#fame increases the strength to which she feels alone

[cowboylikedean]

has someone reminded y'all today that the theme of lonlieness is the greatest theme on midnights?

[mendespideys]

room service | s.m.

summary: y/n can’t stop thinking about the man she met in the lobby and it seems like he can’t stop thinking of her either

a/n: when i posted this on my shawn blog, lots of people wanted a part 2 so i delievered! hope it’s not as disappointing to you as i feel it is 

Your eyes flickered open before your alarm and the exaggerated groan leaving your lips echoed throughout the empty room. Mindlessly, you fumble around for your phone, finally finding it hidden away in the bottom shelf of the nightstand. The room was almost gloomy and you realized when staring at your (very) bright phone screen that you had yet another three hours before you had to wake up. Attempting to ignore the ache in your lower back, you sat up, running a hand through your unkempt hair.

It hadn’t taken you long to realize that sleeping in the bed right next to the AC unit would be impossible, so you had reluctantly gotten comfortable on the floor on the opposite side of the room. Well, comfortable was an overstatement. Your entire body felt stiff and you suspected the backache wouldn’t disappear anytime soon, but you had been able to get at least a couple more hours of sleep. You stretched animatedly, your stiff limbs cracking at the sudden movements.

A few minutes later, you found yourself in a steaming hot shower, desperately hoping the warm water would aid in loosening up your rigid muscles. As the water soaked your hair and body, doing its job of warming up the cold blood coursing through your veins, you began planning your angry complaint. After washing your hair and body, you still hadn’t made it any further than ‘Either I get a refund or I speak to your supervisor’ and you desperately wished you had taken Shawn up on his offer.

Your mind wandered to the previous night (early morning?) immediately as soon as he entered your stream of thoughts. Soon enough, that was all you could think about, the rant long-forgotten. Shawn’s tired, yet glimmering eyes seemed to be the main attraction of your thoughts. There had been something swimming within them that you hadn’t been able to place, but that you desperately yearned to explore. Despite not knowing him, there was something about his whole persona - and his cozy outfit - that made you want to cuddle him and talk about life’s big questions.

Only when the water got colder did you realize how long you had been in the shower. Turning off the water, you grabbed the provided hotel towel and stepped out. Eventually, you were finally dressed and ready to go, still with another two hours to spare before your meeting. You were debating whether to take advantage of the free, but limited hotel breakfast or talk to the working receptionist when your stomach cried out, easily making that decision for you. Snatching your phone and keycard off the nightstand, you headed toward the front door, hoping the breakfast they offered was better than their customer service. You were about to open the door when a knock echoed throughout the room.

Opening the door suspiciously, you weren’t sure how to react. A man stood outside, a cart decorated with various dishes in front of him. As he smiled down at you, you caught a whiff of the food hiding underneath the small, silver dome, increasing your hunger instantly. You had a nice job that paid decent money, but never had you bothered paying the extra money for room service at a hotel. The delicious smells that entered your nose made you wish you had, though. You were about to tell him that he more than likely had the wrong room when he said your name, wanting to confirm that the right person would receive the food that had been ordered.

After a minute of interrogating from your side, you were left alone in your room with a cart full of breakfast options as your only guest. You maneuvered it over to the bed, your eyes hungrily scrambling over the food displayed out on the cart. Plopping down on the bed, you reached forward to uncover the food, only coming to halt as something tickled your wrist. Realizing it was a folded piece of paper, your fingers let go of the cloche, reaching for the note instead. For a reason, unbeknownst to you, your heart began thumping louder in your chest as you fumbled with the paper, finally being able to open it.

got you some breakfast so you have the strength to stand up to the hotel bullies. hope your meeting goes well x - shawn

By the time you were finished reading the sweet, short note, there was an undeniable grin playing on your lips. You placed it on the bed, not wanting it to get lost before your hunger took control of your actions. Removing the only obstacle between you and the food, you leaned in closer, your mouth watering at the sight. You assumed he had ordered various dishes because he wasn’t sure what you liked, which made the whole thing even sweeter - if even possible. There were waffles, toast, fruit, quinoa; the options were endless and apparently, so was your hunger.

When you were done indulging in the food, you had less than forty-five minutes until your meeting. Knowing how crazy New York traffic could be, you hurriedly shoved the basic necessities into your purse and grabbed the required papers, before practically leaping through the door. While the hotel might have held back on their service, your job certainly didn’t. When you reached the lobby, there was a man waiting, holding a sign with your last name on it. He led you to the car and held the door open for you as you slid into the passenger seat. Once the basic introductions between you and the driver had been made, you fished your phone out your purse, knowing it would be at least a fifteen-minute car ride.

It happened mindlessly. One minute, you were unlocking your phone and the next you were about to text Shawn to thank him for breakfast. That’s when you realized that you had never gotten his number because you had been too much of a chicken to ask. Sighing, you navigated your way to Instagram instead, merely liking photos and not reading captions. It went on like that for a few minutes, your thoughtless scrolling occasionally interrupted by your driver cursing someone out. It all came to an abrupt halt, however, when you scrolled past a post from your company. It was a photo of Shawn, you recognized him clear as day, and suddenly all the pieces connected in your head.

The Shawn you had met in the lobby was Shawn Mendes. The pieces puzzled themselves as you replayed the night; his hood, hesitating to give you his name, the room service. It made sense now how he had been able to afford it. You remembered how he had told you about not being able to sleep and you assumed he had just gotten back from a show. It was all right there and you felt so incredibly stupid for not noticing. You knew who he was, sure, and you had heard his biggest hits on the radio, but you didn’t know much about him. Still, you’d think you would be able to recognize him, right? Maybe the sleepy haze you had been trapped in was too thick or maybe you had realized but didn’t care.

“Miss?”

You blinked, glancing up from your phone. “Huh? What?”

“We’re here,” the driver informed politely, nodding toward the window.

You nodded. “Right. Uh, thank you. Have a nice day.”

Gathering your things, you thanked him again while exiting the car. Not knowing how long you had been staring at your phone, you moved hastily through the small crowd, almost tripping as you made your way up the stairs. The building was beautiful, but you didn’t have much time to admire the architecture before Viviana from your company flagged you down. The two of you engaged in mindless chit-chat as you made your way to the elevator.

Her ongoing story about her flight to New York became nothing but background noise as Shawn entered your thoughts again. It was ridiculous, really, how you hadn’t realized. As the conversation the two of you had shared replayed in your mind, you recognized the fact that he had seemed grateful you hadn’t. It made sense, you supposed, that a celebrity of his status wanted relationships based on an actual interest in him and not his fame. In your case, it had definitely been an interest in him.

Eventually, you have made yourself comfortable, making sure to find a seat opposite of Viviana. She was nice and you had met her a few times before, but she just didn’t know when to stop talking. Knowing the two of you would more than likely share lunch after the meeting or definitely a ride back to the hotel, you decided you needed a small break. If she was able to talk your ear off just within the walk to the elevator and into the conference room, you had to prepare yourself for lunch. You were flicking through your prepared notes when loud voices entered the room, one of them sounding very familiar.

Immediately, you looked up to inspect the owner of the voice, your papers falling back down on the table as your eyes landed on the six-foot-something singer you had met the night before. As if the universe had planned it, he glanced in your direction simultaneously, his eyes widening with recognition. His pink lips stretched into a smile that you couldn’t help but return as the older man behind him ushered him to sit down. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry and before you had a chance to do either, the meeting started.

Turns out that the client your company would be working with for the next campaign was Shawn. It made sense now why the coverup name used in the emails was SM. Your company had created the policy of using pseudonyms when exchanging emails in the very unlikely case it would be hacked. It wasn’t a dumb idea, but if often lead you to be somewhat unprepared. This was one of those times. Normally, it wouldn’t be an inconvenience, but you were barely able to concentrate, continuously sneaking glances toward Shawn the entire time. Viviana had to repeat your name twice for you to present your notes and this didn’t go unnoticed by Shawn.

The meeting drew to an end and you exited the room with a majority of the team involved as Shawn and a few others stayed behind to discuss details that were probably above your paygrade. You were itching to talk to him - to at least thank him for breakfast - but a nagging voice at the back of your mind kept saying he wouldn’t want to see you. Though you couldn’t know for sure, there had been a look in his eyes that convinced you the voice was wrong. Viviana disappeared, mumbling something about using the restroom, so you leaned up against the wall while waiting for her.

“Y/N!” you turned around immediately, seeing Shawn almost barrelling down the hallway. He stopped in front of you, the curls on his head bouncing as he did so. His eyes traced your figure quickly. “Well, that’s a fancy wardrobe upgrade.”

“Shut up,” you laughed.

“How did your intervention with the hotel bullies go?”

“Didn’t have time,” you admitted with a shrug. “Too busy getting fat off of room service. Thank you, by the way. You know you didn’t have to do that, right? I’d pay you back, but I’m pretty sure it cost more than my last paycheck.”

He swatted at the air. “Don’t mention it. Barely made a dent in my wallet.”

You paused momentarily at his words, but he didn’t seem to notice. It was weird how quickly you forgot who he was when you were around him. His words were cocky, sure, but you could tell it was nothing more than a joke to him. It wasn’t an attempt at boasting about his fame and fortune. Briefly, you found yourself wondering how many people had tried to take advantage of his selflessness, wanting to personally kick all of their asses.

“Were you ever planning on telling me that you are the Shawn Mendes?” you accused, rolling your eyes at his statement.

He chuckled, a sly smirk dancing across his lips. “Possibly. Be a bit hard without your number, though.”

“Is that your way of— smooth, Mendes, smooth,” you jested, shaking your head as a quiet laugh escaped you.

“So,” he started, his brown orbs widening with curiosity. “Is that a yes?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered teasingly, extending your arm. “Hand it over.”

He immediately placed his phone in your hand and you effortlessly punched your number in, taking note of how big the phone felt in your hand compared to how small it looked in his. A quick flashback of a meme your friend sent you once about large hands popped into your mind and you quickly saved your number under ‘lobby girl’, a small smile appearing on your face as you did. A laugh fell from his lips when you returned the phone and his eyes traced the letters.

“Lobby girl, huh? Clever,” he joked, slipping the phone back into the pocket of his black skinny jeans. “I have a feeling it won’t stay like that for long, though.”

Before you were able to question his little confession, his name was called. The two of you searched for the source of the voice and you found the man that had been in the meeting earlier. You realized that he must have been Shawn’s manager and just as you pieced this together and returned your attention to the young Canadian in front of you, you were met with a solemn look. Your stomach filled with disappointment, knowing that the two of you would have to go your separate ways once again. Despite having a means of contact this time around, it didn’t make it any easier.

“Guess it’s time for you to go back to the rockstar life, huh?”

Shawn nodded slowly. “Guess so.”

You weren’t sure if it was the sudden adrenaline pumping through your body or the fact that you had no idea when you would see him again, but you had him wrapped in a hug before you could process your actions. He hugged you back immediately, his arms snaking around your shoulders so effortlessly that he seemed like a professional. In a sense, you guess he was, hugging fans day in and day out. The man called Shawn’s name again and the two of you reluctantly pulled away from each other, a sheepish smile plastered on your face. He returned it immediately although his appeared more genuine.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, throwing a look over his shoulder as he walked away. “Good luck with the hotel bullies. Talk to you later, Y/N.”

You offered him a meek wave as he disappeared through the door, Viviana appearing on your side out of the blue. She opened her mouth, apparently having seen the encounter, and you shook your head before she was able to ask. You had barely accepted the fact that you had exchanged numbers (and a hug) with Shawn, so you definitely weren’t in the mood to explain it to someone else. Not to mention that this would bring up the run-in in the hotel lobby and for some reason, that was an intimate memory you wanted to keep to yourself.

The two of you silently - well, the silence was mostly from your side - made your way back down to the main entrance. The same car and driver were waiting outside when you entered the busy New York street. You let Viviana climb in first before quickly following, slumping back into the backseat of the Audi. Just as you buckled and the car pulled away from the curb, your phone buzzed against your leg from within your purse. It took a few seconds of intense rummaging before you were able to fish it out, just in time for another text to come through.

i have my last show in ny tonight. would you maybe wanna go? i can get you front row tickets

it’s shawn btw

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #27: Ushiwakamaru

(I know this isn’t one of Ushi’s normal cards, but this is the only picture of her that isn’t 70% naked so I’m doing what I have to.)

Welcome back to Fate and Phantasms! Today we’re building Skadi’s favorite commander, Ushiwakamaru. As you’d expect given her claim to fame is jumping really well, Ushi is mostly a monk, specifically a drunken master for just that little extra movement. She also has six noble phantasms though, and in order to encompass that many abilities in only 20 levels we have to turn to D&D’s perennial jack of all trades, the bard.

As usual, a spreadsheet for the build can be found here, and there’s a level-by-level breakdown below the cut!

Race and Background

You were raised by Tengu, but you’re still a Human, meaning you get +1 in all stats. You’re a soldier, but Dan-no-ura involves hopping over boats, so we’re going with the Marine background for its proficiency with water vehicles. You also get proficiencies in Athletics and Survival. Jumping around is usually more of a acrobatics check, but you’ll need sea legs too. Also: you were abandoned at birth, so learning how to live on your own is advisable.

Stats

Go for Dexterity first. Jumping is strength based, but every other aspect of this skill is your style. Second is Wisdom. You’re not really that good at reading the room, but you were raised by birds, and we need this to be kind of high for multiclassing. After that is Strength. Again, jumping is strength based, so we want this to be passable. Fourth is Charisma. Your people skills are actually pretty bad, but we also need this for multiclassing. Fifth is Constitution. You’re a lightweight with alcohol, but we really don’t want a negative modifier here. Finally, dump intelligence. You’re not dumb, but your other soft skills are tied up in multiclassing requirements, and with your social skills being what they are it wouldn’t feel right to make all your soft stats good.

Class Levels

1.Monk 1: When you choose monk at first level, you gain proficiency in Acrobatics (that whole jumping thing we’re focusing on), Religion(You were abandoned at a temple), and Dexterity and Strength saves. You also gain Unarmored Defense; which is perfect for you, since you’re not big on clothes, let alone armor; and Martial Arts, letting you use dexterity for unarmed and monk weapon attacks, use a d4 instead of other dice when making those attacks, and you can make an unarmed attack as a bonus action if you attack using your normal action.

2. Monk 2: At second level, you get Ki equal to your monk level, which can currently be used to make two unarmed attacks, dodge, or double your jump distance and disengage/dash as a bonus action. You also gain Unarmored Movement, giving you an extra 10 feet of movement per move action.

3. Monk 3: At third level, you set out on the path of the Drunken Master, which despite the name has very little to do with actually being drunk. Aside from the proficiency with Brewer’s Supplies. You also gain proficiency in Performance, which given your hard-line stance on pranking makes perfect sense. You also also develop your Drunken Technique, giving you a bonus disengage and 10′ when you use flurry of blows. Finally, you gain Deflect Missiles, letting you reduce the damage of ranged weapon attacks and possibly even send them back.

4. Monk 4: Use your first ASI to improve your Charisma and Wisdom. You also learn how to Slow Fall, reducing the amount of falling damage you take. This will be super useful if you, say, fall off a giant snake. Weird example, I know.

5. Monk 5: Fifth level monks get an Extra Attack, which is self-explanatory, but also a Stunning Strike. You can now spend a ki point to force a constitution saving throw when you hit somebody, and they’re stunned on a failure. Also, your martial arts die becomes a d6 this level. Look at you, moving up in the world of murder!

6. Monk 6: Sixth level drunken masters gain two features as part of their Tipsy Sway. You can Leap to your feet, using only 5′ of movement to stand up from prone, and you can Redirect Attacks that miss you using your reaction and 1 ki point. Also at this level, you get another 5 feet of movement.

7. Bard 1: Now lets switch over to your other class for a bit. Being a bard is a little out there, but your NP is literally based on stories of how awesome you are, so it’s not too wild. At first level, you get an extra proficiency in one skill of your choice. Pick up Deception for more elaborate pranks. Also at this level, you get your first taste of Bardic Inspiration, d6 you can hand out to allies to help on most d20 rolls, and Bard Spells. At first level you gain 2 cantrips and 4 1st level spells. Grab True Strike, Longstrider, and Feather Fall to enhance your physical abilities, Minor Illusion and Bane for some trickery, and Thunderwave for a less expansive version of you Hoemaru.

8. Bard 2: Second level bards become a Jack of All Trades, adding half their proficiency to checks that don’t use it (like initiative checks, nudge nudge). You also gain a Song of Rest, adding a d6 to the healing done by your party’s hit dice on short rests. For this level’s Spell, grab Earth Tremor. There isn’t really an explicitly in-character reason for this spell, but it’s more crowd control, so it technically falls under the domain of Jizaiten’s Eye.

9. Bard 3: When you hit your third level of barding, you’ll graduate from the college of swords. When this happens, you gain proficiency with Medium Armor and Scimitars, neither of which work with your monk levels. You also can use weapons you’re proficient with as spellcasting focuses, which is much more useful to you. You also get a Fighting Style, so grab Dueling for extra damage. You gain Expertise, doubling your proficiency in two skills(Deception and Acrobatics are good choices), and finally you get Blade Flourishes. By using your inspiration, you can add that roll to your damage and also either add the roll to your AC, deal that roll’s damage to another nearby creature as well, or push your target by 5′ + the roll and follow them with your reaction. Also, when you attack, you get an extra 10′ of movement for the turn. For your spell this level, grab the flexible Enhance Ability to hype yourself up.

10. Bard 4: Use your next ASI to improve your Charisma for better spells and more flourishes. You also get another cantrip and spell, so grab Thunderclap and Shatter for more sonic damage.

11. Bard 5: At fifth level, your inspiration dice increase to d8s, and you become a Font of Inspiration, regaining your dice on short rests instead of just long ones. For your spell, grab Fear. Again, no real reasoning for it, but it does make enemies run away, so it falls under Jizaiten’s Eye.

12. Bard 6: Sixth level bards get disappointed by Countercharm, letting you spend an action to give your allies advantage against being charmed or frightened. As a sword bard, you also get disappointed by an Extra Attack that doesn’t stack with the one you got at level 5. Grab Enemies Abound to turn any enemy position into a bad one by making them think their allies are their enemies.

13. Monk 7: Back as a monk, you gain Evasion, making your dexterity saves to avoid damage extremely powerful. You also gain a Stillness of Mind, letting you spend an action to end one effect making you charmed or frightened.

14. Monk 8: Eighth level monks get another ASI, but use this one to become a Martial Adept. This feat gives you 1d6 as a superiority die, and two maneuvers. Grab Maneuvering Attack to move allies into better positions and Pushing Attack to move enemies out of them. The saves for these attacks are 8 + your proficiency + your dexterity modifier, and you regain your die on a short rest.

15. Monk 9: At ninth level, you get an Unarmored Movement Improvement, letting you run on water and up walls and giant snakes, as long as you don’t end your turn there. 

16. Monk 10: Finish your monk training with Purity of Body, making you immune to disease and poison. This doesn’t help with primordial seas though, so don’t get too reckless. You also get another 5′ of movement added to your speed, bringing your total bonus movement up to 20′.

17. Bard 7: Back in bard, we get a level where not much happens besides your fourth level spell. Grab Freedom of Movement so you’ll be unaffected by difficult terrain. I’d make an example of the obvious, but that’s getting old by this point.

18. Bard 8: Use your last ASI for more Dexterity, boosting your AC and damage, and then grab Dimension Door for your spell. As long as you don’t tell anyone it’s magic, it’s just a really good jump, right?

19. Bard 9: Ninth level bards get a boost to their song of rest as well as fifth level spells. Grab Legend Lore: the grail gives you information about the world when you materialize, so why wouldn’t you know what this thing you’re holding does?

20. Bard 10: Your capstone level gives you a boost to your bardic inspiration, making it a d10, and you get  two more points of expertise, say Athletics and Survival. Grab Vicious Mockery as another cantrip, and finally say hello to Magical Secrets, two spells from any spell list. Sadly, to fill out the last couple NPs, you’ll have to grab Jump and Shield of Faith. Yes, your capstone ability is two level one spells.

Pros: You are very mobile. While your movement is “only” 50′ on paper, the bonuses you get from your flurry of blows and attacking means you can run circles around most of your enemies. The effects from your spells, maneuvers, and flourishes also let you shove enemies around freely. Also, like most bards you have pretty solid soft skills, especially when you’re lying through your teeth.

Cons: A majority of your bard levels don’t really contribute much to the build, and having to spend 10 levels just to get two level one spells really hurts in the long run. This is especially true since despite having magic, you still don’t have much in the way of ranged attacks to work with outside of vicious mockery. You’re also really fragile for someone running in with a sword, with only about 100 HP to work with.

[johnismyreason]

Henry - part 3

Yaaaaay it’s finally here ! after over a year, Henry part 3 is finally done ! I plan on writing two more parts, but it depends on the feedbacks I will have from you guys. I really hope you’ll enjoy it :) Please reblog to help me ! 

Read part 1 and 2 :)

Warnings: fluff, angst and few cursing words. Also bad English because I'm French. 

I don't dare to talk anymore for fear of saying something stupid or confessing I'm afraid. I try to look out the window to avoid his gaze. My fingers intertwined between them, I nervously scratch the skin on the edge of my nails. He stares at the road, a very slight smile drawn on his lips. The soft blazing light of the last evenings of September illuminates his face, which seems unchanged to me since his departure. Or maybe it has. In any case, he always gives me the same effect: butterflies in my belly and the feeling of rejuvenation every second that my eyes look at him. And yet he is different. Everything's changed about him, his clothes, his posture, his hair, his name. His name. Mr. Gray. Henry Gray? I don't know.

"Don't you speak?" he cuts me off from my thoughts. I blink quickly to return to reality and smile.

"Oh... I was in my thoughts," I replied, sweeping the air with my hand.

"What were you thinking about?" he turned his head briefly towards me, a curious look on his face and running his tongue over his lips. 

"Nothing important, I was wondering if I had closed everything at home before I left. I wouldn't want to go home and find my house ransacked," I muttered.

"Speaking of home..." Henry turns into a gravel driveway leading to a huge mansion. The lawn on either side of the driveway is meticulously mowed, like a castle. The house is so big, I'm afraid it might swallow me up. I don't say another word and I can't believe Henry can live here.

"Y-you live here?" I stammered, pointing at the house. He bites his lower lip in a smile and gets out of the car. I don't open my door, too surprised to make a move. Henry walked around the car and came to help me down.

