#where a key element is the lasting love between two older men and their love for each other is the one thing holding the place together

[asidewalksymphony]

Sorry for the random old man yaoi reblog explosion. I just finished Whispers in the Walls, and the conclusion being "The deep love between these two men is enough to hold back an eldritch entity in both space and time" fucking got to me.

[howsitduud]

Hi there. Hello.

So, I love Death Battle. A lot. It's by far one of my favorite webshows, and like a lot of fans, there are plenty of matchups that I would give my left nut to see them tackle. So, I am officially using this blog that I'm sure nobody cares about to make my official

TOP 16 MOST WANTED MATCHUPS

as of 2023 at least. These are going to be ordered from least wanted (but still great) to most wanted, and I'll give my overall thoughts on what I'd want and why I'd think it'll be cool to see, as well as the connections and a potential track name. All thumbnails were made by me, let's go.

#16: Locus vs Din Djarin (Red v Blue vs Star Wars)

Connections: Two ruthless bounty hunters who rarely show their faces who were originally not interested in forming relationships with anyone, just acting as killers. That was, until they met someone who needed help protecting and had a change of heart, turning over a new leaf.

Potential Track Name: Beskars of the Past

I know what you're thinking: "Isn't this just Boba Fett vs Predator 2: Electric Boogaloo?" While yes, these two are similar to Boba and John Yautja, there's plenty in this matchup to give this a different feeling than that episode had. You can have actual banter between these two that doesn't rely on forced movie quotes, higher stakes if the animation is set up like Locus is hunting Grogu, and there's more interesting weapons that can be used, like Locus' shield and Din's rifle. For this matchup, I'd say give Din the Darksaber, only because a final battle between that and the Great Key would be really cool, having Din use a stronger weapon than the key, but one he's not at all skilled with. There's more than enough here to make this a solid spiritual successor to Boba's three episodes without bringing him back.

#15: Old Man Logan vs The Last Ronin (Marvel vs TMNT)

Connections: Older, more jaded versions of classic comic book heroes, jaded by experiencing the loss of most people in their lives and being forced to keep on living due to specific mutations in their bodies.

Potential Track Name: You've Changed, Man

This is among the most highly requested TMNT matchups, and for good reason. There's just enough different with this matchup that makes it a really solid and debatable version of Wolverine vs Raphael. You can do so much with the storytelling here, too. I'd personally like if the two knew of each other as the Wolverine and Michelangelo, so that both of them can have that moment where they're shell-shocked (haha) by who it is they're really fighting. There can be a moment where Logan's claws don't come out fully and he needs to force them up with his hands, to Mikey's confusion, or there can be a moment where Mikey acts way more brutal than his cartoon counterpart, to Logan's confusion. It'll be a nice way to differentiate between the two and add some storytelling and emotional elements to this script.

#14: Ghost Rider vs Spawn (Marvel vs ...)

Connections: Edgy comic book anti-heroes who were orginally ordinary men who made a deal with the Devil (or devil-adjacent) to become hellspawns at the cost of their servitude, using chains and guns to deliver their version of justice. Eventually they unseated the Devil and became the ruler of Hell. Also, it's an angel vs demon fight.

Potential Track Name: Chained to Hell

I don't even know what to say about this. It's the most basic bitch answer to anyone's favorite Marvel matchup. Both Rider and Spawn deserve a runback due to how much content that wasn't used in their episodes and how long ago they were, and both have plenty of weapons and abilities they can use to make this fight interesting. Out of all the matchups on this list, this actually has a chance of happening this season, given how people said that they pentagram in the cipher was teasing this. I hope they're correct, but I wouldn't be mad either way.

#13: Jimmy Hopkins vs Karma Akabane (Bully vs Assassination Classroom)

Connections: Two delinquent children with a long history of violence who came into a new classroom ready to cause trouble, only for them to learn the error of their ways and be on the paths for forging something else out of their lives, changing up their school's entire social hierarchy.

Potential Track Name: Juvenile Justice

I fucking love both Bully and Assassination Classroom. While other matchups like Jimmy vs Yandere-Chan or Koro-Sensei vs Monokuma work, I don't know, there's just something about this matchup that hits for me. I really like the idea of these two talking trash to each other the entire animation, both of them pulling out their non-lethal weapons like stink bombs and BB guns, and running around the Bullworth campus avoiding getting caught by prefects and teachers. I also really like the dynamic of Jimmy being more physical and using his guns while Karma is way more strategic, using his advanced training to get ahead. I don't know why, but I really like this matchup. It would be so fun to see play out.

#12: Elliot Dunkel vs Guy Hamdom (El Goonish Shive vs She-Zow)

Connections: Two teenage boys who can transform into female superheroes, originally dreading this until learning that they had a mission to protect their small towns.

Potential Track Name: She's a Superhero!

Despite the gimmicky nature of this matchup at first glance, there's a lot more to it. You can have the fight start out with both of them in their base form, where Elliot has the advantage due to his Anime-Style Martial Arts training, until Guy turns into She-Zow and forces Elliot to transform as well. I'd love if we get a brief fight with Elliot as his cat form before he turns into Cheerleadra, but I'd understand if that's too much. Speaking of too much, She-Zow has a lot of weapons and abilities at their disposal. To name a few, there's a Boomerang Brush, Lipstick Laser, Shrink Ray, Vanishing Cream, she can wink so hard she creates gusts of wind, she can make her fist grow bigger, and she can even do a Sailor Moon-esque sonic shriek. I'd love to see She-Zow bust out all of these weapons, only for Cheerleadra to just brute-force her way through all of them. Despite Elliot's obscurity and She-Zow's problematic writing, I still think this matchup is worth doing. Just don't watch the show She-Zow's based on, it's not very good. I just wanted a good matchup for my boy Elliot.

#11: Ridley vs Vile (Metroid vs Mega Man)

Connections: Villains from classic NES/SNES series with purple motifs and cybernetic enhancements that have a personal vendetta against the protagonist of their series, who they fought and almost killed on multiple occasions if not for an outside force messing with them.

Potential Track Name: Ride for Revenge

I know there's a lot of debate over who Ridley should fight, with some people saying Rayquaza and others saying Vilgax, but I personally think Vile is the best option for him. Both have great potential for banter and some cool exchanges, like a beam struggle or Vile busting out all the Ride armors to compete with Ridley physically. The big question is if Ridley would have his cybernetics or not. I'd vote yes, but only so that you can have Ridley start the fight with his full enhancements to lose them as the fight progresses, mimicking how he progresses in canon and to simulate battle damage on him. Plus, I'd love for the fight to start out like Vile is investigating a planet when Ridley starts picking off his crew one by one, similar to how he does in his Smash Bros. trailer. Metroid and Mega Man are franchises I've gained more and more appreciation for, and this matchup would be so cool to see.

#10: Yor Forger vs Beatrix Kiddo (SpyxFamily vs Kill Bill)

Connections: Two fake brides who are secretly assassins that specialize in blades.

Potential Track Name: Newlydead

I again don't have much to say about this other than "it's fucking cool." Yes, it's a complete stomp in Yor's favor, yes Beatrix only has 2 movies to work with, and yes, this is a street-tier fight between who people with not a lot of weapons to work with, but I don't care. This is the female version of Bond vs Wick, what's not to like? Yor is one of my favorite anime characters, and Kill Bill is a movie I love to death, so seeing them both be covered would be awesome. Plus, there's plenty of potential for cool moments, like both of them pushing through lethal wounds to keep fighting. In particular, I would like Beatrix to land the heart-exploding technique on Yor, but have her keep going to show how resilient she can be. Really, this can just be a cool ass sword fight and nothing else and I'd be happy.

#9: William Afton vs Junko Enoshima (Five Nights at Freddy's vs Danganronpa)

Connections: Main antagonists of their series who were behind most of the events that happened, using robot bears to kill children.

Potential Track Name: Remnants of Despair

I know, I know, lot of negative feelings towards this matchup. While I get the criticisms, I think there's plenty here to make for a great episode. Junko can take control of the Monokumas and have those protect her, as well as having plenty of weapons on her own and Alter Ego Junko. William, meanwhile, has the springlock crank, a fucking gun, a time-travelling ball pit, hallucinatory disks, and an ai alter ego of his own (I know it's technically an ai reconstruction of him, but shush). Plus, you can have major moments in this animation where they both use their intellect to get one-ups over each other. I would love there to be a scene where William has Junko dead to rights, there is no escape for her, only for her to start laughing uncontrollably and say that she loves the despair she's feeling. The only problem I forsee is how they'll tackle the FNAF story, but that's easy to work around. I kinda get why this matchup is taken with such vitriol, but I still love it and would love to see it happen someday.

#8: Kimiko Miyashiro vs Nezuko Kamado (The Boys vs Demon Slayer)

Connections: Ordinary girls who live in worlds where dangerous super-powered individuals run free that eventually became one of those individuals after their families where murdered. Due to their powers, they became extremely protective of their brothers and joined a team of people who stop the super-powered individuals, eventually falling in love with one of the members.

Potential Track Name: Josei no Seizon-Sha

This would honestly be just a better version of Mileena vs X-23. This would have to be a high-paced fight between two girls who brutally tear each other apart, only to quickly heal from these wounds and get right back into the fight 2 seconds later. There's so much potential for cool moments that you can focus on because these two don't say much. One scene I'd love to see is if Kimiko ripped a tree off its roots and pinned Nezuko's arm with it, only for Nezuko to rip her arm off to take a swing at her, regrowing the arm like it's nothing. This fight sounds way too cool to pass up and I wouldn't miss it for the world.

#7: Aragorn vs Jon Snow (Middle Earth vs Game of Thrones)

Connections: Literary rivalry between two human warrior kings in fantasy worlds.

Potential Track Name: A Song of Snow and Flames

I mean, duh, right? This has been a debate ever since both these series hit the mainstream, and not just in vs debating circles. You'd be shocked to know that I haven't watched Game of Thrones or read the original books, but I am a huge fan of the Middle Earth books and the LOTR movies, and Jon Snow is a character who interests me a lot. With the release of Sauron vs Lich King and Undead vs Dragonborn now making fantasy matchups actually cool and hip with the kids, I forsee that this will at least be in consideration for future season of the show. It's not particularly close, but it's still rad as hell.

#6: Raven vs Sailor Saturn (DC vs Sailor Moon)

Connections: Magical girls on teams of peacekeepers who are seen as misfits due to their past trauma with their abusive parents, but with the power of their friends, learned to overcome it and make their own destinies.

Potential Track Name: Titans of Silence

Raven was a character who meant a lot to me growing up, with me seeing a lot of myself in her, and the same can be said about Tomoe when I first watched Sailor Moon later on in life. Both perfectly straddle the line between cool as fuck and being genuine sympathetic characters; easily some of my favorites in their respective shows. So, imagine my joy when I realized that this matchup had plenty of great animation potential. Both have so many neat abilities they can use, it'll be cool to see them bounce off each other. Raven is a returning character, but her episode against Twilight mainly focused on emotion-manipulating magic. Here, you can focus on the more destructive side of Raven, perfectly in line with Tomoe being the guardian of silence and destruction. One scene that could perfectly exemplify this is a moment where Tomoe strikes her glaive on the ground, destroying the planet the fight is taking place on, forcing them both to fight on the bits of the exploding planet. This has a lot of potential, and I'm not alone in seeing it.

#5: Pennywise vs Freddy Kreuger (It vs Nightmare on Elm Street)

Connections: Two demonic horror icons who create nightmares and feast on people's fears.

Potential Track Name: New Nightmares

I feel like out of every single matchup on this list, this has probably the most animation potential, since both of them can do pretty much anything they put their minds to. Despite the nature of their powers, they're not bound by a single person or by being specifically in dream realms, this animation can just be a fun, chaotic, terrifying fight between two reality warping demons. What I love about this matchup is that they both have so many ways to banter with each other and insult one another. Obviously verbal insults are on the table, but both can shapeshift into characters and people from each other's past. Pennywise can taunt Freddy as anybody from Elm Street, the people who killed him, or even Jason Vorhees as a cool reference, and Freddy can turn into any of the Loser's Club. I'd love if they turned into Wes Craven and Stephen King and pretended to be their creators renouncing their creations. This matchup is only bound by the crew's imaginations (and budgetary restraints), and I would love to see what they could come up with. Just don't turn this into Jason vs Michael 2 and have it be about Jane Shlane.

#4: Henry vs The Second Coming vs Red vs Fancy Pants Man (Henry Stickmin vs Animator v Animation vs Dick Figures vs Fancy Pants Adventures)

Connections: Four stick figure characters who were pioneers of their specific genre in the world of internet animation and Flash games.

Potential Track Name: Stick it to 'Em

Yes, I'm using the name that Brandon Yates used is his track for this matchup, bite me. As for the reason I want this matchup to happen it's simple: I think it'd be really cool. I loved stick figure animations and games growing up. I spent probably all of middle school thinking about the cool animator vs animation episode that I watched or the funny things that happened in Dick Figures and Henry Stickmin, and I only just now got around to playing the Fancy Pants Adventure games, but they're still really good! I love all of these characters, so why not have them kill each other? And yes, The Second Coming is the AvA rep because he has more to work with than anyone else. Speaking of, the animation potential for this matchup is through the roof. Henry and Red have so many weapons to pull from, and TSC and Fancy Pants Man can interact with the environment in so many cool and creative ways that they're bound to be tons of cool shit that happens. In terms of who wins; Fancy Pants is obviously the Volnutt here, Red isn't doing particularly much, but I've heard plenty of good arguments for either Henry or TSC. I'm personally leaning towards TSC, only because I want a death that involves a choice screen popping up like in the Henry Stickmin games, only for TSC to completely ignore that and stopping Henry from making the choice in the first place. This matchup has only gotten better with time, and I would love nothing more than this to be Death Battle's tribute to Flash animation.

#3: Shuma-Gorath vs Starro the Conqueror (Marvel vs DC)

Connections: One-eyed alien conquerors based on starfish that can control people’s minds.

Potential Track Name: Seeing Stars

Look, I know Marvel vs DC matchups have gotten really stale ever since a certain season dropped during the pandemic, but a lot of those matchups can still be really creative. We got a glimpse of that with Ant-Man vs Atom and Wanda vs Zatanna, but Scarecrow vs Mysterio lends itself well to horror and trippy visuals, and matchups like Swamp-Thing vs Man-Thing and Dormammu vs Trigon can have the hosts explore the Marvel and DC cosmologies without seeming like huge undertakings. But for me, my personal favorite Marvel vs DC matchup is Starro vs Shuma. Both these 2 are some of my favorite villains in all of comic books, and I would love to see how high-scale Death Battle can make this matchup be. The tricky part here is getting their personalities down, since they both can oscillate between "goofy ridiculous golden age weirdos" and "lovecraftian horrors beyond comprehension." The way I'd handle it would be to have the fight start out as a campy kaiju fight between giant starfish that gradually escalates beyond the plane of reality, taking the fight to the Nightmare Realm and beyond, with both of them becoming more etherial and horrifying as the fight progresses. I don't have much to say besides that. This is by far my favorite Marvel vs DC fight and one that I wouldn't complain about being the sort of farewell to that trope on Death Battle.

#2: Nimona vs Grace Scuiridae (... vs El Goonish Shive)

Connections: Two shapeshifters who were demonized for their unnatural abilities. Both would be the target of capture for a major antagonist, meeting up with a mad scientist that they would soon grow attached to. Both can mold their bodies into whatever form they wish and both desired to go down opposite paths; Nimona wanted to become a villain and Grace wanted to become a hero. Eventually, both Nimona and Grace would end up confronting the people who tortured them all that time ago and face off against them, showing off a powerful rage-induced form that they would get lost in until one of their friends helped them calm down.

Potential Track Name: Shady Shapeshifters

I think I'm the only person on the planet to ever conceive of this matchup, but fuck it. Nimona and El Goonish Shive are two of my favorite webcomics of all time, with the movie adaptation of Nimona being my second most anticipated film of this year (second to Spider-Verse, but still). So, once I saw the similarities between these two, I fell in love with this matchup. As much as I would love to see how Death Battle tackles the stories of Nimona and EGS, it's the animation and writing that excites me the most. The start honestly writes itself; Nimona starts some shit in Moperville, Grace goes to stop her. Easy peasy. But it's the rest of the fight choreography and writing that I think could make this something special. Nimona and Grace have such different ways of shapeshifting, so it'll be cool to see Nimona's rapid beastial shapeshifting contrast with Grace adapting her own body to counter what Nimona's doing. You can have Nimona breath fire at Grace and be confused as to why she seems completely fine (since Grace's fur is fireproof), you can have a moment where they both transform into squirrels and awkwardly scratch at each other in the trees, you can even have an exchange where they're talking about their geneology and Nimona says "I'm a shark!" and Grace replies "Well, did I mention I'm part space alien?" Speaking of the writing, you can have a sort of narrative follow the fight, where Grace tries her best to pacify Nimona, who keeps getting frustrated that Grace isn't really taking the fight seriously. Then when Grace accidentally triggers Nimona's trauma from their past and/or calls them a monster, Nimona goes berserk and starts destroying Moperville (either the comic dragon or the film beast works for me, but I prefer the dragon). Then Grace looks at all the destruction they're causing to her home and starts getting mad too, transforming into her berserker form like she did against Damien. I imagine that the kill would be an accidental one where the winner starts getting emotional while the loser comforts them as they're dying. Even though there's one matchup I love more than this, given how obscure these two are in the realm of versus, this would get a much bigger reaction out of me. Speaking of a matchup I love more...

#1: Percy Jackson vs Zagreus (... vs Hades)

Connections: Two sons of one of the "Big Three" gods , who have massive daddy issues due in part to them being lied to about their parents. They eventually embark on a quest where they need to go in and out of Tartarus to see their biological mothers. Both have been trained by famous Ancient Greek heroes, both have had weapons and abilities passed onto them from the Olympian Gods, and both have connections to Achilles.

Potential Track Name: Thicker Than Water

I know what you're thinking: "What about Percy vs Harry Potter? Or Pit vs Zag?" While I think Pit is a fine opponent for Zagreus, I am not a big fan of Harry vs Percy for a lot of reasons. I won't get into them now, but I'm kind of over Harry Potter as a franchise at the moment. Hades, on the other hand is my favorite game of all time and Percy is my favorite fictional character of all time, so imagine how shocked I was that nobody else was really suggesting this matchup even though it would be really fucking cool to see. Now, there's not really much in terms of connections (more than Korra and Storm had tho :P) but where this matchup shines is the animation potential. Both Percy and Zag have so many weapons and abilities to bounce off each other, it might shock people to learn that Percy isn't just water bender man. He can shake the earth, create storms, and he has a javelin that can fire nets. I would love to see Zagreus use Hestia's boons to create wind vortexes and have Percy create a small storm to counter it, or have Percy use the water created in Poseidon's calling to whip Zagreus around. Obviously the fight would take place in Tartarus or Zagreus can't stand a chance, but I would love if the end took place near the surface world like the final boss does in the game. Hell, I think an appropriate way to start the fight would be to have Percy beon a mission from Hades himself to stop Zag from reaching the surface world. Oh, and the banter here would be awesome to hear; they're basically the same in terms of personality and how they talk. I can go on about this matchup for days, but just know that this is my favorite matchup of all time and I would love love love if Death Battle (or any vs show really) tackled this.

Not gonna happen tho :/

[ppersonna]

tempestuous - kth | m

tem·pes·tu·ous - adjective - characterized by strong and turbulent or conflicting emotion

↳ summary- There’s no one who riles you up more than Kim Taehyung, your best friend’s brother.  He knows exactly how to make you fly off the handle.

↳ rating- explicit / 18+

↳ word count- 6.8k

↳ pairing- taehyung x reader

↳ genre- smut, minor angst i guess in the form of fighting, this is one big pile of smut, there’s some fluff too

↳ warnings- yikes where to begin.  angry sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don’t be like dis), slapping, spanking, pain kink, dom/sub elements, facefucking, really rough sex, finger sucking, derogatory names, uhhh name calling, hate sex, tae is fuckin nasty yall im thriving

↳ a/n- I HAD TO REUPLOAD bc tumblr sucks lol well folks. here we are.  i was given a prompt by @ladyartemesia​ so i blame her.  as for tae, he really came for me this week and completely wrecked me, love that for me. i really popped off here and it’s only edited by me so i’m SORRY if there’s a lot of mistakes.  fun fact i actually wrote almost 10k of another version of this but it frustrated me so badly i scrapped it lmao  🤡 HERE WE GO! Enjoy!  feel free to send in your requests and i promise to try and get it done for you! 

Kim Taehyung could only be described in a few words.

Infuriating, bothersome, vexing.

Gorgeous, breathtaking, suave.

Absolutely, inherently maddening.

And you hate how much you absolutely melt underneath his gaze, the way your heart leaps into your throat with a single word.  Your body, the ultimate betrayer, opens up to him as your brain screams to abort, reverse, go back to start and do not pass go.

Kim Taehyung is not just the bane of your existence, no.  He’s the little brother of your best friend, Kim Namjoon.   Joonie had been in your life since you were in first grade and he in second.  Taehyung was your age, but you hit it off with the older boy and haven’t separated since.  Your mothers joked that you would get married one day and continue on the Kim line.  Until they found out that Namjoon was 1) bisexual and 2) hopelessly in love with, ironically, a man named Kim Seokjin.   He reasoned to his parents that they would at least carry on the Kim name.  

Where Namjoon was sweet, caring, and deeply compassionate towards you, Taehyung was his alter.  Taehyung was brash, cocky and relished in watching you squirm, whether it be out of fury or the god forsaken sexual tension.  All growing up, he was the one to pull your pigtails, trip you into puddles of mud, and tease you in front of your friends. Namjoon, ever the faithful companion, was always there to pick up the pieces of what Taehyung broke.

It’s been that way with Taehyung ever since. A constant tug of war with each other, both unwilling to give a single inch to the opponent.  

Your relationship with Namjoon remained steadfast as ever.  Namjoon eventually moved in with his now-husband, Seokjin, who easily settled into your life as an additional partner in crime.  You spent most of your days and nights settled into the couch, snuggled somehow in between or next to one of the two men you cherished most.  You had the two best friends you could ask for and a happy life, blissfully Taehyung-free.

Until it wasn’t.

A loud knock wakes you from an unexpected nap on Namjoon’s couch.  Your eyes crack open against the glare of the sunlight streaming through the windows.  It takes a moment to gather your surroundings.  You recognize that you’re in Namjoon and Seokjin’s apartment, and judging by the silence, you’re definitely alone there.  As you reach for your phone, the screen lights up the time.  5:34 pm.  Well, shit. You remember eating brunch and drinking mimosas at noon with your best friends and then lying on the couch to watch Netflix.  How had you fallen asleep for five hours?  How did you not wake? What the fuck did Jin put in his mimosas?

The knock is insistent again, louder this time.

“Joon! Jin! it’s me! Open up!”

The voice sounds familiar in your sleep-addled mind, but not quite enough to pinpoint it.   You push your limp body off the couch and wince at the feeling of sore muscles.  Couch sleeping isn’t all it’s cracked up to be once you’re past the age of 25.

“Sorry, Namjoon isn’t here-,” You open the door to explain to the guest and you’re cut off.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

You rub at your sleepy eyes and allow your vision to focus, only to feel your blood stand still in your veins.

Kim Taehyung.  Of fucking course.

“What do you mean, why am I here? I’m always here,” you tut as you fold your arms to your chest.  “What are you doing here?”

He rolls his eyes and holds up his hands, two suitcases clutched in each.  Who the fuck carries 4 suitcases up three flights of stairs? Kim annoying ass Taehyung does, apparently.

“I’m moving in.”  He pushes past you and into the living room.  

Your mouth gapes open.  Namjoon certainly didn’t tell you this.  Taehyung looks back at chuckles at your reaction.

“I’m guessing your best friend didn’t tell you the happy news?”

You shut your mouth, quickly jumping back into composure.  “No, he failed to mention that,” you sniff.  “I thought you lived with your girlfriend in Gangnam?  What was her name? Rose or whatever?”

Tae stiffens, just slightly for a moment, before he plasters back on the bravado.  “Obviously not anymore.  We broke up, she kept the apartment.  Got tired of moping at my mom’s house and I told Namjoon I wanted to come back to the city.”

You feel a slight tug at your stomach, guilt, perhaps?  You clear your throat.  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

He laughs as he sits on the couch, instantly throwing his feet onto the coffee table, like a heathen.  “No, you’re not.”  

“What do you mean, no I’m not? God, sorry for being polite!”

This, you reason, is why you can’t sustain longer than 5 minutes of civilized conversation with your best friend’s younger brother.  He’s impossible.

He just smirks, and you know he loves the rise he gets out of you.

“Because I know you, and I know you don’t give a fuck about my love life.”

Au contraire. If only he knew just how much you gave a fuck.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t be nice to you!” you nearly stamp your foot in frustration but hold yourself back. That would be too good of ammo for him to use against you.

