enough was enough.

He found her. Again. And Emma had gone with him. Again.

So he took her to that sleepy little college town and got her a job at the coffee shop on campus and Emma kept playing, nights on the couch with David and Mary Margaret and, eventually, she came up with a plan.

She started making money. She almost forgot about him and a time when she wasn’t certain and confident and ready and the League just seemed like the next logical step.

Only that step had landed her in front of Killian Jones and his recorder and blue eyes and Emma needed a plausible story. “I’ve always wanted to kind of control my own life, I guess,” Emma started, mumbling over the words while she tried to keep her lip in between her teeth. “And I’ve been lucky that my brother and M’s have been super supportive of that. So they helped and played against me so I could get better and there were competitions all over the country that had big prize pools, bigger every year as games got more and more popular and less and less weird and, well, you know the rest. I’m camping out in their living room while I try to find my own place and win this whole, stupid League.” Killian hummed, hitting another button on the recorder and starting at her. Still. He kept doing that. She wished he wouldn’t. “Was that ok?” Emma asked. “On the record?” “Of course, Swan. It’s a good start.” “A start?” “Ah, well, that’s my angle I guess,” he explained. “We’d background everyone on the team, maybe highlight how shitty this whole seeding thing was and talk a little bit about what comes next. Oh and maybe the thing in Philadelphia.” “You know about that too?” He quirked an eyebrow at her, smirk settling onto his face with practiced ease and they definitely had to play soon. It felt like they’d been standing in that corner for several lifetimes. “You’re very surprised by reading comprehension, love,” Killian laughed.

“Just impressed by your dedication to research.” “Maybe not such a bad journalist, after all. I almost understand the game.”

“Color me impressed,” Emma smiled, eyes wide and that smirk was stupid. She wanted to kiss it off. She wanted to absolutely wreck Vivi’s Adventure in the first round. “You know, maybe, we could try and build on that knowledge today? If you’ve got...questions or something.” “Are you offering to explain the video game to me, Swan? Henry’s been trying to do that for two weeks already.” “And how that’s going for you?” “Eh, he’s very frustrated. Far more preoccupied with getting that credit than anything I could offer him today.” “Ah, well, there’s no ice cream involved.” Killian smiled and Emma’s heart dropped into her stomach or maybe into her feet or possibly exploded out of her chest. “Always a disappointment, of course,” he muttered, stuffing his recorder back into his pocket and leaning towards her again.

He didn’t touch her arm.

He did, however, move his left hand and Emma’s eyes caught on a flash of color and a name and the question hung in the minimal amount of air between them as soon as she closed her mouth. “Who’s Milah?” she asked. “On the tattoo.” And just like that, it was over. The whole scene changed and Emma’d been absolutely wrecked by an assailant she didn’t see and wasn’t prepared for, thrown back to the start of some metaphorical level without a single weapon to her name.

The corner suddenly felt very small and Killian couldn't seem to back up quick enough, eyes dark and lips pressed together tightly and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Someone from a long time ago,” he bit out, venom in every single letter. “On the record.”

Emma nodded, quick jerks of her neck that sent a shockwave of pain and frustration down her spine. That’s what she got for asking questions.

“Hey, uh, guys,” Elsa said, appearing in the corner with a nervous look on her face. “We’ve got to go play the game. Ruby’s half a second away from shutting down the whole tournament to try and find you, Em.” “Of course she is,” Emma mumbled. She tried to plaster a smile on her face, certain it hadn’t worked as soon as she looked at Elsa. “Ok, we’re coming.”

She turned back to Killian – shoulders tight with the tension he was holding and his thumb pressed into his left forearm. “You, uh, want to watch a game in action?” Emma asked and he hummed softly, gaze still heavy on her face.

“Yeah, Swan,” he said. “Let’s go.”

[queenielacy]

Imagine:

Javier Pena learns a valuable lesson: Always have a plan B.

Elias grabbed a pair of white slacks off the rack and carried them on his arm. He was searching for something to wear to Gilberto’s football party on Sunday. His team made it into the championship game, so the Godfather wanted to have a big party to celebrate and watch the big game. Elias had been in Colombia for six months and was considered apart of the Cali elite, being on Pacho’s arm and all, and was expected to look the part even if it was just a football party.

Some would consider him more than just apart of the Cali elite. He was Pacho’s boy, along side Manuel, and that made him royalty in Cali. He had the respect, and a bit of fear, from all the people in and around Cali. “The best position in the Cali cartel is that of a spouse. You get all the perks of money without the drama.” Gilberto’s first wife explained to him one night. He had to admit, she was right.

Elias grabbed another pair of slacks before turning around. He turned so quickly that he bumped into a man that was behind him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.” Elias quickly apologized.

“It’s alright.” The man said as he looked at Elias. “Elias, right?” The man asked and Elias slowly nodded as he gave the man a confused look.

