#i think what tripped me up was that i read a couple comics to prep myself and then they were like ''meet steven'' and i was like. no | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

revisionaryhistory · 4 years ago

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Three Days ~ 55

~*~Sebastian~*~

I stared at her. Stunned. I'm not sure if it's how the conversation went or she wants me and whatever comes with me. Emma is so intentional. Her words carry meaning. She wants to be clear and asks for clarity. This is heaven for my overthinking brain. I’m not stuck wondering what she means nor am I afraid to ask. Because I know she'll answer. Really answer.

"I've got eight years on you, how are you the more mature one?"

"Stabilizing influence and frighteningly direct communication of my second dad."

The expression on her face and deadpanned delivery had me laughing. "I can see that. I'll be the emotionally reactive one and you can be the calming one." Then I remembered. "Although, Eli did tell a story about you laying into some guy in Hawaii at a volleyball game. Ed dumped you in the ocean. I wish there was video."

"There is. You'll have to get dad to send it to you."

Tuesday was a good day. Workout was hard and my abs were already sore, but we'd laughed a lot. Good phone call with mom. The house had come together, she was enjoying some time in the pool, and she'd picked up some piano students. My afternoon was spent in my manager, Emily's, office. Mostly she and I, but a few conference calls. I was about to be busy. The next six weeks I was more gone than home. I was excited about the work. Excited to see friends.

Admittedly, the timing wasn't the greatest, new relationship and all, but I was confident we'd figure it out. This is different. I'd like to say it was because my previous experience is whining and bitching about me being gone so long, knowing I was going to pay for the distance, and trying to front-load my leaving to make it more palatable. While all of those all true, the actual difference is I care. The emotionally unavailable hot and cold thing comes into play here. I put up a wall to block the whining and bitching, not really listening, because it's my job. Bitching at me isn’t going to change anything and I’m not going to feel guilty for doing my job. Well, I do, but it just pisses me off because I shouldn’t. The expectation of gifts, dinners, or a vacation to make up for being gone made those a lot less fun. And I was never successful at cramming a bunch of stuff in before I left, because my work didn't start when I left. It starts weeks before. I don’t leave for filming for a month, but I’m already prepping: gym reading, watching things, research, and studying the script. I get pretty singularly focused. I don't know any other way. And when pushed I shut down. I don't respond. I brood. And I appear cold. None of this is right. Some just is. Some is my fault. Getting to where I didn't care about her (any of the previous hers) feelings and concerns with me gone was a side effect of shutting down and I regret doing that. It wasn’t that I didn’t care about her feelings. It was feeling ineffectual to do anything about it and my self-protection kicking in. Looking back, saying effectively “deal with it” was incredibly insensitive. Not proud of it.

But now, sitting here looking at my schedule I’m finding places I can find some time for us. We’ll figure it out. I can tell you what won’t happen. Emma won't whine where I block her out. She's not going to emotionally blackmail me for things, which will make me want to give. And she’ll leave me alone to prep, let me bounce things off her, or cook something to remind me to eat. I need all of those. I care how Emma's going to feel about me being gone. I care about what we’ve begun and how we'll keep in touch. I also know that while I'm away she will carry on living the life she had before she had me and be just fine.

Emma had practice tonight and a game tomorrow. It was after eight when she called. She was in a tank top and her hair was wet from her shower. I caught up on her day before leading into mine. "I have good news and bad news."

"OK." Emma drug out the word, wary of my response.

"When I get back from Canada, I've got some time to spend with you. Then I’m gone for the month of July. Fashion show, audition and meetings, comic con, then filming in Rome." Playing off last night’s conversation, I added. "I'm not expecting a bad reaction."

"Well, that's good." Her hand moved toward the screen and I chose to believe she was touching my face. "I'II miss you, but I’m excited for you. And me getting to hear about what you're doing. Living vicariously."

I'd had some time to think. I had a lot of thoughts on plans. This was the soonest. "You get back Tuesday, doubleheader Wednesday, and I get back late Thursday. What's your weekend look like?"

"Empty. I'll come to you. You'll barely be home if you come here. I can come anytime Friday. I'll be done with work except maybe packing up my room. I can do that whenever."

"Early Friday. Thursday night." I wanted to maximize our time. "I have to do some work."

"I can amuse myself."

"Maybe the shop you liked so much will be having a sale?" I laughed at the way her eyes lit up. "July fourth weekend I'm at a fashion show. Wanna go to Paris?"

"What?" Her face moved closer to the screen. I’d surprised her.

"Not necessarily Paris, but near. The third is the show. Have you been to Paris?"

"Family spent the summer in Europe when we were thirteen. Then Pearl Jam tours. Love Paris."

"Not much more than a long weekend, but museums and I'm sure we can find some romantic Paris shit to do."

"I would love to go to Paris with you."

That was good because I'd already made reservations. "California for about two weeks then straight to Italy for at least that. Depends on how long shooting takes. Hopefully back in time to join you in Chicago. Then nothing until the end of August. Will and I had been talking about a group of us going away. We were waiting for my schedule. What do you think about a group trip and we stay a little longer or go off alone? It would be a beach somewhere."

"You going to rub sunscreen on me?"

"Um yay, part of my volleyball job. Beer bitch and sunscreen applier."

“I’m in."

"End of August is a Disney thing. Labor Day weekend is the Toronto Film Fest. Little stuff in there, nothing big. No idea past then."

She laughed, eyes wide, and moving her head in all directions "It's crazy like a tour schedule. I'm jealous. I love touring."

"I thought about Rome, but the schedule's tight. You wouldn't see me."

"I wasn't trying for an invite. I'll get some of my summer PD hours done so I won't have to worry about them. Make sure I've got time for us."

I leaned back on the couch, "That was easy."

She glared at me. "I thought you weren't expecting a bad reaction?"

I shook my head, "No, no, I wasn't. Just an observation. Thought I might have to talk you into the beach." I held it a second before smiling, "Not really. I do know it’s a lot."

"I will always go to a beach."

"You’re not allowed to play volleyball."

"Did you get the video from dad?"

"About an hour ago." I'd enjoyed it several times. "You're a feisty little thing."

Wednesday was a day of pictures and texts. After the gym, I settled in my extra room to prep. I had my laptop on the table, a stack of books on top of my script, and a huge bottle of water. I took a picture and posted it to Instagram along with one of me with a pencil between my teeth and pulling my hair.

Emma ~ How'd you get a picture of your expression during your last blow job?

Sebastian ~ Hidden camera in bedroom. You should see the other things I have. Coupling Season 1. "The Cupboard of Patrick's Love."

Emma ~ “You really don't have enough blood for both ends of your body, do you?"

Sebastian ~ Very good, Sally.

Love that she can quote one of my favorite shows.

After lunch, Emma posted a picture of her in the middle of a group hug with her students. "I'll miss my munchkins.” I sent a sad face emoji.

Then I fell into a hole. I got pulled into my research and reading and the next time I picked up my phone it was one a.m. I need time like this and put my phone on do not disturb. The only thing that comes through is two calls from the same number within a few minutes. Anyone important knows how to reach me. Emma knew, but she didn't. Not even when the Demonic Crickets won their game. She posted several pictures, but I got a much better one in a text. Emma with her back to the camera in her team tank, arm up flexing her bicep, and her looking over her shoulder smiling at me. The gold flecks in her eyes were sparkling and the darker ring made the green more intense.

Emma ~ Hope you're getting a lot done. Internally anyway. XOXO

Sebastian ~ * 12 hours later * Yeah, I did. I'm hungry. Congrats on the win. Picture is beautiful.

Sebastian ~ You're beautiful

Her thank you came while I was working out. After a shower, I fell back into my hole until it was time for therapy.

I'd been seeing Celie for a long time. Frequency varied. She had a dark brown bob, glasses, and a round face. At this point, I could read her as well as she could me. If she was looking at me over her glasses, she thought I was full of shit. No words needed. She was about ten years older than me and her style worked for me. It was a great one-sided friendship.

I took my regular spot on the blue couch, "How are you today, Celie?"

Celie smiled. She had the unconditional positive regard thing down. I say that, but she does genuinely like me. Most of the time. I can be a pain in the ass. "I've had a good day and after you I get to go home. You seem to be in a good mood. Tell what's going on with you, Seb."

I was always her last client of the day. Sometimes I needed more than an hour. "I am in a good mood. I met somebody. Last time I saw you I was going to help my parents move. I met Emma there. In a grocery store, if you can believe that."

"Sounds like you can't."

"I asked her to dinner in under fifteen minutes."

She widened her eyes in disbelief. Exactly my point. "Did you? Good for you, Seb. A complete stranger. What led you to ask her out?"

"I was all covered up and she tells me I looked like a rehab patient checking into the clinic up the road. But she was kind to me. A sketchy stranger. She didn’t know who I was until we were outside and I introduced myself. She helped me find the things on my list and we chatted." I put my hands in front of my chest, fingers splayed. "She felt good. I didn't know why, just enough that I knew I wanted to know more.”

“And what do you know now?”

I spent the next several minutes telling Celie the salient points. We’ve been doing this long enough that explaining isn’t necessary. She’ll recognize why things are important. My face hurt from smiling after I was finished talking about Emma. I stopped short of the whole conversation on Sunday.

“Besides the obvious early relationship high, how are you feeling about all this?”

“Good. Happy. Hopeful. The only concerning thing was Saturday I woke up from a night terror, panic attack. I got myself calmed down pretty quick, wrote for a while, and once Emma got up I went for a run.”

“Even with being happy, there’s been quite a bit of emotional activity. I’m pleased that you’ve only woken up once. Much better. What do you suspect triggered you?”

I took a deep breath, “Emma and I wound up in this conversation Sunday afternoon. A couple of my friends at the party had told her I wasn’t acting like I normally do with women, but more like I am with friends. This led to a conversation about my relationship issues. I’m not the same with her. She really doesn’t know that version of me. I think that’s why I had the anxiety. It was the night after the party but before the conversation. First time we’d been around my friends. I think it was not because I’m scared, but because I’m not. Like you said, there’s been a lot of emotional shit going on and I’m good. Remarkably good.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Emma is different. She’s incredibly kind and is . . . gentle. Not weak though. She’s strong.”

Celie shook her head, “When I think of gentle people it’s a combination. They can be painfully truthful, but their manner makes others able to listen. They have a compassion for others.”

“Exactly! I noticed she knew everyone. She talked to everyone and used their name. I asked and she said she looked at their nametags and you never know what someone’s day has been. That might be the first nice thing that’s happened all day. I know it’s a little thing, but it’s her. She’s like that with me. She doesn’t try to talk me out of being anxious or overthinking. She doesn’t think my insecurities are stupid. They’re all just part of me.”

“She accepts you.”

“Right. The more we got to know each other, the more we talked, I felt safe. She doesn’t do those things I usually shut down over. I don’t feel the need to protect myself. She’s very different.” Celie was looking at me over her glasses. Uh oh. “You’re giving me the look.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Why? I thought I was doing good. I asked out a stranger and got this amazing woman.”

“Sebastian, as quick as you are to fault yourself, you’re slow to take credit.”

“Take credit?” I didn’t know what she was talking about.

She leaned forward, putting her elbows on her knees. “You think this relationship is different because of Emma. You lucked out and met an accepting, kind, gentle person.”

“Yes. No. Both. Emma is different and she makes me different.”

Celie made a loud, jarring beeping noise. This was new.

“Ok, I guess I’m wrong.”

“You are. Not completely. You’re not giving yourself enough credit. Any credit. You’ve worked very hard. You’ve read. You’ve journaled. You’ve talked. You’ve done things I’ve asked you to even if you didn’t understand or want to. I’ve seen you grow. To give responsibility for this relationship being different all to Emma is dangerous. What’s going to happen when she falls off this pedestal you’ve put her on? Is that going to be an excuse to shut down and protect yourself? Fall back on old habits.”

I could feel my eyebrows pulled down and the scowl on my face. “So you’re saying this isn’t as good as I think it is.”

“Not at all. I’m saying it’s got as much to do with you as it does her. Previously you would have never asked out a woman you met in a grocery. But that seems to be the furthest you’re going with how you’re different. I do not believe for one second that no other woman you’ve gone out with has been kind and accepting. Or would have been if you would have been able to show them you. You used to do things to test them. You’d say or do things to see how they’d react. As we’ve talked, you weren’t being real, so you don’t know that their reactions were.”

I nodded then looked down, “I know. Pretty manipulative.” I felt Celie’s hand on my arm and looked back up. Her face was very soft with a smile.

“Stop, Seb. You need to be proud of yourself. You are doing things differently. You have learned from your past, grown, and come a long way in accepting yourself. Warts and all. You have shown Emma who you are, even the parts you don’t like so much. She can have credit for how she’s responded to you, but you deserve the credit for being brave enough to show her in an honest and authentic way. That allowed her to respond in an equally honest and authentic way.”

I grabbed a tissue from the ever-present box on the table and wiped the wet from my face. Neither the first nor the last time I’d cry in this room.

"If you had met her even a year ago, with her exactly as she is now, this relationship would be very different."

"The wedding."

"Excuse me?"

Yeah, non sequitur. "I was supposed to go to a friend’s wedding last summer but didn't because there was a change in my shooting schedule. Emma was at the wedding. You're right. Had I met her then," I shook my head. “I wouldn't have been ready for her and now could have never happened."

Celie shrugged, "Probably not."

I sniffed and wiped my eyes, "How do I get her off this pedestal I’ve put her on?"

"You seem pretty smitten. Maybe not take her off, just lower it a little." I laughed and she went on. "What you do is own your part. You have been making choices to improve yourself. You have been making choices to go out of your comfort zone. And you have been making choices to let her know you. Emma's been making similar choices to be with you. I'm sure you know what she's come through to be where she is. It seems like you complement each other. Recognize this is both of you waking up and choosing to be with each other. Talk and negotiate what that means. Tell her what you want. And when you're not talking you listen. Listen to what she needs from you. The most important for you is to keep processing the feelings with her. She's the only one who can help those make a picture. And you need to give her the same gift. She has things she’s not so proud of and afraid for you to know about her. We all do. You will need to accept her and treat her with gentle kindness she gives you.”

I was crying again. "She told me. I told her she was different than the others. She asked if maybe I was different."

Celie snickered, "I like her."

"You would. She speaks therapy."

