#May Pang fanart

[lc-mrbrownstone]

JOHN LENNON AND MAY PANG!

[fanart!]

[repairingahole]

beatles girls requests

[catgriller]

The ref: Cutest photo ever

[yljil]

because you're sweet and lovely, girl, i love you

[pursuitseternal]

“Dinna Fash” there is an update to “Tamed by Light,” Part II of Her Dark Wolf.

Chapter 6: “Dinna Fash”

Sauron discovers acceptance, forgiveness even, by his new enemies-turned-allies; and Galadriel cares for her Dark Wolf on their last night in Doriath before they march to face the Madness of Carcharoth. Read More.

Featuring Beren and Luthìen, inspired by another favorite couple: Jamie and Claire from “Outlander…” So yes, Beren now has a thick Highland accent 😝

CW: Scottish accents, Forgiveness and friendships, Reverse bathing trope (Gal gives Sauron a bath) and some curse weakening magic to come

“Yer no enemy,” he smirked, squatting down before the black wolf, who kept his eyes darting between the good natured smile on the mortal’s face and the arrogant mug of that stupid hound who still stood at attention before him.

“You might be in small company with that opinion,” Sauron smirked back. Mostly in derision, but it was still a smile.

“I think you mean ‘wee’ company…” Huan’s humor was just abrasive at this point. Too bad Sauron was the only one who could hear him, it seemed.

Surprisingly, Beren did something then that made Sauron freeze his paws in the dirt. He extended his large, calloused hand, his only hand, out towards him. His mortal palm patted the wolf square and strong between his ears. “Right now, ‘til ye break yer curse, ye may be a wee laird,” Sauron’s tongue lolled out as his hand stroked down his neck to lift back up to the top again, “but yer a laird nonetheless.”

Sauron looked into that friendly face, and guilt panged his stomach. This hearty mortal had been his prisoner, at his mercy, his life in his hands… and now, well now this Man only had one hand. His mouth tasted sour as he tried to slink away in guilt, even though it wasn’t his maw that had caused the injury.

With one more part of that mortal’s only hand, he felt his ears pinning back, his tail sweeping around him, tucking in shame. But then, a brilliant and bright voice called after the Man and his Dog. Her voice seemed to trill, to float, just like he remembered. And then she came gliding into the clearing too, with that long black hair and piercing violet eyes… like her mother.

Read More on AO3

Additionally: thank you to BOTH @klynnvakarian and @marimosalad for their amazing fanart for this humble, wolfy tail tale 🐺

[no-nightingales-iwanttodie]

Here's a thing I loathe when done in media:

Characters we dislike (or are negative in any way when we're introduced to them) having a good arc. A really good arc. Finding happiness, finding family, love, whatever they want that they didn't think they deserved. And then dying.

I hate it with a seething passion.

For once please just let them keep their happiness. You don't need to kill anyone off to have a good or impactful show or movie.

It's fine to let characters that the fans have become emotionally attached to, live. Let us be able to imagine all the amazing things they'll spend the rest of their lives doing.

Let us love them without a pang of pain going through us when we think of them.

For once, please.

Ofmd season 2 finale spoilers below!!!

I don't like what they did with izzy and I'm mad about it. Not for fun mad, I'm pissed.

He spent season 2 accepting the crew as his family, we saw him find peace withing himself, get to do drag and sing a cute very non-piraty song! I loved every moment he was onscreen and was looking forward to potentially seeing him become more free, either in the finale or a season 3 (that now I don't mind if we don't get, it ended amazingly)

I hate those "he found what he needed and died happily. " Don't?? Yeah he may have been happy with himself in his dying moments, but if he continued living he could have time to have fun. A thing he never learned. His story wasn't done. No matter what anyone says, there were things we could still get from izzy.

I despised him the first season and actively wished for his death, but seeing him in season 2 completely changed my perspective now that we found out who he really was. I'm never gonna get over his death. Ever. It wasn't fair, he finally found something to fight for and to stay alive for.

Those tropes are some of my least favorite. Yeah it might also be my abandonment issues or my tism thing where as soon as I've latched onto something it genuinely hurts when it's taken away.

It's so rare for me to see any type of media where a character has that type of arc and gets out of it alive. It's become normal for me to just not care because when I see that type of personal development, I'm expecting their death before the end of the season. And that's not good. It's not something you should aim for when making shows.

Like, I'm still surprised Draco malfoy didn't die in the battle of hogwarts (his arc was sadly lost to deleted scenes)

I will be spending the next week looking at izzy drag fanart and imagining that he's alive and lives happily ever after on the revenge with his crew that loves him and that he loves so so so much.

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

This fiction is dedicated to @sergeant-donny-donowitz. Thank you for your wonderful works and good luck with your exams! 👍👍👍

The fanart does not belong to me but to his righteous creator and so are the characters from Inglourious Basters who are the property of Quentin Tarantino.

TW: violence and swearing.

Also, English is not my first language, so don’t be too harsh on me!

                                       Past hurts as a baseball bat...

Nantucket Island, autumn 1947.

After a long day of work, Hans Landa was eager to come back home. His job as an executive of the Nantucket Bank was exhausting. Oh, he did not complain: he had a comfortable house, a massive wage, a good job, and he was free.

Something he could not have afforded if he did not negotiate with the American general staff, that famous night of June 1944. In exchange for letting the Basterds taking down Hitler and his government.

The Basterds... Thinking of them made Hans wince with pain as he grazed his infamous scar. For two years, he had hidden under a wig this painful souvenir left by Lieutenant Raine.

Every night, he heard this low and threatening voice laced with the Tennessee accent :

“I'm gonna give you a little somethin' you can't take off.”

Then, this unbearable pain when he felt the knife carving his flesh until he was permanently cursed by his past. The Apache wanted to be sure he won’t get away so easily...

When he finally arrived home, the former SS sat on a chair and poured himself a glass of wine. This house seemed too big for him... but he did not complain about his loneliness for now. He even appreciated to be the only inhabitant of this place.

His glass in his hand, he got up and went to the living room when he took place in his armchair. He looked at the sunset with wonder: another day ended in his paradise when no one would ever hunt him down...

Suddenly, he heard a soft creaking that startled him. He asked:

“Who is there?”

No answer. Hans put his glass on the table and went to see where did come from the noise. But nobody was here. Reassured, the Nazi criminal took a book and started to read... 

He was reading for an hour and a half when he perceived a sound. Not a sound, but a feminine voice who whispered:

“Hans. Did you miss me?”

He jumped from his seat, scared to death: he recognized this voice. It belonged to the actress Bridget Von Hammersmark. This bitch who dared betray her country... But it is impossible: she is dead in France, when he strangled her at the premiere...

But he was sure he heard her voice. It could not be anyone else... Suddenly, he heard another voice who soughed:

“Do not dare forget your victims... They might come back to haunt you...”

The other voice was masculine, with a slight German accent. Hans trembled with fear: he was sure he heard the voice of Wilhelm Wicki. One of the Basterds who died during the standoff in this tavern. Where was it, already? Oh, yes: it was in the small village of Nadine... May he was hallucinating?

“Landa, did you think you could escape us?”

For sure, Landa thought he became crazy : he heard another voice from a deceased Basterd. This time, it belonged to Hugo Stiglitz, the one who murdered 13 S.S. officers. He died... Well, he was supposed to be dead with Wicki and Hicox in France...

“Looks like you’ve missed your chance, Colonel.”

Speak of the British spy, his voice ringed into Hans’ears. He grabbed his hair as he tried to convince himself that he is hallucinating. It was the only rational explanation...

As he tried to reason himself, Hans nearly lost his mind when he saw Bridget Von Hammersmark, Archie Hicox, Whihelm Wicki, and Hugo Stiglitz appearing in front of him. Their eyes shot deadly glares and their smiles were... predatory.

“It’s been a long time, Herr Colonel.”

Hans turned around and felt a pang of fear clutching his guts as he saw Smithson Utivich appearing next to him. The “Little man” smirked at him in a devilish way he never expects.

“Do you see that, guys? The terrifying colonel Hans Landa is shitting in his pants!”

Landa watched with horror as Hirschberg made his entrance in his living room. One of the youngest Basterds had a wicked smirk on his face that would scare anyone who would cross his path.

“Looks like you’ve seen a ghost!”

Near Hirschberg was Omar Ulmer, the soldier who slaughtered so many high-ranked officers during the premiere. The slight burns on his face proved that he survived his encounter with the Grim Reaper... 

“So, Jew Hunter, how does it feel to be trapped? Scary, ain’t cha?”

And as he expected, Aldo Raine appeared in his uniform, an arrogant smile on his lips and his knife at his belt.

“Did ya think we’ll forget? How stupid of you! Remember the last time we met, I gave you a little somethin’...”

Stuttering, Hans tried to negotiate:

“L... Listen: you can’t kill me. I made a deal with your general and I was amnestied!”

“Yeah, right. But, as you can guess, a Basterd’s work is never done. And we want to finish the job once for all!”

The other Basterds approved, with enthusiasm. Hans wanted to cry for help, but he quickly realized that no one would hear him. No one would rescue him tonight.

Resigned, he shrugged and asked:

“So, what do we do, now? If you want to kill me, I beg you to do it quickly!”

Aldo retorted with despise:

“Don’t cha dare thinking we would grant that wish? Oh no: for you, we saved a special treatment. A long and painful one...”

