#women solid hooded neck t-shirt

[fariconfashion]

Shrugs For Men

Experience elevating style with our latest collection of Shrugs for Men. Designed with absolute attention to detail, these shrugs not only offer comfort but also adapt to create a variety of looks. You can pair them with your favorite T-shirt or a casual shirt, and you're ready to steal the show. Regardless of the occasion, our Shrugs for Men is what you need to up your style game.

[sweaterproducer]

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[bukkum]

Winter Jacket For Women: Styling Tips To Stay Warm In Style This Winter

A jacket for women is one of the most favorite clothing pieces in winter collection. As the cold wind knocks at your door, everything will start changing or transforming according to the winter, like vegetables, and fruits, every food item will turn into seasonal foods in our homes to make our internal body strong enough to protect it in the winter. To save and secure our outer body from cold, summer clothes are replaced with winter clothes in the wardrobe.

Many people replace all the summer clothes in their wardrobe with winter clothes and within a short time, they get bored with those clothes. Yes, this often happens to everyone but why? You cannot style your winter clothes differently every day during the winter months because it is true that we cannot invest a lot of money in winter clothes for such a short period. In this article, we will discuss some styling tips that will help you style your winter clothes with summer flair.

Type of jackets for women you must have this winter:

Puffer Jacket

Leather Jacket

Denim jacket

Hooded Jacket

Cropped bomber Jacket

Tailored jacket

Black puffer Jacket

4 Tips on how to style your summer collection with winter jackets

1.    Go Casual with a Puffer Hooded Jacket this time :

Don’t grab your normal hooded jacket casually every time. Make it change with a solid Olive green hoodie puffer jacket to modify your casual winter look. You will have several styling options to style uniquely with your summer collection in the winter.

Style your solid white T-shirt from your summer wardrobe collection, take a pair of skin-fit blue denim jeans, and grab your Olive green hoodie puffer jacket over it. A pair of long brown boots and a black woolen cap will play a role in completing this cute winter look.

2.    The style for a party with a Cropped bomber jacket:

Planning the night party in winter? Styling for parties in extremely cold weather becomes a bit difficult for women. There are countless options for party nights in summer but not for winter. What if you can style your summer party dress for winter with a jacket in winter? Sounds interesting? doesn't it?

Wear any shimmery dress with a pair of wollen skin-fit black stockings, and cover your dress with a Black cropped bomber jacket. In footwear, you can wear your favorite Chelsea boots with it and you are all good to go for the winter parties.

3.    Be bold and beautiful for a formal meeting with a Denim jacket:

If you want to look bold and stunning in winter for your formal meeting, you do not need to wear a blazer like in summer. Wearing a suitable and beautiful denim jacket will give a nice formal look.

Without thinking about anything else, take your Red or any color shirt from the summer collection and pair it with beautiful black pants, now quickly grab a dark blue denim oversized jacket and add an animal-printed muffler around your neck. Add a classy touch with accessories like a pair of loafer shoes and some golden jewelry like a subtle chain, a watch, and two rings. And wow, you are going to make a unique impression on your client and everyone you meet.

4.    The style for the gym with a Front Zipper Hooded Jacket:

It is important to have a stylish hooded jacket for going to the gym early in the morning. We know that with stylish gym active wear, you don't want to spoil the look of your gym wear by wearing your usual sweater. And we don't want you to be left with only one pullover hoodie as an option. We understand that you wouldn't want to be limited to just one type of style, right?

You can flaunt your cool and classy style in winter too at your gym. Wear your regular tank top or a t-shirt that makes you comfortable at the gym and pair it with black ankle-length tights. Now to protect yourself from cold and keep yourself as stylish as ever add a layering of a Front zipper hooded jacket and wear your favorite pair of sports shoes.

Conclusion:

If there is one thing that can help you attract attention in winter, it can be considered a perfect selection of jackets for women. You will not get bored during the whole winter season when you wear different types of winter jackets, just know how to wear it with your summer collection to make it a perfect and beautiful pair.

At Bukkum, you will find various types of Winter Jackets in a range of color shades. Explore our site to have a beautiful and warm wardrobe collection for this winter.

Source Link

[urbanworldkart]

Style and Comfort: A Guide to Men's Cardigans Sweaters for Every Occasion

In the realm of men's fashion, the cardigan sweater has emerged as a timeless wardrobe staple, seamlessly blending style and comfort for a versatile and sophisticated look. From casual outings to business meetings, men's cardigans sweaters have evolved to become an essential garment that transcends seasons and occasions. Join us on a sartorial journey as we explore the nuances of men's cardigan sweaters, offering insights into their diverse styles, pairing options, and the undeniable charm they bring to every wardrobe.

The Classic Appeal of Men's Cardigans Cardigans, once associated with a preppy aesthetic, have undergone a revival, becoming a must-have item in contemporary men's fashion. The classic V-neck or button-down design offers a refined silhouette that effortlessly complements a variety of outfits, making it an adaptable piece for any style-conscious man.