"Princess..." he called out to me, holding out his hand. I blushed before I put my palm on his and he closed his fingers on the back of my hand.

"Henry... But how did you manage to afford a house, a palace like this?" I immediately corrected myself.

"I've done good business," he replied simply and guided me inside.

Surprisingly, the interior is more welcoming than the exterior. Despite the size of the entrance hall and other rooms, it is not cold. Henry takes me through each room, each one more splendid but still warm, before ending with his favourite: the library, which also serves as his office. It opens onto a terrace which itself leads to the garden, a huge plot of land that is just as well mowed as the front of the house.

"It's beautiful here, Henry," I said as I scanned the grounds, which stretch as far as the eye can see. I feel his presence behind and beside me, and his eyes glued to my face.

"Do you like it?"

"Do I like it?" I chuckled as I turned to him. "Who wouldn't love this place?" I draw closer to him. His smile gets bigger with every step I take toward him. "You must have done more than good business to be able to afford a place like this. Better than that poor sheep you sold for a pittance at the village market, remember?" I laughed.

"Y/N can you stop harping on that story every time we see each other?" he exhaled as he tilted his head back.

"Never. I can still see the look on your mother's face when you told her the news. She could have gutted you if she didn't love you so much." Henry changes his facial expression slightly when I mention his mother, but I don't pay attention to it. "Besides... we don't see each other that often," I continued in a less jovial tone. He took a deep breath and looked away. "Do you want something to drink?" he asked to change the subject. I nodded. "Whiskey? Scotch? Wine?"

"Um, just tea." I cut him off.

"Oh, all right... don't move, I got this." he walks out of the room, closing the door behind him, leaving me alone in the silence. I take the opportunity to explore the library and its collection of books. There were all kinds. Novels, historical works, poetry, encyclopedias... It's strange, I don't remember Henry reading so much. Even though he was the best at school, the boy I knew preferred math to literature. But he's not the boy I knew anymore, I remember. Henry comes back, but without any tea.

"The water's getting hot," he replied to my questioning air. He walks towards the pedestal table where the bottles of alcohol and glasses are laid out to help himself to a whiskey. "Tell me," he begins, "what hospital do you work in?" he turns to me, bringing the glass to his lips.

"Oh, it's actually halfway between Birmingham and home - um, my home." I catch up. "in the new hospital they've just built" I sit on the couch in front of the desk.

"When do you start?" he joins me.

"A week from today. I can't wait !" he smiles at my enthusiasm. "It was my dream to become a nurse."

"I know," he said, putting a lock of my hair back behind my ear, "I remember." His voice is so soft and soothing, I could fall asleep in his arms. " Besides, it was always you who thought of my wounds," he laughed.

"You had a gift for finding yourself in unlikely situations." I reply. "That seems to always be the case," his hand, which continued to caress my hair, fell behind me on the back. He looks at me intensely and hesitates to speak. The tension gradually increases but is still bearable. Silence surrounds us and I don't know who will break it first.

"I'm sorry Y/N." I expected anything but that from him. "I'm sorry I left without saying anything, not even goodbye. Sorry I left my mom behind, my friends and especially you." my heart feels good and I can feel my cheeks change color. "You more than anyone. I should have talked to you, told you what was going on. I didn't have the courage. Forgive me." He's not angry or sad. He's just relieved to finally say what's been in his heart for five long years.

"What was going on, Henry?" I asked, thinking he was finally going to tell me every last detail.

"Your tea, Mr. Gray" presents the maid as he opens the door. I was startled when I didn't hear him come into the room, and then that name came to my ears. Mr. Gray.

"Thank you, Therese, you may go." he says, looking at me. When the door closes behind her, I stand up at once, freeing myself from Henry's grip. I mean Mr. Gray. Good heavens!

"All right, you must tell me something," I say, breathing heavily, running a hand through my hair. "Who the fuck is Mr. Gray?!" I freeze incapable of moving.

"Y/N..." Henry stands up to get closer but I reach out my hand to pull him away from me.

"Don't even try to bullshit me Henry" I warn him.

"My name is not Henry. It's not my real name." he starts to explain. I'm so confused and lost, I can barely breath.

"What are you telling me? I've called you Henry all my life, your mother, your father, everybody calls you that!"

"My real name is Michael Gray. My family is not my real family, Y/N. I was adopted shortly after I was born. My real mother's name is Polly Gray. One day my cousin Thomas Shelby came to meet me at my house, a week before I turned 18. I'd never seen him before, I didn't know who he was. When my mother and I came home, she told me everything. I felt like shit. I had a thousand questions and no answers. I wanted answers. So I went to Birmingham one day, to find my real mother. I met my real family, their business, their money, and I never wanted to go back. So on my 18th birthday, I left this lost village, this well that I've always hated, everything and everyone."

His voice was steady and his hands in his pocket. I didn't dare move, breathe or even look away for a second. All this information is projected in my face and I try as best I can to receive it without everything collapsing around me.

"Your real mother, your real family... But we are your real family Henry!"

"Michael." He corrects me curtly. "My name is and always has been Michael." My lips tremble and the tears at the edge of my eyes threaten to fall into the void.

"So you left just for the money and the fame. I know who Thomas Shelby is. You turned into a fucking gangster and abandoned me." my voice trembles, I try to hold back the tears.

"I wanted to tell you about it Y/N-"

"Bullshit!" I slap his hand that was trying to take mine. "You left without saying anything because that's exactly what you wanted. You killed Henry. You killed the only boy I ever loved." This time I can't hold back my tears. What's the point?

His eyes go wide open at my confession. He walks timidly towards me so I won't reject him, but I don't have the strength to do so. He places his hands on my cheeks so that I look at him. Mine cling to his wrists.

"Y/N, I'm sorry for the pain I've caused you. You were and always will be my family. Y/N..." he wipes my tears and gently lifts my head to look into mine. "I thought about you every day that God made. I wanted to call you, write to you, but as time went by, I told myself it was no longer worth it. I was afraid you'd reject me. Y/N... I love you." I breathe out the breath I was holding in and look down. "Look at me, Y/N, look at me. I don't want to lie to you anymore and leave. Meeting you at the train station like you fell out of the sky, after 5 years, it was a blessing. That's got to mean something. I won't go anymore Y/N. It's over. I won't go away anymore." Our foreheads meet and I try to breathe but nothing goes in or out. It's me and him. Five years and confessions later. Our lips are drawn together, but they're not touching yet. God, I want to feel those lips. They're only a few millimeters away now. Come on, just a little more.

"I can't." I exhale as I pull myself away from his hands. "I can't," I repeat in a whisper... I leave the room, then the hall and finally this house which has finally managed to swallow me up. I don't bother to get my coat or my bag and I leave. I walk down this huge gravel driveway with my heart ready to explode. I cry without holding back, my moans break the peaceful silence of the countryside that I could not appreciate because of the drums in my ears that my heart is playing. I realize what has just happened. I find my childhood friend and the only boy for whom my heart has ever beaten, I discover that he is not the real son of this mother I admired, and that he preferred money to me. But there he is. Right next to me. And it's the only thing I ever wanted. For him to be near me, with me. It's him and me. And he loves me, I know he does. I stop walking at this reflection and turn around to look at the house. Without thinking any more I turn around and run back to where my reason has left me. I go back through the hall, the hallway and arrive quietly in the library. Hands on his desk, head down, it is as if he is waiting for his punishment.

"Michael," he straightens up immediately and turns to me. Unconsciously my feet move towards him, then my hands reach up to his waist so that finally my lips are crushed on his. And I breathe. His warm hands have an electroshock effect on my icy cheeks. My head spins, our pulses are the same and his arms hug me tightly against him.

"It's you and me, Michael. You and me," I whisper to him.

"Henry. Call me Henry."

TAGLIST: @fandom--0verdose @haphazardhufflepuff @enjoy-the-destruction @lovemissyhoneybee @xshinytrashcanx @lifesacrime24 @estefmsxo @smallheathgangsters @peakyfuckingblinders1919 

[moeruhoshi]

Uh yeah don’t read this its dumb and inonsistent I wrote it right after I woke up and needs to be fixed

Lucy’s mother had always warned her, that whenever she wanted to go out, she had to be extremely careful. There was no knowing what lied in the woods beside their home, and the world was vast, even containing creatures beyond the natural world.

They were myths and legends to most, no one really believing they were real. There was only so much one could believe until they were too old and adopted the belief that myths were truly just myths.

Not that Lucy was a believer or non-believer, she lied on the line between them.

She had yet to see a strange beast or magical entity to provide any proof...but the way her mother warned her, with such dramatic details and explicit instructions, there was room for doubt in her heart.

Lucy never left the house without her mother’s provided essentials, which was only a small vile containing a preserved essence of some odd flower she long forgot the name of. Her mother told her it would keep her safe, that it would ward off even the sharpest of noses from finding her scent.

Lucy always left it on her dresser once the day had ended, so that she’d never forget to bring it along with her. Not that she ever understood why or thought of what could be looking for her.

The blonde lived a peaceful life alone, in a cottage surrounded by an equally peaceful forest. There were no carnivorous animals nearby, only squirrels and deer and tweeting birds. The walk into town only took a good twenty minutes, where everyone knew and cared for her well.

She was a famed beauty, but no one wished for her hand, as she was much too good of a friend to them all and knew she would not stay here forever.

Lucy wanted to travel and see the world, but had yet to be able to part from her childhood home. Saying goodbye to her passed away mother, not knowing when she’d be back to greet her in the mornings as usual, was too painful a thought for the poor blonde to bear.

So she lived her life, wrote and read and played, never forgetting to keep her mothers keepsake close to her form.

But unbeknownst to her, she was watched very carefully from the shadows of the trees.

That vile contained a pungent mixture able to cast a barrier with its scent, yes, but only affected low level creatures and semi-powerful deities. It would not work against a king, who had the ability to smell even the smallest grape continents away.

She and her blood were rare, a child born under the fullest and reddest moon, with blessings from the stars and bestowed the gift of luck. She clearly lived her life not knowing these things, eager and carefree, unsuspecting of any real danger.

Although he looked villainous and dangerous in his true form, his lordship was nothing of the sort. Etherious Natsu Dragneel was able to place fear in the hearts of his subject through an impressive glare and intense demeanor, but he was kind and benevolent all the same.

Finding Lucy had been a mistake, but one he would turn into great profits for his kingdom. She would be his bride soon enough, as he was determined to swoon and sway her weak heart in his favor.

He revealed himself to her, every so often, under the guise of a traveling adventurer.

Each time he visited, she would welcome him with open arms and felt more than happy to cook a hearty feast to sate his intense hunger.

He sat this time, waiting against her cottage gate, dressed and disguised as a successful adventurer. It wasn’t hard to fake the job, as he had seen more in his life than she’d ever be able to comprehend. His ears twitched as he heard her approaching, the beating of her heart increasing when her eyes landed on his own.

Their relationship had always been friendly, Lucy not knowing Natsu’s true intention to wed her. Every month or two he would return with stories for her, describing far off lands, Lucy hanging on to every detailed word.

It had been nearing the end of the first year of their friendship when Natsu first kissed her goodbye. It was a sweet and subtle, and only on the cheek, but surely would be stuck in Lucy’s mind until she saw him again. He knew by the red tint to her cheeks once they saw each other again that she thought more of him, two more cheek kisses until he aimed for her lips.

Lucy was unprepared and inexperienced, redder than a tomato after a simple peck. Natsu licked his lips as the pumping of her blood enticed him to toy with her more.

But he left, and returned again, each time he kissed her marking another month.

It had been six months till he taught her another form of kissing. This time it was deep and warm and stole her breath. He held her against the wall, searing lips molding over her own before he introduced their tongues to one another. It took nearly all of his strength to resist taking her in that moment, the image of her swollen lips, teary eyes, and panting chest, all too stimulating for the young king.

But in that moment, he had folded some of her fallen hair behind her ear, hot lips kissing her cheek lightly before he whispered in her ear,

“I know this is a bit sudden, but is it alright if I call ya mine, Luce?”

“Y-Yes...”

The king was proud of his work, of being able to gain her trust and being able to be the one who held her so gently.

The few months after that moment, he would greet her with a kind kiss, and say goodbye with a steamy one that would surely leave his princess begging for more.

Tonight, after his months of being away, he would take things to the next level, and reveal his truth in hopes that she would come away with him.

Lucy had always liked Natsu, even if she wasn’t honest with herself at the beginning of it all.

He was funny and quirky and different from anyone she had yet to meet. She was infatuated and jealous of his lifestyle, but learned just how hard it was to be out in the world by yourself. Natsu was strong and experienced, while Lucy only lived through tales created by others and her imagination.

When he proposed they date, Lucy was more than eager to say yes. He was someone she admired and loved to be around, and she always wished he’d come back just as soon as he left.

No one in the villiage knew, but when they asked if Lucy was interested in finding a man, she would explode in an intense blush and deny the subject completely. Which in turn allowed everyone to believe that she was simply too innocent for those kinds of things.

She wondered if he would take her away now, if they’d live their lives together on the road until she bared his child. It was a flustering thought, but Lucy wanted a baby that would allow them to settle in a nice town, where they’d live and work and be happy together.

When she approached her home on this spring day, hands full of a basket piled with vegetables and packaged meat, Lucy felt her heart pound erratically in her chest. She could see his smile spread as she came over the hill, his arm raising to wave excitedly at her. He rose and dropped his things off his back, jogging quickly to meet her.

“Heya, Luce! I’m back!” He grinned, quickly taking the food to carry instead.

“It’s wonderful to see you again,” Lucy commented, feeling shy as she watched his arms flex when adjusting his hold on her basket. “I’ve missed you, Natsu,”

“Yeah, I missed ya too! I’ve got a ton of stories to tell you, alright? I think you’ll really love these ones this time,”

They usually sat around her table, plates of food filling every empty spot, Natsu relaying his tales of slayed beasts and mythical encounters, of his injuries and towns he would stay in. To be clear though, he never bluffed even as he hid his true identity. The king gave himself time to experience the world for Lucy, to be able to tell her of battles and strange places with delicious food.

And when the darkest of night met the flaming wick of candles lit to surround them, Natsu took Lucy into his arms with slight amusement. She blushed and cowered against his chest, mewling as he pressed kisses to her cheek to coax her out.

“Lucy,” His deep voice purred in her ear, sending shivers down the blonde’s back. “Won’t you let me kiss you?”

“...wouldn’t that mean you’re going to leave?” She asked, quietly clinging to the fabric of his tunic.

“Not tonight,” He shook his head and pressed his lips to her throat, delighting in the surprised gasp she let out. “I want us to spend some time together, if that’s okay with you,”

“W...Will you take me upstairs?” Lucy fumed with a blush as Natsu effortlessly lifted her into his hold, walking them both up the stairs and to her bedroom.

Lucy let Natsu take the lead as she was laid onto her back, his eyes never leaving her own.

“Tell me when to stop, okay? I won’t go any farther than you want,”

“Okay,” Lucy’s chest heaved with heavy breathes as Natsu loomed over her, his sly smirk leaning in to meet her quivering lips.

His kisses always made her so relaxed, as if she were sedated with pleasure. His lips were hot and demanding, leading them in a dance of suction and seduction. Her arms wrapped weakly around his neck as he leaned into her, swallowing her moans and spilling saliva. He suckled on her tongue, nipping it with his teeth, lapping at the blood lucky enough to grace his palate. She was delicious, beyond so even. The smallest drop of her blood made him crave more.

The crook of her neck called to him as she crooned, mouth left messy as he tended to the more sensitive parts of her body. His golden eyes threatened to reveal themselves as he smothered hickeys and soft bites against her concentrated scent.

His hands fondled her well endowed chest as he kissed her again, craving the taste of her breathy pants of his name fading between them.

“May I undress you?” Natsu asked as his lips pressed against her décolletage, thumbs pushing against her stiffened nipples.

“Yes...” Lucy’s voice was barely above a whisper as her mouth was too numb to talk, but Natsu heard her perfectly. He pulled her dress down her shoulders, kissing each section of revealed skin until her breasts were in full view.

“You’re beautiful,” Natsu chuckled as Lucy turned away, her lips in an embarrassed pout as blood rushed onto her face. Her pale, untouched skin, begged to be bathed in bite marks and her own blood so that he could lick every inch of her globes clean.

“Thank you,” She responded shyly as he continued to rid of her clothing. Tossing the dress to the side, he returned his attention to the stiff buttons that he wanted to touch.

Lucy flinched as his tongue grazed her sensitive place, Natsu’s mouth instantly attaching to the bud as he began to suck on her. She moaned as his other hand squeezed her breast, warmth subtly flowing into her flesh. She relished in the treatment, feeling heat and sticky liquid make its way onto her panties.

Natsu couldn’t wait till he was able to draw blood from her, his teeth begging to be allowed entrance into her expectant body.

His kisses and torment fell to her stomach, just above the line of her panties. Lucy squeaked and quickly sat up, scooching away from Natsu as he was still bent over.

“N-Not yet! I’m sorry, but there...not yet,” Lucy panted as she tried to collect herself, gulping as Natsu looked up to greet her with a calm gaze.

“That’s alright, I didn’t make you uncomfortable, did I?” He asked, pulling her blanket up to hand to her.

“N-No, not at all! It was very nice, really, I-I’m just not ready...”

“I understand,” He laughed and crawled forward to sit beside her, Lucy finding a steady breath as she settled down.

“I’m really happy, you know?” She spoke up, sliding her hand into Natsu’s hold. “I care a lot about you,”

“As do I,” Natsu said as he tightened his hand around her own. “Can I ask you something selfish?”

“What is it?”

“...I’d like you to come away with me,” He said honestly, turning to face her wide eyes. “I want us to be together, every day, every moment, every minute.”

“Really?”

“Really really, Luce. I don’t want us to be apart ever again,”

“I-I...oh, wow...that’s...” She stared at him in disbelief but found herself able to smile at his words. “Natsu...I would lo—“

“There’s just one thing...” He interrupted her, eyes downcast as he stood from the bed. “I haven’t been very honest with you, Lucy.”

“...about what?” She asked, pulling her blanket closer to her.

“I’m not really who I say I am,” He began, turning to her with scorned eyes. “I’m not some adventurer, nor do I live like one.”

She was quiet as he continued, Natsu hearing her heart drop ever so slightly.

“I’m the king of Tartaros, a kingdom of demons hidden from the human world. And I want to take you back as my queen.”

“What...what kind of joke is that supposed to be?” Lucy choked back her tears as she glared at the pink haired boy standing awkwardly by his lonesome. “Do you think I’m an idiot, Natsu? Have you been fooling me this whole time just to get me in bed?!”

“N-No, Luce, I swear, I mean it!” He said quickly in retaliation, avoiding her slippers as she chucked them in his direction.

“Were any of those stories even real? If you’re not an adventurer, then how am I supposed to believe anything you say? A king of a secret country?! Just because I live in the countryside does not mean that I—!” Amidst her escalation, Natsu was quick to prove his true nature. He grabbed her arm despite her immediate refusal to be near him, and sunk his teeth into her wrist, drinking the pure fluid that ran within her.

Lucy blanched as she watched Natsu feed from her, his gulps thick as blood trickled down her arm and his chin. Golden eyes shone at her as she slid down to her knees, the phantom warmth of his body against hers returning as he continued to drink.

“You...mean so much to me, Luce. I couldn’t tell you who I was right away, you would’ve reacted like this, you know?” He chuckled as he licked his lips clean. “I wanted you to get to know me, so I lied about who I was. But those stories I told you were true! I did those things just so I’d have a reason to talk to you when I came to visit. I want to be with you, Luce, and I’m sorry for lying,”

“I...” Lucy panted and held her wrist shakily up to stare at the damage done to her skin. She watched her wound close and the blood stop dripping, the effects of his bite still coursing through her. “I forgive you...”

Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip as she rubbed her thighs together, finding it impossible to ignore the swelling between her legs.

“Really? You’re the best, Luce!” Natsu grinned as he gathered her in his arms, hugging her tightly. Lucy squeaked uncharacteristically as his touch only proved to stimulate her. The vampire pulled away to quizzically look at her, eyes widening as he caught scent of her arousal.

“Na-Natsu,” Lucy fwaed as she clung to his arm, groaning as her center continued to pulse. “What do I...do?”

“Is it okay if I...?” Natsu motioned to her shaking legs, Lucy nodding as she leaned against his chest.

“It’s a result of my bite, but I knew that was the only way you were gonna listen,” He explained, slowly sliding his hand into her panties. “It releases a concentrated aphrodisiac, to keep anyone bitten from feeling pain. You’ve just gotta let it out of your body, and you’ll be okay,”

Lucy’s thoughts turned to mush under the effects of Natsu’s venom, unable to gather a single sentence within her mind as his finger began rubbing against her sensitive button.

His hand relished in the warmth of her honey pot, sticky fluid flowing from her center as her wetness refused to calm down.

She bucked her hips and mewled as he rubbed quickly against her clit, her climax coming as soon as he touched her. She jolted and drooled, crying out as her first orgasm graced her intensely.

“Not enough...Natsu, more...”

He refused to do more than toy with her most sensitive point of release, knowing Lucy was too out of it to give him proper consent. She hadn’t wanted him to see he before, so he kept his hand stuffed down her panties and out of sight, neither wanting to penetrate her virgin core so lovelessly with his fingers.

Her sloppy and delirious mouth pulled him in for a kiss, damaging his sense of concentration as her lips soiled his thoughts. He couldn’t wait for the day he held her in his own bedroom chambers, the silk curtains of his four-post bed drawn shut as she revealed himself to her in all the beautiful glory that she existed.

[donteattheappleshook]

Of Cars and Bars Chapter 11/14

As always, thank you Krystal @kmomof4​ for all of your amazing beta work and for just being a lovely person. This story exists because of and is dedicated to you!

Summary:

Rated E

When Emma Swan is offered the chance to go on tour as an opener for one of the most popular up and coming bands of the decade, the last thing she expects is to find that the lead guitarist is the stranger she had a one night stand with five years ago.

This started out as a smutty two shot about Emma Ruby and Mary Margaret going on a road trip and has evolved into a slow-burn mutual pining angst-fest.

Read it from the beginning on Ao3 and Ffn because tumblr eats all my italics.

Chapter 11 - What If This Is All The Love You Ever Get?