The Apache smirked and added:

“You pretend to be one of the best investigators of Europe, but I’mma pretty sure you did not notice someone is missing. Don’t worry, he’s coming for you...”

At the same time, Hans heard this infamous sound: a baseball bat slamming on the floor as if it was a countdown before his impending death. 

And under the applause of his fellow comrades, Donny Donowitz made his entrance, his bat firmly held. At his moment, Landa believed the “Bear Jew” was, in fact, a Golem sent by his victims to avenge them.

“Ready, Landa?”

The Bostonian accent sounded so scary from Donny’s voice that the Nazi was unable to speak.

“Ya know what? I don’t care... You’re on decks!”

And just before the bat collided with his face, Hans Landa thought that, no matter how hard he would try to erase the past and escape to the justice, the Basterds would have the last laugh on him. And tonight, they will dance on his grave...

Do not hesitate to leave comments and thanks for reviews!💌💌💌

[chalantness]

fic: When the Lights Come Up

Rating: M Word Count: ~3200 Characters: Steve/Natasha Summary: I’ve been waiting for you all along, Steve had told her, down on his knee. Because that life you wanted me to get? It starts with you. I think it always has.

A/N: HAPPY (belated) ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY TO AVENGERS: ENDGAME!

I don't really know what this is, I just know that I saw this fanart on my dash and went a little crazy! This is also loosely inspired by a prompt sent in by an anon about Steve secretly knowing Russian. The way I ended up using it is different from the actual prompt, but I hope that anon still enjoys this anyway if they read it!

With that being said, I completely relied on this post and this article for the translations, so I apologize in advance if anything isn't accurate. I did not take a lot of time to cross-reference since I hadn't planned on writing this so quickly, so please feel free to correct me if you feel comfortable doing so.

Read On: [ ao3 ]

It’s strange how something can feel familiar and new all at once.

Natasha wonders if she should feel some small, lingering sense of wariness as her gaze drifts across the room, taking in all of the chatter and laughter as it floats through the air. The last time she’d stood behind this same bar at a party almost exactly like this one, it had ended in a fight, just as it always seems to. Every single thing on this floor may look as it always has, but Natasha knows that it’s been ripped and shattered and repaired. Natasha knows the fallout that happened that night, in this very room, had led to a lot of lives lost and almost the fall of an entire country in a blink—and yet, here they are again, gathered like they’ve done dozens of times before, and there’s nothing melancholic at all about a room full of people laughing and drinking and celebrating despite the fallout that had once happened here. Just as there’s nothing melancholic about walking through the streets of neighborhoods that’d been rebuilt and breathed back to life, even though, just a year ago, they’d sat vacant and haunted by the ghosts of everyone that was lost.

There’s only light, and warmth, and something that feels suspiciously like hope.

“Well, doesn’t this scene look familiar,” a voice muses, and Natasha turns to find Tony sitting himself on one of the barstools on the other side of the counter. “You know, if you’re looking for some extra cash, I can always hire you back on as my assistant. No need to get all my guests drunk just to squeeze a bigger tip out of them.”

Natasha smirks. “I was more Pepper’s assistant than yours,” she points out, “considering you were a little too preoccupied with your downward spiral.”

“In my defense, I was dying,” he reminds, and she really, really shouldn’t want to laugh at that, of all things. But she catches his gaze, sees her own amusement reflected in his eyes as his grin widens, and she can’t quite help the giggle that spills from her lips over the absurdity of this, of them and the two of them joking about death when, a year ago, that had been exactly their fate. “I’m surprised that Steve’s even let you out of his sight in a dress like that,” Tony adds, scrunching his face as he continues, almost in the same breath, “and I promise that sounded classier in my head than it did out loud.” Tony holds both hands up as if in surrender, and Natasha smirks as she shakes her head at him.

“The only reason I’m still in this dress is because I’ve been out of Steve’s sight,” she says, feeling her smirk widen as Tony groans loudly.

“Okay, okay, enough.” He squints his eyes at her in a playful. “You know, when I said Steve should surprise you by picking out a dress, I knew it was going to backfire on me but I went and opened my big mouth, anyway. I guess self-sabotaging is a hard habit to shake. Then again,” he pauses, pointedly shifting his gaze to her hand, “maybe not.”

Natasha follows his stare, flexing her fingers out as the diamond on her ring glitters under the glow of the lights. “Maybe not,” she agrees.

“It’s nice, huh? The quiet life.” Tony’s gaze shifts from up from her engagement ring to meet her stare, his grin fading into something softer. “You know, I was a little worried at first. That you wouldn’t know how to put the suit away for good.”

“I don’t think any of us puts them away for good,” she points out gently. “It’s just not how we’re wired. You came back, didn’t you?”

“I did.” His smile hitches at the corner. “The difference is that I walked away to begin with. So did Steve, a little bit. We may not have been talking, but I knew Cap gave his suit a chance to collect dust for five years while you handled operations on your own.” He hesitates, holding her stare, but she gives him a small smile and a nod and he nods back as he goes on. “Of course, I can’t give Steve all the credit. He wasn’t exactly trying to move on, even if that’s what he preached once a week during all those meetings he ran. But that part wasn’t too surprising.” Something somber flashes in Tony’s eyes, but it’s gone with a blink, his smile widening. “There was no way Steve was moving on without you.”

Natasha smiles, a warmth fluttering in her chest as she glances back down at her ring.

I’ve been waiting for you all along, Steve had told her, down on his knee. Because that life you wanted me to get? It starts with you. I think it always has.

“He’s always been a stubborn man,” Natasha quips, and if Tony notices her voice quivering ever so slightly, he doesn’t point it out.

“He has to be if he wants to have any hope of keeping up with you,” Tony retorts, and Natasha breathes out a laugh, shaking her head. There’s a small pause, and then, softly, Tony adds, “You know you two are welcome to stay as long as you want. Stay forever. Morgan will become a nightmare if you ever leave our guest bedroom.”

Natasha laughs again, her chest squeezing as she glances across the room at where Morgan is running around with Lila and Nathaniel. It’s ridiculous, really, the pang of reluctance that hits her whenever she thinks about not seeing that little girl at the table for breakfast every morning. The feeling is made even more ridiculous when you consider that she and Steve are building their home on the same lake as Tony and Pepper, only a few dozen meters away from their cabin. They’ll practically still live together, anyway—and no, that hadn’t even been in the plan. They knew staying in the guest bedroom was only temporary, but, after only a couple of weeks, she and Steve simply couldn’t picture living anywhere else. Briefly, she and Steve had considered renting a place to stay during construction, but Tony and Pepper shot down that idea without a second of hesitation.

“Morgan will adapt,” Natasha points out, one eyebrow arched at Tony as she grins. “And you will, too, even if you’re nearly as stubborn as me when it comes to change.”

“Okay, you got me,” he chuckles, holding his hands up for a moment before tapping his knuckles on the bar, grinning at her. “It’s been tolerable, though, right? Camping out in our guest bedroom?”

Natasha smiles. “It’s been great, Tony,” she tells him. “We may be moving out eventually, but you can’t get rid of us that easily.”

Tony smirks, but rather than a quip in response, he simply nods. “Good.” He taps the bar again, sliding off of the barstool and onto his feet, and now there’s a playful sort of glint in his eyes as he leans in and adds, his voice low, “By the way, you might have everyone else fooled by being back here, but don’t think I didn’t notice that congratulations are in order.” Natasha narrows her eyes at him ever so slightly as he draws away, but she doesn’t quite fight her own smirk as his widens back at her. “I’m surprised Steve kept quiet.”

Natasha rubs her lips together, but Tony just winks and turns to walk away before she can respond, heading over to where Pepper is sitting with Laura and Maria.

Somehow, she’s not surprised.

Natasha feels herself smiling as she shakes her head, her gaze drifting over the crowd, and she hopes she never, ever stops getting that little burst of warmth that rolls down her spine when she catches Steve’s gaze. He’s across the room, almost facing away from her where he, Wanda, and Scott are at the pool tables, but he glances over his shoulder the moment she finds, his lips hitching up into that crooked, boyish smile she loves. He leans off of the pool table, turning to Wanda and Scott to excuse himself, and Natasha feels a flutter in her chest as he crosses the room and stops in front of her. He holds his hand out, and his thumb brushes over the band of her ring when she slips her palm against his.

“What did Tony want to talk about?” Steve asks as he brings her hand up to his lips, brushing a kiss to her knuckles.

“He wanted to congratulate us,” she answers, one eyebrow raised. Steve blinks, surprise flitting across his expression only for a second before it shifts into a grin.

“Of course,” he breathes out with a laugh, rubbing his thumb in a circle over the back of her hand. He doesn’t seem even a little bit bothered by this revelation. Instead, his grin softens into a smile as he gestures with a nod of his head toward one of the doors leading to the balcony. “Let’s get some air?”

She nods, letting him guide her out from behind the bar, and he pulls her against the warmth of his chest when they step outside. It’s definitely still cold out, but with summer only a few weeks away, it’s already starting to feel warmer outside. Natasha doesn’t doubt that they’ll spend most evenings in their new house, out on the patio just like this. It’ll be a matter of days before they’ll officially be done with construction, and by the time they get moved in and settled down, it’ll be warm enough to enjoy the lake behind them.