"I want to be very clear, Seb. She sounds wonderful and she may make you better. You sound wonderful and I bet you make her better too. That’s how it should work in a relationship. You help each other along. It takes two people with self-awareness making choices to do what it takes. You both have to choose growth, honestly, humility, vulnerability, and sacrifice. I hear you holding up your end. I’ve not heard you do this before. And while she may be the right woman, you've become the right man. Please, please, do not underestimate how much work you've put in to become the right man for another person.”

"I want to go home and cry for an hour or so."

"I wish Emma was here for you."

I shook my head with a grimace, "It's going to be ugly until I get it out."

"Yes. I think Emma would want to be there to hold you and you'd find more acceptance and comfort in that than you can imagine."

At home, I grabbed a beer, sank down in my favorite chair, and cried. I felt everything all at once but fought to untangle the threads. Sad was remnants of the past and dissipated quickly. Its friends regret and shame fought a little harder to stick around, but they were toxic and needed to go. Pride and relief were together too. Celie was right. I had worked hard. An infinite number of hours had gone into figuring myself out. There have been so many times I thought I'd be stuck forever. Sometime in the last two years that I've been without a girlfriend, all the work must have come together. In the last two years I've been filming almost nonstop. Five movies have come out. Two of which were Marvel circuses. It's like all the therapy (and the work that goes with it) knitted me back together while I was busy filming and living my life. Celie had told me to trust the process. I couldn't rush it or make changes happen before it was time. Patience. I am inherently impatient. Pride was for the work. Relief was for seeing results. Finally.

Next was happy. I’m in a good place. I'm excited about the movie I’m making. I have supportive, fun friends, and a loving family. I don't need a girlfriend to be happy, but one does bring everything together. I like having a person who is mine. Mine in the sense of us experiencing life together. The good and bad. I like that. I want that. And now I have it. The beginnings of it, anyway.

After I pulled my shit together, I wanted to talk to Emma. I wanted support. Maybe not support, but I felt raw. I wanted someone to soothe the raw nerves, to sit with me while all this new stuff integrated. I wish she was here. What I needed was a hug.

Sebastian ~ Can you talk?

I don't like that I asked. It feels insecure and I have zero reasons to feel insecure. I quickly decided to cut myself some slack.

My phone rang and I connected to FaceTime. "Hey." Her bright smile and obvious happiness to see me did wonders to soothe those raw nerves.

Emma's face went from a smile to wide-eyed concern. "Sebastian, what’s wrong? You look like you've been crying. What happened?" Before I could answer, she jumped to a correct conclusion. "You had therapy. Good, bad, or cathartic tears?"

"Mostly the last one."

Her hand went to her chest, "Ok." She picked up what I assumed was her iPad and crossed to the chair in her bedroom. I could see her pull her knees up when she put her feet on the ottoman. She rested the iPad on her knees.

"Mostly a repeat of what we talked about Sunday. Celie said I wasn't giving myself enough credit for the work I've done. My growth."

As Emma had alluded to the same thing, I expected a smile or some acknowledgment of her asking if I was different. Instead, I got, "What do you think?"

"I think I still need to work on not being so hard on myself." I smiled because that statement was me still being hard on myself. "When Celie pointed out how I've changed I could see it and was proud of myself. I can’t see it on my own yet, but I'll get there. I never thought anyone would get past my walls. It wasn't someone getting in, it was me getting out." More goddamned tears.

Emma reached out and touched the screen. "I‘m so happy for you. Proud of you too."

Her words felt like a hug. Close enough for now. "Thank you."

"I know you're a grown man, but I wish I was there. Crying alone sucks."

"Oh," I laughed a little, "the chances of us having a messy reunion are high."

"Why?"

"A lot of you and I talk today. I know me, it's gonna hit me when I see you."

"I should warn you. I have a strict policy that nobody cries alone in my presence."

I smiled at her exaggerated southern accent with the "Steel Magnolias" quote. "See ... gonna be messy."

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #fanfiction

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imagine-loki · 5 years ago

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Giftless

TITLE: Giftless CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 49/50

AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE:

Imagine that you are Stark’s niece and you secretly share a strong relationship with Loki since he entered the crew. One day you get hurt so bad during a mission that you are about to die. Loki knows a spell that will save you and share his immortality with you but you and he will be linked forever sharing thoughts, pain, emotions…

RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS: Also on AO3 click here

You spent a week resting and relaxing in Asgard. There were feasts and dances, and plenty of time hiding in the library with Loki. Including at 3am one morning when you couldn’t sleep with nightmare of the other dying at Balder’s hands. Needless to say, Thor came looking for you that night. You managed to escape the library before he found you and were having a tea party in the middle of the kitchens when he found you again. He looked grumpy as he picked you both up, once under each arm. “Why do you two insist on making sure you get no sleep?” he grumbled.

“Thor, we couldn’t sleep,” you protested.

“You two are grownups,”

“And should be allowed to get a cup of tea when we can’t sleep,” Loki replied logically and grumpily.

“Not according to Mother,” Thor replied, equally grumpily. “It would be so much easier if I just had to give you two Mother’s tonic and go back to bed, but no, I have to go searching the palace for you.” You and Loki both laughed at him and his misfortune, which made him huff and roll his eyes. He set you on our feet outside of Loki’s suite and handed you each a vial of the potion from Frigga.

Unfortunately, he gave you the wrong ones and you was given the one brewed for Loki. You were unconscious for the whole day because of it, and whining at a very worried Loki at 3am the next morning that you were bored. “It’s time to sleep, darling,” he told you groggily, curled up in his bed with his blankets.

“Fine, I’ll go find someone else to play with me,” you told him with a glint of mischief. He shot up and grabbed your arm before you could climb out of the bed.

“You will do no such thing. We will do something fun in the morning. Rest, darling,” he told you, pulling you back down among the blankets.

“Fine,” you grumbled. You summoned a book and a small light and read for a few hours. Loki kept his word and took you out horseback riding the next day. You had never been before, so it was exciting and terrifying to be on top of the horse.

Your week of rest in Asgard ended far too soon. Loki was still supposed to be on his journey and could only visit home for so long. There were rules to it. You didn’t know what they were yet, but there were rules. You were sure you would find out eventually what they were, since you would be visiting every time he went home.

There was a giant feast of all of the supers when you returned to Midgard, a celebration for capturing Balder. It was a celebration that lasted all night. You were still considered heroes among all of these supers for a long time to come. Your takedown of Balder became legend almost instantly.

You had a week off when you got home and spent your last week before classes playing at the amusement part, water park, malls, movie theaters. Anything and everything fun you could think to do, you did with Loki at your side.

You were nervous to go back to school. You figured the students would hate you for what you’d done to the football jerk at the end of the previous year.

Classes were boring when they started again as was the school. No one spoke to you, so nothing really changed all that much. They thought excluding you from everything would show their displeasure. It took a little while before the girls who had been victimized by the stupid jock approached to thank you. They could sleep at night now, thanks to what you’d done. It was only the popular crowd who hated you.

The classes themselves were extremely boring. You had all of Loki’s knowledge in your brain from the soulbond, so you breezed through your courses. You were tempted to test out of them, but you also wanted as normal of a senior year of high school as possible. Loki was somehow allowed to be your guard again that year. The only reason you could think of for that was that his infamous silver tongue had made it happen. The stupid preps who had harassed you last year had all graduated, so you could ignore the drama in the school. It wouldn’t affect your future.

You patrolled nearly every night, but things were quiet. The Harlequin was laying low and had since Balder was defeated. The other villains in the city seemed to take that as a hint that they should lay low too. This ended with lots of kisses during patrol. If anyone found out, they didn’t say anything. Even when there were pictures of you in full Loki/Sigyn costume making out in the park one evening. You was surprised you didn’t get in trouble for that one. You’d been on patrol after all.

The new Avengers movie came out in theaters, the one you had the preview DVD of. You and Loki went in full costume to the midnight release. You had so much fun signing autographs, taking selfies with fans, and generally pretending to be the characters. You cheered the loudest when we saw Tom and Kelly, the actor and actress who played Loki and Sigyn in the movie, come to the same midnight showing. They were in costume too, but yours were better. Before the airing, the theater begged for you to put on your comic con act for them, since all four of you were there. You agreed with some prodding from Tom, who was always up for some fun. You did the performance for the crowd and you knew it was being posted online moments later, but it was fun and hilarious, especially when the crowd kneeled for Loki during it. You stormed out and recited your lines, fighting hard to keep the anger in your voice that the words called for.

Tom and Kelly also wanted to take pictures of the soulbond lines on your arms, after making you explain what they were. You had a feeling those were going to be showing up in an upcoming movie. You took selfies with them, which you immediately posted to all of your social media. It was fun showing off a little. They sat next to you during the movie and they cheered the loudest in the theater during the kiss scene. You just blushed and tried to hide your face. You had a feeling one of the interviews about the movie was going to include that that was not Tom and Kelly in that scene.

You got a fair number of emergency calls for healings during those first couple months at school. Including one during a math test. The teacher tried to tell you that you couldn’t leave the test part of the way through, even though you had permission from the school to leave class for emergencies, and she would only give you credit for the questions you answered before you left the room. You scribbled out the answers and work for the rest of the question in about 30 seconds, slapped the test on her desk and stormed out of the room so you could teleport back to the compound in the privacy of the hallway. You had to report to the principal the next day for that stunt, but when you explained that Clint had gotten injured keeping a bus load of kids on a field trip from going off a bridge, and you had to leave class to go heal him, you were let off immediately and your math teacher got a formal reprimand.

Loki began his plans for your anniversary about a month ahead of time. You laughed at how adorable he was about it, trying to get them perfect, but didn’t pry into his plans. That would be rude, especially with how much work he was putting in to them.

#Loki #Lover #Submitted fic #submission #giftless #chapter 49 #nekoamamori

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tomhollanduniverse · 6 years ago

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Darling [Fluffy Tom Holland Oneshot]

Pairing: Tom Holland x Female Reader

Word Count: 2,170

Warnings: Some cussing, if you squint. Very cheesy and fluffy!

Anon requested this Tom Holland fluff a few days ago and I have finally finished it! It’s the first thing I’ve written and finished since about October or November. I really, really hope you guys like it. Any feedback is vital and important, even if it’s negative.

Plot: Y/N has won a movie role that requires her to have a British accent. Who better to teach her than her co-star and love interest in the movie, Tom Holland?

It was a frigid day in London as Y/N steps onto the set of the new movie she was to star in. The cold-to-warm contrast sent shivers up and down her spine as she shakes off the chill in her bones. She had been in England for a few weeks now, prepping herself for the dramatic Spy role she won over a couple dozen other women. It was a very Mr. And Mrs. Smith-like movie, with a touch of Sherlock Holmes. There was a knot in the pit of her stomach, as anxiety pulses through her veins. She couldn’t stop thinking about how the audition went. The other actresses were actually more qualified than her, as most of them were natural-born British women, with the correct accent, culture, and experience in action sequences needed for the film. For the longest time, after she had won the part, she felt guilty and thought several times about giving it up to someone who deserves it more than her. The last thing she wanted was the movie to tank because she wasn’t the right fit for the part. Which was the direction things were moving. She sips on her coffee as she heads to her dressing room. One of the directors assistants walks toward her, smiling.

“Y/N, the director would like to have a talk with you.” she smiles, her stylus tapping against her phone.

“Oh, uhh is--is everything okay?”

“He didn’t seem upset or anything.” she shrugs. Y/N clears her throat nervously, looking down at her feet. “Just relax. He’s waiting in his office.” the assistant smiles, putting her hand on Y/N’s shoulder. Her heels click as she walks away, leaving her to her racing thoughts. She walks to her dressing room, taking in deep breaths to even out her heart rate, failing miserably. She knows she shouldn’t keep the director waiting. She sits her stuff down on her dressing room chair and checks her appearance to make sure she at least looks presentable. Her legs feel like rubber as she walks out of her dressing room and down the hall to the directors office. She heard two voices coming from the other side of the big mahogany door with a gold sign hanging on it that says “S. Spielberg”. She raises her knuckle and hesitates before knocking twice. The voices pause.

“Come on in!” the director chimes happily, continuing with his conversation. As she steps in, she notices a familiar figure sitting in one of the red chairs in front of the director. “Ahh, Y/N. Hello, dear. Have a seat.” her eyes flash from the director to the familiar man. He turns around, revealing himself. It was Tom Holland. He stands up to greet you, like a gentleman,smoothing down his jacket. You’re frozen in place, your feet refusing to move.

“Um--hello, sir.” she trips over her words, not believing it was Tom. Oh Jesus. Finally your feet cooperate, stepping carefully over to the empty chair next to Tom.

“Hello, darling. It’s nice to finally meet you.” he puts his arms out for a hug, instead of a handshake. As you go to give him a hug, you trip over your heels, falling into his arms. He catches you with ease, his muscles flexing around your torso. He lets out a breathy laugh into your ear, your face burning into a deep shade of scarlet. He lifts her back to her feet, flashing her his extra bright smile. The director lets out a silent giggle, secretly getting an idea to squeeze that into the film.

“Oh jeeze, I’m s--so sorry Tom. It’s--nice to meet you, too. I apologize.” Y/N laughs nervously. She looks down at her feet, wanting to disappear into a puff of smoke.

“Oh, darling don’t be sorry. That was the cutest greeting I’ve ever gotten before.” Y/N smooths down her hair, her hands shaking.

“You know that, since you two are love-interests in the story, I have to work that into the script, right?” Y/N clears her throat. Did he just say ‘love interests’? Tom looks at her, his brown eyes sparkling at her.

“I knew it was a matter of time before my natural awkwardness would be made into comic relief. But did you just say ‘love interests’? Did I hear that right, sir?” Tom looks down, grinning from ear-to-ear.

“Well, yes. Haven’t you read the script, silly? And call me Steve.”

“Of course. I didn’t know who it was gonna be, yet. It hasn’t been announced.”

“Ah, yes. This is one of the reasons I called you in here, dear. I found it only appropriate that you were the first to know.” She raises her eyebrows in disbelief, shifting in the chair.

“You’re not disappointed are you, Y/N?” Tom laughs nervously.

“Oh, God, no! No! It’s not that. It’s just--” She didn’t want to say the wrong thing but it was time to say it out loud. “--I thought you were calling me in here to tell me that you’ve recast another actress for my part. One that was more suited for the part. One who had a natural British accent and one with experience in action scenes?” The director looks at her, confused. He leans forward in his chair, a crease forming between his silver eyebrows. Tom mirrors the look of the director.

“Why on earth would you think that? Of course not. I’ve been doing this long enough to know who is best for the part and who is not. I see something in you that you clearly don’t yet, dear.”

