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all-our-turf · 3 days ago

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honey, you're familiar (like my mirror years ago)

Fox is unsure about her place among the Warriors. Swan understands that more than anyone.

Read under the cut or on ao3

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When Swan came home to a quiet apartment, she didn’t think much of it initially. She knew Cochise and Cowgirl had managed to convince Rembrandt to go out with them, which means Ajax likely went along too. Cleon mentioned that she’d be out for a meeting, and when Swan peered down the hallway she noticed the light to Fox’s room was off, so she figured Cleon had taken the younger girl with her.

Fox had only been around for nearly three months now - hadn’t even been officially initiated yet - and Cleon seemed to be determined to keep her close for the time being, despite the girl’s protests about wanting to be more involved in the gang.

Except, when Cleon came in through the front door half an hour later, she was alone. Swan was on her feet in half a second, and Cleon raised a curious eyebrow at her, casually shedding her colors and draping them over the back of a chair.

“What? Did I -”

“Where’s Fox?”

Cleon went still, staring blankly at Swan. “She’s not here?”

Swan turned back down the hallway and knocked - slammed, really - on Fox’s door. “Fox! You home?”

No response.

When she turned back around, Cleon was already shrugging her vest back on. “I’ll go check if she managed to convince the others to let her tag along at the bar. Go look for her in any of the other usual hangouts.”

Swan nodded, trying to ignore the anxious pit in her stomach as she donned her own colors and locked the door behind them. If it was just Cowgirl and Cochise, she wouldn’t be surprised if Fox managed to get them to take her along. Fox had a killer pout and (unfortunately for all of them) knew how to use it effectively.

But there was no way in hell that Ajax would let Fox anywhere near that place while she was underage. Hell, even when Swan was old enough it still took a fight for Ajax to let her come along. Fox - who was small and pretty and still looked like she’d fall over at the slightest gust of wind, even after three months with the Warriors? No chance.

Swan was just starting to feel the edges of panic creep up on her when she finally found Fox. The girl was near the edge of their turf, arguing with a guy nearly double her size. He was affiliated, judging by the jacket he was wearing, but Swan didn’t recognize the colors. She didn’t really care at the moment.

Swan was at Fox’s side in half a second, and the guy cut off mid sentence at the sight of her.

“Hey. We got a problem?” She placed herself in between him and Fox, tilting her chin up to glare up at him. He took a step back.

“He was on our turf,” Fox explained from behind her, and Swan tilted her head to the side.

“Fucking barely! I didn’t even realize I’d crossed over, but she was already coming at me!” He threw his hands up, gesturing wildly towards Fox over her shoulder.

“Why are you still here? You didn’t realize this was Warrior turf, now you know, so fuck off.”

He hesitated.

“Unless there is a problem?” Swan took another step towards him, raising a challenging eyebrow, and he immediately backed off. He stalked away, grumbling under his breath. Swan kept her eyes on his retreating back until he was gone, and then whirled around to stare at Fox, who looked way too nonchalant for someone who Swan had just spent the better part of an hour looking for.

“I could’ve handled that,” Fox tried with an innocent smile.

Swan was distinctly not in the mood. “Fox. What the fuck are you doing?”

“Patrolling.”

“No the fuck you aren’t.” Swan pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a breath and trying to calm down before she snapped a little too harshly. “What the hell were you thinking, sneaking off like that without telling anyone? What if something had happened to you? What if that guy decided to -”

“That guy was a wimp,” Fox scoffed, crossing her arms defiantly.

“God, you sound like Ajax,” Swan groaned.

“Really?” Fox seemed a little too excited at that.

“That is not a compliment, quit smiling. You should not be picking fights for no reason like Ajax does, that’s -”

“It wasn’t for no reason! He was on our turf!”

“He was one guy on the very edge of our turf. And that isn’t even the point, considering you aren’t supposed to be out here at all! Kid, -”

“I’m not a kid!”

“Sure, you’re a teenager who should not be out at this hour, especially not alone this fucking close to the edge of our territory. Cleon’s going to -”

“You’re a hypocrite!”

“Excuse me?”

“Weren’t you even younger than I am when you joined the Warriors?”

“Yeah, and Cleon didn’t let me out alone either! You can’t just -”

“You guys aren’t my parents, I can go out whenever the fuck I want!”

Swan blinked, raising a disbelieving eyebrow. “Maybe we’re not, but -”

“And I shouldn’t have to ask for permission every time I step foot outside the apartment! And -”

“Fox! Can I get a word in without you fucking interrupting me?” That definitely came out harsher than Swan meant it to, judging by the way Fox’s mouth snapped shut immediately. The younger girl was glaring at Swan, and Swan took another carefully measured breath.

“Okay. First of all, I don’t give a shit how old you are, if you go out somewhere at night, especially alone, then you tell someone. That has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with the fact that we’re in a gang, and sometimes shit happens, and when shit happens there needs to be at least one other person who knows where you are. Got it?”

Fox looked away, glaring at a spot on the ground instead, but grudgingly nodded anyway.

“Second of all, you definitely shouldn’t be out doing anything like patrolling unless Cleon asks you to. None of us decide to do that shit on our own, so why the hell would you think it’s a good idea?”

“Cleon won’t even send me out with anyone! It’s been almost three months and I’ve barely gotten to actually do anything for the Warriors! None of you treat me like I’m actually one of you!”

“Is that what this is about?” Swan tilted her head to the side, some of her frustration fading into concern.

Fox shrugged, her crossed arms now wrapping around her middle. She sighed, sitting at a bench and staring down at her knees. Swan watched how she seemed to curl into herself, and sat down carefully at Fox’s side.

“Fox?”

“I was just alone in the apartment and I didn’t like it, okay? I’m not allowed to join whenever you guys go out to the bars and hangout, I’m not allowed to join whenever you guys go on jobs, and even when I do get to go it’s like -” She made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat. “I’m tired of feeling like the kid you’re all stuck babysitting.”

Swan felt an ache bloom in her chest, something painfully familiar echoing in Fox’s words. “That’s not what we think of you as.”

“But it’s how you all treat me. I’m not - I’m not fragile, you know?” Fox rubbed furiously at her eyes, trying to scrub the wetness away before it got a chance to slip down her cheeks.

“Of course I know that. We all do. You’re tough, Fox. And crazy smart, too. We’re not stuck with you, you are one of us, but - you just have to give yourself time.”

Fox’s mouth twisted in displeasure, unconvinced.

“Look,” Swan said. “I get how hard it is being the youngest in the group. Like you said, I’ve been in your position. I know it sucks.”

“It’s not the same,” Fox scoffed and shook her head. “You’re - you’re you. You’re all intimidating and badass and I’m me. It’s been three months and I don’t think anyone sees me as anything other than the stray picked off the street.”

Swan stared at the teenager, disbelief creeping into her expression. “You haven’t heard the story of how the Warriors found me?”

Fox looked up curiously, furrowing her brow. “No? I know that until I came along you were the only one who joined up as a teenager, but…”

“Oh my god, and you think-?” Swan cut herself off with an amused chuckle, turning to fully face Fox, whose face was twisted in confusion. “Fox, I was in worse shape than you were. Cleon found me sleeping under the boardwalk, practically half dead already. I was smaller than Rembrandt and scared out of my mind. It took me nearly two weeks to even say a word to anyone.”

“Wait, are you serious? But - but now you’re so..!” Fox trailed off, making an ambiguous gesture towards Swan. “I mean, you’re Cleon’s number two. You can keep up with Ajax in a fight!”

Swan shrugged. “But it took time, Fox. Cleon didn’t make my position official until I earned it. And I spent a lot of sessions getting my ass kicked by Ajax before I could even land a punch on her. I get that it’s frustrating, I know how badly you want to prove yourself, but just…be patient, yeah? With yourself and with us, and eventually, you’ll be just as much of a badass as you seem to think I am.”

That pulled a smile out of Fox, and Swan felt like she could breathe a little easier again.

“You really think so?” Fox stared at her with watery eyes, big and earnest and, god, so young. “You really think I’ll be like you someday?”

Jesus, was this how Cleon felt when she was a recruit?

“No.” Swan shook her head. “I think you’ll be better. And I think the Warriors are very lucky to have you.”

Fox grinned, a bright smile stretching across her face for a moment, but then it dimmed again and she looked back down at her hands.

“I’m sorry for running off. Did I ruin everyone’s night?” She sounded painfully small, picking at the edges of her fingernails.

“No - Fox, you didn’t ruin anything, okay?” Fox nodded, but it was clear she wasn’t very reassured.

“Listen,” Swan nudged her arm gently. “I’ll talk to Cleon, see if I can get her to ease up on the overprotectiveness a little. But only if you promise not to pull something like this again, okay? You freaked us out - not because we think you’re weak. But because we look out for each other. That’s what we do as Warriors.”

Fox inhaled shakily, nodding her head again. “Yeah, okay. I won’t do this again, I promise. You’ll seriously talk to Cleon, though?”

“Believe me, I know how overbearing she can be sometimes. She still drives me crazy every now and then, and I know she’s been worse with you. So yeah, I’ll talk to her, see about letting you come along for more jobs. Just - it’s important that you know she’s only like this because she cares about you. All of us do.” Swan reached out, affectionately patting the top of Fox’s head and ruffling her hair. “Your time will come, Fox, I promise. It won’t feel like this forever.”

Fox half heartedly batted her hand away, but the beaming smile across her face and the way her shoulders seemed about twenty pounds lighter told Swan that she was feeling better.

“Come on, kid. Let’s go home before the others lose their minds.”

“So when are you guys gonna quit calling me kid?” Fox whined as the two of them began walking back.

“Up until you came along, the others were still calling me kid. I’m just glad it’s not me anymore.”

“What - but you’re old now! Is this nickname gonna be stuck forever?”

“Hey, what the fuck? I’m not old, we only have a couple of years between us.”

And even as Fox launched into an explanation as to why Swan was, in fact, old, Swan couldn’t help but smile, grateful that the girl was in a much better mood than earlier. Fox brought a brightness that the Warriors desperately needed. Maybe she wasn’t sure where exactly she’d fit yet, but that was okay. Fox was still young.

They had time.

#fox and swan parallels how i love you #warriors album #warriors musical #warriors concept album #swan #cleon #fox #warriors fic #andi writes

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baggebythesea · 3 years ago

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What kind of daemons do you think the SPOP characters would have??

Like in the Pullmanian sense? Lovely thought. That's really a question I'd hope to see an artist tackle, but here are my ideas.

Let's start with the low hanging fruit. Catra has a mangy alley cat, and Adora has a Golden Retriever (she's a Good Girl). Bow also has some kind of dog, I think. One of those bouncy sheep-hearding dogs who really want the entire flock to be in the same place.

Glimmer... let's see... what kind of animal is cute, tiny and absolutely ready to take on animals ten times it's size? I feel I might be limiting myself, but she could be a dog too, one of those little yappy ones. Or perhaps a goose. Cute, loud, can break your arm. (I was really tempted to go with vampire squid because it squirts glitter, but they are much to good natured to be Glimmer's daemon.)

Mermista obviously has some kind of sea creature. I'd go with a manatee - she likes just chilling. Perfuma some sort of woodland creature that is not quite as serene as she would like, perhaps a hare. Frosta's daemon has not settled yet, but it likes to spend time as a snow fox or something cool like that... or you know what, since we're talking Pullman, Frosta has a friggin' polar bear (Glimmer is a bit jealous). Scorpia... well, the obvious answer is scorpion, but otherwise she would have a dog to. A big, floppy one. Entrapta could have an octopus for extra hands, an overcaffinated lemur, a tool-using crow... the possibilities are endless. Whatever she has, I'm sure she has built an exoskeleton for it.

Angella would have a swan, and just to hammer home the symbolism, so would Shadow Weaver (a black swan, naturally). Micah would have a mallard (extremely powerful in shamanistic tradition, even if they look silly). Castaspella... SQUIRREL! Juliette has a lynx. Huntara a desert fox. Octavia... well, same as with Scorpia there is an obvious answer. Otherwise a sea gull. Sea Hawk would have one of those weird pyromaniac Australian birds. Lonnie has a wolverine, Rogelio a crocodile and Kyle one of those night creatures from Madagaskar with enormous eyes.

Light Hope doesn't have a daemon, because AIs don't get to have nice thing. She has made herself a little hologram dog, though - some kind of guard dog that just so happens to have been Mara's daemon (just another parallel between her and Adora). Razz has one of those enormous beetles from the Whispering Woods, or maybe her daemon still shifts. No one has any idea how or why. Lance has a old hunting dog (lots of dogs today) and George a monkey (fine, it can even be curious).