“Okay, fine,” he acquiesces. “Whatever helps you feel you’re a good person.”

You’re seeing red and you know you want to continue screaming at him but you will not stoop to his level.

“Christ, I haven’t seen you in months and you’re still an asshole,” you say as you grab your keys and shoes. “And also, Jin will kill you if he sees your feet on his coffee table.”

You whip yourself around and open the door to leave and hear him call over your shoulder.

“Good to see you too, doll! Love the hairstyle, by the way.”

You close the door with a growl leaving your throat.  The absolute audacity of that man.

You stomp towards the elevator to take yourself to the ground level, when you catch your reflection in the shiny metal. Your hair is in what you can only lovingly call a complete hornet’s nest. It’s ratted and sticking out in places and you feel your cheeks burn.  Your first reintroduction with Taehyung is with a fight AND with you looking like a fool.

This would not do. No, sir.

“Kim Namjoon!” you shriek into your cell phone.  You’re awkwardly pressing it against your ear with your shoulder as you walk out of the convenience store under your apartment building with 3 bottles of soju and a six-pack of beer. You needed to drown your shame and sorrow, and fast.

“Hello, love of my life and moon of my stars,” your best friend replies and you can hear Seokjin chuckle in the background.

“No!” You chide, already cracking a beer open as you storm into your apartment building. “Don’t you Khal Drogo me, mister! Why the fuck didn’t you tell me your fucking asshole brother was moving in with you?!”

Namjoon is silent and you can tell he’s wincing on the other end of the phone. “Oops?” He offers.

“Yeah, big oops! A heads up would have been nice! Like, ‘hey best friend, your worst enemy of all time is moving in today. Maybe you shouldn’t fall asleep on my couch and wake up looking like Frankenstein’s ugly wife. Oh, and also my handsome boyfriend and I will just happen to not be there when he arrives’.”

By this time, you can tell Namjoon has put you on speakerphone because you can hear their rich laughter loud and clear. Rude bitches.

You stab your key code into your door and lock yourself in, chugging as much of the beer as you could handle.

“At least, even in her rants she thinks I’m handsome,” Jin gloats.

“I’m sorry babe,” Namjoon sighs as he finally calms down. “I didn’t know he would be there today. I just found out about it last night.”

You nibbled at your bottom lip, the annoying pit in your stomach feeling simultaneously guilty that he went through a breakup, unbridled joy that something brought him down a peg, and just a dash of excitement that he’s single now.

You let out a breath. “It’s okay, Joon.  It just surprised me to see him.”

Jin butts in, “And because you have a big, fat, unresolved crush on him.”

“Jin!” You admonish. The couple laughs again and you roll your eyes, asking yourself why you put up with the two. “I do not!”

They both hum a non-committal answer, implying they don’t believe you in the slightest.

“Whatever.  What are you guys doing, anyway?”

“We just got home from shopping.  God, Jin looked so good in these jeans he tried on.  I was actually just about to suck his coc-,”

“Kim Namjoon, do not finish that sentence! I do not wish to hear it!” You try to remain firm, but dissolve into giggles with the pair.

You could never stay mad at Namjoon long, even if his brother was the devil incarnate.

“Darling,” Jin calls through the phone.  “I still expect to see you at our place tonight for our sleepover.”

Christ, you had forgotten all about your scheduled sleepover night.  It was tradition and one of your favorite parts of your friendship with the couple.  Jin, a literal chef, prepared a five star meal along with dessert for you while you binge watched Netflix and talked incessantly.

But you also usually slept in their spare bedroom.  The exact one that Taehyung would be occupying.

“Fuck, while he’s there?”

“Oh suck it up,” Jin chides, like he’s your mother. “He’s probably not even going to leave his room.  You’re not getting out of this.  I’m making strawberry cheesecake.”

Your mouth waters at the idea of Jin’s famous cheesecake.  

“Fine, but I get to lick the bowl and not Namjoon.  Those are my terms.”

Namjoon squawked in defiance as Jin laughed.  “I agree to your terms.  Be at our place by 8.”

As you hung up the phone, you checked the time.  6:40.  God, he hadn’t left you with much time to get ready, did he?

And you definitely needed to get ready.  There was no way you were entering a room where Kim Taehyung exists looking like booboo the fool, not again.

Your fingers press the 6 digit passcode to Namjoon and Seokjin’s apartment, arms heavy laden with your bag of toiletries and pajamas, and a bag full of wine.

“Honey, I’m home!” You announce as you toe off your shoes and slide into the combined kitchen and living room.

You receive no reply, but greeted with the amused face of none other than the object of your filthiest dreams, Taehyung.

“Pet names already?  We’re moving pretty fast, wouldn’t you say?” He asks you as he lounges at the kitchen table.  He watches you open the fridge to set the wine, as comfortable in their home as you are in yours.

“Fuck off,” you grumble. “Where’s your brother?”

Tae seemed absolutely tickled by your disgruntlement.  “I think they mentioned something about taking a shower.  That was 20 minutes ago, though.”

“Great,” you sigh. “Those fucking horn dogs act as if they’re still newlyweds.  We’ll be waiting awhile.”  

You tug off your sweater, leaving you to remain in a fitted tank top and yoga pants.  You tried to maintain a comfortable look as you dressed for the evening, while keeping in mind which leggings hugged your ass and showed off your toned thighs, and a tank top that dipped low to your cleavage.  Okay, so maybe you had ulterior motives. You wanted to make up for your dreadful appearance earlier and make him squirm, payback for the years of him doing it to you.

You watch him as he lets his eyes roam your body, eying you like he wants to ravage you completely. You feel victorious… and also turned on. Fuck, you played yourself.

You flop onto the couch in a huff and Tae snorts before joining you.

“What’s so funny?” You eye him suspiciously.

“Nothing,” his smile feigns innocence. “I’m not allowed to laugh?”

You sniff in annoyance, not eager to fall for his tricks. “You’re allowed to do whatever you want, your highness.”  Sarcasm drips from your voice and Tae finds it even more humorous.

“I see you’re still a sassy bitch.”

You gasp, audibly startled by his language and rise from the couch, fists clenched.

“I see you’re still a conceited dick!”

He rises to meet you where you stand, eyes boring into your own with his stupid sexy grin on his face.  “I see you’re still not one to back down from a fight.”

You step closer, close enough to feel his breath on your face.  Idly, you note it smells like peppermint and you move closer on reflex.

“Yeah? I see you’re still not one to avoid starting a fight in the first place!” you huff.

“Oh, I started it?”  

“Yeah, you started it! You called me a bitch!”

You can’t believe this is happening.  You feel as if you’re 6 again and fighting with him over a toy.

“A sassy bitch, actually,” he corrects, taking another step forward, bodies touching.

“Fuck you!”

“Only if you say please,” he quips before he closes the distance and presses his lips to yours in a scorching hot kiss.

There’s not even a moment of hesitation on your end, immediately pulling him even closer and wrapping your arms around his neck and allowing his tongue entrance to your mouth.  Your body reacts to his instantly, as if it’s wired to respond to him and him only. Your mind was blank of anything except Tae, only Tae please, and you acted purely on instinct alone.  And instinct was pulling him closer and begging, more, anything he could give.

The sound of laughter coming from the hallway pulls you apart, neither of you wanting to get caught by Namjoon or Jin.  You stare at him, his lips are cherry red and slightly swollen and the image burns into your retinas.  He has such pretty lips after you’ve kissed him.

“Oh hey! What’s going on here?” Namjoon asks as he notices the intense eye-battle you’re engaged in with his younger brother.

It shakes you out of the spell, eye contact broken and hypnosis halted.  

“Just, errrr,” you falter to find the right words to explain the situation.

“Just getting reacquainted.”  Tae sounds completely unaffected, as if the passionate kiss you shared with him seconds ago was but a distant memory.  Asshole.

“I’m surprised you two haven’t thrown anything at each other yet,” Jin laughs. “Or thrown yourselves at each other.”

Both you and Taehyung whip to look directly at Jin.

“Her!?” Tae is incredulous. “Gross.”

You’ll never admit out loud that his words wound you.

“You’re an asshole, Taehyung,” you punctuate your words by turning away from him and towards Namjoon, who appears amused as ever.

“Ah, I love when my best friend and my little brother are screaming at each other.  Feels like old times.  Can one of you cry now to complete the moment?”

Taehyung grumbles under his breath, something you can’t catch, and stalks off to his room.  The slam of his door reverberates in the apartment and Jin jumps and turns to yell down the hall at his brother-in-law.

“Yah! Don’t break my apartment! I still owe money on this!”

Despite Taehyung’s appearance every so often in the kitchen or living room, the rest of the night goes on with no annoying disturbances.

Jin spoils you and his husband with expensive food, and the best cheesecake you’ve ever eaten in your life.  Plus, you’re given the bowl to lick clean despite a desperately adorable pout from Namjoon you were sure would persuade Jin.

You’re settled on the couch, snuggling in the middle of the couple as an action movie flickers across the big screen tv.  Truthfully, you haven’t paid attention to a single thing happening, your thoughts entirely too absorbed in Taehyung and that deliciously infuriating kiss.  

Why did he do it?  You couldn’t comprehend his reasoning.  Perhaps he was doing it to piss you off.  He’s never angered you with that level of intimacy before, but you didn’t put it past him.

You’re surprised when the credits of the movie start rolling and Jin and Namjoon fake loud yawns.

“Oh man, I’m beat,” Namjoon lies.

Jin is quick to join. “Me too, I think I’ll pass out the moment I hit the pillow.”

You roll your eyes at the men. “Will you two please go fuck already, I know that’s what you’re going to do.”

Namjoon blanches, but Jin laughs and kisses your cheek. “Ah, my smart, beautiful and chaotic child,” he coos. He leans in to your ear, voice low to keep his husband from listening. “I don’t think I’m the only one in this house who’s going to get pounded into a mattress.”  

He pulls back and winks at you, deftly ignores Namjoon’s confusion and sadness of being left out, and drags him to their bedroom with a loud ‘goodnight’.

You’re left to stew in your own emotions, which is never a good thing.  Was the tension that obvious? You always assumed it had been one-sided, but the kiss befuddled you more than you’d like to admit.

It finally snapped in your mind, all the dots connecting. That’s why he did it.  

He kissed you so you’d stew and simmer and eventually erupt, like you’re doing now.  Taehyung knows you too well for your comfort.

You grab your bag of clothes and storm towards the bathroom to change, promising yourself to forget about the kiss and not give Taehyung what he wants.

Except you’re not very good at promises, especially to yourself.

You can’t say you’re excited to sleep on the couch again.  While it’s a nice couch, it’s definitely not a bed and your back will pay the price tomorrow.  You supposed it was better than the floor, but not by much.

After dressing in your pajamas, a purposefully picked out combination of tiny shorts and a sports bra in case Taehyung happens upon you, you return to your bed for the night in the living room.

Namjoon graciously left blankets and a pillow out for you, and you’re complaining internally about Taehyung the whole time you make yourself a spot to sleep.  If it wasn’t for stupid Taehyung and his stupid existence, you’d be sleeping like a baby on the guest bed that you loved.  But no, they relegated you to the couch like an animal.

Sleep was not in the cards tonight, it seems.  You toss and turn and try to press at the cushions to move a lump around and get comfortable, but it’s all for naught.  You’re wide awake and very, very uncomfortable.  You didn’t understand how you fell asleep on this very couch earlier in the day.  Maybe the mimosas you had at brunch with the couple had been helpful.

A thought crosses your mind. Alcohol.  Maybe a nice glass of wine would help tuck you into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.  A nightcap. Of course.  You were angry at yourself for not thinking of it hours ago.  

You slipped out of your disagreeable bed and into the kitchen, trying not to make a sound.  Jin’s beloved kitchen was also an echo chamber of noise, even the slightest sound bouncing off its walls and amplifying it through the whole house.  You still remember the way you jumped five feet in the air when Jin accidentally broke a plate.  It sounded like a bomb explosion.

You bite your lip as you carefully pry the cabinet of wine glasses open, careful to not even allow a squeak of a hinge.  You silently beg to stay silent and not wake anyone in the house.  You didn’t want to be caught drinking wine at 2 am in the dark, that’s difficult to explain without looking like an alcoholic.

With glass in hand, you tiptoe the fridge to pull out the bottle of merlot, thinking the heavy red wine would be the best to get you sleepy and quick.  

You tug the cork from the bottle and pour a healthy amount into the stemware with a smile.  Liquid sleep.  And you had done it without making a single sound. Perfection. The smell of the alcohol permeates through your nose as you lift the glass, placing it to your lips to take a sip.

“Wine at this hour?” the unexpected voice of Taehyung echos through the kitchen, making you yelp and jolting you hard enough that you drop the hard-earned glass of wine to the tile floor, red wine splashing as the sound of glass shattering is reverberating off the walls.

“Fuck!” You screech at the intruder.  Taehyung doubles over, laughing as if he’s seen nothing funnier than what just transpired.  “You asshole!”

You listen past Taehyung’s incessant laughter to ensure the owners of the apartment hadn’t awoken during the ruckus. You definitely did not want to face a tired and agitated Jin to tell him you shattered one of his Tiffany crystal goblets.

Beyond Tae, the house is silent and you’re thanking whatever god is listening for keeping your best friends asleep.

The wine is everywhere, spilling into the cracks of the tile and splattered on the walls.  The crystal stemware is too; it shattered with such force that you see flecks of the shrapnel in all four corners of the room.

Tae wipes a tear from his face and you square a tempestuous look at him.  

“Fucking help me!  You made me drop it!”

Through snorts, he replies. “I didn’t make you do anything.  You did that on your own.”  Although he is arguing with you, he’s gingerly stepping into the kitchen and kneeling to pick up shards of glass.

“I wouldn’t have dropped it if you had come into the room like a fucking normal person,” you grit.

He collects the glass, the delighted grin on his face now permanent.  He’s relishing in your annoyance, you know he is, and it burns you from the inside out.

“It’s not my fault you didn’t hear me.”

“You could have turned on the light! Why were you in the dark like a freak?”  You’re grasping at straws, anything to pin this all on him.  It would quell the fire in your belly to push it all onto him, make you feel as if you’ve won.

Taehyung levels a look at you.  “And you weren’t also in the dark? Pouring a gallon of wine for yourself?”

Your cheeks flare red. Fuck, he definitely caught you there.  You’re playing verbal poker with him and the hand you’re dealt falls flat compared to his royal flush.  He grins, knowing he has you.

“Fuck you,” you snark, you go to insult when you’re backed into a corner.

“Ah, doll,” he winks.  “We talked about that.  Be careful what you wish for.”

The fire inside you is roaring to an inferno now, flames licking to your core. It’s a complicated mixture of anger and sexual energy. It’s infuriating that he’s able to make you feel every single emotion to the extreme. You hate that arguing with him turns you on, like it’s some perverse foreplay.  

You moisten your lips with your tongue as you process his words, and Tae’s eyes hungrily track the appendage as it glides over your lips.

“Fuck. You.” You emphasize perfunctorily.

All thoughts of wiping up the mess are forgotten as Tae drags both you and himself off the floor and steers you to the living room, lips feverish against your own.  He pushes you into the couch and tugs his shirt off, before replacing his lips to yours.  

“Fuck, you’re so fucking hot when you’re a bitch,” he groans as he snaps the strap of your sports bra. “Seeing you get all worked up makes me so hard.”

He’s not wrong. You can see through his mesh basketball shorts that he’s sporting an impressive package, rock hard in its clothed prison.

“Yeah?” You bite at his lip.

“Hell yeah.”  His hands work to the elastic band under your bust and tugs the offending material off, tits springing free as he throws it to the floor.  

“Holy shit,” Taehyung breathes as he gets a good look at your chest.

You shake them gently, grinning as he watches them jiggle.  “You like what you see?”

He smirks and pinches a nipple, wiping the coy smile off your face and turning it into a moan.  “I like when you’re mouthy, but don’t push it.”  

He lowers his head to the nipple he’s still pinching in his fingers, licking at it and replacing his fingers with his mouth.  He’s moaning around the nipple, and you’re gasping for more.  His hot mouth sucks at you, teeth nibbling and pulling it until you’re whimpering in delicious pain.

“Fuck!” He cries as he pops away from your nipple.  “You’re so fucking hot.”

Your body warms at his words, arousal pooling between your legs.  You’re sure that your thighs are drenched in your essence.

He slurps your neglected breast into his mouth, ensuring your nipples are equally abused.  His tongue is skilled but his mouth is messy, saliva dripping all around your tit and it’s the hottest fucking sight you’ve ever seen.

He’s pulling away again and pinching both nipples with his hands simultaneously. “And you’re so fucking annoying.”

You’re pleading for more or to stop, you’re not sure.  He continues.

“Mm, I’m gonna fuck you until you’re a good little bitch for me. Listening to every fucking thing I say.”

He releases your nipples, and you finally find the ability to focus again, staring directly at him.

“Oh, you think you’re that good?” you sass as you attempt to catch your breath.  “Put your money where your mouth is.”

Tae grips your chin roughly, face inches away from yours with a sadistic grin. “You’re going to regret those words, baby.”

Instantly, he’s standing up and tugging his shorts down to let his cock spring free.  Your brain misfires as you visually measure his cock and your mouth goes dry. He’s thick and long. The bulbous head is dripping pre-cum, begging you to slurp it up.

“How about I put my money where your mouth is,” he suggests as he grabs a fistful of your hair.  

He teasingly rubs his cock on your lips and cheeks, makes you whimper with need. Your tongue is sticking out, desperate for him to lay it on you.

“Already so fucking greedy,” he grunts and in one motion, directs his dick into your open mouth. “I’ll fuck your throat, yeah? Greedy bitches love getting face fucked.”  He is still for a beat more, eyes searching yours for consent and you nod with his cock still in your mouth. He winks, then begins a rapid pace, his cock fucking into your mouth and throat.

You’re sure you look like a goddamn mess with saliva dripping from your mouth as Taehyung punishes your throat with his thrusts.  You gag and moan around him, and he tightens his grip in your hair as you see stars.

It’s indescribable. Never have you felt such pleasure from sucking cock, but Tae commands your entire body, willing you to drip with anticipation.

“My little fuck toy, god you feel so fucking good,” he hisses. “You’re gonna swallow my cum, baby.”  

His hips are stuttering, he’s close, and you’re sucking him harder, cheeks pulling in harder to vacuum him in. The pressure makes him groan out loud.

“So good, so fucking good. Get ready for your prize, baby,” his voice cuts off in a gasp, as his cock twitches violently. His legs shake and he doesn’t hold back the moans of his orgasm, gasping as he feels rope after rope spill down your hot throat.

Your big doll eyes are twinkling up at him, lips still wrapped around his cock. Taehyung is sure it’s the hottest thing he’ll ever see in his lifetime.  You on your knees, subservient to him and thriving for it.

“Mmm, I like it when your mouth is full like this,” he slowly pulls out of your mouth, albeit reluctantly. “Can’t talk back to me when you’re sucking my cock like a whore.”

You smile and stick out your tongue, pleased to show him you happily accepted his cum.

“Good fucking girl,” he coos as he grips your chin again. “Did you like my cum?”

You nod, brain fried from the heat of the room.

“Use your words,” he grits and grips your jaw harder. It’s enough to shock you into compliance.

“Y-yes! Fuck, I love your cum, Tae.”  Your words are breathy and raspy, throat raw from his barrage.

“I knew you would, filthy slut.  Sit on the couch.” He orders and you’re quick to scurry and sit on the makeshift bed you made.

His hands are tugging down your shorts quickly. No teasing or seduction here, not now. You lift your hips, and he throws them aside. Your legs close on reflex, making him growl.

“Do not hide yourself from me.” His tone is dark and you can’t help but shiver as you open yourself up to him. You want to talk back, want to fight and bite at him, but you’re quickly losing the ability to even speak, and you’re aching for him.

“Where’s my mouthy little bitch? You’re awfully quiet. Did I finally break you?” He teases, pressing your legs upward, knees to your ears. It’s pornographic how on display you are for him, soaking wet cunt front and center.

“The great Taehyung thinks he can break me with his cock,” you mewl, mustering all the false confidence you can. You’re lying through your fucking teeth and you both know it, but you continue. “You’ll have to do more than that.”

Your pussy is quaking with need now, desperate for a single touch. His hands maintain purchase on the backs of your thighs, holding them up.

“There she is,” he bites at the flesh of your leg closest to him which makes you jerk in his hold. “Gonna fuck the brat right out of you.”

He removes a hand from your thigh and you’re quick to pick up the slack, holding the thigh in place to maintain his open show of your pussy.

“Try me,” you murmur, and you’re instantly regretting your words as a harsh slap descends and lands square on your cunt.

You nearly scream, pain flooding your wanton pussy, before turning into delicious pleasure that stings and tingles right at your clit. It sizzles, and warmth blooms where his hand was.

“That’s for not believing me.”  His eyes are feral and you want to bottle this memory forever.  

Another slap has your legs trembling, eyes rolling back as the burn turns to a low heat.  You’re dripping your wetness down onto the couch and Jin will kill you, but you don’t care.

“That was for calling me a dick,” he smirks.

Smack.

Tears spring in your eyes as the slap brings more pleasure than pain, desperately close to your edge.

“Look at you, you could cum just from this, couldn’t you?”

“F-fuck! Yes, please, I need more, please!” Your cunt is clenching around nothing, desperate for friction and leaking out of you like a faucet. Taehyung marvels at you, legs spread so far, with a cunt weeping with arousal for more. He can’t wait to dive in there, but he’s not finished with you yet.

“More? I don’t know if you deserve more, baby, you’ve been awfully mean to me,” he tsks, breathing hot air on your clit, making you whine.

“P-please! I’m sorry!” You’re sure you will black out with how desperately you need him. You need him more than you need oxygen.

“Beg.”

You’re quick to submit. Thoughts of fighting back are long gone, you’re his wanton little slut now.

“Please, please! Pleaseeeee, make me cum! I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” He asks with an arch of his eyebrow.

You’re nodding wildly, gazing at him with desperate, watery eyes.

“Anything, I need you so f-fucking bad it hurts!”

By the time the words leave your lips, he’s thrusting two fingers into your cunt viciously, fingering you ferociously. He arches them, rubbing against your spongy g-spot and making you scream. He knows you’re close, knows you only need one little push off the edge. He plays your body like a skilled practitioner.

“Cum on my fingers, baby. Let me see my greedy little bitch milk my fingers.”

Your body and mind react accordingly, deep down you know your body is owned completely by him, all his.  Your orgasm explodes and you think you actually scream, your vision is black and your hearing goes silent for a moment as you cum harder than you have in your life.  You’re squeezing his fingers with your pussy so tight and Taehyung is gently licking all the juices from his hand with his fingers still inside you.

It takes time to descend from the separate plane of existence Taehyung sent you too, but you come back and watch as he laps at the liquid of your cunt and on his hand like it’s a vital necessity. His fingers remain in your walls, and he refuses to break eye contact with you. You’re positive you could cum again from the sight.

“My little cockslut tastes so good, just how I like,” he tells you tenderly. “Like cherries, so sweet.  My little cherry.”

Your cunt is aching and warming back to life as he pulls his fingers out of you. The loss is immense and you’re whimpering for more.

“Ah, ah,” he hushes you. “No whining. You’ll take what I give you.  Suck my fingers clean. Taste yourself.”

He presses his fingers into your mouth, earning him a sigh, the taste of you filling your mouth. You swirl your tongue around his fingers and suckle each one to ensure your tongue laves the entire surface.

“Fuck,” he whispers and it’s his first crack in his steel reserve. “Needy.”

He pulls his fingers from your mouth and presses against you to kiss. It’s gentle, sweet, and nothing compared to the man assailing your pussy with slaps moments ago. It thrills you just the same and you return in kind, threading your hands in his wavy hair.

He pulls away and presses his forehead against yours, a moment of gentleness you actively welcome.

“This little cunt ready for me?” He whispers and you’re whimpering your reply.

“Please, fuck me. I need you to fuck me until I can’t walk.”

He grins and presses a kiss to your lips again, sweet and chaste, before he pulls away and slides down to attach those same sinful lips to your pussy.

It’s so unexpected you flinch and manage a cry as his tongue slurps up more of your delicious essence and his mouth moves to suckle on your clit. You’re not sure where the fuck he learned these tricks, but you know now you will never let him go.

“Taehyung!” You cry at the sensation. “Fuck!”

After receiving the reaction he was desperate for, he slips his tongue into your walls deep and gathers as much of you as he can, before he’s pulling back and swallowing you down.

“I couldn’t resist. Your cunt was made for me to devour.”

He doesn’t allow for a response as he throws your legs over his shoulders and lines himself up at your core.

“Condom?” He asks you, and you level a quick look at him.

“I don’t live here! I don’t have any!”  You’re savage, terrified he’ll pull his cock away when all you want and can think about is the way he’ll feel pounding into you.

“Don’t be rude, baby,” he reminds you with a swat to your ass. “I’m clean, promise. You?”

