#I forget the skip button exists when I watch these races

[mysteriouslyjovialcolor]

Started watching Spa 2021, but Spa 2021 has not started yet

📹: @itsIghtsout on Twitter

[crossiantgay]

I Shall Say Goodbye Till It Be Morrow

Logince, fantasy AU! Pt 2 coming soon!

He looked out, over the balcony watching the sun set over the horizon. He was the prince; he was supposed to love his life. It has so turned out, that most days he had turned to envying the commoner. With his wealth and lavish lifestyle came the shackles of responsibility and no control over his future. The air was sticky and humid, and the setting sun gave the air a hazy glow. His light, white blouse ruffled in the wind and he felt his caramel hair brush against his face. He heard the steady beat of footsteps behind him and he turned. Everyone was supposed to head home, it was long past working hours. When he turned, he saw his pageboy, Logan (insert last name) approach. He had ditched his navy-blue suit for just his white button-up shirt, almost similar to Roman’s own shirt. He stepped next to Roman, leaning over the balcony. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it” His voice sounded distant and monotone, but still had the warm undertones Logan often had in his voice. It was only a few seconds later, Roman realized he was expecting an answer. 

“Oh-yes. I suppose.” Roman drummed his fingers on the banister and Logan turned to him. 

“Is something bothering you, my prince?” there was worry etched into his face, the concern all-so-subtly seeping into his voice. He sighed. 

“Oh, it’s nothing. You know the princess of Lancaster?” Roman looked back out over the village below. 

“The daughter of our known enemy? Why yes, I am fairly familiar with her” Roman licked his lips nervously. The summer heat was making his lips crack and blister and it was rather unpleasant. 

“I am supposed to marry her in 3 months’ time” 

“Oh-” Logan’s voice sounded hollow, like someone had pulled the floor out from underneath him but his expression stayed unreadable. 

“And, to be honest?” Roman turned back to the man, waving one arm about. “I don’t even like women.” Logan quirked an eyebrow.

 “This particular woman? Or-” Roman shook his head. 

“All women. No princess has made my heart skip beats like a man with tousled hair and a well-trimmed suit.” Roman didn’t notice Logan unconsciously run a hand through his own hair.

“If I am to be… wholly honest with you, I have felt a similar way in recent months.” Logan tried to trace Roman’s gaze, find out exactly where he was looking. “I thought I was crazy. It’s great to know that I am not the only one who feels this way.” Roman gave him a small, uneasy smile. He paused and drew his lips in a thin line. 

“Did you know that there is no law that forbids a man from marrying another man?” 

“I-no. That is rather intriguing, thank you.” Logan gave a curt nod as silence passed between them, Roman draping his arms over the railing, unease clouding his mind. 

“I’m headed for a future I don’t even want.” Logan’s expression softened into something sympathetic and caring before fixing his eyes on the horizon line. Logan carefully reached out his hand, putting it on Roman’s. To his surprise, Roman didn’t pull away but refused to meet his eyes. They stayed like that in comfortable silence as the sun set past the horizon line.

__________________

Roman waved his maid away. 

“If you keep messing with my hair, it might fall out!” he ran his hands through his hair, fixing it to his liking. 

“My apologies, your majesty. However, I believe you are ready!” Roman stood in front of the mirror, admiring the suit. It was a red suit jacket with gold fastenings and trim, with a white undershirt and black dress pants. His maid hurried behind him. 

“Oh my! How could I forget the most important piece of all!” The maid delicately placed the gold, ruby and sapphire-studded crown atop his head. He straightened his posture and gave one glance back at himself before walking out to the ballroom. There was the drone of chatter along with the distant hum of classical music. He scanned the crowd for faces he recognized, only to find none. He made sure to keep distance from his father along with the princess, beelining it for the concessions. He stumbled into a few people, mutter half-hearted apologies, keeping his head down and his crown straight. Someone grabbed his arm and he jerked back. 

“Well isn’t it Roman Cassanova!” He pulled his head up to look at whoever grabbed him, searching his memory for this person. They were clearly important, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no-

“..hey.” The person hit him hard on the back and he coughed, immediately talking his ear off. He zoned in and out of the conversation, trying to keepy up when amongst the rambling he heard ‘my daughter’ and something that sounded like ‘marriage’. His blood ran cold and he tried to say something, but what to say to your future father in law? His stomach churned at the thought. As if someone has answered his silent prayers, an arm looped around his waist. 

“My highness, the king requires your attention immediately.” Roman recognised the voice immediately. 

“Ah, yes. Thank you. I shall-have to attend to that as soon as possible” he blurted out as Logan tugged him away. 

“ah, thank you.  A tap on the shoulder would have sufficed” He said when he finally gained his footing, when they were out of earshot. 

“Oh, please. You looked like dying cattle, I did you a favor.” Roman finally got a glance of his ‘knight in shining armor’ and his breath caught in his throat. To say he looked stunning was an understatement. He hoped his face wasn’t as red as it felt. Logan smirked. 

“What was that, my prince?” In truth, it was hard to see without his signature glasses but his jawline and cheekbones and oh my I think I might faint- he finally gathered himself and rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t believe that is how you should be talking to the future king” He stuck his chin up exaggeratedly and stuck out his tongue. 

“Ah yes, real mature your majesty.” A waiter walked by and roman grabbed two glasses of wine from his tray, handing one to Logan. 

“Are you sure? You’re not legal yet-” Roman waved a hand dismissively as he took a sip, shaking his head. 

“I have what, 4 months ‘till my birthday? The marriage is in two months so- 5 months. Close enough.” Logan shook his head and took a sip, eyeing Roman carefully. A hush fell over the room as the orchestra picked up. Roman finished his drink and looked up at him, placing it on the passing waiter’s trays. 

“Logan?” he batted his eyes and Logan stepped back. 

“No. no- no.” He shook his head but Roman continued, offering out a hand. 

“Logan, may I have this dance?” Logan sighed, taking his hand. 

“Fine. You may.” Logan took his head and was caught off-guard when Logan placed a hand on the small of his back. It did make sense, considering Logan was the taller one but Roman wasn’t super familiar with the ladies’ part in this dance. Roman placed his hand on Logan’s shoulder and Logan smiled slightly. They fell into a steady rhythm of dancing and they moved across the ballroom, Roman temporarily forgetting everyone else existed. That was, until the song ended and Logan and him stayed holding onto each other. Roman stumbled back when someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he felt the world crashing down around him as he realized it was the princess. Logan dropped Roman and Roman wanted to mourn the warmth, but knew where his priorities stood. He pretended the touch was just him reaching for Logan’s drink, because that was clearly the case, totally, and downed it in seconds. It was only right after he did so, that he realized Logan had not had champagne like he had, rather a much stronger liquor. The room spun around him. 

“Uh-hi” he said, trying to get his eyes to focus on the subject in front of him. 

“Hello, I assume you recognise me?” Her eyes flicked uncertainly to Logan, who stepped away. 

“Yes, I do. You are Bella Lancaster, yes?” Roman needed to get out of here, and fast. He felt as if any moment the floor would fall out from under him. 

“I am. And you are Roman Cassanova.” 

“Yes.”

“Yes.” She fiddled with the sleeve of her glove. “Fantastic. Okay. Yes” She looked off, as well. Though why he couldn’t tell. “I must go check on my-- my father” She smiled a bit and walked off and Roman made sure to count his lucky stars. 

“You should go.” Roman spun around and immediately regretted it, falling into Logan’s arms. 

“nOoO” Roman said, a bit too loudly, turning heads around them. Logan clamped a hand on his mouth before pulling away quickly.  

“Ew! Why did you lick me?” Logan said in a hushed voice, wrinkling his nose and wiping his hand on his pants. 

“Be lucky it was your hand this time, mi amor.” Roman said, clearly losing it and Logan flushed a glorious shade of scarlet. Roman had lost all sense of filter, something that was definitely required as a prince. 

“Maybe we should take you to bed,” Logan said, looking out at the numerous people staring at them. 

“Mhmm, bed, I like the sound of that” He purred and Logan sighed. 

“You are drunk off your ass and not thinking straight. You need to get out of here before you make a scene” Roman huffed, leaning more into Logan.

“Whatever you say..” he grumbled. “Your majesty…” his tone turned softer and his eyes fixed on something behind Logan. 

“N-no. Let’s go” He gripped Roman’s hand, in less of a handhold but more of a means to tug him along. Roman pouted the whole way as Logan did his best to discreetly tug him out of the ballroom, which went both well and not. Luckily, they avoided the king’s eyes but caught the likes of many onlookers, as Logan assured them that princey here had just had a bit too much. Once they were out of sight, Logan scooped Roman up in his arms and raced up the steps. 

“Woahhh” Roman giggled, with a case of the hiccups “You’re strongggg” Once they had made it to prince’s chambers, Logan set Roman down and unlocked the door with surprising ease. Roman stumbled into the room, pulling Logan in by his jacket. 

“Roman!-” With one final tug, he pulled Logan onto the bed. 

“You thought I was done with you? Not even close” Logan felt his once-gone blush returning as the prince fiddled with the fasteners on his jacket. 

“Nope nope nope nope nope-” Logan sat up quickly, pulling the prince’s hands from his jacket, running his thumbs over the scarred knuckles. 

“You’re intoxicated and about to do something you’ll regret.” He looked him in the eyes and Roman looked away. 

“But I want this-no- I want you.”  Logan’s expression softened.

“Darling, the wedding’s in a couple months. I don’t want to make anything harder for you.” A choked sob ripped its way out of Roman’s throat and Logan pulled him closer. Roman tucked his head in the crook of his neck. 

“I never wan-” He gasped, trying to catch his breath as more tears rolled down his cheeks. “I never wanted this! Th-these responsibilities a-and arranged marriages a-and-” Logan shushed him gently. 

“It’s okay. I’m right here, you’re okay.” Roman looked up at him with tear-stained cheeks and uncertain eyes.  Logan pressed a kiss to his forehead that lingered for a bit too long, breath ghosting over the skin. He pressed another kiss, this time to cheek, before another and another and another, touching every inch of exposed skin they could find as Roman’s mind went foggy, too overwhelmed by this absolutely wonderful sensation to even think. He feels a semblance of pressure at the back of his head, where Logan has his fingers threaded into Roman’s caramel locks, barely tethered there by the hand on his waist as Logan pulls his head up, looking at Roman with half-lidded eyes. 

“What about ‘not making anything harder for me?’” Roman says, a playful smirk evident on his face. 

“If you’ll allow me to indulge in a bit of selfishness, your majesty” Logan finally utters, his voice so much richer than Roman remembers; like the distant rumble of storm clouds.

“Yes,” Roman says, barely a whisper. “Please, yes” With that phrase, Logan captures Roman’s lips in a deep kiss, eyes fluttering shut despite himself. Roman blindly grasps for something to pull Logan closer, something to anchor him in this moment. 

                     ________________________

Loud footsteps can be heard from outside as Logan, who has been awake for about 3 and a half whole minutes, shakes Roman awake. 

“Huh? Who-” Roman groans as his suit uncomfortably pinches at his sides, very obviously not meant for sleepwear. Logan pointed towards the door and Roman noticed the heavy footsteps, which could only mean one thing. He looked to his side, about to urge Logan to hide only to find Logan was already under the bed, hidden by the maroon bedskirt. Roman sat up, trying to make himself look as presentable as possible as his father burst into the room. 

“Morning, son!” He bellowed and Roman winced, becoming acutely aware of his hangover. Roman blinked slowly, trying to wake himself up. 

“You look a little out of sorts. Get yourself ready and come downstairs! I hope you haven’t forgotten about our Day Of The Sun banquet?” Roman’s eyes went wide as he cursed himself. It was the summer solstice; where for the whole day a large party would be held across the kingdom. The festivities last night were just a precursor to that and this was definitely not the day to have a huge hangover and your assistant in your bed. Wait, how did Logan get here? His memory stopped after his talk with the princess. 

“Well see you down there, then…” The king trailed off, noticing his son staring at the wall and the look of distant fear in his eyes. He walked out, shutting the door behind him. Logan crawled out from underneath the bed, brushing himself off and laying beside Roman. 

“We should get ready,” Logan mused, taking in the prince once more. 

“What happened, exactly?” Roman asked tentatively and Logan’s cheeks went dark red. 

“Uhm, we kissed…” Logan said, avoiding Roman’s eyes and Roman blushed a similar color, envying the red curtains hanging in front of his windows. He, Prince Roman, heir to the throne of Cassanova, has kissed his assistant of 7 years. With his awaiting marriage in two months’ time. 

“Oh my” he whispered and Logan smiled at the remark. 

“Mm. Now we really should get ready, my rose-er, highness.” Logan stood up quickly and Roman shook his head. 

“‘My rose’ sounds better. Less formal.” 

“Noted.” He nodded a bit, trying to ignore the pinkish color of his cheeks. He paused for a moment. “I should get ready. Well, you too. We should get ready.” Logan gave a curt nod. Roman laughed a bit under his breath and stood up. He took Logan’s face in one hand and kissed it.

“I suppose we shall,” he flipped through his closet, looking for something light enough in the summer heat. He finally found another white blouse, frowning a bit as he put it on. 

“My hi-my rose-” Logan buried his face in his hands, looking between the gaps in his fingers and Roman shrugged. Logan went back to his chambers to change, Roman changing into black shorts. Finally, he grudgingly placed the crown atop his head. Everything he had grown to loathe incarnated into some dingy piece of jewelry. Logan returned a few minutes later, thankfully this time with his glasses, with a white button-up shirt unconsciously unbuttoned at the top and black suspenders. His black hair was messy and fluffy due to the humidity. Roman blushed when he saw Logan, stammering. Logan let out a puff of air, snickering. 

“You look lovely, my rose” he offered out his hand and Roman took it. 

“As do you, my love” he smiled as Logan placed a kiss to his forehead. 

“We should head downstairs,” Logan chided gently and Roman paused. 

“Just a few more minutes. I enjoy being here with you” 

                ______________________

The festivities were long underway, Roman hovering by Logan’s side the whole time as they talked with the common folk, eating all the delectable foods the carts outside the castle had to offer and embracing the enticing atmosphere. When the sun was just past halfway in the sky, one of the servants approached them. 

“Sir Logan, your family requests your attention immediately.” Logan’s brow furrowed as Roman held his hand tightly. 

“They live on the other side of the Alabaster River, why do they call for me- they know I have my responsibilities here-” 

“Your mother has fallen ill” the servant bowed and Logan’s blood ran cold. He nodded, shifting closer to Roman. He gave a curt nod, leaning over to whisper in Roman’s ear. 

“A week from now, meet me outside the city of Eastview at sunset.” Logan stepped away and Roman frowned, hurrying to the nearest carriage. 

                ________________________

Roman stood at the edge of his balcony, overlooking the edge to the drop below. It had been a week since Logan’s mysterious absence, and of course it took the King no time to appoint another in his position, a short and snooty page with a shrill voice who always insisted Roman was wrong, constantly babying him. Roman threw the rope over the edge of the balcony, double, triple-knotting it to the banister. With shaky hands, he slowly began his descent. He felt like fainting when he finally felt dirt beneath his feet, in all fairness climbing rope was not his area of expertise. He shook himself off before running to the stable, shushing the horses and grabbing one of them before making his departure from the kingdom. 

    After many uncomfortable minutes riding on horseback, he finally made it to Alogas, which was right next to Eastview. He was almost there. He looked worriedly as the sun started to set. He couldn’t be late. He couldn’t. 

    He finally made it to the border of Eastview, and his eyes lit up as he saw a tall, black-haired man in the distance. His smile only grew as Logan came more into view, in a wrinkled light-blue shirt and dirt smudged on his cheeks. He skidded to a stop and jumped off the horse, running into Logan’s open arms. They stayed there for what felt like an eternity, just enjoying the other’s embrace, Logan placing countless kisses to Roman’s head and Roman burying his face in Logan’s shoulder. 

“I missed you, my rose” He mumbled. It had only been a week, but Logan was always at his side so it felt like it had been months. 

“I missed you too, my love. Palace life has been near awful without you; have you seen who they hired to fill in?” Roman rolled his eyes and Logan chuckled. He placed a hand on Logan’s chest but when he did, his brow furrowed. He tugged at Logan’s shirt, tracing his hand across the scabbed-over gash. Logan took his hand in Roman’s, pulling it off the cut. 

“It’s fine. Just an unlucky accident.” Logan assured him. Roman didn’t seem satisfied. 

“Did someone hurt you?” Roman asked, anger seeping into his voice.

“No, my love, it was my own fault. I hurt myself while farming.” Roman looked up at him. 

“Farming?” Roman raised an eyebrow. 

“Yes, my punishment for getting fired by the king’s court.” He ran a hand through his hair. When he looked back down, he saw the alarm in Roman’s eyes. 

“Wha-how were you-” Logan wrapped an arm around Roman’s waist.

“Someone at the ball saw us, and ratted me out to the king. Next thing you know, I’m fired and a direct message from the king to stay away from you. My parents nearly ripped a new one when they found out. So, 8 hours a day out in the field.”  Logan sighed, caging his disdain at the incident. He looked down and met Roman’s eyes, recognizing his concern. He rubbed circles in Roman’s shoulders, looking Roman in the eyes. 

“Oh no, my rose, it’s ok. We’ll get this sorted out, I assure you.” Logan tried to reassure him. Roman nodded slowly, looking at the ground. In truth, he looked miserable. 

“Plus, now I don’t have to look over my shoulder to do this,” He leaned down and captured Roman’s lips in a kiss, Roman’s cheeks dotting a beautiful crimson. He trailed the kisses down his cheek, further, down the slope of his neck, soaking in Roman’s murmurs of praise and small laughs, fingers entangled in Logan’s raven-black hair. He finally pulled away, leaving a few love bites but nothing prominent, taking Roman’s hand. 

“I’ve known where you’ve grown up for most of my life, can I show you where I grew up?” There was a questioning look in Logan’s eyes and Roman nodded, brushing shoulders with Logan. 

“I’d love to.” He smiled, pressing another kiss to Roman’s cheek. 

“Let’s escape to this town for a little while” They walked together, watching the setting sun. 

                ________________________

When they got to the more busy section of the town, Roman went to drop Logan’s hand but Logan held on more firmly. 

“It’s fine, my rose. No one cares who you’re with as long as you can pay your bill” Logan’s eyes scanned over the crowd. Roman pressed closer to Logan’s side, Logan wrapping his other arm around Roman’s shoulder. They went from shop to shop, walking around the town. 

“Would you like to grab dinner?” Logan asked when he saw Roman eyeing one of the bakeries. He nodded a bit too frantically, a chuckle escaping Logan. 

“That would be… adequate,” Roman said, looking at Logan sheepishly. “I didn’t have dinner before I went to see you” 

“Dear gods,” Logan murmured under his breath. Logan walked over to one of the shops, Roman staying close behind. After a few moments, he handed roman a boar-and-cheese sandwich. He covered his mouth to stop himself from laughing as Roman practically devoured it, licking his lips. 

“What about manners? I thought you were a prince” Logan teased and Roman huffed, sticking his tongue out. Logan rolled his eyes playfully. He held Roman’s hand once again as Roman pulled him along, towards the local animal pen to see the deer and sheep, probably. 

    The end of the night came all-too quickly as Logan carefully eyed the sky. If he was correct, it was probably around 11 or so. 

“Roman, as much as I hate to say it, you should be heading home.” Logan said, drawing closer to where they first met. 

“No, it’s too soon. I don’t know if I can go without seeing you.” Roman turned to Logan, a pleading look in his eyes. Logan bit his lip. 

“We can tryst again, same time next week. How does that sound?’ Logan held both of Roman’s hands, gazing into those dark, chocolate eyes. Roman nodded, if a bit hesitant. 

“Promise?”

“Promise”

________________________

“What is bothering you? I know that look,” Logan said, looking deep into Roman’s eyes, as if he looked hard enough, what was bothering him would be written, clear as day. Roman folded his hands in his lap, mouth twisting into a grimace. 

It had been another excruciating week without Logan when Roman slipped out to meet his lover again. Lover, he thought. It has a nice ring to it. Roman got off of his horse to fall into those strong arms of Logan’s , all doubt leaving his body. They were so secure, so comforting. 

“Logan, take me somewhere we can be alone?” Roman asked, looking as the townsfolk hurried about. Logan nodded, walking away from the town towards the woods on the edge of the eastern side of town. Roman followed in Logan’s footsteps, never letting go of his hand as Logan led him to a small lake. Next to the lake was an old oak tree with a swing attached to it. Before Roman could think, Logan scooped Roman up in his arms and set Roman on the swing. Roman looked down, kicking off his shoes with euphoria bubbling inside him. 

“Ready?” He asked, arms looping around Roman’s waist. Roman nodded. Logan smiled, slowly pulling the wing back before pushing him forward. Roman couldn’t bite back the giggle that escaped his throat, happiness flooding inside him. They fell into a gentle rhythm of pushing and pulling, Roman’s laughter echoing around the forest. Eventually, the swing stilled into a stop and Roman scooched over, Logan sitting beside him. 

[mimiwrites2000]

Betrayal

Aruani week 2020 - Day 2 - Betrayal

AO3 ~~

Pairings: Armin x Annie

Rating: Mature

Words count: 4223

Summary: 

They met in an alley, a narrow, foul-smelling passageway, in the middle of a cold night

A few months later, he found himself walking to that place, the place where his life crumbled and was reborn, and just like last time, she was waiting for him.

a journey of lies and deception, desires and emotions

He walked down the street, one street-light bulb was flickering on and off with blips. Loud, tall buildings contouring both sides of the road, fluorescent squares of college students’ rooms queued in lines, inundating the moon’s light. The music gashing from cheap speakers leached out from the opened windows, belching ear-deafening tunes by another random mainstream singer, disturbing the serene night. The startling, overabundant alcohol aroma could be smelled from where he stood, mixed with a suspicious scent of sweat and other things he didn’t want to think about.

It was surreal how this exact same place, a few months ago, was vacant, deserted, abandoned enough to commit a crime and get away with it, a perfect place to find a victim bleeding to death.

He turned right and stepped into an alley, so narrow, invisible to anyone who didn’t know it existed, dumpsters crammed in crocked lines, a black cat jumped from one, sneering at the unwanted invader. A tiny circle of an igniting orange made him aware that he wasn’t alone, that yet again, she was here before him.

“You’re late,” she said, letting out a breath of smoke, he smelled strawberry, adding another aroma to the blend, this type of cigarettes that he never heard of before, with fruity flavors, masking these deathly pillars with sweet, sweet aromas, feigning a compelling innocence.

“I’m not, you’re just early,” he retorted, stepping towards her. Red cascades leaked through the cracks in the concrete walls, smearing the ground, his ears picked up the whiny voices of a victim, calling for help- he shook his head; the red and the voices vanished, he knew he was hallucinating, maybe depriving himself of sleep for the past three days finally exacerbated his senses, or maybe awakened old memories from the depths of his unconscious mind, memories that he tried to bury and forget they existed.

In the reflected light of the moon, he watched how her fingers delicately curled around the pillar of paper, her scarlet-drawn lips circling around the tip, before another cloud of fatal fumes left her lungs. The sting aroma of iron sliced through the air, red, thick moisture oozed from between her fingers and from her eyes, trickling down her pale cheeks before dripping onto the ground, mixing with the excess stench water of botched trash bags, its intense color fading.

He shook his head again, and the blood disappeared, the artificial-strawberry smoke infiltrating his nostrils. He forced his attention back on why he came here in the first place, he promised himself to finish the business, easy and quick.

She lobbed the burnt cigarette on the ground and stomped it with her leather boots, leaving it crinkled-dead on the ground as she took her time striding to him, her arms crossed, and her hips swaying.

He didn’t move, but his eyes caught the rim of her red and black checkered knee-length skirt move from side to side as she inched closer to him. If he doesn’t say anything, he will lose again to her, he will surrender to her touch and get lost in her eyes, so he greeted her: “Annie.”

“Ah, I see you’ve discovered my real name,” Annie mimicked, a smirk in her voice, even though her face was as stoic as a stone, “didn’t like Maddie? I thought it suited me.” She halted two steps away from him, looking straight into his eyes, the only resemblance between them, those ocean blue eyes.

“It wasn’t hard to know who you truly are, you’re not exactly secretive,” He was trying hard to not glance at her lips.

“I am, I am,” Annie  contradicted, “you just did your homework of digging into files, or did you…” she took another step, close enough to feel his breath on her face, and she heard his heart racing in his chest, “or did a little friend of yours help you?”

“I don’t need help from anyone,” unlike you, he almost spat out, but he held himself from doing so, he still had a lot to glean out of her, one step at a time.

Annie raised an impressed eyebrow at him, with a fake preaching voice she praised: “Look at your smart ass, I wonder what else you know, you’re smarter than you let on,” She eyed him up and down, he was wearing a dark blue suit with the jacket on, even though it was a hot, humid summer night, but the upper buttons of his shirt were left undone, no tie to be seen.