Horde Prime has a... let's see what is the smuggest animal? Some kind of stork, maybe. Or tiger. The clones don't have daemons for some horrible intrusive and plain wrong reason that has to do with control and abuse - so imagine Hordak's shock to wake up to one day find a mangy bat watching him with scared expression.

Wrong Hordak gets a dog too, eventually.

#spop #asks #meta

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linxuelian · 4 years ago

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I found a Chinese BL Warring States Game of Thrones, three years older than The Untamed

And I just had to write a review about it! It’s 60 episodes long so I haven’t finished it yet at the time I’m writing this - but I decided to just go ahead and recommend it anyway.

Why, you ask?

For one, it’s Romance of the Three Kingdoms with all the Hollywood action and adult HBO things. It’s got explosions:

Horses falling down:

People getting flogged:

Sweaty soldiers getting mauled to death:

Children used as hostages:

Dead bodies presented in court:

Stylish dye jobs:

Loving father figures:

A Jon Snow lookalike:

And very gay innuendo:

That’s right, unlike The Untamed, which was first written as a straight series featuring Wen Qing as the main female lead and then rewritten again after fans of the novel decided to boycott it, this series was written to be gay from the very beginning. It got taken down by the Chinese Censorship Board after twelve episodes and river-crabbed to death, but a good number of scenes survived censorship. Those that did not made it to BiliBili in the form of “hidden” videos and disguised as “music videos”.

That’s not all. For a warring period Wuxia series, it’s got very beautiful actors, backdrops and clothing. It’s dressed like a fairy tale, with different kingdoms sporting different colours and styles in fashion and tastes.

In terms of art direction, it’s pretty low-budget for a series but the team makes good use of existing props, locations and brighter-coloured fabric to make up for the quality. The costume design is more fantasy-based than period, and the vivid takes and angles in the first season add to its charm.

There’s also its complex story line, which brings us to...

Men with Swords is not a title for the faint-hearted. There is an acute absence of black-and-white morality depicted in it.

If you think a BL series with such beautiful backdrops and fairytale-like clothes is for the simple-minded, one-track-good-vs-evil sort, think again. The series is a tale about Murong Li, a vengeful prince disguised as a musician and his rise to power, leaving behind a trail of death and destruction in its wake.

Where The Untamed fails at delivering gray morality unlike the novel it’s adapted from, choosing to alter its script to fit a more general audience (a commercially-wise decision which got it into Netflix), Men with Swords succeeds in faithfully telling a tale where there is no good or evil, only humanity, jealousy, grudges, rebellion, loyalty, life, death, greed and love.

Everyone has both good and bad sides, just different camps and motives. Men with Swords tells the story from not just one person’s perspective, but from the perspective of many different people, all of whom become entangled in a battle for their figurative Iron Throne - to become the king of the world.

There are no “what ifs” in this story, only decisions, reactions and repercussions

A prevailing theme in this series is that there are no “what ifs” and no turning back in life, only things that have happened and will happen. Murong Li starts his journey as a prince who has lost everything and a victim of war, wandering around for three years while being put down and getting sexually harassed, eventually losing it, taking his chances and hardening his heart as he walks down his conniving, badass path of destruction towards the top.

Men with Swords is not a series for the faint-hearted. It’s a game of chess where the main character, Murong Li, is cunning and decisive, cold and ruthless and many recurring characters die horrible, sudden deaths, friend and foe alike, a la Attack on Titan.

The series is filled with political strife and warfare, peppered with some sweet, comedic and romantic undertones. There is a stark contrast between fluffy and dark in its narrative, which is pretty refreshing overall.

With that all aside, I know what you’re probably scrolling down for:

The main characters and their boyfriends

This is it. This is what you’re here for. Most “BL” series are actually bromances, but the real upside for a BL fan is that this show is not a bromance - it’s a BL title, and even with censorship, the love stories prevail.

I’m going to put this under a cut because it’s LONG AF, but what that means is that there is a LOT of BL content available, and not the type that you have to hunt for. They’re very open about it.

While the show itself has a lot of ships, there’s a larger focus on three main ones, namely the beautiful Murong Li and two powerful kings, the fairy-like Ling Guang and his servants, and King Jian Bin with his general.

Murong Li: Da Ji 2.0 and his rich and powerful kings

If you’re a Jin Guangyao fan, you’ll probably enjoy Murong Li and his elegant, charming viles and ruthless scheming. He’s a surprisingly good fighter too, and unlike most elegant and waif-like beauties in dramas and novels alike, he’s a beauty with brains who uses his physical weakness as his strength, bending and seducing his way up to power.

Murong Li only really goes after rich and powerful people, worming his way into the kingdom and taking them down from the inside. Two main love interests are King Zhi Ming, the childish but rich king of Tianquan:

And Yu Xiao, a powerful barbarian king with a soft heart:

Murong Li, while wandering around as a musician, picks up many tricks along the way to hone himself. He’s adept at dressing up, making himself look helpless and alluring to bewitch powerful men, for one:

See that small smile right there? Yes, our boy knows what he’s doing.

Aside from that, Murong Li’s also pretty good at manipulating people by using their jealousies and insecurities, getting them to fight with each other over him.

Murong Li, although modeled after the cruel and beautiful Murong Chong, the Emperor of Wei, is likened to Da Ji, the favorite consort of the King Zhou of Shang. Da Ji was said to be a malevolent fox spirit who started the art of foot-binding to hide her fox feet. Everyone else looking in can see it, but the King was blinded, just like Murong Li’s powerful love interests. In fact, the series draws a direct parallel to it:

The Guo Shi here uses the term “yao”, which alludes to a malevolent spirit.

It’s not that Murong Li doesn’t have a weakness, though. Just like every Jin Guangyao has a Lan Xichen around to cause him to slip now and then, Murong Li surprisingly is weak towards the most naive and childish character in the series, the truant King Zhi Ming, whose only qualities are having purple bangs and being rich and playful.

No matter how calculative and ruthless Murong Li is in the series, he does end up almost slipping up and giving everything away when it comes to this bumbling fellow:

He’s saved only at the nick of time by one of his followers. Murong Li tells a lot of lies, but the one thing he can’t lie about are his feelings towards King Zhi Ming, who is ultimately the one thing he can’t give up next to his kingdom.

There’s a lot more one can write about a complex character such as Murong Li, but the second ship is just as good. It features:

Ling Guang: The Ex-Arrogant Depressed Hamster hung up over a dead ex

Ling Guang, the mortal enemy and foil to Murong Li, is a baby-faced, very-much-older-than-he-looks character whose sole purpose in this series is to wear frilly magenta clothing, destroy the kingdom of Yaoguang, set Murong Li down a path of vengeful destruction and piss off eligible, probably younger bachelors by comparing them to his very handsome, very loyal and very dead boyfriend, his personal guard, Qiu Zhen, who died sometime over thirteen years ago.

The bachelors’ pissed off takes to this are particularly priceless:

Here’s another one from season 2:

That HMPH face is to die for.

Ling Guang’s delusions are met head-on by these eligible bachelors, his ministers and his allies alike:

Only to be met by a, “haha, NO.”

Frustrating, right? It only gets worse as the series progresses. Due to Wuxia’s fantastical existence of sword souls, he begins to actively test his subjects out to see if they’re his dead boyfriend, whose sword soul is still alive:

Gu Shi’an: WTF.

So why do these eligible, handsome bachelors, particularly this guy from season two, jump at his lap every chance they get?

First off, he’s very, very pretty. He’s arguably the prettiest and fanciest king in the series, with a cute rounded face, favoring fluffy organza, frills and feathers in his garb, and sporting fabulous curls like that of a swan princess on a good day.

Secondly, and more importantly, it’s likely because he’s the type loyal dogs adore.

He’s stupidly and openly attached to his bodyguards and servants, unable to hide his feelings or control them. Ling Guang’s relationships are technically the opposite of Murong Li’s. While Murong Li hides his feelings and goes after men of power and tends to use them before leaving them, Ling Guang’s willing to sacrifice everything, including his kingdom, his health and his own life for men who are merely servants.

He's a king who doesn’t know proper protocol. He’s the type who’ll demand to eat with you at the same table:

Creeps outside the palace to see you off:

Hugs your sword around like a pillow while he waddles around listlessly and sleeps with it by his side after you’re long dead (grand total: 13 years):

Coddles you when you’re sick:

Takes arrows for you:

Isn’t afraid to cry and tell you how it is:

Faints violently and won’t rest until he can get your stolen body back:

The results?

If he’s not what loyal bodyguards like, I don’t know what he is. If Murong Li’s love interests have to pit themselves against each other to show how useful they are for his sake, Ling Guang’s love interests need to wrestle with a dead man he can’t let go of... which is hopeless, because you can’t kill a guy who’s already dead.

As a foil to Murong Li, what’s also interesting to note is that it’s alluded to and foreshadowed that he’s exactly the sort the loyal Yu Xiao, the current barbarian king, would have loved to have as a lover - honest, loyal and doting - unlike Murong Li himself. Gongsun Qian, a deputy minister with great foresight, had wanted Ling Guang to go to see the new barbarian kingdom, but he had refused to go outside the palace, shutting himself inside like an otaku. This decision ultimately gave Murong Li a step forward with his plans, at the great cost of four kingdoms, including his own.

Jian Bin: My boyfriend can (REALLY) fight

Next up is Jian Bin and his general. Jian Bin’s the king of Tian Ji, a new kingdom founded by astrologers. The catch here is that Jian Bin and his boyfriend, Qi Zhi Kan, are both men of science, and this tank of a boyfriend is a genius on the battlefield who doesn’t give a single shit about star signs, astrology and superstitions.

A story between a serious, loving king and his handsome general who was once a simple sword-maker in the woods, King Jian Bin meets his handsome ex-lumberjack boyfriend when he’s attacked, falls down from his horse and is rescued by the man himself.

Jian Bin then brings the guy back to his palace and dresses him in armor:

This puts the king’s general on the war path of several ministers and the superstitious people in their kingdom. As lovers, the two go through various trials together in an attempt to run their kingdom their way.

Qi Zhi Kan may seem like a herbivore in front of the king, but he’s really not one at all. He’s terrifying to a degree when it comes to warfare, and very, very difficult to take down. Unlike the other ministers, Qi Zhi Kan knows that he can expand the kingdom quickly and solve problems by waging war.

Even his allies are scared of him:

Ultimately, it’s a ship meant for those who like watching the king teasing his loyal subject and caressing armor whenever he’s around AND not around. Jian Bin even admits to it on-scene:

This loving and devoted couple were originally blessed as the ones with the most piggyback scenes, tender bandaging-your-chest and armor fondling, but they got censored unfortunately.

Scenes like these made the cut, though:

And that’s it! There are actually other minor ships, but these are the main ones for now.

If you’re sold and interested in the show, the series is available online on Rakuten Viki. https://www.viki.com/tv/35524c?locale=zh

#bl series #chinese bl #series recommendations #c-drama #men with sword #chinese period drama

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luciensfox · 4 years ago

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ACOSF Thoughts...

Don’t read unless you wish to be spoiled! Here are some things I can’t get out of my head after finishing the book...

Well first and foremost, I absolutely adore Nessian (as I always have but now it’s even more so) and I’m incredibly pleased with the direction it seems that SJM is leading Nesta’s character development! I’ve always wanted a badass warrior Nesta and I got way more than I figured (short of her growing wings at any time as I think some Valkyrie myths depict, this is amazing/ especially with all of the parallels people drew with her and Enalius). She’s going to make for an interesting character in the coming books and dare I say...commander Nesta. Oh, yes.

Of course I’ve always been obsessed with Lucien and nothing has changed on that front, but I’m even more intrigued now because we still need so many answers. When will it be revealed that he’s the heir of the Day Court? What’s the standings between he and Tamlin? With Vassa and Jurian? With his mother/ brothers? His mate? We literally got only two or three scenes with Luc involved so I knew nothing would be resolved in this novella, however I’m even more excited to see how Eris will play into his character arc come the next story (because you cannot convince me that SJM would put more emphasis on Eris than Lucien in this book and not intend for some brotherly angst in the future). Eris is also an anomaly and maybe it’s because I’m obsessed with the mysterious nature of whatever the hell is happening in the Autumn Court, but I really can’t wait to see what’s up with him and the rest of his family. (Also....the ballroom scene with Nest and Eris dancing to what is supposed to reflect Black Swan was one of my absolute favorite scenes.) Does Eris secretly desire peace and wants to take over Autumn not for power but to make amends and heal/ bring back glory to his home? And what exactly happened with Mor? SJM put so much emphasis on that too and we still have no idea.

