#if you only have trainer/support cards you put your hand or half your hand at the bottom of your deck and pull the same amount you put back

[bumpscosity]

pokemon tgc is too hard I’m making it into card jitsu club penguin

[darkpuck]

AO3 First Lines Tag Game

Tagged by @caparruciaucia~

Rules: Share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written fewer than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

01. watching in slow motion as you turn around and say (ffxv)

"And so, with the forthcoming wedding between His Royal Highness, Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum and the Most Honourable Marquis Besithia, Lord Mercurius Eleuthia-Besithia, we announce the end of the war and peace between Lucis and Niflheim." The Prince Regent laid aside his quill with a finality that seemed, to Prompto, like a jail cell slamming shut.

02. A Change of Pace (ffxv)

Ignis woke every morning at five. He'd always been a morning person, and sheer habit had ensured he never slept past half the hour, no matter how exhausted he was. The others all slept later than he — granted, Gladio tended to rise at six, but that was still a single, glorious hour he had to himself before duty reared its head.

03. Oathbreakers (ffxv)

"So many dead over so simple a thing," Luche says, looking at the small, almost insignificant talisman in his palm. "But why? For what?" He's taunting her, like he did Ulric, making them hate him. "Power," the Oracle says, meeting his gaze without fear. "Untold power beyond the control of someone like you." Her words are a taunt in return, and a challenge — prove yourself worthy. Put it on and demand recompense from the Kings of Old. "Power…" he says, looking down at the ring again. He could do it. He could put it on, demand that power, destroy Insomnia and the Empire alike. He could do it —

04. foreboding (pokémon)

"James." The name is enough to make Jim stop, because... nobody in Galar knows him by that name. Nobody outside Galar even bothers to call him by it, except... "Sabrina," he says, turning to face the Saffron Gym Leader. "Surprised to see you here." "I could say the same for you," she answers. "You shouldn't be here." "Windy called you, I take it?" "We're the closest Psychic trainers she knows." "I'm not a Psychic trainer," he says, the same way he does every time she calls him one. Because he's not.

05. of the loved ones that we've lost (kingdom hearts)

Lourd had learned a good many skills from the months he’d spent in bars, learning to support himself on the turn of the card. The most important of those skills was acting. For days, maybe even weeks, he’d acted as though he’d given up. Lying still instead of struggling within his bonds, no longer tracking movements with his eyes. Yes, he still had his heart, but he clung to that out of sheer spite. It was easy to make it appear as though that spite made him too tired for anything else. And then at last–                                                 –at last– His efforts were rewarded.

06. Unseilie (kingdom hearts)

Only three months ago, Maliaur had been free. A refugee, certainly, with his homeworld destroyed at the hand of one of his own kind, but he had been alive and free — and slowly amassing power to challenge she who had destroyed their world and betrayed all, enemies, allies, and kin. Now he had nothing — not life nor freedom nor even his own name. The so-called Superior didn't know what he was, but he did know the power of names. He had stripped Maliaur's name from him, rearranged it to his liking and put his mark on it, then presented it to him as though he should be grateful to be worthy: Marluχia. None of the others had noticed, but then, they were only mortals. 

07. Echolocation (kingdom hearts)

I don't know what I expected after diving deep into my own heart, but landing all but weightlessly on stained glass flooring was not it. Suddenly everything seemed — muted. Tranquil, almost, despite the disorientation of going from white hallways to stained glass in blackness. It was still imperative that I find the darkness I'd kept back from myself, but the time it would take no longer mattered. Glancing down, I suddenly realised that the stained glass beneath my feet bore a distinct image. I backed up, my steps echoing hollowly, until my heel brushed empty air. Now I could see the whole of the image, dominated by a boy in the centre. Black-haired and black-eyed, he wielded a lance two feet too big for him; his face was a grimace of rage, pain, and fear. He was me, as I had been the night Radiant Garden fell.

08. Glaciate (kingdom hearts)

Demyx hadn't been a member of the Organization for very long. Still, he thought it was just as well that he had made the attempt to play the shadows to their doom rather than his sisters. He wasn't sure humans were a delicacy they would willingly give up. Surprisingly, it hadn't taken him long at all to get used to walking. Getting away from Vexen had been a strong motivator, admittedly, and learning to control water instead of swimming through it a good excuse. The clone-forms were a happy accident, one he never would have discovered by practising magic as Vexen had shown him. Even as a merman, instruments had been his forté, and water simply responded better when he played. Why else would his sympathetic weapon manifest as a sitar?

09. Genesis (kingdom hearts)

Someone was watching him. Dilan pushed Aeleus back and signalled quickly for a pause. The other Guard frowned as Dilan glanced around the training room. "What is it?" Aeleus asked. Dilan shook his head, returning his attention to the taller man. "It's nothing."

10. Winter Court (kingdom hearts)

Rufus hated dealing with Maleficent. While not necessarily a usurper, she still ruled the kingdom that was his by birthright. Unfortunately, the witch had made it plain that his continued existence depended upon her unopposed rule. He supposed he should consider himself lucky the terms of their bargain hadn't altered as he aged.

Tagging @twocatstailoring, @tigerkat24, @shadowsong26x, and everyone whose tags i've forgot!

[nebulablakemurphy]

The Red Room

Summary: Meeting Yelena in the red room is the best and worse thing that’s ever happened to you. Warning: romantic Yelena x Fem!reader pairing and depictions of violence.

Those first weeks in the red room pass in a blur. You have one room. Just you. Meals are delivered like clockwork; no one speaks to you. Your only company being the television set that plays the same clips; morning, noon and night.

Until one day the lights flip on brightly above you and a woman enters. You squint up at her, “hello?”

“Hello.” She replies, “are you ready to get out of here?”

“Where will I go?” You wonder.

“Wherever I tell you.”

That is your first encounter with Madame B. When you were younger you thought her something of a savior. You know better now. Still when she calls for you, there’s no choice but to go.

You make your way down the long hall, florescent lights humming above you. Finally reaching the room you’ve been assigned; you grasp the door knob. Feeling the weight of the cool metal against your palm, with a steadying breath you turn it.

Inside is only Madame B and a girl. One you’ve only seen in passing, one of Dreykov’s favorites.

“Y/N, meet Yelena. She will be your partner from now on.” Madame B leads the introduction.

“Did something happened to Oksana?” Your brows pull together, voice small. Afraid to cross an unspoken boundary. She’s always been your partner.

“Oksana is no longer your concern.” The woman bites out. “Shake hands and prepare for your lesson.”

You nod, biting your tongue.

Lesson…

Sparring.

Dancing.

Captive simulations.

What will it be this time?

“Oksana is ok.” Yelena tells you, once the trainer is out of earshot.

“Good,” you whisper, holding your hand out to shake without another word.

“Is that why they kept you locked up so long? You don’t play well with others?” The blonde takes your hand, eyes narrowed into slits.

“I don’t play at all.” You inform her. Pleasing these people is your ticket out of here, and you will get out.

“Everybody plays, whether you want to or not.” Yelena tells you, letting your fingers slip from hers. “Just don’t get in my way.”

——————————————————————-

You don’t get in each other’s way. Somehow having Yelena as a combat partner is a lot less annoying than you anticipated.

Oksana is a better friend, but you aren’t here to make friends. You’re here to kill. Topple regimes from the inside out, Yelena helps you do that.

Your training with Yelena is different. Chipping away parts of you until you fit together seamlessly. From trust falls to synchronized attack plans, you name it you do it. Sometimes until you bleed.

One of your trainers, Ivan, has taken a liking to blind folded direction. Outside of captive simulations it is your least favorite team building activity.

You remind yourself to focus and breathe. In some ways guiding is worse than being guided. “Veer slightly to your right.”

Yelena lifts one bare foot, holding it airborne, allowing you to assess the placement of her next step. “Here?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, as she clears the bit of shattered glass. “That’s perfect.”

———————————————————————

Your first real assignment comes on Monday, June second.

“Come in, Miss American Pie. I have eyes on the target.” Yelena informs you through the ear piece.

“That’s still not my name, over. Stay high, I’m going down.” You reply, deploying your rope and riding it to the ground.

“Five ticks northwest and the package is yours.”

“Copy.” You follow her instruction, ducking away as a bullet shatters the window beside you. “Easy.” You chastise, in a hushed whisper.

“Sorry,” she apologizes half heartedly. The kill was necessary and she had a clean shot.

You spot your target, ready to turn onto the main street from the alleyway. You wrestle him to the ground, he puts up a good fight. Not good enough.

You wipe the blood from your hands before removing the usb drive from his breast coat pocket. “Just admit it,” you taunt, turning to the building Yelena is scoping from, “you’re proud of me.”

“Y/N!” Her tone is not playful at all.

What’s wrong? Before you get a chance to ask the man you’d assumed dead has his knife buried in your thigh.

You crumple to the ground as he prepares to strike again. In the time it takes to unholster your weapon a silent bullet reaches his temple from the sky.

You squint up at Yelena, watching her ride her teether down to the ground beside you. “Thanks.” You pant, inspecting the damage.

“That was sloppy,” she frowns, searching her pack for the midkit, then tearing open a package of gauze. “You always check the body, confirm the kill.”

“I know, I was stupid.” You gasp, feeling Yelena apply an obscene amount of pressure to your wound.

“We need to move to the extraction point, they can deal with you in medical.” Yelena rises, tossing your arm over her shoulder for support.

“It won’t happen again.” You promise, leaning heavily against her side.

“You’re right, it won’t. I have no idea what happens to me if you die.” She grumbles, somewhat bitterly.

———————————————————————

Interactions with Yelena are sparse after that. She doesn’t trust you. Only showing up for your lessons and leaving the moment they’re finished. You understand why she’s angry, you would be too.

According to your weekly rotation, today should be live target practice, however you are directed to a different room.

Once inside your eyes find the chair. You hate that chair. You hate this room. Nothing good ever happens here.

Slowly you move toward Yelena at the far wall.

“A little birdie told me that you’ve been holding back in combat lessons.” Ivan says, tapping a finger to his chin. “Why is that?”

You bite anxiously at the inside of your cheek.

“I said why is that?!”

You notice Yelena flinch from the corner of your eye. “It’s my fault,” you hold up a hand. “I took a hit on our last mission and my partner was being mindful of my injuries.”

“Oh I see.” He smirks, condescendingly. “You don’t want to hurt each other.”

“It would be counter productive to harm my partner.” Yelena points out. The red room drilled that into you.

“That is true.” His eyes dart between you. “But we can’t have you afraid of sparring together. Now can we?”

Your jaw ticks, awaiting the consequence.

“When’s the last time you girls ran a captive simulation?”

“Two weeks ago.” Yelena presents her left index finger to him for inspection. The nail just beginning to grow back.

Ivan hums, “When’s the last time you ran a captive simulation on each other?”

Your heart drops, all the blood running out of your face. Not for months.

“Hmm,” he wets his lips. “Who gets to play the captor first?”

Neither one of you volunteer.

“Belova,” he purrs. “Come choose your tools while Y/L/N straps herself into the chair.”

You don’t hesitate, it’ll be worse if you do. Tuning out his incessant chatter you find your seat. The metal chair sends a chill up your spine. Bending at the waist, you strap each ankle into a leather restraint, then your non dominant hand. Free hand waiting, curled around the arm rest.

Yelena kneels before you, her selections resting at your feet as she closes the final strap around your wrist. Your breath quickens.

“Fifteen minutes on the clock then you’ll switch.” Your spectator announces. “Make them count or we’ll start over.”

On autopilot Yelena reaches for the scalpel.

You don’t mean to scream…but eventually you do. You always do.

———————————————————————

Yelena knows your weaknesses and regularly exploits them to leave you face up on the floor during hand to hand combat sessions.

You used to resent her for it, but it made you strong. Stronger than you’ve ever been or hoped to be. The day you finally best her the room is filled with hushed whispers. Now you are ready.

You learn to move in harmony. The trainers ease up a bit and the other girls line up to watch you like an exhibit. You are two halves of a more perfect whole.

“Madame B, can I ask you something?” You say, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“Of course.” The older woman replies. “What is it?”

“Why was my training so different with Oksana?”

She leans in. “You were not brought here to be a partner to Oksana. She was standing in until we could be sure you were ready for a partner. Nothing more.”

“Was I brought here to be Yelena’s partner?” The question burns at the back of your throat.

“I understand the desire to seek meaning in these things. You hope to find your place in the world.”

You nod.

“But you have no place in the world,” the words cut like a knife. “What you do have is an opportunity to prove that you are not a waste of space, time, or resources. Come, let’s sit for debriefing.”

You wait in silence for Yelena to arrive, finally she does. Taking the seat beside you in the meeting room.

“In two days you will undergo the graduation ceremony, after which you are granted up to three days recovery time before you will be deployed to Moscow.” Madame B reviews the information, handing you each a folder of details.

“Enclosed you will find your identification cards and aliases. I suggest you take this time to familiarize yourselves. Tomorrow we will begin shooting photographs for the past two years of your lives. Report with several changes of clothing. Congratulations on this assignmet. It is a great honor.” Madame B dismisses you.

You open the file. ‘Katherine and Irena Reiner.’

“We’re sisters?” Yelena guesses.

Worse. “We’re married.”

“Even better.” She says under her breath, rising from the chair.

———————————————————————

Life in Moscow is different. Good. The neighbors are easy enough to convince. You play your parts to perfection.

The company you work for being the main focus. They have access to some sort of programming that Dreykov is desperate to get his hands on. You know better than to ask why.

Most mornings you get ready together, discussing the events of the previous day to prepare for the next.

“How come you only speak English?” Yelena wonders, turning off the steady spray of water from her shower and reaching out to grab a towel.

“I have a theory,” you reply, spitting excess toothpaste into the sink. “I think keeping me dependent on translation had more pros than cons.”

“They taught me.” She says, stepping onto the bath mat. “But I guess that’s different.”

You were brought in much older a majority of the other girls.

Your eyes meet in the mirror, seeing each other as if for the first time.

“I could teach you.” She offers, breaking the connection as she turns away.

“Yeah?” You pass the brush through your hair.

Yelena shrugs, “I have nothing better to do.”

“Just don’t teach me the wrong words to make me look stupid.” You arch a brow.

“It would be counter productive to harm my partner.”

Hours turn into days. Days into weeks and suddenly you stand on a blurred line. How much is she pretending? How much are you?

The two of you rest on opposite ends of the couch. Enjoying another round of prime time television.

“Yesterday I was talking to that girl in accounting.” Yelena pulls your attention from the picture.

“The blonde one?” You ask, tossing a piece of popcorn at her.

She attempts to catch it in her mouth. Having had more than a few drinks her coordination is lacking.

You smirk, when it falls into her lap.

“No Maggie.” She corrects you, finding the wayward piece and biting into it.

“Mmm.” You hum.

“Mmm? What do you mean, ‘mmm?’” Yelena’s brows pull together.

“Nothing,” you insist. “I was just acknowledging what you said.”

“You didn’t sound very happy about it. Did she do something to you?” Yelena demands, straightening her posture.

“No, she didn’t do anything. Anyway tell me what happened.”

“She’s worked there for a long time. I think she knows more than she says she does.”

“So are you gonna talk to her again? See if she’ll open up?” Yelena has that effect on people.

“I am married.” She rolls her eyes, flipping her left ring finger in place of the middle.

“Shut up.” You chuckle.

“I’m crazy about you, know you. Ever since we met in high school. You didn’t like me at first but you came around.” Yelena elaborates.

“I don’t remember seeing all that in our cover story.” You cock your head to the side.

“That was a shit story, I’m rewriting it.” She waves a hand.

“Tell me more.” Tell me everything.

———————————————————————

“Did you get milk?” You shout, peeking into the nearest paper bag.

“Was it on the list?” Yelena hollers back, from the front door, kicking it shut. Her arms full of groceries.

“I don’t remember,” you say, unpacking the head of lettuce and eggs.

“You made the list.” She scoffs, setting the rest of the haul on the floor.

A knock pulls your attention away from the food.

“Who is it?” You wonder.

“It’s me, George. From next door.” Your neighbor answers.

Yelena rolls her eyes, waving you out of the kitchen. It’s your turn to make small talk.

You step carefully around the produce to the main entrance. “Hey George.” You smile, swinging open the door, “what’s up?”

“Katherine!” He greets you. “Could I borrow Irena for a minute?”

“Is that lawnmower giving you trouble again?” You guess, leaning against the door frame.

“It’s running great actually. There’s something else I’m curious about though.”

“I can send her over after dinner.” You attempt to dismiss him.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” George moves his foot to prevent the door from closing, producing a pistol from his waistband.

“George!” Yelena waves, clearly oblivious.

“Irena,” he looks down at the gun, pointed at your chest, “we have much to discuss.”

“Clearly.” Yelena agrees, coming to join you on the threshold. “Are you going to tell me why you have my wife at gunpoint?”

“We should take this inside.”

“I’m good here.”

He presses the barrel against your skin through the fabric of your shirt. “You sure about that?”

“On second thought, I could go for a drink. Do you like scotch?” Yelena takes a step back, leaving room for him to enter the house.

“Who sent you?” George demands, guiding you into the kitchen.

“We also have brandy.” She says, expression unreadable.

