#the most important round lads

[theartingace]

We all like the centaur goods, but where are the G N O A T S ?!

oh u kno they are always here for u 💜💜💜

[shieldedreams]

you’re all i see (n.s.)

summary ⇾ there are days where you’re harsh on yourself; these are the days neteyam is the most gentle with you. details ⇾ 3,081 words / neteyam sully x na’vi!reader / 🌸 comfort fluff / established relationship / gn!reader / implications to the reader’s past history of losing their parents notes ⇾ you can view this as a ‘reverse’ to this little thing i wrote for neteyam. thank you for the lovely support on my first avatar fic! ✨ [avatar masterlist]

one of the secluded areas in the forest remains two; one older, one younger–sparring, training–mimicking a situation of life and death. neytiri on one end, you on the other. baring out your training against her of accumulated hours of perseverance and determination; blood, sweat and tears–the bloody tears–to constantly improve yourself. 

on one of the nearby trees, sits two mischievous lads... and two just as cheeky ladies. they hadn’t been here long, having their own training but they got here just in time to watch one of the rounds.

their sounds of admiration and gasps quietly fill the air, past the sounds of heavy breathing and grunts as you do your best to try to take neytiri down. those golden nuggets of opportunity come sparingly–having trained with her for years–but they do occur once in a while. every flip, every roll of your body on the ground, every hiss that leaves your lips when she’s just within reach but always a step ahead of you–it all accumulates to creating a chance for you to be able to come up on top. 

by some grace of eywa, just as neytiri plants a kick to your chest, harshly driving your back onto the ground, you’re able to extend your leg out to swipe her ankle a second quicker before she’s able to pull it back. the split second of her losing her footing allows you to tackle her to the ground, swiftly retrieving your dagger to pin it to her neck.

in neytiri's eyes, it sparks her pride and joy. in the eyes of others, the glow of admiration is evident. in the eyes of neteyam, however, the worry only starts to grow when he sees your hands trembling.

neytiri’s senses never lie to her especially when it's being tested right in front of her face. she gapes, watching as you drop the dagger to your side with your eyes flickering away from hers. it’s like she knows what’s going on in your mind even if you don’t say it. no words needed. she carefully maneuvers you off her so she’s able to sit up properly, a hand now pillowed to your cheek as you remain kneeling beside her.

“child... you’ve done so well,” she smiles, even if you can’t see it when your eyes flutter shut as you nuzzle into her hand with a bated breath, “your parents would be so proud of you.”

“...if only i knew what i do now back then,” your voice is a mere whisper that gently rattles neytiri’s heartstrings. she makes a sound, one that makes you hush as she gives you a shake to open your eyes. when you do, that’s when a couple of stray tears fall from your eyes that she brushes away with a faint smile. she makes you lean your forehead against hers and you’re shaking.

“you were too young back then. do not hold yourself responsible for things you cannot change,” she sighs, swallowing thickly. “what’s important now is you can protect yourself, something your parents would have definitely wanted–”

“please,” you cut her off, desperately needing to be alone and she knows of it when your body tenses up. you’ve talked about this with her before, with jake, with people you’ve come to surround yourself like the family you’ve never had but it’ll never be the same. it pains neytiri she can’t do anything about it but comfort you like her own, regardless of your relationship with her children. what she does is respect your decision and what you choose to do when these feelings got overwhelming.

“may i be dismissed?” you ask softly, sniffing as you lap your hand over hers to gently pull it away, “i just...” you take a sharp breath and exhale shakily after: "...i think i need some air.”

neytiri nods without a word, accepting your hand up when you stand on your feet. as the two of you find your footing, she remains holding onto your hand, cupping one of yours with both of hers as she plants a kiss; a silent prayer and blessing–you are our family. the moment is short-lived when she glances over your shoulder and instantly regrets it. much to her dismay, you follow her line of sight by looking over your shoulder to see four familiar looking faces that you’d rather not right now.

“y/n!” tuk waves with a huge grin, “you were so cool!” she chuckles to herself, “oh, you too, mom!”

you face forward to allow neytiri see your panicked face, more so when you hear telltales of them climbing down the trees to get to where you are. it’s like she read your mind and gives you a small nudge as she lets go of your hand. go, she whispers, moving to cover you as it kicks into your mind to start moving. you walk, then run. soon, you’re swinging on the trees and padding on branches to get as far as possible until their voices disappear.

“hey! we could’ve gone together!” lo’ak huffs, crossing his arms as they all huddle around their mother. 

“is y/n okay, mother?” kiri asks, fiddling with her fingers as neytiri curls tuk against her side with one arm, the other reaching up to fix kiri’s hair, “yeah, just... wanted to get some time alone, that’s all.”

she smiles at them until she reaches one who would be the most concern. based on his silence and the way his feet itches on the ground, tail fiddling back and forth, neytiri extends an arm out to place a hand on the shoulder of–”neteyam, maybe it’ll be good to let y/n have some–”she can barely finish her sentence when he’s stubbornly brushing past her hold, feet picking up the pace until he’s climbing the trees and pinning a route in his mind to get to where you are.

past the sounds of leaves fluttering and creaks of branches, she lowers her hand to her side in vain, shaking her head.

“don’t worry, mom,” lo’ak’s the first to speak, “he’ll probably bring y/n back in time for dinner.”

kiri scoffs a laugh and gives the boy a good nudge to the head.

“hey! this is abuse!” lo’ak huffs, looking to his mother, “mom! you’re just gonna let kiri do that to me?”

neytiri sighs and only ruffles his head, then ushering all of them to–”come, let us head back.”

as they begin their walk back together, neytiri glances over her shoulder to see how her son is long gone, presumably close to reaching you better than any of them would have to begin with. it puts a smile to her face; the ease she knows well to have someone just know where you will be in your moment of need. no matter how big, or how small. she rests easy with faith knowing her son and you, will be just fine.

//

when his first idea doesn’t fall through, neteyam switches his course really quick to be able to decipher where you might be. it was always one out of two places. if it wasn’t up high in one specific tree (with secretly marked initials at the bottom of the trunks, masked by the bushes that circles around), then it has to be–”now, what is a pretty thing like you all alone here?”

the sounds of water flowing and quiet breathing greets him. neteyam heaves a deep sigh as he watches you stubbornly hugging your knees to your chest, back against the tree behind you that looms over the small river, eyes refusing to meet his. it’s quiet here, another location that in due time, became yours and neteyam’s to be free; to be vulnerable. another tree marked with the similar looking initials near the root of the bark.

he looks–always has to look at the carving of his initials embedded with yours. only then is he able to take his place next to you. neteyam sits so close to you that he barely leave you any room to move away. begrudgingly, you try to create distance between your body but it only elicits a huff from him. quickly, he puts an arm around your shoulders as he leans in close, pressing his forehead to the side of yours.

it’s a subdued reaction but it comes in waves. first, your shoulders inevitably relax. then, the breath you were holding in releases and he feels the way your body rises to take a deep intake of air and soon, you’re breathing comfortably. it’s as if you could never put up a front around him and he’s delighted. it shows on his face; a smile so wide it puts the moon to shame. irises sparkling that it puts the stars to fade.

ignoring the way he’s looking at you, your eyes continue to stare at the way the water flows in front of you. gently, yet, so carefree with the flowers it takes captive, moving in one direction.

“what do you want?” you mutter under your breath.

“well...” he starts off, “what you want is what i want,”

automatically, you turn your head just a little to meet with his playful gaze. your eyes squint at him, a silent what do you mean? written all over your face. the way your brows knit together in confusion, the small twitch of your lips turning into a frown. it only adds to his happiness as he starts to move with such precision and confidence. it’s as if he knows you’ll allow him to do whatever and it’s exactly that.

for someone so guarded, he’s amused with the way he’s able to put his arms around you, momentarily lifting you up to shift your position forward. it grants him the space behind you as he respectively assumes the position of leaning against the tree trunk behind both of you. then, he spreads his legs out and carefully pull you back to lean against his chest. your body untwists itself, legs stretching out, lapping between neteyam’s and you find yourself resting into him; moulding to the shape of his body.

as your head leans against one of his shoulders, your hands find purchase in his as he cocoons you in. his thumbs brush over the backs of your hands, his calm breathing against your back; your eyelids grow heavy from the comfort that his body brings but so does the weight in your heart when neteyam starts to speak.

“you were amazing out there,” he murmurs, a soft kiss pressed to the side of your head soon after.

he peeks down on you to gauge your reaction and he hates–hates how sad you look despite performing so well. it wasn’t easy going through his mother’s training. him and his siblings out of all people would know. he watches as you open your mouth to speak but you’re silencing yourself before you have the chance to say anything. it’s like there’s a mental debate going on in your mind and he senses it; he hates that as well.

“my love,” he calls for you, the desperation surfacing in between his words, more so in his actions as he squeezes your hands, “talk to me. please.”

he moves his hands from holding yours to hug you tight. both arms draped around your figure, one hand pressed to your hip, the other clutching onto your elbow as he rubs circles to soothe your erratic heart. his eyes remain on you; watching, patiently.

“i feel weak,” you whisper, “i still see them everywhere i go,” your hands are anchored onto neteyam’s forearms and he doesn’t react even when your fingers lightly dig into his skin, “it’s a constant reminder that no matter how good i am now, it’s all useless if i can’t protect those who mattered most.”

neteyam is silent but present. he nudges your head with his and it makes you turn the cheek so you can feel his chin against your forehead. he takes in a deep breath and it beckons you to do the same when you feel his lungs expanding against your back. he doesn’t use words just yet; merely comforting you with his body, his hands, his touch–with his entire being.

his hands continue to gently rub circles wherever he can reach; thumb pads against your hip and elbow, caresses along your arm and along the sides of your body. the idyllic gestures make you feel calm and it injects the kind of warmth into your body like no other.

neteyam only knows it’s time to say something when he sees how your eyes open and meet with his. the hand he has by your elbow lifts up to press against your cheek. his thumb delicately running under the bag lining your eye.

“i can’t imagine what it would be like to go through that all alone,” he sighs, shaking his head, “but now... now you can protect those who matter.” he notices your eyes wavering but you remain looking at him, “fight for those you love now. those that are with you now.”

you find yourself scoffing a laugh and the look of confusion on his face makes it all the more amusing.

“such as yourself, i suppose?” you use a hand to knock the side of his head lightly but he doesn’t react to it, only widening his smile handsomely planted on his face, “hey, i gave you the prompt but you filled in the answer,” he proudly puffs his chest out a bit, making you lean forward as he does, “if it’s me you wish to protect, i’ll be more than willing to accept.”

you try to push him away to no avail, more so when the laughter rubbles from inside your stomach at his antics that seemingly lift up the heavy weight resting on your chest. he only pulls you in tighter, refusing to let you go far. his legs start to case you in, locking you in place as he reflects your smile.

“you’re stupid,” 

“yeah, but i’m your stupid,” he counters.

you roll your eyes, “sounds like something lo’ak would say,”

he deadpans, “can you please not bring up my brother when it’s our alone time?”

it only makes you laugh again and despite you teasing the life out of him, he’d rather you do that if he’s able to see how happiness radiates of your face. it’s addictive; it’s what keeps him going, fuels his determination to perform if it all means he gets to protect the smile on your face.

“if i recall, i wanted to be alone by myself,” you shift in his arms, facing him with your arms crossed in front of your chest. he shows no moves to let you go, only leaning forward to press his forehead on yours. “ah, my love, we are one remember? there is no two between us.”

you uncross your arms to place a hand on his forehead, “did you knock your head or something? you’re being awfully ridiculous today.”

“this is the price i get for being a loving boyfriend?” he scoffs, shaking his head, “you ought to be grateful.”

“i am,” you respond quickly, sitting up to hover your lips just a mere nudge away from sealing the deal. neteyam’s clearly entranced, expecting you to just kiss him already but the way you smile as his defenses are lowered grants you the ability to shoot up from his grasp. “so grateful that i’m going to run away!”

he hisses at you–with no malice, more out of instinct–as he rises to his feet and begins to chase after you. past the initial jumps and climbing up the trees to glide along the branches to full-blown swinging back home, you look over your shoulder to laugh at neteyam who’s not too far behind. his intended sourness is replaced with the sweetness of seeing you so carefree; so light-hearted as you move.

it looks much different than when he saw you running away earlier.

that makes him think that in a way, he does have the ability to make you feel better. just as you do with him. and as cheesy as it sounds, if this is the sight he gets to see, it doesn’t matter where he’s at. as long as you’re the that remains as a constant in his eyes.