I LOVE Gwyneth and Emerie. The triad of Valkyries was honestly the best part of the whole book for me. I know everyone is quick to match up characters with potential romances/ mates etc and it sounds like that’s what will happen with these two...but let’s not forget that they’re incredibly strong characters on their own terms and I hope whatever comes about their arcs isn't entirely placed on their romance status. However, they both seem to want to find someone to be with which leads me to believe that Emerie and Mor will very likely end up together (if only for the fact that we got one sentences indicating Em finds Mor gorgeous....I guess we’ll have to wait and see what happens) and that Gwyn is going to be a potential interest for Azriel.

I love Lucien so much, but my soft fox boy needs to heal and stop forcing himself to find romantic love when all he really needs is some self love. (So perhaps that will be his final journey....Lucien finally coming to terms with his trauma, settling ties with everyone from his past, and taking up his mental as Helion’s son and the future of the Day Court.)

Elain seemed a bit OOC...and yet not at all? We’ve only got the chance to see the “sweet/ innocent” side of her, but it makes sense that she’s going to be a super complex character (SJM wouldn't have set her up so mysteriously if the intent was to leave her as a mere gardener) and that her journey in following books will show us a side of her we’ve never encountered. The Elriel ship has always been a confusing one for me, not because I don’t ship it but because there’s so much happening all the time that it’s hard to get a proper read on clues when SJM throws characters like Gwyn at us...coupled with the fact that Lucien seems to still be in love with Elain (or at least he’s just lonely and doesn't know how else to react, never mind whatever is happening with Vassa and Jurian), and that Az seems intent on getting with Elain....but Az also seems to be the type of character who falls in love deeply without considering a number of things. He’s driven by his desires and often hurt by them, hence his love for Mor. Notice how shortly after he started drifting from his desire for Mor, he started to desire Elain? Part of me wonders if it’s because he found the person he’s meant to be with...or if he felt attracted to her and she was a distraction to his pain and a means to help him get over Mor. Like I said, I don’t know which way I lean just yet but these are all possibilities!

Then there’s the Gwynriel ship--totally didn’t see that coming but I can’t say I don’t enjoy it. I love how Gwyn teases Az in a way that many others usually don’t dare, and that she’s another character with a history outside of the IC. While there’s a lot to consider, like the fact that Az’s shadows shy away when Elain is around but “dance” and seem to be overjoyed when Gwyn is nearby, I think a truly noticeable parallel to the pairing could be this:

Azriel is no stranger to unrequited love. In fact, that seemed to be his overarching characteristic for the first two books. Now that he’s found Elain and she also reciprocates their shared desire, it would be easy to pair them together. However, Gwyn seems to be interested in Azriel and Az can’t seem to figure out his standings with her other than being enticed and not realizing what’s in front of him because he’s so determined to be with Elain since “she’s the third sister and he the third brother” etc so it must make sense somehow even though Elain is mated. But Gwyn, to that extent, is no stranger to unrequited love either.

Just imagine: Azriel finally cracks in the following book and shows a rare display of emotions to either Gwyn or the IC (or both) and Gwyn decides to confront him about facing his fears (his past with Mor, his current standings with Elain, his desire to have someone) by claiming that she knows exactly what unrequited love feels like because every day she stares at him and feels precisely as devastated as he did/does whenever he sees Mor or Elain. Az will probably be shocked to all hell and maybe it’ll snap him out of his misery enough to think clearly on the whole matter.

The Rhysand and Nesta friendship was something else I wasn’t expecting, didn’t necessarily think I’d want, but now am excited to see bloom. They definitely do share traits and I can’t help but remember how Rhys once compared Feyre to Cassian and how Nesta and Rhys might be the opposite counterparts since they’re both haughty and respond to things with incredibly heightened emotions because they love fiercely.

This post is much longer than I’d intended but oh well, some other things for your consideration.....

A Varian/Amren x Nessian double date.

Nesta taking on a similar military role as Cassian and either leading a female unit of Illyrians/ Valkyries or sharing the brunt of Cassian’s job (plus come on... those two training together is essentially their respective version of foreplay and I’m so here for warrior Nessian bonding).

I hope we get to see that mating ceremony scene!

Also....does anyone remember Balthazar--the Illyrian who showed up for one scene and fell asleep on Nesta’s shoulder during the Blood Rite while he helped them find shelter? There’s no way SJM would’ve written in a character like that without intending for him to show up again in the future....

Koschei the deathless? Wonder what will occur there.

Damn, if you’ve made it this far give yourself a pat on the back.

#I honestly was going to write one sentence #ONE #but then...this happened #I guess I just felt very strongly about this book and didn't realize it until now #god there are so many unanswered questions #time for fanfic i guess lol #nessian #a court of silver flames #acosf #acosf spoilers #sjm #elriel #gwynriel #lucien vanserra

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bookspined · 4 years ago

Text

❝ that’s all history is after all: scar tissue. ❞

{ cis-man, he/him } huh, who’s FROY GUTIERREZ? no, you’re mistaken, that’s actually SCORPIUS MALFOY. he is a TWENTY-TWO year old PUREBLOOD wizard who is A HEALING APPRENTICE. he is known for being CAPTIOUS, RETICENT, FACETIOUS, DISMISSIVE, and DRAMATIC but also RESOURCEFUL, CONSCIENTIOUS, FERVENT, INNOVATIVE, and OBSERVANT, so that must be why he always reminds me of the song IN DREAMS BY BEN HOWARD. i hear he is aligned with THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX, so be sure to keep an eye on him. { merry, 24, gmt, she/they }

CHARACTER PARALLELS: Amy Santiago (B99), Claire Temple (Daredevil), Chidi Anagonye (The Good Place), Giles (Buffy TVS), Michelle Jones (MCU), Simon Tam (Firefly), Elizabeth Swan (PoTC), Spock (Star Trek), Clarke Griffin (The 100), Harley Keener (MCU), Gregory House (House) suggested honorable mention Gizmo (Gremlins)

pinterest [blood, medical imagery tw]

wanted connection ideas

Full Name: Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy Gender/Pronouns: Cis man | he/him Age: Twenty-three Birthdate: January 20th Parents: Draco Lucius Malfoy & Astoria Céline Malfoy (née Greengrass) [Not biologically Astoria’s due to her health, if you ever point this out he’ll flay your eyeballs] Siblings: N/A. Birth place: St. Mungo’s Hospital, England Height: 5’11” Weight: 56 kg Sexual/Romantic Orientation: Demiromantic Bisexual Nationality: British Body Alterations/Marks: A ragged diamond shape scar at the base of his throat.

Blood Status: Pureblood Hogwarts House: Slytherin Wand Arm: Right Pet: His pet toad, Jarvis, recently passed away. Patronus: Arctic Fox Wand: 11 2/3 inches, Willow, Supple, Dragon Heartstring.

Willow is an uncommon wand wood with healing power, I have noted that the ideal owner for a willow wand often has some (usually unwarranted) insecurity, however well they may try and hide it. While many confident customers insist on trying a willow wand (attracted by their handsome appearance and well-founded reputation for enabling advanced, non-verbal magic) my willow wands have consistently selected those of greatest potential, rather than those who feel they have little to learn. It has always been a proverb in my family that he who has furthest to travel will go fastest with willow.

Personality Traits: Brilliance, innovative, empathetic, individuality, openness, social consciousness, inventive, logical, practical skills and self assertion; lack of attachment to people outside his circle and the “real world,” over-intellectualizing of the emotions, dismissive, anxious, crotchety tempered, facetious, rigid, prone to self-isolation, intellectual arrogance, and stubborn. Zodiac Sign: Aquarius/Capricorn Cusp Moral Alignment: Neutral Good Core values: Loyalty, Knowledge, Hope Four temperaments: Melancholic

HOGWARTS HOUSE ANALYSIS

Slytherin Primary and a Burned Ravenclaw Secondary.

Slytherin Primaries prioritize their own selves and loved ones first. Slytherins don’t feel guilty or selfish about this– they feel righteous and moral. The most important thing is to look after your own. Abandoning or hurting one of your own is the worst thing you can do.

A Burned Ravenclaw Secondary might want to be skilled, curious, and prepared, but they feel like they are (or like people think they are) limited, clumsy, or inconstant. Gathering knowledge, hobbies, skills, or tools is the right way to achieve their goals, but Burned Ravenclaws know that’s not going to work within their capabilities. So they take other paths and use other tools– maybe a Gryffindor’s bluntness, a Slytherin’s flexibility, or a Hufflepuff’s slow and steady dedication.

You may have a Hufflepuff Secondary Model.

Hufflepuff is the House of grit, reliability, and determination, and Hufflepuffs use those values to help live, act, and succeed. If you model Hufflepuff Secondary, you also value these things and like to live by them. You like to be hardworking, dedicated, and consistent– but you wouldn’t feel guilty for abandoning those values in the service of other, higher priorities. If there’s another, easier way to get what you want– you’d take it. You think hard work provides valuable rewards– and those rewards are why you work. The work doesn’t have persuasive value in itself.

Despite his very best resistance he’s always been pretty empathetic in nature, he tries to rule his emotions as well as he can but fails more often than not. He was always one of those toddlers that if another kid started crying he’d be right along with them, not because he wanted attention but because he just couldn’t not. A bit of a crybaby, has researched how to magically seal up his tear ducts. Obviously managed to keep the family’s flair for the dramatic there as well. After a few years he leant into the sarcastic vague-snobbishness to hide the core of overwhelming anxiety.

Just managed to scrape through his schooling with nearly all top grades, this isn’t really due to him being a model student. He has always accrued information with a voracious appetite. Any knowledge he could find, even if most people would consider it entirely useless. His mind clicks into that place? You can’t keep him away. However, when there is not an immediate stir of interest on his approach to a topic he has to fight with himself tooth and nail to carry on.

Predictably found exam season highly stressful, was never open about it but was quietly competitive and silently smug over his good grades. Could comprehend well above his reading level from an early age and would often look into experimental research and complicated magic but found himself lost in OWL level History of Magic when chapter upon chapter lay ahead of him about something that didn’t catch his interest. Some people he beat just to spite cause he hates them. It worked, whatever.

Tends toward introversion and finds himself tired sometimes quite easily by a large amount of social interaction. Witty and big-mouthed when he feels comfortable or is in the presence of those that embolden him and very likely to get flustered and snap at people when things are becoming a bit too much. Especially if he feels however unjustly that someone is blocking his escape. Has matured slightly in this since leaving school but it happens still, he’s just anxious. Quite fickle and can at the drop of a hat decide that he’s done with you for the day once his Give Me Attention Meter is maxed. Could be an absolute bloody brat when he felt like it but feels he has grown out of it, which he mostly has.

Always been very, very aware of many people’s distrust of him and his family, he used to sneer and play it up if anyone tried to bring up his dad and go on the offensive but was genuinely affected quite deeply by it all. In his early school years, despite his weakness to the cold, he constantly had his sleeves rolled up to the elbow so that his blank forearm was bared as a statement to just about everyone. I am not marked, I never will be. Now he’s older he has more of a handle on things and can be diplomatic in situations where people are clearly discomforted by his presence and his family history.

Even though the war culminated far earlier in this verse I imagine Scor would have had to have been relatively sheltered as a child if not for how emotionally sensitive and prone to periods of ill-health he was, it was definitely for his own safety. He is still the grandson of a known high-ranking Death Eater and that made him a media target and put one on his back for anyone else that might happen to be watching.

Never produced much of a talent for offensive magic and wouldn’t resort to those methods unless he had literally no other choice, not a front line fighter by any means. His talents with strategy, potion-making, healing and his perseverance with defensive magic are what define him to the Order. While everyone kind of knows who he hung out with at school and who his friends are he is deliberately very mischievous with releasing rumours and misleading people. He deliberately keeps his cards very close to his chest so most people don’t know that he is aligned with anyone, he usually uses glamours or a scarf to conceal his identity if he has to.

While he is knowledgeable about healing and anatomy, he is the WORST at taking care of himself. The literal embodiment of Healers make the worst patients, tends to forgo sleep and basic bodily needs if he’s locked into what he’s focusing on. Sometimes needs reminders to sleep and eat, like a child.

Healing is the most satisfying part of his life and he would never give it up, he likes to experiment as he has a fascination with magic and muggle science and where they might intersect. A fucking nerd honestly. While he thinks he’s being fairly subtle about it a large part of his academic life has been doused in research into blood maledictions, for obvious reasons. He does his best not to flutter too obviously around his Mum. She is capable and ten times stronger than he is.