“Right…” Elias started. “Do I know you, sir?” Elias questioned. Maybe he was one of Pacho’s associates or a friend of Manuel’s.

“You don’t know me, but I know all about you Elias.” He said and the reached into his pocket. He pulled out a black wallet and opened it up to show off his badge. “Javier Pena, DEA.” Javier introduced himself.

Elias gulped as he looked at the badge. He’d heard rumors, that the DEA was back in full force in Colombia, but they were just rumors until today. “It’s nice to meet you Mr. Pena, but what’s the DEA?” Elias questioned, blinking his wide eyes and playing dumb. “And what’s that got to do with me?”

“The innocent act might work on Pacho, but it doesn’t work on me.” Javier spoke. “Pacho…he’s a tough cookie to crack. There’s not a lot of people who are close to him, but you are.” He said and Elias shrugged.

“What’s your point, Mr. Pena?” Elias asked.

“My point is that you know things-.” Javier was cut off by Elias’ laughter.

“Look, Mr. Pena, I don’t know what this is bu-.”

“Then let me just cut to the chase.” Javier cut off the young man. “I know everything about you. I know where your parents and siblings live. I know you send them money. I know that money comes from Pacho and I know Pacho’s money is dirty. What if I told them how you really get that money? What if I told them their son was a fag-.”

“They know I’m a fag.” Elias cut him off and Javier was taken aback by the revelation. “Apparently, you don’t know everything.”

“I know that money is dirty. I can have them in jail by the end of the week for money laundering. Hell, by the end of the day.” Javier threatened. “I know you used to work for Amado Carrillo and it was off the books so not only did you commit tax evasion, but you can’t legally prove what you did for him. I can make a case that you were trafficking drugs for him and have you deported back to Mexico. You’ll spend at least 10 years in a Mexican prison and I’ll make sure those guards know you’re a fag.” Javier threatened before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his card. “I’ll give you a few days to think about helping me and then give me a call, baby face.” He said and Elias took the card out of his hand.

“You have a blessed day, Mr. Pena.” Elias said and then turned away from the DEA agent. He threw the slacks down and walked out of the store. He walked back to the car where the two security guards Pacho hired to protect him were waiting on him. “Take me home please.” Elias said as he got into into the car. “And speed a little if you don’t mind.”

“Whatever you need, boss.” The guard said and stepped on the gas. They made it back to the Herrera Estate in record time. Elias jumped out of the car and ran into the main home.

“Pacho! Manuel!” Elias yelled out as he ran into the home. He needed to speak with them. “Pacho! Manuel!” He yelled again as he rounds the corner and made his way toward Pacho’s office. There were a few sicarios outside the door which meant at least one of the other godfathers was here but he didn’t care, he needed to speak with his lovers. He pushed passed the men and walked into the office, pushing the door opened with so much force that it slammed into the wall.

Elias stood their wide eyed as Pacho, Manuel, Gilberto and Miguel looked back at him. Pacho and Manuel were leaning against the desk while Gilberto and Miguel were sitting down.

“What’s up with Bambi?” Gilberto questioned and Pacho shrugged.

“I’m sorry.” Elias blurted out. “I just need…I just…I jus-.” Elias broke down and went over to his lovers, throwing himself in their arms.

“He’s shaking.” Manuel stated as he wrapped his arms around Elias. Pacho cupped Elias’ cheeks and made him look into his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Pacho asked as tears rolled down Elias’ face. Elias reached into his pocket with shaky fingers and pulled out the business card. Pacho took the card from Elias to read it.

“A DEA agent stopped me in the store.” He confessed and the two brothers were off the couch when they heard DEA. “He knew everything about me, and my parents and siblings. He knows I used to work off the books for Mr. Carrillo. He says he’s going to make a case that I sold drugs. He’s going to have me deported and sent to jail in Mexico. He said he’d make sure all the guards knew what I was.” Elias explained as he cried. 

“He said he’s going to have my parents arrested because I sent them money and he’ll make a case that I was money laundering. I don’t want my parents or siblings in jail. You know my dad’s kidneys are bad, he won’t survive jail Pacho.” The tears fell faster as he started to think about his parents. They’d lost so much because they supported their queer son. Elias was just starting to make it right with all the money that he was sending, and now they were in trouble again because of him.

Pacho put the card down his desk and went to cup Elias’ face again. “Hey, calm down. Breathe for me…” Pacho tried to calm Elias down, afraid the younger man would have a heart attack if he kept this up. “You have nothing to worry about. Your family is safe and you’re safe. Don’t worry about this agent.”

“But Pa-”

“Have I ever lied to you before? Huh, my little prince?” Pacho asked and Elias shook his head.

“No.” Elias answered quietly.

“And I’m not lying now. I promise you, everything will be alright.” Pacho said and then placed a kiss on his lips. “You need to rest.”

“Come on Eli.” Manuel said and took Elias by the hand and led him out of the office.