((four familiar people can be seen swinging on trees with each other; spider included, this time. all of them are messing about, lightly pushing each other, challenging one or the other to climb higher! let’s see how high you can go! 

their chatter quiets down when two more familiar people come along.

“y/n!” tuk exclaims as she lock gazes with you, despite hanging upside down with her knees tucked on one of the branches. she swiftly sits up with kiri’s aid, now half-jumping into your arms just as you sit on the branch next to her.

“hey, tuger,” you snort, the nickname she once thought i’m not a tiger! you can’t just mix ‘tuk’ and ‘tiger’ together! but now she grows fond of, almost expecting you to say it whenever she sees you now. you mess with her hair and allow her to clutch onto you, the same time kiri sits on your other side and nudges you by the shoulder, “you doing okay?”

you nod with an appreciative smile. having kiri felt like breathing the same air, sometimes. she empathises how you feel the most and you’re eternally grateful of her presence.

“yeah, just... had one of those moments, y’know?”

she nods, leaning against you with a hum, “mhm.”

the three of you sit quietly together on the branch, now watching the three monkeys challenging each other to swing the highest or who can do the most flips?!

surely not you, little bro.

i’m not that little! spider! back me up!

sorry, lo’ak. i have to side with the big bro on this one.

you all suck!

as you relax in the hold of those who care and love you, your eyes meet with one’s gaze who softens almost instantly upon contact. there’s this spark in neteyam’s eyes, even when his attention is divided to the people he’s currently interacting with, he never fails to show you that the second your eyes meet, he’s devoting all his attention on you.

that’s all the reminder you need that you do have people here that matter. that make you feel loved... that make you feel seen. that’s all you need.))

[katsu28]

I have a request!!! I need more Dani fics and if no one else is asking for them then I will be the one to ask everyone 💕 could you maybe write a Dani fic using the Tulip prompt from the flower list? (I think its cute for him, and! tulip!! for!! dani!!)

tulip for sunshine in human form, coming right up!

tulip: an act of affection so blatant everyone notices, dani rojas x reader, 1.1k

You didn’t often find yourself at Nelson Road. You went to Richmond matches and knew Dani's friends, of course, but for the most part you kept your respective work lives pretty separate. Your relationship wasn’t a secret by any means, but the two of you enjoyed having a rather private life together.

Dani had left for early morning training before you’d even woken up, but when you did you saw that he’d left his phone behind on the kitchen counter. Oddly enough, it was sitting right next to a muffin you recognized as being from your favorite bakery down the road and a note in his looping scrawl saying that he hoped you’d enjoy the pastry.

That was typical Dani, never forgetting to make you feel loved but in doing so forgetting something important to him.

After polishing off the delicious treat, you decided that you were going to return the surprise by bringing his phone down to the training facility. He’d surely be able to survive a day without it, but the muffin had you feeling sentimental.

Now you were here, making your way down the corridor towards the locker room to find Dani.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, you’re here!” Keeley’s unmistakable voice rang out from a little ways away and you turned to see her hurrying full speed at you in dangerously high heeled boots, grinning profusely the whole way. For such a small woman, she nearly bowled you over with the force of her hug.

“Hi Keeley!” You chuckled, returning her embrace with as much enthusiasm as you could muster. Out of everyone at Richmond, Keeley was the one you were closest with. Besides Dani, of course.

“Hold on. What are you doing here? Is the world as we know it ending—god, is someone dead?” She gasped, eyes widening.

You rolled your eyes playfully, “That’s rather dramatic, don’t you think? Everything’s fine, Dani just forgot his phone at home.”

“Oh, he is gonna be so excited to see you, babe!” She squealed, giving you another quick squeeze. “Right, well I have a brand meeting to get to, but text me later, yeah? We need to get dinner soon!”

You barely had time to say yes before she was running off. Ever the energizer bunny, Keeley was.

Loud laughter poured out of the locker room at the other end, letting you know the lads were in there even before you rounded the corner.

Jamie was sitting right opposite the open door so he saw you first, winking at you in his usual playful manner before speaking loudly. “Well, well, well—look what the cat dragged in!”

Dani lit up the second he heard your name echo through the rest of the team, abandoning doing up the laces on his boots in favor of beelining straight for you. “Mi amor! What are you doing here?”

“Figured you might need this.” You procured his phone from your bag, holding it up with a small smile at his excitement.

He beamed pure sunshine at you, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around in a bone crushing hug. It seemed a little too eager for such a small action, even for Dani, but you were pleasantly surprised. Paired with the content sigh he let out, he’d even garnered the attention of the coaches too.

Nate waved at you on his way out of the office, Beard just nodded, and Roy grunted his greeting, but Ted grinned, looking ecstatic.

“Y/N! To what do we owe this fine pleasure?” He drawled, propping his hands on his hips. He gasped before you could answer. “Wait no, don’t tell me! You won the lottery? You went to see a fortune teller and they told you to come here for some cosmic unknown reason? Oh! You found out your visa was about to expire and came to ask one of us to be in a fake marriage with you so you wouldn’t be sent away?”

“I think that last one’s the plot to The Proposal, actually.” Nate chimed in, looking equal parts amused and concerned.

“Brilliant movie though.” Roy said gruffly, drawing murmurs of approval from the room.

“I came to bring Dani his phone,” You chuckled, finally able to pass off the phone to him now that he’d set you down on your feet.

“Isn’t she the nicest, most perfect girlfriend in the whole world?” Dani exclaimed, squeezing you around the waist again. He was still beaming ear to ear, an infectious sort of excitement that had always been one of things you loved most about him. You took the chance to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“She is quite the catch, Dani.” Ted agreed, smiling good-naturedly.

You ducked your head bashfully, leaning into Dani’s side to hide your warm cheeks. “I should go. Let you boys get back to training.”

“Coach, can I walk her to her car?” Dani asked hopefully, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Would be a real shame if you didn’t, son. We’ll be on the pitch when you’re all finished up.” He replied. He turned to you right after, giving you a nod. “And you, don’t be a stranger around these parts! It’s nice to see a new face every once in a while.”

After assuring Ted you'd be back sometime soon, Dani threaded his fingers through yours, giving you a grand tour of the facility (and happily introducing you to every person you passed, no less) on your way back out to the car park.

“Thank you for coming!” He was still smiling brightly at you, so big that his eyes crinkled at the corners.

“You don’t have to thank me all the time, love. It was nothing, I wanted to visit you.” You insisted, sliding a hand around the back of Dani’s neck. You weren’t expecting his expression to fall, and when it did you were quick to cup his cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“I want to thank you. I appreciate you coming all the way down here for me, and I want to show it.”

You hadn’t thought of it that way before. It was Dani’s way of saying I love you, even though he said that plenty too. His love language wasn’t limited to just one, you realized too. Any way he could show you how he felt about you, how much he appreciated you, he did.

That was just who Dani Rojas was—happy and sweet and caring and a million other things you had yet to learn about him. You were excited to find out.

You kissed him soft and sweet, threading your fingers through his hair to bring him closer to you still. Thank you. I love you too.

[scarred0and-starry]

The Marauders-Love Languages

AN: excited for my first bit of writing to be up! forgot to mention but I'm an english major so this is also just good practice for me anyways (and an opportunity to be lax with my grammar, shh, don't tell my professor!). the valkyries version of this should be up soon, probably tomorrow as it's 1 a.m. and I've lost steam lol. hope you all enjoy!

-starly ☆

Remus J. Lupin

Quality time. 

Moony loves to curl up with a good book and his lover nearby. His idea of heaven is silently doing his revision in an armchair in the common room while his friends run about causing utter mayhem.

“Oi, James give it back!”

“Catch me if you can, Evans!”

James runs from Lily, book in hand as she chases after him trying to get her belongings. Meanwhile Sirius and Peter are sprawled out on the floor scratching their heads at arithmancy.

“Pete are you sure that's right?”

“Er, no actually, I’m not…”

Marlene and Mary sit on the couch holding hands and giggling to each other. 

“Marls! Are you serious?”

Marlene raises her right hand and places it over her heart.

“Yeah, swear on m'life.”

Remus relaxes into the armchair, smiling contently to himself as you approach, sitting on the arm of the chair. He wraps his arm around your waist, nuzzling his face into your side as he sighs contently.

"You okay Moony?"

"Just fine lovely, just fine."

Peter J. Pettigrew

Physical touch.

Wormtail loves to shift down to rat size and doze off in his lover's pocket. He doesn't mind staying normal size either, after all, it's quite hard to hold someone as a rat. 

Peter sighs gently as you lie on his chest.

“Alright, dearest?”

You sit upright to make eye contact with him.

“All good. How long d'you think we have before the boys come back?”

“Hopefully a long, long, ti-”

“SIRIUS ORION BLACK NEXT TIME YOU KNOCK ME OFF MY BROOM-”

You jump up suddenly from Peter as the door swings open and a blur of black hair comes speeding in. 

“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT MATE!”

Sirius O. Black

Words of affirmation.

After years of being degraded by Waburga Black, Padfoot loves nothing more than a good bit of praise. Confirmation that he can do something right, that he does, something right, goes a long way for him.

“Come on love, try it again.”

Sirius groans, dropping his head down onto the mattress.

“I'm telling you, I can't do it. I've tried over and over and it just doesn't bloody work!”

You grab Sirius’ hands, looking deeply into his eyes.

“Pads, you can do it. I know it's a hard spell but just concentrate, breathe. You're so incredibly smart, you could be head of our year if you pulled a few less pranks per week. I know you can do it.”

Sirius’ eyes soften and he relaxes a bit, taking a deep breath, and murmuring the incantation. His magic feels electric as it courses through the air. As the spell ends you look to see he’s smiling brightly. Sirius drops his wand, tackling you onto the bed in a fit of giggles.

“You’re bloody brilliant!”

“Me? You’re the one doing the advanced magic!”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t have done it without you. You’re my muse, I think.”

“I better be.”

James F. Potter

Physical touch.

Prongs doesn’t know any other way to live. Won a quidditch game? Arms immediately thrown round you. Aced an exam? Lifts you up and spins you around. Successful prank? He may as well have tackled you.

James’ breath tickled the back of your neck as you stood front-to-back underneath the invisibility cloak. James had found a sticking charm to cast on the floor, while Remus and Sirius crawled off to the dungeons to lure the slytherins out. You however, had done the most important part, levitating buckets of sludge collected from the bottom of the lake. Holding onto the spell was a bit taxing, but it would all be worth it. 

“You got it darling?”

You shifted on your heels a bit.

“Yeah, just a bit tired.”

“D’you want me to hold the buckets?

“No no it’s alright, I don’t know the sticking charm anyways.

“Hopefully the lads don’t take much longer, I-”

Suddenly loud footsteps came bounding down the hallway, and Remus and Sirius came flying around the corner.

“Now James!”

James cast the sticking charm and up ahead, Snape, Barty, and Regulus could no longer move. James steps from beneath the cloak, pulling it off of you as well and laughing loudly.

“Alright Prongs,” Sirius laughed boisterously, “Got the spell down just right.”

“Better bloody have, took me ages. Love? Ready?”

You grinned wickedly.

“Ready.”

You finally relax as the buckets tip, spilling out their content onto the floor, and slowly floating to the ground. Snape, Barty, and Regulus are completely covered in the sludge, and now stuck to the ground and unable to run.

James throws his arms around you, swaying widely, and a feeling of overwhelming warmth and love spreads through you

“Merlin’s beard! My brilliant partner does it again!”

You laughed, trying to shrug James off.

“Get off me you lousy git!”

Remus is stood nearby, leaning on Sirius as they smile at you and James, and the three boys trapped in the hall scowled fiercely.

“Sirius I swear I’ll tell mother if you don’t remove this charm right now!”

The black haired boy probably would have stood in the hallway all night laughing forever if Remus hadn’t begun to drag him away. Another one for the books you thought, as Prongs slung an arm around your shoulder, holding you close as you snuck off to your next bout of mischief

[scytheaudio]

Round 2!

Same rule but with your characters. Magic is allowed, along with one weapon of choice. No tapping out.

Which of the boys is coming out alive?

