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plutoswrath · 3 years ago

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i’m sorry to annoy you with this again. i just look up to your kpop mixed with astrology content. but lucas’s neptune contact with his mc is going to annoy the shit out of me until this is fixed. the cloudiness that neptune brings to his public image is something that i think possibly fuels these situations further. false accusations and mixed perceptions based off of them is exactly what makes these scandals to continue on and on. and i’m sick of it. both sides ignore what the other is saying and it gets nowhere. neptune, the malefic bastard.

Hello! I saw your recent asks and I appreciate your words regarding my content, thank you so much for the kind words! <3

I will touch on astrolgy under the cut, but before this happens, I want to leave a few words. There's a reason why I didn't answer the previous questions I received (not only yours op) regarding the Lucas situation so far. For several reasons I didn't want to feed into any sort of (perceived) sensationalism in regards to the Lucas situation, even though I'd really love to look at the situation from an astrological point of view. That people are divided on this topic is to be expected, but I think the way it has been handled by majority so far is very bad. I really want to elaborate on my reasoning why we should rethink the way we talk about/represent the Lucas situation right now, but as this topic is very kpop specific everything will be under the cut.

My reasoning for avoiding any questions about it until now:

1. People already don't take the situation seriously enough: Regardless of what your standpoint is, I'd like for people to consider looking at it from a more critical point of view for a second: The allegations are not about him being exposed as ‘just a f-boy’ as some people make it out to be, they are more serious than that. Lucas allegedly manipulated and used these women for his own emotional/sexual/financial needs and ego boost. The fact that he has money and allegedly still used other people to provide financially for him just demonstrates the power play underneath it all. He abused his position of power as an idol, the power dynamics between him and fans who idolize him are plain and simple just completely off. Please think about the fact, that he allegedly decided who to date on at fansigns. This alone gives no security to any fans that want to attend fansigns in the future. TW SV: he also talked one of these women into having sex with him + doing it unprotected, which is not only emotionally/sexually manipulative/coercive and can possibly be traumatic for them but also heightens the risk for transfering STD's as END TW he was supposedly seeing people at the same time/cheating. In general, the behavior he gets accused of leaves trauma and is abuse, to be more specific abuse of power on multiple levels and his social position makes it just easier to continue abusing that power. As you've mentioned yourself op, there is a huge back and forth about the allegations, and I know people like to take situations like the one of Taeyong as an example to justify that not every public apology is real and that allegations turn out to be false years later, but I believe it's different this time and that the allegations that came forward were real. Even his cbar closed, a fanbase that works closely with Label V (!), that alone shows that there is 'at least' some truth to the story, or else his hardcore fanbase wouldn't have decided to turn their back on him in matters of just days. Also, all the 'jokes' and the portrayal of 'juicy gossip' people make about the situation just downplays and ridicules the possible traumatic experiences of the people that were hurt by his actions. If anyone decides to not believe these allegations until SM gives a more specific statement, that's fine, but please do so without making fun of the people who were victims of his behavior, as there is already little to no sympathy for them online. It makes it just way harder for any survivors in the future to speak out on their experience. People say it's 'nothing illegal, just morally wrong' but given the fact that he is also a person in power, the line between 'just' morally wrong and illegal can be very thin in some cases. And please overthink arguments such as: 'this is typical boy behavior for someone in his 20's'/ 'he's just an f-boy' or 'boys will be boys' because they are deeply misogynistic and we shouldn't normalize behavior like that, thus making the root of the problem actually way deeper than most people think.

2. WayV's future: This mainly goes for people who are fans of WayV. I know not everyone probably likes to hear this, but another thing why wild speculations, sensationalism or even possible defence about this situation should be kept on the low is WayV's career. I want to be honest here, but I'm scared for their future, their comeback for october has been cancelled for now and they are put on a hiatus for several months as far as I know. They were on a good path of gaining more and more recognition and establishing themselves even better as a c-pop group, but now Luca's reputation in China (their target audience) is as good as gone and that pulls all of WayV down to rock bottom with him. People really need to try seeing the story out of the eyes of the korean and especially chinese fans as well, their perception of the allegations (especially after the Kris Wu situation!) are way different and more serious than the ones of i-fans and i-fans have to accept that. Also, we all know how companies (especially SM) handle these type of situations: keep the people on the low till the storm has calmed down. But will the storm ever calm down for Lucas when his public image is basically destroyed, and thus WayV as well? What I want people to understand is that this whole situation affects WayV and their career directly, actually on the biggest scale possible. All the work so far is at risk to be for good and I think a lot of fans tend to forget that, things look especially critical for HenXiaoYanKun if WayV would be to continue/redebute/fall apart. It doesn't matter if Lucas talking bad about the members/the companies/shows he works with/for was real or not in the end, because unfortunately damage is already done, WayV's image (WayV= family) is already tarnished and WayV as a group will suffer from this. You summed it up with malefic Neptune the best actually: We all don't know the full confirmed truth about the situation and will most likely never know it. (small astro insight here as well, but part of Neptune is to accept fantasy for what it is: fantasy, and thus turn to cold reality when you're in too deep)

3. What O'd advice the fandom to do right now: Regardless of your opinion on the situation, what we as a fandom can do best right now is staying on the low, wait things out, and stop adding more fire to the situation with our actions and wait how the situation actually developes, since a) we can not fasten the process and b) a lot of rumors, false information and unnecessary details get exposed to mudd the waters and to discredit the statement of the victims as well. I've seen some strong reactions from both sides, but as someone who's a big fan of nct in general I really just want to say that part of the fandom throwing a fit on the internet leads basically to nothing, it actually only reflects even worse on nctzens/weshennies and thus on WayV's (and also NCT as whole) image as well. Things right now are handled internal, not extern. Whatever gets through to the public will be half of the story anyway. A lot of people seem to forget, that we talk about SM and all they care for right now is saving themselves economically (think about the domino effect this situation has on the whole group/company), so we will have to see what their final decision is going to be, if anything will happen at all. For now, be patient, wait and see. Last words: It's okay to feel hurt/confused/angry/drained. Even though most of us are aware that we dont know any celebrity's character, it's still hard to swallow and to digest because you were a fan of that artist. Let it take time and vent. Take a break from it if it gets too much! Talking about it to process your emotions better is okay and very valid, but keep in mind that you should not worsen the situation by doing so - it's already absolute chaos.

Also: This statement is by no means a direct attack to anyone or me trying to push my opinion onto you, just my two cents in how to handle the situation best right now, because our hands are basically tied. Also: agree to disagree. If you don't like that I side with the victims (unless there is an official statement that Lucas is proven not guilty, which I doubt, unfortunately) then so be it, but don't start a war in my inbox for our opinions differing.

-------

Now, to astrology:

Disclaimer: This analysis will not be very light-hearted, but remember that it's just a theory and not me trying to confirm anything!

First of all op, sorry for just answering you know, but I neded some time to think through how to adress this without adding to the fire with my astrological analysis! Boy, does the birth time fit the shoe right now. To be fair as I did my short rising sign analysis about him recently, I cancelled out every other fire rising except for Leo, because I got stuck on the ego part a bit. Anything for me made sense, as long as it highlights his ego, which by itself doesn't have to be a bad thing automatically, but there's always two sides of the coin as we all know.

I looked into the transits the past week and added a few asteroids/mathematical points as well. An anon before pointed to the full moon happening in his tenth house, conjunct his sun, etc. (I deleted the ask because I didn't know what was going on at that time and thought it was just the 'usual' rumors that once in a while get spread around, but after looking more into it I decided this was not the right time to stirr the pot in any kind of way or treat it as funny, hot gos). But yeah a full Moon in Aquarius happening in his 10th house AND on top of that Saturn in Aquarius, conjuncting that Moon and his natal Uranus in the 10th! Talk about destrcution of any stable foundation and a change in a public image! Honestly, looking at astrologically the way his public image just got radically destroyed over night, with Saturn and the Moon having been in a conjunction (in his chart it was in the 10th house) is kinda eery even. Talk about collective consciousness - not only exposing quiet literally the feelings of the collective, but also doing so in the favor of others and gaining collective emotional consciousness. Take this with a grain of salt (!), because we're still in a tense situation, but I'm tapping into the darker, unfriendlier side of astrology now. Taking his confirmed birth time, he has Nessus in Sagittarius in his 8th house and as I saw that I could feel myself shifting into the surprised pikachu face. I am not saying that this prooves the allegations whatsoever, but as you seemed to be very interested in anaylzing the case in-depth as well, the allegations fit his Nessus - jumping from partner to partner, carelessness (regarding physical intimacy as well), making people share all their ressources with him/finacial gain, and basically the whole jist of gaining control/being in a power position in intimate connections. Keep in mind that this is only one interpretation of Nessus though, Nessus can also show the complete opposite to someone 'turning to their dark side'. On top of that, his Nessus was conjunct transit Phollus the past week, so if anything, we can see that a large event triggered him to 'open his eyes' and face anything of an 'obstacle' that hinders him from seeing the 'truth' to a larger picture and his own nature/destiny. Pholus can symbolize change that will alter your perception of the responsibility you have for yourself and others.

But my latest new interest with these two asteroids aside (asteroids just add a little more nuance to a situation after all), I want to touch on Lilith too, since you (op) have mentioned Lilith before in one of your asks!

He has his Lilith exactly conjunct his Descendant when we consider his confirmed birth time. What happened just now can be seen as 'backfiring' of his actions, either Lilith embodying the women who expose him now for his 'inappropriate' behavior, but also simply fans shaming him now for his alleged manipulative/imoral behavior, especially shaming him about who he chose to date and how. Next to that, you've mentioned Lilith opposite Moon and it just makes me think about him possibly feeling very indecisive and potentially in denial about what he actually needs to be fulfilled in order to be emotionally happy and thus leading to him appearing to have this 'second, dark side' to him now. BML is not necessarily opposite the Moon in my opinion, it's just the side of the subconscious we don't really like to deal with and all we're told not to express and desire because it can be conflicting in the eyes of others (thus BML also leading to a lot of recklessness on the negative side). I think if we take the allegations into consideration, regardless of how much of it is true of it, it can be a good example what happens, when an opposition gets out of balance, as it also manifests outwardly a lot! Lilith shows in his 'double life' aka what he allegedly did with fans. Lilith wanted an outlet and found one by working behind the scenes. If we take in his supposed Taurus rising, which his Lilith is in an exact opposition with, it's a good example of what can lurk underneath the surface.

And of course, last but not least, Neptune and Sun conjunct his MC. People are quiet literally blinded by him more than they would like to think. Also: Lucas was always known for his 'flirty & charismatic' nature, this is another reason why people think we shouldn't be surprised he 'turns out to be like that in real life'. I'm not analyzing this argument right now, but what I think is very interesting is how Sun conjunct MC literally ties a good amount of their personality to their career - they want to be accepted and shine for their personality/big part of their individuality. Idols play a role, no matter how transparent they appear to us, but it's really funny how this 'image' of him melts almost seemingly with parts of his personality (almost af if you were to quiet literally sell your self) and as you've mentioned: Neptune only adds to that, unfortunately.

#replies #anonymous #might delete later??#idk depends if the situations gets even worse

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the-singlest-pringle · 3 years ago

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A Sweet Song

Prompt 5 of Surprise from this list: "You got this for me?"

It was not common knowledge that Billy played the violin.

Read it here on AO3.

It was not common knowledge that Billy played the violin. “Not common knowledge” meaning there were only four people that knew: Max, Neil, Old Lady Garcia, and his music teacher from California, Ms. Petrov. Neil was never meant to find out, but after word of Billy’s first (and last) performance got out, Neil smashed his violin, along with his left hand. It wasn’t long after that when Neil caught Billy with a boy. Neil lost his shit, nearly beating Billy to death, then he packed up the whole family in less than a week and moved them to the boondocks.

It was now April, meaning it was nearly his birthday and also that it would be six months since he last touched a violin. The first few months without his violin were the hardest. Billy swore that he was going through withdrawal. His hands yearned for the violin, fingers itching to play. He longed to wrap his fingers around the neck, to slide his bow across the strings, and carefully finger out some Paganini. Billy would drive to the quarry and listen to his stash of classical music. One time he actually broke down because of it. His heart ached for his violin as he cried out in mourning.

Now that it’s been six months, he’s had time to adjust. He still gets that itch when his emotions are high, but Harrington helps quell his hunger. In fact, dating Harrington had been the best thing to happen to Billy in a long time. He was kind, caring, and provided the support that Billy desperately needed yet woefully lacked. He took care of Billy when he was hospitalized because of Neil (again) and was there for him when Neil lost custody and Hopper took him in. Billy was convinced that he loved Harrington, which is why he decided to add Harrington to the list of people that knew his secret.

It was a normal night, the Party gathering at the Wheeler’s for another Dungeons and Dragons campaign, when Billy said (out of nowhere), “You know, I used to play the violin.”

He and Steve had gone upstairs to grab more snacks, so they were alone in the kitchen. Steve was already attempting to balance two boxes of cookies and three bags of chips in his arms when he heard Billy. He started to clumsily juggle and drop the snacks while stuttering out a surprised “What? Are you serious?”

Billy chuckled at Steve’s shock. “Yeah, I am. I even performed at Royce Hall back in Cali once.”

“Bee, that’s amazing!” Steve exclaims as he crouches down to collect the snacks. “How come I’m just finding out about this now?”

“Well, only five people know about it, including you. And I felt that since we’ve been together long enough, you deserve to know everything about me, which means knowing that I play the violin,” Billy explains before quickly correcting himself with a, “Well, used to play.”

“You don’t anymore?” Steve asked.

“Nah. My old man made me stop when he found out.” Billy flexes the fingers of his left hand as he says this. “I played for nearly ten years in secret. I would tell my dad I had clubs after school, but instead, I would go to the music room and play.” He clenches his hand as he continues. “When Neil found out, he took a hammer to my violin, then to my hand to make sure I would stop.”

Steve sighed at the mention of Neil, making his way across the kitchen to take Billy’s hands in his. “Your dad is a dick and I hate everything he put you through.” He pushes a lock of hair out of Billy’s face and tilts up his chin so that they’re making eye contact. “I am so glad that you’re out of that situation and that you don’t ever have to deal with Neil again. I love you so much, okay?” Steve plants a kiss on Billy’s forehead for emphasis before Billy pulls Steve closer and practically smashes their lips together.

Billy smiles into the kiss, whispering out, “I love you, too,” before they’re interrupted by a familiar shrill voice that causes them to pull apart.

“Ugh! You guys are so gross !” Max says from the kitchen entryway. She was the only member of The Party that knew about Steve and Billy. Max made it a thing to point out how gross their PDA was, which she named DAFM (Displays of Affection in Front of Max).

“Yeah, shitbird? Well, you stink,” Billy quips.

“I do not, booger face!” Max retaliates.

“Carrot top!”

“Stupidhead!”

“Half-pint!”

“Shortstop!”

Billy gasps dramatically and feigns offense. “I am not short!”

Max rolls her eyes at that. “Tell that to every guy we know!”

“I’m literally taller than Jonathan,” Billy defends.

“That doesn’t count!”

Steve just sits back and laughs at the two siblings quarreling before intervening when the volume reaches near screaming level. “Alright, alright. Break it up, you two. You’re both shorter than me and that’s all that matters. Now can we head back downstairs?”

“Ugh. Fine, ” Billy and Max say in unison. Max makes her way downstairs as Billy and Steve gather the snacks.

Billy steals a kiss from Steve before they head down the stairs, Billy announcing his presence with a “‘Sup, fuckers? What’d we miss?”, earning him a smack to the arm from Steve. They settle into the couch, a comfortable distance apart, as the rest of The Party continues playing DND.

The next time Billy playing the violin is mentioned is during Billy’s birthday party. It’s a pretty lively event considering Billy had next to no one just months ago. But now he has a family and friends, all of which have gathered to celebrate him. Just thinking about it makes him smile.

Billy is about halfway through opening gifts when he comes across a rather large box. It’s covered in sheet music wrapping paper with a bow on top. Curiously, he shakes the box, causing Harrington to say “Careful! It’s fragile,” revealing that it’s from him.

Knowing the size of the box, the wrapping paper, and the person who gave the gift, it doesn’t take long for Billy to piece together what it is.

“No… no way,” Billy says while frantically tearing the wrapping paper off the box. That earns him a chorus of people asking what it is and a smile from Harrington. “I swear to god, Harrington, if this is a joke…”

Billy slides the case out of the box, unzipping it then opening it slowly. He stares for a few seconds, not fully comprehending what he’s seeing. Staring back at him is a brand new violin. The rest of The Party is eager to see the contents of the case, but all Billy can focus on is the instrument in front of him.

“You got this for me?” Billy asks, still not believing what he’s seeing. Steve nods in assent.

Before Steve can register what’s happening, he’s pulled into a bone-crushing hug from Billy to everyone’s surprise. The Party’s confusion only multiplies when they see that a violin is what caused Billy to hug Harrington. When Billy pulls away, he looks like he’s so happy that he might cry. Steve is sure that he almost does.

“Thank you so much, Steve. I- I don’t even know what to say.” Billy is stumbling over his words, so overcome with emotions. Back in October, he was so sure that he would never touch a violin again, but now that he’s free from Neil, he can do whatever he wants. And what he wants right now more than anything is to play.

Billy slowly takes the violin out of the case. He puts the shoulder rest on the instrument and rosins the bow a bit. Billy looks up nervously at Steve, silently asking for assurance. Steve smiles at him and gestures to the center of the rug as if to say “go ahead”. Billy can feel all eyes on him when he stands up. He doesn’t even know if his fingers healed properly, but he doesn’t really care. He just wants to play. So he gets up into position, takes a breath, closes his eyes, and starts playing.

The whole Party is in awe as they watch. It’s clear that Billy puts every emotion into how he plays. His fingers dance gracefully across the neck of the violin while his right arm moves the bow fluidly across the strings. His tone is practically perfect. An untrained ear wouldn’t be able to tell that he hadn’t played in over six months.

When Billy finishes, the whole room is silent before Joyce starts clapping. Then everyone joins in, Max leading a standing ovation. Billy blushes, embarrassed by the attention, but smiles at the praise, happy people enjoy him playing just as much as he does. When everyone finishes clapping, Billy is bombarded with questions and praises.

“Oh my god, that was amazing!”

“Since when did you start playing the violin?”

“What song was that?”

“How come you never told anyone?”

“I can’t believe that Billy Hargrove just played violin in my living room!”

Billy laughs out several “thank you”s as he puts the violin away in its case. “I started playing when I was seven,” Billy starts to explain. “The piece I just played is called ‘Violin Concerto No. 3 in B minor, Op. 61’ by Camille Saint-Saëns, and I never told anyone because of Neil.” The Party didn’t know the details of his situation with Neil, but gossip spreads quickly in a small town, so they knew Neil lost custody for some reason.

“Sweetheart, you played beautifully,” Joyce praised.

“You really did,” Lucas agrees, which surprises Billy.

“Could you play something else?” Dustin asks, exciting a chorus of agreements.

Billy doesn’t know if anyone besides Ms. Petrov has asked him to play. He’s still getting over the shock of it all. But he agrees. So he takes out his violin again. His violin. And he plays for The Party. He plays all night long, playing Bach to Beethoven, and even some rock songs. He plays until his out-of-practice fingers cramp. He plays because he’s happy. Billy feels fulfilled as ever with his friends and family around him, with Steve by his side, and with a violin in his hand.

#stranger things #stranger things fic #billy hargrove #steve harrington #max mayfield #harringrove #harringrove fic

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writefightandflightclub · 5 years ago

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Hush (First Order!Poe x Reader)

What is this? 5 of 14 prompt requests for my 500 follower celebration! See OP and credit for prompt list creators here.

What is the prompt? “Do you think you can keep quiet for me?” with First Order! Poe. Thanks to the FABULOUS @tintinwrites for a FABULOUS request. (I hope it’s to your liking!)

Author’s note: This is a different take on FO!Poe compared to my other writing, so let me know what you think of it! Also, it has some smut but it’s not smut-centric. It’s a bit angsty, and even has backstory. Stay for the plot? I REALLY HOPE THIS ISN’T SHIT.

Word count: This story possessed me and so I feel like it’s not even my fault it’s 3.4k words, ok?

Warnings: (18+ only!!!) Smut, language, prison, mentions of execution. WARNING YOU ABOUT THE INEVITABLE TYPOS.

GIF: By @anxstesia

As a spy on behalf of the Resistance, while infiltrating the ranks of the First Order you’ve tried very hard not to land yourself in any... compromising positions. Having the First Order’s most notorious Commander back you up against the door of your holding cell notwithstanding, you’ve managed to do relatively well so far. In fact, Commander Poe Dameron has been responsible for the majority of the compromising positions you’ve found yourself in, and on those occasions, you were most definitely not complaining.

“I gotta have you right now.” he purrs, his voice causing a quickening as you both hasten towards sweet union. Heavy-lidded and laden with need, he urgently unbuckles you and forces his hand down beneath your waistband. His brows are drawn together, his breathing ragged, as if every moment that he’s not inside you physically pains him. Your thighs spread eagerly for him, granting him access, his eyes trained intently on your face as his finger reaches your slick folds. His touch causes you to moan softly, readily into the air. Satisfaction lilts briefly over his features before his broad hand clamps down on your mouth, the sound dying on your lips. “Do you think you can keep quiet for me?” Your eyes alight with anticipation, you nod in agreement, adrenaline and arousal pumping harshly through your veins as he yanks your pants from your hips and another moan blooms and dies in his palm.