You nod quickly, reveling in the spank’s tingle. “Same. I have an IUD too,” you sigh. Thank god for medical birth control implants.

“Good. You’re the only pussy I’m gonna fuck from now on,” he promises. You know you must talk about this later, when you’re thinking rationally and not with your aching pussy.  

Your heart stutters and leaps into your throat but all is forgotten as he plunges into your tight heat.

“Ohhhhh shit, ahhh,” he gasps. “Baby, you’re so fucking tight and wet.”  He’s on the verge of whining, becoming just as needy and greedy as you.  He wastes no time in setting a pace.

His cock fills you completely, his angle allowing him to go as deep as he can, pressing the beginning of your cervix.  This is surely what heaven feels like.  It feels like the completeness you feel with Taehyung fully sheathed inside you.

It comes alive with flames and explosions as he fucks you, hips pistoning to plunge in and out of you with tenacity.  He fucks you like he laces every single thrust with more, more than just sex. He fucks you with purpose.

You’re moaning like a pornstar now, high pitch wails and gasps and breathy moans are all you can manage. “Taehyung, yes! Feel so g-g-good!”

“That’s right baby, scream my fucking name. Make sure all the neighbors know who fucking ruined you,” he nearly spits, cock thrusting into your core at an impossible speed. “I want you to tell all of Korea who owns you. Who owns this tiny little cunt?”

The wind leaves you, and you’re gasping for air, gaping mouth open as you try to reply. It takes him fucking into you harder a few times before you feel it rush back into you.

“You, Taehyung!  You!  Fuck, I love your cock!”

His thumb rubs at your engorged clit, allowing it the friction it seeks.  He bends forward and wraps his other hand around your throat, squeezing.  

Losing air combined with the friction on your clit has you keening, so close to the edge. You try to babble his name but nothing comes out.

“Look at my pretty little slut taking my cock so well,” he praises.  “You have the greediest pussy, don’t you? You need my cock daily, baby. Need to put my mouthy bitch in her place, remind her who’s in charge.”

He slows his pace but his thrusts are punishing, fucking into you as hard as he can. Your orgasm is climbing so impossibly high.

“F-fuck!” You gasp as he releases his grip on your neck. “Gonna cum! Please let me cum!”  

“Yeah baby, cum for me.  Cream your greedy pussy all over my cock.”

The world stops spinning as you hit the height of your climax and plunge down.  Your vision goes black and your body is quivering and convulsing nearly as hard as your cunt is. Taehyung hisses at your walls sucking him in, as if you’re begging for his cum, begging for more.

“Fuck, good girl, baby, holy shit,” he’s breathless and so close.

You’re overstimulated, boneless, but he wrought two of the best orgasms you’ve ever felt in your life and you’ll be damned if you leave him high and dry.  You bite your lip as you move with him, hips pounding against each other. His face is scrunched up and you know he’s close when he’s stuttering on his words.  You take over for him.

“Please cum in me baby, please.  Fill me up. I’m yours, baby, mark my little cunt as yours.”  You don’t know where it’s coming from, but you keep it going. It feels as natural as fucking him does. “Please, Taehyung!”

At the sound of his name leaving you in a whine, he spirals down his own completion. He feels his cock pulse as he empties his load into you, your walls still reverently beckoning for him. He’s calling out your name, grasping at your tits as he finishes and you’re smiling from ear to ear. Your pussy is warm with his seed and you’re positive it’s the way you want to feel every single night.

“Holy fuck,” Taehyung rasps as he pulls his cock out of you. He thrills as he watches his cum follow, slipping out your folds and down your thigh. “I definitely marked you.”

You hum in reply, finally allowing yourself to soak in the haze of orgasmic bliss. Tae presses his head to yours again, kissing you sweetly.

“Come sleep in my bed?” He asks. He means more behind it. He wants to ask you to sleep in his bed every night, stay with him every day, be the one he grows old with. He knows there’s still more to talk about, wounds of the past to heal, but now you’re with him, and he knows he’ll work through anything.

You nod, and kiss him again, understanding his hidden meaning laced in his words.

A sly smile spreads across his face. “Last one to bed has to take the blame for the wineglass,” he teases. Your head spins as if you’ve got whiplash.  He can switch from dominating to sensitive to the little shit he is so quick.

“Hey! No fucking fair! You fucked my ability to run out of me!”

“Shouldn’t have been such a sassy bitch,” he winks before he tears away towards his room.

“Taehyung, you’re an asshole!” You call as you limp your way behind him.

From behind Joon and Jin’s door, a critical voice bellows, “YAH! I’ll kill you if you got your jizz on my couch! And what is this I heard about my glass!!? HEY!  Those are TIFFANY. CRYSTAL. THE DISRESPECT!”

You slip into Taehyung’s bed and wrap yourself around him, the two of you gasping with mischievous giggles.

Kim Taehyung will always be the one who knows how to drive you wild. He’ll always aggravate and infuriate you, send you reeling.

But now you didn’t think you minded it at all.

© ppersonna - 2020 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

[a-little-slice-of-fandom]

I’d love to hear your thoughts on the Irish-ness of Dracula, if you wanna ramble about it!

(Okay I just want to apologise for how long this took to answer because I know it’s been sitting in my inbox for over a month but..depression and work happened and I just didn’t have the time or energy to complete it. I seriously do apologise for this but I hope you enjoy the post anyway!)

So the first thing I need to clear up is this: the concept of a monster or a demon that feeds upon the life force of humans is not limited to one singular culture or folklore. In fact, this core concept is a wider cultural phenomenon and variations of it exist across both countries and continents. And no one country can take sole credit for the this core concept of vampires. Anyone who tries to claim otherwise either doesn’t know much about vampires or is intentionally being disingenuous. There can be cultural variations that are specific to certain folklores (and to just blatantly steal these would be cultural appropriation), but the main idea of vampires exists across a wide range of folklores and no singular person, group of people or culture can take credit for the creation of vampires.

However, arguably it was the work of Bram Stoker that aided in the solidification of the concept of Vampires that we know today. While there were other authors from a wide range of nationalities who wrote about Vampires before Stoker (including John William Polidori who wrote the Vampyre in 1819)...Dracula is the best known. (Now I personally believe that’s because Dracula is an absolutely banging novel, although I do concede that the prevalence of adaptations of Dracula from the 1920’s to today helps keep Dracula in the forefront of audiences minds.) In addition, it’s important to remember that Stoker was inspired by another Irish author Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu, who wrote the novel Carmilla. As far as I know, Le Fanu and Stoker actually worked together on a magazine!

Another thing I think that needs clarification is the common belief that Stoker heavily/religiously based Dracula on the historical figure Vlad the Impailer. This is heavily debated by scholars. While there’s an obvious, undeniable similarity between the names of these two...the similarities start to wain after this, with only small similarities between the two and there’s even literal contradictions between the history of Vlad the Impailer and Dracula’s history in the novel. In fact, there’s not much indication that Stoker based the character Dracula off Vlad the Impailer, or even that he had a working knowledge of Vlad the Impailer beyond the name. In all 124 pages of his notes, there’s nothing to indicate that Stoker’s inspiration for Dracula came from Vlad the Impailer.

(Plus Dracula in the novel wasn’t even originally called Dracula...he was called Count Wampyr in the original drafts of the novel and this was only changed, from what I can gather, in the last couple of drafts.)

In fact, I’d personally argue that that connection between Vlad the Impailer and Dracula is actually something that’s been retroactively added by other artists, for example the 1992 film “Bram Stoker’s Dracula” heavily leaned into this idea that Dracula and Vald the Impailer were one in the same, and as time has progressed people assume that these elements were in the original novel when that’s simply untrue! Stoker didn’t write that! It’s a retroactive addition by other artists that’s just assumed by the masses to be canon. This phenomenon is actually super interesting and it’s absolutely not limited to Stoker’s novel Dracula/the modern day perception of Dracula (another example would be Mary Shelley’s version of Frankenstein versus the modern day perception Frankenstein). I’m not sure if there’s a word for what this is, but I like the term “cultural canon”, where something that’s been added in by other artists has become as good as canon within the minds of the masses and as such is ingrained within the cultural perception of something, despite it having no basis within the original piece or even directly contradicting what is in canon.

(Now I’ll absolutely concede that Stoker taking the name of a historical figure and possibly their likeness from another country and making them into a literal monster is something that should be discussed. I don’t know how Vlad the Impailer is viewed within Romania - whether he’s viewed positively or negatively or a mixture - but regardless he was a historical figure and Stoker did eventually use that name for his own creative purposes. Again, Stoker didn’t say that Dracula and Vlad the Impailer were the same person, that’s other artists doing, but there’s still issues with Stoker that needs to be discussed)

Now, I’ve seen people talk about how Stoker took a lot of inspiration from the Baltic folklore surrounding vampires for his novel, but I don’t really know this folklore very well and therefore I don’t feel like I’m qualified to discuss it. If anyone is more well versed in this topic wants to add to this post then they’re more than welcome to! I don’t deny that Stoker too inspiration from places other than Ireland (like the novel is set in Whitby) but I just feel like people over hype the relation between stokers Dracula and Vlad the Impailer.

Now, onto the Irish mythology side!

So the most obvious inspiration for Dracula comes from the story of Abhartach. here is a link to an actual, respectable retelling of the story of Abhartach which I’d highly recommend people read (it’s really not that long) but the key points go as follows:

There was this Irish chieftain called Abhartach, who was really cruel and the townsfolk didn’t really like him. So, the townsfolk and another cheiftain (known as Cathain) banded together to kill Abhartach. They did succeed in killing him (yay), however, Abhartach just sort of...rose from the dead and began another reign of terror (not yay). However, Abhartach needed to be sustained by blood and required a bowlful every day to sustain his energy. Cathain comes back and kills Abhartach once again, but Abhartach rises from the dead once more and now needs more blood. Abhartach is only banished when Cathain uses a word made from yew wood and wounds Abhartach with it. Abhartach is buried upside down with a grant stone over the grave to stop Abhartach rising once again.

Sound familiar? The similarities between Abhartach and Dracula are undeniable! Yes, there’s some differences between the two but the core story here is almost identical. I could totally reword that paragraph, omitting the names, and it would be indistinguishable from a short summary of Dracula! Even the way that the main characters find out about the wooden weapon that can kill the monster is similar, as both Jonathan and Cathain go to wiser and older members of their community to learn more.

(Also please mythology blogs don’t come for me I know my retelling was an incredible oversimplification but I’m writing on my iPad and my thumbs are starting to hurt. People have wrote full papers on the similarities between Dracula and Abhartach and there’s so many more people more qualified than me, I’m just an 18 year old trying to make a fun and interesting tumblr post. Again, if anyone wants add anything like extra sources or more information or even to point out my mistakes then I more than welcome the additions)

Another piece of folklore that’s also said to have inspired Dracula is the Dearg Due. Now there’s multiple different versions of the tale, but the version I have heard goes like this:

There’s a noble woman who wants to marry a penniless peasant boy, but her dad disapproves and wants her to marry another man who is much richer. The rich man and the noble woman were eventually married but the woman didn’t love the rich man. In retaliation, the rich man locked the woman in a windowless castle where she starved to death. The woman was buried by the locals who took pity on her, but because she was buried hungry she came back to life and drank the blood of her father and her husband as revenge. The version I heard says that the dearg due now basically wanders ireland drinking the blood of men who have hurt or wronged women (as one should) but there’s other endings to the story.

(Again is anyone has a reliable source they want to share then please feel free to add!)

So this is another Irish piece of folklore that clearly includes some elements that we now associate with vampires. Now people (including Wikipedia) claim that this story was specifically what Stoker based Dracula on, and while I definitely think that Stoker was aware of this story and took inspiration from it, I personally think that the Dearg Due inspired the concept of Dracula’s wives more than Dracula himself.

However the key point still stands: Stoker was likely aware of these legends and even the most staunchly anti-Irish person would have to concede that there’s similarities between all three stories. And very rarely are these similarities discussed in classes about Dracula...which I feel is a real disservice. I don’t think students should have to have an intense knowledge of Irish mythology (my knowledge is spotty at best) nor do I think it should be an exam question...but even a brief acknowledgment of “hey, Stoker was inspired by these stories and you can clearly see similarities between them” would be nice. Moreover, it further solidifies my original argument that Stoker was, at least to some extent, Irish and that his Irishness inherently influenced his work.

Also...the social context of what was going on in Ireland in this period can’t be ignored! Again, while Stoker did spend time in both England and Romania, he spent a lot of his life in Ireland and therefore would have known what was going on in his own country.

Dracula was published in 1897, which is exactly 50 years after the worst year of the Irish Famine/ The Great Hunger/An Gorta Mór. Now I don’t have time to do a whole history of the Great Hunger but the effects of the famine were greatly exacerbated by the horrific mismanagement of Ireland by the British government and the British system of ruling in Ireland. How many people died during the famine isn’t clear, but we do know that the population of Ireland at the time was 8 million and the population today is 6 million...200 years later and we still haven’t recovered. So while we all like to joke about the fact that Stoker wrote about an unfeeling member of the aristocracy literally feeding off others with no remorse and basically ruining their lives...are we really going to pretend that there isn’t social commentary there? Scholars specifically think that Stoker was commenting on the absentee landlords (basically British aristocrats who owned land in Ireland but didn’t live there and as such didn’t care about the well being of their tenants) who would often have tenants forced off the land when they couldn’t pay rent...despite the fact that their tenenants were already starving and had no money because their only source of food and income failed.

(I’m not being shady by the way, I also love to joke about the social implications of Dracula, but I feel like people forget that the jokes have actual points behind them)

There was also a cholera epidemic in Ireland in 1832 which is generally accepted to be one of Stoker’s biggest inspirations. You can read more about the epidemic here if you wish, but I’ll summarise what I feel are the key points. Not only was Stoker’s mother from county Sligo and lived through this cholera epidemic, but Stoker also asked her to write down her memories of the epidemic and used her accounts to aid in his research of the cholera epidemic. Now the fact that he was actively researching this should indicate that it would influence his work, especially considering the situation in county Sligo was incredibly morbid. There’s accounts of the 20 carpenters in Sligo town being unable to make enough coffins to keep up with the amount of people dying, resulting in hundreds of dead bodies just lying on the street. However, the most horrific account from this epidemic was the stories of terrified nurses placing cholera patients into mass graves while they were still alive. Stoker himself literally stated that Dracula was “inspired by the idea of someone being buried before they were fully dead”. So while at first there seems to be very little relation between the novel and a medical epidemic, it quickly becomes clear that Stoker’s fascination with this historical event influenced his writing.

My overall point is that Stoker’s irishness inherently influenced his writing. Writers don’t write in their own little bubble, divorced from the world around them, their views and work are shaped by their position in society and their upbringing (it’s why I dislike death of the author as a literary theory). So when people try to claim that Dracula is a piece of British literature...it indicates either a lack of understanding of the context in which Stoker was writing in or a wilful ignorance founded on colonialist ideas. His influences are so obvious to me as an Irish woman but they rarely get discussed, and even if they are it’s seen as overreaching! To call Dracula British literature and to ignore the inherent Irishness of the novel does a great disservice to Stoker!

Anyways I really hope you enjoyed this discussion my love! Once again I apologise for how long this took to write. Also I’m sorry if this comes off as argumentative or anything, that absolutely wasn’t my intention, I just have a particular style of writing long posts haha.

[introvertguide]

In Honor of Bogey

Born on Christmas Day at the turn of the century, the acting legend Humphrey Deforest Bogart is considered the greatest male acting icon of the Golden Age of Hollywood. He was an early Christmas gift to the 20th century and eventually was recognized by the AFI as the greatest male star of classic American cinema. This is quite a title to hold with all the great actors of the last one hundred years, so I wanted to take a little space in my analysis of the AFI top 100 to recognize this acting icon.

He was a kid with a lot of potential and intelligence, but his parents were not very affectionate (according to him) and he grew up with a chip on his shoulder. He went to some prestigious East Coast schools but was expelled or left on many occasions and ended up in the Navy. He joined up following the end of WWI and was part of the time of American Military glory. He loved it. He even tried to re-enlist when WW2 broke out, but he was too old and was instead registered as a volunteer reserve with the Coast Guard. He didn't get started in films until 1930, but started stage acting after his naval service in 1921. He might have gotten his trademark scar on his lip while in the Navy, but he got in a lot of scraps so it is not really certain where it came from.

Scars aside, Humphrey Bogart was a very good looking person that just exuded the ideal of manliness for the time. He started playing roles of young impetuous men and moved on to gangsters and villains. He did some work with James Cagney in a film called The Roaring Twenties. He met many woman with his star power and brutish manliness, marrying 4 times over his life before finally settling down with the fabulous Lauren Becall in 1945. He was part of the famous "Rat Pack" of the 50s. He was just so cool.

Since this is part of the AFI top 100 review, I want to cover the four movies on the list he was in as well as a couple other American classics:

High Sierra (1941) - Nominated for AFI Top 100 but not ranked

This was a big opportunity for Bogart because it was a leading gangster role written by his drinking buddy John Huston. The part had been turned down by some of the great actors of the time, including James Cagney. Bogart had been getting a lot of small roles and appeared in as many films as he could at the time (he is credited in 20 movies between 1937 and 1939), but this was a big break as a leading man. He worked alongside Ida Lupino, which caused jealousy issues with his wife at the time, Mayo Methot.

The Maltese Falcon (1941) - AFI #31

This was a career starter for Bogart as the no nonsense anti-hero with a chip on his shoulder and a heart of gold. This film was also turned down by other more established leading actors (George Raft) because it was a remake of the same story that was done in 1931. He played the part of Sam Spade (great name), a detective in search of a bejeweled object while getting in way over his head. Bogie had a great smoky voice and his film noir narratives set the standard for the genre. It was also the directorial debut of John Huston. Humphrey Bogart was known for downplaying his work (such a hipster), but this was a film for which he openly showed pride.

Casablanca (1942) - AFI #3

This was Bogart's first real romantic lead as an expatriate in Africa at the outbreak of WWI. As far as my generation is concerned, this is his most famous role and cemented the man as a Hollywood icon. This movie won Best Picture and got him nominated for Best Actor, vaulting Bogart past James Cagney as the highest paid actor in Hollywood at the time (half a million a year; that is nothing to sneeze at now much less right after the Great Depression).

The Big Sleep (1946) - Not on AFI Top 100

This was arguably the most well known of the four movies that Bogart starred in with Lauren Bacall. His wife at the time, Methot, was jealous and was afraid that Bogart was cheating on her. He was. He and Methot got a divorce and he almost immediately married Bacall. Bogart also got a little bit weird at the time because he tried to sign up for the Navy and then bought a yacht, allowed use of it by the Coast Guard, and then patrolled around the California coast with numerous weekends around Catalina. The film was actually scheduled to be released in 1945, but had a bunch of scenes of sexual innuendo added in to play up the real life relationship of Bogart and Bacall.

The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1947) - AFI #38

This was a film that showed the genius of Huston's writing and Bogart's acting. It was a chance to for Bogart to show off his grittiness and willing to suffer for his art. He character was one of three greedy men with stake on a gold claim that was more than enough for all three, but constant fear of backstabbing (literally and figuratively) causes problems. The movie was filmed in the Sierras during the summer heat and Bogart looked pretty bad. The movie lacked a love interest and highlighted dissension amongst a group, so Huston and Bogart (an outspoken liberal democrat) were mentioned in the Un-American Activities trial that was looking for Communists. Bogart wrote an article entitled "I'm No Communist" and distanced himself from anyone accused, but still had a slight reputation for being outspoken about first amendment rights.

Key Largo (1948) - Not on AFI Top 100 but nominated for AFI Top 10 Gangster Films

The last film that featured the couple. In this movie, their characters were stuck in a Florida hotel during a hurricane. It was another John Huston directed film noir and featured Bogart's character boating around and taking out gangsters one by one. There is a somewhat racist subplot of hunting down some wanted Native Americans that a known gangster pins a murder on. That aspect of the movie always bothered me. A real standout that somewhat upstages Bogart (interestingly enough with his help) is actually the gangster's girlfriend who sings a song for the group to earn a drink. She plays a great part as a woman attracted by the villainous lifestyle and then becomes trapped in an abusive relationship. Actress Claire Trevor, who Bogart liked very much and encouraged throughout the film, won Best Supporting Actress for her part in the story.

The African Queen (1951) - AFI #65

Maybe the film with the most star power during the Old Hollywood Era, this film starts Katharine Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart, perhaps the two biggest stars of American film. It was his first film in Technicolor and the role won him his one and only Oscar for Best Actor. The film was shot in the Belgian Congo and once again proved Bogart's toughness. This was again a John Huston directed film and it is interesting that both of the stars of the film had friends in very high places that kept them acting in great roles: Humphrey Bogart had John Huston and Katharine Hepburn had Howard Hughes. I want to note that, in my humble opinion, this was neither actors best work but they both were given a lot of credit for braving the elements and appearing on screen looking haggard.

The Cain Mutiny (1954) - Nominated for AFI Top 100 but not ranked

This was the last film that Bogart was relatively happy with, although he had to drop his salary to get the part and he was bitter about it. The part of a paranoid captain earned the actor his final Oscar nomination, but it did not really bring the same satisfaction as earlier roles. Huston wrote Bogey's characters as a loner and an antihero with an internal warmth and humor. This character did not have the charm that exuded from Bogart, the person.

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

Humphrey Bogart continued with high profile roles like starring with Aubrey Hepburn in Sabrina (1954) and Ava Gardner in The Barefoot Contessa (1954), but he was starting to get sick from a life of smoking and drinking. He was also in his mid 50s and couldn't play that charming young loner that he was so famous for. He had started to come across as old and didn't have his youthful charisma. He really hated working with Billy Wilder and didn't want to be the distinguished older gentleman in Sabrina. He didn't want to work with Ava Gardner because she had just broken up with his drinking buddy, Frank Sinatra. These films were successful and Bogart was a true professional, but I would not call it his best work by any means.

Humphrey Bogart was a great actor and a true Hollywood icon. Through research and watching interviews, I don't think that he would have been somebody that I liked personally because he drank and smoked heavily while enjoying arguments and confrontation. He came off as a bit of a contrarian in his later interviews and that is something that has bothered me. Don't meet your heroes. It does not lessen his accomplishments as an actor nor does it reduce the number of great films he has starred in. Just because he wouldn't be my best friend doesn't mean he wasn't a great man. I still believe that he deserves the AFI honor of being Hollywood's most famous actor. Check out some of his works and see what you think.

[hookedonapirate]

Figure of Speech

Summary: Killian has been in love with Emma Swan ever since he was eleven and she was his babysitter. The last time he saw her was the day he kissed her, thinking they were having a special moment… right before she headed off to college with her boyfriend.

When their paths cross years later, he’s just happy she remembers him—because while he’s a talented, free-spirited journalist who takes risks and has a knack for finding trouble, Emma is an accomplished and sophisticated politician who’s planning to run for President of the United States. 

Sensing Killian Jones—the boy who once knew her and supported her long before she entered the soul-sucking world of politics—is the key to unlocking a part of herself that’s been dormant for so long, she hires him as her speechwriter. As she travels the world to launch her 2020 presidential campaign, he is by her side, helping Emma find her voice again. 

The attraction between them sizzles, but when they eventually give into it, will their relationship withstand the demands of the election and scrutiny of the public?

A/N: Thank you @ultraluckycatnd​ for beta reading and @onceuponaprincessworld​ for your help with this! Thank you @captainswanmoviemarathon​ for starting the event and everyone on discord for all your help!

Before you read, there are a few things I want to clarify.

First off, this story is heavily based on the movie, Long Shot, for the Captain Swan Movie Marathon, with some elements of OUAT weaved in. What I’m referring to mainly is that the president in this fic is in no way based on President Trump. In other words, I am not using this fic to bash the current U.S. president in any shape or form, or any other real-life president. So if you plan on going into this with that mindset, I beg you to hit the back button right now. This story in no way reflects my opinions or views, I mainly stuck to the plot of the movie.

Secondly, I hope that I have made it perfectly clear in the beginning scene of this chapter that Killian is not actually a white supremacist, he is only going undercover to get his story. Nor is he Jewish like Fred Flarsky is in the movie. He’s the Killian we all know and love. So please don’t send me hate messages accusing me of either being a racist or writing Killian as one. I was very torn whether to include this scene or not but I feel it is relevant to the plot and shows Killian’s character in this story as very passionate about what he believes in and is a big risktaker when getting his point across, so I decided to keep it.

Third of all, I know some of you are sick of hearing about politics, especially since the U.S. election is so close. But this is not a political movie, it’s a romance. There is of course some talk of politics, but I’ve tried my best to keep it to a minimum. So if you’re worried about that, please don’t be. The movie genre is a romantic comedy.

Writing this fic was a huge wake-up call for me because it’s the first one in a while that I’m not proud of, for lack of a better word, because I have not been able to spend much time on it. I have so many wips in my docs it’s not even funny and I think that has really impacted how this chapter turned out. But because of this fic, I decided to take some time and work on finishing some of my wips before posting them, with the exception of this one because today is my posting date.