So you've fallen in love / So you've fallen apart / What if it hurts like hell / Then it'll hurt like hell / Come on over, come on over here / I'm in the ruins too / I know the wreckage so well

Killian was trying to concentrate on the song - he really was. He was trying to focus on playing the right chords and singing the right lyrics and egging on the crowd that was cheering and singing along. He was putting in a valiant effort. But it was just so damn distracting. She was just so damn distracting. Emma was on the side of the stage, hidden from the crowd and the cameras - but not from him. No, he could see her just fine, leaning there against an amp, casually, as though she wasn’t looking at him like she wanted to devour him. 

He tried to keep his eyes forward, to remember to interact with Liam (the fans loved that) and with Graham and David. But they kept betraying him, sliding back over to where she stood, still flushed from her own performance, biting her lip and raking her eyes over him from head to toe as he nearly stumbled over the chorus. His hands were sweaty and his heart was racing and he knew his ears must be red. She smirked. She knew exactly what she was doing. He couldn’t even be mad about it - not if it meant she would keep looking at him like that. How much longer was this set?

He felt like he was right back to five years ago, singing to her in the middle of a crowded bar while she practically begged him with her eyes to kiss her. His heartrate picked up even more. He wondered how mad his brother and the guys would be if he up and left the stage early again. No, he could probably only get away with that once. 

She was smiling at him now - oh, god, it was worse than the leer. She was watching him, he’d just started signing again, lips pressed to the microphone and really wishing they were pressed against her instead, and she’d started smiling, a slow, happy smile, the kind that usually crossed his face whenever he watched her on stage. 

He loved that smile - it was new, she’d only just started letting him see it. He’d almost seen it once or twice before but it had been quick, fleeting and bitten back immediately. But now, in just the last few days, she’d let it bloom across her face and he tried not to read into the fact that she seemed to smile like that mostly around him. 

He finally finished the set. There had been seven more gruelling songs that he’d had to play through while actively trying not to let himself be distracted by her and while also being shot casual glares by Liam and smirks by David and Graham. Whatever. He didn’t care. They said their thanks, took their bows, and headed off stage away from the screaming fans who were demanding more. 

He didn’t even bother to pretend like he wasn’t headed straight to her. Was too wound up and excited and happy to play it cool. He walked (jogged) right up to Emma and his heart jumped at the teasing and slightly smug smile she shot him. She let him back her up against the curtains and the amps that were placed haphazardly there behind her. 

“Nice show,” she told him, throwing a quick glance in the direction of the ongoing cheers. The others were around them, Liam was no more than five feet away as he and the rest of the band hung out just next to the stage, debating an encore. And so, Killian didn’t touch her, as much as he wanted to he didn’t touch her because he knew she didn’t like people seeing them together - wasn’t ready to deal with it as she’d told him many times before. That was okay - well, it wasn’t okay, but he would deal with it. He would settle for flirting shamelessly with her until they could be alone. 

He nearly choked as she reached out to toy with the hem of his shirt as she said something he didn’t even hear. He was too focused on the fact that she was touching him - almost touching him - in a way that could not be mistaken for friendly, in front of all of their friends, where any of them could easily see. 

He looked at her, tried to read what was going on in her head, see if she was doing this to throw him off, to rile him or herself up. They’d gotten close to being caught in the past, especially early on in the tour and he’d noticed how it had excited her (despite her complaints about secrecy). It was why he'd started the little game they had, the game where he would try and sneak in any little touch or kiss he could when the others had their backs turned. But there was none of that on her face now. No, as she gazed up at him, her head cocked and that smile spreading across her lips again she just looked… happy. 

“Come on. We’re gonna do an encore.” Killian was jarred out of his thoughts by Liam's hands clapping down on his shoulders. He was still looking at Emma and he could swear he saw a brief flicker of frustration and - was that disappointment? - flash across her face. 

“Sorry, Love,” he told her. All he could do was shrug in apology. She smiled at him again.

“You gotta give the people what they want,” she joked and he laughed. He couldn’t help it, he felt too good. 

He turned to head off after the others who were about to run back on stage, currently being handed their instruments by roadies. He was stopped by a hand catching his own. He spun back around and caught his breath just in time to feel her lips press against his, her hand coming up to his cheek, steading him, grounding him, elating him. 

He couldn’t even help his reaction, it was automatic, a Pavlovian response to her. His hands went to her hair, pulling her just a little closer as he kissed her back with much more enthusiasm than the soft kiss she’d orignially given him. 

“Emma!” Liam called, annoyed. “Release my brother and let him get his ass over here. We’re gonna lose them!” 

Killian froze. Shit. He hadn’t even thought about the others. He feared what he’d see when he looked in her eyes, worried that she’d avoid him like the plague after this. But when he finally mustered the strength to face her, she smiled again, a faint blush on her cheeks, but none of the worry, none of the fear he’d been expecting. Like she didn’t even care at all. 

He didn’t want to lose this. Was worried that if he walked away she would change her mind and start caring again. But he had to get back on stage. He didn’t want to leave her either, didn’t want to stop feeling her skin under his hands and looking at the curve of her smile, the openness in her eyes. He had an idea. 

He took her hand, pulled her after him. “Come on,” he told her as he led them both over to where the others stood, waiting. 

“Killian, what are you doing?” she demanded, not angry but definitely surprised and confused. 

“Get her guitar,” he called to one of the roadies and he watched as it dawned on her. She looked nervous, but also a little excited. 

“What are you doing?” Liam hissed. Killian only smiled at him.

“They’ll love it,” he told his brother. 

And he knew they would. The crowd would go crazy to see Emma performing with them on stage. They loved that sort of thing. And it would give him an excuse to keep touching her, pull her on stage by the hand, throw his arm around her while they sang - and chalk it all up to performance. He also didn’t hate the idea that singing on stage with them would do nothing but boost Emma’s steadily growing notoriety and fame.  

“They will,” Graham agreed. 

Liam and David didn’t even put up a fight. They knew he was right. It was a brilliant idea. He didn’t know why they hadn’t thought of it earlier. He was more surprised that Emma didn’t resist. But she knew all their songs, he’d heard her singing along many times and right now she was already buzzing with the adrenaline and the rush that always came before going on stage. 

They were handed their instruments and the other three headed off. Killian held back with Emma, wanting to increase the drama and the impact of them coming out on stage together. Thankfully, his bandmates were no strangers to his flare for the dramatic and played along, egging on the crowd before finally signalling him to join them. When he ran on stage with Emma in tow the reaction was electric. 

He introduced her, not that they didn’t already know who she was - their screams were enough to prove that - and asked if they wanted to hear her sing again. They screamed once more. David counted them off and Liam and Graham joined in with a song the fans loved, one where Killian took the lead vocals. 

Emma’s playing blended seamlessly with his own and with the band, as though she’d always been part of the group, and he was once again amazed at her talent, the ease with which music came to her. He took the first verse and the first chorus, Emma standing next to him and knowing already how to play this game, how to make the fans want more. He didn’t even have to signal her when the second verse came around and she stepped up to his mic and took over, her voice ringing high and clear over the crowd. She smiled again as they roared. 

He’d made room for her for the verse but swooped back in for the second chorus, joining her, sharing the microphone, their faces inches apart and while it was, as always, filled with that electricity that sparked when they were near each other, they had nothing but bright, wide smiles on their faces. Even their voices fit perfectly together. 

As Killian watched her sing with him, watched her smile and flirt with him in front of thousands of fans and cameras, he couldn’t help the tightening in his chest. Something had changed. Ever since the night of Liam’s birthday nearly a week ago now, when she’d crawled into his bed and woke him with her lips and her body and she’d let him make love to her like he’d wanted to for months - who was he kidding, for years, she'd been different.

She’d been gone when he woke up, and for a moment his whole body had filled with dread, with pain and loss and disappointment, certain that she’d run again. But then he’d found her in the kitchen, sipping coffee with Ruby and Graham and, when he’d approached her, cautiously, afraid of what he might see on her face when she noticed him, she’d smiled, that same, happy, open, maybe a little bit shy, smile that she’d been giving him ever since, and he felt the dread fall away and the hope take its place. She hadn’t run. 

He’d wanted to ask her about it, ask if she wanted more, wanted what he did, but he knew better. He knew that that question would send her quickly retreating back into the shell she’d been hiding behind when he first met her. It would have to be her move. 

          Technically it was still just sex. There had been no talk of feelings or relationships or desires or exclusivity… but it wasn’t really anymore, was it? Since that night, they’d been spending every possible moment they had together, in his room or in hers and with the others. Yes, there had been a lot of that. But that wasn’t all it was. And even the sex had changed. It wasn’t any less passionate or mind blowing, she didn’t drive him any less mad with wanting and lust, but it had been less rushed, less frantic than it had been before now. They took their time more - she let him take his time more. 

And his favorite part was after. Rather than throw her clothes on and head off or change the subject or find some way to ensure he knew that it was just physical… she lingered. She still left before the morning, still refused to wake up with him, but while she was there she let him wrap his arms around her, stayed in his bed for hours sometimes and let him slowly uncover new bits of who Emma Swan was. 

He was surprised at how many random facts he knew about her now. He cherished every one. Like how she liked hot chocolate more than coffee and that she would sell her soul for a grilled cheese, and that she would try and convince everyone that she liked action movies and horror movies but secretly she loved romances. All of these things had been revealed to him easily, like she was no longer afraid of him knowing who she was rather than just how she fucked. 

But it was more than that. Slowly, she’d started to share with him, share bits of her past, reveal the history that had shaped her into the woman she was. He knew now that she had ended up in the foster system because she’d been abandoned by the side of the road as a baby and never knew her parents. He knew that she had been taught to play guitar by Granny as a way to keep an angry kid out of trouble. He knew that she had been in love once and that it hadn’t ended well. 

She hadn’t told him more than that but as she'd said it, her fingers had traced delicately over the tattoo on his forearm and he knew that this was a pain that had scarred her, changed her. It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together and realise that that someone had been Neal. He hadn’t pushed and she hadn’t elaborated but he knew how much it meant that she’d told him this much. 

Sometimes he wasn’t even sure she meant to tell him any of it but another new thing he’d learned about Emma was that she didn’t do or say anything she didn’t mean, or without reason. And he just hoped that the reason was that she was beginning to trust him - to see in him what he’d been trying to show her from the start. 

He didn’t want to use the word love. It was too fast and too intense but he couldn’t deny the familiar feeling that had taken over him, the one he hadn’t felt since Milah - it was stronger than it had been then. But, like when he’d first met her, the feeling hit him whenever she was near, hard and powerful and overwhelming and terrifying. He understood her fear of love, of trusting others, of being vulnerable and open to being hurt again. He was there too. He just wasn’t strong enough to fight it. 

He could wait. Wait for her to decide what she wanted, let her set the pace and move at one that made her comfortable, one that didn’t scare her off. So long as she kept letting him into her past and her life and her bed and hopefully her heart, he was too happy to care how long it took. He’d waited five years for her. He could wait more.

They finished their song, his ears numb to the cheers and the cries of the crowd, numb to his brother speaking into his microphone, thanking them for their support. All he could see was her, see her smile and the way her eyes were filling with happiness and excitement and the way she was looking at him. All he wanted to do was kiss her. But he knew he couldn’t. Not in front of all these people. That was the surest way to send her running - not to mention the media shitstorm it would incur. 

He settled for throwing his arm around her shoulders, feeling her close and trying to control his reaction to her as he asked the audience to give it up again for her. He caught his breath when her arm slid around his waist as she waved to the fans. He caught his breath again when the lights went down and that same arm slid back down, her hand brushing against his ass in a way that was definitely intentional. Lust flared in him as he looked off after her, making her shape out in the dark as she walked away. 

They were discrete for as long as they could be. Both making their way off the stage carefully, finding their bandmates, congratulating each other. But as soon as their friends mentioned that they had been invited to a party that some celebrity or other was hosting at another hotel a few blocks away, both made their excuses, claiming the need to change, or shower or decompress and promising to meet them there later. 

Killian was sure none of them bought it for a second. Their friends had barely left the hallway before he was being pulled into the dressing room - or maybe he was pulling her, it didn’t matter, both of them were just desperate to get the other alone. 

He pressed her against the door, fumbling for the lock behind her as she tried to shed his jacket from his shoulders. He laughed at her impatience, finally turning the bolt and letting the jacket slip from his wrist. She was already working on his shirt, pushing it up, fingers trailing along his sides and his chest. He let her, lifted his arms so that she could pull it off over his head. He tried not to smirk at the way her eyes raked over his skin, her fingers following their trail from his shoulders to his hips making him shiver.

She reached for his belt and it took every ounce of his strength to rein in his desire. He took her face in his hands, dragging her eyes away from what he was sure was the very obvious bulge in his jeans and up to his. The corner of his lips pulled up at the pure want in her eyes but also - more so- at the way her expression softened when she finally looked at him. 

Her fingers gave up their quest as she tilted her head up, waiting, but not for long because Killian knew an invitation when he saw one and brought his mouth down over hers. She opened immediately beneath him, letting out a little sigh as he kissed her properly, the way she’d just started letting him kiss her, the way he was going to keep kissing her as long as she’d let him. She let out a moan against his lips when he leaned in, pressing his hips to hers and trapping her against the door. He felt her nails dig into his hips and smirked a little.

“You were amazing up there,” he said, leaving her mouth and trailing hot, wet kisses down her neck. 

“Mmm. So were you.”

“Oh really? Because I kept missing chords and forgetting lyrics because someone wouldn’t stop looking at me like she wanted to eat me alive.” He gave a little nip to her throat and she gasped. She grabbed hold of his belt loops, pulling him harshly against her in a way that shot heat right through him, making his head light and it was his turn to gasp as he brought his face back up to hers. 

“That’s because I did,” she told him, her lips brushing his as she spoke. He groaned as she bit his lip, then his chin, her mouth and teeth and tongue slowly making its way down his neck as she proved her point and he wondered how and when she’d turned the tables on him so effectively. Since when was he the one fighting the slow, teasing pace and desperate to rip her clothes off? 

He pulled her shirt over her head quickly before bending down to grab hold of her thighs and lift her up against the door. She let out a squeal as she laughed at his enthusiasm and it sent another wave of want though him. He ground his hips against hers again, trying to gain back some sense of control and watched as her eyes shut and her head fell back against the wood behind her, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Fuck she looked amazing when she was like this. 

He brought his lips back to her neck, speaking against her skin as he kissed and sucked and licked. “Miss Swan, I think you have a bit of a thing for musicians,” he teased, his mouth finally finding its way to the gorgeous, perfect breasts that were hidden from him by her bra. He pulled a cup down, revelling in the sound that came out of her when he dragged his tongue against the stiff peek, before she grabbed hold of his chin, forcing his face away and back up to her. He met her eyes, confused and a little annoyed that she had stopped him, but he didn’t say anything when he caught the open honesty in hers. 

“I-” she paused and he wondered what words were so hard to get out. “I have a thing for one musician,” she said and the words hit him like a mac truck. A thing. It wasn’t a confession of love or devotion or even of feelings. But he knew her. He knew how much even admitting that meant to her, how much of a step that was. There was a nervousness in her expression now that confirmed it. 

He couldn’t have stopped the smile that spread over his face then if he tried, the corners of his mouth pulling so hard his cheeks hurt. But he didn’t care, when he saw the small, hesitant, hopeful smile that crossed her lips in response it was worth it. 

“Good,” he said before kissing her again. He was elated. She liked him. She’d finally admitted it and that was huge. Emma Swan liked him - not just as a friend and not just as a fuck buddy. He felt like he was twelve years old but it didn’t matter as he kept repeating it to himself: she liked him liked him. 

He set her down long enough so that they could get their pants off, both of them laughing as they fumbled to get undressed as quickly as possible but as soon as they were naked he rounded on her again, pressing her to the door and hiking her leg up over his hip. 

Her hand came up to wrap around his cock and he groaned as she guided him to where she was already wet. He cursed, words he hadn’t used in years, ones he thought he’d forgotten as she brought the head to her clit, moving her hips so that he slid against her over and over. Killian thought his heart would explode or his cock would as he watched her take her pleasure with him, the feel of her grinding against him torture - amazing and not quite enough.

He looked up from where his eyes had been locked on her hand around him and found her watching him, heat and desire and softness plain on her face despite the moans that were leaving her mouth and the shudders that were wracking her body. He held her gaze, watching as she slowly brought herself higher and higher, his jaw clenching with the strength it took not to come right then and there. His hand found her breast, thumb brushing and teasing her nipple and her eyes fluttered shut. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Swan, please,” he begged. She nodded almost frantically. He could see how close she was, her eyes screwed shut and her lips parted as she breathed heavily, faster and faster. She guided him to her opening and he pushed himself in, moaning at both the feel of her hot and wet and tight around him and at the way her eyes flew open, a gasp leaving her as she grabbed at his hair with one hand and his shoulder with the other. 

He hiked her leg higher over his hip, both of their breaths hitching at the sensation before he started moving. It would be quick. He wished it wouldn’t be but he was so worked up, so close and so desperate to just have her and take her and bring her there that he knew he couldn’t last. He brought his hand back to her breast, his palm grinding against the sensitive nub as he tried desperately to get her where he was, to make her fall apart before he did.

He kept his thrusts slow but deep and purposeful, feeling her nails bite into his skin each time his hips met hers again. He was shaking, every nerve ending in his body on fire as he moved inside of her. His hand on her hips would leave bruises but he couldn’t care - he might later but right now it was making her cry out as she rocked against him, meeting him thrust for thrust and he just couldn’t bloody care. There was just her, nothing else mattered. 

She pulled his head down, meeting his lips in a desperate, sloppy kiss as they both tried to kiss through the pleasure and the gasps and the cries that were leaving them. They were barely kissing, more a pressing of mouths, a mingling of breaths and teeth as they rose higher and higher but she didn’t let him go, keeping him there, keeping his lips to hers and the idea that she wanted to be kissing him while she came was enough to send him over the edge. 

He cried out, the sound muffled by her mouth as the intense wave hit him, his arm wrapping around her, pulling her tight, needing to feel every inch of her against him as he rode this new height. She keened, her cries coming faster now and it took everything he had but he needed to bring her over the edge. 

He redoubled his efforts, the look of her and the sounds she was making enough to keep him hard and desperate enough that he could thrust into her at a breakneck pace for a few more seconds. She was so close he could feel it and he brought his lips back over hers, giving her everything he had, and she fell, her walls tightening and fluttering around him and her moan breathed into his mouth as every muscle in her body tensed.

They stood for a moment, still pressed against one another, lips still touching but too exhausted to move as they breathed heavily into one another, his cock still buried to the hilt inside of her as they both leaned against the door for balance, for support. He could feel her legs shaking under his hands. He wasn’t faring much better. 

He felt her fingers brush the side of his face, trail along his cheekbone and then scratch through the scruff of his beard. He forced his eyes open to look at her. She was watching him with the strangest expression on her face. A small, secret smile tugged at her lips.

“What?” he asked, wanting to know what was making her look so… proud? Amazed? Interested? Happy? He couldn’t read her and that was new for him. 

“Nothing,” she said, her hand continuing it’s exploration of his face. Her thumb was at his chin now, dipping into the dimple there. “I just really like the way you look after you come.” She said it quietly, almost dreamily and it was a second before her whole face flushed red, eyes widening as she fully realised what she’d just said. 

He could have teased her but he didn’t, decided to go easy on her. It had been a big day for confessions on her part and he didn’t want her to feel any more vulnerable than she probably already was. He hummed. 

“Feel free to make me look his way whenever you please,” he told her, bringing his lips to hers and stealing another kiss before she could say anything in retaliation. She didn’t fight him, let him kiss her, likely too tired to take part in their usual banter. He couldn’t help but feel smug about that. Finally, he forced himself to pull away, smiling at the way she chased his lips for a moment. “We should get going,” he told her. “The others will be waiting.”

She sighed and he laughed but she nodded in agreement and they slowly pulled apart before gathering their clothes and dressing. Killian was surprised but tried to keep it from showing on his face when they headed down the hall to the exit and she reached for his hand. His heart beat a frantic staccato as her fingers laced through his. 

She held it all the way to the hotel. He half expected her to drop it, to jump away from him when they arrived at the party, where their friends could see, but she didn’t and his heart soared, happiness and excitement singing through every muscle in his body, making his blood race. She didn’t even flinch when they made their way into the room and Mary Margaret spotted them, running over. Killian was too distracted to notice the wary look on her face.

“Did you not get my text?” she asked and Emma frowned. 

“No, why?” Neither of them had checked their phones since the show.

“I think you should go,” she said, her voice worried and nervous. 

“What? Why?” she asked.

Killian was as confused as Emma when he heard the sound of Ruby’s voice, louder and more aggressive than was reasonable for a party. They both looked over, ignoring Mary Margaret’s ‘Emma don’t’. He wasn’t sure what was going on. Ruby was standing with the rest of their friends, all of whom seemed uncomfortable and confused. There was another man with them, someone Killian didn’t recognize but Ruby was looking at him as though she wanted to murder him. 

He felt Emma’s hand drop from his and turned to her. She was frozen, her breathing becoming erratic and her face twisting in shock and… pain. He could feel the panic radiating off of her. “Emma? What’s wrong?” he asked, his hand coming to her back, trying to soothe her but not knowing what ail to soothe.

The man spotted her and made his way over to them. Killian watched as Emma’s face changed from the panic that had been there a moment ago to a blank, empty expression. It was almost eerie how quickly her walls had shot up, like he could see the moment she locked herself away again. The man had reached them now. He didn’t look like anything special but Emma’s reaction, as well and Ruby and Mary Margaret’s told him something was seriously up. 

“Hey, Em, long time,” the man said casually, giving her a friendly smile. Emma stared at him for a moment, her face impassive, not showing any hint of reaction besides the hard, guarded look that was already in place. He wanted to say something but didn’t get a chance before Emma bolted, turning and pushing her way through the guests, heading out the door. Killian was frozen for a moment, surprised by the turn in her mood.

“You need to leave,” he heard Mary Margaret tell the man. Killian shook his head, looking up and seeing the door close behind her. Shit. He had to go after her. No matter what it was, he had to go after her and be with her. Something was wrong. 

“She’s overreacting,” the man said and he paused.

“Get the fuck out of here, Neal,” he heard Ruby spit and Killian inhaled sharply, finally putting the pieces together. Of course. He reeled back around, facing the man with rage already starting to burn in his chest and through his limbs. 

“Oh, so you’re Neal,” he said to the man. 

Neal stepped forward, holding out a hand. “Yeah man, nice to -” Killian didn’t even think. His fist collided with the man’s face with a force that sent him to the ground. Killian stood there, shaking out his hand, pretty sure he’d broken a knuckle. It didn’t matter, not when he saw the man out cold on the floor, his jaw already swelling dramatically. 