This takes you back. Takes you back to the first time you officially met. The first time you fucked. You had happened upon the commander in a data vault in the dead of night, sneaking around where he shouldn’t be. While you were sneaking around where you shouldn’t be. He had quickly pressed you to the wall, covering your mouth firmly with his hand and asking if you could keep quiet for him, those dulcet tones thick like honey, his hot breath uneven on the shell of your ear. The harsh pressure of his body was still the kindest touch you’d had in.... Well. It had been some time. And you don’t know why you said what you did next, but it was perhaps one of your more inspired slip-ups. “Sure, unless you can give me sufficient reason to scream, Commander?”

Your words, the wanton look in your eyes, were like the striking of a match. He had responded just as immediately, instantly ablaze. Perhaps, that first time he’d rutted into you, delivering the only warmth you’d felt in this cold, dark shell of a ship, the inexplicable heat you’d both generated was simply relief. Relief that someone was just as compromised as you. Relief that you could finally take an edge off the loneliness of keeping all your own secrets. At least, here was one you could share together. And you couldn’t explain why you so easily felt you could trust him with so many of yours.

If relief explained the first time, you couldn’t say what kept you returning to one another; not exactly.

Of course, he’d figured out you were a Rebel spy, and you’d figured out he was the mole, acting as informant for the Resistance. Since then, you fell into an easy alliance, of sorts. Each of you a little compromised in your own way. It’s not like you wanted all the same things. He didn’t want to bring down the Order, not entirely; you wanted nothing less. But you damn sure wanted each other. And so, your interests may not have aligned but they certainly overlapped. You had enough common ground and certainly enough common loneliness for this thing to keep happening.

You couldn’t be seen together, of course. So, every time, you would be forced to rely on snatched moments, to settle for a rushed fumble, whether crushed up against the wall of a service corridor, bent hurriedly over some table, taken urgently in some supply closet. As if your double-life wasn’t bad enough, you were forced to secret yet another vital part of you away, until all of you felt just as crushed up and bent over as the way your lover took you. Yet another part of you to keep hidden in the dark.

But still, you managed to build a love, of sorts. Gave it a vessel to shape it. Gave it an engine to thrum for him. Gave it wings and imagined it soaring. But you’d built in the dark, built it from scrap. Built it with a man you knew through piecing him together from fragments of moments, moments half-lived. From stolen conversations and stolen kisses. It was a machine that might never get a chance to fly, you knew. A machine that could appear on no radar, not the Order’s, not the Resistance’s, or everything you’d built in the dark would be shot down in flames.

So that’s what you became. That’s what you had together. A distorted, borrowed love. On borrowed time. Every time you met was governed by a rush to get away from each other.

If there’s one thing that has plagued you, it’s always been an abundance of running out of time. Yet you were grateful even for these moments.

Eventually, Poe began to say it was a good thing he never got to just lay down with you; to take things slow. A good thing that he never got to walk with you, dragging your toes in soft grass, or over white sands. That he never got to lay with you in between soft sheets, skin on skin, for a whole stretched-out morning. He said it was a good thing, because if he lay down with you he might never want to get up. That he might realise he had nothing left to fight for. That there could be no war for him, couldn’t possibly be, because everything he could conceive of fighting for would be in his arms.

You knew he loved you then. At least the version of you he’d built from scrap, from stolen moments. Haphazardly pieced together.

But then. Then you slipped up.

A small mistake, but enough.

Enough for the First Order to out you as a spy. To fling you into a holding cell. Now, here you are, your gallery execution -for crimes against the Order- scheduled for the morning.

Always an abundance of running out of time.

Poe had come to you. You knew that he shouldn’t as equally as you knew that he would. Under the guise of a final intelligence gathering attempt, the commander was granted access to your holding cell.

And, now, you’re seeking comfort from each other in the only way you know how, one more time.

“Don’t make a sound, ok?” He winks at you and you feel a rush of affection for the man. The man who you’ve known for years now. You’ve watched the grey gradually filter across his hair like smoke from a slow-burning wildfire. This man who struggles so much with the weight of what he’s done, on behalf of the Order. The acts he’s been complicit in.

Before you’d known him, before you’d looked too closely, you could have easily believed that the heaviness in those turbulent, brown eyes was darkness. But it’s worse than that. His are warm eyes blackened, scathed by regret. By remorse. He’s not made of darkness. He’s haunted by it.

Now, in this moment, his eyes are as heavy as you’ve ever seen them. All you want to do is to cling to him and make him feel light again. Even if it’s just for an instant.

You’re not sure whether he’s a good man, exactly. He’s good to you. So good. And you think that he could be. You kiss him -you always kiss him- as if he is a good man.

This much you know; whether he’s a good man or not he’s definitely not an innocent one. You sure as hell enjoy it when he’s sinful, though.

He delves between your legs and glides a single, thick finger inside you, causing your hips to writhe against his hand, coating him in your arousal.

Maybe it’s ludicrous to think about fucking right now. Or maybe it’s the perfect time to think about it. All you know is that Poe entered your cell, and the instant the guard slid the door closed his lips were on yours, his strong arms guiding you to the nearest surface so that he could push himself into you.

Nothing but relief, like that first time your lips had met. Relief that you were seeing him again one more time. And then that formidable heat which followed. If a stolen moments were all you were destined to get with him, you were determined to steal one more.

Your pants have slipped down to your knees, and he stands on the seat of them to yank them all the way to your ankles, allowing him to lift your knee and hook your leg around his hip. He shimmies his own pants down and takes his thick, pretty shaft in his palm, his hand already slick with your juices. Craving more contact, your arms wrap around that rounded ass, those sturdy thighs of his, and he rumbles, low in his throat, as he positions his head at your entrance. He makes sure to keep you quiet as his hips tilt, his cock sliding slowly, ever so slowly all the way up into you. Taking his time. You feel every contour of him slip inside you, stretching you out.

He watches you in satisfaction again as he gives it to you, thick and hard. The rapid rise and fall of your chest, the flutter of your eyes, the dig of your hands into his hips and the singular way you tighten around him telling him everything your silence cannot convey.

“Hate to stop those pretty moans. Only ever wanted you moaning under me.” he coos, voice honeyed. And when you think he’s given you all he’s got he thrusts a final inch into you, filling you up completely. Completing you.

He holds his position there a moment more, and that’s as long as he can wait before he begins to work you, hips pitoning his length up into you again and again as he has you up against the door. Taking you roughly, urgently. He whispers a string of dirty, sweet words in your ear which you can’t even respond back to. You simply clamp your hands into his sturdy, muscled flesh and pull him deeper into you.

It’s not happy, it’s not light-hearted. Not at first. His thrusts are burdened, his brows still knitted together. He crushes up against you so hard it’s as if he fears you will both break apart if you’re not being held together. As if there are too many cracks in your makeshift love for you to withstand this.

So, it’s a quick and dirty fuck; your motif as lovers. But there’s something deeper there too. This sex is full of the shorthand of familiar lovers, only possible for those who know each other’s bodies, each other’s hearts so well. There is some comfort in that. In the way he knows exactly how hard and how fast to give it to you. The way you know exactly where that sweet spot on his neck is. The way he doesn’t even have to think to understand when you’re close; he knows just how to draw it out of you. The way you look into each other’s eyes and so efficiently say so much. So wordlessly.

The words passing between you now are deafening.

And he can’t. He just can’t silence you anymore. Maybe he’s spent so much time trying to shut you up when for so long only wished he could hear you. Hear the way he makes you feel, uninhibited. No more hiding in dark corners. He removes his palm and dips his head into the junction of your shoulder. Lets you moan lightly against his ear as he works his strong thighs to pump himself up into you.

“Poe. Poe you feel so good inside me. You give it to me exactly how I like it.” You whisper, breathlessly. “I need you... I need you.”

“I’ve got you, baby.” And his words wrap and wind around your heart as if they fill all of the cracks in this love you’ve built. Weaving into all of the places the stolen moments have never been able to reach.

You swell with it, about to soar. He knows you’re close and motions to cover your mouth with his palm again but you softly shake it away. “I won’t make a noise, Poe. Please just... hold me. Please.”

And so, he wraps his arms up around you as he tips his hips for his final thrusts into you, enveloping you with his warmth. You bite into his shoulder as the feeling spills over you, as he gives you that glorious rush of pleasure, like a feeling of lift-off. Like you’re looking down on everything from space, soaring above the world.

Then it is Poe who makes the noise. Of release, of pleasure, but also partly of anguish. Anguish because the one making him feel like this, so good like this is you. And you are running out of time.

You jam your hand over his mouth -you hope, just in time- as he pulses his seed into you, and you feel him come so hard and so warm inside your still fluttering core. He buries his head in your shoulder, shuddering against you for a moment, his sweat mingling with yours.

That is, until you have to hurriedly push him away from you.

“Fuck, Poe. That was loud.”

He grunts and unceremoniously pulls out of you. The two of you quickly straighten yourselves up, your heart racing as you hear footsteps plod towards the cell.

“Everything ok, Commander?” A guard asks, peering through the open grate at the top of the door.

“The little bitch won’t give me anything. It’s as if she wants to die tomorrow.”, he states with a level of frustration that would appear to match his outburst. And yet his eyes flick to yours, deeply apologetic as he speaks the words. “I’ll be out shortly. Check-in with maintenance for me, see if my TIE is ready.”

“Yes, Commander.” the officer responds, and you hear their footsteps recede down the corridor.

You look at each other and you both look suddenly lost. As if you already have so little recollection of the moments prior. As if heat evaporates so quickly in this cold, dark ship. Poe had momentarily transported you out of this cell, but how quickly you had come crashing back down. It had felt good, in the moment, but the happiness was like a stone thrown into an abyss. It does nothing to close off the gaping sadness.

Then he is back at you, his hands on you, his lips on you, maybe trying to regain something of that shortlived feeling. You kiss him. You kiss him as if he is a good man.

Then, there are his apologetic eyes again. Always so sorry for something these days. Sorry for things he had no control over. That you knew he would do his best to undo, if only he could.

You bring a firm, reassuring hand to his face, trying to be strong. “I know. You have to go.”

He looks at his watch.

“Five more minutes?” he bargains. “I can just lie with you.”

A lump forms in your throat, a tightness blooming in your chest as you shake your head softly. “No. I love you. So go. Go now. If you lie with me I won’t ever want you to get back up.”

You think you might shatter from the force in his eyes as he makes his promise. “I’ll find a way to stop this.”

You look at him gently. Kindly. Pleadingly. “Hush, Poe. We’ve talked about this. If you disrupt it, they’ll know it’s not only me on the inside. And it’ll blow the whole operation. Everything we worked for. We won’t get another chance like this.”

You think he might say he doesn’t care about that, about the operation, about himself. But you know he wouldn’t dare. After everything you’d sacrificed for this fight, he’d never undermine that.

“I’ll find a way.” He reiterates softly, his voice breaking. “I have to. I won’t get another chance to love like this.”

The tears are brimming in your eyes now and you can see how desperately he’s trying to remain strong too. You grip his face tenderly in your hands. “If you can’t stop this, Poe... it’s ok. It’s ok. You can’t blow your cover. Please. Do you think you can keep quiet, for me? Do you promise me, Poe?”

Your eyes search his as he hesitates, careful not to offer you any promises he knows he can’t keep. He smiles softly, brushing his thumb along your jaw. “What is it your Resistance always say? Something about hope? Well baby, we’re the spark. We can light the fire that burns this whole Order down. I gotta believe that now.”

“But you don’t want...”

“I just want you.” he interrupts, the pad of his thumb on your lips. “You’re good, you’re so good. I can’t believe in anything that hurts you. Not anymore.”

You are suddenly brimming with so much pride that you can no longer feel the need to cry. That’s a nice thought to go out with, you think. You like that thought. That if you go, somehow, he will find the Resistance. That he can be somewhere that will see the good in him, nurture it, celebrate it. Like you’ve tried to in all those snatched moments.

Poe’s brimming with so much heat. So much drive and passion. So much love and warmth. And he doesn’t belong in the cold, dark shell of this ship. Doesn’t belong in the cold, dead grasp of the Order. That orange flight suit would look better on him than this insipid charcoal grey ever could.

You try your best to smile now. To give him something. You want to be a happy memory for him, not another layer of pain in his overburdened eyes.

“Poe. You’re a good man. And I love you.”

“I love you too. I’ll find a way. And if I don’t... you can be sure that when I’m done there will be nothing left of the Order.”

His hand brushes down your arm, his fingertips snagging on yours as he moves towards the door.

He leaves you. He has to. Running out of time is all the two of you have ever had.

So, Poe leaves, knowing that they might make him watch. Knowing that he has a hard choice to make: whether he should try to save you, or to save what you were fighting for. He used to only be out to save himself, but that was before you showed him there was another way. That when you cared for someone it could be returned in kind. That there were good things in the galaxy, after all.

He picks up his hat and pulls it on, dragging the brim down until it almost covers his eyes; becoming one of their soldiers again. You can’t believe you’ve never quite noticed just quite how ill the Order suits him.

As he leaves, like always, you find yourself wishing that you just had a little more time. But, in truth, you’re still glad for those stolen moments. Yes, you may have pieced him together, but now you have a full picture. A full map of his heart. You know him. And in his heart, he doesn’t belong to them at all. You’re more certain than ever that he’s your Rebel.

And, your Rebel has given you a spark of hope. You can either set yourself down on the floor and cry for everything you never got to have with him. Cry that you’ve just said goodbye to the man you love. Cry because you might be executed tomorrow. Or, you can try and think, with renewed hope, of a way to get yourself and him out of there.

Tomorrow would decide whether you had run out of time. Whether you would lie down and never get up again. Or whether your love was sturdy enough to fly you both out of there after all. Maybe your vessel is strong enough to stand a chance. Even though you’d built it in the dark, things built out of love were always stronger than those built out of darkness. At least, that’s what you’d been raised to hope for.

Plus, you have the best pilot on your side. Poe Dameron can fly anything.

Maybe, just maybe, even a love with broken wings can land safely.

THE END

Like this? Please consider reblogging, or sending feedback in a comment or ask. I LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU AND STORIES ARE NOTHING WITHOUT A READER. YOU ARE EVERYTHING AND ILY.

Want more? You can check out my Masterlist to read more of my works! FYI: It’s always kept updated in my bio.

Want even more? Just ask if you’d like to be added to my permanent tag-list or any series tag-lists <3

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paradise-creator · 4 years ago

Note

Hellooo!! I love love LOVE the diamond box matchup you did!! You're amazing!! Your blog is incredible!! Now I'm here for a romantic haven box Haikyuu matchup pls🥺

Appearance: My name is Kay! She/her, black, straight, 5'1, I have a slightly athletic & curvy-ish figure (lol idk), short-ish hair(like mid-neck), dark brown eyes, shoe size 9, I like to dress comfy so I'm always in oversized hoodies, sweatpants, sneakers, sweatshirts and shorts. I like colorful clothes too, high waisted jeans and shorts and boots. I'm not very fashionable but I try lol.

Personality:

Basics: infp-t, Hufflepuff, Taurus sun, scorpio moon, sanguine, chaotic good, ambivert.

Some positive traits: I'm optimistic, friendly, energetic, organized, enthusiastic, observant, happy, open-minded, loving, encouraging and inquisitive!!

Some negative traits: I'm annoying, perfectionist, insecure, forgetful, easily distracted, kinda lazy, argumentative, too nice at times and clingy.

I love learning new things!! Currently I'm learning Korean, how to draw, how to paint and songs on the saxophone.

When I'm up for it, I love fun physical activity!! Going for a hike, going to the gym, bungee jumping, mountain climbing, going camping and etc :D

Although I love going out, nothing beats lazy days at home. I can spend hours by myself and still be happy. When alone I usually sleep or watch a movie/anime or practice my drawing or saxophone or try and learn something new!

I have a horrible memory and can never remember important dates 😭 I've forgotten my own birthday a few times (rip) so people can get mad at me for missing appointments, forgetting birthdays and other important days. I try my best to organize everything necessary on my phone calendar so I can be reminded.

I love seeing people happy! Nothing can fulfill my day more than knowing I put a smile on someone's face! I usually try my best to help out anyone who needs it and to the best of my ability! This has led to me getting taken advantage of in the past but I can't help but try and make others happy. I've developed a thicker skin and some trust issues as I've grown up because of it.

I love hyping my friends/family up!! Do you need a boost in confidence? Here I am, ready to help you remember the absolute king/queen/royalty that you are!! I'm usually very energetic and enthusiastic about many things and I love spreading positivity around!!

My love language is physical touch! So touch is very important to me in my relationships. Though I am insecure so I tend to think that I smother the people I care about with too much affection idk lol. I live for hugs and cuddles and hand holding 👉🏿👈🏿 but because of that I feel like I'm very clingy and annoying skskfksjd

I'm introverted in nature so although I mean usually full of energy and love making new friends, I can't do it for too long lol. My social battery runs out really fast and I have to hide away and recharge before I can be fully social again, otherwise I won't be my best self. I treasure personal time and understand when people need time for themselves too.

I love spontaneity!! I love living in the moment and doing stuff just for the hell of it!! Wanna go on a road trip? Dance in the rain? Build houses for charity? Go to McDonald's at 2am? Go on a long walk? SIGN ME UP!!

I can also be lazy and unmotivated to do stuff. If something doesn't interest me, I'd find myself incapable of doing it or I'd do it with great difficulty. I'm one of those 'do something when inspiration/motivation hits you otherwise it'll be absolute shit' types.

But when I do have motivation/inspiration that's when my perfectionism comes in and I have to do it in the best possible way and anything less is an insult to me, my family, my ancestors and descendants lmaoo. Unfortunately I subconsciously set a very high bar for myself which can be overwhelming and stressful but when I manage to produce work of that quality, it's very satisfying and rewarding jshkshdhsj

I have more to add but I feel like this is getting way too long 💀 lemme just move to the next section heheheh

Hobbies: I LOVE listening to music, learning new things, watching movies/anime, sleeping, reading, writing, playing saxophone (I'm still learning tho lol), swimming, drawing, journaling, making friends, and cooking!

My music taste: any type of rock (punk rock, grunge, j-rock, metal), pop, KPOP, RnB, jazz, dubstep, lofi hip hop, rap, trap, krnb, anime OP's and bangers from: Elvis, the beach boys, Queen, Khalid, Ateez, Harry styles, Kendrick Lamar, p!atd, mcr, fallout boy, Nirvana, BTS, mxmtoon, Marianas trench, twenty one pilots, stray kids, Jay Park, crush, Dreamcatcher, Skrillex, MJ, troye sivan etc

Fun facts:

I'm more of a cat person but I live dogs and think they're adorable!!

I have four piercings and I plan on getting more soon!!

I'm a night owl, and get super grumpy in the mornings especially when woken up unexpectedly >:/

Although I love making friends, I only have like 1/2 super close friends and like 20+ acquaintances lol

I want to get a tattoo soon but idk what to get :(

I'm super addicted to coffee (rip) and if I don't take some for some time (like a week) I'll get the worst migraines and I won't feel better until I drink some coffee 😭

That's it!! I hope i wrote enough stuff!! Did I leave anything out? If you need more pls tell me and I'll send another ask :D Take your time!! I'm in no rush. I'll patiently wait even though you get writers block or have a large amount of asks 😌 pls stay safe and healthy!! Drink lots of water, sleep well and have an amazing day/night!! 💙✨

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Hello and Welcome my Starlight!

The Haven box includes:

- Match up

- Sun drop

- Journal of Feelings

- 3 am shenanigans

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

I'd match you up with

Sugawara Koushi, Vice-captain of Karasuno

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Sun drops

- OKAY so like, as I read your description I thought of Akaashi or Yaku or Sugawara

- Me being the indecisive author I am had trouble picking

- But then I remembered that you loved to do spontaneous things.

- And that's when I realized that Sugawara is THE ONE

- You two would be deemed the "3 am couple"

- Or in the team it would be "Epitome of Chaos"

- He takes care of you

- He will alway remind you that you don't need to be perfect

- Insecurities? BE GONE

- Nagativity? BE GONE

- That's basically his motto

- He is both your mom and partner in Crime

- did I mention he will take care of you?

- CUDDLES AND KISSES FOR DAYS

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Journal of feelings

- Once this man realizes that you LOVE physical affection. He will give it to you. EVERYTIME HE SEES YOU

Kay entered the gym to watch her boyfriend play. She tried sneaking in and so far it has been great. She thought she was off the hook but then felt a familiar arms wrapped around her waist. "I found you~" Sugawara said with a smile.

- You both would often plan pranks and majority of the times, it would succeed

"Okay okay, so what are we doing today?" Kay asked the silver haired male. "Oh~ maybe we can scare Asahi or anyone for that matter with a beetle?" Sugawara suggested. "That's--no," Kay responded.