“Who are you working for?” He asks a second time, adjusting his grip on the gun. “First one goes in her leg.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Yelena drawls. “But I’m going to warn you, if you hurt her, you die.”

“You have three seconds to give me a better answer,” the nuzzle of the gun sits flush against you upper thigh. “One, two-“

Yelena lunges, the gun firing into the floor when he’s knocked off balance.

George tosses her off as if she weighs nothing. You rush him, knocking the fire arm to the other side of the room. Your arms locked around his neck, flush to his back. He rams you back first into the china cabinet.

You fall away with a grunt.

“Now,” the man rights himself. Wiping away the blood from his split bottom lip with the back of his hand. “We’re going to have fun.”

Taking a fist full of your hair he begins pulling you toward the center of the room. You grab for a large shard of glass, slicing it over the back of this knee. He releases you, doubling over.

“I warned you.” Yelena snarls, stabbing her knife into his belly, making a straight line up to his sternum. “You thought you could use her to break me? They used to make me torture her! They used to make me-“ she breaks off, withdrawing her knife. Only to ram it in again and again.

George, if that was his real name, is long dead. A crimson puddle blooming on the floor. It doesn’t stop Yelena, hot, angry tears rolling past her cheeks.

“Yelena.” You say softly.

“They used to make me do it.” She repeats, the weight of the words crushing down on her.

Your arms envelope her from behind.

“No.” She sobs when she feels you there, holding exactly where it hurts.

“It’s ok.” You whisper against her ear.

The blood stained blade clatters to the ground. Her breathing ragged as both her hands find yours, squeezing tightly. Don’t let go.

“It’s ok.”

“No it’s not.” She cries, frantically shaking her head.

“I did it too.” As if she needs reminding. “They made me do it too.”

She allows you to stay curled around her, desperately trying to absorb some of that pain.

———————————————————————

Yelena’s drug of choice is alcohol, the spirits burn their way into her blood stream. Erasing all that she’s done.

“You want a glass?” She offers, setting the bottle of clear liquor down on the coffee table.

“No thanks.” You shake your head, hair still damp from the shower.

“Don’t be a hero,” she rolls her eyes as she takes a seat. The water had washed away any trace of George.

“Fine,” you take a long swig from the bottle in question.

“You’ll thank me later.” She tosses back a shot, sliding the strap of your pajama top down to assess the damage to your left shoulder. “It’s deep, going to need stitches. This is why we don’t go through china cabinets.” Yelena chastises, moving for the first aid kit.

“Yeah, not my finest moment.” You peek at her. “But it worked.”

“Mmm,” she hums, returning to her spot. Flipping open the white box and removing what she needs to stitch you up.

First she hits you with the antiseptic “сука!” Bitch.

“See,” you can hear the smile in her voice, “you are learning.”

You let out a pained laugh, “I guess I am. We need to call someone to clean this up.”

“Here,” she hands you her phone, blowing gently over you wound. “You take care of that, I take care of you.”

Your heart clenches at her words. But Yelena is your partner. That is all.

“Belova, do you have a status update?” A familiar voice answers after the first ring.

“Yeah, we need a cleanup.” You say matter of factly.

“Agent Y/L/N.” He greets you. “How many?”

“One.”

“For now,” The man remarks.

“You didn’t tell us we weren’t alone in this pursuit.” You purse your lips.

“There’s a reason we sent the best. I’ll put in for a clean up crew in the morning.”

“Let them know the body is in the bathtub.”

The goes dead.

The conversation distracts you well enough from the dull ache of the needle poking and pulling at your shoulder.

Carefully Yelena bandages the abused skin. Her finger tips running along the back of your arm.

“Thank you.” You whisper, relaxing into her touch.

Her lips ghost over your skin. “You’re welcome.”

Oh.

Slowly you turn, as if not to startle her. Yelena’s eyes find yours.

You move closer, tracing the line of her jaw. “Thank you,” you repeat.

She nods, still unsure.

“Of all the people I could’ve been stuck here with…I’m glad it was you.”

“You don’t have to say that.” She pulls your hand away gently.

“You’re right. I don’t have to say anything.“ You murmur, “But I want to… and it would be counter productive to harm my partner.”

“We can’t.” She knows it. You know it. “It will get in the way. They’ll kill us.”

“No.” You chuckle bitterly. “They’ll make us kill each other.”

“I wouldn’t do it,” Yelena insists.

“You won’t have a choice.” You point out. “Didn’t you hear about that stuff they started pumping into people?”

“Mind control.” Yelena replies in Russian.

“It’s only a matter of time.”

“Maybe we get out.”

“Maybe,” you smile sadly, “maybe we find each other.” In another life.

———————————————————————

Three days later Yelena comes home late. During your day off you were tasked with the more mundane tasks of running a household, but you suppose there are worse things. She finds you in the laundry room, drink already in hand. Her mouth set in a frown.

“What’s wrong?” You drop the piece of clothing back into the basket.

“I have it.” Yelena confesses.

You press your lips together, you knew this was coming. That information is the only reason you are here. “Did you contact them?”

“Not yet.”

“Are you going to?”

“You say that like I have a choice.” She stares down at her drink.

“I just meant-“

“I know what you meant.” Yelena knows you, better than anyone. The red room saw to that. “Do you want to stay one more night?”

“Do you?” You wonder.

“When I was a little girl…I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye.”

“In the morning,” you offer. Any longer and the risk will be too great. “We’ll go in the morning.”

She nods, taking in the room around her. “I wanted it to be real.”

“It was.” You choke down the lump in your throat.

———————————————————————

Your return to the red room is swift. No pat on the back or celebration to be had. Just two pawns, returning to their places on the board.

You’re separated from Yelena. Because your loyalties are to each other and that poses a threat. But what did they expect? They made you this way.

You are alone. Perhaps the most alone you’ve ever been. Or maybe you’d just forgotten that you could feel things. You remember now and wish you didn’t.

Like it or not she changed you. Knowing her had changed you, for better or for worse. After Yelena you were never the same.

Word of Oksana’s escape only fuels the need to chemically alter the minds of all agents. Beginning in order of importance.

Finding Yelena seated on the bench outside the physician’s office steals the breath from your lungs. To see her now is blatantly cruel and calculated.

Still you sit in the empty space beside her.

“Do you know where your orders are?” She asks.

“Yeah,” you nod, “Budapest. You?”

“Back to Moscow.” Yelena informs you.

You swallow hard, your pinkies skating past each other.

“Agent Y/L/N,” the doctor opens his door. You watch as another widow exits, she doesn’t look any different. Maybe the mind control drugs aren’t affective.

You steal one last glance at Yelena. Her eyes are desperate, ‘don’t go.’ Both of you knowing you can’t stay.

“Enjoy Moscow.” You whisper, moving reluctantly to your feet.

She tears her gaze away, unable to watch you leave. “I hear Budapest is beautiful.”

You hope so.

Wanna know what happens next? Check out chapter one of Miss American Pie! 💜

Yelena Belova Taglist: @captainwonderwidow

[13uswntimagines]

Uh Oh Spaghettios (Uswnt x Swift!Reader)

Request- Y/n Get's hurt in a game, Taylor Comes to the hospital to take care of her and the fans find out about Y/n.

Hey dudes, this is part 2 of a one shot series I have labeled A Swift Life that will follow the characters in this universe. I’ll list the other parts down below. I still haven’t decided if it’s going to be a purely Emily/reader endgame or a Soran/Reader endgame. If you have any requests or suggestions, please feel free to hit me up. I hope that you enjoy!

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

The smile that etched its way across your face when the ball found the back of the net for the 4th time was blinding. You sent the Australian bench a wink as you copied their own star forward’s signature backflip, being engulfed by your teammate the moment your feet were back on the pitch. The ref blew the whistle signaling that the first half was over, and you laughed as your team ruffled your hair during your walk back to the locker room. You were proving to be a problem like no other for the Australian team, and the dangerous looks crossing the defender's faces showed that they may not have the answer for how to shut you down.

Emily’s arm wrapped around you as you neared the tunnel, your cheeks flushed as she leaned in and placed a light kiss on your cheek.

“4 goals in 20 minutes, you would think the defenders went on break.” She joked, pulling you tighter to you. Your smile got impossibly wider.

“Well, not everyone can be as good as stopping me as you are.” You laughed, ducking your head as she kissed your cheek. You had really opened up to the team since you had finally told them about your family. You had become touchier with everyone, especially a blond-haired defender. You weren’t always good at voicing your thoughts, but the team was finding that you were much better at expressing yourself through body language and touch. Plus it helped that you were a secrete cuddle bug.

“Yeah kid, what’s gotten into you today? You’re like on fire,” Lindsey asked as she wrapped her arm around you from the other side.

“Taylor said that she was going to watch the game.” You shrugged, causing both women to laugh.

“She’s here?” Emily asked trying to untangle herself from you., her eyes frantically searching the stands for your older sister.

“She’s in New York, but she cleared her schedule enough to catch the game.” You said quietly, grabbing Emily’s arm and pulling it back around you. You understood that Taylor was busy, and it made you feel warm inside that she always did her best to watch your games. She had almost flown out to watch this game live, but you had insisted that she didn’t need to. It wasn’t like the game mattered in the long run, and you didn’t feel right pulling her from her own responsibilities when the stakes weren’t that high.

“She’s still worried about the fans?” Lindsey asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Hm, something like that. I think she just wants them to know me for my footie skills and for her name.” You mumbled. It wasn’t that you guys were hiding from the fans. You just hadn’t explicitly admitted that you were related. You were barely on social media as it was, so your public interactions were limited. Taylor was also trying to protect you. She knew that you were shy, and when the fans finally put two and two together, they would be more all over you than they already were.

“I’m surprised that they haven’t connected all the dots yet.” Lindsey snorted. If any fandom on the planet was going to figure it out, it was them.

“Yeah, they’re like the world's greatest detectives” Emily smirked, and you rolled your eyes. Sure they were good, but considering that half of the fandom was still ignoring the fact that the subject of her songs wasn’t brit boy, you weren’t really worried about them realizing that you were a major part of her narrative too.

“They’re not Batman,” You grumbled, mumbling a thank you to Alex when she held the locker room door open for the three of you. She nodded your way, a smirk set on her lips.

“No, you’re superman, flying around and scoring goals,” She said as you passed her, and you frowned.

“Does that make Emily her Lois Lane?” Alex asked, causing the entire room to burst into laughter, and your cheeks flushed.

“In her dream” Emily snorted, untangling herself from you and pushing you away lightly. You averted your eyes from Lindsey’s I’m sorry eyes and stared pointily at the floor. You missed the glares your teammates were sending towards the blond defender. It wasn’t a secret to them that you had a thing for Saucy Sonny.  They had bets going for who was going to make the first move and how long it was going to take for the two you to stop being oblivious.

“That’s enough ladies, we need to go over some things before the next half,” Jill interjected, before beginning to talk strategy. You knew that she was way out of your league, but hearing and seeing her disgust with the very idea of giving you a chance still hurt. You spent your halftime half-way listening to Jill drone on and on about positions and getting behind the defenders, while the other half of you was trying not to stare at Emily who was pointedly not looking your way.

Your thoughts were spiraling by the time you made it back onto the field, the playful atmosphere that you had stepped off the pitch with completely gone. You were distracted by the swirling idea that Emily would never want you in the way you so clearly wanted her. That you had been so stupid to even hope that she would give you the chance to prove that you could be a worthy partner.

From the time you were little, you had been told that it only takes a second of distraction for everything to go wrong. But here you were, waiting for Christen to take a corner kick, watching the way Emily was bouncing on her toes, rather than paying attention to the defender who was marking you. You didn’t see the ball flying in your direction, or the opposing defender that was leaping into the air to meet it. One moment you were looking at Emily and the next all you saw was black.

----------------------------------

Alex had had a perfect view of the collision from the bench. She saw your eyes following a certain blond defender and not the ball. She had seen the opposing defender leap into the air, her leg catching you in the side of the head. She had watched you fall to the floor, and Kelley rushing to your side. Emily had flipped her lid the moment she saw your unmoving form on the turf, screaming at the defender who had hurt you and earning herself a yellow card.

Alex was at your side the second the trainers had carried your unconscious body off the field and loaded you into the ambulance. She had held your hand all the way into the hospital, only letting go when the doctors wouldn’t let her into the back with you because while she was your team mom, you didn’t share any blood relations. She had been regulated to the waiting room, where the team had joined her after their victory over Australia.

“Does anyone know why there are about a million camera’s out in front of the hospital?”

“I think that would be our fault,” Taylor said, rushing into the waiting room, her blond girlfriend skidding to a halt not far behind her. Alex felt her shoulders relax at Taylor’s voice.

“Thank fuck you’re here. They won’t tell us anything because we’re not “family”” She

“Not family my ass, you guys spend more time with her than anyone else” Taylor spat, finally taking in the exhausted faces of your teammates, her eyes lingering on Lindsey and Emily’s red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks. She wasn’t thrilled that you were going for someone (or multiple someones?), so much older than you, her protective instincts wanting her to make sure that you didn’t get taken advantage of. But on the other hand, they clearly cared for you deeply.

“That’s what I said, but it’s the policy or whatever” Kelley grumbled, pulling Taylor’s attention away from where Emily and Lindsey were curled together in the corner of the waiting room, both being comforted by Sam, Tobin, and Christen.

“Let’s go find the doctor babe,” Karlie said quietly, running a hand up Taylor’s back. Taylor sighed. There would be time to grill the two women who you may or may not be crushing on later. For now, your health was her first priority.

----------------------------------

The first thing you noticed was the incredibly annoying beeping coming from somewhere in the room. It was probably your roommate's alarm again. You couldn’t remember what time you had gone to bed last night, but all you wanted to do was sleep a little more and the annoying beep was preventing you from doing that. Why you had been paired to room with Becky for this camp, you didn’t understand. She was a total morning person while you loved to stay in bed all day.

“Turn it off.” You groaned, your eyelids fluttering. God the sun was bright this morning.

“No can-do kiddo,” The voice beside you chuckled, startling you. That wasn’t Becky’s voice or anyone from the team.

“Tay?” You asked groggily, attempting to turn your head to survey the room, but realizing that that was a terrible idea as a wave of nausea hit you. “Whoa”.

“Stay still babe,” Another voice said from beside Taylor, a hand resting on your chin to prevent you from wiggling around.

“Yeah, I’m here, so is Karlie,” Taylor whispered quietly, hovering over your face so you could see her. You winced, moving Karlie’s hand and trying to sit up on your own again. Alex (who was on your other side) and Taylor immediately jumped in to help you.

“What happened?” You asked, wincing as the pounding in your head increased for a moment as you settled back against the pillows.

“You scared the shit out of us” Kelley grumbled from beside Alex. A small smile etched its way across your face at the sight of the 4 women who were more like parents than siblings sitting by your side. The 4 women who always supported you, and only wanted you to be yourself.

“You got hit in the head really hard. Try not to move around too much. ok?” Taylor said, running a soothing hand through your hair. You pouted. If there was one thing that you hated more than anything else it was being forced to remain still.

“You probably have a concussion kiddo,” Alex added, grabbing your hand and running her thumb over the back of your knuckles.

“No not that. Did we win?” You asked anxiously. The last thing that you remembered was being ahead, and if the team had lost because you got hurt, you didn’t know what you would do. It would probably mean that your USWNT career was over.

“Of course that’s what you’re worried about,” Kelley sighed exasperatedly. You were going to have to learn that there were more important things in life than winning and losing. It was a little scary how much of your identity you based on your abilities on the pitch.

“Well did we?” You insisted, causing the women to chuckle again, Alex nodded and began to rub soothing circles on your shoulder again.

“I’ll find the game for you, just give me a second,” Karlie added, grabbing the remote control and beginning to flick through the channels to find the replay of the game.

“I’m going to go tell Em and Linds that you’re awake,” Kelley said after a few moments, rubbing your leg as she stood up and moved towards the door.

“They’re still here?” You asked, your eyes widening and your cheeks turning red.

“Trust me, kid, they’re not leaving until you do,” Kelley threw over her shoulder as she exited the room. The room was quiet for a few moments, the only sound being the soft murmur of the television. Karlie had changed the channel to the Sportscenter. You relaxed back into the bed, content to watch the commentators break down the game. Your breath caught in your throat as they played the collision again. It wasn’t watching the accident that made you freeze, but instead the photos of a very upset looking Taylor rushing into the hospital. You never wanted to scare or her them, and knowing that you did was really hard. You weren’t upset that the fans had figured it out, frankly, you were surprised that it hadn’t happened earlier.

“So I guess we should tell the fans that I’m not dead,” You mumbled after a few minutes, slowly turning to look at Taylor.

“You’re ok with them knowing?” She asked hesitantly, running the hand that was carding through your hair down your cheek in a soothing motion. You sighed into her touch. She wasn’t your mother, but she had always been nurturing towards you. She was the one who held you after a nightmare or a game that didn’t go the way you wanted it to. Your mom was a firm believer in tough love, sometimes too tough. She wanted the best for you, Austin and Taylor. That meant pushing you to your limits and expecting you to live up to the things your siblings had done. You knew your mother loved you, but Taylor was the one who filled the nurturing role for you.

“I’m not ashamed to be your sister Tay.” You whispered back, and she nodded. She never assumed you were. She knew her fans could be a little… much, and she had just wanted to protect you. Now you would be under an even brighter spotlight than you had been before.