“Oh, uh…I apologize sir--Steve.” she looks to Tom, silently apologizing to him, yet again.

“No need. But your concern brings me to the other reason I brought you in here. I’ve asked this young man to be your co-star and he has volunteered to be your dialect coach. He has expressed interest in helping you learn to achieve the correct accent for the part.” Y/N smiles so wide her cheeks hurt, giggling like an idiot.

“Really? You think there’s hope for me, Tom?” she flirts.

“Of course.” he sighs, contently. “If I can be taught to have an American accent, I can teach you how to master a British accent with ease.” It was as if the director wasn’t in the room anymore.

“When do lessons start?” her eyes flicker to Tom.

“Would you feel more comfortable practicing in private for a while?” his brown eyes were fully-dilated.

“Of course.”

“There’s that natural chemistry I had hoped you two would have.” Steven smiles devilishly. Y/N covers her face in embarrassment, laughing. “Get out there and start your assignment, kids.” his hands shooing us out. Tom and Y/N stand up, walking out of his office.

“My dressing room or yours, darling?” he asks, holding the door open for her.

“Thank you. How about yours?”

“You’re welcome. Sounds good. It’s this way.” he explains, his hand on her lower back, guiding her down the hallway. This was gonna be fun. She was about as subtle as a freight train when it came to flirting. She was shy for the first few minutes, then the flirting just starts pouring out of her mercilessly.

“I know what word you should teach me first.”

“Is that so? Which word would that be?” he teases.

“Darling.” she imitates him perfectly. “It makes me weak in the knees every time you say it.” She felt awkward because she wasn’t sure if he was actually flirting with her or not.

“Really? That’s good to know, DARLING.” he nearly shouts. Y/N starts laughing so hard she almost falls again. She shushes him, looking around at people looking at them. He was definitely flirting.

“You are ridiculous. Just thought you should know that.”

“I take that as a compliment.” He replies, opening the door to his dressing room. She rolls her eyes and steps inside.

Over the next couple weeks, they rehearse their lines alone together, to get the feel of the movie. Tom and Y/N grew closer and their feelings for each other grew stronger. After memorizing their lines, Steven asks to sit in on a reading to see their progress. Y/N of course hasn’t mastered the accent completely yet, but she was well on her way. They oblige and he walks into Y/N’s dressing room one day, holding two tiny piles of papers with lines, each pile held together by a single staple. Pink and yellow lines litter the pages.

“So, I’ve come up with a plan.” Uh oh. Y/N’s nerves started to strain, not liking to be unprepared for anything. “I’ve brought in a couple pages of lines, that have nothing to do with this movie, to see how flexible you are with your accents. The twist is, I want Tom to read it in an American accent and I want you to read in a British accent.” Tom seems cool as a cucumber, oddly okay with just winging it. “Just to have a little fun to see your progress.” he looks to Tom, both of them smiling at each other. Y/N smells something fishy going on here. “You do well enough, both of you can have the rest of the day off.” She looks to Tom, nodding in approval.

“Hah, deal!” Y/N chimes. The director hands them the lines, more excited than usual. What the hell was going on? She flips over the two pages of lines, confused.

“And action!” Steven says dramatically.

“I’ve been so stressed over these past couple weeks, with learning these lines. I’ve never felt more pressured with any other movie, than I do with this one.” Tom speaks in his high-pitched Peter Parker voice. She bites her lip, thinking back to when she first started crushing on Tom.

“Uh yeah, me neither. Especially with Steven Spielberg as the director.” she was careful with her enunciation and intonation. She must’ve been doing okay because Tom couldn’t stop smiling. The script calls for Tom to walk across the room nervously.

“Do you think I’ve been a good teacher for you, Y/N?” his American accent perfectly rolls off his tongue. Y/N follows along, not wanting to mess up.

“No one could be a better teacher than you, Tom.” she turns to face him. He suddenly walks toward her, getting so close, she saw flecks of gold in his brown eyes. She blinks rapidly, taking in his wonderful scent. “Wh--why are you so nervous?” she stutters, looking down at the paper.

“If you’re not busy after rehearsal, would you like to go on a date with me?” her jaw drops, looking down at the script again.

“You sneaky little shits! I knew something was going on here!” she gasps, gently hitting Tom’s arm.

“Hey! I didn’t say cut! Keep going!” Steven laughs. She scoffs, turning to the second page. It only contained one line of dialogue. Y/N laughs, putting her head in her hands.

“Yes, of course DAHLING!” she mocks Tom. “Nothing would make me happier.”

“And cut! Perfect job, kids. You get the rest of the day off. Have fun on your date!” The director says, running out before she had a chance to say anything else.

“You sly, cheeky little shits! You had that planned!” she threw the papers at Tom, stomping to her coat hanging on the chair.

“Of course we did. It worked, though didn’t it?” his accent returning. She throws her coat on, swinging her purse over her shoulder.

“Ehh, I guess it did. Let’s go before I change my mind.” she boldly walks up to him. His eyes narrow, flashing her a cheeky grin. He cups her chin, kissing her softly. His lips were as warm and soft as she always imagined them to be. Wow.

#Tom Holland #Tom Holland Oneshot #Fluffy Tom Holland Oneshot #tom holland x female reader #tom holland x reader

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sleeplessintothenight · 6 years ago

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Love Your Shelf

I took a deep breath hoping to calm my nerves before opening my eyes. The room felt empty despite the endless boxes that walled me in. I ran my fingers through the shaggy carpet as I laid on my back, contorting my body to fit between the towers I had yet to unpack. I began to feel my chest tighten as my mind began to list out all the tasks that remained incomplete. I took another deep breath in an attempted to postpone the mental list making for a few minutes.

I sat up and pulled out my phone from my pocket. I swiped around before opening my notes app and began to list out all the tasks I had already completed. Turns out I had accomplished more than I thought. All the foundational stuff had already been unpacked. The furniture placement needed to be fine tuned, but it was pretty much there. My clothes had been neatly tucked away into my dressers and the kitchen just needed a trip down grocery lane. With a plan of attack on paper and out of the endless thoughts in my head I set out to accomplish what had felt impossible moments ago. I stood up, using a stack of boxes as support and began to discover what each box had hidden away. Part of me wished I knew what I was unpacking or that I had been smart enough to label everything before I hid it away.

As I opened box after box, revealing parts of a home before this one, I began moving them to where they needed to be. Additional cooking supplies found its way to the kitchen room table. Toiletries to the bathroom. Shoes to a pile by the front door. And then the rest of it stayed in my bedroom. Despite clearing out box after box, it felt like I hadn’t removed anything. The stacks of boxes still lined my bedroom like a labyrinth from the door to my mattress.

Feeling overwhelmed again, I took a step back, put on my shoes and made my way to my car. I sat in the driver’s seat and took a breath. Surprisingly, the confinement of my car felt less claustrophobic than the boxes I had yet to unpack. Maybe it was less about how much space they took up, but rather the daunting task I shied away from. I looked up the closest grocery, turned the my keys in the ignition and started to drive away. I hoped I wouldn’t get lost in unfamiliar territory, but at the same time I didn’t mind if I never came back.

After strolling up and down aisles, I found myself pulling back into my driveway with even more bags to unpack. I laughed thinking about how I’m only hurting myself. I felt the cool evening air as I grabbed a couple bags from my trunk. I placed the bags in front of my refrigerator, prepping them to be put away. I stepped away for a second and closed my bedroom door, pretending that if it was out of sight, it would be out of mind. I finished putting away my food and sat down on the sofa to enjoy the takeout I had stumbled upon while I was away.

I finished up my last bite as the credits began to roll. I debated watching another episode, but I snuck a glance at my watch and decided I needed to get back to work if I had any hopes of not sleeping on this couch this evening. I said goodbye to my bed of yesterday and slowly opened the door the labyrinth. I cautiously peeked inside, fearing that a sea of junk would come pouring out. But it was just as I had left it hours earlier.

I opened a box to find it filled with the books to be placed on my shelf. Sadly, my shelf couldn’t hold every book I owned, but I had to bring my collection with me. Every book I’ve read and owned is like a personal memory. Some of them are my favorites, some I could barely remember, and others were just there. It was only fitting that atop the pile was “My Ideal Bookshelf” – a collection of interviews with famous people across all industries about the contents on their shelf and why.

I remembered back to when I found that book. I was a little bit younger, but not much. I was browsing the aisles of the local bookstore in my hometown searching for something to help me on my search for myself. I had given up hope that day until that book caught my eye on the way out. I lightly flipped through the pages to skim its contents. I flipped to a page about a chef and was surprised his shelf contained more than just cookbooks. Next I read about an engineer who had just as many self-help books as physics textbooks. Lastly I found my favorite actress. Her bookshelf ranged nearly every genre. There felt like there was no rhyme or reason to what she had chosen. As I continued to read, she mentioned that people probably assumed she had so many different books because of all the roles, but in reality, it was the opposite. She excelled in a variety of roles because she had so many interests. She wrote, “My passion for everything allowed me to chase so many dreams. All these things are a part of who I am.” I closed it up and noticed it was on sale, so I said to myself, “Why not?”

Ironically, I hadn’t opened the book since.

As I stared at my empty bookshelf, it felt like the perfect piece to start my rebuild. I placed it there, alone, waiting to be joined by its friends. Next I began to pour the contents of the boxes onto my floor. I estimated I could fit about a third of my collection on the shelf in a tasteful arrangement. If people came to visit, what would they think of my bookshelf? Would they sarcastically ask why I had that book or be confused as to why I didn’t include any from their favorite author? Would I be typecast? Maybe the off chance that they’ll see a random book and say it was their favorite as well.

Decisions had to be made. In preparation, I began to sort the mess around me into smaller piles based on genres. Books about photography were stacked next to the books about art history. Mystery was the neighbor to poetry. Sci-fi rubbed shoulders with sports. Romance flirted with self-help. The more I tried to pull them apart, the more I realized that most of my books couldn’t be categorized by one thing. They may lean more one way than another, but that wouldn’t be fair to neglect the other parts that made them so great.

A couple more hours had passed and the only progress I made was rearranging the piles once again. Frustrated, I started to shove books randomly into the shelf with a determination to fit them all into it. It was an impossible task, but at 2:00am anything felt possible. Minutes later the shelf was full after I was able to squeeze a tiny notebook in. I half smiled. The shelf was filled at last.

I still felt dissatisfied. I titled my head and stared at the bookshelf as I sat in a pool of my own books. It didn’t feel right. As I sifted through those that were left behind, I knew I had made a mistake. Some of my favorite lay next to me as one-night-reads took the forefront for all to see. I knew I had to make a couple switches. As I ran my finger across the spines of those neatly lined up, I began to pull them overboard one by one into the waters below until only one book remained safe. I was back at square one.

I double fisted books ready to start again, but I stopped myself. I took a deep breath and felt I needed to step away. Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. I put the books down and left the room to get some water. As I got up, I knocked over a box. This one was filled with little trinkets, Funko POPs, and miscellaneous memorabilia I had collected over the years. I laughed at opening Pandora’s box, even more for me to fit into this shelf puzzle.

In the kitchen I poured a glass of water. I popped down on the couch and scrolled through Instagram and Pinterest for inspiration. Every photo was different, yet still looked elegant, perfect in their own ways. Some were organized by height, others by color, others perfectly splicing them all together to create a rainbow. All of them balanced. All of them showing their best possible self to the world. I zoomed in on a couple and couldn’t even tell what books they were, but did it matter? They looked beautiful and had more likes than I could ever get. The best version of my bookshelf would never be as good as these. My inspiration was an unattainable goal, yet I felt saddened by the gap between the two.

If I’ll never be as good as those, what’s the point of even trying? I thought about this as I reluctantly waded my way back into the ocean of books, sending ripples outward as I made room to sit. If I’ll never be as good as those, what’s the point in even trying? Was trying to make the idea bookshelf an impossible task? Too many sports books and people would think I’m too much of a jock. Not enough “classics” and I’d look uncultured. Too many self-help books and people would realize I’m more of a mess than they thought. Too many design textbooks and I’d feel like a nerd. Without any comic books I’d be too serious. Paralyzed by indecision, all I could do was leer at the singular title that survived everything else: “My Ideal Bookshelf.” What pointless pressure I had brought into my life with this book.

It was hard enough figuring out who I was, how did I ever expect to represent that through a pile of books?

I angrily grabbed the last book standing and prepared to throw it amongst the others. I ran my thumb across its side as I flipped through it asking if it had any last words. About midway through, something had fallen out. I fished between my legs to find it. Nothing more than a receipt from that day. I let it drop once again. As I primed myself to finish what I started, I saw what page I had landed on. I backed my thumb off and reread about the seemingly random assortment of books. At the end of her section, the interviewer asked her if there was a method to her madness or if she just threw something together for the interview.

She replied, “Yeah, it does look pretty messy. It’s just a collection of my favorites. There’s no real rhyme or reason aside from ‘I like these books and that’s good enough for me.’ But each of them holds a bundle of memories. This one helped me get over my ex, my mom and I read this one together last year as part of a book club, this book inspired me to quit my day job to follow my passion. To be honest, if you came back again in a year or even a couple of months, this bookshelf would probably be different, but that’s the beauty of it. These books aren’t glued to the shelf, they’re meant to be taken out and read, shared with others, left on a couch somewhere. Maybe I’ll lend a couple out and they’ll never return, but I’ll find new books and rediscover old ones. The collection just keeps growing and growing. I love my shelf even if it’s bursting at the seams sometimes. Maybe one day I’ll realize I should probably build a library in my house, but I can’t afford that right now.”

I fished for the receipt and put it back into the book. I closed it up and returned it to safety atop the lifeboat. I was still lost at sea, but felt my internal compass start to point in a new direction.

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exotahu · 6 years ago

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It’s here, the giant Bronycon post!

As per usual I don’t usually make this many words ever so shit might be wonky. and also it was written over the course of a few days so things might not line up in the right order. Also, fair warning I get kinda weird and sentimental at the end there. Also I have no idea if tumblr will break the formatting real bad so heres hoping it doesn’t

Thursday We left early without much incident. Only a group of 4 this time. Me, Andy, his brother Justin, and Andy's girlfriend Sam who was coming in via plane.