“What are we going to do about this DEA agent?” Miguel asked once Pacho’s lovers were gone.

“I have an idea.” Pacho said. “I need to talk with Amado.”

Javier kicked his door closed as he walked inside of his government issued apartment. It was much better than the last one, but nothing was like home. He threw his blazer on to the couch along with some papers before taking off his gun and leaving it on the table. He made his way through his apartment and walked into the kitchen. He flicked on the light and got the scare of his life when Pacho fucking Herrera was sitting at his kitchen table, smoking a cigar in one of his fancy silk shirts and nice slacks.

“Mister Pena. It’s nice to meet you.” Pacho spoke after he blew the smoke from the cigar out. “I see you’ve met my little prince.”

“Elias?” Javier questioned. He wished he had his gun on him, and access to his phone. Pacho Herrera was in his kitchen, and he couldn’t do a fucking thing about it.

Pacho nodded. “You’re a smart man. You knew Manuel wouldn’t have believed a word you said, so you went after the young and naive one. Is it the DEA’s policy to ambush young men in department stores?”

“Is Elias that important to you? That’s you’d risk showing yourself like this?” Javier asked. Maybe he underestimated their relationship. They though Elias was just a sex you for Pacho, but that obviously wasn’t the case if he risked coming to a DEA agent’s apartment.

Pacho chuckled. “I’m here to offer you some advice. Whether you take it or not is up to you.” Pacho started. “You should leave Elias alone. You shouldn’t even think about Elias or his family. He has a lot of friends. Amado Carrillo, you know him? He thinks the world of Elias. Amado is in Mexico. Your family is from Texas. I’m not good at geography but Mexico and Texas share a border, don’t they?”

“You’re threatening me.”

Pacho shrugged. “Take it as you will. All I’m saying is that it would be a shame for your father, Chucho, to end up floating in the Rio Grande.” He said and stood up from the table. “I’m glad we had this chat. Now if you’ll excuse me…” Pacho trailed off as he placed the cigar in his mouth. He puffed on it as he started to walk out of the kitchen.

“Elias…what is he to you?” Javier called out. Pacho turned to face the DEA agent, blowing out his smoke before speaking.

“He’s my prince.” Pacho answered.

“And you’re his king.” Javier said but Pacho shook his head.

“I’m his knight. Manuel is his king.” Pacho answered. Pacho started to leave again, but then stopped when he remembered something. “Oh, you’ll get your phone service back on tomorrow. Also…” He pulled out a piece of paper and pulled it from his pocket. “I bet you’ll be shocked to know one of your own family members works from Amado. The papers would love that…” He said and then walked out of the apartment.

Javier cursed himself once Pacho was gone. Plan A had gone to shit and he didn’t have a Plan B. “What the fuck am I going to do now?”

[auburnfamilynews]

#12 Auburn @ UAB

Tuesday: 13 – 5 W

Over the past two seasons, for whatever reason, UAB has been a touch of a thorn in Auburn’s side. Last year, the Tigers needed the late game heroics of a Brett Wright home run to over-power the Blazers 11-8. This year’s edition of the game in Birmingham had the same outcome but a different hero to put the Tigers ahead for good. To start the game, Auburn called on Garrett Wade who has been fantastic so far in his midweek starts, but Tuesday night was a rough start for the freshman. UAB was able to touch up Wade for 4 runs on 3 hits with 4 walks and just 2 strikeouts in only 1.2 innings of work. Meanwhile, the UAB starter Tyler Gates had a fantastic start, going 2 innings, only giving up 2 hits to the Tigers. It would take Auburn till the 5th inning to start up the offense and they did it in a big way. Auburn would take advantage of timely base hits and some UAB miscues to tie the game at 4 before loading the bases and having Conor Davis come to the plate…

NO. DOUBTER. @ConorDavis13 clears the bases and breaks a 4-4 tie with the first grand slam of the season! T5 | AU 8, UAB 4 pic.twitter.com/efyOUQSVM2

— Auburn Baseball (@AuburnBaseball) March 20, 2019

That swing would put the Tigers up 8-4 and up for good in the game. It also helped that Baily Horn came in and looked really sharp in his first appearance since the Sunday game of the UCF series.

Strong effort in relief out of @bailey__horn: 3.0 IP, 0 H, 0 R, 1 BB, 2 K M7 | AU 12, UAB 4 pic.twitter.com/CjhtLTfKZo

— Auburn Baseball (@AuburnBaseball) March 20, 2019

What started off as a shaky start for Auburn, turned into a solid victory for the Tigers. That’s what good teams do, when they don’t have their best, they find a way to win. This Auburn team is on the verge of being something really good. We will find out just how good over these next 2 weekends.

Around the League

#2 Mississippi State

vs Little Rock, TUE 15-4 W

@ Samford, WED 6-4 W

One solid victory that Auburn fans know how hard it is to get all too well and then a fluff win for the Bulldogs this week. State found themselves down 4-2 to the Samford version of the Bulldogs in the Top of the 7th and that’s when the offense took life, scoring 4 in the inning and then holding Samford at bay for the rest of the game.