“I’m a respected scientist.”

Annie hummed.

“I graduated from Harvard.” He added.

“Same goes for me.”

He snorted, an actual, authentic laugh, she was a professional liar, one who slipped lies as if they were nothing, she could concoct anecdotes that never existed, she could fathom a smile that was no different from a candid one, hiding her poisonous fangs behind her lips, she could cry tears of pain that she never went through, she could feign the role of a victim, lay on the ground in this same alley, drenched in her own blood, crying in soft, hurt moans, praying someone would peak into this unseen passageway. She would mistake a drunk man to be her knight in shining armor, or two college students whom hormones were out of control to be two angels who descended from heaven to save her.

Annie clicked her tongue and pouted: “Someone didn’t do their homework good.” She ran her tongue on the inside of her upper row of her white-pearl teeth, an apprehensive expression on her face, but he couldn’t tell if it was fake or real, “I remember you, you used to wear glasses.”

He froze, his heart skipped a beat and shuffled through the following three.

“You were always rushing from one class into the other, you must’ve had a busy schedule.”

He swallowed.

“No wonder we graduated in the same year, even though I’m a year older than you.”

He remembered, and he wished he didn’t.

He took a step backwards, this closeness to her made his mind buzz with timely-wrong thoughts, things he shouldn’t think about when he was in the presence of this woman.

He cleared his throat, he tapped the heels of his feet on the ground, shifting his weight from one foot to the other: “Technology? Really? Is that what you wasted four years studying?” he knew his words were in vain, he knew exactly why she majored in that, she was the living proof that computers will take over humanity in no time.

That a time will come when privacy will be a fantasy humans can only daydream about, that holding a phone is no different than holding a bomb, a place where all your info rests unbothered, until the delicate fingers of a hacker taps some keys in a remote place, and everything you once had, is gone.

Same goes for teenagers, business companies, doctors, or maybe a conservative, illegal lab.

“I missed my graduation,” Annie dodged his question, her head lolling to the side, her lower lip curling outward.

She’s faking hurt, again, he had to remind himself, otherwise he would trust her external emotions, “Let me guess, you were busy hacking into a bank or something?”

Annie gasped and put her hand on her chest, right above her heart: “How dare you?! I was beside my father before he died.”

“That’s a lie-”

“How can you be this heartless?”

The crack in her voice, the blip on the last syllable, all was an Oscar-worthy act.

She sniffled, though no tears were seen, before she shook her head and scrounged: “I thought you were the good person.”

For a moment, he wanted to strangle her throat and shake her until everything he needed to know was out of her, to shake off all this charade she was putting up, this charade that got worn out and had holes in it, or maybe it was already shredded from the beginning but he was too blind to see it. He blamed her hands, her soft touch, her moist lips, he blamed her, she was the one who blocked his vision, the one who blurred his world into a dizzy, vast rollercoaster loop, a never ending one.

But this was the end of this wild ride, and he was getting off of it soon enough.

Annie didn’t wait for an answer, she walked past him, but he was quick to react.

With one swift motion, he pushed her to the wall, slamming her back into it, she gasped, and before she could fight back, he held both her wrists above her head, “In a hurry to see Reiner and Bert?” he sneered through his teeth.

Even if it was swift, he glimpsed panic flash in her eyes, and he knew he hit a nerve.

“Looking for your next victim?” He hit the nerve again when he felt her pulse quicken underneath his grasp.

“Says whom? The one who plays with chemicals?”

For the first time since the beginning of the meeting, he heard her tone change dramatically; abhor soaking each syllable, her voice was choked behind her teeth, her breath was hot on his face.

“You can’t get enough, Arlert,” She seethed, venom dripping from her tongue when she said his name, hatred enveloped her first phrase.

Arlert rose his eyebrows, he was trying to keep his cool, to not lose it, so he focused on one thing: “You finally said my name, my real name that you knew from the start, from that night.”

That night, when he found her in this alley in a puddle of red, her limbs twisted in pain. He wanted to call 911, but she didn’t let him, she begged and pleaded with him to not call anyone, tears of implore mixing with tears of pain, merging with the trails of blood on her cheeks, before her eyes rolled to the back of her skull, and her body slackened against his own.

That night, he carried her home, he showered her in his bathtub, cleaned her cuts and washed dried blood off her cheeks and out of her hair, cleaned her clothes in his washer, and tucked her in his blankets, on his own bed.

“Huh,” Annie ’s voice brought him back from the far lane of his memories, “you’re used to being called Mr. Arlert, aren’t you? The way they call you at work.” her nose was pointing to the sky, “do they pay you enough?” she asked, “do they?”

“It’s rude to ask people how much they earn.”

“Or maybe it’s rude to ask people how much they get for altering humans’ genes?”

Her comment threw Arlert off, and in a second, their positions were switched; his back pressed into the wall, the ragged stone digging into his skin through the thick fabric of his suit.

His heart was beating against his ribcage, each beat sending painful jolts into his veins, and he finally saw the fang sticking out from beneath her smirk, that fang that she kept well hidden from him.

His knees shook under his weight that seemed to amplify under her glare, her hands on his shoulders screwing him in his place, and he wasn’t scared because she exposed him, he knew before-hand that she sneaked into each notch of his files and belongings, that she most likely memorized every substance in the countless drugs he made, the names of his crewmates, and the names of the hostages that were experimented on.

After all, one hostage must have meant something to her.

She had enough time to dive deep inside of him; to uncover every secret about him, she had four full months to do so, and she didn’t waste a minute of them.

She slept in his bed for these four months, had three meals on his dining table daily, she no longer was a guest, he got too accustomed to her presence that he couldn’t imagine how he managed to live on his own before.

But here he was, imprisoned in her cage-alike arms.

Annie glided down her hands down his chest, and even though she was no longer pining him down, he couldn’t get himself to move, to shift a limb, or unclench a finger from his clutched fists beside him.

She rubbed small circles on his shirt, watching how the fabric dented under her fingers, and she imagined them on his bare skin, trailing shapes on his chest, on his back, on his cheeks and running through his short, blond hair.

Beneath the shirt, thunder-shaped fire was kindled on his skin in the trace of her finger tips, the skin burned and charred, but he didn’t move, he didn’t run even after she pressed her thigh into his, and he felt a cold, hard thing pushing into his flesh.

Annie waited for a reaction, a flicker of an eyelid, a twitch of a lip, a quick breath, but nothing.

She smirked, so even after he knew she was armed, that she had a gun in her hand reach, he kept his I’m-cool act up, “You’ve got guts,” she said, not backing away from him, but she did lean her weight off of him.

Arlert almost breathed in relief; her body against him was making his already fucked up mind buzz with horrible thoughts that he shouldn’t be occupied with while his life was on stakes.

But he didn’t get to relish in it; Annie stepped on her toes and bent closer to his face, her hands resting on his shoulder once again, though this time her touch was soft, delicate, like a feather, and even though he knew it was hopeless, a tiny candle of hope was lit inside of him, a tiny farfetched wish that maybe, he could get her back to him.

The sirens in his mind belched and ordered him to turn his head away from her, to do something about her, to not surrender, but he was too frozen to oblige; and when Annie  brushed her fingers against his lips, these sirens were too loud to comprehend what they were shouting anymore.

“You’re not running, you’re too used to it,” Annie looked into his eyes, and something flashed inside of them, a thing so intense, a thing that was her only fear. She escaped his gaze and averted her eyes, leaning towards the lob of his ear, a smirk pulled on her lips when she got a shudder from him, and she was itching to weaken him further, to make him crumble and bow to her, to melt him into a puddle underneath her feet and watch her reflection in it staring back at her.

She pressed her lips against his ear and whispered: “You got used to that.”

“Stop it.” Arlert teemed from between his teeth, his fists clutching tighter, he thought his fingers’ bones would crush under the pressure.

“You liked it when I called out your name,” she pressed her frame into his, her voice dropping lower, her cheek rubbing against his, “when I moaned your name-”

“Stop it.”

“In your bed.”

His back was as stiff as the stone behind it, the heel of his feet digging into the solid concrete ground beneath, his teeth gritting into a powder, and his breath was quick and shallow, his ears drumming each time his heart sent blood circulating in his veins.

His hands on his sides sweating and on fire, they were near the edge of sprouting up and engulfing her frame, to run them all over her back and in her hair, to feel his skin against her, her body arching into his, pressed into his, his fingers emitting notes from her that were music to his ears.

Just like that night.

“Armin,” Annie whispered, so low, her voice breathy, her fingers trailing down his neck, “Armin,” she planted an open-mouth kiss on his neck, and he trembled, “Armin,” her fingers reached the short hair of his undercut, “Armin.”

“Stop.”

She stopped.

But her hands on him lingered.

Armin, who squeezed his eyes shut, was trying to control his breathing, trying to slow it into a rhythmic melody, but it was impossible with Annie this close to him, he wanted her to step away from him, to let him breathe.

But he also didn’t want to let her go, if anything, he wanted to wipe that ridiculous red lipstick and break the tie holding her hair up in that small, tight bun, he wanted to repeat what he did the morning preceding that night, bring her breakfast in his bed, feed her with his hands, and listen to her story, pausing every now and then to wipe her tears with his fingers, until her tears were spent and her story was told.

He shook his head, all of it was a lie, he couldn’t let himself fall into that deep hole again, it took him long enough to pull himself out from it, it was all a lie.

Annie withdrew from Armin, and he couldn’t hold back a tiny sigh of relief, but when he opened his eyes, he wished he didn’t close them in the first place.

Her hair was down, and the blood-red lipstick was smeared around her lips in a failed attempt to wipe it off, leaving a trail of smudged red on her sleeve.

He really shouldn’t have closed his eyes, he shouldn’t have given her another chance to deceive him, to curl her snake-tail around the last bit of his senses.

When he looked into her eyes, they were dead, prosaic, and they didn’t suit her shoulder-length golden hair, her angel-sculpted face, these were the eyes of a criminal hunting the only good memory he had of her.

And he wanted to lurch his fingers into her eyes sockets and embowel them of these foreign eyes.

Without breaking eye contact, she reached beneath her knee-length skirt and pulled out the gun he felt a minute ago and pointed it right between his eyes.

“It was a pleasure meeting you,” Annie said, watching Armin’s eyes widen, the truth that he’s living his last moments sinking in.

Armin closed his eyes, feeling the cold metal pressing between his eyebrows, and counted.

One

Two

Three

Blue

Four

Soft

Six

Golden

No, five

Gracious

Seven

Eight

A click of a gun

Nine

“I really loved you that night,” she confessed.

Ten

The cold metal was no longer on his forehead, and when Armin opened his eyes, Annie was pointing the gun to the sky.

And the look in her eyes, a sad blue streaked by darker ocean-like hue, and maybe it was a trick of light, but he could swear he saw them glistening with tears.

“I really did,” She said, before she pulled the trigger, a wire shooting from the gun barrel, clutching into something above with a clink, and in a second, she was no longer standing in front of him.

A minute, five minutes, an hour, or maybe a couple, Armin lost track of time and sense, and he wasn’t snapped out of it until he heard the sirens of police echoing in the distance.

His legs were numb, and his throat was dry.

Armin walked out the alley the exact moment the cars pulled out next to it, he was tired, so tired, he just wanted to go back home and sleep for three days straight, but he knew he won’t be getting any rest for some time.

“Put your hands up!” A female voice commanded, and Armin acted like he was told.

Multiple uniformed police officers bolted out the car, one of them got closer to him, her gun already pointed at him, but the moment she got a clearer look at who he was, she dropped the gun and placed it in the waist belt she was wearing.

“What exactly happened in there? Are you ok?” She said, she gestured for the other police officers to go into the alley. Even though she was much taller than Armin, she had to bend her back to get a look at his tilted down face.

“I’m sorry, I failed, Mikasa,” Armin said, he finally looked up, his eyes looking straight into hers, and he didn’t realize that he probably looked like shit until he noticed her frowned eyebrows.

“We thought something bad happened to you,” Mikasa sighed, “the mic, we could no longer hear you and-”

“What?” Armin asked, his hands already reaching into the fold of his jacket’s collar, before his fingers touched the small circular device.

“We didn’t lose connection, but the sound suddenly got muffled and- oh.”

Mikasa got her answer as Armin held up the tiny, wireless device, now covered with dough-like substance.

“Shit,” Armin hissed and wrangled the tinkered-into-uselessness device to the ground, he ran his fingers over his sculp, tugging at the roots of his blonde hair, he turned around from Mikasa and huffed, not only did he fail to rat out Annie to the police, a wanted hacker that they couldn’t catch for years, but this hacker knew all about his plan from the very beginning.

She knew he was mic-ed, and she knew he was there to betray her.

Just like she betrayed him.

“What about the tracking device?” Mikasa inquired, crossing her arms.

“What about it?” Armin regretted the question the moment it left his mouth.

“You tell me, we found it two miles from here down the street, and we were in full panic mode because we had no idea the whereabout of you and her.”

“Oh…” Armin’s mind was short-circuiting with all the excuses he prepared for this question, but unlike when he first thought of them, now they sounded lame and unreal.

“Besides,” Mikasa took a step closer to him, looking around, making sure that her words were audible to only him, “what’s going on between you two?”

Answers rolled in his head one by one.

Lovers? No, too cheerful, too innocent.

Friends? Friends don’t strip you and fuck you senseless.

Enemies? That’s a strong term to describe what they had.

“I was behind her father’s death,” he didn’t choose to say it, nor did he think of it, it just slipped off his tongue.

Mikasa’s eyes widened, she blinked, and crooked her head to the side, as if waiting for Armin to tell her it was all a joke of some horrible sense of humor.

When he didn’t budge, she inched closer to him and whispered: “Does anyone know about it?”

Armin shook his head.

“Let’s keep it that way, you already have enough on your shoulders, and you breached our contract; you get her, we let you go, but if you don’t…” Mikasa sighed and pulled out the cuffs hanging from her waist, and Armin, without questioning it, held out his hands to her, “Armin Arlert, you’re under arrest for helping out a wanted criminal, and for illegal experiments in an unauthorized lab.”

Armin let out a slow, long breath; even though his life technically was over, and his career had turned into dust, a sense of relief washed over him.

All of it was over.

No more stressing out about being caught, no more pressure to keep working from the shadows.

He knew this would happen one day; he knew it too well.

It was just a matter of time.

Guilt gnawed at his stomach as he saw disappointment in Mikasa’s eyes, his childhood friend taking his hand and guiding him to prison, the place where he would most likely spend the rest of his life in.

How ironic.

She opened the passenger door of the police car for him, he got in and before she closed the door she whispered: “Don’t worry, I got you.”

Mikasa tapped on the car’s roof, and the wheels started spinning; Armin in the backseat, his hands cuffed, and a police officer taking him to wherever next was to happen to him.

Armin threw his head back and let out a groan, he fluttered his eyes shut, trying to let the events of this one night to sink in, this was all just a nightmare, an actual real life nightmare that he was trying to avoid it for the past nine years or more, but here he was in the back seat of a police car, alone, waiting for whatever the next days held for him-

Wait

He was alone.

In the backseat.

Who in hell would let someone under arrest alone in a car with just one police officer, who had their hands full with driving?

Armin looked into the rear mirror and was met with piercing blue eyes, already watching him.

Ones that were similar to his own eyes, but female features framed them.

Armin’s jaw opened; this nightmare was only getting ridiculous with each passing minute.

There was no way Annie Leonhart was in a police officer attire and driving this car.

But she took off the hat, flung it outside the window, and her golden locks flew around her face, and Armin wasn’t mistaken; it was her, and her only.

Annie put a shushing finger on her lips, before she turned her gaze back on the road.

Armin slanted back in the seat, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.

.

.

.

UM HELLO

ok wow I'm so excited that I've finally shared this with yall, it's really something new to me and certainly out of my comfort zone

I really hope you liked it and I hope I delivered the story in an understandable, clear way, because as I said, this is new to me, feedback is appreciated!!

OK HELLO GUYS COME JOIN ME ON TWITTER UWU

sometimes I post art there, warning: I'm not good at it

one last thing, this was written for Aruani week 2020 on tumblr, go through the hashtag and see what others created! really awesome art so I highly recommend

ok that's it have a good day/night

byyeeee

[orbitariums]

the man out of time | steve rogers

first ask anon asked: Omg requests are open ☺️. Time Traveler reader meets Steve in the 40s. Steve and her hit it off but she skips around time and just doesn't want to stay, even though she really likes Steve. She goes back to modern time and bumps into Steve again. They are both super confused so they talk to each other again, they still like each other and he ends up learning of her powers and it all makes sense. Sorry for the long paragraph hehe. Hope you are well! 💌 -first ask anon

note: i was sooo fucking excited to write this it just took me a little while!!! of course this request would be your lovely idea first ask anon!! this might not be historically accurate but it is what it is. it's cute n fluffy n funny i hope y'all enjoy :)))

also here’s a playlist i made for it!!! click here ♡ 

the man out of time | steve rogers + reader

         You were really just trying to go back a few years. But your time travel powers worked a little too well. Like, you were fully in another decade - your existence hadn't even been a thought at this point in time. And yet, here you were, decked out in a rockabilly swing dress that you didn't even own. Apparently with time traveling came the plus of looking culturally relevant. Never mind the fact that you didn't know where you were, and didn't know anybody here. At the very least, you knew how to get back. But it would be too dangerous to try going back to the present until a few hours had passed.

    So for those few hours, you would be here - in this crowded dance hall, where many were gathered for some type of party. It seemed to be an important party though, because there were lots of people in uniform walking around and many important looking women and men. You remembered that you were, of course, in the 40s, during World War II. Did this mean you were a part of history? Shivers ran down your spine at the thought.

    You were leaning against the wall just observing your surroundings, taking it all in. Even if you hadn't meant to get here, that didn't make it any less interesting. A bit stressful? Yes. But your thirst for knowledge, which got you labeled "mad scientist" in your hometown (though really you were just a bookish girl with an insatiable need to know and learn more), overran all your nervous thoughts.

They could only hold you back. You wanted to know so much - to ask questions, socialize, even explore. But you decided that just watching was your best option. You didn't want to cause a glitch in the matrix by talking to someone and running the risk of changing the outcome of history as we know it.

     So you were minding your business, leaning against the wall with your foot settled on the wall behind you, gazing around the room. Gazing at history. For years you had only seen this era in black and white, now it was fully blooming in color. It was such a marvel to see.

    A deep voice caught you off guard as a man sidled up next to you,

    "Parties aren't your scene either, huh?"

     Naturally, you responded, because that was your first instinct, forgetting that you weren't supposed to talk to anyone. Still gently gazing out at the crowd of people in front of you, you responded, a distracted smile on your red painted lips,

    "You could say that."

You turned to face the man, about to excuse yourself just so you could refrain from talking to him (because again, "possible glitch in the matrix!" your brain screamed at you). And as you turned to face him, it was like his body appeared before his face. He was huge, hulkish, even, almost unnaturally so. His shirt buttons were nearly popping off, and your eyes were doing the same. But his body couldn't possibly be any comparison to his face, his existence.

You doubled back, having to refrain the potential wild reaction of throwing your hand over your lips. Still, you ogled at him in surprise and shock.

    Earlier you had suspected that this party was for important people, but what you were seeing now wasn't near anything you could expect. Because standing in front of you now was the Captain America. As in Steve Grant Rogers, the man out of time.

    Your heart was racing, and your brain had to take a few steps just to catch up with your body's reaction. Here Steve Rogers was in the flesh, someone you couldn't even imagine speaking to as regularly as this in the present. Someone you could only dream of seeing. And knowing that you were talking to Captain America had you realizing that you were genuinely a part of history. That now, whatever the word "now" meant, you existed in some little compartment in Steve Rogers' huge, not yet frozen, brain.

Was this something that should've worried you? Yes, and it did. You didn't even want to talk to a regular person, now imagine all the things that could happen with you talking to Captain America. A quick calculation in your fast running brain told you that there were endless possibilities, and not all of them were good.

     But your shock and intrigue clouded your better judgment, and you were standing in front of him with nothing better to say or do, just stammering.

     "Cap-Captain," you breathed out hard, nearly gasping for air. You could only imagine how stupid you must look. You suddenly wondered if your reaction made you look out of place. Then you wondered how out of place you looked to begin with, and suddenly it became a bit hotter, and the collar of your dress felt suffocating and tight. "Captain, Steve. Captain America."

    You swallowed hard, and felt your eyes travel down to his nametag bearing the title "Cpt. Rogers." As if he needed one, you almost scoffed. You were somewhere between being incredibly scared and going full on geeky fangirl. You wouldn't call yourself a stan of the present day Captain America, but it was still pretty damn cool to see him, and your naturally nerdy disposition had you fascinated with the fact that you even got this chance.

     Steve raised his brows, but had a smile on his face.

   "That's me. It's nice to meet you," he put out his hand for you to shake and you took it, your entire body nearly trembling with some electric shock when you felt his strong hand grasp yours in a warm, friendly handshake.

    "I'm... shaking your hand. Wow. This is fu-" you cut yourself off, remembering who you were talking to and the conservative nature of the time period you were in, clearing your throat. You also realized that beyond profanity, there was no way in hell you could talk how you normally would in modern times. You'd be found out, or throw everyone off. You continued, "This is amazing. I... really, I can't believe it. It's an honor to meet you."

    Glancing around the room, you started to notice that there were signs indicating that this gathering was essentially, a celebration of Steve and the other soldiers. For all your smarts, you had definitely missed a huge clue of where you were.

    Steve liked you already. You were a breath of fresh air. Lots of people acted over-excited to see him, but it was different with you. It was genuine, thrilling, and kind of cute. There was something about you. It wasn't off, per say, but it was almost strange, in a good way. Like you were walking around with a completely different air around you, like you didn't fit in, but somehow it worked. He just couldn't put his finger on it.

     "Well, thank you," Steve nodded, and he glanced down at your hands, still melded together.

But it seemed you were the one who wasn't letting go, squeezing hard. He raised his brows, then looked up at your face, which gave away all he needed to know. You were transfixed, studying him, and too in it to bring yourself back to earth. All these things, though, he greeted with a warm smile and a warm heart.

    You realized that you were gawking, and that you were squeezing his hand far too tight, as if you were the one with enhanced strength. You laughed nervously and dropped his hand, running your own against your forehead.

     "My apologies," you murmured.

     "All the same. Where are my manners, I haven't even asked you your name yet," he grinned, and you really tried quite hard not to get lost in the depth of those blue eyes, so charming and naturally friendly. But you couldn't help yourself, your eyes darting between his and blinking fast, twitterpated.

    Seeing him up close really put things in perspective. He was handsome, he was Captain America, and he had talked to you for no real reason. You were now determined to find out why he came up to you before the end of the night. Then you would go back.

    "I'm... Y/N."

    "Y/N. It's nice to meet you, Y/N," Steve nodded, and you felt your cheeks go warm with blush.

You felt stupid and girlish, blushing to death in front of this hunk of a man, knowing he probably got this all the time. You pushed hair behind your ear, your eyes gazing down at the floor,

    "So... how- how are things?"

You were well aware of how awkward you sounded, hyper-aware, even. But Steve found it endearing, and he liked talking to you.

    "Things?" he repeated, lightly poking a bit of fun at you.

You chuckled to yourself and looked up at him, a small smirk of a smile on your face. You worked up the nerve to make eye contact with him rather than have your eyes flicker all over the place, and you let out a hefty breath through your nostrils.

    "Like, life. Is what I meant," you shook your head playfully, poking fun at yourself, and Steve grinned, laughing quietly.

    "I know, I'm just teasing you. That is a heavy question, though."

     "Really?" you were intrigued - the part of your brain that ran nonstop wanted to know more. "How so?"

Steve shrugged,

      "I guess no one really asks me that. Not these days."

       You snorted,

     "I can imagine it's a lot of bullshit and work all the time."

You only realized what came out of your mouth when you caught sight of Steve's face. He was a mixture of shocked, offended, and honestly? Fascinated. It didn't take your swearing for him to realize that there was something wonderfully different about you, but hearing such language just confirmed his thoughts further. And he appreciated your brutal honesty and ability to resonate with him, even if it came with language. And surprisingly, it didn't make him recoil, it pulled him in.

    "Wow," Steve dragged out the word - it was all he could see, and looked at you with an impressed smile.

     You bit down on your lip,

    "Woops."

    "You know... we should probably be dancing," Steve joked, and you shook your head playfully, but also frantically. There was no way you'd be able to keep up with this kind of dance, and you were not going to be the girl who everyone could see Steve Rogers dancing with.

"Oh no," you waved your hand warily. "I couldn't possibly. I'm— I'm a terrible dancer. Sorry."