It was a really easy journey. Even stopped at the one Speedway with the good hotdogs. I decided to tie a ribbon in my hair too, I always say I should do something more with it than just tie it back. So I figured I'd try it. We got to Baltimore in what felt like no time at all. We checked in and went to our rooms and waited for Sam. I fiddled with my little electric name badge thingy I bought last year. Got it to say my name and Bronycon 2018 with some hearts and sparkles. Once Sam got settled in, we all met back up to go to pre-reg. She and I were afraid we'd weird each other out but we ended up getting along great. We all went to pre-reg and picked up our badges. Then, after dropping our stuff off at the hotel we ventured back out into the inner harbor for food and hanging out. We opted not to go to Dick's this time, opting instead to go to Tir na Nog. Got my usual pub food. The Vodka cranberry (yes even though I planned on drinking later) and the plain cheese burger. I like to eat the same thing at all the places, because I think it's neat to see the same food through the different lenses of different restaurants. Tir na Nog in Baltimore is different than O'Toole's in Albany is different from Jack Astor's in Toronto. After that we went to the big Barnes and Noble and looked at books and stuff. Then we all went to that ice cream shop thats right next door. They sell tea apparently so I got a small one. Missed the regular size straws so I had a huge straw (Like a goddamn footlong) in a tiny cup (like 3 inches). We went to the bars in Fells point after that. We only got slightly lost, but we found it. We didn't register for the actual bar trot, cause you don't really have to to enjoy drinks. We went to the Dog's Watch Tavern first cause they usually have a good shot, which in this instance was a Pinkie Pie shot. Don't know what was in it but I had several. We went to the Admiral after that. It was the best as it usually is. I think I drank like, 4 of the Trixie, there was a Sunset Shimmer drink (But it was secretly the Applejack. I liked it anyway). And I had most of a Rainbow Dash drink. I must say, I absolutely adore the atmosphere at this bar. The bartender is great and clearly loves what he does. A couple people recognized me cause I sit in the same spot more or less every time, and the goggles that I wear. That was pretty neat. Got pretty drunk, decided to go back after that to prep for the next day. We got a little bit lost on the way back too, but it brought us by the CVS so I bought a couple boxes of PopTarts. We got back to the hotel and went to bed.

Friday

Tried to get up for opening but missed most of it. Caught the tail end of it though. Sleep deprivation got me, plus the buttload of alcohol didn't really help. Hung out in the harmony plaza til the apple family panel. There was a photoshoot that happened but there wasn't a ton of people there. Saw apple family VA panel. It was pretty funny. Went to the vendor hall and walked it to get the layout, I didn't want to just chaotically walk around and not know where anything was so I strictly just walked each isle in a pattern. Actually helped me remember where booths were. I spoke to an artist about getting a comission for a friend who couldn't make it. His slots were full for the day so I figured I'd come back Saturday. I bought an original piece from him, which was actually pretty cool. I then went to the comic booth. I am trying to get at very least the A and B covers for every comic, Plus I wanted first prints of the first issue mane 6 covers. I got the first prints of the two #1 issues I needed. Then I got invited to Jonny Rockets, and due to needing to finish something in the vendor hall it took me a little bit. My friends are cool and waited for me even though I went on one hell of a journey to get there. So I got out of the vendor hall which exited by the Hilton sky bridge. Figure, shit I'll just take the sky bridge on the opposite side so I go for it. Get out there, pass the other hotel (hyatt?) and what used to be a wide open plaza. (Now it's a parking lot). Realize the goddamn thing ends there and there is no way down (unless I went back through the convention center and all the way back around), and more of the bridge is missing. Figure I don't want to walk all the way back so I go through the hotel. No idea if I was supposed to go through that door cause it looks like there were unused decorations everywhere. Nobody stopped me so I made it out to the street. Realize I still have to walk to the corner to cross, but say fuck it and randomly cross in the middle to the street island thing. Then I almost died to a puddle walking on the sidewalk behind some food trucks. Caught myself though. Finally I get there and we hang out and get a burger. On our way back I managed to drop a Pokemon on the Bronycon gym. We went back to the vendor hall. Hung out and looked at stuff. Me an Sam went shopping for pillows. We each bought one, only the case though. Had no space to store the full whole thing. We went to the whoves line pannel after that. It was really funny, especially the bit where they acted like the friendship map was a computer that got a ton of viruses and went to a "bad dragon" website. I am surprised I've never gone to it before. We went to Jimmy Johns for dinner and then dropped our stuff off at the hotel and headed to the palooza. The performances were great, although they somehow got super off schedule. I bought a Shake-Ups CD. I stayed until the end. I enjoy the palooza immensely, but those 2AM nights are rough. My legs end up being noodles and its a guarantee I won't get to bed until atleast 330. Which is about when I went to bed.

Saturday

Had a bit of a slow start but I wanted to speak to the artist about that comission for my friend who couldn't make it. Even though I was slow, I still got there early enough. The thing he wanted would have been too complex, so I came up with something I think he'll like. Then I went to the comic booth and figured out what I needed to complete the A and B covers for the main comic series. It was cool cause they just let me into the booth to look. I believe I've done it, I just have to add everything to my app to make sure. I ran out of space in my comic storage, so I only did the main series. Next year I will buy for the side series. (There is a lot less). As of typing this out, I found the shop's location. Only a 3 hour drive. Might make a trip of it so I don't have to worry about it at next year's con. Dunno. Met back up with Andy and Sam in vendor hall. We looked around before leaving to get food and make a hotel drop. We got lunch at the JJ before heading to the script reading panel with Tabitha. Usually they're pretty strict about recording at these. Usually one of the staff says something about my camera, but nobody said anything. Or mentioned not recording it at all. I wonder if anyone uploaded it. It was about the mane 6 and a convention called "boomycon" which was about an alt. universe Derpy as a comic character who rides a meteor or something. The comic characters crossed over into the regular universe and shenanigans ensued. It was pretty funny. After that we went back to vendor hall to check on something, and I bought another of those dang pillows, and these weird flow rings, plus some other small stuff, including some super fucking adorable chibi-ball plushie things of Fluttershy and Tempest (Pretty sure I posted pictures). We made a hotel drop and got food. We tried to get into the DIY pony plush making but ultimately the wait list was too long. At this point we went to the sky terrace thing. Apparently there was a wedding, which is really fucking cool! Then we just found some chairs to just kind of chill in. Justin had a mini-pizza that came in a mini-pizza box. We're just sitting there talking and some guy came up and leaned over. We all thougt maybe he had left something. Then we notice he's signing the empty pizza box? He then just says you're welcome and leaves. It took a second then we realized... It was MA Larson. Fucking hillarious. I went back to the hotel again, meeting up with a friend on the way back. Met back up with everyone else at the palooza after that. Brought the rings I bought and was playing with them, while doing my awkward-ass flail dancing. A couple people thought they were cool which was neat. I really enjoyed all the performances. A cover of 500 miles happened, Eurobeat was fantastic. Great show. I caught a T-Shirt that was thrown. (Which never happens ever and even though it's a small size it still fits.) Again I stayed until 2 AM, got to bed about 330.

Sunday Sundays are usually always the chill day where not much happens. Woke up around the usual time and headed over to the vendor hall. I wandered and bought some last minute things (Pillow #3...). I met back with everyone else around noon. We spent most of day in vendor hall just hanging out. One thing I did, was get a comission of my pony OC. I've been wanting to for years, just to say I had so I finally did it. I'm looking forward to it. Also saw a little digital badges that you could store pictures in. After that we went to the fountains to hang out before lining up for closing ceremonies. They opened with a nifty performance by Step2Harmony. Some of the guests said their farewells before the con chairs started talking about the numbers, a little more than 5000 people. (I don't remmeber the exact number, might have been closer to 5600?). After that was a skit involving the mascots. Blank Canvas got accepted into an art school and Hoof Beatz was going on tour, and the date they were leaving was the end of August next year. They run off stage and Mane Event just stood there like "What about us... : (" Scene end. Sure enough, the con chairs came back out and annouced that next year is going to be a 4 day event instead of a 3 day event. They also anounced that next year is going to be the last Bronycon and that they are ending the event in 2019. You could feel the moment where everybody's hearts broke. There were a lot of people crying. I was pretty choked up too, and I'm honestly not sure how I kept myself together. We walked back to the hotel. While we were waiting for the elevators, you could tell the mood was pretty sombre. Dropped off my bag and went back down to the lobby to wait for Andy and Sam. We all headed down to the inner harbor to go to Bubba Gumps. We had a hour and a half wait, that we spent hanging out in the harbor and the pavillion. One of them seemed to be closed this year. They seem to get smaller and smaller each year. Bubba Gumps as always was fantastic. I got the usual Shrimper's Heaven. Even got to eat the shrimp that Sam didn't eat. Bonus shrimp! Spent 60$ on my check and regret nothing. We went back to the hotel with the intent of playing some Shipfic in the one banquet room the hotel usually has open, which we did! Another group played the pony movie which was neat. We also saw an Insomnia Cookies down in Fells Point so we decided to order some. It took a little more than an hour. But I got the call and they showed up to the hotel and handed me a very warm box. The cookies were fantastic. Every bit worth the wait. I think I have one somewhere relatively close to my home but I'm nowhere near the delivery radius. Probably a good thing because I would go broke buying cookies. They're pretty awesome. Some guy had also had a baby skunk! No idea how he pulled that off or how the hotel was cool with it but it was really cute. Once the movie ended most of the people left. After that we went back to our rooms. Me and Sam got a group picture of all the pillows we bought. I packed most of my stuff after that and went to bed.

Monday.

Woke up, got the car all packed and cleared the rooms pretty quick. We had thought to do some other stuff, but we really didn't have time. Instead we went to Tir na nog and just hung out until we had to leave. Any day you can be mildly drunk before noon and have it not be a problem is a good day. We dropped Sam off at the airport after saying our goodbyes. We hit the road after that and started our journey home. Which was honestly fairly uneventful. No one's windsheild broke. No one's catalytic converter got stolen. We made a couple of stops but nothing really interesting. Got home way earlier than I'm used to. Like 5:30-6PM. And then I realized, Bed, Bath and Beyond was still open. So I drove out there to get the actual pillows for the pillow cases. Found the exact ones the guy at the booth I bought them from. They were on sale, so they were only 20$. Then I had the fun time of fitting 3 hugeass pillows in my really tiny car. Got back home and finished unpacking.

Conclude:

I had a really good time this year. It was very a relaxing trip and I enjoyed spending time with everybody. It never quite feels long enough. I didn't make any real attempt at cosplaying this year. Just didn't really feel into it. I did wear my Sylveon ears that were given to me by a friend though. And I had my goggles, which are just kind of a thing now I guess. I tied a blue ribbon in my hair too. I never do anything with it and I guess I decided now was the time. I think I'm going to do that more often from now on. Next, I am beyond incredibly sad that next year is the last one. Bronycon has been one of the big things I look forward to doing each year. It's easily been one of the best cons I've ever been to. The atmosphere was great, the staff was great. The con ending will also mark the end of a 12 year tradition for me of going down to Baltimore for a con. The only year I wasn't able to go to was 2010 because there was just no way I was going to be able to swing it. Aside from that, I went to Otakon from 2006 until 2012. I had honestly kinda burned out on that though and wasn't sure if I was gonna go back, but it would be shortly after returning from the 2012 Otakon, Bronycon announced that they were gonna move to the Baltimore Convention Center in 2013. Some other friends were interested in going, and since I knew the area so well, we decided to go for it. I went every year after that. Hell, it's how I ended up meeting Andy (which is a pretty funny story all on it's own), it's also how I ended up recconecting with another friend of mine from way back in the day as well as others. There were good times and adventures to be had outside the Con as well. Bubba Gumps, the bar trot in Fells Point(that goddamn Trixie drink, looked like something I'd never have been able to drink, but it is easily my favorite alcoholic drink that has ever existed. I really hope I can get the recipe next year), the bigass barnes and noble, the aquarium, the pavillion. It seems like every year it gets better and I've never felt bored of it or burned out. I am going to miss this immensely, I suppose I'll have to find another con to go to, or atleast other adventures to have but one thing is for sure, I'm never going to forget any of this. All the good times that we've had, or this big thing I've been a part of or this place that has brought me so much joy over the years.

(Once next year ends and I walk out of that convention center for the last time, I am going to be a complete goddamn mess. It's going to be a terrible day for rain...)

Also, though I don't know if you'll ever read it, as I don't think we've spoken in several years now, to the person who convinced me to go to that first Otakon back in '06, Thank you. For introducing me to this place, and setting off a real wacky series of adventures. I don't know if any of this would have happened if you hadn't convinced me to come down here all those years ago. Once again, thank you, and I hope you're doing well.

tl;dr Good fuckin' con, but Pete fuckin' sad.

#bronycon #bronycon2018 #bronypalooza #i accidentally tagged half of my instragram stuff as bronycon2108 #bronycon2108 #my little pony #mlpfim #convention #the title is totally not a reference to a buddyfight card #baltimore #baltimore convention center #baltimore inner harbor

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welllpthisishappening · 7 years ago

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Tripping Over the Blue Line (30/45)

It’s a transition. That’s what Emma’s calling it. She’s transitioning from one team to another, from one coast to another and she’s definitely not worried. Nope. She’s fine. Really. She’s promised Mary Margaret ten times already. So she got fired. Whatever. She’s fine, ready to settle into life with the New York Rangers. She’s got a job to do. And she doesn’t care about Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers. At all.

He’s done. One more season and he’s a free agent and he’s out. It’s win or nothing for Killian. He’s going to win a Stanley Cup and then he’s going to stop being the face of the franchise and he’s going to go play for some other garbage team where his name won’t be used as puns in New York Post headlines. That’s the plan. And Emma Swan, director of New York Rangers community relations isn’t going to change that. At all.

They are both horrible liars.

Rating: Mature Content Warnings: Swearing, eventual hockey-type violence AN: Casino Night. Caaaaasino Night. Casino Night emotions! I cannot quite believe there are thirty chapters of this story on the internet or that you guys keep clicking on this, but I am so grateful for both. Y’all are the best. As are @laurnorder, @distant-rose & @beautiful-swan who made this better. Living on Ao3, FF.net & tag’ed up on Tumblr.

She was mumbling.

Or talking to herself.

Definitely talking to herself and that was kind of depressing and just a bit alarming because everything was going to be fine. Mary Margaret had promised it would be and Emma believed Mary Margaret by default. Ruby had promised too and Merida as well and Emma should probably trust Merida the most because she’d been charged with keeping track of the schedule that night and making sure she didn’t have some sort of Casino Night mental breakdown in the back corner of Gotham Hall.

God, this place was enormous.

Emma knew that going in. She knew that when the season started and they told her Casino Night was hers in some sort of professional-possession type of way, but now it didn’t just look enormous, it felt enormous – even chock full of those tables they’d gotten out of storage a few days before and there were fans filing in through the enormous doors with comically large handles and the team was supposed to start getting there in a few minutes, a string of town car arrivals that were listed, in order, on that schedule Merida was carrying around.