#5 Vanderbilt

@ Belmont, TUE 3-0 W

The across the street rivals played this one at the beautiful First Tennessee Park on the Germantown side of downtown Nashville and it was a little bit closer than I expected but I thought the Bruins would have put a run across. The Dore’s pitching staff paced them through this game, only giving up 4 hits while Scott Stephens would provide all the offense Vandy would need on the evening.

Good. Barrel. @Stephen_Scott7 | #VandyBoys pic.twitter.com/UMVQCE505d

— Vanderbilt Baseball (@VandyBoys) March 19, 2019

#8 Georgia

vs Georgia State, TUE 11-1 W

Not too much to see here. Georgia is riding high after a sweep of Carolina and Georgia State isn’t very good to be quite honest. We will find out about Georgia quickly though (and LSU too for that matter) this weekend in Athens.

#9 Arkansas

@ #11 Texas, TUE 11-4 W, WED 7-6 L

The lone SEC loss of the midweek and it nothing to be ashamed of, though it now makes the Horns 4-1 vs the SEC in Austin this year. Arkansas will head from the State Capital to beautiful downtown Tuscaloosa to take on the Tide in what will be one to keep an eye on the scores from. Arkansas is a solid ballclub and looks bound for another run at Omaha. Can Bama do it again and steal a win or two?

#10 LSU

vs Nicholls, WED 5-4 W/10

WOOOOHHH Buddy…was that close. The Tigers found themselves down 4-3 in the bottom of the 9th, down to their last strike, when this happened…

PROFESSIONAL HITTER CHRIS REID! The senior comes up CLUTCH to tie the game with a RBI double! #GeauxTigers : https://t.co/17aZkannkz pic.twitter.com/EFqDA0tCIy

— LSU Baseball (@LSUbaseball) March 21, 2019

Nicholls would get out of the inning but couldn’t scratch in the 10th and any of us that know Alex Box Stadium know what happened next…

TIGERS WIN! TIGERS WIN! @Daniel2cabrera doubles off the right field wall, and LSU defeats Nicholls, 5-4! #GeauxTigers pic.twitter.com/N892C2bKMt

— LSU Baseball (@LSUbaseball) March 21, 2019

LSU has be a bit funky since returning from Austin a few weeks back, yeah they got the sweep of Kentucky but I am interested to see what LSU team we get at Georgia this weekend.

#14 Florida

vs Jacksonville, TUE 13-8 W

Good win for the Gators over a Jacksonville team that always seems like they are right there, but just can’t push past that wall. Florida jumped out to a 6-0 lead after 3 innings and any time the Dolphins would chip away, UF would do things like this…

Déjá Vu for Austin Langworthy! He puts a charge in this one and gets a little help for his third homer of the year. #Gators WATCH NOW: https://t.co/n9V5E1I2ee pic.twitter.com/ALOtWK3zwR

— Florida Gators Baseball (@GatorsBB) March 19, 2019

#18 Texas A&M

vs Rice, TUE 8-3 W

The Owls really haven’t been the same ball club we all knew in the 90s and early 2000s so this win, while still good, has lost a touch of the luster it once carried. That said, Rice had its chances to make this a much more interesting game, however the Aggie defense was up to the task.

Rice loads the bases with one out, but a strikeout and groundout quells the uprising. M5 | 4-1 A&M Watch: https://t.co/aQRFjPtB5V#GigEm pic.twitter.com/YXk6NCa5AI

— Texas A&M Baseball (@AggieBaseball) March 20, 2019

#21 Ole Miss

vs Arkansas-Pine Bluff, TUE 12-2 W, WED 25-0 W/7

Good Lord Ole Miss!! Did ya not think a 10 run victory on Tuesday was enough? Pine Bluff isn’t a fantastic team as you can tell but these aren’t two resume builder wins by any stretch of the imagination. It was however a combined no-hitter for the Rebs on Wednesday night and those are always fun!

Tennessee

@ East Tennessee St, TUE 5-1 W

Good for the Vols to get back on the winning side of things after a rough weekend on the Plains. Now it’s back to the friendly confines of Lindsey Nelson Stadium where they are 13-1 this season as they host the South Carolina Gamecocks.

South Carolina

@ Furman, TUE 12-7 W

Like I said above, this was a much needed confidence win for the Gamecocks. Georgia absolutely roasted the Carolina offense last weekend, as we mentioned Tuesday, so to put up double digit runs is something they needed to do. Now, all they have to do is take on a Tennessee pitching staff that really limited Auburn for most of te weekend and held the Tigers to their lowest run output in a 3 game series so far this season.

Alabama

vs Maine, TUE 16-0 W

This wasn’t much of a game but it is a win for the Tide. Alabama now sits at 18-4 on the year which is exactly where they want to be to have a shot at making the NCAA tournament.