"That was a joke. I'm not too good myself," Steve chuckled, and for a moment you were each just laughing, looking at each other, gazing into each other's eyes as if you were the only two at the event. As if Steve didn't have probably a million responsibilities just within this night. He was enjoying your presence a lot for someone he'd just met.

You folded your arms, bouncing gently on the balls of your feet and swaying back and forth,

"If you don't dance at these things, then what do you do?"

Steve brought his arm up, scratching the nape of his neck as he squinted a little in contemplation. As your eyes followed his movements, your brain blanked -- all you could spell out right now was "muscle" and "bulge." You found yourself wide-eyed, blinking harshly.

"Make speeches, be put on the spot, talk work."

"Anything fun?" you questioned, and he laughed, appreciating the challenge.

"Leave with a girl?" Steve replied, although it was more of a hopeful question.

You grinned, looking up at him. Was he seriously courting you right now? It seemed as though nothing should feel impossible to you, not when in the year of 2020 you had time traveled back to the 40s. But this felt unreal.

"And do what?" you smiled, and Steve became slightly flustered, then placing his hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth. He cocked his head to the side, again replying with a question,

"We could go on a walk. Visit my favorite diner for milkshakes on me?"

You couldn't help but beam at all his suggestions, your eyes glimmering as yours locked with his. You nodded, much too calmly in comparison to the way you felt inside - inflamed and jittery. Nevermind that you had fallen into exactly what you were trying to avoid - it was a beautiful fall anyway. Besides, who would you be to turn down Captain America?

"That's just fine with me. Let's get out of here, captain," you quipped, taking the initiative and linking arms with him, feeling his strong arm wrap around yours.

Talking and walking with Steve couldn't have been any more fun. Somehow it was like you both freed yourselves, rebelling and escaping from something that didn't suit you before. You didn't know what was to come next, and you certainly hadn't expected this. Anything could happen. Although you were nervous, it was just the right amount. You were excited, you felt natural walking the streets with him, arms linked together, gazing up at him like a puppy. Just being in the presence of such greatness felt like a dream.

And Steve was just as wonderful as they made him out to be, even more. In the time you spent together, you'd learned so much about him. He was kind and bright, made you feel comfortable and safe. You pulled humor and lightheartedness out of him, made him feel comfortable. He was glad to be here with you, away from everything else. He was proud of himself for working the nerve up to talk to you, for not ignoring the fact that he was so drawn to this stranger. And it was the best decision he'd made that night.

You were each strolling down the dark streets, only lit by street lights and the dim lights that came from people's windows as they got ready for bed. It felt reassuring to know that even while you were surrounded by unfamiliarity, you could find resonance in all those people, looking through their windows and wondering what they were having for dinner, imagining the ladies taking off their jewelry as they cuddled up in bed with a lover.

"I feel like I'm gonna be on a sugar high," you chuckled, sipping some of your milkshake.

Steve grinned down at you,

"Mike's Milkshakes will do that to you."

You sighed, glancing around at everything. It was beautiful here in the dark, even in the midst of war, with everything going on. Before, you could only imagine what these nights would be like. You wondered if you would've intentionally traveled back to this time instead of by accident. Considering the way things were outside of this moment in particular, you probably wouldn't. But you were glad you did. This felt like a beautiful mistake.

You pulled Steve onto a corner of an alleyway, the two of you basking under the glow of the street light.

"Steve," you said his name gently, but as if it were of the utmost importance.

He looked down at you, becoming nervous himself, feeling his heart beat in his chest. You were undoubtedly beautiful, and the two of you were more alone than you had ever been in the past two hours you had spent together, quite literally just walking and talking, sharing stories and time together. He felt close to you, towering over you, and it wasn't any less nerve wracking for you.

"Yeah?" he uttered out, and you found yourself opening and closing your mouth, trying to find the right way for the words to come out.

You just smiled, reaching your hand up and sort of awkwardly patting his shoulder, then letting your hand trail down his chest gently. He looked down at your hand, then back at you, waiting for your next words.

"Thank you. This night was so beautiful, I can't thank you enough."

At the corner of Steve's lips tugged a smile, and his eyes grew needy and hopeful,

"Don't tell me this is you saying goodbye."

You felt a pang in your chest as he said that. You hadn't considered the fact that you would have to say goodbye at some point, and you knew that meant goodbye forever. But you had been so caught up in your wonder that you hadn't thought of the moment to say goodbye. And yet, it seemed like that moment was creeping up on you.

You didn't want to look at it with sadness, it was as natural as could be, but you still wished you could stay for a little longer. You knew you had to go though, and as magical as this was, you didn't want to live in a world where you had no basis. You belonged in the modern world, it was where you should stay.

"Almost," you laughed slightly. "I do have a question for you, though."

    "Sure," Steve shrugged.

It was the one thing you really wanted to know: why you? Why had Steve chosen to talk to you, of all people? He didn't know you and you weren't boasting an important title. So, why you? You wondered. If you had some secret power to attract people like Steve Rogers into your life, you wanted to know what it was.

    You cleared your throat before you asked this question, suddenly feeling a bit shy,

    "Why did you come up to me? And talk to me... it's been on my mind all night."

Steve took in a breath and shoved his hands in his pockets.

    "I... don't know. I guess I saw a little bit of myself in you, crazy as it sounds."

     "Captain America is a wallflower?" you retorted jokingly, and he chuckled, shaking his head.

     "I just mean, you seemed like you were trying to find a way. And I'm constantly doing that. And something about you... is different. I like that."

You knew exactly what that something was. You literally didn't belong here. You weren't from here. Steve must have sensed that, even if he didn't fully realize it.

    "Hm. Well, whatever it is, I'm glad you approached me because of it. I've had the best night, really. I wish I could stay longer."

    "Oh, don't go. Not just yet," Steve grasped your hand and squeezed.

    "I can't. I have... somewhere to be," you smiled tearfully as you looked at your hands intertwined.

    Steve swallowed. He didn't intend on getting hooked on you as fast as he did, but he did. And now that he was hooked, you were leaving. It was a bittersweet moment, but he understood you had to go— it was like you had some purpose elsewhere, and that was clear to him. It was almost strange.

    "I understand," Steve replied, smiling at the touch of your hand on his, your thumb rubbing against his thumb. "I'm glad we met, Y/N. Can I see you again?"

You grinned. You certainly couldn't make any promises,

    "Maybe. But for now I have to go."

    "At least let me walk you home," Steve pressed, and you shook your head.

    "It's much further than I think you'll want to go," was all you said. Steve would've pressed more but for some reason your answer felt definite and true.

Good night Steve."

    "Good night."

Before you knew it, you were reaching up on his tippy toes to kiss his cheek, feeling his skin turn red hot beneath your soft lips. He held onto your waist gently as you kissed his cheek, and when you pulled away, you stayed there in his grasp for a moment, eyes lingering on his. You wanted more, so much more, but you had had enough already.

    You didn't want to get cocky with time. You patted his chest and took one last look at him with a smile and glimmering eyes. Then, you turned away. As Steve watched you walk down the alleyway, it was almost like you vanished into thin air.

| | |

It had been a week since your beloved encounter with Steve Rogers. It still didn't feel real, in fact you wrote down every detail in your diary so that if it were a dream, it wouldn't wither away. But it was as real as real could get. It wasn't the time traveling that surprised you, you knew that to be natural. It was the experience you'd had on your trip.

You couldn't tell anybody, not that they would believe you to begin with. You didn't want to tell anybody anyway. This was your experience for keeping. You wouldn't share this with anyone else.

    You were on your way to work, the memories of that night still fresh in your head, a cup of coffee in hand. You wondered if Mike's Milkshakes still operated. Like Steve, you too lived in New York. There was no reason for it not to exist. You would be sorely upset if it didn't - it was truly one of the greatest shakes you'd had in your lifetime.

     You were looking down at your phone and typing, coffee in one hand, phone in the other. The hustle of New York was nothing, you could handle it.

    Until you couldn't. You nearly got knocked on the floor by someone who you bumped into- or maybe he bumped into you, it was hard to say. Either way, it was a wild collision. And your coffee fell, and spilled on the both of you.

     What was funny was that the two of you were apologizing like crazy, stumbling to pick the things up that had dropped, speaking over each other.

    "Oh my god I'm so sorry," you stammered. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

    "All the same. Where are my manners?" the man asked, and you chuckled with a scoff.

     "New York will do that to you."

You were each kneeling on the ground and picking things up, scatterbrained. But you both looked up at each other at the same time, catching each other's eyes. And in that moment, something clicked for the two of you. Even when you left that day, you weren't really leaving. Because Steve was right here, a week and a few decades later. You blinked, tried to make sure your mind wasn't playing tricks on you. But it really was him. Captain America. And he wasn't dressed in full attire, but he was still there.

    You made a face, furrowing your brows. All the calculations in the world couldn't have prepared you for this happening. You stared at him, speechless.

    He broke the silence, staring at you just as intensely. The crisp blue of his eyes was piercing, staring into your soul.

    "I know you from somewhere," he said, with absolute certainty.

Your heart dropped. This was exactly what you wanted to avoid when time traveling. Not that you even expected anything like this to happen. You became bashful, shaking your head and blushing, hurrying to stand up, but Steve followed your motions as you stood.

    "No," you shook your head and laughed lightly, looking down so he wouldn't see your face.

    "I'm sure I do..." he squinted, still staring intensely at you.  You looked up, pushed your hair out of your eyes. You couldn't handle his eyes on you, not when you weren't even looking at him.

     His eyes locked with yours again and he seemed to be exploring your eyes, wide and scared and nervous, hopeful. You hoped he'd say he was mistaken. You know you would love another chance with Steve, but that night was to be fully over with. For reasons you already stated.

    But gazing deep into your unforgettable eyes, which had glimmered so brightly, it was like a switch went off in his brain, bringing him all those years back. To that one night. He squinted. How could he remember? It seemed so artificial, like it was a memory that had been falsely implanted into his brain. But that was the effect of you- you had changed his history.

    He opened his mouth, then closed it again, then dared to speak,

    "Y/N."

He said it as if it was an answer, not like he was asking if it was you. Again with absolute certainty.

You pouted, almost cringing as you answered, squeezing your eyes shut. You felt disappointed in yourself, for letting this happen, for opening this window of possibility to begin with. Your life and his life would be changed more than you were ready for.

    You sighed and took in a deep breath,

    "Hi."

Steve was still furrowing his brows at you, gazing at you with every intention,

    "I don't understand. How..."

    It surprised himself that he remembered you, just based off of one night. But you were hard to forget. And it was even more mind boggling that he was seeing you again, the both of you in the same shape as when you had first met. Had you been frozen too? No, it couldn't be. It had to be-

    "Time travel," you blurted. Your heart was racing. "I... I time traveled. I can... do that."

      "What, that's your show and tell?" Steve joked, and you felt a little less worried. At least he wasn't angry. And it felt better talking to him in present day, at a time where you both belonged.

    "You could say that. Listen, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen, that night was a mistake."

    "Mistake?"

    "I- I mean... it shouldn't have happened. And it was great, really, I can't stop thinking about it. But it shouldn't have happened. I didn't even mean to... it just happened. I just got lucky."

Steve looked at you. All those years ago he had sensed that there was something different about you, he just couldn't put his finger on it. Now he knew.

    "I knew there was something different about you that night. You were glowing with this... this thing... modernity, I guess," Steve nodded.

You seemed good enough. He couldn't sense any bad intentions from you, and he had a good feel for those things. It was just you. It was why the situation didn't concern him any further.

    "I'm surprised you even remember me," you laughed.

    "Remember you?" Steve repeated, incredulous. "How could I forget?"

He held eye contact with you when he said that, and it got you blushing, shrinking down and shaking your head,

    "I'm sorry."

    Now Steve raised his brows,

    "I can't see what for."

    "I just didn't mean for any of this to happen. I feel like I've disturbed you."

You apologized, but when you said it it made you realize you didn't really have much to apologize for. Steve didn't seem very upset... at all. It was just your brain telling you that you could mess things up.

    Steve chuckled quietly, shaking his head,

    "No... you haven't. And you didn't that night, either."

    "Mhm," was all you could hum out.

    "But if that's your idea of disturbing me... I think you should disturb me some more. Maybe you can disturb me over coffee. I'll make up for it," he gestured to the spilled coffee on the ground.

You had probably never blushed so hard in your life. Once again, Steve Rogers was actually hitting on you. And all the silly worries and blabber from your brain couldn't stop the feeling you got when you talked to him, when you were with him.

    "Right now?" you asked stupidly, feeling entranced by him yet again.

He smirked playfully,

    "Yeah. Unless you wanna travel back in time for it."

note: THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE!!!

[jaskierswolf]

The Viscount and The Witcher pt.3/4

(Note: Reposted from my old blog. The rest can be found on my Ao3 or on my pinned masterlist)

Geralt visited the Lettenhove Estate on a regular basis after that fateful day. He hadn’t intended to. He’d intended to forget all about Viscount Julian and Dandelion the bard, but the man had wormed his way into Geralt’s head, like poison in his veins. Dandelion, Julian just didn’t suit him, wrote him letters every time Geralt found himself in the area and Geralt gritted his teeth and mounted Roach every single damned time. The first time he’d ridden in the opposite direction for about ten minutes before he’d noticed a patch on cornflowers at the side of the road. He’d sworn and turned Roach around to help clear an arachnomorph infestation from the kitchen.

The monstrous spiders had turned out to be just normal house spiders, big ones but still easy to squish under one’s boot. Dandelion had whimpered about spiders being scary and had practically jumped into Geralt’s arms when one had started to crawl up his leg. Geralt had rolled his eyes but allowed the Viscount to cling to him. He didn’t stink of fear despite his act of jumpy cowardliness but Geralt didn’t call him out on it. He was rather amused by the whole scenario and he left the castle with a purse filled with coin, not a bad reward for killing some spiders.

The next claim was a bruxa in the wine cellar. The bruxa had been a friend of Dandelion’s, stark naked with dark hair tumbling down in front of her breasts. Geralt had taken one look at her tanned skin and turned back out of the wine cellar, Dandelion babbling excuses after him.

After that had been a werewolf in the shed which had turned out to be a large dog.

Then a harpy nest on the roof which was just chicken eggs in a bundle of straw.

Each time Dandelion would follow Geralt around like a sad lost puppy. He would insist on feeding Geralt, or ordering him a bath if he was looking too travel worn. Geralt grew used to having the blond’s vibrant blue eyes watching him as he undressed, he enjoyed the casual touches to his arms and chest. Dandelion didn’t even seem to realise he was doing it. Every time that Geralt was close, those soft gentle hands would reach out, brushing a strand of hair from his face, or squeezing his arm, or stroking across his shoulder as they passed each other.

Geralt had even begun to call the man his friend, in the privacy of his own mind.

Dandelion had now claimed that a dragon was terrorising a local farm. Geralt didn’t even hunt dragons and yet he still found himself galloping off to meet Dandelion at his estate. He didn’t think too much into it. He told himself that if he didn’t go then it would inevitably be the one time that Dandelion was telling the truth.

The wannabe troubadour was standing by the entrance to the manor as he galloped up the path to the house. He dismounted from Roach whilst she was still slowing to a walk and landed on the ground with ease. Roach whinnied and trotted around the front of the house towards the stables, she’d been here enough time by now that she’d learnt where the best hay was.

“Geralt!” Dandelion greeted with a charming smile. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

Dandelion flung his arms around Geralt’s neck. Geralt grunted but returned the hug, enjoying the soothing scent of lavender that always hung to the Viscount. He resisted burying his nose in the crook of Dandelion’s neck, that was too much temptation. How would he restrain himself from peppering the soft skin with kisses, from leaving dark bruising marks beneath the soft blond curls that tickled his jaw?

Instead, Geralt pushed the Viscount away and scowled at him.

“A dragon?” Geralt asked with a quirk of his eyebrow. “Really?”

Dandelion flushed prettily under his cobolt blue hat. It was a striking colour on the Viscount that made his eyes shine and sparkle against his skin. Geralt’s throat went dry as he allowed his gaze to drink in the sight of the blond. Dandelion preened under the attention like a fancy peacock.

He was truly a sight to behold.

“Well.” Dandelion sulked. “It might have been a forktail?”

“In other words a goat with wings stuck to it.” Geralt surmised.

Dandelion gasped and placed a hand on his heart. He stumbled backwards slightly and his hat almost fell from his head. “Geralt” He whined. “At least ride out to the village with me, my dear witcher.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Roach is tired. We rode hard to get here. Dragons are dangerous beasts.”

Roach was fine.

He’d only been in the next town over.  He wasn’t even sure why he’d said it.

“Oh of course.” Dandelion beamed at him and put a hand on his hips. His tongue flicked out and brushed his lower lip. He had a habit of doing that and it drove Geralt mad. “Well you are more than welcome to rest here for a while. Food? A glass of wine perhaps? Or maybe some company?” Dandelion practically purred.

“Food would be good.” Geralt agreed, his stomach rumbling as if it had heard the Viscount’s words.

Dandelion pouted but ushered Geralt into the house. “It’s too early for dinner but Hanna won’t mind if we raid the kitchens. Come Geralt.”

The kitchen was warm, just like at Kaer Morhen, and the aroma of freshly baked bread and sweet buns filled the room. Geralt hummed contently. There was something incredibly grounding about the smell of freshly baked bread. Dandelion flitted around the kitchen with ease, searching the cupboards for some plates.

“I haven’t done this since I was a child.” He admitted, smiling brighter than the sun. “Hanna used to smack me over the bottom if she caught me stealing sweet buns.”

Geralt chuckled. “Well I’m not doing that so get it out of your head.”

Dandelion’s heart raced in his chest. “Geralt!”

“Dandelion?” He smirked.

“You bloody tease.” The Viscount muttered under his breath and carried on his search around the kitchen.

Eventually there were two plates pile high with pork pies, cheese, and honey covered rolls. Geralt moaned as he bit into the first pork pie. It was delicious. The Viscount’s cook was clearly a very talented woman.

Dandelion’s face was colour of roses and he nibbled his own plate of food. After a few minutes of eating in silence Dandelion sighed dramatically and swept his hat from off his head. “Gosh it’s hot in here!”

He fanned himself with his hat before abandoning it in favour of undoing the buttons on his doublet. Geralt watched, entranced by the Viscount’s fingers as they nimbly made light work of the buttons.

He swallowed and frowned before shaking his head.

“So the dragon?” He asked through mouthful of pastry. “What type?”

Dandelion’s melodic laughter filled the room and Geralt’s heart. “Why a golden dragon of course!” He announced with a wave of his hand.

Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Dandelion!” He snapped.

“What?” The Viscount whined.

“Golden dragons don’t exist. They are just a myth.” Geralt growled.

“Oh.” Dandelion stuck his tongue out as he thought. “Could have been a red dragon?”

It turned out that the ‘dragon’ was a horse… with wings created out of old doublets and sticks. One of the villages was riding the horse with a torch burning in his hand and yelling at anyone who came near the stables.

Geralt threw Dandelion an exasperated look. The Viscount just pouted at him and fluttered his eyelashes.

“Well it’s not my fault there haven’t been any real monsters recently.” Dandelion’s hand lingered on his arm.

The setting sunlight hit the blond curls on top of Dandelion’s head. Geralt tilted his head as he gazed at his friend. He gently removed the Viscount’s blue bonnet and tucked it under his arm, then he captured a lock of blond hair in his fingers, just liked he’d seen the viscount do on many occasions. It was just as soft as he’d imagined, the curls springing back into place once he released them.

Dandelion was staring at him openmouthed, blue eyes shimmering in the light of the setting sun. “Geralt?”

“Hmm?”

The Viscount’s heart was thundering in his chest, his sweet lavender scent grew only sweeter under Geralt’s touch. “What are you doing, my dear?”

Geralt blinked at the question and pulled his hand away.

“There’s no dragon.” He replied sternly. “Farewell, Dandelion.”

Dandelion sighed forlornly. “Farewell, my darling.”

____________

Dandelion was slowly going crazy stuck in his old castle. It had been three years since he’d first met Geralt. Over the last three years he’d played his part perfectly. He summoned the witcher at least once a year with cries for help and pretend monsters. Geralt rode out to meet him every single time. Dandelion was sure that Geralt knew his monsters were fake, that was part of the game, and yet every time Geralt insisted on focussing on his hunt and ignoring Dandelion’s propositions.

Well, not ignoring them entirely.

Dandelion didn’t miss the way the witcher looked at him like he was the sweetest chocolate to be unwrapped, amber eyes dark with hunger and lust.

And yet the damned surly witcher had never acted on it.

Dandelion had practically thrown himself into the witcher’s lap, begged him to take him away on one of his adventures, pleaded with him to allow Dandelion to be more. He needed more, more than this house, more than this life.

Geralt’s fiery eyes and silver hair haunted his dreams. Dandelion had woken up many a time with Geralt’s name falling from his lips, false memories and Geralt’s gruff voice whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

His choice in lovers had shifted since meeting the witcher. He found himself drawn more to well built men over pretty maidens with perky bottoms and luscious golden locks. There was just this itch that he couldn’t scratch, no matter who he bedded. He was pretty sure it had something to do with the way his heart skipped a beat every time Geralt galloped up to the house on Roach.

He hit his head on his desk and moaned.

“My Lord Viscount. What you are asking is preposterous!” His lawyer gasped, dumbfounded.

“Kings and Queens can abdicate.” Dandelion answered firmly. “I have had enough!”

“There is no coming back from this Viscount Julian.” The lawyer countered. “If you regret it—”

“I won’t fucking regret it!” Dandelion insisted. “There must be some cousin or other distant relative.”

“You’ll lose everything.”

Dandelion hit the desk with his fist. “I simply don’t care!”

“Viscount Julian. I beg you, please reconsider.”

Dandelion glared fiercely at the other man. “I should have run away when I had the chance. I was going to you know. I had clothes stuffed into my lute case and ready to go, but I didn’t. You’ve had me trapped here for thirteen years but no more! I’m more than this, this place.” He threw his hands up and gestured at the study.

But the fool still wasn’t listening. Dandelion stood up and declared the meeting over. He was going to get his lute and leave.

It was time.

He could follow Geralt’s trace on the path.

He could track him down and they could travel together. Maybe he’d actually see a real monster for once.

That was if Geralt even let him come with him. He hoped he would. The witcher did always come when he called for him. That had to mean something, but if it meant something then why did he always push Dandelion’s affections away like he’d been burned? Dandelion scoffed. It wasn’t as if he was repulsive, he was well aware of his good looks and he knew when someone was attracted to him. Maybe Geralt thought that Dandelion was just out for a good fuck. It may have started like that but after three years surely Geralt could see how much their little games meant to Dandelion? For someone that was observant, Geralt really could be an oblivious brute.

He sighed.

Maybe it was time to give up the games. He’d showed his hand over and over again. Geralt could have no doubt about Dandelion’s intentions. He was really quite in love with the witcher. He flirted, he danced, he preened, all to gain moments of the witcher’s attention. Seconds of pure torturous bliss when Geralt would smile dangerously and lavish Dandelion with flirtatious words that made him feel weak and wanton.

No.

It was the witcher’s turn now. Dandelion was done with wearing his heart on his sleeve for scraps of the witcher’s attention.

The witcher would come to him, wherever that may be.

“Viscount Julian! Wait!” The mousy man called him back. “A compromise, if you please.”

Dandelion cursed and turned back to face the man with his hands on his hips. “Go on.”

“Your cousin will take over the estate in your absence, but you will remain Viscount by title. You will need to return to the estate once a year, and you will need to stay here for a little while until your cousin arrives.”

Dandelion narrowed his eyes at the man and sighed. Spring was just around the corner. He could enjoy the warmth of his house until then. There was no point freezing to death just to be spiteful. “Two weeks. No more.”

He turned his back with a toss of his hair and practically skipped out of the room.

[smileytiger28]

memory loss ficlist

sup i have loved memory loss stories since i was a wee child and now that ao3 exists i can just read them all day instead of doing work anyway here’s some of my favorites (list definitely subject to change)

s*pernatural

no place to go (4685 words) by peterspajamas

Summary:

It's Tuesday. Again.

Sam watches his world fall apart, into a pattern that only Castiel can break. But Castiel doesn't remember.

Sam prays for help after his brother is stuck in a time loop after Jack becomes God. There are two important things about the angel that arrives to help them: 1. It's Castiel 2. He doesn't remember a thing

my thots

mostly a tuesday time-loop type fic (sam!), but there is definitely some memory loss going on (cas!)

Gone (51108 words) by reading (reposted from ff.net)

Summary:

Dean thinks Sam is dead. Sam has amnesia.

So, this is set pre-deal, sometime in season 2. Strangers and Angels 'verse.

my notes

this fic is legendary. so good in every way. hurt-comfort, memory loss (sam!), angst both before and after memories are regained...hits all my buttons.