“I never thought you were. I just wanted to make sure you were ready first.” She said back, placing a kiss on your temple. You hummed back, your eyelids fluttering. The fans were like a wave. You could watch from a distance and pretend you knew what you were getting into, but in all honesty, there was no way to prepare for them. You would have had to jump in sooner or later, at least now your teammates could post the videos of them annoying you with her songs online now.

“You know that this means that I get to talk about how awesome you are now right?” Taylor said with a chuckle, and you groaned. Taylor never wanted you to feel like you were in her shadow, and now that the fans knew she was related to you, she was going to take every opportunity to show them just how amazing you were. The fans were about to find out how big of a Y/n Swift stan she was.

[amythedvdhoarder]

Making Decisions

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Summary: Steve lets something slip which results in you being removed from missions. Needless to say you’re not impressed

Warnings: Little bit of angst, the occasional bad language word, implied smut and lots of fluffy goodness.

Word count: 3.3K

A/N: (Gif not mine) I love a fluffy fic and am going through a Steve phase right now. Sooooo why not combine the two in honour of amazing August writing challenge hosted by the lovely @stargazingfangirl18​ and @navybrat817. I used the prompt “We’re not done yet.” 

Not beta read, any mistakes are my own.

Reblogs and feedback are most welcome, so let me know what you think x

Masterlist

xxx

You bit down on your bottom lip hard, the coppery taste of blood told you the delicate flesh had torn under the pressure. The sensation was the only think stopping you from shouting at the men sat opposite you. The anger coursing through you was simmering just below the surface, threatening to reveal itself at any minute.

Steve knew just by looking at you. How could he not? Your knee was bouncing up and down in an attempt to keep your temper at bay, eyes flashing dangerously in open defiance of what you were being told. What Steve was more concerned about was what was going to happen when you got home that night. He knew he was going to be in for it. He had told Tony the news in confidence as a warning, but Tony being Tony had jumped the gun, told Fury and it had been taken out of his hands. He hadn’t even realised what this meeting was about until you had walked in and he had put two and two together.

“We just think it’s for the best,” Fury said matter of factly.

“Do I at least get to ask why? I am still more than capable of doing my job,” you tried to keep the frustration out of your voice but you could tell by Steve’s wince next to you it hadn’t worked.

“Come on Y/N, it’s obvious isn’t it. This way we can guarantee your safety but also it prevents missions being compromised; we couldn’t do our jobs if we have to worry about you the whole time,” Tony replied.

“Worry about me? I am more than capable of taking care of myself. What is really pissing me off is that it isn’t your decision to make,” your voice was getting louder. Steve reached out and put his hand on your thigh, trying to calm you down. But the dirty look you shot him made him pull it back quickly and raise his hands apologetically.

“Y/N you’re not being fair. We have a responsibility to take care of the team. We are only do this because we care about you. It’s only 18months. You’re going to be occupied anyway,” Tony countered yet again.

You rounded on Steve now. “Have you got anything to say about this Captain?” His eyes widened at your challenge but he remained silent. Steve should have been backing you up but opted to remain silent, his silence speaking volumes to you; he agreed with them.

“Seems the decision is made. If you need anything don’t bother asking me.” The men didn’t have time to react as you got to your feet and headed out of the conference room.

Steve glared at Tony and Fury. Tony had the decency to look a little bit guilty about what had just happened but Fury, well he just shrugged, seemingly satisfied with the outcome.

“Steve-,” Tony started.

“Save it Tony, a heads up would have been nice.” Steve cut him off before heading out to follow you back to the apartment.

You heard footsteps behind you, knowing it would be Steve, you didn’t bother turning around. He was partly to blame for this.  As you reached your apartment you didn’t bother closing the door. You went straight to the bedroom and started pulling out your gym clothes. You heard the door go and Steve walk in. Ignoring him you went into the bathroom and locked the door. Steve sat on the bed and waited patiently for you to come out, hoping you were a little calmer and would be willing to listen.

Five minutes later you emerged; hair pulled up into a high pony all ready for the gym. He didn’t say anything but just watched you as you leant down and pulled on your trainers.

“I’m off for a run,” you stated flatly.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” You paused and looked at him.

“I wasn’t asking permission.”

Steve groaned “Honey, can you please stay so we can talk about this?”

“Now you want to talk? Didn’t seem like you had much to say earlier,” you bit back

As Steve stood up and walked towards you, you took another step towards the door.

“Please let me explain.” He sounded desperate now.

“I don’t think so.” You yanked open the door.

“Y/N. We’re not done yet,” he called after you.

xxx

Years ago, you had discovered that running helped clear your head. Whenever you were stressed or wound up an hours run would help put everything into perspective. Actually, running was how you had met Steve. You had been with Sam that day in Washington when Steve showed up, running literal rings around the pair of you. Both of you had followed Steve during his mission to take down Hydra, then during his search for Bucky. After that, when all of you were exiled things shifted between the two of you and the rest was history.

The tension began to leave your body as your feet thudded against the treadmill. You really wanted to go for a run outside of the compound but you knew Steve would have insisted on coming with you, even if you weren’t really on speaking terms. To be honest you understood why you had been taken off missions, you were going to step back anyway, but you wanted to do it on your terms. You had always been fiercely independent, being part of a team was challenging at times but you had always had some input. But having a decision made for you without being consulted made you feel like you weren’t in control anymore.

Steve wanted to follow you down to the gym but realised he needed to give you some space, some time to calm down. He understood why you were pissed off. He would have felt exactly the same. Tony would have to be dealt with later, the stupid idiot probably thought he was helping not realising the fallout telling Fury would cause. Since finding out, Steve had discussed what you wanted to do moving forward; you wanted to complete the last couple of missions you had prepared for, before taking a step back and doing more background work for the team. Steve supported you, he didn’t like it, but it was your decision. Whilst it was inevitable that you would have to cut back your involvement with the team, Steve was also questioning what he should do. He hadn’t discussed it with you yet, but he had an idea.

xxx

He was laying on the bed when you got back from the gym, he glanced up and gave you a quick smile as you disappeared into the bathroom. Your routine never changed after a run; quick shower, pull on one Steve’s t-shirts and follow up with a cup of tea. The tea was waiting for you on the bedside table when you came out of the bathroom.  You climbed onto the bed and turned on your side to face Steve. He mirrored you, leaving a small space between you, staying silent, allowing you to take control.

“Stevie, I’m sorry.” He reached out and swept some loose strands of damp hair back behind your ear.

“So am I. You had every right to be angry. I only told Tony to give him a heads up and also to get his advice. I should of -,” you cut him off by leaning and pressing a kiss to his lips. He sighed into the kiss, before gently rolling you so you were on your back allowing Steve to run his hand over your growing bump, your own hand coming to rest on his.

“Maybe Tony and Fury are right. I would be a liability in the field. Do you really think you would be able to focus if we went on a mission with you?” You gestured to your bump with your free hand.

Steve gave you a half smile “I always keep an eye on you during missions. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if anything happened you, even before.”

“Stevie,” you murmured softly as you trailed your fingers up his arm.

“Also, I went to see Fury when you were in the gym,” he paused to check your reaction. You raised your eyebrows in surprise but didn’t say anything. “I’m stepping back, at least until the baby is older. I want to be a good dad so I’m only going to be on day missions after this. That way I’ll be home every night to help,” Steve laced his fingers with yours.

“Steve I-“ your voice barely over a whisper.

“I’m sorry I didn’t discuss it with you first,” his blue eyes locked onto yours. “I just-“ he was babbling nervously now.

“Hey,” you turned to face him again, fingers carding through his hair “I’m not mad Steve. I love you. I just can’t believe your doing this. It’s not like this was planned but I know that our baby is so lucky to have you as a dad.”

“You sure?” Steve was a little surprised by how well you taking this considering the meeting earlier today.

“What about? Being mad, loving you or you being a good dad?” you teased

“Not funny Y/N.” Steve gently rolled you over so that he was straddling your hips, arms on either side of your head, keeping his weight off you. “I love you my baby mama.”

You giggled beneath him and reached up to stroke his cheek. “Isn’t this how all this started Captain?”

“I’m not sure. I’m over a 100, maybe I need a refresher?” He grazed his lips against yours.

Needless to say, your post gym cup of tea was forgotten about completely.

Taglist is open so let me know if you want in or out!

Taglist: @stargazingfangirl18 ,  @silentcoyotesong, @queenofstarliqht​, @buckys-henley​, @lonelyheartsm​, @alexa-lightwood-blog​​, @angrythingstarlight​

[mihidecet]

Tibi's MCYT WritingTober, day 31

I did it!! I cannot believe the month is already over ahahah When I first started this I had no idea how much I was going to have fun with this. Throughout this month I have gained so much, both in experience and in friends, and I cannot thank each an everyone of you for making this possible.

First, a thank you to @the-only-gamer-gost , who created this list of prompts! It was such a good idea, and I loved every single one of them!!!

Then a thank you to @whatimevendoinhere , who's been an endless source of ideas and support and all the good things in the world. Everything I write would - literally - not exists if it wasn't for them. So yeah. Love you bro <3

Then a thank you to all of the lovely people that have been reading this silly stories, to those who have been leaving likes and to those who have been leaving comments, both in the replies and in their tags. A thank you to all that have followed me, and to all that have sent me asks and requests!

I hope you've had fun, reading these silly little stories of mine! Today's prompt is "making a Halloween costume together"!

This is for you, I hope you'll like it! <3

Tommy doesn't particularly mind Halloween.

It's a cool festivity, and it serves as a break among the school days which is always welcome. The amount of candy and chocolate surrounding the event is also a very good side of it - no matter what his family is planning, he's always sure he will find good things to snack on during the day.

He doesn't really enjoy the dressing up part of it: too much effort, a bit too much to do and too little rewards for it to be something he actually wants to put effort in.

This is why, when Wilbur organises a week-long meetup that has Halloween smack dab in the middle of it, he doesn't expect he's going to do much for it.

Wilbur's planning a big party for all of them, and they'll be probably filming or streaming some things - as for all the rest of the week.

Phil has insisted on having a pumpkin carving contest, and Fundy has insisted on having lots of candy.

Tommy is hyped for the party as much as he is hyped for the rest of the week there, but he already knows he's going to show up with no costume and say he's dressed up as his biggest hero, because he is cool like that.

Then, one afternoon a couple of weeks before he has to take the trip to London, as he's working on a video while on call with Tubbo, the subject of the masked party comes up.

"I heard that Fundy is working on a pokemon trainer costume, since he bought all those cards. And, oh!, Wilbur is revamping the L'manburg costume, he says he'll do a post-election version of it, all creepy and stuff. What do you think?"

Tommy blinks at the screen, for a moment not understanding what he means, and then shrugs. A moment later he remembers his camera isn't on.

"I-uh- I have no idea. I'm not a big fan of costumes."

There's the sound of Tubbo's cord clashing against them and their mic, and Tommy can just imagine his friend gesticulating wildly in silent protest at his comment.

"What?! Tommy we have to have matching costumes then!" Tubbo suggest excitedly, prompting Tommy's face to contort on itself in confusion.

"Wh- but why? What is the jump to there?! Wha- Where did that even come from?" Tommy asks as he takes his hands off the keyboard - he feels like he needs to focus on this discussion.

"Well, you don't have a costume, and you don't like dressing up for the sake of it. So if you're dressing up to match me, it'll be more fun!" He supposes that what Tubbo is saying makes a bit of sense. Just a tiny bit. And making a costume together does sound cool. Kinda. Sorta. Maybe.

"I doubt that. But alright, I guess. What did you have in mind?" Tommy asks nonchalantly, reclining back in his chair to stretch out his back a bit. He figures his friend has already something planned - as he always does - and a tiny part of him is hyped to see what it's going to be.

"Uh- nothing. Like, actually literally nothing!"

As he bursts out laughing, Tommy realizes that he has a long afternoon ahead of him.

About a couple of days later, he's exiting his house by himself, geared with a fully charged phone, some cash and an extra charger. He has a bus trip ahead of him, and Tubbo jamming to some random song in his earplugs.

"Are you there yet?" Tubbo asks, as if they're the one stuck on an uncomfortable seat waiting for his stop, and Tommy glances around himself before he awkwardly answers:

"Nope, still got a couple stops to go."

"I am so hyped, Tommy, I am so hyped. The costumes are gonna be so great." Tommy chuckles to himself, rubbing at the bridge of his nose as he glances at the buildings ouside the window.

"That is, if I actually manage to find what I need."

When the two of them had finally decided what to wear at Wil's party, it had become evident that neither owned what they were going to need for the costume. Therefore, the earlier afternoon Tubbo had gone out to gather all the main necessities for his part - plus some extras they could share.

And now, at least in theory, he was going to guide Tommy through finding what he needed, as he'd admitted needing help to do so.

Now, all he hopes is that the clerk will let him film himself as he walks around the thrift shop - and later the costume shop -, so that Tubbo can pick out what he should buy.

He wasn't kidding when he said he has no idea how these things work.

Tommy doesn't particularly mind makeup.

He really doesn't like it on his face, thought, even if Tubbo insists that what he's putting on his face is not makeup.

Cosmetic fake blood is still makeup, for all that Tubbo tries to argue.

"It's got the world cosmetic in it, tho, doesn't it?" He tries, despite knowing he shouldn't.

Tubbo bristles, hand hovering near his face as they're in the process of holding up a scrunched up piece of paper with blood smeared on it, and they glares furiously at him.

"Alright, yes, yes, shutting up and staying still." Tubbo smiles for just a split second, then goes back to staring intently at his face as he dabs the blood smears on him.

Tommy is still glad that he'd found a cheap suit in the thrift shop, otherwise he would have felt extremely sad at staining that too just a moment before.

Back when they'd decided what to dress up as, Tommy had initially refused to wear anything on his face: he feels like it would have gotten all sticky and gross on his face, and the blood right now gives him the impression it's still going to happen despite his best hopes.

But Tubbo's idea is honestly so cool, he figures he can agree to some. Just a tiny bit.

Tubbo is by far the one who got the most of it anyway - Tommy studied him and tried to help out as they traced lines on their face and then shaded them carefully, creating a cracked porcelain effect on a base of full faced white that has got to feel so gross.

It is also quite impressive how he got his black suit to look disheveled and slightly torn up while not damaging it too much.

Seemingly satisfied with his job, Tubbo leans back to check everything one more time before nodding firmly.

"All done! You're sure you still don't want a bit of red? Like, as if you were wearing a mask, but it's your skin?" Tubbo asks, already reaching for the same colour palette he used for his own face about half an hour ago.

Tommy's whole body sags as he pouts in what he hopes is a convincing sad expression.

"But it'll feel so gross and it will bother me! Doesn't it itch?" Tommy whines and Tubbo huffs out, both amused and exasperated.

"It really does not! And it's not all your face! Most importantly you will look like a badass!"

Tommy gives another wordless whine, then an exasperated drawn out sigh.

About ten minutes later, Tubbo declares their preparations finally over with a clap of their hands. And since both of them are extremely well prepared for all of this, they're only five minutes late.

As they leave their room in a hurry, Tommy shoots one last glance at the mirror.

Tubbo, a falling angel: dark torn up suit, a broken wing, porcelain cracks on his face and a darkened halo; and Tommy, a demon with a nice side: pure white suit and a pastel coloured tie, with golden devil horns and blood smeared on one side of his mouth and the top of his otherwise pristine suit. The slightly darker shade of red around his eyes does make him look badass.

They're going to get some rocking pictures that night.

[wilburmacaulay]

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It was Passion Week, which fell that year very late; I went out in the morning; I was obliged to be at Natasha’s and I intended to return earlier in order to take Nellie out for a walk.

[marueonmain]

WINDFLOWER

part six ~ to be more normal ~

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part four) (part five) (part six)

A/N: I want to thank each of you who have continued reading and supporting me through all these parts (that’s almost 12k words total!) and I hope you keep wanting to stick around until the end. Stay safe. Stay healthy. 

Summary: Alex visits with James & Fraser in a bid to distract himself from thinking about his feelings toward Y/N. George is concerned.

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: Implications of Disordered Eating Habits. References to a Real/Imagined Domestic. An Absurd Amount of Pining.  

Word Count: 2.4k

Subdued shades of orange with the occasional single brushstrokes of pink projected through his bedroom window and painted him in light. A bird chirped, and another chirped back in a cycle of communication lost on other animals. Alex did not realize the change outside his window until the light gradient settled on a loud yellow and created glare on his monitor.

It was sunrise, and he had just finished editing for his most recent video. Where the hours of work went was unclear as it played back with the same level of effects as other videos on his channel. But the hours showed in his fringe, darkened with grease, and in his hands that shook from low blood sugar.

Sleep was for the strong – for those who executed enough psychological control to shush their thoughts. To untie their mental boat and let it drift into the oblivion sea. Alex was not one of those people. Quieting his internal monologue required medication that put him in a state not unlike how he imaged it felt to be roofied.

Or else he did not sleep.

And Alex did not sleep that night. Not because he needed to edit or because he was so busy he did not realize he was tired. No, none of that. He knew he was tired: exhausted even: his limbs felt heavier as, throughout the evening, his blood was spliced and diluted with concrete mix.