Styles for Every Taste Men's cardigans are not one-size-fits-all; they come in a myriad of styles, catering to different tastes and preferences. Chunky knit cardigans exude a rugged charm perfect for casual settings, while slim-fit, finer knit options seamlessly transition from the office to a night out. Shawl collar, hooded, or zippered variations add a touch of individuality, allowing men to express their personal style with ease.

Versatility Across Seasons One of the key attributes that elevate men's cardigans to wardrobe essentials is their year-round versatility. Lightweight cotton or linen cardigans provide a breathable option for the warmer months, while wool or cashmere variations offer warmth and comfort during the cooler seasons. This adaptability makes cardigans an investment piece that transcends the constraints of fashion trends.

Pairing Possibilities The beauty of men's cardigans lies in their ability to effortlessly elevate any outfit. For a casual ensemble, layer a cardigan over a T-shirt and jeans, or pair it with chinos for a smart-casual look. In a professional setting, a well-fitted cardigan can serve as a stylish alternative to a blazer, seamlessly combining sophistication with comfort.

Accessorizing with Men's Cardigans The versatility of men's cardigans extends to accessorizing. Whether you opt for a classic watch, a statement belt, or even a sleek pair of sunglasses, cardigans provide a neutral canvas to experiment with accessories, allowing you to personalize your look.

Investing in Quality When it comes to men's cardigans, quality is paramount. Investing in well-crafted, durable materials ensures longevity and enduring style. Consider timeless colors such as navy, charcoal, or camel for a versatile wardrobe staple that withstands the test of time.

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[jlunnposh]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Cuddl Duds Women's Black Thermal Active Balaclava Long Sleeve Top Small or Large.

[maniaclife1]

Top 10 Best T-Shirts for Men Comfortable and Stylish Picks

T-shirts for men are wardrobe staples. Nowadays, men’s t-shirts are available in so many cool and trendy designs that you’ll be spoilt for choices when looking for one. And so, if you are on the lookout, this post will surely help you to narrow down your search.

Here, we are presenting the top 10 comfortable and stylish picks for men’s tees.

1. Oversized T-Shirt

Today, the coolest and most trending style in men’s t-shirts is oversized. You can choose among solid pastel shades like leaf green, evident blue, lucid yellow, and d-onion or go for the printed ones with water flow and guide motif. Wear them with your blue denim or a track pant to step out in style.

2. Full-Sleeve T-Shirt

The cosiest one across the men’s t-shirt section, full-sleeve t-shirts are always in vogue. The best thing about full-sleeve t-shirts is that they will not only keep you warm in winter but will also protect your skin from getting tanned in summer. You can choose among multiple shades like red, yellow and black.

3. Hooded T-Shirt

Invented for protection, hoods are now part of men’s and women’s casual fashion. And so, a hooded t-shirt has to be in your wardrobe if you want to be the trendsetter among your friends. The Yeh white t-shirt featuring cool graphics and the colour block tee with hood and mask are our favourites from the collection.

4. Crew Neck T-Shirt

Simple and elegant, crew-neck t-shirts can make anyone look smart while providing a semi-snug fit. These half sleeve t-shirts are ideal for summer but you can also wear them under a full shirt in winter. And when it comes to choosing a crew-neck tee for yourself, you can check out the solid-shaded ones or the graphic-printed ones.

5. Polo T-Shirt

The best part of a polo t-shirt is the collared neck, which can lend you a semi-formal athletic style. Polo t-shirts look fabulous on all body types because of their comfortable fit. Thin and lightweight, you can pick among multiple shades including lavender, sea green, brown, mustard, biscuit, and black- just to name a few!

6. Colourblock T-Shirt

Blocks of bright solid colours are the speciality of colour-block design. You can choose from a premium range of colour-block t-shirts that are made with pure cotton. These t-shirts are designed with straight hems and comfortable stretch for a snug fit. You can check out the navy colour block t-shirt that’s designed with a mask.

7. Utility Pocket T-Shirt

A combination of style and functionality, utility pocket t-shirts are great options for any casual outing. And in summer, these cotton-made soft and breathable t-shirts are the saviours. You can check out shades like red, black, blue, orange and green in both half and full-sleeve cuts in this collection of utility pocket t-shirts for men.

8. Cargo Pocket T-Shirt

Cargo pocket t-shirts feature two large pockets with flaps on both sides of the chest. These are functional as well as extremely stylish. Cargo pocket t-shirts look perfect on anyone when sported with denim or cargo pants. You can choose among shades like black, blue and green to look suave. Though these tees are mostly common in solid shades, you can also look for printed ones.

9. Doodle T-Shirt

Are you a doodle lover? Then, how about flaunting it with complete swag? You can pick from shades like black, grey and white in doodle t-shirts to look your best. Paining these with cool denim can make you a style icon on the whole campus.

10. Sleeveless T-Shirt

Muscle t-shirts or sleeveless t-shirts are quite versatile when it comes to upper wear. You can either wear them with your bottom wear or sport them under your shirt to look smart and charming. Sleeveless t-shirts also make perfect options for workouts or gymming.

So, these are the 10 best comfortable and stylish picks in t-shirts for men.

You’ll get all the above designs online at Maniac Life, our online store for men’s casual wear and accessories.