When Memory Fails (3646 words) by palpablenotion

Summary:

He's in a hotel room with fake IDs, fake (or stolen) credit cards, guns and knives, lighter fluid and a lighter that's been in a fire hot enough to scorch metal, and he doesn't know who he is.

my thoughts

actually found this fic when looking for some other fics for this list...turned out really good. dean's memory gets roblox oofed and the situation gets cleaned up in a short, sweet, and funny way.

Yellow highway lines (28292 words) by livinginthequestion

Summary:

Weeks had gone by since Michael reneged on his pledge and took possession of Dean permanently; since he’d begun waging his war against humanity and the earth, killing without remorse or restriction; since Dean had, through sheer strength of will, slammed the door on the archangel in his mind. He was still holding that door shut, but growing ever more desperate, to the point that he seriously considered the Ma’lak Box as the only solution available to him.

What if Cas did some research - and came up with an alternative to the Ma’lak Box, a ritual to eject Michael from Dean’s mind? Spellwork so powerful it ripped the archangel loose with the force of a heavenly cataclysm, destroying him in the process - and leaving behind terrible consequences for Dean?

Follow Cas and Sam's desperate cross-country search for Dean, and Dean's journey to find himself, his memories - and maybe find out what he really wants.

my thoughts

goodness me is this one really good. it kinda parallels Gone in that whole "winchester brother makes new life using his skills without his memory" vibe but this plays out a bit differently. this fic. i just want to bathe in it like a jacuzzi.

mcu

How Could I Forget You? (3013 words) by inkinmyheartandonthepage

Summary:

Tony knows that this kid is important somehow, knows deep in his heart that the kid is special. He just can’t remember who he is.

my thoughts

tony loses his memory from some good ol' head trauma. irondad and spiderson angst ensues. memory is not restored by the end (but it is implied that tony's memory will return a few days after the fic is set.)

Take Control (13966 words) by theunremarkable

Summary:

You are No One

I am Bucky. I know this You are Bucky He knows this

~

But Bucky does not know, that it has been a year. He does not know that it has been a year of the same conversation. He does not know that it has been a year of the same tears from Peggy. He does not know that when he sleeps, he forgets. Bucky does not know that when he wakes, he will again be No One.

my thoughts

one of those great fics that toes the line between poetry and prose. also a songfic ("take control" by kodaline), and the song is really darn good. keep in mind this is part 2 of a series that canon diverges so the timeline is a bit wonky.

Act of Sage (64315 words) by hotelmichelle

Summary:

After the Battle of New York, Steve finds a strange note in his apartment. It’s his handwriting, but he sure as hell would’ve remembered writing this.

my thoughts

this post-endgame-2012-timeline stucky fix-it is a textbook example of what happens when a fic starts out not as strong, but finds its voice and approaches its issues uniquely. the beginning isn't really my taste buuuuut at a certain point the fic definitely takes its own unique spin on things. and it's. so good. there's an oc who's a trauma therapist who works with an amnesiac/traumatized bucky barnes. she's just. the greatest, most intelligent, awesomest, most badass human being. also there's a lot of law terminology for bucky's legal trial. (i think the author was in law school while writing this?)

trials and tribulations of the universes saviour (34287 words) by imeanthatsprettysnazzy

Summary:

The thoughts kept racing through his head, them helping block out the continued, strangled begging coming from Mister Stark, along with the pain, as he stared Thanos right in the eyes.

“And I..” He spoke loudly, though he could still barely hear himself. “Don’t... Care...”

Peter brought his fingers together, and snapped.

OR

An alternate version of Endgame where Peter snaps (but survives).

This is a continuation of The Brother She Wished That She Knew, but it can be read alone if you want :)

(Used to be called When Fate Turns In A Different Direction but that was even cornier than this so I changed it)

my thoughts

the memory loss is like 1 chapter of this but it's really well-executed (and also i'm trying to list as many mcu fics as spn fics and it's surprisingly hard. MUST I REITERATE I HAVENT WATCHED 1 EP OF SPN jaklsdfjflk). what it says on the tin, also part of a series featuring a lot of peter's mom may parker. humor, angst, whump, a badass prosthesis and an awesome found family — this fic has everything you could ever want and more.

Bonus non-MCU marvel fic: If It Comes Back (10823 words) by flightinflame

Summary:

Logan turns his back on the school, setting out as a lone wolf. Until he meets a young man in need of help - a young man who looks painfully familiar.

my thoughts

if you want to leave the "mystery person" a surprise you should probably skip the tags (and the rest of this summary.) basically it's post x3, logan is sad, and picks up a mystery hitchhiker. it's the first (and as of now, only) scogan fic i've ever read and definitely a great introduction to the ship. also Person X and logan both get a liberal dollop of angst (hooray!)

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S4 Ep16: Rex and Weevil Do Not Understand “Rock Bottom”

Hey guys.

Hey.

So... kind of crazy out there, right?

Well, you know what they say. When life gives you lemons, you watch Netflix.

Anyway, Yugioh is racing down this canyon that should be going up alongside the 101 and through the middle of many cities. Don’t worry about it.

And then I found out the name of a card I haven’t seen yet and wow it’s a name.

I’m really glad that Rex Raptor, dinosaur enthusiast, has just no idea how to name dinosaurs and does so like a 6 year old child. Hornsaurus.

(read more under the cut)

So this episode is mostly about Rex and Weevil’s tragic backstory, and thankfully, it’s really not that tragic. We’ve had SO MANY bizarre and weird backstories under our belt, that to have a completely normal one is just...wild to me. They’re so freakin normal.

And on the way, our train just...

OK Train...anyway, I’ll do my best to show which scenes are flash back and which are not, but like bear with me because it flashes back like every other scene it feels like.

So Rex waxes long about that very short time in which he and Weevil were the best ever duelists in Japan (other than Kaiba, I guess, who they failed to mention in this flashback.)

(I used to have a very soft performance fleece sweater the exact same shade as Weevil’s jacket there, popped collar and everything, with piping outline. Don’t judge me, it was the 00′s, I’m just shocked that Weevil also shopped at Old Navy.)

(However I have no idea what’s going on with Rex’s three layers of clashing outfit styles that he has going on. A turtleneck under a thick button up jacket under an open fringe jacket is so much of a 90′s vibe.)

Up until now, bro has been PRETTY SURE every episode that Rex and Weevil are originally from America. I don’t know how I feel about being so right on the money about this one when the episode outright said that they’re from Japan. I don’t really want to out-Yugioh my brother, because at some point, I’ll accidentally let slip that in writing this blog I have accidentally gained all Yugioh knowledge, just like Noah did that one time when he was stuffed into that brain orb.

Just please don’t don’t ask me how this game works, I still have absolutely no idea.

Weevil and Rex had adoring fans in two-shaded polos exactly just like the type I used to wear in high school. But, their fans all left them the moment Weevil lost one single game against Yugi Muto.

Harsh. But granted, I feel like the people of Domino have rabbit memories and if you aren’t actively in the news every day because your blimp got abducted by sea pirates, then who the hell is EVER going to know who you are?

But youknow, Rex and Weevil are pretty sure that dodging getting murdered by Pegasus was actually their last shot at fame. It’s over forever. They’re done. Done until they beat either Joey or Yugi which...very specific, but, it would make you somewhat famous if you did that by simultaneously destroying the Caltrain.

And Weevil is like gunning for the King of Games title but...apparently no one in this episode wanted to mention to Weevil that the “King of Games” moniker actually went to Raphael?

That he needs to beat Raphael...not Yugi Muto?

Nobody?

Nobody feels like mentioning that neither Yami nor Yugi could possibly still be King of Games and that Weevil has no really good reason to be here? I mean it would save Weevil a lot of time. It would also save me a lot of time. We could just walk off this train and go back to what we were all doing before this happened, but nah, lets keep the lie going, because apparently Yami can’t bear to tell the truth, just like his host.

Waiiiit, isn’t Rebecca the King of Games because she beat Yugi in S1?

It’s the freakin Malfroy/Elder wand, it’ll be important in Ch 40 I’m sure of it. I’m sure they’re not going to just...forget...all of the people that beat Yugi before.

Man. Maybe that’s why Yugi is so hell bent on keeping tabs on Rebecca? Just to youknow...make sure she doesn’t tell anyone that she hella beat him that one time because otherwise Kaiba would have lost his freakin mind (again) that Yugi lost that title basically the same afternoon he came back from Pegasus’ island.

Also Rex and Weevil once charged for headshots and this makes them vile, terrible people for some reason.

Apparently this is a bad practice? I mean if you’re famous enough please charge for head shots, you need to make money between playing cards. Take it from this jaded artist, always sell out so you can save money for when you will absolutely get carpal tunnel.

Whatever. Back to Rex who is certain that he is not famous anymore because he lost to Joey.

S4 and still everyone is certain that Joey is bad at cards. Joey will just never be free from this.

It was beautiful anime food for like ten seconds until he did this. How dare. Literally though, how did he do that? Was that burger made out of potato chips?

Can we talk about what a freakin crime it is I can’t watch my Nick at Night retro shows on Netflix or Hulu? Like hell I’m going to get a third streaming service so I can watch and admire how bad “I Love Lucy” aged. I want to see how incredibly off-putting Fonzie is as an adult. But nah. Not even allowed. You can only watch Cheers.

Cheers. What am I? 65? Cheers wasn’t on Nick at Night. My Mom watched Cheers. Gross.

This show trying to convince me so hard that Rex and Weevils lowest point wasn’t when they were 5 seconds away from being set on fire and having their soul removed by Maxamillion Pegasus.

Like for reals, the lowest point for ANYONE (except for the Ishtars) on this show was when they were trapped on that island, without any camping supplies, surrounded by human skulls, Bakura pre-exorcism, and so many other duelists who were probably going to eat them had the tournament gone 24 more hours than it had.

The island that also had a basement that was entirely full of cultists who absolutely murdered a guy right in front of us.

Like when they finally got out of the island’s huge ass forest, their dinner included a soup filled with Pegasus’ eyes.

I would have gotten pissed on by like 70 stray dogs to get off that island, y’all.

So one of the best things about this blog is I don’t have to worry about the restraint of a.) looking professional b.) the fear of sharing my actual real deal opinion. Everywhere else I post, I can’t share anything. I’ve come to terms with this, and so I hide my hot takes deep, deep within this Yugioh blog and the only people who suspect my art rage are like...y’all in the corner of Tumblr who do not care about what I’m talking about.

++++++++++++THIS IS MY HUGE RANT ABOUT ART POLITICS AND ART BITTERNESS FEEL FREE TO SKIP THIS. WE’RE QUARANTINING SO MUCH OVER HERE DUE TO THE VIRUS THAT I AM GOING A LITTLE BIT HOUSE CRAZY+++++++++++++++

But like MAN I need to mention something. Both Joey and Rex are completely off base. Both of them.

Like I’ll be real, because of the sudden extra time I have on my hands, I was originally ranting quite a bit about art culture and stuff and I will admit it was projecting somewhat onto a TV show that was written before the recession and the gig economy basically came and laid a huge dump across the creative industry.

However, I really, really, really don’t like it when people naively say “I’m successful because I did the research, I did the work, and then I got a following despite doing no marketing at all,” LIKE HELL YOU DID, DUDE. And there’s certain places I go where this is the mantra of a hell ton of ppl who don’t believe in luck, and I have to just suck it in because they succeeded at a young age. Because inversely, if anyone doesn’t succeed right away--clearly they don’t work hard enough, right?

I won’t dig into real world stuff because that’s...the real world and the real world is a bummer, but even in the universe of Yugioh there’s this crazy disparity in duelers that the people on the top refuse to acknowledge and the people on the bottom have absolutely no way to cope with so they become insanely bitter about it.

Mai has mentioned that despite all of her hard work and success--because she isn’t the top 4 duelists of Kaiba’s tourney--no one knows who she freakin is. The card industry is so toxic, that even KAIBA dropped out.

And even without Kaiba to compete against anymore, Mai still wasn’t able to get in there to fill that void. The void that also has Marik and Odion in it, despite the fact that I’m pretty sure Marik will never touch a card ever again and might be back to living underground or on a boat in the middle of no-where. And we don’t even need to mention Bakura, right? Bakura who should have also been here to fill the void of fame, but his face probably only comes out fuzzy on camera like people haunted by that girl from the Ring. So we’ll just ignore Bakura, that makes sense, I can accept that canon.

But really...it’s just Joey and Yugi at the top of the crop when there should have been room for at least 4.

So, it’s interesting that the Oricalchos in this situation is the “get me popular quick” drug that will somehow give Rex and Weevil what they need for automatic success because I see people desperately looking for this SO MUCH online. I have seen so many post “This is how I got 100000 followers in 100 days,” and it’s always the same story that isn’t so much about hard work, but more how to game a broken system until all other competitors are invisible. And then there’s the hidden factor about...luck...that really offends people although we all know that it exists.

But just remember I’m not allowed to have this opinion that luck...exists...So if anyone asks, I never said this.

And also...if Rex and Weevil had any support up until now from these kids who have been stuffing them in the trunk for over a dozen episodes, they wouldn’t have done any of this.

So talking as a jaded Millennial, I’m not gonna judge you if you take your Oricalchos, if you know what I mean. Everyone has their reasons, and no one’s too good not to ever do it, lets be real.

+++++++++++++++END OF THIS RANT, WOW, I WANT TO SAY THAT WHILE SLAPPING A WHOLE LOT OF PEOPLE IN A GENTLE MANNER+++++++++++++

So I realized something. This cliff face is sort of an iconic train, but it’s the wrong train.

This is the Amtrak in the middle of Nevada/Utah, pretty sure. I know that shade of orange. I’ve done the Nevada drive a lot.

And part of the reason I’m even sleuthing into this is because as an artist I like to see where art inspiration comes from. It doesn’t just come from a void--they clearly did research and I just want to find out...how it happened.

So anyway, like I said last time, the Amtrak is in charge of the Caltrain management, although the Caltrain is not part of Amtrak. And so you get similar paint jobs--it’s just that Amtrak has blue topped cars, and the Caltrain cars are typically red. Yugioh safely did red, white and blue, which both cars do, to an extent, being American trains.

It’s possible that they decided to look up scenic trains in California and were like “this one looks neat.” This one is also named the “California Zephyr” which makes it seem super Californian but in actuality it goes from Emeryville, California to Chicago. Only problem is that Emeryville is North of Oakland, and we’re supposed to be taking the train “to the airport” when the airports are in Oakland or San Mateo. This train doesn’t go to the airport. You just drove by the airport.

This train also doesn’t go to Florida. Chicago is North, way north. This train exists to be a slow, scenic train for old tourists who want to sleep in cramped spaces or jaded millennials writing their award winning novel. It has no other purpose.

So, it doesn’t at all match anything story wise...but it looks cool. They would never take this train if the world was going to end, and Rebecca wouldn’t know it exists, but, it looks cool.

But anyway, onward to the next episode. I’ll be kind of bunking in my home for a while since my entire area basically shut down, so maybe I’ll get the next updates done earlier than usual? Maybe even catch up on my backlog? hm. Possibilities.

And if you just got here, this is all the Yugioh recaps in chrono order.

[bobasheebaby]

Bitter Pill- Crimson Rain chapter 16

Pairing: Bastien x Liza; Liam x Raven

Word count: 2,689

Warnings: angst

Summary: Liza speaks up, and her inner momma bear comes out. (Crappy summary but whatever.)

A/N: I honestly don’t know if the pain is over yet. My muse is having too much fun with this. I was very busy last week and you got spoiled this week with multiple updates, now it’s time for me to get back to the busy work! Not sure what will update next or when. Thanks for being patient with me. This should help clear up some of the July prompts.

Series warnings: Mobster AU, there will be violence, and death. Possible NSFW to come. Possibly dark and deals with pregnancy loss. If you ask to be tagged you acknowledge you are at least 18 years of age.

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist.

Disclaimer: I own my OC’s, the rest I’m simply borrowing from PB for a bit.

Eight years ago; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania- Bastien/Liza/Olivia:

Liza looked up from her book as Olivia stepped into the home. “Hey Liv, we need to talk.”

Olivia rolled her emerald eyes as she adjusted her backpack on her shoulder. “I take it the school called?” Annoyance seeping into her voice.

“The principal did yes.” Liza patted the seat next to her. “Sit.”

“Can’t you just yell at me from here?”

“Olivia, I’ll yell if I have to, but I want to hear your side first.” She sighed. “My dad was a yell first, ask questions never kind of person. I prefer to hear both sides before I make any judgement. So did you threaten to stab a girl?”

“I did, but it’s not like I didn’t ignore her and her stupid comments. I finally had enough and went off. It’s not like the teachers do a damn thing.”

“So what did she say?”

“Nothing new really, just the same shit I’ve been hearing for the past twelve years.” Olivia shrugged though the pain was apparent. “That my parents didn’t care about me and Bas doesn’t either.”

“You know Bas loves you.”

“Yea, that’s why I ignore her, but she’s been more insistent and pissing me off. She thinks because we don’t share the same last name he doesn’t want me, but she doesn’t get it. He knew my Aunt Lucretia wanted nothing to do with me, so he got her to sign over guardianship for me. A few years later he asked if I’d like him to adopt me, I just asked to keep my last name, my parents may have been shit enough to not care if they left me behind but the name still means something to me. So he adopted me, he is my dad, I just don’t call him dad because in my experience dad’s leave, Bas wouldn’t.”

“No he wouldn’t. I won’t either.”

“I know, you’ve basically become my mom.”

Liza couldn’t keep the smile from spreading to her lips. “Damn right. Okay Liv, I get it try to stay out of trouble.” She didn’t miss the way Olivia rolled her eyes. “Just tell me if I need to go full mama bear.”

*

“Oh I want to go down to the school and give that principal a piece of my mind!” Liza said as she pulled her mermaid locks into a messy bun.

“I know you do Poppy, but you can’t.” Bastien said stepping behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders rubbing them in an effort to calm her.

“Why can’t I?” She spun around, her eyes flashed in anger. “Jesus Bas! These kids are bullying her and the school isn’t doing a damn thing! You can’t ask me not to step in!”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “I know Liza—”

“So you know what’s going on?!”

“I have an idea, yes.”

“And you just sit back and do nothing about it?”

“Poppy, Livvy asked me not to do anything because it would just make things worse.”

She deflated, knowing he was right. “I just hate it.”

“I know you do Poppy. So do I.” He wrapped his arms around her pulling her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “She doesn’t even want them to know what I do.”

She looked up at him, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh we are so telling them at graduation!”

Present day; Trenton, New Jersey:

Liza glared at Liam, hearing the full story of Madeline’s visit only fueling her rage. “Exactly how long have you known it was Raven’s mother?”

“We found out two weeks ago.” Raven replied shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

Liza shook her head in disbelief. “And you didn’t think maybe you should share that information?” Maybe apologize for what you took.

Bastien squeezed her hand in an effort to calm her. “He didn’t say anything to Hope or me because admitting he was wrong would make him look weak.” Of course he would find apologizing to be weak. Liza turned back to Hope. “Where are you staying?”

Hope looked at her with a perplexed expression. “Where I’ve always lived with Linda my adoptive mother, why?”

“It’s clear this woman will stop at nothing to get what she wants. She has ways of finding out information, and can easily reach you.” She turned to look at Bastien. “I think she should come with us, she’d be safer.”

Liam covered his mouth with his hand, ineffectively concealing his scoff.

“Oh what? Do you have a better idea?” She turned her gaze back onto Liam, her hazel eyes narrowed shooting daggers at him. “It’s not like you’d invite her to stay with you! You haven’t even spoken to her since finding her.”

“I simply thought it was amusing how you pretend to care about her.” Liam sat back in his seat. “I mean after last time…”

Oh shit! Wrong words Liam! Bastien moved his hand to her shoulder. Liza shrugged him off as she jumped to her feet. “Last time? Oh you mean when I was a broken wreck because you tried to have me killed and took my child from me?!” She stepped closer, her jaw tensing, hazel eyes dark with rage. “I finally managed to piece myself back together. Trust me when I say if you hadn’t taken my child from me things would have been far different! And let’s not forget you were rubbing salt into the wound for both of us.” She gestured between herself and Bastien. “But no you never thought about what you might have done to me, taken from me did you? No you only cared about your so called revenge against Bastien!” She watched as Liam clenched his jaw in anger. Oh not used to someone telling you off and putting you in your place are you?! Her gaze softened as she turned to Hope. “How many times has Liam tried to contact you since learning of your existence?”

Hope snorted. “Tried? None. More like dealt with me if I caught him off guard and showed up after he ensured I wouldn’t be here.”

“How often have you talked to Bastien in the same period of time?”

“Everyday. At least a text if not a phone call. He regrets not being there for me and is trying to make up for something that’s clearly not his fault.”

“So Hope will be with us if you decide she’s actually worthy of your attention and want to actually work towards a relationship with her.” She snorted, nose wrinkled in displeasure. “Which we all know won’t happen with the way you came in here hollering at Hope, like any of this was her fault. All you’ve ever done is treat her like an obstacle an annoyance, that’s your sister, maybe you should try to start acting like it. Or is acting like you care about someone against your code?” Liza turned towards the door, missing the way Liam stiffened in anger at her words. “Oh I’m gonna kill that woman and enjoy doing it!”

Thirteen years ago; Trenton, New Jersey- Hope:

Hope skipped through the halls of the nursing home, her chestnut hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail that bounced with each step. She had a hopeful smile on her lips, maybe today will be the day she remembers me, remembers anything. The previous day her mother’s eyes had lit up when she walked in, though she couldn’t remember her name. While her adoptive mother tried to remind her to think realistically about her mother’s progress she couldn’t help but feel giddy. This is the day she knows who I am! I know it is!

“Hope.” Her adoptive mother’s authoritative voice broke through her thoughts. “Remember—”

Hope sighed as her shoulders slumped, she understood why she said this every day, but what was wrong with hoping? Her name even was hopeful. “Don’t get your hopes up, I know Mama L.”

“Hope, I just don’t want you to be upset if she doesn’t remember you.”

Hope nodded. She understood, she did, but she couldn’t not be hopeful that maybe one day she and her mother could be together outside of this building like they were meant to be. “I know Mama L, you just want what’s best for me.” She’s what's best for me, her remembering. Please remember. She cautiously entered the room, trying to head Mama L’s warning. Don’t be hopeful. But hope is all I have. Her heart thundered in her chest as her mother’s chestnut eyes lit up like they did before. Please don’t fade. She watched as her smile grew.

“Hope.” Emmaline said reaching out to the small girl. “Come here baby girl.”

Hope’s entire face lit up, steel grey eyes sparkling as she sprinted into her mother’s arms taking warmth and comfort in her embrace. She remembers me. Now just remember the rest…

Five years later:

There has to me more, there has to be something that someone knows that they aren’t telling me. Hope had become increasingly desperate for any information about her mother. Her constant questions leaving her adoptive mother physically drained. She didn’t think she would knowingly keep anything from her, but somebody had to know something. What about the person who’s paying for her care, what if they know something?

Hope had envisioned that remembering her would be the beginning of her mother’s memory coming back. While she was remembering more day to day, her past was still a complete blank. There has to be a way to find out something. Her mind constantly racing, trying to solve the mystery of her mother’s past and her family. If they won’t tell me, maybe there is a way to get the information myself.

Someone has to be missing her and I will find it.

Present day; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania:

Liza smiled as Buttons ran up to her as she crossed over the threshold to their home. Her eyes going wide as she surveyed the living room. Plush dog bed in the middle of the room, all types of dog toys scattered around the room. Someone was busy shopping. She scooped him into her arms, laughing as he licked her face. “Yes I missed you too Buttons. Did your sister take you shopping?” And buy out the entire store? I knew she loved him. She turned to Hope. “This is your other big sister Hope. Hope this is the cutest pupper in the whole entire world Buttons.”

Hope smiled patting Buttons head. “Hello Buttons, you sure are a cutie.”

“Butt, where did you get to…” Olivia’s words trailed off as she spied Liza, Bastien, standing with a young brunette.  Is that? “I see we have company...”

“Liv, this is Hope, Hope this is your sister Olivia.” Liza turned smirk on her lips. “I see you took Buttons shopping.”

I knew I should have taken it into my room! “Well he tore apart the stuffed frog you got him in minutes so I took him to replace it but then they had all these options so I just got them all.”

“Mmmmhmmmm. Admit it, you love your brother.”

Olivia rolled her emerald eyes. “I admit no such thing.” She gestured to Hope’s bag. “Are you staying?” Switch the subject...

Liza watched as Hope seemed to shrink, shifting awkwardly on her feet. “Emmaline was killed.” Olivia’s brow shot up in question. “For real this time. The person who we think was behind it came and spoke to Hope first. I invited her to stay here so we could keep her safe.”

Olivia nodded. “Did she go full momma bear?”

Bastien’s resonating chuckle rang out. “She nearly had Liam shaking, maybe in fear, probably in anger that she spoke to him like that. She also threatened to kill the woman in question.”