Why did he not take his medication? Why not sleep? He did not want to be trapped in ~the dream~ again.

Despite his fundamental understanding of the uncontrollable manner in which the unconscious forms dreams, Alex was consumed with guilt for dreaming about kissing his friend's girlfriend. So, he punished himself: not allowing his mind rest nor his stomach food as he threw himself into his editing.

He would not allow himself think about it long enough to come to the obvious conclusion – that the real issue was not the dream itself. Despite what imallexx edits might guide someone to believe (with their cutesy music over compilations of smiling pictures or clips of him laughing), Alex was a young man in his twenties. And young men (who enjoy kissing) think and fantasize and dream about kissing.

And far more than kissing but regardless... He had dreamed about kissing his friends' girlfriends before: or at least Mia that one time. Ok, two times. He had dreamed about kissing cute men he saw on the train. He had even once dreamed about kissing Princess Leia.

It was natural. But Alex's thoughts about Y/N felt damning, felt wrong. Perhaps because it was the first instance in which he thought he had a chance to get the girl. Not that he would do; he refused.

It hit him. If he were always doing something else, then he would simply not have time to think about it – about her. Alex grabbed a pencil off his desk and his JoJo Siwa notebook and wrote a schedule for the coming week.

His hand cramped from furiously trying to keep up with dictating the information as it spilled from his head. He finished writing, but there were still stretches of time to fill-up including that entire morning. Was he desperate enough to disconnect from himself that he would risk the Budweiser Bug to visit his other friends outside his apartment building? Yes.

While rummaging around his bedroom for fresh(er) clothing to wear, Alex swiped a hat off his desk and concealed his unwashed hair with it. Not his tiktok bucket hat nor his iconic pink one, it was a lilac snapback with an image of lavender embroidered on the side. He rang Fraser.

“Hello?” Fraser answered with a voice bogged down with exhaustion. 

“How’re you doing?” Alex greeted.

“Um.” (a pause – a processing delay) “Fine. Good. Yeah, what about you?” 

“Trying to keep busy.” He tucked his wallet and keys into the pocket of a pair of joggers he found hanging, oddly enough, over the towel rail in his bathroom. Changing into them required a series of short jumping motions as he used just one hand. “You have any videos to film that I could jump in on?”

“Well I’ve been brainstorming ideas for a new series called…”

At the bathroom sink: Alex did not wait for the water to warm before splashing it over his face. He did a quick once-over and washed his cheeks and forehead with hand soap. Picking up his toothbrush from its holder stirred an uneasiness in him, he could not explain; he brushed his teeth and spit without rinsing.

Returning into the conversation he caught the middle of what would sound like a rant or passionate tangent if he did not know that was just how Fraser talked, “…and I’ve been working on a script for something on social repose—”

“Another needs to be stopped?" asked Alex.

Fraser laughed, letting it linger before continuing, "You got me. It's not done, but I could definitely use you for some reaction bits."

"Great! I'll be setting off within the hour." Ambling around – as is the norm during phone calls – Alex found himself in the kitchen. Half-full liters of lemonade, grocers bags, and dirty dishes cluttered the counters. He worked around the rubbish to make himself scrambled eggs with ham.

Fraser asked, "And you're sure about leaving the apartment? With the Bug? We could do a discord-call."

"Might as well get in some time on the train before things shut down."

"Alright, mate," there was a smile behind Fraser's voice, "just don't get arrested."

With their call ended, Alex finished cooking. He ate his entire breakfast in the same amount of time it took him to pull on his shoes.

During the train ride, he turned his phone's volume to eighty percent and blasted his music through his earbuds. His playlist was a mixture of two to three alt-rock or indie pop bands with a sprinkling of mainstream hits: a calm and comfortable backbeat throughout. No outlier tracks that burst into hard-hitting or exceptionally fast beats – nothing that might pump-up his adrenaline or be useful to scream along with in a fit of anger. That was not the connection he made with music in his formative years. Music to him was something to drown out that pesky internal monologue when lying in bed for too long – doing nothing – but perhaps pondering on some heartbreaking or otherwise emotional line in a song.

He arrived at Fraser and James' apartment when it was still technically morning. Knocking on the door, he was greeted with frantic barking and his tired ~obviously hungover~ friend.

After fussing over Kenji, Alex spotted the camera set-up in the kitchen and took his seat. Fraser and him watched several of social repose's music videos: covers of emo electronic, synth-pop songs, and a lot more original EMD songs than either man guessed – and all were dreadful. Neither could sit through a single video for more than forty-five seconds, and most of the footage they shot was just of their mouths hanging open in a disturbed shock.

Nonetheless, it was a great distraction. Alex liked feeling like he was helping out smaller channels – even if it was just those who were his friends.

Only as Fraser was cleaning up his equipment and Alex was sitting on the couch playing with Kenji, did James clamber out of bed and stroll out of his bedroom.

"Ow. What was that?" Alex asked in an exaggerated voice when the shiba nipped at yet another one of his fingers. Turning his attention to James, he asked, "Has he been biting a lot recently?"

James answered in his softer and calmer 'tired' voice, "He only bites sometimes. His brain is probably just locked on the idea of food right now; this is around the time Fraser usually feeds him."

"I just wanted a picture for instagram." Alex tried to find a good angle to hold his phone. He pushed Kenji to sit on his lap for a nice picture (which was sure to get hundreds of comments and love heart emojis), but the shiba was far too hyper to sit still. The few useable photos he got were of Kenji biting at and tugging the strings of his hoodie. "Come on, Kenj."

"Reckon he knows what you're doing with your phone, just mugging you off on purpose."

Alex hung around the apartment for the rest of the afternoon: enjoying an ubereats lunch and having James crush him at mario kart...multiple times in a row. The three talked youtube and the continuing aftershocks and effects of the ad crisis, and Fraser asked for feedback on a few video ideas.

An hour or two from sunset, Alex said his goodbyes and caught the train home to his apartment. Upon unlocking the front door, he was met with an interrogation.

"And where have you been all day?" asked George standing with his feet planted shoulder-width apart, and his arms crossed over his chest – the spitting image of a disapproving parent to a reckless teenager.

Smiling his fang-displaying side smile, Alex challenged, "Why do you need to know?"

"Sammy came over to film the opening pokemon cards video, and you weren't here. Neither of us could get a hold of you. Do you even care about my upload schedule?" It was a half-humorous rant with an eerie sense of latent seriousness.

"Phone died." He shrugged, not looking his flatmate in the eye and certainly not wanting to admit the truth – he put his phone on do not disturb earlier that morning, muting most everyone, including George and Sammy.

There was not an ounce of belief in George's expression, "Fine. Where were you, though, for real? You never leave the flat, let alone disappear; almost called Will and got a search team going."

"I was just filming with Fraser." Alex bent over to take off his trainers. There was a click from his shoulder when he did – alarming for such young bones. "We should host something soon."

And he meant soon. As talk of a complete social shutdown, rather than just more public health advisements, dominated news outlets; the thought of non-essential businesses being made to close their doors was frightening. And what was worse than the eking paranoia seeping into every day, was the horrifying realization that the pubs were considered non-essential.

Uncrossing his arms, George's posture shifted to be more normal. His brow furrowed as he seemed to examine his flatmate heavily; even so, he nodded in agreement. "Sure, we could do that."

"Great," Alex chirped and started toward his bedroom.

George grabbed his arm as he tried to walk past him. His hand clasped tight enough that his fingers touched his thumb, and nails would have dug into the pale skin – if he had nails that is. Both men were silent amongst the awkwardness of the interaction.

Sidestepping out of the armlock, Alex waited for George to speak.

"You're doing ok. Right, Al?"

"Yeah. I'm ok."

"But, you'd tell me if you weren't."

"Of course." Alex left to his bedroom. It was in a bad state, but he did not bother himself with picking clothes off the floor or taking food wrappers from his side table to the kitchen bin. He pulled his phone from his pocket and checked for messages: sure enough, there were eleven messages from George: ranging from asking where he was to blaming his laziness for ruining their chance to film.

Alex flopped himself onto his bed and started to scroll through his photos with Kenji. There was not much choice, so he took the least blurry one and posted it to instagram – with a bright filter and a sarcastic caption that took him longer to come up with than he would have liked.

Fifty minutes he spent scrolling through instagram, occasionally checking back to watch the likes on his photo go up and to reply to some of the first commenters. It was mind-numbing in the good and proper sense.

Until he saw it – and it was not his fault, he just happened upon it – and it sent his thoughts into hyperdrive.

A post. A photo. Y/N sitting on her sofa in the dark with the one light source (presumably her television) from behind the camera casting a blue light across her face. One hand clutching the blanket in her lap as the other hand was held up. Jewel-like eyes peering through her fingers and connecting with the camera. A smile playing purposefully on her lips.

If Alex's thoughts at that moment were put into a blender, they might still have come out making more sense than they did in his head. Eyes. Lips. Blue. Watching? Angelic. Eyes. Fingers. Dancing. Blue. Lips. Taste. Lips. Soft. Photographer. Photographer.

Before he might ask for the app to load more photos, Alex's burst of energy and hectic but classic over-thinking was interrupted. From above him came the sound of muffled shouting. He held his breath, stilled as if a prey animal not wanting to be spotted, and focused an ear to the noise.

There were no words he could pick out, but from what he could tell – or from the details he filled in – it was not a light argument of few words but something that might supersede a genuine scrap. And it was coming from Sammy and Y/N's apartment.

As he listened, his imagination wandered. Alex visualized himself, rushing to Y/N's aid and wrapping his thin arms around her in more emotional comfort than physical protection. He saw her turn to him with wet eyes and a red nose before burying her face into his shirt. It would be uncomfortable – as it is to be around distressed people. Yet it would be comfortable – as she would fit against him so well.

Again, his imagination wandered. Alex visualized himself as the one shouting at Y/N and growing angrier as she refused his hard-hitting gaze. He saw her turn to him with wet eyes and a red nose before hiccupping out a sob and dashing from the room. No. That was not right. It was wrong. He would not— could not do that.

[captcas]

Worth Fighting For

WORTH FIGHTING FOR by capthamm

Killian “Hook” Jones is a dominate up and comer in the UFC while Emma “The Savior” Swan’s career was cut short. When Hook’s manager moves up and the office brings in UFC’s youngest legend to keep him in check, will either of them be able to handle it?

read on ao3 // tumblr: ch 1

[Chapter 2/?]

Change has never quite worked out in Killian’s favor, and he can’t help the surge of panic which fills his gut at the prospect of opening up to someone new, but he trusts Rob and Regina with his life— basically owes them it— so he’ll show up to this meeting with a nice suit and his best behavior. Regina assured him that it’s someone who knows the business inside and out and has a good reputation within the league.

He doesn’t really care about all that. He just wants to fight.

Well… mostly.

He exits the subway and walks the two blocks to Mill’s Management. He walks through the revolving door into the lobby and takes a deep breath. He’s been here a million and a half times for meetings and holiday parties -even to help out with Roland- but today the air feels thick with anticipation. He greets the receptionist, Anna, briefly, knowing full well if he talks too much he’ll probably be late for his meeting in half an hour.

She smiles warmly at him, a glint of knowing in her eye.

He figures she already knows who Regina’s replacement is. His meeting is at 10:30 and he assumes whoever it is was already here for a bit of onboarding beforehand. He nods and walks into the elevator physically and mentally shaking himself into character. Whoever this new manager is, expects cocky, dominating, MMA fighter Killian “Hook” Jones, and not the quiet, broken, human being he really is.

He knows he’s going to have to tell this person his life story eventually. They need to know everything in order to steer the press in the correct direction as far as questions and features go. They are going to need the highlights as well as the skeletons. It was easy when it was Regina, she’s been there for most of it and heard the rest from Liam, he didn’t really have to tell her anything.

This is the longest elevator ride of his life.

When the doors finally open, he exits and is immediately greeted with a thud to his knees.

“Uncle Killian!!!!!!” He can’t help but chuckle at the lad’s enthusiasm.

“Hello, Rol.” He slings him over his shoulder with ease. “How’s my favorite lad?”

“I’m fine but mom is waiting for you and she looks stressed. Dad said not to bother her today. Can we get ice cream when you’re done?”

Killian kisses Roland’s temple and sets him down. “Aye, lad. Good call steering clear of your mom this morning. I’ll talk to her about the ice cream though.” He winks as Roland beams and runs back to the room Regina and Robin set up as his place to hang when they had to bring him to work. They try and avoid it whenever they can, but with someone new coming on board, it seems absolutely everyone is in the office. Robin is only a trainer and coach (really has nothing to do with management at all) and even he’s in the corner talking in hushed tones to one of the other managers, Tink.

Killian assumes he’s here as moral support and gives him a nod and wave before heading to Regina’s office.

The visit from Roland was a mood booster but he’s lost all the confidence and swagger he built up in the elevator. He sighs and quickly snaps back into character.

He notices her blonde hair as he knocks rhythmically on Regina’s door frame. They’re chatting animatedly about something. Regina looks up, “Good, you’re here. Please take a seat, Killian.”

The blonde turns around at the mention of his name, and when he sees her face, he can’t help but gasp.

. . .

She hasn’t had to get ready for work since… well since high school. Getting ready for a fight was… different. She had a very specific ritual for fights that did not include the multitude of decisions which are a daily part of working an office job. Today, she had to worry about pant suit vs. skirt suit, heels vs. flats, hair up  vs. down, hair curled vs. straightened, and barely there makeup vs. the whole nine yards of makeup. Back when she was fighting, she wore her fight clothes and had her fight hair, and– let’s be real– her minimal fight makeup. Getting ready for a fight was definitely not the same as putting on a monkey suit and a pound of makeup and hoping it’s professional enough for Regina Mills.

Ruby assured her it was.

She’s not sure what makes Ruby the authority.

She trusts her anyway.

Ruby gave her a few different options as far as outfits for her first day, assuring Emma that it would alleviate stress about what to wear. Emma’s not so sure. She tries on the pantsuit first and it feels a bit stuffy so she grabs the second outfit: a charcoal grey pencil skirt, black sleeveless blouse, and a red blazer with low nude heels. As she slips the blazer over her shoulders and flips her hair out from underneath, she feels a surge of confidence she hasn’t felt since the night before a fight.

At the risk of sounding superstitious, red has always been Emma’s color. From her training jacket to her sports bra to her shorts, she dominated in red and it always sort of stuck. Ruby likes to think it was because of her “impact,” so Emma was not surprised when the red blazer found its way into her cart.

She promised Ruby she’d send her a picture of whichever outfit she went with so she snaps a quick pic before throwing on some mascara and grabbing her new work tote (also courtesy of Ruby) and heading out the door.

She practically runs to the subway, almost missing the 8:15 car. Once she gets off at her stop, it takes her walking two blocks in the wrong direction to figure out she’s lost. Practically late at this point, Emma whistles for a cab and ten minutes later arrives in front of the towering building (exactly five minutes early).

She walks in the front door and is greeted by a bubbly redhead, “Oh my gosh you’re Emma Swan! Mrs. Mills told me you’d be coming but I’m such a huge fan I still wasn’t prepared. Seriously, your KO against Mulan Fa is legendary!”

Emma tries to keep up but with how fast this woman talks, she just nods and smiles.

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be fangirling. That’s the opposite of professional, but I really can’t help myself. Anna, by the way!” She turns back to her desk and hands Emma a small white card. “Here’s an elevator pass. She’s office number 815. Floor number 8! Room 15! Good luck, hope to see you around here more.”

Emma smiles at Anna and thanks her for her help before stepping onto the elevator. She tries deep breaths to calm her nerves, but finds herself more jittery than before her first fight.

She swears this is the longest elevator ride of her life.

She steps off the elevator and is greeted by one of the sleekest offices she’s ever seen in her life. The entire thing is decked out in modern black and white furniture, and accented with UFC red. She has to physically stop herself from audibly gasping.

She searches for office 15 and is unsurprised to find it in the back corner. Emma takes one more deep breath and knocks on the doorframe. The brunette woman behind the desk looks up and gives Emma a sharp smile.

“Hello, Miss Swan. Just a moment and I will take you to Sidney in HR.”

Emma breathes a sigh of relief as she follows her, stopping abruptly behind Regina as she knocks on the doorframe of an office much smaller than hers, “Sidney? This is Miss Swan, she’ll need up with some onboarding. Keep it short, she has a meeting at 10:30 with her first client.”

He nods enthusiastically with a “Yes Mrs Mills. Of course. Please, Miss Swan, have a seat. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Emma sits down at his request, giving a tight smile to Regina as she heads back to her office. Sidney seems nice enough, maybe a little bit over-infatuated with Regina but nice. She sits at his desk and he immediately starts talking about her onboarding.

An hour later, Emma is pretty sure this is the best gig in the world.

The benefits alone make this worth taking for her and Henry, not to mention the pay and perks. As Sidney takes her to her desk, Emma gets a better feel for the layout of the office. She’s not one to feel immediately comfortable, but she can see herself really thriving here and it gives her the confidence she needs to walk into Regina’s office a bit early for the 10:30 meeting with her first client.

Regina starts chatting with Emma about last Saturday’s Fight Night and it only makes her feel more at ease. It’s rare to find women as well versed in UFC as she is without them practically suffocating her by talking about her stinted career. Regina is recapping Jefferson Hatter’s TKO when she’s interrupted by a rhythmic tapping on the door.