I think Demon hunter would immediately walk out of the ring just because he has more important things to do than fight a bunch of guys.

aaaaah you know, I've been racking my brain about this since you asked 🤣

There's soooo many factors to consider...but if you ran the lads through an automatic fight predictor thingy ma jiggy then Atrocity would probably win most times.

Dark would have the most destructive magic and would reduce most to waste...but characters like Atrocity and Abomination can rabid heal and come back for another go...Dark is brittle as fook in physical confrontation, so if they get a claw on him...hes bollocksed.

Hunter (non god form), Blaine, Cole, Sylus, White, Creed, Marcus would all be lethal all round fighters but probably wouldnt come out on top against the true monsters in the group (Maverick, Feral Alpha, Atroc etc)

Void Hunter is disqualified because his power is literally "DELETE!...DONE"

Alpha would be lethal as himself, but in feral Alpha form he'd stand a good chance at winning...it hasnt happened yet, but he's like the Hulk (non butchered by recent marvel films) and gets bigger/stronger the more angry he gets WITH CLAWS N TEETH but he may just go insane and destroy everything around him which other characters could work their way around if tactical.

We've seen what Maverick can do...we wont talk of original body Maverick since he hasnt happened in my stories...just jayjay maverick, and as we see...there are the likes of Atrocity who match him but dont have limits. Maverick is limited by Jayjays limits and relies on fear and misery to fuel him.

Dominic with Rot merged with him would have a good shout since she can blocked most attacks and then attack with soul sucking tendrils and zombies and Dom has a Huuuuge hammer...but some characters such as Dark and Advocates magic could probably find a way to deal with this...and the bruisers like Atroc, Kairon, Abomination would most likely be able to smash their way through his defences.

Advocate would win on many occasions since he can jump through times and space and rip ya soul out....but as stated in the xmas special years back...characters such as Bomo and Atroc may not have a "soul" in a way that we imagine and may be able to close the distance before he could.

OG Kairon would take down most, but would ultimately lose to some of the biggest boys in the game.

In the end...its hard to say....many would snatch a win under certain undercircumstances....Atrocity/Advocate/Bomo/Alpha would probably snatch victory most the time. Void Hunter would win if allowed to play.

But well all know one thing

They'd all fall easily to THE MIGHTY THERIAN

For he is the floofiest...and the woofiest

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

Actually, one of the first things I thought of when learning that Liam had passed away was that he was Nora’s favorite. Liam to me was never the most interesting member of all the 1D lads but the way Nora talked about him on every single album had me appreciating him way more. I do think some of his qualities, both musically and personally, were a bit overlooked during the band.

This makes me want to relisten to the 1D related Every Single Album episodes anon.

I've just finished listening to the latest Every Single Album, and I enjoyed hearing more of Nora's perspective. I liked how expansive they were with what they talked about, the way that they emphasised the importance of 1D culturally and musically, and that they started by putting it in the context of fame.

As always it gives a sense of how differently people understand celebrities. I really want to interrogate Nathan about the idea that it's Taylor Swift's work ethic saved her. I think there might actually be an argument there (which is bascially - the fact that she always needed to work meant she always had people with her, and the hardest part of fame is the isolation from others in time), but it reminded me how easy it is to draw obviously untrue causation lines from success to wellbeing. When they basically asked 'is Harry Styles too dumb to be fucked up by fame?' I thought 'here are people who are less obsessed with what Harry has said to and about his therapist than I am.

*********

I'm going to articulate something that has been rolling round my brain, and which I haven't said yet. She mentioned again the clip about being locked in their rooms. Each time I've heard it, I've thought how much I think fans missed the point when they use that as proof of the evil of management. And I do think it's important to talk about the way the music industry is profiting is suffering in that example.

But by focusing on (or pretending to focus on) and literalising the quote (I've never been in a hotel room that you can lock people into). Fans miss the point - what was it that 1D was being protected from? Why couldn't they just go outside? How could 1D have been kept both safe and free while touring?

There seems within fandom a real unwillingness to look at the fact that was our actions that did harm. I'm sure the decisions by people with power did harm. It may not fully be that Eric Andre meme, but there is an element of it. Fans damaged Liam. Fans trapped him in his room with just a minibar. The damage was a result of aspects that were central to what fans love - they weren't avoidable just if better people were in charge.

I sometimes think that fandom's rush to blame someone is a way of avoiding the role we played.

[lunar-years]

For the first sentence of a fic thing:

The first time Roy thinks nothing of it; the second he thinks it a coincidence – but the third time, and catching the studied nonchalance on Jamie and Keeley’s faces, he begins to grow suspicious.

The first time Roy thinks nothing of it; the second he thinks it a coincidence – but the third time, and catching the studied nonchalance on Jamie and Keeley’s faces, he begins to grow suspicious. "And neither of you have seen it?" he repeats slowly, staring at each of them in turn with his most intense, patented glare, waiting for one of them to break.

Jamie's face remains completely stoic--impressive, actually. Usually he's first to crack. Keeley shrugs innocently and murmurs, "Guess you must've misplaced it again, babe...."

Roy snorts. Yeah. He'd believed that the first time, when he'd found it buried on Jamie's shelf buried amongst his many, many hair products. Roy must've confused the shelves one night. His eyesight is shit in the dark, after all. Then when he next went to use it, the thing was fucking broken, so okay. Shit happened. Order another, no big deal.

This time, though, the trimmer was brand-fucking-new. And he knows exactly where he placed it once he'd removed it from the packaging. "You know that this is important, right?" he growls. "I've got be at the club in like two hours. Looking professional."

He glances past their heads to catch a sight of himself in the mirror. He meant to get a real haircut, but after a few rounds of putting it off, it's gotten long enough now for the curls to really be coming back, in desperate need of a trim, and his beard looks utterly unruly to match. Altogether, he looks like he's an aspiring caveman instead of the fresh new manager of a Premier League team.

"Your beautiful curls aren't unprofessional," Keeley says crisply, arms crossed and looking all put out like he's offended her talking about his own damn hair. Jesus Christ. "Actually, Jamie found--"

Jamie is instantly at his side, holding out a bottle of curl shampoo. "Bit of this to reduce the frizz, lad, and some beard oil to tame you up a bit in the front...very professional, that. And if it happens to make you look dead sexy, too, well--" He shrugs and exchanges a look with Keeley, who nods encouragingly like he's really selling it. They're both ridiculous.

Roy rolls his eyes. "So you mean to tell me I haven't been able to shave in days because my trimmer keeps disappearing mysteriously, and Jamie just so happened to go shopping for fucking..." he takes the bottle Jamie's holding, "curl-defining shampoo in that same timeframe? By total coincidence?"

"Exactly!" Keeley says cheerfully.

"You know, two hours gives us plenty of time to try it out," Jamie adds nonchalantly, waving the shampoo. His eyes are fucking sparkling. He's gorgeous. He's always so fucking gorgeous. "Probably best if Keeley and I help you out. Gotta really massage it in to get the full effect. It will take all three of us. We should shower together!"

Keeley's heads bobs up and down enthusiastically.

"And my trimmer is--?"

"Oh hush," Keeley says, edging closer, "You can search for that later."

"...or not!" Jamie adds.

Yeah, he thinks, letting Keeley's deft hands work at tugging his shirt over his head. Or fucking not.

[elderberries-and-honey]

𝐌𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐃𝐚𝐲, 𝟏𝟖𝟗𝟏

Memorial Day had not been an established holiday for very long, but some of the lads around Brindleton decided it was a holiday worthy of celebration, and gathered round a campfire at the Brindleton Grange community center. None of the young men had been involved in the civil war, but Jorge was a proud former Union solider and decided to share some wartime stories with the lads.

Ramon had grown up hearing some of these exact stories, always finding his father's dedication to his country admirable.

Ramon had expressed as much to his father many times, but it felt especially important to share his thankfulness on this particular holiday.

As the night wore on, they discussed other politics, their wives, and their respected career-paths, while sharing many laughs and marshmallows around the fire, which even included Ramon's dog, Banjo.

It was a bittersweet, yet meaningful time all around.

After most of the boys dismissed themselves back home, Jorge found himself at the cemetery, where he left the memorial wreaths for his brothers-in-arms that had been hand-made by Valentina for the occasion.

Despite what a special day the holiday had been, there was sadness for his fallen comrades too. He spoke to them gently, wishing them well in whatever plain of existence they had ventured off to next, and thanked them for their service.

[autisticlancemcclain]

While making his final nightly rounds of the castle, Coran sees the training room lights on, and seconds later he hears a frustrated yell ring through the hallway. He sighs, knowing he’s in for an argument with their newly appointed black paladin, and it’s far too late to ask Lance to do it. (He has a much easier time convincing Keith to take a break. Coran is at a complete loss as to how he does it — one moment they’re arguing, at each other’s throats, and Coran is convinced that not only is Keith going to double down and refuse a break but that they’ve destroyed their relationship in the process. The next second Keith is agreeing to a meal and a full night’s rest. It’s absolutely flabbergasting, how Lance does it.)

Reminding himself to be firm, he pushes open the training room doors, mouth already open to remind the boy that rest is of equal if not more importance than training.

But the words die on his tongue, because Number Four is not the one training so late at night, for once.

Lance lets out another frustrated yell, angrier than the one Coran heard before, and runs at the gladiator. He swings his sword — his sword? — at its torso, but the manoeuvre is sloppy, anger making his movements choppy and predictable. The gladiator dodges easily, and with one more furious growl Lance throws his sword at the training room’s emergency power kill switch, making the gladiator dematerialize mid-swing and plunging the room into darkness.

For a moment there’s only silence, except for the red paladin’s heavy panting, and then he sighs, and there’s the unmistakable sound of his sword clattering to the ground and him flopping down after it. The emergency lights flicker on, confirming Coran’s thoughts. Lance lays sprawled on the ground, hand pressed harshly to his eyes.

“I want to go home,” he mutters defeatedly, clearly not intending anyone to hear.

Coran waits a moment, processing all he has just witnessed. Then he takes a deep breath, steeling himself, and clears his throat. Lance screeches at the top of his lungs, scrambling to his feet and looking around frantically.

“It’s just me, lad,” Coran rushes to assure.

“Jesus fucking — you scared me, Coran!” He presses a hand to his presumably galloping heart, panting. “Fucksake!”

Coran can’t quite bite back his smile. “Deepest apologies.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Lance says, rolling his eyes, but he doesn’t look upset. “What’s up?”

Coran hums, rocking back slightly on his heels. He gestures to Lance’s forgotten sword, which has returned to its bayard form. “I could ask you the same.”

Lance’s expression turns bitter again, and he glares at his bayard. “Oh, that.” He kicks at it slightly. “Nothing to worry about. I promise I’ll get the hang of this stupid thing soon.”

In the decaphoebe or so they’ve been in space together, Coran has spent a lot of time with Lance. He quite likes the boy’s company, and enjoys exchanging stories of home with him. He’s seen Lance excited, bubbly, seen him determined, even seen him insecure. He’s seen almost every mix of emotions he’s ever seen on a person when Keith is brought up in conversation — which is frequently.

But he’s not sure he’s ever seen Lance look so bitter and defeated, before. It’s an unsettling expression to see on his usually cheerful face.

“I was unaware you’d unlocked a third bayard form,” he starts carefully.

Lance scoffs. “Yeah. Because every stupid thing has to change, now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Everything, Coran,” Lance repeats, throwing his arms up in the air in frustration. “First we lose Shiro, which is probably the worst thing that could ever happen. I mean, Shiro, who is probably the most important person on this team and who has already been through enough. And then Blue decides she doesn’t like me anymore, and I have to go to Red, who would rather Keith than me any day of the week, and then I get to look even more like Keith’s replacement when I get this stupid sword!” He scoops up his bayard, and, as he glares at it, it glows in his hand, stretching into a heavy broadsword. He drops it again in disgust and it clatters to the floor, glowing again as it changes back. “I dunno if I can even get a gun anymore, because clearly Lance McClain has nothing to offer. Point fucking taken.”

Coran blinks, more than a little shocked at the onslaught of real pain in Lance’s voice.

No wonder he’s been so withdrawn lately.

At Coran’s silence, Lance begins to shift uncomfortably, guilt beginning to cloud his brown eyes.

“Sorry,” he says quietly. “I didn’t mean to dump all that on you. I can handle it. I swear. It’s just been something of a rough night, is all.”