Our online store has everything that you need, starting from t-shirts to joggers, sweatshirts, jackets, shorts and more.

So, don’t wait for any further and keep shopping from our exclusive online shop today!

Article Source: https://maniaclife.com/blogs/news/top-10-best-t-shirts-for-men-comfortable-and-stylish-picks

[adamousow]

Stay Fashionable and Comfortable with Funny T-Shirts for Women: A Review of the Solid U Neck Short Puff Sleeve Shirt Blouse

Are you tired of wearing the same old boring tops? If you're looking for something stylish, comfortable, and unique, then look no further than the Funny T-Shirts for Women Fashion Solid U Neck Short Puff Sleeve Shirt Blouse Loose Tunic Tops Womens Best Blouses.

One of the best features of this blouse is its solid color design. It comes in a variety of colors, making it easy to mix and match with your favorite bottoms. The U-neck design is also very flattering and gives you a bit of breathing room around the neck.

Another standout feature is the short puff sleeves. These sleeves add a touch of playfulness to the blouse while also keeping you cool and comfortable. The loose tunic style is also a great choice for those who prefer a more relaxed fit.

The blouse is made from high-quality materials that are both soft and durable. You'll be able to wear it for hours without feeling uncomfortable or restricted. The fabric is also easy to care for and can be machine washed and dried without losing its shape or color.

Whether you're heading to work, out for a night on the town, or just running errands, the Funny T-Shirts for Women Fashion Solid U Neck Short Puff Sleeve Shirt Blouse Loose Tunic Tops Womens Best Blouses is a versatile piece that can be dressed up or down to suit any occasion.

If you're looking for a stylish, comfortable, and unique blouse that will keep you looking great all day long, then the Funny T-Shirts for Women Fashion Solid U Neck Short Puff Sleeve Shirt Blouse Loose Tunic Tops Womens Best Blouses is the perfect choice for you. With its solid color design, U-neckline, short puff sleeves, and loose tunic style, you'll be able to stay fashionable and comfortable no matter where you go.

[wistfulcynic]

The Thief of Time

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @optomisticgirl!! You are one of the loveliest and most supportive people in the fandom, a loving cat mom and brutal murderer who would die for a fictional plant and has the t-shirt to prove it. I am so, so honoured to have you as a friend ❤️❤️.

This fic came about because B sent me this post and I immediately said "Yep, Killian would be a wizard or an artificer." And B, unrepentant evildoer and witch!Emma's foremost fan, planted seeds in my head that would not stop growing. This is the result.

SUMMARY: Killian Jones, pirate-turned-artificer, has suffered blow after blow from life and all he wants is to go back to the past and make things right. If only he could get his bloody time machine to work.

Emma Swan, witch, has the ability to See through time and space and the responsibility to stand down any threats to either of them. When an artificer from 300 years ago in another realm devises a machine that could blow a hole straight through the multiverse, it’s her job to stop him.

What they find when they meet is an improbable connection, an understanding that bridges the distance between them. A distance that is in all practical ways insurmountable—by everything but love.

(And one very determined pirate-turned-artificer.)

-

Words: <9k Rating: T Tags: magic au, witch!Emma, artificer!Killian, angst, Killian Jones is a sad boi, a dash of hurt/comfort, time travel, realm travel, HEA

AO3

-

The Thief of Time:

Once upon a time there was an artificer.

He wasn’t much of an artificer, it must be said. Artificing, as everyone knows, requires patience, perseverance, and attention to detail, and while Killian Jones possessed a rock-solid stubbornness that stood in well for perseverance as well as a fine eye for detail, patience—at least when it came to tedious, laborious tasks—was not among his strengths.

This is perhaps why, on the particular bright morning when his life changed forever, Killian could be found in his workshop surrounded by shards of glass and a puddle of pale brown liquid oozing through his floorboards that until a moment before had been a bottle of rum. Until Killian, in a surge of frustration at yet another failure, had flung it furiously at the wall.

The rum bottle had been a more or less innocent bystander, a casualty of proximity, a stand-in for the machine that sat on a rickety table in the centre of the hut that served as Killian’s workshop—a machine that continued nonchalantly failing to function even after the rum bottle had met its tragic fate.

It was almost, thought Killian, as though the device didn’t care how many bottles came to an untimely end, it still had no intention of ever working.

He held out his hand with fingers curled like talons and let it hover menacingly over the machine before tightening it into a fist and shaking it. “I should bloody well smash you to bits,” he growled. “I should—”

He had no real idea of what he should do, beyond demolishing the bloody thing, heaving its carcass into the sea, and abandoning this foolhardy plan for good and all. It hardly mattered, though, as the machine made no reply—not so much as a tick of motion to indicate that it cared in the slightest about its own fate. Killian gritted his teeth and with effort reined in his temper. He reached for another rum bottle—there were always plenty standing by—and groped for a moment before he remembered he had the awl attachment connected to his brace and grabbed the bottle with his hand instead.