With that said, because I’ve been pushing myself to finish my wips, I finished writing my first original novel after working on it for two years, and I will be publishing it soon. So be sure to look out for Follow My Lead, a romance about a former ballerina and a gym owner.

Okay, now I am done with my rant, so please enjoy!

AO3 FF.N

Rated: M

2018

“So you guys are fairly active on social media, right?” 

“Yeah,” Jaxon answers absentmindedly, his eyes focused on the cue ball as he lines up the shot.

“How many times a day would you say you Tweet on average?” 

Jaxon taps the ball, sends it into its pocket, and high-fives Marcus, ignoring the question.

“Hey Rogers, ready to get a Swastika tattoo?!” Richard calls from the other room as the tattoo artist is finishing up with him.

“No, that’s okay, I’m cool,” Killian replies nonchalantly through the large lump in his throat, glad his British accent didn’t leak out as he takes his turn.

“Oh, come on, man, we’ve all got ‘em!”

Killian gulps and looks around the room, all the members pulling up their shirts to show their tattoos on the left side of their chest. He was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but he can sense Jaxon is already suspicious of his motives. He forces a small smile, pointing to himself with his free hand as he holds up the cue stick in the other one. “You want me to get a swastika tattoo?”

“Yeah!” the group chants in unison.

“Then I’ll get a swastika tattoo,” he agrees submissively, hoping the anxiety he feels isn’t clear in his voice. He removes his leather jacket, or rather the jacket he borrowed from Victor, depositing it in a chair before he walks into the adjacent room where the tattoo artist is waiting for him. He sits in the parlor chair, his stomach twisted in knots as he chooses his left bicep for the tattoo and cringes at the thought of getting it. He’s never gotten a tattoo before, and not only is he afraid of needles, but his beliefs don’t at all resemble anything a swastika symbol resembles. Tattoos are removable, though, right? 

When the needle pierces his skin, he pinches his eyelids shut and yelps, “Blo-ooooody he-eeeell!” He realizes his mistake immediately when the words screech out in his thick, British accent. Plus, bloody hell isn’t exactly an American phrase. 

He’s praying no one noticed, because if they did, they would know he’s lying about who he claims to be, but when he flips his eyelids open, everyone’s staring at him.

Fuck.

Jaxon, the leader of the group, enters the room with Killian’s jacket in one hand and wallet in the other, raising it for everyone to see Killian’s driver’s license. His heart flitters with panic. “Look at this. He’s been lying to us. His name isn’t John Rogers,” Jaxon announces angrily. Marcus appears next to him, holding up his laptop. On the screen is the Storybrooke Advocate website with Killian’s profile pic on the page. “It’s Killian Jones. He works for the Storybrooke Advocate! He’s a fucking journalist!”

“Wait, wait, wait, I can explain!” Killian pleads, raising his hands in surrender. 

The members circle him like sharks, and everything becomes a blur as they yank him from the chair and slam him against a table. 

“What are you doing, trying to fucking embarrass us, huh?!” Jaxon screams at him. “Who sent you?!”

“No one sent me!” Killian claims adamantly, fear and pain crippling him as he tries to think his way out of this. “I was just…”

Before he can finish his sentence, Marcus reaches into Killian’s jeans pocket as the others hold him down, and pulls out his phone. Which is currently recording everything. “He’s been recording us this entire time!”

Jaxon’s face is red with anger, steam practically emitting from his ears as he grits his teeth and fists Killian’s shirt in a vice-like grip, pulling him so close that Killian smells his wretched breath. “You infiltrated our group! You’re gonna fucking die!”

They say your life flashes before your eyes during your very last moments. They say it’s like reliving every moment that’s ever stuck with you—every moment that’s ever made an impression on you. Killian always thought when he was finally shuffled off to sleep with the fishes, his life would appear in sequence or at least in random order, featuring all the people who have played a vital role in his life—his parents, his brother, his best friend—but he never thought one person would stick in his mind. He never thought all the images flashing before his eyes would be of one person and one person only.  

The woman he’s been in love with since he was eleven years old.

Killian remembers when he first fell in love with her like it were yesterday. Or at least an eleven-year-old boy’s version of love. He remembers the song, It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday by Boyz II Men, was playing on the boombox. He remembers what day it was, what he was wearing and the fuzzy feeling in his chest. He remembers thinking about one of his favorite movies, The Sandlot, how Squints tricked the lifeguard, Wendy Peffercorn, into kissing him and how she eventually married him even though she was older and way out of his league. 

Back then, a three or four year age gap seemed like a huge deal, but maybe because he was so young and she was… well she was so grown up and mature and very beautiful for her age. Not Wendy Peffercorn. Well, he supposes Wendy was too, but Killian had his real-life version of the movie character. His version of her was also blonde. She may not have been a lifeguard, but she was his next-door neighbor and also his babysitter ever since his brother left to join the Navy. Killian’s bedroom had an excellent view of her backyard and he would occasionally watch her sunbathing by the pool as she listened to music on her headphones or read a book in her bikini. Not only did she have a beautiful body, but she was wicked smart. She was passionate about the environment and the things she cared about. She was super nice to him—which went a long way with him—and had a ridiculously cute, dimpled smile. She was perfect. An angel.

Maybe that’s why, right before his death, she’s the only one he sees.

Before he met her, he never considered kissing a girl, or even liking one for that matter. He thought girls were gross and had cooties. But Emma was no girl. Not even at fifteen. She was a woman. 

Emma Swan was his Wendy Peffercorn.

She still is. Even as he’s being threatened by a group of angry white supremacists. 

She’s all he sees.

“Did you know that every year, the school throws away over five hundred tons of recyclable garbage? And no one cares!”

“Aye, it’s rubbish. But how do you get muppets to care about stuff they don’t care about?” 

Emma shrugs. “They’ll just…” She bites her bottom lip, hesitance etching her features, “they’ll just c-care because it’s the right thing to care about.” She may not have all the answers, but she’s the most inspiring person he knows.

He smiles and rests one elbow on the counter, his chin perched in his hand as he admires her passion for the environment. He admires how beautiful she is in simply a snug pair of blue jeans and a white t-shirt with a picture of a buttercup on the front. He admires her waist-length, golden hair, how it glows radiantly in the sunlight cascading through the kitchen window and how it swishes from side to side when she turns around to grab a mitt and pull the pizza out of the oven. Delicious aromas of crisp, baked bread, melted mozzarella cheese and sweet tomato sauce waft through the kitchen, making his stomach growl. Licking his lips, he jumps off the stool and heads over to grab a slice from the pan.

She gently swats his hand away. “Don’t touch, kid, you’ll burn yourself. Let it cool, first.”

He frowns as he returns to his seat. He hates it when she calls him that. He doesn’t want her to think of him as a kid; he’s almost a teenager! Heeding her warning, he does his best to resist the temptation of getting up again and grabbing a slice, even though the gooey, golden cheese, colorful toppings and toasted crust look amazing. Instead, he places the hand she’d touched on his cheek. He never wants to wash his hand or his cheek ever again.

Emma continues the speech she’d prepared for her Student Council election. She’s running for president, and he is not only her biggest supporter, but he also came up with her campaign slogan, ‘Stay calm and vote for Swan’. He was quite proud of himself when she actually thought it was clever enough to use.

“I would definitely vote for you, Swan.”

“Thanks, Killy,” she says, ruffling a hand through his hair.

Now that’s a better nickname. Though he hates when his brother calls him Killy, he never minds when Emma does. 

Once the pizza is cool enough to eat, Emma returns to the oven, using a pizza cutter on the pie. She plates two big slices, one for each of them, and brings them to the counter, sitting next to him. They eat their pizza in silence at first, besides the yummy food noises they make.

“Thanks for helping me. I know it’s probably boring hearing my speech over and over again.”

He shakes his head. “Not at all,” he mumbles through a mouth full of pizza. “I’m just happy to help,” he smiles. His hand pauses midair, still holding his half-eaten slice of pizza as he locks eyes with his beautiful babysitter. He wonders if she feels the same way he does, and normally he wouldn’t think it was possible, but the way she’s looking at him right now makes him rethink everything.

She reaches out to him, and he closes his eyes as she caresses his cheek. His heart slams against his chest and he loses all the air from his lungs. And that’s when he knows he’s totally and completely in love. Her hand feels so wonderfully warm, he wants to spend the rest of his life feeling her touch and immediately gets a chill when she pulls her hand away. 

“All better.”

His eyes flip open to see Emma wiping her hand with a napkin. She looks up at him and smiles. “You had some sauce on your face.”

He chuckles on the outside, but internally he’s berating himself for being foolish enough to think someone like Emma Swan could possibly like him. She’s way too good for him. 

Especially when he’s thirteen and has to wear glasses. As if hitting puberty isn’t bad enough, he also has to sport the most hideous pair of thick-framed glasses. By then, his father said he was too old to have a babysitter, so he didn’t get to see Emma as much. He mowed the Swans’ lawn occasionally, but she was gone most of the time with extracurricular activities and prepping for college. He convinced himself she could never be into someone like him. Someone who was nerdy and awkward and four years her junior. 

Until one day when he’s fourteen and she’s eighteen.

She’s leaving for college and he’s been in his room sulking while listening to It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye for two weeks, not looking forward to her departure. He’s afraid he’ll never see her again. But he’s also happy for her. She’s off to better and greater things, greener pastures as they say. She’s going to Harvard and leaving him in the dust.

He’s on the front porch, sitting on the top step, his chin in his hands and his elbows propped up on his knees as he watches Emma and her parents packing up her things. He wants to offer his assistance, but this seems like a very important bonding moment for the three of them and he doesn’t wish to interrupt. He can tell Mr. and Mrs. Swan are both incredibly sad but also very proud of their daughter, and there are lots of hugs and tears by the time the car is packed. Then Emma says something to her parents and they wave at Killian. He smiles and waves back before they head inside.

Emma walks over to him, and he immediately stands up, making his way down the remaining steps.

“Hey,” she murmurs, smiling at him.

“Hey,” he parrots, offering a small smile. “So, you’re all packed?”

“Yeah, we’re leaving soon.”

Nodding nervously, he scratches behind his ear as he looks away, not sure what to say.

“Look, I’m not a goodbye person, but — ”

“Let’s not say goodbye then,” he suggests and offers his hand. But instead of shaking it, she throws her arms around him. Killian’s stunned, and can’t even move at first, completely paralyzed in her embrace.

Emma’s hugging him.

He slowly molds into her body, his arms wrapping around her waist as she tightens her hold. Her hair smells like strawberries and cream as he buries his face there. He never wants to let her go.

“I’ll miss you, Killian,” she whispers in his ear.

His heart does a little somersault, and he whispers, “Not a day will go by when I won’t think of you.”

He feels her smile against his neck. “Good.”

That one simple word does something to him and he grins into her hair, holding her tighter. 

She breaks the hug long before he’s ready, and he’s still awestruck as she leans in to kiss him.

Bloody hell. 

Emma Swan leans in for a kiss as he springs forward to meet her halfway. Their lips finally connect like they had so many times in his dreams, but he doesn’t fail to miss how surprised she is when a gasp escapes against his mouth. She doesn’t pull away, but he knows he probably should after realizing she was actually going for his cheek. But her lips are so soft and warm and taste like cinnamon and cocoa, and he swears they move ever so slightly against his. He still has his arms around her, pressing her to him, and her center suddenly moves away from him. Forcing himself to break the kiss, he looks down and notices the very prominent and very hard erection tenting his pants.

Fuck.

His cheeks are on fire as he looks up, apology and embarrassment flushing his face. He’s expecting her to either slap him or storm away and never look back, but she stares down at his groin, her mouth agape. 

“Bloody hell, I’m so sorry, love.”

“It’s okay,” Emma squeaks as her eyes snap up to his.

Just then, a ‘69 Ford Mustang pulls up in front of Emma’s house, the music booming through the speakers at an obnoxious volume.

He panics when Emma’s boyfriend gets out of the car and makes his way over to them. Killian forgot Neal was riding with Emma to Harvard, where he was certainly not attending. Neal could only get into a community college.

Killian quickly pulls off the backward baseball cap from his head and uses it to cover his obvious boner. 

“Hey, babe, ready to go?” 

She nods and looks at Killian, a small smile tilting her lips. 

“Bye, four-eyes,” Neal taunts with a condescending sneer as he wraps his arm around Emma’s shoulders.

Really?

Killian bites his tongue as he rolls his eyes. That nickname really gets old. Can’t he think of something more original?

“Don’t call him that,” Emma scolds her boyfriend, swatting his chest. “He has a name.”

“Sorry, I mean Killian,” he says insincerely before turning around and pulling Emma with him.

As Killian watches them walk away, pushing up the bridge of his glasses with his finger, he would give anything to be the one with his arm around Emma, the one leaving with her instead of being the one she leaves. She cranes her neck to look at him as she walks away. He swears she’s looking at him longingly but he’s sure he’s only imagining it. She’s still gazing at him until her parents emerge from the house. Neal doesn’t even have the courtesy to open the door to her parents’ station wagon for her, and instead hurries into the back seat. 

Arsehole, Killian thinks bitterly as he watches the vehicle pull away from the curb. Emma stares at him through the passenger’s window, and their eyes connect. He flashes one last smile and waves. She smiles back at him and presses her palm to the window before she disappears down the road and out of his life, leaving a permanent gaping hole in his heart. 

He always thought not being able to see Emma anymore was the scariest thing he’s ever experienced. But that was before he was inked with part of a swastika tattoo so his cover wouldn’t be blown. That was before he fell from a two-story building and landed in a dumpster. Luckily the trash bags cushioned his fall and didn’t contain any glass or other sharp objects. He hadn’t really thought that through when he jumped. But then again, he didn’t really have time to do anything but run for his life while Marcus and Jaxon were busy trying to figure out how to stop Killian’s phone from recording. Killian took advantage of the distraction and plucked the phone from their hands, sprinting for the nearby window.

His phone.

Killian quickly lifts his hand to see that not only is his phone still in his hand but it’s still intact. He climbs out of the dumpster, his entire body sore, but he lands on his feet. He’d left his leather jacket up there, but it wasn’t even his. Killian doesn’t wear leather jackets, he’s content with his hoodies. He borrowed the jacket from his best friend, Victor. He’ll be pissed, but oh well, Killian will buy him a new one.

Three of the members are poking their heads out the window and Killian looks up at them, throwing the hand that’s still holding his phone in the air. He feels like Bennie in The Sandlot when he finally gets the baseball from the beast and hurdles the fence, still holding onto the ball. The difference is the beast chased Bennie down. The difference is the beast in the movie was not actually a beast at all. He can’t say the same about those white supremacists, though.

“We trusted you, man!” Richard calls out. He’s the one Killian had contacted through one of their social media groups. 

“Sorry, mate,” he says in his British accent, his words lacking any sort of apology as he spins around. “Peace!” he calls behind him trying to sound as American as he can, and instead of saluting the members with two fingers, which is not a peace sign for Brits, he flips them the bird as he goes. 

∞∞∞

“Tonight on Walsh News, we take an in-depth look at Emma Swan, a Rhodes Scholar, a Pulitzer Prize winner and a protégé of President Gold who tapped Swan two years ago to be the youngest Secretary of State in the history of this nation.”

As sore as Killian is from that jump out of a two-story window and as much as he hates that arsehole, Walsh, and everything the media mongrel represents, he lifts his eyes from his MacBook. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and manages a small smile when he sees Emma on the television screen. He knows what he’d done to write his article and expose the White Power group was worth it. He may have lost faith in humanity long ago, but Emma’s passion and ambition and hope have always stuck with him. He wants to believe the support he’d always shown her when they were young has always stuck with her too, but he doubts it. She doesn’t need his support. She never did. She was never a helpless duckling, and even after she lost the student council election to August Booth because of his stupid two prom platform, her wounds healed and she eventually spread her wings and soared high in the sky, leaving Storybooke in the dust. 

As Killian gazes at her wistfully at the screen, he sees the elegant swan he always knew she’d become. While everyone he knows had hopes and dreams they gave up on long ago, Emma is the one person who made hers come true. Well, not quite all of them. She always talked about saving the planet, but he knows her work isn’t nearly finished. She’s only thirty-seven, and even though they haven’t spoken to one another since the day he watched her ride away in her parents’ 1987 Pontiac Safari Station Wagon, he still believes in her. He’ll always believe in her.

∞∞∞

Emma sucks in a deep breath as she twists the knob and opens the thick, wooden door, entering the Oval Office with a little bit of forced enthusiasm. President Gold had been vague over the phone about what he’d wished to discuss with her, but his tone of voice indicated it might be something big. “Good morning Mr. President,” she greets with the smile she had practiced in her bedroom mirror repeatedly that morning. 

“Hello, Ms. Swan.” He rises from his chair and rounds the desk, gesturing to one of the couches. “Please, have a seat.”

She sits down and crosses her legs, folding her hands in her lap as he sits on the couch across from her and rests his elbows on his knees. “Ms. Swan…”

“Yes, sir?”

He blows out a long breath as if whatever he’s about to tell her has been weighing on his mind for quite some time. “I will not be seeking re-election.”

Emma’s sure the awestruck expression on her face doesn’t even come close to how surprised she actually is. “Really?” Did she hear him correctly?

He nods, clapping his hands together. “Look, I know how absurd it sounds seeing as I’m only halfway through my first term—”

“And you’re incredibly popular, sir.” But she knows most of his popularity stems from being a television star before he took office. He hosted the popular game show, Let’s Strike a Deal.

“And I’m going to use that popularity to transition into something more prestigious than the presidency. I wanna make it in the movies.”

Emma blinks, not believing what she’s hearing. She opens and closes her mouth several times, trying to process this. “Yoooouuuu… want to leave… the presidency… to be a movie star?”

“I know it’s tough to make the leap from television to film, but I think I’m going to give it a shot.”

After the initial shock washes over her, she sees this as an opportunity. She had planned on running for president in 2024, but with Gold leaving office at the end of his first term, perhaps she can use this to her advantage. And she knows just how to go about it. Gold may be good at convincing people—he is an actor after all—but Emma not only has far more education than him, her extensive political background has helped her greatly improve her cajolery tactics over the years. After she lost the Student Council election to August Booth in high school, she’s learned that in order to get ahead, sometimes you have to use a little sleight of hand to get there—give the people what they want, so to speak. Or, in this case, help Gold realize just how legendary his presidency could be.

“Mr. President, have you given any consideration as to whom you might endorse? I’m sure you’re probably thinking of Yang or Crowley. Sound choices,” she nods and purses her lips, averting her gaze, a look of contemplation on her face. “It’s so strange because I was considering a run in 2024, and I can’t stop wondering what…” she looks at Gold again, “what it would do for your legacy to endorse the first female president. I mean, wow. ” The word is breathy, almost a whisper. “Now that’s a legacy.”

Gold presses his joined hands to his lips and has a thoughtful expression embedded in his features, but she can’t discern what he’s thinking.

She looks at the floor between them while he ponders her words. 

“Emma?” he finally says after a moment.

“Hmm?” She reverts her eyes to him.

“I would like to endorse you to be the next President of the United States.” 

Her entire body is thrumming with excitement and her stomach is full of butterflies; she doesn’t even care he said it like it was his idea. She’ll even give him credit for it. Besides, trying to convince him otherwise would be like trying to teach a fish how to bark. She closes her eyes and refrains from jumping up and down on the couch. She opens her eyes again, trying to hide the excitement in her voice but fails, her tone coming out unusually high pitched. “I mean, if you think that’s a good idea, sir, I trust you completely. I’d be… I’d be honored.”

He reclines back, wagging a finger at her. “I’ll be pulling for Team Emma. Because you’ve been a great secretary.”

“Of State,” she adds.

“Whatever. You’ve done it well, Dearie.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“So stay focused. Don’t make any major screw-ups. Don’t kill anyone. That’s probably not a problem for you. I don’t know what you’re into. Whatever. And before you know it…” He rises from the couch and hums the US Presidential Anthem. 

“I like the sound of that,” Emma says with a jubilant smile as she stands up.

“Hey here she comes, it’s the first lady president,” he chants.

“Thank you, sir.” She heads for the door, Gold following behind her still singing. 

“Who can believe she is actually a woman. She’s got a big brain and a couple other assets.”

Emma opens the door and walks through, not even giving another thought to how incredibly sexist Gold is being. She’s floating high on a cloud as she sashays proudly down the hall and raises a subtle victory fist in the air, whispering to herself, “Yessss!”

∞∞∞

“You’re gonna love this,” Killian raves as he hands the piece to his boss. “I almost died for this.”

Sidney lowers the mug from his lips, swallowing his coffee down. He offers a tightlipped smile as he glances very briefly at the draft before looking up at Killian, a serious expression clouding his face. “Got a second?”

“Of course.” 

“Come with me.”

Killian follows Sydney into his office and sits across from him at the desk, setting his satchel on the floor.

Sydney sets down Killian’s article and his coffee mug, folding his hands together on the desk. “I have some great news, Killian. We’ve just been bought by Walsh Media.” 

Killian pales and his stomach drops. “What?!” Blood bubbles under his skin at the thought of the wanker buying the Storybrooke Advocate. The thought of him owning something Killian has literally put his blood, sweat and tears into. “Bloody hell. Are you fucking kidding me?!” Ever since he was a kid, he’s dreamed of being an investigative journalist, so he’s been nothing but loyal and dedicated to the company from day one. But in the blink of an eye, Walsh has managed to ruin all that for him.

“Look, I knew you would have a poor reaction—”

“A poor reaction?!”

“Killian, this is a good thing.”

“How?! That wanker represents everything we’ve been fighting against since day one. The whole point of this paper is to fight giant media conglomerates. Now we’ve been bought by a giant media conglomerate.”

“I see the irony,” Sydney nods.

“Irony?!” Killian stands from his chair, his voice growing louder with every word. “He’s going to turn us into a giant propaganda machine! And not the good kind!” Anger pulsates through him as he paces back and forth in front of Sidney’s desk; he’s never been this worked up before in his entire life. And that’s saying something for him.

“Killian, we’re running out of options. We’ve been running as long as we can on ads for weed doctors and escorts.”

Killian stops in his tracks and raises his hands in the air. “Then run penis enlargement ads or something!”

“Come on, Killian,” Sydney admonishes.

He sighs in exasperation, trying to calm down, his voice calmer. “This Walsh guy ran fake stories to get Gold elected.”

Sydney shakes his head and raises a finger at him. “No, they couldn’t prove that.”

“We proved it!” He holds up three fingers. “I wrote three articles about it. You published them!”

Sydney nods, lowering his face into the palm of his hand. “I did.”

“The shite that comes out of this guy’s mouth? He said same-sex marriage caused tornadoes! He represents everything that’s wrong with this country!”

“Killian, it’s done, alright?”

He freezes. “It’s done?!”

“They’re upstairs, finalizing the deal right now.” 

Killian presses the pads of his fingers to his temples and turns away from his boss as he tries to process this. 

Sydney stands and rounds his desk, sitting on the edge, pleading with him. “Look, we have to cut two-thirds of our staff.”

Killian turns around, devastation in his features. “Two-thirds?”

“Yes. But we want to keep you on. They want to keep you on. It’s just,” he blows out a hesitant breath, “you just have to tone it down a little bit.”

Killian furrows his brows in bewilderment. “I don’t know how I can tone things down any more than I’m toning them down, mate,” he mutters through gritted teeth.

“Okay look, Killian, you’re a brilliant writer…”

“Thank you.”

“You’re funny, you take risks, you connect with people…”

Killian’s brows pinch in suspicion. “Why am I sensing there’s a big but coming?”

“You have a distinct, authentic voice… but… ”

“And there it is…” he sighs.

“But, sometimes you’re a little too much.”

Killian is taken aback. “I don’t think I am too much. I actually think I’m the perfect portion,” he says defensively.

“Look, you have your job, so focus on that and just toe the line a little bit.”

Killian is enraged. Toe the line a little bit?! He’s not toeing any lines. “I quit.”

Sydney’s face twists with a mixture of shock and disappointment. “Oh, come on, Killian…”

“You should quit, too. Everyone should bloody well quit.”

“No, I’m not quitting, I need my job.”

“I need my job too. I’m broke. But I can’t work for that tosser.”

Sydney sighs. “At least let me fire you so you can collect unemployment.”

Killian slices a hand through the air over his chest. “No bloody way! I want nothing from him. Besides, I want him to know I quit.”

“He’ll never know it, he’s never heard of you. You’re going to destroy your life to spite a guy who’s never heard of you?”

“Yes! You said it best! That’s exactly what I’m doing. Fuck this.” Killian grabs his satchel and walks out of Sydney’s office, closing the door behind him, announcing to all his former coworkers, “Journalism died today, people!”

∞∞∞

“So the headline is, you’re in great shape,” Mary Margaret, the polling team manager, points out as she displays the next presentation slide.