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3 am shenanigans

It’s 3 am in the morning. Almost everyone is fast asleep or in their homes, well almost. The night sky is littered with diamond in the sky. The streets were silent but it was comforting. A few people walked here and there. And a few cars passes by there and here. “What are we doing up so late?” A silver haired man said as he yawned. “We’ll be going to Mc Donald’s! What else?” The female responded as she smiled at him. “Is it even open at this time?” He asked. “Koushi, darling, it is open,” Kay, the lover of our beloved silvered male man said as she smiled. Sugawara chuckled and held her hand, the smile on his face was evident. “You know, we should be sleeping by now right?” He said as he pulled her closer. “And so what? I wasn’t planning on sleeping early! I slept the whole day yesterday and missed the chance to hang out with you,” The girl responded.

A small blush appeared on the male’s face and he giggled. “That’s very sweet bu-“ He was about to say but was silenced by the girl. “That was very sweet but we could’ve done this later on or tomorrow. Well, sorry to break it to you, Love. But, we are here,” She said as she pulled the male inside the fast food chain. And soon enough, the two got their orders and enjoyed their meal. “I don’t know why but this hits different,” Kay said as she eat a French fry. “It really does. Especially since you are here,” Sugawara stated as he patted her head. Now, she was the one blushing. As the two chatted, the other customers and staff glanced at them every now and then. None of them were annoyed at their interactions. On the contrary, they enjoyed watching them,

Some felt envious of their relationship. Some dreamt to have something like that. And others remembered the times of old. The two were so sweet, it’s almost too much. Laughter and chattering echoed through the building from both the couple and the people around them. Then they were dub the “3 am couple” as the two would often venture in that restaurant at 3 am in the morning.

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Author's note

I'm so so sorry for the long wait! This week has been hectic. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this matchup~ and thanks for requesting!

#☁️matchup #haikyuu matchups #haikyuu!!#haikyuu matchup #fanfic #anime #fiction #sugawara koushi #sugawara kōshi #Sugawara #sugawara headcanon #match ups #hq matchups #hq sugawara #Anime matchups #BlackPearl

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welllpthisishappening · 5 years ago

Text

Winning a World Series has its benefits.

Backpage spreads in New York tabloids, a parade, a seemingly never-ending amount of champagne. And a trip to Disney World. Emma was fairly certain that was a joke. Until she’s standing outside of Hollywood Studios and Killian has done research about rides and that’s kind of messing with her head a bit.

As is everyone’s determination to get the high score on the Buzz Lightyear ride in Magic Kingdom.

Because while you can take the baseball player off the diamond, you apparently can’t take the competition out of the athlete. Even at Disney World.

----

Rating: Honestly like the lowest level T. Mostly for the trash talk. Word Count: 7.7K AN: Oh hai there, internet! Approximately a million years ago I asked for prompts before Justin and I went to Disney for Christmas and @distant-rose sent me this: “Babes, love of my internet life, am I allowed to prompt you? In honor of Gerrit Cole becoming a Yankees, may I ask for a combo of Killian in pinstripes and a Disney World Christmas if possible? Bonus points for Captain Cobra goodness. Love you! Have I mentioned that?“ Because of who I am as a person, this is...only kind of that. Instead it’s in that one baseball ‘verse where Killian’s on the Yankees and David is on the Red Sox and this whole story is honestly almost too autobiographical. Anyway, I did this instead of work today.

|| Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll ||

----

She kind of thought it was an urban legend.

Something spoken in hushed whispers, nothing more than a photo-op or overblown publicity stunt for corporate America with hats that no one really wanted to wear and t-shirts already damp from on-field champagne celebrations.

Emma has never been happier to have been proved wrong.

Even if she’s also pretty positive that her championship t-shirt will never be entirely dry again. Or smell like anything except champagne.

She’s not sure she’s done anything except smile in the last forty-eight hours.

Between the parade and the photo-ops that did happen, flashing lights and back-page spreads, she’s admittedly a little exhausted and just a little overwhelmed, but Killian’s arm also seems to be glued to her shoulders and that’s kind of nice. Especially because it’s a little colder in Florida than she thought it would be.

They’ve won a World Series.

And now they’re going to Disney World.

Or, well—they’re already in Disney World. The specifics aren’t important. It’s very early in the morning, Emma figures that’s enough of an excuse.

And they keep drinking champagne.

And sparkling wine.

Just a seemingly never-ending supply of sparkling wine. From the Italy pavilion in EPCOT.

It keeps getting delivered to their room.

“Should have brought a jacket,” Killian mutters, mostly into Emma's hair and she doesn’t have to glance up to know he’s doing that stupid thing with his mouth. Also known as smiling. Smirking, even.

“No one likes a told you so,” she argues.

“Is that a phrase?” Emma makes a noise in the back of her throat, flicking her finger against Killian’s chest when he actually has the gall to laugh at her. “Shut up, World Series champion. And stop moving so much. You keep shifting and shaking and then you take the heat with you.” “Am I the heat in this scenario?” “There’s a joke about the hot corner here,” David says. He’s got his own arm around Mary Margaret, her head drifting towards his shoulder every few moments and Leo fell asleep almost as soon as they left the hotel.

Very early.

Earlier than—actually, Emma has no idea what time it is, and she cannot quite wrap her mind around the number of people who are also here, all of them mulling around the still-locked entrance to Hollywood Studios with their phones out, like they’re waiting for instructions or something.

Killian taps his thumb on his phone. More than once. And sighs, more than once. “Was that you making the joke?” he asks suddenly, as if he’s only just processed David’s words.

“Slow on the uptake, huh?” “It’s because we haven’t gotten any coffee yet,” Mary Margaret mumbles. The words are difficult to hear when they’re mostly spoken into David’s t-shirt and none of them had explicitly decided not to wear team-branded merchandise, but they’ve only been stopped for autographs twice and it��s been kind of fun to just...celebrate.

Emma’s not sure this exact scenario falls under that umbrella.

“We had to do it this way,” Killian says, not for the first time and Emma knows she nods in something almost resembling placating spousal support. Her hair moves, at least. And the kid in her arms barely stirs, falling asleep a few minutes after Leo because it might not even be six in the morning yet.

“So we’ve heard, babe,” she says. “Super serious business.” He scowls. Emma still hasn’t looked up yet.

“If we got here after the park opened,” Killian starts, and David might groan weakly because they really have heard the explanation half a dozen times already, “then the boarding parties would have already been filled and we wouldn’t be able to get on this ride that—” “—TripAdvisor has called the start of a new generation of rides,” Mary Margaret and Emma say in tandem.

Killian clicks his tongue.

“Did we offend you, Mr. World Series MVP?” Emma asks, all innocence and her chin digging into Killian when she, finally, tilts her head up.

He is, in fact, scowling. But it’s also kind of cute and also kind of endearing and Ellie keeps burrowing herself close to Emma, which does something to the overall state of her heart, so she can’t really be that upset about anything.

People aren’t allowed to be upset at Disney World, anyway.

By like—rule. Of humans, or whatever.

“Can you say boarding parties again, though?” Mark Margaret asks, not quite able to get the words out without laughing.

Killian huffs. “You guys are the Star Wars nerds, not me. I am doing this for you. Plus, the internet really thinks this is the greatest ride ever made.” “They said exactly?” “Who is the internet in this scenario?” Emma asks. “Is that just—like did they poll people? Babe, are you looking up polls about Star Wars rides?” “It’s supposed to be better than the Avatar one,” Killian reasons.

“Yeah, well, no one actually remembers the plot of Avatar, that’s why. Just that one scene with the tree and Zoe Saldana’s character and—” Emma cuts herself off when Ellie moves again, a knee to her side and sleep-tinged words pressed to the side of her neck. There’s hair dangerously close to her mouth now.

Mary Margaret’s shoulders are shaking. “And is the phrase boarding party better or worse than referring to the internet in the collective?”

“I don’t think you’re as tired as you claim to be,” Killian says. “If you can use the word collective like that.” “Feel free to be impressed by extensive knowledge of the English language.” “I absolutely am.” “And speaking of World Series MVP,” David adds, “couldn’t you have pulled some strings or something here?” “That’s a Pinocchio joke,” Emma mutters, the muscles in her cheeks threatening to stage some kind of biological mutiny when her smile stretches even wider. Killian’s expression changes slightly, not quite the smirk or even the put-upon frustration from their teasing because he really has researched this Star Wars ride more than all of them combined.

If they don’t get a good boarding party, Emma’s going to force the Disney people to give them more sparkling wine.

On principle.

“You think you’re very funny, don’t you?” Emma shrugs. “I think I know I’m funny and David thinks you should have used your World Series clout—” “—Oh that’s a good word too,” Mary Margaret says.

“To get first dibs on the fancy Star Wars ride,” Emma continues. “And then we wouldn’t have to get out of bed so early because the pillows here are ridiculous.” “Is ridiculous good in this scenario?” Killian asks.

“Was that not obvious?”

“What do you think it is about the pillows, exactly? Overall neck support? Fluffiness? Just vacation-pillow characteristics?” “Vacation-pillow is definitely the lamest thing you’ve said so far today,” Emma laughs, a soft sigh of thanks when Killian pulls Ellie into his arms. There’s no threat of hair in her mouth anymore, and a chance to give her arms a rest, but it also means that she’s now responsible for Killian’s phone and whatever it will do once Hollywood Studios does, actually, open.

“Maybe we can ask the Boardwalk people where they get their pillows,” Killian suggests. “Stock up or something.” “You say that like I’m not actually going to do it.” “Oh, no I’ve got every belief that you’ll one-hundred percent do it, but—” “—Why didn’t we tell the Boardwalk people that we were very athletic and very important and use that to get on Rise of the Resistance first?” David interrupts. “Also, I just want it noted for the record that the clown in the pool is super freaky.” “Super freaky is definitely a lamer string of words than vacation-pillow, don’t you think?” Killian asks Emma. She has to bite the inside of her lip to stop from laughing

Cackling, maybe.

It’s too early in the morning for cackling.

“And,” he adds, “while I do agree with the inherent creepiness of the pool-clown—” “—Oh, God, don’t say it like that,” Mary Margaret says, “that makes it even worse.” Killian lifts his eyebrows. Emma’s going to bite her lower lip in half. “We didn’t tell anyone that we wanted special treatment because then we’d have to act like we’re special.” “That’s decidedly self-effacing, World Series MVP.” “C’mon, now you’re just showing off,” Emma accuses, fingers reaching up to toy with the ring that’s fallen over the front of her shirt. Killian’s eyebrows shift again.

“It’s not,” he says. “It’s just—do you guys want to be taking pictures the whole time we’re here? None of us are really going to wear team stuff and—” “—That’s just because David is embarrassed to wear team stuff,” Emma points. “Sucks to lose in the Wild Card, doesn’t it, Nolan?

David sneers. “I think I’m the heat in that joke from before. Depending on what I’m throwing. Definitely if it’s a slider.” “What?” “I”m too tired to go over this with you again. Also, your phone is doing something.”

Emma startles at the vibration she hadn’t really noticed before, arm practically flying into Killian’s bicep like he’ll be able to do something or fix something and it has been kind of nice to just be in their own Disney bubble for the last forty-eight hours.

Even with the freaky pool clown.

She can’t fathom the person who approved that.

It’s enormous.

And freaky as all fuck.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” Killian chants, and Emma is honestly impressed when he manages to find her hand and keep Ellie from waking up, tugging her towards the gates while Mary Margaret and David do their best to keep up. Leo is definitely awake now. And does not sound particularly pleased to be there.

Killian is bobbing on the balls of his feet as soon as they get in line, an excitement that’s catching, even as they scan their MagicBands to get into the park — which may be the single most endearing thing Emma has ever seen, even with the World Series and the parade and the whole arm around her shoulder thing.

Her face muscles are never going to recover from this trip.

The ride is pretty damn cool.

It’s long and requires more walking than Emma is entirely ready for, but she and Mary Margaret boo Kylo Ren like he’s actually there and not some computer fabrication and Ellie gasps and giggles at least fifteen different times when they start flying away from the First Order, so that’s just about the best thing that’s ever happened.

And David gets yelled at by a Stormtrooper.

“It’s because he’s short,” Emma mutters, tugging lightly on Killian’s shirtsleeve. “Get it?” Killian hums. “We’ve already decided you’re hysterical, love. You don’t have to keep trying to prove it.” “What’s that about the inherent competitive nature of athletes?” “Too many words.” “Right, right, right,” Emma nods. She tilts her head again, even as they file off the ride and their boarding party hadn’t been until that afternoon. They’re all well-rested and ready for more park and more wine and it doesn’t take long for her to press her lips to the side of Killian’s cheek. “And here I thought the playoffs were over. You’re all scruff over here, Jones.” “Who’s scruffy looking?” Emma rolls her eyes, but her heart is definitely threatening to explode in her chest and maybe there’s something to be sad for mid-day naps and vacation pillows. Like they make everything better. Winning the World Series probably didn’t hurt either. “I love you.”

That makes Killian grin. “I know.” “Idiot.” “Exactly that,” he agrees, arm finding its way back around her shoulder as he hitches Ellie against his side and kisses exactly where his lips land. On the top of Emma’s hair.

They get a picture in front of Rey’s speeder.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to hold it like that,” Emma says. “Wouldn’t the ions cut off your arm pretty quickly?” Killian blinks. “Do ions make up a lightsaber?” “No,” David answers, but he’s also holding his lightsaber by resting it on his shoulder like it’s a makeshift bat, which Emma figures proves her point.

“You are not a lightsaber expert,” Emma argues. “Plus you picked a dumb color.” “Blue is not a dumb color!” “Eh…” David huffs — like this is actually some sort of insulting conversation. Emma smiles. Like she’s won. Something. Maybe blue milk from that one drink stand.

Killian claims the internet liked blue better than green.

“Lightsabers are fueled by kyber crystals,” Mary Margaret announces, shrugging when she’s met with three identical stunned faces. She clicks her tongue when none of them show any sign of moving, frozen in the middle of the line for Smuggler’s Run and Emma is admittedly more excited to fly the Millennium Falcon than she is about—

Much of anything.

Except maybe the World Series.

Winning a championship is definitely better than flying the Millennium Falcon. Probably. She’s sure. Kind of. After all, she’s only done one so far.

“Why do you know that?” David balks. “How do you know that?” Mary Margaret waves her phone in his face. “Killian isn’t the only one who can claim the internet as support for his argument. Also, now we have a dinner reservation.” “Where?” “The Grand Floridian Cafe, which means we can go to Magic Kingdom at night and—” “—Churros?” Emma finishes, and it comes out like a question, but it’s really more like a demand and Mary Margaret winks. With a rather pointed finger added for extra agreement.

“You two are obsessed,” David sighs.

“You ate an entire thing on your own the other night!”

“Only because Leo couldn’t possibly be expected to eat all of them on his own.” “Yuh huh, whatever you have to keep telling yourself. What was that about offseason workouts?” Killian has to duck his head against Emma’s shoulder to avoid drawing attention to them, but his laugh is still pretty loud and Mary Margaret’s shoulders are doing that thing again and—“You know what?” David challenges. “I’m going to make sure that I get to be captain of the Millennium Falcon and then I’m going to fly us directly into Hyperspace.” “Is that not the point of the ride?” Emma asks, eyes flitting towards Killian.

He shakes his head. “Part of the ride. And you’re not captain of the Millennium Falcon, Nolan. Only Han Solo gets to be that.” “Babe, are you offended on behalf of Han Solo, right now?” “You get to be a pilot.” “God, that sounds like a lot of responsibility.” He hums again, another kiss to the curve of her jaw and fingers that dance up Ellie’s back. She giggles. “We”ll make sure you’re an engineer, huh, Swan?”

“Pity role.” “I want to shoot something,” Mary Margaret announces.

“I think we can do that.”

They do just that.

Switching cards and they’re not really supposed to do that, but this is vacation and maybe everything that happens after that is some sort of vacation-type karmic retribution.

Because the switch is the start of their problems — if that’s even the right term. It’s not, but Emma’s way too busy laughing and shouting and flying through Hyperspace is exactly as cool as she thought it would have been when she was nine.

But there is something to be said for the inherent competitive nature of athletes.

And Killian and David have always been on the close-to-insane end of that particular spectrum.

“Shoot, shoot, shoot,” David yells, sitting at the front of the cockpit, and that might not be the right term either. “We’re getting hit! Shields down! Shields down!” “Repeating it more than once does not reinforce your point,” Killian grumbles. He’s sitting opposite of Mary Margaret, stabbing his finger into the button that controls his makeshift gun and there are definitely tears in Emma’s eyes.

Ellie is giggling again, all but slamming her hands flat against the console of buttons, while Leo’s concept of steering threatens to drive them into a black hole.

Drive probably isn’t the right term for a spaceship anyway.

The cockpit shakes again — David shouting some words and mumbling others, still aware of the kids and the overall Disney-vibe they’re going for, but Emma can see just how straight his shoulders have gone. He hits another button, twisting so he can yell— “Can you two just hold it steady, please?” “Captaincy has gone to his head,” Mary Margaret mumbles, and Emma can just make out the exact way Killian’s lips twitch. “Maybe we should stage a mutiny or something.” “Do you know how to do that?” “Get off the ride eventually?” “Oh, yeah good call.” “Watch out for that space garbage,” Emma yells, pointing at the screen and David curses again. Ellie laughs. Loudly. And she barely notices her own button, lighting up, which is apparently some indication that she’s supposed to do something, but Emma was never much of a video game kid and she’s not a professional athlete either, so she figures her hand-eye coordination is allowed to be less-than-impressive.

They get hit by the space garbage.

Even as they’re getting ready to go back to Hyperspace. “Emma, can you not be the worst engineer on this ship?” David cries. “Fix our shields!” “You are taking this way too seriously,” Emma shouts back, but she’s a little worried she’s actually going to break her button. So, maybe they’re all competitive idiots.

Ellie is definitely a better engineer than she is.

And they all gasp and groan as if they’re actually landing as soon as the ship skids to a stop at the drop-off point they’ve been trying to get to for the entire ride. Emma jerks forward, the seat belt digging into her stomach and her heart beating quickly, a mix of adrenaline and fun and—

“Best captain in the galaxy,” David announces.

Mary Margaret boos him.

“Traitor!” “You come back here and fight the First Order then,” she challenges, Killian unbuckling so he can grab Ellie and they can get off the ride and Emma isn’t surprised when he mumbles—

“We’re going to have to take him down a peg, don’t you think, love?” Emma grins. “Game on, MVP.”

It goes from there.

They’re all competitive idiots and this is an amusement park, so there’s not competition that’s immediately obvious, but they manage to find their fair share.

And make it when they can’t find it.

David eats more churros in Magic Kingdom later that night.

And they discover Buzz Lightyear Laser Blast.

Complete with its tallied score.

And names for reaching certain levels of points.

“Oh God,” Emma sighs when they get off, the closest cast member smiling at her and telling her to have a magical night.

Mary Margaret hums in understanding. “How long do you think it takes for them to start looking up cheat codes?” “Killian looked up tips on how to pull that string thing faster on Toy Story Mania last night, so…” “I told you that in confidence, Swan,” Killian yells, a few steps ahead of them with his hand tangled in Ellie’s. Her sparkle-covered ears are threatening to fall on the ground.

Emma shakes her head when Mary Margaret glances in her direction. “He thought he was being very secret, looking stuff up under the cloak of darkness, but—” “—David’s been practicing rope-tugging rhythm.” “Are you kidding me?” “Would I do that?” “We’re going to ride the People Mover now,” David announces, like that will end the conversation or distract Emma from how frustratingly and impressively competitive they all are. She had not been good at the Buzz Lightyear ride. At all.

She’s not even sure where she’s aiming her laser thing in the picture.

“No one is against that,” Mary Margaret reasons. “As long as we don’t have to ride The Carousel of—” “—Don’t say it,” Killian warns. “It’ll get stuck in our head and there’ll be singing and—”

It’s too late.

The damage has been done.

Mary Margaret at least has the common decency to look repentant — as both Ellie and Leo do, in fact, start singing at the top of their lungs, heads tilted back as soon as they step on the automatic track up towards the People Mover.

“There’s a great big beautiful tomorrow,” they start, and Emma tries to get her phone out before anyone notices. Both Killian and David beat her to it.

Stupid athletes.

“Shining at the end of every day,” she joins. Killian’s eyes get bluer, she’s sure. Bright under the night-time lights of Tomorrowland, a place that is very quickly becoming one of her favorite spots in all of the parks.

Killian slings an arm over her shoulder. And holds the phone in front of them.

“There’s a great, big beautiful tomorrow,” he half-sings under his breath, grinning when Emma’s lips graze his cheek. “And tomorrow’s just a dream away,” Emma finishes. She nips at the side of his ear, only stumbling slightly when they twist into the cars and the carts and she’s really got to learn the right terminology for all these things.

Killian looks up Buzz Lightyear cheat codes later.

After they eat more churros.

Obviously.

“I can’t believe we waited in line for that,” Killian grouses, that particular string of words becoming something of a mantra as they make their way back towards Fantasyland.

“You’ve got to let it go, babe,” Emma says. “And technically we didn’t wait. We had fast-passes. Can you imagine if we had to wait as long as everyone else?”

That’s also not the first time she’s said that.

Mary Margaret’s hand is over her mouth.