“Oh, Lance,” Coran says, rushing forward to pull the boy into his arms. Lance resists for a moment, tense, but then he sags forward, letting Coran hold his weight.

“This sucks, Coran. I’m not good enough anymore.”

Coran holds him tighter, rapidly trying to formulate a way to fix this. It turns out that it is insecurity, as much as it’s bitterness — Coran has noticed that it always takes Lance time to fully adjust to big changes, but at the same time he gets frustrated with himself when he can’t handle the new status quo with ease. He hates it when he feels like he’s falling short.

Coran might have an idea.

He squeezes Lance once more, then pulls back slightly, still resting a hand on his shoulder. “You are more than good enough,” he says firmly. He shushes Lance’s immediate protests, continuing on. “You are adjusting, dear. We all are. You’re allowed to struggle for a moment.”

“We can’t afford time for me to struggle,” Lance argues.

Coran raises an eyebrow. “We are fighting an empire that has dominated for longer than your planet has had civilization. We don’t have time to eat or sleep. And yet, we must make time.”

Lance hesitates, then scowls. “I hate it when you’re right.”

Coran laughs, patting him on the back as he guides him to the door. “Then you’re going to hate my suggestion to have some rest.”

“You’re right. I do. Also, no.”

Lance tries to resist, but Coran easily yanks him along. “How unfortunate.”

Lance continues to resist, so Coran decides to let him in on his plan — at least a little.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he starts, and Lance immediately looks intrigued. “You go to bed now, and tomorrow evening after regular training and supper, you meet me here. I’ll help you learn how to use that sword to your strengths.”

Lance perks up. “Really? You know how to use this thing?”

Coran smiles. “I have a few ideas.”

———

part two

[headgehug]

beat generation dash simulator

📝 windblownworld

I need to run away and live on a mountain fr

#jack.txt #my buddy gary @ dharmabum has a good gig lined up for me next summer. #feels like forever away #fuck my life

( 1 note )

❕️This post has been flagged for the following community warnings: mature

📚 starvinghystericalnaked

okay, you know what, fuck you. fuck. you. there's nothing "obscene" about my poem. in fact the bible is more "obscene" than this. maybe if you had the guts to read it you'd understand that YOU are the problem. WE are the movement WE are the people WE are the answer.

🔁 🐒 oldbulllee14

Allen, I completely agree with you. Customs officials are a load of cock-sucking bastards. Next time you are in town, come over. I just got back from Mexico if you know what I mean.

🔁 📚 starvinghystericalnaked

say less 👀🍃

#like for real say less LMFAO if the feds are on tumblr we are so fucked

( 30 notes )

🚗 coloradocarjacker-deactivated04011948

"Well it's about time you wrote, I was fearing you farted out on top that mean mountain or slid under while pissing in Pismo, beach of flowers, food and foolishness, but I knew rhe fear was ill-founded for balancing it in my thoughts of you, much stronger and valid if you weren't dead, was a realization of the experiences you would be having sown there, rail, home, and the most important, climate, by a remembrance of...

read more

🔁📝 windblown world

needed this right now. missing you, brother.

#does anyone know if neal remade or is he just gone? #did he say anything to anyone? he told me he was just remaking

( 2,396 notes )

🎶 bopaholicedie Follow

happy 1 year anniversary of the official annulment of my marriage

#if you're reading this jack go to hell. I wish you'd rotted to death in jail with that m*rderer #after all these years and not even a fucking thank you

( 2 notes )

📝 windblownworld

logging off indefinitely. my editor needs a draft of my book by the new year and I already blew my advance so there's no way I can ask for an extension. if you see me online tell me to fuck off

#mutuals can still send letters

Pinned post

( 0 notes )

❤️‍🔥 lucienspress

feeling blessed for all of my good friends today. real ones know — rip d.k. '44 — keep the hustlers and parasites at arms length, we'll get through this!

#this one goes out to you jack! 🙌 hit me up sometime

( 74 notes )

🛤 railmanmoriarty Follow

what's up motherfuckers! remade from @coloradocarjacker

🔁 📝 windblownworld

neal? holy shit. is that you? are you busy tonight?

🔁 🛤 railmanmoriarty Follow

kerouac my boy my lad my good man for you I am never busy I have to just drop carolyn off at the motel and procure a fine feast dinner for her and the kids and then maybe an hour two just setting around making sure she's and they're alright and then if you pick me up at 10 no I better say 10:45 not a minute later than ten forty five pm jack I will be fired up and ready to go out with you

( 4 notes )

📝 windblownworld

SAL AND DEAN ON THE PROWL TONIGHT JUST LIKE THE OLD DAYS!!! if you want to party with the OGs first rounds on me.

#NYC beat scene #jack.txt

( 12 notes )

❤️‍🔥 lucienspress

"Make 'em laugh, make 'em cry, make 'em horny."

#quotes #beatnik #beat literature #deep #counterculture #new york city #on the road core #kerouaquette #writer #writing advice

( 500 notes )

[yellowkitkieran]

No Scotland, No Party (Kieran Tierney)

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: Kieran helps you pack for Germany and helps fight your insecurities at the same time.

“Key! Come help me, my case won't close!”

Your tongue pokes out as you climb on top of the unzipped suitcase, trying every trick in the book to get the damn thing to close. Are you trying to shove a month's worth of skincare and clothes into a single bag? Yes, but that is beside the point. Being prepared is the most important thing here; you cannot touch down in Germany and realize you forgot the very color of nail varnish you haven't touched in years but decide that is the best option. 

“My darling,” Kieran's sweet tone already has you bristling because you know what he'll say, “Why don't you just pack less-”

As Kieran rounds the corner to your bedroom, you shoot him with a glare that would make most men turn tail and run. Your boyfriend knows better though; he's well aware that your bark is far worse than your bite. For as vicious as you appear on the surface, it takes a lot for you to truly snap. So your handsome Scotsman only grins, crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe. 

“Don't finish that sentence, Kieran. I have to pack all this, I can't take anything out! I have the bare minimum already!” You probably look unhinged with your wildly waving hands and wide eyes. At least Kieran gleans some amusement from your dilemma.

“Alright love. Let's take a breather, yeah? Okay.” Kieran removes you from your perch and sets you on the bed as if you weigh no more than a bird. He smiles and pecks your forehead, ever the level headed problem solver. Though you feel heat creeping to your cheeks, you're too stubborn to say anything as Kieran pulls out the packing cubes you spent ages tetris-ing into place. 

“Hm. I’m not sure about all this. Three pairs of sneakers, two pairs of flats, and a pair heels? Darling, surely you don't need so many shoes.” Kieran shakes his head with a smile as he pulls out another larger cube bulging with jerseys and miscellaneous Scotland gear. “And I thought you were planning on stealing all my jerseys anyway, why do you need these?” 

“Because,” you snatch the cube from him and shove it back in the case, “they're vintage. They prove I'm a day one supporter! I don't want everyone thinking I'm some bandwagon fan that's only in it cause Scotland is doing well this year.”

“Come on, you know no one thinks that. All of the lads know how long you've been around, you're my day one lass!”

You quirk a brow at him, “actually, some fans have other opinions. Clearly you don't read what people say online-” 

“You know I don't, because it doesn't matter-” 

“But I do, and I don't want to give anyone an excuse to critique me while I'm in Germany. I'm there to support you, not get caught up in some tabloid headlines.” It’s silly, you know that. Opinions of faceless online trolls shouldn't have any say in your plans. It is hard to ignore though, when it pops up unprompted so frequently on social media. 

Kieran joins you on the bed and pulls you into his lap. You relish the slight scratch of his five o'clock shadow against your shoulder as he lightly kisses your neck. “Like I said, it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. I know that you're there because you love me and you cannae stand the thought of watching on a screen instead of supporting me in person. That's what counts, why does anyone else's opinion matter?” 

Of course Kieran is right. As usual. Because your insecurities always resurface when the spotlight gets brighter on Kieran, and during the Euros you know there will be plenty of chatter surrounding him and his teammates. You're doing your best to mentally prepare for it, trying to get ahead of the curve to anticipate and dispel anything negative before it can surface.

Your trust for Kieran outweighs any doubts hanging over your head. So you smile at him, nodding as you put on a no-nonsense face. 

“Alright, I'll take some out.” You hold out your hands for the bag of vintage kits and remove all but two of them, your favorites that you were planning to bring regardless. Then you take out the heels (you'd rather be comfortable than be fashion forward anyway), and a dress that you packed solely because it was “wag material”. Kieran doesn't say a word, he just repacks the remaining cubes when you’ve finished your audit and then zips the case shut with ease. 

“There, all set. That wasn't so hard.” You want to be mad, but Kieran's smile ebbs any lingering frustration. It's always been that way with him. His ability to soothe your hot-headed streak never fails. So you sigh and rest your head on his shoulder instead of spitting a reply like you instinctively want to.

“I guess all that is left is to pack my carryon.” You grin at Kieran, recognizing the moment the thought crosses his mind. 

“Ah, no, before you ask, you cannae fit me in your carry on, love. I'm going on the jet!”

**********

In the future, perhaps you'll listen to Kieran more often. The only headlines you've seen online are about how brilliant of a supporter you've been. Fans are singing your praises for your decision to forgo sequestering yourself in a private box in favor of joining them in the stands. Your ability to start chants with your loud, captivating voice keeps them riled match after match. And even now at one of the many after parties, you keep the lads riled up and excited by singing along to the music pounding over the speakers. 

“We know we ain't no Argentinaaaaa…” 

Robbo throws his arm over your shoulder as the music pauses for a beat, his ridiculously oversized sunglasses knocking your temple. The whole room remains hushed for a few tantalizing moments, and when the beat drops, everyone erupts. 

“BUT WE'VE GOT JOHN MCGINN!” You can barely pick out your own voice among the players, friends and families gathered as you all belt out the lyrics to the unofficial, official Scotland Euros song. “And Robbo out on the wing!” At that, the entire room points to you and Andy, who is wearing his classic goofy smile and jumping up and down with one arm still over your shoulders. His glasses are askew now, but he couldn't care less- the entire atmosphere is electric, and you find yourself caught up in the fun and join Andy in his erratic dancing. 

You tip your head back to the ceiling, eyes shut against the strobing lights and yell the next line, “No Scotland, no partyyyy!” Like your life depends on it. “Steve Clark’s tartan armyyy!” You're in your element now, as at home among your friends as Kieran is with a ball at his feet; a fact that isn't lost on your boyfriend, who happily observes from his spot near the makeshift bar and sings along too, albeit a touch quieter than you. 

It's only when the song ends and Andy releases you that Kieran comes to find you. The volume of the music lowers a touch and gives everyone a chance to catch their breath. You grin at Kieran as he approaches, one arm sliding around your waist as he joins you near the bar. 

“Hello darling. Is that drink for me?” Your hopeful question has Kieran tipping his glass bottle of beer toward you. You greedily gulp down half of it before he manages to steal it from your claws. 

“Oi, I'm only allowed one all night! And now it's nae gonna last much longer thanks to you!” 

You giggle, then hiccup, then lightly smack Kieran’s toned chest. “Maybe if you had a line written about you in that song they'd let you have another. Cause Andy's had more than one, that's for sure!”

“Dinnae know how he got a second,” Kieran grumbles, pouting in the general direction his captain disappeared in. “Nae fair if ya ask me. If he gets two, the lot of us should get two!” 

“Ohh, you tell ‘em babe. Look at you- all angry aren't you?” You run your hands over Kieran's chest, tipsy enough thanks to the unlimited number of drinks you've been allowed to have. “Such a strong, angry little man aren't you… and so handsome! I'm a lucky lass.” you cup Kieran's jaw, thumbs rubbing over his stubble. Upon seeing the slight glaze to your eyes, a laugh rumbles out from Kieran’s chest beneath your other hand. 

“You're right pished, aren't you darling? Just how many did you have?” 

“Dinnae count,” you mumble. You're far too tired to tally them up now, especially when Kieran's warm lips meet your forehead. “When's your next match again? I hope it's not tomorrow because I'm gonna need to sleep this off.”

“Wednesday. But I have recovery tomorrow, and training every day too.” Kieran is quick to shush you when you groan, registering your protest even if it does fall on slightly deaf ears. “I know, I know, you'll miss me the entire time. You dinnae ken what you'll do with your free time. But you could go out with the other girlfriends and wives, that's an option!” 

