#not even singing a specific piece just loud and infuriating AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAA all the time

[iidsch]

so often ive heard about stories about "that one neighbor who decided to learn how to play an instrument" and i always thought that it couldnt be so bad but now that i have a neighbor who sings opera - a genre of music that i enjoy, mind you - i highkey want to choke him to death

[stahlop]

New Year’s Eve (1/1)

Here is my piece for the Captain Swan Concert Series! This is inspired from the song New Year's Eve by Nina Gordon. From summer 2000-2001 I did a theatre internship in Rhode Island and it was my first time away from home and I knew within two weeks that, while I loved theatre, I didn't want to do it for a living. This album got me through the internship. I listened to it non-stop for most of the year. I had wanted to write this as a New Year's Eve story, but between Secret Santa and January Joy I didn't have time. So, I was really happy when the concert series was announced.

Thank you @profdanglaisstuff for being my beta! Without you my stories would not be what they are.

Summary: Normally, Emma Swan would have her long, blonde hair curled or put up in some elaborate braid. She’d be dressed to the nines and practically taking over as the host of the party. She hadn’t always been like that. She used to be the biggest wallflower. Sitting alone in a corner and waiting for the countdown at midnight so she could wish everyone a Happy New Year and then leave to go to the comfort of her own apartment and bed. But then she met Killian Jones.

Rated: G

Ao3

Normally, Emma Swan would have her long, blonde hair curled or put up in some elaborate braid. She’d be dressed to the nines and practically taking over as the host of the party. She hadn’t always been like that. She used to be the biggest wallflower. Sitting alone in a corner and waiting for the countdown at midnight so she could wish everyone a Happy New Year and then leave to go to the comfort of her own apartment and bed. But then she met Killian Jones.

It had been at another New Year’s Eve party. A new co-worker of David’s wife, Mary Margaret. They both taught in the history department at the local university. It may have been a general ‘you’re new in town so come to this party and meet people’ or it could have been a set up. Either way, Killian had been smitten with Emma at first sight. And even after he’d given a few smug one-liners and she’d thrown his drink on him (she wasn’t going to waste her own drink), they’d somehow ended up talking until midnight where they both apologized for their behavior and Killian made the resolution to ask Emma out on a date.

At first she thought it was weird that the man she’d thrown a drink on was now asking her out. But he was damn sexy, what with those ocean blue eyes, dark chocolate brown hair, and scruff on his face. She was already having daydreams about how that scruff would feel against her cheek and... other places.

And then, despite all her issues about being abandoned at birth, all her fears from growing up in the foster system and not experiencing love, all her reservations that she didn’t deserve someone like Killian, especially after her first love ruined her for future relationships, he broke through her walls and she loved him. She should have known it wouldn’t last.

Oh, Killian had his issues too. Mother dying young, father abandoning him and his brother, said brother dying when Killian was only 18, then his first love also dying from a rare heart condition. But he was still open to love. Had experienced it, even if it didn’t last. And Emma knew he loved her too. Knew it from the way he kissed her as if he couldn’t get enough of her taste. From the way he always got her a hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon after she ordered it on their first date for dessert. Knew it from the way his fingers made her body sing when they were in bed together. How he wouldn’t fall until she did when they made love. And from the way he whispered it into her hair after said lovemaking.

And for the last two years they’d been blissfully happy. She’d helped host parties with Mary Margaret. Hosted parties with Killian at their own apartment (and partied so loud the neighbors called the police; too bad Emma was the police). Emma had forgotten to be on edge waiting for the other shoe to drop, to ruin the happiness she’d finally found. She’d even imagined a proposal on the horizon, especially when he asked her to a fancy restaurant for a fancy dinner.

Except it wasn’t a proposal. At least, not the kind Emma was expecting. It was the grant proposal Killian had put in that would have him working in England for the next year at the British Museum. And Emma, in her infinite wisdom of bad relationships, broke up with him. Told him she didn’t do long distance and she wouldn’t guarantee she’d still be single when he came back.

Thinking back on it now, with all her friends laughing and screaming and having a raucous good time at Mary Margaret and David’s New Year’s Eve Party, she realizes what a fool she’s been. It has been three months since that night. 

Three months since she moved all her stuff out of their apartment, like a coward, while he was at work. 

Three months since she took over Mary Margaret and David’s spare room. 

Three months of not answering his calls or texts. 

Three months of being in total agony of not speaking to the one person she loved the most. 

Three months of imagining him with someone other than her.

So here she is, staring out the window watching the snow fall while wearing lame black leggings that say ‘Happy New Year!’ on them in gold glitter and an oversized black sweater, when she had specifically bought a tight, form fitting red dress last summer to make Killian’s eyes pop out of his head when he saw her in it, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, and counting down the minutes until the new year so she can say her goodbyes and go wallow in her room.

“Such a shame to hide such perfect breasts in a sweater like that, love.” A British accented voice says from behind her. Emma’s back goes rigid, her ears perk up, and her eyes fill with tears.

“Killian?” she says in a small voice. It’s hard to speak, she’s afraid her voice will crack, that he will see… 

What the hell is she so afraid of letting him see? That she missed him? That she was wrong? That she should have tried to make it work?

“Yes, love, it’s me,” he replies softly. Emma stands up and turns around to see Killian standing there behind her. He looks just as amazing as ever in his black jeans, white button down shirt and his cozy, professor sweater (the one she always teased makes him look like an old man, but that she stole and cuddled into whenever she missed him). His hair has gotten longer, curling up behind his ears, and his scruff is now a fully grown beard. She also notices the dark purple circles under his eyes that probably match the ones she’s been sporting lately.

“You’re here,” she says almost in disbelief. She can’t stop staring at him, she’s almost afraid that if she takes her eyes off him he’ll disappear and this will just be a hallucination brought on by too much alcohol.

“I am,” he says. Emma can tell he’s treading lightly. With the exception of his opening line, he doesn’t want to spook her (but he can modify anything from The Princess Bride and get away with it).

“I’m sorry,” Emma says immediately, looking directly into his beautiful blue eyes, the ones she’s missed seeing every morning and every night, looking at her as if she were a goddess on Earth. How could she have ever doubted him? The tears are falling freely now. “I’m so sorry, Killian. I got scared that you were leaving, and you know I have abandonment issues. I stupidly thought if I left first then leaving would be on my terms and it wouldn’t hurt as badly.” She takes a deep breath as she sees tears streaming from his eyes as well. “I was wrong. I was so wrong. Can you ever forgive me?” 

Emma is sure she looks a mess, what with the tear streaked and, no doubt, red blotchy face she must be sporting. But looking at Killian, she can tell that’s not what he sees. He reaches out a hand to cup her chin, and she leans into it, just like she used to. Killian takes that opportunity to surge toward her.

His lips are on hers before she can even blink. She throws her arms around his neck as he moves his to around her waist. Emma is trying to pour every ounce of love, every lonely night she’s spent, every bit of herself into the kiss, hoping Killian understands.

Emma doesn’t know how long they kiss; hours, minutes, seconds. She just knows that when they’re done, foreheads touching, she looks into Killian’s deep blue eyes and hears him say, “You infuriating woman.”

Emma’s heart clenches immediately, thinking this is all some elaborate ruse, some way to get her back for what she’s put him through these past few months, until he continues with, “I was going to propose that night. I had the ring in my coat pocket, and I was going to propose and ask you to come with me to London, but you wouldn’t give me the chance to speak. And then you just stopped speaking to me and I didn’t know how to get through to you. Everyone kept telling me that you needed to work through it, but you didn’t have all the facts. You thought I was going to leave you and I never had any intention of doing that.” He closes his eyes, tears clinging to his lashes. “I love you, Emma Swan, and I will always love you, and I will never leave you, no matter what.” He kisses her again, soft and sweet, not as full of need as the last kiss, but still full of love all the same.

“I’m an idiot,” Emma says smiling, “a big, scared idiot with relationship issues. But I promise that if you take me back that I won’t be anymore.” She exhales a shuddering breath and then asks the question she knows needs to be asked. “That is, if you still want me after everything I’ve put you through?”

“Don’t you know, Emma? It’s you. It’s always been you.” 

They kiss again. And they continue kissing through the countdown, and the screams of Happy New Year, and the singing of Auld Lang Syne. And eventually the others see that Killian is not only back in the States but at the party, and he and Emma are kissing and have obviously made up.

And on the following New Year’s Eve, Emma’s hair is done up in an intricate braid, she is dressed in a stunning white dress while Killian is wearing a tuxedo and watching his almost wife walk down the aisle toward him with all their friends in attendance.

[theeeveetamer]

Imagine....Leokumi on a camping trip, and Takumi being the horny on main type of person I headcanon him to be behind closed doors (tents), decides to wake Leo up for the specific reason of riding him and Leo just goes along with it because why not?

Alright here we go! I, too, headcanon that Takumi is horny as fuck. So short little piece for you in between binging Mass Effect and trying to actually write multi-chaptered stuff.

Relevant Tags: Camping sex, PWP, Semi-public sex, risky sex, sex with a chance of getting caught, Leo whines about camping, Takumi is extremely horny (what's new though), Modern AU, Established Relationship

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15954623/chapters/44971894

He maintained that camping is, was, and always would be pure torture. He could lay out every reason if he wanted to. It would be a bulleted list with headings and subheadings and numbers and categories... Leo knew exactly what it would look like, because he’d done it in the past. A long time ago, when he and Takumi were first married. Highly structured in the beginning, then devolving into a mass of jumbled complaints as the mere concept of spending the night in the woods infuriated him. Hey, he didn’t claim to be perfect.

Reason the first, right at the top of the list: The bugs. He had no idea what it was about his blood, but no matter how much bug spray he put on it was never enough. His hair could be sticky with the stuff and he always came back looking like a picked over mosquito feast. That, and he got to spend the entire weekend smelling like an orange had sex with a lemon and created some unholy citrus fruit baby. And they had to pee out there! Exposing his dick to the blood sucking monster bugs wasn’t appealing to him.

Reason the second: Sleeping on the ground. He already had enough difficulty falling asleep when he was at home in his bed. Take that away and give him the hard ground and a sleeping bag? Absolutely not. Add in strange animal noises and Hinoka snoring in the next tent over? It was impossible.

And that was just the big stuff. His miscellaneous complaints included peeing in the woods -- so egregious that it made the list twice. That and campfire smoke getting into his clothes, and the stupid, corny sing-a-longs that no one really wanted to do except for Sakura… He’d come this close to stapling the list to Takumi’s camping bag and never coming on another trip again so long as he lived.