Emma’s sitting at the meeting table between her Chief of Staff, Regina Mills, and Deputy Chief of Staff, Robin Locksley, trying to follow along with the presentation, but it’s difficult for Emma to focus when her stomach is full of butterflies. She still can’t believe she persuaded Gold to endorse her. Her head is spinning.

“Ninety-two percent, that’s good,” Regina comments. 

“It’s very good,” Mary Margaret agrees exuberantly and moves on to the next slide, which shows Emma’s personality traits and how they were ranked. “Your sense of humor is eighty-two, which is solid.” Mary Margaret cocks her head to the side, as though she has to rethink that assessment. “It’s solid, but we wouldn’t mind seeing that number go up a few points… or more.”

Regina leans in to speak to Emma as she takes notes. “I’ll get some writing samples from some funny speechwriters.”

Emma sets her pen down and smiles. “Thanks, Regina.” She rests her elbows on the table, clasping her hands together as she reverts her attention to Mary Margaret and says, “But I’m really interested in knowing how people feel about my accomplishments.” 

“Right, so we don’t drill down on specific policies, and that’s only because people don’t seem to care.”

Well, that’s a blow to the gut.

“With that said, if you could broker a deal that gets you out there talking about something you feel strongly about, that would be really great.”

“Well, that’s perfect,” Emma says enthusiastically, sitting on the edge of her chair. “We’ve been looking for an opening to start a conversation about the environment.” 

“That sounds great,” Mary Margaret says with a grin, but Emma’s not sure if she’s being sarcastic and trying to hold back a laugh, or if she’s being sincere. “Now, if I may, onto your romantic life…” The brunette shows a photo of Emma and Graham Humbert smiling for the camera.

Emma refrains from rolling her eyes as she rests her chin in her palm. She doesn’t have a romantic life. One make-out session with a world leader she barely knows doesn’t constitute a romance.

However, the way Mary Margaret gushes as she looks at the couple in the photo, one would think they were actually a couple. “Remember the stir online when you and the Canadian Prime Minister were seated next to each other at the Global Business Forum?”

Emma nods, wishing she were taking a nap right now. She doesn’t care about improving her personality traits or starting a romance that will raise her numbers and appease the public. Although she is quite proud of her two highest scores, elegance and charisma, both ranked at over ninety-five percent.

“A relationship like that,” Mary Margaret points to the photo of Emma and Graham, “could push you into the high nineties.”

“High nineties? Wow,” Regina murmurs to herself, making note of it.

“That brings us to…” Mary Margaret switches to the next slide, showing Emma’s wave.

She knits her brows in confusion. “What’s wrong with my wave?”

“That kind of elbow movement is um…” Mary Margaret purses her lips as though she’s trying to figure out how to put it delicately, but then gives up, “well, it stresses people out.”

“You know what? It’s just an area of improvement,” Robin assures Emma after sensing the offended tone in her voice.

She supposes the movement in her elbow is a bit too much. It makes her look like a robot actually. “Fine, I’ll work on the wave.”

∞∞∞

“I’m not going to a fancy rich person party,” Killian declares after Victor proposed going to the World Wildlife Fund benefit in Philly tonight. Killian had shared the details with Victor and now they’re walking down Main Street discussing their plans for the evening. But Killian thought Vic was trying to make him feel better. Going to a fancy, rich person party will only remind Killian how rich he is not. He had something else in mind, something involving the closest bar and lots and lots of rum. 

“Oh, come on, Jones. Don’t be so judgemental. There will be free booze and pandas and shit. People love pandas and shit.”

Killian shakes his head. “I just lost my job, I’m not really in the mood to mingle.”

“Fine, just sit at home and do nothing. Don’t hang out with your best friend and Boyz II Men.”

Killian’s ears perk up and he stops in his tracks. “Boyz II Men will be there?”

Victor stops walking and turns around, nodding. “Yep. They’re bringing their timeless blend of R&B and hip hop to the party. The fancy rich party doesn’t sound so bad after all, now does it?”

Not at all. He used to listen to Boyz II Men and other popular musicians in the nineties. But mostly Boyz II Men because it’s what he and Emma would listen to when she was over at his house babysitting him. He didn’t know Victor then; they met in college before Victor went off to medical school, but they have similar tastes in music. Which is how Victor knew exactly how to persuade Killian into going to a fancy, rich person party. “Okay, I’m in, mate.”

“That’s the spirit!” Victor pats Killian on the shoulder, and they walk again as Victor sings Motownphilly.

∞∞∞

“I’m starving. Why didn’t you power bar me?” Emma asks Robin as they make their way down the staircase, Regina and her Secret Service agents following behind them.

The Grand Room glitters like something out of a fairy tale, all candlelight and crystal chandeliers and gilt and sophisticated shine. The attendees glitter, the women dripping in diamonds and other precious stones and the men donning suits and black ties. 

“I tried to, but you pushed my hand away,” Robin chuckles.

“Hopefully they don’t have skewered foods. I can’t eat skewered foods gracefully; I always look like a fucking cavewoman.”

“And there are cameras everywhere.” Regina points at a dutiful photographer who’s unobtrusively circling the perimeter of the room, taking pictures of as many of the guests as he can. “That would hurt your elegance score.”

“That’s my best score.”

When they reach the buffet table, Emma’s relieved to find that not all the food is on skewers. But even so, she’s so hungry, she may still look like a cavewoman trying to stuff as much food into her mouth as she can. “Cover me?”

“Of course.”

Regina and Robin both stand behind her like walls as Emma makes her first selection, grabbing a saucy meatball on a toothpick and bringing it to her mouth, being careful not to drip any sauce on her black dress. 

“Oh my god, these meatballs are really good,” Emma mumbles through a mouthful of food.

“Graham Humbert is approaching,” Regina warns her. “He’s about nine feet away.”

“Shit,” Emma whispers and shoves another meatball into her mouth before wiping her lips and chin with a napkin. After swallowing it down and discarding the napkin, she spins around, offering a bright smile. 

When Graham approaches her, giving her a once over, Regina and Robin disperse.

“Graham… how are you?”

“Good evening.” His lips twitch in a pleased smile as he takes Emma’s hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. “I am so sorry I missed you at the White House a few weeks ago,” he says in his thick, Irish brogue. He was born in Canada, but his parents are originally from Ireland, so naturally, he took on their Irish accent.

“Oh, it’s fine.” Emma waves off his apology with a flick of her hand. “Maybe next time?”

“Well, I—”

“If I may?” the photographer interrupts, holding up his camera.

“Aye, of course,” Graham turns toward him, and Emma relents, remembering what Mary Margaret said about how being seen with Graham would raise her score. She supposes if she’s going to be running for president, she must endure some things she may not like, in order to appease the public. Besides, it’s not like Graham is bad looking; in fact, he’s rather handsome with his curly brown hair and grey-blue eyes. But her hectic schedule doesn’t allow time for a romantic relationship. 

Graham wraps his arm around her as she places a tentative hand on his back. The camera flashes a few times as Emma and Graham hold their smiles.

“One more,” Graham says, just as Emma’s about to pull away. 

A few more successive shots are taken before Graham thanks the photographer and they break their pose, turning toward each other. 

He inches closer, speaking intimately in her ear. “What do you say we get out of here? Grab a drink somewhere a bit more… private?”

The music changes from something soft and elegant to something more familiar. Very familiar actually. 

Motownphilly.

Emma looks over Graham’s shoulder and her eyes light up when she sees Boyz II Men on stage. “Yeeeessss!”  

When Regina told her about the World Wildlife Fund benefit, she failed to mention Boyz II Men would be performing.

“Yeah?” Graham asks, a big smile spreading across his lips.

While he’s thinking she was saying yes to his invitation, Emma had forgotten his presence as soon as she heard the music. Not that she would’ve accepted his invitation anyway. But now she sees this as an opportunity to avoid the question altogether. “Oh my God!” Emma scurries over to the crowd that’s gathering around the entertainers of the evening.

“Alright, alright, alright, alright. Philly, make some noise. Make some noise!”

The crowd whistles and cheers, and Emma is taken back to when she was a kid again. She was ten when this song came out—when she bought their CD—and listened to it constantly throughout her teen years. 

Graham joins her on the dance floor as she moves to the music, not even caring about her elegance score. She literally hasn’t danced like this since high school, but she feels more carefree than she has in years and she hasn’t even had a sip of champagne. Stuffy music and champagne have never been her thing. But this… this is her music.

“Duty calls.” Graham’s deep voice in her ear makes her jump, and she spins around to look at him. “I’ll take a snow check on those drinks. Canadian for a rain check,” he winks.

“Okay,” Emma says, forcing a small laugh at his joke. 

“Good evening,” he bids her, slowly walking away.

∞∞∞

“I feel very underdressed,” Killian grumbles as he peers down at himself. He’d never thought to change out of his blue jeans, t-shirt and black hoody, and here he is drinking champagne in a room full of rich people who are wearing tuxes and formal dresses.

“Don’t worry, you look fine,” Victor says as they make their way through the crowd. 

Killian knows he’s just being nice though. Even Victor is wearing a dress shirt and blazer, but then again he blends in more with the other rich folk because unlike Killian, he’s not jobless or poor; he’s a doctor who makes more than a decent living.

Killian finishes his champagne and places the flute on a tray when a waiter approaches, and snatches another one, gulping it down like rum.

“Easy, buddy. You’re pounding those drinks pretty hard, don’t you think?” And that’s coming from Victor, who’s at the bar every night he’s not on call.

“I got fired today, mate.” 

“I thought you said you quit?”

Killian’s gaze moves across the room as he turns his head to look at Victor who is standing next to him. “I was forced to quit because—” His words die in his throat, his jaw dropping when his eyes land on a gorgeous blonde dancing.

But not just any blonde. Killian recognizes her. 

It’s the Secretary of State. It’s Emma Swan. His first crush. His first kiss. 

He hasn’t seen her in person since she was eighteen, but she’s even more stunning as a grown woman. And she’s even more stunning than she is on television. 

[ask-the-clergy-bc]

Hiya! So in your opinion what do you think it would take for the Papas and Cardinal Copia to open up and be vulnerable with a S/O? Would it need time and trust, maybe an event which caused them to have an epiphany, or maybe they get caught at a bad time and need some comfort? Thank you!

I accidentally made this into a giant character introspection, whooooooooooops! 

Ooooooooooooooooh boy, this is gonna be a long one so sit down! There’s no easy answer for me to give without a thesis sooooooooooooooooooooo-

Papa’s and Copia - What it Takes to have them be Truly Vulnerable with an S/O

Character flaw and reflection time! I will warn you these men are all far from perfect! 

There’s definitely a LOT of elements and circumstances for each of these Antipopes, so I will try my best to sum it up without letting it get too big! Trust will be the key word in opening them all up! 

A super short answer for this would be a small chart. From easiest to hardest to open up genuinely to an S/O (regardless of the situation), it would look something like this. 

Papa Nihil

Papa I

Cardinal Copia

Papa II

Papa III

Keeping this in mind is actually really important as a lot of it has to play into each personality and life experiences. Even then, this is a super tight race! They all don’t blindly trust and they all have a level of mystery they NEED to keep about them. So it’s a huge mix of their jobs as Papas and who they are deep down. 

There is a reason such things like Prime Movers exist/ Having courtesans and harem members rather than proper spouses. A Papa could easily be compromised by a spouse. With either a partner using them to manipulate the Church, or straight up betraying them. A Papa has to be alert, smart, and VERY VERY sure when choosing a lifelong mate. They have to be able to know without a doubt that they can count on their partner with their very lives and the lives of others. 

THEN there are so many personal factors and circumstances that come into play! It’s safe to say that all of them are emotionally guarded in some way, shape, or form. That comes with the territory of being a Hell Blooded man of power. You don’t know who REALLY loves you, who’s using you, or who wants something. On top of that, the emotional burdens of their work, their faith, personal fears, and the expectations put on them. 

It can be VERY hard to gauge what really clicks for each of them to trust someone. So, as asked, we will take a look into each of them! :)

Papa Nihil:

If you caught him in his younger years, he might have been more trusting with a serious partner. Not out of naivety or blind love, but out of arrogance. Arrogance that a partner could not hurt him even if they betrayed him. Nihil had an ego to him and felt on top of the world- being Papa and nothing to stop him. Not even a broken heart! To him, the worst thing that could happen with an S/O would be heartbreak, and he refused to believe that was anything that could break him! Well… it ended up happening with Sister Imperator. So after she left, he understood the consequences of his actions and what that would actually feel like. It’s not something he’s too keen to feel again. 

As he got older, he hardened. The only one who has really ever seen his softer, vulnerable side has been Imperator. She’s the only one he remotely trusts in the deepest sense, and even then- he has doubted her motives with the introduction of Copia! Nihil learned the hard way that putting your trust in the wrong people can have serious consequences to your life. 

That all being said, two things really work with getting Nihil to be open to you with his feelings. First would be his “test”- not something he purposely does to make his S/O jump through hoops, mind you. Consider it an observation period where he sees how serious a relationship can be with you. Nihil doesn’t mind flings, and as Grand Papa, has a willing harem at his disposal. The first months or years with a single partner is him learning about them. This goes from seeing how serious YOU are, your intentions and sincerity, how well you both click, and how close you end up being. That, and making sure you aren’t just using him. Granted, he doesn’t mind the occasional arm candy or someone who just wants to have fun. Those are just the partners he doesn’t put extra effort into when it comes to emotions or deeper mental intimacy.

The second is just plain old time. If you two become serious, and stick by each other through thick and thin- you will learn about him. Nihil will slowly disclose more and more to you. Don’t go crazy, because the Grand Papa is always watching for any hints of betrayal (nothing personal, it comes with the job.) So the more you are trustworthy, the more he shares. There will be a few tough subjects to crack with him, like his relationship with Imperator and his sons. But the more you mutually talk and grow together, the more things work out. I will warn you, no matter how much he trusts you he IS a stubborn old goat and some information HAS to be pried from him- simply because HE WILL NOT ADMIT ANYTHING TO HIMSELF SOMETIMES. 

Papa I:

Papa can be very open and trusting with a serious partner, that typically is not the problem. Granted, he’s very analytical so his own feelings are something he tries to approach logically. But that’s not the problem. The hurtle would just be you both getting to be a serious couple in the first place. As to him there is a vast difference between a sexual/romantic fling, casual companionship, and the workings of a true mate ship. The last of which is riddled with pitfalls due to his place as Papa and carrier of his bloodline. 

Papa tends to let his sense of duty rule over almost every aspect of his life. He is one of the ‘purest’ followers of Lucifer, and it shows in everything he does! Because of that, he has not typically sat down to consider companionship past his carnal needs and having someone to spend time with. Typically anything deeper would mean something equivalent to our idea of marriage- and with “marriage” to a Papa brings up the topic of possible heirs brought on by the Ministry. When a Papa is heavily involved with someone beyond their casual lovers, the idea of heirs is ALWAYS discussed. The Bloodline HAS to be continued. Depending on the sex of the partner, questions will be asked such as- can the partner become a prime mover? If possible are they SUITABLE? If they can’t have children will they interfere in possible heirs being made? In short, Papa equates “Serious” partners to this duty to sow the seeds of the bloodline’s future. 

That being said, Papa would actually prefer a partner he could be open with. The trick is that he has to snap himself out of thinking just for the family and ministry’s sake. Which is self admittedly a difficult feat for him, because he’s always in work and faith mode. That’s just who he is. The other just has to do with how he treats others. 

Typically Papa is much more interested in what you, his partner, is feeling. This comes with YEARS of thinking of everyone but himself. Papa has had to consider his flock, the will of the high clergy, the will of his father, the wants and needs of his brothers, and those he considers friends or in need of his guidance. Papa knows how to take care of himself, so HIS feelings are almost inconsequential. Papa much rather let you talk and share how you are than consider himself. It typically just takes a bit of asking and prodding on your part to get him to open up if you two have been close for a long time. Being honest and to the point also helps, as it gives him a moment to collect his thoughts and express himself thoroughly. 

Papa II:

Being emotionally vulnerable for Papa II is very difficult. Not because he CHOOSES to be a ‘wounded bitter old man.’ Even though he is very much that AND a known grouch and perfectionist; Papa just doesn’t know HOW to be. Papa does have emotions and he does feel them very deeply when he’s not trying to tough it out. But Papa has never been GOOD at expressing his feelings, even as a child. It’s not something he was in touch with, and not very comfortable for him to think about. Unlike III, Papa II just cannot seem to find it in himself to express his true feelings. Granted, he could put it into words as he is very eloquent. But… it’s difficult. 

On top of that, Papa has never been one to let his weaknesses appear. Emotions are often embraced by Lucifer, as expressing them. But to Papa, these are his weak points and he prides himself too much in keeping all his weaknesses guarded. Papa has crafted himself to cover his vulnerabilities in such a way that they play to his strengths! For his emotions and true feelings, he detaches from them; giving him the ability to lead with a critical and objective mind not bogged down by empathy. As a Papa, this makes him an excellent and analytical leader. As a lover, this often bites him in the ass- especially in pursuing any SERIOUS life time commitments. Something he wasn’t keen on doing in the first place. 

Papa is very aware of how ‘spouses’ work for the Bloodline. Bonding with a potential mate has always been in the interest of furthering the family, not personal fulfillment. He’s tried VERY hard to keep it that way. And like his father, he is painfully aware of those who would manipulate his feelings. And if we were being honest? The idea of genuinely falling in love scares the absolute shit out of Papa. The idea of being so vulnerable to a person who could crush your very soul, the soul of a demon blooded Antipope, is not something to take lightly! And it’s NOT like he has had any good role models to show how true love should operate… 

To win him over, it would be a good idea to show HIM your vulnerable side first. Kinda like when a cat shows you its belly as a sign of trust. LEt him see the ugly side of you, the insecure- but slowly. Don’t hit him all at once with everything. You have to let Papa come to you. It might take a lot of time this way, but it’s a start- there is a reason he feels more comfortable with submission. It makes him feel so much more secure. Also showing your dedication and love through action and not words will be HUGE! Showing him you can be trusted, that you have a good head on your shoulders, and that you have his best interests at heart. Alternatively, if something life altering should happen to him, you supporting him is the ultimate display of your dependability. If you try to force him at any point he will pull back out of reflex. It’s one of the few times he lets your roles be reversed. 

Papa III: 

Many would accuse his older brother, Emeritus the II, of being the hardest to make vulnerable- yet many are surprised that it is actually him! But Papa has spent years weaving a huge web around himself. Papa has so many masks and layers to him out of fear that sometimes even he doesn’t know what part of him is genuine or not. He learned from an early age that he was the most emotional, and most likely to get hurt. And let me tell you something, Emeritus the Third is NOT a man who likes the feeling of being hurt emotionally. It’s practically unbearable for him. He already deals with a lot of emotional burdens from feeling as though he were the ‘weak’ one of the Bloodline. Truth be told, he hasn’t had the best relationship with his father, either. 

What’s worse? As much as he likes to talk about himself, Papa does NOT like talking about his true issues and anxieties. Papa usually deflects in such subtle ways that those close to him THINK he is being vulnerable, when in truth he is being superficial. So when you hear him complain about how the Ministry treats him, or a minor insecurity brought on by an argument with his brother- you are only scratching the surface. And even if he loves you, Papa does not want you to see that ugly, miserable side of him. He doesn’t even want to acknowledge it himself. If he can barely stand these horrible sides to himself, how does he expect you to stay and accept him? 

For Papa III, the key factor would be time and patience. But this is further made difficult with his fleeting interests and inability to commit. The natural way to his vulnerable side is by never leaving his side, assuming he doesn’t forcibly push you away. For example, one of the few who know him deeply is Omega and his eldest brother, Papa I. That’s because they have been around his entire life. Either you would have to be the same, or be there in a huge moment of weakness to have him even remotely come clean. 

The best (or in his case, worse) would be you being there at his absolute lowest point. When he’s so far gone in his emotions that he can’t even muster up the energy to put on a show. When he can’t bring himself to be Papa, to be charming- hell even RUDE AND ANGRY. The best example would be like if you were around after he was stripped of the Ghost Project and made a fool out of publically. That was such a horrible time for him and everyone around him. But if you are there with unconditional love and he SEES that you love him through every facet of his identity, he will want to stick close and loyal to you. It will take MORE time, but little by little Papa ends up baring his soul to you. He’d be lying if he said he still wasn’t afraid to confide in you, least you up and leave...  

Cardinal Copia/Papa IV:

Copia has struggled with trust nearly his whole life, and ALL of his career in the High Ministry. If we are being honest, as welcoming and loving as the church is, the upper clergy is full of deceit and cutthroat tactics. It’s as competitive and dangerous as any monarchy or noble circles. That’s because within it there is a LOT more at stake. Ministry members have vanished or been found dead thanks to inner politics, and Copia has his share of close calls. He’s had to learn to trust no one but yourself, and never EVER let your guard down too much.

Unfortunately, this does bleed into his personal life. Copia has had his share of bed mates and even lovers that have stuck around longer than anticipated. But long term commitments have been very few and far between. And to be honest, he HAS been burned before. From those who sought to betray him to partners who just DIDN’T LIKE who he really was underneath. Copia has buried that hurt and tried to use it as a reminder of why he needs to keep himself until he makes it to the top. Then NO ONE could hurt him the way they could when he was a mere Ministry member.

Copia has always been really cautious around lovers to the point of paranoia. Where he adamantly refused to let himself be weak at any point! He is always good to them, but is just plain scared of letting his guard down. But the difference between Copia and the rest of the Papas is that Copia CRAVES intimate connection like you wouldn’t believe. Sometimes he desperately wants that stability and trust with another person without fear of repercussion. Copia often feels like he can never have it, and it’s one of the few things he wants almost as bad as the Papacy. But he’s never had time or a chance to- far too much to do and too much to risk!

One of the biggest ways Copia ends up calming down around you and actually opening up is if you have been there for the long run. Especially if you two were some type of couple or close BEFORE he was ever chosen for the Ghost project. Copia needs that undying support and consistency to really warm up to you. If you’ve unconditionally been there from the beginning and have not changed since his Papacy, Copia is nothing but loyal to you in return. Copia is a very good actor, but he will still be skittish and reluctant to talk too much. You just have to be patient with him as he gets comfortable. I promise, he wants nothing more than to trust you completely.

[troped-fanfic-challenge]

The Qualifying Round

It’s time to VOTE!!

Hey guys time to vote! fics are below! It’s officially time to vote for the Qualifying Round of Chopped Madness! The structure is simple! Please rank the eighteen (18) fics, first (1) being your top choice, and last (18) being your last choice, in order of which author you think deserves to move on to Round 1! This ranking will also be used to help us order all the authors for the brackets for Round 1.

At the end of the voting period, we will announce the TWO (2) authors who have been Chopped!! If you are not Chopped, that means you will be moving on to the next round, so keep an eye out for that post to be sure! If you aren’t sure you can always send us a message to check! 

You can vote here!

Voting Link: https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/QLFJM7M

The 18 fics that we received for this round can be found below, or on AO3 here! Each fic follows the theme [Canonverse], includes the tropes [Fairy Tale AU] and [Write a villain as a good guy or a good guy as a villain], and has a central character focus on [Bellamy Blake]! When you vote, please be sure to take into consideration the USE of all these elements, because, as with all other Chopped events, the purpose is to select the authors who best utilize the requirements!

When the party’s over (Rated T) [Bellamy & Octavia]

Summary: Bellamy goes into the anomaly to save Octavia. What he finds, is a trail of bodies. {Or: a canonverse take on Hansel & Gretel}

don't be who you were (Rated T) [Bellamy & Diyoza]

Summary: Bellamy's forced to stay in the bunker, alone, for six years. Diyoza trapped alone on her ship. They find a way to help each other survive, because that's what they know how to do.

Straight On Until Morning (Rated G) [Bellamy & Kane]

Summary: Bellamy and his unruly band of Delinquents have been living life as they wish. Their days are filled with games and exploring while their nights are spent coordinating attacks against the dreaded Wanheda and her Mountain Men. It's all fun and games in a world where no one gets older.

But then a strange man appears one day and Marcus Kane provides a reality check to Bellamy that he's not prepared to accept.

Where is the path to Wonderland? (Rated T) [Bellamy x Clarke]

Summary: Separated from their friends in the Anomaly, Clarke and Bellamy find themselves lost in a world so different from their own.

The Sixth Bride (Rated M) [Bellamy x Roan]

Summary: For their wedding, Roan gifted him an antique skeleton key attached to a thin, leather cord. Rough, callous fingertips grazed the base of his neck as they secured the necklace in place. While his husband allowed him full reign of the tower, the key provided access to the only room he barred Bellamy from entering. He was never to set foot in the sole room on the highest floor. Into Roan's private reprieve from the world.

And to be fair, Bellamy respected Roan's right to privacy - for a while.

Gunning for Glory (Rated T) [Bellamy x Gina]

Summary: While on a routine mission for Kane, Bellamy comes across a mystery girl who points him towards a treasure trove that might prove useful for Arkadia, but danger lurks up every spiraling staircase. It may just be the distraction he needs, though, to get over Clarke leaving.