“That's already my plan! But I want to see youuuuu- I want to see my boyfriendddd!” You jut your lower lip, two fingers finding the front belt loops of his jeans and pulling him closer. “Why do you have to be so good at what you do? You should slip a few times in training so you don't have to go back. Then you could spend time with me!”

“Well, I'm no John McGinn. But I am out on a wing, so I guess I'm sort of like Robbo- clearly not as good as him but hey, but I'll take it.” Kieran’s smile turns your knees to goo. It's lucky he's got a firm hold on you or else you'd be a puddle on the floor at this point. “Why don't we head to our room for now then? We can party more when we win, yeah? For now let's get you into bed.”

A pitiful whine bubbles past your lips. “I want to stay outttttt! You haven't even danced with me yet- and that's a crime! Shame on you for not dancing with your girlfriend!”

“I- hey!” Kieran rubs his arm where you just pinched him, frowning down at you. “Well, I was going to offer to dance with you now, but I dinnae ken if I should after that abuse!”

“You have to! I'm not leaving until I get a dance with my handsome, lovely, song-worthy winger of a boy-” 

Kieran's kiss cut you off, which while mildly surprising, is somewhat expected. It's his favorite way to distract you from any argument and it works fairly well. And when he gets a bit cheeky and grazes his tongue over your lips, you're putty in his hands. You would pluck the moon from the sky and place it in his cupped hands if he wished it. 

Stars buzz in your vision when he pulls away. You laugh, fingers interlocking behind his neck. “Alright. Back to the room it is.”

[football-and-fanfics]

Fight - Trent Alexander-Arnold & Andy Robertson

Who: Trent Alexander-Arnold, Andy Robertson Prompt: "I messed this up, didn't I?" Requested by: anonymous Word count: 676 Warnings: some mild swearing

Right from the beginning of the match, Andy knew it could easily come to blows at some point. This was a high profile match, important in their race for the title, and the opposing team's players did everything possible to get under the Liverpool players' skins.

Andy kept a very close eye on Trent. Somehow he seemed frustrated most of all, and looked to need only a tiny spark to explode. That spark proved to be Virgil getting booked in the 30th minute, which Trent believed was completely unjustified.

The situation quickly spiraled out of control. Trent rounded on the referee, a few of the opposing team's players, and even some of his own teammates. He was raging, swearing, and lashing out at anyone coming close to him. Andy realized that, if he didn't intervene quickly, this would surely lead to Trent getting sent off.

"Get away from them." Andy slung a forceful arm around Trent's chest, trying to break up the fight which had ensued, and calm his friend down. "Let me go!" Trent struggled against the Scotsman's grip. "No." Andy grunted slightly with the effort of keeping Trent in check. "This isn't right," Trent growled, "he shouldn't be getting a yellow card, and everyone else should stay the hell out of it!" "Hey!" Andy got angry now, too. "I'm trying to look out for you! Calm down and stop this right now!"

Trent finally struggled loose from Andy's grip, turning around angrily to his friend. He looked more out of control than Andy had ever seen him, but the Scot wasn't impressed by that.

"Why aren't you doing anything?" Trent bit to Andy. "I'm making sure you're not getting sent off." Andy was reaching the limits of his patience, but did his best not to show it. Trent scoffed. It had every intention of offending Andy, and it did.

"Get a grip of yourself," Andy said curtly. There were many more things he wanted to hurl at Trent's head right now, but he knew this wasn't the moment for it. Trent made to say something in return, but Andy simply held up a hand to silence him. Trent glared angrily, before he snapped his mouth shut and stalked away.

Andy passed a hand over his face. He didn't like arguing with Trent, especially when he worried at Trent's behavior, but in this case he felt he had had no other choice. Andy knew Trent would probably calm down and apologize soon enough, they were way too good friend to have this take long, but still this fight didn't sit right with him.

---

The final whistle had barely sounded, when Trent approached Andy. "I messed this up, didn't I?" He much resembled a kicked puppy, with his shoulders slouched and head bent low in apparent shame. Andy took a second before he answered. "I'm not used to this from you, no. Plus, you were lucky the ref didn't send you off."

Trent sighed heavily, searching for his voice to speak. "I'm sorry... so sorry." He shook his head in disbelief at his own actions. "I didn't mean that. I... lost control." "That I saw," Andy answered, "I'm not mad at you, lad. I'm more worried at what caused that, because that's not you." "I know." Trent sighed, passing a hand over his face. "I guess I was... frustrated with myself, with the situation, with this match. I took it out on you, and I shouldn't have done that."

Andy looked at Trent for a few seconds, taking in the utter embarrassment and guilt in his posture. Any anger he still might have still felt towards his friend, ebbed away at the sight of Trent so defeated in front of him.

"I know you didn't mean it," Andy finally spoke. Trent looked up at him. "So... so we're good?" "Oh, Trentski." Andy pulled Trent into a tight bear hug. "You and I, we're never not good. Please, remember that." Trent wrapped his arms tightly around Andy in return. "I'm still sorry, and it won't happen again."

Tags: @stonesyyyy, @footballffbarbiex, @football1921, @laurasstufff1, @nightlockcornucopia, @hbstre, @sarah10r-blog, @mountsgirlsblog

Add me to the tags list | Full writing masterlist Andy Robertson masterlist | Trent Alexander-Arnold masterlist

[spooky-pomegranate]

So I found your “Violence and Timing” fic which led me to ao3 and I binge read every chapter. It is really good. Like really good. Like really fucking good. Like I was up all night last night just reading through those chapters because it’s so good. I just had to let you know because wow. I’m kinda sad I finished all the chapters so far because I feel like I just finished a tv show and I always get sad whenever I finish those. So yeah… just letting you know your writing is top tier.

It Was Supposed to Be Simple:

Captain Price x F Reader Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: For Price, it was supposed to be a simple mission. For you, it was supposed to be the most important meeting of your life. But nothing ever goes to plan, does it? (A/N: Thank you so much @peepawsbeardhair ! That's incredibly sweet to say. I've put a lot of excerpts from that story on Tumblr and people seem to eat it up, but I've never posted the first chapter. Maybe it's time?! )

--------------------- RUSSIA. DECEMBER 2022 ---------------------

“Bravo 5 how copy?”

Captain Price’s surveillance crackled to life in his ear as Gaz responded, “Approaching Building 1 from the west now sir.”

“Rog. Ghost what’s your status?” The bitter winds burned his lunges with each deep breath.

Another crackle, “In position on the east. Ready to breach on your order Captain.”

The blizzard had made for good cover. In the ten minutes Price had occupied his overwatch position nearly half an inch of snow had gathered on his back. His fingers ached as he pinched his radio.

“Alright lads. On my order in 3, 2, 1. Go!”

For the next several minutes gun smoke, fire, and blood filled the air. The mission was simple. Enter the building, kill any armed guards, and secure the intel.

The location, albeit currently freezing Price to his very core, hadn’t been a complicated one either. An old remote KGB intelligence outpost deep in the heart of Siberia; small, run-down, minimally guarded.

“Nothing that’ll win you chest candy.” Ghost had quipped when Laswell briefed the trio on the mission.

While Price fired another sniper round into the building, he thought back to the last words Laswell had said to him before he had boarded the helo at base.

“We have solid intel the Russians are planning something John. Something big. I know this isn’t the type of job I usually ask of you boys, but we need this intel and we need it now.”

Price didn’t mind that it was a straightforward mission. In fact, he was looking forward to something simpler. Scars and nightmares often reminded Price of his more complicated missions. He hoped this trip wouldn’t add to either of his unwanted collections.

Another cackle over the comms, “Captain, the building is clear.”

“Copy you Lieutenant. You have eyes on the intel?”

“Yes sir. But Captain…” Price heard Ghost’s voice waver ever so slightly. The most minute change in pitch.

“Bloody hell Price, you’re gonna want to see this.”

--------------------- LONDON. DECEMBER 2022 ---------------------

“Just a hot coffee black. You know what actually, can you add a shot of espresso in there? Sorry, yeah thanks.”

“One red-eye. Anything else today?”

“No, no that’s all thanks.”

You knew the caffeine wouldn’t help your shaky hands. The extra shot certainly wouldn’t quell your uneasy and empty stomach either, but you moved onward, grabbing your order and heading out to the street. You had more important things to worry about today.

As you took your first sip a text came through on your cell.

“In the lobby now. They want to move meeting w/ Deputy CTO up. Didn’t say why. Can you be here in 10?”

Luckily you’d been pacing around the same three London blocks for 20 minutes now.

“Be there in 2.”

You crossed the street and made your way into the towering high-rise lobby. It was crowded with businessmen. You tried to scan the room for your boss. Where the hell was he? Damn it, all these men in suits looked the same.

“Didn’t get me a coffee then?”

“Jesus! Oh my god, I didn’t see you sitting there. Why the hell did you scare me like that!?”

You nearly spilled your coffee whirling around to face your boss. He’d been quietly sitting in a corner, briefcase and winning smile in tow.

“And why are there so many people in this goddamn building right now anyway?”

You tried to calm yourself a bit. The espresso was a bad choice. Your nerves were on fire.

“Did you forget who we’re meeting with today? Half the people in here are Secret Service. We’re lucky the CTO has a few minutes to spare for us between these international summit meetings. ”

You looked around the room. Now that he’d said it, you realized there weren’t a lot of grey hair men in the lobby. Most of these guys were younger, closer to 30, and their posture was straighter than anyone who normally spent 8 hours a day slumped over a desk.

“Right, yeah that makes sense.”

“Hey.”

You looked back at your boss. He smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

“We got this okay. Don’t be nervous. You’ve made something that’s gonna change the world, so let’s change it okay.”

You took a deep breath and nodded.

“Okay. You’re right.”

“I’m always right.” He huffed out a low chuckle. “Let’s head to the elevators. We’re meeting on the 56th floor.”

Your boss grabbed his briefcase, you clutched your coffee, and the two of you made your way across the room. As you waited for an elevator you took a final look over the cramped lobby when you thought you saw… him. He was in a black jacket, dark jeans, boots, and a hat pulled low over his face. You were sure it was him. It couldn’t be. But it…

“You coming or what?” Your boss’s voice cut through your racing thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m coming” You entered the elevator and tried to put the man’s image out of your mind. It was probably just the coffee and your nerves. A mirage brought on by stress and anxiety. You really didn’t need that extra shot.

A very official-looking staffer met you on the 56th floor. She led you to the meeting space, a modern but sterile-looking conference room with floor-to-ceiling windows, tinted glass separating the room from the hallway, and a massive oak table with a dozen chairs.

“The Vice President and Deputy Chief Technology Officer will be with you both shortly. Please have a seat.”

“Wait the Vice President? Like the Vice President of the United States? He’s coming to our meeting? I thought we were just meeting with the Deputy?” The sentences jumped out of your mouth quicker than you would have liked.

“Yes, as you may know, the Vice President has made technology and anti-terrorism efforts a focus of his office for several years now. He’s been briefed on your work by the CTO and is eager to discuss further details with you both.”

And with that sudden news, the staffer disappeared, slipping back out into the hallway.

As you watched her figure move down the hall behind the tinted glass, the walls felt like they were starting to push in on you. Could the ceiling be dropping in on you too? You took another sip of your coffee, nerves fully on fire again.

Several more minutes of pacing and pep talks occurred before the conference room door opened again. The staffer was back with important friends this time.

After the most formal introductions of your life, your boss took over with his presentation. It’d been decided a long time ago he’d handle the flashy intro and you’d seal the deal with the demo. This was your baby after all and no one knew it better than you.

As your boss finished the pitch you stood from your chair, resting your hands firmly on the briefcase he’d brought. The leather was cool and soft.

You locked eyes with your boss. His eyes crinkled at you again. You felt the air come back into your lungs and the walls didn’t feel so close anymore. You could do this.

As you slipped your hands inside the briefcase the sound of heavy boots echoed outside. Black shadows in the shape of half a dozen men darkened the tinted glass separating the conference room and the hallway. Then came the voices; deep, angry, decidedly unAmerican.

“If you fucking muppets don’t let me into that room I promise you you’ll regret ever stepping foot in this bloody country.”

An agent whipped opened the conference door, nearly tumbling over as four combat-clad men pushed their way inside.

“Diaz, what’s going on?” The Vice President eyed the fumbling agent.