He was all the way to printing it out, and then Takumi got home from work and started talking ecstatically about how much fun they were going to have together, and how his family loved it when he came on their family camping trip, and how much his mother couldn’t wait to see him again… And, well, he lost the heart. His prickly husband didn’t get excited about many things, and he’d be damned if he was going to be the one to wipe that smile off of his face. He put the list in the shredder, packed his bags, and decided to suck it up for a couple of days. Once a year, every year, for the last decade.

And that was what led to his current predicament. Lying on the ground with a twig poking his back, half a billion mosquito bites, hair sticky with putrid smelling spray, and Hinoka snoring in the next tent over. Sweaty and gross and not at all happy. And Takumi, of course, was at his side with their lantern on so he could finish the book he’d started on the drive up. At least, that’s what Leo assumed he was doing. His husband hadn’t turned the page for awhile.

It would probably be best to turn the damn light off since Takumi seemed to be falling asleep, but they were squished into one sleeping bag and he didn’t want to risk waking him up. He covered his eyes with the crook of his elbow and tried to ignore everything. Sleep had to come eventually, right? Even the most severe insomniac could get a couple of hours once they’d been driven to the brink. And hey, the more he slept the quicker this would be over. Just as the sweet merciful blackness came to take him he felt something shift at his side.

At first he didn’t think anything of it. Snuggling into one sleeping bag was a challenge for two grown men, even if they did buy the biggest one they could find. It was probably just Takumi rolling over so he could sleep. The soft click of the lantern being turned off seemed to back this theory.

The hand on his stomach wasn’t suspicious at first, either. He referred to Takumi as an “aggressive sleep cuddler.” Sometimes he woke up to the man squeezing him so tight he could barely breathe.

When said hand slipped under the waistband of his pants… That’s when his sleep deprived brain started suspecting that Takumi wasn’t quite as tired as he’d appeared.

“Takumi… What are you doing?” He groggily asked, shooing the hand away.

In response, Takumi swung his leg over his torso and straddled him. The sudden movement tore the sleeping bag wide open. It came undone all at once, filling the mostly quiet air with it’s loud ZIP to protest the abuse. He’d probably broken it if the tearing noises that came with were any indication.

Well, it looked like they were going shopping for a new sleeping bag… Again… Maybe if Takumi wasn’t too cheap to just spring for something that was actually meant to accommodate two people then they wouldn’t have this problem every damn year.

“Leo… Can we..?”

There was no ambiguity in what he was asking. His husband was anything but subtle. Takumi ground his hips down in just the right way, the way he knew Leo liked.

“How are you still this horny? Your family is sleeping ten feet away!” He whispered back.

His husband always knew exactly how to get him going, with just that little contact he was already semi-hard.

“C’mon, I can’t help it! Please? I waited until everyone went to sleep.”

Leo paused for a moment. No lights had gone on in the surrounding tents. Hinoka was still snoring, just as loud as ever, but otherwise things were quiet.

“Alright, fine.” He grumbled, though he’d be lying if he said he was upset by this turn of events. A little embarrassed maybe, but never upset. “Quietly, okay? I don’t want your brother waking up.”

He couldn’t see Takumi’s broad smile in the dark, but he knew it was there. He felt it in the kiss they shared, and in the energy he moved with. His husband quickly reached into his travel bag and pulled out a bottle of lube. It was medium sized and mostly fresh, and he only knew that because he’d caught Takumi trying to discreetly stuff it into his bag right before they left.

The pitch blackness was strange. Leo greatly preferred the lights to be on. How could he not? Half the eroticism came from just watching his partner. He was used to seeing every move, every embarrassed blush as Takumi readied himself. There was a lot more fumbling involved now, and every noise was amplified. He knew when Takumi started, because he always whimpered a little when he stuck his fingers inside of himself. He knew when he was done because he could hear his fingers gliding smoothly in and out, with only a gentle squelching sound.

There was some fumbling to find where Takumi had put the bottle down, but it didn’t take him nearly as long to coat his hand and bring himself full-mast. He tried to be quick about it, because when Takumi got like this he wasn’t exactly in the mood for waiting.

He wasn’t sure how no one heard them. He’d instructed Takumi to be quiet, but his husband was often anything but. He tried… Gods, he tried. But those little whimpers and moans always found a way to make it out of his lips whenever he guided him onto his cock. From here there wasn’t much Leo needed to do.

This was his favorite way to do things, really. Takumi was always so mesmerizing when he was in control. He could get off just watching him, and he often did. But it was dark, so he had to use his imagination a little. It wasn’t hard, they’d done this how many times? How many tents in how many woods in how many years? It was easy to piece the scene together in his mind’s eye. His beautiful husband, eyes closed, silver hair trailing down his back as he bounced on his dick, chasing that relief. One hand wrapped firmly around his own cock and the other braced against Leo’s chest. Desperate and horny and wonderful… Perfection.

He started “slow”, though Leo would never classify anything Takumi did as slow. Takumi was not a deliberate man when he wanted something. More often than not he made Leo’s head spin with his hastiness. An odd dynamic, but it worked just fine for him in the bedroom. After the brief adjustment period he sped up, fingernails leaving angry red lines down his torso as he tried to stifle himself. For once he was grateful for Hinoka’s snoring, because if it wasn’t for that then the sounds of their skin slapping together surely would have woken everyone in a ten mile radius.

When they finally reached that fever pitch he grabbed Takumi’s hips and shuddered. The full weight of his husband rested on his waist as he rolled his hips through the ensuing orgasm. Takumi wriggled in his hands, grunting angrily.

“No fair! I was so close!” He whined, all talk about being quiet apparently out the window.

Leo quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, or where he assumed Takumi’s mouth to be.

“Shh! Do you want to get caught?”

“Well then get me off, damn it!”

“You don’t have to threaten me for that!”

He quickly wrapped his hand around Takumi’s cock, overtop Takumi’s other hand. Leo followed his lead, jerking him off to completion. He had the foresight to grab a tissue before they started, so cleanup was easy. Even if Takumi complained the entire time about having to wait.

He almost wished he’d turned the lantern back on, just so he could have seen the expression on his partner’s face. But the risk of someone seeing their shadows moving in… Unwholesome... ways was enough for him to avoid it.

“It’s not as good this way.” He moped, finally dropping his head onto Leo’s chest.

“I’ll make it up to you when we get home, okay?”

“Home? I don’t know if I can wait that long.”

It almost sounded like a joke, but if he’d learned one thing being married to this man...

“By the gods Takumi… You’re going to give me a heart attack.”

[e350tb]

Steven Universe: Marooned Together - Chapter Thirty One

(with thanks to @real-fakedoors for proofreading)

On the first day, Stevonnie didn’t stir.

The weather remained perfect, as if mocking Lapis with its cheerful temperance. At any other time, they’d be outside, walking, exploring, even just talking; but today she didn’t leave the barn. Instead she sat, she paced, she fretted, and all for nothing.

She did try to clean Stevonnie’s face a bit - it was still covered in dried blood, and it had reached the point where she just had to wash it off. She also noticed the bristles of fur on their chin and cheeks, and wondered if it was appropriate to do something about it. She decided to wait, at least until tomorrow.

There was one bit of good news - she did manage to feed them. Sure, it was just crushed up fruit and a bit of water, and she wasn’t quite sure if they were swallowing or inhaling it (they didn’t seem to be choking), but it was a start.

Maybe things would improve soon.

Maybe.

The second day was perfect once more, and that was almost enraging.

Today, Lapis decided to attempt shaving. She still wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do, but it gave her the feeling that she was doing something useful, so she went ahead and did it. Besides, perhaps the sensation on their face would wake them up.

There was no such luck, but if she was honest, Lapis thought she’d done a pretty good job.

Otherwise, the day was spent reading in a failed attempt to calm down. She went through a hundred pages of a novel, looked up, and realised she hadn’t retained memory of a single page. She threw the book away in disgust and went back to fretting and pacing.

Still the sun shone.

The third day was again the picture of perfection, but Lapis could feel a sense of moisture on her skin. It was an unmistakable sign - rain was coming.

She wondered if she should warp to New Earth; if she should tell Peedles or the Hospital what was happening. She found herself sitting by the warp pad and staring at it for several minutes.

What if you go and they wake up?

What if you don’t go and they never wake up?

In the end, she didn’t, and the rest of the day passed in the same way the previous two had.

And yet, she could feel the deluge in the air - the sign of change. She wondered if that meant anything.

On the fourth day, the clouds rolled in, but the rain did not come. Lapis knew it was coming, but today it held off.

Now she was trying a new tactic - being loud. That normally woke humans, from her experience (and it certainly woke her), so she made a point to do everything as loudly and unsubtly as possible.

She picked up magazines and just about shouted out the articles. She sang random songs, not even sure if she was getting the words right. She made deliberately goofy noises as she walked or moved or shifted, just as she remembered Peridot doing long ago, when she needed cheering up.

Stevonnie didn’t so much as cough. All it did was exhaust her.

That night, Lapis slept for the first time in ages.

She found herself standing in a dimly lit room, small, gentle lights swaying around, illuminating a wooden floor. Above her was a banner - ‘BEACH CITY HIGH SCHOOL PROM’, and a year that Lapis knew had been about twenty-five years before. It was completely empty, but she couldn’t help but feel watched.

She looked down at herself. She was wearing a pink suit and necktie with shined dress shoes - since when did she wear shoes? Dimly she recognised that this must be a dream.

“Steven?”

She knew that wasn’t her name but turned around regardless.

Stevonnie stood there, dressed in a smart blue gown with a red ribbon around the waist, their arm outstretched as they blushed intensely.

“May I have this dance?” they asked nervously.

She felt herself blushing furiously as she raised her hand to take theirs. Slowly, they moved back and forth to the time of a slow, graceful song that Lapis did not recognise.

“You look amazing, Connie,” she heard herself whisper.

Stevonnie let out an anxious snort.

“That’s just you saying that,” they replied.

“No, I mean it,” she said, “You’re just… I can’t believe how lucky I am, you know? Like… aw, geez, Dad said I’d got this, but I really don’t…”

“Heh,” Stevonnie snorted again, “Neither do I. Maybe nobody’s ‘got this.’”

Lapis chuckled back.

“Yeah, maybe,” she replied, “But at least we can try, right? And for what it’s worth… there’s nobody I’d rather try with than you.”

Stevonnie’s eyes began to water, and Lapis felt hers well up in kind.

“I love you, Connie,” she said, her voice wavering.

Stevonnie smiled and leaned in. Nervously, as her heart fluttered at a million beats per minute, she moved in kind, closing her eyes…

BOOOOM.

Lapis woke with a start as the sound of thunder reverberated through the barn.

She lay on her hammock for some time, listening to the rain. That dream… it must have come from Stevonnie, right? It was one of their memories, which meant they were definitely still in there.