“It’s fine,” Emma muttered, leaning against the wall in the far corner of the main room, tugging on the laces around her wrist out of habit. “It’s all going to be fine.” “Are you having some sort of episode?” Ruby asked and Emma jumped when when she met her gaze. “Uh oh, you’re totally talking to yourself, aren’t you?”

“I’m fine.” Ruby twisted her eyebrows and even crossed her arm, tapping the toe of one of her undoubtedly expensive shoes. “Yuh uh,” she said, sounding as unconvinced as Emma felt. “You know if you keep using that word, it’s going to lose some of its meaning.” Emma groaned, resisting the urge to sink down the wall she was leaning on until she’d crumpled up into some sort of incredibly unprofessional heap in the corner of this absolutely enormous building.

And Ruby was totally right – she’d used fine so many times in the last two weeks that Emma wasn’t convinced it was actually a word anymore, just an idea she’d come up with as some sort of coping device.

She mumbled under her breath again, sighing softly when her phone buzzed in her hand and Mulan wanted to know if she should be outside waiting for team arrivals or taking pictures of fans and Emma didn’t really want to answer.

She wanted to go home. She just wasn’t really sure where that was – and that might have been even more concerning than the madness she was quite obviously falling into if she kept talking to herself.

She missed the idea of a home and the feeling she’d gotten whenever she’d walked through the door of that apartment on Amsterdam Ave, far too big for just one person, but maybe just big enough for two. She’d lost control of her thoughts.

Fine, it seemed, was a much bigger lie than Emma had even realized it was.

She missed the pillows.

Emma missed Killian. And that was the first time she’d actually allowed herself to think that. She was actually going to slide down the wall.

Ruby was still staring at her, eyes narrowing just a bit when Emma’s thumb tugged on the laces that didn’t match her very fancy, very expensive dress covered in theme-appropriate fringe. Emma sighed again, answering Mulan – because she was a goddamn professional and the guys weren’t supposed to start getting there for another fifteen minutes, at least.

She had fifteen minutes to organize her entire life.

“So,” Ruby said slowly, moving next to Emma to brush her shoulder against her. “On a scale of one to ten how not fine is fine?” “Did those words make sense in that order?” Emma asked.

“The fact that you have to actually ask me that leads me to believe you’re sitting somewhere around one on the fine list.” “I have no idea what you’re saying to me.” “Sure,” Ruby said sarcastically, dragging four letters out until they sounded like the entire Gettysburg Address. “You know I talked to him.” “Jeez, Rubes I can’t do this right now.” Ruby eyed her skeptically, those stupid eyebrows doing something completely stupid again, and Emma groaned loudly, not even caring about the growing crowd of fans and season tickets just a few feet away.

“When exactly would you like to do it?” Ruby asked.

“Not during the biggest charity event this team does every year,” Emma answered and her phone was vibrating again. Mary Margaret and David were there.

“I thought that was your game.” “Oh my God.” “I talked to Regina too,” Ruby continued, seemingly unimpressed with any of the noises Emma was making in protest of this conversation.

“I don’t care.” Emma was getting very good at lying – or at least she thought she was until Ruby actually laughed in her face, a loud, obnoxious sound that probably shook some of the paint off the very fancy walls of that very fancy building.

Fine. Fine. Fine. Everything was going to be fine.

“Yeah,” Ruby laughed, nodding towards Mary Margaret and David when they somehow worked their way towards the other side of the room in a few seconds flat. “That’s absolutely why you keep tugging on those laces or why you haven’t taken those laces off despite the fact that everyone on this stupid team read The Times story.” “It wasn’t true,” Emma reasoned and that seemed to catch Ruby by surprise. “He’s not going to LA.” “Yeah, he said that too. Then what’s the problem here?” Emma didn’t answer, just closed her eyes and shook her head, plastering the same almost-honest smile she’d had on her face for the last two weeks.

They’d swept the western swing – and Killian had points in nine of his last ten games, snapping Robin’s goal drought when he set him up in front of the net against the Oilers. The tabloids were going nuts.

Emma read about it that morning, the back page of The Post claiming Killian Jones was The King of New York just a month out of the trade deadline and the Rangers were still sitting in the first Wild Card, closing in on the Blue Jackets for third place in the Metro.

And she couldn’t remember him playing as well as he had in the last two weeks, some sort of other level talent that had Ruby working overtime with all of the media requests for one-on-one interviews as soon as they got back to New York.

Which might have explained why, the three days they were actually in New York – a home game against the Caps coming in the middle of the road trip – Emma hadn’t actually seen him any more than in passing, a flash of dark hair and blue eyes moving out of the locker room as both Ruby and Regina tugged him from interview to interview.

Or, maybe, Emma was just a giant coward who’d actually overscheduled herself during those three days so she didn’t have some sort of emotional reaction in the middle of Madison Square Garden.

It was fine.

And, well, she’d totally needed to work those days – she had to finish prep for Casino Night and there were an absurd amount of auction items, not to mention another meeting with Hopper at the Piers and a meeting with Zelena about the meeting with Hopper.

Emma was busy. Too busy for emotions. And she was going to pull her laces apart if she kept tugging on them.

“You’re an idiot, you know that,” Ruby said sharply and Emma’s eyes widened out instinct. “I’m sorry, what?” “An idiot. And you’re not going to be able to schedule yourself out of the conversation tonight. You’re going to have to figure this out.” “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Emma said quickly and Ruby laughed in her face. “Sure.” The room was starting to fill up and Mary Margaret was rushing towards Emma, eyes scanning her hair to make sure none of the several thousand bobby pins had fallen out of place. “You look incredible,” Mary Margaret announced to no one in particular and her eyes were just a little bit glossy when she met Emma’s gaze.

“Jeez, Reese’s, you saw me a couple of hours ago.” Emma said, not quite able to stop herself from laughing. “You’re the one who did my hair.” “And your makeup.” “And my makeup.” “I know, I know, but your dress fits into the theme so well and your hair hasn’t fallen out of place yet and you look really good.” Emma smiled – and it almost, almost felt legitimate – but then she remembered everything she had to do and everything she definitely didn’t want to do and there wasn’t really a way to avoid either one. Mary Margaret, however, didn’t move, just pulled Emma’s fingers away from her wrist and squeezed – tightly.

“Did Ruby tell you she thinks you’re an idiot yet?” Mary Margaret asked, something that almost resembled amusement flashing across her face.

Emma’s mouth hung open, breath rushing out of her in one quick, vaguely unprofessional exhale, and she didn’t have time for this. Her friends, however, did not seem to care. And maybe she hadn’t been quite as fine as she’d promised.

Maybe she was somewhere in the realm of vaguely terrified and that was vaguely overwhelming.

“Did you guys coordinate on this?” Emma asked, eyes darting between her two friends and the matching looks of not-quite-innocent on their faces. “Oh my God, you did, didn’t you? Was there a schedule? Let Ruby get in there first, get the insults out of the way, the slightly abrasive start so I was more receptive to Reese’s good cop scheme?” “It’s not a scheme,” Mary Margaret muttered and David scoffed under his breath. That earned him a glare from all three of them.

“It’s not really, Em,” Ruby said and Emma got the distinct impression she was being placated. She felt like one of Mary Margaret’s fourth graders. She’d kind of been acting like one. “We just...you know might have talked about it a little bit.” “Sounds like you’ve been talking to just about anyone who will listen,” Emma accused. “Where’s Mer? I need a drink.” Mary Margaret looked disappointed – as if the idea of staging some sort of Emma Swan intervention in the middle of her charity event without alcohol was a good idea. Ruby just kept glaring at her.

“It’s not like that, Emma,” Mary Margaret said softly as David waved down one of the waiters who’d started circling the room. He handed Emma a glass, doing his best to look supportive without Mary Margaret actually noticing and it didn’t really work.

Ruby kicked at his ankles.

“No?” Emma challenged, downing half her champagne in one gulp. Mary Margaret’s eyes widened. “Because that’s absolutely what it feels like.” “Well, you’re being stupid,” Ruby reasoned. She didn’t drink her champagne as quickly as Emma did, but they’d both need refills in a few minutes if they kept going like they were. “I talked to him. I talked to Regina. No one from the Kings has even talked to him.” Her champagne was gone. “David, I need more to drink.”

He tried to move, but Mary Margaret tugged on the back of his tuxedo jacket, pulling him up short before he’d even gotten a complete step away. “No,” she said sharply and Emma made a face, glancing at a suddenly repentant looking David.

“Teacher voice,” Emma mumbled.

“Emma, I’m serious.” “I can tell.” Mary Margaret rolled her eyes, but it wasn’t the sarcastic expression it had been on Ruby’s face. And that probably came from four years of college and a decade of being able to read each other’s minds and Emma still hadn’t left the loft, hadn’t even tried to leave the loft because the loft kind of felt like home too.

Fine was somewhere sitting out on the sidewalk at this point – probably getting run over by the players who were scheduled to start arriving at that very moment.

Emma’s shoulders sagged, a fresh glass of champagne pushed into the hand that wasn’t holding an empty glass of champagne and she shot a grateful look David’s direction. He winked at her.

“He wants to stay,” Mary Margaret said softly, but Emma heard them as clearly as if they’d been shouted at her. It kind of felt that way.

“Ok.” “Emma.” “I know, Reese’s. These are all things I’m aware of, painfully so, but that doesn’t mean they’re an option!” Her voice cracked on the last word and Emma felt three pairs of vaguely stunned eyes land on her face. She bit her lip and stared at her shoes – red, they matched her dress. And she absolutely hadn’t bought a red dress because he’d noticed the red dress in the restaurant that very first night.

Emma Swan wasn’t a sentimental fool.

She was just the biggest liar in the entire world.

Mary Margaret’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ and Ruby scuffed her heel along the tiled floor and Emma licked her lips before she could will herself to look back up.

“It’s fine,” Emma whispered and Ruby made a noise that sounded like a mix between a groan and a scoff.

“You tell him any of that?” Ruby asked. “Because I promise he doesn’t know.” “You didn’t need to yell at him for me.” “I didn’t. I just spoke with very direct words and a very specific focus. At least I didn’t punch him in the face and get a five-minute major for it.” Emma rolled her eyes, but that knot of whatever that had been sitting in the pit of her stomach for the last two weeks, three days and, somewhere around, six hours, seemed to loosen just a little bit. She, at least, felt like she could take a deep breath.

That was, however, until the lights in the hall dimmed and the fans that had filed in in the last few minutes exploded into cheers and the TV broadcast crew started announcing players by name and position as they took their predetermined spots on a stage that cost an absolutely ridiculous amount of money to rent.

Mary Margaret’s fingers found Emma’s arm, wrapping tightly around her wrist and pressing the laces against her skin and neither one of them tried to pull away from each other – four years of college and a decade of this, the kind of support Emma hadn’t ever really allowed herself to believe in, appearing just when she needed it the most.

David’s hand fell on her shoulder and Emma almost breathed easily as they continued making their way down the roster, Ruby moving just on the edge of her vision.

And fine didn’t feel like a complete lie.

He was last.

Of course.

Emma gulped the rest of her champagne, appreciating the soft buzz that she felt in the back of her mind and maybe her veins and, God, he looked good.

The tux fit perfectly, but it wasn’t black, it was navy and there was a pocket square and a tie that Emma kind of already wanted to tug off and she probably should have talked to him before Casino Night. He looked nervous, the fingers on his left hand tapping out an impatient rhythm while he stood in front of the crowd and listened to a list of his most recent accomplishments, that back page flashing up on the screen behind him.

“You did that on purpose,” Emma accused, leaning around Mary Margaret to glare at Ruby who just shrugged in response. She’d been in charge of one thing – getting clips and photos for the screen behind that ridiculously expensive stage – and it shouldn’t have surprised Emma that she’d pulled The Post back page from that morning.

“I’m pleading the fifth,” Ruby answered easily.

“Yeah, that’s not how that works,” David laughed and his hand tightened on Emma’s shoulder. He didn’t seem to realize he’d done it.

The TV broadcasters announced the official start of Casino Night – as if it hadn’t been going on this entire time, every single moment of the entire goddamn thing planned by Emma – and the players moved towards the tables they’d been assigned and the crowd was probably going to cheer for the rest of the night.

“Boss,” Merida shouted, jogging towards them with a clipboard in her hand and a headset pressing down on her curls.

“Still on schedule?” Emma asked.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, everything is good. The guys that are supposed to be at the tables are at the tables and then some of them are doing that Instagram thing we set up and the stragglers are auctioning things.”

“Instagram thing?” Mary Margaret repeated and Emma knew she didn’t imagine the note of pride in her voice. “We’re making them pose. You know like they do on the award shows? They’ve all been told to act as ridiculous as possible.” “That’s a really good idea.” “It happens from time to time.” “All the time,” Mary Margaret said, squeezing Emma’s forearm again.

Emma rolled her eyes, but she could still feel that buzz in the back of her head and she was half certain it wasn’t because of the champagne. “So if we’re all on schedule, what’s the problem, Mer?” Merida pressed her lips together and Emma tried not to let her impatience show on her face. “There’s a couple asking for you.” “Who?” “Van...something.” Emma bit her lip tightly and, now, four pairs of curious eyes were staring at her and she could use some more champagne.

She hadn’t forgotten – not really. She’d sent the tickets before the All-Star break, had gotten an actual thank you note mailed to her office from Mrs. Vankald after, but Emma hadn’t really considered the possibility of seeing them during Casino Night, certain, when she sent the tickets, that she’d have a few other things going on.

She hadn’t considered the possibility that she’d come into Casino Night riding two weeks, three days and, now, closer to seven hours, of avoiding Killian Jones. Except for that one phone call, but Emma wasn’t certain anyone else knew about that.

She certainly hadn’t told anyone about that.

“They were wondering if you were around,” Merida continued slowly, staring at Emma like she was some sort of emotional bomb.

It kind of felt that way.

“Ok,” Emma said quickly and maybe a bit breathlessly, but she didn’t pull her arm away from Mary Margaret.