“Sir, we need to move you to…”

The agent's voice was cut off as the windows behind you exploded rocking you forward. Shards of glass rained down on your back as your ribs collided with the oak table. Every ounce of air was knocked from your lungs as you crumbled to the floor. The table toppled over onto its side in front of you while behind you the room opened up to the London skyline.

Total silence enveloped the room except for a high pitch buzzing that felt like it was crawling its way out from deep inside your ear.

Enormous pain rippled throughout your chest as you reached above you for the briefcase now precariously dangling off the edge of the table. You pulled the smooth leather to your chest.

As your braced your forearms on the ground and pushed yourself up to your full height you heard a murmur of a deep voice. Someone was trying to penetrate the ringing in your ears, but you couldn’t understand. The buzzing was still too loud.

Fully upright you came face to face with one of the foreign soldiers. He towered several inches above you, a British flag squarely on his chest. His steely blue irises glanced over your body and when his eyes came back to rest on your face his pupils were nearly double in size.

Then the soldier lunged at you.

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

Price wrapped one of his hands around your waist and the other on the back of your head as he tackled you to the floor. He didn’t care about the bruises he’d leave on your hip as he pressed his full weight roughly against you. He needed you on the ground now.

“Get down! Sniper on the roof across the street. Soap take him out now!”

“On it!”

Before Soap could pull out his rifle the first shot rings throughout the conference room. Price watches as it slams into a businessman’s chest ripping flesh and bone. He can taste the terribly familiar scent of coppery blood in the air.

Before the crimson cloud can even reach the carpet, another shot. This one takes down the stubborn agent who delayed Price getting into this room. A mist of blood plumes where the man once stood. Price grits his teeth.

Then another bang. This time the staffer is down.

Soap fires next. His Scottish timbre yells out, “Sniper down.”

Ropes drop down outside the building. Price knows this means the fight is just beginning. He quickly kneels removing himself from you and grabs your hand, yanking you to a seated position. He can see tears forming in your eyes. He can’t worry about exfiltrating a civilian now. Secure the high-value officials and eliminate the threat, those words repeat in his mind like a command he’s ordering to himself. There are only seconds before this room will be invaded.

But he won’t leave you here out in the open, he can’t watch another civilian die if he can stop it. So without saying a word he looks at you and points to a spot behind the overturned table. He hopes you’ll understand his wordless intention. You hadn’t answered him when he’d asked if you were alright after the blast, a shot eardrum from the blast most likely.

Price lets out a small breath as he watches you scurry to cover behind the overturned table.

He reminds himself of his own order, secure the officials. Price barks, “Gaz, Ghost get the VP and CTO out of here now! Roof’s compromised take the stairs. Go!”

“Moving now sir.” Ghost answers.

Then comes the smoke, the Russian voices, and the sound of boots crunching on carpet and broken glass. Prices slides in next to you behind the cover of the large overturned oak table, shoulders and thighs pressing up against each other. He can feel your body shaking. He doesn’t need to see your face to know that tears are down your cheeks by now.

Price peers around the table. The smoke is thick. Wait, he tells himself. The haze will thin out soon with the windows blown away. Wait … for the moment to strike. Wait… for the enemy to compromise themselves. Wait… because everything in Price’s life depends on the perfect balance of violence and timing.

One of the Russians get’s impatient and fires a rogue round into the ceiling. Patience pays off and Price shoots his pistol. One down.

The smoke is clearing fast now. Price moves from his cover behind the table. Soap emerges from the receding smoke with him. They fire and fight together, pushing their way forward toward the London skyline with bullets, knives, and brute force. Russians falling one by one in their wake.

There’s no one left in front of Price to gun down when he hears a scream from behind him. You’re standing by the door, briefcase clutched to your chest, and knife to your throat. One of the Russians must have taken the stairs from the roof down, sneaking into the room during the fighting.

Price tries to remind himself to wait. To wait for the right moment. To pair his violence with perfect timing… but your eyes. Your eyes beg him not to. Your eyes beg Price to move now, to fight now, to save you now.

So he moves. Price raises his pistol and fires. But at that same moment, you move and two bodies hit the floor.

Fuck. What had Price done?

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

(Read the rest of this story here)

[louisupdates]

MY FOOTBALL

The One Direction star has two principal loves: Ronaldinho and James Coppinger

FOUR FOUR TWO, MARCH 2023 (by PAUL WILKES)

Which was the first match that you ever went to?

I actually got into football quite late, when I started playing at around 11. There were a few Manchester United fans in the family, so the first match I ever went to was an unbelievable first game: the FA Cup fifth round tie against Arsenal in February 2003 - the match when Sir Alex Ferguson kicked the boot and hit David Beckham! My best memories come from Doncaster, who are the only club I support now. We had a fantastic League Cup run in 2005 - we beat Manchester City on penalties, then beat Aston Villa 3-0 and lost to Arsenal on penalties in the quarter-finals. That was my first real low as a football fan. I can remember walking back home absolutely gutted.

Who was your childhood hero and did you ever meet them?

James Coppinger is my club hero - he played at every level and really played for the badge. Everyone in Donny loves him and he’s a great bloke too. After I got into One Direction, I was lucky to meet him and played alongside him a couple of times in charity games. As a fan growing up watching him, that was amazing l. The best person I’ve ever met in football was Pele. I met him about four or five years ago and it was incredible - he had all these stories and we spoke for ages. He was lovely.

What has been your finest moment playing football?

I played in Soccer Aid and Ronaldinho tried to nutmeg me. I was all over his shirt, giving him no respect, and I just managed to nick the ball off him! There's a sick picture that I've seen of it.

The other moment was when I was about 15. I started as a centre-back, but didn’t grow any taller so moved across to right-back, and scored the only Sunday League goal I ever scored. I’ll never forget it.

What do you like most about going to the match?

The whole atmosphere, that magic. When you have those experiences as a young lad, there’s an element of nostalgia each time you go into a football stadium.

Which players do you admire even though they’ve never played for your club?

As some of my family supported Manchester United, I was never allowed to like Thierry Henry, but those grudge matches against Arsenal were amazing. He was a serious player.

Where’s the best place you’ve ever watched a game?

The Bernabeu - it was Neymar’s first ever Clasico for Barcelona against Real Madrid, which is pretty special. It’s one of the bucket list fixtures to go to. When I was young, Doncaster signed me as a reserve player and I went to a pre-season training camp in Portugal. As a supporter of the club, that’s not something you’re normally privy to, so watching how the squad trained and prepared was fascinating.

A few years ago, you filmed a music video with Bebe Rexha on the pitch at Keepmoat Stadium. What was that like?

It was really important for me and my career. The reason I’m sat here today is because of Doncaster - it’s played a huge role. It’s who I am as a person and it’s what I write songs about. The fact that we were able to film the video at the Keepmoat, where I’ve spent many days and evenings, made it so special. It felt appropriate.

What’s your favourite football book?

It’s not a book, but FourFourTwo! I used to subscribe when I was younger. I’m not a big reader otherwise. I should be, but I’m not.

What’s been your worst experience at a game?

I was playing in a charity match at Celtic Park. I got the ball and turned to my right, then Gobby Agbonkhor come through the back of me and I tore my medial ligament. A combination of the impact and me being very unfit meant I ended up throwing up all over Celtic's stodium, which I know will please a lot of Rangers supporters.

Have any footballers been to a gig?

Paul Pogba came to a One Direction show once, that's the one that stands out - he was really sound. I won’t lie, I don’t think many footballers listen to One Direction songs.

What’s the strangest place you’ve ever met a footballer?

I was in this bar in South America and, purely by chance, Bryan Robson was there with a few friends. He was a bit drunk. We went straight over and he was nice, but it was one of those times where you think, “What is he doing here?!” [Laughs]

What’s the greatest goal you’ve ever seen live?

I was at Zlatan Ibrahimovic's debut for the LA Galaxy, because I spend some time over in Los Angeles. The LAFC keeper launched the ball upfield and it was cleared back to Zlatan about forty yards out. He watched it bounce and then smashed it over the keeper’s head - an unbelievable goal. I love him - I like a bit of s**thousery in my footballers, and he's always had that.

Who’s your current favourite player?

The obvious answer is Erling Haaland, because any fan seeing him rack up the goals this season has been totally in awe. Even if you support Manchester United, you watch him and think he's superb. But for me, Jude Bellingham. I’m so excited by Jude - he's been in brilliant form this season, even before the World Cup.

If you could drop yourself into your all-time five-a-side team, who would you be playing next to?

Well, I play at the back, so I want me and Rio Ferdinand. I'd pick Edwin van der Sar, he was a top keeper in his day, then in midfield I'd have Ronaldinho - I grew up loving his football. Up front, I'll go for Cristiano Ronaldo.

What’s the most important piece of memorabilia that you have?

I had a Doncaster home shirt as a kid that I associate with growing up. A few years ago, I bought the same shirt in my current size - it's special to me, and when I met Pele I asked him to sign it. That was the pinnacle.

[Thanks to TeamLouisMedia for the HD photo.]

links to fourfourtwouk’s posts about Louis on Twitter and Instagram

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Round 3, Poll 3

One Last Adventure v. Ghost of a Chance v. Guardian of Kings v. From the Pieces of Your Shattered Memories

THE POLL IS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE POST! CLICK "KEEP READING". (This is going to be a long one. 😅)

One Last Adventure: (Post-Canon AU)

Bilbo blinked, trying to get his bearings. Where was Ered Mithrim? And why do dwarves have so many lost kingdoms they are trying to get back into? And how was he the most qualified individual to do so? Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I think we’re going to have to start at the beginning here.” He determined.

The dwarves made a place for Bilbo to sit, offering him bits of their lunch that Bilbo felt would be rude to turn down even if his stomach was rolling. He learned their names: Brombrar, Gulrik, and Gimli. Bilbo blinked in surprise at the last one, staring at the red haired lad until finally he could place him with the image inside Gloin’s locket. It was clear that portrait had been made long ago as Gimli had a very fine beard, thicker than Fili or Kili’s but not quite long enough to hang off his chin. 

“And Gloin knows you’re out here recruiting me for some adventure?”

Gimli’s face turned bright red as he tried to mumble out some excuse. Bilbo felt his face drain of color. Did anyone know that these children were this far from Erebor? Was Bilbo going to be accused of kidnapping?

“Are any of you actually of age?” Bilbo asked, aghast.

“Gulrik and I both are.” The big one, Brombrar puffed up.

“So what are you doing here?” Bilbo accused Gimli.

“I’m the one His Majesty, Thorin Oakenshield approached!” Gimli defended. “Besides, I’m handy with an axe and it’s not like I’m a wee pebble.”

“So let’s get into that.” Bilbo sidestepped thinking about the angry calvary that was sure to come any second. “Tell me about Thorin.”

Gimli settled down enough to begin the story. He had been wandering the corridors of Erebor (where he wasn’t supposed to) when Thorin approached him. Gimli had been ‘struck by stone’ which Bilbo took to mean shocked. He immediately bowed and asked if it was really the fallen King, Thorin Oakenshield.

“And what did he say?” Bilbo pressed.

“He said, ‘Yes, Gimli, son of Gloin, it is I. Mahal has approached me with a great task that I now pass on to you. Inside Ered Mithrim is an object of great importance that needs to be reclaimed.’” Gimli paused at this point shifting in his seat. “And of course, I questioned it, Master Baggins. Whether or not this was really King Thorin, but he told me of a memory that we shared when it was just the two of us and I knew at that point it had to be him!”

Bilbo felt his heart speed up as his breath caught. It sounded so impossible. It was too good to be true. Bilbo had been there after all. He watched him die. How could he be back now? What kind of magic could do something like that? 

Bilbo indicated for Gimli to continue. So he spoke of this object. Some sort of smooth ball of crystal that allowed one to speak to another with the same crystal ball.

Ghost of a Chance: (Haunted Wedding AU)

Bilbo could have kissed Thorin for getting him out of there so effortlessly. It wasn’t until they were out in the hallway that Tauriel spoke up. 

“This is such a disaster! Bilbo, I’m so sorry.”

Bilbo mentally did not have the energy to comfort the girl no matter how bad he wanted to. Thankful, Thorin took care of that for him as well.

“Tauriel, this isn’t your fault. Why don’t you guys all go out and do something. I’m going to take Bilbo up to his suite for a bit just to give him a chance to process. We’ll call you the moment he makes a decision.”