“Killian! What the hell!” Liam started but he didn’t listen, he was already running off after her, out the door and then down onto the street. He needed to find her. ‘His name was Neal’. He remembered that first confession, remembered the way the song had ripped his heart out, had laid it bare for all to see, remembered the pain and the anger and the abandonment in her lyrics. Fuck. Fuck. He had to find her. 

It was nearly an hour before he did. He checked every bar he could until he found the right one. He knew Emma. They were too much alike. While she might not have the same problems he did he knew that the first place she would go would be somewhere she could try and drown her pain, try to mute it - just as he would. When he arrived, the bottle in front of her was already half empty. He took a seat on the stool next to her and she looked up at him, pain and embarrassment and longing in her expression. She looked away quickly, turned back to her glass. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” she told him. 

“Yes, I should,” he said.

“You can’t be here,” she was insistent but there wasn’t any real fire in her voice, it was too empty, too lost for that. 

“Why not?”

“Because I need to drink my way to the bottom of this bottle and you can’t do that with me.” She paused, turning to him a bit more seriously, something making its way through the glassy haze in her eyes. “I won’t let you do that with me.” 

His heart stuttered in his chest a little. There was hope, hope that she hadn’t completely rebuilt those walls she’d finally let down, hope that she still cared about him enough to not run scared when she came out the other side of this. That part of him itched, as it always would, for a drink, to commiserate with her. But he fought it off. She needed him and she needed him sober. This wasn’t about him. 

He looked at her now, saw the same expression he’d seen in the mirror too many times when he’d found himself in a bar after what happened to Liam, after what happened to Milah. She was hurting, that kind of hurt that took over your entire body, ached from the inside, clawing at your chest and your throat, ripping it raw and making you feel like you’d never be free of it, like you'd be hollow forever. She may think she needed to be alone right now but he knew that was the worst thing she could do. He couldn’t leave her. 

He was suddenly shaken with the overwhelming urge to hold her, to take care of her, to be there for her however he could. The grief he felt over the fact that he couldn’t help, couldn’t take her pain away, couldn’t bear it for her, made one thing clear. He loved her. He was done denying it. He loved her and he’d do whatever he had to, risk whatever he had to risk to protect her heart, from Neal and from herself. He loved her. He’d been in love with her for five years. 

He put his hand over her own. “I’m not leaving.” 

She sighed and he could see the emotions warring on her face, torn between wanting to push him away and the relief that he’d stayed. He sat next to her, waving away the bartender when he offered him a drink. He didn’t speak, he knew there was nothing he could say that would fix this. But he could be there for her. 

Emma’s eyes glanced down. “What happened to your hand?” He followed her gaze and realized that his knuckles were red and swollen. One of them was split, dried blood caked around it. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“I, um… I punched Neal.” 

A small snort left her and she raised the glass to her lips again taking a sip. “I should have done that,” she said wistfully. Killian looked at her with a small smile on his lips, remembering some of the stories she’d told him about her job.

“I don’t think he could’ve handled that.” 

She grinned, looking a little proud. “No, probably not.” There she is, he thought. Neal hadn’t totally stolen her away. 

They stayed at the bar for another hour during which Emma finished the bottle of whiskey. Only then did she let him ease her off the stool and lead her out of the bar. They managed to find a cab and Killian watched helplessly as quiet tears ran down her cheeks the whole way back to the hotel. She let him pull her against his side, let him run his fingers through her hair, but he knew he couldn’t stop her suffering, that it had to run its course. 

When they reached the hotel she was too drunk and out of it to remember where her key was and after a fruitless search of her pockets he gave up and decided to just bring her to his instead. He would sleep on the floor if she wanted him too. 

Unfortunately, his search through her pockets had brought forth a new facet of Emma’s inebriated personality. She turned into a giggling mess, hands groping relentlessly as she tried to cop a feel of, well, all of him. He was doing his best to ward her off while half carrying her to the room but she was so handsy. How does she have so many hands, Killian groaned as he caught one of her wrists only to feel the fingers he’d caught previously sliding against his thigh. 

As he slipped the key into the door she grabbed for his face, desperately trying to press her lips to his as he ducked and turned his head to avoid her. They made their way inside and Killian led her to the bed but she didn’t stop her onslaught. When they reached the mattress she collapsed on it, dragging him down with her. He caught himself with his hands on either side of her face. His legs were still on the floor but she had a death grip on his jacket. 

“Why won’t you kiss me,” she demanded, sounding annoyed and hurt and frustrated. 

“Because you’re drunk, Emma,” he told her, trying to untangle her fingers. He had no luck. She was really much stronger than he’d realised. 

“So what?”

“So you’re not thinking straight. It’s not right.” 

“I kiss you when I’m thinking straight,” she insisted and he groaned in frustration, giving up his efforts to free himself. 

“If I kiss you will you let me go?” 

She nodded, smiling up at him eagerly. He sighed and leaned down and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to her lips. The moment she let him go he stood up. She sat up quickly, looking upset and cheated. 

“No, I mean really kiss me,” she complained, reaching for him again. He caught her hands. 

“Emma, no.” 

His tone must have finally got through to her because her shoulders dropped, the lighthearted, frustrated expression leaving her as the sadness creeped back in. She looked away but not before he saw the tears spilling over. He felt like crap, knowing he’d brought her out of it, hating that he’d had to reject her when she was clearly already feeling rejected enough. 

“I just want to feel good,” she told him and her voice broke his heart. “Just something good.” 

He knelt down on the floor in front of her, pressed his palm to her cheek. “I know,” he told her, and he did. He’d been there, had tried to bury pain and grief in booze and sex and anything else that felt even just a little less awful for a second. She turned into his touch. “You will again. I promise.” She looked at him, her eyes red and wet with tears and he caved, leaning in and kissing her again, carefully, gently, trying to ignore the taste of the whiskey on her tongue. She clung to him like a lifeline but didn’t try to push him like last time. 

“Thank you,” she said when they broke apart. He smiled.

“You never need to thank me for that, Love,” he said, throwing in a little cheek and hoping it would make her smile. It did, but only for a moment. “You should go to sleep,” he told her. “I’ll get you some water.” 

When he returned she had shucked her boots and her jeans and crawled under the covers, sitting and hugging her knees to her chest, new tears staining her pale skin, turning it red and angry. He sat on the edge of the bed, handed her the glass of water. She took a long sip before looking over at where his guitar rested. 

“Play me something,” she asked. He sighed, she really needed to sleep but he was powerless to deny her anything. 

“Only if you finish that water while I do.” She took another long drink and he smiled a little, grabbing the instrument and resting it on his knee. “What do you want to hear?” he asked and she only looked at him for a moment. 

“Something heartbreaking.” He nodded, trying not to show on his face how much seeing her like this broke his heart. Emma wouldn’t want his pity. 

He played her a song. He played her a song that he had never played for anyone before, one he wrote when he was at his lowest, after he lost Milah and he didn’t see much point in anything, couldn’t understand the point of living in a world without her, couldn’t understand how the world could give him a love like that only to rip it away from him. His voice broke a few times as he sang, hit with the overflow of memories, wounds just as fresh as they’d been seven years ago. 

When he finished, she was crying again, no longer the silent tears that had been slowly sliding down her cheeks but harsh heavy sobs that wracked her body. 

“Hey, hey,” he tried to soothe her, reaching for her, cradling her in his arms and pressing soft kisses to her cheeks, her temples, her hair. “I’m sorry,” he said, feeling like an idiot for agreeing to play a song like that when she was this broken. She shook her head, wiping at her face. She was settling now, the violence of her pain having calmed and leaving her with a quieter ache. 

She slid over on the bed, pulling him down with her and he didn’t fight. He lay down next to her and she turned her back, curling up on her side. She reached back, searching for his arms, wrapping them around her. He went willingly, holding her to his chest, placing kisses to the nape of her neck whenever another, leftover sob would wrack her body. He’d thought she was asleep when she spoke. 

“I fell in love with him when I was seventeen,” she started. He kissed her neck again. 

“Emma, you don’t have to tell me. I don’t want you to say anything you’ll regret tomorrow.” 

She shook her head. “I want to tell you.” He felt his heart racing in his chest, bracing himself for this new part of her, feeling unworthy of the trust she was putting in him but promising himself, and her, that he would be. 

“He was older than me,” she continued. “It made me feel special, like I was more mature, more grown up.” He hated that he couldn’t see her face but knew that she probably craved the privacy this position offered her, couldn’t handle him seeing her when she was this vulnerable. He didn’t say anything he just listened. 

“He was an orphan like me, a runaway, and I thought that meant he understood me, that we were the same. He wrote music too so we started writing together. He always promised that we would make it big someday - that we would move to Nashville and get discovered and be rich and famous and have a family together. That was the thing I always wanted - a family. 

“We moved to Nashville when I turned eighteen, Granny wouldn’t let me go before that. I think she knew something about him that I didn’t. But when I was eighteen I said I was an adult and I could do what I wanted and so I left. We lived in shitty motels for a while and I thought it was really romantic.” She let out a scoffing, self-deprecating sound. 

“Then -” He felt her tense in his arms, held her tighter. “Then Neal was offered a recording contract. He came to me with it and told me we had made it and we would be famous and I signed it - without reading it.” Killian remembered the way she had refused to sign a contract with them and from the sound of her voice this was why. 

“What he didn’t tell me was that the guy only wanted him. He didn’t want me. The contract I signed… I signed away all my songs to him. I didn’t find that out till later. He left, telling me he was going to sort out the legal side of things with the record producer and that he’d be back. But he never came back. I waited in that motel room for three days before finally calling Granny to come get me.” 

“I’m so sorry, Love.” He wished he’d done more than punch the bastard now - wished he’d bloody strangled him. What kind of monster did something like that to a teenager - to anyone. His heart broke thinking about how young she’d been when someone had betrayed her like that. No wonder she protected herself so vigilantly. 

“That was when…” she hesitated and he felt a twisting in his gut. Oh god, there was more. What more could he have possibly done to her? He’d already used her, betrayed her, abandoned her. “That was when I found out I was pregnant.”

“Oh, Emma,” he said, the words falling out as he pulled her closer to him. She turned in his arms, buried her face in his chest and he could feel the wetness seeping through his shirt as she continued. “I couldn’t keep it. I was barely eighteen when I had him. I gave him away and I just didn’t look back - I left him to grow up like I did.” 

She looked up at him finally and he wiped at her tears with the back of his fingers, cradled her face and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You were a kid, Emma.” She nodded but he knew his words were only that - words, that this would likely be something she’d regret for the rest of her life. 

Her fingers were toying with the charms on his necklace now, her eyes focused on them, avoiding his gaze. “It’s why I’m so afraid of you,” she whispered. His heart pounded against his ribs, a hollowness settling in his chest at the thought that she was afraid of him. He didn’t get a chance to speak before she continued. 

“I’m so scared of how I feel when I’m with you. It’s too much and it’s too fast and I can’t stop it like I used to be able to.” His heart was racing again, for a new reason now, hope making his breath catch. “I’m scared because I don’t want to stop it. I want to feel that way and wanting that is scary because…” she was speaking quickly now but paused. “Feeling this way about someone is like handing them everything they need to break you. The last time I felt anything like this was with Neal and look what happened. And that wasn’t even close to how I -” she stopped herself. He didn't push, he just held her.

They lay in silence for a while, holding onto one another and Killian thought of how much she’d just revealed to him, how much of herself she’d trusted him with, how much she’d admitted to feeling about him. He knew how scary it was to be that vulnerable, especially when you didn’t know if those feelings were returned. He needed her to know they were. He needed her to know he was right there with her, just as scared but also just as desperate to make it work.

“I met Milah when I was twenty,” he told her and she put her hand on his chest, over his heart. “I met her when Liam was at his worst, when I was nearly at my worst, and she helped me. She was older… and married,” he admitted a bit shamefully, not of his love for her, but of the blindness with which he’d gone into it. “But she was my whole world. 

“We were together two years and she helped me deal with Liam’s depression, she even helped me get sober for a little while… but then,” he paused. It was always difficult to talk about her, always difficult to remember how he’d lost her. But he wanted Emma to know, needed her to. 

“She was going to leave her husband. She was going to leave him and we were going to get married and start a family and I was twenty-two and it -she - was everything I wanted. But then her husband found out and he-” He couldn’t continue. 

Emma’s hand came up to his cheek, brushed through the hair at his temple and he knew she wouldn’t make him. He took a shaky breath. “He killed her.” He heard Emma gasp before her arms wrapped around him tightly. She sighed his name, pressing kisses to his neck and his shoulders, wherever she could reach. Her touch was like a balm, soothing the anger and the guilt that was stirring inside him.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, her lips against his chest. 

“He tried to blame me. For months I was dragged in and out of interrogation rooms before they finally arrested and sentenced him. They said it was manslaughter, a crime of passion or something but… they didn’t know him. It was murder. He killed her in cold blood rather than let her leave him.

“I got really bad after that. My drinking problem turned into an illness, I cut myself off from everyone for nearly two years. I finally got help when I showed up to Liam’s wedding four hours late and plastered. I was the best man.”

Her hand was on his cheek again, her thumb gently stroking, and he looked down into her eyes. They were clearer than they’d been all night. “I’m not telling you this to compare our pains or for pity. I just want you to know that… I know what it’s like to feel heartbreak and how scary it can be to open yourself up to it again. But if you’re willing to, Emma, you don’t have to worry about that with me. I’m not going anywhere.” He brushed her hair off her face. “I’m in this for the long haul.” 

Emma didn’t say anything, he didn’t expect her to. She’d said more than enough for one night. They’d both left themselves open and raw already. Instead, she turned her face up and kissed him again, the same way she’d kissed him the night of Liam’s party, the kind of kiss that held a promise, one to try. 

He kissed her back for a long while, until both of them felt the exhaustion of the day and of the last hour weighing too heavily on them. He tried to stay awake for a while as he watched her fall asleep but too soon he was pulled under as well. But he found sleep with a lightness in his chest, despite all that had passed between them tonight. He loved her and it seemed - he hoped - that there was a chance she could love him back. He just had to be patient. 

[sunsetspidey]

room service ⎮s.m.

pairing: reader x shawn mendes

summary: y/n can’t stop thinking about the man she met in the lobby and it seems like he can’t stop thinking of her either

warnings: none? very slight awkwardness, i guess. some fluff haha

a/n: you all wanted part 2, so i delivered. hopefully the delivery isn’t as disappointing as i feel it is 

this is part 2 to hotel lobby

Your eyes flickered open before your alarm and the exaggerated groan leaving your lips echoed throughout the empty room. Mindlessly, you fumble around for your phone, finally finding it hidden away in the bottom shelf of the nightstand. The room was almost gloomy and you realized when staring at your (too) bright phone screen that you had yet another three hours before you had to wake up. Attempting to ignore the ache in your lower back, you sat up, running a hand through your unkempt hair. 

It hadn’t taken you long to realize that sleeping in the bed right next to the AC unit would be impossible, so you had reluctantly gotten comfortable on the floor on the opposite side of the room. Well, comfortable was an overstatement. Your entire body felt stiff and you suspected the backache wouldn’t disappear anytime soon, but you had been able to get at least a couple more hours of sleep. You stretched animatedly, your stiff limbs cracking at the sudden movements. 

A few minutes later, you found yourself in a steaming hot shower, desperately hoping the warm water would aid in loosening up your rigid muscles. As the water soaked your hair and body, doing its job of warming up the cold blood coursing through your veins, you began planning your angry complaint. After washing your hair and body, you still hadn’t made it any further than ‘Either I get a refund or I speak to your supervisor’ and you desperately wished you had taken Shawn up on his offer. 

Your mind wandered to the previous night (early morning?) immediately as soon as he entered your stream of thoughts. Soon enough, that was all you could think about, the rant long-forgotten. Shawn’s tired, yet glimmering eyes seemed to be the main attraction of your thoughts. There had been something swimming within them that you hadn’t been able to place, but that you desperately yearned to explore. Despite not knowing him, there was something about his whole persona - and his cozy outfit - that made you want to cuddle him and talk about life’s big questions. 

Only when the water got colder did you realize how long you had been in the shower. Turning off the water, you grabbed the provided hotel towel and stepped out. Eventually, you were finally dressed and ready to go, still with another two hours to spare before your meeting. You were debating whether to take advantage of the free, but limited hotel breakfast or talk to the working receptionist when your stomach cried out, easily making that decision for you. Snatching your phone and keycard off the nightstand, you headed toward the front door, hoping the breakfast they offered was better than their customer service. You were about to open the door, your hand on the handle, when a knock echoed throughout the room. 

When you opened the door, you weren’t sure how to react. A man stood outside, a cart decorated with various dishes in front of him. As he smiled down at you, you caught a whiff of the food hiding underneath the small, silver dome, increasing your hunger instantly. You had a nice job that paid decent money, but never had you bothered paying the extra money for room service at a hotel. The delicious smells that entered your nose made you wish you had, though. You were about to tell him that he more than likely had the wrong room when he said your name, wanting to confirm that the right person would receive the food that had been ordered. 

After a minute of interrogating from your side, you were left alone in your room, a cart full of breakfast options your only guest. You maneuvered it over to the bed, your eyes hungrily scrambling over the food displayed out on the cart. Plopping down on the bed, you reached forward to uncover the food, only coming to halt as something tickled your wrist. Realizing it was a folded piece of paper, your fingers let go of the cloche, reaching for the note instead. For a reason, unbeknownst to you, your heart began thumping louder in your chest as you fumbled with the paper, finally being able to open it.

got you some breakfast so you have the strength to stand up to the hotel bullies. hope your meeting goes well x - shawn

By the time you were finished reading the sweet, short note, there was an undeniable grin playing on your lips. You placed it on the bed, not wanting it to get lost before your hunger took control of your actions. Removing the only obstacle between you and the food, you leaned in closer, your mouth watering at the sight. You assumed he had ordered various dishes because he wasn’t sure what you liked, which made the whole thing even sweeter - if even possible. There were waffles, toast, fruit, quinoa; the options were endless and apparently, so was your hunger. 

When you were done indulging in the food, you had less than forty-five minutes until your meeting. Knowing how crazy New York traffic could be, you hurriedly shoved the basic necessities into your purse and grabbed the required papers, before practically leaping through the door. While the hotel might have held back on their service, your job certainly didn’t. When you reached the lobby, there was a man waiting, holding a sign with your last name on it. He led you to the car and held the door open for you as you slid into the passenger seat. Once the basic introductions between you and the driver had been made, you fished your phone out your purse, knowing it would be at least a fifteen-minute car ride. 

It happened mindlessly. One minute, you’re unlocking your phone and the next you’re about to text Shawn to thank him for breakfast. That’s when you realize that you had never gotten his number because you had been too afraid to ask. Sighing, you navigated your way to Instagram instead, merely liking photos and not reading captions. It went on like that for a few minutes, your thoughtless scrolling occasionally interrupted by your driver cursing someone out. It all came to an abrupt halt, however, when you scrolled past a post from your company. It was a photo of Shawn, you recognized him clear as day, and suddenly all the pieces connected in your head. 

The Shawn you had met in the lobby was Shawn Mendes. The pieces connected themselves automatically as you replayed the night; his hood, hesitating to give you his name, the room service. It made sense now how he had been able to afford it. You remembered how he had told you about not being able to sleep and you assumed he had just gotten back from a show. It was all right there and you felt so incredibly stupid for not noticing. You knew who he was, sure, and you had heard his biggest hits on the radio, but you didn’t know much about him. Still, you’d think you would be able to recognize him, right? Maybe the sleepy haze you had been trapped in was too thick or maybe you had realized but didn’t care. 

“Miss?”

You blinked, glancing up from your phone. “Huh? What?” 

“We’re here,” the driver informed politely, nodding toward the window. 

You nodded. “Right. Uh, thank you. Have a nice day.” 

Gathering your things, you thanked him again while exiting the car. Not knowing how long you had been staring at your phone, you moved hastily through the small crowd, almost tripping as you made your way up the stairs. The building was beautiful, but you didn’t have much time to admire the architecture before Vivianana from your company flagged you down. The two of you engaged in mindless chit-chat as you made your way to the elevator. 

Her ongoing story about her flight to New York became nothing but background noise as Shawn entered your thoughts again. It was ridiculous, really, how you hadn’t realized. As the conversation the two of you had shared replayed in your mind, you recognized the fact that he had seemed grateful you hadn’t. It made sense, you supposed, that a celebrity of his status wanted relationships based on an actual interest in him and not his fame. In your case, it had definitely been an interest in him. 

Eventually, you have made yourself comfortable, making sure to find a seat opposite of Viviana. She was nice and you had met her a few times before, but she just didn’t know when to stop talking. Knowing the two of you would more than likely share lunch after the meeting or definitely a ride back to the hotel, you decided you needed a small break. If she was able to talk your ear off just within the walk to the elevator and into the conference room, you had to prepare yourself for lunch. You were flicking through your prepared notes when loud voices entered the room, one of them sounding very familiar. 

Immediately, you looked up to inspect the owner of the voice, your papers falling back down on the table as your eyes landed on the six-foot-something singer you had met the night before. As if the universe had planned it, he glanced in your direction simultaneously, his eyes widening with recognition. His pink lips stretched into a smile that you couldn’t help but return as the older man behind him ushered him to sit down. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry and before you had a chance to do either, the meeting started. 

Turns out that the client your company would be working with for the next campaign was Shawn. It made sense now why the coverup name used in the emails was SM. Your company had created the policy of using pseudonyms when exchanging emails in the very unlikely case it would be hacked. It wasn’t a dumb idea, but if often lead you to be somewhat unprepared. This was one of those times. Normally, it wouldn’t be an inconvenience, but you were barely able to concentrate, continuously sneaking glances toward Shawn the entire time. Viviana had to repeat your name twice for you to present your notes and this didn’t go unnoticed by Shawn. 

The meeting drew to an end and you exited the room with a majority of the team involved as Shawn and a few others stayed behind to discuss details that were probably above your paygrade. You were itching to talk to him - to at least thank him for breakfast - but a nagging voice at the back of your mind kept saying he wouldn’t want to see you. Though you couldn’t know for sure, there had been a look in his eyes that convinced you the voice was wrong. Viviana disappeared, mumbling something about using the restroom, so you leaned up against the wall while waiting for her. 