The bottle was stoppered with a tenuous scrap of cork; this Killian gripped between his teeth and dislodged with an expert twist of his neck, then spat it at the machine and watched as it struck the hammered copper facing with a satisfying thunk. He took the bottle to the porch of his hut—‘porch’ being the word with which he flattered the platform of weatherbeaten boards raised on hunks of driftwood—collapsed into the hammock strung across the corner of it and stared out to sea with the rum bottle cradled in his lap.

Tropical sun beat down on the shack and on the swaying palms that shaded it, and on the stretch of white beach that curved beyond it, and on the azure water glistening beneath the blazing sky. A tumbledown shack on a lonely atoll was not, so Killian had been given to understand, generally the sort of place in which most artificers chose to set up shop. They preferred tiny rooms atop winding staircases in tall university towers, so he was told, or for the more eccentric among them perhaps an derelict castle or even a dark forest hut. Somewhere close and damp and chill, where they could work by artful firelight draped in hooded cloaks and tuck the secrets of their craft safely away amongst the shadows.

Killian cared very little for such things, however, as he was not most artificers. He wasn’t, as has already been remarked, much of an artificer at all. A sailor by blood, a naval man by training, and a pirate by circumstance, this was Killian Jones. And now an artificer, by desperate last resort.

He took a long swig from his bottle and glared at the sea, at the ship that bobbed gently on the waves, anchored just to the left in the atoll’s curving bay. If he had any sense he’d end this foolishness, he thought with a bitter twist of his lip. He’d take his ship and find himself a crew, sail off and vent his frustrations on royal cargo vessels and navy frigates rather than haphazardly assembled collections of wood and scrap metal that would certainly never do more than than sit there smugly not working, taunting him, and—

Click.

Killian froze, with every muscle in his body. He waited. And waited. And—

Click.

Again. Killian exhaled slowly, cursing the faint vibrations of his breath in the air. He waited. And waited. And—

Click.

Click.

Click.

It was working.

—

A week later and Killian’s temper once again was hanging by the barest thread; the click of the device that had at first spurred him on now plucked at the frayed edges of his nerves and rattled inside his head each time he tried to focus. It was clicking, the mechanism was turning over, he had everything he’d thought he needed but still an element was missing, something vital that he couldn’t put his finger on, that hovered just at the edge of his perception like some fey spirit sent to taunt him.

Maybe you should just give up.

Killian spun around at the sound of the voice, a woman’s voice, with a wry tone and an unfamiliar accent. His eyes scanned the empty room. “Who’s there?” he called out, though it was plain to see no one was there. He was alone.

Quite alone.

He knew he was alone, of course, though the tingle between his shoulder blades did not concur, and remained even when he turned his attention back to his work. The sensation of being watched by unseen eyes is frequently a distracting one, but Killian stubbornly disregarded it and focused on his task. The sensation persisted.

He worked doggedly for several minutes, then set down his tools. “Lass,” he said to the room at large, “it’s bad form to stare.”

He swore he heard a chuckle.

“I do understand how it can be difficult for women to take their eyes off a devilishly handsome rapscallion such as myself,” Killian continued, “but I’m trying to work here so if you wouldn’t mind…”

He turned back to his workbench and as he did his elbow struck the edge of it, knocking over his latest rum bottle and sending a shooting pain up his arm. He squeezed his eyes shut and spat a stream of vicious curses and very nearly stabbed himself with the awl before recalling that he had no hand with which to cradle the afflicted elbow and rub away the pain. When it finally subsided and he opened his eyes once more, the sight that met them had him swearing a new and even bluer streak.

His device now sat bathed in a pool of rum, with sparks shooting from behind its copper face and very ominously not clicking. With a snarl Killian slammed his fist down on the table and ground it into the wood. He’d have to mop up the rum and wait at least a day or two to be certain whatever had seeped into the mechanism was completely dried before attempting to open it again to determine whether he could repair the damage. If he couldn’t he’d have to start over.

Or you could just give up.

“Are you responsible for this?” he demanded of the voice. “At long bloody last I was on the right track, and now—now—” He slammed his fist into his workbench again, sending rum droplets flying.

Look, don’t get cranky, mister. I’m just trying to stop you doing something stupid.

“Oh?” Killian snarled. “Is that what you’re doing? You’re a bit bloody late.”

What?

“I’ve done many a stupider thing than this, unhindered by any disembodied voices. You couldn’t have stopped me doing any of them?”

I—

“Where were you, for example, when I lost my brother in a cursed land, travelled back from that land, and then in a fit of rage burned the only method I had of returning there?” he demanded. “Where were you when I threw away my naval career, stole my brother’s ship, and led her crew into piracy? Where were you when I ravaged the land of my birth? Where were you when I fell in love with—” he broke off with a choking sound, then sat with his forearms resting on his knees, staring at his hand and at the leather brace where its twin should be. “I don’t know why I’m even saying this aloud,” he murmured, “you’re not truly here.” He ran his hand over his face then through his hair. “Perhaps I’m finally going mad. It’s an occupational hazard, or so I’ve been told.”

A breeze rustled through the shack, gentle and soothing. It whispered across his skin in what could only be called a caress. Despite himself, Killian felt comforted.