But why then -- why wouldn’t they wake up?

Day five.

Lapis stood over Stevonnie, dress and hair blown by the wind from the storm outside. She felt utterly exhausted, even though she’d done nothing but watch her friend for days.

Nothing had worked - nothing at all. And it was infuriating, because she knew, knew that they were still in there, so why wouldn’t they wake up? What could she do? There was so much she wanted to say with them, to do with them, and they just wouldn’t wake up.

Maybe this was how it all ended. Maybe they’d sleep forever. Maybe she’d never, ever get the chance to tell them…

She walked over to the door, looking out into the rain. Finally, the weather reflected her mood - it was as if her sorrow was weeping from the sky, threatening the flood the entire world. It was a swirling fog of rain and mist and despair, grey and sad. Normally Lapis liked the rain, loved it even, but now it only added to the hole in her heart. There was a strange sense of finality in the air - and while she told herself it couldn’t, couldn’t end like this, her hope was fading.

She closed her eyes, remembering the song sung at the Diamond’s Lament years ago.

“I… I wish you could swim…”

She opened her eyes once more, gazing out into the swirling rainstorm once more.

“...like dolphins… like dolphins can swim…”

She turned around, walking slowly towards her unconscious friend, her voice wavering as she sung on.

“Though nothing… nothing will keep us together…”

She sat down next to Stevonnie, still singing, still hoping against hope for them to open their eyes and join in.

“....we can beat them… forever and ever…”

She leaned over their face, gingerly placing a hand over their cheek.

“Oh, we can be heroes… just for one day…”

The well broke, and she began to cry, the emotions of the entire long ordeal breaking out. She dropped forward, her face falling onto their chest as she began to sob. This was it, she thought - it was done, it was over and she was alone once more.

“And I… I will be king.”

Lapis’ eyes widened as she heard the voice. Was it… could it be?

“...and you… you will be queen.”

Slowly, she lifted herself up, looking up at her friend’s face. Their eyes… they were open.

“Though nothing… will drive them away…” Stevonnie grunted as they pushed themself up, bringing themself level with the kneeling Lapis. She said nothing, her wide eyes still running with tears.

“...w-we can be heroes,” Lapis forced herself to sing back, voice still shaking, “Just for one day…”

Stevonnie smiled weakly.

“...we can be us… just for one day.”

Slowly, Lapis started to lean in, her hand still on Stevonnie’s cheek. She didn’t know why, exactly, but it seemed right. She closed her eyes - don’t question it, don’t question it…

And so it was, in their small piece of shelter in a world consumed by wind and rain and raging oceans, a world that was alien and familiar and unquestionably thiers, that Stevonnie and Lapis Lazuli kissed for the first time - a short and somewhat awkward affair, tinged by nervousness and sweet relief, but a deeply personal and special moment nonetheless.

White Diamond was not smiling. She didn’t look specifically angry, but she didn’t need to - the absence of her standard smile was a statement enough. The newly regenerated Yellow Diamond dared not say a word.

“I expected this from Teardrop,” the bigger diamond said at last, “But not from you, Spark. We will need to talk thoroughly about where we go from here.”

Yellow Diamond swallowed but did not dare to protest.

“In the meantime,” continued White, “Those pirate raiders are aware of the existence of Project Chrysalis, which is a very unfortunate state of affairs. Production of the prototype must be increased - I want it deployed at the first possible opportunity against these organics.”

“Yes, White. It will be done.”

“Very good,” said White, “As your ship is destroyed, you will not be confined to Homeworld as Blue was - but I expect you only to leave to observe the Project. We can’t have you running around while you’re being punished, can we, Spark?”

“I… yes, White.”

“Very good. That will be all.” White clapped twice.

Yellow beat a very hasty retreat, leaving White alone once more. Slowly, ever so slowly, her smile returned.

“I do sometimes wish I could tell them who you are, Starlight,” she muttered to herself, “But I think that pain is best saved for the right moment - like when I deal with your little Lapis friend…”

[deathofamockingbird]

My contribution for day two of sqw! You can read it on AO3 or just click on the readmore 

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: F/F

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Relationship: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan

Characters: Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Emma Swan

Additional Tags: Fluff, Swan Queen Week, AU

Language: English

When looking at a woman like Regina, all expensive suits and pursed lips and no nonsense attitude, the last place you’d expect to find her would be a run down movie theater at ten in the morning. But for her, there was a wonder about the cinema that she’d never quite lost her enthusiasm for. As a child, she had fond memories of sitting on her father’s lap at the movies, watching some silly comedy or action filled- but age appropriate- adventure. She loved the big screen, the loud speakers, the drawn quiet or raucous laughter of the viewers around her, smiling and sobbing along with each plot point and dramatic sequence.

The movies were her escape from the life she’d been trapped in, the only concession her mother allowed in the rigorous and challenging life plan she’d created for her only child. Her father’s death when she was fourteen put a stop to her weekly outings to the movies, a light snuffed out in her world of darkness. She grew older, following her mother’s instruction and moving up in the world of business and stock trading, the magic and wonder she remembered experiencing with her father pushed to the side to make room for the real world.

It wasn’t until years later, finding herself outside of a cinema playing some god awful rendition of a remake of a remake, that Regina felt that stirring in the back of her mind, the desire to immerse herself in the large screen and blasting speakers returned. Almost on impulse, she bought a ticket and was seated not five minutes later in the empty theater. The movie itself was terrible, the plot line contrived and the characters entirely unbelievable. And yet, she felt at home, happy for the first time in years.

Being the CEO of a multibillion dollar corporation- especially at only thirty two- meant that her time was both valuable and limited, but she once she’d dipped her toes back into the waters of the movie theater, she couldn’t resist. A single concession, she told herself, she could allow herself two hours of frivolity in her otherwise busy and unyielding schedule. It didn’t take long for her to determine that Tuesday’s were the least busy and earlier showing were almost always completely empty. With that in mind, she gave herself a two and a half hour block of time- of course thirty minutes had to be set aside for commuting and unexpected delays- to watch whichever movie caught her interest at the moment, and let herself relax into the fantasy of the stories on the big screen.

She was three years into her almost ritualistic movie viewing when she stumbled into her life- more specifically- her empty theater. The movie was insignificant, as they often were, but this woman would not allow herself to be as well. Despite the plethora of unoccupied seats, she had immediately taken the seat to Regina’s right and, to make it worse began talking to her. This Emma, or whoever she was, rambled on and on about this and that and it took every ounce of her carefully ingrained self control not to fly off at the woman and demand she leave. The girl barely looked over twenty one, and she exuded a sweet innocence that Regina could barely stomach on the best of days.

And then the movie started.

Regina had hoped that this infuriating woman would finally stop talking, yet every few minutes, she was accosted with some inane comments- and worse, questions- about the events unfolding on the screen. She could feel her frustration rising, her fingers itching to knock something over, her lips just waiting to unleash all manner of abuse on the young blonde who had so foolishly invaded the one time in her week that she was able to wind down, when the sounds of laughter cut through the negative thoughts swirling in her head.

“Can you believe that guy did that?”

The blonde woman’s laughter was so genuine, so honest, that Regina found herself laughing along. It was as if a load she’d never even known she’d been bearing had suddenly been lifted and the annoying comments and noises that the woman made suddenly weren’t annoying at all. It was like she was a child again, crowded into a packed theater, with the audience reacting to everything on the screen as if they were in the movie themselves. Emma reacted to every scene, every dramatic reveal, and Regina found herself doing the same.

When the credits finally began to roll and the lights came up, she was surprised that the smile on her face was almost too wide, and she genuinely enjoyed the experience, beyond the typical sense of comfort the movie theater had supplied. Emma seemed to be enjoying herself as well, singing along with end song, and Regina found herself captivated by the sight, unable to look away for the beaming woman until finally the screen went black.

Realizing how long she had been staring, how awkwardly she was behaving, the brunette suddenly stood up, her gaze shifting to her hands in an uncharacteristic moment of discomfort. The relaxing atmosphere had faded and she felt stiff and uncomfortable as Emma stared back at her, almost expectantly.

Blinking twice, she turned to exit the row, only to stop at the feeling of a hand wrapping around her wrist.

“Same time next week?”

Swallowing thickly, Regina raised an eyebrow in question, as if to ask what in the world made Emma think that they were going to associate with each other at all once she walked out of the cinema.

That at least earned her a sheepish look from the blonde, but Emma had yet to release her wrist, though her grip could hardly be considered confining.

“I just- I actually work here and I noticed you come in every week; same day and roughly same time. You don’t really seem to care about what movie you see, and I thought you might like some company." Emma paused, her smile faltering for the first time, before speaking again, this time with a hint of hesitancy in her voice, "So, I'll see you next week?”

Regina should have ripped her hand back, she should have scowled and demanded how Emma had the audacity to think she knew anything about her. She should have gone into full CEO mode and torn the girl into pieces for making any kind of assumptions about her at all. But instead, she only nodded in consent, and was instantly rewarded with a dazzling smile from the blonde, who finally released her. With one last goodbye, Emma shouldered her own bag, checking her watch, before giving an apologetic look and dashing away, though not before turning back with one last wave.

For her part, Regina was still frozen in place, her mind trying to reconcile the last few minutes, Emma’s behavior, her own behavior. She was shaken from her musings only as a theater employee with a broom and dustpan cleared his throat awkwardly from the front row. Refusing to show weakness, she barely acknowledge the young boy as she stepped forward, checking her own watch, thankful that the whole ordeal had yet to set her too far back, time wise. As she walked swiftly out of the theater and onto the busy street, easily moving with the heavy foot traffic of the city, she couldn’t help but wonder about the woman. What was her angle? Why did this random woman insist on interfering in her life? What was the point of it all?

Regina briefly considered not attending the next week, but she already knew that she wouldn’t be able to follow through with that notion. Many people compared her to a dog with a bone when it came to getting answers- it was one of the traits that made her such an effective and efficient business woman. As she stepped into her office, a full six minutes ahead of schedule, she finally acknowledged to herself that she would miss the other woman’s presence in the theater if she decided to conduct her weekly viewing at a different cinema, despite barely knowing her at all.

There was no way that she could know that those weekly movie dates would lead to so much more.

When she stepped into the theater the next week, she was met with a wide smile and an inviting face; and again the week after that and the week after that. Their standing movie dates became a staple in their relationship; so, it only made sense that on their 250th movie date- and their second anniversary of officially dating- that Emma finally proposed.

And of course, as in all of the truly great movies, with a wide smile and teary eyes, Regina said yes.