“Y/N!” you turned around immediately, seeing Shawn almost barrelling down the hallway. He stopped in front of you, the curls on his head bouncing as he did so. His eyes traced your figure quickly. “Well, that’s a fancy wardrobe upgrade.” 

“Shut up,” you laughed.

“How did your intervention with the hotel bullies go?”

“Didn’t have time,” you admitted with a shrug. “Too busy getting fat off of room service. Thank you, by the way. You know you didn’t have to do that, right? I’d pay you back, but I’m pretty sure it cost more than my last paycheck.”

He swatted at the air. “Don’t mention it. Barely made a dent in my wallet.”

You paused momentarily at his words, but he didn’t seem to notice. It was weird how quickly you forgot who he was when you were around him. His words were slightly cocky, but you could tell it was nothing more than a joke to him. It wasn’t an attempt at boasting about his fame and fortune. Briefly, you found yourself wondering how many people had tried to take advantage of his selflessness, wanting to personally kick all of their asses.

“Were you ever planning on telling me that you are the Shawn Mendes?” you accused, rolling your eyes at his statement. 

He chuckled, a sly smirk dancing across his lips. “Possibly. Be a bit hard without your number, though.” 

“Is that your way of— smooth, Mendes, smooth,” you jested, shaking your head as a quiet laugh escaped you. 

“So,” he started, his brown orbs widening with curiosity. “Is that a yes?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered teasingly, extending your arm. “Hand it over.” 

He immediately placed his phone in your hand and you effortlessly punched your number in, taking note of how big the phone felt in your hand compared to how small it looked in his. A quick flashback of a meme your friend sent you once about large hands popped into your mind and you quickly saved your number under ‘lobby girl’, a small smile appearing on your face as you did. A laugh fell from his lips when you returned the phone and his eyes traced the letters. 

“I see you didn’t put much thought into the name,” he joked, slipping the phone back into the pocket of his black skinny jeans. “Doesn’t really matter. I have a feeling it won’t stay like that for long.” 

Before you were able to question his little confession, his name was called. The two of you searched for the source of the voice and you found the man that had been in the meeting earlier. You realized that he must have been Shawn’s manager and just as you pieced this together and returned your attention to the young Canadian in front of you, you were met with a solemn look. Your stomach filled with disappointment, knowing that the two of you would have to go your separate ways once again. Despite having a means of contact this time around, it didn’t make it any easier. 

“Guess it’s time for you to go back to the rockstar life, huh?” 

Shawn nodded slowly. “Guess so.” 

You weren’t sure if it was the sudden adrenaline pumping through your body or the fact that you had no idea when you would see him again, but you had him wrapped in a hug before you could process your actions. He hugged you back immediately, his arms snaking around your shoulders so effortlessly that he seemed like a professional. In a sense, you guess he was, hugging fans day in and day out. The man called Shawn’s name again and the two of you reluctantly pulled away from each other, a sheepish smile plastered on your face. He returned it immediately although his appeared more genuine. 

“Oh!” he exclaimed, throwing a look over his shoulder as he walked away. “Good luck with the hotel bullies. Talk to you later, Y/N.”

You offered him a meek wave as he disappeared through the door, Viviana appearing on your side out of the blue. She opened her mouth, apparently having seen the encounter, and you shook your head before she was able to ask. You had barely accepted the fact that you had exchanged numbers (and a hug) with Shawn, so you definitely weren’t in the mood to explain it to someone else. Not to mention that this would bring up the run-in in the hotel lobby and for some reason, that was an intimate memory you wanted to keep to yourself. 

The two of you silently - well, the silence was mostly from your side - made your way back down to the main entrance. The same car and driver were waiting outside when you entered the busy New York street. You let Viviana climb in first before quickly following, slumping back into the backseat of the Audi. Just as you buckled and the car pulled away from the curb, your phone buzzed against your leg from within your purse. It took a few seconds of intense rummaging before you were able to fish it out, just in time for another text to come through. 

i have my last show in ny tonight. would you maybe wanna go? i can’t get you front row tickets 

it’s shawn btw

hello! if you made it this far, thank you! thank you for reading my crappy writing lol. please, don’t hesitate to leave any thoughts, comments, or concerns. i’d love to hear what you guys have to say ☺︎

there wasn’t much shawn in this (sorry) so i might write a third and final part,,, would anyone read it?

tags; @chillingbythesea @yourkidsfavbabysitter @feliciaceciliamariajacobsson

[drelleboag]

“Who got the power”? Jese...that’s who!

So, it is confirmed, after 9 years of being a core part of the girl band Little Mix Jesy Nelson has left the building…and why? Because Jesy has had to endure unrelenting trolling and cyber bullying since appearing on the X Factor in 2011. Jesy has been targeted for the past 9 years about her looks, her body shape and her voice…all of which, in my humble opinion are odd things to target as I think Jesy is beautiful, has the figure that many women aspire to (even go “under the knife” to achieve) and an amazing singing voice. However, mine and many hundreds of thousands of voices upholding such a view has little effect on the negativity wrought by the lesser number of cruel online bullies who remain anonymous in order to spread their spiteful and incendiary “voice”.

Seven in 10 young people report experiencing cyberbullying and 26% report feeling suicidal, so clearly the psychological impact of cyberbullying impacts deeply, leading to serious mental health illness such as depression and anxiety, low self-esteem and loneliness. I remember watching Jesy’s speaking out about her experiences and the experiences of others in a documentary on BBC3 in 2019, and at the time wondering if it would relieve the venom that stalks her on social media platforms. Clearly the answer to that is a resounding “NO”, but how Jesy has navigated her own “story” since then is testament to her tenacity and resilience. So kudos to her fighting spirit and strength of character by saying in the most public way possible “enough is enough!” may she be a standard bearer for those who have to suffer at the hands of cowardly bullies who hide behind anonymised false identities whilst they vomit their vitriolic and often unsubstantiated “point of view”, provoking additional spewing of hatred and attacking from others simply “because they can”.

So why do cyberbullies and trolls do it? Well to answer that honestly, you would need to ask them…and we don’t really know who they are as they hardly step up and identify themselves…even Katy Hopkins, whose public and hateful outbursts have led to her famously being branded as the most hated Celebrity in Britain, has the Kahunas and honesty to be open about it – albeit as a means of increasing her fame and notoriety as the “villain” perhaps? Anyway, I digress…one of the key reasons that trolls troll and cyberbullies bully online is because they are anonymous. It has long been recognised that anonymity leads to deindividuation and subsequently all manner of negative behaviour…just think back to any and all crowd-based disturbance… it is individuals within the crowd that cause the most harm, act in the most violent, antisocial and even criminal ways, simply because they are anonymous, and their individual actions are less detectable. It is a small number (in the grand scheme of things) of individuals who start the ball rolling by trolling and cyberbullies continue in their wake once the poison has been injected into the comments on social media platforms. As with trolls, cyberbullies are anonymous and their actions are kept, albeit very close to the line, within the parameters of what is “legal”. In the UK cyberbullying is not, in itself a crime… shocking, but true. There are specific laws that might be breached by trolling someone online, such as the Malicious Communications Act (1988), the Protection from Harassment Act (1997) or the Communications Act (2003) to name but three…but how do you prosecute someone who is anonymous? and who ensures that their actions are as close to illegal as they can get, without (mostly) crossing that line? Basically… you can’t!

So why are celebrities such as Jesy being targeted? Is it jealousy? Or is it something else?

In answering this question, I can only voice my own view, one that I have talked about across the media for some time…it may be explained by the fact that we now pretty much all have social media and can “connect” with “@real….” Celebrity accounts across numerous platforms. Celebrities are now immediately accessible…we feed off of their comments and tweets, we see and review their photos as they live their lives in the public sphere…and as such, we feel a far stronger connection with our chosen celebs. For their part they send us “blanket statements��� about how much they love us, how much they are thankful for our support of their latest album/movie/TV role/award…etc. But this is a precarious situation as now we can feel that we own our celebrity, that without us they are nothing that we gave them their status and that we can control their future success or failure. For celebrities such as Jesy in 2011 the feelings of ownership can be argued to be particularly important. The public had journeyed with Little Mix from being created on X Factor® (as each band member auditioned as a solo artist) through their auditions as a group, to the judges houses and finally voting for them to win. Social media accounts were created as part of their existence and platforms were regularly updated with news about their journey; this all added to establish a sense of ownership of the band’s successes (e.g., “if we don’t vote for them, they will be sent home this week”)…and the public developed a need to be connected to them 24-7, expected immediate responses to and likes of comments/tweets, feeling let down if responses are not quick enough, the activity of favourites were compared to fellow band members and the “who is your favourite?” question was raised (mine, btw was always Jese!). A comparator that has always made between females (and is now on the rise for males too) is about idealised (and outdated) looks, body shape/size…for example: too thin, too fat, too small, too big, too short, too tall, too White, too Black, too flat chested, too busty.

Anything that allows comparison (so basically anything at all), that favouritism of one person over another that then offers the opportunity for trolls to make their first insinuations and drip-feeding of poison onto the platform… someone responds to them… and it feeds their need to add more negativity, and so it begins…cyberbullies then see an opportunity to really dig in with some nastiness…again, by responding, their negativity and hatefulness grows… they positively thrive on the defence of their chosen target! They don’t care what you think of them, you don’t know who they are…they could be anyone for all you know! … and there is that anonymity again!

So, what, if anything can be done? What can targets of trolls and cyberbullies do? How can they protect themselves from experiencing the psychological harm that comes from persistent pervasive drip-feeding of poison about their looks, their body shape, their personality, their talents, or other personal attribute aimed at bringing about the maximum hurt?

Well take a leaf out of Jesy’s book…take back control

I have cobbled together some loose ideas that might help you work through the process of taking back control below, these are simply my thoughts about what you can do, but if they help then that is only a good thing:

1.     Make it known that you are coming off of social media and do so straight away. You do not have to justify the decision, and do not wait around for the bullies to respond…just close your accounts.

2.     Now identify what is causing you the most upset. Is it the words? are they tapping into your own insecurities? or is it the intention behind their words that is most upsetting? is it something else? …etc. If you don’t know, speak to close others (e.g., family and friends) and ask for their view.

3.     Once identified, focus on what impact experiencing the cyberbullying and trolling is having on your mental health…and be honest with yourself…and speak to close others (e.g., family and friends) about how they feel it is impacting you, remember that they see you from the outside, from your behaviour and responding to them…not from the inside (as you do!). Don’t feel judged or guilty, it is simply about identifying what it is that you

4.     Next, address the immediate issue about your mental health. If it is having a detrimental effect on your day-to-day life speak to your GP, take someone with you if you feel able to; having a second “voice” can often be helpful to identify issues that you might forget about, or that you haven’t identified; your GP needs as much information as possible to help you properly. If you are not impacted on a day-to-day basis, and/or once your mental health is on a stable footing, ask yourself whether you feel able to tackle this without professional help, or whether you should undertake some counselling? or whether you are willing to work with close others (family and friends)?  and importantly are your close others able to (although they may desperately want to) support you properly? If no to the latter, seek out a counsellor or seek advice online or over the phone from one of the many mental health charities that exist (e.g., Mind, NHS mental health and wellbeing support, young minds) who will signpost you to appropriate support networks.

5.     Recognise that working through the effects of your psychological and emotional trauma is not a quick process. It takes no time at all to knock someone down (for chronic attacks this is exaggerated) but it takes a long time for them to have the confidence to stand up again. Be invested in building up your resilience and confidence.

6.     Surround yourself with people who mean something to you; do not isolate yourself…we are social creatures and need to be with others. If you live alone, join a group and get involved in community activities, if you are religious get involved in your faiths’ community projects … I am sure that your volunteering will be most gratefully received (and I believe even permitted under tier 3 restrictions…but do check!). There are ways that you can be active and be sociable that do not involve going to the pub! Which by the way is totally out for anyone in tier 3 anyway!

7.     Live your life free from the chains of those who brought you down!

Finally, always remember that you are you…and only you can be you…it is not for others to tell you who you are, and anyone who wants to do so is simply not worth your concern. Be stronger than them and remove yourself from the equation…take you back from them…and always have the lyrics from Little Mix themselves in 2017:

“Who got the power? I got the, I got the power I got the, I got the power I got the, I got the power Hold up!”

Source: Musixmatch

Songwriters: James Abrahart / Camille Purcell / Dano Omelio

Power lyrics © Bmg Gold Songs, 360 Music, Artist Publishing Group East, Robopop Musik, Sony/atv Music Publishing Allegro (uk), Jayded Ink Publishing

[pandorasvalley-rpg]

BIOGRAPHY.

you are nameless. homeless. your most vivid memory is you wandering the desert grounds, the whirling, heavy air and sweltering heat bearing down on your tiny limbs and malnourished body. you are alone, helpless. and it takes more energy than you realize to drag yourself through the slippery, formless particles. a convoy, seemingly roaring to life in a blur before you, is your salvation. unexpected, but seemingly appreciated. the men are armored, however, and you don’t quite realize what that means before you collapse.

you awake on a metal sheet. you realize you are not safe, you are nowhere you might claim as home. there are metal tools gleaming in the distance. monitors and electronics humming around you. men you don’t recognize are buzzing about and using phrases your drug-addled brain can’t entirely decipher. the word ‘mage’ seems clearer than most, because of the disgust it elicits. the fear. you are butchered and sliced like a gutted pig, your cries in moments of brief clarity echoing into the nothingness. a sudden crash from a makeshift explosion several days later, the screams of those same men as bullets zip through the air and the commotion it summons, seems more imagined than reality. like a dream. still, you feel your body shifting, carried away. 

a man explains what’s been done when you finally awake, what a great favor you’ve been permitted. you’re too distracted by the look of your limbs, how scarred and odd they seem. how heavy. how painful. the man explains what’s expected, what will come. they pass along a strange blade, one you’ve never seen. one you’ve no clue what to do with besides hold. your hands shake beneath its weight, unsteady. there’s a mirror of disappointment in the man as it’s held in your grasp, as if there’s something they expect. something more they need. for a time, that disappointment is something you hope to do away with. you don’t like how it fits their face, how it makes them seem. the threat it poses. they give you a name to claim and for a time, this is what you know of family. of obligation. of expectation. 

you age and you come to know different things, better things. dangerous things. the glow of neon is too familiar now. you come to crave more, wish for independence. and you realize the near impossibility of it. how futile it seems. you are a criminal through and through. you only know the lies, the death, the self-preservation. the debt you owe is never-ending, your duties similarly endless. you come to find small escapes, little moments for you and you alone. you plan for more than you’re allowed, and are eventually granted a bit of peace. a proper brush with freedom — though never forgiveness — out in the sands you once knew well enough, though you barely recall this much. 

they let you race.

the fame that comes is not a hindrance. you are excellent at what you do, and on some level crave that attention, that adrenaline. you make no secret of that. you get greedy, however, and decide your dues are too heavy. they need an end. and as luck would have it, your work as a racer gains the attention of those that could be of benefit there.

it’s been a year and a half since you joined the crew, making use of the skills you’ve dedicated so much to. the pay, while substantial, isn’t plentiful enough, isn’t worth enough. you’re playing the long game and you know it. and you hope against hope it’s worth it.

FILE.

BASICS.

FULL NAME: remilia quinn. NICKNAME: remi. AGE: twenty-seven. BIRTH DATE: may 2 BIRTH PLACE: city of dust, presumably. GENDER: cis woman. SPECIES: cyborg. ( formerly mage ) PRONOUNS: she/her. ORIENTATION: bisexual. OCCUPATION: driver. pirate. ALIGNMENT: neutral

FAMILY.

PARENTS: unknown. SIBLINGS: unknown. PET(S): none.

PHYSICAL.

FACE CLAIM: ryan destiny EYE COLOR: dark brown. HAIR COLOR: black. HAIR STYLE: mid-back. mostly straight with occasional waviness.  HEIGHT:  5’5” (165 cm ) WEIGHT: 122 lbs ( 55 kg ) TATTOOS + PIERCINGS: strategically placed tattoos along the arms and legs to cover insertion scars. a shoulder tattoo resembling a collection of stars in reference to her black star affiliation. several ear piercings, right and left. naval piercing. nose piercing. eyebrow piercing.   NOTABLE PHYSICAL TRAITS: covered scars. fuller lips.

MENTAL.

AILMENTS: mental strain. alcoholism. post-augmentation pains. INTELLIGENCE: practical. LIKES: alcohol. driving. smoking. music. money in all forms. a healthy level of violence. gambling. the innocence of children. DISLIKES: being stagnant. emotional vulnerability. needless sympathy. losing money. being taken advantage of. post-augmentation pains. the impudence of children. restrictive clothing. FEARS: attachment. loss of self. loss of freedoms. TRAITS: impulsive. irritable. competitive. easily humored. prone to moments of loud or childish behavior. selfish. vaguely compassionate. stubborn as a mule. shameless.

ABILITIES.

FAVORED WEAPON(S): fists. daggers. blunt objects. WEAPON SKILLS:  7/10.  COMBAT SKILLS:  8/10.  THREAT LEVEL:  7/10.  EXPERTISE: some explosives, hand-to-hand combat, daggers, expert driving

CRIMES.

TO DATE: assault, robbery, impersonation, smuggling, arson, accessory to kidnapping, thievery, murder, blackmail, bribery, possession, gambling

HEADCANONS.

she has no idea where exactly she was born or to who. she doesn’t think about it much. the name she’s been given was done so by black star, on account of where she was initially found, along the border of wheats within the city of dust. her various escapades and the nature of her work have found her with many titles over the years, but she’s grown most attached to remi and has come to prefer it.

despite her blunt and seemingly shameless manner, remi tends to operate in a lot of half-truths if not outright, daily lies. it’s more habit than not, though it also serves as an apparent level of defense as it’s certainly enabled her survival until now. she is rather incapable, it seems, in offering details about herself that are entirely personal without great hesitation. she doesn’t believe anyone in this world is ever entirely honest, either. she can’t see that as ever being a possibility.

her style of fighting incorporates street fighting and mixed martial arts, things picked up among her travels and time with black star. and while she has no trouble using weapons and firearms when needed, particularly those capable of more destructive means, she holds a preference for breaking bones with her own fists.

remi is someone who relishes as little clothing as possible, seeing most fabric as another restriction she cares little for, and tends to dress rather inappropriately on all occasions. unless a job requires otherwise.

rings, dangling necklaces, and a good pair of shades are her go-to accessories.

chain-smoking, various levels of drug abuse, and alcoholism are the vices she most subscribes to regularly.

while some might assume her pro-war given her proclivities for violence, she is, in fact, entirely neutral, holding no preference for or against it. as far as she’s concerned it doesn’t involve her much, with her only goal to see to her own survival and see as much of the world as she can. 

CYBERNETCIS.

while the initial phases of her cybernetics were lined in a wish of understanding, to see how far or how much it took to neutralize magic by the mage hunters, the eventual enhancements gifted to her by the criminal outfit known as black star vaguely mimicked a weapon of war. at least in parts. she would by no means receive the same level of biocybernetics a soldier might, but the insidious make of her implants would certainly permit her to be received as a capable threat.

the focus of her enhancements were based in furthering a skill they needed: her driving. this included various implants along the cerebrum and cerebellum, her left and right eye, and implants along the upper and lower half of the body where muscle and neuron collided in the arms, hands, legs, and feet. the end result has given her accelerated reflexes and maneuverability, increased durability, night vision, and better visual attention to detail.   

the state of her cybernetics has always been such that it’s allowed her a more seamless, less bulky form with its internal make, preventing more obvious tellings. it’s evident in seeing her in action, however, that there’s strength beneath her bones and quite apparent she isn't entirely human. and though durable with a level of enhanced strength, she cannot hold against sustained fire, stress, or electrical surges.

it took two years to properly adjust to her implants, regularly having them maintained and reviewed when factors like gradual maturity came into play. though seemingly heavier in her youth, she’s since adjusted to the weight and varying aspects of residual pain, learning to maneuver well to compensate or medicate accordingly. sometimes overly so, in regards to self-medication, which can render her less adept, less cognizant.

[dweemeister]

Best Animated Short Film Nominees for the 92nd Academy Awards (2020, listed in order of appearance in the shorts package)

Since 2013 on this blog, I have been reviewing the Oscar-nominated short films for the respective Academy Awards ceremony. This is one of my favorite traditions for the “31 Days of Oscar” marathon I hold yearly, and I recommend to all my North American followers to seek these shorts out (see this) – they have just released to theaters as of this review’s publication and the reach of each package’s distribution increases every year. As a one-off for the 92nd Academy Awards, the Oscars are being held on their earliest weekend ever, giving everyone less time to see the nominated shorts.

Without further ado, here are the Academy Award nominees for Best Animated Short Film. Three of the five are stop-motion animation. It’s a solid bunch and – despite the fact I have seen better nominee slates – all fully deserving of their nominations (it is rare I feel that way) in a tightly contested year. They are all, in some ways, featuring characters and showing how they connect to others.

Hair Love (2019)

Co-directed by Matthew A. Cherry (former executive at Jordan Peele’s Monkeypaw Productions); Everett Downing Jr. (a journeyman storyboard artist who has worked with Blue Sky, DreamWorks, Netflix, and Pixar); and Bruce W. Smith (creator of The Proud Family and former supervising animator with Walt Disney Animation Studios), Hair Love becomes what is most likely the second film in the history of the Academy Award for Best Animated Short Film to have significant involvement from a former professional athlete (Cherry; the first is probably 2017′s Dear Basketball). Distributed by Sony Pictures Animation following a Kickstarter campaign, Hair Love played in front of 2019′s The Angry Birds Movie 2 – talk about a disparity in quality. The film follows a young girl as she refers to a YouTube channel (this film showcases modern technology but does not, like many other animated films, date itself in its technological depictions) to style, if not tame, her hair. Her father – who appears to have little experience with cutting or styling hair – is hesitant to help his daughter, but they struggle and learn together. The final moments of Hair Love reveal that their time learning from these online tutorials extends beyond their bonds as father and daughter.

Hair Love, riding on Hollywood goodwill from figures rarely associated with animation, has been lauded for its depiction of black fatherhood. In American popular culture, black fathers in black-centric narratives have often been portrayed as abusive or absent. So to see the opposite in hand-drawn animation is a welcome sight. The daughter’s hair almost has a life of its own and is normalized (black hairstyles have long been otherized in the West); an abstract sequence where the father is doing combat with the out-of-control hair represents the awkwardness of this scenario – with zero dialogue – perfectly. For an animation studio ridiculed for releases like The Emoji Movie (2017), Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018) and Hair Love serve as partial correctives. 