Emma tenses slightly, realizing this is probably her client. She doesn’t turn around right away as Regina greets the fighter, but ends up whipping around when she hears his name.

Killian? As in Killian “Hook” Jones.

Emma finds herself once again physically restraining herself from reacting unprofessionally— she’s pretty sure scoffing and rolling her eyes at her first assignment isn’t a good look.

He smirks at her knowingly as he enters the room and Emma can’t help but squirm in her seat.

“Killian, this Emma, Emma Swan. You may remember her from—“

Killian cuts Regina off, “I am well aware of Miss Swan, Regina.” He turns his attention towards her, “Swan, big day today!”

Regina looks between them like they’re playing at Wimbledon.

Emma swallows the entirety of her disdain for Hook and plasters on her best fake smile. “Yes! Excited to join the team here at Mills Management.” She shakes Killian’s hand for good measure. “And, to be frank, quite honored to be trusted with one of their best up and comers.” She smirks at Killian and she can tell he caught the slight jab. She expects him to back off a bit, but he responds in double.

“Likewise, Swan. I’m honored to be put into the capable hands of such a legend like yourself.” Emma knows Killian is kidding with her, but the legend joke doesn’t sting less. She tries not to react but she catches a wave of understanding flash across Killian’s eyes as he shifts the entire tone of the conversation and addresses Regina instead.

Maybe he’s not where he thought he’d be either.

Now is not the time to psychoanalyze her new client.

“How does that sound, Miss Swan?” She’s snapped out of her thoughts at the sound of Regina addressing her.

She has no idea what she’s agreeing to, but does so anyway figuring there isn’t much choice either way, “Great! That sounds perfect.” She smiles at the two of them and hopes to God someone recaps this meeting with an email.

“Fantastic. Well then, as excited as I am to have you both here and working together, I do have other clients to attend to.” Emma nods as her and Jones stand in unison. “Oh and, Killian, why don’t you escort Miss Swan out and give her a bit of a tour—“

“Oh, Mrs. Mills— that’s not—“

“Nonsense, Swan. I insist.” He smirks at her and grazes his hand over the small of her back as he leads her from the office before turning around once more. “Oh, Reg, I almost forgot.”

Reg? A bit informal— actually, a lot informal.

Regina looks like she may turn as red as the apples on her desk at the nickname but answers him all the same, “Yes, Jones, what is it?”

“The lad wants ice cream.” Killian shoots a shit eating grin first at Emma and then to Regina. Emma is entirely confused but “Reg” seems to understand immediately.

Regina rubs her hands over her temples as she responds, “Fine, but not too late Killian, honestly. And pick one topping. The kid still needs dinner.”

“Aye, aye, your Majesty.” He bows mockingly and if he hadn’t led Emma away so quickly she could’ve sworn she saw Regina flip him off.

. . .

Killian is not entirely sure how to process the fact that his new manager is the woman he’s been secretly pining over since the first time he saw her walk into the training center.

A year ago.

So Killian does what he does best and throws his fighting persona into full gear, only slipping once when it came to asking about Roland’s ice cream.

He probably shouldn’t have called her Reg.

He’ll pay for that later.

He’s showing Emma the kitchen when she finally interacts with more than just a nod. “So… Reg?”

He cringes and immediately scratches the back of his neck, a nervous tick he’s really trying to kick. “Uh, yeah. Regina— Mrs. Mills— and I were close before all this.” He motions to nothing in particular and somehow the entire office at the same time. “She’s sort of the entire reason I’m even here.”

Emma nods; seemingly understanding what he’s leaving strictly between the lines. “Huh, alright then. Guess we have that in common?”

He can’t help but shake his head in disbelief. “Pardon me for being forward, lo— Swan, but I think your track record in the UFC is what got you into the door. I doubt there’s anyone else better qualified who’s not currently fighting.”

Not his love. Bloody hell.

She responds with a forced smile and he can tell she’s not comfortable with praise. He’s unsettled by the amount of joy learning more about her brings him but also by the fact that he’d give anything to praise her everyday of his life.

This woman has walls. Great-Wall-of-China walls.

What he wouldn’t give to start breaking those down.

He finishes the tour of the office and, with a quick “thanks” and “see you soon”, Emma starts to head back to her desk. He nods in response, not wanting to push too much for one day.

He wasn’t positive getting a new manager was a good idea, but if it means being even a small part of Emma Swan’s world, he's all for it. Not thirty seconds after she’s returned to her desk, Killian pulls out his phone to send her an email before finding Roland for their ice cream run.

. . .

Emma sits down at her desk slightly overwhelmed by everything thrown her way in the last— what time is it? Noon?— 3 hours: a rad new job with amazing pay and benefits, a seemingly level-headed and fair boss, a grossly complicated new client who seems to be more than meets the eye, the feeling that shot through her spine at said client’s touch…

Do people say rad anymore?

Why does she care that he touched her back?

She doesn’t.

She grounds herself by logging into the computer.

Bad idea.

She’s immediately bombarded with email notifications. Most of them involve onboarding or her one-on-ones she’s to have with each member of the staff.

It takes her 45 minutes but she eventually gets to the top where she finds an unexpected email from her newest (and she supposes only) client.

Swan,

Pleasure to be reacquainted with you today. I look forward to our blossoming partnership.

You looked a tad far away in our meeting with Regina so I figured I’d recap what you agreed to. Twice weekly one-on-ones between you and I to discuss promotions as well as social media and desired fights, to be scheduled at our leisure. Also attendance at each Fight Night for which I am on the card (comp’d by the company, obviously).

I hope all of this isn’t too overwhelming, feel free to text, call, or email to set up our first meeting.

555-235-8872

I assure you, I am looking forward to it.

K

Killian “Hook” Jones UFC Featherweight Mills Management

Emma snorts– the email sounds like it was written by a thesaurus. As she re-reads for any details she missed, she can’t seem to quell the butterflies in her stomach. The realization that in a mere matter of minutes Killian was able to read her that well is comforting– no… unsettling? This stranger somehow picked up on her disdain for being referred to as a legend almost immediately, backing off and changing the subject promptly. Not to mention he could tell she was distant in the meeting and followed up with an email just like she wanted.

She brushes off the entire thing to pure coincidence and ignores the voice in the back of her head that is telling her they may turn out to be a pretty good team.

(It doesn’t help that this voice sounds a lot like a certain British fighter she just spent an hour and a half with.)

Emma finishes her work day with a barrage of meetings and paperwork. She was wary to start on a Friday, but after the rollercoaster day she’s had, she’s grateful for two days to recharge. Before logging off for the day, she pulls Killian’s email up once more and reluctantly programs his cell phone number into hers.

For emergencies obviously.

She also responds to the email, keeping it as friendly and professional as possible:

Killian,

Thank you for the recap. Let’s plan on meeting first thing Monday morning. I will reserve a conference room at 9am.

In case of emergencies, here is my cell: (555)-265-2335.

Have a nice weekend. See you Monday.

Emma

Emma Swan Talent Manager Mills Management eswan@millsmanage.com (555) 265-2335

She hits send, logging off her computer and booking it to the subway while trying not to dwell on Killian Jones and their work mandated bi-weekly meetings.

Or the way his hand felt pressed against her back.

Definitely not that.

[anti-anti-a-la-bi-bi]

Can you rant about pkmn sword? Rants are enjoyable to read

Alright, so it took me a bit to get my thoughts in line. Lets start with how I feel about the pricing: I am all for having 30 euro DLC over a third version for the full price, however, I do think that if they do that, as well as with the dex cut, they should quit with having there be two versions. Nowadays, with internet communication, it doesn't really do much for social interaction, it's just another hurdle for those of us who wish to complete the pokedex(and especially when they remove the GTS and make you pay for it later). It's still a scummy tactic, and no one will complain if there's just one version+DLC. It makes a big difference in the pricetag, since being forced to buy nintendo online, or two switches and two games to trade, are both mandatory payments to make in order to achieve one of the encouraged goals within the game. Furthermore, people within one family will likely be using the same cartridge, so if there is only one version, all in all, it'll make a huge difference for people who use a whole switch as a family as well. Also, I do not think that sword and shield are worth 60 euros. I think they're worth 30 at most, since the base game is worse than x and y/sun and moon. They also locked following pokemon behind a paywall, which is bullshit and yeah, fuck that. I think swsh are enjoyable, but not when they sell at the same price as games with way more content, games that look much better, and usually both combined. For what the switch can do, swsh look really bad, actually. There are a few pretty spots, but that's the exception, not the rule. To add on to things that I think are horrible; the raid battles, especially the more difficult ones, in single player. I don't have switch online, and as such, I need to do all raids alone. But, the raids are near-impossible in a lot of cases unless you get really lucky with the npcs and ai. I got two gmax Toxtricity by using wide guard with Zamazenta for over four hours until I finally got lucky for each. This is both to blame on the ai, and the horrible selection of pokemon. Pokemon that should have evolved at level 60, well, they are still in their first form, so you have magikarp and mudbray at a 5 star raid. At least have them evolved. They have good moves, yes, but their base stats are so low that it doesn't matter. Also, the shield mechanic. It is predetermined how much damage you can do, and if you land a supereffective hit, it's not unlikely for it to only do a sliver of damage and then the shield goes up. It's annoying, makes battles extremely difficult because a lot of npcs just won't attack while the shields are up, and it just becomes a waiting game if your pokemon is just there to act as support(such as my Zamazenta with wide guard to prevent Toxtricity from 2-hit ko-ing all my teammates). Also, the fact that even if you beat a gmax pokemon, there is still a chance not to catch them. It often takes ages to even defeat them, and then, 'Congratulations! You just wasted over half an hour of your life! Get fucked!'. I had this happen with Applin t w i c e. Also, the wild area is... It's okay, really. Nothing exceptional, my immersion is ruined by the sheer amount of pop-in, something that happens even when there aren't a lot of models on-screen, the Onyx in Motostoke being a rather infamous example. The trees look like shit, the berry trees look like they don't belong, to put it bluntly, it looks like something a student would make in unity. You'd expect something better from the highest grossing franchise in the world. The ai of the pokemon is often pretty bad, with them just moving in circles, I have seen so many synchronized pokemon at this point that it's just... Egh. Also, the customization options are still so limited? Can't choose eyeshape, can't choose clothes that actually make your character stand out, and you can't even choose your challenger uniform after you become the champion. Why does Leon get a special uniform? I have never seen a pokemon game so set on making you feel like a celebrity after you win, yet you don't get to have much of an identity in the game even after you win. It didn't have to be difficult, just a customization screen inside the dressing room of the Wyndon stadium, perhaps some extra clothing options? As for things I like: I like the atmosphere. The music, though sometimes repetitive, does help my immersion. The gym leader theme is dynamic, shifting with what happens in the battle, making me feel like I'm actually standing there, and the ambient themes work well as well, though those were rarely encountered at all. I love the characters, the trainer cards giving you some backstory on them, they are, together with the Unova leaders, the most present gym leaders today, with a history of their own. It felt amazing to just read the trainer cards(and I enjoyed making my own as well). The towns have their own themes, and while I can't remember the names, I do remember each location well. But. There was so much wasted potential. The castle in Hammerlocke? The large building in the east? Hammerlocke's castle: the vault, 1 room and a roof. The large building? Nothing. You don't even get to see the attraction inspired by the London Eye. Wyndon is so small??? It has a small shopping street, the stadium and the inn and that's about it. Castelia City was bigger than that. Overall, the game feels rushed. The gym challenges at the start were cool, but by the end it's more of "battle these trainers in a row haha". Also, the animations. Gamefreak claimed to need to remake all models(they did not, the 3ds models were used with better textures), and to make better animations(only for newer pokemon, most pokemon used their pokemon amie animations and further animations from the 3ds titles). The animations are still bad, especially for something as powerful as the switch. I enjoyed the lore behind the region, but I really, really dislike Dynamax. I like gigantamax because the pokemon usually changes in a way that is distinguishable, but regular dynamax... Nah. Give me mega evolution back, perhaps update its mechanics so it changes the gameplay more and requires more strategy, but Dynamax just feels like something that is so low-effort. Pokemon but beeg. The curry making, on the other hand, I love. Pokemon should not be a cooking game, but it made me feel like I was actually bonding with my pokemon, that they were present in the mc's daily life. I would love to see more additions like that, the possibility to become the kind of trainer you want. Enjoy swimming? Perhaps go for a swim with your pokemon? It doesn't need to be complex, but I'd just love to see my pokemon interact with each other and with my actual character more. The routes are too linear. The last route is literally a straight line with some trainers, with next to no effort in it. I also think that the handholding needs to be talked about. When you get to Motostoke and have signed up for the gym challenge, a staff member will lead you to the in, which is literally one screen to the left. Such examples are found all over the game, and I hate it. They do let you skip some tutorials, which is a welcome change, but characters are so willing to force you to stop with whatever you're doing and make you listen to their speeches that it still often feels like a slog, especially because you don't get to do shit besides gyms until the very, very end, in which the fucking champion tries to catch a legendary in a regular pokeball, not even a great or ultra ball. The lore is great, but the actual story is so nonsensical that I just didn't bother to pay attention. Hop literally recycles Hau's animations. I would love for him to have his own, so he'd feel more separate, because they ARE different characters, with different goals. But Hop is even more annoying than Hau because he just won't shut up. You walk 5 steps and he shows up somewhere, for no reason at all. Meanwhile, there's this big event going down, a crowd has gathered, you get there and... Leon has already resolved it. You just get a picture, that was what you wanted, right? That sums up most of the game 'the adults will deal with this!' . The picture doesn't even look good. Swsh is fond of just showing you pictures, for example, right before the climax when Rose and Leon are talking. There's no background music or anything, just pictures and the sound of the textbox. It feels so low-effort. Also, if you have a character that is a singer, and he uh, he sings, it MAY be a good idea to include VOICE ACTING. They had someone sing in Black and White 2! Surely they can do it on the fucking switch, several years later? The mouths flapping about just feels incredibly awkward. I would recommend the game if you can find it somewhere for cheap, not for the full price. There is enjoyment to be had, but it's subpar in comparison to other games for the same price. I may rant further depending on how much time I have.

[pokemon-card-of-the-day]

Pokemon Card of the Day #1767: Cradily (Plasma Blast)

Fossil Pokemon have always had the short end of the stick in the TCG. Traditionally they evolved from Fossils, which were Trainer cards and therefore couldn’t be searched out in the same ways as other Pokemon. In Gen 5, they were Restored by using an Item card and having the right Pokemon near the bottom of the deck, which was arguably even worse even though many of the Fossil Pokemon could put themselves on the bottom of the deck from the discard pile and Caitlin could put cards in the hand down there. Cradily was thrown into this ugly scenario, but with the positive that it could just bring Stage 2 Pokemon into play all over the place once it actually got into play. Was it a pain to get going in the first place? Of course, but it was hard to ignore something that could fetch strong Pokemon in droves.

120 HP was in that in-between spot. There would be decks that tore through that, but it did require some damage boosts for things like Darkrai EX to push through. The Fire Weakness made life a bit easier for things like Delphox, Flareon, and Pyroar. While a Resistance didn’t change much very often, it was just enough here that it messed up any real chance at Keldeo EX being able to take out a healthy Cradily. It also helped against Empoleon to an extent. Cradily itself needed 2 Energy to retreat, so it was a nice Float Stone candidate.

Lifesplosion was a really impressive set-up move. The base cost was a Grass Energy, but you got to search your deck for a Stage 2 Pokemon to put onto your Bench for each Energy attached to Cradily so it was better if you had more. Getting things like Empoleon, Delphox, or whatever else you might want into play with an attack was pretty impressive. It would have been far more useful if it wasn’t on a Stage 1 Restored Pokemon, sadly, meaning that any shot at a really quick Stage 2 in this way was basically killed off. When it worked, it was awesome, even if its only real chance was against decks that had a very slow start.

Spiral Drain was not good. 60 damage for 3 Energy was bad at this point, even if Cradily healed 20 damage as well.

Cradily was different enough that people gave it a shot. It was also so awkward to get into play that it was a poor form of support. It was actually easier to get Stage 2 Pokemon out the normal way. It took a year and a half or so, but eventually there was Archie’s Ace in the Hole which took the concept of putting a Stage 2 directly onto the Bench and actually succeeded with it. Cradily could do that job multiple times with an attack but was relegated to casual decks since Cradily itself was stuck behind a truly awful mechanic.

[smolbeandrabbles]

Dear Life - Tom McLaren x Reader (Vertical Limit)

Author’s Note: This One Is For The Nicholas Lea Fans! ...And like the one person I know might read this 🤣 Better believe I will be upping the ante on him somewhat over the next few months!  Dear Life - High Valley  - Now I haven’t used this or any High Valley music yet - God knows why. Time to rectify! 

Disclaimer: Okay, I know next to nothing about climbing, so my references are like... this movie... / Vertical Limit character’s aren’t mine (Again, or we’d have thrown Elliot off a cliff) / lyrics not mine. But this song really hurts for this. to be honest.

Premise: You’re 2 months away from becoming Mrs.Tom McLaren, and as you sit here and reminisce your relationship, Tom begins getting ready for his final trip before the wedding, to K2 with Elliot Vaughn... 