[chibi-writings]

Mairon’s Solo

Pairing: Melkor/Mairon

Summary: After his master is first defeated by the Valar and brought to their lands for judgement, Mairon is left behind to rebuild in Melkor's absence and wait for his eventual return.

And when he does make his return, Mairon proves once more why he is the Dark Lord's most faithful and devoted servant.

Everything was so much quieter in Angband with Melkor gone. In nearly three hundred years Mairon had still not quite gotten used to it yet. Back in Utumno the wind howled ceaselessly for days and days on end, liable to drive someone mad if they didn't learn to tune the noise out. When he commanded Angband before the War for the Sake of Elves he only felt a fraction of the winds, but he could always tell when his master was approaching because they would become steadily louder as time passed, as if Melkor brought the maelstrom with him wherever he went. At first it had irritated Mairon, one could barely think with all of that shrieking going on outside, his only refuge was his forge nestled deep in the heart of the fortress, far enough that no sounds from the outside could penetrate its thick walls.

And now, with his master gone and the wind with him, Mairon had nothing but time to think and silence to think in.

He would have given anything, anything to have Melkor back with him. He missed the deep timber of his voice that would make the walls tremble with each syllable, missed the quake of his footsteps hunting for him, missed those eyes staring down at him shining with silver fire. He missed every single tiny thing Melkor did just to infuriate him; surprise him in the forge while he was working, mess with his tools and put them back in improper places until Mairon found them again, endlessly bother him with increasingly wild and unrealistic schemes of grandeur, drag him into an empty room where his hand would fist into Mairon's hair and his tongue would force its way past his lips...

He buried his face into his hands, his hair falling across all sides of his face like curtains of fire, and tried not to scream. He wanted it all back, Melkor, his touch, his taste, his annoying hovering, even the wind. He wanted the Vala back so much that it created an ache that gnawed endlessly at his heart, no matter how hard he tried to fight it off by immersing himself in work. Mairon bred the orcs, tended the forges and even began smithing himself, countless armors and blades pouring from his forge. He repaired the fortress and took care of Draugluin, fixed all of the rooms and bedchambers.

All under the pretense of getting everything back in order, he told himself. Except for that one, wakened part of himself that whispered he was only doing this in the hopes that Melkor would come back and everything would go back to normal.

In the silences between his work, his heart ached with its wounds.

Before Melkor had been dragged away in chains, Mairon had occasionally commanded Angband with his physical presence, leaving the Vala behind in Utumno. They were never separate for long, and Mairon could have easily had his master right there with him by lifting his voice into song like he did when he created the world with the Ainur. The voice of the Maia would roll over the northern plains of Middle-earth, unfurling like clouds of smoke and light as he sang for a duet and waited hopefully for his master to answer. When the Dark Lord's own song reached back to him, oily and rolling across the air like poison, it always filled his heart.

But now...Melkor was silent. Melkor had been silent for three hundreds years, but that never stopped Mairon's feet from finding their way to the top of the fortress to overlook their icy surroundings that stretched as far as the eye could see. And he would still lift up his voice and sing, sing desperately, every note tinged with misery as he called and called for a lord that would not answer.

All of northern Middle-earth could hear his lamentations on the rocks. The air was tinged with notes of his suffering. And yet he sang again and again, hoping beyond hope his master would one day join in and recreate their duet anew. The years dragged on and on, dragging Mairon's hope with it on days which seemed the darkest, only to be burned away by the Maia's pure devotion to his absent master each time, his spirits rising and dying and rising again like a phoenix from its ashes. Each time his voice would become louder, more bold to reach Aman and reveal his presence, more desolate as if it could draw Melkor to him like a beacon. But the world was empty, the sky hollow, and Melkor's voice was silent. The Vala did not return.

Until one day, he did.

Sauron had not even been expecting it. He had been nowhere near the roof or window where he usually sang, instead preoccupied with some other altogether trivial task that was nonetheless vital to keeping Angband running. Busy work to keep his heart and mind from gnawing themselves to pieces and away from the thought that Melkor was not here with him.

It hit then, a sound more terrible and overwhelming than anything Mairon could have ever even dreamed of, tearing through the air like a forgotten echo coming back to its origin a hundredfold stronger. It shook the bones of the earth and nearly threw him flat on his face with the force of it, the walls cracking under the strain of the noise, and filled his heart with fear. He knew that voice; he had never, ever heard it so loud in anything other than a shout of rage, but the timber and pitch were utterly unmistakable.

Melkor. Melkor was free, he had returned. But something terrible was happening, something incomprehensibly terrible. That was no cry of victory, or of summons, or of wrath, or of any of the things Mairon was familiar with from his master. It was pain, it was a terror so deep that it sank into the heart of every stone of the land. Melkor was in grave danger.

The Valar? Elves? It did not matter, Mairon barely gave it more than a momentary thought, his master was in trouble and he would sooner see himself destroyed defending him than to live with the rest of his short life knowing he had failed to do everything in his power to protect him.

The echoes of Melkor's scream were still racing across the fortress when he shoved himself to his feet, his light and brilliance blazing forth from his body in a way that had not been lit for the past three hundred years. It scorched the hall, blackening the stones and leaving the scent of ash in the air. Fury propelled him and he reached out his thoughts, burrowing his will and awareness into the tunnels deep below Angband where the balrogs slumbered, awaiting their master's return. They were awake now, roused into action by the scream they heard as well.

They would fly to help, but Sauron would not stand idle when they could move faster. "Useless whelps!" he screamed with both his mind and his voice, adding a counterpoint of trembling to Angband with Melkor's scream still an undertone. "Do you not hear our master is in danger?! Do you not hear him call? WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?!"

The ground beneath his feet shook and he threw himself from the window, his form shifting into a strange being of light and flame that soared above the fortress on blazing wings. Taking on a specific form would require too much time and thought and Mairon found that much more vague forms did a far better job of inspiring awe and fear than anything else. Below he saw flame belch from the doors and entrances to Angband as the balrogs poured from its depths, smoke and angered fire that took flight on dreaded wings, leaving smoldering ashes in their wake. And Mairon turned, leading the charge, and propelled himself in the direction he had felt the scream coming from: west.

He saw the thing long before he actually came close enough to touch it. A horrid, bloated evil that oozed such a darkness that not even Mairon could see into its depths, all of it taking the shape of a spider. It could easily crush half of Angband if it wanted too, but its attention seemed focused on something in particular. Mairon followed it with his eyes as he approached, sharper, smaller details coming to his attention, such as the ink-black webs the spider spun and the tiny, writhing thing she was busy wrapping in them. He could see a light, a brilliant speck that even from this distance hurt his eyes, and the black fingers clutched around it. He followed the fingers up to an arm, to a form so wrapped in armor and webs he could not see clearly, but the flash of dark hair, the color of a stormy night ocean, he could recognize anywhere.

A scream of rage erupted from him and he dove down, a speck taking on a mountain, but he did not care. It had his master, he was in pain and—heat rushed by him from the whip of a balrog as the beasts descended upon the spider, hoardes of their smoke and fire choking the air as they surrounded the creature, lashing it with their whips until it screamed in pain and reared. Mairon knew they would handle the thing, only the Valar could stand up to an army of balrogs and survive. Instead he flew down in a blaze of glory, taking his normal shape only when the ground came rushing to meet him, stumbling forward on unsteady, half-formed legs as he rushed to Melkor's side.

"Master!" his voice came out far too hoarse and quiet as he beheld the sight of his Vala, so trapped in webs and unable to move, the darkness strangling him. "Hold on, my Lord, I shall free you." He drew his sword, hands barely trembling, and set it aflame with a thought. Then he cut the webs around Melkor's throat, taking the greatest care not to accidentally strike his master.

Thankfully the webs burned and parted at the touch of his blade, for Mairon had absolutely no clue what he had been going to do if they provided to be resilient to such measures. The moment he heard Melkor gasp in the air that had been robbed from his lungs he went to work on the rest of him, hacking away the other restraints on his body and ripping away leftover strands that dissolved into soot in his hands. The spider was retreating, he was dimly aware, fleeing from the balrogs and their burning flame and the light that the flames brought. Perhaps they could kill it before it got too far? It would make a spectacular trophy—

"To me, my balrogs," he felt the air shake again from Melkor's voice, its bass reaching deep into his bones and shaking him to his core in that way he missed with all of his soul. Mairon closed his eyes and savored the feeling, holding it close to him and letting the thought sink into him: everything was alright now.

A moment later he understood Melkor's words and his eyes flew open in shock. "Master?" he whispered. "Do you not wish the evil to be slain and brought to your feet?"

His master's gaze turned to him, so missed, so fierce and all at once Mairon felt that empty place inside of him fill with light once more. "Mairon," Melkor whispered, his uninjured hand coming up to touch his face, as if checking if he was real. "Help me up, Mairon," came the next order, his imperious tone back from the nuance that had taken over it earlier. "Before they come back."

Mairon leaped to obey, taking his master's hand and pulling him up, worrying gnawing at his heart that Melkor needed assistance. Had the spider truly injured him so greatly? "The spider—"

"Leave her," Melkor said, taking his hand away once he was on his feet and drawing himself up, appearing as regal and dignified as ever while the balrogs landed amongst them, waiting for orders. "Angband, is it close, Mairon?"

"Yes, my Lord. It is just this way," Mairon said, eager to take his master back so he could make sure his injuries were not severe.

His heart blazed and his voice wanted to burst forth from his throat into a glorious, victorious song to announce to the world that he had won. Melkor was back, his master was home again.

A/N: I know Tolkien doesn't mention Sauron rescuing Melkor with the balrogs, but honestly? Considering he had been repairing Angband in the meantime and just waiting for Melkor to return in general, I don't see why he wouldn't be there helping them since he has absolutely no reason not to.

[black-strike-otp]

part 101

Some returning cast members for ya’ll to peek in on~

“How’s ‘Cade doin’, doc?”

Passing a shrewd expression upward while flinging his helm back, the medical officer gave an aggravated huff. His cross look turned away from the massive figure standing to his backside to the mech sitting with patience in front of him instead.

“He’s doing better,” the physician scolded quietly. “Must you come every day to hover around while I work?”

Sliding his optics over to Venus as she shrugged passively, Blackout grinned sadistically. He shrugged himself in response. It wasn’t like he came here to give the medic a hard time, though he didn’t care one way or another if he was.

“What kind of a friend would I be if I didn’t come to check up on the slagger who tried to eat me?”

“He tried to eat everyone.”

Blackout produced an infuriated growl in the back of his throat as the words escaped the medic. The last time he checked, this bot wasn’t on a friendly level with Barricade to joke around like that.

Not that he sounded like he was teasing, anyway. He sounded judgmental and annoying.