I’m sorry for what you’ve suffered. The voice’s compassion was undoubtedly genuine. But I couldn’t have prevented those things. They were not my business to See.

“And this is?” Killian demanded.

Yes.

He shook his head. “Who are you?”

There was no reply. The soothing breeze was gone, leaving the late afternoon air heavier and more still in its absence. His neck no longer tingled. He was alone. Again.

Always.

Killian pressed his fingers to his eyes and sighed, then grabbed a fresh bottle of rum—plus a second, upon further consideration—and headed out of the shack. Headed to the rowboat and the Jolly Roger, and, with any luck, a drunken stupor that would last until he could work on the device again.

“Hear this, lass,” he murmured as he paused in the doorway. “I will be back. I’m not giving up.”

We’ll see about that, whispered the voice, once he was gone.

—

Three days later and Killian’s hangover throbbed between his eyes, but his device was dry and in a less disastrous state than he’d feared. He tapped the magical stone that powered the mechanism until it sparked sharply in response, reconnected a few fine filaments of copper, snapped the gears back into place and held his breath.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Killian exhaled. It was still working.

Sort of.

He sat at his workbench and glared at the device, as though intensity alone could help him see what was missing in it. When it did not, he reached into his satchel with a long-suffering sigh, and withdrew a book.

He really should have gone to the books first. That’s what the other artificers had advised. Research before experimentation, a solid foundation of scholarship on which to build. In another life another Killian would have listened too, would have loved the prospect of hours, days, weeks spent in a library, absorbing the wondrous knowledge that it held. But that eager boy had long been lost, and the man who remained had spent too many years in wasted endeavours, hunting elusive magic beans and fairy wands, anything he heard of that he thought might aid his quest. When every lead he could scrounge all came to nothing he’d had no choice but to alter his course, and no bloody time to start from the beginning and do the thing properly. He’d already wasted so much time.

But perhaps, he conceded now, that had been a mistake.

The book had a weighty heft that testified its age, as did the brilliance of the jewelled ink on its vellum pages. Modern books with their rag-paper and plant inks were lighter, more fragile, less vibrant. Cheaper to produce of course, and more accessible, but the earnest, bespectacled scholar that still lived in Killian’s heart found them far more difficult to love. This book had been scribed centuries ago, by the hand of a monk whose name had long since vanished into time but whose skill was evident in the carefully crafted words and illustrations, the diagrams of fantastical devices that he had seen only with the eyes of his mind, never in reality.

Killian traced his finger over the lines of an engraving, squinting through his headache and the glaring sunshine to make out the tiny words that labelled it. With painstaking strokes he massaged his temples and let himself fall into the book, lost in study for the first time in many a year.

The hours sifted away like sand through his fingers, until a soft breeze ruffled through his hair and he became aware of that telltale tingle at the nape of his neck.

“Lass,” he said wryly, “has no one ever told you it’s rude to read over a person’s shoulder?”

It’s the only way I can find out what you’re up to.

“And just what prescisely makes that any of your concern?”

It just is. I can See it.

Though he could not have said how, Killian was certain she didn’t mean the sort of seeing one did with one’s eyes.

“So tell me then, what do you make of my choice of reading material?” he inquired.

Seems a bit dry.

He chuckled. “It is at that. But useful.”

You’re still planning to go ahead with it, then?

“I am. As I told you before, I don’t intend to give up.” A sharp smile flashed through his memory, the smell of sea salt on skin and in wind-whipped chestnut curls. His fist clenched. “I can’t.”

The breeze swirled up around him, wrapped itself about his shoulders in the gentlest embrace, and for a moment—just a moment—Killian let go. Let himself be comforted. Let himself relax. Tears prickled behind his eyes and his tired heart sighed. He swallowed hard.

You won’t find what you seek in this book, said the voice. Not what you really seek.

“Perhaps not. But it’s all I have left.”

Without warning the soft breeze stiffened, whipping up with force behind it and sending a half-full rum bottle teetering dangerously—but if Killian was prepared for anything these days it was betrayal. He caught the bottle before it could fall and set it safely aside, away from his device and his book and anything else that had the potential to be harmed by it.

“Nice try,” he sneered. The wind huffed a frustrated sigh.

This isn’t over.

“Why are you so determined to see me fail?” he demanded, but the words fell flat in the still and empty air—the absent prickle on the back of Killian’s neck informed him that she was gone again. “It’s not like I need any extra assistance in that area,” he grumbled. “I can fail perfectly well on my own, thank you very much.”

He bent to pick up the rum—a drink to soothe the ache in his heart—when his gaze caught on a diagram he hadn’t spotted before. He frowned and leaned closer, the rum forgotten, and began to read again. Soon he was absorbed once more, his eyes voracious as they scanned the pages. He made notes in the margins as he read, and tiny drawings and equations, and muttered half-formed thoughts to accompany the scratching of his pen. The clicks from his device soothed him now with their regular beat, and the tingle between his shoulder blades, when it returned, did not so much as register in his mind... though it lingered there as he worked, as the afternoon waned, until the sun began to sink below the horizon and Killian packed up his notes and his book and not his rum, and made his way back to his ship.