She feels him press his lips against the top of her head, his hand drifting across her shoulder and down her neckline, her skin almost entirely bared from the thin straps and tastefully low neckline of her dress. She shivers lightly against the touch, tipping her head up to meet his gaze as his hand splays against her stomach. She’s only barely starting to feel the tiny bump of her stomach, and she’s definitely not close enough for anyone other than Steve to see, but the high waist of her dress would’ve hidden it well, anyway.

“How are you feeling?”

She covers his hand with hers. “I’m good, I promise.”

“Yeah?” He starts stepping back, gently tugging her with him as he pulls her further onto the balcony. “You don’t need anything from me?” he asks, one eyebrow arched as they round the corner. Natasha breathes out a laugh as he guides her back against the wall, tucking them out of sight from the door as he steps into her space.

He pushes a hand into her hair, tangling his fingers into the curls as she bites on her lower lip. “No,” she answers.

“No?” His other hand curves around her waist as he breathes out a chuckle, hovering his mouth over hers. She slips her hands under his blazer, splays her hands against his chest through the thin material of his dress shirt as she stretches on her toes, ghosting her lips against his. “Nothing at all?”

“Nope.” She nips at his lower lip. “What about you, soldier?” She leans away, just a little, and blinks up at him from under her eyelashes. “Do you need anything from me?”

His eyes seem even darker, somehow, and the hand at her hip squeezes her gently. “Mozhno ya tebya poceluyu?”

Can I kiss you?

Natasha’s heart skips in her chest, her breath hitching as can practically feel the cadenced syllables brushing across her skin, sending a tingle down her spine.

She blinks, swaying back ever so slightly, but Steve steps closer, practically pressing her between him and the wall. “Steve?” she asks with a whisper.

“This may be one of the only times I’ll ever be able to surprise you,” he says, his eyes glinting, practically twinkling like the city lights glowing somewhere over his shoulder. He ducks his head, presses his face against her cheek, and each word is almost a kiss against her skin as he says, “Ya obozhaju tebya.” She feels him smile. “Ya tebya lyublyu.”

I adore you. I love you.

She exhales a sharp breath, reaching up to cup his face with her hands. “Steve.”

“I just started learning,” he tells her, brushing his knuckles against her cheek, no doubt feeling the warmth of the blush just under her skin. “I don’t know if you want to teach them the language, but if you do, I want to be a little prepared. I want our child to adore every part of you, because it’ll be part of them, too.”

She strokes her thumbs over his jaw, her vision blurring ever so slightly at the edges as she breathes out a shaky laugh. She can feel her heart thrumming against her ribcage, feel her skin tingling where his thumb is smoothing in circles over the pulse in her neck, and she stretches up and brushes her lips against his. “Poceluy menya,” she murmurs—kiss me—practically pleading it against his mouth, and he does, slanting his lips over hers and making a low noise from the back of his throat as his tongue sweeps past her lips. His hand slides down from her neck, fingers splaying over the bared skin of her back as he pulls her off of the wall and presses her against his chest, kissing her even deeper.

He may say that she’s the hard one to surprise, but Steve is always the one that surprises her, the one that always sends a thrill down her spine.

He kisses her right there on the balcony until she’s breathless, until she’s hazy and heady with the want, feeling flushed against the cold air of the night – and she doesn’t care that there’s a party on the other side of this wall, and she definitely doesn’t care someone may notice that they’re gone.

And she knows that Steve doesn’t care about any of that, either, when he pulls away from their kiss with a sharp inhale and murmurs, right into her ear: “Ya tebya hochu.”

I want you.

She feels a little frantic when she nods, her hands coming between them, reaching for his belt, but he gently bats them away, kissing the side of her jaw, the pulse in her neck, the dip between her breasts just above the neckline of her dress as he lowers himself onto his knees in front of her. He pauses for a moment, pressing a softer, sweeter kiss to the flat of her stomach through the silky fabric of her dress, and she pushes on of her hands into his hair, twisting her fingers into it as he glances up at her with a smile. It’s soft at first, but only for a moment, and then he’s smirking, his eyes glinting as he gathers the skirt of her dress in his hands and pushes it up her thighs. She twists her fingers into the fabric, holding it up for him as his head dips underneath, and she feels the heat of his mouth right before it’s against her, his tongue licking at her through her lace panties.

She lets out a shaky breath, her head falling back against the wall.

He pulls one of her legs over his shoulder, presses one hand to brace her against the wall as the other tugs aside the front of her panties, and then his tongue is lapping at her again, his lips finding her clit and sucking gently, and she feels her body quiver as she curls forward.

She can’t quite roll her hips against him like this, can’t tug on his hair with her hands holding her dress up, and she wonders if that’s why he’s done this to her a few dozen times before and yet, this feels a little bit more—more intense and more consuming and just more, oh god, it’s so much more.

She bites down on her lower lip as he rubs the tip of his tongue against her clit, circling, just as he always does when he knows she’s close, and she thinks she nearly draws blood in her effort to stifle her cry as she tips over that dizzying edge. He continues lapping at her, soothing her nerves as her orgasm bursts through her, until she’s mewling and breathing out his name. He kisses the inside of her thigh, keeping her trembling body braced against the wall for balance as he pulls himself back up, and she tightens her hold on her dress with one hand as the other grasps at his tie and pulls him forward for a kiss. “Lyubimiy,” she murmurs against his mouth, earning a low groan in response.

My beloved.

“Rodnaya,” he whispers, making her chest tighten as he presses his body against hers. My dear. “I’ll be gentle, love,” he promises, hooking an arm around her, and she breathes out a laugh as he lifts her up, her legs going around his waist as he hitches her higher against the wall.

She can feel him pressing at her entrance, can feel her bundle of nerves ache with want as she winds her arms around his neck. “Maybe not too gentle,” she says, feeling him chuckle as she slants her mouth against his, and she nearly bites down on his lower lip as he pulls her body against his, slipping into her and filling her as best as she can from this angle, in this position. It’s not the first or even fifteenth time they’ve done something like this, but each time is just as thrilling as the first as he starts moving against her.

She’s not quite sure how it’s possible to know exactly how her body fits against his, to know that they’ll always move in sync, no matter what—and yet, it still sends a shiver of surprise through her when she can feel him against her, inside of her, touching every part of her.

“Ya tebya lyublyu,” she breathes, kissing him and whispering it again, and again, and again, her body trembling and tightening around his as he moves faster, harder.

I love you.

She gasps as he hits that spot inside of her that sends a white-hot burst of heat through her veins, and she whimpers against his mouth as he stifles her cry with another kiss as she falls over the edge again. This time, she can feel him inside of her, throbbing against her as he chases his own high, and it drags out her pleasure as it bursts through her. He groans lowly, kissing her harder, deeper, his hips stuttering, and then he’s following her over that edge, her lungs starting to burn from how deep and hard he’s kissing her.

It’s a long moment until Steve hums softly, breaking their kiss and letting her catch her breath as he presses his lips against the corner of her mouth.

“Nat.” He kisses her cheek, the bridge of her nose, and then he pulls back, smiling down at her as her eyelashes flutter open. He reaches up with one hand, tucking a few errant strands of her hair behind her ear before dipping it down between them, pressing his palm to her stomach. “You still okay?” he asks softly.

“We’re perfect,” she tells him, curving her hand over his, brushing her thumb against his ring like he loves to do to hers, and Steve is smiling as he brushes his lips against hers in another kiss.

[danwhobrowses]

One Piece Chapter 992: Initial Thoughts

Late, but also early. 992 arrived delayed a day earlier than I expected for a color spread and the SJ cover. So let’s run down the chapter

Spoilers for Chapter 992, Support the Official Release

Gonna start with the SJ cover since it revealed Yamato’s color scheme. It’s actually not far from a lot of fanart I saw a while back, I think everyone was anticipating the white gradient hair. The red horns was a surprise and I kinda thought that their kimono would be Orange like Oden’s color scheme but it wasn’t unwelcome.

Then there’s also the colour spread: then crew on a train. Few small nods here and there, a blue Kaido-like dragon is on the bowl Zoro is eating from (another bowl near Chopper may have Shusui’s scabbard print), Jimbei is worryingly far away from the rest of the crew with a creepy black cat/bear thing, Usopp’s hat seems to look like it’s saying ‘KUMA’, that could hint at something and the portrait looks like a Wano building, also Luffy’s bento looks like it might be a horse print, Speed return confirmed?

Our first proper page is with Big Mom, chatting with Perospero and Marco. Sounds like BM still plans on usurping Kaido, since she’s asking for her crew’s trust in her allying with Kaido and still wanting to be Pirate King

Marco seems to have misread the situation by context too, looking like a badass mind you, he should be much more specific on who Perospero deems as a ‘demon’

I will remind everyone that the Big Ass Sword continues to be in frame like it’s just begging to be referenced at some point

There seems to be some respect between BM and Marco, even though he’s technically her enemy in this raid. Seems that the WB Remnants are simply carrying out their own will. BM got the scary face though

Carrot returns to the manga too running off on her own mission, she has her eyes set on avenging Pedro, which likely means she’s going for Perospero with Wanda. My guess is that it’ll evolve from that at some point, partly because I don’t think Carrot can beat Peros and BM and I hope she has a bigger role in the raid, fighting with a Straw Hat too because I am still Team Carrot4Nakama

We get our ONLY panel of Luffy this chapter too, he’s had a clear-ish path but seems to be setting off for the tower climb on his own. Meaning with Drake and Zoro’s Excellent Adventure, Nami and Usopp’s Jurassic Escape and Numbers with Franky we still need to see what Sanji, Chopper, Jimbei, Brook and Robin will be up to. As well as what Team Law and Team Kid are doing. And where the hell Caribou is in all this...