His optics were drawn to Venus as she gestured lightly with her servo to him for calamity. With a vent, he turned his optics away with a vague pout of displeasure.

“Doctor,” the eye-catching femme purred, leaning across the edge of the examination table to slid her servo against his arm. “Thank you all your help. We appreciate it. I’m sure you can make an exception for friends to see long-time friends, right?”

The medic’s optics grew wide as he visibly swallowed; one of the cables against his throat moving. He turned his gaze swiftly away from the alluring femme and her exquisite curves and dark armor with fascinating magenta optics all but too sensuous for him to look at for long and coughed roughly.

He choked out an unsteady vent as he muttered, “While I don’t mind your presence, milady, the other is a nuisance.”

“That ‘other’ happens to have saved me from drinking your energon like a frosty slurpee,” Barricade cut in venomously, reaching out to wind his arm around the stunning femme at his side’s back. “And you can stop eyeing my sweetspark like she’s a piece of candy, before I decide to bust your helm open you-”

Whatever else he had planned to curse and threaten the doctor with came out muttered and indistinguishable as Venus leaned close, pressing her lips lightly against the corner of his mouth. A smile tugged against his lips as he turned his helm just enough to be able to press a kiss in return against her whilst she laughed softly in her chassis.

Deeply humiliated now, the medic bowed his helm to avoid looking at the couple as he focused once again on his scanner. His optics seemed neon-bright with shame as he ducked low and cleared his vocalizer.

“The new armor enhancements fitting correctly?” Blackout rumbled, also trying to ignore the two bots as they snickered against each other’s mouths while stealing swift kisses.

The medic nodded. “The vast majority. Whatever corrupted his original frame structure and caused it to change like it did also created new layouts to his chassis design, making the underarmor thicker. He’s probably going to have a bit of a bulkier shoulder and chassis width and build from now on because of it. I’ll need to test how he can transform with the new additions, but he’s going to need more time to recover still.”

“And the infection?”

“Subdued, for the time being. Even being surrounded by damaged bots and fresh energon, we haven’t seen any signs of his more feral nature. His blood still shows mutations from the virus that plagues him; so I can’t say what’s changed without further tests. Even then, without any idea as to what caused the dead to rise in the first place, we may never have the answers.”

“He’s flawless, just the way he is,” Venus chimed in with a sing-song voice, reassuring her mech proudly.

“Babe,” Barricade whispered with awe. His talons gripped her waist as he forcibly dragged her on the berth.

Captivating giggling escaped the femme as she was propped up on her aft beside the cop. He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck as her laughter only grew louder.

“Sweet talking me when you’re the fetching image of a queen who could slay my weak aft just by a glance,” he growled nipping at the cables where her neck met her shoulder.

Blackout met the medic’s impassive faceplate with his own stoic one.

“Someone tell me I’m not this fatuous around Novastrike,” he inquired blankly.

Still laughing, Venus gently pushed her servos into Barricade’s chassis as he kissed along the underside of her throat, remarking through her giggles, “Are you asking because you’re embarrassed or jealous that you’re not on the same game as ‘Cade’s open sentiment?”

“Jealous?” the obsidian giant snorted. “I don’t think I want to blind everyone with my romantic flair.”

“What flair?” Barricade muttered through kisses.

“Frag off.”

“Primus, I wish.”

The medic turned his mouth into his elbow and coughed loudly at the awkeness.

“Doc,” grumbled the dark-armored titan, “can’t you, I don’t know, make him to keep his servos to himself during examination?”

“I’d rather keep my own servos intact, thank you,” the medic hissed.

Snickering, the violet-toned mech glanced his way with a vain grin. Blackout narrowed his optics slightly and turned slightly.

“If there’s anything I can do-”

“For the millionth time, no,” the medic exhaled slowly. “Now quit stopping by every few joors to check up on your friend. He’s fine. I’m busy with all these other patients as well, and don’t need you sitting around all day.”

Swiveling around his chair, the bot stared Blackout in the optics as he added on with a bit more dignity and kindness, “He’s in capable servos. You’re not a medic; you’re a solider. Go help elsewhere, because you certainly aren’t helping here.”

Hues of vermilion in the former Hound’s gaze grew lighter as he darted his optics away. He hadn’t meant to hinder the work of others. Specifically, when that work was there to help one of his closest friends.

“Don’t worry about him, Blackout,” the beautiful femme spoke calmly, catching his optic as she smiled. “I’ll be here. Just tell Novastrike and Scorponok we said hi, and we hope they can stop by soon.”

He gave a short nod to the femme. “Sure, Venus. Novastrike wished her best, but she really wanted to work on the broadcast with the crew and Scorponok’s been so busy...”

“We know,” the fuchsia highlyed femme assured him gently. “If there’s any way we can help-”

“Just make sure he’s back on his pedes soon,” Blackout replied, smirking. “We still have a score to settle for the scratches he put on my armor.”

“Will do,” she agreed quickly with an encouraging half-smile.

Nodding respectfully to the femme, he twisted back around and made to exit the med-bay in a few strides. Behind him, he could hear the medical officer already trying to get the pair to settle down as they returned to canoodling with rather expressive, loud laughter.

Even their playful kisses flowing out of the closed doors and out into the hall. A bit charismatic and over the top, but Blackout could tell they were purposefully now trying to irritate the medic.

He could only shake his helm, sniggering as he continued down the corridor.

~

Shuffling back and forth, he spotted the multiple-pronged metal scorpion in rapid motion on his thin legs. Carrying tools and supplies across the space of the entrance to the underground rogue hideout feverishly, the small mech was aiding bots hard at work to repair the unstable structure. There was still rogues just as busy at work trying to help pick up some of what remained from the collapsed sections of the doorway and clear it for more space to allow bots in and out.

During the confrontation a little over a week ago with the Terrorcons, the entrance to the base had caved in. Although it had saved countless lives inside that managed to destroy what dark energon resurrected managed to come up from beneath them, there had been swarms more just outside their doorstep.

No bot was sure if the collapse had been intentional or not, but it had served a good purpose, even if now it left a lot to be done.

Pressing carefully past those at work, Blackout stepped out of the way as much as possible as he made his wayaround. His optics swept over Scorponok to observe his route as he passed around the area. Picking up on the pattern of the tiny mech’s deliveries, he slid himself in the way of the bug as he came scurrying back around to another group.

Scorponok came to a slight pause, chirping up to him.

“Trying to make me look like a lazy aft for not helping, huh?” he taunted, leaning down to pat the minion on the helm.

The bug chattered with laughter in response. He bumped his helm against Blackout’s digits lightly as he whirled pleasantly, moving his four golden optics up an endearing gaze.

Grinning wide, the ebony colored mech stroked his servo down his partner’s backstrut. He gave a whistle of delight as he shook his body back and forth. Blackout could only chuckle at the bot’s glee, shaking his helm.

“Would it be alright if you recharge here at the colony tonight?” he rumbled softly, arching an optic ridge as he offered a pleading smile.

“Where you be?” the minicon asked uncertainly.

“Elsewhere,” he snipped a bit defensively, sliding his optics off to the side. “Someplace safe and secure, you have my word. It’s private.”

Confusion shifted across Scorponok’s optics for a moment. After a nanoklik, they began to shift into a sly, accusing look of understanding as he narrowed the shutters across his vision. His tail shifted thoughtfully back and forth as he gave a nod of his helm.

“Call if trouble?”

“Of course Scorponok.”

Blackout drew his servo off of the minicon and stood at his full height. The bug inclined his helm slightly and went to shuffle around him and get back to work as he returned the slight bow of his own helm to the minicon.

A strangled vent escaped Blackout nervously. He pressed a servo to his throat as he swallowed at the anxious lump that felt like it was lodged somewhere inside him. With a forced grin, he strode out of the camp.

It was no big deal. There was nothing to feel distressed about. Everything was fine.

With the base of the tower in his sites, Blackout moved his optics across the area as he approached. A large majority of the construction bots had returned to check up on the transmitter after all the scuffling, and were repairing any damages it had been blown from the fighting and bots literally clawing their way from the planet.

He moved his glance over to the monitor station and spotted what he’d been searching for. Tension in his shoulders melted away quickly. The smile that had been so forced on his faceplate grew more genuine as his optics softened in their scarlet spectrum range.

Blackout advanced slowly upon the bots grouped together, deep in conversation. His audios adjusted to tune out some of the background noise; drills, power tools, conversating bots, and focused on the discussion going on right in front of him as he approached.

“... and we should add in these frequencies and expand our bandwith of projection,” the white-armored femme spoke confidently. “Data said she spoke to a friend that worked in communications, and they had a good idea how we could better get our information across in a common code to add in more requests. We need to get an answer to Nighthawk too that his message was received and we’re working on having a ship assembled to meet him.”

She beamed from ear-to-ear as bots seemed to mutter in agreement with her. Blackout felt his spark squeeze at the sight of the femme’s smile as he stopped short and placed a servo against his hip while watching quietly.

Whatever the bot was saying to her that she nodded her helm enthusiastically to completely went over Blackout’s helm. He couldn’t seem to help himself from simply staring. It surprised him she never took up a role as a leader. He was willing to bet as a commanding officer of any faction or non-faction, bots would could easily swayed by those brilliantly glowing optics and the feverish passion in her voice. She spoke with such energy and spirit, such belief and delight, it drew you in like a moth to a flame.

Pit, she could probably talk a bot into throwing themselves into a smelting pit, and they’d thank her before doing so eagerly. How could you stare into those optics and the purity of her face and not want to please?

With a suddenness, her audio stacks suddenly stood tall. They moved around in a wide range before pinpointing his location like radar.

Novastrike shone with absolute joy to see him. It was like a punch to the gut; all the air choked out of Blackout as he gave a quirky smile to her own radiant one.

“Excuse me for a moment, will you?” she said lightly to the bots around her.

They all mutely responded with what Blackout had to assume was an understanding ‘alright’. It was a bit hard to distinguish against Novastrike’s words and the eratic pulsing of his spark somewhere in his throat. Each strike pounded into his audios, ringing with the aftereffects of his singing spark that brewed a dark orchestra.

Panting as she jogged up to him, Novastrike grinned as she huffed a, “Hey there, you.”

Blackout grinned a bit wider. Damn, did she have to look at him with so much adoration?

“Hey to you too,” he softly replied.

Holy Primus, he felt sick and elated all at the same time. The twinkling of her optics had the light of the cosmos itself glimmering inside of them.

Roughly grunting in the back of his throat, he spoke with a slight waver in his softened voice: “I’m sorry for intruding on your work. I had just come to ask you if you’d want to go out this evening.”

Nova raised an optic ride slowly. “Like, on a date?”

“Yes...” he hedged nervously.