Words: 3599

Warnings: Nada

______ Dear Life, I hope you know I've loved you every mile down this road Had my share of hits and misses Tryin' to keep between the ditches Dear Life, I hope you know Dear Life, what's your plan Is where I'm suppose to be, right where I am If it is, then I ain’t leavin' If it ain't, then I'll keep on dreamin' Dear Life, what's your plan Now you're flying by too fast I'll fight to make you last Beggin' won’t you please, just slow down You're scaring me to death I'm tryin' to catch my breath Don't wanna let you go I'm hangin' on for dear life I wanna leave my mark Love til it breaks my heart Live so loud that my forever Echoes in the dark ---

Tom always carried a video camera. He said it wasn't to detail every stupid little mistake you made climbing - but you knew in truth it really was. He was the real mountain climber - at least high-altitude, in snow, hiking and climbing. You could hike with the best of them - but your speciality was free climbing over drier terrain and rocks, not snow and ice. You used to tell him the only reason that you would ever climb up snow was to ski back down - and he would laugh at you for that. But whenever you got back home he'd spend a painstaking amount of time editing together compilation videos. That you never got to see, but knew existed. "One day you're gonna have to show me!" "Aw, nah! None are finished Y/N! I can't show you something that's not done!"

 He could say that all he wanted - but as you sat in your apartment today leafing through your wedding planner again and sticking things into place, you couldn't help but notice how many video stills had ended up on the walls. Usually they were of him making funny faces at the way you were climbing or just genuine concern. Your favourite was one of the ones he had to sharply angle against the cliff face - you miles ahead of him, and the number of cams in the wall waaaay less than you should have put - at least to support both of you - to which he'd hand written the caption 'People I Should Never Trust With My Life On A Mountain: My Girlfriend." It wasn’t like you didn’t have the same kind of humour though. What about the one he’d had framed in his office? A picture of you with your head in your hands waiting for him to take an ungodly amount of time to decide on the correct number of cams to stick in the wall to take your weight, to continue climbing along. Captioned: “How it Feels to Be (Literally) Tied to Your Boyfriend For 24 Hours.” That summed you both up – you wanted the least amount of equipment for a light and fast ascent. Tom was all about safety, especially if you were there with him.

So you wondered what he might say in all of them... Only you might get your wish, because on occasion you'd filmed other adventures of yours that were less perilous. Like waiting for him at the end of a 5K run, chiding him for taking 15 minutes longer than you, and him protesting that a 5K was not a mountain hike - and he didn't need to continuously run on those! Or paragliding in a much more tropical climate than either of you were really used to. You weren't sure what he was planning, but he had a good friend that was a better videographer that he had taken up more than a few mountains as a guide for documentary shooting; and Tom had asked you for a few of the videos you'd taken. You trusted him enough to surprise you with that, because you had many surprises for him too.

 You leant your head on your hand for a moment and really turned your attention to those photographs. Decorating your home together had been a lot of fun; and you'd both taken a lot of thought and care into colour schemes and themes. At first only a few frames hung on the wall - but now each room showed like a timeline for your relationship. Only it wasn't in the kind of cute photographs couples usually took and there wasn't an anniversary one in sight.

No, these photographs were taken at the summit of every climb you'd ever ascended together. And as the more creative one, you'd made them into pretty collages. Frames weren't often wood or metal anymore - but whatever rope had frayed the most or was the oldest – he’d give you any worn out equipment to help with your endeavour… or sometimes you'd find an interesting stone, or you'd get post cards. You always put the place, height and time it had taken you to climb at the bottom too - sometimes handwritten in yours or his neat script. They became good talking points in themselves... And the first one had only been a birthday gift for him. But Tom had liked it so much he wanted to display it in your hallway instead of his office. "But Tommy then you can look at it when you work!" "Yeah but... When I'm not there who is gonna see it? It deserves to be seen - you put so much effort into this babe...!" And so on proud display it stayed - now joined by so many others.

When Tom wasn't half way around the world leading explorations up one of these peaks he was here with you. He had a number of guides under his expert tuition - and his company was all run out of his office. He liked to make sure that he had at least one employee in every far-reaching corner of the world that intrepid explorers would like to try and conquer... But if you wanted the best of the best, then Tom McLaren would fly out himself. He lived half his life out on mountains, and occasionally you were right there beside him. He liked you coming along for respite. So he could mutter to someone about some of the amateurs he had to escort up; "I dunno Y/N... Makes me feel I should only make the trip for experienced climbers only..." "You got me." And he would smile his best smile "Or I'd go INSANE!" "You're getting paid well for this though, right?" "AH. Yeah, I've always been about the money..." You could only laugh at that look on his face; "Well. Just be about it for this one!"

 You heard the front door open and close and knew he was back. Somehow, there was nothing like the sound of knowing he was home - and your heart skipped a beat. He wandered through into the living room - claret baggy gym shirt, and navy tracks...to go with his navy trainers with questionable tangerine shoe laces. It still made you raise an eyebrow, but Tommy was all about the pop of colour. "...Hey!" He still sounded a little out of breath, despite the fact he would have driven home. "Hey!" You smiled, heart still racing like you were in the presence of a high-school crush. He dropped his gym back by the kitchen and wandered over; you accepted a kiss on the cheek and he leant on the table and tapped the book; "How are we doing?" "Good - thank you! Almost completely ready." "Ah! Thank God for that!" "Aw, and I thought you were the meticulous planner here." "Babe, I am - but this... This is..." He looked a little overwhelmed for a minute, "Something else!" "We got this - you know that right...?" "Oh I know..." Tom breathed, and this time when he lent in you wanted his lips on yours.  "I just... It's so close now I..." He laughed "I guess I'm a little nervous." "More nervous than your next climb? Ah-! Speaking of, you have a meeting with Vaughn at 2..." "I know, but thank you..." He glanced to the clock "I got enough time to get prepped." "Better have..." You weren't his assistant, but you knew Tom's diary down to the minute - mostly because he'd synced your calendars. But when he was so far away from you for so long, you needed to know exactly where he was supposed to be and when. And how long he was expected to be out of signal range. You could deal with not hearing from him for a while; that was the nature of the job, but you still liked to know what days he was climbing, and when he was supposed to be in base camp, so you knew when you really had to worry about him. He gave you one more kiss before moving into the bedroom "One more climb and I marry you!!!" "It's a big one! One thing at a time!" "Like you aren't waiting to be Mrs. Tom McLaren!" "Oh! Only my entire life!" You put a marker in your planner and followed him.

It was still like having a school girl crush. By now he was out of his shirt and going through his wardrobe for something comfortable to wear. His meeting was only over the phone... Of course he caught you staring at him - with his shirt off you could see his tattoo and that strangely shaped scar on his left-hand side. "You okay?" He raised an eyebrow and turned to you, making you shake your head "If you could feel my heart right now..." His laugh was a little bashful and his look to the floor almost shy; "Why?" "I dunno. It's like having a crush on you all over again. I guess I'm just excited..." He looked down at himself with a cheeky grin; "Please clarify!" You scoffed, but knew pink was crossing your cheeks; "Shut up!" He nodded to the bathroom; "I'ma take a shower but-" "OH God! Don't even tempt me!" Tom laughed again; "And now I really feel like I should!" He folded his arms; and there was a familiar chink of metal as the pendant around his neck moved. As far as you knew he'd never taken it off, and he'd never really talked about it much, only to whisper that it was good luck. The twist of tarnished silver was strange in itself; you couldn't quite fathom what it was either. But anything important to Tommy was important to you. (Except it was rough and sharp in places and often stabbed into you at fairly inconvenient times.) It was silly to trust his necklace to keep him safe when you knew his skills would do that on their own. But sometimes the night before he was due to go, and you couldn't sleep (because you never could when those evenings rolled around) you found yourself glaring at it and always thinking the same thing; You better bring him back to me!

 You sprinted across the room to kiss him, which turned into kissing him multiple times, before he tried to pick you up and you shrieked, half giggling as you ran back out. His laugh was gorgeous and clear and loud; "Alright I get it! No showers-!" You peered around the door; "How many floors did you climb?" "300. It's still not K2. But it's a start." You gave a nod and a smile "I'm not gonna make you walk that to the wedding, don't worry." "I could call the venue and we could have it in the mountains...? Why bother making them the view!" "I could kill you, Tom McLaren!" "I'm sure Vaughn would fly everyone up!" He studied your unimpressed look with amusement "Ahhhh.... I believe that face is a firm no..." "Correct." "Alright, go on. Back to planning..." You continued to stare at him "What?" "I love you, babe." He grinned gently, and stepped towards the bathroom "...I love you too, Ms.McLaren." "Aw, not yet!"

 **

 "Oh! Sweetheart...! I think he'll love it!" your mother gasped as you detailed your wedding dress idea to her. Sitting back at the table and opening your planner again surrounded by your photographs and flipping to the dress pages (the only ones Tom was forbidden from looking at) made you remember that. Because it'd been this very table over drinks that you'd told her what you were thinking. It sounded a little insane, the kind of thing nobody would really get. But he would. "...Don't you think everyone will ask me the same questions about a billion times?" "Do you have to answer? I think it's wonderful... And it's not meant for them is it, it's meant for Tom..." You'd had the idea when wandering around your apartment on the phone to other aspects of your wedding, florists... bakery... venue... Musicians... They were long detailed conversations that both you and Tom had had. He tried to help you plan as much as he could, but both of you realised it was kinda hard to plan a wedding halfway up a mountain. But he did promise, and had expertly, sorted himself and his groomsmen out - and when he wasn't preparing for his next climb, he spent all his spare time helping you. Even though you were fine and actually really enjoyed planning this. But, each of these conversations had you staring at the photographs on your wall. And you'd come to the conclusion that climbing was what had brought the two of you together, and was such a huge part of both your lives. The mountains in the background of every picture had got you thinking; even if you were actually standing on the summit of the important ones... So the idea was simple, everything you'd ever summited together - whether it be a cliff face in a national park, or it was something as phenomenal as K2, or Everest. It was making it onto your dress. The scope of work was huge and you'd realised this, so it had taken the seamstresses an age to make to your specification, but you had tried to help and provide assistance at every turn you could. So a few weeks ago you'd gone for your adjustment fitting (although it was pretty perfect once you'd tried it on), when Tom was travelling back from his last climb for a little R and R, and had almost cried when you'd seen it. The mountains had been embroidered like a secret message. Only truly visible if you looked at the detail.  Some were outlined in a blue-tone white and were a little more obvious; but the others blended so perfectly into the skirt - it had turned out more beautiful than you had imagined. And there were actual tears when you tried it on; from both you and your mom and friends.

You closed the book again as you heard him exit his office after his call and tied the ribbon back - replacing it on your shelf. "How'd it go?" "He's crazy. That's all I can say!" "You're gonna do amazing..." "It's not me I'm worried about..." He gave a shrug "I know K2 well enough." You crossed the room and placed your arms around him "...I'm gonna worry about you.." "Yeah. That's why I don't worry - you do it enough." You brushed your lips to his; "Can we go out tonight?" "For dinner...? Mmmm... Don't see why not..." Tom ran his arms around you and pulled you tight to him "What you thinking...?" "The little place on the corner..." "Why do we always go there when I'm about to leave?" "Because it's your favourite." His amusement extended into his light brown eyes as he rolled them; "No. It's because it's your favourite." You smiled, and leant up to kiss him again; "That too."

 ***

 It was the night before he left, and the corridor was full of his gear, you were allowed to go to the airport with him but no further. Part of you wanted to go on Vaughn's expedition. It sounded interesting - and if it was all being broadcast when they hit the top... But Tom wanted you back here, and you understood that too. "You don't need to get caught up in all this..." He tracked back through to the bedroom; "Besides... You don't even like him." "Millionaire who thinks he can throw money at a mountain and it'll do what he wants, so everyone gets to see this inaugural flight? No thanks." "See. You wouldn't even enjoy it!" "Guess I get to see you on TV..." "Well..." He caught you in the living room for a short kiss. Fleeting - just like his time back here always was. You wondered how much Tommy would let you curb that once you got a ring on his finger. "...Unless they cut me out of it!" You folded your arms, with a frown clearly meant for Vaughn himself; "Oh. Because you're only the man whose gonna get him up there!" "...eh, millionaires!" "Who else is going with you?" "Annie Garrett." You gasped "Annie! Aw, I love her!" "Yeah another reason you aren't going!" He laughed "We'll never get anywhere...!" You followed him and realised there was at least another suitcase and a half to go "...I rebuke that and think we could probably take you in a race to the top." He shot you a look "K2 is not about racing. It's a-" You mimicked his serious voice with a whine "-Very technical climb and the most dangerous mountain in the world-!" He narrowed his eyes slightly, making you smile; "Didn't you get over lecturing me 5 years ago, Tommy?" "Clearly not, if you're gonna make stupid comments." He turned back to his things which made you sigh. "Babe, do you want some help?" His brown eyes flicked over his shoulder again "Oh, sweetheart, would you?" You nodded eagerly with a sweet smile; "Mmmm... I like helping you pack. The only thing I don't like is watching you leave..."

 ***

 You stood holding his hands so tight in the airport, and realised how torn up you were about this. "Y/N... You are gonna have to let me go eventually, you know that right?" "Yeah but I..." You weren't looking at him, but his hands, laced with your own - the pretty cut diamond of your engagement ring glittering gently in the lights. He bent to try to get you to look at him. "But you...?" "This one is so much harder than the rest... I just... Wanna marry you now. And K2..." "Hey... Hey... C'mere..." He wrapped you in his arms, pulling your head into his chest and stroking a hand through your hair; "Sweetheart you never do this... What's wrong?" "I'm just really gonna miss you on this one. But I'll be watching that TV close, believe me." "I know you will. And I'll be counting down the days until my flight home... And then we square away the final touches... And then Mrs. Tommy McLaren will not just be a Skip joke at base camp... Huh?"

He at least got you laughing gently; but he noticed the tears too. Tom didn't stop you from crying though; your emotions were all over the place ever since he'd got down on one knee. He'd never expected that, which made him guess you'd never expected him to do it in the first place. Probably because that's all his friends did joke about. Including it being present in the original introduction of you two to one another. “Tommy this is Y/N... She's a climber too! Since it's only you two that have that in common if you don't wanna stay sad and single for your lonely lives, you just aught to get married now!” Tom pressed a kiss to your forehead; it was long, and worth every second, before he caught your lips. "Look after the company, alright?" "I will." "And look after yourself... Okay? That's more important..." "I will..." There was a few seconds pause before you threw your arms around him again; "You come back to me Tom McLaren! You kick K2’s ass and you come back to me!" He wound his arms around you again and lifted you from the floor "I'm coming back, Y/N... I don't get to marry you otherwise..." "Just. Make sure Vaughn knows who's boss." He gave a wink, and salute as he set you down; "Yes ma'm!"

 *** 

You were still staring at the pictures on the wall when the sunlight faded; one more day gone. One day closer to marrying the love of your life. But one day further away from all these incredible things happening. All of these pictures captured moments you would never get back. And each one of them told a story with so many lost great conversations. Little glances or touches that were now lost to eternity.

Your eyes flicked between them all, this has all gone so fast... Even though he would be back soon, that would feel like an age. But all these years had passed like a blur. Would your married life be just the same?

You sat back for a second and took a deep breath to slow it all down. You hoped not; Tom was someone you had to savour every moment with - because in reality there were so few. And that made every second precious. You realised how much you wanted to look back on everything you'd done together and remember it all. No matter how impossible. It hit you all very suddenly. Is that why he recorded everything? So that he could watch back every memory you had a freeze frame moment of here? Because Tom McLaren wanted to relive every stupid, amazing thing that happened. As long as you were there in it. You shook your head gently as you pieced it all together; why he wanted your tapes so bad too. He was about to relive all those moments with you. But not just with you - Tom McLaren wanted everyone else to see those moments too. Everyone that was an important part of your lives and an integral part of your relationship.

And he was going to do so on your wedding day.

---

Oh have another GIF even though it’s not actually Tom... It still make’s me think of this fic..! Like he would 100% throw paper planes at her whilst she’s trying to work on collages and their wedding planning...

[agentdagonet]

Echoes, Ch. 29

Find it here on AO3

Find it here on tumblr:  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28

Fic Summary: Feet dangling off the edge of the bed, hands still resting on the earpieces of his glasses, Eggsy opened his eyes.

And promptly shut them again, screwing them shut like a child who had the distinct misfortune of biting into a raw lemon. Breathing harshly in his nose and out his mouth, trying to stave off whatever delusional panic had befallen him, Eggsy reopened his eyes.

‘Harry?’

Or: The Hologram Story Nobody Asked For

          There had been a card left on his desk, with a mug of tea and a still warm scone with no agent in sight. There were plenty of agents who would do this, leave offerings of a kind to the man who’d kept it together in face of the bullshit, as Eggsy would say; but the card narrowed it down to four.

           Percival could have left this. He hadn’t bothered to open the thing yet, but it was a sturdy cardstock with a simple and elegant edgework. That implied a level of class and sophistication that was easily present with Percival, and the personal touch was more in his field due to his being one of a handful of agents who had been with them through the Valentine disaster.