—

The next day found him in his workshop early, his mood uncharacteristically bright. He’d awoken that morning without a hangover for the first time in far longer than he cared to remember; the resulting clear head and sharp senses made the bright sunlight less oppressive in his perception, less like its exuberance was a judgement on his choices. Even his shack appeared cheerier than he recalled it, quaint rather than run-down, its slight slump to the left charming and not at all ominous. Killian was dangerously close to whistling a merry tune as he approached it, with his satchel slung over his shoulder and heavy with books.

He had brand new ideas to test.

His workshop itself consisted of the shack’s lone room and a single, long table that sat at the centre of it. On the table was his device, looking right at home there in the sense that it too was rickety, haphazardly constructed, and pitched to the left. Killian had told himself that the appearance of the thing didn’t matter so long as it functioned, but after it failed for so long to do even that he had begun to treat its exterior as a sort of whipping boy for his frustrations. The wooden casing bore deep gouges from his hook and other implements he’d attached to his brace; the copper facing was tarnished and dented. Hairline fractures criss-crossed the glass that covered the three small dials on the front and the long copper pole that was meant to be attached to the rear casing sat forlornly in a corner, looking as though it would dearly love the ability to rust, just as a way to express its feelings on the situation.

Looking at his device for the first time with clear eyes, Killian found that he felt rather bad. He really had made a dreadful hash of it. And although Killian Jones was frequently reckless, sometimes rash, and from time to time even a bit unhinged, he had never before been incompetent. Making a firm mental note to pick up some new materials the next time he made a supply run, he hefted the satchel onto his worktable, seated himself on the bench before it, and removed a book from the bag.

If he’d had two hands, he would have rubbed them together in glee.

Whatcha reading?

She appeared so suddenly that the prickle on his neck didn’t even have time to warn him. “I’m certain you can see the title for yourself, from wherever you are,” he replied.

Arithmetical Principles of the Mechanics of Time? Not very snappy.

“Never judge a book by its title, love.”

I thought that was by its cover.

“Title’s on the cover, isn’t it?”

So it is.

The voice sounded amused, and Killian chuckled to himself as he settled in to read. The tingle on the back of his neck remained as the unseen woman read along with him. He could feel her presence there, her eyes on him and on the book as he made his customary notes in the margins: quick diagrams and calculations and questions he would need to answer before he could proceed.

He was astonished to discover how engrossing the book was and how easy it was to lose himself in its pages, just as he had done the day before. How long had it been before then, since he’d allowed himself the luxury of a full day spent reading? Years, certainly. Time and tides, as the saying goes, wait for no man, and nor do rival pirate captains or deep-sea hellbeasts—they certainly do not wait for a man to finish his chapter before launching their attacks. Lazy days like this one took him back to his time in the naval academy, the long afternoons in the library there, the wonder he’d felt at all the knowledge contained in the books that surrounded him. An entire realm at his fingertips, just waiting for him to explore.

He had explored it in actuality years later on his ship, sailing her to the edge of the maps and beyond, but that first exposure to all the wonders the world held still shone as a jewel in his memory. For a young boy who until that moment had known only abandonment, drudgery, and abuse, the discovery that the world was far, far larger than he could ever have dreamt had been an invaluable treasure.

You love books.

Killian started; the voice sounded different now. It no longer echoed in his head, instead it seemed to come from somewhere to his right. He turned, and as he did perceived a shimmering in the hazy air, one that disappeared the moment he looked directly at it.

“I did,” he replied. “Once.” His mouth quirked in a wry smile. “Are you in my head, then, lass? Reading my thoughts?”

Of course not. It’s just obvious from your face.

“You’re familiar with the expression I’m wearing then, I take it? Perhaps because you’re inclined to wear it yourself?”

It was a shot in the dark, but it seemed to hit its mark. The shimmer grew more solid.

I—I’ve always loved to read. When I was a child it was all I had.

Something in the tone, a wistfulness perhaps, struck a chord in Killian. “You were alone, as child,” he said. “The books were your refuge.”

Yes.

Silence stretched for a moment, then he spoke again. “When I first arrived at the naval academy I could barely read,” he said slowly. “I was twelve years old. Where I come from literacy is a privilege of the wealthy, which my family was certainly not, but my mother’s father had been educated and he taught her to read and write. He was the younger son of a nobleman, disowned when he fell in love with a village girl. My mother in turn taught my father and also my elder brother. She had started to teach me as well but she grew ill and I was still so young, and then…” He trailed off, choked by the decades-old memory that still had the power to wound.

Then she died.

The voice was soft, so soft, and it settled around his shoulders like a blanket. He nodded. “Aye. She did.” He pressed his fingers to his eyes, just briefly, then continued. “After she passed, Liam, my brother, took over with my lessons, but there was never much time for such things. We were cabin boys on a large merchant ship by then, worked most days from dawn to dusk—but in what moments we had, we did try.” He shook his head. “Liam did the best he could, though our resources were so scarce his efforts produced little result. I was years behind the other lads my age at the academy at first, something they found highly entertaining.”

But you didn’t let that stop you.