“It was so dumb, though!” “It wasn’t dumb,” Emma argues. “It was—magical. We flew over London!” “We moved at a snail’s pace over London and saw vaguely racist depictions of that one part of Neverland while the sound of that cast member telling us to watch our step played on loop in every single corner of my mind.” “You’re very dramatic. Is it because you want a turkey leg?” “I do not want a turkey leg.” “No?” “No,” Killian echoes. “I want to know why anyone in their right mind would wait an hour and a half for Peter Pan’s garbage ride of garbage.” “You should suggest they call it that from now on.” “Don’t think I won’t. I’m a very important athlete, you know?” “If that’s how we choose to use our athlete powers, then I’m going to be really annoyed,” David says. “Plus—Peter Pan was not It’s a Small World, so let’s count our blessings, huh?” “You guys are ruining this,” Emma grumbles.

“And,” Mary Margaret adds, “people wait even longer for the Seven Dwarves this is not actually a roller coaster ride. So, comparatively speaking.” Emma groans. “Where is your sense of magic, grown adults? Also, the queue line for Seven Dwarves was actually pretty cool.”

“The line for Big Thunder Mountain is shorter all the time. And a better ride.” “This is true, Swan,” Killian agrees, and Emma may be looking for as much magic as she can get on this trip, but she also wasn’t born yesterday.

She narrows her eyes, twisting her lips with as much judgment as she can get until Killian’s eyes flicker towards his shoes and the tips of his ears go red. “That wouldn’t have anything to do with how much you enjoy Splash Mountain, would it? Mr. MVP? Or how much closer that is to Pirates of the Caribbean?”

“No comment.” “Yuh huh.” “Em,” Mary Margaret reasons, “we are this close to getting perfect photos on all of those rides.” “You’re a competitive weirdo too!”

Mary Margaret does an admirable job of looking legitimately hurt, and it really does smell very strongly of turkey legs in this part of the park. “Mama, mama, mama,” Ellie chants, yanking on Emma’s necklace until she nearly chokes and there’s a very well-placed shoe in her side suddenly. “Can’t we go see Rapunzel now?”

“That’s what we’re doing, kid,” Emma says. “We’ll get better pictures with her and Tiana than we will on any other ride, right?”

Ellie nods enthusiastically, and they’d been pretty good about the lack of team-branded so far, but she’s a kid and she wanted to wear Killian’s number that morning, which was honestly just more than Emma was capable of dealing with. So. Whatever.

It’s cute.

Magical, even.

And there isn’t much of a wait at Princess Fairytale Hall, but they still have to stop in some kind of pre-meeting chamber, Ellie talking a mile a minute about Rapunzel and Flynn and do you think she’ll have a frying pan, mama?

Rapunzel does have a frying pan.

Definitely magical.

Emma’s mouth drops despite her own proclamations to adult, Ellie running forward as quickly as her legs can carry her. So she can immediately throw herself forward.

Directly into Rapunzel’s arms.

“Oh shit,” Emma breathes, but Rapunzel is smiling and doesn’t seem all that surprised and Mary Margaret has her phone out.

When she and David were very little, Ruth had taken both him and Emma to Disney World, but over the years her memories had grown a little fuzzy and a little distant and she’d never been particularly inclined to come back. She thought this whole trip was a photo-op not more than two weeks ago.

And yet.

In that moment, in the middle of goddamn Princess Fairytale Hall, with her daughter still hugging Rapunzel and David trying to get Leo to walk forward, Emma has to blink more than once to stop herself from crying over the memories she’s certain will plaster themselves on every corner of her brain from here on out.

Except she’ll eventually think of a better way to describe that.

“I think I may have a new favorite ride,” Killian mutters, hand on Emma’s hip and his lips half an inch from her ear and it’s all she can do to nod.

And sniffle.

“What was that about magic?” he adds.

She swats at his chest, but he catches her around the wrist because he’s really a very good third baseman and has much better hand-eye coordination than Emma could ever hope to achieve. “I love you a lot, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Emma nods. “And I want really good pictures of this.”

Rapunzel lets Ellie hold the frying pan.

They fine-tune the Splash Mountain photo two days later.

“Get ready,” David yells from his spot in the front row, and Emma sits up a little straighter out of instinct.

The doors open and the vultures at the top of the hill make some kind of vulture-type sound, Killian whispering instructions in Ellie’s ear.

Seriously, Emma’s smile is going to get stuck on her face.

It’s not the worst thing in the world.

“No.” “Come on!” “Absolutely not, Swan.” Emma pouts, but Killian doesn’t do much more than shake his head brusquely, the hint of something close to a smirk tugging at the ends of his mouth. “Nope,” he says, popping his lips on the word for emphasis. “Not until you stop reeking of something that would freeze a vampire in his and or her tracks.” “Gender inclusive, huh?” “Something like that.” “You really aren’t going to make out with me?” “No,” Killian says again even as the smirk wins out. “You ate nothing but garlic naan and dipped it in that one sauce that had legitimate cloves of garlic in it.” “It was good!” “I’m not suggesting otherwise. I’m just telling you that you—” “—Reek?” Emma suggests. She grabs another slice of naan, and Mary Margaret and David had taken both Ellie and Leo to see the animals from the windows on the other side of the restaurant. They’ve been here four times already. Mostly because Emma is somewhere in the realm of obsessed with this naan appetizer.

Plus, Ellie and Leo both love Animal Kingdom.

Ellie’s a big fan of giraffes, only she can’t quite figure out the word yet and that’s only kind of painfully adorable. And Leo’s eyes go wide as saucers every time they see some kind of new animal, hands flat on the glass a few hours earlier when they’d wandered around what Killian’s phone told them was actually called Gorilla Falls.

“That’s rude, you know,” Emma says. “No, rude would be telling you that you aren’t very good at the ring toss part of Toy Story Mania.” “Tower of Terror is way more fun.”

“We’ll go on Tower of Terror later.” “Yeah?” “Yeah,” Killian confirms, sliding a package of gum he definitely didn’t buy at Disney World across the table. They don’t sell gum at Disney World.

Emma turns at just the right moment on Tower of Terror.

So her World Series-winning, MVP, definitely the best third baseman in the league husband can kiss her when the camera goes off.

It makes David groan.

Loudly.

“I think we’re winning,” Emma murmurs, already saving the picture to her phone.

Killian nods, still close enough that his nose brushes her cheek. “Absolutely. And you don’t reek of garlic anymore. Now, we just have to get you better at Toy Story.”

She finishes last in their car.

Every time they ride that night.

They ride four times.

And the competition continues — as it’s apt to do, really, because of who they are as people, some fundamental something that also apparently requires them to play miniature golf.

“This is pretty on point for offseason athletes, Em,” David reasons, and it’s not a lightsaber, but he’s got his club propped on his shoulder again. “Just think, it could be real golf. Now you get to battle for supremacy too.” “Do you hear yourself? Honestly? On this course that has hippos wearing ballet shoes?”

“That’s just a Fantasia thing,” Mary Margaret says. “At least there isn’t that Hell monster. That’d be a lot for me to deal with.” “I’m sorry what?” Killian asks. He’s crouched between Ellie and Leo, trying to show them how to swing their clubs and they’re really going to have to lock down on that six-stroke maximum.

The guy at the cash register had recognized them.

That’s three photos and one autograph for the entire trip so far.

It’s not bad, really.

“You know,” Mary Margaret continues, clicking her tongue when Leo’s backswing threatens to take out several bits of landscaping, “at the end of Fantasia. It’s like the devil or something.” “You’re making that up.” “I’m not! It was terrifying. Honestly, I used to hide behind my couch until the song was over and all the people started singing Ave Maria.” “You’re making this up,” Emma accuses.

“I’m not! Look it up. Honestly screw Walt Disney for that part of Fantasia.” “I think you’re the only person in the world who has opinions on Fantasia.” “Look it up!” Emma sighs, but does as instructed, swiping away from notifications telling her she’s got even more pictures available on her MyDisneyExperience app. They really have gotten very good at trying to one-up each other on photos.

Another competition.

Seriously, they’re all so messed up.

“Oh, wow,” Emma mutters, flinching slightly when she sees what can only be described as the devil or something. It’s got horns. “That is terrifying. Why is this in a children’s movie?” “Would we call Fantasia a children’s movie?” David asks.

“It’s Disney, isn’t it?” “Screw Walt Disney,” Mary Margaret repeats slowly, making sure to emphasize every syllable. Killian almost falls over when he laughs. “Actually, you know what? This is how I’m going to get my revenge. I’m going to absolutely wreck the course record on this mini golf…” “Course?” Killian suggests.

“Yeah, exactly that.”

“Competitive weirdos, the lot of you,” Emma grumbles.

“Do you not want to see Mary Margaret take out her childhood anger on plastic hippos in ballet shoes, Swan?” “Well, when you put it like that.” “Let’s go,” Mary Margaret calls, already standing at the first-hole green. “I’ve got a vendetta to settle!”

And it’s not a course record — probably, they don’t really have the wherewithal or even the athletic pull to demand that kind of knowledge, but Mary Margaret beats them all soundly and makes Killian take her picture with the scorecard.

And it keeps going.

They ride more rides. They hum the song from Carousel of Progress without actually meaning to. They take pictures and meet princesses, eat their way around the world in EPCOT and then drink their way around the world, because those are the rules, toasting MVP awards and world championships and that makes David gag a little, but Emma laughs and kisses Killian and he gags again, but then she’s too busy making out with her husband to really be worried about...anything.

Plus the sparkling wine selection in the Italy pavilion really is other level.

The whole thing is something close to perfect.

Emma is starting to wonder if anyone will notice if she just steals those pillows.

David and Killian keep looking up cheats on Toy Story Mania.

They trade top scores on Buzz Lightyear, and Emma isn’t entirely surprised that by the time their final night rolls around they’re locked in some New York-Boston battle, complete with mumbled trash talk and pointed glares, each of them demanding just one more time, c’mon, like they’re the children in this family

The actual children are much more interested in getting back on the Dumbo ride.

Or eating more churros.

Honestly, the number of churros they’ve consumed in the last eight days must be some kind of Disney World record.

And it’s starting to get late, both Ellie and Leo showcasing consistently fluttering eyelashes, heads on shoulders and fingers curling into the back of shirts and Emma hopes she doesn’t cry during the fireworks.

That would almost be too cliché.

“Just,” Killian says, grunting softly when Ellie’s chin threatens to dig into his collarbone, “one more time and we can break the tie and then we’ll have—” “—Bragging rights?” Emma asks knowingly.

“I mean…” He can’t shrug when there’s a kid draped over his right shoulder, but an attempt is made all the same and David is wearing a Sox hat. Emma figures that’s what tips the scales, so to speak.

“I’m already getting in line,” David announces. “So, either Jones gets with the program, or—” “—That is the oldest sentence I have ever heard.” “I found a new spot to shoot at that will practically give me immediate Galactic Hero status.” Emma doesn’t freeze, per se. That would be insane. And the last thing she is is insane. Naturally competitive, maybe, and a little tired, but that good kind of tired that comes from good kind of things, a pleasant ache in the back of her legs and heaviness to her muscles and her eyes flit towards Killian immediately.

He smirks.

“It’s the hat, huh?”

Killian tries to shrug again, Ellie grumbling at the movement. “Sorry, love,” he mumbles, resting his cheek against their daughter’s head so he can level Emma with that very specific stare. Like Game Seven and two outs with a runner in scoring position and probably some joke about hitting against the shift. “You did promise we’d bring him down a peg, Swan.” “I mean I thought losing in the Wild Card game would have done that already.” “I heard that,” David yells, impatience wafting off him while he waits at the end of the line. “And I think you guys are just stalling.”

Mary Margaret lets out what Emma can only hope is a fake gasp, and Leo has definitely fallen asleep already.

Killian’s smirk gets more pronounced.

Tommorowland is absolutely Emma’s favorite part of Magic Kingdom.

“What do you say to a combined effort, Nolan?” Killian asks, not taking her eyes away from Emma. She might swoon a little. She’ll blame the smirk. “We add up the collective scores of your car and whichever team comes out on top has to buy a snack of the winner’s choosing.” “You just want more churros,” David says.

Emma clicks her tongue. “We're also offering to buy you churros." “Which isn’t going to happen,” Killian says, nudging on Emma’s back until she starts walking again. “But it’s nice that we’re acting like you’ve got a chance.”

David rolls his eyes. “Wow, that’s scathing.” “And not an agreement yet. What’s the matter, ace? You nervous you can’t win when this becomes a team sport?” “Was that an insult?” “Honestly babe,” Emma mumbles, not sure if the animatronic Buzz Lightyear in line has always been this loud or it’s just because they may actually be the only people in line. It’s late. “Also, did you call him ace?” “That makes sense,” Killian objects. “Ace of the staff and number-one pitcher and—” “—Insults are not insults, if you have to explain them,” Mary Margaret says, sliding into the next available car and holding her hands up so the cast member can slam it closed. “Also, you guys suck and we’re going to win. We did research.” “David did research,” Emma argues. “You’re just hanging on for the glory.”

“Go Sox, go!” “That’s not even a cheer!” “I love when you get belligerent like this,” Killian grins, nipping at Emma’s lower lip when his mouth finds hers.

“It’s bad trash talk.” “Mmhm, you’re a very good trash talker, Swan.” “Flattery will get you everywhere.” “Aim for the Z, huh?”

Her muscles aren’t quite as tired anymore — an adrenaline that usually only comes when Killian takes a ridiculously large lead off second, but this is still kind of fun and maybe as magical as everything else and she really likes winning.

With Killian.

On, like principle or something.

“Try to find the strike zone, Nolan,” Killian yells, but they’re already moving and Ellie’s head keeps lolling between his side and Emma’s. She starts slamming her thumb into the button.

If asked, Emma will never be entirely sure if that’s what does it. Her vaguely over-excited thumb or the sheer determination to win, driving her to start shooting at things before they’ve even really gotten into the first room, but whatever it is proves to be important and some kind of game-changer because— “Shit,” Killian gasps, gritting his teeth as soon as the word is out of his mouth. Ellie looks up at him. “Don’t repeat that.”

She laughs. She’s got no idea what’s going on.

Neither does Emma, really.

“What’s your deal?” she asks, thumb still moving quickly enough that she’s briefly worried about dislocating it. “Are you not shooting things right now?” Killian shakes his head slowly before nodding towards the soft red glow of their respective score screens. “Oh shit,” Emma gasps. “Seriously, Ellie, do not say that around Uncle David.”

Emma blinks more than once — like that will get the score to change and not continue climbing. It does the second thing, a number she’s never seen on her side of the car before, already over seven-hundred thousand and they’re not even out of the first room yet.

“What happened?” she snaps. “I—is it a glitch or something?” Killian clicks his tongue in reproach. “Swan, you’ve got to be more confident in your talent than that.”

“I didn’t do anything!” “I think you hit David’s secret big-money targets.” “That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said. Worse than vacation-pillows.” “I asked one of the people at the desk, they said we could get pillows online.” Her heart explodes. Like it’s been shot by Buzz Lightyear’s laser. She’s only slightly confident she’ll come up with better analogies at some point.

And Emma’s score is cresting eight-hundred thousand now.

“Just keep shooting, love,” Killian says, joy in the words and the overall width of his smile and something, something, magic. Or luck.

Emma keeps shooting.

And her laugh seems to soar out of her, ignoring the pain in her right thumb and the dig of Ellie’s shoe in her left thigh when she scrambles onto Killian’s lap, which is definitely breaking the rules, but can I shoot, daddy and Killian is nothing short of a pushover, so.

Emma keeps shooting.

With Ellie and Killian and she’s not sure who grabs the joystick when they reach that one tunnel that’s supposed to look like space, but then they’re spinning and there’s more laughter and it’s good, great, everything Emma thought vacation should be.

Especially after winning the World Series.

But then animatronic Zurg is yelling at them, the flash of the camera making Emma blink and Killian’s trying to direct Ellie’s hands on the laser gun, but she’s got her own ideas and—

“Swan.” Emma hums, shaking her right hand gently before she realizes that Killian is trying to take a picture of their score screen before it disappears.

Nine-hundred thousand, nine-hundred and ninety-nine.

“No way,” Emma laughs. “That’s—” “—Galactic Hero,” Killian finishes, grinning like an idiot. “You, my love, appear to be a Galactic Hero. And probably the savior of the Universe.” “Do those go together?” “Undoubtedly.” “What is this?” David shouts, standing at the end of the moving sidewalk.

Emma beams. “What was your score, Nolan?” He scowls.

“Only space ace,” Mary Margaret mutters, and Killian’s laugh threatens to do damage to Emma’s ear drums. “But that was better than me. I only got like two-hundred thousand, which is just—embarrassing, honestly.” “Seriously,” Killian nods, directing them towards the pictures so Ellie can scan her MagicBand. “I think you get a button, Swan.”

David’s eyes bug. “No.” “You going to be ok, over there ace? Space ace?” “Stop it. That’s not—” “—Excuse me,” Killian says, getting the attention of the nearest cast member. “What happens if we’ve got a Galactic Hero in our midst?” To her credit, Jenny the cast member — whose name tag informs them that she’s from Maine — doesn’t look anything but overjoyed by Emma’s recent achievement, gasping like this is a serious thing or they’ve won something equivalent to another World Series, but Killian’s smile suggests just that and there is a pin involved.

“Congratulations,” Jenny says enthusiastically. Both Ellie and Leo cheer, any hint of exhaustion gone in the pomp of becoming a Galactic Hero.

“Thanks,” Emma mutters. Her cheeks are very warm all of the sudden.

Killian makes her put the pin on.

And she definitely cries during the fireworks, especially when Tinker Bell flies out of the castle — something about memories and moments and beating Boston. Even when Boston is just her brother and his internet research.

“You’re thinking,” Killian says, a few moments after the fireworks have ended and people have started to make a mad dash for the exit. “You ok?” Emma shakes her head, but her cheeks are still warm and Ellie’s head is on her shoulder. “Swan, c’mon, love it’s—” “—Did I steal your Buzz Lightyear thunder?” “What a sentence.” “I’m serious. I mean I knew we were doing joint stuff because you thought Mary Margaret would bring down the team, but—” “—Well that’s an accusation.” “Tell me I’m wrong,” Emma challenges.

Killian squeezes one eye shut. “The thought had maybe crossed my mind.” “Exactly! You’re—I mean, the inherent competitive nature of athletes is no joke and you and David have been going at it all week.”

“That was fun, though. I wouldn’t have been totally upset if he beat me.”

“Say that again with a straight face.” “Ok,” Killian sighs. “I would have been annoyed if your brother beat me, but I’m not even remotely upset that you did. Team New York has reigned supreme on whatever planet Buzz Lightyear is from.” “Star Command?” “Nah, that’s just where he works.” “I don’t know enough about the mythos of Toy Story,” Emma admits, not able to stop her laugh. Killian kisses her forehead. ‘You’re sure, though? You looked up stuff and I just started shooting things and got the high-score you couldn’t.”

He chuckles, fingers drifting dangerously high up her side. Especially when they’re still surrounded by so many people.

And that Walt Disney statue.

“Well, when you trash talk like that,” Killian starts. He has to shift Ellie so he can crowd closer to Emma, the toes of his shoes threatening to rest on the top of hers. “But, no, Swan. I am not upset that you hit a high score I didn’t. I am very proud of your ability to defend the galaxy and my own trash-talking honor. Plus, the deal was a team, right? That’s kind of how it works.” She may be crying.

Again.

Peak cliché.

“I love you,” Emma says. “I’m glad you won a World Series so we got to come to Disney World.” “Yeah, that’s totally why I did it. And I love you too.” And it’s not like she’s not expecting the kiss, but there is a kid between them and that Walt Disney statue, so Emma can’t quite help the gasp she lets out when Killian ducks his head. But then her hands are moving and he makes that one specific noise when her fingers find his hair, tugging him closer, like he’d have any objections.

Her back noticeably arches.

At the same time she presses up on her toes.

A flash goes off somewhere. “Damn,” Emma mumbles, mostly into Killian’s mouth and she’s going to blame David’s hat. He’s a few feet away. Buying churros.

“Ah, it was only a matter of time,” Killian reasons. His fingers dance up Ellie’s back again, drifting across his number and his name and Emma’s blushing for a whole other reason. “Plus, if that’s the picture they want, I’m only too willing to start making out with you again.” “Yeah? No garlic, huh?” “Eh, post-celebration I’d even be willing to risk the garlic.” “Charmer,” Emma mumbles, but then she’s pushing up again and kissing Killian again and she can’t really think when his tongue sweeps across her lips. Something about a home run or bases-clearing double or Galactic Hero status on the Buzz Lightyear ride in Magic Kingdom.

“Although,” she adds, “might not be a bad idea to give social media something to work with. I bet they’d appreciate it.” Killian arches an eyebrow. “What did you have in mind?”

They take a family photo in front of the castle.

With the lights of Main Street around them and Ellie’s shirt obvious.

And Emma’s pin.

She laughs when she sees the caption later, head already on pillows she won’t actually have to steal —

World Series Champ and Galactic Hero. Talk about keeping up with the Jones’es.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #cs fic #captain swan fic #honestly every single opinion expressed in this story is either me or justin #there is genuinely nothing creative about any of this

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lockdownuk · 4 years ago

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Lockdown Diary Part 10

A personal account during the lockdown in the UK due to the Covid-19 outbreak.