Lives in a small studio flat in Diagon Alley that is mostly stacks of books and makeshift shelves.

the stillness of the world the moment you take the first step into fresh snow, cashmere and fine wool, the pearlescence of dreamless sleep draught, the scratch of a quill on parchment, faintly tremoring fingers, a shiver up your spine in a warm room, the exhilaration of a problem solved, a thunderous grey overcast sky, the bite of a stitching charm, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, petrichor, the burn in your eyes before a well of tears.

Always had somewhat fragile health tending toward sickly. Hands are never warm, his existence is an endless heat seeking mission.

Went to one Slug Club meeting and used his time to verbally berate and or challenge most of the contacts in attendance, he was not asked to return.

Potions Club, Charms Club, used to sometimes be willing to be dragged to Dueling Club but didn’t enjoy himself.

Plays quite a bit of chess.

Bruises like a fucking peach and scars so easily.

Views quidditch as a good fly spoiled.

Is a very skilled pianist almost entirely due to his Grandmother’s tutelage.

Surprisingly great with children/toddlers/babies, no one including himself expected this, he mostly feared them beforehand.

Bit of a mummy’s boy in that he practically GLOWS when people talk of Astoria’s achievements.

When he has time off from healing he will have chipped black nail varnish on.

Highly intelligent but rarely manages to match a pair of socks, chews his quills but no one else’s.

While very eloquent and well spoken, he is markedly less posh than when he first arrived at Hogwarts.

When he isn’t prone to bouts of insomnia he can take a nap pretty much anywhere. He was once found in a tree after several frantic hours search.

[ CREDIT : CHARACTER PSD template by @karmahelper (defunct url) I tried to find a current social this week by messaging around but couldn’t find anything unfortunately. Forgot to copy this over from the google doc! ]

#potterintro #finally #sorry if this is missing anything

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revcntulet · 5 years ago

Text

❝ The more I read, the more I acquire, the more certain I am that I know nothing. ❞ SCORPIUS MALFOY looks a lot like that muggle, FROY GUTIERREZ, right? Only 20 years old, that SLYTHERIN alumnus works as a HEALING APPRENTICE and is sided with the ORDER OF THE PHOENIX. HE identifies as a CIS MAN and is a PUREBLOOD.

CHARACTER PARALLELS: Amy Santiago (B99), Claire Temple (Daredevil), Chidi Anagonye (The Good Place), Giles (Buffy TVS), Michelle Jones (Spiderman: Homecoming), Elizabeth Swan (PoTC), Spock (Star Trek), Clarke Griffin (The 100), Harley Keener (MCU), Gregory House (House) suggested honorable mention Gizmo (Gremlins)

Full Name: Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy Gender/Pronouns: Cis man | he/him Age: Twenty Birthdate: January 20th Parents: Draco Malfoy & Astoria Malfoy (née Greengrass) Siblings: N/A. Birth place: St. Mungo’s Hospital, England Height: 5’11” Weight: 56 kg Sexual/Romantic Orientation: Demiromantic Bisexual Nationality: British Body Alterations/Marks: A ragged diamond shape scar at the base of his throat.

Blood Status: Pureblood Hogwarts House: Slytherin Wand Arm: Right Pet: A crested toad named Jarvis. Patronus: Arctic Fox Wand: 11 2/3 inches, Willow, Supple, Dragon Heartstring.

Willow is an uncommon wand wood with healing power, and I have noted that the ideal owner for a willow wand often has some (usually unwarranted) insecurity, however well they may try and hide it. While many confident customers insist on trying a willow wand (attracted by their handsome appearance and well-founded reputation for enabling advanced, non-verbal magic) my willow wands have consistently selected those of greatest potential, rather than those who feel they have little to learn. It has always been a proverb in my family that he who has furthest to travel will go fastest with willow.

Personality Traits: Brilliance, innovation, empathetic, individuality, openness, social consciousness, inventiveness, logical, practical skill and self assertion; lack of attachment to people and the “real world,” over-intellectualizing of the emotions, dismissiveness, anxious, crotchety tempered, facetiousness, rigidity, prone to self-isolation, intellectual arrogance, and stubbornness. Zodiac Sign: Aquarius/Capricorn Cusp Moral Alignment: Neutral Good Core values: Loyalty, Knowledge, Hope Four temperaments: Melancholic

HOGWARTS HOUSE BREAKDOWN

Slytherin Primary and a Burned Ravenclaw Secondary.

You may have a Hufflepuff Secondary Model.

9. The Expositor will have to destroy the one who they love. There is no other way. It cannot be avoided. Their fate – possibly even the entire world’s fate – depends on it.

39. You are in the Order, and as a spell inventor, you played a key role in helping the Knights mutate the Patronus Charm to create daemons. Because of this, you have a daemon of your own, and you have been experimenting with the limitations of the magic, trying to figure out if there are any ways to improve them.

Code Name Revontulet, which literally translates to “fox fire.” Legend says that an arctic fox dashed across the tundra swiping snow up into the sky, while others claim his bushy tail caused sparks when brushing the peaks of tall mountains to create the Aurora Borealis.

Despite his very best resistance he’s always been pretty empathetic in nature, he tries to rule his emotions as well as he can but fails more often than not. He was always one of those toddlers that if another kid started crying he’d be right along with them, not because he wanted attention but because he just couldn’t not. A bit of a crybaby, honestly, has researched how to magically seal up his tear ducts. Obviously managed to keep the family’s flair for the dramatic there as well.

Just managed to scrape through his schooling with nearly all top grades, this isn’t due to him being an excellent student. He has always accrued information with a voracious appetite. Any knowledge he could find, even if most people would consider it entirely useless. His mind clicks into that place? You can’t keep him away. However, when there is not an immediate stir of interest on his approach to a topic he has to fight with himself tooth and nail to carry on. Predictably found exam season highly stressful, was never open about it but was quietly competitive and silently smug over his good grades. Could comprehend well above his reading level from an early age and would often look into experimental research and complicated magic but found himself lost in OWL level History of Magic when chapter upon chapter lay ahead of him about something that didn’t catch his interest.

Scorpius was in his seventh and final year when the Knights were first created and he spent a lot of his time patching people up and teaching simple healing here and there, wherever he could. It was a natural transition to become part of The Order once he graduated, he still kept in contact with members of the Knights but while he had no way to access the grounds at all it seemed ridiculous that he be privy to everything, especially as sharing such information could have been intercepted by the opposing side. He was absolutely horrified by Harry’s resurrection and his stomach rolls every time he even thinks about it.

Never produced much of a talent for offensive magic and wouldn’t resort to those methods unless he had literally no other choice, not a front line fighter by any means. His talents with strategy, healing and his perseverance with defensive magic meant that he was an ideal candidate, in his head, to have the singular daemon amongst the Order and to test all of their hard work. Then the prophecy was slowly unravelled, silver spool of damning words in a pile at his feet.

Is in a strange place in that he can’t simply stop loving people he’s always loved whilst working simultaneously to strangle any potential for more people to be added to the list as frantically as he can. Tends to just try and put the prophecy out of his mind otherwise he stares at Cleo for too long and his hands start to shake.

Very nearly lost his apprenticeship due to his intensity over developing and refining the magic of the patronus charm. It was an all-consuming obsession, he went so far into the zone that he was a bit of a liability for a while there. He would turn up at any hour to other Order members for their opinions on an obscure theory, an element of the magic, the importance of ritual and their thoughts on his experiments with dementors. Alot of people were like you’re a bit young to be doing this aren’t you love? And he was like I’m not going to tell you to fuck off, just explain that I will not let this go and if you exclude me I will continue working on it alone.

[ DEATH TW ] Although this can be said for anyone possessing a daemon, he is protective of Cleo to the point of neurosis, the magic was experimental at the time of her manifestation and he felt every single layer of his soul flayed away and the creation of atoms from a matter that he still doesn’t quite understand. Only that it came from him. They have managed to limit the bitter, burnt iron taste that lingered at the back of his sinuses for two weeks, the numbness of his fingers and toes and the burst blood vessels in his eyes on other subjects. Oh and the part where he stopped breathing for nearly an entire minute. By the time he performed it successfully he wasn’t sure he wanted anyone else to ever experience it, the spell basically consumed his life for several years and when the research was finally over he was stood there blinking owlishly with no real concept of where the last couple of years had gone.

Always had somewhat fragile health tending toward sickly. Hands are never warm. Bruises like a peach and scars so easily.

Views quidditch as a good fly spoiled.

Is a very skilled pianist.

Has a fabric sling that he wears across his torso that Cleo is often curled up in. Looks like a single dad at Order meetings, toad on his shoulder.

While very eloquent and well spoken, he is markedly less posh than when he first arrived at Hogwarts.

When he isn’t prone to bouts of insomnia he can take a nap pretty much anywhere. He was once found in a tree after several frantic hours search.

#ok can we not talk about the series of failed graphics tryna look like dragon age tarot cards? cool sweet #rev intros #blood tw #death tw

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tailung · 6 years ago

Note

Hey youre basically my music mutual so i wanna ask if you have any album recs?? we have similar tastes and im looking for new stuff to listen to :]

oh yeah sure i’d be really glad to anon!! now im not gonna mince words, a lot of these are very surface-level hipster albums so this might be garbage 🐌🐌🐌 also im not including albums by mitski, janelle monae, lemon demon, gorillaz, brockhampton etc. bc EVERYONE on this platform knows they have made great albums (if you don’t agree you have a severe taste deficiency!) but that being said here’s a large list:

alt

Alvvays - Alvvays + Antisocialites

Antony and the Johnsons - I Am a Bird Now

Arcade Fire - Funeral + The Suburbs

Beach House - 7 + Bloom + Teen Dream

Bon Iver - 22, a Million

Car Seat Headrest - Teens of Denial + Twin Fantasy

Cocteau Twins - Heaven or Las Vegas

Courtney Barnett - Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit

Dead Can Dance - Spleen and Ideal

Dexys Midnight Runners - Too-Rye-Ay

Duster - Stratosphere

Imogen Heap - Speak For Yourself

Perfume Genius - Put Your Back N 2 It + No Shape

Radiohead - In Rainbows

Regina Spektor - Soviet Kitsch + Remember Us to Life

The Cranberries - Everybody Else is Doing It, So Why Can’t We?

The Go! Team - Thunder, Lightning, Strike

Sparklehorse - It’s a Wonderful Life

St. Vincent - Marry Me + Actor

Stereolab - Emperor Tomato Ketchup

Superorganism - Superorganism

Talking Heads - Talking Heads: 77 + Fear of Music + Remain in Light

Ween - The Mollusk

Xiu Xiu - Fabulous Muscles + FORGET

electronic/ambient

Arca - Mutant

Boards of Canada - Music Has the Right to Children

Björk - Homogenic + Vespertine

Brian Eno - Ambient 1: Music for Airports + Ambient 4: On Land

Burial - Untrue

The Caretaker - Everywhere at the End of Time

Cashmere Cat - 9

DJ Shadow - Endtroducing…

Fennesz - Endless Summer

Flume - Flume

Flying Lotus - You’re Dead!