Looks like the ladies Sanji was searching for were in the theatre with Black Maria, who’s just chilling while her ranks are being pummeled XD I can dig that energy at least, but it does look she’s due to cross with Yamato, Momo and Shinobu

Maria’s next song about ‘enchantment’ segues back into the Kaido/Scabbards fight, with Kaido using some kind of Thunder Roar, I dunno the logic of that but I’d guess dragon stuffs

But there are some solid hits coming in, I don’t know what Kawamatsu’s one is because it seemed like it was meant to decapitate but didn’t, Inu’s leg stab was pretty hardcore though and also Kiku/Izo teamwork is welcome

The worry though is that despite this damage, Kaido is still getting up. He’s acknowledging damage but it also doesn’t seem to be enough

Raizo though, sealing the Blast Breath into a scroll to clap back at Kaido? That’s some good shit. I guess this dragon isn’t fireproof

Look at flashback Oden though, he was so excited to teach his style to his retainers

The synchronized Water Stance though as they announced Oden Nitoryu, that is the panel of the chapter for sure. It also seems that the style has something special with the Ryou that is used in it, perhaps they incorporated that into their own styles and that’s what’s hurting Kaido? 

And Inu, Ashura, Denjiro and Kin’emon all do the same attack that Scarred Kaido before, in the same spot! Poetic Finish

So yeah definitely an exciting chapter, albeit a short one, very little Luffy action but the Kaido fight is showing off the Scabbards’ skills, we look to be getting some more fight setups with Yamato vs Maria and Carrot (and maybe Marco and Wanda) vs Perospero (and maybe BM) and it is worth reminding that this was not the intended chapter for the SJ cover and/or Color Spread. The gif I used does still express my thoughts, this is exciting stuff but in the long term it’s nervy. Inu and Neko have a time limit to Su Long remember, one hit threw Kawamatsu through a mountain. Kaido’s hurt but doesn’t look close to being beaten so the clock is ticking. I feel like a Scabbard death is coming and I don’t like that feeling! I continue my worry for Carrot too, I hope Oda has something up his sleeve because why pair up Peros and Marco at this point if it doesn’t influence Luffy and co in some positive manner? Maybe BM will actually hear out Carrot’s ventures and learn some things her family neglected to tell because of her hunger pangs? I dunno I worry for the Kingsbird and just really want her in the crew as the Crow’s Nest XD I’m sure we’ll get back to Luffy and co next chapter but the wait still kills, can’t Oda just sneak in a double chapter? we’ve got 8 chapters to go till 1000 so that’s still 7 chapters of building to the Big One. Hopefully there’s no break after this but we’ll see

[ushitoshiii]

bro have you ever encountered like, on tiktok or wherever, andaming nagamit ng fanart without credit, o di kaya iniimply na “canon” yung fanart 😐😐😐 like bruh it’s easy to credit lang/ask permission from the artist.. Minsan yung iba ko pang nakikita, the artist doesnt allow reposts ganun tas ayaw nila i-take down 😶😶😶😶 like bruh wtf yall literally getting clout for someone else’s hardwork 🥴🥴🥴 is it so hard to respect someone 🥲🥲

sorry i ranted quite a bit, i just saw that “haitani room” FANART on tiktok again and they were passing it as canon info. even credited the wrong artist lmfao i vaguely remember seeing the original artist sa timeline ko dati saying they dont allow reposts bc her captions are in japanese + she draws in b&w (so like may chance na ma-misunderstood ng intl viewers) so they don’t allow reposting. kaso putek talaga hayysss.

sorry bebe i hope you had a nice day 😭😭 how are you?

DUDE I encounter a loooot of that on pinterest! Especially the ones with the watermark that said to not repost. I remember this one fanart I saw of Sanzu on pinterest like it was soo good! I literally fell in love with the way they drew Sanzu, but guess what no credits ://. And the worst part is a lot of people were asking where are the credits and the one that posted it said they don’t know cause they just found it on google bruh the audacityyyy 😭😭😭

Guys, it is completely fine if you wanna share fanarts or what not, but make sure you have the permission of the artist! But if it’s clearly stated not to do so, then don’t 🤷🏻‍♀️. Easy as that 🧚🏻‍♀️.

Btw Iss all right bby! 😌 I did had a nice dayy! Though it was kind of boring, nonetheless I still enjoyed it hehehehe. It’s raining rn and I’m just chilling with my dog and playing mortal kombat 😄. Hby? How are you? ☺️❤️

[artistic-writer]

Between Now and Nether :: Ch 13 :: A CS AU

Title: Between Now and Nether by @artistic-writer [full res fanart]

Summary: On their way to a Nolan Charity Gala, tragedy befalls Emma and Killian who is given just seven days to set things right.  Can he make Emma believe and escape the Nether before he is lost forever?

Rating: T+

AO3 Chapters: [1] - [2] - [3] - [4] - [5] - [6] - [7] - [8] - [9] - [10] - [11] - [12] -[13] Fanart Full Resolution: [1] - [2] - [3] - [4] - [5] - [6] - [7] - [8] - [9] - [10] - [11] - [12] - [13]

A/N: I am really sorry this post is late guys, but I have only just finished the fanart.  This week has been very busy for me and I could have left this until my next day off, but that is Wednesday and i didn’t want to let you guys down!  You are all so lovely for liking this story, and i promise you will not be disappointed in the ending.  And just a little clarification:  The ring will come up again.  Emma will be put into an interrogation room with Gold.  Leroy will get his just desserts for murdering our lovely Liam.  There will be a very CS-centric heart to heart love filled fluffy-angst chapter - you just have to stick with me a few more.  Also, as predicted, this story has AGAIN been extended, so even more, yay!

I hope you appreciate that this chapter took me over 8 days to complete because it took me 7 days to fabricate a code lol  Legit dedicated. ;)

Future updates will be Sundays AND Thursdays! (providing I can get the art made in time)

Forever thanks to @kmomof4 for beta’ing the shit out of this thing!  You are seriously the best!  And a massive thank you to @hollyethecurious who i very often whine to and for making me go do that thing last night...it made me feel so much better :)

Taglist: @mariakov81 @rouhn @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke@hookedonapirate @galadriel26 @aye-captn @the-captains-ayebrows @yayimallamaagain @i-nvr-wrote-it @officerrogerss @kiwistreetswan @wellhellotragic @depechemode75 @distant-rose @yrellow-bugs-and-pirate-ships @courtorderedcake  @wellhellotragic

If you would like to be added please let me know for ch 14!

———————————————————————————————————

Emma had to hand it to Liam, even if she had only known him for a short while, he was exceedingly clever.  The code was one that he knew only his brother could break, never risking it falling into the hands of anybody else.  A pang of sadness had hit Emma as she took notes of the dots and dashes, realising just how engrossed in catching his parents’ killer Liam actually had been.  He had been in so deep, living a life behind what the world saw and it explained why he had never had a serious relationship or was social with anyone except his brother.

Graham had long since left the house, a mixture of tiredness and unsettledness overcoming him when Emma sat across from him, mainly talking with herself, but hastily scribbling notes.  The pages had been scrambled but they had managed to work out that they needed to be in reverse order for the code to work.  Killian had told them that much through Emma, and it gave them a good starting point to work out the rest.

Killian had, through constant contact with Emma’s belly, managed to tell them about the time they were kids when he and Liam were sent to live with distant relatives in England.  Newly orphaned, the boys were living with the family that they had never met before and it was clear from the way they were treated, that the family didn’t want them.  They took them in under obligation and the promise of an inheritance from Brennan’s estate, only the money never came and the brothers suffered for it.

In order to keep themselves sane, and to stop their communication from falling into the wrong hands and possibly earning them more abuse, Liam had devised a code.  It was a secret code, their form of communication, and to the casual observer, it would seem to be Morse Code.  Liam had always loved reading about the Navy and wanted to one day join, but at the time he was young, with a bleak outlook, so his imagination was all he had.  He devised an entire language for them, reversing the standard Morse Code and scrambling the messages into anagrams, just to make sure nobody but Killian would understand them.

Once Liam had taught Killian, it seemed they had suddenly become bilingual, talking in their own hidden language that Killian could still read as clear as day.  Emma had assured Graham she wouldn’t rest until they had worked out what the code meant so when he had departed for the evening, she retired to the bedroom with her notes.

It had also become very apparent as the evening had progressed, that Emma now believed so firmly in Killian being with her that he no longer needed to be touching her for her to hear him.  Just being close to her was enough and when Emma had shuffled her legs under the comforter, sitting crossed legged with her notepad resting on her knee, all Killian had to do was mirror her position on the bed in front of her for her to hear him.

“So it’s like Morse Code?” Emma asked excitedly, narrowing her eyes at the dots and dashes on her page.

“Yes!” Killian exclaimed, shuffling his body forward and watching Emma go wide eyed at the movement of the duvet.  “Except it’s reversed,” Killian nodded to the page.  