“I did not,” he agreed. “Instead it spurred me on. In less than a year I had matched them, and in a year surpassed them. It was satisfying to make them eat their words, but in truth that was not my motivation.”

You wanted to know a world beyond the one you lived in.

“I wanted to know a world beyond the one I lived in.” He smiled at her, at the shimmering air in the corner of his eye that he almost fancied formed the shape of a woman. “As, I imagine, did you.”

Mmm.

Killian quirked an eyebrow at the shimmer. “Another orphan, I gather?” he pressed. “Alone in the world, unable to see a way out? Escaping into books for adventure, for a sense of the potential that lay beyond the narrow parameters of your life?”

You read me pretty well for someone who can’t even see me.

“You’re something of an open book, darling. If that metaphor isn’t too on the nose.” And perhaps, he thought, it wasn’t necessary to see someone to know them.

Faint laughter rang through the room. Open books read both ways, Killian Jones, her voice whispered, and then she was gone.

“Touché,” he muttered, as the tingle in his neck faded and a wave of magic pulsed in the air. A sharp snapping noise sounded from the device, followed by an echoing boingggg. Killian’s lips twitched. Softness followed by sabotage was becoming rather a thing with her.

He opened the casing and after a moment’s poking around in the mechanism identified the target of her attack—a small coupling in the box responsible for managing temporal currents. Killian felt himself grin. He was certain his unseen nemesis wouldn’t trouble herself to destroy anything that wasn’t crucial to the functioning of the device. He turned back to his book and flipped to the section on temporal flow.

“Thanks for the tip, love,” he murmured to the empty air.

—

Over the next month Killian worked doggedly on his research, leaving the device untouched and himself unhindered by tingles or voices or shimmery thickenings of the air. He read every book in his rather considerable collection, all the texts he’d… liberated from the universities and private collections of the realm’s best artificers then barely glanced into before he began constructing his device. He took a week off for a supply run, to collect the materials and bric-a-brac he’d need to construct the thing properly along with even more books, which he read eagerly at night on his ship, greedily absorbing the knowledge they contained as he lounged in his bunk.

Every day he thought about the voice, and about the very real woman he now felt certain was behind it. She wasn’t just a voice in his head, a symptom of madness or loneliness, or both. She existed, he had felt her, though he had never seen her face. He’d felt her presence and the connection between them—a peculiar sort of connection to be sure, but no less genuine for it.

The thought of speaking to her again helped spur him on.

Once he was back his workshop armed with resources in the form of both knowledge and supplies, he threw himself into a flurry of activity. He constructed shelves for his books, so he would not have to lug them to and from his ship every day. He built a sturdier workbench, with drawers to hold his tools, and a new, robust and polished casing and face for his device.

This was close work, requiring dexterity and concentration and the careful application of several magical items that had previously seemed to go out of their way to thwart him. As it turned out, Killian reflected wryly, he had simply been using them wrong. He still made mistakes, of course, and his lack of hand still proved a challenge. But gradually he found that he lost his temper less and less, that as he grew more knowledgeable and skilled he did not give in so easily or so frequently to despair.

He had almost entirely stopped drinking.

He spent a full week tweaking and refining the temporal current regulator in his device, until he was satisfied that not only near impervious to any further sabotage but also featured a clever adjustment of his own devising. Take that, Other Artificers.

He had done it. He knew he had. He had built his device and built it well. It would work now, and not because he threatened it or stumbled by happenstance upon the proper configuration. It would work because he knew what he was doing, and this time he’d done it right.

Killian Jones, artificer.

—

The stage was set.

The device was ready. More than ready. Its polished wood casing gleamed in the playful caress of the afternoon sunlight, which shimmered also off its copper facing and the smooth glass of its dials. The copper tube came up from where it was attached to the rear of the device and curved over the top of it, ending in a wide opening directly over Killian’s head. The rhythmic click of the mechanism was smooth and sonorous, each coupling attached and every gear well-oiled.

Click, went the device, tremulous and eager.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Every last thing was in readiness. Killian had only to flip the switch.

“You don’t want to do that.”

He paused with his finger poised above the small brass switch and smiled. “Back again, lass?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

The floorboards creaked, under boots that were not his. Leather rustled. Killian froze, then spun around. His jaw dropped.

“Bloody hell,” he gasped.

The woman stood in the centre of his workshop with her hands on her hips and lips curved in a wry smirk. Loose golden waves tumbled over her shoulders to frame an exquisite, fine-boned face and eyes that glinted green. She was dressed... well, she was dressed as no woman he’d ever seen before, in tall boots and tight-fitting trousers with no overskirt to cover them, and a leather jacket in the most outrageous shade of red. Killian blinked.

“You’re—I’m—what?” he choked.

“I said, you don’t want to do that,” she repeated. “If you do, you’ll blow a hole in the universe or—or something, I don’t exactly know. But it’s bad, and I can’t allow it to happen.”

Killian shook his head. He blinked again, harder this time, then rubbed his eyes. The woman was still there.

“What?” he shouted.