Kentucky

vs Xavier, TUE 16-3 W

Solid win for the Cats over a normally good Xavier team. Though I will say that maaaaybe you don’t do your ‘Shock and Awe” home run celebration at night…it’s hard to make sure everyone touches the bases…

The new ‘Shock and Awe’ home run show at Kentucky Proud Park got us feeling some kind of way... ! #WeAreUK #DingerSZN pic.twitter.com/91FEmSmBgo

— Kentucky Baseball (@UKBaseball) March 20, 2019

Missouri

vs Murray State, TUE 2-1 W, WED 13-1 W

Just keep winning Mizzou….just keep winning.

On Deck (with SEC Schedule)

#14 Florida @ #5 Vanderbilt (THU-SAT)

#12 Auburn @ #2 Mississippi State

#10 LSU @ #8 Georgia

#9 Arkansas @ Alabama

#18 Texas A&M @ Kentucky

#21 Ole Miss @ Missouri

South Carolina @ Tennessee

While there aren’t as many matchups of Top 25 teams in this schedule, there are still some monsters out there. That LSU and Georgia one tops my list of non-Auburn involved series and Vandy and the Gators will be fun, as well as Tennessee and Carolina from a ‘who will lose that series and be behind the 8-ball early’ point of view. However, the series of the weekend will be in Starkvegas where the 14 win in a row Tigers, come callin’ against what might be the scariest team in the country right now, the Mississippi State Bulldogs. It starts on the offense in my opinion for the Diamond Dogs, where Jake Mangum is the bell cow. Mangum is pacing the team with a .396 average with 10 doubles and 1 home run to his credit. Justin Foscue, Elijah MacNamee and Tanner Allen are also names to watch out for as well as they have a combined 12 bombs between them. If there is a starting staff that can match what Auburn has had so far this season, it would also be State. Ethan Small has been a wizard on the mound so far this season, only out done by Tanner so far. Small enters this weekend with a 2-0 record and a sparkling 1.50 ERA in 30 innings of work and has only given up 16 hits to 5 walks and 51 strikeouts. His understudy, JT Ginn, isn’t far off the pace either. Ginn will start Saturday and brings in his 5-0 record with a 2.59 ERA in 31.1 innings. JT has given up 23 hits on just 3 walks on the season. This will be the toughest series Auburn has had so far this season and may be the toughest of the year. The goal this weekend is to get a game, that’s true of any road series in the SEC, just don’t get swept. Auburn, however is good enough to take the series. I personally don’t think either team would sweep this one but you never know which way the ball will go or who will make the better pitch. I will be live from Starkville with updates all weekend long so be sure to follow our twitter account for pictures and updates from Dudy Noble.

from College and Magnolia - All Posts https://www.collegeandmagnolia.com/2019/3/21/18274778/mid-week-round-up-uab

[carson-shiira-stuff-blog]