“So reversed like the words or the dits and dahs?” Emma smirked, poking her tongue out playfully.

Killian matched her smirked and made a noise deep in his throat.  “Dits and dahs?” He quirked his eyebrow and was a little disappointed when Emma didn’t respond.

“Oh, you know,” Emma shrugged.  “I may have been doing a little research.”

“Into Naval Morse Code?” Killian frowned suspiciously.  

“Your interests are my interests,” She beamed at nobody, watching the ripple in the covers shift again.

“Well, maybe we should get that boat,” Killian teased.  “So you can put your research into practice.”  They had been toying with the idea for a while, but Emma had always assumed he was joking, especially when he had declared the vessel would be known as The Jolly Roger and she was to refer to him whilst onboard as Captain.  She knew Killian had inherited his love of the ocean and ships from his brother, and while neither of them made it into the Navy, they had always dreamed of becoming sailors.

Emma rolled her eyes.  “At ease, Captain,” she looked back down to the page in front of her, trying to force the grin from her face but failing when the corners of her mouth twitched into a telling smile.

“As you wish,” Killian purred.

“So, it’s reversed,” Emma tapped her pen to the notepad and looked up again.  “Anything else?”

Killian nodded but quickly remembered she couldn’t see him.  “Aye, it’s also anagrammed.”

“Are you kidding me?” Emma huffed, falling back against the pillows with an oomph.  She exhaled hard and rubbed the side of her temples.  “And Liam made this up?”

“Aye,” Killian chuckled, watching her frustration.  Emma hadn’t known Liam for as long as he had, so her brief time with the second Jones brother obviously gave her no indication of his abilities to create and master any code.  “He was a genius.”

“Clearly,” Emma puffed, a strand of hair that had fallen over her brow flying upwards with her sigh.

“He wanted to captain a ship in the Navy,” Killian told her proudly.  “He spent so long trying to master everything he would need from a young age.”

“And he got into codes,” Emma finished Killian’s story with a roll of her eyes.  He always was one with a flair for the dramatic, including telling a story he really had no time to tell.  “So we work out the anagrams, then the words?”

“Aye,” Killian nodded again with his words, his voice a little unsure.  If Liam really did not want anyone to find this code but him, this wasn’t going to be easy.

It was well into the early hours of the morning before they had really put a dent in Liam’s code.  Working out the letters was easy.  Killian remembered it like it was yesterday and they were boys back in England, reversing the dots and dashes so that the words made sense.  Of sorts.  Killian distinctly remembered that when they were boys, with him being younger, Liam had taken pity on him and made the codes much easier to crack.

Liam must have been more lenient because as they sat in the dimly lit warmth of their bedroom, the small piles of paper in between them seemed to be much more daunting than they had first anticipated.  Each pile was a single phrase, that much they had worked out, but solving the anagrams with little in the way of clues was proving more difficult.

“So, let’s try this again…” Killian began, watching Emma stifle yet another yawn and blink away the watery haze in her reddened eyes.  “What did the first one say again?”

Emma blinked hard and pinched the bridge of her nose, wiping away at her eyes before reaching for her glasses.  She pushed the black rimmed frames up her nose and they immediately started to slide back down from the weight of the lenses, her nose wrinkling to catch them.  Killian smiled, watching her with a warmth in his chest he had missed feeling.

“hpme cbs ebe sfdsvju ljmmjbo - Shift by the brother,” Emma sighed, the words sounded just as ridiculous in a sentence now as when they had started.

“And the second?” Killian prompted.

“Umm…” Emma scanned her page again, tapping her pen down the curling edge.  “fcf iqnf ngcxg dqau - Shift by the sons.”

“I think they are instructions,” Killian said with a frown that Emma couldn’t see.  He tapped his finger to his lips and hummed to himself.

“To what?” Emma’s own brow knitted in confusion and she pushed the glasses up her nose again.

“To solving the messages,” Killian laughed a little when Emma huffed and headbutted the notepad in her hand.  “I think it's something called the shifted alphabet.”

“Are you kidding? You’re telling me Liam created a message, turned it into an anagram, then reverse morse code and then, after all that, he encoded it with a cipher?”  Emma nearly ran out of breath, gasping after her final word as her lungs emptied.

“Aye,” Killian giggled.  “But the anagram is probably redundant,” he beamed, much more confident than a few moments ago.  “Liam used to encode the messages to me in shifted alphabet in case I was unable to solve the anagram.”

Emma looked down to the slightly smudged writing once more and drew a thick, black line under the nonsensical letters in front of her.  “So, this mess of random letters is the original code but in a shifted alphabet pattern?”

“Aye, love, that’s it.”

“So why bother with the anagram!” Emma screeched.

Killian chuckled and rocked back, uncrossing his legs and shuffling forward towards her.  “A diversion,” he grinned, eyes flicking over the page on her lap.  It was just like Liam to create a decoy message, something that would send would be code crackers off in the wrong direction.  It was how they fooled their caregivers back in England and Liam had clearly hoped Killian would recognise his ruse.  “We just have to work out the number of times each message was shifted using the clues he provided.”

“The non anagrammed messages….” Emma clarified.

“Aye, what was that first one again?” Killian asked eagerly, his eagerness to solve this puzzle and get home to his family more prevalent than ever now that he felt they were actually getting somewhere.

“hpme cbs ebe sfdsvju ljmmjbo - Shift by the brother,” Emma yawned again, her eyes screwing closed behind her fingerprint covered glasses.

“Well, I’m the brother,” Killian scratched his scuff littered jaw.

“But it has to be a number, right?” Emma reminded him, half a statement, half a question.  She knew far less about this sort of thing than Killian, but damn if she wasn’t going to learn after this.

“Of course,” Killian agreed, shaking his head.  “It’s one.  I am his brother, of which he only has one.  It’s shifted by one.”  Killian grinned excitedly.  “If you take the jumbled letters and turn them into the previous one, it decodes them, so what does it say now?”

Emma’s pen went to work on the page, the almost silent, smooth sound of the pen filling her ears as it marked the page.  Killian watched her intently, smiling at the way her tongue poked out when she was thinking and the way she tucked her hair behind her ears so it didn’t obscure her view.  She was a vision, even in her sorrow, and he almost forgot himself as he reached for her face, quickly retracting his see through hand when he noticed and remembered his current state.

“Oh,” Emma said sadly, sitting back a little and lifting her head once more.

“Oh?” Killian repeated her words.  “Swan, what does it say?”

“Gold bar dad recruit Killian.”  Emma looked as though a light bulb had gone off in her head, the sudden realisation of the random words hitting her.  “Your dad owned a bar, right?”  Emma shuffled through some more of the papers in beside her, finding what she wanted and holding the deeds aloft so Killian could see.  “Did Gold go there?”

“Not that I remember,” Killian shrugged.  “You said the second one said ‘shift by the sons’, right?”

“Yeah,” Emma scrambled over her notes again.  “fcf iqnf ngcxg dqau - shift by the sons.”

“Well, my father had two sons,” Killian oozed confidence in his words.  “Shift that one by two.”

Again Emma set to work, quicker this time having got the hang of it already.  “Ok, that one says ‘dad gold leave boys’.  What does that mean?  Killian this doesn’t make sense!” Emma growled, throwing her notes aside and crossing her arms.  “We are getting nowhere!”

No, no,” Killian soothed.  “We are!  Liam always told me that Gold tried to get him to do things for him.  Illegal things.  Maybe he tried with both of us and my father found out.”

“That’s a reach,” Emma sighed.

“Please, Emma, just keep an open mind here.  I’m trying.”

A silence fell between them as Emma picked up the notepad once more.  She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and tilting her head back, stretching her neck muscles as she did so.  Killian watched, helpless to comfort her.  He knew she was hurting, her frustration evident through every fiber of her body. Each cell in every muscle screaming out for the touch he couldn’t provide.

“Emma?” He called softly, watching her look up but then the sadness invaded her features for the umpteenth time that night.  It seemed hearing his voice but not being able to see Killian was really starting to affect Emma, and each time she smiled weakly in his direction, Killian felt his heart crack a little more.

“Hmm?” She hummed, resting the tip of her pen to the paper as her eyes flicked around the space in front of her.

“Just making sure you can still hear me,” he smiled, but she did not see him.

Emma’s eyes fluttered closed as if she was imagining Killian there with her.  “I can hear you,” she smiled, head rolling sideways so her head rested on her shoulder.  “We can hear you.”

Killian watched as Emma flattened her palm over her stomach, scrunching the material of the comforter in her hands and grinning from ear to ear.  The burst of anger he had witnessed moments ago was gone and Emma was calmed by the thoughts of the little one growing inside of her.

“You look happy, love,” Killian said softly.  “Radiant even.”

“Yeah right,” Emma scoffed playfully, rolling her eyes.  “I’ve been crying for days, my skin is blotchy and puffy and I’m sitting in my bed trying to decipher the notes of your dead brother with my spirit boyfriend.”  

Killian’s lips twitched into a knowing smile and he laughed a little, the sound sending a welcome shiver through Emma’s entire body.  “Well, you should see me, I am actually glowing,”  Killian laughed and looked down at her hands in front of him, the faintest white grey outline to his fingers blurring the area around them.  “It’s surreal.”