GAS - Königsforst

Grouper - AIA: Alien Observer + Ruins

I Am Robot and Proud - The Electricity in Your House Wants to Sing

Iglooghost - Neo Wax Bloom

James Blake - James Blake

Jamie xx - In Colour

Kaytranada - 99.9%

Negativland - Dispepsi

Nils Frahm - Felt

Oneohtrix Point Never - R Plus Seven

Porter Robinson - Worlds

Rex the Dog - The Rex the Dog Show

Tim Hecker - Ravedeath, 1972

SOPHIE - OIL OF EVERY PEARL’S UN-INSIDES

The Avalanches - Since I Left You

The KLF - Chill Out

Toro y Moi - Causers of This

Various Artists - PC Music Volume 1

country/folk

Beck - Mutations

Bob Dylan - The Times They Are A-Changin’ + Blood on the Tracks

Emily Wurramara - Milyakburra

Fleet Foxes - Fleet Foxes + Helplessness Blues

Grizzly Bear - Yellow House

Ichiko Aoba - qp

Joanna Newsom - Ys + Have One on Me

Mac DeMarco - This Old Dog

Mark Kozelek & Jimmy LaValle - Perils From the Sea

The Microphones - The Glow Pt. 2 + Mount Eerie

Mount Eerie - A Crow Looked at Me

Natalia Lafourcade - Musas Vol. 1 / 2

Neutral Milk Hotel - In the Aeroplane Over the Sea

Nick Drake - Pink Moon

Rosalia - Los angeles

Sturgill Simpson - A Sailor’s Guide to Earth

Sufjan Stevens - Seven Swans + Carrie & Lowell

The Mountain Goats - All Hail West Texas + Tallahassee + Transcendental Youth

The Tallest Man on Earth - Shallow Grave

Tracy Chapman - Tracy Chapman

Wilco - Yankee Hotel Foxtrot

hip hop/rap

Aesop Rock - Labor Days

A Tribe Called Quest - The Low End Theory + Midnight Marauders + We got it from Here… Thank You 4 Your service

Big K.R.I.T - 4eva Is a Mighty Long Time

Brockhampton - Saturation I / II / III

Chance the Rapper - Coloring Book

Dälek - From Filthy Tongue of Gods and Griots

Death Grips - The Money Store + The Powers That B

Digable Planets - Blowout Comb

Earl Sweatshirt - Some Rap Songs

Freddie Gibbs - Piñata

GZA - Liquid Swords

Jean Grae - Jeanius

Joey Bada$$ - All-Amerikkkan Badass

JPEGMAFIA - Veteran

Kanye West - Late Registration

Kendrick Lamar - good kid, m.A.A.d city + To Pimp a Butterfly + untitled unmastered

Killer Mike - R.A.P Music

Lil B - Rain in England

Little Simz - Stillness in Wonderland + Grey Area

M.I.A - Kala + ΛΛ Λ Y Λ

Noname - Telefone + Room 25

Open Mike Eagle & Paul White - Hella Personal Film Festival

Princess Nokia - 1992 Deluxe

Rapsody - Laila’s Wisdom

Run the Jewels - Run the Jewels / 2 / 3

The Roots - Things Fall Apart

Vince Staples - Big Fish Theory

jazz

Buena Vista Social Club - Buena Vista Social Club

Charles Mingus - Blues & Roots + Let My Children Hear Music

Eartha Kitt - That Bad Eartha

Elza Soares - A bossa negra

John Coltrane - Giant Steps

Miles Davis - Blue in Green + In a Silent Way

Ornette Coleman - The Shape of Jazz to Come

Sun Ra - Space is the Place

pop

Advance Base - Animal Companionship

Animal Collective - Strawberry Jam

Björk - Post + Biophilia

CHVRCHES - Every Open Eye

Eric Taxxon - Paul

Fishmans - Long Season

Grace Jones - Nightclubbing

Helado Negro - This is How You Smile

Kate Bush - Hounds of Love

Kylie Minogue - Fever

Let’s Eat Grandma - I’m All Ears

Lorde - Melodrama

Miike Snow - Miike Snow

Shura - Nothing’s Real

Sufjan Stevens - Illinois + The Age of Adz

The Wombats - Glitterbug

Weyes Blood - Titanic Rising

punk/rock

Big Thief - Masterpiece

Blondie - Parallel Lines

Boredoms - Super æ + Vision Creation Newsun

Fleetwood Mac - Rumours

Godspeed You! Black Emperor - Lift Yr Skinny Fists Like Antennas to Heaven!

Hop Along - Painted Shut

IDLES - Brutalism + Joy as an Act of Resistance

Interpol - Antics

Modest Mouse - The Lonesome Crowded West + Good News for People Who Love Bad News

Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds - Murder Ballads

Parquet Courts - Wide Awake!

Pink Floyd - Wish You Were Here

Sigur Ros - Takk…

Sleater-Kinney - Dig Me Out + The Woods + No Cities to Love

The War on Drugs - Lost in the Dream

Tom Waits - Swordfishtrombones

rnb/soul

Anderson .Paak - Malibu

Blood Orange - Cupid Deluxe

D'Angelo - Voodoo + Black Messiah

DJDS - Big Wave More Fire

Curtis Mayfield - Curtis + Roots

FKA twigs - LP1

Frank Ocean - Channel Orange + Blonde

Jamila Woods - LEGACY! LEGACY!

Lauryn Hill - The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill

Marvin Gaye - What’s Going On

Portishead - Dummy

serpentwithfeet - soil

Solange - A Seat at the Table

SZA - CTRL

#mail #anon #long post #also ty anon :) we should talk you sound cool

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thecomicsnexus · 6 years ago

Text

The Last Earth-Prime Story

SUPERMAN #411 SEPTEMBER 1985 BY ELLIOT S. MAGGIN, CURT SWAN, MURPHY ANDERSON AND GENE D’ANGELO

SYNOPSIS (FROM BABBLING ABOUT DC COMICS)

The story introduces the Julius Schwartz of Earth-1, a homeless failure, who seeks out old friend Perry White as his birthday approaches.

We see that in this reality, Schwartz had conceived of a number of super-heroes, much like the one his Earth-Prime counterpart publishes, but in a world where super-heroes really exist, his stories held no interest for the public.

Miserable and dying, Superman takes Schwartz across the dimensions to Earth-Prime, where the DC staff are having a big birthday party for the real Julius Schwartz.

As the Earth-1 version dies he merges with his Earth-Prime counterpart, staying alive in his body, and experiencing the love and acclaim that was his due.

JULIUS SCHWARTZ

In 1932, Schwartz co-published (with Mort Weisinger and Forrest J. Ackerman) Time Traveller, one of the first science fiction fanzines. Schwartz and Weisinger also founded the Solar Sales Service literary agency (1934–1944) where Schwartz represented such writers as Alfred Bester, Stanley G. Weinbaum, Robert Bloch, Ray Bradbury, and H. P. Lovecraft, including some of Bradbury's first published work and Lovecraft's last. Schwartz helped organize the first World Science Fiction Convention in 1939. In 1944, while looking for work, he was encouraged by his client, Alfred Bester, who was writing "Green Lantern" at the time, to apply as an editor at All-American Publications, a subsidiary of DC Comics.

In 1956, after the formation of the Comics Code Authority, Schwartz worked along with writer Robert Kanigher and artists Carmine Infantino and Joe Kubert on the company's first attempt at reviving superheroes: an updated version of the Flash that would appear in Showcase #4 (October 1956). The eventual success of the new, science-fiction oriented Flash heralded the wholesale return of superheroes, and the beginning of what fans and historians call the Silver Age of Comic Books. Schwartz also worked with writers John Broome and Gardner Fox and revived other superheroes such as Green Lantern in Showcase #22 (October 1959); Hawkman in The Brave and the Bold #34 (February–March 1961); and the Atom in Showcase #34 (Sept-Oct. 1961). A character Schwartz created himself, Adam Strange, debuted in Showcase #17 (Nov–Dec. 1958), and was unusual in that he used his wits and scientific knowledge, rather than superpowers, to solve problems.

Schwartz first thought the concept of the Justice League of America as an updating of the Justice Society and the idea was then developed by Gardner Fox and artist Mike Sekowsky. The new team debuted in The Brave and the Bold #28 (February/March 1960), and received its own title in October 1960. It became one of the most successful series of the Silver Age.

Schwartz oversaw the introduction of the Elongated Man in The Flash #112 (May 1960) by writer John Broome and artist Carmine Infantino.

In 1964, Schwartz was made responsible for reviving the faded Batman titles. Under his editorial instructions, Broome and Infantino jettisoned the sillier aspects that had crept into the series such as Ace the Bathound and Bat-Mite and gave the character a "New Look" that premiered in Detective Comics #327 (May 1964). During the rise in popularity of the Batman comics thanks to the Batman TV Series, William Dozier (producer of the show), pitched an initial concept for a female hero and Schwartz, Gardner Fox, and Carmine Infantino introduced Barbara Gordon as a new version of Batgirl in a story titled "The Million Dollar Debut of Batgirl!" in Detective Comics #359 (January 1967).

He helped writer Dennis O'Neil and artist Neal Adams come to prominence at DC Comics. The duo, under the direction of Schwartz, would revitalize the Batman with a series of stories reestablishing the character's dark, brooding nature. Schwartz edited Detective Comics until issue #481 (Dec. 1978/Jan. 1979) and Batman until issue #309 (March 1979).

From 1971 to 1986 Schwartz was the editor of the Superman titles, helping to modernize the settings of the books and move them away from "gimmick" stories to stories with more of a character-driven nature. This included an attempt to scale back Superman's powers while removing kryptonite as an overused plot device. This proved short-lived, with Schwartz bowing to pressure to restore both elements in the titles. Schwartz oversaw the launch of DC Comics Presents in 1978 and edited it throughout its 97 issue run.

As an editor, Schwartz was heavily involved in the writing of the stories published in his magazines. He worked out the plot with the writer in story conferences. The writer would then break down the plot into a panel-by-panel continuity, and write the dialogue and captions. Schwartz would in turn polish the script, sometimes rewriting extensively.

Following his death, a number of women came forward alleging that Schwartz had behaved inappropriately with them. These included Jo Duffy, Jill Thompson, and Colleen Doran, who stated that he had attempted to fondle her in a limousine when she was an aspiring artist in her teens.

REVIEW

I’ll just start by saying that this IS NOT the last Earth-Prime story, that will happen just a month after this issue, on DC Comics Presents. And it is a very important issue for the DCU.

So, this is how Earth-Prime stories work. Comic-Book writers dream about heroes on other Earths and publish those stories. However, this is not an Earth-prime exclusive situation. Each Earth publishes comic-books about heroes of another Earth (Morrison didn’t come up with this concept, it was already there since the Silver Age).

But, Earth-Prime is also a parallel Earth, which means that it should have similar characters. The main distinction of Earth-Prime, however, is that it’s our world, the readers’ world. And because of that, it doesn’t have super-heroes (yet).

Julius Schwartz appeared on Earth-1 comics before, and because he exists on both Earths, we have to imagine that it is the same person, but he could also be a comic-book character. It’s... complicated.

This issue is a love letter to Schwartz. And you can see it in the way he criticizes the dialogues, character names and even on how he manipulates the story. In essence, the work of an editor. It’s a very meta story. But there are things that do not seem to make much sense, like this Olaf plot.

Also, Curt Swan draws himself!

I give this story a score of 7

#julius schwartz #dc comics #comics #review #superman #1985 #bronze age #curt swan #dick giordano #earth-prime

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thejollyroger-writer · 6 years ago

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Captains & Corsets - A Cocktoberfest Fic

A/n: This story started out as something completely different, not even for this event, and then my muse told me that this was supposed to be my Cocktober story, and not the other one I had planned. It seemed to all work out in the end, though. Special thanks to the @cscocktoberfest mods of this event, and to my excellent beta, @littlescorpion -- your attention to detail inspires me, and this fic would not be the same without you!

Summary: Emma Swan is the manager of Belle's bookstore, helping at the last minute for a Halloween party where her only costume choices involved corsets. Captain Killian Jones has moved to America, having lost everything in England he cares about and has returned to the care of a good friend. Neither of them may be searching for a relationship, but that doesn't mean that they won't hit it off, in more ways than one.

Rated E - it’s cocktober, guys.

Read on AO3!

“You can’t be serious, Rubes,” Emma sighs, trying to pull Ruby’s tank-top up to cover at least a little of her chest. “I don’t know why I ever thought that any of your costumes would be… appropriate.” She lifts her eyes to meet her best friend’s through the mirror.

“Come on, Ems, you should know better than that.” Of all the times Emma has described her best friend’s smile as ‘wolfish,’ none of them described it just as well as right now, standing behind Emma in her little red riding hood costume. Or, what Ruby describes as a costume, but really turns out to be a bring red corset, black shorts, and a red velvet cape with a hood.

“You know this is a costume party at a bookstore and not a night at the world’s sluttiest club, right?”

“So what?”

Emma looks over herself in the mirror again, already embarrassed to be seen in Ruby’s rendition of “Robin Hood”: a green corset-slash-tank top with high-waisted khaki shorts, black knee-high boots, and a little green pointed hat, not to mention the hip quiver and longbow slung over her shoulder.

“I can’t go in this!” Emma finally tears her eyes away from her reflection and whips around to face her best friend, whose smile and eyes only widen seeing the front of her not through the mirror. “

Why not? You look excellent.”

“Ruby! I am the manager of the store, I can’t show up in a corset!” Ruby waves her hand between them, then rolls her eyes and turns back to her closet. “Fine, fine. I have…” She pages through the hangers, looking for something that might be more appropriate. Holding up a skirt that can’t be more than six inches long, Emma shakes her head again. “Since you’re the manager, why didn’t you find a costume before the night of this Halloween party ? ” Ruby pops her head out of the closet at the last bit of her question, accentuating her words with a raise of her eyebrows. Emma rolls her eyes before Ruby steps back into the closet.

“For your information, I was actually not supposed to even be at this party, so I didn’t think I was going to need a costume until this morning when Belle went into labor.”