“Yup, full momma bear.” She pushed down the twinge of pain, Hope wasn’t a replacement she knew that, she just needed to remind herself. “Come on if you’re staying here we need to find you a room as far away from theirs as possible.” Bastien cleared his throat. “What? You two are loud.”

Hope giggled as Liza turned crimson. She smiled softly as she watched both her girls walk down the hall. I will keep them both safe.

Three days later:

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” Hope shouted as she hurled her phone onto her bed. She watched as it bounced off the dark wood headboard. Her eyes scanned the crisp white walls, every piece of the room she slept in a stark reminder that she didn’t belong. Liza had offered to help her make it feel more like home, but would she really be here long enough for it to matter? Wouldn’t she just return to Linda’s once the situation was handled? Did she want to return to the life she was handed but not meant to truly have?

She let out a sigh as she dropped her head into her hands. As glad as she was to finally know her family, everything had been a nightmare since they’d entered her life. She couldn’t help wondering if it would have been better had she and her mother had remained hidden. All she knew was Liam finding her mother had been the cause of her losing her mother. And now he wants to claim her and leave me out of it.

Hope’s hands curled into fists as she let out a feral scream. It’s his fault she’s gone and now he wants to act sad and like the victim?! She jumped, her head whipping around as she heard a cautious knock at her door. She sighed, of course I disturbed someone! “Come in.” She breathed a little easier as the dark purple hair poked around the door. At least it wasn’t Olivia, she’s nice enough but very abrupt. “Sorry I disturbed you Liza—”

Liza shook her head with a small smile. “What? You’re little shout? Trust me Olivia and Bas have much louder outbursts at times. But I did want to make sure you were alright.”

“It’s nothing.”

Liza gestured towards the discarded phone. “Something had to upset you.”

Hope shook her head, “it’s just Liam—”

Liza’s hazel eyes flashed with anger. “What did he do now?”

Hope stared at her stunned, Linda had been a good mother but she never had the protectiveness that Liza exuded from the beginning. “He’s just leaving me out of planning my mom’s funeral, stating he’s her next of kin, and it’s his job to plan it but he doesn’t even know what she wants. She doesn’t want to be put in the ground, she doesn’t want to give me a place to feel I have to visit. Liam is making decisions based on the fact that he missed her for twenty years, he doesn’t care about what she actually wanted. He doesn’t know her, not anymore, but he doesn’t care, he only cares about himself.” She sighed. “It doesn’t matter, he won’t listen to me.”

Liza’s eyes softened. “Your opinion does matter, it shows more about Liam than you that he won’t listen.” She looked around the bedroom, Hope’s bag open, belongings spilling out of it. She had hoped she’d try to personalize it a little, but she didn’t want to push her and make her feel as though she had even less control. “Maybe we can do something to take your mind off of how Liam is shutting you out.”

Hope was increasingly shocked by Liza and her willingness to open up to her. She looked around the room, it was really sparse and there was no telling how long she’d be there, especially if Liam got in the way of handling Madeline. She looked at Liza’s hair, a small smile spreading across her lips. “Maybe we could dye my hair?”

“Absolutely! What color, I should have everything needed.”

Hope paused in thought, the decision had been made on a whim, but she did want a change. She didn’t think she could pull off the bright colors like Liza. “Maybe just blonde to start?”

“Sounds perfect!”

Feedback fuels me, please like, comment reblog or send an ask. Feel free to scream, I promise I can take it.

Masterlist can be found in my bio.

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[rambling-at-midnight]

Hacked: Part 8

Spider-man is chasing you through the streets of Queens.

If it wasn’t so serious you might be laughing right now.

You should have known better than to steal from a store in broad daylight, but you’d been drunk with exhilaration and reckless. It doesn’t count as a heist if it’s only a few candy bars, right? Stick’s probably going to yell at you later, but you’re so close to finishing the article he’ll only tell you to keep focused.

You’ve never been more glad for Pom’s training than now. Navigating the different alleys and narrow streets is laughably easy compared to racing through the woods.

You take a sharp corner and lean back, lowering the board, but you do it so much your butt hits the ground. The board pulls you the remaining few feet until you’re lying on your back under a car. You hear Spider-boy curse when he swings ‘round the corner and grin.

Your watch, new from Dennis, buzzes against your skin. Inaudibly, you bring your wrist up to see a text from Pom: His suit can do heat-reads. I’m trying to hack into it before he sees you.

You mentally curse. Of course the suit has heat-reads; it was made by your dad! You type back that you’ve got it and pull up a hologram of the suit. Within seconds you’re in. You shut the suit down, grinning even wider when Spider-boy lets out a shout of surprise.

“What the hell, Y/N? I could have done it!” Pom snaps in your ear.

“Sorry, Pom, but it was a bit time-sensitive,” you grumble, worm-crawling your way out from under the car, made more difficult by the dead weight that is the board and your feet.

“Karen?” Spider-boy asks.

You tap a button on the side of your neck, activating the mask that Dennis had also gotten you, and wait until it’s covered your whole head except for your ponytail before whirling around. “My name isn’t Karen.” He’d even included a voice-warper. He’s endlessly surprising you with how smart he is. He could probably rival your dad in brains.

“I know; my suit’s named Karen! Did you break her? Who are you?” Without his suit on, he sounds just as young as you, maybe younger. You turn away. Putting a face on your enemy will just make your mission harder.

You try to gain height, but you can’t. You look down to see that Spider-boy’s suit has disappeared except for the helmet. You’ve been webbed by a superhero wearing boxers and a mask. You hadn’t even heard him getting out of his suit! His chest is distractingly muscular.

Saying a silent good-bye to the board Dennis had lent you for a new test run, part of his new version, you crouch to press the ‘shock and detonate’ button before jumping off and starting to run. Behind you, you hear Spider-boy’s pained yell as electricity carries down his web and an explosion.

“Pom?” you say, pressing your earpiece. “Bit of a situation. Stick’s prototype is gone, and this bag’s bound to attract attention.”

“Oh, you can’t handle this on your own?” she snaps but then sighs. “I’ve got you. Take a left up here. Spidey’s not chasing you yet. You’ve just got to make it to me and Dennis.”

When you get into the tunnel they’re hiding in, Pom starts laughing at you. “Your pants!” she gasps. You look down at them. “I don’t see the issue.”

“The butt,” Dennis snickers. You twist around to see that your trick with the car had ripped the butt of your jeans into shreds. You curse.

Pom offers, “Here, have my sweatshirt,” and chucks it at you. You tie it around your waist.

“Your tech’s amazing,” you say honestly to Dennis. When you touch the button on your neck, your mask stretching out again. It’s smooth black metal except for the eyes, which are grey and completely see-through from the inside. You only have to press the top for it to contract or stretch, and touching the outside will cause the button to detach itself from your skin. Your new watch has holograms for texting, emailing, and video calls, and you can pull up holograms of nearby tech for hacking.

He waves a flippant hand at you. “It’s really not that impressive.”

“It is,” you insist. “The prototype was amazing. ‘Shock and detonate’ worked so well.” You shake your hair out of its ponytail, effectively hiding the button on the back of your neck. “It’s perfect for facing Spidey.”

“Well, we’ll be seeing a lot of him in the future,” Dennis says grimly.

“Who do you think is under that mask?” Pom asks thoughtfully.

“Most likely no one we know. An Avenger’s kid, probably, so they would most likely stay in the tower except for stopping crime,” you hypothesize. “Shall we go?”

You, in a new pair of jeans, frown when you browse through the deleted articles about Tony Stark. They all seem to be about one of his kids that got kidnapped. He had been looking frantically for them when suddenly he just… stopped.

Finally, good stuff. What kind of father would just stop looking for their child? The articles saying that he took the child’s pictures down from the Missing Kids list said they had only been missing for a week and that they were definitely not found. A week? Seriously? You may not be patient, but even you could wait more than a week if one of your kids disappeared.

Finally you find a picture of the kid. You can’t tell if they were a boy or girl, only that they were wearing a baseball cap and a shirt that said “Iron Man is my favorite Avenger”. They disappeared when you were about three or four years old. You can’t find any trace of them on the internet, not at all. You can’t find pictures, their name, or when they were born.

You suppose that Tony’s got so many bastards running around that one missing won’t make a difference. If you went missing today he wouldn’t even notice. He doesn’t even know you exist.

You add that to the article you’re writing. It’s pretty good, if you do say so yourself. You’ve got a list of every woman that wanted to be featured in the article (not that many, and the ones that do want in are either holding out that he’ll come back when he sees their statements or just looking for attention), the fact that he only looked for his missing kid for a week before giving up, construction charges he hasn’t yet paid, and you’re working on hacking into his credit card to see how much alcohol he buys. You haven’t really sat down and focused on that, and you’re sure if you do make time for it, you’ll be able to finish the job easy-peasy.

Your laptop beeps with an incoming video message. You open it and smile shyly at Stick, hoping he doesn’t even know about your robbery earlier.

“Do you think you’ll be finished with the article by tonight?” he asks quickly.

Taken aback, you stare at him, before nodding slowly. “I could probably do that.”

“I’ve got contacts set up in Canada for you. You’ve got papers there, too. You’re going to be an orphan who’s living with a foster family. By your senior year you should be able to come back here. I can ‘adopt’ you. Your travel’s all planned out, too.”

Your jaw drops. “Senior year?” you squeak.

“You can’t come back too quickly or you’ll be caught,” he explains. “And even when you do come back you’ll need to look drastically different.”

“Senior year,” you repeat again, leaning back in your chair. Could you really leave your friends for two years? Could you leave Peter?

“Do you want Tony Stark to get away with abandoning you?” Stick presses. “Do you want other kids around the world growing up the same way you did?”

“I’ll be in his card by tonight,” you promise. It’s encoded but you’ve got time. You had thought that you were all right with ending the life you know and either getting arrested or starting a completely new one, but now that the fact is staring you in the face, you’re having cold feet. Which is ridiculous. You’ve been working on this for months. Tony Stark ruined your life. He’s murdered so many people. You’ve known what you’re going to do. You’ve been preparing yourself.

“Good,” Stick says and ends the call. You take a deep breath, squeeze your eyes shut, and begin the final steps in ending your life.

It’s six-oh-five in the morning, but you’ve written the article, complete with sources, graphs, and who knows what else. It looks like it really was written by a professional, and you’ve hacked into multiple newspaper websites and are one click away from posting it from under a fake name on all of them; you’d written the code that way. Stick, Pom, and Dennis had all looked over and revised the essay, but you’re still jittery with nerves because this is truly, truly, going to end your life. Your stomach is filled with butterflies and falling down fifty floors at once. After today, you’re going to be Ava Blake, orphan, currently living with foster parents Bella and Jacob Miles.

You’re going to live in Canada for two years with no contact with Michelle, Ned, or Peter. You’re going to go through sophomore and junior year without being able to skip class to wander the hallways with MJ or argue with Ned during lunch. You’re going to have to learn a whole new neighborhood. You’re going to have to meet a whole new school of people. You’re going to have to play on a new lacrosse team. You’re going to have to memorize a new school layout.

Occasionally you might be able to see Pom, Stick, and Dennis, but not often. You’re not going to see Crookshanks. Juna’s going to grow up without you, and maybe even forget you. Your mother’s going to die without you being there—you might not love her all that much anymore, but you still can remember her pushing you on the swings when you were younger, and you can at least want her not to be alone when she dies. Maybe MJ will kick Flash off the Decathlon team. Maybe they’ll stand up to the bully.

Maybe Peter will fall in love with someone else.

You close your eyes and twist your face with determination before letting out a loud breath, running your hands through your hair. You open your eyes and slam the burner laptop shut. You can’t do it just yet. You need to do one more thing first.

MJ had mentioned a before-school Decathlon meeting today, and the second you remember that, you know exactly what you need to do. You shove both the real and the burner laptops in your real backpack, not the school one, and put your board under your arm. You’re going to the cabin directly after this.

You sprint down the streets of New York, grateful for your training and how you’re not that out of breath. You occasionally whack people with your board, but it doesn’t matter. You’re never going to see them again.

You stop short when the looming building of your high school is directly in front of you. You can definitely feel the butterflies in your stomach now, and you’re pretty sure that the police are going to show up any second now, preventing you from posting the article and sending you to jail for the rest of your life.

You nearly kick the doors to the school open—one step closer to dying—before striding down the hallways to the Decathlon room. When did you start thinking about completing the mission as dying? Sure enough, the whole team is in there. You open the door and ask the teacher, “Can I borrow Peter for a second?”

Looking confused, he nods. Peter turns red when you look at him and hurriedly stalks out of the room. “Y/N? What are you doing?”

“I just wanted to do this,” you say quietly, mentally preparing yourself for what you’re about to do.

“That’s not your regular backpack,” Peter notices. “And that… that’s…” He points to the board under your arm, his eyes widening.

“Peter,” you say sternly. “At first I thought you hated me.” The poor boy’s eyes widen and he splutters, but you put your finger over his lips. “But then you started talking to me and you were sweet and funny and nice and I… have to do something before…”

“Before what?” Peter asks, panicked, against your finger. “Y/N, are you all right?”

“I’m perfectly fine,” you say with teary eyes. “I’m fine.” For the first time in your life, you might be completely fine. Which is odd, considering in five minutes you’re going to practically be killing yourself. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you grab Peter by the collar of his (adorable) sweater and smash his lips onto yours. Fire erupts from your lips, burning your whole face. Peter’s mouth opens against yours, obviously a question, but you just put your hand on the back of his neck and deepen the kiss. He says something against your mouth and you pull back, your lips and fingers tingling. You can’t believe you just did that.

“I’m sorry,” you say, breathing heavy, voice surprisingly steady for someone who just kissed the person you may or may not be—but you don’t say it, you don’t think it, because if you do, you might not be able to go through with it. But do you love Peter more than you hate Stark? “But I’ve gotta go. I’ve got… a job. Tell Michelle and Ned I love them, all right?”

You sprint out of the school, leaving Peter not even able to put two words together.

Here we go.

[sullybot]

Pretty in Pages (Nick x OC, Kandomere x OC) Part 11/?

Yo Guys! Part 11 is here! I hope you enjoy it. I will post more as soon as i am able.

Beginning | Part 10 | Part 12 |

The next morning, he showed up to the office before Violet for a change. He disarmed the alarm before disappearing into his office, continuing his paperwork from the night before. To his surprise, there was very little backlash about all of this. There weren’t even any news reports about an Orc in the Elvish intensive care unit in the Elf District.  That surprised him more than anything. He kept watching his screen, waiting to see that Violet had logged on for the day. He had quite the surprise for her and wanted to start her day off on a very good note.

Violet had a very hard time sleeping that night,  inappropriate images overtaking her mind whenever she closed her eyes. It had taken her several hours to fall asleep, and when she woke up she realized she had overslept. She scrambled to get ready for the day, but thankfully made it to work on time, only a few minutes late.

Sagging into her chair she rubbed her tired eyes and nibbled on her breakfast bar as she signed onto her computer, clocking in for the day and bringing her planner out to lay it on her desk, starting to fill in all the new appointments on his schedule that they had talked about the night before. She was still slightly sleepy and hadn't even realized that the lights were on or the office unlocked already, something she usually did when she got to work.

The moment her computer showed that she was in, he pressed the intercom button on his phone. “Miss Violet, please, come into my office.” He said before standing up from his desk and straightening out his suit. He wore a very elegant, black, pinstripe suit with matching vest. His long hair was brushed back neatly from his face as usual. He walked around to the front of his desk and leaned back against it, with his hands in his pockets. His fingertips brushing over the paper that he concealed within. He hoped she wouldn’t think she was in trouble for being late. He hadn’t expected her until much later, especially considering how late she was here last night.

Violet squealed slightly when her intercom went off, she was so startled by his voice. Putting a hand over her heart to calm it, she got up and walked over to his office. Tapping on the door she pulled it open and rubbed more sleep from her eyes, “I'm sorry, Kandomere. If I had known you were here already I would have started the coffee. What can I do for you?” she asked, unable to stop herself from admiring his gorgeous frame and attire. His hair was flawless his suit unwrinkled.. where as she looked rumpled and unkempt.

In her hurry to arrive on time she had forgone makeup, her clothes were straight from the clean laundry hamper she never got a chance to iron or put away, and her fluffy, curly red locks framed her face like a halo, only having had time to brush it, not put it up. There were tiny circles beneath her eyes that belied her exhaustion but she did not complain.

“Don’t worry about that, Violet.” Kandomere said before nodding his head toward the chair in front of him. “Please, take a seat. I have something rather important that I believe you and I need to discuss.” He explained, watching her as she sat down. She was a breath of fresh air for him. The fact that she wasn’t always pristine and reserved was a wonderful change of pace. He grew bored dealing with all elves, all the time. Well, until he was called in to try and dig up dirt on an Orc. Dirt that didn’t exist. Nick Jakoby was clean as a whistle other than his lineage. “I know that you and I had briefly discussed the topic of payment. I made a call to my superiors last night and they said they had forgotten that request, not that it excuses it.” He said before pulling out the neatly folded check from his pocket and handing it over to her. “I think that this should be fair for the past two months of effort that you’ve put forth. Please, tell me if you think the number is low, and I can adjust it.” He said calmly. The check was for three thousand dollars. More importantly, this was a personal check, not a business check. He was paying her out of his own pocket for this. He was going to be reimbursed, but he didn’t want to wait two more months for them to make this a priority. He could tell by their tone that they were hoping they could get the human girl to quit, so they could hire someone they felt was more suitable, like an elf student.

Violet slowly sat down when he instructed her to and leaned back in the chair, blinking up at him in surprise as he pulled a check from his pocket to hand to her, “You couldn't possibly have gotten them to write me a check that quickly.” She whispered, looking down at it to realize that she was right. It was a personal check, one that Kandomere had made out himself. For three thousand dollars. She nearly fainted. Swallowing she held the paper gingerly in her hands.

“I… I can't accept this.” She whispered, standing up and stepping closer to press it into his hands, “It's far too much, and a… a personal check. I can't. “ She tried not to choke on the lump in her throat, the emotions threatening to over take her. The fact that he would go through the effort to do something like this for her was overwhelming and tears started to swell in her eyes, “I'm sure I can wait until they correct their mistake and pay me on their own.” She whispered, her hands lingering on his for a moment before pulling them back to clutch them in front of herself.

Kandomere was taken back by her reluctance to take the check. He stood up straight, no longer leaning back against his desk when she stood up and put the check back into his hands. “No, Violet…” He whispered quietly. “It’s hardly enough. I pushed for them to agree to more, but this was as high as they would go.” He explained in a hushed tone, not quite sure why she was crying. “Please, dry your eyes.” He said, not quite sure how to deal with this. His impulse was to wipe her tears, to hold her, but he knew that he could not. She felt her hand against his own, the paper between them. “They won’t correct their mistake.” He explained, focusing on her face, looking into her lovely purple eyes. “They won’t pay you if I leave it up to them. They want you to quit. Despite your wonderful accomplishments, they don’t think you belong in my office. For no other reason than you are human. You were the most qualified, race be damned.” He said before sliding the check back into her hand and using both of his hands to gently close her fingers around it. “They won’t pay you… But they will pay me. If we do it this way, they cannot argue against me, not unless they want a lawsuit on their hands.” He explained before allowing himself a small smile. “You make me forget my own name.” He said before closing his eyes tightly, realizing the error in his words. “I mean… I would forget my own name without your help. Please. Take the check.”

Violet sniffed softly as a tear slid down her cheek, so overwhelmed by the emotions rising up in her chest, his unbelievable generosity. The fact that he wanted to keep her here, wanted her to stay and go through the hassle of paying her himself just so she could keep her job when his company didn't want to pay her. Her lower lip trembled as he pressed the check back into her hand and closed his own around hers.

His warm skin on hers sent a little shock wave through her and she stared up into his eyes, blinking back the tears and giving him a shaky smile, “Thank you.” She whispered softly, lifting one of her hands to wipe the tears from her eyes, “I just… the extent you are going to…. So I can keep my job, and get paid… it's a little overwhelming. No one has ever done something this nice for me before.” she admitted quietly and dried her hand on her sleeve before laying her hand over his and squeezing it tightly.

Her heart skipped a beat when he spoke again, his words making her chest grow tight, but surely that couldn't be what he meant. Tilting her head back she studied him until he corrected himself. Not quite sure why she felt a pang of disappointment when he fixed his statement, she pushed the feeling aside. “We can't have you forgetting your name, now can we?” she said with a little chuckle and nodding, closing her hand around the neatly folded check more tightly, “Thank you. I'm sorry for being difficult.” She said softly.

“You are very welcome, you deserve it.” Kandomere corrected her before taking a handkerchief out of his vest pocket and gently wiping her cheeks before handing the cloth to her. “Like I said… My schedule would be an absolute nightmare if you weren’t here to keep such a close eye on it, Violet.” He assured her before slowly pulling his hand away from her grasp, smiling down at her. “No, we can’t. My name is all I have left sometimes.” He said before shaking his head. He had that urge to kiss her again, but he swallowed his feelings and only nodded his head. “You aren’t being difficult, only surprised. It’s a natural feeling. In a world this cold, it is hard to trust good things when they happen to us.” He explained sadly before he walked back around and sat down at his desk, starting to sort through his paperwork and emails. “You are dismissed, Violet.” He said, returning to his formal office demeanor.

Violet’s cheeks flushed slightly when she felt his hand through the handkerchief against her face, wiping the tear streaks away. She reluctantly let go of his other hand and took the handkerchief, folding it delicately before gabbing at the corners of her eyes with it, “I'll um… have this laundered and bring it back to you.” She assured him, slipping the cloth that smelled like him into her pocket along with the check he had given her.

“You have a meeting at ten o'clock, and your lunch is slotted for right around noon. You have a small window at about 1:15 that I scheduled your massage for, and at two you have a conference call with the Chief of Police.” She informed him softly, getting her morning briefing out before he dismissed her. She bit her lip at the sudden business like tone but nodded her head, “Of course sir.” She gave him a tight lipped smile and left his office, pulling the door shut tightly and sitting down at her desk, her hand slipping into her pocket to run along the handkerchief.

He could tell by her scent and her heartbeat that she liked the handkerchief and he waved a dismissive hand toward her. “Don’t worry about it, Violet. You can keep that.” He instructed casually before letting out a small, dejected sigh when she rattled off his appointments for the day. “At least one thing on that list is sure to be enjoyable.” He murmured under his breath before he watched her leave his office and shut the door. He gave it a few moments before paging her on the intercom again. “Miss Zegetti, please put aside a few moments around 4 if possible, I need to call the Intensive Care Unit at our Bright Specialist hospital.” He said, not giving any explanation, as usual. He was looking forward to her coming back in here, and he scolded himself for it. Hundreds of years. Dozens of interns… Why was this happening? Why now? How was he supposed to handle this?

He decided to do something nice for her, and order lunch for the both of them, from a very nice italian restaurant down the street. He hadn’t told her this, knowing for certain that she would argue his generosity, yet again. Truth be told, he had more money than he really knew what to do with. He gave up on material things a very long time ago.

“Of course, Sir.” She answered stiffly, getting into the computer and setting aside a time for him late in the afternoon to make that phone call. She was quiet most of the afternoon, scheduling more appointments for the following few weeks and blocking out his days off. She knew he needed his time off to recharge and so she refused to schedule anything on the weekends.

She was engrossed in her work when noon rolled around, humming a soft melody from her favorite song as she typed away on her keyboard, taking a break from work to focus on her studies. It wasn't until almost ten after twelve that her growling stomach brought her back to reality and she whimpered.

In her hurry this morning she hasn't packed a lunch for herself like she usually did and she was already regretting it. She likely wouldn't eat until she got home tonight now.

Almost right on queue, a dashing young elvish man walked in with a small box of food. He walked up to her desk and smiled down at her politely with bright green eyes. “Hello Madame. I have an order for delivery for a… Kendomere Tasheek?” He said with a kind tone. He didn’t set the box down on her desk, for he did not want to be rude. He did not, however, expect to see a human sitting at this desk. Not after the security he’d had to bypass to even get in here. The doorman checked everything for explosives and tracking devices.

Kandomere heard the exchange from his desk and came out of his office promptly. “Right on time.” He said before taking the receipt, signing it and trading it for the small box of containers. “Thank you, and yes. The tip is accurate.” He said before there could be any argument. He turned to Violet and put two containers on her desk. One of which contained a lobster alfredo and breadsticks, the 2nd container held a salad with house dressing. “I didn’t know what you liked, so, I hope this is alright.” He said casually before disappearing back into his office.

Violet looked up from her work when she heard someone speak, her eyes widening when she saw a young elf delivery boy standing before her, “I didn't know he had ordered lunch in, I'll get him--” she started, standing up to head towards the door but Kandomere beat her to it, as he was already out the door and standing beside her. She flushed brightly and went to return to her desk as the boy left but when Kan sat two styrofoam boxes on her desk she turned to him with disbelief in her eyes.