On the Ground and What Bellamy Found There (Rated G) [General]

Summary: Bellamy has a prophetic dream. An Alice in Wonderland AU.

to dream about a life (where you're the shining star) (Rated T) [Bellamy x Murphy]

Summary: Bellamy has been dreaming about going to the coalition's annual Camp Rock since he was a kid. The chance to escape his life and his step-father and spend his days travelling between clans and singing. This year, he finally has a chance to go--as a chef.

Murphy hated what came of Clarke's treaty with the Grounders, but even he knew it could've been worse. But that didn't mean he wanted to spend his time performing for the people who had kidnapped and tortured him. He could do it, though. He could sing at whatever the fuck Camp Rock was, and he could help pick whichever winner the Grounders wanted him to pick. He could play nice. That didn't mean he had to like it.

There’s Gonna Be a Party When the Wolf Comes Home (Rated T) [General]

Summary: “Dante?” she asks, her voice a mixture of confusion and surprise.

Bellamy straightens the nameplate on his desk, and the gold plaque reflects the dim fluorescent lights above him. He taps it twice, drawing her attention to the words “Dante Wallace” written in a fancy script.

“That’s what they call me.”

A Canon Divergent Fairy Tale AU staring Bellamy Blake

No Ordinary Apple (Rated T) [Bellamy & Josephine]

Summary: When Josephine awakens in Clarke Griffin's body, she has no reason to believe anything about her reincarnation is anything out of the ordinary.

Then she learns that Clarke was far from a willing host and meets Bellamy Blake.

She doesn't expect to become invested in their love story, and she certainly doesn't plan on risking her own like to make things right.

And yet, here she is. All in the name of true love.

Brother Knows Best (Rated G) [Bellamy & Octavia]

Summary: Octavia grew up in a cave, hidden from the world, with only her brother to care for her. He kept her safe, safe from a world where people like her, where nightbloods, were hunted and slaughtered.

But even with so much danger, she longs to see the world, so when a handsome stranger stumbles into their cave, she makes her escape to spend one night out under the stars.

But in just one night, she begins to wonder if everything she'd grown up believing was true after all.

seeds in silence (exploded in riot) (Rated T) [Bellamy & Clarke]

Summary: Seeds. Not the modified seeds Farm Station constantly churns out in unending batches. Genuine seeds. Earth seeds.

The kind of seeds that the scientists from Alpha will sell their souls for.

Doctor Griffin talks a lot about genetics and lost patterns, but Bellamy’s mind is a million miles away. He can get anything he wants for Octavia and his mom. He can make it so Octavia doesn’t have to live in hiding. He can bring the chancellor himself to his knees, if he’s careful enough.

i've got a heart in me (i swear) (Rating T) [Bellamy x Murphy]

Summary: Belonging was not a familiar word in the Book of John Murphy.

That was a fact that seemed grounded in concrete; what he wouldn't give to stumble upon a sledgehammer someday and be reunited with his bruised and feeble, but still beating, heart.

2199 Nights (Rated M) [Bellamy x Clarke]

Summary: Every day, the Commander Bellamy took a new wife and executed her the next morning, until one day his fleimkepa's daughter volunteered. She kept him entertained with tales of far-off places, sword fights, magic spells, a prince in disguise. . .

we'd up and fly (if there were wings for flying) (Rated G) [Bellamy x Clarke]

Summary: Bellamy and Wells are held captive and interrogated by the Grounders, and when he returns to Arkadia, Bellamy finds some things have changed.

The Storyteller (Rated T) [Bellamy x Clarke]

Summary: A heartbroken Commander, betrayed by her beloved, vows to slay each and every one of her future lovers after they’ve spent their first night together.

Bellamy Blake, the latest to be taken into the Commander of Death’s chambers, will try to save his life by weaving a succession of tales to the woman that lasts for one thousand and one nights.

How to Kill a Two-Headed Turkey (Rated T) [Bellamy & Octavia]

Summary: After everyone at camp collapses from a mysterious illness (thanks Murphy), Bellamy and Octavia are sent to hunt enough food for 100 sick teenagers. When they find themselves lost, far from camp, what else can they do but move forward? Thankfully, a kind woman took them in, but all is not as it seems. Anya's been waiting to meet these Skaikru...

simmer, simmer, simmer (Rated M) [Bellamy x Clarke]

Summary: When Sanctum falls to starvation, it is up to Bellamy and Clarke to find a solution. They aren't prepared for the horrors beyond the Sanctum barrier.

Chopped Madness AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Chopped_Madness

[otonymous]

Kinktober Oct 16th (Voyeurism): See (MLQC Lucien - NSFW)

Description: Observant eyes see all, but what happens when the watcher is watched? Warnings: NSFW/18+:  Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised.  Trigger warnings: voyeurism, very mild (blink and you’ll miss it) allusions to prostitution, infidelity, and murder, supernatural elements Word Count: 1347 words (~7 mins of spooky smut - it’s really not that scary 😂) AO3: read here Author’s Notes: My third entry for @alloveroliver’s Kinktober challenge and my first foray into something with a supernatural theme, because I LOVE stories about things that go bump in the night 😂

Please note the potential trigger warnings listed above, and happy reading! 😊

All characters & Mr Love: Queen’s Choice owned by Elex

👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻

The tedium of days passing, each as uneventful as the last, was more suffocating than the weight that pressed so often upon her:

Balding men nursing glasses of whiskey as they searched for company on demand, scrolling past photos of women with red-slicked pouts, beckoning to be chosen from among countless others with the click of a button.

Secret lovers indulging in afternoon trysts, all quiet whispers and hushed moans smothered by down pillows and feather duvets.  Promises heaped upon promises to just “wait a while longer…until the children are older.”  Empty words left on the doorsteps of broken homes.

Closed in on all sides, she had seen it all.

Until the day he walked through the door.

That man.

He was different.

Entering the room, he had stepped close…so close she could smell him: crisp and sweet, like the freshly mowed lawns she used to run through barefoot on hot summer days.

But his demeanour spoke of far more solemn things than sunshine and chlorine and popsicles melting sugary sweet down fingers and palms.

Dark hair fell over dark eyes, yet still could not conceal the intelligence in that gaze, gleaming with the edge and precision of a scalpel as it swept the room.

And when they rested on the bed, she swore she sensed his hand tightening around the card key, however minuscule the change.

With nothing but time on one’s hands, one learns that the smallest things are often the most significant.

So she shouldn’t have been surprised when he looked at her — turned in her direction until those eyes sharpened into the stare of a predator with prey in its grasp, and she knew that he knew.

Then suddenly, a knock on the door: two soft raps and the man was completely transformed, warm tenderness thawing the ice in his features that chilled her to the bone to be fixed under that glare.  And when he answered, she knew why.

“Lucien, I’m so sorry!  This was the only room left!”

He was deeply, irrevocably, in love with her.  This woman…full of life.

Falling into his open arms, his lover’s smile is radiant when he whispers into her ear, tones gentle and reassuring, speaking as if he didn’t want to be overheard.

Perhaps there was something of the mystic in her, some supernatural power extending from elegant fingertips that moved him — this man named Lucien — in ways that wasn’t readily apparent to the naked eye.  For all it took was a single caress of her hand, thumb moving in affectionate circles about the apple of his cheek, and the other person in the room was forgotten.

She watched the pair, spotlighted under the glow of incandescent lamps.  Felt their desperation in fingers and lips and hands through hair, frustrated by layers of fine-spun wool and silk laying between flushed flesh.

It should have been nothing new.  She had witnessed the act of love, been crushed by the weight of its rhythm, so many times before in this very room that what should have been sacred — or even taboo — no longer held the allure of mystery.

But there was something about this man.

The way his lover writhed in his arms to feel his hand roaming beneath her blouse, the tension coiled in the muscles of his forearm speaking volumes about his self-control; that he continued to stroke soft and slow when lust demanded that fabric be torn to shreds.

The darkness floating beneath the surface of composure, ripples of emotion periodically disturbing the calm, gentlemanly veneer to reveal the beast within, raging to escape and devour.

Yes, there was something different about him, this man named Lucien.  And she was transfixed to gaze upon him.  She simply could not remember the last time she chanced upon someone whose emotions ran so deep.  Pure, even.

Possessive too, if his jealousy was any indication — although his lover would surely laugh if she were to learn the reason why.  That is, if she weren’t frightened by the news to begin with.  So when she moves towards the bed, pulling the blouse over her head, he guides his lover to the sofa instead, leaving no room for argument as he kneels between her legs to run his tongue up the insides of her thighs, hot and wet.

Slipping one finger, then two, past those pretty pink folds to sweep away the remnants of bewilderment with every barely suppressed moan, until the sound of his hand diving slick and deep provided the sole accompaniment to their shuddering breaths.

So she watches, captivated by this man of shadow and light.  She is entranced by the way he moves, sensual and sure, when he brings wet fingers to shiny lips, slipping tapered fingertips into his mouth to savour the flavour of his lover on his tongue.

She stills when his dress shirt unbuttons to unveil muscular perfection; feels herself throbbing to look upon the curves of his buttocks when he steps out of his trousers to reveal a sizeable cock, already hard with need.  

And when that same hand — moist still with spit and his lover’s arousal -languidly traces the length of his shaft, she hungers for the pearlescent drop beading at its tip, wonders how it would feel if his smooth cock were to smear it across her lips, open and waiting.

Then, for one dreaded moment, uncertainty nips at the corners of the fate she thought she had long ago resigned herself to.

Because desire, burning and insistent, made her yearn to be pinned beneath this man, wrists bound together by the press of one large palm above her head.  To taste the salinity of his skin as tongue travelled from tip to beautiful toe.  To feel him bury between her legs…slide slow then thrust fast...until he was absolutely assured that she knew the sincerity of his intentions.

Much in the same way that he worshipped his lover now, hips rolling hard against hers to sink them deeper into the cushions with each frenzied movement.

She had never had a proper lover before.  But this, she imagines, must be what it is like.  How it should be like.

“Ah, Lucien, I…I’m coming…”

The woman’s breathless voice tears her from her reverie, and she is once again observing from without, the beauty of the bodies entwined in passion before her a stinging reminder of all she had lost before she even had the chance to hold it in the palm of her hand. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I’ll meet you in the lobby, darling,” Lucien says as he lays a kiss at the crown of his lover’s head, watching her with smiling eyes as she left the room, cheeks still beautifully flushed from his attentions.

And then, when all was quiet…he touched her.

Laid his palm atop the bed.  

Soft.  Solemn.  

Comforting.

He pulls away, and she watches him reach for the phone on the bedside table, straining to hear the muted voice of the concierge at the other end of the line.

Hears him — this man named Lucien — say the words that would finally, finally, set her free:

“Could you please send someone up to room number 444?  I’m finding the mattress very uncomfortable.”

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

“What’s wrong?”  Lucien emerges from the bathroom to see the girl sitting on his couch, face completely pale.  He approaches fast, laying both hands on her shoulders when he notices them shaking, directing his gaze to where her finger pointed towards the television screen: yellow tape and the flashing lights of police cruisers.

“They discovered a body at the hotel we were staying in.  Apparently, a set of bones was found stuffed inside a mattress.  I wonder which room…”

Suddenly, the screen goes dark.  The girl looks towards Lucien, already setting the remote control down on the coffee table.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about, silly girl.  I’m sure they’re in good hands now.”

👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻

Thanks so much for reading!  Check out more of my work here! 📚

[oveliagirlhaditright]

Do you know of any precanon fics in which Sora first realizes he's in love with, or has a crush on, Kairi?

That’s actually a really good question. I feel that I haven’t read many like this? I think I’ve read a few about Sora meeting Kairi... but I don’t think most of them move far enough along to show him falling in love with her after that. Or if they do, they’re AUs. That seems to be a time not really touched on much by the fandom.

Let’s see if I have anything that somewhat qualifies at all...

This fanfiction, https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3131685/1/Melting that’s about what it would have been like if Sora and Riku were stranded at the Dark Margin longer, has some of that. As it has flashbacks about Sora and Kairi’s life. Like, I think there’s a scene where a young Kairi falls asleep in Sora’s arms at the beach. And there’s a line like, “He was holding the girl he’d come to realize he loved, in a few years time”. And then in the next flashback--that’s after that event--I think Sora has realized that.

There’s this cute, one-shot... but I think it’s an AU. Because I think we all know Sora fell in love with Kairi when they were young. But I dunno. With KHIII maybe retconning that, one could maybe see this as more canon-esque now. https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6326975/1/Simple-Instructions

This one https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6123196/1/The-Third-Wheel-Effect maaaaaaay does something like that--though full disclosure: I haven’t read it in years, so I don’t remember--as it’s Riku’s PoV after Sora and Kairi get together... and about how he’s okay with it, and thinks it was inevitable, because they were always pulled to each other like gravity. But if it goes any further into it beyond that, I don’t recall.

There was a fanfiction I read years ago--on how Sora and Kairi met--where when they were in kindergarten, Sora saved Kairi from being bullied by these kids saying “People from Destiny Islands don’t have red hair”, but I don’t remember where it is anymore... and I don’t know if it showed them older and falling in love at all. It may be in “V is for Violet” by WishingDreamer5 on fanfiction.net, but don’t quote me on it.

In this story of mine https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/20111551 (that was my attempt at writing Sora saving Kairi at the end of KHIII before Re:Mind came out, that has all the flashbacks in it), I wrote a “what if Sora didn’t at first like Kairi when they were children” type thing, and maybe you get to see the journey of their relationship because of that? 

In this story https://archiveofourown.org/works/18773989/chapters/44539129 by ParadiseAvenger, there’s a line about how Sora’s loved Kairi since they were children... but you may not want to go through this whole fic, with many trigger warnings, just for that (I say that with love, as I enjoy ParadiseAvenger’s work. But I also know she’s not for everyone).

And then there’s also White Knight https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6277200/1/White-Knight by aradian nights, who’s an old friend of mine. It’s a canon/AU (that’s technically AU, but has so many canon elements--where it gives you “an I can’t believe it’s not canon” feeling--that it may still appease you. And this is still one of my favorite KH fanfictions of all-time, so I might gush about it here (also, spoilers for this fanfic, if you care). Basically, there’s a Realm of Light and a Realm of Darkness (kind of like in KH, but different. There are also in-between realms, I guess, but we never see them in the fic). Master Xehanort is the Master of the Dark Realm and Master Eraqus is the Master of the Light Realm (and like in canon, they used to be friends... but not anymore). Most of the story takes place in the Dark Realm and with the characters who live there (Sora and Kairi live in the Realm of Light, so you don’t really get to see them much. But more on that later). And Master Xehanort is a full-on dictator--with plans to take over the Realm of Light, of course--and he keeps people in line by taking people’s loved one’s hostages so they’ll do his bidding... And he has gatherings where people who break the rules are whipped or killed, and everyone in the Dark Realm has to watch (so there’s definitely some darkness to this fic. But I don’t think it’s Game of Thrones dark or anything like that. Think The Hunger Games, maybe... though Naminé, who’s insane in this for plot reasons, though still a heroine/sympathetic... can do some off-putting things, where she hurts herself or others. So be warned there). The story mostly follows Terra, Ventus, Aqua, Naminé, and later Vanitas, who all live in the Dark Realm. Oh. And Xion and Riku. And Roxas ends up in the Dark Realm later, too. And the main pairings are Terqua, Vennami (the author of this is actually a RokuNami fan--and there’s even some RokuNami ship tease in here--but she did this to challenge herself to see if she could do a Vennami crack pairing, and thus this whole story was born. And it’s marvelous), and VanAqua. Though there’s some other ship tease in there, too. But back to the SoKai... Both Sora and Kairi live with Master Eraqus (Sora’s trained to be a Keyblade wielder with him, and Kairi also tried to... but was unable to really wield any weapon. But everyone was okay with this, because they sensed she was an important light person they needed to keep around and were happy to protect her). And at one point, Master Xehanort kidnapped Kairi to create Naminé, as Nami’s the key to his plans... and he dropped her back on Eraqus’ door again, half-insane. And while other people who lived with Eraqus (like Roxas) tried their best to make Kairi feel better--and to protect her, because after this, Xehanort’s always sending men to try and kill her, because she’s getting in the way of his plans/Naminé--Sora’s the best at it... and you can sort of see how they’re falling in love with each other this way. And there’s this cute scene where they’re both musing over how their lives are too weird... and I won’t spoil all the reasons as to why they’re having that conversation. And Sora temporarily dies in this, and asks Ven to tell Kairi he loves her... but he’s able to come back in the end. But just note that while this story has its last chapter, it never got its epilogue--and never will (because the author doesn’t like this story much anymore, because she wrote it when she was thirteen/doesn’t really remember what she wrote/has moved on, etc.)--so in some ways, you don’t get full closure (though you still do get closure). At least not on, like, two subjects, so it’s sort of a gut punch in that way. But over time, I’ve come to realize that maybe it was the perfect way to end such a story. Oh. And they’re are Final Fantasy characters in this, too.

Edit: This one by ParadiseAvenger (that I think you can read, no problem, as this one really has no trigger warnings) has Sora thinking about how Kairi had always caught his eye at one part. https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/19324915/chapters/45968650

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Baby’s First Revenge Part 5

New part for the Baby’s First Revenge series! 

Read Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 here!

Screams of excitement filled the normally abandoned warehouse as two fighters circled each other, looking for an opportunity to strike. The bloodlust in the air was palpable, as money quickly changed hands between the excited spectators. The cheers soared as a bell rang out and the fight truly begun. They knew they would see a good fight, see blood.

After all, this was the underground fighting ring, and anything could happen.

Peter stood in the corner, hiding amongst the crowd. His arms were tightly folded across his chest, his heart beating rapidly just underneath. His face was stoic, looking almost bored, but his eyes carefully followed the smaller of the two fighters within the ring. 

Charlotte was tall, a good four inches taller than him, but even she was towered over by her enormous opponent. Outweighing her by a good 100 pounds of muscle, everyone in the arena thought they knew how this fight would end. 

Peter knew differently.

He watched as the sixteen year old girl circled the larger man. Her movements were graceful, almost as if she were dancing across the ring rather than preparing for a deadly fight. Her hands were loose at her sides, her posture relaxed, and on her face was a bright, amused grin.

Charlotte had always loved fighting. It came naturally to her, as easy as breathing or walking to a normal person. It seemed like she was made to fight, to test her strength against larger foes. It was when she seemed the most calm, relaxed. Peter always felt that was when she was the happiest, as if she had found a purpose and was single-mindedly pursuing it. It made him feel jealous, uncomfortable.

Peter sighed as she leapt forward, landing a hard strike to the flank of the man in front of her. The man stumbled, quickly regaining his balance, but it was too late. He had already lost the initiative in the fight.

It’s already over. He just doesn’t know it yet. Despite having bet a good amount of money on Charlotte winning, Peter couldn’t but feel a bitter anger as he watched her in her element, shining brightly in the dark warehouse.

Within the space of a breath, Charlotte had clambered onto the fighter’s back, her arms tight around his neck. He bucked trying to throw her off, but she simply laughed, pressing her thumb against his windpipe, closing off his airway. 

It was a dirty move, one that never would have been acceptable in any other fighting ring. But this was an underground fight. The crowd shouted angrily, upset with as the odds moved against them, but it was too late. His face turned pale and without a short staggering step, the fighter fell to the ground. Charlotte leapt free, brushing her short dark hair out of her eyes with a happy grin.

Her eyes scanned the crowd, finally meeting Peter’s gaze. Her smile widened and she gave him a thumbs up. Peter swallowed the bile rising in his throat, forced a smile, and returned the gesture. 

I hate her.

He had been thinking it for a while now. Ever since they were children, Charlotte had been there for him, helping take care of him. She protected him at all costs, making sure he stayed safe, warm and well fed as possible under their circumstances. She was always smiling, always mature.

It was torture.

It made him feel useless, childish. Who told her to be outstanding, to shine so brightly it made him seem dim by comparison. Standing in her shadow, Peter felt his thoughts turn darker and darker.

Peter was older now, tougher. He didn’t need her protection like he once had before in the past. His eyes followed the celebrating girl carefully, his gaze cold, calculating.

I wonder what my life would be like without her?

“CUT! That was a great take, people! Let’s take a fifteen minute break before the next shot.”

The director’s shout broke Peter’s concentration, shattering the memory he had been immersed in like glass.

Peter shook his head, dispelling the remnants of his confusion, forcing himself to focus on the moment he was in, and not the past. He looked around the movie set, sighing with relief as he confirmed that no one had noticed his distraction. As his gaze settled on a young girl chatting with a small boy beside her, his posture stiffened. Peter struggled to keep the rage and disgust from showing on his face.

She didn’t look like the girl in his memories at all, Her hair was lighter, curled, her eyes a different color. She was shorter, more petite than Charlotte had ever been when they were kids. Even with her hair cut short, her clothes ragged, no one would ever mistake one for the other…

Then why does she remind me so much of her?

It couldn’t just be that they shared the same name… Peter sighed, leaning against the wall, still staring at the young girl. She was rolling her eyes at something her costar had said, laughing cheerfully. Her eyes strayed past the boy before her for a moment, locking gazes with Peter.

Immediately her smile vanished, replaced by a look of disgust. With a brief glare of hatred the girl turned away, not bothering to look at him again. Peter’s hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into the skin of the palms of his hands.

That was it.

No matter the differences in their appearance, there was something about the way she moved. Whether it was fighting men twice her size, laughing with her friends, protecting the young boy beside her, everything she did reminded him of Charlotte. Even down to her carefree smile whenever she was in a dangerous situation. Either way, despite the differences between them, this girl invoked the exact same emotion within him that Charlotte used to.

Peter hated her.  

I don’t care that you’re someone different. I got rid of Charlotte, and I’ll get rid of you.

He smiled to himself, plotting silently in his mind.

“Hey you need to watch out for that author guy.”

Charlotte looked up from her script with a surprised expression at her costar’s whisper.

“Really? Why is that?” Charlotte knew exactly why she needed to watch out for Peter, but she was curious as to why Brandon was warning her.

Brandon glanced around uncomfortably before continuing in a very soft voice. “He stares at you a lot. And when he does he looks really angry, like he hates you.”

“Ok. Then I’ll make sure to stay away from him.” Shrugging, she turned her attention back to her script, almost missing Brandon’s mouth falling open in shock.

“Just like that?” In his astonishment his voice became louder, attracting the attention of the nearby crew members.

“Like what?”

Brandon threw up his hands in frustration. “I mean, I tell you some guy is a creep and you just believe me without asking any questions?!”

“Should I not believe you? I thought you weren’t going to lie to me?”

“Of course you should believe me… it’s just…” Stumbling over his own words, Brandon slumped down in his chair, his face tinged with red. “Never mind.”

She chuckled. “Not used to people trusting you after knowing the real you, huh?”

“Shut up!” His face now bright red, Brandon jumped to his feet and ran away.

Charlotte sighed, smiling and turning a page. “Kids these days.”

“…” Several of the filming staff heard the last part

But… aren’t you a kid?

No one was brave enough to say it out loud.

After finishing filming for the day, Charlotte was brought home by her mother, and sat down to eat with her family.

“Charlotte?” Her father was pale with shock at the sight of her. “What happened to your face?!”

Her mother sighed. “Dear, I tried to call you, I’m sorry. It was just an accident at work.”

“…” There was no movement at all, as her dad stared silently at Charlotte’s swollen cheek.

“It’s okay dad! It was just an accident and it doesn’t hurt at all!” Charlotte tried to smile brightly but winced a little as the movement hurt her face.

“…” Silently her father turned back towards the hallway closet.

“Dear?”

“Dad?”

“…” After digging around for a few moment, he found an aluminum baseball bat. Slapping it against his palm a few times to test the weight, he nodded with silent satisfaction before starting to don his coat and grab his keys.

“NO!”

Charlotte and her mom grabbed him and drug him back to the kitchen. They also confiscated his bat, which caused him to pout.

“I was just going to have a little talk to the person who did this!”

“Talk?” Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “With a baseball bat?”

“You never know how a talk can go. I just brought it in case we decided to… visit the batting cages together.”

“Dad…”

“Definitely wasn’t thinking of beating the jerk’s face in.”

“DAD!”

“What?!” He blinked innocently. “I said I wasn’t thinking about it!”

“…”

Charlotte sighed loudly, but couldn’t help but smile, no matter how much it hurt. To think I lived a life where no one cared if I lived or died, but now, for just a bruise on my cheek… She hugged her dad tightly, which calmed him down somewhat from his murderous rage.

Just as they had sat down to dinner, her mom’s cell phone rang. She stood up and answered it, speaking quietly for a few minutes before ending the call and sitting back down with a concerned expression.

“What is it?” Charlotte was worried.

“It’s… nothing dear.” She waved a hand as if dismissing the question, but Charlotte wasn’t satisfied.

“If it has to do with me or the movie, please let me know, regardless of how uncomfortable it is. I need to know what to expect when I return to work tomorrow.”