The Raven Princess

The sun shone through the window illuminating a sleepy girl with long black hair. She stirred and rolled over opening her eyes to reveal a blonde naked girl next to her. She smiled and kissed her sleeping beauty slowly stirring her awake. “Morning Rue” said the blonde woman “good morning Rachel” said Rue. Rachel yawned and stretched. “What time is it”. “7” “good” Rachel slid her hand under the covers. “The we have time” Rue smiled. Rue got dressed and kissed Rachel goodbye “Have a nice day” she said as she left. Rue was the most popular girl in school and had the reputation as being something of a play girl among the students and faculty. Not that this was a determent to her or anything, everyone respected and admired her free sensual expression.  Rue got into the changing room and changed into her red leotard. The way it hugged her body made her giggle as she flash backed to her night with Rachel. When she entered the dance studio. Emily and Kirito were there in matching leotards. “Oh, hello Emily, hello Kirito”. “Hello Rue” said Emily and Kirito together. “Have you heard about the audition” asked Kirito. “What audition?” “There is an audition as to who would play the swan princess in the next performance”. “HMMM, no I haven’t” “I’m sure you’re a shoo in for the role”. “Or, maybe you would be the princess Kirito”. “Oh, no, no I’m not that skilled for the role, at least not yet”. Over the next few days, Rue was practicing hard for the role. Staying late after class, sometimes for over an hour. Studying up on the moves and positions. “You sure have been taking this seriously” said Rachel “Well, yes” said Rue “it’s not everyday that one would have the chance to be the main prima ballerina”. “Still, its not like there’s anyone who can rival your dancing skills”. On the other side of the studio Kirito and Emily were dancing funny and goofy. “Especially not them”  “don’t say that Jason” Rue scolded. “Ballet is not all about technique its about how you convey you dancing that counts”. “After all” said a curly haired girl “you were one of the village maidens in Coppelia”. “And I was a very beautiful girl” Jason said with pride. Rue practiced hard over the next couple of days. Even staying after class for a few hours. “Rue” said Camile one night, “why don’t you come to bed with me”. “In a few minutes” Rue replied Camile went out and kissed her on the neck. “Well, if you need to keep practicing” she started fiddling with Rue’s leotard. “Why not do it naked” she whispered. Rue got a smile on her face and did exercises in the nude while Camile sat and watched. It was the day of the audition. Even though Rue practiced like mad over the past week she still had butterflies in her stomach. “Relax” said Rachel “you’ll be fine”. “I know, I know, after all I am the best dancer here” said a reassured Rue. She was up next. “Break a leg, my love”. Rue got on stage, and began her dance. For the first half of the dance, she was doing really well executing her moves flawlessly. “Wooo, go Rue” said a boy in the crowd. Rue got a surge of confidence which made her dance more recklessly. On and on she went until… Thud. She fell executing a triple pirouette. For a few moments she just laid there on the floor. Until she got up and finished the routine. “Thank you Miss Rue” said the teacher, she did a little curtsey and ran off stage. “Good job Rue, good job” said Rachel. Rue did not look so confident. “Hey, you’re dance was really good, despite the fall”. Rue started to cheer up. “Yeah, yeah I was great”. “Next up, Emily” said the announcer. “Besides, its not like” a pink light came from the stage revealing Princess Tutu, and Rue’s stomach dropped. Her dancing was elegant and flawless. Without one single mistake. As Rue was watching she began doubting herself and her ability compared to the supernatural dancing of Princess Tutu. With one last Grande Jete. She finished and ran off stage. “Ooofff, excuse me Rue” she said as she bumped into her. Rue turned and just stared at her not knowing how to feel. “She didn’t” said a boy named Draco. “She did” said a girl named Penelope. “Emily transformed into Princess Tutu and danced circles around the competition. “What an underhanded trick. It’s one thing for Emily to use her Princess Tutu powers to help people, but its something else to use them for personal gain”. “We should tell on her and have her expelled, what do you think Rue”. Rue was lost in thought and at them mention of her name snapped her out of it. “If Emily wants to use her power like that, then its her own choice”. Her friends were giving her a look. “Its fine, whatever happens happens its fine, its fine” Rue insisted. But she was not fine, in fact her heart was filled with doubt and a sense of how unfair this all was. It didn’t help that everyone was talking about the incident all over town. Which made Rue’s uncertainty grow all the more. Soon her mantra in her heart went from “I wasn’t good enough” to “I hate this situation” to “I hate Tutu”. The next night, as she was making naked love with Rachel “stop, stop” Rue said. Rachel interpreted this as Rue just teasing, but when she slapped her advances she could tell that Rue was in a bad mood. “Do you wanna talk about it” said Rachel. “No, I don’t” “come on Rue don’t be like that”. She tried rubbing her legs getting closer to Rue’s pleasure, but Rue slapped her hand away with more force. Finally, in a desperate attempt she grabbed Rue’s back and shoved her face into her breasts. “I SAID NO” Rue forced Rachel away from her forcing her to fall off the bed and hit the floor. “Camile” she got up with her face full of disappointment. “Rachel, I’m so” she held up her hand with a mad expression on her face. Without a word she got her things and slammed the door behind her leaving Rue all alone. “That was very rude of you Emily” said Naru. ‘What do you mean”. “Using the power of Princess Tutu to win the ballet competition”. Emily was taken aback at how rude she was acting towards her. “Now, now Naru” said Kirito. “Its not like Emily was actively being malicious towards Rue right”? Emily stayed silent, “right”? She sighed “I don’t know, I