My rating: 8.5/10

NOTE: Hair Love can be seen on YouTube as of this review’s publication.

Dcera (Daughter) (2019, Czech Republic)

The Czech Republic can lay claim to being the home of the late Jiří Trnka, arguably one of the greatest, most innovative stop-motion animators of all time. Carrying that legacy forward is Daria Kashcheeva, a graduate of the Film and TV School of the Academy of Performing Arts in Prague (FAMU). Her graduation film, Dcera (“Daughter” in English), won a Student Academy Award and was deemed the best graduation film at the famed Annecy International Animated Film Festival (the most important all-animation film festival in the world). In Dcera, we find a young woman at the side of her father’s hospital bed, reminiscing about their relationship. Wordless and shot largely with a shaky camera and in close-up, we see several images from the woman’s childhood – how her father, barely scraping by with household duties, had little time to express his love to her. Dcera often breaks into literal flights of fancy and the daughter’s surrealistic imagination. And yet even when retreating into a world crafted so that she can escape, there is a longing to bring her father in.

Kashcheeva’s notes about Dcera elicit that she wished to accomplish an, “authentic immediacy and a para-documentary nature” to her film via the film’s constant close-up shots and low depth of field. She mostly succeeds; although the shaky camera is distracting and prevents the audience from forming an emotional connection with the characters onscreen. The stop-motion puppets appear to be made of papier-mâché and are intentionally rough –reflecting how difficult their lives have been and the innumerable imperfections of their personhood. The production design – when we are allowed to see it (the lack of production quality is not any fault of the film’s, considering that it is a graduation work) – resemble something from a lucid nightmare. Dcera is an outstanding feat of stop-motion stylization. In its final minutes, it seeks to understand and to forgive that which was never realized. Its emotional impact is imperfect, but its intentions nevertheless pack a wallop.

My rating: 7.5/10

Sister (2018)*

When the Chinese Communist Party brought an end to its one-child policy in 2015, it concluded a decades-long experiment that has left China in a demographic bind. Stemming from a decision made in 1979, the policy’s consequences include a skewed age disparity and sex ratio at birth that will affect the nation for more several decades. Siqi Song’s graduation film from CalArts, Sister, has the one-child policy in mind. The film, narrated by Bingyang Liu (no previous film credits) is a reflection by a man thinking about his life with his little sister. More than midway through Sister, the audience learns that the film is nothing more than speculation. In China even now, the one-child policy – since replaced by a two-child policy – has left its mark on numerous generations be they children, parents, grandparents. The film’s unique character design is wool-based, with its monochrome pallet recalling an older family photo album.

According to Song, the film’s story, “didn’t change from the very beginning. [She] always knew the film would be about a man imagining how his life might have been like had he had a little sister.” What did change while Song – a “little sister survivor” whose family made a tremendous effort to keep her a part of their family – made Sister were the stories of a brother and sister as the two grow up. The never-to-be siblings have their conflicts, as well as their moments of familial love. Not all of the ways this is depicted work, most notably the scene where the sister grows beyond her crib to become a giant looming over her brother (the metaphor here is too heavy-handed). Our narrator ponders whether he might have been a different person if his mother – pregnant with his younger sister, wanting very much to bear her – never had the policy-forced abortion. Given the trauma it inflicted on his mother, the narrator – even from an early age – will be left pondering this well into his adulthood. Is there regret in his narration? Guilt? I don’t have any answers, but I will leave it to those of Chinese descent to discern theirs.

My rating: 8/10

*Sister is entirely in Mandarin. For non-English language films, I usually list the film along with its country/countries of origin unless it was primarily an American production. Despite Sister being listed as an American/Chinese co-production by Song, I see no evidence of a Chinese studio backing the film. For record-keeping purposes, Sister will be deemed an American film.

Mémorable (2019, France)

Last year, Ireland’s famous Cartoon Saloon garnered acclaim for Louise Bagnall’s Late Afternoon. Late Afternoon, an expressionistic study in an elderly woman’s dementia, is a distant cousin to Bruno Collet’s Mémorable. Here, an artist named Louis (André Wilms) shifts between periods of remembrance and forgetfulness. His wife, Michelle (Dominique Reymond), tends to his needs and to his increasing disconnection to the things and people around him. If Louis has one fixture in his life, it is his painting – with brushes or, close to the end, with his fingers. Collet, noting the increase of short films – animated or otherwise – about dementia in recent years, indeed questioned the wisdom of yet another film about someone suffering from it. He then encountered the works of artist  William Utermohlen. Utermohlen, like Louis, continued painting even as his dementia impaired his understanding of his surroundings, let alone his work. Collet, now convinced of the validity of his plans by learning of Utermohlen’s life, set straight to work on Mémorable.

Mémorable evolves as the film progresses. What seems like a straight stop-motion animated short film transforms itself as Louis’ dementia worsens. By the film’s end, Louis’ figure begins to melt into something like oil paints, making him a living Impressionist painting while others around become surreal on the terms of a Picasso or Dali. With Mémorable containing plenty of dialogue, none of this ever detracts from this short’s abstractions The film’s final moments – an uplifting dance scene between Louis and Michelle – is an extraordinary marriage of stop-motion animation and computerized animation. By then, Collet has depicted the progression of Louis’ dementia in as cinematic a way as possible using an array of styles that could not have been predicted within a twelve-minute animated short film. The technical daring of Mémorable and the strength of its artistic conceit is breathtaking to behold.

My rating: 9/10

Kitbull (2019)

If any animation studio has a history with animal, it is Disney. Released as one of Pixar’s “SparkShorts” – a program created in 2019 to foster the talents of Pixar’s younger animators to force them to make short films with limited resources – Rosana Sullivan’s Kitbull joins that esteemed company. Sullivan, a storyboard artist who worked on the likes of Monsters University (2013) and Incredibles 2 (2018), was previously training to be a veterinarian and had helped many pit bulls in clinics and shelters. She, “saw how sweet and gentle they could be, despite [her] initial fears.” Her work with unadopted black cats formed the other half of what would become Kitbull. In San Francisco’s Mission District, a scrawny kitten and a pit bull who is forced into dogfights (even the implication of dogfighting would render Kitbull ineligible for wide theatrical release by Disney executives, knowing their insistence on a sanitized brand) strike up a friendship.

The design of the kitten is not realistic, but it would not be believable if Kitbull was filmed as a stop-motion or CGI-animated film. The kitten’s unrealistic body proportions make it more appealing and the minimalism of the pit bull’s design (there is a minimum amount of lines used to trace its facial shape) is effective artistic economy. The pit bull is a type of dog in need of an image rehabilitation. Perceived the be among the most violent of dogs, pit bulls are anything but naturally violent and Kitbull plays into this misconception. Sullivan’s experience as a former veterinarian student are fused with themes of loneliness and trust-building. Cut down from an 18-minute-long storyboard to its nine-minute runtime, Kitbull is an efficiently told animated short film evoking the pathos of animal-centric Walt Disney Animation Studios’ feature- and short-length films of the 1930s and ‘40s.‡

My rating: 8/10

‡ Which, for younger readers that have not seen Disney films from those decades, should be taken as a high compliment.

NOTE: Kitbull can be seen on YouTube as of this review’s publication.

^ Based on my personal imdb ratings. Half-points are always rounded down.

From previous years: 85th Academy Awards (2013), 87th (2015), 88th (2016), 89th (2017), 90th (2018), and 91st (2019).

[snowbellewells]

Face to Face in the Broad Daylight:  Chapter Four

I really can’t apologize enough for the long wait between chapters here.  There all sorts of plausible excuses, but I’ve basically just fallen behind with starting back to school and getting into the teaching routine again. Hopefully, I won’t keep you waiting on this story so long again, and that you will still enjoy what I’ve cooked up this time around...

Also, I still don’t think it quite needs an M rating, but fair warning, Emma and Killian do get up to a bit of mischief on a stakeout...

Thanks again to @branlovestowrite for the gorgeous story banner; I continue to just love it and smile every time I add it to the chapter post.  And to @cssns for inspiring so many wonderful stories and such a fun community outlet. I’m so glad it gave my little werewolf story an outlet and a reason for me to finally get down to business and commit to it the page!

~chapter four: sinister stirrings, signs of life

Gold did not allow his accomplice’s taunt to hang in the air for long; instead, speculation lit his serpentine eyes with cunning curiosity. “And just what is your price, Morgana? What is it that a powerful witch like you cannot simply conjure for yourself with ease?”

“I seek vengeance,” she bit out, tone icy cold with the fierce utterance. “For my father’s life, for my mother’s pain… and what I have lost to that ingrate King… Arthur of Camelot.” She spat the famed appellation, which most spoke in reverence, with a venom that momentarily surprised even the Dark One.

A knowing, secretive smile crept over his sharp face; no other words necessary for him to understand what drove her. He had after all seen the quest for revenge bring many a man and woman to his door, willing to take his wretched deals whatever the cost, and then meet their doom, or at least soul’s ruin. He and the would-have-been Duchess of Cornwall had much in common, and always had. Both believed the world to have slighted them, and both plotting, scheming, grasping every bit of what they felt was their due wherever they could. Perhaps she would grow a bit too desperate, and he could then be certain of the upper hand in their arrangement. He would simply watch and wait to see.

Morgana, on the other hand, was not idle, even as she finally handed the contained hat over to Gold and began to move around his shop with mild interest as he examined the token ravenously. Just as her former mentor sensed her fervent desire and impatience, the seething rage pushing her forward, she could also read his extreme confidence, his discounting of the worthy mind and abilities she had cultivated since the time he had known her well. He thought she would be easy to manipulate; powerful enough to provide the assistance he needed, but not a true threat to his own mastery of the exchange. 

He misjudged both her magical strength - and her loyalty. She had learned that no one could be trusted but herself. Though she was willing to side with him while it proved beneficial, she would not sacrifice her own goal, nor confuse a healthy respect with true devotion. Rumplestiltskin foolishly believed her indebted to him, simply because he had discovered where to summon the hat from Merlin’s safekeeping. That mattered little when she was the one who had retrieved it; she was the one he had needed to complete his task. Their purposes were not truthfully as aligned as he thought, yet she felt no qualms at playing along until it was too late for even the Dark One himself to stop her or ruin her plans. He saw her as a willing and able pawn, and she would let him do so for the time being. As long as he gave her the hat as promised when he was done, and she could increase her power, take it back to Camelot, usurp Arthur, and gain her revenge, she cared little how Gold’s plan worked out.  His power would be the first she would harness for her own devices - his and all the other Dark Ones who had come before - once the time was right.

“That seems only fair,” Rumplestiltskin spoke in his slick, indulgent tones that might fool someone who didn’t know him as well as Morgana did. Though neither fully trusted the other - nor any beyond themselves - the sorceror before her did seem near tittering with subdued malevolent glee. He really was an imp to his core, delighting in the fall of those who took might and control by vicious means, even if that downfall was not of his own making. “King Uther, Arthur’s father, did indeed wrong your family greatly.”

“I know that,” she snapped, eyes burning as they swung to his in sudden anger. “You needn’t recount the injustices! I remember them well.” Her fine, white hands clenched and unclenched, as her deceptively thin shoulders heaved. She was practically seething from every pore.

Unfazed, the Dark One stepped nearer, cradling his precious talisman in one hand as he wagged his forefinger at her teasingly. She wanted to snap the digit at its joint, but instead held her tongue stonily. “Easy there, Dearie,” Gold chided in his infuriating manner of jest. “Flying off the handle like that can lead to dangerous mistakes.”  He winked at her before turning to leave, clearly unconcerned with her alone in his shop to wreck it if the desire took her.

Morgana’s voice rang out quickly, before he could vanish in a puff of his magic, stopping him with the sort of ringing command he couldn’t ignore. “Midnight, a week from now, when the moon is at its fullest… If you wish for my help, you will bring the Sorceror’s Hat to the lakeside when the lunar orbit reaches the zenith. We will perform the ceremony, and then the hat will be mine once it has served its purpose for you. Do we have an accord?”

“Certainly, certainly,” Gold chimed, and though his tone was soft and sibilant, Morgana could hear the eagerness, the urgency for his full freedom and command of his power running beneath. She wasn’t the only one whose need for retribution had them chomping at the bit.

All that remained, she considered saying as the bell tinkled after Rumplestiltskin’s exit, was to see who would allow their quest to be their undoing. Then, without another moment’s hesitation, she vanished from the spot as well in her own column of cobalt blue smoke.

~~***~~***~~***~~

Once again nighttime darkness reigned over the quiet streets of Storybrooke. The main street, lined with storefronts, the Sheriff’s station, and the cheerily butter-yellow Town Hall, was so still and calm by 9:30 that one might think the place either deserted or inhabited entirely by senior citizens, Emma thought with a wry shake of her head and exhaled breath as she sat watching the scene before them from her usual work parking space. Apparently, fairy tale characters exiled in the “real world” adhered to a similar early bird schedule.  She was in the more roomy back seat of her Bug, not expecting to see much of anything that would require her to pull out quickly, and needing to sit somewhat turned in the seat to keep her eyes on Gold’s shop, a Thermos of hot chocolate on hand to warm her insides as the night grew more chilled, and Killian cuddled against her side assuringly, something in his lupine makeup keeping him always a few degrees warmer than the average human.

Reading her mild amusement as easily as he seemed to do with all her changes in mood and emotion, Killian leaned in to whisper against her ear, his scruffy whiskers raking deliciously across her cheek and neck. “What is it, Swan? Did I miss something humorous?”

Emma shook her head with a chuckle, swiveling a bit to look at his quirked brow and curious face more clearly. His crystalline, sea-blue eyes twinkled as if he could already anticipate her answer, and in that moment, Emma genuinely wanted nothing more than to kiss him senseless, plant little pecks all over his forehead and cheeks and chin, just for sitting there with her, for always being by her side, and for being her ridiculous, handsome, dependable companion, whatever new surprise or danger came their way. Though she managed to hold back the outburst of affection, she still couldn’t help the frisson of awareness that ran through her veins at his nearness, even while proceeding to answer his simple question. “No, nothing funny really, just thinking how there truly is no night life here. It’s not even ten o’clock, and there’s no one out on the street!”

“Aye,” Killian nodded conversationally in agreement. “You’ve a point there. Any port town in which the Jolly ever docked - regardless of how small or remote - was more lively than our little town currently.”

Both fell silent once more, eyes unavoidably drawn to the entrance of the darkened pawn shop, looking deceptively closed and shuttered,but nevertheless the reason they were sitting on the street in a stakeout and wondering whether or not they should trust the seeming peace of the night around them.  “Exactly,” she smirked at his comment, against her better judgement leaning closer as she did. She could feel that the spark always burning between them, fanned by both recent interrupted assignations, was still simmering hotly, barely banked by more pressing concerns, and knew that the right sort of look or touch might well be all that was needed to set it aflame once more. And yet, she couldn’t find it in herself to resist.

Killian reacted just as she had hoped, his response to her invitation almost immediate, hand balancing him on the seat beside her as he leaned even closer than they had already been seated, his breath warming her forehead as he exhaled and his hook tracing a purposeful path up her jean-clad thigh. “Looking for a bit more excitement, are you Darling?” he questioned devilishly, his lips and tongue pronouncing each sound and syllable of the words in a manner that left tingles racing up and down her spine. 

The intentional progress of his metal appendage swung inward to trace along her pants inseam, ever closer to the goal, and Emma swallowed hard, irrationally embarrassed that he might already feel the heat radiating from her center and how her pulse seemed to be throbbing there noticeably. It was all she could do not to start shedding layers and crawl into his lap. She could only nod eagerly for several tensely heated seconds before finally affirming breathily. “What if I am, Pirate? Are you gonna do something about it?”

Killian’s heavy, dark eyebrows practically danced across his forehead merrily, as if she’d given him a present with her challenge. The tip of his wicked tongue poked from between his full, tempting lips before tracing along the lower one as if he had just glimpsed a meal her wanted to devour. “Oh, you know I will, Emma. Don’t you even doubt it.”

In the next instant, he seemed to pounce, his warm weight pressing her back against the leather upholstery of the Bug’s rear bench seat, as that tongue swept into her mouth to lay claim. The curved edge of his hook found its goal at last, putting delicious cool pressure against her still-clothed heated core and making her moan shamelessly into his mouth in return.

“Oh...Ki - Killian!... Please…. Ummm…” she raised her hips almost unconsciously, bucking toward his questing hook, and the added stimulation of his hand, which had now managed to slip under her shirt, up her side to her heaving chest. Emma forgot all about Gold, the newcomer, and why they were outside in her car at all, between the way his hand and hook were making her feel and his lips suddenly veering from her own to wander along her jaw back to the sensitive spot behind her ear, driving her even more out of her mind. She would swear under oath that she shouldn’t be held responsible when her desperately clutching hands pulled so hard at his shirt in her haste to touch him too and hold onto something to ground herself that she heard the sound of ripping fabric over her own gasp and whimper of need.

Not in the least disturbed by wardrobe damage - he had lost count of how many shirts and pants his wolf had destroyed in transformation ages ago - Killian merely chuckled with indulgent pride at the effect he was clearly having on his usually cool and collected girlfriend. It wasn’t lost on him that Emma rarely allowed herself to let go of control so completely. Splayed before him openly, eyes half-closed in bliss, Emma was offering him the trust and vulnerability few others received from her, and it awed him all the more beyond what her beauty had already accomplished. Not wanting the swell of emotion to derail them, now that they had at last managed to preserve a long enough moment alone, he bent his head back to the task before him. He nearly lost a handful of hair when a few seconds later he caught the lobe of her ear between his teeth and bit down playfully, not expecting the force with which Emma grasped the dark strands between her fingers as she keened breathlessly.

The wicked smile that quirked his lips as he murmured into her neck, “Feeling lively enough now?” was entirely unavoidable, if he did say so himself. For a moment, he allowed his mind to gloat inwardly as her pants seemed to indicate his Swan incapable of speech from his pleasurable ministrations.

Letting down one’s guard around Emma was never wise, however, as he was soon letting out an indecently loud and tormented groan of his own satisfaction. Somehow, while he had been occupied with tracing patterns over her collarbone with teeth and tongue, she had worked a clever hand into his tight jeans and dealt him more than enough taste of his own medicine.

“Ah!  Wh- Swan…” he choked, his own head falling forward to rest on her shoulder as she squeezed and pumped delicately in the limited space she had to work with.  “Mmm, love...easy does it,” he finally managed to grind out after riding the sensation for a minute. “Much more of that and you’ll bring the night to completion before I can finish what I started.”

Reluctantly his bold lass did release him and pull back slightly, one sculpted eyebrow arched in what could only be the beguilingly feminine equivalent of the look he had given her so many times before. “Can’t have that now, can we?” she teased gently, stroking along his stomach muscles, which quivered in response to her touch and practically smirking up at him.

“Certainly not, Love. It would be poor form indeed to leave a lady such as yourself unsatisfied.” He licked his lips salaciously, but meant every word, and the way she threw back her head with a wholehearted guffaw of laughter made him certain she knew it too.

“Well then, Captain,” she purred, pulling him in once more by the charms that hung around his neck. “Let’s see you make good on your word.”

Pressing forward with a deep, almost feral sounding growl, part his own desire and part his wolf within howling to break free, he lay her back unresistingly on the seat beneath them, spread out before him like a delectable banquet feast.