She was at a loss for words but peeked into the boxes, her eyes widening at what she saw. Never in her life had she eaten lobster before, “Wait--” She started, but bit her lip as the door closed behind him. She thought better of asking him why he had bought lunch for her. She would thank him later, when she went into his office for his massage.

She ate slowly, nibbling on her noodles and whimpering at how amazing it tasted. It was the best thing she had ever eaten. The salad was perfect and crunchy. By the time she finished it was nearly one fifteen, and after throwing away the empty containers she walked up to his door and knocked before stepping inside, “Thank you, Kandomere. For lunch.” She whispered and closed the door behind herself, “As soon as I cash my check, I'll pay you back for it.” She said this, but knew it must have been ridiculously expensive. “Are you ready for your massage or should I come back?”

Kandomere ate his lunch quickly and discarded his containers. He continued working on paperwork and was officially caught up, for the time being. He hadn’t heard any update from Monteguh at the hospital, which he took as a good sign. No news was good news. He had hardly realized the amount of time that passed when suddenly Violet had come into his office unannounced. He looked at her with surprise on his face before catching a glimpse of the clock. “Ah, yes. Our appointment.” He said with a sort of embarrassed chuckle. “I completely forgot.” He stood up from his desk with a small wince, waving a dismissive hand again. “If I wanted you to pay me back, I would have asked you before hand. If I am perfectly frank with you, I enjoy this. I have been around for a very long time, racking up money with very little to do with it. I don’t take the time off to travel. I don’t have much of a family. Material objects don’t interest me.” He rattled on before shaking his head. “Now is a perfect time. How do you want me?” He questioned, not knowing if he should lay down or sit on one of the chairs, or what would work best.

“Okay.” She whispered gently, her cheeks flushed as he insisted on not being paid back, “I appreciate it. I had forgotten to make a lunch for myself today. It was delicious and I was starving.” She rambled and fidgeted with her fingers as he stood, his words making her blush even darker. Surely he didn't know how he sounded. He seemed so oblivious to the innuendos that could be taken from his words, but the way he phrased his words made it obvious he wasn't aware.

Looking around the room she swallowed dryly, “Um… well, somewhere I would have better access to your back. Could you lay face down on the lounger?” she asked, nodding to the long backless couch that sat by the wall, “And maybe take off your jacket? It'll just get in the way.”

“Just the jacket?” Kandomere questioned with surprise as he began unbuttoning his suit before sliding it from his shoulders. He folded it and laid it across his desk before following with his vest. He unbuttoned his cuffs on his long, navy blue shirt before taking that off, exposing his bare, hairless chest. He was completely smooth and looked like he could have been carved out of ivory. It was hard to tell, but he was littered with scars. Before he was head director for the Magic Containment division of the FBI, he had been a cop in the field, and a SWAT agent. This was definitely more safe, most of the time. The scars were a faint silver on his skin, but were not raised or indented like normal scars on humans or orc would be. He walked over to the lounger and lay face down, turning his head to the side and brushing his hair off of his back. “Also, don’t be afraid to push hard. I’m an Elf,it takes a bit of force to get anywhere. I absolutely promise you, if you think you are pushing too hard, you certainly aren’t.”

“W-well you could take off the shirt too, it would make it easier, I just wasn't sure…” She trailed off as he removed his best and fine pressed navy shirt. Gods above he was like a perfect Greek statue! She wanted to touch him in very inappropriate places but quickly shot down that urge, her chest rising and falling as she calmed herself down.

It wouldn't do to get herself aroused while giving him a massage. She was well aware that elves had super sensitive senses of smell, and she didn't want to make the situation awkward for either of them. Hopefully she could keep her thoughts to herself. Coming up beside him she shrugged off the jacket of her outfit, laying it over the back of a chair and kicking her shoes off to the side, “I had an elvish roommate in college. I used to do this for her. I know how much force it can take.” She assured him. Exhaling through her nose, “Sorry about this. It's the best way to get leverage.” She said nervously and settled one knee on one side of him and levered herself onto the lounge, straddling his backside with just barely enough room between them for her not to be almost grinding against him.

Starting on the lower half, she pressed her hands into the small of his back, using the heels of her hands and applying a great deal of pressure to the spot. Using nearly three times the necessary force on a human, she began to massage his back, pressing out the knots that had formed in places all over his scarred body. She resisted the urge to trace the silver lines, instead focusing on her task as occasionally she had to rest, leaning back on her heels and sitting on him momentarily before she went back to work. She was somewhat breathless but worked diligently, trying to ignore how the feel of him beneath her hands and between her legs made her mind drift to dangerous places. Her arousal was growing but she tried to hide it, unfortunately the scent was becoming obvious with every little noise he made, his sounds making it all the worse, but she ignored it.

Kandomere was calm as a cucumber when she got over him. He, the way he was, did not assume anything intimate or out of place by this act. She was very skillful in getting the knots out of his back. He was actually impressed. He hadn’t thought she would be so strong. “Elvish roommate, that must have been a nightmare…” He murmured quietly, keeping his eyes closed as he felt her warm hands against his sore back. He took sharp breaths here and there, but never showed any real signs of pain or discomfort. That is, however, until he started to smell her. His nose twitched and he tried to ignore it, but it was getting harder and harder. He finally let out a small sigh and his blue eyes slowly opened. “I think that this is enough, Violet.” He said with a twinge of reluctance. He waited for her to get off of him before going back to his desk and slowly putting his shirt back on and buttoning it up. “Thank you, my back feels much better.” He said before looking up at the clock, a grimace crossing his lips. “I suppose I should make that call to the Chief of Police.” He groaned softly, still dressing while he sat back down at his desk. “You are dismissed, Violet.”

Violet was quiet as she worked, only speaking when he did, “A bit. I managed.” She whispered hoarsely, biting her lip as she willed her body to stop what it was doing. She could hear the little intakes of breath he was making and knew that he had to be smelling her. The thought, and his words drew a whimper from her, “O-of course.” She murmured, trying not to feel hurt as she hurriedly climbed off of him and slipped her flats back on, brushing down her skirt and refusing to make eye contact with him.

She was embarrassed, horribly so but she didn't want to show him the face she knew she must be making. Exhaling and blinking rapidly as she pushed the stupid tears back, chastising herself for being silly. “You're welcome, Kandomere.” she whispered, hurrying to the door after she snatched up her jacket, “And… I'm sorry for making it awkward.” She choked out under her breath before closing the door behind herself. Tossing her jacket onto her chair she immediately went for the ladies room.

She needed a moment to compose herself and not feel like an idiot. What was it about him that made her body react that way? She didn't want him to think she was some little tramp who wanted to get into his pants. She liked him, okay so maybe she did want in his pants but she knew better than to think it could ever happen. All she wanted was to keep her job, and keep him happy. Wiping her eyes with the soft cloth from her pocket, she opened her purse and applied a small amount of makeup, fixing her hair to make it not look so frizzy and adjusted her clothing. Satisfied she didn't look a mess anymore, she returned to her desk and sat down, sipping on her now luke warm coffee.

Kandomere watched her go and his eyes went wide when she apologized. He had purposefully not said anything to her about her arousal, for fear of making her self conscious. He knew that those carnal reactions couldn’t always be stopped or handled. He wasn’t mad at her. He wasn’t even uncomfortable. He wasn’t even surprised, he had almost expected it to happen, especially after their conversation last night that had left her aroused. He must have been her preference in a partner. There was nothing wrong with that.

He was going to follow her out, but his phone rang. He only sighed and answered, beginning his long talk with the Chief of Police and his department heads. To his surprise, all of his paperwork had cleared. Nick Jakoby was not in any deal of trouble, nor were the gang members who had helped him find Alexeena. Actually, they were all being recruited in their own ways, to work for the FBI. He figured more than half of them would refuse, but it was the thought that counts. The phone call lasted almost an hour and he watched the clock. He knew that he needed to call the hospital at some point, but he also really did not want to wait here. He turned everything off and stood up, walking out of his office, his coat folded over his arm.

“I’m heading home a little early tonight-” He had started to say before her phone rang. He waited and motioned for her to answer it. When she did, the soft voice of a woman could be heard on the other end of the line.

“Hello..?” The woman breathed softly. “Is Kan around…? My name is Alexeena and I would like to speak with him, if he is there still. If not, I’ll try to get his number from Agent Monteguh.” She said before whimpering, clearly in pain.

Violet spent the next hour trying to focus on her study work, but finally gave up, instead deciding to get ahead on tomorrow paperwork, knowing that would be some mind numbing task that she could get behind. She lifted her head when Kandomere came out of his office and saw that the lights were off and he had his coat over his arm. A tiny spot inside of her wondered if he was leaving early to avoid her, or what could possibly be his reasoning but she didn't ask. She knew that he had been professional about the situation they had been in earlier and she was the one who overreacted, but she still felt mildly embarrassed that she couldn't control herself around him like that.

She started to nod her head when he said he was leaving early, just about to ask if he would make his last call at home when her phone rang. Her lips parted, intending to speak but instead she answered the phone. The soft, feminine voice on the phone hit her in the gut. Swallowing dryly she spoke, “He was just about to leave the office. I'll hand you over to him right now.” She assured the woman on the phone before holding the phone out to him, “It's for you. Alexeena?” she offered, not sure if he knew who was asking for him.

Kandomere listened to her and his eyes went wide when he heard the name. He grabbed the phone quickly, more like he snatched it from her hands, holding it to his ear. “Alexeena.” He breathed with a slight sound of relief. “It’s good to hear you speaking. Are they treating you well?” He asked urgently.

“Yes, Kan, they are treating me just fine. Nick is still here with me. No one has been unkind to him while I’ve been here.” Alexeena answered with a weak laugh before wincing again. She had lapsed into elvish. It was easier than trying to remember her second language, especially with the amount of pain medication flowing through her veins. “How many people did I kill, Kan…?” She asked sadly. “Nick won’t tell me.”

“Do not worry about that, Alexeena. Everything is fine and has been taken care of. Please, rest. Focus on getting better. Remember that I do love you, even if you don’t believe me.” Kandomere said into the phone.

“I know… I love you too, Kan…” Alexeena responded before hanging up the phone. Kandomere held the dead phone in his hands for a few moments before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. He handed the phone back to her, his hand trembling slightly, something that was very uncommon. He usually was so certain and confident, but this call seemed to have shaken him.

“I…” He cleared his throat, shaking his head. “I am heading home early tonight. Do not stay too late, okay? I don’t want a repeat of yesterday.” He instructed softly. He wanted to explain to her that his leaving had nothing to do with her, but he didn’t want to bring it up if she wasn’t ready to talk about what happened.

Violet jumped when he snatched the phone up and began to speak to the woman on the other end. She tried not to listen to their conversation but with him standing so close she couldn't avoid it. Biting her lip she focused on her computer screen, feeling a pang in her chest when he told the woman he loved her. It was like someone was squeezing her heart.

Maybe she should quit. It wasn't good to have feelings like these for your boss. Gods she was so damn confused. She just wanted everything to be in the open, to be honest, for him to tell her what to do because she sure as shit didn't know.

She was torn from her thoughts when the phone was offered back to her. Hanging it back up on the cradle she looked over at him. He looked shaken and slightly unnerved, but she didn't know what to say to him.

“I'll try to get out of here in the next few hours.” She promised with a little twitch of her lips, but her smile didn't reach her eyes. She was beginning to feel like a burden, but she wouldn't let that show, she couldn't.

“Have a good night, sir.” She mumbled softly, suddenly feeling awkward and not able to bring herself to use his name.

“Have a good night, Violet.” He said with a forced smile before he turned and walked out of the building. He went home quickly, only to find a note from Kaladeshi in his mailbox. He rolled his eyes and stuffed it into his pocket impatiently when he went inside. He went directly down the hall and into his room, taking his suit off and putting it in the hamper. He put on a tight fitting, white T-shirt and blue silk pajama pants. He debated getting dressed again and going to the hospital to visit Alexeena, but he knew he should wait. She needed her rest and seeing him wouldn’t help. He knew she would have too many questions for him. She wanted to know about how she hurt people. He didn’t want to burden her with that, not yet. He was glad that Nick wouldn’t answer those questions either. Kandomere walked into his study and sighed. Perhaps he did need more things. Everything felt so empty. He couldn’t remember the last time he spent more than just a few minutes at home if it wasn’t to shower or to sleep. He went to the bookshelf and grabbed an old favorite before sitting down. He turned the Television on to the news, mostly for background noise, but also to see how well the damage control was working.

Tag list @cinnamonroll-issues

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @darkrunsout!

For @darkrunsout as part of the malec secret santa 2017 gift exchange,

“promise”, ~6k words

(best enjoyed with a mug of hot chocolate and listening to this) ((i hope this is what you wished for and you enjoy this! happy holidays!))

*****

Over the years, Magnus had forgotten what it felt like. Looking back, he really had forgotten what it felt like, to be this in love. Sometimes, in moments that felt too perfect to exist even in his magical world - so full of love and joy it was tangible, like candy on the tongue - he believed that he had never loved this way before, not really. Not for lack of lovers he had adored over the centuries, who’d adored him right back. Not for lack of sincerity, no. Simply, because love like this was not paralleling one-way streets. Love like theirs, love that changed for the better who you were and how you perceived and what you believed - love like that was a mirror, and to be able to love someone this way meant letting someone love you. Meant being let to love someone, with everything, everything there was, so fully you were unafraid to show your truest self; so fully you grew to love yourself from being loved by them. It meant loving so selfishly it was selfless in itself. No constraints. No doubts. No fears. Just the fact of it, pure and relentless and existing outside of limits like time or space or even death.

*

The sobering morning light was falling through the half-open blinds like fingers of cool gold searching for skin to kiss. Slowly, Magnus came awake from it, from the glimmer catching in his lashes and warm breath tickling his fingers faintly where Alec was pressing their tangled hands close to his chest. Half aware, Magnus carded his fingertips through the short hair beneath them, gentle and familiar. More slowly still, a smile spread across his face as realization of what day it was dawned on him following consciousness and aloud came a yelping half-laugh he quenched where it had risen for it to be overtaken by the next one in line until Magnus was grinning like a fool, muffling his laughter-mouth against the curve of Alec’s neck right below his nose, breathing him in and loving each movement he made as his boyfriend was waking up in his arms.

Which, incorrect. Fiancé. Betrothed. Husband-to-be. Magnus couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop it, the overwhelming joy that was warming him to the very tips of his ears so very suddenly, as if it had never left, making his heart flutter in his chest like a hummingbird’s wings and forget what sleep was. Instead, he pushed a nuzzling kiss to the nape of Alec’s neck - and another, and another, lacing quiet words in between.

“Good morning, baby.”

Alec made a noise when he blinked his eyes open, one that sounded like “Mornin’.” and Magnus recognized as the ‘we had more than two drinks last night and there wasn’t too much sleep because we were busy doing something else, but it was worth it’ noise and he adored it, and he adored that he recognized it (Of course he did, though, of course he recognized the noises Alec made in the morning. This was his fiancé, after all.) (Magnus’ heart kept tripping over the word, repeating it, for confirmation of the fact was just as sweet every time as the very first. Fiancé. His fiancé).

With more soft groans, Alec’s rune-covered arms stretched out in their morning-heaviness and Magnus’ hand, still clasped in Alec’s, went with it, all the way up.

Light caught on them, then, perfect and breathtaking. Matching, as if it was months from last night already, instead of the morning after; matching, as if they had said their vows; matching like a promise made, because it was. Gleaming simple bands of platinum - nothing too fancy for they were not meant to be worn forever - wrapped around their ring fingers, catching the winter sun’s weak light.

*

Walking home had always been to Magnus’ liking. It was a simple pleasure with portals at your disposal, something to indulge in because when you did, it meant you had the time to.

They both enjoyed them, those walks, enough to make them another one of the many small rituals weaving through their relationship like golden thread.

Dinner, and a walk. Shopping, and a walk. Sometimes, it was just a walk and nothing else, hands intertwined between them, feeling insignificant and closer to each other than possible, lost in flocks of bustling mundanes; feeling like they didn’t have their world on their shoulders, like they were just another couple, like they were Magnus and Alec - and together - and nothing else.

Tonight was a night just like that. Not in the mood to stay in, they had dinner at one of their favorite Italian places, the one they went to when leaving for Rome, time differences and all, felt like too much of a bother. It was enjoyable as ever, sharing their day over food and flirting a buzz into their veins over coffee, but all throughout it, Alec seemed a little wound up, almost nervous, shaking his head with a genuine smile each time Magnus inquired if something was bothering him.

When they were leaving the restaurant, the snow had already been falling for some time, so sparsely it never truly reached the streets and yet falling it did, covering the very tops of the streetlamps with a crisp cover of white, being caught twirling in the city winds to create a winter wonderland - ‘New York in the midst of climate change’-style, mind - for them to stroll through. Magnus looked up into the sky, adjusting his scarf, watched the way the flakes were tumbling down gracefully, and felt such entire content he recognized it as the rarest kind of happiness. The kind that wasn’t momentary, but lasted - for hours, for days, for weeks. The one he got to share with his love.

Buttoning up the last of his dark coat, Alec stretched out his hand, and Magnus reached over, holding onto it. “Let’s take the long way home.”

Of course they would.

The long way home lead through Washington Square Park. This time of year, just days before Christmas, the park was illuminated even as late as now, the trees along the pathways decorated in full gleam with thousands and thousands of lights caught in the branches and leaves, culminating in the breathtaking gigantic Christmas tree twinkling in all its beauty under the Arch leading to the main fountain. It was magical, in a precious, mundane way; one that Magnus, despite - or maybe for - who he was, enjoyed with inexplicable thoroughness. Somehow, it was calming, to watch all these humans rush by with their hands full of bags carrying presents from the heart for their loved ones, or take leisurely walks, cold air making their smiling faces gleam rosy-red, lost in their own little stories.

In New York, Holiday season just felt right. Like with the cold arriving, the world was slowing down and finding peace and yet, the entire city was alight with cheer, gleaming like a star itself, a reminder to take a moment and just lean back for a while. Like children’s bright gleeful laughter echoing from skating rinks, and long silent snowy nights spent in loving arms, and happiness so pure and wholesome it ached. Next to him, Alec was letting their joined hands swing back and forth, humming indistinctly to himself with a small smile on his lips. Their steps were in sync as ever and Magnus was feeling so fully warm - so perfectly, fully warm - he caught himself wishing the long way home would be even longer, despite the cold, despite the late hour, despite wanting to fall into bed with Alec already. A little longer, just tonight.

“Anything special you’re so happy about, Mr. Lightwood?”

Alec glimpsed over, night-dark eyes catching on the lines of Magnus’ face visibly, and shook his head, smile widening into a full grin. “No. No, I just…had a good time tonight.”

“Well, I’m not surprised,” Magnus said, voice fringed with affectionate teasing. “Pasta all’amatriciana always does that to you.“

Alec’s expression softened back to a fond smile.

“Mhhh. ‘M not sure it’s the pasta, though.”

Magnus raised a brow in response but Alec just walked on, step close to elated as the tree came into sight, and Magnus laughed a little, shaking his head. Almost two and a half years together and he still managed to conjure up that feeling in Magnus’ chest, all the time. That sweet surprised note. That special kind of magic that made Magnus feel like he’s never been in love before this, like this was it, butterflies in his stomach and skin tingles all over and breathless giggly kisses sunk back into sheets. Breakfast in bed, being reminded of him at every corner - warm affection flooding his chest, bookshelves banging back into walls they pressed each other up against, eager like the very first time.

Chuckling over his suddenly racing heart, need to kiss him in the middle of the walkway stifled, Magnus gripped Alec’s hand more firmly. From somewhere, there was music.

Passing by the Arch, musicians came into sight, having set up along the beautifully illuminated way, playing Christmas carols and festive tunes for the passers-by. A group of violinist and cellist caught Magnus’ attention, playing one of his favorite holiday songs and, as if he knew, Alec’s step slowed in tune with Magnus’. Which he did, didn’t he.

This was the third holiday season they were spending together and by now, Alec knew. Knew Magnus liked golds and silvers for decorations, knew where the lights and seasonal trinkets were stored in the many nooks of the loft, knew the songs Magnus would be singing along to at the top of his voice and in all languages possible all December in and out of the shower, and the ones he’d be skipping when they would cuddle up in front of the fireplace (that just magically appeared each year around October to replace one of the dressers in the living room), drinking eggnog with extra spike and interrupting their kisses for quietly told stories only.

They stood there for a while, arms sneaking around waists and hands into pockets, just listening peacefully, until the song was over and Magnus pulled Alec with him to drop some loose dollar bills left in his pocket in the musician’s violin case and walk on.

“I love the holidays,“ Alec exhaled then, as they were making their way past the magnificent glazed fountain, turned off for winter season, and Magnus smiled, calming his previous worries. That’s what it was. Holiday spirit. Running his thumb across Alec’s knuckles, Magnus replied with the first thing on his tongue. “And I love you.”

Glancing over, Alec gazed at him for a while, a weird look to his eyes that formed a small question mark in Magnus’ mind, before leaning in to place an ice-cold-nose tip-pressing-into-it kiss to Magnus’ cheek, making him gasp a little at the sensation.

“I love you, too.”

Sometimes, Magnus did wonder if the fond smile Alec constantly conjured onto his face as if he was a magician himself would leave actual wrinkles with time, immortality or not. Sometimes, he was sure of it.

As they kept walking along, a gathering of people appeared before them, surrounding something streaming with light that elicited laughter and “Ohhhh”s and “Ahhhh”s of delight from the crowd, accompanied beautifully by the distant music. Curious, they walked closer, until Magnus recognized what it was.

A backdrop of a true winter wonderland was erected by the side of the way, with bright flood lights shining and illuminating the scene of snowy hills and a wintery forest. In front of it, a young couple stood on a white tarp-like sheet, with character-masks on, being photographed by a young man wearing dreadlocks pulled up into a bun (and - apparently - fuzzy earmuffs), who kept giving them direction how to create the most funny “Santa and his reindeer”-photo possible. Pushing a little closer, Alec’s interest dug itself a crease between his brows.

The next couple standing in the short line came forward, taking some cute, romantic pictures of them hugging close, kissing each other’s cheeks, smiling brightly. The photographer’s assistant threw a few handfuls of fake snow into the air that got caught in the stream of wind from the tiny fan standing off to the side, creating a beautiful effect the photographer captured on film. Few minutes later, some dollars were exchanged and the couple walked away happily with a USB-stick in their hands.

Pressing into his side, Alec murmured “Let’s do that.”

Having meant to walk on, Magnus turned to look at Alec, surprised.

“You know, we could go where there’s real snow right now and take pictures there.”

Gazing over at the clearly romantic setting and then back at Magnus, Alec tilted his head to the side. “Yeah, but this is so…”

“Cheesy?” Magnus finished, amused. Alec laughed a little, his hand squeezing Magnus’, thumb running across knuckles in affirmation.

“Yeah. It kinda reminds me of the photo booth.”

The photo booth…Thinking fondly of that trip, of ‘Have you ever tried that?’ and eagerness and barely squeezing into the little space and Alec’s fingers on his wrist, pulling off his bracelets to wear himself, of feeling young and foolishly in love, of that strip of pictures Magnus knew Alec had to this day tucked away in his wallet, he gasped in mock offense to hide his smile.

“Alexander! The photo booth wasn’t cheesy!“

Rolling his eyes back in matching mockery, Alec sighed, all drama. “It so was.”

In response, laughing gently, Magnus clicked his tongue and glanced over to the set-up again, and back at Alec. “Maybe, but we were fresh in love, weren’t we.”

Dropping the act himself, Alec smiled right at him, and the sincerity of it pulled another wave of desire into Magnus’ chest, hot and burning. Desire to never have to stop looking at Alec. To never have to let go of his hand. To never have to not see him like this, happy, excited, wanting to take ridiculous pictures to make memories that would last. To never have to stop loving him. Then again, he didn’t have to do that either way, did he.

“I wouldn’t say we aren’t still.”

The words squeezed Magnus’ heart almost painfully with how true they were. As if how he felt about Alec would ever go dull, when it grew more brilliant with every passing day.

“You make a point I can’t possibly argue with. Come on.”

Pulling each other through giggles and the crowd of onlookers, they took their place behind the two couples standing in a row off to the side, awaiting their turn. Watching the spectacle, Magnus leaned back against Alec to nudge him into attention.

“Are you gonna play Santa or the reindeer though?”

With an even tone Magnus immediately recognized, Alec answered. “I guess that depends.” Trying to hide his knowing smile behind it, Magnus threw Alec a raised brow.

“And on what might that be?”

“Well…”

Lowering his lashes, Alec grinned and pressed his mouth to Magnus’ ear shell, close enough to muffle his words even from the couple right in front of them.

“Just whether or not you’ll let me ride you tonight, I guess.”