mean its not like I wanted to win the competition that badly, but, I guess I was second guessing myself a bit, and wanted to use my Princess Tutu powers to… give me… a little edge”. Naru sighed, “you need to talk to Rue and apologized for what you done”. “Yeah, but I’m not sure if she would want to talk to me, she might still be mad at me”. Naru put a hand around Emily’s shoulder “even if Rue doesn’t accept your apology, we will accept it”. Kirito put another arm around Emily. “Thanks” Emily said and the three embraced each other. Rue was still feeling bad over the weekend. Sitting in her room, in the dark, with the blinds drawn. She didn’t feel like talking to anyone, or going anywhere. There was a knock on the door. “Rue” said Rachel, “it’s me” she took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for the way I stormed out on you last night. I was just being selfish, and wasn’t thinking about how you feel”. Rachel kept talking and slowly, Rue got up to open the door, but for some reason, she froze. Not responding to her or anything. She let Rachel do her speech for a while. “Well, if you need to talk, or anything like that, just know that I am always available if you need me”. Without another word, she left and Rue was all alone again. The encounter with Rachel made Rue feel worse than before. She acted very poorly towards her. “I hate this” her mind kept telling herself. “I hate this, I hate this” over and over again her mind kept ruminating on these negative thoughts. Eventually, Rue decided to get some sleep. Maybe a little nap would cure her of the bad thoughts, but sleep was an elusive thing, and she tossed and turned for a long time until, rest finally came to the depressed girl. Any hopes of a peaceful sleep were quickly dashed as she kept tossing and turning in her bed. Everything was bothering her. Especially the mumbling of her peers at how wrong it was for Princess Tutu to rob Rue of the chance to win the contest. Fed up, Rue tried going to the studio to blow off steam. At the studio Emily was talking with Rachel. “She’s really upset about Princess Tutu dancing in the competition”. “Gee, I didn’t know that Rue took dancing so seriously. Had I known that being Tutu would cause her so much pain, I would’ve never become her in the competition”. The door opened and Rue stepped in “Rue” she stopped as Emily uttered her name. “Rue, I want to apo-” Rue slammed the door as she left. Emily ran into the hallway to find that she was already halfway down the hall. “Rue wait” she began chasing after her which made Rue run even faster. “Please Rue, let me explain, I was” Emily tripped and fell flat on her face on the floor. When she got the muster to get to her feet Rue was already long gone. From the studio doorway Rachel was looking onward. “Rue, what has gotten into you”. Rue returned to the room and slammed the door behind her. She immediately threw off her clothes and lied naked on her bed. Of all the people, why did it had to be her. The bad thoughts came back “I hate this, I hate this” now with more viciousness. Soon the thoughts evolved to become, “I hate her, I hate her, I hate her”. Rue sat up and threw her pillow across the room in frustration. Out of the corner of her eye she saw something unusual. There was a pair of black ballet shoes on the floor. Rue didn’t recognize them as one of hers, but there was this strange energy radiating from them. Cautiously she went over and put them on. The ribbons magically began tying themselves around her feet and soon they made their way up her naked body and formed themselves into a black tutu. Rue looked at herself in the mirror and was stunned at the sexy woman staring back at her. She smiled at what she saw. “Be careful what you wish for princess”. The next day Emily and Rachel were standing next to a tree. She was practicing her apology to Rue. “Look Rue, it was a mistake for me to be Tutu to win the competition, no hard feelings”. “Please, please forgive me Rue I was an Idiiiooottt”. “Hmmm, too desperate” said Rachel. Emily sighed “I know, but I want to get this right, that’s all”. Rachel smiled and put an arm around her. “Just say what’s in your heart, you can’t go wrong with that”. At that moment one of the teachers came up to them. “Excuse me Emily, but I am here to inform you that Rue would like to fight you in an hour”. Everyone’s jaw dropped simultaneously. “Fight me?” asked Emily. “Do you accept Rue’s challenge?” asked the teacher. Emily took a long time to answer. “Yes, tell Rue that I accept her challenge”. The teacher gave her a long stare, then gently smiled and went on his way. Word traveled fast throughout the school and soon everyone was abuzz at the confrontation between Emily and Rue. “Everyone seems to be excited for my meeting with Rue. Maybe this is a bad idea”. “Too late to back down now” said Naru. “Are you sure? Maybe if I come back ano…”. In no time at all Emily was face to face with Rue. “Well, no use turning back now” Emily took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Wait Rue” said Rachel “you don’t have to do this, Emily didn’t mean...” “silence” Rue said. “Emily did this to herself by cheating in order to get the part”. “Yeah, that’s right” “you tell her Rue” yelled people in the crowd. Emily was starting to get nervous as the crowd taunted and tormented her. “Why is everyone being so mean to Emily?” asked Naru. “Mob psychology” came a voice from behind her. “Oh, Bakugo” the surly teen came up from behind and saw Emily succumb to the pressure of the crowd. “HEY MORONS” yelled Bakugo “GIVE EMILY A BREAK HERE”. Everyone instantly silenced themselves. Emily gave Bakugo a smile and he replied with a thumbs up. Meanwhile Rue was still staring daggers at Emily. “So you took her side eh Bakugo. I thought you two were mortal rivals”. “Heh, even a rival can see an unfair fight” “so are you gonna fight me in her stead”? “Nah, I wouldn’t want to spoil a good fight”. “Hey Emily, make sure you give Rue a good fight for me. I wanna know her best moves”. Emily gave him a thumbs up back. “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep” Rue emanated a black energy filled with