When they surfaced some time later, bare and skin glistening with sweat from their enjoyable activities, they had already missed both clouds of magic and the reappearance outside the shop of their new female nemesis - the reason they had been waiting in the car in the first place. Still, even if they had been less than purposeful, as they rested together, sated and entwined in each other’s arms, neither Emma nor Killian could bring themselves to mind.

~~~**~~~**~~~**~~~

After checking in with Emma and Killian at the station - and gathering a much clearer picture of how his deputy and her beau were progressing as a couple than he had needed or wished to have - making sure they had been alerted about the strange woman he had seen at daybreak, Graham was more than anxious to see his own lady love once more. Firstly, because he longed to be at her side, to see her happy, every second of each day that it was reasonably possible; a truly jarring sensation for a man who had up until that point led a quiet, solitary life and thought himself reasonably satisfied, but a sensation he had warmed to and treasured all the same. And secondly, knowing that she carried their pup - a child conceived of their love for each other - in her womb made the normal protective urges he already struggled to manage at normal levels exponentially stronger. To think that Gold still lurked around town and must wish to win - or coerce or steal - Belle back to himself worried Graham enough on a daily basis, but the attack on Granny and this obviously magical stranger’s appearance had him all the more on edge. No, Belle might argue that she was quite alright and could take care of herself, but he intended to stick quite close by whenever his duties as Sheriff allowed, and he might just speak to David and Snow about seeing if someone could stay nearby, just in case, when he could not. He would simply bear her annoyance and exasperation with his fussing as best he could; it was much better than seeing any harm come to her.

Letting his mind return to that morning, Graham thought back on how, after sighting the cloaked woman by the lake, he had hastened back to his cabin with extra speed, shifting on the porch back into his lanky human form so as to let himself in with ease and check on Belle where he had left her sleeping. The sight of her peaceful in repose beneath the moss-green cotton sheets upon the bed, her auburn hair spread out across the pillow, and the softest little purr of a snore escaping her pretty lips, had made him loathe to wake her.

Shirtless and barefoot, clad only in the grey sweatpants he slipped on for decency once human again, he padded across the smooth hardwood floor simply watching her sleep for a few seconds longer with an adoring smile on his face. He had never seen her look so serene, stunning in her sweet fragility, her petite beauty and kind nature concealing what he knew to be a backbone of strongest steel. Still, however much he hated to rouse her from much-needed rest, she had made him promise to take her with him back into town this morning. She was not content to hide out and wait passively until all was safe. And even if it was only researching information that might help prepare the rest of them for the storm they all knew was coming, or finding any accounts which might might better inform the two of them on the little one they were awaiting, she would not settle for anything less than doing her part, in her library, surrounded and aided by her beloved books.

Perching lightly on the mattress near her hip, Graham reached out a large, calloused hand, with a gentleness he hadn’t even known he possessed (having never known a tender touch until this tiny spitfire of a woman came into his life) lifted a loose strand of hair from her velvet-soft cheek and tucked it behind her ear. As he had known it would, even such a light touch had her stirring, beginning to stretch and slowly wake.

Now that his duties for the day were mostly complete, it eased his soul to once more slip into the cool, enveloping shadows and hushed, welcoming space of the town library. He could feel the taunt hunch of his shoulders relax within seconds of entering his love’s hallowed space, at the sound of Belle’s voice farther within the stacks, directing someone he could not yet see. Perhaps one of their friends had already had the same thoughts he did and undertaken to keep her company.

Venturing on silent feet, long accustomed to moving swiftly and without sound on the forest floors and castle courtyards of their old world, Graham stepped into one of the larger conference rooms toward the back of the library, one appointed with a large study table and numerous chairs for large groups. He leaned against the doorframe there, happy just to watch and enjoy the comfort and relief of once more being in her presence and seeing her in her element.

The Hatter in their world - Jefferson, Graham believed he went by here, was the first other person he saw. He recalled with a wince that this man had also been painfully manipulated by Regina - both in the Enchanted Forest past and their small town present. He knew with the same guilt-ridden certainty that he had realized Belle could have been freed from her imprisonment sooner if he had been quicker to awaken and act, that he had probably passed Jefferson on the steps of the mayoral mansion or in the frigid labyrinths of the Town Hall, but both had been too ashamed at being ensnared or indebted, or in some way under the command of the Evil Queen, to look up and meet the other’s eyes, to see a fellow sufferer or brother-in-arms. If nothing else, he reminded himself pushing off the doorjamb and moving into the well-lit and enlivened conversation humming around him, at least now he was beginning to see just how many friends there truly were here, as well as foes. Good people who could be relied upon and were hoping for the chance to regain their lives, just as much as he and Belle were.

His adorable librarian was chatting happily with both Jefferson’s daughter Grace and Henry, who were all too content with darting back and forth from the stacks for any book Belle could think of to request - all of them trying to keep her seated and off her feet. Coming to her side eagerly, Graham leaned over to kiss her cheek, even as she turned her head upward to greet him with a welcoming grin.

“It’s good to see you,” he whispered in her ear, letting his scruff tickle along her skin slightly, making her giggle and tuck her chin toward her chest.

Still, she caught his hand and squeezed it back affectionately, holding on and pulling it down to rest his palm over her still-flat stomach.

His brow furrowed, confused, even as she beamed at him to wait and be patient. It was much to early for him to be feeling any sort of movement from their little one; Belle wasn’t even showing. He was more than a little puzzled, and a bit concerned if the truth were told, but willing to humor her, and so stilled dutifully, waiting for he knew not what.

Then, abruptly, a definite jolt jarred his large hand from where it rested against Belle’s stomach. Eyes widening almost comically as they darted up to her face, he felt as much as saw Belle suck in an excited breath as she nodded her head in enthusiastic affirmation.

“Wait, but, it can’t be… It’s too soon…” he sputtered. “Are you sure?  Should we take you to Whale?  Are you hurting at all, Darling?”

The flow of words was almost more than she had ever heard her gentle huntsman say at once, but no more than she expected. Still, she tried to implore him in her gaze and the steady pressure on his hand to calm, that she had learned some things about her particular pregnancy and she would fill him in, but she wasn’t in pain, and she wasn’t concerned or frightened - though she had known he would be, for her. Guiding his hand still, she brought it to her lips to gently kiss the back of it, hoping to soothe him. She merely wanted to share this miracle with this precious man, the depth of her joy causing tears to well in her eyes.

They were still for several grounding moments, and when she lifted her gaze to meet Graham’s once more, she saw that same welling of love and astonishment in his eyes as well.

Tagging: @cssns @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @therooksshiningknight  @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @resident-of-storybrooke @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @gingerchangeling @ilovemesomekillianjones @spartanguard @whimsicallyenchantedrose @searchingwardrobes @laschatzi @darkcolinodonorgasm

[battlers-of-galar]

Character Patch Notes ( 4 / 1 )

For the past few weeks, a large majority of characters have been getting revamps and new stories to go with their exclusion in the upcoming story. As a result, I decided to compile most of the surface level changes for those that wish to see just what has changed for the characters. Don’t worry, I did my best to make it as compact as possible.

Charles ( Grookey )

I took the liberty of rewriting Charles’s backstory to open him up as a Grookey who, under the passion of his father and brother, is a Grookey aspiring to partake in the gym challenge and practice his drumming skills. As well as being the one to often help cheer others up during a tough situation.

Pokemon Level:

19 ---> 20

Pokemon Moves:

Taunt ---> Knock Off

Likes:

Tree Swinging ---> Helping Others

Berries ---> Battle Planning

Dislikes:

Negative Pokemon ---> Tense Moments

Occupation ( Job ):

Pokemon Trainer ---> Gym Challenger

Personality:

Laid Back ---> Passionate

Vanissa ( Scorbunny )

I decided to focus on revamping a number of characters with Vanissa being one of the bigger ones due to the lacking feeling in her character. I decided on having her and Gabriella, her Cinderace Sister, have difficult terms together which could lead to story and interaction between the two. I also wish to avoid all of Vanissa’s character being the hot-headed one of the group.  

Pokemon Level:

19 ---> 22

Pokemon Moves:

Tackle ---> Agility

Likes:

Battle Planning ---> Showing her strength

Dislikes:

Judgemental Pokemon ---> Judgy Pokemon

Occupation ( Job ):

Pokemon Trainer ---> Gym Challenger

Personality:

Tomboyish ---> Stubborn

Henry ( Sobble )

Not much was needed to be changed for Henry seeing as how his character is the sort I would imagine, but I did revamp his bio to help shape as to why he’s still nervous at such an old age. I did feel him showing signs of wanting to change, yet being held back by fears that still haven’t left him, could make for a nice character that could have some interaction and such involving him.

Serena ( Wooloo )

Serena’s bio was pretty old, mainly being made when Wooloo was first introduced and had little to no changes outside of including the name of her younger brother. With that said, her backstory was changed to allow for how she met her current friends and the intrigue she has on wanting to see more of the region.

Likes:

Sweets ---> Sweets / Desserts

Rolling About ---> Exploring

Dislikes:

Sheared Wool → Aggressive Petting

Personality:

Gentle ---> Considerate

Valerie ( Galarian Farfetch’d )

I wanted to tone back on the idea that Valerie grew up in a strict household as the idea was hard for me to accept with Arthur getting more character. I decided instead to change it so that rather than her father’s actions being the thing she dislikes, it’s the fame her father has that bothers her. It’s not like she hates this fame, but the fact her training is being seen under Arthur annoys her.

Age:

19 ---> 22

Likes:

Leek Practice ---> Teaching Others

Dislikes:

Item Management ---> Unnecessary Attention

Occupation ( Job ):

Pokemon Trainer ---> Gym Challenger

Personality:

Tough ---> Honest

Hardworking ---> Venturesome

Rowdy ---> Reserved

Louisa ( Sirfetch’d )

I took the liberty of rewriting parts of Louisa to allow her to tie well into her daughter Valerie. The idea is that Louisa is quite invested in battling, but worries that she can’t enjoy battling forever once her leek withers. This has led to her taking the opportunity to try and teach others some of the proper ways of battling.

Age:

38 ---> 42

Likes:

Tough Opponents ---> Teaching Others

Dislikes:

Leek Tampering ---> Leek Trouble

Occupation ( Job ):

Gym Challenger

Volunteer ---> Poke Job Volunteer

Amity ( Greedent )

With Amity being one of the characters who doesn’t require too much depth her stuff pretty much stays the same outside of a few things. Otherwise, she’s the same Greedent you love.

Likes:

Sweets ---> Desserts / Sweets

Vida ( Dracozolt )

Not much was changed aside from giving Vida a bit of a relationship with Louisa, allowing Vida to become more prominent for the sword side of things.

Josephine ( Inteleon )

Lately, I found a lot of people really wanted to interact with Josephine in many unique ways. However, due to the overwhelming amount of interest, I realized Josephine might not be the easiest to present for interactions given how she is. As such, Josephine’s backstory and aspects have been rewritten to make her an Inteleon struggling to understand more about what she can do. As well as wanting to show she doesn’t have to be a strong pokemon to be a leader all the time. This backstory ties into one of the major criticisms I received where she had mostly water type moves while lacking important ones such as U-Turn or Acrobatics. I took this criticism as a new way to present Josephine since she might look and act cool, but deep down she’s not really the best. She can only really use Snipe Shot and has trouble with other moves.

Age:

28 - 27

Dislikes:

Cheating Opponents ---> Inteleon Problems

Camping ---> Feeling Incompetent

Occupation ( Job ):

Pokemon Trainer ---> Gym Challenger

Relationships:

Portia ( Hungry Bird ) ---> Dara ( Group Cook )

Personality:

Adaptable ---> Calm

Cooperative ---> Clear Headed

Gabriella ( Cinderace )

I decided with Gabriella to have her story focus on competition in Cinderace fashion, but have this also tie into her relationship with her own sister. The two of them often being at odds with each other is a great way for Vanissa to push wanting to show she can be more without evolving.

Age:

26 ---> 25

Likes:

Soccer ---> Sports

Spicy Curry ---> Competition

Dislikes:

Dynamax ---> Getting Blindsided

Occupation ( Job ):

Pokemon Trainer ---> Gym Challenger

Relationships:

Anya ( Rocking Friend ) ---> Dara ( Favorite Cook )

Personality:

Daring ---> Competitive

Vittoria ( Thievul )

I wanted to give a much better take on the young thief idea with a bit more story to her. As well as presenting the idea for why she steals more during a battle because of being impatient.

Age:

27 ---> 25

Likes:

Stealing Practice ---> Thieving Practice

Occupation ( Job ):

Pokemon Trainer ---> Gym Challenger

Relationships:

Amity ( Neighbor ) ---> Amity ( Slow-witted Neighbor )

Dara ( Grapploct )

Did a bit more work to present her as this odd team member who has trouble holding back, but is pretty cool to interact with when you aren’t being squeezed by her.

Age:

27 ---> 25

Dislikes:

Her Training Method ---> Holding Back

Occupation ( Job ):

Pokemon Trainer ---> Gym Challenger

Poke Job Volunteer

Relationships:

Louisa ( Decent Battler ) ---> Maria ( Volunteer Buddy )

Anya ( Toxtricity )

I wanted to try a better take at a character who is developed to be a loudmouth and give her a bit more depth. Now she is loudmouth that loves music and wants to battle to show it off.

Age:

27 ---> 25

Dislikes:

Music Haters → Being Silenced

Classic Music ---> Slow Music

Occupation ( Job ):

Pokemon Trainer ---> Gym Challenger

Dominique ( Obstagoon )

Dominique now has a bit more importance towards the overall story coming up and may or may not be related to a certain Zigzagoon. Though it is strange to see where her daughter went.

Pokemon Abilities:

Defiant ( When its stats are lowered its Attack increases. ) --->  Guts ( Boosts Attack if there is a status problem. )

Family:

( Brother ) --->  Maverick ( Brother )

Relationships:

Charles ( Piper’s friend ) ---> Portia ( Gullible Bird ),

Anya ( Music Partner ) ---> Anya ( Neighbor's Daughter )

Gabriella ( Neighbor ) ---> Amity ( Piper’s Cook )

Personality:

Tomboyish ---> Freewheeling

Hazel ( Morpeko )

As Hazel’s bio is already perfect as is, not much was needed to be done about making sure she was presented as a Morpeko struggling with her hunger.

Relationships:

Portia ( Hunger Management ) ---> Amity ( Hunger Management )

Vida ( Fossil Friend ) ---> Portia ( Cramorant Friend )

Emeline & Archer ( Dreepy & Dragapult )

I realized the mother and son dynamic that these two had makes it a little tricky for Emeline to interact with others on her own. However, someone gave me an idea that I felt was really useful to consider. What if instead of Archer being Emeline’s son, he was instead Emeline’s adopted son. This would give Emeline the dynamic of not really being a mother, but still trying to act like she is one. As a result, I rewrote Emeline from the ground up to include this idea. Also now she likes plushies

Likes:

Meat Foods ---> Plushies

Dislikes:

Destructive Pokemon ---> Feeling Alone

Family:

Archer ( Son ) ---> Archer ( Adopted Son )

Occupation ( Job ):

Pokemon Trainer ---> Gym Challenger

Relationships:

Vida( Fossil Pokemon ) ---> Maria ( Friendly Babysitter )

Personality:

Motherly ---> Affectionate

Stern ---> Protective

Valencia ( Duraludon )

As Arthur will be a strong impact on the story, I decided to have a character present just how much of an impact his achievements have pushed others to do what he has done. He might not be a champion, but boy does his dedication show.

Age:

32 ---> 30

Pokemon Level:

62 ---> 57

Likes:

Gigantamax ---> Target Practice

Dislikes:

Being Pushed ---> Rough Pokemon

Being Climbed On ---> Terrible Curry

Family:

( Father ) ---> ( Mother ), ( Father )

Occupation ( Job ):

Pokemon Trainer ---> Gym Challenger

Poke Job volunteer

[megalony]

Always be here

Another Roger Taylor request from @rogersrager thank you again for the idea.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Request: (Y/N) is having a rough day due to her depression so Roger takes the day off to try and help.

(Y/N) didn't need to open her eyes to know that today wasn't going to work out in the way that she hoped it would. Today wouldn't be a day of doing her job with ease around the farm as she watched the magical process of Queen recording their music whilst she captured the memorable moments with her camera. Today was not going to be a day where she felt able to lift herself out of bed without her mind screaming for many different reasons. Depression was never an easy thing to deal with, and it was even worse to feel that you had to deal with such a big part of your life on your own without the help of any close or loved ones. (Y/N) was lucky in the sense that she didn't feel the need to hide her illness from Roger because he was so understanding of it, sometimes he even confided that he had felt much the same. Experiencing his own low points during his teens and into his early twenties and it lifted some of the weight to know that he understood what it was like to carry around such mental baggage. To deal with something that could not be seen by others or any doctor trying to help. But Roger knowing what (Y/N) dealt with didn't always mean she liked him knowing.

As much as his support meant the world to her and the fact that Roger didn't simply dismiss her pain, it still made (Y/N) feel like such a burden to have to tell him that today was going to be one of those days that no one could predict or seemingly help. They were currently at Ridge farm for the purpose of the band making their third album which they already knew was going to be something different. It was meant to be a few months to get away from distractions so their sole concern would be making sure that each song they all came up with was going to be the best that all of them could make it. This album meant everything to the band and (Y/N) couldn't bear the thought of stopping such a long and sometimes painful process just because she was dealing with something that came and went in waves. Depression was always in the back of her mind but it came and went as it so pleased. It burdened her in the times where she needed all of her strength and willpower the most and disappeared when everything seemed normal and the same to make her think that it never really left her. Being here at the farm making this album was something that was a one time experience, they were unlikely to be doing this again and therefore (Y/N) couldn't stop the process and delay them anymore. They were already falling behind in their schedule and she couldn't bear the thought of being one of the reasons they were delayed any more than this. Today felt like a day where even the simplest of tasks that she could normally do without thought was going to be too much to deal with. (Y/N) absolutely hated these days. Sometimes she could go about her daily tasks as if she were in a trance, she could brush or wash her hair, go and manage to get something to eat and walk around the flat without too much pain or emotions. She could control the feeling of everything becoming too overwhelming, of her life being too much of the same routines that she couldn't seem to break out of. Days like today were not that easy, these days were the ones where everything felt like it weighed a ton and then decided to weigh down in her mind to the point moving one muscle was simply too hard a task to complete. It hurt so much today that there was no reason for her to feel this down. When (Y/N) was back home at the flat she shared with Roger, there were times when she could find an explination for her depression suddenly taking control. Roger was the more successful one in the relationship though neither of them stated this out loud. He was the one who was in a band that was rising to fame, the one that got to perform to thousands of people whilst at concerts or on tour. (Y/N) only got to go on those tours because she was there to take photos and films of them in their element. Leading to the explanations for her depression, because Roger was out at the studio or out playing concerts and doing something that many people got to witness and experience. (Y/N) was taking photos of Queen and other celebrities whilst knowing no one was going to see her work or recognise it as hers, simply recognise who she was taking the pictures of. It felt like she made no difference in the world but Roger and Queen were because they were bringing such joy to thousands of people across the globe. There lies a reason she felt depression when at home and he was off at work or on a tour she couldn't go on. There was no explination for her depression today. Being allowed to come along to the farm with the boys was a dream come true, she could watch the magic happening and feel a part of it because she was allowed to be there. When the boys couldn't have their significant others with them because their jobs did not entwine with the band. They were away from home on something that resembled a holiday or a getaway, somewhere in the countryside that was so relaxing and peaceful. It had done wonders for (Y/N) these past few weeks in helping her mind relax and to feel like she was part of something amazing. But now as soon as her mind began to wake up the heaviness she felt in her mind and the aching behind her eyes told her this was not going to be one of those calming and exciting days. (Y/N) didn't realise that a stream of tears had made their way down her face, nor did she remember when she had moved her hand to her forehead to try and alleviate the sudden pain she had woken up with. Yet Roger did. His hand had reached out to turn off the alarm clock on the bedside table two minutes before it was bound to blare out its obnoxious tune to render them both sleepless. He loved those mornings where he could wake up just before the alarm and relish in the few minutes he could have just laid with no thoughts or worries, with the love of his life lying beside him. Shifting his gaze to his right Roger felt the strings holding his heart in place being cut allowing the organ to fall into the pit of his stomach when his eyes landed on his girlfriend. (Y/N) was laying on her back, hand pressed to her temple as streams of silent tears flushed her cheeks that were growing a blotchy ink shade of red that alarmed him to no end. They had only just woken up, what could have possibly happened to make her suddenly seem like someone had just told her a loved one had died? The answer hit Roger like a ton of bricks, a hand tightening around his throat to prevent his breaths from entering his system as he felt tears in the corner of his own eyes. Roger wasn't stupid, he knew that depression wasn't something that could easily disappear and a lot of the time he knew it was something people had to deal with for the rest of their lives. He had been one of the few people to only experience the smallest part of depression, he had seen the tip of the iceberg whereas (Y/N) had delved deeper into the water and was now unable to reach the surface again. The worst part was that there were no guidelines for things like this, he didn't have a handbook of things he could say or do that would help in the slightest to make days like these bearable for (Y/N). All that Roger was able to do was estimate what would be a good thing to say in this situation and what would be the best thing to do to help. He was no knight in shining armour at the best of times and there was no way for him to make this situation go away he knew that, but he hoped he would be enough to provide at least a small amount of comfort today. (Y/N)'s eyes snapped open when she felt the side of the bed moving, her breathing increasing at seeing the worry but also the evident pain plastered on Roger's face. A look that made her heartbreak and one that definitely did not suit the usually radiantly happy man. Resting one hand on the pillow beside her head Roger leaned over her, his free hand moving up and delicately brushing over her cheek trying his best to rid the tears from her face. "Morning baby." He mumbled quietly, not needing to address what was making her so upset because he already knew, and talking about it sometimes didn't do much good other than making (Y/N) feel worse. Leaning down he pressed his lips to her own so gently as if she were made of precious glass that would break under even the slightest amount of pressure. This gentleness making (Y/N)'s heart swell yet sink at the same time, she couldn't be a distraction today, not when the band were coming so close to finishing up their album. "I- I'll be okay. You need to work." (Y/N)'s voice came out strained as her throat was close to closing up, only just allowing the words to crawl out along with a hiccup that said otherwise to her words. "This isn't something you should have to deal with alone and I won't let you do that. Give me five minutes." Roger never told anyone about his depression, partly because it wasn't that much of a big influence on his life and partially because he didn't feel it was something he could simply offload onto others. He had suffered through a bad relationship in the past that left him with the feeling that nothing was going to get better and the horrible dull thoughts hitting against his skull rendering him useless. Though he hadn't felt like that for a few years now Roger still couldn't allow (Y/N) to go through this alone, especially when he was right here to help. He knew when she couldn't come on tour with the band she didn't tell him when she was going through bad days and it hurt him to know she was trying to do this alone when she didn't have to. His words and the tone he used told her that he wasn't arguing on this subject, he couldn't live with himself if he knew he simply went to work with the band and enjoyed playing his music when his girlfriend was suffering on her own with something that was so horrible for anyone to go through. True to his word Roger was no more than five minutes as he left the room in nothing but his boxers, quick to find the first member of the band he came across which just so happened to be John. Both asking and telling if the band could begin recording without him and he would catch up on his part tomorrow, needing to stay with (Y/N). John needed no convincing at all, Roger was genuine when he said he would do his vocals and his drums on record the next day and that he really needed to look after (Y/N) today. And that explination alone made John sure Brian and Freddie would have no qualms with working without their drummer for one day. "The boys agreed I can just record all my parts tomorrow, so we're free for the day." His words came out with a tone that sounded as if it had been coated in honey, a small smile pulling at his lips as he sat down on the side of the bed next to (Y/N)'s legs as she had pulled herself up into a sitting position in his absence. Leaning forward Roger rested his hand to her neck, thumb brushing over her jaw as he took in her features. Though the tears had stopped falling from her eyes her skin was still blotched with red and her eyes were close to becoming half-lidded showing she was beyond tired. "Come on, I have an idea." He mumbled quietly, getting to his feet before suddenly wrapping his arms around her, scooping her up into his hold. Closing her eyes (Y/N) rested her face in the crook of Roger's neck, feeling his head turn to his lips could press to the top of her head, his blonde hair sweeping across his other shoulder at the movement. Her arms wrapping around his neck lightly as her legs hooked around his torso, his arms going under her legs and the other around her back to hold her to him. Walking out of the bedroom Roger crossed the hall and entered the vacant bathroom, turning to lock the door before setting (Y/N) down on the edge of the bath. Kneeling in front of her before leaning over to turn on the taps and add bubbles into the water allowing the water to rush down, the noise flooding through their ears which had a calming effect on them both. As much as laying in bed would be a calming thing to do Roger knew that they had all day to do that and sometimes that wasn't as relaxing as just sinking into the water and closing your eyes for a while. Roger moved his arms around her to rest on her back, his chin propped up on her leg as (Y/N) leant down, hands going in his hair and to the back of his neck as she kissed his hair. A feeling of content washing through her as the need to cry slowly disappeared. Her head was still throbbing like someone was slowly hitting her skull with a hammer and her thoughts were driving around in her mind but Roger was an escape. He couldn't rid all of the symptoms or rid her depression completely but he was a lovely escape from the pain it caused and he dulled everything down so much so that it was bearable. When the bath was full enough and Roger thought there was a sufficient amount of bubbles resting atop the water he turned the taps off. Eyes glancing up to (Y/N) to ask if it was alright to rid her of his shirt that was draped over her frame and skimmed over her thighs. His hands grazing over her thighs to grip the rim of the shirt before sliding it up her sides and carefully pulling it from her frame. Throwing it carelessly to the side on the floor before ridding the both of them of their underwear and adding them to the pile too. The heat from the water seemed to seep into (Y/N)'s head and calm down her racing thoughts as soon as her body submerged into the tub. Body leaning back against Roger's as he weaved his arms around her middle holding her to his chest delicately. (Y/N) allowed her eyes to close as she rested the side of her head against Roger's rather slim shoulder feeling calm enough to fall asleep though she was sure she wouldn't. Roger knowing each time she was struggling didn't seem to be such a bad thing anymore because he didn't feel like her problems were a burden to him. He cared more than she would ever know and anything that was a problem to her was an immediate problem to Roger that he made his personal mission to try and solve or at the very least alleviate as much as he could. "Thank you." Her voice came out quiet again but not far as broken as Roger had noticed it was when they first woke up making him feel a swell of relief as he too closed his eyes in content. "I'll always be here to help you, sweetheart."