It took Magnus a half-second to process, finding his suspicions somewhat met, and just like that he was caught in it. Laughter, and laughter, and more of it, until his cheeks were hurting in the cold and people nearby were throwing them curious looks.

There, surrounded by Christmas carols and snow falling, by golden lights like stars in the sky and a buzzing excitement like it existed only this time of year, laughing at his boyfriend’s dirty joke, Magnus looked at Alec, with his hands on Magnus’ waist and his nose red from the cold, wiggling his eyebrows, sarcastically seductive and yet with the warmest, most sincerely indulged glimmer in his eyes, and thought, for an uncounted time since the moment they met, 'why can’t I have all of eternity with you’.

“Santa it is. Even though you’d make a good Rudolph, look at you.”

Laughing softly, Alec’s gaze slipped down, catching on Magnus’ huge smile as so often before. With a hand to Alec’s neck, running fingers into his hair, Magnus beat Alec to it and kissed him, sweet and sure and not too short, right on the mouth. Beard scratched against goatee with a slight tug at their chins and pulling back, Magnus pressed another kiss to Alec’s winter-cold nose, just for good measure (and so it wouldn’t freeze off, hopefully).

The last couple before them was called up, two older women dressed warmly in duffle coats and beanies, who laughed into the camera and kissed each others’ rosy-brown cheeks and shared looks of utter fondness that Magnus knew some people might misinterpret intentionally but seeing them, a certain joy found its way into his chest.

He remembered how many had given for this, throughout history. How not so long ago, things had been entirely different still for mundanes, especially those who did not have privilege to protect them from violence. How much there had to be done still, how in his own world, things weren’t all that much different. How even the love of his life had been scared to be himself, fearing he might lose it all if he dared to openly be with who he chose to be with. How what they were doing right there was pure bravery, in some ways. Lifting their joined hands up, Magnus pressed his mouth to the place where their knuckles were crossing.

The couple took a last picture, hugging close, and the photographer called them over, turning to his computer screen to filter through the shots and push them onto the next USB-stick.

“I dare you,” Alec then said, just as they were called up, “to lift me.” Magnus puffed out a laugh since they both knew exactly he could do much more than that. Amusement tinged his next words sarcasm.

“Oh, you dare me? How about on my back? Like you’re flying?”

Alec grinned, a glint in his eyes. “If you can manage.”

The assistant to the photographer, a young person with short black hair, a good dozen piercings all over their face and poison green nails that Magnus appreciated for their boldness, handed them the masks portraying their characters and Magnus could feel anticipation blooming in his chest at the prospect of those ridiculous shots. Cat would give up on their friendship again, he could almost hear her voice, imitating a certain British accent, and knew this was worth it and even if only to see her roll her eyes at the pictures and still take ten home ‘to show Dot’.

“Babe, you know we will get hell for this, right?"

Alec chuckled, pulling on his Santa face and doing a wonky, somewhat muffled Cat-impersonation. “You mean, ‘You two are ridiculous, let me take a copy home’? I hope so. We should take Madzie on Thursday.”

Turning towards the camera, Alec leaning on his shoulders, already posing, Magnus nodded, having thought of this already. “We should, she’d love this.” And then he grinned.

The photographer kept snapping picture after picture, delighted over their dedication to the story, shouting “Yes, keep going!“ as Alec held his flat stomach like he had a beer belly, ho-ho-ho-ing, while Magnus, doing his best not to fall into a laughing fit, tried and failed to push him on, grimacing into the camera even if his face could not be properly seen.

After several more improvised poses, Alec pushed himself up on Magnus’ shoulders at last, with ease, who straightened, supporting Alec’s weight so he could let his arm fly free. Santa/reindeer plane-carriage. An image for the ages. Maybe they’d just print holiday greetings from that.

“Ohhhhh”-ing along with the crowd, swaying dramatically, as if this was any challenge at all, they twirled around in the artificial snow blowing around them, once, twice, until the photographer called “We got it, fantastic!” and Magnus let Alec drop back to his feet carefully. They had to pretend, after all.

Reaching up to pull the mask from his red, much too red face, Magnus noticed Alec’s brightly shining, almost tearful eyes. He was grinning cheek to cheek, all tomato-face.

Hoarsely, he mustered, "You make a cute reindeer.” Magnus barked out a laugh.

“Thanks, dear Santa. Is everything alright?” Searching his face, Magnus watched Alec nod rapidly around a “Yes”, and finding nothing but a strange elated agitation, he pulled the mask off his own face, turning to the assistant to hand them back, thanking them for their help. Maybe Alec really was simply having an exceptionally good time tonight.

“Let’s take a few normal ones though, okay?”

Magnus was talking over his shoulder and only noticed something was off when there was no immediate answer and instead, a sudden, united, incredibly loud gasp from the crowd and a dead-pan exclamation of “Oh my God.” from someone within it, clear enough even he could hear it.

Turning back in confusion, Magnus’ heart dropped into his stomach. And then, so fast he could taste it, it climbed back up and up and up and up until it was clogging his throat, cutting off air, cutting off everything but the sight before him, already swimming in the tears that shot straight to his eyes.

Alec was kneeling, on one knee, holding a small box in his hand, open like a treasure chest. Two separate rings were gleaming inside, polished silver in color, catching the intense lighting beams and reflecting them to shine brighter than the stars.

Alec was smiling, still rather red-faced and utterly unabashed, and so full of something Magnus recognized in intensity it was making his stomach do somersaults and his lungs grow with a feeling ready to break free until he felt like he might explode. He only noticed he’d stopped breathing when an involuntarily deep, wheezing inhale reminded him of how important oxygen was to witnessing this moment. His head was spinning and he had never enjoyed the feeling so much.

“Hey, you okay?”

Magnus nodded - firmly, despite the head - because Alec’s voice had been promptly laced with a gentle sliver of concern there was no need for and Magnus needed him to know that. “Just talk, please, before my heart gives out.”

To that, Alec smiled, cleared his throat dramatically, and looked at Magnus, for an endless moment. His free hand stretched out and Magnus got hold of it with both of his, trying his hardest to not crush it or start crying before Alec had even said a word.

“Magnus Bane.”

A shiver rolled down Magnus’ spine, almost violently, and he willed himself to stay still and just breathe, blinking through the wetness. He was no patient man but by now, he was good at patience. Immortality taught you over the centuries, and as much as he wanted to blurt the answer right out, he could see that Alec meant to say a thing or two. And Magnus wanted to hear it, every last word of it, commit it to memory, preserved forever. Alec took a deep breath, smile never leaving.

“From the day I met you, my life has not been the same. You turned my entire world upside down, and with you in it, things were finally the right way around. And every day since, I am the luckiest man on Earth for having you by my side, for getting to spend my days with you.

You saved me. You showed me that it’s okay to be myself, and teach me how to be a better person than I ever thought I might become. You take away all my fears. I wouldn’t be who I am today, without you and the way you love me.”

At the word “saved”, Alec blinked and his eyes had grown glassy with tears that he visibly tried not to let take over. At the word “fears”, Magnus felt his own tumble down his cheeks, almost warm against his cold skin. There were not enough words in the world to describe what they were to each other and yet, here Alec was, always trying to do the impossible, always succeeding at leaving Magnus speechless and his heart aching with having to hold so much love.

“Magnus, you are the one. The one I want to wake up to, the one I want to hold when I fall asleep, the one I can’t wait to spend every moment in between with, to take care of you and cherish you and love you and laugh with you...and make you as happy as you make me. You are the one for me. My best friend, my future, my whole heart. My home. You have all of me, and you make every day worth it. When you’re next to me, nothing seems impossible. Even when it’s difficult, everything is beautiful, and easy. When you’re next to me, I feel invincible. When you’re next to me, and your hand is in mine, there’s nothing I miss.”

Alec took another breath, shaky with the tears sitting in it, trembling through the air. His voice was choked up and raw, terribly full of emotion, and as he looked at Magnus, soft and pleading him to understand, he shook his head a little, a tiny back and forth Magnus recognized, too. He ignored the streams down his own cheeks and exhaled past the lump in his throat and smiled, a presumably watery smile of purest affection, squeezing Alec’s hand hard and getting his own squeezed in return.

“Magnus...all I want is you, forever. I love you, all of you, always. I can’t live without you, and I don’t want to. You are- you are the love of my life and I want to spend the rest of mine with you.”

A last deep breath then, before Alec stared up at him and smiled so brightly nothing could or would ever match it and if Magnus would stare right at the sun on the most cloudless day. His heart stopped for a full beat, ready to burst into a million doves and spread this feeling of truest happiness into the world.  

“I really think we’ve been to dinner enough times for me to ask, baby. Will you marry me?”

The beat came, the only thing he could hear in the wake of those words, a rush of wings drowning him in the moment, and Magnus could feel himself coming undone entirely, all at once, exhaling on a half-swallowed sob and a half-held back laugh in pure release of anticipation, with his shaking hands stilling around Alec’s and his heart bouncing around its chest-cave like it couldn’t contain it, this, all of this, and Alec, swimming in Magnus’ tears, Alec with his eyes and his mouth and his cheeks all red.

Had there ever been anything else he’d done, but stare at Alec? The line of his brows and the curve of his jaw and the way his hair was ruffled beyond repair- Tears of his own were sitting so blindingly in Alec’s eyes a tiny voice in Magnus said ‘He can’t see a thing’ and since nothing but the overwhelming, blinding presence of deepest, most uninhibited love was there to stop it, he blurted it right out.

“You can’t see a thing.”

Alec stared. And then, unbelieving and endlessly attached like he should have known, “Yeah, neither can you!”

His breathless laughter rang as he shook his head, averting his gaze for a moment, the movement loosening the tears from his eyes to fly across his cheeks.

He looked so incredibly beautiful in the fall of light and shadow with diamonds on his skin and happiness in his veins. Entirely by himself, he took Magnus’ breath away.

“My ears are fine, though.”

“Well, let’s hope it stays that way for the rest of our lives, hm. I can’t possibly be shouting at you when you lose your hearing in sixty.”

Alec crumpled a little, dramatically in shock, hand pulling at Magnus’ still clutching his.

“Are you saying you won’t love me when I’m old and deaf?”

Slowly, Magnus sunk to his knees too, in part because he wanted to get closer but mostly since the way his chest felt - his heart, his heart, exulting, rejoicing, trembling with the reality of him and Alec, together, forever - made his legs grow too weak to support his weight and they just bent in on themselves, overwhelmed. Alec’s cheeks were damp and cold against his palms and thumbs and he was looking at Magnus like he was the sun and the moon and all the stars in the sky, like there had never been another way to look at each other but this and even if it was too little to express how Magnus felt this was still it. He loved him. An absolute, undeniable, perfect truth. He loved him.

“I’m saying I’ll never stop loving you and if a thousand years from now.”

“Just say yes already!” A shout from the crowd, followed by laughter, and just then Magnus remembered that they had the company of some two dozen people, standing in the shadows, apparently anticipating his answer, not knowing that there had never been another one but this.

“Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you, Alexander Lightwood.” And then, laughing through the thunderous cheering and clapping, Alec’s free hand gently wiping the tears from Magnus’ cheeks that just kept coming, he softly said, “But you knew that.”

Alec grinned, red cheeks burning.

“I did, I did. You aren’t very subtle about how much you love me, you know.”

“GUYS!” Another shout, from another mouth, almost severe enough to come across as genuinely dismayed; almost. More laughter ensued and Magnus looked over, catching sight of hands clasped before mouths and huge grins half-hidden in the dark beyond the lights before he yelled back, making the crowd clap.

“We’re getting to it, dammit!”

Laughing along, Alec pulled a ring from the box, carefully, and raised his brow as he asked for Magnus’ hand. “One last dance, Mr. Bane?”

Magnus grinned in return, trying for wicked but knew he was failing hopelessly, for he could feel happiness radiating from within him like heat from the hottest furnace.

“Gladly.”

The ring slipped onto Magnus’ finger like it was made for it (which, knowing Alec, it was) and Magnus, just as carefully, took the other and pushed it up Alec’s knuckles, making sure it was sitting snug. Pulling each other up from their knees, their hands were holding onto each other’s until they pulled each other in, hugging so tight Magnus stopped breathing again and didn’t care about it for a moment. Nothing, and not even breathing, was in any way as important right then, as holding Alec close. His eyes slipped shut and he pushed them back, more tears wherever they were coming from, because apparently when you felt like crying, it did not have to be from sadness. And there he’d been, just half an hour ago, thinking he was the happiest he could possibly be. How foolish of him, to forget, that Alec never ceased to amaze him.  

In the end it didn’t need a word, not even a cue. It came as naturally to them as breathing, or being together. Truthfully, Magnus couldn’t say if there’d ever been a kiss as sweet as this one between them, as many contestants for the spot as there were. Though, he thought, laughing against Alec’s mouth in sheer exaltation, kissing him, being kissed, over and over and over, as the crowd kept cheering and whooping and clapping, there would be another, wouldn’t there, inevitably sweeter, come time.

*

“We’re gonna get married,” Alec said, voice still morning-rough, staring at the place where their hands were caught in mid-air. There was no surprise in his statement, or hesitation, just a grin Magnus would see if he could tear his eyes from the rings around their fingers. A grin that wasn’t a grin but an expression of joy so full of the feeling it just widened the mouth until you felt like it might rip you in half.

“We’re gonna get married,” Magnus repeated, slowly turning his hand to catch Alec’s fingers in his, pulling their joined hands in. With care, he placed his lips to the simple string of metal wrapping its way around Alec’s ring finger. Beside him, Alec robbed and rolled around like a herring, determined not to let go of Magnus’ hand under any circumstance, until they were staring at each other, expressions matching like their promise for the future. Or at least that’s what Magnus assumed he looked like for he had not felt his own grin coming undone yet; he wasn’t sure it ever would. Shuffling closer, Alec planted his face back in the pillows.

“You know, I have dreamt of hearing you say that.”

Magnus could feel himself choke up, and swallowed around the lump to make it disappear. Truth be told, this had never been an ‘if’ to them, not for a long time. Just a simple ‘when’.

“You know, I always knew you were a sap.”

Alec snorted, looking up from under his lashes, voice teasing. “Only for you, baby.”

“Is that so?”, Magnus teased right back, unable to take his eyes off Alec’s face - the lines his smile was creating, the fading year-old scar all the way down his temple.

“I thought you got the clue by now, with the marriage proposal and everything.”

“Oh, that’s what these mean? I thought they were a fashion statement! Good Lord, Alexander!”

Magnus rolled his eyes back dramatically and Alec laughed again, both more amused and softer, a laugh so very typical, so very true - Magnus’ chest flooded with it. Sighing, he robbed a little closer himself, leaving so little space between them it was basically nonexistent. Underneath the blanket, one of Alec’s always cold feet dragged up Magnus’ leg, draping thigh over thigh.

Like that, they just stared at each other for a long, long moment, gazes catching, until Magnus ran a thumb along Alec’s terribly scratchy jaw.

“I can’t wait to be married to you.”

Alec’s face lit up, eyes shining, and since they were so close, his next words singled out as delightfully curious.

“D’you think it’s going to be different? Than now, I mean.”

Chuckling, Magnus gave it a thought.  “No. No, Luke’s been calling us married for years, you know that, right.”

“I can’t believe we’ve been married for a decade now and we haven’t ever noticed.”

This time, it was Alec’s turn to roll his eyes and they both fell into laughter, rapturous and honey-sweet with the feeling of it - of knowing that this was right. Magnus looked down at where their hands kept finding their way back to each other, fingers running along Alec’s absentmindedly. Naturally, without thinking about it, without even noticing it was happening. When simply being close was the greatest source of comfort, that’s when you knew.

“I don’t think it will be that much different. But I can’t wait.”

When Magnus looked up again, Alec was looking at him with an expression to his face that he knew all too well. After all, he’d seen a million times before. Love, so true, so tangible it spelled itself out in the curve of Alec’s smile, the line of his brows, the way his beautiful eyes shone.

“I can’t either.”

Noses brushing, Magnus leaned into a kiss like none before, a 'first morning after our engagement' kiss, and as Alec mouthed an “I love you.” against his smile, pulling Magnus closer, Magnus knew he would enjoy every moment of being not-yet married, and count them down impatiently nonetheless.

======================================================================

in case you’re wondering, yes they did get up eventually, after breakfast in bed ofc, and yes they did spend the entire day decorating the loft falling over each other kissing, that really is what happened you’re absolutely right. they also both teared up over the pics they found on the USB stick from the night before, at first bc the damn santa/reindeer thing was hilarious and then again, bc the photographer had captured every damn moment of that damn proposal in the most beautiful shots (AS HAD BEEN PLANNED WHICH IS A VERY INTERESTING CONVERSATION BC ALEC REALLY DID THAT).

they marry on the most perfect september day you could possibly imagine and two weeks later, for his birthday that year, Alec turns immortal, even though they don’t know that just yet. but it happens and they live together forever, happily ever after.

happy holidays!

[shadowedgarden]

From the Hunters, Among the Hunted

Chapter 2: The Desolate City 

 Hi! Yes it's been a bit over a year, sorry about that, when I say I'm bad at updating I do not kid.  At all. On the plus side, chapter 2 and 3 are going up at the same time, as I didn't know where to split it when I was writing it. A thank you to @insanityisnotfun for his input and help, and anyone else that helped in the past year(sorry again, it's been awhile so my memory isn't that good for this). Isp: this comic. Feedback is always appreciated, hope you enjoy! 

Ch.1: Welcome, Please Try Not to Die ||  Ch.3: Let the Fun Begin!

 You stare at the contraption for what feels like an eternity before you dare touch a thing.  It's approximately the size of your hand, maybe a bit smaller, the exterior being made of some hard material.  Its shape is reminiscent of a box, and once you pry it open the thinner half starts to emit light, making the cracks over top of it look even weirder.  The thicker half is covered in a flexible material, shaped into a grid with each square covered in nearly worn off numbers and letters.  Some spots are obviously patched in some way.  When you finally manage to hesitantly poke it, it makes a beep that startles you enough to jump, and stalling progress for a few minutes until you regain enough curiosity or confidence to continue.  Eventually, you manage to press another button, and a soft ringing starts emanating from it.  Nearly instantaneously it's on the ground, though whether you placed it there or dropped it is impossible to tell, and you are behind a partially crumbled pillar.  The ringing stops and a voice, which sound similar to Toriel's, takes it place.  You will ask her about that later.  The voice stops, and you creep over and delicately put it into your backpack, then start off in the direction she left in. 

The next room has oddly large piles of red leaves everywhere, and there is another one of the gently pulsing yellow stars beside the pile nearest you.  You flop down on said pile, and the leaves crunch underneath your weight, those not directly underneath you whispering instead.  Your eyes widen, a grin breaking out across your face as you pick up your arm and flop it down again, resulting in another crunch that sets your childish heart soaring.  You turn around and tackle the leaves, becoming immersed as they fall on you.  Because an abandoned crumbling shell of a city just screams play to you, doesn't it.  Sitting up, you blow some especially friendly leaves, as well as a strand of your dark tangled hair, out of your face and dive back in.  Congratulations, you just completely defeated the purpose of that action.  Eventually, your hand touches the star, determination swirling into your happiness as you Save.  You lie back, giggling, and gaze up at the stars.   

After a minute of resting you stand up, your urge to play temporarily sated.  A shadowy archway covered in silvery cobwebs swiftly grabs your eye and snags your curiosity, drawing you in.  As luck would have it, there is a hole in the wall of webs low down near the ground, neat enough that it almost seems like it has been used as an entrance before.  Inside you find it is a stunningly intact room.  Fresh water runs through, sparkling in the moonlight, moss grows thickly along the corners in an inviting manner, and in the center of the room sits a bowl , slightly raised off the floor with the words "For those in need of healing" painted neatly on the side.  Vines encase the room and hold it together, the ceiling still mostly intact with only a single hole in it, which manages to half flood the room in moonlight.  Glittering cobwebs are draped around the upper corners of the room.  It's a perfect refuge.  Realizing how thirsty you are, you fill up your water-bottle at the stream, and grab a spider cider and a spider doughnut from the bowl.  You lie back on the moss for a rest.  After a minute or so of dozing, the spiders begin growing restless.  You will not be able to stay much longer.  After one last glance at this dream-like room, you leave, ignoring the leaf-piles.  

You are only a few strides out before the floor abruptly disappears from beneath you.  A cry forces its way up through your throat, arms flailing desperately for something to grab, some way to stop your fall, but it is too late and you fall into shadows.  A pile of leaves cushions your landing.  You spend the next few minutes attempting to calm your racing heart, control your shaky breathing, and blink back tears.  You decide you need to be more careful.  Much more careful.  Once you calm down and make sure nothing, particularly yourself or the phone, is broken, you look around.  The only notable thing is two decent sized holes built into the wall, as well as the skylight you made with your fall.  Upon closer examination you find that the holes in the wall are really tunnels.  Actually, shafts would probably describe them better, as they are vertical.  You test one of the shaft's strength then begin to climb, finding that there are plenty of handholds.  Your pack trails behind you, dangling from your foot so you can fit.  As you climb over the bend at the top, the bag catches a little, and you tug on it.  When that doesn't work you pull harder.  It comes free with only a split-second's warning and you tumble out, unprepared for the sudden give, falling right on top of an unsuspecting Whimsum.  Whimsums are flighty and nervous, always feeling guilty due to a complication in their past, and their ghost-like and twiggy appearance does little to convince anyone otherwise.  This one is gone the instant you open your mouth, even though you bring apologies and promises that you mean no harm.  You can do no more than stare after it.  Putting the encounter out of your mind the best you can, you realize you are on the other side of the falling tiles, and back on track.  On track to where, you have no idea, unless you count exploration as a location, but back on track none the less.  

The next room where you have to do something other then just pick your way cautiously around rocks and vines and the remains of unrecognizable things gains your attention by having a lack of said objects.  Instead the ground is made entirely of that scratched stone that you know from prior inspection is only supported by flimsy twigs.  It will break under your weight instantly.  Pity that you saw no other way around, and trying to go back would only lead to more.  Heart nagging you, you let out a sigh and step out, staying near the wall in the foolish hope that, despite your knowledge, it might not collapse and send you falling to the hard floor beneath.  You get no such luck, promptly having your world drop, your heart jump into your mouth, and your breathing hitch.  You are lucky enough to miss some of the worn, battered, and bent spikes that still managed to exist, and land instead on a pile of dust and leaves.  After a few shaky breaths and a cough or two, you see an oddly clear path that goes all the way to the end of the room.  You head over to the tunnel for this area, beginning to climb.  This one is a bit more smoothed than the first one and you nearly slip, but you manage to make it and slide out, and try again to cross, attempting to walk where the path was below.  Somehow, the sticks are strong enough to support you here, and while the stone tiles tip up a bit as you walk, you don't fall.  You carefully follow the path, however, your memory is not exactly perfect, and you fall and have to start again, earning yourself a small bruise.  

On your next try, your foot goes over the edge, but you manage to pull it back in time and correct yourself.  You relax as you exit, forgetting about the rocks that litter this place and tripping, your arm hitting something sharp, and making you wince.  Your blood drips on the ground.  It was an arrowhead.  You sit up, grimacing at the sting and quietly cursing lightly under your breath.  The room has some bigger boulders in it, as well as several more arrowheads, and some long dried blood.  The rocks were scratched in some places, and at the far end a brisk stream ran through, with nearly destroyed spikes half submerged in the centre.  You wonder why Toriel would ever watch over such a place.  You pick your way through carefully, not wanting to disturb anything.  You leave the room with a feeling of dread starting to form in your mind.  A mouse distracts you, and the "no matter what" part of your promise surfaces from your memories.  You touch the star, trying to ignore the nagging in your mind and letting determination wash over you.  Some hope returns to you.  If the mouse can make it here, so can you.  The ghost that disappears the instant you see each other, on the other hand, certainly doesn't help with your apprehension, or the haunted atmosphere.  You sigh, taking a few steps forward and kicking at a small pebble.  It skips through a doorway and is stopped by a spearhead embedded in the ground, causing you to look up and then out into the space beyond.  

The walls of that room and the next few beside it have been mostly destroyed and reduced to rubble.  Rocks cover the ground so thickly you can hardly see it.  The moon shines brightly, bathing the place in silver light and revealing everything.  Spears and swords and other weapons from your village are scattered across the landscape, all of them broken beyond repair.  There are a few spatters of blood, old and dried, and the larger rocks are scorched on occasion.  You have no idea how long any of it has been here.  A thin crust of dust coats most of what you can see, even with some patches being slowly eroded and carried off in little wisps by the wind, which sounds a fair amount like echoing screams and moans as it crescendos and diminuendos.  A chill runs through you, causing you to shudder.  It is hard to fathom why anyone would come or stay anywhere near this place.  You walk through the doorway on your left, pausing to take a sip of water, and are debating on whether you want to eat one of the spider doughnuts or something else when a muffled ringing interrupts you, originating from inside your pack.  Despite how quiet it is, it still sounds a bit too loud in this place.  The entire city is submerged in an eerie sort of silence, honestly, if you discount the wind crying in the background.  The phone rings for a bit while you figure out how to answer.  When you pick up, Toriel's voice comes through, sounding worn with a vaguely strained cheerfulness, the slightest bit more prominent then when you first met her, though it could easily be your imagination. 