           If Lancelot had done this, then she was looking for an upgrade to some portion of her still new feminine Kingsman collection. Between her requests for more easily concealed weaponry for sleek outfits and her more overt demands for more fashionable eyewear she was in his labs quite often.

           Eggsy would have written something cheeky on the outside of the card, he couldn’t resist defacing anything elegant while in the safety of Kingsman. He didn’t dare to do so to anything in his and Harry’s house, but give him something vaguely disposable and there was sure to be a tag of some kind upon it.

           Harry was the most likely culprit, based on how perfectly the tea was made and the way the scone was buttered, but he also had the least reason. Harry was the arsehole who would ping his glasses to check the time, ask the weather, or simply chat aimlessly because he was bored.

           Giving in to curiosity, half the scone in his mouth, Merlin picked up the card and flicked it open. Apparently he was being summoned to a place he’d had every intention of never setting foot in again. At the base of the card was an unfamiliar signature, and looking down at the plate Merlin could see a bit of napkin, “have fun!” written in Harry’s unruly script only made worse by the material it was written on.

           So, that afternoon Merlin delegated the mission feed to the Lake, took his specs and clipboard home, and found himself standing on Michelle Unwin’s doorstep.

           ‘You going to stand there for ages or knock like a real person, love?’ Michelle was stood at the cracked window, peering through and grinning through the blinds at him, and Merlin could feel his ears flush. Some things can be trained and some things could not- but he was confused beyond measure and uncertainty put him on edge. He was a planner, not the type of man to fly by the seat of his pants- his plans had plans, and every failsafe had a redundant one beneath it.

           ‘Are you implying that those who do not knock on doors are, somehow, fake people?’ Merlin lifted a brow, and he saw more than heard Michelle’s giggle as she left the window to let him in.

           ‘Or Vampires!’ Little Daisy Unwin popped from behind her mother, and Merlin couldn’t help but be charmed.

           ‘Vampires, you say? It’s definitely too late in the year for Vampires, lass.’ Merlin followed MIchelle to the table, setting down the requested biscuits before turning to crouch to Daisy’s level.

           ‘There’s always Vampires! But they can’t come in ‘less you say so!’ The girl seemed to take this as her exit, bounding out from the room and shutting an unseen door. Merlin chuckled as he stood, knees popping, and turned to find Michelle smiling at him.

           ‘Thanks for comin’ Merlin- know it was unexpected.’ She busied herself with taking a seat, pushing an empty mug in his direction. ‘No requests for tea- you take it an’ like it. I will,’ she acquiesced, ‘allow you to add cream and sugar if you desire- an’ don’t give me that tripe about takin’ tea black like your soul, I’d know you was lying.’

           Merlin had rarely felt this off-kilter in a situation. The last time he’d been in this house he was acting on the requests of a ghost, and had left feeling like he’d drained an infected wound. And today was definitely not a predictable follow up to that interaction. He took the mug and poured out a healthy portion of tea, adding sugar but no cream before lifting it for a sip to the bemusement of Michelle. ‘Dare I ask the occasion?’

           ‘Ain’t no occasion, just figured you was like Harry and didn’t do shit outside your job without an Unwin forcin’ you. So, here’s an Unwin, forcing you out of your comfort zone.’

           ‘I’d like to believe tea is familiar territory for everyone, Mrs. Unwin.’ He hid his confusion behind the mug, eyes closed to further savour the warmth as it sank down his body.

           ‘It’s Michelle, you idiot, and it ain’t about the tea- that was just to get you inside;’ Michelle sat back in her chair, hands still on the table, ‘This is gonna become a regular thing, Merlin- you’re going to come to my house, we are going to chat, and I’m going to drag you into proper personhood if it’s the last thing I do. You spies are so for into your heads that you’re forgettin’ how to live proper, from what Eggsy’s told me. Not in so many words, but I can read between lines just fine, thanks.’

           ‘I hate to disagree with whatever Eggsy’s told you, now that he has begun telling you things-’

           ‘Oh he ain’t actually telling me shit; but between his and Harry’s blinders to what’s in front of ‘em and Roxy’s bein’ unable to make regular conversation with the boys there’s somethin’ wrong with you spy types.’

           ‘Dare I ask what you mean by that?’ Merlin didn’t dare follow a train of thought while confused. He’d end up like those late night Wikipedia binges and end up somewhere entirely unrelated.

           ‘You learn so much abou’ looking for the shit you can’t see that you’re blind to the obvious. You live in this world just like the rest of us, you’re supposedly protectin’ us from the shit we common types can’t handle, but you don’t let yourselves actually be a part of it. You’re here, but you… you lot don’t engage with the world as it is in the day-to-day, just at its worst, and that gets you stuck in a rut you can’t even see, yeah?

           ‘My Eggsy’s a man now, I didn’ see that ‘til he’d gone off and changed without me and came back to save me from my shitty choices, but he still goes to the pub with the boys from the estates. He hasn’ just shut himself up and waited for things to happen- even when he was mourning for Harry he was still out doing shit that wasn’ related to Kingsman. An’ trying to connect his new life with his old one withou’ forcing people to change- bringin’ Roxy to pub nights or invitin’ his mates to his and Harry’s place for a game night. He mighta gotten some new digs, but he didn’ let you lot turn him into one of you.’

           ‘Oh certainly not- the shoes alone cause enough talk, and we can’t get him to lose them unless it’s a matter of life and death.’ Merlin didn’t say that he’d personally ensured that he had the ability to defend himself, no matter how he was dressed, between those winged trainers having extra blades and his snapbacks with garottes in the seams Eggsy was never unarmed. He also didn’t mention how Eggsy’s refusal to bend to the whims of the elder generation had done nothing but endear himself to the support staff.

           ‘Yeah, well, can’ take the estates from the kid no matter how he’s dressed- and you posh types needed a good kick in the arse. The world’s changing, an’ trying to do the same shit to fix a new problem just don’t work. That’s just the way it is- an’ without fresh eyes you can’ see shit. So,’ Michelle lifted a hand and gestured regally to herself and the house around her, ‘here’s your dose of reality courtesy of Unwin. No expiration date, no catch, no choice- you’ll come here an’ get an outside view of somethin’ and you’re gonna like it.’

           ‘This is quite honestly the last thing I’d have expected after our last conversation.’

           ‘Yeah, well, I was gettin’ impatient waiting for you to show back up here- figured I’d have to make the opening move.’

           ‘What made you think I’d come back here at all?’

           ‘You ain’t the type of person to leave a job half done, Merlin, from what Eggsy’s said ‘bout you over the last year ‘n change. You delivered a message but you didn’t see any of the results of that message- and you’re the person who cares about results just as much as actions.’

           ‘Are you certain that Eggsy doesn’t tell you anything about his work?’

           ‘Sure as I am that he’s got no clue Hart’s in love with him.’

           Merlin spat out his tea.

           ‘How are you so sure about that?’

           ‘If you’ve spent half as long as I have talkin’ with him about Eggsy, I don’t have to explain it. You know. He doesn’t- neither of ‘em seem to have any clue about the other, and they’re both idiots, and I’m about sick of waiting for them to figure it out.’

           ‘And you don’t have objections?’

           ‘The fuck place do I have for objections? Am I Eggsy? No. Am I Harry? No. Shit, I’m barely Egggsy’s mum- he practically raised himself, and I have to accept that he grew up withou’ me and is able to make his own choices. B’sides,’ Michelle shrugged a shoulder, ‘with the way you lot go through life, I figure they’re at about the same level- emotionally, at least.’ She tucked a hair behind her ear and lifted her mug to her lips. ‘You, on the other hand, don’t have got a lot of growing to do- just a lot of rememberin’.’

           ‘I’m not a child you have to guide along-’

           ‘You ain’t a kid at all, and I don’t know if you ever were- compared to the rest of ‘em, you’ve got a head on your shoulders. Your problem is, it’s facin’ the wrong way. You’re so focused on what could or has gone wrong that you don’ celebrate the good shit. So, today, we start changin’ that.’ Michelle stood from the table and made her way into the kitchen, voice muffled by the distance but still clear. She came back out a moment later with a bag of jelly babies and a twister board whose wheel had been repurposed- numbers instead of limbs and four emoticons instead of colours- a heart, a set of glasses, a beaker, and a question mark.

           ‘We’re gonna try this today, and if it don’t work it don’t work, but we’re gonna try. You’re gonna spin this, an’ then you’re gonna tell me however many good things that happened to you for each category. You got,’ she gestured to the heart, ‘your personal life,’ the beaker, ‘your hobbies,’ the glasses, ‘your work,’ the question mark, ‘and just general good shit. If you finish the category, you get a prize- and I got it on good authority you like these so don’ play around pretend otherwise.’

           ‘And if I can’t?’ He was intrigued, if incredibly confused, by Michelle as a person- but perhaps she had a point. There were not many moments free for celebrating a job well done, with so much of the world consistently in crisis. Even mourning was pushed aside to make room for more current problem solving, but Kingsman needed to change. Harry’d known it from before he’d proposed Lee as a candidate, he’d held fast to the need for change all through Chester’s tenure as Arthur and even now was pushing against the elder Agents for change. Perhaps he wasn’t as exempt from that collective as he’d thought.

           ‘If you can’t think up enough things, I’ve given Harry some nerf guns and post-its to make your life inconvenient. Won’t put anyone in danger, but he’s been encouraged to be as annoying as possible between us meetin’ if you can’t look on the bright side a bit.’

           ‘And that’s supposed to be encouraging?’ Harry was a shit as it was, having someone else agree with his assessments and make it easier for him to be so did not seem like a positive.

           ‘Ain’t you seen Life of Brian? Always look on the bright side of life, love- an’ if gettin’ barraged with foam bullets gets you to open your bloody eyes and see the  flowers you’re walkin’ past I’m gonna fuckin’ get it done somehow. Get Roxy and Eggsy in on it as well- they don’t know about this now, mind, figured it’s personal like, but Harry’s been your friend longer’n Eggsy’s been alive so he can do what he likes.

           ‘Change starts at the top- especially with people like you who’re built on image and silver spoons. They won’ even think about doin’ something different until they can see it ain’t gonna do any harm; an’ they won’t start actin’ different till it’s made so normal that they’re the weird ones if they don’t change, too. You’re the heart of them, Merlin- you train ‘em and keep ‘em safe and you kept the lot of them in line after Valentine- when you change, they’ll give it a shot, I think.’

           Michelle Unwin had never been the person one could call on to make decisions; she hadn’t ever been the one who knew what was right or wrong in a moment. But she could tell when somethin’ was stuck, she could see (or guess at) the kind of change that needed to happen, and she wasn’t the kind of woman to back down just cos something was tough- not when it came to other people.

           She may have fucked up her own life, may’ve made a stranger of her eldest kid and a father out of a bastard of a man, but she was a new woman now- and she wanted to help. She knew she could be of help. She sat across from the imposing Scotsman, who was staring at the board with the same look Daisy got when she was unsure of something, waiting for something to change. She couldn’t have told you how long they sat there, her watching him and him trying to stare his way through a bit of glossed up cardboard, one of each of their hands curled about a cooling mug of tea.

           Merlin reached forward, and spun the arrow.

[missmal1005-blog]

One of my creative writing assignment stories

“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing that we can do. What we can tell you, is that this is not your fault. Nothing that you did made this happen, and there’s no way to prevent it.  There are grief counselors available to speak with….”

 The doctor’s voices faded out.  Amy kept nodding, showing a small smile, but she wanted them to leave the room. To just get out and let her have a moment to process. After what seemed like an uncomfortable silence that lasted forever, the doctors hastily left.

 The nurse took her clothes and placed them on the edge of the bed.  “Do you need to call anyone?” Amy took a long pause before responding. “No, my mother is in the waiting room”.  The nurse, who name tag said “Jessica” with little butterfly stickers attached, stared at her, trying to gage her emotional process. “Amy, take as long as you need to get ready, and I’m sorry for your loss.”

All Amy could muster up is a half-hearted “Thanks.” She didn’t need the apologizes or the lengthy “It’s not your fault” speeches. She knew it wasn’t anything she could’ve done. Sometimes, pregnancies end. It’s just a simple fact of life. But it doesn’t take away from all the pain. This was going to be her first child. The first child for her and Charles. She didn’t even have the chance to tell him she was in the hospital. He never answers his phone while at work. He claims that he is always too busy to talk. But it’s hard to talk while his mouth was covered with his assistant’s body parts.  

Charles has been sleeping with Desiree since the 20 something year old walked in for a job, and her breasts made an entrance before she did. Most people would have left, but there wasn’t really much to leave with. Charles made sure make sure Amy was taken care of. Weekly manis/pedis, the best personal trainers, a personal chef, maid, and private car to take her anywhere she wanted.  She was newly twenty-one and met Charles at the club where she was celebrating her birthday. He was handsome, older, and more sophisticated then the frat boys that her roommates were sleeping with.  She was a junior in a college and was barely passing classes due to having to work to pay for school. It seemed like an easy fix to marry and not have scrub toilets to pay a tuition bill for a school she hated. At first, she loved living the life she used to watch the famous reality TVs stars have. She herself could have starred in the one of the Real Housewives shows.  

She didn’t notice that since the wedding, Charles was never home. Sure, he would wine and dine her at fancy galas, and take fancy vacations to tropical islands with water so clear she could see her feet when she walked. But his phone was always to his ear, or he had a laptop to glued to his hands. She usually went to bed alone and woke up to him already gone, possibly on a plane or just to his upscale NY office. She only been once in the ten years they were married. It was around their eighth anniversary. He said the office tied him up and he couldn’t make dinner, but would be able to fly her out to any destination that weekend. Amy, being the romantic that she was, wanted to bring the romance back. She made a beautiful lunch, and called his office, and confirmed that he had no appointments for at least an hour block. She would have surprise him with lunch, and a trench coat where she was wearing nothing underneath. She was so excited coming up the elevator. His wooden office door was unlocked, but you could hear the moans before the door was even opened. He begged her to stay that night and promised to fire Desiree the very next day. Yet, two years later, it was odd that his new assistant, “David”, was sending him pictures of his breasts to Charles’s private “work” Blackberry.

When she found out she was pregnant, she was so excited. It was stupid but Charles was so supportive. He got the best doctors in the country. Came to almost every appointment. They even did the early testing to check for genetic abnormalities and to find out the gender. And now, he didn’t even know that his little “baseball buddy” (as he was sure they were having a boy) is no longer existent.

 Amy walked out to the waiting room, where her mom was waiting. Alice smiled at her, until she noticed the tears streaking down her daughter’s face. She quickly ushered her out and helped her into the car.

            “Amy, dear, you’re barely thirty-one. You can try again, you know. If there are issues, Charles can afford the best fertility specialists in the country. Maybe you’ll get twins that way. Your cousin Charlotte, had IVF, and she got triplets. Triplets! Well, it’s not like you can’t afford them, I’m sure Charles will get the fanciest sitters available. Don’t you give up hope yet. Did the doctor say when you could try again? I am assuming that you can as soon as possible…”

 Amy mostly tuned out Alice at this point. Her mother, one of six children, was elated when her daughter “married up”, as she called it. Alice made a point to only have one child to save money, and even then, she wasn’t satisfied with life of living. Amy’s father tried to please her, but Alice only saw dollar signs. Amy believes he worked himself to death trying to compete with Alice’s standards. The only time Alice seemed truly happy with her marriage was when she received the funds from her husband’s life insurance and savings, after his sudden death from a heart attack last year.

 They finally pulled up to the house. The maids had already left for the day, and the chef wasn’t due until later that evening. Alice offered to stay, but Amy wanted to be left alone. She tried calling Charles again, but after it rang for the fifth time she hung up.

 The house, which hosted 7 bedrooms, 5 bathrooms, a pool, guesthouse, and tennis court, seemed too big for just two people. It was filled with high end furniture and the latest tech, but it was empty of people.  Amy couldn’t remember the last party or event that was hosted her. Yet it was cleaned top to bottom each day, as if it was just waiting for people to come and admire it.

Amy tried calling Charles again. This time it picked up on the second ring.

 “Hello, my dear, how’s the little one? I know you are expecting me to be home, but Marvin is trying to have dinner with the staff, and you know I’m up for a promotion…”

           It’s super interesting that Marvin’s wife just invited them out for dinner last week and mentioned that they were in Greece for the next two weeks, but Amy didn’t even bother to tell him that. She could hear Desiree’s laughter from the phone.

 “It’s okay Charles. Have a good time. Tell Desiree I said hello.” She hung up before he could respond. She turned the phone off and took the battery out. The last thing she wanted to do was argue, especially after today.

            She went to the bathroom, crying. She looked in the mirror. Her hair, a perfect light blonde, rested all the way down her backside. Most of the wives her age already had Botox and new breasts, but she had the blessing of her mother genetics. She was still mistaken to be in college and was constant carded. At many events she was asked if she was a model, and most were shocked that with her blue eyes that looked like marbles and her perfectly tanned skin, that she wasn’t.

           After staring long in the mirror, Amy knew she had to do something. The change in her body warranted a change in her appearance. She was tired of looking like the perfect trophy wife. She was tired of being the perfect trophy wife. She wanted a change.  