“Fine, fine! But you can’t come to me for last-minute help and then berate me for my belongings.” Emma opens her mouth to speak, but before anything comes out, Ruby’s hand flies out of the closet, tossing something at her: a pair of pants. No, a pair of red leather pants , with laces in place of the regular zipper…

“Come on, ” Emma whines, but Ruby stops her again. “I feel like you’re trying to make sure I get laid tonight.”

“Listen, would getting some really be half bad? How long has it been since Neal left, anyway?”

Ruby gives Emma an opportunity to answer, but she stays silent. Too long .

When Emma’s eyes fall to the floor, Ruby leaves the subject untouched. “And I have closets full of shorts and skirts, and those are just about the only pants I own, unless you want the white pair?”

“No! No, these are… these are fine. But what costume are they a part of?” Pulling off her jeans, she begins the shimmy into the leather, and when Ruby pulls the rest of the costume out of the closet, Emma is surprised she missed it her first (and second) time through the closet: a black off-the-shoulder flowing shirt with a black and red corseted vest.

“I’ve had this pirate costume since college, and I don’t think I’ve worn it in just as long.” Emma pulls her t-shirt over her head, and Ruby hands her the black shirt, which falls perfectly off her shoulders (and reveals that damned swan tattoo on her shoulder, an alcohol-driven reclamation of the last name of her first foster family, but it’s the least of Emma’s worries for tonight), and as much as she hates to admit it, the corset cinched around her waist actually doesn’t look half-bad.

She’s almost looking forward to wearing it in public, getting laid or not. Especially once Ruby hands her the prop sword, though she thinks she might go without the hat.

She is most definitely not getting laid tonight, especially since she knows everyone in town. Tonight might not be nearly as bad as she originally expected it to be.

******************************************************************

“How in the seven hells did I let you talk me into this, Nolan?” Killian asks, eyeing his best friend out of the corner of his eye, finishing the bottle of beer in his hand.

Dave turns to face his old captain, a man he hadn't seen for almost ten years, the best friend from his younger years that showed up on his porch the day before, all of his belongings in a backpack slung over his shoulder and looking exactly as Dave had remembered, minus the twinge of reddish-grey in his dark hair and beard and the prosthetic left hand, the injury that sent him home the last time David saw him. “You're the one who showed up decked out in that pirate costume, when I was all ready to just come as myself.”

Killian turns to face him, one eyebrow raised high on his forehead. “We both know that your wife would not have allowed that, mate.” He follows Dave's eyes across the room, where he finds Dave's wife holding a tray of caramel apples — some of which Killian even helped her make the night before. Mary Margaret must feel their eyes on her, and she turns towards them with a wave and a warm smile.

“You're right, Jones,” Dave says, his eyes still set on his wife, even after she's turned away from them. “And that's why I'm here now, dressed in this Popeye costume, which I thought was outrageous until I saw yours.”

“Just admit it, Nolan. You're jealous of how dashingly handsome of a pirate I make.” As if to prove his point, he straightens the collar of his jacket, then runs his prosthetic hand through his hair, pushing it off his forehead, a salacious grin spread across his face.

Of course, he's right. Dave is not an idiot and has never failed to recognize that his friend is beyond just handsome , but for some reason, the pirate costume accentuates all of his best features: the collar of his jacket parallels his sharp jawbone, and with the top few buttons of his shirt undone, lined up with the V of his vest, the sharp lines call the eyes down the muscles of his neck to where his dark chest hair just becomes visible. Not to mention his dark leather pants, which are tighter than Dave would ever feel comfortable wearing in public.

Seeing just how much lighter Killian's beard and hair has become, Dave thinks of a phrase Emma had brought up a few weeks ago and realizes that it describes his friend perfectly: a silver fox. Killian Jones has become a silver fox.

“Want another?” Dave asks, taking the empty bottle from Killian's good hand before he can answer.

“Please, mate,” Killian answers, pushing himself off the wall they were holding up. “But let me come with you.”

It’s only been two days since Killian packed everything he didn't sell into a backpack and hopped on a plane, finding himself at David Nolan's door just the morning before in Storybrooke, Maine, and in those two days, he's met a good handful of people; but that in no way means he feels comfortable enough to be left alone at a party.

He follows Dave across the small bookstore to where they have temporarily converted the coffee shop to a small bar. Ordering them two more beers and adding them to his tab for the evening, he notices the tall brunette bartender dressed as what Killian believes to be Little Red Riding Hood, though he's never seen a rendition of a children's story character that utilizes a corset, and she smiles across the counter at him.

“Who’s your friend, David?” she purrs, making sure her fingers brush Killian's as she hands him his bottle.

Dave can't help but roll his eyes at the tone of her voice, but he still answers her question, introducing her to Killian—and noticing that Ruby's hand stays in his longer than necessary as she introduces herself.

“Well, thanks, Rubes,” Dave says bluntly, turning away from the bar and hoping that Killian follows as he walks away. Searching the crowd for his wife, Dave heads in her direction, hearing the clicking of the heels on Killian's boots behind him.

Mary Margaret’s eyes light up as she watches her husband approach her, and Killian can't help the smile that flashes across his face when he sees this, the obvious love that the two of them share. Something that he thought he had, until she changed her mind.

But that’s part of what he came here to forget.

“Emma and Belle did such an excellent job putting this whole thing together, didn't they?” Her smile grows with her question, scrunching up the tip of her nose, and Dave leans down to press a kiss to the top of her head.

“Definitely,” Dave replies, but Killian's mind is elsewhere.

“When will I get to meet this sister of yours, Dave?”

Killian's been hearing about Emma for almost as long as he's known David, remembers when he had to leave the base right after their graduation because she showed up in Storybrooke again after running away from their foster home years before. He's seen pictures of her, the ones Dave brought with him on their tours together, and then the newer ones that he has around his house now. The pictures showed him the most beautiful blonde woman he has ever seen, though he's never had the opportunity to meet her in person.

Until today.

“Actually, she's right here!” Mary Margaret waves her hand to grab her attention from across the room, and Killian watches in awe as the crowd parts to reveal her to him. He knows it’s an absolutely cheesy cliche, but damn if she is a million times more beautiful than the pictures that truly do her no justice. She is a goddess on land, the most ethereal angel he has ever seen, dressed as, of all things, a goddamned pirate , in sinfully tight, bright red leather pants with a corseted vest over a black off-the-shoulder shirt, a costume comparable to his own.

As soon as she locks eyes with him, after smiling at her brother and his wife, neither of them break away from the stare. Her eyes widen at first, seeing him for the first time, then narrow as she takes him in approaching him. The moments it takes her to cross the room stretch into hours, watching her watch him, and the corner of his lips pulls up into a half-smile when she stops in front of them. David wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer into the circle.

“Ems, this is Captain Killian Jones, a good friend of mine from the Navy.” She smiles at him, a wide smile that he can swear physically radiates light.

“Captain Jones, it’s a pleasure to meet you after all this time.”

A smile spreading across his face, Killian holds his hand out towards her. “Darling, please call me Killian. And I assure you, the pleasure truly is all mine.”

Taking his hand, she expects his to shake it, but instead, he pulls it to his lips, pressing them against her knuckles, a motion that causes her entire face to redden, a blush that brightens her jade eyes, and he is surprised to feel a warmth to stir in his chest.

Emma, on the other hand, has possibly never been more turned on in her life.

To say that she is attracted to Captain Jones is the understatement of the century, an understatement that grows larger when she notices the brightness of his eyes, a shade of cobalt blue that shouldn’t be possible on a living, breathing human. She’s never been one to have a thing for older men, but there’s something about the man standing before her, a mixture of the patches of silver in his hair and the bright red vest that reveals dark hair that she can only imagine trails down his entire body, that intrigues her in a way she has never been intrigued before, starts a fire in her chest that travels down her body and settles behind her stomach.

Fuck, she doesn’t want to admit that Ruby may have been right, but for what seems like the first time ever, she’s actually hoping that Ruby’s joke about getting laid from earlier becomes a reality.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watches her brother roll his eyes, a motion that reminds her that her brother is standing right next to her , makes his arm slung over her shoulder suddenly weigh her down.

Pull yourself together, damnit.

“You did an excellent job putting this whole thing together, Emma,” Mary Margaret says finally, breaking the moment of silence that took over the group, and Emma finally tears her eyes away from his, turning instead to her sister-in-law.

“Thank you, really, but most of it was Belle. She planned everything, bought all the decorations, everything. I wasn’t even going to be here until she went into labor this morning.”

“Well, then it really is my lucky day, isn’t it?” Killian’s not sure what brings him to say it, and until David turns towards him, he’s not entirely sure he’s said it out loud.

Emma blushes again, and it does incredible things to him, stirring heat in parts of him that he wasn’t sure still worked. Thankfully, before he can say anything else just as embarrassing, someone across the room calls Emma, taking her attention from them for just long enough for David to reach out and hit his shoulder with the back of his hand.

When Emma turns back towards them, she says, “Excuse me, I’m sorry,” before smiling at them weakly and turning away.

Once Dave hopes she is far enough out of earshot, he turns to his friend. “I understand you have an inherent need to flirt with everyone, Jones, but does that have to include my sister?”

Killian flashes the same smile at David that he usually saves for the best of his conquests, which only causes him to roll his eyes.

“Okay, fine,” David concedes before Killian even gets the chance to respond. “Just… try not to do it where I can see you, okay? That’s just—it’s just weird.”

******************************************************************

Killian watches the party from afar, switching at some point from beer to rum, and after spending some time browsing the bookshelves in the small store, he decides on a rather sizable thriller that he remembers someone recommending to him—a book that he fully intends on purchasing before he leaves, especially after the condensation from his glass drips down onto one of the pages. Not paying for it would, of course, be bad form.

Every once in a while, he turns his eyes back to the room around him, most of which he can see from the seat he has chosen, and he usually finds David or Mary Margaret looking towards him, sometimes with rather somber expressions, sometimes smiling when he meets their eyes, but always leaving him alone.

A good book is exactly what he needs right now, after the year he’s had. After Milah leaving him, deciding nine months ago to go back to her husband and “give him another try,” that bloody bastard. Where was her husband for the four years they were together?

And losing Milah hurt him, but not nearly as much as it hurt when he got the call from the police… damn, was it already a week ago? After his stint in the Royal Navy, shorter than Killian’s time in the American military, Liam turned to the police force, a decision that ended up being the one that took his life fifteen years later.

It was at Liam’s funeral two days later that Killian realized everything that he had returned to England for—namely his brother, but finding Milah along the way hadn’t hurt until the end—was gone. Liam was the only tie back to reality that Killian had.

So he sold everything he had, packed what was he needed into his backpack, and bought a ticket to America, thankful that he and David had kept correspondence since his injuries sent him home from deployment, including Christmas cards from Dave’s lovely wife that included his address.

Realizing that his eyes stopped taking the words in, Killian pulls his thoughts back to the pages in front of him, blinking the glaze away from his eyes. It works for another few pages, until he realizes that his thoughts have floated off the page and back to his brother once again.

Damn him.

Killian finishes the rest of the rum in his glass in a quick mouthful, then pushes himself away from the table, noting his page in the book before he closes it. Finding his way back to the bar, the one part of the room he cannot see from the table, the brunette bartender flashes him another smile when she passes the glass back to him over the bar.

“Thank you, love,” he drawls, smiling back at her before taking the first sip, and lets the liquid sit in his mouth for a moment before coating his throat with the sensation of it.

Turning his attention back to the party, he remembers David’s sister, though how she ever left his mind is beyond him.

But at the same time, he does have a lot on his mind, so he forgives himself for forgetting about the beautiful blonde for a little while. Though turning his attention towards her would definitely help him forget about Milah, which he realizes he desperately wants. He scans the room, trying to find her and those damn leather pants somewhere, but when he cannot, he drops his head, hitting his chest with his chin. Running his fingers through his hair then across his stubble, he sighs, then decides to return to his table, and to his book. Hopefully.

But as he turns the corner away from the bar and towards his table, he spots her, her back to the party, sitting at the very table he just left, her slender fingers carefully running over the book he left on the table.

For a moment, he wonders what it would be like for her to run those fingers over him, before he curses himself. He takes another careful sip of his rum as he fills the rest of the space between him and the table.

“I am planning on paying for it, just so you’re aware.”

He does not think he spoke loudly, but he still notices that he caused her to jump a little before she turns to him, watching him take a seat across the small wooden table.

“I never doubted that, actually.” Her smile is small, just the beginnings of the radiance she flashed him when they were introduced. He hopes he can get her back to that brilliance.