 "Greetings, my child, this is Toriel.  I hope you have not encountered too much difficulty since we parted.  I still have one or two things I must attend to, so if you could head to the house at the base of the mountain I would greatly appreciate it.  Do you think you can manage that?  If you have any doubts at all I will come guide you." 

You tell her you can.  

"Excellent, I will meet you there.  Be good, will you?"  The phone beeps once, leaving you with a place to be.  

Ch. 3: Let the fun Begin!

[thefrostfalgar]

Day 3: Skype

Skipping the U because i’m forever alone~~ lel no it was because my schedule is so mean!

enjoy x)

Eustass Kid rushed to the small, temporary apartment on the outer part of the nowhereland he had spent his last three weeks in. His pale skin turned pinkish, almost as red as his hair from sunburn.

The redhead sighed as he enter the small room where he spent his night fidgeting / passing out. No, not because he managed to get away from the heat of Tropical Island weather, to an air conned small room that is almost as cold as his small house far north. Instead, he felt relieved for another reason.

A reason that sits neatly in his working desk in the corner of the room.

He hurried himself to sit on the too small chair for his built, but it’s not like he had any option, or even will stay long enough to complain. He opened his laptop, and double click the blue icon with S logo on his desktop screen. “Come on,” he muttered as he thumped his fingers to the table, restless and furious as he glared at the small round animation spinning round and round as they prepare for the app to launch. “Come on,” he muttered again, heart racing from fatigue, anger, and another feeling that he never thought existed until a few weeks ago.

A feeling caused by the absence of certain someone.

Eustass Kid was normally a carefree guy. He was well known as a man who don’t get attached. People come. People go. Time heals shit. Life goes on. That’s basically his motto; in that exact order.

But that was before.

Kid nearly ripped his face in half when the window is ready, showing a picture of a dark skinned, raven-haired guy who glared at the camera that took the picture.

Even better, he saw a round green button below that photo.

Kid almost broke his touchpad hitting the video button. It takes only two rings, before his mostly black screen turned into a full screen hotness of the very olive skinned man in green scrubs.

The man with grey eyes blinked twice, before grinning like a mad man he is.

“Finally!” he said. The picture froze for a second before it gives him the live image of the man he longed for ever since he arrived in this uncivilized hell hole. “Eustass-ya?”

“Yo. Can you hear me?”

“Clearly. Can you hear me?”

“Eustass!” he shouted, too excited to keep his voice down.

“Once again, Eustass is NOT a synonym for perfect. Believe me, I know. I’ve looked in every dictionary I can find,” Law chuckled. Kid laughed with him, unsure of what to say now that they have the long-awaited Skype call. So much to say, so little words he can say. That is another thing only this bastard of a Doctor can do to him.

“But well, hello, stranger,” Law started again. His chuckles reduced into a coy smile.

“Hey, asshole,” Kid replied.

“Is that how you greet someone you haven't seen for days? Reducing them into a certain body part? That’s rude, even for you. But again, I know that means ‘I miss you’ in tough slash retard guy language, huh?”

“Yeah pretty much, yeah.”

Law grinned. “Are you sure you miss me? Or do you only miss that one particular body part of me?” he asked, pretended to hurt but Kid can tell that Trafalgar Law, the smug looking, smart mouthed sexy ass doctor is just as eager as he is. It’s not just baseless statement. He knew because after spending almost a year dating that guy and another half year waking up by his side, he could tell that Trafalgar Law can only pull two expressions; the calm, collected attitude that he shows to the world despite of what he thinks or feels, and the grinning evil face he only show Eustass and some of his close friends only when he’s happy.

And boy, does that hot Doctor grins right now!

“That too,” Kid decided to play along.

“Well, you wouldn’t miss anything if you don’t go half way around the world just to watch your machine drills to the center of the earth,” Trafalgar replied. He propped his head on his folded hand, looking up to the camera innocently. Fuck, Kid just wanted to grab him and kiss him right now, instead of doing a small talk.

“Don’t bullshit me, Trafalgar. You were the one who was so eager to get rid of me the first time.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Eustass-ya. You were the one who can’t stop whining about seeing your machine in action on the actual mining site.”

So much sass. Kid was so thirsty of snarky remarks of his boyfriend, he was so ready to gulp it all. But before he could voice his answer, he could hear a loud, urgent voice from Law’s side.

“Law, we got emergency.”

That got to be Penguin. Again. Shitty little bird.

Law scowled, for the first time looking a little bit tense. “What happened, Pen?”

“Gunshot victim. You’re needed.”

Kid almost groaned in defeat as Penguin speak fluent Grey’s Anatomy to Law. His boyfriend only scowled, nodded, scowled some more, and then turned to him in an obvious guilt.

“I’m sorry, Eustass-ya.”

“Ugh ditch it. People die every day anyway.”

“So cruel, Captain. I thought you date me because I’m a hero that can save lives?”

“I date you because you are a hot piece of ass. Now sit and ditch it.”

Law chuckled. “I won’t be long,” he said. “Be right back. I promise. I love you.”

Before Kid could answer or protest, Law had disappeared from the screen, running away to the emergency unit where he fucking needed. Kid groaned in disappointment, palms pressing his eyes as he realized that based on experience, “Emergency” combined with “you’re needed” from that shitty little bird always means that Law will be locked in the emergency room for hours. Kid got up from his chair, propping his laptop on top of his bed, facing the bathroom’s door so he can still see Law’s office while taking shower. Just in case he got false alarm and get back sooner than Kid predicted. Kid then took off his shirt, standing under the rain of cold water as he mourn his decision to come to this Nowhereville in the middle of unknownland. It was a supervision job that only the machine builder can take. Franky was supposed to be the one that go and supervise the machine, but his wife got pregnant, leaving Kid no choice than to go─well, he did have a choice, but he was so proud of his machine that he can’t resist the opportunity to actually see it in action.

When he relay the news to Trafalgar, he only shrugged. “Go, then. We can always Skype to talk to each other. Saw Pen and Killer does that. It looks like they never separated at all,” then added with a cunning smile. “We can try the hot Skype sessions too.”

But then reality hits hard. Forget Hot Skype sessions. They can barely make any calls, with Kid turned out have to stay in limited service area, where internet signal is rare and weak most of the time. Kid had to purchase signal booster to the nearby city, which took him 2 hours driving in bumpy, slippery dirt road to stabilize the internet. Then, when all is settled and Kid could even watch 10 episodes of Hannibal without any delays, their call attempts were ruined because of time difference. Either Kid fell asleep while waiting for Law to online, or Law never showed up at all with all the emergencies in the hospital, even on weekends.

“13 hours difference sucks!” Kid yelled to the bathroom walls. He decided to get out of the shower, put on his clean shirt and shorts, and lay down on the bed, plugging in his laptop charger with his eyes occasionally glance to the screen. It’s still showing blank white hospital wall on the other side of the world. Law’s office.

Kid put the laptop on his stomach, letting out a small smile as he recalling the moment he first enter Law’s office, doing the not-so-safe-for-work thing. Law always ditched the idea when Kid threw them, but once they were provided with the opportunity, the nasty Doc was always the one who follow through on the ideas.

Kid missed him so much. He should have known that Skype just won’t cut it. He needs the doc. Hell, even this small bed feels too large for him without Law’s body beside him.

“Damn you, Doc,” Kid smiled. “You’re really gonna be the death of me, you know that? I don’t know why I even agreed to this whole 18 weeks away from you. Can barely stand the last 3 weeks. Too bad I can’t just ditch this now. But you, though. You can ditch the patients. People die every day. I will die if we can’t talk more than few lines in the next week. You really got into my skin, aren’t you? You little shit head.”

Out of desperation and sleepiness, Kid continued to blabber randomly.  He’s saying things that he wouldn’t caught say out loud sober, even to save his own life. He kept talking and talking, before ended up fell asleep with skype still on, like he always did the past two weeks.

Kid woke up one hour early the next morning. His laptop still rest on his stomach, but the screen is dead. He yawned, lazily starting his laptop back just to check on his luck with this Skype thing.

But just like many other attempts before, Law is offline at this hour. Probably fell asleep on his laptop too, or too busy focusing his mind on another emergency.

However, this time, he saw that Law left a message.

A video message.

That’s just enough to jolt Kid to full consciousness. He eagerly played the video, which shows Law still in his scrubs, but with heavier eyes. His mouth curved into a wide, cheeky grin. Kid smiled automatically, replying the bastard’s smile even though he’s not actually there to see it.

“Hi, Eustass-ya,” he started. Kid mirrored Law’s smirk. His sleepiness just evaporated. “So, while I’m in the emergency room, Shachi sat on his desk just in front of mine, working the papers from today’s patients. He might heard something. One or two…”

“Law, don’t say my name! I don’t want the Captain kill me the moment he set foot here!” someone yelled in the background, distracting Law from his words. He smiled cunningly through the screen, obviously at Shachi. That pause is enough to make Kid blush hard. Oh, shit. What did he say last night? He did remember saying things. He just can’t remember exactly what, though. Shit. How screwed is he?

“Yeah, anyway, he might heard one or two things of your… confessions to me,” Law paused for a moment. His signature move to surprise / kill people with his words. “And might recorded that for me to hear. I must confess, I never thought of you as a romantic type,” he continued. However, he can’t seem to hold the amused smirk anymore. Kid choked on his own saliva. What did that Shachi guy recorded? Fuck. How much did he heard?

“I know tough guy like you don’t say weak things like ‘I miss you’ a lot. Hence why you always say it indirectly. But really, you’re such an idiot,” he shook his head, clearly amused. Shit shit shit. “Since our schedule is making it impossible for us to meet on Skype, say, how about I record a video message like this when I have time, and you recorded yours when you have time? But I promise, it would only be for a while. I’m booking a plane ticket departing next month. So don’t sulk about it anymore. Or sulk. I don’t care. I’ll punish you for humiliating me with those lovey dovey words either way,” he laughed, almost evilly while Kid widened his eyes. 

Holy shit! He’s gonna come here, to the middle of nowhere?

“By the way, I think I found your absence irritating too,” Law said, in a softer voice. “So see you next time. Record something nice for me to wake up to, will you?”

And with that, the video time indicator hits the right part of the screen and the video stopped. Kid set up his laptop camera, and hit the record button.  

“Nice, Doc. Now it's gonna be hard for me to beat that big surprise of yours. The only thing big around here is something in my pants but that's not a surprise for you anymore. So instead, to celebrate the news of you coming here…” 

[unifiedsocialblog]

How to Advertise on YouTube: The Ultimate Guide

YouTube is the second biggest internet search platform after Google, with an audience of 1.5 billion users logging in each month (and it’s still growing). Ninety-six percent of U.S. online teens use the site, and more than one billion hours of YouTube content are viewed daily.

These numbers don’t lie. YouTube is a global force, and the demand for video content is only increasing: by 2021, a mind-boggling 80 percent of all internet traffic will be video-related.

So, if you’ve made an account for business, but you’re not advertising on YouTube yet, the time is now.

By the end of this guide to YouTube advertising, you’ll be familiar with the six different types of YouTube ads, the advertising platform itself, and the specifications for each ad type. You’ll also have a firm understanding of the best practices for marketing to a YouTube audience.

Bonus: Download a free guide that reveals the exact steps one entrepreneur took to gain more than 23,000,000 views on YouTube with no budget and no expensive gear.

Types of YouTube ads

There are six types of YouTube ads:

Skippable video ads (a.k.a. TrueView ads)

Non-skippable video ads

Bumper ads

Overlay ads

Display ads

Sponsored cards

TrueView ads

TrueView ads are the best way to drive brand engagement on YouTube. Brands who post TrueView ads often see engagement with their other YouTube content increase by up to 500 percent.

TrueView ads can be skipped after five seconds—so it’s important make those first five count. But as a brand, you only have to pay for these ads when the viewer watches 30 seconds or more, which makes them a pretty safe bet for advertising on a budget.

TrueView ads come in two formats, In-Stream ads and Discovery ads. Here’s a quick rundown of the differences between the two:

In-stream

Ad location: YouTube videos, apps, games, videos in Google’s Display Network Video length: 3 minutes, max (> 30 seconds recommended) Copy length: None Clicks go to: Your website

Discovery

Ad location: YouTube videos & search results (including mobile), YouTube app homepage, “related videos,” and video overlays Video length: No limit! Headline: 25 characters max Body copy: 2 lines, each 35 characters max Clicks go to: your website (overlay banner) or your video (video thumbnail)

TrueView ads are one of the top ways to advertise on YouTube for a few reasons:

They’re low risk: With TrueView, your audience chooses the type of ads they’re interested in and you only pay when they view 30 seconds or watch to the end of your ad. That means the majority of your budget is dedicated to an audience that’s more likely to convert.

They’re versatile: TrueView ads allow you to advertise with how-to videos, product demos, video testimonials and more. Grammarly uses testimonials to great effect in their TrueView ads, and YouTube is a huge source of engagement for the company in general. 54.4% of their social media traffic comes from the site.

They reach a wide audience: With TrueView ads, you’re essentially combining the audiences of the two biggest search engines. While the main focus is YouTube, TrueView ads also appear on other publisher sites in the Display Network, depending on the type of TrueView ad you choose.

TrueView ads are pretty much a win-win, but they’re not totally foolproof. In a survey last year, IPG Mediabrands’ Magna and Media Lab units found that 76% of consumers reflexively skip ads if the option is presented, even if the ad might benefit them.

If you want people to pay attention to your skippable YouTube ads, keep the ads short and engage emotions with relatable moments.

For example, I’m a huge fan of this humble Chipsmore ad. It’s cute, funny, and entertaining, but most importantly, it doesn’t feel like an interruption. When you’re coming up with your own skippable ads, you want to make your audience forget that the option to skip exists.

Non-Skippable YouTube Ads

Non-skippable YouTube ads are paid for on a CPM (cost per 1,000) basis, meaning you pay per 1,000 views. These longer ads are a powerful way to tell a deeper, more nuanced story. But as superheroes will tell you, “great power comes at a cost.” The cost? People getting annoyed and closing your ad.

It’s no secret that non-skippable ads are somewhat unpopular. They can be intrusive, and most viewers wish they weren’t there at all.

YouTube knows this. This year, the company officially killed off the 30-second unskippable ad format. Non-skippable ads now have a more tolerable 15 to 20 second limit. This is great news for mobile users in particular: shorter ads use less data and are less of a time commitment.

Bumper Ads

Bumpers are technically non-skippable ads, but they’re less maligned because they last six seconds, max. Like non-skippable ads, bumpers are paid for on a CPM basis. Their short length makes them ideal for mobile. A common approach is to use bumper ads to compliment your longer, non-skippable ads.

Making a six-second video might sound easy, but to be successful, the concept behind the ad has to be really strong. If you need inspiration, YouTube has a top 20 leaderboard featuring the best bumper ads:

Now, let’s take a look at some other ad types: overlay ads, display ads, and sponsored cards. These are more traditional digital ad formats. Use these to add interactivity to YouTube videos with CTAs.

Overlay Ads

If you’re running a reservation sponsorship campaign, you can set up overlay ads on partner videos. YouTube overlay ads are banner advertisements that you’ll often see running along the bottom of a video. They can be simple text ads like the one above, or image-based banners like the one below.

For information on how to set up an overlay ad on YouTube, see Google’s helpful guide.

Display Ads

Display ads appear above the video suggestions list. Here, you’ll see the Hydro Quebec ad (outlined in red) above the RuPaul’s Drag Race makeup tutorials I’ve been watching way too much of lately. Display ads on YouTube can be managed from within AdWords, allowing you to double up with the Display Network for maximum reach.

Cards & Sponsored Cards

Cards are small CTA pop-ups you can set to appear within the YouTube player. You can use them to add interactivity to your videos on desktop or mobile.

Cards are effective because they’re unobtrusive. They only expand to their full size when they’re clicked (i.e., when the viewer is interested).

Here, you can see two cards on this Frank and Oak video. The card on the left is expanded, redirecting to their website, while the one on the right is a minimized subscribe button.

Sponsored cards appear as a small information icon (circled below), sometimes accompanied by a text CTA that appears upon mouseover.

When clicked, the “i” expands to reveal ads that redirect to your sales pages: in this case, photography guides.

How to add cards to a YouTube video:

Navigate to the Creator Studio.

Click Video Manager and select a video to add a card to.

Click Edit.

Click Cards.

Click Add Card.

Select the type of card you want: Video or Playlist to promote other content on your channel, or Link to send the viewer to a sales page with a sponsored card.

Once you’ve created your card, you can choose where and when it appears on the video.

How to advertise on YouTube

Now that you know the six YouTube ad formats, you’re probably wondering how to set all this up. Before setting up your YouTube ad campaign, you need to upload your ad footage to YouTube. Once you’ve done that, sign your AdWords account to get started.

Creating your first video campaign in AdWords

Click Campaigns on the main toolbar.

Click the +Campaign button , then New campaign.

Select Video as your campaign type.

Establish your campaign goal and subtype.

Name your campaign.

Enter your budget.

Enter the locations and networks where you want your ad to appear, as well as the locations and networks you’d like to exclude.

Enter your target audience’s language.

Name your ad group.

Establish your bid amounts.

Select audiences for targeting.

Select the YouTube video you’ve uploaded for this campaign.

Select your ad format (In-Stream or Discovery).

Click Save and Continue.

Once you’ve completed these steps, you’re ready to roll with your first TrueView campaign. Setting up a bumper ads campaign pretty much follows the same steps, only you’ll want to click the “Bumper ads: 6-second video ads” option, rather than In-Stream or Discovery. For full instructions on creating a bumper ads campaign, check out Google’s guide.

YouTube ad specs

Here’s a quick rundown of the different dimensions and specifications for the various forms of YouTube ads.

Video requirements

Your YouTube video ad can potentially appear on a variety of screen formats, including smartphones, smart TVs, tablets, desktop computers, and more. When planning your first video ad, ask yourself: who’s going to see this? Where and how might they be watching it?

All three YouTube video ad types (TrueView, non-skippable and bumper ads) have the same basic video specs:

Video Codec: H.264, MPEG-2, MPEG-4 Audio Codec: AAC, MP3 Resolution: 640×360 (19:9 aspect ratio) or 480×360 (4:3 aspect ratio) Frame Rate: 30 FPS File Size: 1 GB max

For TrueView ads appearing in YouTube’s search results and in the Display Network, you can also choose from a selection of four auto-generated thumbnail previews. Pick one that pops!

Overlay ad dimensions and specs

Overlay ads have one required image, which will appear over the lower 20 percent of a video. If you pick an animated image file, keep the animation loop under 10 seconds.

Dimensions: 480 px by 70 px File type: PNG, JPG, GIF (static or animated) File size: 150 KB max

Display ad specs

Display ads can be animated (GIF format), but YouTube stipulates that any animations must be 30 seconds or less. If your creative has a black or white background (even partially), it needs a clearly recognizable border to highlight the ad’s clickable area.

Dimensions: 300px by 250 px File type: PNG, JPG, GIF (can be animated) File size: 150 KB max

Sponsored cards dimensions and specs

With sponsored cards, you want to pick an image that clearly displays your product, and write a convincing CTA to accompany it.

Dimensions: variable (1:1 aspect ratio) File type: PNG, JPG, GIF (can be animated) File size: 2MB max

Besides these technical requirements, YouTube has a list of rules and regulations around what types of content they’ll allow on the platform. Keep these in mind when you’re brainstorming your ads.

5 best practices for YouTube advertising

Now that you’re familiar with all the different YouTube ad types and the platform’s rules and regulations, it’s time to think about what you’re going to advertise on YouTube. I’ve put together a list of best practices to keep in mind while building your channel.

The goal here is pretty simple: keep viewers engaged with valuable content that keeps them coming back for more.

1. Produce content that’s relevant and interesting

This is the number one rule for any type of content creation, period. YouTube ads and your other video content add huge value to your brand by showcasing your products in action.

Ninety-eight percent of viewers say they’ve watched a video to learn more about a product or service, and 74 percent of users who watched a how-to video to learn more about a product or service went on to buy it. “How-to” guides on YouTube are immensely popular—91 percent of smartphone users watch how-to guides, and the popularity of the search term increases by 70 percent year after year.

One of the more successful YouTube campaigns this year has been for the Nintendo Labo. This wacky, unexpected idea meshes perfectly with YouTube’s “how-to” video craze. The announcement ad quickly went viral, racking up 5 million views in one day, and Nintendo’s value surged four percent on the Tokyo stock exchange.

2. Engage your audience with playlists

Putting together a curated list of related videos is a great way to promote your channel and keep viewers engaged. Videos on your channel should be ordered cohesively to tell a story. Playlists create a smoother, more satisfying experience for viewers by anticipating what they want to watch next.

How to build a YouTube playlist:

Select the video you want to add.

Under the video, click Add to and the black “+” sign.

Click Create new playlist.

Name your playlist (keep it simple and searchable).

Change the privacy settings using the drop-down menu. Make sure it’s set to public.

Click Create.

Bam! Your playlist is ready. Navigate between your YouTube playlists in the Guide section, located on the left side of YouTube’s interface.

3. Give your ads relevant titles

You want to give the right first impression with your YouTube ads, so keep your titles simple and to-the-point. If your video ad title isn’t relevant to the user’s search terms, it won’t get clicked. Stay away from clickbait, too: everyone hates a bait-and-switch.

4. Publish regularly

If you start a YouTube channel to elevate your brand, you have to commit to it. Publish, publish, publish! The last thing you want is a prospect clicking your ad only to find a dead channel with no lasting value.

Remember, video creation doesn’t need to be a huge, expensive ordeal. Many of the world’s most popular and successful YouTubers film everything at home. I’m not saying your videos should look unpolished. At the very least, make sure you pay attention to YouTube’s ad specs, rules and regulations.

5. Find your audience with targeted ads

You’re always going to get a better response when your videos find the right audience. Build a YouTube advertising campaign in Google Adwords and take advantage of the interactivity between these two search giants. The effort mutually beneficial: once you’ve built your video ad campaign in Adwords, you can use insights gained from YouTube to re-market to new audiences within the Display Network.

YouTube ads targeting

YouTube ads are powerful not just because your potential audience is huge, but because you can target your content highly specifically within YouTube’s pool of 1.5 billion viewers. Here’s a rundown of your ad targeting options:

Demographic group: the standard suite of demographic filters, including age, gender identity, income level, and family status.

Interests: find the right audience by targeting based on search history and personal interests. If your company sells replicas of fantasy weapons, you might try to target people who watch World of Warcraft how-to guides on YouTube, or “Best anime battles” video compilations.

Affinity audiences: this type of targeting is for companies who advertise their products on TV and want their campaign to have an online presence. It’s similar to interests targeting, but casts a wider net. Affinity audiences include groups like people interested in beauty products, or people who listen to pop music.

Custom affinity audiences: this builds on affinity audiences, offering more specific targeting. Instead of people who wear makeup, custom affinity audiences might help you target people interested in horror-themed special effects makeup; instead of just “pop music fans”, you might target people by the pop artists they listen to, like Beyoncé or Rihanna.

Life events: people’s purchasing habits and brand preferences change when they reach certain milestones, like graduating from college, getting married, or having a baby. Targeting your audience by life event allows you to hone in on these important moments and market accordingly.

In-market audience: target your YouTube ads to people searching for products like yours. Google determines whether someone’s “in-market” for a product or service based on ad click history, conversions, search history and how often someone’s searching specific terms.

Video re-marketing: target an audience based on a) whether they’ve watched other videos on your channel, and b) which ones they’ve watched.

Placement targeting: choosing to place your ads on unique channels, videos, apps, websites, or placements within websites (such as YouTube channels, and sites on the Display Network.)

Topics: targeting your video ads to reach a range of videos, channels, and sites relevant to topics of your choosing.

Keyword targeting: target people based on their search terms. For example, if you’re a wedding planner, you might target people searching for DIY craft projects involving burlap or mason jars.

The Home Depot is amazing at leveraging targeted YouTube content as part of their digital marketing strategy. The company creates how-to videos aimed at homeowners interested in DIY and, to date, the channel has close to 75 million views.

This doesn’t just raise awareness of their brand; it also provides them with a huge source of re-marketing data. Last year, Home Depot was one of the U.S.’s top-earning e-commerce outfits, with $6.5 billion in online sales.

YouTube ads are critical to any digital marketing effort and they’re only going to get more important as the demand for social video continues to grow. Use the information you’ve learned here to inform your strategy before diving in.

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