23/03/2020 8:30pm Boris Johnson, UK Prime Minister, gives a live address to the nation to, effectively, put the country on lockdown to stem the spread of the deadly coronavirus strain, Covid-19.

Many of us have been self-isolating for days but this latest development within the UK in reaction to the pandemic feels very serious and very scary. I decided to keep a simple diary and where better but online. Day 271: Work was dominated by Qfiniti again, including a meeting with Jon and staff from the States, where I found my self taking control to get the next steps in process (and then, Dave Stewart, the SCCM engineer fucked off and put an OOO message on Teams telling me he’s off until Tuesday (it’s Thursday)...and I am off on Monday!) But, I have to say this project does float my boat. Got a text message and then a call from PCH for another laser eye appt this coming Monday at 12.30pm. I mentioned to the lady that phoned that I will have to square it with work (I won’t, but she doesn’t know that) as I can’t afford to lose my job - it just seems the hospital, while under pressue with the admin and the clinic availability - I get it! - just aren’t seeing the issues for the patients. Plus, Peterborough has been declared a Tier 3 from Sunday under the new lockdown scheme, the highest tier. Great...I really want to travel to a highly infected area! managed to find an online booze shop that does Gordon’s and Famous Grouse and will deliver beforee Chrimbo, so I’ve placed the order for dad and Rita’s gift. I spoke with Dad today, he hasn’t heard about his vaccination yet which is a surprise (he’s in the first draft being over 80)

Day 272: Typing on day 273. Work was that manic shit at the end of the dya when I’ve got time off. I am only off on Moday but still had to tie up loose ends, complictaed further by Jon being off next week and Sueanne off this week and the Qfiniti project! In the evening I only mamaged three beers. I ate too much. Plus my sugars were all over the place and way too high! I ordered a torch a couple of days ago (£17), it arrived today. It takes rechargeable batteries or 3 AAAs. Apparently, to get the best performance (i.e. brightness) you need the rechargeable batteries in it, so i charged ‘em. Fucking hell, I’m glad I did - it’s brighter than the sun. It opens up my late walks in winter, for sure.

Day 273: While it was a very late (but sober) night yesterday (gone 4am before lights out) I was up before midday. Usual walking etc. plus gave the bathroom a clean (albeit with wipes, but I did mop the floor - and used the water to also mop the kitchen). Now I am about to stick a pizza in the oven, plus wedges (to have with microwaveable chip shop curry sauce) and watch This Is 40 which is coincidentally on telly tonight - the coincidence being clips of it are on TikTok a lot right now. I am on my second beer and am going to have a smoke right now as well. Lastly for this entry, I have been using my AudioPro speaker today, it pisses me off it’s not WiFi capable but, thru Bt, it does sound fucking good - revisiting James works very well to demonstrate the speaker’s prowess.

Day 274: I have another Paypal a/c. I have been getting emails to my standard gmail account from Paypal saying they are going to charge me £9 for an inactive account which I have been largely ignoring since my paypal a/c has a specific email address. Anyway, I tried to log in, after a password reset and, hey presto, I do have another one, with £35 in it, having just been fleeced of £9 for the aforementioned inactivity, fuckers. It’s registered with the old Market Place address and phone. When I try to transfer the £35 to my card, it wants to confim it’s me by calling the phone, which I can’t amend. Oh, and you can’t contact Paypal direct. Fuck knows what to do! Other than that, usual Sunday, a tad more relaxed since I have tomorrow off, but not that much now I have an eye appointment in Tier 4 Peterborough (it’s been up’d from tier 3)! Up at 1.30 pm (I watched This is 40 and The Guvners last night with lots of beer), feeling worse for wear but, stair climb and a 6 miler acheived!

Day 275: I was at the hospital for 3 hours. The laser clinic didn’t start until 1.30pm so, why my appointment was at 12.20, not even the consultant could understand. 15 minutes of lasering - horrible but I am used to it. It took so long it pretty much fucked my day off up completely. I got a Christmas card from Karen, in the actual post, so, a mail shot. It’s depressing.

Day 276: Back to work and it’s definitely in wind down mode. I’ve decided to compile a list of things I have done this year. It will be on the postive side, such as all the steps I’ve walked and getting an article published about my photography, but it will also include randon facts like getting bitten by a dig twice and not having a haircut. I’ll get it done so I can post in at new year, hopefully be a little inspiring, a little silly and a lot of showing off!

Day 277: Work, again, was quiet. It’s fucking pissing down now, as I type at 21:50, and has been all day. It’s causing havoc and there’s flooding everywhere. I could walk down St. Peter’s Road tonight ‘cos of it (had to go up New Road, Springfield Road, down Latham Road). Soaked a lunhtime and tonight! With a new variant of Coronavirus, France stopped frieght crossing the border. That’s now been resolved but tyeh back log has/is affecting certain food stocks in the shops, of which, fresh veg might affect me for Christams dinner (I plan to do a chicken breast with stuffing, pigs in blankets, yorkshire pud and shed loads of veg. I’ll nip to Co-Op tomorrow morning and see what’s vaialble. It’s a half day at work ‘cos of Christmas Eve, so I can nip out somewhere in the car if need be, as ong as the flooding has subsided. Or I could just get shitfaced and have burgers and pizza.

Day 278: Christmas Eve. Sueanne let me finish at 11.00am so, very shortly thereafter, off for a walk I went; it turned out to be a stop/start affair - flooding as the Nene had burst its banks, ended up doing more of a circuit round town. Bumped into Andy Smith (and his son) and, after that, Ash and Denise. Ended up doing just under 11.5km in 2 and a half hours.Knackered! As I type, I have a chilli on the stove, beer on the go, all the veg and chicken breast bought with no shortages, as feared, for tomorrow’s lunch and looking forward to eating. getting drunk, smoking, listening to music, watching telly....all over the next two/three days.

Day 279: I don’t even remember going to bed last night. As a direct result I got out of bed at 2.30pm. I couldn’t even be bothered with Christmas dinner, let alone anything else like exercise. I’m just about to have chilli for dinner (it’s 8.10pm). Watch some telly then try an go to sleep before midnight. No booze! I did talk to dad earlier. Day 280: Typing on day 281. A better, more productive day. Up @11.00am exercise and walk as usual, although the walk was a different route due to flooding. In the evening I could hear ‘storm Bella’ raging, so windy! I cooked a christmas dinner of sorts, chicken breast with Thyme, all the veg, roasted spuds and parsnip, stuffing (a first for me, albeit co-op stuffing mix), Yorkshie and pigs in blankets. It was smashing! A few beers and The Hitman’s Bodyguard, alays a fun watch. A better day, as I say, but I am feeling particular deflated this Christmas. Day 281: Typing on day 282. I realised, about mid afternoon, that Monday (tomorrow) is a bank holiday so no work. It was a great realisation but, also, worrying that it dawned on my like I’m an old person! Nevertheless, a nice long walk - bumped into Baz & Kate and had a nice long chat, then El & Camila, Aaron and Eva for another, shorter chat. I also saw Denise & Ash along the way. Fog video called later in the evening for a chat too (he told me how he fell asleep at the dinner table, fuck he makes me laugh - unwittingly - when I need it most!) A regular social fest! A repeat of last night’s dinner and a few beers - it was a good day albeit I am in a proper low ebb.

Day 282: Up at midday after a 4am-er. A very long walk (1.75 hours) and a hodge podge dinner (remaining chilli, roasted spuds and peppers, steamed cauliflower and runner beans, grated cheese) - it’s nearly ready, I’ll type the review tomorrow. I realise that this is the first time in 21 Christmases that I have at least talked to K. Is that connected to my mood slump? I reckon so. So, as that fact dawned on me, I then considered, should it be the case next Christmas, it will not be the first in along time and, as such, more manageable....fuck knows how I manage to accentuate any little positive but, thank goodness I do. Day 283: Work was a sedate affair today, fuck all to do really. Sueanne is now follwing me on Insta...I shall invetsigate on how to exclude posts to individuals, methinks. Tea, last night, was fucking lovely. More of the same tonight-ish - currently I am roasting spuds, peppers, garlic, chillies, tomatoes - it’ll all go with left over pigs-in-blankets (5) and a burger. I’ll have bisto beef with mustard on it. I can’t wait! Day 284: Typing on day 285. That meal was fucking lush! Checked on the car todfay and it would not start. Something is draining the battery so I will have to give it a run every day until I can get Julian to sort it. So, I WhatsApp’d Karen to borrow the portable starter. She dropped it off for me. We had the briefest of chats at the doorstep, first time we’ve spoken in weeks. She mentioned my hair! Day 285: NYE. I have just got back from walking to Cottersock and back. I would not have been able to do so without my new torch! I finished and published my double letter quiz on FB, including to the Virtual Pub group and the Oundle Chatter. It’s had some good feedback, I’m rather proud of it. I am going to make chicken casserole now (with dumplings - a first for me, I even bought some flour), have some beers and get a bit stoned. Before that, I am going to finish off my list of things I’ve done this year, including steps wlaked and hours listening on Spotify. I am quite proud of that list too.

Day 286: I fucked the dumplings up, added too much water, so that didn’t happen but the chicken casserole was good, just about to finish it for tea tonight. I also had pizza last night and went to bed at 5am. I have had a lot of good feedback on my list of 2020 achievements. I proud of it. K sent a happy new WhatsApp last night, around 00.30.

Day 287: No booze last night, so I was up before the alarm today (about 10.00am) Two walks, one on my own, another with Fog with a couple of beers. I fucking loved it! Watching datrts (World champs semi finals - been texting Dan while the first one has been on). Going to watch The Aviator later...I’ve not seen it before which surprises me. Why it surprises me I do not know, since I know I haven’t seen it. How the fuck can I be surprised by a fact I’m completely aware of? Day 288: I didn’t watch The Aviator ‘cos Logan Luck was on at 11:55pm on ITV4. Great fildm...I can’t believe that I very nearly paid for it (rent from Sky or Amazon). A late one last night and quite pissed. Thinking about it, having afew beers with Fog in the afternoon made it quite a long sesh for me! Up at just gone midday today, nice long walk (Cotterstock) which was mde long by a painful right ankle - I must have turned or twiested slightly sometime. Still, it survived. Back to work tomorrow - Chrimbo and New Year all done and dusted for the 55th time in my life!

Day 289: First day back at work of 2021. Boris announces another full lockdown in England (there’s a new strain of Covid19 which is seeing huge numbers of infections every day, over 50,000 per day).

Day 290: Something is up with my right foot, the little toe pad. It’s bloody sore. If it gets any worse it’ll affect my walking and exercise. I phoned Anne Bennison to talk about it, she just wants me to go and see her which i donlt want to do if poss, pandemic and all that.

Day 291: Wearing my sandals instead of the M&S slippers and my foot/toepad is already feeling bteer. However, I did inspect my Merrell boots, just in case, and the sole on te right is really worn down, in just three months. I have sent a WhatsApp to CotswoldOutdoors, where I got them from....let’s see what they say! It’s all kicking off i the US - pro Trump protestors have storm the Capitol Building, where congrees was being held. Only in ‘Merica.

Day 292: Busy at work with rolling out Qfiniti - all that project work was pretty much for fuck all since the SCCM package has to hand held. It’s feckin’ freezing today, below freezing, slippy af on my walks. I have been shopping tonight, £106 in Corby Tesco. That does include 8 cans of sapporo.

Day 293: The fracas at Capitol Hill on Wednesday left 5 dead, it looks like Trump will be impeached. He’s already said he’ll not attend Biden’s inauguration. In a fucking world gone mad, it’s another level of madness. It’s really cold -3℃ tonight, more of the same tomorrow. Makes for brisk walks. I’ve just had chicken balti pie and chips for tea. It was so nice that I burnt the roof of my fucking gob. I’m on the Sapporo and about to have a smoke then watch Jack Reacher. I’ve (kinda) earnt after the first 5 day week for a while.

Day 294: Well, last night saw another late one...5am by the time I :went to sleep. Up at 2pm today with no instention of any exercise or walking or housework or fuck all, really. But, I did my exercises and a 9 mile walk. While I walked I came across Banners, quick 15 min chat and listed to Stage by David Bowie. He’s all over the radio right now as it’s his death’s anniversary tomorrow and his birthday yesterday. It’s a fucking good live album. A few beers tonight, eating trash, watching FA Cup highlights then End of Watch later. Posh played today (first time in a while due to Covid infections) drew away to (shitty) Lincoln 1-1. Good point as Posh were down to ten men after 67 mins for a second yellow for handball in the area. Lincoln missed the pen. Fucking funny. Chorley, the non leaguers who knocked Posh out in round 2 of the FA Cup, beat Derby in round 3 today (albeit derby fielded an academy side of 11 first timers due to Covid ) - a great day for them!

Day 295: Up at 2pm swearing blind I’d not walk or exercise (again!) but, of course I did. I’ve done over 25 miles this w/e! End of Watch was brilliant last night. Well worth a rewatch, so emotional. I am making butter chicken as I type. I’ve added extra onion, garlic and, of course, chillies. It’s the spiciest butter chicken I have ever tasted!

Day 296: One of those frustrating days at work when no problem of request I try to resolve goes without a hitch. After a 7km walk in the evening, took the car for a spin and cleaned the bathroom. Fucking knackered. It’s 11:30pm and I’m in bed typing this on the iPad! despite getting up so late, I feel knackered. 11pm bedtime for me, I reckon.

Day 297: Fucking busy at work, the States rolled out a new Okta trust policy and it caused mayhem. Meant my evening walk didn’t start ‘til gone 6pm. When I got back, clened the hall and stairs, made chilli (which I am about to have for tea (gone 10.15pm!) and showered. I’m, again, fucking knackered! Posh played Portsmouth in the EFL Trophy 3rd round at home. Won 5-1. Nice.

Day 298: Had an electrician rouind for the EICR cetrt. He was here until 2pm and it was a pain in the arse, having to work upstairs plus, with having to cut the electricity, all the smart devices lost their settings. And it was freezing up there.

Day 299: Work was impossibly infuriating. Not one pc remote session went to plan! It was pissing down a lunchtime during my walk but, I have to say, the cheap TargetDry coat copes fine in heavy rain for short periods. Everywhere is flooding again even though the rain turned to sleet. By my evening walk, it was dry but bloody cold. Then, when I got in I cleaned the kitchen and mopped the floor and the bathroom’s as well. I fucking done in! Chatted to dad today - same as ever!

Day 300: What a fucking work at week! I am so glad it’s Friday. To celebrate, I ordered new walking boots: Scarpas £121!

#diary #Tumblr diary #lockdown #COVID19 #lockdownuk

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janiedean · 5 years ago

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aaah, and I thought the throbb/theon fandom couldn’t disappoint me more than it already had

and yet.

okay, so, whatever, I’ve been made aware of a situation on twitter and honestly I’m tired, so let’s just have it out.

apologies for the long-ass post but I honestly am tired of being the uber-correct person who addresses everyone directly and properly and so on and all I get is finding out people trash talk behind your back anyway and don’t engage with me if they have a problem.

so, yesterday I’m minding my damned business, I see that @fleurdulys is apparently in some discussions with anti sansan people calling her names, I send her a message like ‘oh god they found you I’m so sorry’ because I have seen anti sansan takes back in the day, two people including someone that had stalked her for months start tagging me too and accusing me of the usual condoning That Horrible Problematic Ship and of being a pedo apologist blah blah blah, I block both of them, the day after another two show up in my mentions uninvited, I block both of them.

then someone who was monitoring the situation warns me that some anon is trash talking me and fleur in the curiouscat asks of some other person that I had absolutely no knowledge of until then. I went to block them, found out I had blocked them already because they were anti thr/amsay and shipped a theon show only ship I really don’t like so I went and blocked them in JULY before they changed nickname because I’m an adult and I like to think I can cut out of my life people I don’t want to risk interacting with because I know I don’t have anything to say to them. said person accused me of ‘using as a tactic calling everything calvinist’ which... well, when the problem is that antis are basically being that it’s not a tactic but whatever, I addressed it on twitter and changed my screen name as a joke because y’know what let’s embrace it, I don’t like calvinists anyway.

I go and forget about it and then the same someone monitoring the situation informs me that these lovely people had this other exchange - I’m not mentioning who it is but they’ll know and at this point I’m honestly done:

now.

sorry but what the hell.

first of all, going in order:

I blocked receiver of the CC ages ago because she ships a thing that for me is an absolute no and I have very good reasons to not like it, and I have zero interest in talking to people who ship that AND are th/ramsay antis, which is a thing that I have zero patience for whichever side of the fence you’re on - saying it as someone who doesn’t like th/ramsay but ffs I don’t agree with anti-ing stuff, if you hate it blacklist and move on with your life;

also, I wasn't lurking on her anons because I didn’t even know she was involved but someone else monitoring the situation told me I was the subject of one of them and I went and checked for myself, so like... sorry I’m not unblocking because I never searched for her, I never talked to her, I never wanted contact with her and she and the anon are there trash talking me and fleur for shipping a fictional ship so what are we even talking here;

and that’s the premise, but: I had gotten my 'bitch ass away from throbb' in 2011, the amount of fics that fandom has would Not Exist At All because *I* was the sole steady contributor (ie the only person who kept on posting it) 2011-18 (and fandom drove out the only other steady contributor in 2015-8 lmao), *I* was the one organizing most theon-based fandom events (which were opened to all ships, including the ones I hated, and if I could handle posting th/ramsay fanart/reading th/ramsay prompts/assigning them when the exchange was anonymous and I had to post all the contributions when looking at th/ramsay art made me sick back in the day I think OP can tolerate people existing and shipping stuff she don't like), *I* was the one periodically coming up with ways to make the tag less filled with hate, *I* called out every single anti shaming anyone for their ships - from thramsay to theonsa because there were theonsa antis back in S5 but she wouldn't know I suppose -, so like she can pay me the favor to not even going there because if it wasn't for me she wouldn't have throbb fic to read *period* (not to brag but check, before I started spamming the tag and helped bringing in people along with someone else who's not in fandom anymore there were literally six), so how about she check what are her contributions to the fandom (less than mine probably) other than creating drama? thanks.

also ‘theon and robb would beat pedos up’ please check your facts, theon/jeynep is going to most likely be canon and she’s like thirteen and he’s twenty-two, which is a nine year age gap, which is not even that far from sansan. also your favorite theon ship has an eight years age gap in the books too so just stop. you ain’t coherent. at least be coherent. but you can’t, because every single asoiaf ship is problematic for some reason. ;)

and that was it for OP.

now, for the anon, who honestly... the entitlement, I swear to god, but in order: if you’re that pressed because I haven’t written throbb in months also thanks to people like you you could have like, come and talked to me on tumblr because regardless from what you assume I don’t bite. also I see that you’re a throbb shipper and you’re calling me THROBB CONTENT GENERATOR?

CONTENT GENERATOR?

ARE YOU COMPLETELY OUT OF IT?

I’M A HUMAN BEING, I’M NOT YOUR DAMNED CONTENT GENERATOR.

I DON’T GENERATE CONTENT FOR YOUR SATISFACTION, I WRITE FIC FOR SHIPS I LIKE. throbb is my otp (still, even if y’all really are trying to drive me out lol) and I wrote novels of it for years for free because I love it, BUT NOT BECAUSE I’M YOUR DAMNED CONTENT GENERATOR.

content generator.

I’m just. actually you know what, if I write throbb again after this, you can be 100% sure there’s gonna be full-on blown canon sansan in it for a very long time and I’m absolutely not going to make it avoidable if you don’t scroll half of the fic. also ‘I could ask her to write it but she’d put sansan in it so I won’t’ who the hell do you think you are?

who the hell do you think you are?

I take prompts when I can because I want to and because once in a while I enjoy the idea of writing stuff for people because other than being something I love, I like the idea that I can make someone’s day nicer by filling them a prompt if they like my writing, I don’t do that just because you ask.

what the hell? so you’d ask and me, a poor idiot, not knowing it was you, would put it on a to-write list of prompts that’s like ten pages of notebook long because that’s how long my goddamned list is, while you’re here laughing that someone whose writing you like but whose personality you obviously despise has written you your favorite ship for free not knowing that it’s for someone that doesn’t like her all that much?

jesus christ.

like, I thought this fandom couldn’t get lower than the let’s plagiarize fics deal last july, but this is honestly rich.

and then you wonder why whenever I think about finishing sfbd or writing a ship that used to make me happy to write now I go like ‘f* this noise why should I bother I’m writing any other damned pairing instead’.

and I have to read this shit from someone who, when I blocked them the moment I got the fandom twitter account, who I never searched for, who I never talked to and who is friends with people who happily accuse others of being pedo apologists because they ship sansan which is, oh, wait, an almost-canon ship with canon text supporting it and that grrm himself certainly doesn’t hate and has admitted to have been leading up to, and now wants me to unblock her to talk??? when their friends showed up in my mentions absolutely uninvited because I sent support to someone who was arguing with them because we both ship sansan and I’ve done it for longer so I know how’s the deal?

and from some kind of anon who sure as hell reads my fics enough that they know I’m still the most prolific throbb contributor to the tag even if I haven’t written throbb in a year and some who calls me content generator and not even contributor as if I was some kind of juke box machine where you put in prompts and get out 5k minimum fics for free? and who still would like to read them enough to throw that shade but has no issues trashing me because I’m pointing out that antis think exactly like 17th century calvinists, which is a thing that can 100% be proved the moment you look up how the aforementioned calvinists thought?

like, I’d like to kindly tell the both of them to find a hobby that’s not trying to fele better harassing people they don’t know for fictional ships and remind everyone on here (because I’m sure anon is on tumblr as it’s where I hang out most of the time anyway) including the few anons who have asked me if I’d consider writing throbb again in the last months and who asked me if I’d run theonexchange again at some point that fic writers are human beings, not jukeboxes, and that being assholes has, as a usual consequence, driving the content creators out. I’m not a content generator, I’m not here to get laughed at because I fill prompts and I generally like to put content in the tags and not drama and because I think that being a fandom contributor should mean spreading positivity instead of shaming people for what they ship.

anyway: as a conclusion to this rant, I’m definitely not writing throbb that doesn’t have sansan in it anytime soon and if I run theonexchange again at some point (which I would like to but with these premises you’ll see that finding the force of will when I have a life is kind of a problem) if I find out that OP or any of her friends want to participate they’re kindly welcomed not to because I’m banning them on sight.

wow, get my bitch ass away from a fandom I kind of helped make and contributed 10% of the ao3 content to.

congrats, you just made sure I really won’t when I was taking a break but I was planning to come back at some point even if right now it’s quite tempting.

thanks for reading this if you got to this point and sorry for the rant but I’m tired.