Amy ran into the kitchen and grabbed some shears. She went to the bathroom and started cutting. Her smile grew wider with each chunk of hair that fell to the floor.  Once her hair reached the length of her ears, she went into the bedroom, and her own private bathroom. She rummaged in the closet until she found it-a box of leftover red/orange hair dye, from a few Halloweens ago. She wanted to go for Black Widow but brought a wig to dye instead of her own hair. Charles was supposed to be Hulk, but he supposedly had to work late.  Once he saw her in that red wig, he was so devasted that she changed her blonde tresses that he slept in the other room. He brought her plane tickets to Paris once he saw her without the wig that next morning as an apology.

 It only took 40 minutes to dye her hair and dry it. She took out her contacts, and picked out her glasses, and put them on. Charles hated her glasses. He said it gave her the appearance of being smart to the point where it was condescending. She kept her glasses in her purse since then, only using them when he wasn’t around, as the contacts irritated more than they helped.

 She smiled in the mirror at her new look. She didn’t look like a trophy wife. She looked like Amy, a person, of her own accord. It brought her back to who she was before she married. The girl who like comics and music, and not balls and tea parties and the country club. She went into her closet, and took out some jeans, and a bright band shirt that was hidden within. A CD dropped, from the band Guns N’ Roses. She hadn’t listened to them in forever. Charles didn’t like that type of music. He told her, “Next thing you’ll do is go get a tattoo or something crazy.” He asked her to put away the band shirts, and the jeans too. The fact that she could fit into the clothes of her youth surprised Amy and made her happy.

 She laughed bitterly at the memory, then smiled mischievously.  She knew what she had to do.

She walked out the front door, where Tom, her driver was sitting in front of the car, having a smoke break. When he saw her, he quickly put it out. “I’m so sorry Mrs. Kelly”.  

 She smiled. “Please Tom, call me Amy.”

 “Yes, of course Mrs.-um, Amy.” He didn’t hide his worried and concerned glances as he opened the door, and let Amy in. He walked around and got into the driver’s seat. “Where to, ma’am?”

 “133 West Market Street in Manchester. And it’s Amy, remember?”

Tom hesitated. “Ma’am, I mean Amy, you do know that area is…. that part of town…. well, you know that’s a tattoo shop, right?”

 “I do Tom. And please hurry, I need to get in before they close today.”

 “Right away”.

 And they drove off, Amy smiling all the way.

[artificialqueens]

you know everything i know (crameron) - chapter 1 - akita

AN: this is just a sweet multichapter crameron lesbian au reunion fic! thank you to elsaara for helping me with the idea. cracker is a primary school teacher, kameron’s a fitness instructor, they know each other from when they were kids. 

When Kameron comes to pick up her niece, she’s surprised to see Brianna’s her teacher.

“Okay everybody! It’s tidy up time!”

The joyful yell of her class made her laugh a little, and as they started putting their things away, she shut down the computer. Each end of day was as exciting as usual for the kids, if not a little more, as it was coming up for the summer holidays. For Brianna, on the other hand, it was somewhat bittersweet - her class would be moving up to year 2, where she wouldn’t be teaching them anymore. Instead, she’d have a new set of 5 year olds to start teaching the basics to, and hopefully, they’d be as sweet as this class. Having worked here for a few years, she was used to seeing the kids come and go, and it hurt a little less now when she had to say goodbye.

Just as everyone was finishing up, and the clock was reaching 3.10, a very panicked little girl ran up to Brianna with a note in her hand. “Miss Cracker! I forgot I gotta give you this!” “That’s okay,” Taking the note, she opened it to read, “Oh, your auntie’s coming to pick you up? That’ll be exciting!” “Yeah!! We’re gonna go feed the duckies while mummy’s working late!” “Oh wow! What’s your auntie’s name?” “Kameron!”

When everyone was tidied up and ready to leave, Brianna lead her class into the playground, where she met up with a couple of teaching assistants who were helping manage the crowd as parents and guardians picked up their kids. They had to come up and sign out as having picked up their children, as a safekeeping measure, and had to come directly to the teachers to do it. It was good for stopping kids being taken by the wrong people, but it took up a fair bit of time, and some of the parents could be a little rude, especially if they were in a rush. If a child was being picked up by someone else, their legal guardian had to either phone up and inform the school, or have their child hand in a signed note, which is what little Suzie did.

Only a couple of kids were left in the playground, waiting on parents who were either talking with teachers, or with each other. That was when, finally, Kameron more or less jogged up, evidently flustered about being late. Suzie cried out excitedly, running up to her auntie to get picked up and kissed on the head. After the demand of a piggy back, she was put down on the floor, so she could clamber up onto her back, and when she was settled, the redhead walked over to check her niece out. That was when she recognised just who the teacher was, and her eyes lit up bright. The mirrored response was immediate, and had she not got a child on her back, she would have went in for a proper hug. “Brianna!” Kameron beamed, supporting Suzie with one arm and quickly signing her out on the sheet, before giving Brianna a half hug. It was awkwardly returned with a laugh. “God, Kam, I’ve not seen you in years! You’re looking…” She stepped back, glancing her up and down, “Good’s an understatement. You’re ripped!” “I’m a personal trainer now, I kind of have to be in good shape.” “Can you even feel her on your back?” “Yeah, but that’s because she’s pulling my hair - could you please stop that? I’ll put you down if you’re not careful.” With a huffy noise, the child settled, holding on sensibly.

The pair of them knew each other from when they were just the child’s age, and went to the same primary and secondary schools. They’d actually been close, but when Brianna went to university, they started to drift apart. On the rare occasion, they’d had a coffee, or facetimed each other, but in the last two years, they’d had no contact at all. Needless to say, this was an exciting encounter, and Kameron could barely wipe the grin from her face. A chat would be nice, but with a wriggly child on her back, she knew well that there wasn’t a chance of that happening.

“Right, I better head off, but,” Supporting Suzie in one arm again, she reached for her wallet, awkwardly fumbling with it one handed to get a business card, handing it over to the laughing teacher, “My number’s on that, if you ever want meet up? Plus, if you take that to my gym, you get £5 off a session.” “I’ll call you, but I’m not coming to a class, ever.” Giving a quick goodbye hug, then waving to the little girl, she saw her off, “See you later, hope you have fun with the ducks!” “We will!”

Brianna was caught in a bit of a daze as she watched Kameron leave, laughing a little when she had stop to put the kid down, holding her hand and walking her off in the direction of the boating lake. Turning her attention down to the business card, she smiled a little, trying not to laugh at the concept of actually going to a fitness class. The number there was tempting her, and as she considered the call, she was snapped out of her daze by a teaching assistant, coming to collect the registers. She gave her typical goodbyes, before nipping back into the building for a quick meeting, picking up her things on the way out.

Even though talking came naturally in the brief time they were face to face, when Brianna got home, she almost couldn’t bring herself to make the call. She thumbed over the number on the card a couple of times, having already saved it into her phone, thinking of what she would even say. It was a mobile number - if she couldn’t talk, she could text. She still didn’t seem able to convince herself to do it, and put it off under the guise of having to make dinner, then having to clean, then having to get ready for bed. Like a coward, she mocked to herself, she finally sent a text when it was coming up for 10pm, when she was sat in her bed and could feign sleep if for some reason, something went wrong.

B: hey, its bri, sorry i didnt text til now, hope you had fun with the ducks x A reply came through quite quickly. K: hi, yeah we did, you know your her fave teacher? anyway, i need to be up early, ttyl, night x B: goodnight x

Now she was regretting leaving messaging for so long. It would have been nice to talk to Kameron for a bit, but her nerves got the better of her, and she ended up only getting the one message. Kameron had answered fast, and she wondered if she’d been waiting on her. If she was, that would have been sweet, but it didn’t seem likely. Setting her phone down on the bedside table, she heaved a sigh, snuggling up under her covers and pulling a pillow close to her chest. The hard part was out of the way, and she could just worry about talking in the morning. She’d already considered that she had the excuse of teaching her class as why she took a while to answer, but scolded herself for trying to think of excuses before anything bad had even happened. It would do her no favours to freak out preemptively.

When Brianna eventually fell asleep, it was like her brain just shut down to stop her overthinking, and when she stirred in the morning to the sound of her alarm, she didn’t feel like she’d slept at all. Besides, she had to get up at 6am, and that was exhausting enough. Shutting off her alarm, she went about what she normally did on a school morning - shower, get dressed, eat breakfast, then leave in a hurry. She had to get there early enough to set everything up, and that usually meant being there an hour before her class would arrive. It was even worse if there was a morning meeting. Just as she was setting out the door, at around about 7am, her phone went off.

K: morning sunshine! hope you have a good day teaching your class, wondered if you want to get a coffee when youre finished? x B: thanks, of course! have fun exercising if thats possible…… x K: it is!! you might like it if you try it x B: i’d rather teach music for a full day, anyway i have to go or i’ll be late, talk later x Her heart was racing as she set her phone into her pocket. There was now something to look forward, and she could only hope teaching wouldn’t drag all day.

[yoolee]

If lee wrote otome | #2 - Boss

The Heroine (MC)

CEO MC: Never gets enough sleep, which makes her sarcastic but is also semi her own fault given the amount of caffeine she consumes. Sort of obsessive about long-term planning, unwaveringly believes that a company’s value comes from its employees and will choose them over shareholder dividends every time. Determined to run an ethical company even if it means it’s not the most profitable company. Super duper Type A – aggressive and fearless because she has to be. Sometimes really just wants a cupcake in her hand and a cat in her lap, but then she’s bored and goes back to business planning. Creative risk-taker, decent negotiator. Smart enough to know where she needs help and hire people who can do the things she can’t (or, more to the point, doesn’t want to do). Gets back up every time. Will definitely fight you. Might feel bad about it later but only if someone reminds her it happened.

Love Interests

The BARISTA: Peppy, optimist (or so MC thinks) but it turns out they actually switch up their personality depending on who they’re serving (sometimes they are the chill, hipster philosopher, sometimes they are the rude New York get-it-done eye roller, etc.) actually somewhere in the middle of it all – but really IS an optimist despite themselves. Kind of slippery and hard to pin down. Big family, used to being what their other siblings/parents need from them. Fairly certain CEO MC is headed for an early heart attack with the amount of espresso she imbibes. Probably an author. Maybe an ex-broadway personjust because. IDK.

The PR LAWYER: Worked-three-jobs-put-self-through-college story. Patience, tact, good at calming people down. Detail oriented, a little fussy about appearances. Perennially exasperated by CEO (Please don’t promise to have a cure for cancer In the next three years with no data to back it up. No, you can’t punch the reporter for being a dick. Look, I know you WANT to donate 100% of proceeds to charity but please pick a friendlier one than ‘punch reporters in the face foundation’ that’s not gonna fly) never gets enough sleep. Has a key to MC’s house so they can come yell at her for making their life difficult at whatever hour of the night she insists on doing so. Is on MC’s speed-dial, which means they also get called to DD, though they’d rather not.

FLAKY MODEL(s?): Trust fund kid? Pretty face? Floats through life? The sort of person who will get on the wrong subway train and then just ride it all day people-watching never mind that they had an appointment six hours ago. Pose with a boa constrictor? Sure, as long as it’s being treated humanely. Tarantula on the face? Awwww, it’s fuzzyyyyy. No filter, no worries. Probably drags CEO MC along on a Caribbean shoot and PR Lawyer has to call and yell because that does not look good, okay? And poor MC is like, I thought we were getting a drink and model is like WE ARE we are getting tropical coconut water from the SOURCE here oh wait I don’t know how to drink out of a coconut…who knows why they are attracted to CEO MC, probably because she’s there and sticks around and no one else does. Human puppy dog.

CHAIRMAN OF THE BOARD: young hotshot venture capitalist, thinks CEO MC is a bleeding heart (your employees do not need that many sick days, lost productivity blah blah blah why do we need a daycare onsite that’s a waste of shareholder money), kind of a math whiz, naturally lucky, doesn’t get along with family (gambling problem in the fam – which manifests in him in investment risks and unresolved issues) butts heads constantly with MC, frequently tries to get her fired – in part because his attempts to do so get her fired up and she does great things, which ultimately is better for the company than when she’s just doing her normal ‘good’ job. She is going to be royally ticked when she figures that out. Manipulative, but relatively benign under it all. The sort of person who smirks instead of smiles. All the time.

CHEF FROM HER FAVORITE RESTAURANT: Also a CEO though on smaller scale, because, running a restaurant IS running a business. Probably under the impression CEO MC is actually like, a graduate student with no money because she tends to get takeout at weird hours. Gruff, grumpy, abrupt, but heart of gold. Basically—will grumble about you coming in late but will add extra veggies to your pasta because you’re looking a little pale and need the nutrients and if you call them on it will snarl that they had to be used up they were going bad and he wasn’t going to waste extra, expensive, PROTEIN on you. (MC asks them out and then realizes the only nice restaurant she knows is the one the chef owns)

PRESCHOOL TEACHER: JUST A DECENTLY NICE PERSON. Checks in to make sure MC has eaten regularly, staying hydrated, needs anything fixed around the house (she can do her own plumbing but doesn’t like the electrical and hey it’s nice to have company). Good with kids. Maybe divorced and wanted them but ex-spouse didn’t? idk. Calm, not easily ruffled, sweet as pie, except when he’s playing video games and suddenly MC understands how he can get through the day without any aggression – he unleashes it on fictional zombies. Blissfully normal, all things considered.

PERSONAL TRAINER: “fine, whatever, EAT THE DANG CHEESE if you’re just going to ignore my nutritional advice we’re doing ten more reps” athletic, happiest when DOING versus saying or reading or sitting. Not as impulsive as you’d guess at first glance, because they tend to use working out as a meditative time to make decisions. Didn’t finish college because they realized they just didn’t enjoy it, but they did enjoy working with student athletes, which is how they got into training. Enviably fit. Wants to expand the gym so wheedles business advice out of MC in exchange for not harassing her about her tendency to drink coffee instead of water (she insists it has water IN it, it should count) not particularly intimidated by her, which is a pleasant change of pace.

Supporting Cast (non LIs)

ADMINISTRATIVE ASSISTANT: Keeps MC sane, has her back, schedules everything. Good at details, even better at smiling at angry people and making them not-angry through sheer force of sunny personality (actually a ruse, MC is convinced she’s actually the most delightfully evil person ever, but like some kind of fairy tale where when you acknowledge the thing it goes away, refuses to ever dive into figuring out). Older than the MC because we need to stop making middle aged women invisible in stories?? Sometimes has to remind MC of how much she does by holding silent protests (in part why MC thinks she is secretly a supervillain in the making) which are always, always successful.

PARENT COMPANY ADMIN ASSISTANT: Bane of MC’s existence. Smarmy, smily pain in the tush.

CFO: We have put in an official request with the company credit card management to start declining purchases at that coffee shop you go to, no this is not negotiable, it’s not in the budget anymore drink so darn water woman. Completely willing to go toe-to-toe with MC, meetings often involve a lot of yelling, but they’re always productive and no hard feelings.

CIO: Serpent-y, but not in a bad way. Just a very cool-tempered person, very contained, very guarded, very introverted. Never happy when she has to do presentations, so super willing to share knowledge with MC so she does it instead (she is not a great teacher, kind of judgey and shows her frustration when MC doesn’t ‘get’ it right away, but very brilliant, and there’s no malice in the judgement, just no filter). Extremely logic-oriented and process-oriented over people-oriented. Picks up and assess tech very quickly, and good at finding affordable, fast solutions.

RANDOM MARKETING EMPLOYEE:  Set up to be a villain but is actually like gung-ho on MC’s side. Literally an ex pageant queen, went to college on scholarship from it. Out of the workforce for awhile as a stay at home mom when her kids were young, but picks up the new trends fast. Now a single mother, so will literally fight the chairman if he tries to take away the company daycare. Some days uses the ‘people see a pretty face and assume no brain’ to her advantage, some days it wears her out. Unofficially drinking buddy with MC, even though they both feel weird about it given the fact MC is technically boss’s boss’s boss.

BARTENDER: also an ex-girlfriend maybe? Current best friend? Who she turns to when the barista cuts her off from coffee and the chef’s restaurant is already closed. Sharp-tongued, bristly, generally disgusted with MC’s six inch heels and slacks in her leather-jacket, cigar smoke bar. Like lady, you’re lost. Probably on the mob payroll at some point in her life.

ROUTE PLOTS:

(Chairman route?) MERGER – company has just bought another company, which is a major risk move for CEO (can only be one, so do you keep the old one on as a VP? Do you let them go? Will they be bitter/try to sabotage you?) you have to fend off internal sabotage, get everything running smoothly without either company falling apart in the process.  

(PR Lawyer route?) Parent company did something massively shady and it’s tainting your company’s name too, so you have to scrounge to avoid having to fire half your employees and keep the company alive.

(Model route?) New product launch – hence why models are entering the picture. It’s a new business venture in the sense it’s targeted at a completely new audience your company hasn’t catered to before.

(Personal Trainer route?) Company is in its infancy, hugely risky time, and you’re doing everything you can to ensure it’s a success  (maybe including putting your own salary back into it, which means you can’t afford PT so they agree to work with you as long as you give them business advice)

FROM @han-pan- they keep trying to buy new retail space for the gym and MC keeps buying it instead because it’s SUCH GOOD PROPERTY and they sort of exasperatedly are like ugh fine whatever you owe me since you keep swiping prime spots out from under my nose

See the rest here