Ruby moved before any of them, shooting Mary Margaret a conspiratorial glare that all but confirmed Emma’s suspicions that they’d planned something, and slung her arm around Merida’s shoulders. “C’mon, Mer,” she said. “Let’s, uh, let’s go shout things at the guys while they try to pose for the internet.” Merida stared at Emma, clearly waiting for further instructions, and she tried to make sure her voice didn’t shake when she spoke. “It’s fine, Mer,” Emma said, wincing slightly at that word. “We’re all on schedule, go see what’s happening out front and I’ll check on the auction after I say hi to the Vankalds.” Mary Margaret actually gasped and Emma’s stomach did something she wasn’t sure was medically possible, pressing her heels into the floor so she didn’t run – again. “It’s fine, Mer,” she repeated. “Seriously.” “If you say so.” “I just did.” Ruby made a face, lower lip sticking out slightly as she pulled Merida back towards the front doors, shouting, “Don’t be an idiot, Emma,” over her shoulder.

Emma still didn’t move. “You invited his parents?” Mary Margaret asked softly, tapping her thumb meaningfully against Emma’s wrist.

“I mean, not technically,” Emma argued.

“Yuh huh.” “And they want to talk to you,” David pointed out.

Emma’s neck cracked when she moved her head back, staring at the ceiling like that would, somehow, help her. “Well, I haven’t seen them since Christmas.” “And haven’t talked to Killian in weeks.” “Rude.” “Honest.” “Have you guys just been plotting these conversations since I got back from LA?” Emma asked and neither one of her friends had moved away from her side. There was a cliché in there somewhere.

“No,” Mary Margaret said and David made a noise that wasn’t quite the disagreement it probably should have been.

“Yeah, that’s what I figured. It’s almost nice. Almost.” “It’s super nice, Emma, and you know it,” David said. “And it’s not like you’re the only one who’s upset and just a bit terrified.” His eyes widened as soon as the words were out of his mouth – like he’d just given up state secrets. “Wait, what?” Emma snapped and her head was on a swivel at this point, bouncing between Mary Margaret and David and both of them had squeezed their eyes shut.

“Reese’s,” Emma continued. “What did you guys do?” “I didn’t do anything,” Mary Margaret promised, finally letting go of Emma’s arm so she could hold her hands up in the air, pleading innocence with one, quick movement. “This has all been David.” “Thanks a lot,” he muttered and Mary Margaret didn’t drop her hands. “To be fair, it’s not like I sought him out. He came to me.” Emma’s heart had fallen on the ground and her stomach was there too and maybe her jaw because it had dropped open so quickly it actually was starting to hurt. “What?” Emma whispered.

David smiled sadly at her, pulling her against his chest without a word and he couldn’t really cup the back of her head – Mary Margaret’s quick gasp about her hair making him rethink the movement almost immediately – but he wrapped both his arms around her and held on tightly and that was enough.

“He texted me,” David muttered. “And called and asked what he should do and if you were ok. He’s worried you’re not ok.” “What?” She needed to come up with another word.

“I think you terrified him just a bit, Em.” “But….what? I mean, how?” “Are you serious?”

Mary Margaret made a noise, smacking at David’s shoulder slightly. “Emma,” she said slowly and the teacher voice was back. “He could probably go anywhere in the league, right?” Emma nodded. “He doesn’t want to. You’ve changed that.” And somewhere in the back of her mind, Emma knew Mary Margaret was right – knew Killian had told her the same exact thing in that alley in Los Angeles – but two weeks of feeling like she was walking on the edge of something had left Emma without much confidence in the NHL’s free agent market.

“He looks at you like you are...everything,” Mary Margaret continued. “You just have to believe that.” Emma scoffed and they’d gotten to the center of the issue in a way that she hoped they never would. She did – and that was why she’d run.

Emma didn’t do maybe’s and hopefully’s and max-deal negotiations. She did schedules that she had memorized for the better part of the last two weeks.

She wanted something certain and Killian Jones was far from certain.

“Why didn’t you tell me he called?” Emma asked, staring at David.

He shrugged. “Would it have made much of a difference?” “Probably not.” “You were mad, Em. And so disappointed you practically reeked with it and I know you. You ate an entire box of pop tarts in two days. That’s, like, other level. So he called me and I told him you’d be fine eventually and then they had to go back on the road and he couldn’t really do anything, so there didn’t seem to be much of a point in adding to your pile of very obvious worries.” “I’m fine.” “You are a horrible liar.”

“Is that why you’ve made pancakes every other night? Because you totally knew?” “Obviously.” “And bought that extra box of hot chocolate,” Mary Margaret added.

Emma laughed under her breath and the Vankalds were making their way towards them now – God she was the worst girlfriend in the world. Oh, fuck, was she still a girlfriend? She hoped so.

“How do you guys do this?” Emma asked suddenly, head snapping up almost painfully.

“Do what?” Mary Margaret asked.

“Be so certain...in each other? I mean you guys turned around one day and just knew. How is that even possible?” “That’s not what happened.” “I was there.” “Well, ok,” Mary Margaret admitted. “It kind of happened that way. But you’re forgetting David being a jerk that whole semester and it’s not like it’s perfect. You think I’m just ok with him going out and maybe getting shot every day?” Emma’s eyes widened and she’d never heard Mary Margaret be so blunt in her entire life. “I’m not,” Mary Margaret continued. “I am terrified. I jump every time my phone rings while he’s on patrol. Even when I know he’s sitting at his desk. He could leave and just never come back.” “So what do you do?” “Believe.” “You make it sound so easy,” Emma sighed.

“It’s not. It’s not even in the realm of easy, but if you want this, Emma, the way he seems to, then you’ve got to let yourself believe. It’ll be worth it. Love is always worth it.” Emma’s breath caught in her throat and she blinked quickly so she didn’t actually start showing a ridiculous amount of emotion in the middle of Casino Night, dimly aware of the fans around her and the sounds of roulette tables spinning a few feet away. David’s hand landed on her shoulder again.

“That was one of your better ones, Reese’s,” Emma mumbled, hugging her friend close to her and Mary Margaret chuckled against her.

“That was just off the top of my head.” “What am I going to do?” “Tell him the truth,” Mary Margaret said evenly.

“And maybe introduce us to his parents,” David added. “Vankalds incoming at two o’clock.”

Mrs. Vankald was wearing feathers in her hair and Mr. Vankald’s tux actually had tails on it and Emma couldn’t stop the smile from forming on her face as soon as she saw both of them, something that almost resembled contentment snuffing out the anxiety that had been lingering in the pit of her stomach.

It was all Mary Margaret’s fault – she was far too good at those hope speeches.

“Emma,” Mrs. Vankald said, smiling as she greeted her. Emma’s feet moved before she was quite ready, David’s hand falling away from her shoulder just quickly enough that Mrs. Vankald didn’t inadvertently pull him into a hug as well.

“Hi Mrs. Vankald,” she mumbled, voice stuttering just a bit as she tried to stay upright on her heels. Emma glanced up to smile at Mr. Vankald and his tuxedo tails – or at least try. It felt a bit nervous.

She was a bit nervous.

“It’s so nice to see you,” Mrs. Vankald continued and if she had any idea about the whatever that was going on between Emma and Killian she didn’t show it. Or sound it. She looked genuinely happy to see Emma. Huh.

“This is incredible, Emma,” Mr. Vankald added. David’s hand was back on her shoulder. Older brother, pride mode, activated. “So much better than the one Casino Night we went to before.” “You only remember that because they ran out of appetizers at the one Casino Night we went to before,” Mrs. Vankald muttered and maybe this could be normal if they all kept laughing like that. Emma should probably talk to Killian.

Hope. Hope. Hope. Hope.

Mr. Vankald made a noise in the back of his throat, a scoff that didn’t quite ring true, and Mrs. Vankald smiled at Emma again, glancing at David and Mary Margaret in unspoken question.

“Oh,” Emma started, waving her hands quickly. Mr. Vankald’s head tilted slightly when her laces shifted on her wrist, falling down her forearm slightly and she’d definitely need to get them re-tied at some point because they kept doing that. She should also probably stop tugging on them in emotional moments. “Um, Mr. and Mrs. Vankald, these are my two best friends, David Nolan and Mary Margaret Blanchard.”

Mary Margaret’s eyes did something meaningful at the title Emma so casually dished out and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes – or pull on her laces. David just stuck his hand out, waiting for one or, maybe both, of the Vankalds’ to take it.

Mr. Vankald did.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” David said and everyone in this conversation sounded so sincere Emma wasn’t sure it could possibly be real.

“Are you part of the team as well, David? Front office?” Mrs. Vankald asked and Emma did roll her eyes at that, David’s eyes almost flashing at the question.

“Just a fan,” he answered, disappointment obvious in his voice. “And Emma’s food supplier.”

Mrs. Vankald lowered her eyebrows at that and Mary Margaret wasn’t all that great at conspicuous, very clearly elbowing David in the side.

And it kind of felt like Emma was introducing the Vankald’s to her parents.

“He’s a detective,” Emma supplied and, well, if David could do pride then so could she. And maybe thank him for buying her several boxes of varying pop tart flavors over the last two weeks. “Saves us all, all the time.” Mary Margaret was absolutely going to start crying in the middle of Casino Night – Emma was certain – and David was staring at her like she’d only recently been abducted by aliens, eyes wide and mouth slightly open and he hadn’t stopped shaking Mr. Vankald’s hand yet.

“Swan?”

David pulled his hand back to his side, palm colliding against the side of his tuxedo pants like it had crashed there. Emma wondered if there was any truth to that whole scientific idea that when one of your senses was dulled, the rest seemed to enhance, because she’d absolutely lost the ability to speak, but she could hear everything clearly and her eyesight had suddenly turned 20/20, picking up on every single detail in Killian’s face when he looked at her.

She felt her mouth open, hopeful the words were just on the tip of her tongue and maybe she wouldn’t sound like a complete fool when she actually said something.

No such luck.

“Is your tie...shiny?” Emma asked. Mary Margaret made some sort of strangled noise and Mrs. Vankald’s smile got even wider.

“I’ve been told on very good authority that metallic is in,” Killian said. There was a smirk – of course there was a smirk – but it looked a bit nervous and his eyes didn’t stop moving, tracing across Emma’s face and she knew the moment they landed on her lips.

He rocked towards her, one foot moving in front of the other before, it appeared, he thought better of it, sticking his hands back in his pockets and staying exactly where he was a few feet away from her.

“Doesn’t seem to really go with the theme,” Emma pointed out. She needed to stop talking. Or, at least, stop talking about his tie.

She needed to talk to him – without his quasi-parents there, without her quasi-parents there. No one moved.

“Ah, well, not all of us are as confident in our fashion choices as Mr. V here,” Killian laughed, nodding towards the man next to him. “Where’d you even get a jacket like that?” “Oh, leave him alone,” Mrs. Vankald chided, flicking her finger on Killian’s shoulder. “He’s just excited to be here.” “Ah, well, that makes two of us.” Killian’s shoulders moved when he took a deep breath, eyes flitting back to Emma. She bit her lip and she was totally going to ruin Mary Margaret’s makeup job. “It looks incredible, Swan.” Emma just nodded, far too aware of Mary Margaret’s stare on the side of her head and David’s hand lingering in the general area of her shoulder and when she blinked she was positive she’d imagined that look of frustration on Killian’s face.

“The, uh, the appetizers should start circulating in a couple of minutes,” Emma said, rushing over the words quickly and ignoring how blue Killian’s eyes looked with that stupid, navy suit and shiny tie. “We won’t run out of them this time, I can guarantee that. I’ve just, uh, got to check on the auction stuff and make sure the broadcast guys stick the script we gave them. I’m so glad you all could make it.” Mrs. Vankald just kept smiling at Emma, muttering something about being busy and enjoying yourself when you have some time and Mr. Vankald nodded in approval at the idea of never-ending appetizers.

Mary Margaret and David looked disappointed.

“Alright,” Emma snapped and she nearly tripped over her heels backing away. “I’ll see you all later. Eat, there’s an absolutely ridiculous amount of food.” She moved as quickly as she could, spinning on the spot and her lungs felt tight and her throat felt dry and her vision swam in front of her eyes as she took a few steps forward.

God, there were a lot of fans. They were still cheering – although most of them were cheering for blackjacks and red 22 and someone a couple of feet away yelled about the green square – and the wait staff, all of them with theme-appropriate uniforms that Emma had signed off on weeks ago, was starting to make their way through the crowd. That only made it more difficult to get to the back room, a hallway that, maybe, hopefully, would be just a bit quieter.

And maybe Emma could remember how to breathe.

She got to the hallway and it was, at least, ten degrees cooler there than it was in the main room, but silence, it appeared, was a commodity she couldn’t quite afford.

“Swan,” Killian said and Emma’s head snapped to her side when she heard the edge in his voice. “What are you doing?” He was already closer than he had been during that entire conversation with the Vankald’s and Emma’s lipstick was a lost cause at this point, a casualty of nerves and an attempt at hope.

“Are you following me?” Emma asked.

He blinked, eyebrows low and something that probably could have been a sneer on his face. He was frustrated – again. “What? No, well, kind of, but only in a sense to make sure you’re alright.” “I’m fine.” She’d answered quickly, words falling out of her mouth easily and she hadn’t really looked at him yet, just stared at the opposite wall and tried not to focus how she could feel him standing next to her, lingering just a few feet away like he was nervous to come any closer.

Killian hummed in the back of his throat, a sound that was so familiar now Emma couldn’t stop the smile from forming on her face even if she tried.

He was holding glasses – she hadn’t noticed that before, far too focused on the wall and her shoes – and she heard him exhale softly before he turned on her, nervous smile tugging on one side of his mouth.

“Don’t make a man drink alone,” Killian said softly, tilting one of the glasses towards her.

“I’m not all that interested in a drink. Or a man. I’ve got a job to do. Several, in fact.” “I think the waiters can move trays without your assistance, love.” Emma huffed, rolling her whole head so she could really drive the point home and Killian’s smile wavered. He sighed again, crouching down to put the glasses behind him.

“You’re going to spill those,” Emma said and she was back to staring at her shoes.

“I’ll remember they’re there.” “Ok.” It felt a bit like that phone call – when she’d watched the Vancouver game with her mouth hanging open and her eyes going wide, breath catching in her throat as soon as Graham’s fist landed on the side of Killian’s face. There was still the ghost of a bruise just under his eye, skin slightly more purple just above his cheekbone than it should have been if everything was as fine as Emma kept promising it was.

They’d danced around it then too, stuttering through the conversation in a way they hadn’t since the first set-up and the silence Emma had been so desperate for just a few moments before felt oppressive in the middle of the hallway.