Emma’s laughter faded with his and she stared directly at where he would be sitting.  “This whole week has been just that,” she said, a more serious tone to her voice.  “I’m not sure I can handle much more.”  

A silence fell between them as they both inadvertently diverted their gaze from each other.  Killian lifted his hand and rubbed the skin behind his ear, extending his fingers around the back of his neck and roughly brushing the hair there.  At the same time, Emma sucked in a huge breath, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth and scribbling a doodle on the page in front of her.

“I’m sorry….” Killian whispered, bowing his head.

“I miss you…” Emma murmured at the same time, lifting her head and sucking in a huge breath.  “Killian!” She gasped.

“Yes, love?” Killian’s head snapped up to meet her gaze but the pale faced look of confusion on Emma’s face stopped him dead.  “Emma, what is it?”  he asked concerned, clenching his fists because he couldn’t comfort her.

“Killian…” Emma gasped, her breathing becoming rapid and irregular as she swallowed a hard lump that had formed in her throat.  “...I can see you.”

[kurtwagners]

Please read the entire article where Nyla discusses her involvement in the comic...

I have a lot of harsh criticisms of Jim Zub but this is the only one that isn’t it. He was friends with Nyla and reached out to give her a platform for indigenous led stories. https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.cbc.ca/amp/1.4634479

Also her clothes are based on inuit traditional wear with a more campy, superhero twist. If you don’t like superhero costumes that’s fine but this is a delicate subject to harshly criticize, especially tattoos. She has Inuit fans who talk about her and one Inuit artist who draws fanart and cosplayed her (they have the same tattoos! Give them a follow on Twitter). If a large percentage of Inuit people had a problem with the characters depiction I would listen to them first and hope Jim zub and Nyla does as well and fixes their errors, but since it’s majority positive reception I’m not sure why you are speaking for them as an authoritative voice on what’s right and wrong for them. The one criticism is that people want to see more of her and indigenous characters like her :/ like literally:

““It’s the world outside your window.”

That’s exactly what students in Pang saw when they read the comic. Innuksuk has received letters from students asking if Amka knows how to drive a snowmobile and that they were excited to find the hidden building outside of town.

In Snow Guard’s introduction, the Champions team also grapples with deeper issues like land sovereignty, informed consent and climate change. Later, Amka struggles with the decision to leave her home and travel the world with the Champions. That internal dilemma is universal for young people and especially potent for Indigenous readers, says Innuksuk, who may feel “like they’re living between two worlds.”

http://muskratmagazine.com/indigenous-futurisms-amka-aliyak-marvel-comics-inspire-youth/

https://twitter.com/notdayle/status/1271323341610074113?s=21

https://twitter.com/notdayle/status/1295573114882084865?s=21

https://keepreadingbooks.weebly.com/indigenous-student-advocacy/marvel-comics-new-inuk-teen-superhero

No more white women with ice powers. I want an inuit superhero with ice powers, and her suit is inspired by traditional inuit parkas

And her hair and eye color remains their natural dark shade. No blue eyes and white hair, we’ve had enough of that

[alaaalaaal]

Yun oh, dumating din. Pang ilang doll ko na to, shet sana hindi ko na ibenta. Sana eto na ang doll peace ko hahahah. Medyo tumirik pa yung mata ko nung may narinig akong motor na tumigil sa tapat ng bahay eh. Kasi pinatay yung makina, akala ko tuloy motor lang ng kapitbahay since lagi siya sa tapat namin nag pa-park. Eh biglang may nag "tai po?" eheheheh. Btw, bait din ni seller. Yung binayad ko kasi na sf isa pang fastrack lang, pero shinip niya pa din via jrs (mas mahal ng 45 pesos). Tapos kilig din ako sa fanart stickers tsaka dun sa memopads hekhek.

[thebibliosphere]

As a newer follower, what is A Highlander's Tail?

Oh boy. I’m guessing that means you also don’t know PDOC about Fifty Shades of Plaid and The Devil’s Sporran either then.

Hello, welcome to the crack that is going to be my literary career, this post will be your guide.

Hunger Pangs you likely know about but here’s the origin post where @jeneelestrange straight up altered the career path of my life.

I’ll keep Public Displays of Confection short, but basically I came up with the pun and liked it so much I decided to turn it into a w/w romance about two bakers who fall in love while competing in a wedding cake contest. It’s so sweet it might actually give you diabetes. (Small humorous extract)

A Highlander’s Tail started because @thestarfishdancer is a horrible enabler and I couldn’t help from shitposting in response. Somehow I ended up being convinced I should write a thing called A Highlander’s Tail. The vague plot outline I have so far features a Scottish werewolf who becomes a retainer for a young English woman who is brought to Scotland after marrying her much older (also English) husband. (A common trope in awful American written Scottish romances.) As with most old Scottish houses however, there’s rumors abound of ghosties and goblins and things that go bump in the night. Which is absurd of course. They howl. 

Cailean Glenn—our resident werewolf, does his best to make her feel welcome in his own gruff way, but when her marriage starts to flounder and she starts straying farther and farther from home as a means of distraction, he realizes the secret of the (fictional) town of Braedhuin may be at risk of exposure. 

There’s all sorts of shenanigans and romantic guff, as well as fun little absurdities like were-sheep who herd themselves and win national prizes. As per @deliriumsetin‘s wishes Cailean’s best friend is a plucky Irishman, Ruaidhrí, who seems to own an Irish setter who is often conspicuous by his absence. The setter is a downright friendly fellow though.

The Devil’s Sporran is a lighthearted contemporary romance spurred on after an article denouncing romance literature as basically sin, used the hilarious phrase “Shirtless Satan” to describe men in kilts. Some people wanted it to be the actual Devil, but for now he’s just an ordinary good looking man with a smile that can make you think very bad things.

The main focus is on Kate, an American who is the maid of honor to her college bff’s wedding to be held in Scotland where both her and her beau are from. As the maid of honor she gets introduced to all kinds of quaint traditions she’s never before encountered which you don’t really have to deal with in America. Like trying to find a real silver sixpence, taking the bride out around the town on her Taking Out, the whole kerfuffle with trying to find matching dresses for three vastly different shaped women, and realizing at the last minute she’s expected to pick out a tea set for the bride despite being a coffee drinker her whole life, and what the fuck is the difference between Wedgwood and Denby. And then there’s the groom’s best man Donnie…she feels someone should have warned her about him:

“What are you doing in here?” Kate demanded, scrabbling to cover herself with the ugly tartan shawl despite being fully dressed.

“I was next door,” Donnie informed her, eyes darting over the length of her, “looking at scabbards. Are you all right? You sounded upset.”

“I’m fine!” She protested, but even to her own ears it sounded shrill. Her shoulders slumped, defeated. “I can’t get out of this stupid dress. There’s too many buttons and the assistant has apparently run away and I can’t breathe.”

Donnie chuckled easily and the sound went curling straight down to Kate’s bare toes, hidden under the length of her skirt. It was offensive how charming this particular Scotsman could be, especially given how effortless he made it seem. She was almost certain she’d have hated anyone else for it.

“She’s helping a bride,” he informed her, “I heard crying so you’re on you’re own for a while. Let me?”

The question was so unexpected and softly spoken it threw her off guard, and Kate found herself compelled to turn as he stepped further into the changing room, pulling the curtain closed behind him. She’d half expected to be manhandled by rough hands, surprised when he began freeing her from the confines of the bodice with the utmost of gentleness.

“There now,” Donnie intoned soothingly as the dress began to slip away from her shoulders. “All better.”

“Thank you,” Kate murmured, drawing in shuddering breath, the ghost of his fingertips still hot against her spine.

“You look lovely, by the way, very,” he smiled tightly, catching her eye in the mirror, “honorable.“

Kate snorted, and moved to hold the bodice in place against her chest, aware that a good portion of her naked back was now exposed to him. “I’m supposed to look like the bride. Some tradition about keeping the Devil away.”

“Hmm,“ Donnie hummed, the silk of her skirt trailing through his fingers as he leant in, smile broadening into a roguish grin over her shoulder. “Tell me, Kate, do you think it’s working?”

It’s even got fanart already, cutesy of @songofsunset:

Fifty Shades of Plaid started out again as a humorous shitpost when I was being salty over how Scottish history is often romanticized to make us look like tragic heroes, rather than the victims of class oppression, and cultural warfare. 

It’s since turned into a serious novel which follows the standard Scottish romance style but is actually a visceral denouncement of the whole trope of Scottish romances written by outsiders with little to no regard for our heritage beyond “men in kilts look good” (a lighthearted sample).

It’s the story about a wealthy weaver and his daughter acquiring land in Scotland, after buying out a weaving town, intending to produce the cloth for much lower wages, and selling it at a far more expensive price on the Royal Mile in Edinburgh after it became fashionable to wear again in 1822 after King George IV felt like playing dress up, despite the kilt having been banned for actual Scottish people to wear for almost four decades for being considered an act of treason. Hence the title, fifty shades of plaid.

The main characters at present are called Elizabeth and Alasdair, and it will likely be years before I am done writing this. But it’ll get there, one day.

I also have various other writing projects going on, but these were the ones inspired by tumblr. I am hoping to churn one out each year, though in what order I don’t quite know.

And that my doves, is why I have no fucking time on my hands lmao.