Her mother gave an odd expression. “You know Charlotte, I wonder which of us is the parent and which is the child sometimes.” She sighed. “I guess you’re right. There’s been a news story online about your role in the movie… it’s not very nice.”

Charlotte stretched out her hand. “Let me see.”

“Charlotte…”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She smiled sweetly. “May I see your phone, please?”

“No… I mean, yes you should always say please, but that’s not… ugh, here, just read it.” She handed Charlotte her phone with a defeated expression.

Charlotte opened up the news story link that had been texted to her mother by the director and read it, her expression turning darker as she got further in.

“SEARCHING FOR SILENCE CAST SCANDAL, ACCEPTING BRIBES FOR PARTS?

‘Searching for Silence’ is the highly anticipated film adaption of the bestselling book of the same name. Fans have eagerly been combing reports of the casting and filming progress, but who could have known there was corruption behind the scenes? An unnamed source has reported that the director and other producers accepted bribes for the casting of the lead part, ‘Edith’. The young girl who did receive the part was described as ‘talentless’ by this source. They also noted a loud argument between author Peter McAllen and the director as the first time writer felt that the girl was ‘completely wrong’ for Edith. Fans are increasingly concerned…”

Charlotte skimmed the remainder of the article, which she noticed had posted her casting photo. The picture was of herself in a pink dress with long hair and curls. It definitely gave the opposite feel as the character she was playing. Charlotte scrolled down and looked at some of the comments people were making. She winced. The internet was not kind.

“What the…” Her father looked over her shoulder, his face almost turning blue as he looked at the comments with her.

“Dad… remember to breathe.”

He closed his eyes briefly, taking in a deep breath. “Excuse me.”

With that he shouldered his bat and started walking towards the door.

“Honey!” “Dad!”

“Don’t stop me! Did you see what they said about our little girl?” He hefted his bat with a vicious grin. “Don’t worry sweetie, I’ll take care of it.”

“What are you going to do, beat up the whole internet?”

“If that’s what it takes.” He turned back towards the door.

“GRAB HIM!”

His bat was confiscated again, and the grumbling parent was confined to the living room until he had renounced his vigilante plan.

Once they had calmed him down, Charlotte looked back at the article with a frown.

“Don’t read that garbage, it’s just nonsense.” Her mother tried to reassure her, but she shook her head in response.

“It’s not my feelings that are the problem. This isn’t good publicity-wise for the movie. If people get caught up with untrue stuff like this, it might affect ticket sales.”

“…” Her parents glanced at each other in confusion.  

“So, what do you think should be done?” Her dad asked hesitantly.

Charlotte grinned, wincing a little as her cheek stretched.

“They think I’m not good enough for the part of Edith?” She laughed, a dark sound. “I just have to show them how wrong they are.”

[fyrapartnersearch]

Partner search!

Hello all! I’m looking for a skilled, experienced 1x1 partner or two for a Discord roleplay. I have a few particular plots, though please feel free to come with your own ideas. Please read to the end as there is a password I won't answer messages without.

•General/Writing Style•

I usually prefer sticking at around 4 paragraphs and up, but quality over quantity for the most part. If you usually write 3 paragraphs or less, it'll be hard for me to stay interested, however. I would prefer you write in 3rd person, past tense. Please have decent grammar and spelling, varied vocabulary and sentence structure, as well as decent syntax. Please provide me something of substance to respond to in your responses. Please also be somewhat experienced.

•Age•

18+ only, but 21+ preferred (I'm 23)

•Timezone•

Mine is EST. I do not mind what timezone you're in.

•Response Frequency•

I'd prefer if you could respond at least once a week. I'm a pretty busy student can't definitely commit to much more than that, so I won't ask that of you. Please try to communicate when you will be gone or significantly less active for several weeks or more. I will try to do the same.I'm a bit less lenient with this when we're still doing introductions, so if we've barely said hello but a few days pass and I hear nothing, I'll assume you're no longer interested or never were in the first place and close our discussion. You are free to assume the same of me.

•Genre•

I'm a sucker for Romantic Slice-of-life with a healthy dose of drama and angst, but I do like to weave other genres in there too such as Supernatural, Mystery, Action, and Adventure. I'm really open to most things if the plot interests me.

•Gender and Romantic Preference•

I strongly prefer playing a female main outside of MxM. Beyond that, I am open to MxF, FxF, and MxM . Currently, I'm mostly in the mood for an MxF or possibly F//. My apologies, but please note I do not play male in MxF unless we have roleplayed other pairings together before and have highly compatible writing styles. I rarely double up.I do not engage in dichotomy personality dynamics(ie- dom/sub, ABO, top/bottom) and like pairings to be close to even as possible in contributions to the relationship. If a scene gets intimate, I'd prefer we fade to black.

•Plots/Creativity•

The plots I’m looking to do atm are listed below. Despite this, you're more than welcome to share plots of your own. I'd prefer it if you are open to brainstorming plot points and bouncing ideas off each other too- let's keep this interesting for both of us so it stays alive.

•OCs•

I would prefer not to roleplay with OCs that are excessively shy, Mary-Sues, or OP. Additionally, please ensure your own OC does not monopolize the plot with their own issues and background. Let's share the spotlight.I tend to play multiple characters and would prefer if you did too.Please do not control my main OC or any named side characters I introduce. It can really mess with my plans with them if you suddenly auto-kill out of nowhere or something... If necessary, I may permit you to control a side character of mine, but please run it by me first. Communication is key.

•Platform•

Discord is strongly preferred. I can potentially be convinced to use kik, tumblr, or line.

•Fandoms•

I am willing to roleplay within the universe of several fandoms, but please note I do not roleplay as canon characters and would prefer not to roleplay with canon characters either. Please recall that I am more than happy to do original plots too if you aren't into any of these.-Corpse Party**-Black Mirror-Death Note-Avatar The Last Airbender*-Downton Abbey-Call The Midwife*-Dragon Quest(IV-IX)***-Miraculous Ladybug****(I'd love to delve into the more subtle, darker elements like the consequences of a broken miraculous and time travel)-Fruits Basket**-Soul Eater*-The Hunger Games-Harry Potter(The number of * indicates craving)

•Original Plots•

(Muse I would like to play is bolded. If neither are bolded, I can do either. All of these are open to brainstorming and tweaking!)

Muse A was born into a society where ‘falling in love’ is not a thing. Sure, it’s written in about fairy tales and even history texts, but most Readers laugh it off as a silly, archaic concept. All couples are formed by reading Cerebral wavelengths, stats that are unique to every individual. Every person has a single match and are paired with that person permanently when they come of age. No trades, no take-backs. Muse B, though born into the regular world, doesn’t believe in love either. Perhaps it was the plight of their parents, or that one nasty breakup. Perhaps it was the sight of all the couples around who’d be lovey-dovey one week, but strangers the next. Whatever it is, they don’t buy it. That suits Muse A just fine- their Cerebral wavelengths not only don’t match, they bang together in a cacophony. Why is it then that these two begin experiencing an undeniable pull to each other?

One night, Muse A is taking their usual jog through the park when they trip right over Muse B tying their shoe. Cliche start is cliche, I know, but stay with me here. After some initial awkwardness, the two hit it off quite well. Flash forward a week or so and the pair are starting school in the same class, Muse A as one of the typical debutants, and Muse B a lucky upstart on a basketball scholarship. Muse B had high hopes for where things’ll go…only to find out Muse A has a boyfriend, who happens to be Muse B’s nemesis on the courts. Whoops. But something’s really off with the couple. As in the boy is downright awful, and it isn’t just the rivalry talking. Yet Muse A refuses to leave him…why is that?

(This is an older one of mine, but I’ve recently kinda been in the mood to start it up again.) Marianoh’s Culinary Institute is the most renowned school for culinary arts in the country. Any who truly wish to be a master chef would be foolish not to attend. Unless they don’t have the means- the tuition is insanely high. Muse A is part of the lucky few of humble beginnings that has been selected to attend via scholarship. They couldn’t be more excited. Muse B, on the other hand, comes from a family of celebrity chefs. Their spot at Marianoh’s was confirmed before birth. Yet, somehow, they don’t share Muse A’s joy. Far from it, actually. What happens when the two are partnered up for the year?

(A brand new one definitely open to suggestions) St. Cornelius’ Academy(or University) is an academic institution reserved only for those of royal or noble background as well as their future servants, attendants, and body guards. Students of the academy hail from kingdoms where individuals are born gifted with control over the 8 elements- light, wind, flame, flora, lightening(tech), water, earth, and darkness. Students are divided based on status into ‘Golds,’ ‘Greys,’ and ‘ The ‘Gold’ category includes all royalty and nobility aside from viscounts and barons of low birth. The ‘Gray’ category includes future ladies and men in waiting, other servants, attendants, and body guards. Students are instructed in all areas in order to best prepare them for their future roles from political science to etiquette to combat. Given the wealth of a portion of the student body, the campus is a vivacious display of luxury, featuring lavish gardens, seemingly endless grounds, state-of-the-art learning facilities, and even an expansive kitchen headed by a world renowned 31 star chef. Currently, I have three potential pairings in mind for this set-up.

-Muse A is a new lady in waiting assigned to a spoilt, catty Duchess of Aquaria(Water Kingdom). Catering to the every whim of the young princess-to-be is exhausting, but her goal of reaching far greater heights than her questionable background merits keeps her going. What faster way to do that than catching the eye of Muse B, the princess’ bethrothed and crown Prince of Aquaria using abilities bequeathed to her by her merpeople ancestry? The lines between acting and reality are prone to blurring, however and actual feelings soon begin to muddle her plans. Muse B isn’t as unaware as he first seems either..

-Muse A is the somewhat naive prince of Angion(Flora), unsure of his future. He’s distant from his fiancée, Muse B a cold, proud Marchioness of the same kingdom, and his closest confident is one of his newest body guards, Muse C. Little does he know, that Muse C has quite the secret- she’s truly a girl whose taken on her brothers identity to serve. What will happen when all comes into the open?

5. Muse A has always been at the top of their class since early elementary and thrived on it. They come from a family of high achievers where failure is neither seen nor accepted. Proud and arrogant over their achievements, their grades make them, them. All that changed when Muse B showed up, smashing the entrance exams with marks unheard of. Of course Muse A wouldn’t take that lying down, thus, the classic rivalry begins. What happens when the two find they have more in common than they thought? Life on Muse B’s side is not all it seems as well.

Contact Instructions: Please message me here on tumblr  (https://lisanimelis.tumblr.com/) with your favorite color and a writing sample. If all goes well there, we'll move to discord. 

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: To the Beat

Summary: Whilst taking her son to dance classes, Belle meets the shy pianist, Mr Gold.

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling prompt: “Limelight, sparkle, tap”

Rated: G

To the Beat

Ever since she could remember, Belle had loved old musical movies. Colour or black and white, it didn’t matter, as long as there was beautiful dancing and catchy music, she could watch the magic weaved on the silver screen for hours. Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers, Gene Kelly, Rosemary Clooney; they were her idols and remained so long into adulthood. She’d grown up wanting to be Judy Garland or Ann Miller (or maybe both at the same time).

She’d never had the voice, but she’d taken tap and ballet lessons well into her teens. She’d never been able to make a career of it, but as a hobby, it still filled her with joy over twenty years later, and watching the glamour and sparkle of the silver screen never failed to make her smile whatever life might throw at her.

Naturally, with so many old movies in the house and with the musical soundtracks always playing in the background to whatever domestic task his mother was performing, it was almost a foregone conclusion that Gideon would inherit Belle’s love for the classics. He watched with gleeful awe as she recreated famous dance sequences in the living room (‘Good morning’ from Singin’ in the Rain was a favourite), and he was tapping his feet in time with the music even before he could walk. Belle had always held a secret hope that he’d follow in her own dancing footsteps, but she didn’t want to force it on him.

It was a rainy Friday in September when she got the first inklings of Gideon’s show business ambitions, when he came home from school in the obvious throes of distress.

“Gid? What’s the matter, love? Did something happen at school?”

Gideon nodded, his brow furrowed as if he couldn’t decide between anger or sadness; once he was sat down on the sofa with milk and cookies and Belle was settled on the floor in front of him, he seemed to have decided on indignation.

“What happened, Gid?”

“We were talking about what we wanted to be when we grew up,” Gideon said. “And I said I wanted to be a tap dancer like Fred Astaire.”

Belle’s heart leapt to her mouth, but she pushed down her excitement, because this revelation was definitely contributing to making Gideon unhappy. “Ok. So then what happened?”

“Then the other boys started laughing at me! They said that boys don’t tap dance, that’s a girly thing!”

Belle was completely blown sideways by this. She’d never even considered dancing being gendered like that before. The famous tap dancers she’d adored in her youth were a mixture of men and women.

“That’s just silly,” she said firmly. “Especially when you told them that you wanted to be like Fred Astaire, who’s very obviously a man.”

“I know that!” Gideon exclaimed. “And the teacher said that too! But then at break, they said that Fred Astaire didn’t count because he’s only in old films, and that these days, tap dancers are all girls!”

Belle resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the ridiculous notions that some kids had had put into their heads, and for a moment she seriously considered gathering all the parents of Storybrooke together and making them sit through her entire musical collection, over 500 hours of it in total.

“Good grief. They have a very narrow-minded view of the world, Gid, and I pity them. If you want to be a dancer, then you can go ahead and be a dancer.”  

Gideon’s face lit up. “Can I really Mom? Will you teach me?”

“No, love. I don’t know enough to teach you.” Gideon’s face fell, but then brightened when she continued. “We’ll get you some proper lessons with a professional at the dance school in town.”

Ever since he’d been born, Belle had been saving for dance lessons for Gideon. Well, she told everyone that it was his college fund, which it would have been if this moment had never occurred. Now, she could put that fund to good use.

“That would be brilliant, Mom!” He paused, deep in serious thought. “Would there be other boys there, though? I don’t want to be the only boy.”

“I’m sure that there will be other boys there, but we’ll see when we go along. Shall we take a look on Saturday?”

Gideon’s response was a huge hug, which Belle took to be a definitive yes.

X

As soon as Miss Mal, former ballerina and current principal of the Storybrooke Dance School, showed them into the room where the beginner’s tap dance classes were taking place and Gideon saw that he was not going to be the only boy there, Belle knew that she had lost him. He was in his element already as the teacher invited him to join in with the class even though he didn’t have tap shoes yet. Belle was just content to watch him, until Miss Mal took her through into her office to sort out the paperwork for getting Gideon enrolled.

On their way to deal with administrative matters, they passed the other mirrored studio, this one set up for ballet with a barre running around the edge, and Mal stepped inside for a moment to speak to the teacher. The class was young, elementary school girls taking their first steps to the tinkling piano music coming from the corner by the door. Belle glanced across at the pianist, a small, thin man with greying hair and dark eyes. As he caught her gaze, she smiled, and he gave a minute smile back before his face flushed bright pink and he turned his attention back to the music, studying it with intensity even though Belle could tell that he must have played the same tunes over and over and could probably do it with his eyes closed.

At that moment, the lesson came to an end, with Miss Mal supervising the curtseying.

“That was very good, girls. Thank you for your hard work this week.”

There was a chorus of thanks to Miss Briar for the lesson and thanks to Mr Gold for the piano, and the girls started to file out of the room. Miss Mal came back over to Belle as Mr Gold began to gather up his music. He kept his head down as he rushed out of the room past Belle, leaving her feeling rather confused and wondering what she’d done wrong.

“Don’t worry, he’s always like that,” Miss Mal said as they continued down the corridor.

No more was said on the topic of Mr Gold, but even after Belle had collected Gideon again and they were on their way home, Gideon enthusing about all the steps he was going to learn, she still couldn’t help thinking about the shy little pianist.

Over the course of the next few months, Belle tried to find out a little more about the mysterious Mr Gold, from the snippets that she picked up from Gideon and what little she overheard among the other parents. She really was intrigued by him, and the fact that he always had a smile and a ready word of praise for the kids, and indeed always had a ready smile and glance for her, but he clammed up as soon as Belle tried to actually talk to him. He had a gift of melting into the background as soon as the music was done, avoiding everyone.

So far, all she had managed to learn was that he’d played piano for the school ever since it had opened, that his son taught adult ballroom dance in the evenings, and his goddaughter was studying for a scholarship to full time ballet school.

She probably shouldn’t be so interested. He was shy and he didn’t like talking to strangers, so Belle wasn’t going to force her conversation onto him. She’d just always liked a good mystery, and all of the other staff were so chatty with the parents.

It wasn’t until the end of term show that she found any answers.

Each of the junior classes performed a piece in the little revue, held on the last Saturday of the term, showing off what they had learned to their parents. Gideon only had a small part, showing off the steps he had learned over the past couple of months, but he enjoyed his time in the limelight, and Belle’s hands were sore from applauding him. She wouldn’t change it for the world, and she would be forever grateful that something that brought her so much joy could also make her son so very happy.

After the performance, there were refreshments, and Belle was chatting amiably with the other parents, Gideon absorbed with his new friends trying to teach himself some of the steps that the older kids had performed and making a fearful racket in the process. She noticed that Mr Gold had once more vanished. Perhaps he just didn’t like large crowds. She hoped that he’d at least got a cup of tea before he disappeared, and his jacket was still lying on top of the piano on the stage so he had to be around somewhere. Belle bit her lip, wondering whether he would appreciate being found or not. They’d exchanged smiles and glances so many times, which she’d always found to be encouraging, but he was never around when she actually had the opportunity to speak to him.

Belle took a deep breath, took a couple of fairy cakes from the refreshment table, and left the room in search of Mr Gold. Once she was outside the main hall, he was surprisingly easy to track down. Piano music was coming from the ballet studio, something beautiful and complicated, a piece meant to be listened to, not danced to.

Belle peeped around the door, but the music didn’t stop; Gold was totally absorbed in it. It was only once the piece came to its coda that he looked up and saw her. He startled, a rabbit in the headlights, and Belle gave an awkward wave, holding up the cakes.

“I didn’t want you to miss out,” she said.

Gold opened his mouth to respond, closed it as if he’d suddenly thought better of it, and then took a deep breath.

“Th-th-thank you.”

With those two words, everything fell into place. Gold didn’t like to talk to anyone because he had a stammer.

“That was beautiful,” she said. “Beethoven, wasn’t it?”

Gold nodded, and he put his fingers back on the keys, playing a light, tinkling tune, his attention still fixed firmly on Belle.

“You son is in the t-t-tap class?”

“Yes. He loves it. He wants to be the next Fred Astaire.”

“He’s g-got the p-p-p…” Gold sighed. “P-p-p… Oh, you know.”

“Thank you. He’ll be so proud to know you think so.”

The music continued on, a little soundtrack to their conversation.

“Music h-helps me t-talk,” Gold said presently. “C-can’t hear myself as much. Gives me something else t-to concentrate on. The r-rhythm helps t-too.”

Belle had read about aiding people with stammers whilst she’d been training as a librarian; it tied in with helping kids to learn to read aloud. Listening to music whilst speaking and tapping out the beats of syllables and sentences were both tried and tested methods, so it made sense that Gold found comfort in playing whilst he talked.

They continued to talk for a while; well, Belle did most of the talking, but it was still a conversation, until Gideon came in looking for her. It was time to go home.

“Bye, Mr Gold,” Gideon said cheerfully.

“G-goodbye. And th-thank you.” He smiled at Belle. “For your p-p-p… p-patience.”

“Any time. Maybe we could chat agaain sometime?”

Gold nodded. “I’d l-like that.”

Belle could have waltzed on air out of the dance school.

[cassandra-rp]

I can’t pick a narrator style. :U

Intella curiously peered out the window as she sat in the passenger seat; Jonathan had surprised her firstly with the fact he had a car and secondly that he knew how to drive it...He wanted to take her for a drive and she didn't mind, reading quietly most of the time but occasionally talking with him... The city had disappeared as the cement turned to dirt and the buildings to trees. The dirt path winded and soon they rolled up onto a older house; it was in disrepair... She recalled the description of the house as she looked at the sage paint that was chipped away and the stone path.  "Our house..?" Intella asked; her notebooks described a place like this once.

"Yeah... I'd completely forgot about it."  A sadness lingered in his eyes. Intella pursed her lips as she recalled the notebook's description of the lifetime; It was beautiful but ended in horrors. Axel had rewritten it after her death and despite her pushing he refused to tell her much aside from the fact it was to much for her heart to take again...  "Why are we here..?" She asked after a moment and Jonathan softly smiled as he rolled up his sleeves. "I have somethings I think you'd like to have that I believe are in the attic here still...If the elements haven't gotten to them." He turned the key back and tucked it into his pocket before hopping out, Intella following along although some part of her hesitated.

Jonathan pulled another set of old key's out of his pocket as he hopped up the stairs; they warped and sagged with each step; Intella using more caution as she walked up behind him. The keys pushing into the rusty lock and a loud click as it unlocked; pushing it open.  The inside had survived better; although dusty and extremely musky it was far better than the outside.

Jonathan navigated easily through the rooms until pulling down the ladder to the attic, dust sprinkling onto them as he tested it before climbing up, pushing open the top. "Well..It looks like they're still intact." He thought aloud as he lifted himself up inside the attic, Intella waiting at the bottom as her eyes scanned the walls, vague memories lingering in her mind until the ploom of dust and a box lowered into her vision, her hands taking it from Jonathan carefully; followed by two more. Jonathan slipping back down and easily landing on his feet as he dusted himself off, Intella curiously popping open the box on the top of the stack she'd made, a few binders full of paperwork and notebooks. They were clearly Jonathan's - less organized and he had a habit in a hurry of writing upside down in his notebooks.  A diagram written out with notes beside it filling two pages caught her attention. "What's this?"  

"Well. From what I recall I was documenting family histories during this period... Mostly because it was right about when we realized the Inferno clan was getting absurd." His arms slid around her as he pointed at the notebook she was looking at. "This one looks like Constantine's..."  Intella raised a brow at that as she examined the names. "I've never heard of half of these people..."

"Mhm. I don't recall all of it but I'm sure we can trick Axel into revealing the rest of it..." He lifted one of the boxes as he spoke, smiling. "I also am thinking about renovating this place... Just for something to do." Intella smiled a bit and nodded. "I figured." She took the second box, lifting it and following Jonathan to take it back to the car. ---

"Zelda Constantine...?"  Intella raised a brow as she read through Jonathan's notes and Axel glanced up with a pondering look on his face. "Zelda was the first Constantine as far as I know. She wasn't born into a family so she made her own. She was determined to never beg again... "   Axel pursed his lips and Intella nodded, reading.

Zelda was homeless for as long as she could walk; she didn't remember a family or anything except the rainy streets of the run down town. She begged and worked and often getting abused in more ways then one for her efforts.  It didn't breed hate or resentment but simply determination to never be in the situation she was in again.

And so she worked; There was a few note worthy moments that Intella catalogued. "Apparently she knew me..." She flicked back a page or two.  

It was always just simply known as old money that the Constantine's had. No one knew where it  all came from but now she did. Ironicly it was Byzantine. Zelda was turned in her late teens and discovered the metal that burned her. Unlike other vampire's she wasn't effected by sunlight or water. Upon investigation she and Intella had determined the weaknesses were essentially from the elder vampires inbreeding to keep the vampire genes 'pure' but it resulted in other issues... Zelda wasn't one to support the idea of harming one another but she knew it'd be profitable; and it was. She mined it and sold it to hunters and others and it didn't take long until she lived on the hill herself;  As she grew she mined other materials... Diamonds and other jewels. But Byzantine was always one of her main interests.

It wasn't long until love came into the picture; A man named Theo Watson. He was from a similar background to her although a little different. His family disowned him and left him and his sister to the streets; he'd been working his way up the chain at a newspaper for the last few years and finally was CEO. His sister, Rose Watson.  She was a drifter though as the two got married  Rose also took Zelda's last name. The two wishing to disassociate from there past. It was considered very uncommon for a man to take his wife's name. Intella found it was a common trend with Zelda to break the norms of the time and she supposed that's why they'd been friends.  Rose was interesting... The more she read the more she kept wondering if she was reading about Tera. And attractive dark haired woman with every curve in the right place and a list of men who disappeared within her presence. Hell; Red seemed to be her signature color.

And of course then there was children shortly after that for Zelda and Theo at least; A boy named Vincent who was incredibly gifted from a young age and also happened to be and incredibly resilient vampire. At least by today's standards. "Axel.. A lot of this sounds like it was early 1920's yet I know for sure that December has been around longer then that - I mean she was a queen."   Intella's eyebrow quirked as it did whenever she knew Axel had a hand in something; His shoulders shifting a bit. "Keep reading." He simply added.

So, she did.  It was fairly standard; Rose and Issac met, A criminal pair made in heaven and soon gave birth to a son named Julius. The four and there two children remaining quite tight knitted until the children were teenagers; Theo died in and accident on his way to work and although Zelda grieved she didn't allow it to stop her in any sense of the word; Vincent was put ahead in high school due to his intelligence and was already getting scholarships from universities desperate to have a rich and intelligent student such as himself.