“What a lovely idea,” Nova sighed, pressing a servo over her chassis. “I can’t even remember the last time the two of us just got to go out together. Wait- is Scorponok coming? I should have-”

“No,” Blackout coughed uncomfortably. “It would just be the two of us.”

“Oh, I hope I didn’t sound too rude there,” she gushed nervously, audios blushing. “I mean, I love Scorp- I just- aheh. Well, where are we going?”

“Someplace... new.”

“Like...?”

“You’ll see when we get there,” he offered innocently, grinning. “Or do you not trust me anymore?”

Although still smiling, Nova pressed her servos to her hips as she purred, remarking teasingly, “You know very well I do. I just have to ask. Your romantic gestures just seem to always take me off guard. Different plants, star systems I’ve never seem, crazy utopias made of glass and crystals...”

“What can I say? I have an optic for beauty,” Blackout snickered.

“Heh,” Nova breathed as her ears flushed brighter. “Smooth move.”

“So, can I assume that’s a yes?” he inquired, leaning down slightly so that his shadow fell over Nova.

A flash of her fanged derma glinted in the darkness. The shadows cast upon her armor almost made it seem to glow like moonlight as her optics shimmered dangerously eager up to him. Pressing her lips to her palm, she blew a kiss up to him as she winked.

“That would most definitely be a yes.”

~

~Some trillions of light-years away...~

Paranoid, the mech whipped his helm around as the door opened into the control room. His optics were deranged and wild, with a sharp contrast from light blue to dark. There was a furious scowl upon his faceplate as his helm craned around and tilted.

Light cascaded down his sides and gave his twisted faceplate demented, hard lines of light.

“What is it?” the mech snapped.

“Sir,” the bot tiredly responded with an apologetic tone. They winced, dropping to a single knee and bowing their helm low.

“We picked up on the strange blip of a signal on radar again.”

“It’s still following us?”

“It would seem so, sir.”

Sneering, the mech turned his optics back to look out the viewing screen in front of him. His digits drummed against his side for a moment until he finally allowed a vent to escape him. By the time he turned back to the messenger, his posture was a bit more relaxed.

“Keep an optic on it,” he advised. “Have the scanners broadened to see if we can’t catch it again.”

The courier bowed their helm a bit lower. “Understood, sir.”

“You’re dismissed.”

Wincing, the bot pushed upward on his knees to stand. They limped out of the room without another word, the doors closing behind them.

A groan from the other side of the otherwise empty room captured the lone bot’s attention. He rolled his optics around, glaring daggers at the figure laying chained off to his left.

“Must you be make such an insufferable noise?” he fumed.

Blinking her optics, the femme glanced around the room slowly. She looked to the empty chairs that once seated bots hard at work. Moving her gaze around to the broken chairs, the cracks in the panes of glass in the front of the ship. Finally, she rested her optics on the hideously mad faceplate boring down at her.

There were malformations to the mech’s chassis in front of her. Dramatic inclinations of armor smashed inward and never cared for. As he moved to look to her, he moved stiffly on his legs like it pained him to do so. Though his faceplate was relatively in one piece with but scratches here and there, hardly noticable, there were gouges in his neck and throat. If one looked close enough, they could make out the structure of his voice box transmitter. She knew well, too, that if you looked upon his backside, there were areas where his spinalstrut were clearly still visible and his protoform and underarmor was so damaged and warped he had trouble managing to even sit.

It was a constant life of misery and pain. As a doctor, she should feel inclined to help.

But no amount of threats had gotten her to life a digit for this bot.

“You psychotic piece of scum,” she rasped, her throat aching from lack of energon.

Hobbling over, the mech gave a quiet ‘tut tut’ sound as he forced himself to lean over. His servo grasped her roughly by the chin as he looked into her optics.

“That’s no way to talk to your superior, and the bot that saved your life.”

Narrowing her optics, she bit into her derma into his servo. As he recoiled, dripping energon she spat what little collected on her glossia into his face.

Reeling his servo back, the mech hit her hard enough to black out her vision and cause an instant supernova of pain to her helm. She fell to her side, moaning with pain.

“I saved your pitiful existence, and this is how you treat me?” he whispered.

“Frag you to the deepest Pits of hell Neutroboost,” the femme hoarsely responded, glancing up to him.

Grinning, the Commander reached up to rub at his neck. He flinched as sparks fluttered off of his throat, coughing weakly.

“I understand, medic,” he smoothly responded. “Not all of you can be so loyal and well-behaved. But you forget: the majority of the ship sides with me.”

“Those that stand with you are survivors of the Revenge II,” she taunted, throwing him a dark glare. “Anyone else only listens because they’re desperate to-”

“To what? Survive? You stupid femme, that’s what I’m helping you all to do,” the mech cooed. “I saved you all from the burden of a monster. You’re welcome.”

“Everybot knows you killed Guard-”

“I did what was best for the ship!” Neutroboost roared, slamming his fist upon the nearest console. “He was another pawn to that beast’s ploys!”

Tears glistened in the femme’s optics as she shook her helm slowly, her lip quivering. “Blackout wasn’t the monster. You are.”

Bots standing outside of the command center and walking down the hall came to pause and look to the dual doors as a loud, gurgling scream escaped the room. A few passed exhausted, pained glances to each other. Their optics dull, lifeless. Just as undernourished and lacking as the last. There was nothing left to fight for. They knew they were all bound to offline out here, lacking fuel, ruled by a mech that none dared to stand against with his cronies owning the ship.

Ripping his digits free of the femme as she panted loudly, Neutroboost flicked the energon off and on the floor. His lip curled up in a sneer as he growled furiously at the femme.

“You’re time is coming to an end,” he threatened. “If you choose to support me, and fix my frame, maybe I’ll reconsider.”

“Go offline... in a hole...” the femme gasped quietly. “If that sweet femme... and Blackout live... I hope they... make you beg for death...”

“Very well,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

Stepping aside, Neutro walked around the medic as she grasped for his ankle. He stomped on her pede, causing her to wail once more.

He picked up the cannon first offered to him lying before the head seat of the room. It was just as heavy as it had been the first day he wielded it. His digits gripped it firmly as he raised it, looking up and down the weapon that had brought an era to an end upon the Rising Star and placed him as the sole commander in charge.

Fear glittered in the medic’s optics as he turned to her with a sadistic grin.

“Tell Guard ‘hi’ for me.”

~

Nighthawk flinched, his servos tightening around the controls of the Jaguar as he breathed out steadily. The vessel coasted behind the planet before them slowly, using it’s magnetic disturbances to their advantage to remain concealed. The only trouble was that it made for flying blind around its astral rings a big hazardous as gravity tried sucking them inward.

Behind him, the scrap of claws lightly upon the floor approached.

“Everything okay, boss?” Infiltrator inquired softly, his optics dim.

“Fine,” he gritted, swerving around an asteroid. “Just concentrating.”

The dragon didn’t look convinced, but turned to shuffle away anyway and leave him to his work.

What a strange feeling. For a nanoklik there, he imagined he almost felt a cold feeling press through him. There were legends that sometimes sparks returning to the Well would move over bots they were akin to and held relations.

The sensation left him unnerved.

Rolling around more space debris as he pulled away from the planet’s gravitational tug on the ship, Nighthawk grimaced and shook off the feeling. He had to keep his attention on what he was doing, or they would be sucked in to the planet and crushed by the pressure.

Or worse, they’d catch the Rising Star’s attention before it was time.

“Strap yourself in, Infiltrator,” he called back. “The ride’s about to get a whole lot bumpier.”

[dreampvck-archived]

Hey uh do you by change have like a recs list for any of your favourite fics? Or any fics you think would be good to read?

u bet i do !!!

i tried to keep this list small by only reccing completed works but uhh.. it’s still super long lmao + in no particular order

Nu ABO: A Memoir by Park Jimin by decompositionbooks[Non-AU, ABO, Jikook, 34k]

The world didn’t think it was necessary to give him a guide when it shoved all of these omega hormones at him, so here it is, Park Jimin’s handbook on dealing with heats, unrequited love, and Jeon Jungkook.

Craigslist Date by springrain21[Fake Dating, Yoonmin, 48k]

Min Yoongi’s family are judgmental and unsupportive of his lifestyle and his mother won’t stop nagging him about how he’s still single. When he finds Park Jimin on Craigslist offering to pose as someone’s fake date to mess with their family, Yoongi can’t help himself. What starts as a prank on Yoongi’s family turns into something more when the two of them quickly develop feelings for each other. Will Yoongi, who doesn’t know how to handle feelings, let his chance at love slip away, or will he go after the silver-haired boy and hold onto him forever?

Inspired by that tumblr post about the guy on Craigslist who you can hire to be your date for Thanksgiving to screw with your family because that post makes me cry laughing every time I see it.

it’s your heart i wanna live (& sleep) in by knth[College AU, Vmin, 22k]

The first time Jimin sleeps over at Taehyung’s, it’s an emergency. The other times after? That’s a different story.

i’ve been drinking, i’ve been drinking by decompositionbooks[Bartender AU, Jikook, 12k]

Jungkook tries to figure Jimin out with Yoongi’s trademarked “What Your Drink Says About You” alcohol psychoanalysis.

All he knows is that Jimin likes fruity little drinks.

love in the time of social media by abillionstars[Non-AU, Taekook, 23k]

“You want me, an internationally famous celebrity living in a restrictive society that would tear apart any news of me dating, to set up a very public Tinder account under a fake name?” Taehyung cocked an eyebrow. “Just thought I ought to clarify.”

“Yes,” said Seokjin, looking strangely determined.

“Well, shit,” Taehyung said, exiting out of the Words With Friends game. “I’m in.”

In which Taehyung doesn’t swipe right on anybody at all (except in his heart), goes on absolutely no wild adventures, but ends up falling in love anyway.

honest you do by mnsg

[’We Got Married’ AU, Jikook, 26k]

“Do you think you’ll be a good husband?”Jimin smiles. “I’ll really, really try.”

Korea’s darling, Park Jimin, gets married.

pull me closer in the backseat of your rover by moonsuns[College fwb!au, Yoonmin, 14k]

Jimin had just wanted to get off. He didn’t think he’d end up with a boyfriend at the end of it all.

Or, another friends with benefits AU.

light me up (i’ll keep you warm) by kaythebest[College AU, Yoonmin, 13k]

He’s already taking a deep breath when he hears someone twisting the doorknob. “Jung Hoseok, I have a bone to pick with you, you absolute asshole,” he starts.

It is not Jung Hoseok.

Definitely not.

Min Yoongi.

Jimin coughs awkwardly into his fist. “Hello,” he finishes.

(In which Jimin has a crush, yells a lot, and maybe falls into like.)