[bewarethebasement]

Sa Lagay ng Sining sa Elbi

Ma. Lineil Ann F. Manzares Marahil nararapat lamang makahirit pa ng isang huling mapanuksong kurot sa komunidad na kinalakihan ko bago ako tuluyang umalis sa Unibersidad at magpaalam sa mga banga nito. Salungat sa maaliwalas at mapahingalay na klima sa Los Baños ang isang nagpupunyagi at lumalaban na komunidad ng sining. Sa isang institusyong nagkukulang sa inisyatibong makapagpalalim ng diskurso at pagpapahalaga sa Elbi Art™, kung mayroon man, at mga artista nito, umusbong ang isang komunidad at art practice na resistant, inclusive, at natatangi. Gayon pa man, sa kabila ng maituturing na pagtatagumpay ng lokal na sining ay marami pa ring mga punto na matututukan sa pagpapahusay ng lokal na art scene sa mga bisig ni Makiling.

Mas matagal pa sa bago-pa-pero-nabubulok-na na enlistment system ang mga paratang ng kakapusan ng unibersidad na bigyang prayoridad ang sining at kultura sa campus. Mula sa kawalan ng budget sa mga dulang orihinal na sinusulat ng mga estudyante at mga UP Artists hanggang sa hindi pagbibigay espasyo ng pag-unlad at pagtanghal sa mga produktong sining ng mga Elbi creatives, lantaran ang mapaniil na kondisyong nararanasan ng art community sa Los Baños. Nagbunga mula sa kalagayang ito ang pagkakaroon ng mga inisyatibo, isang resistance sa nabanggit na kalagayan, na magkaroon ng regular na pagpupulungan ng mga artista sa Elbi. Nakakapukaw-sigla ang kawalan ng restriksyon pagdating sa content, medium, at porma ng mga nalilikhang #ahrt sa lokalidad—mula sa printed folios at zines hanggang sa mga non-traditional non-narrative na mga piyesa tulad ng CD, lalagyan ng yosi, at iba pang mga abubut. Malaki ang suporta ng komunidad sa bawat indibidwal at grupo kung kaya ay nagdulot ito ng art practice na naghihikayat ng collaboration, nagluluwal ng fresh content, at nagpapatibay ng isang communal na diwa sa lokal na art scene. Sariling sikap ang paggawa ng mga avenues tulad ng Zine Orgy, WiSiK, at Elbikon na nagsusumigaw na buhay at nagpupunyagi ang sining sa Elbi. Sa mga ganitong kaganapan, mas nabibigyang pagpapahalaga ang experience at relasyon sa pagitan ng artist at audience. Ang resistance na ito sa porma ng mga expos, bukod sa iba pa, ay bumubuhay sa esensiya ng sining sa isang komunidad na lubhang science-oriented. 

Ang pangunahing layunin ng mga events na ito ay ang maitanghal, maibenta, mapag-usapan, at maibahagi ng mga exhibitors ang kanilang produkto sa madla. Isa itong sampal sa elitista at profit-oriented na publishing industry sa bansa dahil nabibigyan ng pagkakataon ang mga independent artists, na madalas ay hindi nabibigyan ng basbas ng mainstream press, na mai-showcase din ang kanilang orihinal na mga gawa na walang alintana sa content at profitability nito. ‘Literary Patricide,’ kung tawagin nga ni Adam David. Hindi tulad ng kapitalistang mainstream presses, kapansin-pansin na ang mga expos na ito sa Elbi ay mayroong free-market system kung saan mas binibigyang diin ang palitan ng produkto at serbisyo kaysa sa pag-angkin ng kapital at factors of production. Sa isang ideal na sitwasyon, nagkakaroon ng pantay na oportunidad ang bawat exhibitor sa pagbenta ng kani-kanilang mga produkto. Hindi ganoon kadali ang pagtaas ng presyo ng isang gawa, halimbawa, dahil kailangan nitong tapatan ang presyo ng iba pang mga artists. Kung saka-sakali mang mayroong pagtaas ng halaga, napangangatwiran naman ito ng pagiging estudyante, kung kaya may kakulangan ng budget, at pagiging self-sustaining ng mga student organizations dito sa UPLB. Dito siguro nasi-situate ang Elbi sa art practice kumpara sa iba pang mga expos sa labas ng Los Baños kung saan karamihan ng mga exhibitors doon ay mga medyo established writers at artists na rin.

Sa kabilang banda, maaari ring tignan bilang kwestyonable ang esensiya ng mga expos na ito sa pagiging resistance kung may ibang mga exhibitors na sumusunod pa rin sa trends at demands ng market sa larangan ng content na kanilang ipo-produce. Halimbawa, ang pagsunod sa panlasa ng audience sa pamamagitan ng paggawa ng mga merch sa sikat na anime o TV series na uso sa panahong iyon. Medyo masalimuot na ang usaping ito dahil dumadako na ito sa intensyon ng mga artist sa paglilikha ng sining. Gayon pa man, kung lilimitahan naman ang nilalaman at kalidad ng mga ipapalabas na artworks sa pagiging ‘fresh’ at ‘original’, hindi kasama ang fanart, matatalo naman nang tuluyan ang layunin ng expo na maging inclusive sa lahat ng klaseng art. At the very least, napapalakas ng mga event na ito ang creative freedom ng bawat artist na kasama. Higit pa riyan, maaari ring tignan na problematiko ang pagtawag na resistance sa art practice sa Elbi, partikular na sa mga expos na ito, kung hindi lahat ay batid na resistance ito mismo o kung ano man ang rine-resist. Sa kabilang banda, katanggap-tanggap pa rin naman ito dahil ang punto rin naman ng mga event na ito ay maging mas may kamalayan man lang ang audience sa kasalukuyang kondisyon ng art community sa Elbi. Nakakamit ito sa pamamagitan ng mga maiikling talumpati sa pagitan ng mga performances ng event o iba pang mga inisyatibong nagbibigay dagitab ng diskurso sa komunidad tulad na lamang ng Deep Thought ng Magpies. Para sa panghuli, ang tanging depinitibong mapangahahawakan ko sa mga nailatag na punto ay ang pagtanggi sa mismong klase ng institusyong linalabanan ng esensiya ng art practice sa komunidad. Sa madaling salita, ang pag-iwas sa pagiging purista at elitista.

Mahirap magkaroon ng kritisismo sa kasalukuyang kondisyon ng art community sa Elbi dahil nasa yugto pa lamang ito ng culture building. Kumbaga, naglalagay pa lamang ng mga pundasyon ang mga kasalukuyang zinesters at artists na magtatakda ng art practice at kultura sa Elbi. Mahirap magkaroon ng malawakang kritisismo sa kulturang hindi pa ganoong kapopular, kung kasama man ito sa tunguhin nito.

Sa kasalukuyang lagay ng art practice sa Elbi, tingin ko, sapat na ito para makapagbigay ng kalidad at matibay na pundasyon sa paglikha ng isang komunidad sa sining na nagpupunyagi at receptive sa mga kritisismo. Kung ibabase sa mga lalong dumaraming tagasubaybay at tagasuporta ng mga art events sa lokalidad, makikitang natutugunan naman nito ang layuning maitanghal, pero ang mas importante, mapag-usapan ang sining at estado nito sa Elbi. Marami pa ang maaaring mapabuti sa mismong institusyon at kahit na sa resistance, ngunit masasabi kong malayo na rin ang narating ng mga inisyatibo sa pagpapalawig nito. Buhay na buhay ang sining sa Elbi, hindi lang sa mga bumubuluhaw na kabastusan at kaingayan ng mga publicity ng mga art events dito ngunit pati na rin sa bawat pagsisikap ng mga miyembro ng art community na mapahusay pa ang kanilang kasanayan, sa bawat pisong inilaan sa pagpapa-print ng mga piyesang pang-workshop, o sa bawat pulikat ng kamay sa pagguhit. Sulit naman ito sa pag-asa ng artistang ang bawat likhang sining ay makapagbibigay ito ng ginhawa sa pagkabalisa at nagbabalisa sa maginhawa.

___

Si Ma. Lineil Ann F. Manzares ay isang alumna ng UPLB Samahang Layb at nagtapos ng BA Communication Arts, major in writing. Mahilig sa mga tula at tuta. Kasalukuyang naghahanap ng trabaho. 

facebook.com/linelybely twitter.com/linelybely

[artistic-writer]

Between Now and Nether :: Ch 12 :: A CS AU

Title: Between Now and Nether by @artistic-writer [full res fanart]

Summary: On their way to a Nolan Charity Gala, tragedy befalls Emma and Killian who is given just seven days to set things right.  Can he make Emma believe and escape the Nether before he is lost forever?

Rating: T+

AO3 Chapters: [1] - [2] - [3] - [4] - [5] - [6] - [7] - [8] - [9] - [10] - [11] - [12] Fanart Full Resolution: [1] - [2] - [3] - [4] - [5] - [6] - [7] - [8] - [9] - [10] - [11] - [12]

A/N: Ok, i feel like what is actually in the box is not as exciting as you were all hoping lol.  Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t?  I’m not sure...I just like cliffhangers *evil grin*  Again,  iam sorry for the delay with this chapter (it is normally posted 6 hours ago my time) but I have been busy with my RL and didn’t get the art done until about an hour ago.  There is a full res version (as there is with all posts) which, if you are eagle eyed, you will notice a small clue as to why Leroy killed Liam. ;)

Future updates will be Sundays AND Thursdays! (providing I can get the art made in time)

Forever thanks to @kmomof4 for beta’ing the shit out of this thing!  You are seriously the best!  And a massive thank you to @hollyethecurious who has been there to listen to me bitch and scream about this thing, and all the while she has had a smile on her face (i hope…there is an ocean between us - YOU’D BETTER BE SMILING!)