[bethanhartigan-blog]

If you were thinking just for a moment with Texas up 6-0 early

they have the momentum, Colt McCoy, Jordan Shipley a large fan base on hand and another BCS Championship to come. Enter into the picture Alabama's Defensive Tackle Marcell Dareus and Texas' Freshman Quarterback Garrett Gilbert. Dareus responsible for Gilbert being inserted into the game by giving Texas' Quarterback Colt McCoy a jolt to his right shoulder so fierce that he had to leave the game. ingramer Gilbert trying with all his natural ability to fulfill the shoes of the All American McCoy, struggled the rest of the first half. Texas' ineffectiveness to move the ball seemed to fuel Alabama to turn to their strength, their running game! Mark Ingram ran for 90 yards with a touchdown and Trent Richardson got 49 of his 66 first half yards with a nice bursting TD run. Gilbert finished the half 1 for 10 with the worst of it coming with 15 seconds left. He somehow managed to botch a shuttle pass in which Dareus managed to handle for himself took it back for a 28 yard td interception to put Alabama up 24-6 at the half. One thing Texas had figured out was to keep Alabama's Quarterback Greg McElroy in check 3 for 5 with 38 yds passing and sacking him 4 times.

Nearing the end of the third Quarter you may have got the thought that the game was just a matter of time. McCoy still out and the Texas' offense with Gilbert was just not getting it done. Alabama just using the ground and the clock with a couple of ineffective passes trying to win with the lead they had. However Gilbert began to find his talent which got him to Texas in the first place, by throwing a pair of touchdown passes to Jordan Shipley to get Texas to within 3 poiunts, 24-21 with 5 minutes to go. The Texas defense then stayed relentless keeping McElroy's passing totally ineffective. With 3 minutes to go,their defense rising to the moment, Texas now had a chance. Alabama desperately looking to put the term "Momentum Shift" into their favor found a way. With the ball at the Texas 17 yard line, Alabama's Eryk Anders blindsided Gilbert who fumbled the ball to the 3. First Down Bama! The Crimson Tide had turned!

Their Heisman winning Running Back Mark Ingram followed that with a 1yd driving touchdown to put Alabama up by10 popints, 31-21. The game sealed for wagerers who gave the 4+ when Alabama turned another interception by Gilbert into another Touchdown ending the game. Alabama ended up with over 200 yards on the ground with Ingram and Richardson getting over a 100 each. With all that has happened in tonight's game, one has to feel for the Texas Longhorns who put up a huge fight to stay in this when their Heisman candidate QB McCoy went down. Everyone would share the sentiment that with McCoy in the game the outcome might have been different or at least more respectable than the 37-21 score.

A confession is a detailed written or sometimes oral statement in which a person admits to having committed a criminal offense. Confessions are very powerful evidential tools in criminal law when it comes to trials and sure convictions. They are an irrefutable admission of guilt. Police officers see the interrogation process as a means to obtain a confession or further evidence which will prove the person's guilt (Ainsworth, 2000). Serious factors that elicit false confessions are those that are the consequence of police interrogation methods which are designed to encourage confession by the guilty but may encourage confession by the innocent (Howitt, 2006). Not all false confessions are solicited by police. The consequence of falsely confessing can be as serious as those who give a true confession. They are at a high risk of being convicted even though they might retract their confession later on, which will probably not be accepted. "From a psychological perspective, a false confession is any detailed admission to a criminal act that the confessor did not commit" (Kassin and Gudjosson, 2004).There are various reasons why people might confess to a crime they have never committed.

Kassin (1997) classifies false confessions into three types, voluntary false confession, coerced-compliant false confession and coerced-internalized false confession: Voluntary false confessions are self incriminating statements that are offered without external pressure. There are several reasons why a person might be inclined to do this. One may do it to protect a relative or friend, especially when it has to do with juvenile offenders. Another reason is the pathological need for fame, acceptance, recognition or self punishment an example of this is the kidnapping of the baby of the famous aviator Charles Lindbergh, when more than 200 people confessed to the crime (Kassin, 1997).

In Coerced - Complaint false confessions suspects confess after intense interrogation pressures. This happens when the suspect confesses in order to escape of avoid more interrogation or to gain what the police have offered in return of a confession. The confession in this case is merely an act of compliance and the suspect knows that he/she is innocent but believe that by confessing they will be left alone etc. They are only aware of the short term effects of confessing and never bear in mind that this will lead to persecution and possibly incarceration. They often plead guilty as the police make them believe they will be granted penalty reductions (Kassin, 1997). An example of this is when 5 teenage boys, aged 14 to 17 after intense interrogations that lasted between 14 to 30 hours, confessed to being involved in the violent attack of a 28 year-old woman. The teenagers later said that they had simply told police officers what they wanted to hear, so they would be able to go home (Meissner and Russano, 2003).

One of the most interesting types of false confessions is the Coerced- internalized confessions. An innocent person confesses after being subjected to methods of interrogation that cause major anxiety and confusion. The suspect ends up actually thinking they might have committed the crime. This is very dangerous as a suspect's memory of his/her actions can be altered and the suspect no longer can identify the truth. This type of confession may happen mostly is the suspect is vulnerable, for example is naïve, young, lacks intelligence coupled with false evidence that makes he/she believe that they have really committed the act (Kassin, 1997). When suspects are confronted with false evidence of their guilt, for example being told that they failed a polygraph exam or that their DNA was found at the scene of the crime, they begin questioning their memory on what really happened and about their involvement in the crime (Meissner and Russano, 2003). The most famous case involving coerced- internalized false confessions is the one involving Paul Ingram, a deputy sheriff accused of the satanic ritual abuse of his daughter (Meissner and Russano, 2003). Ingram initially denied the charges, but after 5 months of repeat interrogation, hypnotism and encouragement to remember the abuse he succumbed and confessed. He was sentenced to 20 years imprisonment, without any physical evidence to support the confession. Ingram's memory vulnerability came from being repeatedly told by investigators and psychologists "that it would be natural for him to repress memories of his crimes, and that his memory could be recovered by praying to God for answers". (He was a deeply religious man) (Meissner and Russano, 2003).

In 1974, members of the Irish Republican Army (IRA) planted bombs in two pubs in Guildford, England. Five persons were killed and 57 injured. A month later, a bomb exploded in The King's Arms in Woolrich, South London, killing 2 and injuring 27. The explosions caused public outrage, and some 150 detectives went to work on the case. Four of the suspects who were rounded up confessed to the crimes. They were convicted and imprisoned. Gudjonnson, joined by others looked into the case and eventually made it clear that the four had confessed to crimes they did not commit. After 15 years in prison they were acquitted and released. The above case serves as excellent examples of investigator bias. The police had to be outraged by these senseless bombings. Their rage may have made them "will to believe" was really guilty or innocent. Gudjonnson pinpointed this cloudy dilemma: "Interrogation bias may result in police officers being particularly vigilant and receptive to information that is consistent with their prior assumptions and beliefs, whilst ignoring, minimizing or distorting information that contradicts their assumptions. Information that does not support the interviewer's hypotheses may be erroneously interpreted as lies, misunderstanding, evasiveness or defensiveness" According to Gusjonsson, the stronger the interviewer's prior assumptions and beliefs, the greater the interrogator's bias.

Police officers who manage to elicit a confession are rewarded with a lot of respect. Their methods of interviewing suspects are seen as a way of showing their 'professional prowess' (Ainsworth, 2000). Police officers are highly motivated to solve crimes and sometimes do all they can to get a confession from their suspects. Stress, pressure and threat are applied to the interrogation as they increase fear, anxiety, guilt or anger. This, according to the police will test their 'guilty knowledge' (Ainsworth, 2000). Gudjonsoon is critical of police deceitful techniques. He feels that "police trickery and deception deprives suspects of the opportunity of making informed and rational decisions about their right not to incriminate themselves"

Gudjosson and Clark suggested the concept of 'interrogative suggestibility' to explain how individuals respond differently to police questioning. 'Interrogative suggestibility' according to Gudjosson is how people in a closed social area accept messages during questioning and how their behaviour and response is affected by this (Conti, 1999). Gudjosson described five elements that he saw make part of the 'interrogative suggestibility': Closed interaction between the suspect and interrogator, questioning procedure with two or more participants, suggestive stimulus (hints, ideas), acceptance of the suggested stimulus and behavioural response to the suggestions (accepted or not). In such a situation the interrogator can manipulate trust, uncertainty and expectation to be able to alter the person's susceptibility to suggestions (Conti, 1999).

[frnkhamilton]

                                          ╰        *           𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐎𝐍   ╱   𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨

⊰ 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 ; 𝟐𝟎 ; 𝐆𝐓𝐌 - 𝟑 ; 𝐒𝐇𝐄/𝐇𝐄𝐑 ⊱ hey, guess who i just saw at the cave bar ? frank hamilton ! don’t they look good for forty-two years old ? they have lived here for all their lives and are a sheriff. they view the increase in tourism as negative and dislike the retirees who moved here. ⊰ 𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐑 ─ 𝐂𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 ─ 𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌 ⊱

                                                                                                                ╰        *           𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 

sedated by hozier

believe by beijamin booker

i had a real good lover by the shouting matches

i just don't care that much by matt maeson

                                                                                                                  ╰        *           𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌

a hopeful pessimist. as in he believes everything is gonna go wrong, but he will still hold onto hope that he might be wrong.

thinks blood and gasoline are sexy.

can cook/make a total of two things: eggs and mac and cheese. everything else will be tragically burned.

goes All Out for things and then when things don’t turn out exactly how he expected them to he makes a fuss about it and goes “why did i even bother?” and gives up on everything else for a while.

thinks fighting is fun.

has had the same truck since he was sixteen.

                                                                                                          ╰        *           𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

personality type: isfj ( the defender )

moral alignment: chaotic good ( the rebel )

strengths: warm-hearted, responsible, pragmatic, persistent, gentle, generous, loyal, devoted

weaknesses: self-centered, repressed, hypersensitive, blunt, hot-headed, unprincipled, self-indulgent, resentful

fashion: plaid shirts, hawaiian shirts, worn up jeans, boots, monochromatic sweaters, bottom-up shirts, hats.

                                                                                                             ╰        *           𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

                                ( tw: alcohol abuse, drug abuse, death, mentions of violence ) 

frank has always had anger issues and a kind heart.

he was a problem child/teenager, who constantly got suspended for a reason or another. his intentions were the best, but he didn’t go about it in the best ways.

it wasn’t uncommon for him to call teacher/authority figures out on being wrong/being hypocrites, start fist fights with school bullies, or even hurt people who wanted to hurt others. 

he wanted to help protect everyone who wasn’t able to protect themselves.

as soon as high school was over he became a policeman. his intention was to stop crime, to help the people in his town and to make sure everyone was fine.

his father died shortly after.

although he was able to help people with job, it didn’t help him. being exposed to the problems he did at work, having to face strangers who made the same mistakes again and again, only heightened his anger issues. 

frank tried dealing with his loss and anger in the worse possible ways: from then on finding him getting in bar fights of his own, drinking until he passed out, using drugs and opioids to forget about everything else became the norm. 

things only got a little better when he met the woman who became his wife. being able to start a family with someone he loved truly was the highlight of his life. it was the first time, ever since he was a kid, in which frank felt love and comfortable around someone. — the two of them had a child and for the few years that followed, everything seemed to be perfect.

being around her, though, didn’t fix his personal issues and a few years later, frank slowly started going back to his former habits. whenever there was something at work that bothered him or any negative feelings at all he had to deal with, he disappeared into a bar, not coming home for hours on end. 

his relationship slowly started to fall apart. arguments became more and more common. 

the day she asked him for a divorce was the worse day of his life.

what was before a bad coping mechanism for worse days, turned into a daily habit. frank coming into work hangover became the norm. his fame as the morally corrupt sheriff spread. the stench of alcohol and drugs now permanently attached to his one bedroom apartment.

all he’s wanted since the divorce was to be able to get her back. nothing else has mattered since.

                                                                                                           ╰        *           𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

ex-wife ( connection !! on the main !! please !! i beg of you !! )

high school sweetheart

drinking buddy

a fuck buddy he’s been sleeping to forget about everything else ( he is bi. come at me with your babies pls )

someone who keeps getting in trouble for minor things and he keeps letting off the hook because his heart is weak

a bad influence

𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 ;; lonely nights lost to watching a game alone at the corner booth, scattered beer bottles across the room, cigarette smoke from a closed car door, desperately wanting something and not knowing how to say it

[thedcdunce]

Red Devil

“What? What kind of Titans are you guys? We don’t let anyone kill anyone!” - Red Devil

Real Name: Edward “Eddie” Allan Bloomberg

Aliases:

Kid Devil

Gopher

Gender: Male

Height: 5′ 8″

Weight: 165 lbs (75 kg)

Eyes: Yellow

Hair: Grey

Skin: Red

Powers:

Unique Physiology

Abilities:

Hand-to-Hand Combat (Basic)

Weaponry

Mechanical Engineering/Gadgetry

Weaknesses:

Monstrous Appearance

Equipment:

Devil Power Suit

Rocket Trident

Universe: 

Earth-One

New Earth

Base of Operations: Titans Tower III, San Francisco, California

Citizenship: American

Origin: Trained by her mother and grandmother.

Parents:

Robert Bloomberg; father

Sylvia Bloomberg; mother

Marital Status: Single

Occupation: Adventurer

First Appearance: Firestorm Vol 2 #24 (June, 1984)

Appearance of Death: Teen Titans Vol 3 #74 (October, 2009)

Powers

Unique Physiology: Eddie's blood is now a thick gasoline-smelling liquid, his breath is hotter than fire, he possesses a prehensile tail, and his internal temperature is six hundred degrees. When Dr. Niles Caulder, leader of the Doom Patrol, tended Kid Devil's injury, he revealed that the young hero isn't a demon despite that his powers were granted by the demon lord Neron. Rather, Neron activated Eddie's metahuman gene which gave him his powers.

Fire Breathing: His new form gives him a capacity to breathe fire.

Superhuman Strength

Enhanced Agility

Enhanced Endurance

Enhanced Durability

Enhanced Healing

Burning Skin: His own skin is able to cause burns and he has been seen to be able to increase this to the point of his skin turning white hot. At high levels this ability can easily melt metal of considerable durability.

Retractable Wings: He has retractable wings underneath his arms.

Infernal Teleportation: By focusing on where he wants to be he can use his tail to open an infernal portal to teleport to the target location.

Abilities

Hand-to-Hand Combat (Basic)

Weaponry

Mechanical Engineering/Gadgetry

Weaknesses

Monstrous Appearance

Equipment

Devil Power Suit: Eddie wore a Devil suit, which gave him enhanced strength and agility, near impenetrable armor, a weapons system that included bright light burst effect, exploding bubbles, night vision and mini-gills.

Rocket Trident: He also had a rocket trident which could propel him through the air for distances of up to several miles and could emit flames and/or electric shocks.

Origin

Eddie Bloomberg had the good fortune of being a gopher in his Aunt Marla Bloom's film company. He met the Blue Devil on a film set, and became quite a fan of the hero, dreaming about one day becoming Blue Devil's sidekick.

Bloomberg snuck into Blue Devil's workshop at night and, using his prodigious knowledge of electronics, created a battle suit incorporating the designs of the Blue Devil suit. Even though Blue Devil didn't want a sidekick, Bloomberg was determined to make a go at being a hero. As Kid Devil he assisted his hero in foiling an airplane hijacking, and later helped defeat one of his enemies, the Vanquisher. After these adventures, his parents left Bloomberg's education and supervision to professors at the Institute of Hypernormal Conflict Studies.

After Blue Devil's deal with the demon Neron resulted in Bloomberg's Aunt Marla dying in a helicopter crash, Bloomberg attempted to live up to her name and succeed in the movie business. His attempts failed, however, and Bloomberg continued to have adventures as Kid Devil, even helping Young Justice's assault on Zandia.

Teen Titans

After Infinite Crisis, Bloomberg tried to join the Teen Titans with little success. Pulsar helped Bloomberg into a project Lex Luthor had been using to give normal humans superpowers. However, Bloomberg failed because of "psychological problems." One evening, Bloomberg was visited by a cloaked figure who gave him a candle. Bloomberg's then-friend Zachary Zatara told him that the candle had some magical properties. Bloomberg decided to light it, and the two were taken to Neron. Neron made a deal with Bloomberg, transforming him into a new Kid Devil. Neron's magic gave Bloomberg a new, demonic appearance and inherent superpowers. As part of the deal, Bloomberg wouldn't lose his soul to Neron if he could still trust Blue Devil by his 20th birthday. Before Bloomberg left, Neron told him that it was Blue Devil's fault his Aunt Marla died. Zatara helped Bloomberg join the Teen Titans, they battled Kid Crusader and Zatara promised to keep his secret.

One Year Later

One Year Later, a rift had formed between Bloomberg and Zatara. Though Bloomberg was still friendly with Zatara, the boy magician wanted nothing to do with Bloomberg or any of the other Titans. Bloomberg also forged a bond with Rose Wilson, as both new members felt like third string Titans. For many months, Bloomberg told the Titans of multiple daily phone calls to Blue Devil as his way of confirming that "everything is fine".

On a Titans mission, Bloomberg was disemboweled by Plasmus and the EMTs were unable to help him. The new Doom Patrol arrived and took Kid Devil to their HQ for treatment, where the Chief healed Bloomberg , while also attempting to manipulate him into joining the Doom Patrol. During the operation, the Chief revealed to Elasti-Girl that Kid Devil isn't truly a demon by nature, but rather his powers are the result of metahuman gene manipulation. Robin confronted Bloomberg about his relationship with the Blue Devil, who claimed not to have heard from Bloomberg for two years. Bloomberg confessed he was only pretending, in order to better fit in with the Titans. The Chief's manipulation was stopped by both the Titans and the other members of the Doom Patrol, which made Bloomberg feel as if he was finally accepted as a Titan since they stood up for him. He also tried rekindling his bond with Blue Devil, but Cassidy did not show up to a meeting Bloomberg invited him to. Later, Eddie Bloomberg found and confronted Blue Devil. Cassidy admitted lying to Bloomberg about his aunt's death. As part of a deal for gaining fame and fortune, Cassidy was tasked by Neron to destroy an unmanned power plant. Despite his various precautions, a resulting power surge accidentally killed Bloom, who was scouting the nearby area for a film. Bloomberg stormed off before Cassidy could explain further, telling Blue Devil to stay far away from him. Now having lost his trust in Blue Devil, Bloomberg knew that he would lose his soul to Neron. Still, Bloomberg decided to make the best of his remaining years by having a good time with his friends. He comforted himself by saying at least he had Bloom's memory and Neron couldn't take that away from him. However, it is revealed that Neron is holding Bloom's soul captive.

Kid Devil was attacked by Kid Crusader who vowed to "save" him from Neron by turning Eddie back into a human and then killing him. Kid Crusader appeared to have succeed on the first step, when he exorcised the demon from Bloomberg and returned him to his human form, but the demon was then bound to Kid Crusader himself. When given the choice later to either return to his demonic form or stay human, Bloomberg chose his demonic form, not wishing to damn anyone else to his fate as Neron's protege.

Titans Tomorrow

Possible-future versions of the current Titans team arrived in the present to aid the Teen Titans against Starro-controlled villains. Kid Devil is shown as part of the team, now known as Red Devil. He claimed that even though the loss of his soul to Neron at 20 was bad, the power he received far outweighed the consequences. Bloomberg initially watched as Ravager battled alone against Rampage & Livewire, before betraying his older self in order to aid Ravager. Later, Ravager, Red Devil and Kid Devil returned to the Titan's Lair, where they meet with Blue Beetle. There Bloomberg learned that he is supposedly destined to murder the Blue Beetle at some point in the future.

Shortly after, Eddie, Rose and Jaime find themselves surrounded by an Army of Titans led by Lex Luthor, before they all battle against an invading army of Starros. Thanks in large part to Blue Beetle's powers and Robin and Wonder Girl managing to supposedly alter Robin's future, the Army of Titans is supposedly defeated. However, prior to his vanishing, Red Devil warns Eddie against trusting Ravager and Blue Beetle.

Terror Titans

A Group of supervillains under the leadership of the new Clock King began a systematic assault on the Titans. With Wonder Girl, Blue Beetle, Ravager and Robin away, Miss Martian still reeling from the battle with her future counter-part, Eddie decides to throw a party in Titans Tower and invites several titans fans. The party quickly gets out of hand when the guests trash the place, go through personal items and prank calls Batman. Lectured by all members of the team, Eddie goes into town with one of the guests, who reveals himself to be Dreadbolt, son of Bolt. A fight ensues and the arrival of the rest of the Terror Titans puts a quick end to the battle. Kid Devil is next shown chained to a wall and severely injured and held captive by the Clock King who continues to torture Eddie by telling him that Rose Wilson couldn't care less about his status. Clock King then encourages Eddie to accept his place as a monster. Whe Miss Martian is captured by the villains, she is placed into a room with Eddie, who has become savage and bestial as a result of his beatings. After a brief battle, Eddie and M'Gann are placed in a cell, and Eddie is later brought out to face Hardrock to the death.

Later Eddie was finally freed and helped his friends combat against the Terror Titans. Since then he has become more comfortable on the team has begun to develop a good relationship with Blue Beetle and even changed his name to Red Devil.

Fun Facts

Early in his career as Kid Devil, Eddie became pen pals with Jason Todd when Jason also had only recently started his superhero career as Robin.