“Shouldn’t you be attending to your party?” He gestures around the room, but her eyes do not leave his face.

“You’re also at my party, aren’t you?” Her smile grows, but only a little. “It’s not like I’m being completely antisocial, sitting in the corner by myself.”

Her words tear a hole in his chest, but when her face reddens and she drops it to the table, hitting her forehead against her crossed forearms, he doesn’t think she meant it in the way he was taking it.

After a moment, she straightens back up, and she looks so absolutely devastated that he can’t help the laugh that rattles in his chest. “I promise I didn’t mean that like— as an insult, I just— ” Her eyes meet his, taking them off of the book sitting between them, and the softness of her features proves his thought is correct. “I’m sorry. You’re in a completely new town with people you’ve never met before. If I was in your place, I would be doing the same thing.”

He smiles gently at her, reaching across the table and covering her hand with his. “Truly, love, it’s alright. Though I hope you never find yourself in my place.” He doesn't know what calls him to say it; the last thing he wants to do is spew his tragic backstory to the gorgeous blonde sitting across the table from him. But, taking another careful sip of his drink, he watches her eyes turn up to him in question.

But her response doesn't force anything from him: "Well, whatever brought you here, Killian, I for one am thankful for it."

She smiles at him again, closer to the divine radiance from their meeting, and after a moment, he returns the smile. "Thank you, love," he says finally. "I appreciate that. Truly."

A beat passes between them, softened by both of their smiles, and when she turns her eyes back down to the book still on the table between them , he notices the twinge of red that takes over her cheeks, darkening further as she changes the subject.

"You know, Dean Koontz was one of my favorite authors in college. I haven't read this one in particular, but all of the reviews I've read or gotten about it make it sound interesting."

Killian nods. "I heard a few great things about him before, but this one in particular was mentioned in an article I read on the plane here from England. I was just perusing, searching for an activity to pass the time when I came across it on your shelves and decided to give it a try."

"You're from England then?"

For some reason, it is not a question he was expecting from her, and part of him believes that she's simply making small talk to be civil. But the genuine interest he finds in her jade eyes is just the push he heeds to convince himself that, maybe, not everyone views him as a sob story. He truly hopes that Emma does not.

"Aye, from a small town in the north."

"But weren't you in the Navy with my brother?"

"I was. My mother was American, so when she left my father and returned to America, I joined her. I was twelve, and my brother was nineteen and joined the Royal Navy at the same time that we left."

She nods, obviously intrigued by his story, most likely trying to fill in the gaps from what David had told her. "But you went back to England after you were injured?"

He attempts to smile, but it doesn't come. "Aye, by that time, sickness had taken my mother and Liam had gotten a job in England, so I went home to be with him."

"You and your brother are close, then?" Her question is harmless—she is genuinely interested. Even still, unknown to her, the words hit him like a blade to the heart and he has to swallow the lump that forms in his throat before he can answer her.

"We were." As much as he was trying to avoid the 'retelling of the tragic backstory' part of the night, he finds that he actually wants to tell her. "He passed a week ago. Killed in the line of duty."

For the second time—because yes, she was counting—she reaches out and covers his hand with her own.

"I'm so sorry, Killian. Is that—is that what brought you here, then?" Her voice is soft, a sort of real niceness that reminds him of the time he had spent with Dave's wife, Mary Margaret. He's incredibly thankful for it. For her.

"Aye. There was nothing left for me in England, and Dave was really the only person from my time in the military that I've stayed in touch with so coming here was the only sensible idea in my mind."

Her eyes fall back to the table, to where her hand is still resting on top of his. Neither of them make a move to change that.

"Well, I hope you find Storybrooke as healing as I have."

"I have a feeling it might be exactly what I need." He's fairly sure he's not talking about the town and, finally, when she looks at him again, he sees that he has succeeded in bringing her smile back.

They sit in a comfortable silence for a few moments, Killian’s attention back to the book as much as it can be with the gorgeous woman sitting across from him, Emma pulling her phone out of the pocket of the vest and staring down at it for the moment of silence she has before someone approaches her, a dark-haired woman in a simple black dress and a witch hat, and Killian raises his eyes to her before Emma notices her presence behind her.

“Emma,” the woman says, "I need you to look at something for me, if you're not busy?"

Smiling gently up at her, Emma turns back to Killian. "Captain Jones, this is Mayor Mills. He was in the Navy with David."

"Pleasure," she says, though the look on her face paints the opposite picture, so Killian simply raises his glass to her before turning his attention back to the pages.

"Excuse me," Emma mumbles as she pushes herself away from the table.

******************************************************************

Slowly, the party begins to come to a close. People leave, one by one or in groups, each thanking Emma before finding their way out of the building. Killian watches it all from his corner of the room, watches her intently even though he pretends to read any time someone turns towards him. It is almost midnight once Emma actually takes a moment to look at her phone, the screen filled with notifications, people tagging her in their Instagram pictures and their Facebook posts, plus pictures from Belle of her new daughter.

Even so, with all the work and clean up she knows is ahead of her, she somehow finds herself back at the table in the corner, glass of whiskey in hand as she stares across at Killian who has turned his eyes up to hers in an incredible staring contest.

"Can I help you, love?" he mumbles in a voice that Emma might even define as a growl, a sound that strikes Emma right to the core. She can't quite understand it, but she is suddenly overcome with a need , an incredibly physical desire, an attraction unlike anything Emma has ever felt.

And Killian feels it too, staring across the table at her. He never thought he would feel this way towards a other woman, thought he had wasted what was left of himself on Milah. But sitting here, across from his best friend's sister with the bright green eyes filled with desire, he feels it again.

"God, I hope so," she whispers, so quiet that Killian is not even sure that she meant to say it out loud. But after the night they have had during the course of this party, staring at each other across the room as if their eyes were magnets, drawn only to the other, he by no means is against what her words insinuate. Emma may have only had a few glasses of whiskey over the hours of the party, but Killian has been at it regularly all night—and though he has never had a problem holding his own, it continues to strengthen his innuendoes shared only with her the few times she found enough time to join him again.

Leaning across the table on his elbows, he reaches out to press the tips of his fingers against her arm, needing to feel some part of her against him.

"Just give me the chance, darling, and I promise you won't be disappointed."

The bright red that quickly rises to tint her cheeks assures him that what he assumed earlier was correct, that she didn't think she actually spoke the words that crossed her mind.

Staring across the table for a moment longer, Emma covers his hand against her arm with her own. Then, as quickly as it started, the moment's over.

Emma clears her throat. "I need to clean up."

"Do you need assistance?"

"Please, Killian," she laughs, squeezing his hand below hers. "You're a guest here. The last thing you need to do is help clean up after people you don't even know."

He returns her smile with his own. "If you change your mind, love, you know where to find me."

"Of course. Thank you," she whispers before getting up from the table once more.

But keeping away from him, keeping her attention anywhere but him as she and the few partygoers left stuff trash bags and wipe down tables, proves to be a much harder task than she anticipates. Every time she turns her eyes back to him, sitting alone at the table with the book before him, she finds his eyes trained on her, no matter where she is in the room.

Ruby must pick up on this as she cleans up her own bar stock, making her own eyes at Emma when she meets them.

"Remember what I told you earlier,” she whispers, sliding past Emma with a box of bottles. "It wouldn't hurt to get a little action tonight."

Emma huffs, rolling her eyes at the words of her friend. But, at the same time, Emma realizes that Ruby may be right, thinking of Killian in ways she has tried her hardest the whole night to avoid: trembling above her, holding her in his arms as she feels every muscle of him against her.

Inside her.

It's been almost two years since she left Neal, learning that his trips to Boston for "work" were really for him to see his other woman. Two years since he had broken her heart, since she decided never to trust another man.

But letting Killian have his way with her, letting him roam her body with his hands, his tongue—that doesn't mean opening her heart up to him.

Not necessarily.

Suddenly, every moment begins to suffocate her. It is bubbling up inside her, threatening to take her over, this need for him. And so, she does what she can: she sends the remainder of the guests home, David and Mary Margaret and a small handful of others.

But not Killian.

Killian stays. Even when David tries to insist his friend leaves with him, then Killian joins the conversation.

"I've done nothing but sit on my hands all night, mate. The very least I can do is make sure she gets home safely."

"Fine, fine," Dave gives in, clapping his hand on his friends shoulder. The look they share in that moment recalls Dave's comment from earlier about flirting with everyone to his memory, but he hopes that Dave is not thinking of the same thing. "Just don't stay out too late," he adds with a smile, then wraps his arm around his wife, who looks like she could collapse from exhaustion at any moment and leads her out the door. He looks back at his sister one last time through the store window, and then they are gone.

Emma and Killian are alone. Before turning towards him—because when she does, she fears she may not be able to turn away—she locks the door behind her brother, then lowers the blinds over the windows.

Then, once she is sure that they are safe from any interruptions, she turns to face him, his bright eyes and sly smile peeking out from above the book in his hands.

For what feels like eternity, neither of them move as if the world has pressed the pause button, her hands set on her hips, and one of his eyebrows locked high on his forehead.

And then, finally, it gets to him, and he gets up from the table and fills the space between them, taking her face in his hand and resting his prosthetic against her hip.

"I was hoping you felt as I did," he says softly, but keeps the rest of the space between them for her to choose to fill herself. “Just two ships passing in the night,” he whispers, overwhelmed by the need to make some kind of joke about their costumes.

She takes a moment to stare up at him, to take in the details of his face that she had failed to see throughout the night: the small scar on his cheek, that she runs her thumb over; the flecks of light that twinge his dark beard, not just silver-grey but red; and, perhaps most prominently the streaks of white in his hair, hair that calls to her to run her fingers through. So she does.

It is much softer than she expected it to be, light as a feather and softer than she's known anyone's hair to be.

“Passing closely, I hope.”

Smiling up at him, she wraps her hand around the back of his neck and pulls his lips to hers. He lets her guide the kiss for a moment, not forcing her into anything she does not want— though, by the way she presses her body against him, he erases any doubt that they are not already on the same page; but when he feels the warm flick of her tongue against his bottom lip, he grants her entry, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her flush to him, to make sure that she feels every inch of him against her.

“Killian,” she whispers, her lips still pressed against his, and he hums in response. “We can’t do this here.”

“Aye, love. I was thinking that, but Lord knows I wasn’t going to stop you.”

She laughs against him, running her hand against the stubble that covers his cheek, which earlier that day he cursed himself for not getting rid of, but feeling her fingers against it makes him glad that his laziness got the best of him. “My office is in the back” she says, pulling away from him just enough to look into his eyes.

“Lead the way,” he mumbles back, but not before he can grind against her, the leather of his pants failing to hide anything from her, showing him half-hard and growing beneath the fabric, a sign that he wants this just as much as she does.

Pulling away before she loses the ability to, she takes his hand in hers and pulls him through the store. But when she leans against the door into the back, pulling at the handle to push it open, she finds it locked— of course it’s locked, because why would it have been open?

She turns back towards the store, trying to figure out where her damn keys are, but Killian misinterprets the movements and presses his body against hers, needing to feel her again, trapping her between him and the door. His lips find hers again, hot and dominating in a way that she didn’t know she needed until he was on her, could feel the hardness of him against her own leather pants.

“Killian, wait ,” she pleads again, his lips on her neck, and when she begins to laugh, he stops his movements and stares up at her, his head still ducked below hers, blue eyes blown wide with both his desire and his confusion. “I need to find my keys. The door is locked.”

“And this is funny to you somehow?”

“The last thing I want you to do is stop, but I can’t find my damn keys to get into my own office. That’s what’s funny.”

A smile grows across his face, all the way from his dimples to the lines that form around his eyes. “Aye, that makes more sense. Have you any idea where they might be?”

Pinching her lips together, she raises her eyes to the ceiling, trying to remember what she did with them when she arrived here hours ago, after putting them in the pocket of her jacket like she always does. When her mind fails her, coming up blank, she tosses her head back even further, hitting the top of it against the door behind her.

“I’ll help you search for them, love,” Killian comments, his voice deep and hoarse, and she suddenly becomes immensely aware of all the places he is touching her: his left hand on her hip, the fingers of his right blushing softly against the back of her neck, partially tangled in her hair—not to mention the heat of his hips pressing her into the door, the hardness of him apparent even through both of their pants, fueling the fire that he has already started in her core.

God damn this fucking door.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, letting her head fall until her forehead is pressed against his, and the thumb of his right hand comes up to run gently across her cheek.

“I can assure you, Swan, there is nothing for you to apologize for. Nothing says foreplay like a scavenger hunt.” He is completely serious for a moment, and Emma is terrified that somehow, he’s not joking—until his facade breaks, and a smile grows across his face. “They have to be here somewhere.”