Killian pressed his thumb into the back of his left hand, rocking on his heels and Emma forced herself to look up at him – a mix of disappointment and frustration and hope on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice finding its way into every inch of her. “I know you’ve had the weight of the world on your shoulders and that story couldn’t have come out at worse time, but you’ve got to trust me here, Swan. I want to be in New York. With you.” “Wait, what?” Emma asked, a picture of well-spoken responses.

“I need you to trust me, love.” “I do.” Killian lowered his eyebrows and he was absolutely going to knock over both of those champagne glasses if he kept rocking on his feet like that. “Somehow I’m not getting that,” he admitted.

“You think that’s what this is about?” Emma asked incredulously and Ruby’s voice echoed in her head. I promise he doesn’t know.

“Isn’t it?” “No,” Emma said, half sighing out the word. “I, mean, not now at least. It was in LA, but that was just because I wasn’t expecting the story and Neal was all self-important about you going to the Kings and I kind of lost my perspective a little bit…” “Wait, Neal? Neal showed you the story?”

Emma nodded slowly. “I guess we never got to that part of the explanation.” “We did not.” It wasn’t getting any easier to breathe, particularly when Killian took another step towards her, the toes of his exceptionally polished shoes just a few inches away from her red heels and Emma kept her hands trained at her side so she wouldn’t tug on his belt out of instinct.

“Of course I trust you,” Emma continued. “That’s why I called in the first place. I was...I was worried about you.” “Then why this?” Killian waved his hand through the space between them, eyes widening just a bit when he met Emma’s gaze. And he might be in one of the best scoring streaks of the season, but he didn’t look like he’d slept much during it either. He looked as exhausted as Emma felt. “Why do you keep pulling away from me?” “Because everyone left,” Emma said, nearly shouting the words at him. “Everyone. All those families and the houses and Neal and Walsh and even Reese’s and David will at some point. I’ve got to get my own apartment eventually and they’ll get married and they’ll...they’ll leave. And I can’t.” She paused, closing her eyes and she didn’t see him move before his fingers traced over the back of her hand. “I can’t lose you too.” Killian’s hand twisted, fingers lacing through hers and she felt his thumb come up underneath her chin. “Emma,” he said softly. “Come on, look at me.” She did and she wasn’t entirely ready for everything she saw – nerves and frustration replaced with something Emma was convinced, just a few moments before, only existed in movies and young adult novels. It made her breath catch again and her stomach do something impossible and her heart beat so hard it actually hurt, thudding against her ribs until she was certain it was the only sound she’d ever hear again.

His thumb moved across her cheek, brushing away the tears she didn’t realize she was crying and Emma’s mouth opened when she realized it was his left hand.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Swan,” Killian continued and his voice cut right to the very center of her, lingering there like someone had lit a tiny fire in the pit of her stomach. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He tugged on her hand – fingers still wrapped up in Emma’s – and she all but crashed into him, letting out a soft oof when the beading of her dress hit up against her legs. And then there was just him and his hand on her hip and his lips on hers and Killian sighed against her, like he’d been waiting for her to catch up to the moment.

He probably had.

Emma moved with him, or maybe against him, out of instinct, heels popping out of the back of her shoes so she could reach him better and his fingers traced across the line of her spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.

And if she’d been trying to find that feeling of home in the last two weeks, three days and, now, seven and a half hours since the story and the nerves and the fear, Emma had found it as soon as Killian Jones kissed her again.

He lingered in her space when oxygen became more of a necessity than continued making out in another abandoned hallway, hand still moving up and down her back like he was trying to make up for lost time when it came to touching her.

“You can’t promise that,” she mumbled and, someday, she’d find some sense of consistent confidence. “I just did.” “But,” Emma argued, shaking her head and, God, she was still crying. “You can’t. It’s not like you can just demand a contract extension.” Killian shrugged. “I can help my own cause though.” “Is that what this has been about?” “What?” “The scoring streak and King of New York back pages. You’re trying to prove yourself to the New York Rangers front office?” “In part.” “What’s the other part?” Killian grinned, eyebrows doing something wholly unfair for the emotional conversation they were having. “Well,” he said slowly, leaning forward to drag his mouth against the curve of her jaw and Emma could feel every letter of every single word. “There’s this community relations director and she’s kind of thrown everything on its head.” “Was there a compliment in there? And don’t forget fan experiences and events.” “I’m getting there, Swan.” “Ah, of course. Go ahead.”

He chuckled against her neck, both hands heavy on her hip at this point and Emma wasn’t sure when she’d been backed against the wall, but that’s where she’d ended up. “I am one-hundred percent showing off for you,” Killian said.

“That so?” “Unquestionably. How’s it going?” “Better now,” Emma muttered, voice catching when he actually started kissing behind her ear.

“Good.” He kissed her again or maybe she kissed him and they probably moved at the same time because that’s how the night was going, staying in each other’s space even after they’d actually pulled away from each other.

“I do believe you,” Emma said, hands pulling on the front of his tuxedo jacket. “I know you want to stay.”

“More than anything.” He smiled at her and Emma nodded, but she knew what was coming before he even said anything else. “You’re still worried.” “Aren’t you?” “Of course I am. And I know half the reason we’re in this entire situation is because of me and what I wanted and didn’t want, but I’m going to fix this, Swan. I’m going to keep scoring goals and we’re not that far out of first really, if you look at the standings, we could make a run at the President’s again, and then we’re going to win a Cup.” There was no way to argue the conviction in his voice, no way to doubt the certainty in every single word and she let we linger in the air for a few moments before responding.

“You’re almost as good at those motivational speeches as Reese’s.” “That’s why they pay me the big bucks. Or, at least, will. In theory.” “They will,” Emma said, tugging on his jacket for emphasis.

“Confidence, Swan?” She shook her head slowly and Mary Margaret would be disappointed that the bobby pins had given up, a piece of her hair hitting up against Emma’s forehead. “Hope.”

They auctioned off every item Emma had gotten signed and the VIP meet-and-greets for the game at the Piers sold for an amount that would probably make her eyes widen for the rest of her life, the self-satisfied smirk on Killian’s face when she told him the number making her roll her eyes as well.

“Ah, well, who could deny themselves the chance to watch me lead a team to victory?” he asked and Mrs. Vankald flicked at his shoulder again.

“You guys didn’t have to bid on anything,” Emma said for what felt like the tenth time. They’d bid on everything, Vankald seemingly written on every other line of the silent auction when Emma went to check between rounds of appetizers.

They only actually won one thing, however – a signed stick by the Rangers front line and Will had laughed about that for a solid five minutes, appearing after he’d wrapped up his required roulette duties.

Robin asked Killian about it on camera, making sure to jab him about his parents buying his merchandise during the special Casino Night edition of Locked in With Locksley. Killian had thrown his microphone towards the other side of the room.

Mrs. Vankald brushed Emma off – again – and squeezed her hand. “We wanted to,” she promised. “It’ll go downstairs with everything else.” “Just don’t tell Liam how much his stuff sold for,” Mr. Vankald muttered. “Elsa won’t ever hear the end of it.”

Emma nodded seriously and, that time, Killian rolled his eyes, wrapping his arm around her shoulder without a word. She might have leaned into it. “Deal,” she promised.

“And I’m glad you didn’t run out of appetizers this time.” “You and me both.” Mrs. Vankald hugged her again and Mr. Vankald might have winked, clapping Killian on the shoulder before they both made their way to the doors and the street and for as crowded as Gotham Hall had been that night, it was almost as empty then, fans gone and most of the front office gone and there was still an arm wrapped around Emma’s shoulders.

“Did David and Mary Margaret leave yet?” Killian asked and Emma hummed in response, forehead brushing against his jacket when she shifted against him. “And you didn’t go with them?” “I have a key.” “Oh.” “What are you getting at?” He smiled at her and Emma’s stomach flipped. “That I’d very much like you to come home with me. And stay there so I can get some goddamn sleep.” And her stomach might have flopped at that.

“Romantic,” she mumbled and it wasn’t the insult it might have sounded like.

“I sleep like garbage when you’re not there.” “So you said on that message.” “You got that?” Emma nodded and did her best to ignore the way his eyes ducked down when he realized she just hadn’t responded.

“Hey,” she said quickly, resting her palm flat against his chest. “I’m sorry for running. I just...you’ve caught me by surprise and I wasn’t ready to want as much as I do and that was kind of terrifying because there’s no promise this is going to work.”

He lowered his eyebrows and, well, there it was – the admission she hadn't said, too caught up in the kissing in the hallway before. “I trust you, implicitly,” Emma continued, staring at the floor. It was going to take forever to clean this place. “And I believe you want to stay in New York, but what happens if you don’t? There’s no…”

She trailed off and he turned her towards him, hand lingering on her shoulder when he stared at her.

“Yes there is,” Killian countered, clicking his tongue when Emma opened her mouth to argue. “I don’t mean a contract, Swan. I mean you and me. No matter what happens. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yeah?” she whispered, hating how small her voice sounded in that giant room.

“Yeah.” She believed him.

“Can we go home?” Emma asked, pulse picking up almost audibly when she used that particular word. “I’d really like to sleep.” “I can’t imagine how tired you must be, love. This was incredible. I actually didn’t hate Casino Night this year.” “That’s not what I meant.” “Hmmm?” “I meant, I sleep like garbage when you’re not there.”

She felt him breathe against her, chest moving slightly as he tugged her tighter against his side and his answering smile was enough to power the generator to several small islands in the Pacific Ocean.

“Yeah, Swan,” Killian said, arm still around her even after they’d found their way into the backseat of a cab. “Let’s go home.”

#cs ff #captain swan ff #ouat ff #cs #csbb #blue line #i cannot possibly overstate how much i love casino night #it's the absolute best

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ageeksnerdyworld · 7 years ago

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Heroic Intent

I’ve always wanted to be a hero. Even before I got my powers I tried to be a hero. Hell, my origin story is just like that of famous heroes from comic books. My birth parents and I were driving home late one night. A play I loved was being performed at the old theatre downtown for only a few days and I begged them to take me. It was my favorite and they couldn’t say no. We all enjoyed it and then went out for dinner afterwards. The weather took a turn for worse as my father finally drove us home. Snow fell down hard and puddles quickly froze over.

Boston winters, what can I say?

Mom urges Dad to pick up speed to try and run out the snow storm. He was already going well over the speed limit so going even faster didn’t bother him. But it was too dark to see well and we hit a patch of black ice. Dad turns the steering wheel in the direction of the ice; trying to prevent the car from skidding. He starts to pump the brakes to slow us to a stop. But they won’t work.

I remember what happened next like it was yesterday.

The car flips and crashes. Metal crunches and crushes us all into shapes humans shouldn’t be in. My vision started to fade; blackening at the edges. My heartbeat slows and my hearing is going. I strain my head just enough to see blood dripping from my mother’s head. And the huge dent in her skull. She staring right at my father with fear in her eyes and on her face. But he isn’t looking at her.

He’s looking at me.

“Jack,” he manages to croak through the blood spurting hole in his neck. A large shard of glass is embedded in his skin.

“Jack. It’s okay. Don’t be scared, son. We’ll be together soon.”

I watched as the light left his eyes.

I died last. Cold, alone, and afraid. Blackness engulfed my vision and I couldn’t hear a thing. Then I saw a white light in the distance. It wasn’t a light; it was my parents. They were calling my name. Begging me to join them in the black abyss of the afterlife. But I didn’t.

A different voice called my name from the other side. The land of living pulled me back into it’s warm embrace. I came to with a jolt as a shock of electricity restarted my heart. Then I realized I was in an ambulance and in immense pain. I looked around for my parents but didn’t see them.

And I never would.

I didn’t have any relatives to speak of so I was put in the foster care system. Being a young teen who just lost their parents I wasn’t ready to move on. I didn’t want a new family. I wanted mine. But a couple who couldn’t have kids wanted me. Within a day of meeting me they filled out all the proper paperwork and adopted me. Apparently I didn’t have a say in the matter.

Dead parents and orphaned at a young age. Abusive foster family. Using powers for good. What did I tell ya? I should definitely be a hero.

And besides I don’t think villains keep diaries. Vocal diaries or otherwise. I should upload these to the internet maybe then people will understand…

Sorry, I’m getting sidetracked. Like I said I used my powers for good. I first used them on a bully at school. He was picking on me and making fun of the fact that my parents were dead.

Kids are cruel.

He was beating on me in the gym locker room. While he slammed my face into one of the lockers I silently pleaded for him to stop. In my head I thought about the bully hitting himself. The thought of that calmed me and so I concentrated on it. Soon it was the only thought in my mind. I didn’t even think about the pain.

Next thing I knew he let go of my shirt.

I turned away from him; mentally preparing myself for whatever blow was to come. But none did. I looked over at my bully to see him trying to fight the urge to punch himself in the face. His hand was curled in a tight fist and prepped to strike but his face was a confused mask of turmoil.

Then the thought I pushed won out.

I left him there as he continued to beat himself up. But when you plant ideas in people’s heads things start to get a little fuzzy. Lines begin to blur.

Sometimes the thought I have gets scrambled in the other person’s head. I can push the thought of not doing whatever evil act they’re about to do. But then they’ll do it instead. Or they end up doing something completely different from both ideas.

In fact that’s what happened one fateful day.

I was walking along and minding my own business when I saw a group of people approaching a bank. Before entering the group pulled balaclavas over their faces and brandished guns. Then they burst into the bank clearly planning on robbing the place.

I have to do something, I thought as I ran after them.

I rushed into the bank and almost tripped over my own feet. Okay. I did trip. I fell flat on my face and everyone inside the small bank turned to look at me.

“What the hell a…” the leader started to yell but I shut him up.

I thought that the rest would be easy seeing as I already worked on the leader. As I got up from the floor I began pushing the thought of giving up into his head. The I pushed the thought of not shooting anyone. He fought against me the whole way; body and mind. Shaking and slapping his head the robber tried to get the thoughts out. Tried to focus on something else but it was impossible.

Next thing I knew he turned his gun on himself and pulled the trigger.

I freaked out and ran so I didn’t find out what happened after that until I read the news the next day. All the other robbers were affected when I pushed the thoughts into the leader’s head. And they all followed suit.

And the bystanders blamed me.

Before I knew it the city turned it’s back on me.

They labeled me a villain and there was nothing I could do to change it. But I’m really doing my best to clean up this city. It’s not my fault that the locals and the press don’t see it that way. People got hurt, people have died, but so what? That’s like workplace hazards or unplanned war casualties. I shouldn’t be blamed. I work to do good and to help people.

Well, you know what they say.

Every villain is a hero in his own mind.