She nodded, tears in her eyes as Kili rubbed her back in comfort. They all wished Bilbo well in some form or fashion until it was just him and Thorin. It was funny. At the beginning of this week that was something Bilbo would have absolutely dreaded, but now he couldn’t stop himself from leaning a little further into the strong arms guiding him. That did remind him that they needed to talk and soon, but perhaps it could wait until after the shaking had subsided.

They made it to the floor of Bilbo’s room and he struggled to pull out his cardkey and insert it into the slot, but the moment the door closed behind him, it was like he could finally breathe again. A shaky sob came out instead.

“Oh, Bilbo. Come here.” Thorin purred, pulling Bilbo in close.

Bilbo didn’t actually cry, but he held on tight to Thorin as he fought through the hiccuping sounds his throat continued to produce. 

“What the fuck is happening?” Bilbo complained.

“I would say a string of bad luck but this seems even beyond that.” Thorin attempted to joke. 

“Thorin, that cabinet could of crushed me. How did it not crush me?” Bilbo asked in bewilderment.

“Your barstool.” Thorin explained. “You must have knocked it over when you jumped up. It wedged itself under the cabinet and kept it from falling all the way.”

Bilbo shook his head as he pulled away from Thorin to lay down on his bed, the heels of his hands pressing down on his eye sockets. 

“Thorin, what am I going to do? Apparently, there are ghosts out to get me.”

He let out a bitter huff at that which turned into a chuckle before escalating into full blown hysterical laughter. Thorin must think he was absolutely insane as he laughed so much his sides began to act and tears streamed lightly down his cheeks. However, Thorin didn’t say a word. He just sat down next to Bilbo, petting his hair back from his head. It was actually a lovely sensation now that he was paying attention to the rhythm of it, and slowly it was enough to calm Bilbo back down.

“How about room service?” Thorin offered when Bilbo was calm enough again.

“Sweet Yavanna, I should kiss you.” Bilbo groaned in appreciation.

Thorin froze which in turn made Bilbo freeze as his words dawned on him.

Guardian of Kings (sequel): (BAMF Bilbo Baggins)

“You can eat him or stuff him full of eggs for the losses you’ve suffered. It matters not to me, but our debt is paid with his blood.”

Bilbo tried to breathe through the roaring in his head. He needed to think. Neither one of those options sounded appealing in the slightest. A shiver rolled down his back. Yep, definitely needed to stop thinking about it. So what could he do to stall the orcs?

“So that’s it. You’re taking your orders from the spiders now.” He attempted to laugh.

“Shut it runt!” The orc pinning him down shouted as he kicked him in the side.

Bilbo winced, curling in on himself as he panted through the pain. His eyes were squeezed shut, but that didn’t stop him from speaking up still.

“I mean, Azog and Bolg are both dead. Who else could you have to look up to?”

“What did you say, you little rat?” The leader orc growled, picking Bilbo up by his hair.

Bilbo cried out, especially as it unfurrowed him around his hurt ribs. He peeked an eye open to see the orc holding Bilbo’s own blade against his chin. Bilbo could see in his eyes though that he was listening at least.

“The spiders aren’t as smart as you. They aren’t as strategic.” Bilbo grit through his teeth. “They can’t think past their stomachs. What right do they have to demand payment? They should be following your orders. Not the other way around.”

“He’s right!” One of the other orcs shouted.

“He’s just trying to get us all riled up.” The lead orc snapped back.

“We’re only in this mess with the spiders because of you!” Another orc growled.

“You’re alive and not at the end of a filthy elf’s arrow because of me!” The leader screamed, dropping Bilbo to the ground. “We escaped Azog’s war with Oakenshield by the skin of our teeth and the blood the spiders gave us. All it would cost us is this runt’s blood and we’re done with them.”

“Blood that could go to us! You think this thin elf would be enough to feed us!”

Bilbo had done what he set out to do. Now he had to get out of the way before this turned any uglier. He started wiggling like a worm until he got himself up on his knees. He started trying to crawl away when he heard the clicks and clatters of the spiders. He looked back over his shoulder to see them paused just in front of the orcs, their mandibles snapping in impatience. There were only about eight but that was more than Bilbo wanted to deal with at the moment. 

Suddenly, there was a jerk on the back of his jacket before he was dragged backwards and thrown back in front of the spiders. Bilbo could feel his face drain of color as his sword was thrown next to him.

“There! That’s the one, right? The one who slayed so many of you and mocked you as he did it!”

From the Pieces of Your Shattered Memories: (Amnesia Modern AU)

“I’m on holiday.” Bilbo explained. “But you owe me the favor after you called to have me change the lightbulbs for you and I promised not to report the incident.”

Odo’s face turned a spectacular shade of purple as he spluttered.

“That-! I-! Fine! What do you want?”

“I just need the keys to your car. I’ll bring it right back.” Bilbo added, hurrying to cut off his cousin’s protest.

“Bring it right-! Now see here, Bilbo Baggins! I am certainly not your taxi service!”

“Which is why I didn’t ask you to chauffeur.” Bilbo smirked. “Come on, Odo. You won’t even have time to miss it. I just need it for a quick trip to the burbs and I’ll bring it right back.”

“What’s in it for me?”

Bilbo frowned. He knew he shouldn’t have expected a mere favor to be returned. His cousin was far too stingy for that. 

“What do you want?”

“Run the Mathom House for me on Saturday.”

“Absolutely not! I’m not spending my whole day up here in this dusty mansion.”

“Fine, just close for me that night. Four hours max. I want to watch the king’s speech live. Our Erebor exhibit is our most popular after all!”

Bilbo would have pointed out it was because of the mystery surrounding the shiny mathoms, but didn’t want to have to get into it with Odo. A few hours weren’t the worst thing. He could bring up his novel considering he would expect just a ton of traffic during that time anyways.

“Fine. You have a deal.”

Odo merely smirked before backtracking on his perfectly functioning ankle to retrieve the keys. 

***

Roughly thirty minutes later, Bilbo was pulling up in front of a modest brick home with brightly colored flowers in the planter boxes in front of the porch. Oakenshield got out of the car first, taking in the house before looking down at his blood stained jacket with a grimace. Bilbo winced wishing he had thought of that earlier. He quickly shrugged his way out of the paramedic jacket he was still wearing.

“Here.” He offered.

Oakenshield looked at the jacket, but still refrained from taking it.

“You’re practically two sizes smaller than me.” He pointed out.

“A size at the most! And it’s not really my jacket. Just take it! It will at least cover up the more…concerning aspects.”

Oakenshield grumbled but agreed as he gingerly took over his old jacket to put the new one on. It was the arm length that really accented how ill fitting the jacket was. So he rolled the sleeves up his forearm in the hopes to disguise it. Bilbo nodded at the look admiring it a bit too much as he headed up the porch to ring Prim’s bell. 

His nerves started to act up as they waited for her footsteps to head their way. His cousin could sniff a story out faster than she could serve tea. Bilbo just knew showing up out of the blue, carting Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome, she was going to give him that look. 

[gerbiloftriumph]

Floating Castle Liveblog (third read)

In 2020, I read the first king's quest adaptation novel. Again. Because 2020 was awful.

August 22, 2020 –

page 0

I'm not going to read this aga--oh wait no who am I kidding I'm trapped at work for another four hours and it's *not* a good day and I just want my tea drinking wizard tree and frog prince and mcguffin king and headless ghosts and the soft delights of smarmy sassy villains. (also the kq series is the only series i have easy access to rn so shhh)

page 3

"Castles do not fly." The title of the book says otherwise, sir.

page 10

Gotta admit, Telgrin's perpetual single thundercloud over his castle still gives me ridiculous amounts of joy. I'm sitting here grinning honestly for the first time all day. I love my melodramatic sassmaster.

page 14

I comment on it every single time I read this (yes this IS the third time I've read this in three years, leave me alone), but I seriously love watching Graham being an actual king. I love adventures, and I love royals, and I love adventuring royals, but I also really like the sturdy basis of kindness and clarity Graham just has as a leader. It's really pleasant.

page 20

IT HIM. Heeeeeeere's Telgrin! Do you think Telgrin spent hours shuffling around trying to perfect that gliding walk? Stars, I hope he did. I mean in any other villain it would just be natural but with my emo goth drama king who tries too hard, everything is carefully plotted for maximum visual aesthetic.

page 22

Totally seriously, though, the contrast between Graham's tightly contained fury and balance of how he's been treating the assembly and Telgin's wide swept theatrics and overblown personality is SO good. This sort of subtle contrast really does raise this book from generic game adaptation to surprisingly pleasant fantasy. It's still genre light, but it has confidence and solid bone work.

page 23

"The news reached me that you were gathering all your knights here today, Graham, so it seemed a convenient time." Because Telgrin won't do anything without an audience to oooh and ahhh over his antics.

page 30

"Everything seemed muted, vague, unreal." Oh, did you mean my life right now? No? Close enough.

page 33

"and a small pear." Yes, a crucial thing to make sure you pack on your voyage. Good call.

page 38

TREE WIZARD oh stars my whole heart is happyyyyy. What a mood improvement.

page 40

"So, that castle belongs to this guy named Telgrin." "Oh yeah, Telgrin. He's evil. Don't mess with him." "You know him?" "I know his reputation." Stars, Telgrin would be SO PLEASED to know his reputation precedes him now. I hope he started some of those rumors himself.

page 40

I still can't handle the density of this conversation. "Telgrin is a stealer of souls." "A stealer of souls? What's that?" Alexander. Alexander, pleaaaase think about what you just said. Please. I love you, but seriously.

page 45

Even when you are a tree wizard, that is, a wizard slowly and literally turning into a tree, it's still important that you get your morning cup of tea. Morowyn knows it. So should you.

page 47

In other words, Alexander, you're just a glorified babysitter. You could have asked Big Knight Brian Blessed to be your partner in crime on this heist and gotten a better result. (i'm kidding of course I love Cyril to absolute pieces, look at this farmboy wizard lad he's so squishy and blond and round and I love him.)

page 54

heist heist heist heIST let's plan a HEIST.

page 58

The moat monsters also have a taste for the finer things in life. Like feather-capped adventurers. Castle Daventry is literally the most perfect fantasy castle there is. It even has a hoard of moat monsters. Like, you can't get more Fantasy Castle than this place. Telgrin only wishes his castle was that cool. He just has to make do with personal thunderclouds.

page 63

A small thing, but I super love Mills's emphasis on color. From the rain slanting golden in the yellow torchlight, to the hills here slowly changing from an angry maroon to a deep indigo with a band of yellow slowly disappearing as the sun sets...it's heavily visual, like he's literally painting a screen from the games, and I find it rather peaceful, somehow.

page 64

Literally just the ringwraith scene from Fellowship of the Ring, but with King's Quest protagonists instead of Frodo and friends. The audacity of this book. I love it.

page 69

Mills was absolutely just rereading Fellowship of the Ring when he was asked to write this book. It's not even subtle at this point. .........and I super love every single reference with all my silly fantasy heart.

page 89

I can't think of a single other fantasy in which the protagonist lassos a kelpie and attempts to ride it. I can't imagine why not. It's a flawless plan.

page 96

I feel like that's just magic homemade whiskey. Getting the prince drunk might not be in everyone's best interest.

page 97

Alexander, you gotta stop calling people "ho." You're gonna offend someone. (I'm kidding, of course. "Ho there" is as traditionally delightful as "Who goes there," and highly welcome to behold.)

page 99

platform boots

page 100

I'm sorry, I know I commented on this when I read this last year, but...again. Telgrin has One Single Lone Stupid Thundercloud, which "hovered over a high central tower. From time to time, this cloud would light with an internal fire, and a low, menacing rumble would break across the land." It's like the Winnie the Pooh raincloud, with ambient sound effects. The audacious aesthetic of this guy is a DELIGHT to behold.

page 107

Aaah yes the Road to El Dorado sequence. Truly, this book is nothing but the best hits of adventure tropes crammed into a book 300 pages long.

page 108

Does this mean that Telgrin has also been to Narnia? Oh dear.

page 112

Again. "The cloud." Not many clouds. Just the one. A single, lone, silly, thundercloud.