I’m really tired.

also I’ve always said I shipped sansan from the moment I was in this fandom, I tag it also for blacklisting purposes and I don’t even put it as a side in fics that much because it doesn’t come up, so if anyone is so disgusted by it they’re welcome to learn to coexist with people who ship stuff they don’t like.

again: I’m really tired.

#throbb #theon greyjoy #oh wow that's always nice to find out from people who technically ship what I like!#also i mean you'd think i'm idk some kinda snobbish asshole who doesn't reply to every single ask she gets #and who hasn't filled prompts here since 2011 without expecting really anything but whatever #and who hasn't like talked to people if they had issues #except that i did all of that #and finding out this crap is like disheartening #like wow then you wonder why i don't feel it anymore #as if i didn't spend years trying to make sure the theon fandom wasn't a continuous hatred shitfest #as if i didn't call people out for anti-ing any ship bc it was already not many of us #i just wanted people to get along and create stuff instead of eating each other up #even ship i personally didn't like or that ACTUALLY MADE ME SICK #i'm tired #i'm really tired #sorry for the word-vomit but some of you really need to learn some manners #obviously your parents didn't teach you #and it shows #thank you i'm done

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venus-says · 5 years ago

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Futari wa Pretty Cure Splash Star 24-37

Are we on a new moon cycle already? I'm feeling the wind a little different for some reason.

Starting its second half, Splash Star finally got more bold to step further away from the original series. It still has it's similarities, at this point I believe they'll never be completely different, but I do believe they're unique enough to shine on its own and be its own thing. I know I sound repetitive mentioning this thing all the time, but it's because I like seeing this journey of they slowly finding their own identity which I think it's very important seeing that this is the first series without Nagisa and Honoka.

But enough of comparisons, this is a review of Splash Star and not a post to compare both seasons.

I gotta say this third quarter felt a little disappointing, but to their defense, this is something I feel with all precure seasons so it's not much of the show's own fault but the structure of being a year-long show. But even with this disappointment, I feel like I enjoyed this portion a lot more than I enjoyed this same period of time in the most three recent seasons that aired. And I think part of that is because they were able to spread out important plot points, for example the mid-season upgrade came in episode 30 and not right after the new ark began. Another thing that helped a lot during this part was the characters, the cast we already knew was great and the new additions were full of life and personality so even when nothing interesting was happening it was still lots of fun to watch.

Probably the biggest thing that happened here was the introduction of two "new" Cures that brought something new to the table and opened new doors for different things, other dynamics, and just a good change of pace to not make us feel like we've stagnated a whole lot. If there was a point I disliked is that the gloominess for Michiru and Kaoru didn't last long, I know this is a show for kids and more often than not they want to be positive so this wouldn't last all that long anyway, but at least the reveal that Kaoru and Michiru are still alive and they're just being held captive should've happened maybe when they got the new forms or when they defeated one of the generals. But this isn't such a big problem, it just could've been better.

Saki and Mai continue to be very fun, I enjoy watching them and I love that they're still keeping the focus very well balanced between these two. Though I feel like they haven't changed all that much, I thought that after losing Kaoru and Michiru they would grow a little, maybe change a few aspects of their characters, and while we had a deeply emotional moment during episode 24 I feel like very little of that remained with them, and this is pretty much why I wish the reveal had happened a little later. Though I still enjoy them as characters, I wish Saki's crush on Mai's brother had been dropped already because it's pretty obvious this won't go anywhere, but since it's not something that is used a lot it doesn't bother me as much.

The Fairy team has gotten bigger with Moop and Fuup joining the crew and I really like them. I was afraid we would have another Pollun & Lullun situation, but no! They're very different, they're very funny, I love that they're basically children raised by TV and they keep reproducing things they watch on the screen, they were definitely a great addition to the cast. But I have a problem with aesthetics here, not of the characters themselves but the toys they've become. XD Like, what is Flappy and Choppy new item forms supposed to be? You know, I appreciate stepping away from making your fairies cellphones, but really, what are they??? Also who the hell thought a toy PC (not even a laptop!) was a good idea to put your fairies in and grant the Cures new weapons? This is probably one of the most unpractical things EVER!

Going to our "new" Cures, I like their designs just fine. My question is, was it really necessary to give them new Cure names? Because they don't look all that different, especially Windy, and they can change to which form they want to transform into so shouldn't these be called just for changes? I don't know, I think if they wanted to make them really assume new Cure identities they should've made their design way more different, and I reiterate, ESPECIALLY in Windy's case that not only look very similar to Egret but also has basically the same powers. With that being said, I absolutely love their new attack in this form, I love how their stream become two comets and the background is basically a galaxy, I don't know how I've missed this detail in all of the "All Precure Attacks" compilations I've seen on YouTube, honestly this is such a step up from both Twin Stream Splash and Spiral Heart Splash (that is the new attack they got for their original forms), it is just awesome.

I don't think I've mentioned them before, but in this portion, we got a very nice focus on their classmates and it was pretty fun, for some reason, I started to like Yuuko a lot and I can't pinpoint why but I root for her to be with Kenta by the end? Don't ask me for explanations because I don't have them. Maybe this was my subconscious finding a way to become bearable for me to watch Kenta because I absolutely hate him and the show gives him a lot of filler episodes. Whatever the reason may be, the side characters like their teacher, or Saki's senpai in the softball club, were pretty good.

Now, the real stars are the villains, that after a very inexpressive character, blessed us with two amazing new generals. To begin, I like that they really saved the best for last and are using their more powerful generals, and even with the cure's new powers they're still pretty hard to defeat on their own, I think it's very important to keep the power level balanced so the show doesn't become boring, we also got more elaborated fights because of this and I can't stress enough how much I appreciate this.

MS. SHITATAARE IS AWESOME! She's beautiful, she's funny, she's a master disguise, and she's powerful as hell, I absolutely love her and her presence here made everything way much more fun. She's a real queen, if I did drag I'd want my drag to look like that because her aesthetics are on point, she's flawless, she's fierce, she makes me go "yas qween, work mama". And her costumes to blend in with civilians? OMG, I loved that so much, especially because whenever Goohyan went to check on her he would also put on a costume and it was just a joy, I wish our time with her was longer. Speaking of Goohyan I feel like he became more of a comedic character, but he's still very threatening, and I liked that we could see him in action for the first time. Kintolesky is the newest villain, and he's pretty great as well. Like Shitataare he also blends in with the people from the Land of Greenery and I think this is what adds so much to his character, I also like that he's not just an evil general that only thinks on the evil, I feel like if it was on another situation he could easily be a regular customer on Pan Paka Pan and create some sort of bond with Saki's family for example. The dude is also OP as hell and I love that about it, people like to talk about doing the Saitama training routine, I wanna see someone trying the Kintolesky training routine. XD

And this is pretty much it for now, do you have any thoughts? Please let me know in the comments down below. I'm finally up to schedule with the precure reviews and I'm very happy, I hope I won't miss it next week for Splash Star finale's and mess up my planning all again. XD In any case, thank you so much for reading and I'll talk to you all later. Bye-bye~

#Futari wa Precure Splash Star #Splash Star #precure

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ssa-montgomery · 5 years ago

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It All Started With A Coffee Chapter 2

Word Count for this chapter: 2825

Story Summary: Magnus Bane decides that running a quiet coffee shop is a better idea than the loud nightclub Pandemonium, it just happens that it has the best coffee in Manhatten and Alec needs an escape when his parents come to town. Magnus is happy to let the young Shadowhunter hang out at his coffee shop for most the day and even starts to enjoy his company. When things go even more downhill than usual with his family and Alec opens up to the Warlock they start to grow closer, and it’s totally just a coincidence if they run into each other at the Institute right? More importantly, his parents won’t notice, will they?

Characters in this chapter: Magnus x Alec, Izzy x Simon, Clary x Jace, Maryse Lightwood x Robert Lightwood, Maia Roberts (Mentioned), Max Lightwood (Mentioned)

Warnings: Fluff, Arranged marriage, Angst, Swearing, Clave being Homophobic, Fighting, First Love, Injury, Blood, Maybe future smut (? not decided yet)

A/N: Chapter two is finally here! I hope you enjoy this. It’s a little longer this time around and I hope it turned out okay :) Thank you for all the support on the first chapter! For those of you who asked, yes this is available on AO3 you can find it here.

Feedback is what motivates me to work so please let me know what you think! Reblogs are also greatly appreciated.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Taglist is open!

"So you're parents live in Idris permanently?" Clary asked. They were standing around a table in the middle of the Ops Center that was starting to fill with more and more Shadowhunters, the chatter around them growing louder. The Institute was preparing for the arrival of the Lightwoods and the Shadowhunters were now setting the finishing touches. Alec could sense the tense energy in the room as it got closer to the time of arrival. Alec himself had been on edge since the day before. The thought of his parent's visit constantly playing in the back of his mind. It had been a few months since he had last seen them and he hadn't made an effort to keep in contact apart from a few fire messages to his mother.

"Yeah." Jace nodded. "They live in Alicante with our little brother Max. Alicante is the main city in Idris. Well, actually it's the only city. Almost all Shadowhunters grow up there and eventually end up moving to an Institute."

"Wait, where is Idris?" Simon had now joined the group at the table taking a place next to Isabelle, who snuck a quick look at him before turning her attention back to Alec.

"It's in Central Europe actually. Between Germany, France and Switzerland. The wards keep out Mundanes, if a Mundane were to stumble across it they'd just be teleported from one border to the other." Alec explained pulling up a map on the digital surface of the table in front of them. In the centre of Europe just like Alec had said there was a country outlined with a golden border.

Before anyone could say anything else the sound of the heavy front door being pushed open echoed around the room. Alec turned around to see Robert and Maryse walking into the entryway of the Institute. Maryse was wearing a long well fitted blue dress, her black hair - it was the same shade all the Lightwood children had which always made Jace stand out among the group with his golden hair - pulled back into a ponytail. It was how Alec was used to seeing his mother but there was something different about her today. Maryse had always had a certain confident air about her but now it was gone. Dark circles stood out under her eyes, her shoulders were slouched forward and her fingers were twisting the silver ring on her finger, the Lightwood family ring. Alec could recognize the pattern of flames, the family emblem, on the band and the letter L carved carefully into the top.

"My children." She beamed letting her hands fall to her side and straightening her shoulders, within seconds any sign of her previous nervousness melted away.

Maryse advanced quickly across the room weaving her way through the Shadowhunters that had surrounded her husband at the door and were now filling him in on the status of the Institute. Alec was the first to step away from the table to greet his mother and allow her to pull him down into a tight hug. She gave him a squeeze before pulling away to hug Izzy and Jace.

"Hi, mom." Izzy smiled when Maryse let her go. Alec watched how Izzy tucked her hair behind her ears, one of her habits when she was nervous.

"Maryse." Jace nodded a grin spreading across his face. Looking over his shoulder he held an open hand out to Clary who happily laced her fingers with his and moved forward to stand next to him. "I'd like you to meet-"

"Clary Fairchild. I could have sworn Jocelyn was standing in my institute. You look just like your mother." Maryse finished for him. Alec knew his mother had known Jocelyn from her time in the circle but he could never tell if they had been close. Maryse rarely talked about that time and when she did her expression was guarded and gave nothing away.

Robert had now managed to detach himself from the group of Shadowhunters at the door to come to greet his family. Alec couldn't help but notice the distance between his parents, Robert moved to stand next to Isabelle and Maryse was now standing on the other side of the table talking with Clary. They had barely looked at each other since they arrived. Isabelle had worshipped their father ever since they were children but Alec, not so much. Alec never had a perfect relationship with Robert and it had only gotten worse as he got older. He had accepted long ago that he could never live up to what his father wanted from him.

"Oh!" Izzy whirled around suddenly remembering that Simon was at the table. He was standing behind Clary as she talked to Maryse, his eyes focused on his shoes like they were the most interesting thing he had ever seen. "Mom, Dad this is Simon Lewis. He's Clary's best friend."

Maryse smiled warmly at him and extended her hand to him. Simon shook her hand hating how formal it felt. He was used to Clary's mom who had woken up to Simon sitting in her kitchen so many times that she no longer questioned it. Maryse, on the other hand, was watching him with questioning eyes.

"The Daylighter. I had heard Clary was fond of you." Robert's voice was tight as he spoke, his arms crossed firmly in front of his chest.

"Robert." Maryse shot her husband a cold, warning look.

"I better get going, I have a meeting with the Shadowhunters who were sent over from Idris last week." Robert turned away from the group without another word and disappeared down the long corridor on the opposite side of the room.

"And I would love to talk more with my children, why don't we go to Alec's office?" Maryse asked. "Clary, Simon you are both welcome to join if you like."

"Thank you Mrs Lightwood but Simon and I promised Luke we'd meet him at the Jade Wolf to help out with some stuff. It was great to finally meet you." Clary said.

"It was lovely to meet you both. Give my regards to Lucian Greymark."

Once Simon and Clary had said their goodbyes the Lightwoods made their way to a large room at the end of the nearest corridor. It had become Alec's office now that he was Head of the Institute. Alec was given the position when Maryse decided to move back to Idris so Max could attend the Shadowhunter Academy there. According to the Clave, Maryse was still the official Head of the Institute but the other Shadowhunters had started to respect Alec as their leader in her absence.

"Where is Max?" Izzy asked settling on the couch opposite the wooden desk that had the detailed image that Shadowhunters were so familiar with, the Angel Raziel rising from Lake Lyn with the Mortal Instruments in hand, delicately carved into the front of it.

"Unfortunately your brother won't be joining us for a little while. He decided to stay in the Academy a little longer as the trainer from the Dublin Institute arrived and offered to coach him." Maryse explained. "I must say it's wonderful to be home and see you all."

"It's great to see you too." Jace agreed.

"I would love to spend some time with you all later to catch up, I was hoping we could maybe get some food somewhere in town."

"We could go to the Hunters Moon!" Izzy suggested. "I can call Maia and get her to reserve a table for us."

"Yeah sounds great." Alec nodded.

"Jace please invite Clary if you would like, I'd love to talk to her more. Oh and Isabelle, you seem rather fond of that Lewis boy, you could ask him along as well."

A slight blush covered Izzy's cheeks at the mention of Simon but she shook it away quickly. "Of course, I'll ring Maia now and get us that table."

"Right well, I should probably join your father in that meeting. I shall see you all for dinner." With that Maryse excused herself from the room and each of the Lightwood children left after her heading off in their own directions to get ready.

"Hey, Alec!"

Alec stopped just outside his room and turned away to see Izzy following him down the hall. "What are you doing until dinner?"

"I'm running to change now and then I'm heading out for a while. I'll meet you back here to go to the Hunters Moon later."

"Where are you going?" Izzy questioned, her eyes narrowing, it wasn't like her brother to go out unless one of them was dragging him to something.