Taglist: @mariakov81 @rouhn @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke@hookedonapirate @galadriel26 @aye-captn @the-captains-ayebrows@yayimallamaagain @i-nvr-wrote-it @officerrogerss @kiwistreetswan @wellhellotragic@depechemode75 @distant-rose@yrellow-bugs-and-pirate-ships @courtorderedcake

If you would like to be added please let me know for ch 13!

———————————————————————————————————

“This is time sensitive,” Emma told Graham with a serious glance. They were seated back in her kitchen, the files from Killian’s safety deposit box spread out all around them. Killian had eagerly awaited their arrival by pacing around the ethereal world he was trapped in, using all of his energy to practice throwing things off the table, or moving cutlery along the sideboard in the kitchen.

“Aye, that it is…” he agreed with a nod that neither of them could see, his ghostly figure standing against the wall with folded arms, the table pushed against the wall passing right through his body where he stood.

Graham had a pensive expression, fingers toying with a patch of stubble below his bottom lip as his eyes scanned the paperwork in front of him. They had uncovered a plethora of dog eared pages, mostly photocopies of files that both Emma and Graham recognised would never have been allowed to leave the precinct, and they all seemed to indicate a larger plot involving Gold.

“This is big,” he said with a gasp, eyes widening.

Killian pushed himself from the wall and moved through the solid surface, leaning over Graham’s shoulder to see what he had seen.

“And time sensitive,” Emma repeated urgently, rearranging herself in the chair so that she was sitting on her crossed legs, leaning forward over the files. “Killian has less than three days left.”

“And I don’t much fancy getting stuck in the Nether,” he grumbled, slightly irritated nobody could hear him.

Graham reached out and plucked a page from the pile before him, a mugshot of a young Jefferson staring back at him, the illegible scrawl over the page telling him it was a very old arrest warrant. “Liam and Killian have been very busy.”

Both Emma and Killian frowned. “How do you mean?” Emma asked, spying the page in his hand and taking it from him without permission. Half of the information for Jefferson’s arrest was missing, either erased or simply left out. Emma frowned, scanning over the lack of information on the page, the headshot of a rather young looking Jefferson neatly secured to the bottom of the page.

“That is an arrest warrant for the Jones case,” Graham said, sitting back in his chair and pointing to the page in her hand. He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest and sighed.

“Liam or Killian?” Emma asked, scanning the page. If the name of the murdered party was on the page, she wasn’t seeing it.

“Brennan and Saoirse’s,” Graham said sadly.

Emma’s head snapped up form the page and she looked at Graham wide eyed in disbelief. “Jefferson killed Killian’s parents?” She choked on the words, a lump catching in her throat. Emma felt her heart break. Neither Killian or Liam ever spoke of their parents and now she knew why.

“Aye…” Killian said sadly, moving to stand next to Emma. He had known since he had acquired Liam’s notes, but he had never told Emma. Regardless of the hurt associated with finding out who killed your parents, if this information had got Liam killed, the less Emma knew the better.

“And according to Liam’s notes,” Graham shuffled a few pages aside, finding a page he had previously found relevant. “He did it for Gold. Seems he was released on a technicality.”

“Gold paid off some dirty cops to look the other way more like…”

“Oh baby…” Emma sighed to herself, the familiar chill creeping up her spine that she knew was Killian standing behind her. “But why?”

Graham passed her the piece of paper and shrugged. “I haven’t worked that part out yet.”

Emma took the crinkled, dog eared paper from Graham and laid it down in front of her. Jefferson looked so young and Emma wondered when he had been corrupted, and how.

“It has to be in these notes somewhere,” Graham said, shuffling a nearby pile around.

Emma gasped when she felt a cold hand skim across her stomach, looking down at her lap where there was nothing. She had only felt traces of Killian up until now, the faintest of breezes and feelings, but now she felt his very cold, very real palm pressed to her belly and she held her breath.

“He has a daughter…” Killian whispered and Emma shuddered, her eyes fluttering closed and the hair on the back of her neck standing on end as Killian’s words echoed in her ears.

“His daughter,” Emma whispered, peeling her eyes open, her dazed expression meeting Graham’s. He looked at her confused, his brows knitting together. “He has a daughter,” Emma cleared her throat, shaking her hair over her shoulders. “Gold is obviously using her as leverage.”

Graham swallowed. Emma’s statement made him no better than Gold. Even though his threat was harmless in comparison, and no harm would ever befall the girl at his hands, Graham felt a pang of guilt invade his soul. If Gold had been manipulating Jefferson for years, maybe decades, no wonder the guy was losing his mind.

“This can’t just be about his daughter,” Graham scoffed, finding a photo of the young girl. She was pretty, cherub cheeked with silky blonde hair plaited in a french braid, her huge smile grinning at the camera. Graham handed Emma the photo of Grace and shook his head. “She wouldn’t have been born back then.”

“You’re right,” Emma said, taking the photo and skimming her fingertips over the child’s face. Emma’s lips twitched into a weak smile and she instinctively clutched at the shirt covering her stomach. “But maybe that’s why he killed Killian? Maybe Gold threatened his daughter?”

“Aye, love, bloody brilliant!”

Emma gasped again, jumping forward on her chair and nearly toppling off when Killian’s voice took her by surprise. What felt like a rush of ice surged through her, starting at her womb and radiating outwards, and when she had settled upright again, Emma groaned. Graham reached out his arm, steadying her and helping her back onto the seat.

“Are you okay?” He frowned, confused, his hand hovering over her shoulder in case she fell again.

Emma rolled her eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. “Could you warn me next time you are going to get so excited?” She called out into the room.

“Sorry, my love...”

Graham narrowed his eyes when no answer came. “Killian,” she told him simply, refocusing back on the paperwork in front of her.

“He’s here?” Graham licked his lips nervously, refocusing his own attention on the page in front of him, not actually reading the words.

“I am always here,” Killian growled at Graham, his fingers flexing over Emma’s stomach. Her lips twitched into a smile that she tried to hide but Graham noticed.

“What did he say?” Graham asked, looking around the room with a worried glance. Emma may have warmed up to the fact that her boyfriend was haunting the house, but it made him nervous.

“He said he is always here,” Emma smirked.

“Watching…” Killian huffed.

“Okay, easy tiger,” Emma laughed lightly to herself as the words invaded her mind again.

“Maybe I should leave you two alone,” Graham suggested awkwardly.

“Oh come on, Humbert,” Emma teased. “You boys can play nice, right?”

Graham’s gaze roamed around the kitchen, but he saw nothing. There was nothing quite as disturbing as knowing somebody you couldn’t see was right next to you. Watching you.

“Maybe I should possess him again…” Killian teased, a smile playing across his face.

“Don’t,” Emma stifled her giggle and Graham shot her a paranoid glance.

“Now what did he say?” He asked, irritated.

“He said, maybe he should possess you again.”

Graham shuffled his chair back, eager to get away from Emma and Killian who was clearly near enough to her that she could hear him. He scrambled backwards until his back hit the sink and a light brown folder toppled to the floor between them, the edges folded into a strange angle from being stored underneath something much heavier at some point.

“Tell him to stay away from my body!” Graham shouted around the room, unsure if he was about to be taken over or not, the fear making his heart beat faster and the blood in his ears pump louder.

“With pleasure,” Killian grumbled, staying at Emma’s side. “Ungodly smooth is not my preferred grooming regime.”

“Guys!” Emma shouted, silencing them both when she slapped her hands down on the surface of the table loudly. The thump shook Killian back, his hands slipping from her body and made Graham look up at her in shock.

“I’m sorry...It’s just…” Graham begun, trying to explain how he was so scared with a more manly voice.

“No, Graham, look!” Emma said quickly, rising from her own seat and kneeling next to the fallen papers. Graham frowned, cocked his head to the side and knelt with her, shooting one last glance over her shoulder before he committed to the vulnerable position. “Do you see what I see?” Emma asked excitedly, smoothing her hand over one of the pages, flattening out the corner. She repeated the action with the next page. And then the next. And then another, until a pattern of dots and dashes started to emerge between the pieces of paper.

“Is it a code?” Graham titled his head at the dots, each scribbled onto the corner of the pages in black ink but hidden from view by the fold. “Do you think it means something?”

“Of course it means something!” Killian snapped, watching them fiddle with the papers. He recognised the code instantly as the reverse morse code he and Liam used to use to communicate in secrets as kids back in England. Their father had taught them morse code and when their parents had died, they were shipped back to England to live with a distant relative, so they had invented a secret reverse version of Morse code in order to keep their conversations from their caretakers. “Liam, you glorious bastard!” Killian yelped, almost skidding across the papers as he fell to his knees beside Emma.

Emma welcomed the gasp and chill across her skin once more, looking sideways to where Killian would have been had he been a solid form. She held his hand to her and waited, knowing he was trying to tell her something.

“It’s a code, Swan,” Killian said excitedly. “And I know exactly how to crack it!”