Julius was far more average; Always a few steps behind his cousin. What he lacked in intelligence he made up for with his communication skills... His parents could talk there way out of anything and he was even better at it as he could even talk people into doing things. Business seemed to be a good calling for him and since  mining wasn't as profitable as it once was he put himself into learning from his aunt Zelda everything he could about business.

Vincent was the first of the two to find love as he met a lovely intelligent woman named May Newton; A scientist with a fascination for all things abnormal and supernatural.  She hardly flinched when he first bit her as she was more curious about how it all worked. And despite the dark things she spent her time reading and working on she was always a bright ball of sunshine.

The two of them finding and artifact that Intella was far to familiar with now a days; the amulet was broken roughly two months ago; The symbol was Axel's and the same one tattoo'd on his back, It allowed for temporary time travel but was a danger to Axel's well being..So she begrudgingly agreed to destroy it.  And sure enough a few tabloids Jonathan had gathered talked about the disappearance of Vincent and May.  Zelda splitting her will between Julius and vincent soon afterwards in case her son ever returned but trusting her nephew with her legacy.

[darkspellmaster]

Some Thoughts Regarding the Disney Princesses and why they are all Strong characters that deserve praise.

Recently was reading an article on the Mary Sue about how Kira Knightly doesn’t let her daughter watch certain Disney films, and sure that’s her right as a parent. However, one thing that I noticed with the article is that the write seemed to be taking a lot of talking points that don’t make any sense as to why certain Disney films are less than others regarding their female leads, and I’m kind of tired of it.

Like, fine, if you don’t like a film because you disagree with the message, or the animation, or you don’t like the voice actress or actor of the character, or you hate the music (but why would you because this is some Broadway level music here), that’s totally fine, that’s on you. It’s your feelings towards a work and that’s cool, I’m not out here to tell you that your reason for disliking something regarding a actual flaw in the script or the acting or the animation isn’t valid.

What’s getting to me as a writer and a creator however is this sense that some of the older princesses and films are being dissed for a variety of flawed reasoning, and that’s what I hope to dispel with this post. I’m not going to change your mind if you’re set on believing in certain things, but I want to clear up some talking points that I think people are, by hearing them over and over again, misinterpreting in regard to the actual films and that people aren’t critically thinking when they view the movie.

Every Disney film has a surface level view and several deeper meanings in regard to the story, and that’s kind of what I want to clear up here. There’s been so much put on the characters in the stories through the princess line that many are now missing the key elements in the actual film that should be taken away with the character and their active, in most cases, approach to things.

So let’s Start with Snow White. Why? Because she’s the oldest character, the one that get’s the least notice by most people, and she is one of my favorites.

So what do people say about her regarding how “Bad” she is as a character:

She’s looking for her prince to come and save her.

She’s doing what her stepmother tells her to do.

She’s unable to save herself and is easily tricked.

She’s easily scared and too weak to do much on her own.

She’s a homemaker rather than a fighter.

She’s basically useless in her own story.

So I want to take each of these point by point and counter them with facts.

First let’s start out with those. Snow is 14  years old, and probably, other than princess Eilonwy, is the youngest princess in the group (though I think Alice is younger than her by two years and Wendy is a year younger), and lost her father not that long ago, as the story opening states. We know that her Stepmother is being cruel to her and treating her badly, but we also know that even in these circumstances she’s hopeful. We see her trying to make her work go faster by singing, and that this is an important point in her character. If you watch it and listen to the story, you’ll notice that the “Whistle While you work” song indicates that singing is clearly something she did a lot of to make it easier for her to deal with the burden that her Stepmother is treating her like crap and forcing her to work as a scullery maid for the castle.

Now that is another important factor. The Queen doesn’t give Snow an easy task, in fact she is given one of the WORST jobs in the entire castle.

From Wikipedia:

The scullery maid reported (through the kitchen maid) to the cook or chef. Along with the junior kitchen-maid, the scullery maid did not eat at the communal servants' dining hall table, but in the kitchen in order to keep an eye on the food that was still cooking.[3]

Duties of the scullery maid included the most physical and demanding tasks in the kitchen[1] such as cleaning and scouring the floor, stoves, sinks, pots, and dishes. After scouring the plates in the scullery, she would leave them on racks to dry. The scullery maid also assisted in cleaning vegetables, plucking fowl, and scaling fish.

The scullery maid provided hot water for the scullery, kitchen tasks, and household. In addition to her other tasks, the scullery maid had to keep the scullery clean by clearing away meat and vegetable garbage, scrubbing work tables, and swilling the floors. The water was carried through a drain outside the house.[6] Scullery maids would rarely have handled fine china, stemware, crystal or plate silver; these are cleaned by housemaids and footmen. Before the advent of central heating systems, scullery maids were required to light the fires on the kitchen stove and supply hot water for tea and washing. She performed these tasks in the morning before the cook came down to the kitchens.[7]

In a household with no between maid, the scullery maid may also have waited on staff in the Servants' hall, although this may have been assigned to another maid or a junior footman. In the days before the indoor water closet she may have been required to empty and clean the servants' chamber pots as well.[8]

So basically Snow White was not only doing the most physically demanding jobs in the kitchen, helping cook and clean, start fires in the kitchen, and probably other task, she also more than likely had to clean the Queen’s bath water, and chamber pots. Yeah this was not fun or enjoyable work.

Later we see Snow dealing with the Huntsman, and her reaction to nearly being killed by him. Some may say she’s being foolish in her actions here, but it does show that while she was scared she also can show mercy, understanding and forgiveness. Something that a lot of characters don’t often show as much anymore in regard to showing strength of character.  And even when she learns the truth, that her own Stepmother is trying to kill her, her first reaction is shock, showing that even though her Stepmother is treating her horribly, she still loves her enough to believe that the woman cares about her and wouldn’t harm her. It’s a total surprise to her that the woman that probably helped raise her until she was 14 would even contemplate this sort of action.

Even when we’re dealing with the Dwarves we see a strong character in her as, yes one could say she’s being motherly. But as –pretty much – a child who is still fairly young (as is her Prince –who goes by three names depending on who you ask: Ferdinand, Florian, or Fredrick) she’s going to imitate what she saw the cook do to get the other servants to come and eat dinner. Yet there is a confidence there that she has which shows that she can be as commanding as some of the newer Princesses, and she’s not a docile girl as she’s willing to enjoy herself even though she’s just been through hell. She doesn’t let the fear of her Stepmother coming for her weigh her down and keeps going even if she knows there’s a chance she may be in danger. On top of that you have her moment with the witch.

A lot of people think that she’s being an idiot here, but it’s in her nature to not judge people by her looks. Again, she’s been working as a maid in the castle, so she’s probably seen a lot of people who are less than good looking. Snow White, while making a mistake here, also shows you shouldn’t judge a book by it’s cover, giving the woman a chance to prove herself. If this had been any other old woman, the message there would have been clear as a bell that looks shouldn’t equate if someone was good or wicked, and we know that the Queen herself is beautiful also that the Dwarves are not the most good looking of people in the movie, so the message still comes across.

Lastly we have her moment at the end when she wakes up. Who does she look to first, not the Prince but rather her friends, whom she thinks woke her up from a sleep as they did when they first met, and then she sees the Prince and is happy to see him. Her first notion getting up is the men that protected her and became her hope over the prince but she was still happy to see him moments later. Then, given the Prince clearly knows the sort of person she is, goes about allowing her to say goodbye to her friends one by one, lifting them up for her to again show her compassion and grace and courage. She was literally dead, and now, revived she still goes about making sure her friends know she’s okay and makes sure that they know she cares for them by kissing them on their heads showing that she will remember them and probably will see them again.

So back to the points above.

She’s looking for her prince to come and save her.

Nowhere in the movie does she say she is looking for a prince to come save her. Never once in any song does she even remotely indicate that that is what she wants.

Her first song “The wishing well song” talks about how she is wishing for the one she loves to find her today. Now the implication for most people is that she doesn’t know who the Prince is but in the song the lyrics indicate that she may have met him before (possibly when they were young children).

“I’m wishing, for the one I love, to find me, today. I’m hoping and I’m thinking of the nice things, he’ll say.”

This isn’t saying at all that she wants to be saved or taken away. It’s simply saying at this point that she would like to meet with the person she has feelings for to see her again and say kind things to her. As we know, by this point, the woman that is supposed to be treating her right isn’t treating Snow White very nicely or kindly. So of course she would be hoping to meet with the last person that treated her kindly and hoping to hear nice and sweet words as she’s living in a place where all she probably hears is comments by her own Stepmother that are more than likely insults done to bring her down more so that she loses her beauty.

Later in the story when she is running away as per the request of the huntsman, she never once calls out for help, she does all the running herself. She doesn’t even break down until she’s so lost in the forest that she doesn’t know where she’s at, and can anyone blame her for being freaked out by those trees? And when she does find the home of the “children” her first thought isn’t of the prince, it’s of “How can I make it so that they’ll let me stay so that I can hid from the Queen until I can figure out what to do.”

The only time she thinks at all of the prince is when the Dwarves ask her to tell a story. This is the only time we get her talking about the Prince at all since the beginning of the story. She explains, in the song, that Someday, not now or tomorrow, but someday he’ll find her and take her back to his home where she can be safe away from her Stepmother.

This is actually important if you know anything at all about history regarding kingdoms. When a woman was married into a royal family she became part of that family and thus the royal court of that new kingdom was there to protect her. In this case, Snow is hoping that by going with the Prince (who is not king yet) she can plead her case to his family, the same way she did with the Dwarves, and can seek asylum with them so that the Queen can’t hurt her because then that would be a declaration of war against the other Kingdom.

She is not at all being an idiot here. Hell she didn’t even know the apple was going to put her into a sleeping death and had no idea the prince would come and kiss her. She was planning on staying with the Dwarves for however long it took before she could, probably with their help, find a way to seek refuge in another kingdom, or until the Queen died or whatever, and then come back to her castle where she could rule fairly and not live in fear.

She’s doing what her stepmother tells her to do.

Again she is a Scullery Maid, and not by choice. The Queen places her in this post in hopes that all the work and wearing the rags and such would break her spirit and end up causing her to become ugly. Snow is doing what she can to survive this abuse and neglect from the woman who’s supposed to care for her. Of course she does what she’s told.

We’re seen in older story boards that the Prince at one point was to be held captive with a number of skeletons. It’s not that hard to believe that, given what the Queen says to the Huntsman that she would be more than willing to harm her stepdaughter if for a moment she thought she was falling out of line.

Snow is a survivor, someone who finds a way to overcoming this harsh reality, by doing as told to keep herself alive and using songs to keep herself from falling to despair.

She’s unable to save herself and is easily tricked.

And here is yet another made up bit that so many people like to say regarding Snow White. Okay so firstly, she does save herself. She runs away, as per the Huntsman’s request after she’s told the truth. Yes she’s helped by the animals to find the cottage, but again, she’s never been in these woods so she would have no idea where she’s going. Anyone would take the help in this cases, it’s not weak to ask for help. 

Then she takes initiative when they get to the cottage and insists on cleaning up all day, cooking a meal for the “children” all in the hopes that by doing so she can win them over and stay there till the threat has passed. She’s saving herself by using the skills she gleaned from working as a maid in the castle and putting them to good use. How many other princesses know how to clean up a mess like she does and use it as a means of a diplomatic intervention in order to stay at a place to keep from being killed?

Then, the whole tricked thing. Again, she has worked in the Kitchen of the castle so more than likely she has seen her share of not nice looking people over the time there. This means, again, that she’s trying to not judge a book by it’s cover. She’s trying to look past the whole thing of a hag that is pretty damn scary offering her an apple. Disney, smartly I may add, had it where she only had the one situation rather than the original three times she was tricked in the original story. Snow has no idea that the apple is poisoned, and again, in normal circumstances, one of the things that we as a society have been trying to teach people is to look beyond the appearance of others, so she was doing just that and trusting what she believed to be a kind woman. She doesn’t know that her stepmom can do magic, she didn’t even know she was a witch. Even when she learns this, the dwarves don’t give her examples, and this is also hearsay in regard to Snow who lived with her and probably never saw any of that. So her being tricked wasn’t a moment of weakness, it was a case of her own morality and being kind to others being used against her, which is something we should loath in the Queen.

She’s easily scared and too weak to do much on her own.

Yeah, I’m not buying this one either. Snow’s only moment of showing actual fear was when she was about to be stabbed, and who wouldn’t be scared in that moment, and freaking out in the forest. If you think about that moment she’s not only dealing with the fact that she’s lost in a place she has never been in, with what seems to be monsters attacking her thanks to her own imagination, and she’s just come down from being not only attacked by a man that she trusted to keep her safe.  But also learned that her Stepmother, the woman that let her leave the castle for the first time in years, go have fun, gave her a new dress, and is showing her some kindness for the first time in a long time and possibly to her having a change of heart and may love her again as a daughter, was only faking and wants to have her killed and will stop at nothing to have that done. That is one hell of a thing to process.

So yeah, I would probably be freaking out thinking someone’s gonna come after me too after learning all of this. And no, she’s not too weak to do much on her own. She not only managed to clean a house (with help with animals) but also cook a meal, got seven older men to clean up –something they haven’t done in years, and have a party with them, without anyone helping her do that. She’s a lot smarter than people give her credit for.

She’s a homemaker rather than a fighter.

Not all strong women have to be able to swing a sword. A lot of people seem to think that the only way you can show strength is in wielding a sword, yet one of the strongest members of the Princess line and the one that gets the most praise, defeated the bad guy with a fan and a rocket. Never once having to use the sword she learned to use to stab or cut anyone.

Snow’s strength comes in her diplomatic skills. She uses what she knows (her time as a scullery maid) to give a reason for the Dwarves to allow her to stay. She basically pulled off a trade with them. She’ll use her skills to keep things clean for them, for the fair price of allowing her to stay, and in return they will keep her hiding place quiet and probably listen up for any news of anyone trying to come to harm her.  Making deals is a hard thing to do, and Snow has this skill in spades and it’s something more people need to learn to do. Using kindness to get what you want over threats.

She’s basically useless in her own story.

Again, it’s this false narrative that so many people seem to see. Snow White has more agency in her story than some more modern heroines that are lauded by people. She keeps herself safe by doing as requested by her Stepmother, later when confronted by the truth, she chooses to run and hide till she knows she can find a place that can keep her safe. She uses her skills from her time as a maid to get the okay to stay in a safe house, and then the only time that she at all loses her agency is when she is tricked into eating an apple that she wouldn’t know was poisoned, and also she only does so because she believes that you shouldn’t distrust people based on her appearance.

So how do people think this young woman is a bad role model for younger girls? Because she cooks and cleans? Well everyone should know how to do that so that they can survive. You shouldn’t live in a mess just to say “Yo I’m a strong independent person.”

Next up Cinderella....

[deathbyvalentine]

Prompt Fills

Getting Ready for the Ball - Lance

Noble clothes on. Naval tunic discarded, pilot’s jacket abandoned. He wanted this to be a real party tonight. Not something for work, not a secret fucking mission. Admittedly, it was not his preferred scene - his superiors would be there after all and he was stepping foot on a ship owned by the person he despised. He would prefer the mindless noise and darkness of a hive rather than the endless rules of a trader function.

But Astrid would be there, and they’d be pulling pranks, drinking together, whispering like school kids in corners together. A proper return to the old days, albeit it less medicated. And he wanted to dance with Dif, heads close together, arms around each other, almost like they were normal people. He would coax Gwyn into sharing his flask, flirt shamelessly with Esme, connect with Mitra, maybe even see if any of his various exes were up for a tumble. 

Part of him wondered if he shouldn’t drink. Shouldn’t fuck. Shouldn’t enjoy losing himself in movement quite so much. But the abstinence would drive him to cruller things, he was almost certain. The lesser of two evils. That’s what it was about now. He wasn’t strong enough to quit evil entirely. He wasn’t like Nic. Or any of them, really. The ones who seemed to choose correctly every single day.

Oh well. At least he hadn’t killed the amount Erydia had. Yet.

Purple Prose

The hills were covered in lavender, a low buzzing from the pollinating bees mixing with the whispering of the wind rolling down into the valleys. Lorna sat perfectly still, watching one of the bees crawling up her knee, barely perceptible by touch. It was a perfect day, the bright blue sky stretching endlessly above her, giving an invincible veneer to the morning. It felt like living inside of a photograph. 

The breeze blew her hair forward, a few strands sticking to her lip gloss. The wind was not exactly warm. It reddened her nose, raised goosebumps on her bare arms. It only sharpened her joy, made it into something fierce, into the honest experience of having a body. 

Lorna didn’t always feel like her body was hers. Instead it belonged to her friends, the boys who looked at her in school, her family who analysed and poked at her at every occasional gathering.  It was only when she was alone, utterly alone, with no eyes watching and no fingers touching that she felt she inhabited it completely. Here were her lungs, here was her heart, her muscles and her mind. Her mind and her body were not meaningfully distinct like this. Her senses, gifted to her by her body, intertwined with her mind. Her mind was only what her body let her allow.

And she was grateful.

What Is Love? 

Astrid rested her head on her arms, tilting her head to her side, a small smile playing on her face. Syn was a little way away, leaning against the wall, dark lipstick leaving stains on the glass in her hand. Astrid liked watching her like this, in her element. Charming people, selling her product, a much a part of the party as the music or the dancing lights. 

Astrid loved her. She had loved her for a long while now. It was a background emotion, the same area of her brain that craved drugs or sex. It was a need that great. A need that potentially destructive. A need that she considered a part of her personality. Maybe love was the same thing as need. She needed Rei, and she had loved them wholeheartedly. She needed to do something with the love she had had for her sibling. She couldn’t let that love rot or wither. So she would channel it back to Syn.

Maybe that way she would love her back. If she tried hard enough.

Transformation

 She had been lost in the woods for what felt like weeks now. The deeper she went, the less she remembered of what had come before the trees and the journey. Not her name, not where she come from, not what lay beyond the boundary of the woods. She had vague memories of a city, though the very concept was repellent. Some time ago she had discarded her shoes, followed by her jacket, her bracelets. She left a trail of civilisation leading to where she was now.

She kept expecting to be cold. Or for her skin to be torn with thorns or from rocks that she stepped on. But none of those feelings came. The longer she went on the less discomfort she felt. The surer her feet felt. The less lost she felt. The more she felt, the closer to the universe, the more alive. The less worried.

The pool of water looked cool and inviting.  She discarded the dress, the last trappings of a creature she no longer was. She slipped in, up to her hips, the water lapping at her gently. It was colder than she thought, chilling her to her bones. She walked further in, toes feeling out the path carefully. 

It covered her stomach next, then her breasts. When it hit her shoulders, she realised she was going all in. She took a breath, and another step, and the water came in over her head. She didn’t want to drown. She just wanted a moment of peace.

A few more steps and the ground began to slope back upwards. She followed the lay of the land, this time on four hooves, not feet. She stepped out of the pool as a doe, blinking in the timeless sun. This was her now. She shook, the water droplets spraying from her damp fur. She trotted into the forest, disappearing with the flick of a white tail.

Good Days

Rose walked on tiptoes. Even when she didn’t need to be quiet. Her stockinged feet barely made a sound on the thick plush carpets, barely disturbed the hardwood floors. It was in this manner she made her way to the parlour, quieter than a ghost. She cracked open the thick wooden door, peeking around it, ready to withdraw at a moment’s notice. She breathed a sigh of relief a moment later, stepping in. Her mother had indeed went out for the day. You could tell from the bare grate, no morning fire burning. It was one of the only hints you got. She never announced when she was leaving and not seeing her was no guarantee she wasn’t in her rooms, waiting for  wrongdoing to occur so she could swoop out and correct her wayward daughter.

She liked this room. She barely ever saw it, it used mainly for formal occasions and adult conversations she was not privy to. She took her time now, trailing her fingers over undusted shelves, inspecting the fussy porcelain statuettes and severe family portraits. She sought to find resemblances. Here was a cousin with her hair, here was a uncle with her odd grey eyes. Above the fireplace, an actual oil painting of her sat, from earlier this year. Her mother insisted on an updated version every year. After all, they never knew when she would succumb to her sickness and her mother wanted a picture of her as close to her death as she could get. Portrait sitting always felt vaguely morbid for this reason. This was how she would be remembered, forever. 

Her fingers danced over the piano keys, the sweet high notes filling the room. She had another three minutes until she should be back in her bed, her maid little more than a spy for her mother. Her day was clockwork. Wake, medicate, bathe. Read in bed. Sew in bed. Peer out of her window, hoping that the day was clear enough she could see the edge of the forest that surrounded the mansion. Medicate. Have her hair brushed by her mother, be read to like a child. Sleep sleep sleep. Rinse and repeat, until she died. 

She noticed a moth sleepily crawling along the windowsill. With weak fingers, she tried to lift the window to free the creature, but unsurprisingly they were locked tight. She didn’t know why she even tried. The cold air, she had been told frequently, could give her a chill that would rob her breath. No chances could be taken. She let the moth walk onto her hand, leaving lightly dusty footprints. They were both stuck here, for the time being.

Ash & Members of Team Dickhead Night Out at Heaven 

People were often surprised that Ash loved dancing as much as she did. The usually reserved, stoic creature became someone else on a dancefloor. Surrounded by the crowd, by pressing bodies, by music loud enough to drown out thoughts she could pretend. She loved it and the nights she didn’t spend hunting, she spent here instead. The alcohol, of course, helped. 

It was something the Team had in common. It was how she met Bekah, moments after a bar fight, dancing with her, bodies closed, one thing definitely leading to another shortly after. Blood and sweat and laughter. And whiskey. A lot of whiskey. Even now they would share headphones, classic rock and sad indie alike bridging the unspoken affection between them.

Her and John dancing together, her skill so much lesser than his, but they looked good together. It was in these moments, she vaguely wondered if she was less of a lesbian than she first thought, his arms around her, his low voice more often than not singing along to whatever they were dancing to.

Sean and Tammy, none of the heat existed with them. Instead it was just fun, screaming along to the songs that hit too close to home and bouncing to the ones that were not. There was no opportunity Ash would not take to drag the pair onto the dancefloor.

She hadn’t managed it with Izzy and Cordy. Yet. Their time would come.

Maggie

She was pointedly fastidious. Nails clean and trimmed short and without polish. Curls pulled back as tight as possible into a bun. The matron could be merciless and Maggie as of yet had given her no reason to turn her beady eye onto her conduct, and she didn’t intend to. She liked being one of the good ones. The ones who were always on time, always well turned out, never caught around the village with any of the older men.

It was a ritual that comforted her too. Smoothing her hands over the starched linens of her apron, making sure her hair was tidy, her (slightly illegal) stockings were unladdered, looking over herself in the mirror... It promised her that no matter what the day brought, herself was well in order. In the chaos that was the hospital, you needed all you could get. It comforted her, the patients and the families looking for a semblance of normality. 

Today the rain was pouring down with a ferocity that was uniquely British. It was reassuring in it’s reliability at this time of year. On good days, in the summer, she would walk to the manor, waking up with the birds and the sun. On medium says, she would ride her bike, the cold wind reddening her cheeks. On days like this she would wait at the pick up point resentfully, arms arms wrapped tightly around herself, collar pulled up against the wind. 

On days like this, the manor appeared out of the rain like a ghost, outline first. Once it would have been home to a privileged few and a fleet of servants. Now it was home to the dying, the injured and the broken. As well as their carers. Sometimes on sunny days, as she walked down the curving stone steps to the most commonly used entrance, she would close her eyes and imagine she was coming here a hundred years earlier, where grand balls with great silken dresses were not unusual.  Where it was still beautiful. 

Inside was a constant clash of your senses. People yelled and sobbed, instruments clattered against trays, iodine soaked the air, hands were scrubbed in freezing and warm water by turns. She remembered when her hands were soft. Not so any more. Her training had changed that, bit by bit.

Her favourite part of the day came in the early evening. When most of the treatments had been done, where the doctors had shuffled off home. When she would read to the soldiers, letters from home, books and poems alike. Honestly, she was more than a little mediocre at the medical side of her volunteering. This was where she was useful. Talking to them, holding hands, refilling hot water bottles and trying to make them laugh. Ryan was threatening proposal number three at this point, and with each grin she was almost tempted to take him up on it.

It broke her heart too, don’t get her wrong. Several times a week she sat in the lavatory, seat down, knees pressed together, hand pressed to her mouth so no passing nurses would hear her crying. One of the few positive points of the shortage of luxury goods - no mascara tracks to give her away. 

She wasn’t sure what she would do when the end of the war came. Nothing had made her feel so hopeless or so useful. Her studies seemed distant now, the idea of doing nothing but waiting for a husband abhorrent. Some of her friends already thought her odd for not drawing her participation simply at her involvement with the Women’s Institute. So many of them didn’t have the stomach for this. She wasn’t sure she had the stomach for it frankly, but it was not in her nature to admit defeat.

She supposed she was like her country in that way.