The Emotional Journey of Park Jimin: Token Straight Guy[College AU, Yoonmin, 9k]

…Okay.Okay, so that was, uh. A thing that. That happened that was a thing that happened and everything is fine. Everything is fine! Perfectly normal! The prank they played on Hoseok went over swimmingly, because of course it did, and everything was fine.Except this one thing.Park Jimin can’t sleep.

Requite by wickedqriosity[Minjoon, Taekook, lil bit of Vmin, 74k]

requite (verb) 1 a : to make return for; repay. b : to make retaliation for; avenge. 2 : to make suitable return to for a benefit or service or for an injury.

Jimin, a soft-hearted retail supervisor, moonlights as a professional cuddler to buy a new loft.

When the object of his workplace obsession offers to help him move, and subsequently moves himself in, Jimin hopes that his lonely daydreams are coming true. Until, the silver-tongued squatter begins to demolish Jimin’s ‘happy place’ and inflict fresh wounds over old scars.

Devastated and frustrated, Jimin soon meets a new cuddle-client who encourages him to question—and ask for—what he really wants.

Kickstart series by Error401[Hitmen AU, Yoonmin, 35k]

“I-I don’t understand…” Jimin said, eyes watering as he focused on Yoongi. “I thought…you were going to kill me…in the bathroom.”

“Yeah, well so did I,” Yoongi said wryly, and Jimin flinched, trying to make himself impossibly smaller.

AKA It is a truth universally acknowledged, that Min Yoongi in possession of a heart will be in want of sleep.

Snapshot Vigilante by Error401[Superhero AU, Yoonmin, 58k]

Jimin knew that life in the big city would be different, but dealing with super powered mishaps and one piece of bad luck after another was a bit much.

Lucky him that the vigilante Suga was watching his back.

En Passant by Error401[Jikook, Criminal!Jimin and Cop!Jungkook, 10k]

“Hey,” Jungkook said, voice low, “whatever he did, he didn’t deserve that.”

“Oh?” Choi said, mouth twisting in amusement. “Did you know his boyfriend likes to sever heads and preserve them? I hear he’s got quite the collection.”

Jungkook felt his eye twitch. “That’s disgusting, and also not funny.” He glanced at the crying boy, who’d now curled his legs up to fit on the chair, his feet bare and as tiny as the rest of him. Lines of red were spilling from under the cuffs, dripping onto the table. “I’m going to find a first aid kit and treat those.”

“I wasn’t joking,” Choi said, as Jungkook slipped out of the room.

Conflicting Arrangement by PrettyBoyKiller[Fake Dating, Yoonmin, 162k]

“Absolutely not,” Yoongi deadpanned. “Namjoon-ah. I value you as a friend, and I think I’d even go as far as to say that you’re my best friend, but absolutely fucking not.”

“You owe me,” Namjoon pleaded. “Come on, Yoongi, it’s not a big deal.”

“Your boyfriend’s best friend’s best friend needs a fake boyfriend to come out to his family this Chuseok, all the way in fucking Busan.” Yoongi repeated drily without pause, making Namjoon wince. He flipped a page of his textbook, picking up his highlighter. “Not a big deal, Namjoon. Amazing.”

refrigerator humming, chewing gum and instant karma by locks[Mafia AU, Taekook, 61k]

Taehyung sets the flowers down on the dining table, plucking the card off the little holder. “Dearest Taehyung, just wanted you to know that I’m thinking about you. I hope you’re thinking about me too. Love–” he pauses and squints before cocking an eyebrow and pursing his lips. “Hyung, why is the boss of your little boy band gang professing his love for me?”

Yoongi drops the noodles on the floor with a loud curse as he burns his hand.

Or, Taehyung’s been trying his hardest to avoid Yoongi’s criminal life for a long ass time, but a cute kid and his infuriating father keep pulling him deeper into the mix.

Barbershop SUGA series by MissterMaia[Hairdresser AU, Yoonmin, 35k]

Jimin’s impromptu visit to a salon called SUGA turns out to be more interesting than he expected. Way more interesting.

Hey, Piano Man by MissterMaia[Bartender AU, Yoonmin, 15k]

In which Yoongi, after having his evening completely ruined by a drunk asshole on his way home from a rough day at the studio, decides he himself needs to get drunk and wanders into an old-fashioned pub. He may or may not find his bad mood washed away by the cute bartender, and he may or may not end up completely and utterly smitten when said bartender gets on the small stage and starts singing in the most angelic, beautiful, seductive voice he’s ever heard in all his life.

“You play the piano?”

“I… yeah, I do, actually. How’d you know?”

The bartender’s smile is shy and confident all at once, and Yoongi’s heart lurches in confusion. “Just a feeling,” Jimin says softly, busying himself with drying a glass. “Your hands are beautiful. They look like they were made to play an instrument.”

in your eyes (it’s where i wanna be) by bonnia[Coffee Shop AU, Yoonmin, 5k]

Jimin pauses with his marker inches away from the cup, because — is he really going to do this? Isn’t it a bit old-fashioned to write something flirty on a coffee cup? But no matter what his churning gut says about danger and what the hell are you doing do you want to die, this guy is — with no better way to put it — totally Jimin’s Type with a capital T.

(Or: Jimin accidentally starts a nickname war with the cute blonde who likes his coffee way too bitter.)

Hit The Lights by lethallergic[College AU, Taekook, 7k]

1-800-HOTLINEBLING

You’re My Genie, Lamborghini (You’re My Teenie Weenie Meenie) by mindheist[Youtuber AU, Jikook, 7k]

You know those people who say technology is driving people apart? Yeah, fuck them.

Out of My System by xxdevillishxx[College AU, One Night Stand AU, Yoonmin, 101k]

Yoongi likes one night stands and he understands how they work. What he doesn’t understand, however, is how he ended up in bed with a probably-not-legal kid crying in his arms about his broken heart, because he’s pretty sure (and correct him if he’s wrong) that a babysitting job was not what he was looking for when he went to the opening of his friend’s new club.

when you’re in love all the lines get blurred by jflawless[Fake Dating AU, Yoonmin, 36k]

Jimin isn’t sure what possessed him to lie to his mother and tell her that he had a boyfriend, but now that he’s opened the position, he has no choice but to fill it. Yoongi is, apparently, his only option.

dating for dummies by sugasus[High School AU, Taekook, 12k]

in which twitter is evil, jeon jeongguk is a bit tsundere, park jimin is satan and kim taehyung may or may not have a boyfriend.

those are a bunch of my faves, lemme know if you want more of a specific pairing !! 💖💐

[ferociousfangirlofmanyfandoms]

Lullaby

“Mmhn....”  England sighed, looking up from his laptop. It was three in the morning. Maybe he should have gone to sleep a few hours ago. He would go to sleep....

Except now there was a large figure peeking into the half open bedroom door, anxious eyes devoid of their normal glasses. Fresh lime colored eyes met the teary lapis pair in the doorway. 

“...Were you up with the horror movies again, Al?” 

From how shifty eyed and fidgety the bigger blonde got, the next answer was likely to be a fib. That much, at least, hadn’t changed since his baby days. 

“....Mmm, yeah... yeah, let’s go with that...” 

There was a beat of silence as both of them stayed frozen where they were. England in his bed in the elderly terrycloth pajamas he favored, America in a white t-shirt and flannel pajama pants fidgeting in the door. 

“...Oh come here you big lug,” England grumbles softly, putting away his slim Notebook in the nearby nightstand. He favored the portability of the thing, along with the fact it had a plaid cover from Wales. Shuffling feet reach his ears, and surprisingly quietly, America slides under the covers with him. From how the bigger male balled up under the covers promptly, this had been no ordinary scare. 

Gentle, long fingered hands and skinny arms tug and pinch and prod until America’s head pokes from under the sheets. He grumbles, puffing out his cheeks in a way that almost has England laughing- it reminded the older Nation so much of his beloved one’s baby days. 

“WHAT?” 

No volume control, as usual.

“Not so loud- it’s late... Still. What’s got your knickers in a twist?” 

England had to stifle a snigger when America quite literally checked his pants before realizing what the older Nation meant. He sighed, and shut his eyes. 

“... You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. It usually helps, though,” England reminded gently. 

America sighs heavily. It hurt a bit to see him weighted down like that- he normally was a bubbly person, whichever gender he decided to pick that morning. 

“.... I was dreaming of the Blitz again...D-Day somehow got mixed in there too, from what I remember...” 

England winced. That was a nasty memory to trod over when you had control of your reminiscing. In a dream? Far less pleasant, and that was saying something. 

Considering Britain had been in an insane amount of pain at the time, he didn’t remember too much. From the bits and pieces gleaned from other Nations, though.... What most didn’t know was that Pearl Harbor wasn’t the only thing that drove America into the war. Surprisingly, this had been one of the times that the nation had fought directly on the front lines of a war. If the stories still bandied about within Germany, France, and several other countries were true... America had been a juggernaut. Near mad with fury, he had taken on an entire battalion of German tanks himself... 

and won.

Straight up slaughtered the German folk within, too. He had seen some of the wreckage later on through photographs, after the smoke had cleared. It had appeared he’d torn several entire tanks apart. Chatter from the bosses at the time had said letting him on the front lines as well as specific missions of silent destruction was the only way to pacify the infuriated nation. It had been all hushed up of course, but.... 

that kind of thing was bound to leave mental scars on anyone. 

America squeaked and his eyes snapped open when he felt England wrap his arms around him. He wiggled, squirming to see what was going on. Uneasy with touch at the best of times, he was particularly on edge at the moment...especially with his fragile old man holding him. 

“Hold still, you big wanker, you’re going to squish me-!” 

Surprisingly to England, America did immediately hold still. After a moment, bigger arms snake carefully around the smaller nation and cradle him close. America tucks his face in the crook of England’s neck, as he used to when he was much smaller. An inhale reminded him sorely of when they were together more often- garden soil, old books and just a whiff of burnt scone. His laugh shakes them both for a moment, and then he just smiles into England’s skin. 

England sighs contentedly, breathing in America while his cheek was planted on the bigger nation’s head. Mountain waters in dark secret places, long stretches of nothing but sunny plains grass and just a bit of that nasty chemical smell you get in your nose from sitting too long in a fast food restaurant while they were cleaning up. Lithe hands rub circles on America’s back, and he can feel when America’s breath hitches sleepily. 

America perks up for a moment when he hears England take a breath, and start to sing. It was very rare for the cranky older Nation to be in a mood to sing- especially something as soft as this, which tended to bring out his oldest accent. 

“Hush now, ma cuisle mo chroidhe,

Close your eyes and sleep

Waltzing the waves

Diving in the deep.”