He pushes away from her, leaving her leaning back against the door, and her body is suddenly overcome with a chill, missing the heat that he was passing to her.

“They’re in my jacket— did I say that already? It’s leather. And, uh, red.” Her face begins to turn the same color, somehow realizing for the first time that her beloved jacket is the same color and material as these damned pants that have started to become too tight in the past few minutes.

“Bloody hell,” Killian mumbles, hopefully not loud enough for Emma to hear, but the blush that is already running across her face makes him believe she hasn’t.

After taking a moment to gather herself, she pushes herself off the door to her office, needing to find something to do to make up for the fact that she’s not doing Killian.

Damn, that’s cheesy.

But when he calls to her from the corner of the store, behind the checkout counter that Mary Margaret had turned into a candy bar, she suddenly doesn’t care how cheesy it was, because it’s true.

“Did you find it?”

“Unless someone else also has a red leather jacket that they left here with their keys in the pocket, then I’m fairly sure I found it, love.”

His smile does absolutely terrifying things to her insides, warming them up in a way that can’t be safe, and when he presses his lips to the back of her neck as she finally unlocks the door, she feels like she might just catch fire.

He closes the door with her body, pressing her against it faster than she can close it behind him, covering her with his own body as his lips find hers again. They pick up where they left off before, but it quickly becomes more, Emma's hands finding the buckle of his belt as his snake further up her thighs, landing finally on her leather-clad ass. She unsnaps the button on his pants, the zipper practically undoing itself, and he stops to pull his head away from her, just far enough to look her in the eye. His cheeks are flushed, his lips swollen from hers, but his eyes are so sincere, searching for any part of her that doesn't want this as much as he does.

She does, of course, and this is the answer that he finds behind the walls of the emeralds in her irises when she nods to him, and he smiles softly at her for just a moment before covering her mouth with his again. Wrapping his arms around her once more, she pulls her away from the door and leads her to the small couch against the windows, setting her down on it before reaching down to slide out of his boots, and she does the same.

As he stands back up, she tries to pull him back to her, but instead, he drops to his knees before her. Her eyes sparkle in the light of the office, never leaving his face, and when his hands slide up the inside of her thighs the palm of his hand pressing lightly on her core as he begins to untie them, she can’t stop the moan that escapes her lips. His fingers snake into the top of the material, slowly sliding it down her legs, followed closely by his lips. He struggles a little to remove them completely, the material tight against her skin, but when she is finally free of them, he tosses them aside, kneeling between her legs once more.

She sighs when his lips find the soft skin inside her knee. His lips trace up the inside of her thigh, and the moan that escapes her lips when he flicks his finger under the hem of her lace panties and across her folds is enough for him to feel his erection jerk in his jeans, and he wishes he would have let her finish removing them.

“Tell me what you want from me, love,” he growls, running his lips back up the inside of her thigh, the coarse hair on his chin tickling her just as she imagined it would.

“I --” she starts, but when he slides his finger between her folds, whatever she was trying to say is replaced by a sharp intake of breath, followed by a thick, mumbled, “Oh, fuck me.”

“Patience, darling,” he says, his lips pressed against the top of her thigh, then flicks his tongue out right above where his fingers have entered her. She moans again, this time softer, and he feels her stomach clench when he slides his fingers further into her as he presses his tongue against her clit. “Now, I'm going to ask you again, love: tell me what you want.”

It takes all the strength she has not to finish for him right then and there, with his fingers inside her and his lips against her, his mumbled words reverberating against her core.

In place of an answer, she lets out a groan. “Oh, Killian,” she breathes, and when he feels the way she is responding to him, he stops, sliding his fingers out of her almost all of the way, the tips remaining as a teasing whisper. “No, please,” she whispers, moving her hips towards him, trying to get him back, and when she opens her eyes, he is staring at her from between her legs, a sly smile spread across his face.

“All you have to do is tell me, love. Say to me what I want to hear, and I'll give it to you.” His voice is still just a growl, but hearing him turns her on more , which she wouldn't have thought possible if she hadn't felt the clenching of her thighs, felt the heat that came with it.

“Make me come, finish me with your fingers and your mouth before you let me ride your cock.” Her breathy words tumble out of her, but they are the most she can manage at the moment.

For just a second, he does not acknowledge them, and she is afraid that, somehow, that wasn't what he wanted to her.

And then he smiles at her, darting his tongue out to wet his bottom lip. “Aye, love, I think I could make that happen,” he whispers, then watches her intently as he fills her with his fingers again, focusing on just the right spot with his tongue to make her come apart for him after just a few more thrusts. When he feels her contract against his fingers, he moans, by far the sexiest sound she has ever heard, and when she finally opens her eyes to meet his again, he is smiling. “Attagirl, Emma. Give me all you got.” He doesn't stop, holding her in her high until she can't handle it anymore, finding his hand with hers.

“Killian,” she says, her voice no more than the breath she lets out, and he pulls away from her, though only for long enough to rid himself of his pants.

She wants to be surprised, learning that he had gone commando beneath the sinful leather, but she’s not . As much as she wants to pull him down to her, wants to taste his lips on hers again, there is something else that she suddenly wants more. Standing before him, she pushes his jacket off his shoulders, hearing it land with a thump against the floor, then undoes the buttons of his vest one by one, following her hands with her lips, soft against the dark hair on his chest, hair that leads all the way down to beneath his legs, and then further still.

When she is finished with the vest, he pulls it the rest of the way off, depositing it somewhere in the room, and her lips continue to trail downwards, stopping at the darkest patch of hair that his erection is jutting from as she wraps her hand around him, running her tongue over the tip of it to catch the fluid dripping from it.

“Emma, darling, you don't—” he starts when he realizes what she is beginning to do, but when she does take him in her mouth, one hand wrapped around the end of his shaft and the other gently cupping his balls, any words he was attempting to say are replaced with a deep groan, followed by a whispered, “ Bloody hell, you siren.”

She laughs around him, starting to pump him with both her hand and her mouth, and his hand tangles itself in her hair, needing an anchor to something before he loses control completely. When she feels him begin moving with her, rocking his hips in time with her hand, she stops, sliding her mouth off of him with a pop, and her sarcastic comment is on the tip of her tongue when he kneels down beside her, his fingers still in her hair as he guides her to the soft carpet of the floor and finds her mouth with his.

Their kiss is rough, all fire and passion and fury, tasting themselves on the other, and by the time he pulls himself away from her, anything she was planning on saying to him is gone.

Slowly, he begins to unlace the back of her vest, his fingers hot against her when she does feel them, and she snakes her arms free of it before he runs his hands across her stomach to her hips, finding their way beneath the black shirt, lowering himself so he can kiss his way up her stomach as he removes it, pushing it over the swell of her breasts to find nothing beneath the shirt but the perfect ivory of her skin, the peaks of her perfect pink nipples slowly hardening under his gaze, even as he pulls the shirt over her head and deposits it with the rest of their clothing.

He says nothing, his eyes locked with hers, and a soft smile spreads across his lips, one that she can't help but return. “What?” she whispers.

“You're just so bloody beautiful,” he whispers, and though from anyone else in his situation, the words would have scared her— feelings where there should only be action —she somehow does not feel the same hearing them from him. “Do you still want what you told me before?”

The question is endearing, assuring that she has not changed her mind, even as they both lay completely naked on the floor of her goddamned office.

“Yes.”

He smiles at her again. “Good.” He kisses her forehead, then her lips, then pulls his head back just far enough to watch her as he finally, slowly, slides his cock inside her.

“Oh, Killian,” she moans, meeting his hips with hers in hopes of filling her up more.

They find a rhythm that works, his mouth venturing between her nipples and her lips, her nails raking into his back, until she stops suddenly, her hands planted on his hips and her eyes finding his face, waiting for his to meet hers.

“What is it, love?” he asks, his face painted with concern, but she just smiles at him, wrapping her legs around his ass and pulling him to her.

“If I remember correctly, I already asked to be on top.”

He returns her smile, and she presses her palm against his cheek, raising her eyebrows in warning before they both try—and fail—to roll over. She begins to laugh first, and he joins in automatically as she finds her place above him, her knees straddling his hips. Taking his hand in hers, her other against his shoulder and his left on her hip, she rocks her hips against his erection, pressing her folds into him for a teasing moment before she positions him under her, lowering herself around him. At this angle, she finds he fills her better, more fully, and when he shakes his hand free of hers to tangle itself in her hair, he grabs as much of it as he can in a fist, trying (and succeeding) to find something that would bring her closer to a second orgasm. Her free hand finds her own breast, pinching the nipple between her thumb and forefinger.

“You're fucking perfect,” he growls from below her, releasing her hair from his fist only to use it to grab her hip, his fingers hard against her skin to leave marks, but she doesn't care, especially once he stretches his thumb out to find her clit, rubbing it in slow circles to match the pace she is setting with her hips. “Come again for me,” he demands, and it is only moments before she does, coming undone for him for the second time that night.

She is still riding her high on him when he mumbles, “I'm close, love, where do you want me to come?” and she rocks her hips hard against him as he thrusts, allowing him to be as deep inside her as he can, even if just for a moment.

“Right there, yes, fuck,” she says, rocking against him again, a movement doing wonders for her own orgasm.

“Are you sure, Emma?” he asks softly, slowing for just a moment, and she swears that she has never met anyone with enough simultaneous self-control and respect for her to make sure of that in the last moment, not allowing themselves their own release just to make sure she has taken care of everything.

“Killian, yes , I'm fine. Now, please,” she pleads, her hand against his cheek as she tries to help him return to the pace they were at before. “Give me what I want,” she whispers, and his fingers dig into her hip again.

“Okay, darling. Okay.” And he does just that, pumping himself into her until they are both, finally, spent.

Holding him inside her, she falls onto his chest, pressing a kiss into his forehead and his cheek before her lips find his neck, a movement that pulls a soft chuckle out of him before he asks, “Do you, uh, need to clean up, or something? I've never not used protection before, though I imagine it still has to go somewhere, right?”

She leans up again, her elbow on his chest to rest her chin on her hand as she raises her eyebrow at him. “You've really never not used a condom?”

“Aye, love, what's so hard to believe about that?”

Shrugging, she pulls a few tissues out of the box on the corner of her desk, thankfully within her reach, pressing them between her legs as she slides away from him, then searches for her underwear.

“I guess it's just been a while since I've used any that I forget it's some people's main source of protection.” She turns away from him, collecting as much of their fluid as she can before she finds her underwear, still tucked into those damned leather pants. She pulls them on, opting to allow her body to cool back down to a normal temperature before attempting to squeeze back into them. In place of the rest of the costume, she digs through the bottom drawer of her desk until she finds the plain black t-shirt that she’s stored there, though it never had a purpose before tonight.

Pulling it over her head, and though it covers her skin, it fails to provide the protection that the padding in the off-the-shoulder shirt had across her chest, as she notices when she turns back towards Killian.

When he realizes she is facing him once more, his hand slides up his neck to grasp the hair behind his ear, having managed to don his own pants again, but the dark hair that still covers his chest is still on full display.

“As much as I enjoyed that activity, Swan, I was really hoping to ask you to dinner sometime.”

Emma feels her eyes grow wide, astounded both at the question itself and at just how much of a gentleman Captain Jones had proven himself to be throughout the whole of the evening. This was not supposed to happen.

None of this was supposed to happen.

The worst part, though, is not the feelings attached to asking her out, but the fact that she completely, utterly, overwhelmingly wants to say yes. To her brother’s best friend.

To her brother’s best friend.

“What will David think?”

It is, without a doubt, the last thing he expected to hear from her as a response, and he raises his eyebrows at her—though when he realizes his own answer, he can’t stop the smile that flashes across his face.

“I would assume that he would much rather I court you than learn that I’ve fucked you senseless in your office just hours after I met you for the first time.”

God, he’s good.

“Is that what you think you’ve done?” Now it’s her turn to smile at him, cocking her head with her question.

“Perhaps not senseless, though I would at least like the opportunity to try again.”

******************************************************************

That opportunity presented itself after their second date, exactly a week from the Halloween party. For the first time ever, and thankfully at the talented hands of Captain Killian Jones, Emma learned what it meant to be ‘fucked senseless’ after he had pleasured her with his fingers, then his mouth, and finally, his cock, laying beside him too drained to move, to think, to feel.

It’s definitely a feeling that she wouldn’t mind experiencing again.

#captain swan ff #captain swan #cs ff #cs smut #cs cocktoberfest #cs cocktober #my writing #silver fox killian jones

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