"Out." Alec shrugged.

~~~

Alec pushed open the door to the coffee shop and ducked in out of the cold air outside. The shop was quiet again today, the only other customers were a Mundane woman who was lost in the writing on the laptop in front of her, quickly tapping at the keyboard and a Seelie. The Seelie had dark green hair that at first glance seemed to have small white flowers weaved through it but Alec quickly realized the flowers were growing out of the strands of her hair. Magnus, who had previously been leaning against the Seelie's table glanced over his shoulder when he heard the door swing open. Alec's trained senses caught the way Magnus's lips curved into a grin for a split second before he spun away from the table and walked around the counter.

"What can I get you, pretty boy?" Magnus asked resting his elbows on the worktop.

"Um, just a black coffee thanks." Alec could feel his cheeks burning at the nickname as he awkwardly shoved his hands into his jean pockets.

"Take a seat," Magnus suggested waving a hand towards the table by the window. "I'll drop it over to you."

Alec walked over to the table Magnus gestured at and sat down. Alec watched the Mundanes hurrying by the window the outside, completely unaware of him. He was used to slipping through the crowds unnoticed with Izzy but that was usually thanks to the glamours that hid them. He wasn't entirely sure why he hadn't told Izzy where he was going when he left and he almost felt like he had lied to her. He always told his sister everything but when she had asked where he was going he had the sudden urge to hid it. Maybe it was because he didn't know why he was here.

A gentle touch on his arm pulled Alec from his thoughts. He turned his head to see that Magnus had placed his coffee in the middle of the table and was smiling down at him. Magnus slid into the seat across from Alec and pushed the mug closer to Alec.

"Is your sister not joining you today?" Magnus asked.

"Uh no." Alec shook his head. He reached over and grabbed a packet of sugar, his eyes fixed on Magnus watching him carefully. He knew practically nothing about the Warlock but yet here was, sitting across from him asking him about his family. "How did you know she was my sister?"

"I inquired yesterday," Magnus said. "I'll admit, I didn't expect to see you back in here, Shadowhunters don't tend to visit Downworlder shops that often."

"It's quiet here." Alec shrugged taking a sip of the warm liquid. "And I go to the Hunters Moon a lot so I don't mind Downworlder places."

"The Institute chaotic at the moment? I hear Maryse Lightwood is in town, she was a handful when she was a young Shadowhunter. I imagine she still is at times." Magnus laughed.

"You knew the Lightwoods?" Alec asked. He didn't know many people who had known his parents when they were his age and any time he tried to ask what they were like back then he was quickly shut down. Alec had always been curious about what other people thought of his family, especially Downworlders. From the way Magnus was talking about Maryse it seemed he didn't know who Alec was, or more importantly who his family was. He intended to use that to his advantage.

"Yes." Magnus nodded." I've known the Lightwoods for generations."

"Oh, do you know much about the Lightwood children?" Alec's tone was calm when he spoke. He had perfected keeping his voice and expressions still when he was lying or trying to keep an advantage in a situation over the years.

"Well, I think everyone in the Shadow world has heard about the adopted one. What's his name? The attractive blonde one." Magnus dismissively waved his hand. Of course, Magnus thinks Jace is attractive Alec thought. Why did it matter what Magnus thought of Jace anyway? "Whatever his name is I've heard he's a lot to handle. Always trying to save the world from whatever great evil is looming over it. Sounds like trouble if you ask me. The girl sounds a lot like her mother when she was her age. Headstrong and passionate. She's a bit wild but I'm sure she'll settle down with time. And the eldest."

Magnus paused for a moment his long fingers tapping on the table. His nails had been painted black, the polish was scattered with small pieces of silver glitter. Alec took another drink from his mug while he waited for Magnus to continue talking. He couldn't help the nervous feeling at the bottom of his stomach. He hadn't paused for Izzy or Jace, did people not talk about him as much?

"Someone told me that the eldest has a thing for older Warlocks that run coffee shops but that's probably just a rumour."

Alec burst out into a coughing fit, the coffee he had been drinking burning his throat as he tried to catch his breath. His face was burning even more than the inside of his throat, a dark red colour now covered his features. Magnus let out a laugh, head tipped back, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Alec turned his head away hoping Magnus hadn't already noticed his blush. The Seelie girl Magnus had been talking to before was now glaring at Alec, she shoved her chair back and made her way out of the shop. Alec guessed she had been looking for Magnus's number but had quickly realized he wasn't interested in her.

"Honestly Alexander, did you really think I wouldn't know who you are? I'm the High Warlock, it's part of my job to know the Shadowhunters that run the Institute in my area. I'll admit I didn't recognize you at first yesterday it was only after you left I realized who you were."

"You know my name and you don't know Jace's?"

"Ah, Jace! I knew it was something like that. You know, though he might think it, the world doesn't revolve around Jace. People are allowed to notice you too."

"Guess it just doesn't happen a lot," Alec said keeping his eyes on the table as he slowly turned his cup around in circles.

"It should."

Alec finally looked up again and met Magnus's eyes. Alec wondered what Mundanes saw when they looked at him. What colour did they think his eyes were? No matter what they saw it wouldn't compare to their natural gold that seemed to catch the light perfectly where Magnus was sitting. Alec felt almost uncomfortable under his gaze, he wasn't sure how to respond. What he said was true. He was rarely noticed especially when he was with either Jace or Izzy, being Jace's parabatai Alec had grown used to it. He had always been the friend that was close by in the shadows but was never in the spotlight. Alec was saved from responding when his phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He pulled his eye's away from Magnus and took it out to check the caller ID.

"It's Izzy."

"I'll let you get that then," Magnus said standing up and moving towards the front of the room.

"Iz. Everything alright?" Alec asked finally answering the phone.

"Yeah, I'm just calling to let you know we got a reservation. We're leaving at five." She explained.

Alec glanced up at the golden clock on the wall behind the counter. It was half four already. "Alright. I'll come back now."

Alec could feel Magnus watching him from he had settled, he was standing with his back against the wall and his arms loosely folded over his chest. Alec hung up the phone was slipped it back into his jean pocket. He picked up his mug and finished off his coffee.

"Hey Magnus, I have to go. Thank you for the coffee." Alec was now standing in front of Magnus. He pulled some money out of his pocket and held it out to him. "I'll uh, I'll see you around."

"I'll see you later Alexander." Magnus grinned taking the money out of his hand.

Taglist: @thewaywardimpala

#shadowhunters #shadowhunters fic #shadowhunters fanfiction #shadowhunters fandom #malec #malec fandom #malec fluff #malec fanfic #coffee shop au #shadowhunters coffee shop au #malec au #shadowhunters au

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nancylou444 · 5 years ago

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arctizii mentioned you on a post “The only thing, I think, that would really have shock value for...”

@samismyman87 @nancylou444 "keep this destiel bullshit out of the supernatural tag". no, you stay away from any of the spn-related tags, you're not a part of the fandom. you and your hating asses don't deserve to be here. nobody wants you with us, you sad creatures. Supernatural fandom is full of positivity, love and support, and you clearly can't appreciate that. skidaddle, haters, don't ruin the beautiful thing that J2M and every person working on spn has created.

I love the entitlement. WE are supposed to keep out of the tags rather than YOU tag your shit properly. The only sad creatures here are losers like yourself, who refuse to understand that the show isn’t about romance AND that Dean doesn’t love Cass nor and most important of all, HE ISN’T BI.

fallenfar Ugh destiel shippers are so fucking deluded and entitled.

zummar @fallenfar how this is entitled, I'll never know, maybe you just meant in general? Anyway, I've never even said if I was a shipper or not, I only said it'd shock me. But go one spread hate, that's what the world and this sight needs more of.

Well, shit for brains, a NON shipper wouldn’t consider it shock value, we wouldn’t consider it at all. If it hasn’t happened in all these years, why the hell would you think it would happen in the first five episodes of the last season? Also, learn the difference between ‘sight’ and ‘site’.

zummar @wincestshippingtrash2 so, you wouldn't be shocked if it happened? I would, whether or not Im a shipper it would certainly shock me... That's all I'm saying. But thanks for being so refreshingly rude, that has never been done before.

LMAO, this idiot really doesn’t get it. Dabb/Singer and the writers may be idiots, BUT Jensen would walk out before that ship became canon. He got rid of the ‘i love you’, He is the one that came up with Dean’s look of disgust in 10.05. Not to mention that Jared got rid of the original concept of Cass’ heaven.

arctizii op, don't worry about these idiots, they just lack attention in their sad lifes and decide to get it by hating on people's posts.

Riiiiiight, WE are the ones needing attention because we have sad lives (learn to spell). If idiots like OP kept their ship shit out of the general tags, we wouldn’t have to hate on them. Easy peasy.

zummar @arctizii exactly! Why spread hate? The actors and this fandom does nothing but show love and support. Spreading hate is just...why? Why is it so important for people to be 'right' rather than happy?

Why spread hate? Funny, what about all the HATE in the wincest tag? I guess that’s okay. More hypocrisy regarding ‘love’ and ‘support’ from Misha. then again, he isn’t much of an actor, so I guess that’s a decent excuse.

#arctizii #destiehellers #thy name is hyprocrite #can't tag for shit #entitled little shits

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lynnearlington · 6 years ago

Note

Supercorp: Kara has to report on the industry of college football and drags Lena along cause she’s never been to something like this

I took some liberties with this one. Shocking to no one, I’m sure.

Lena doesn’t care much for football - or for sport in general. She’d much prefer to spend her Saturdays getting work done in the library or in the engineering labs in the hopes that she can spend her Sunday not worrying about it.

Even as classes begin and the student body descends into a fixation over the school football team, Lena steadfastly stays out of the entire ordeal.

It works for her first two years of college. She manages to attend none of the games and falls easily into a routine of Saturday work and Sunday relaxing while her classmates are recovering from hangovers.

In the spring of her sophomore year she meets Kara Danvers through a friend of a friend, and they become loose acquaintances. She sees Kara around campus, they grab lunch a few times. Over the summer, Kara randomly texts her and they strike up a conversation that begins to sprawl outward in scope and they become something like real friends.

Kara changes her life, in the end. In thousands of good ways - none of them at all predictable to her in the fall of her junior year.

One of the ways that Kara’s intent on changing Lena’s life becomes apparent nearly as soon as they first see each other that fall, when Kara mentions the first game of the season on the way to lunch, diving into a discussion on their quarterback situation as though Lena knows anything about “QBR” or whoever Elias and Nate are.

“You’re a football fan?” Lena asks as they stroll across campus towards the student center. It’s still warm enough outside that it doesn’t really feel like fall yet, but campus is bustling with new students - freshmen scurrying around looking lost and upper classmen greeting friends they haven’t seen in months. Kara looks like she’s had a good summer, tall, blonde, and still a little bit tan. Lena had always thought she was cute, but knowing her has made a difference in her attraction.

“Duh,” Kara says, kicking a rock under her feet idly before turning quizzical eyes to Lena. “Are you not?”

It’s clear there’s a right and wrong answer there - Lena’s adept enough at reading situations to tell that much. But she’s not going to lie. Not to the honest blue eyes looking her way. “It’s never really been my thing,” she admits. “I’ve always been too busy to go to the games.”

And maybe the last bit is a slight lie, but incredulity is starting to spread over Kara’s features and Lena just reacts to it.

“Lena, it’s football!” Kara exclaims, clearly appalled.

“Is that supposed to mean something?” Lena jokes which is the wrong thing to say because Kara’s eyes seem to get even wider.

“You’re coming to a game with me this season,” Kara states as if it’s been decided. The thought of going anywhere with Kara tinges her chest with warmth but the thought of piling into the massive stadium on campus with a bunch of drunk college students screaming all sorts of insane chants and not being able to sit down at all sounds awful.

Lena makes a bit of a scoffing noise, but swallows it at the determined look in Kara’s eyes. They’ve reached the student center and Kara moves forward to open the door for her.

“I have a very busy semester,” Lena tells her softly, warming at the way Kara jumps ahead of her as they walk through the first set of doors to open the second.

“We’ll see,” is all Kara says and it’s ominous sounding enough that Lena has to laugh.

–

The Fighting Bulldogs open up against the Gotham University Nighthawks. Lena finds the naming conventions of sports teams to be nothing short of ridiculous, but she can’t deny it’s a bit cute when Kara shows her a series of selfies she’d taken at the pep rally of the Bulldogs mascot - a fat English Bulldog named Handsome Dan.

“Are you excited for the game this Saturday?” Kara asks, abandoning her phone to pick her fork up and start to stab at the plate of pasta in front of her. Lena tries to ignore how Kara’s got her legs kicked out, feet resting just short of Lena’s ankles.

Lena blinks. It’s definitely Monday and Lena’s barely thought about her classes on Tuesday much less a football game five days from now. “I suppose,” she answers neutrally, turning the page over in the student newspaper she has sitting next to her tray.

“Are you reading my article?” Kara asks, lifting a curious eye toward the paper as she twirls her fork.

“I don’t think I need to read your op-ed about which campus coffee shop serves the best latte when I’ve already heard you tell me about it in detail,” Lena says. Kara makes a humming noise, poking again at her plate. Lena gets through three lines of an article about a malfunctioning fire alarm in the theatre building that someone is certain is a ghost when Kara sighs loudly.

“I hate the Nighthawks,” Kara intones, twisting noodles around her fork.

The tone is surprising. She’s unused to Kara saying anything negative about anyone, but the vitriol is palpable in Kara’s voice as she continues, “They’re seriously the worst and their stupid mascot should be banned from our stadium. It’s this awful tree. I don’t know why it’s tree, even. They’re the Nighthawks.”

Lena makes a sound of agreement, a bit bemused at the frown on her friend’s face and having nothing else to offer other than support. “What time is the game?”

Kara makes a face like Lena should very well know what time the game is, but answers regardless. “Two,” she says. “Are you going? Will you come with me?”

“I have a lot of work I’d like to get done,” she says and Kara’s eyes narrow, but she doesn’t seem keen on pushing Lena. She does, however, sigh heavily.

“Sundays are for homework, Lena, not Saturdays.”

“Says the girl that spent all last Sunday watching reruns of The Golden Girls,” Lena points out, laughing at the attractive flush that creeps into Kara’s cheeks.

“Shut up,” Kara tells her around a mouthful of pasta, her foot kicking softly against Lena’s shin under the table.

–

The leaves start to change and a fall chill rolls onto campus. It means classes start to ramp up on the slide into midterms and campus starts to settle into rhythm.

It also means something Lena hadn’t thought to prepare for - Kara Danvers in jeans and sweaters bringing her pumpkin spice lattes every other morning before their shared philosophy elective.

Lena’s crush is something she’s tried to fight as much as she can for the sake of their friendship, but it’s hard when Kara’s smiling at her on the sidewalk outside her dorm and there’s a warm color to her cheeks from the chill and her blonde hair is curling down around a rust colored sweater.

The latte is far more sugary than anything Lena’d normally drink, but Kara hands it over with a happy grin and she had look so delighted when she’d informed Lena PSLs are back! that Lena doesn’t say anything other than a quiet, “Thanks.”

“Big game tomorrow,” Kara says one Friday morning as they walk to class. Lena takes careful sips of her drink and hovers close to Kara’s warmth.

“Oh?” Lena asks, having absolutely zero idea what qualifies for a big game considering it’s what Kara says nearly every Friday before a game weekend with a serious gaze on her face.

Kara makes an affirmative sound, scrolls through something on her phone as they walk down the sidewalk. From what Lena can see, it’s a table of college football teams. Their school is highlighted at around seventh place. “Vandermeer,” she says, referring to a small school somewhere in the middle of the country. Lena couldn’t name their mascot with a gun to her head.

“Well…bully up?” Lena says tentatively, trying out the chant she’d been hearing around campus for the past two years.

Kara laughs, a happy little sound as she pockets her phone and slings an arm over Lena’s shoulders. “There’s hope for you yet.”

The rest of the conversation gets lost to Lena. Kara keeps their bodies tucked against each other and the heat of her seeps through Lena’s light autumn jacket. That’s all she can really focus on the entire rest of the way to class.

–

Six games into the season and the Fighting Bulldogs have yet to be defeated. Apparently it’s a big deal.

Kara gives her the breakdown over lunch one day after the rest of their small friends group has abandoned them for classes and Lena elects to wait while Kara finishes the rest of her massive tray of food.

“I saw one projection that had us finishing top five for sure if we can close out the season,” Kara says, looking wide eyed and infectiously excited at the prospect.

“That’s great,” Lena says, not entirely knowing what that really means other than something positive by context.

“It means playoffs,” Kara tells her and Lena just nods, laughs at the massive grin on Kara’s face. That thrumming urge to kiss her friend buzzes so acutely over her skin that Lena has to spread out the fingers of her hands to resist the impulse.

–

The excitement over the recent success of the teams seems to be campus wide, not just contained to the bubbly enthusiasm of her best friend. It’s almost something tangible everywhere Lena goes.

The majority of the student body can be seen sporting a football jersey in the middle of the week or breaking out into spontaneous chants as the game creeps closer.

Lena doesn’t attend, despite Kara’s efforts to cajole her into it. Per usual, she spends her Saturday in the basement of the engineering building working out the kinks in a project due the following Wednesday.

But, uncharacteristically, her mind starts to wander to what Kara’s doing, how the game is going. It itches at her enough that she finds a livefeed of the game on her laptop and puts it on mute as she works.

The game still means nothing to her - the scoring conventions seem a bit contrived and inconsistent and though she picks up some of it by context, she really has very little idea of what’s actually going on.

At least she knows enough that when the game clock ticks to zero and the score is 39-37 in favor of the Bulldogs, it’s a good thing. From the looks of it, the stadium goes crazy, the student section rushing onto the field and the players jumping up and down, throwing their helmets in the air.

It makes Lena smile a bit and she watches the revelry for a few minutes before clicking out of the stream. Before turning back to her project she sends Kara a quick text - good win!

The reply comes much later in the form of a phone call and Kara sounds out of breath and overjoyed when she answers. “What are you doing?”

“I’m working on a project,” Lena tells her.

“You saw the game?” Kara asks, the happy sound of her voice stretching a smile across Lena’s.

“I caught the end of it,” Lena admits and Kara lets out a whooping sound that has Lena laughing.

“We’re going to a party at Winn and James’s place,” Kara says. “You wanna come?”

Lena eyes the work in front of her, hesitant for a moment. “I’m not -”

“Come on, Lena,” Kara entreats. “It’ll be fun, I promise. Bully up! Bulldogs are undefeated!”

“Well, can’t argue with that,” Lena replies dryly, but she’s already packing up her stuff and Kara’s laugh in her ear makes her chest feel fluttery.

–

The off campus house that Winn and James share is packed when Lena gets there, people spilling out onto the front porch and the loud booming sound of music emanating a block away as Lena walks there.

Tugging her jacket tighter over her shoulders, Lena sidesteps a couple stumbling down the long walk up to the house and carefully avoids a pile of empty beer cans. She pulls her phone out of her jacket pocket and pulls up her thread with Kara to text a simple I’m here.

Not even a minute later, Kara’s throwing the front door open and scanning the front yard to find Lena, beaming when their eyes connect and all but skipping down the steps to wrap Lena into a tight hug.

Kara’s just a few inches taller than her, but considerably stronger and it does nothing to calm the dance of nerves in her stomach when Kara picks up her up a bit off the ground as she hugs her, her face colliding with Kara’s neck.

“We won, we won, we won, we won, we won,” Kara chants in her ear, bouncing Lena around into the hug until Lena has to hold onto the back of Kara’s jersey and laugh.

“Congratulations,” Lena says as Kara sets her back down.

There’s a soft detachment in Kara’s gaze that fairly easily conveys how behind Lena is in the drinking portion of the evening, but her smile is the kind of genuine that always makes Lena have to take a deep breath of air in reaction.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” Kara says, reaching out to tangle her fingers with Lena’s and tug her towards the front door. “Let’s get drinks.”

Lena easily follows the tug, sees the virtue in finding a drink as quickly as possible if only to give her mouth something to do that isn’t kiss the life out of Kara Danvers.

–

The excitement of victory is palpable throughout the party. Nearly all of the party goers look as if they’ve come straight from the game - still wearing jerseys and face paint. Kara pulls them both deep into the house towards the kitchen where a smattering of their friends are congregated around a table there.

They all seem surprised but happy to see her as Kara goes about mixing a drink on the counter with the wide range of alcohol there. She thinks to pay attention to whatever Kara is doing - sometimes letting Kara mix the drinks can be dangerous - but she gets distracted by Winn who offers her an overly exuberant high five upon seeing her as well as a recap of the last few minutes of the game.

“It was unreal,” he’s gushing, face red and hair in a disarray. There’s blue and gold streaks of paint across his cheeks and what looks like glitter poking out of the neck of his blue jersey. “Boomer is the only man in the whole world who matters to me now.”

Kara comes back to her side, hands her a red plastic cup that Lena inspects a second before taking a hesitant sip. It’s as fruity as she expects it to be, but not completely offensive and just on the side of strong that’s tolerable.

“Boomer Suthfield, best kicker in the game,” Kara exclaims as she catches Winn’s conversation. Winn reacts to it with a low exclamation of agreement and the two of them bump fists. “We won on a last second field goal. Amazing.”

“That’s exciting,” Lena comments, unsure what to do with the all the unbridled energy she can feel in the room, but feeling herself get swept up in it nonetheless.

“Bully up! Beat Quakers!” Kara yells, wrapping an arm around Lena’s shoulders like she’s been apt to do these days. The whole room yells in appreciation, starting to chant BULLY UP with the distinctive syncopated clapping pattern. It’s absurd that a bunch of drunk people can do it with perfect rhythm and performance. Nearly cultish.

Lena lets out a careful breath, but doesn’t fight the pull of warmth from Kara’s side pressing against her own. Winn starts to go off on what Lena realizes from context is the Bulldogs’s next opponent, and she drowns the conversation out in place of leaning into Kara’s body and sipping at her drink.

“Lena, you’ve got to get to a game, I can’t believe you don’t go,” Winn says eventually, pulling Lena’s attention back more fully to what’s being said.

She shrugs, takes another pointed sip of her drink and flushes at Kara’s loud laugh next to her. “I’m usually pretty busy on Saturdays,” she answers.

“It’s just wrong,” Winn says, shaking his head at her, eyes solemn, but his lips in a teasing smile.

“I’ve tried,” Kara tells him, tugging Lena tighter into her side companionably. “Trust me.”

“Well if you can’t get her to go, she’s hopeless,” Winn says, putting his hands up in resignation.

Kara laughs again, looks down at Lena with a grin that has Lena clearing her throat out. The hat on her head is turned backwards, her cheeks red from alcohol and the warmth of the room. She looks gorgeous. “We’ll see.”

Though Lena rolls her eyes, her cheeks grow warmer and she has to hide her face in the rim of her cup lest Kara catch on.

–

The party seems to only get bigger after Lena gets there. More and more people arrive - from where Lena’s not sure - but the house stays packed late into the night. Random chants of BULLY UP break out every few minutes. There’s even a reenactment of the last play of the game staged in the front yard to the joy of not only their house but those of the surrounding neighbors.

Lena hovers close to Kara, and Kara stays close to her, but engages with the rest of their friends. She and Winn take on James and Lucy in a spectacular game of beer pong - the games close enough that Lena starts to feel a significant buzz by the time she and Winn come out on top.

After that they play a series of drinking games around the kitchen table. Mike pulls out a deck of cards for a round of Kings Cup and later Kara loses a game of Never Have I Ever in dramatic fashion.

It’s a good party. Energy is high off the earlier victory and Lena starts to feel it creeping into her own system, the infectious way Kara keeps leading their friends into a chorus of the fight song doing its part to make Lena laugh.