England was stroking his hair. America was starting to doze, a smile on his lips at the words he recognized.... More comforted than he wanted to admit that the older nation had good as told him he still cared with this.

“Stars are shining bright

The wind is on the rise

Whispering words

Of long lost lullabies,” England sang, feeling America droop against him slowly as the song wore on. His arms remained firm around the older nation - warm bands of iron that England looked at as more protective than he wanted to look at them sometimes. The lullaby was a reminder of his own corsair days, which prompted some remembrances of this one’s corsair phase. 

He truly was the Pirate King’s dearest one. 

“Oh won't you come with me

Where the moon is made of gold

And in the morning sun 

We'll be sailing free...”  America was genuinely starting to drift off at this point. He cuddled close to England as he dared, gentle as a kitten for once in his life. That particular lullaby, in one form or another, was always soothing. 

England smiled fondly when he felt America’s breathing slide to the sleeping pattern he knew well. Even so, he finished the song. 

“ Oh won't you come with me

Where the ocean meets the sky

And as the clouds roll by

We'll sing the song of the sea I had a dream last night

And heard the sweetest sound

I saw a great white light

And dancers in the round 

Castles in the sand

Cradles in the trees

Don't cry, I'll see you by and by...”  Sliding into a peaceful sleep, the elder Nation cuddled the younger close... just as if no time had passed between them and they were still young brothers together in America’s home. 

[recentanimenews]

Raphtalia and Filo’s Voice Actors Discuss Shield Hero’s Pivotal Moments

This piece was originally published on WebNewtype and is republished on Crunchyroll News with permission from KADOKAWA.

  From The Rising of the Shield Hero

©2019 Aneko Yusagi, KADOKAWA/Shield Hero production committee

  The Rising of the Shield Hero is a currently airing popular TV anime series. Here we’ll be presenting an interview with Asami Seto, who voices Raphtalia, and Rina Hidaka, who voices Filo. In the first part we’ll talk to the voice actors about the story up until the turning point that occurs in Episode 4 and about the appeal of Raphtalia’s character.

  Let’s look back at the beginning of the first half of the series, I’d like to ask specifically about the story as it revolves around Raphtalia. First, what were your impressions of Episode 1?

  Hidaka: Filo doesn’t appear in those episodes, so I think I looked at it the same way as the viewers thinking, “So this is how Naofumi’s personality was from the beginning,” and “Wow, Myne is awful!”

  Seto: You just can’t help but feel sorry for Naofumi.

  Hidaka: I was really surprised by Myne and the other heroes, it’s rare for characters to be that infuriating (laughs).

  Seto: Yeah, it makes your heart hurt because Naofumi was just looking forward to adventuring in this other world; why does he have to have so many awful things happen to him like this?

  Hidaka: In my line of work I get to be involved with a lot of different anime, but there are very few where you’re surrounded by enemies to such a degree. However, there is the word “rising” in the title of the anime, so I look forward to seeing how Naofumi will prove himself to everyone.

  Raphtalia appears at the end of Episode 1 and in Episode 2 she becomes Naofumi’s partner and we get to see her maturing.

  Seto: At first Raphtalia is such a young girl and it wasn’t the type of role that I do very often, so when it finally came time to watch it on air I felt kind of embarrassed (laughs). But I was relieved after the staff told me that the show was receiving positive feedback.

  Hidaka: Raphtalia was so cute! By the time I entered postrecording she’d already grown up into this cool, reliable old sister figure, so seeing her injured, weak and experiencing trauma was very sad but also a totally different experience.

  Seto: That’s true, in Episode 2 Raphtalia has a lot of scenes where she’s scared, and I wondered to myself why does this girl have to go through such awful things?

  Hidaka: But for all she suffered, it just made her look that much cuter when she started eating her kids’ meal and wiggling her tail.

  Seto: I love that scene! Not just Raphtalia, Naofumi is great in that scene too. He doesn’t just feed her, he also gives her a ball too, it made me feel like despite the fact that his heart is dark and closed off, he still has kindness left and it gave me hope for their future.

Actually, in the script of the scene where she’s eating the kids’ meal there were stage directions that said, “Say it very cutely.” It was where Raphtalia was asked, “Does it taste good?” And she answers back, “Yes!”

  Hidaka: This series really raises the bar, doesn’t it?

  Seto: I remember feeling an incredible amount of pressure.

    Was there anything in particular you had in mind when you were acting as the outwardly grown-up Raphtalia?

  Seto: When she matures and her relationship with Naofumi deepens, she has this particularly overbearing motherlike quality that comes out. At first Naofumi was the one saving her all the time, but now she’s the one prioritizing him over herself. I wanted to make sure and maintain that motherly aspect.

  Once she matures, her and Naofumi grow really close to one another, don’t they?

  Seto: Of course she still has those scars and moments of anxiety left from when she was younger, but her feelings of love and loyalty toward Naofumi steadily grow stronger. That isn’t distinctly expressed in the character’s lines, so I hoped to demonstrate her level of affection and attachment by being conscious of the distance between them and the pacing of their conversations.

  Hidaka: You’re really amazing, Seto-chan. The same goes for Kaito Ishikawa as well, but when words like “Yes” appear in the script you don’t just act them as-is, you personally ask the staff and make your own proposals like, “What’s the character’s intention as they’re saying this line?” “Can I try doing it this way?” Seeing both of you do that was very inspiring for me.

  On that note, was there something that particularly stood out to you in your interactions with the staff?

  Hidaka: Raphtalia’s reaction toward Naofumi, right?

  Seto: That’s right! After Naofumi says something to her Raphtalia reacts with an “?” and I couldn’t figure out if she was responding that way because she understood what he meant, or if she was responding that way because she didn’t.

  Hidaka: For the most part actors just take those lines for granted and perform them. Seto-chan, however, would suddenly ask, “Is Raphtalia reacting this way because she understands?” The director’s answer was something we would’ve never even have thought of, so we were glad she asked.

  Seto: Ultimately, Naofumi used words that don’t exist in this other world, so I did Raphtalia’s reaction in a way that was like, “What is Naofumi saying?”

  Hidaka: It’s still the same line but the feelings going into it are different, and I thought to myself, “Seto is as amazing as ever!”

  Seto: The staff have to keep an eye on a bunch of different characters, whereas we basically only have to deal with one of them. In which case, I think it’s natural that the staff wouldn’t realize some aspects, so I think it’s important for us to respect each other as we exchange opinions during the creation of the series.

    Alright then, so how was the climax in the first part during Episodes 3 and 4?

  Seto: I was happy to see Raphtalia grow so much more than she did at first, but as you know from Episode 4, Naofumi didn’t actually realize she had matured until then and that was shocking. It made me realize just how much he’d closed his heart off.

  Hidaka: I was surprised at the way Raphtalia matured. Not just her outer appearance, but emotionally she’d become stronger too. I was happy to see that such a frail girl had become so strong-willed.

  Seto: But there is one mistake I’ve noticed. I meant to voice Raphtalia as being frail, but right from the start she had this unwavering quality to her, more so than I intended.

  Hidaka: Personally, it looked very well-balanced to me. It was true that after Naofumi took her into his care she was immediately terrified all the time, but I think from the beginning she was distinct and had this latent potential to be a very strong-willed girl, so it actually felt natural to me.

  Seto: I’m so happy to hear that! It’s true that when her father was holding her on his lap, telling her the story of the Shield Hero, she readily expressed her own feelings. That aspect of her personality might be connected to her motherliness (laughs).

  How was the duel in episode 4?

  Seto: Ugh… Motoyasu.

  Hidaka: Yeah, it was absolutely awful!

  Seto: Because he believed everything that Myne said.

  Hidaka: At least realize that Myne was using magic!

  (laughs) You both seem to have really hated it.

  Seto: I’m going to be frank and just come out and say it, it got under my skin (laughs). Ren and Itsuki acknowledged the cheating, but Motoyasu couldn’t completely bring himself to believe it.

  Hidaka: I thought he seemed like such a child.

  Seto: I could understand if he was still in his teens, but Motoyasu was the oldest at 21 years-old. It made me think, “Okay, now you” (laughs).

  Hidaka: It was really unfortunate (laughs). The character’s doing this because he has a strong sense of justice, so it’s not like he wants to show contempt for anyone, he’s not a bad person. As a result, there’s this staggering sense of disappointment!

  Seto: But gradually even the unfortunate aspects of Motoyasu start to grow on you.

  Hidaka: Right! There are parts of him that you start to find adorable.

  Seto: That’s why [Makoto Takahashi] looked so cute during postrecording when he was acting out his character.

  Hidaka: He was trying his utmost to become his character.

    Seto-san, you sing the insert song in Episode 4 called Falling Through Starlight, yes?

  Seto: I was so happy that they used the song for such an emotional scene. Although it was played for a pretty long time at a fairly loud volume, so it was a little embarrassing for me.

  Hidaka: It was amazing!

  Seto: It’s not a character song, but the emotions I put into the song were meant to be representative of Raphtalia’s feelings.

  Hidaka: It’s incredible that you were able to sing English lyrics so masterfully.

  Seto: I’ve never really challenged myself to sing English songs before, and I heard it was going to be used in a really pivotal scene, so I wanted to be as accurate as possible. That’s why, before we went into recording, I made requests and had them give me extra practice and rehearsal days. On top of that, I had someone who could speak English give me a lecture before we started the recording. On the day of recording we had the song’s creator, Kevin [Penkin], on Skype giving me direction, so I was able to go into it completely prepared.

  Hidaka: The music in this series is incredible, the opening theme song and ending theme song included, so I’d love for viewers to give it a listen.

  In the next part of this interview we’ll talk about Filo and the events that happen from Episode 5 onward!

  Interview / Article by Daisuke Iwakura

  TV Anime The Rising of the Shield Hero

Staff: Original - Yusagi Aneko (MF Books The Rising of the Shield Hero / Published by KADOKAWA) / Original Artist - Seira Minami / Director - Takao Abo / Series Composition - Keigo Koyanagi / Character Design & Chief Animation Director - Masahiro Suwa / Animation Production - Cinema Citrus / Cast - Kaito Ishikawa as Naofumi Iwatani / Asami Seto as Raphtalia / Rina Hidaka as Filo / Yoshitsugu Matsuoka as Ren Amaki / Makoto Takahashi as Motoyasu Kitamura / Yoshitaka Yamaya as Itsuki Kawasumi / Maaya Uchida as Melty

  The Rising of the Shield Hero Anime Official Website

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  Buy the Original Light Novel of The Rising of the Shield Hero at the Crunchyroll Store.

  Watch The Rising of the Shield Hero on Crunchyroll

  See the original article at WebNewtype.

  By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com