August 24, 2020 –

page 114

Wait, what came first, this book or the Muppet Christmas Carol movie? Because all I can picture is Scrooge's Statler-shaped Muppet door knocker, but with extra teeth, shrieking.

page 117

Is Alexander is the only person in the series to ever have a proper sword fight? I mean, not counting....uhhhh is it Owen in KQ8? (Super didn't play KQ8, everyone said it wasn't worth the effort.)

page 123

Like, I gotta say: binding souls to armor, cool. Great scheme, very evil. Making it so that just knocking the helmet off releases the soul into the night forever? ...nooooot the most ideal.

page 126

You know in Princess Bride, when Westley tries to wrestle Fezzik, and just kinda runs at him and squeezes him and absolutely nothing happens? Alexander, right here, vs the black knight.

page 131

A barikar is not a real fantasy monster--the only google result that comes up is that, yes, Telgrin owns one. But it's a huge rabbit with a rat nose, dog fangs, fish scales instead of fur, and human like hands with claws. It sees about as well as a human, but it can hear well, thanks to the rabbit ears. It's absolutely ridiculous. I love it. I wonder if I can convince my dm to make it a fight in our campaign.

page 133

My sweet babiiiiies. Alexander making Cyril stand behind him to protect him and Cyril absolutely refusing and taking the front anyway. I love these kids. I say, fully recognizing that they're semi-close to my age and know how to handle swords and magic.

page 133

Oh, no, excuse me, the Bariker doesn't have rabbit ears--it has bat ears. Which just kind of further emphasizes how much I want this thing in a campaign. It's so ridiculous.

page 139

Where was he? Yes. Who was this beside him? Yes. How long had he been asleep? No way of knowing. Alexander, those are not answers to questions, except maybe the last one. You've answered nothing. Alexander, please.

page 141

headless ghost headless ghost headless ghoooost i can't stop smiling he's holding it like a football it's amazing

August 25, 2020 –

page 142

Lydia's mom caught Anime Mom Protagonist Disease. It's a tragic illness. No hope of recovery.

page 142

"Owen took a brief pause, while Alexander reflected on the fact that he was getting used to carrying on a conversation with a beheaded man. It was starting to seem almost normal. Almost." How is this a real book. I love this book.

page 143

tragic telgrin backsto--oh wait it's not tragic at all he's just always been a brat.

page 144

"Somehow a beheaded man on his feet was infinitely more alarming than a beheaded man quietly seated." o rly?

page 145

Look, it is a *little* creepy that he would install magic mirrors of spying in his daughter's bedroom without her knowledge, but considering Owen admitted to teaching Telgrin everything he knows, including presumably soul torturing magic, we can kind of assume Owen isn't actually that good a guy after all.

page 149

Glowing moss in fantasy must be the most useful plant ever cultivated.

page 155

Obviously, there's nothing wrong with describing Alexander's haunches, but it's also just a little weird. It's not...a word I hear often, especially in reference to humans.

page 156

I like a good wizard who knows that a cup of tea soothes most ills. A man after my own heart.

page 156

"After allowing himself to wallow in depression for a short while, he pushed his mood aside with a firm effort, squared, his shoulders, and said, 'Well, the sooner we get going, the sooner you'll get your bath and your tea.'" Ah, yes, of course, just push aside your wallowing. Why didn't I realize it was that easy?

page 158

"A few wary, rather mincing steps, brought him to the vestibule." Alexander, your author is making fun of you. Just a bit.

page 161

The book is very, very clear that it's just Graham's face floating in the soul-capture orb. The book is very, very wrong. It's a tiny Graham floating around in there. Like, full body, but like two inches high. This is fact, and better than a disembodied Wizard of Oz-style face. I'm just letting you all know that the book is misprinted. Every copy. It's a full body'd Graham. Just smol.

page 162

YEAH BOI PUNCH AN UNDEAD KNIGHT...oh no, your arm, why did you just literally punch a suit of armor, you donut, you know better than that

August 26, 2020 –

page 167

To be fair, the door is now open. As is the floor, and the wall, and...well, the room, to the sky. Definitely very open.

August 27, 2020 –

page 169

It's turned into Dragon's Lair instead of King's Quest, for this scene. Super into it. Wouldn't want to play it as a video game, though--the amounts of game overs....

August 31, 2020 –

page 169

"But this insignificant event raised within him an unexpected fury. He cursed the poor root to withering, black perdition, cursed it deeply and sincerely, cursed it with all his soul." Gods, Alexander, I get it. Man, do I ever get it. I'm so tired.

page 177

"This was it, the nadir. It could not get any worse than this." You sure about that, kid? I think we've got one more scrape at the bottom of the barrel we can squeeze into."

page 181

Alexander is thiiiiiiiis close to snapping. Kid, I understand you. Critically and crucially, I understand.

page 183

FROG PRINCE. I told you there was one more level we could reach. The royal family gets transformed into animals rather frequently. At least this time he's not a snail, poor kid.

page 183

"With a sense of profound shock, he realized that he had been transformed into a frog--a rather large and handsome frog, it's true, but still a frog." You can't make this stuff up. This book is perfect. The ideal. The author is calling Alexander a handsome frog. He's a frog, but a good looking one. I can't handle this.

page 185

"Did you speak, Sir Frog?" "That's Prince Frog, to you." Alexander, be nice. Don't pull rank. I don't think you have rank to pull anymore. Smelly swamp rank, at best.

page 186

I like to think that was just Alexander swearing, but it was masked as a ribbit.

page 187

To be fully fair, Alex, you do kind of need him to reattach Graham's soul, so maybe it's for the best that he doesn't go far.

page 189

If I were a soul-armor, and this frog decided to enter the castle, to be honest, I think I would probably just let it. Because it's a frog.

page 194

There's fanart of this scene too because it's hilarious. She kisses a frog, he becomes a man hanging half over the rim of a fountain, and all she can say is "Goodness! But...you're beautiful." Ridiculous.

page 194

HA and then she tries to recover saying, "I haven't seen that many men in my life. Hardly any, actually. I'm sure that you're really very ordinary." Kid. Please, stop insulting him, you're going to make him sad(der than he already is)

page 198

It's at this point that Alexander just sort of gives in to the sass and the snark and starts leaning into the nonsense. "Creature?" "She's not entirely human." "Uh, in what way is she not human?" "To begin with, she has two heads, no hair, only three fingers on each hand, and is fully seven feet tall." "You're right. That doesn't sound entirely human." Pleeaaaaase this book is a deliiight.

page 200

That twilight area between wakefulness and sleep, with thoughts centered on nothing at all? my brain, today. fully. I've got nothing left to offer anyone, except not-very-funny remarks on this book.

page 202

Nothing Telgrin does is ever common. Overblown and ludicrous, maybe, but never ever common.

September 1, 2020 –

page 209

When the two headed guard calls to the intruding man like a person tempting a kitty cat. "Come here, man, pspspsps. Man, man, maaaan." Instead of catnip, she can bring tacos.

page 211

Again, I just gotta let you all know that the books have been misprinted. It's not a disembodied head floating in the orb, even if it's probably supposed to be an Owen's decapitated head parallel, because that's dumb. It's a tiny two-inch tall Graham floating in the orb, not just his face. I don't know how all the copies got misprinted like that, but they did. It's really a tiny Graham. Cute. Okay? Okay. Onward.

page 212

I love One Stubborn King.

page 216

I can't actually make snide jokes about the text when I'm actually just outright enjoying it. The sheer blissy silly triumph of Telgrin, the stubbornness and sharp agony of my dear sweet Graham, Alexander standing there ruminating on what loyalty means--this is exactly my flavor of fantasy jam.

September 17, 2020 –

page 225

I still kind of sort of love that Telgrin apparently decided that the best way to use the magic staff was to make it respond to wishes. "I wish for a giant fireball." And thus, one appears. It just...speaks to some strange childishness that I find totally hilarious in this big bad villain.

page 230

Again, the book is misprinted. I'm not about these weird Wizard of Oz style floating faces. They're weird. It's a fully bodied apparition of Telgrin yelling at Alexander, hands on hips, just as it's a tiny full bodied shape of Graham in the orb. My version is better.

page 231

"I could kill you now, if I wanted." "I don't think so," Alexander said defiantly. "Is *everyone* in Daventry this obstinate?" Sir. My dude. My man. Palberto. You messed with the wrong royal family, and they come from knight stock, not actually blue blood at all. They're going to *wreck* you.

page 232

"I'll live, I think." Alexander, your ability to comfort others leaves a little bit to be desired.

page 234

I'm not actually kidding. If Mills hadn't read Fellowship of the Ring at least a week or two before writing this, I will eat my whole entire adventuring cap. That's the Watcher in the Water, as there was literally lembas bread earlier and a ringwraith before that. Fantasy tropes or not, this is just sneaking Tolkien references in because Mills is a fanboy (I mean, obviously: he's writing company-approved fanfic).

page 237

Again, Alexander, realize this: Telgrin learned everything he knows from Owen. One might assume, especially knowing how dark those mirrors felt, that Owen himself is *not actually a very good guy.*

page 241

It's kind of like cheerfully presenting Sweeney Todd with his shaving tools. "At last, I am complete again!" Not.....super great, I feel.

page 242

I love that it's not actually magic keeping the castle moored, but a big ol' safety pin. That's not even actually much of an exaggeration. "At the bottom of that well you will find a large golden pin embedded in the paving stone. You are to remove this pin. It may not be easy, but you must do it. It will set the castle free from the moorings of the earth."

page 248

The fact that Telgrin now has to wear an eyepatch is great enough. The fact that he took the time to make sure it perched on "his bald head at a jaunty angle" is almost too much to bear. I hope he stood in front of his cracked and smoking mirror adjusting it just so before coming down for this final confrontation.

page 248

"I'll probably never see out of this eye again, I hope you're happy with yourself." "I mean...you *were* trying to kill me." "Irrelevant." Boys, please, there are serious issues at hand.

page 250

"All I've ever asked in return is that you marry me, and that you not burden me with your opinions." Telgrin, the ultimate flirt. Magnificent.

page 251

Telgrin's snarky sassy meltdown is the greatest. "She's now willing to marry me, merely to save your worthless life! Willingly! Well, I won't have it, I tell you. She shall marry me unwillingly, or not at all!" Telgrin, you are absolutely bonkers and you're my favorite villain in any piece of media ever, full stop. The sheer ridiculousness of *you* with your wish-magic and bloviating and grandiose posturing....divine.

page 253

Telgrin's pasty complexion is enough to "make a marble statue appear dark by comparison." If this were a modern AU, Telgrin would be that emo kid hunched over twitter mansplaining at everyone, while listening to the rainy mood app constantly. He's an absolute delight from start to finish, especially because he *is* a threat and he *could* win if he wasn't so obsessed with the *aesthetic* and the need to show off.

page 255

Ahh one of my favorite lines in the whole book: "It's blame-everything-on-Telgrin time, is it?" What villain talks like this?? Who does this?!! No one but Telgrin, author Craig Mills, and this goofy novelisation of the very sassy, very cliche, very delightful, King's Quest series. Fantasy tropes, sass, snark, and everything. This book is nothing but pure sugared joy for me.

page 266

No more than two feet of earth held the entire castle in place, and now they're floating away again like the house in Up. Delightful.

page 270

Telgrin, you can't behead someone who has already been beheaded. Be sensible.

page 273

"Can you think of any way for us to get down from [this steadily rising floating castle]?" "I could attempt to fly you down!" All in all, Alexander thought he would rather just jump. Boys, please.

page 288

A Valanice story, I think, would have been very welcome. I'm glad for the trilogy we got, but I really would have enjoyed an official novel from her perspective. This lonely image of her standing alone before the throne, with her husband dying in the next room and her son gone for at least a week to face an unknown villain alone, while her kingdom is ravaged by evil knights....it feels worth exploring.

page 291

I absolutely one thousand million percent love this strobing effect of two Grahams floating together, his transparent and delicate soul settling down into his body again. It's delightful.

page 292

Pleaaase Graham, say "A heart is a heavy burden." I know this book came out like a decade before the Howl's Moving Castle (the movie at least, I don't know the book's publication date), but pleaaaase. I know you won't, but I want you to.

page 293

SHRIEKING. I don't ever ship things, but this is my otp for liiiiiife look at these two precious beans together I'm just THRILLED the smile on my face is enormous ahhhh Valanice and Graham have hardly anything going for them in the original games since they hardly ever interact on screen but this book and this scene is just DELIGHTFUL.

September 17, 2020 – Finished Reading

Again, five stars out of five stars