Eventually, sometime after James talks Mike into doing a keg stand but before Winn takes his shirt off, Lena finds her way out to the back porch of the house. It’s blissfully devoid of anyone else and a chill contrast to the heat of the kitchen. She presses her hands to the warmth of her cheeks and breathes out into the crisp fall air.

The sound of the door swinging open indicates Kara’s arrival, and her friend paces across the back deck to Lena’s side, sitting next to her on the steps there. “Hey, whatcha doing?”

“Hot in the kitchen,” Lena answers, just drunk enough to lean over against Kara’s shoulder and take a deep inhale of Kara’s presence.

“Mmm,” Kara agrees in a low hum, shifting closer to Lena’s body and looking out across the dark backyard.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Lena answers, feeling inexplicably sleepy all of a sudden, but unwilling to let go of this quiet moment with Kara. She sits up to avoid falling asleep and smiles at her friend.

Kara smiles back, her eyes holding Lena’s in a short still moment. “I’m really glad you came out tonight,” Kara says in a quiet tumble of words that pull against Lena’s chest in a way that starts to feel inevitable.

Lena blinks, licks out against dry lips and knows her usual resistance to this all consuming crush she has is vulnerable right now. “Me too,” she replies, her eyes unable to stop from straying to Kara’s mouth.

The moment feels like it stills, the muted sound of the party the only sound around them. Kara takes a deep breath and Lena wishes she had a drink in her hands if only to have something to do with them that wasn’t wrapping into the fabric of Kara’s jersey.

“Can I do something?” Kara asks quietly, her cheeks flushed - whether from alcohol or from the cool night air, Lena’s unsure. “It might be crazy.”

“Crazy?” It’s unclear what Kara’s talking about and Lena thinks that might have a lot to do with how they’ve shifted closer and she can’t stop her brain from spiraling down thoughts of what it might be like if she just gave into temptation and pressed her lips against Kara’s.

“Good crazy,” Kara says quickly and Lena laughs noiselessly.

“Well then by all means,” she says, but she barely gets the last word out before Kara pushes forward, their noses bumping softly on the way until suddenly they’re kissing and Lena feels her breath get sucked out of her chest.

It happens quickly, so fast that Lena’s brain barely registers it even though her lips respond, slant against Kara’s and her fingers come up to play at Kara’s chin, pulling her in closer.

And then it’s over.

The back door to the porch bursts open in a loud thud and Mike is stumbling across the deck in loud drunken footsteps until he’s all but falling into the yard and puking his guts up into the grass.

Winn comes jogging behind him, hunched over and patting his back as Mike continues to hurl.

Lena gags at the sight of it as they both jump up from where they’d been sitting and Kara moves down the steps towards the two boys.

“Go back inside,” Kara tells her over her shoulder, laughing a little at the disgusted face Lena’s making.

Lena doesn’t argue, is already turned that direction anyway. It isn’t until she’s back in the kitchen that she fully realizes what’s just occurred. Her lips feeling tingly and her throat dry and her chest expansive and oh god she should go.

Without so much as a goodbye to anyone, she makes her way through the house and out the front door, past a group of people tossing the Bulldogs’s mascot’s head in the air across the yard and back towards campus.

–

Late Sunday morning, Lena gets a text from Kara. I’m outside your dorm.

And so she is. Standing at the bottom of the front steps in a navy v-neck sweater and light wash jeans, holding two cups of coffee that Lena knows instinctively are pumpkin spice lattes.

“Hi,” Lena greets, feeling shy and uncertain as she takes one of the cups from Kara. She’s dressed in the sweatpants she slept in and a long sweater against the chill morning. Her head feels a bit thick from the drinking the previous night but the look on Kara’s face is wiping her fatigue away.

“Hi,” Kara parrots, pocketing one of her hands and shifting on her feet in an adorably hesitant movement. Her hair is pulled back, but a few wisps have escaped at the sides and Lena wraps her hands around her coffee to avoid reaching out and tucking them back behind her ear.

Everything feels like it’s tilting precariously on the events of the night before, and Lena’s not sure which way they’re going to fall.

That is, until Kara looks away, her lips twisting in what looks like a smile trying to burst across her face. “So, I totally kissed you last night,” she says in a quick sequence of words that makes Lena laugh. “You totally did,” she agrees, the memory of it flushing across her skin.

“And then Mike puked.”

“Yes.

“And then you ran away.”

“It was gross,” Lena says defensively and Kara’s lips thin.

“The kiss?”

Lena steps forward in reaction. “The puking,” she says definitively and Kara’s lips creep into a smug looking smile.

“So the kiss was good?”

“Crazy,” Lena says, echoing Kara’s words from the night before.

“Good crazy though,” Kara says, her smile hiding behind the rim of her white coffee cup.

“Good crazy,” Lena agrees softly, feeling her chest is stretching out and up into her throat. “Why did you do it?”

Kara shrugs, eyes a bright blue against the overcast sky above them. “I’d been wanting to,” she answers quietly. “And I figured if Boomer could make a forty-eight yard field goal against the wind to win the game, I could probably kiss my best friend that I’d been crushing on for months.”

It beats warmly up Lena’s throat as she laughs, her cheeks flushing. “Bully up,” she replies between chuckles and Kara joins her in the sound before stepping forward and cutting it off with a swift kiss.

–

It doesn’t change much other than Kara seems to take their new relationship status as a free pass to talk even more about football. As if now that they’re dating Lena wants to hear about rushing yard averages and ranking systems.

She doesn’t.

But that doesn’t stop Kara who continues to try and get Lena to the games or game watch parties every Saturday and feels it necessarily to fill her in on all football related news over meals or late at night when they’re lazing about Lena’s little dorm room. The only good thing about it is that Kara looks cute when she talks about it all, her hands waving around and her eyes excited.

The Bulldogs go undefeated. Become the undisputed number one team in the nation. A fact that Kara’s been reminding Lena nearly every day since it was announced, as though Lena has no access to the news or doesn’t live on campus with thousands of other people who are also obsessed with the Bulldogs.

They head into a playoff system which puts them in a win-or-go-home game to make it into the National Championship.

“I got press passes to the game,” Kara tells her one night, as they’re sitting on Lena’s couch and Kara’s watching ESPN. “We’d be on the sideline.”

“How did you get press passes?” Lena asks, quirking a brow and pressing her foot into Kara’s thigh to get her to keep massaging it. Kara grabs her foot without looking away from Lena’s face, her eyes intent.

“I write for the school paper,” Kara reminds her and Lena shoots her a pointed look.

“You write an editorial column, not the sports section.”

Kara shrugs, feigns a look of innocence. “So?”

It makes Lena laugh. “I don’t want to know.”

“Just say you’ll come,” Kara entreats. “It’s the playoffs and you’d have one of the best seats in the house. Who knows when you’ll get that kind of opportunity again.”

It’s been months of Kara trying to convince her to come to a game and maybe it’s the way Kara’s lips have that just kissed look about them and her hair is a little tangled from Lena’s fingers, but there’s something about the moment and the way Kara’s thumb is running up the arch of Lena’s foot that makes her finally say, “Okay, fine.”

The way Kara’s eyes light up in excitement makes Lena sink into a feeling of contentment and crawl across the couch until they’re kissing again.

–

The play-in game is on the first Saturday back from winter break.

The atmosphere around game feels combustible.

It’s at a neutral site, but the stadium it’s held at is only a few hours away from their campus, so she and Kara take the drive down way too early under the guise of Kara needing to interview people - when it’s apparent that Kara just wants to soak in as much of the atmosphere as possible.

Kara buys her a blue jersey with the number 10 across the chest in large white letters because she insists Lena can’t show up to the game without proper attire. It’s big enough that it fits over a thick sweater and she steals one of Kara’s many winter hats with the school logo on the front. When Lena comes out of her dorm with it on, Kara gets out of the car to kiss her for five minutes against the car door.

It’s deep enough into fall that it’s practically the beginning of winter and the air is cold by the time the game kicks off, the stadium rocking.

With press badges slung around their neck, they make their way onto the field and take their place among the crowd of people watching the game from the small press area in the corner of the endzone.

The energy in the building is undeniably electric. Loud music is pumping through the speakers and the crowd is engaged in a series of chants between the home and away fans. Lena can see how easy it would be to get swept up into something like this.

It helps that Kara can’t contain her own excitement. She’s practically bouncing in a mix of nerves and enthusiasm. It doesn’t get better as the game goes on. Kara’s body moves with every play the team makes as if her phantom throws and kicks will somehow translate to the game and make the ball or player move the way she wants them to.

Lena stands beside her and takes it all in, her arms crossed over her chest against the cold air. Eventually, Kara seems to notice and wraps Lena up in her arms in an offer of body heat.

Lena’s grateful for the warmth, sinks into Kara’s hold and enjoys the way Kara now whispers her commentary into Lena’s ear. It certainly makes the game far more interesting than before and though Lena’s distracted by the way Kara’s body feels pressed up against her, she actually pays attention enough to feel invested in the result.

When the Bulldogs win with a last minute touchdown right in the endzone they’re standing next to, Lena screams in reaction, a burst of sound she can’t quell the moment she’s realized what’s happened. The crowd goes wild along with her and Kara’s arms tighten abruptly around her waist, lifting her quickly into the air with an exuberant whoop. The player who’s scored jogs right past them, waving up at the fans and doing an absurd dance as his teammates start to swarm him.

Kara does actually end up doing some reporting, taking Lena into the press conference room and scribbling down notes. She holds Lena’s hand the whole way home and only plays the school fight song three times on the drive.

–

Winn and James host the watch party for the National Championship. Apparently Kara couldn’t quite con her editor into getting press passes for a trip to Texas.

She spends the whole week looking squirrely, taking every moment as some sort of omen for the game on Saturday. On Tuesday, Lena has to talk Kara off the ledge after the poor student union worker tells her they’ve run out of Froot Loops. On Friday, Lena comes over to Kara’s dorm and is treated to a full hour detailing her ideal gameplan, complete with plays she’s drawn up on one of her video games. Saturday morning, she’s woken up at six by someone sprinting down the hall of her dorm screaming BULLY UP and hitting every door along the way. Kara is then incapable of falling back asleep, and therefore Lena is awake too.

By the game comes around, Lena’s grateful if only to get Kara’s ridiculous train of superstitions to come to a halt.

The house is crowded with their friends - there’s a very strict invitation policy: Bulldog fans only. How Kara convinced them to allow Lena there, she’s not sure, but she imagines it has something to do with Kara’s continuing insistence that Lena’s good luck for the Bulldogs. We went undefeated after we became friends.

There are jello shots in the school colors, but only Mike and Lucy seem interested in them. Winn sits about two feet in front of the massive television and nurses the same beer for the entirety of the first quarter. James spends most of the game pacing back and forth behind the couch and murmuring commentary. Kara won’t even touch the massive array of food on the table in front of them - a telling thing if anything. Instead she sits on the couch next to Lena and leans forward, hands pressed to her face. Lena spends most of her time running her fingers up and down Kara’s back in what has to be a futile attempt to calm her.

The Bulldogs do okay, but not great for the first three quarters. The game stays close, the other team staying in one score territory. Right before the start of the fourth, the opposing team scores to tie it and Kara looks like she may fall to her knees and start crying. Her hands scrub so forcefully over her face that Lena grabs one of them to get her to stop.

But then Elias Newsome, the starting quarterback who had been chosen in week four (after great campuswide debate that Lena had heard too much about from her girlfriend), takes over. Watching it happen is like a bomb going off, the energy rippling through the whole team. One minute, the Bulldogs are struggling against a tough defense, the next, Kara is standing on the couch and screaming at the top of her lungs as their star running back sprints down the field for a 98 yard touchdown.

They score 21 unanswered points and Kara cries through the whole trophy presentation, her head in her hands.

–

Lena thinks maybe winning a National Championship might temper some of Kara’s fanaticism about football. Why she ever thought this, she’s not entirely sure, but it couldn’t be farther from the truth.

At the start of their senior year, Kara spends the majority of the preseason talking at length about Nate Groblan taking the reins of the team now that Elias has graduated and been drafted. It’s in the middle of such a one-sided conversation when she pauses for a second, her head in Lena’s lap. It’s chilly, the first signs of fall starting to appear around campus. PSLs have arrived even earlier this year and Kara’s happiness is of the sort that bleeds across Lena’s chest.

“I love you,” Kara says. It’s not the first time she’s said it, nor will it be the last. But it still warms Lena up, her fingers tracing through the blonde curls stretched across her legs.

“I love you, too,” Lena says.

“More than I love the Bulldogs,” Kara says, very seriously. It’s concerning to Lena that the statement really means a lot.

“I feel so lucky,” Lena says drily. Kara laughs, reaching up to tug at the sweatshirt Lena had liberated from Kara’s collection last winter. BULLY UP is proudly written across it.

“You’re my lucky charm, that’s for sure,” Kara says. Her face turns serious. “You know that you’re never allowed to miss a Bulldogs game for the rest of our lives, right?”

“For the rest of our lives, huh?” Lena says, poking at Kara’s side. But she doesn’t look embarrassed.

“For the rest of our lives. For the Bulldogs,” Kara says, half-sitting up. Lena meets her halfway, pressing their lips together.

“Well, bully up,” Lena murmurs. She ends up forced into a very loud stadium the next Saturday, her girlfriend urging her though complicated chants and shotgunning beers afterwards, when Nate throws five touchdowns in his debut. Mike throws up, Winn takes his shirt off. Kara holds her hand.

It’s not so bad.

FALL PROMPTS | KO-FI

#fall prompts #prompt fill #writing fall prompts #this tag is for fic #supercorp fic #Anonymous #college au

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currently-evil · 6 years ago

Text

“My window!!!”

Hey @smuteczekbiczo Do you remember that video? Because i saw it again and lol Its perfect for Jed so i couldn’t stop myself. Also forgive me but Jed here is a Mob boss. I know your cannon is different but i decided to ignore it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

M!Sidestep namely our favourite goblin Jed Hayes, Sidestep’s base infiltrated by nameless vigilante and Jed reluctantly dealing with that

Varning for a bit of gore and minor character death

2074 words

-All right, a little bit to the left. – commanded Jed pointing with his gun to the centre of a big tarp, spread on the floor and even taped to the wall in some places, so that it was neatly covering corner of the room. Beside smell of fresh paint, It was last remnants of renovation.

-Now I have faith in Nehal, but for you Pelago – left is the opposite of right. – he finished, suppressing smirk as Nehal snorted and Pelago send him irritated look grunting out sarcastic: “Thanks Boss”, before they both picked up squirming Callsaver - a minor Vigilante - who somehow managed to find Sidestep’s new base. Not that it matter, now that he was beaten, tied up, gagged, seconds from being killed and bleeding on Jed’s polished floor.

It’s not that Jed was squeamish about blood. Truth to be told – It was quite the opposite - but the base was brand new. They – and ‘they’ of course meant ‘his team’ – literally finished painting few hours ago (Jed was nice enough to stand in the middle of the room and pinpoint all the places they need to repaint – at least until he got bored, then he went out to buy burger and shake.). And - as it turned out in the old base – blood and spilled brain were a nightmare when it comes to cleaning.

Sure they added nice touch to the Villain aesthetic, a little detail that made their last place look exactly how base of Sidestep should look. Dark, chilling, possibly murderous, making hair stood out from fear. But what also comes with them was less than pleasant.

Smell and fucking bugs, among other things. Who would have thought that spilled intestines weren’t really hygienic, right? Something Jed definitely wasn’t going to deal with. Not to mention that, maybe he didn’t care, but It couldn’t be said the same about some of his people. They seem to - almost religiously - avoid stepping on russet stains on the floor. In the last months when they were absolutely everywhere, watching as his team was almost jumping or fucking leaping from one corner of the room to another, like they were in the middle of some kind weird dance was really pissing him off. In moments like this he was really considering if it’s not too late to work alone again.

Sure, there had to be somewhere specialised cleaning units to do just that - get rid of any evidence of violence - but the thought of letting strangers enter his base and snoop around, made Jed uncomfortable. He would have to kill them after they were done (which really denied whole purpose of them in the first place) or clean their minds of any memories and then give then fake ones, so they wouldn’t question empty hole in their minds and...

Jed took a sip from a shake he had in other hand.

... And he was truly too lazy to do that. Too much effort. And beside why should he do that, if he had a loyal subjects, who could – to some degree – take care of that.

So all that was left was to get a new base.

New base that was already somehow infiltrated.

That being said he glanced where Callsaver was and clicked his tongue.

-Not that much to the left! Come on, centre! Centre! Really, am in the only one here with any sense of space? I can’t really explain better where centre is. Between right and left, Pelago, for fuck sake!

It took them a bit of cursing and lots of irritated looks (He might even heard Nehal telling vigilante: “Dude, stop squirming.” which made Jed snort. It’s not like he was about to die or something.), but at least they managed to position him just right. Jed took a last uninterested look sipping his drink and raised his guns, finger emotionlessly tightening on the trigger.

Callsaver slumped against the wall Nehal and Pelago were pining him to and Jed considered his work. The droplets of blood and grim covered almost all the space on the sheet of plastic but as far as he could see none of them were on the wall.

Nodding to himself he said:

-Perfect, I am proud of me. – then noticing that his shake was gone he added. – Hurry up. We’re going for some shakes.

Nehal and Pelago smiled to themselves from where they were checking Callsaver’s pockets (“The deadman don’t fucking need spare change” argued always Pelago.), or well his boots (It was just Nehal’s size! Finding nice pair for her small feet was a nightmare and she wasn't about to let that pair slip.) and chuckled, leaning closer to themselves.

-Do you think he is going to actually pay this time? – she asked hissing in triumph when she managed to take off one boot. – Or rather use his favourite excuse: “Opsie Daisy I have seem to left my wallet in my other Villain suit!”

In answer Pelago smirked.

-I don’t think he even have wallet anymore. Didn’t he burn it down? Something about ‘at least i stop finding pictures of that fucking idiot in it’ or something?

Nehal was just about to answer, but before she could - suddenly there was a loud crash and the room was full of glass shards.

They all gaped at the man who jumped through window, rolled on the floor like it was some sort of action movie, before standing up and dramatically proclaiming:

-Let him go!

Nehal and Pelago exchanged quick look before glancing down at the definitely dead Callsaver.

-Ops – said quietly Nehal, her voice absolutely devoid of any trace of remorse.

-It’s not so bad... – murmured Pelago, eyeing the corpse. – Maybe he won’t notice.

-What? A whole hole in his forehead?

-Yeah. – he just shrugged. – It’s not he was using his head anyway. No harm done.

-Oh my god, I can’t believe you said that.

It seem only when nobody answered him directly, staring in silence, did hero look around, because second he did he froze blinking heavily. Probably because he saw quite dead Callsaver, before him, together with Pelago trying to quickly hide deadman’s wallet in his pocket and Nehal, who not knowing what exactly to with one boot, just threw it away as soon as hero looked at her. And then there was also Jed, gaping at the – now broken window – with empty shake in one hand and gun in second.

-You killed him – said the newcomer confused. Not even scared or sad, just confused. – Why did you kill him...?

-My window... – said Jed quietly but with so much irritation that everybody in the room flinched and even Zaza and Ward showed in the doorway alarmed.

-Oh fuck – murmured Zaza.

-Why did you kill him...?

-We have a front door! - interrupted him Jed hissing, gesturing with gun in the general direction where doors were. -Painting was just finished so it’s wide fucking open to ventilate!- Just when he said that he leaned to the right peering around the corner to see that door were indeed wide open.

Jed squinted at hero.

-Are you fucking blind or something?

-Didn’t you tell him your backstory and evil plan? – said newcomer not even acknowledging what Jed said, making him turn to hero with fury in his eyes.

-What? No! Its none of your fucking business. For fuck sake why would I? I don’t need free therapy, I already have one battery like idiot for that! – his eyes trailed back to the window. – Oh for fuck sake, I will have to steal so much money for that. Ward, can you get me an estimate on that? – he asked ignoring again hero.

Ward looked up on window, raised eyebrows and looking back to Jed said only, shrugging:

-Money.

Jed pursed his lips.

-I don’t know what I was expecting.

This seem to wake up hero from shocked stillness, as he blinked and straightening screamed:

-You’re going to pay for your crimes!

-Yeah of course I am going to pay. – Jed scowled at hero. – Who else will? I am pretty sure you don’t have a cash on you to pay me for damage. Check? Debit card? Anything?

When Hero only blinked at him Jed closed his eyes murmuring under his nose about ‘fucking heroes, doing everything they want without even thinking about others’. And then again ignoring newcomer, he added exasperated:

-Excuse me can somebody call Frank and tell him we need new window?

-On it boss. – said Zaza.

-What...? You can’t ignore me like that! – screamed hero almost drowning Jed’s murmurs about ‘rude as fuck heroes without manners’ and how ‘when he was younger people don’t fucking shattered your windows just to be extra’. He was so distracted at being dismissed he didn’t even notice Nehal and Pelago sneaking up from behind until they both lounged at him forcing him to concentrate on them.

At the same time Jed – completely blind to the mayhem – contemplated mess around him.

It was new, perfect base and the renovation went surprisingly smooth and quickly. He managed to find perfect windows. Everything was going so well and now his Villain’s base was ruined! With distaste Jed remembered that there were reports about rain later today, which meant that this gaping hole where used to be window needs to be taped down with foil.

Absolutely disgusting.

Now he needs to let in more people to replace this, which mean more people to clean their minds.

Jed curled his finger around cup until plastic started squeaking from force. This was so fucking irritating.

-And what’s with this colour? – asked hero cheekily while ducking from Nehal’s punch and blocking Pelago’s attack. – This is the weirdest shade of purple I have ever seen. Like somebody eat blue and pink cotton candy and then vomited.

Before Jed was seriously pissed but now, now he was furious.

-It’s a Midnight Blue Indigo, you colorblind fuck! – he growled, turning on his heels and chugging plastic cup to hit hero right in the middle of forehead.

Impact of cup to his head made poor vigilante almost fall, and before he could try regain his balance, he was kicked in the chest. Stumbling backwards he was suddenly perfectly between spread out plastic sheet…

...And Jed’s raised gun.

Shoot ringed in the air and hero joined his dead companion.

For a second there was just the sound of ringing shot, interrupted briefly by Nehal and Pelago panting - and then there was Bo in the doorway happily announcing to everybody:

-Hey guys! – he said holding up roll of foil. – I found foil! Now we can “wrap it up” and get going. – he giggled. – Get it? Wrap it up? Eh? Eh? – It seems only when nobody answered him Bo realised something was wrong.

He blinked surprised seeing glass shards everywhere, then his eyes trailed across the room taking in all the details, until his eyes stopped on the bodies. Bodies. Not one body.

He looked down on his roll of foil, then again at bodies then again at foil. Foil that might have been enough for one body but definitely not for two.

-I will... look for more. – he mumbled defeated, leaving the room at the same time Zaza came back, ending his call.

-Boss – he said making Jed stop with fury cursing all the damn Heroes. – Frank said It would be two weeks before he will have a new window.

-Oh for fuck sake – hissed Jed with anger turning to pill of bodies fuelling his anger in one last kick.

Zaza side eyed him carefully and when Jed seem to calm down a bit, he cleared his throat.

-Boss, do you take constructive criticism?

Jed leveled him with annoyed gaze.

-No, i absolutely do not.

-But don’t you think these windows are a bit too... – Zaza raise one eyebrow watching remained windows. Big, round and consisting of one-way mirror.- ... hmm eye-catching for a secret villain base?

-Shut up – hissed Jed, looking at him from behind his shoulder

-No shake for you – he finished after moment of glowering.

Zaza blinked shocked.

-What? You weren’t going to buy me one anyway!

-Yes, but now you wont get one ever again.

#Jed Hayes #fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero #no spoilers i think #all jed wants is just to kill people in peace #leave him be #writing

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