malice, as she transformed into her black tutu. The audience erupted with cheers and whistles. “Looking good, Rue” “how ‘bout after you kick Tutu’s butt I buy you a butter beer”. Rue was feelings pretty confident in her new costume. The two ballerinas squared off against each other, sizing each other up. Rue made the first move as she attacked tutu with a fierce punch. Tutu retaliated with a mighty kick which was much weaker than Rue’s. On and on the two ballerinas kept fighting. This was not a school yard brawl like with Bakugo but more elegant and sophisticated match up. “Wow, this is really exciting” said a boy. “I prefer this to Swan Lake” said a girl with curly hair. “Me too” said another girl. Tutu made a big swipe to Kreahe’s name knocking her to the ground. “Finish it” yelled the mob, but Tutu did a little pirouette instead that allowed Kreahe to get away. “Damit Tutu” said an older girl, “she could’ve ended the fight right there and then”. “Because Tutu’s goal is not to win”. “Not to win?” Indeed, Princess Tutu was becoming more calm and some what playful with her. At first Rue was annoyed that Tutu was not taking this seriously, but soon she realized that Tutu was actually helping her, getting all her anger against the ballerina princess. Tutu managed to get a few more hits in to Rue which made her stamina get a little bit more depleted. Soon the energy that was more confrontational became much more playful. Rue was also feeling more calm and soon the fight between the two ballerinas was much more like a dance. With the two doing more fancier moves in a game of one ups man ship. Occasionally Rue would directly attack Tutu with a slight jab or kick, but it was done more out of mischief than with malace as a way to throw Princess Tutu off her guard. After her last attack Tutu stopped dancing, Rue was curious as Emily transformed out of her Tutu form. Emily gave Rue a curtsey as a sign of respect. “I’m sorry for being Princess Tutu for the contest. I really was a moron for thinking that you would be offended”. That sealed the deal for Rue as she also went back to her normal form. Rue went over to Emily and tugged on her ear. “Oww, oww that hurts” she let go. “What did you do that for”. “For being such a fool”. Rue turned to the crowd “and let this be a lesson for the rest of you”. Everyone agreed and with that the fight between the swan and the raven was over. “Aww” said a boy in the crowd “I wanted to see a fight between two ballerinas”. “Yeah, we want a fight”. “Well, you don’t get one” said Rue. “I don’t want to fight Emily anymore” she put a hand around Emily’s shoulder. “Do you want to fight me”. “No I don’t wanna fight you, I wanna dance”. Rue smiled “maybe another time”. “Boo, boo, we wanna fight, fight, fight, fight”. The crowd was getting more unruly, and Rue was getting agitated. “OH FOR PETE’S SAKE SHUUUUT UUUUPPP” came a loud unruly voice. Everyone turned to find Bakugo standing up on a statue. “Hey, you’re not suppose to be up there, get down”. Bakugo leaped and landed next to Rue an Emily. “If you wanna get into a fight, then why don’t you stop playing with the princess and fight me”. Rue had a smile on her face at the utterance of Bakugo’s challenge. “All right I’ll take you up on your challenge, would you like to fight Bakugo with me Emily”. “What? Me? Oh no, no I don’t think I can fight him again”. “Suit yourself then”. Rue transformed into her ballerina form as Emily got out of the way. Rue and Bakugo faced off as the crowd was getting wiled up again. The next day everyone was gathered in the ballet studio for the ballet class. As everyone was about to leave, “excuse me” said the teacher. “Will you all stay for a special announcement”. “I wonder what is this for” asked Kirito. “Oh” said a nervous Emily. “I hope I’m not being punished for the fight I had with Rue yesterday”. Everyone took their seats as the teacher began. “As you all know, there was a little commotion between Rue and Emily yesterday. While I’m glad that the two were able to resolve their differences between each other. I bear some responsibility for the incident in the first place. Let me make this clear, Emily transforming into Princess Tutu for the competition was not okay. It was something that I should’ve put a stop to right then and there and prevented this whole incident. Emily” “yes?” “have you learned your lesson”. “I have, and I am sincerely sorry for causing so much trouble for you Rue, and everyone else”. “Rue?” “I am sorry Emily, and would you mind if you would care to dance with me?” This caused quite a stir among the students. Emily gave Rue a huge smile “I would love to dance with you”. The two took their positions and began to do a simple dance. Rue started doing more flashy moves at first, but realized that Emily was having a hard time keeping up and began to do more simple moves. “Do you trust me”? She whispered to Emily, “yes, I do” she replied back. Rue grabbed her waist. “Lean back” “Rue I,” “shhh” she placed her finger on Emily’s lips. “Just trust me”. She nodded and the two did an elegant pose, with just a hint of sensuality. The crowd cheered at this move. The woman and the girl got out of their pose and did their bows to the massive applause that was amplified as it echoed throughout the studio. Later on, after class Emily and her friends were talkimng under the tree. “You know” said Naru. “You and Rue made quite a couple”. “Really?” “yeah, everyone in school were talking about how cute you looked next to Rue, and how Rue was so stoic. It was as if Rue was a prince and you were her princess”. “M-m-me? Rue’s princess” Emily’s face got really red. “OOOHHH, it looks like someone’s got a crush on the prince” everyone started laughing. Rue and Camile got out of the shower together, making their way to their room. “You want some tea?” said Rue as they got in and close the door. “Oooh, yes please” said Camile as she undressed and lounged on the couch. “Thanks honey” as Rue served her a cup of tea. “You know, from the way that you were dancing with Emily. I would say that you had feelings for her”. “That’s just me letting off some steam” Rue said dismissively with a smile.