#my writing #short story #superhero #supervillain #superpowers #ageekwrites #this is meh #but imma post it anyway #so here ya go #i tried my best

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rebelsofshield · 5 years ago

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Panels Far, Far Away: A Week in Star Wars Comics 9/5/19

Star Wars prepares for its big finale. Lost Stars releases its second collection of manga. Some Jedi prep to go spelunking in a spooky temple. Star Wars comics! Good ones too!

Star Wars #71 written by Greg Pak and art by Phil Noto

C-3PO rock translator is some of the best stuff in Star Wars right now. I know. I’m as shocked as you are. Greg Pak has tapped into something really unique and strange in Threepio’s philosophical bond with the sentient rock creatures of K43. It makes for some of the most bizarre Star Wars material we’ve gotten in quite a while, but also brings a delightful sense of high fantasy to the space opera. The fact that Pak also uses this plot to touch upon a genuine feeling of uselessness and maybe even resentment within the protocol droid creates for a surprising emotional gut punch. To close it all off with the tease of our poor droid having to serve as a mediator between the rock folks and the Dark Lord himself is great stuff and is enough to sell me on the rest of this arc alone.

But yes, there are still two other stories and yes the fragmented nature of Pak’s arc long plotting still continues to be an issue. Compared to the Threepio stuff, the minor developments in Han, Leia, and Luke’s stories all can’t quite muster the same excitement, wonder, or emotion. Sure, the plan on Lanz Carpo takes a fun turn, but the pacing on this particular story has hit a rut over the last several issues. Luke channeling his inner Chirrut Imwe is also a fun moment and Phil Noto’s visual storytelling here is particularly strong, but it’s a fun set piece and not much more.

In short, status as usual. Greg Pak and Phil Noto’s arc on Star Wars, which we are now learning will be the comic’s last, continues to be a fun, beautiful time with awkward execution. What I’m saying though is that we should be all rock people all the time. I want a love triangle with Threepio, Artoo, and a rock man. I want Threepio becoming a rock Jedi. I want rock people lightsabers. Rock people.

Score: B+

Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order- Dark Temple #1 written by Matthew Rosenberg and art by Paolo Villanelli

We get a single player, story driven Star Wars game this fall. That’s still more than a little shocking to think about, especially considering that there hasn’t been one since the not so great sequel to The Force Unleashed back in 2010. Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order looks to tell the story of a Jedi fugitive unlocking the secrets of the Force during the height of the Empire. Before we get to step into this world in November, Marvel is introducing us to the past of its supporting cast through a five issue miniseries entitled Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order- Dark Temple, which is more than a mouthful.

Matthew Rosenberg introduces us to a dual narrative. One taking place closer to the game’s present which sees the malevolent Inquisitor, Second Sister, leading a planetary invasion that happens upon a Jedi survivor. Meanwhile, in the past, we follow Padawan Cere Junda as she joins her master Eno Cordova on a mission to observe a newly unearthed temple from the galaxy’s ancient times. While it’s not immediately clear after the first issue how both narratives connect, Dark Temple does a strong job of setting up both stories as entertaining chapters in their own right.

The “cold open” of the Second Sister’s charge towards victory is great spectacle. Paolo Villanelli brings a violent energy to the pages that is both exciting and intimidating. Colorist Arif Prianto creates a dark and foreboding atmosphere that makes the scarlet whir of the Inquisitor’s saber all the more striking. The Second Sister is an imposing and impressive force from the first panel and it is almost a disappointment when we leave these pages behind, the action is just that fun and impressive.

The art never proves quite as strong as is it does in these opening pages, but Cere and her master’s dynamic proves interesting in its own right. Cere’s practical and erratic approach to being a Jedi feels like a familiar trope, but Rosenberg writes her in a way that feels empathetic and relatable. Similarly, the set up for Master Cordova’s archaeological trip is densely plotted and intriguing. Rosenberg manages to fill a great deal of plot into this opening issue and it sets up what could be a fun series to follow.

Score: B

Star Wars: Lost Stars Manga Adaptation Volume 2 written and drawn by Yusaku Komiyama and adapted from the novel by Claudia Gray

With each passing year, Claudia Gray’s debut Star Wars novel, Lost Stars, grows closer and closer to being a classic for the franchise. With its saga spanning narrative and tragic central couple, Gray’s story of two warring lovers has quickly become classic Star Wars. While completely capturing the emotion and scale of Gray’s book is a difficult task, Yusaku Komiyama continues to bring this book to life with its own sense of identity and style.

Komiyama excels at staging and depicting Lost Stars’s story as it heads into its dark second act. As the war heats up and both sides experience incredible losses, the central duo of Ciena Ree and Thane Kyrell along with their supporting cast are forced to confront the true nature of the Empire that they have come to serve. Komiyama’s art is best at selling these huge moments of emotional shock and realization. Whether it’s Nash’s horror at seeing his homeworld of Alderaan destroyed, the desolate void of space where the Death Star used to be, or Ciena’s feeling of entrapment by the Empire manifesting itself in metaphorical chains, Komiyama’s creative way of visualizing Gray’s original novel is some of the best comic storytelling you’ll see in a Star Wars book.

There are some rough spots, however. One of Lost Star’s selling points was its Forrest Gump like quality of having its dual protagonists stumble their way through various points in Star Wars history. While it still remains thrilling to see Ciena meet Darth Vader face to face or watchThane fly in the Battle of Hoth, the transitions from these moments feel more than a little clunky and overly episodic in nature. Komiyama struggles in helping the narrative transition from beat to beat and it can lead to a clunky reading experience. Yen Press’s translation is also a bit stilted at times. Not all phrases of dialogue feel natural in their execution here and it’s hard to deny that this likely read much stronger in its original language.

Overall, manga fans, Star Wars fans, and especially those of Claudia Gray’s books are sure to find much to love here and it is definitely worth picking up. Let’s hope that the third and final volume arrives much quicker than this one.

Score: B+

#Star Wars #Star Wars comics #review #reviews #Marvel #Yen Press #Claudia Gray #Lost Stars #Greg Pak #Phil Noto #Matthew Rosenberg #Paolo Villanelli #Yusaku Komiyama #Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order

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myfunweightloss · 5 years ago

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These cheesy spicy Mexican stuffed bell peppers come together in only 20 minutes for a low-carb, gluten-free and totally delicious weeknight meal.

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I originally shared this recipe on January 15th, 2016. I have updated some of the text today. This post contains affiliate links.

Why I Came Up with This Mexican Stuffed Pepper Recipe

Did I tell you that I am going to Mexico next month? The whole fam dam is jetting off for a week and I am trying to not get too excited too soon. I may or may not have been spending many minutes hours on Zappos mooning over breezy white cover ups and braided teal leather flip-flops. I may or may not have received these items on my doorstep yesterday afternoon and stripped down in the kitchen to try them on as soon as they came.

And I totally didn’t buy a brand new new suitcase either.

Help me. My name is Katie and I am addicted to Zappos. One day shipping! Free returns! How can you not love free returns?

When the boxes arrived, the girls were almost as excited as me. They helped me unload the new suitcase which came in a comically huge box. The girls quickly forgot all about the stuff I was un-packing (and barely noticed that I was in the kitchen in a state of undress) and proceeded to turn the box into a giggle fest filled game of hilarity. I am not sure what the premise was. I think it involved them being store owners. Didn’t they know brick and mortar is dead and Zappos is where it’s at? Sorry. Not Sorry.

Also in preparation for our trip and wearing not much more than a bikini, said breezy white cover-up and teal flip flops, I am amping up my workouts. Jase is too. (Back to back classes this morning for me and way more cardio for him) and we’ve been avoiding the evening snack fest. I’m not dieting or anything like that, since as a chronic dieter turned intuitive eater, I know that doesn’t work for me. But I am reigning it in to drop a couple holiday lbs before we go. Hopefully this strategy won’t backfire.

Basically, I’ve been steering away from excessive amounts of carby stuff at dinner (sorry rice and chicken casserole you have to wait a little longer.) I’ve been bulking up on mega veggies and lean protein and filling but homey recipes like Keto Chicken Soup. I’ve been having a slice of whole-grain toast with my egg in the morning. Eating off a small plate. All that good stuff. Nothings off limits, I’m just giving everything the “do I really want to eat this?” test before I go for it.

Do I really want to eat these Mexican Stuffed Peppers? Yes, yes I do. And they fit perfectly with this plan. They are awesome since they are low-carb, veggie forward and totally yum. And there is melted cheese so the world can continue to spin. I certainly don’t feel deprived in any way shape or form. And they have a decidedly Mexican flair that puts me in the mood for flip flops!

While I am obsessing about our Mexican trip and all things Mexican, I’ve gotta try this yummy Homemade Taco Sauce by Veggie Balance. And I will most certainly be making this low carb Mexican Chicken Salad in lettuce cups for lunches as much as humanly possible. And for snacks it’s obvi all about the guacamole with raw veggies!

How to make Low Carb Mexican Stuffed Peppers

How to Cut the Peppers

Cut the bell peppers in half right through the stem. This will give you two even sides that lay flat. They’re perfect for filling! Next using a kitchen spoon and pairing knife, scoop out the core, seeds and ribs from the inside of the pepper. Leave the stem intact though so the filling won’t fall out the sides!

Ready in only 20 minutes

It’s not magic, I just used the microwave! Take the peppers halves and set them in a microwave safe baking dish. Place them cut side down so they cook evenly. Add some water so they will steam.

To microwave veggies and trap the steam use plastic wrap, but make sure to put a layer of parchment (or wax paper works in a pinch) over the food so the plastic doesn’t touch the food.

Microwave the peppers until they’re tender. Note the times in this recipe are based on a 1200 watt microwave, so you’ll need to adjust depending on the model you have. This gives them a head start. That way, they will already be cooked when you fill them and top them with cheese they only need another minute or so to melt the cheese. I don’t know if you’ve ever had a stuffed pepper and wondered why the pepper was undercooked, but the reason is that they probably skipped this step of pre-cooking the pepper!

Make the Filling on the Stovetop

The filling for these low-carb Mexican stuffed peppers is made with ground beef, in a style that resembles taco meat. To cook it, just heat some oil in a large heavy skillet and add the beef. Break it up in the skillet as it browns the same way you would for chili or bolognese pasta sauce.

Next, add in onions for flavor and finely chopped mushrooms to add more bulk to the servings but very little calories or carbs.

Once the veggies are softened, add in the spices to bloom them in the hot pan. They’ll smell amazing!!

Then just add tomato puree to make them saucy!

Stuff the Peppers

Once the peppers are soft, and the filling is cooked, you’re ready to assemble the Low Carb Mexican Peppers.

First, carefully remove the plastic from the dish of peppers. There will be steam trapped inside, and it’s easy to get burned by it. Then tilt the water out of the pepper dish, and flip them cut side up.

Spoon the beef mixture into the peppers, dividing evenly.

Top with cheddar cheese. I like to use sharp cheddar cheese because it has the strongest cheesy flavor, so you get the most cheesy flavor per serving!

Cook the Stuffed Peppers

Now it’s time to cook the Low Carb Mexican Stuffed Peppers. So, without covering them again (which would stick to the cheese) pop the dish back into the microwave and microwave them until they are nice and soft and the cheese is completely melted. This takes about two or three minutes!

Note, they’ll be really hot when they come out of the microwave, so let them sit for a moment so you don’t burn your mouth. (You can browse on Zappos while you wait. I won’t judge.)

What to serve with Mexican Stuffed Peppers

For a low carb meal, I like to serve these Mexican Stuffed Peppers with a giant spinach salad with bacon and scallions.

For meals where carbs aren’t too much of a concern, this skillet Mexican street corn is super yummy and really fast to prepare. Or I might like to make this Mexican Bean Salad with creamy avocado dressing.

Probably the easiest thing would be to make a simple classic coleslaw or cucumber salad to serve with these stuffed peppers.

How To Reheat Stuffed Peppers

To reheat the leftover stuffed peppers place them on a microwave safe plate and reheat for about 2 minutes. They should be steaming hot and make sure they are hot all the way through by testing with a thermometer.

To reheat them in the oven place them in an ovenproof baking dish and bake loosely covered with foil for about 20 minutes at 350 degrees. They should be steaming hot.

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low carb mexican stuffed peppers

★★★★★ 5 from 4 reviews

Author: Katie Webster

Prep Time: 20 minutes

Cook Time: 10 minutes

Total Time: 20 minutes

Yield: 6 servings

Category: entree

Method: stovetop

Cuisine: Mexican

Description

These cheesy spicy Mexican stuffed bell peppers come together in only 20 minutes for a low-carb, gluten-free and totally delicious weeknight meal.

Ingredients

3 large bell peppers, cut in half lengthwise and cored

2 teaspoons coconut oil or avocado oil

1 pound grass fed beef

1 cup chopped red onion

1 cup chopped white or crimini mushrooms

1 tablespoon ground cumin

1 tablespoon chili powder

½ teaspoon ground chipotle chili

½ teaspoon salt

¼ teaspoon cinnamon

½ cup canned tomato puree

4 ounces shredded sharp cheddar cheese

chopped fresh cilantro leaves for garnish, optional

Instructions

Place the peppers, cut side down in a microwave safe baking dish. Add 1 cup water to the baking dish. Cover with a layer of parchment or wax paper. Cover with plastic wrap. Microwave on high until the peppers are just starting to soften, 4 to 5 minutes. Carefully remove cover, drain off water and turn the peppers cut-side up in the baking dish.

Meanwhile, heat oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add beef and cook, crumbling with a wooden spoon until the meat is browned, about 5 minutes. Add onion and mushrooms and cook, stirring often, until the mixture is browning along the edge of the pan and the vegetables are softened, 4 to 6 minutes. Stir in cumin, chili powder, chipotle, salt and cinnamon and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Remove from heat and stir in tomato puree.

Fill the peppers with the meat mixture (about ½ cup per pepper half). Top with cheese, dividing evenly. Microwave the peppers in the baking dish, uncovered until the cheese is melted and the peppers are tender, 2 to 3 minutes. Serve warm with cilantro on top if desired.

Notes

Microwave Tip: This recipe was tested in a 1200 watt microwave. Adjust cooking times depending on your microwave oven.

Once the peppers have been steamed, carefully remove the plastic from the dish of peppers. There will be steam trapped inside, and it’s easy to get burned by it.

Nutrition

Serving Size: 1 stuffed pepper half

Calories: 247

Sodium: 402

Fat: 15

Saturated Fat: 8

Carbohydrates: 9

Fiber: 4

Protein: 22

Keywords: low carb,stuffed peppers,keto,high protein,beef recipe

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