“Seriously?” snapped the woman. “You heard my voice in your head and didn’t even blink and I know you felt my presence. But now I’ve actually manifested and suddenly you’re at a loss for words? I thought at least I’d get some kind of smartass quip out of you. ‘At last a face to match the voice, lass’ or something.” She shrugged a single shoulder. “I don’t know. Something.”

“That’s—” Killian’s voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again. “That’s your idea of a clever quip?”

She scowled. “Look, I said I don’t know. You’re the smartass.”

“Well you might at least give a man a minute to adjust his premises before you start demanding cleverness from him, when you appear from out of nowhere in his workshop,” retorted Killian. “There is in fact a world of difference between voices in the head and full fledged hallucinations, you know.”

“I’m not a hallucination,” she huffed.

Killian knew that of course, but he still felt on rather shaky ground, metaphysically speaking. “Well what are you then?” he demanded.

“I’m a manifestation,” she replied, as though it were obvious.

“Oh yes of course,” he shot back. “A manifestation, how foolish of me not to have known that.”

She rolled her eyes. He smirked.

“A manifestation of whom, precisely, if I might enquire?” he drawled.

“Emma Swan,” she proclaimed, in a tone one might use to announce the arrival of a queen. “Witch.”

Killian regarded her with his smirk firmly in place, to which he now added a raised eyebrow. “A witch, you say?”

“Yep.”

“Indeed.”

She sauntered over to his workbench, hips swaying in a manner that Killian told himself firmly he did not find enticing, and leaned over, peering at the device. “This looks a lot better than the last time I saw it,” she remarked.

“Yes, well, I’ve been working hard since then.”

“I can tell.” She flashed him a look that had his muscles tensing. “Too bad it’s all for nothing.”

“What the bloody hell is that supposed—”

“Why do you want to travel in time anyway?” she interrupted, turning to face him and crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s a risky business, you know. Loads of people have tried and it never ends well for any of them.”

“That’s rather a bold statement from you, love, considering you are clearly not from this time,” he retorted.

“What makes you say that?”

Killian let his gaze sweep over her. “Red leather jackets aren’t exactly in vogue here,” he said loftily. “I’d be very surprised if they even exist. How did you get it to be that colour?”

“How the hell should I know, I didn’t make it!”

“Fair enough. Still stands out like a sore thumb, though.”

“Well it’s a good thing I’m not staying then.”

“Aren’t you?” Killian felt a twist in his gut at that; he was so enjoying sparring with her. “Shame. I suppose you ought to run along then, and let me get back to my work.”

“Ah, no. That I can’t do.”

“And might I enquire why not?”

Her expression, which had been sparking with the same joy of snarky battle that Killian felt himself, grew solemn. “If you’re successful then the repercussions of your work will echo all the way into my realm, in my time,” she said. “And I can’t allow that to happen.”

“Indeed?” he taunted, before he could prevent himself. “And just how do you propose to stop it?”

Her eyes flashed. “Oh you are so going to regret asking that.”

She raised her hand and twisted it, the merest flick of her wrist that sent a powerful pulse of energy through the room. He felt it throb through his body and he was rocked by its wave. What followed was silence.

Silence. No clicks. Not a one.

Killian spun round in fury and glowered down at Emma Swan, witch, who did not so much as flinch away from him. On the contrary, she appeared quite pleased with herself, and thoroughly unfazed by his very finest pirate snarl.

“I’ve never managed that so successfully cross-realms before,” she remarked.

Killian’s temper snapped. “What the bloody buggering fuck do you think you’re doing?” he roared. Her nonchalance was infuriating.

“I told you,” she reminded him coolly. “I can’t allow you to succeed.”

“I wasn’t succeeding, though, was I?” he hissed. “I’ve been not succeeding for the best part of a year now.”

“I know.” Her smug expression softened into an empathy that set his teeth on edge. “But that was about to change.”

“Oh was it?”

“Yep.”

He knew it was. But she... “And how the bloody hell could you possibly know that?”

“I told you, I’m a witch.”

He scoffed. “Is that supposed to impress me?”

“Well... yeah, I guess it kind of is.” She frowned. “You know what a witch is, right?”

“Of course I do. A witch is a person, most commonly a female, who is possessed of magical or supernatural powers, typically focused on medicine, the body, nature, and the spirit,” Killian recited.

Emma blinked. “That’s… very precise.”

“I’m well versed in defining the various types and levels of magical practitioner,” he informed her. His surge of anger was draining away and he found he lacked both the energy and will to hold on to it. “The Guild is most insistent that registration be precise.”

“Guild?” Her frown deepened. “Registration?”

“Aye. To both.”

“You had to register? With a guild?”

“I did.”

“Register as what?”

“As an artificer, of course. Despite my lack of skill in the discipline, the Guild insisted. Firmly. Fists were involved.”

“I—see.” Her lips twitched. “That seems unethical.”

He barked a laugh. “Welcome to the Enchanted Forest, love.”

Emma’s eyes went wide and her mouth fell open. “Is that where this is?”

“Aye. Though strictly speaking this”—he gestured at the space around them—“is on an atoll in the Far Southern Sea. But the Artificers’ Guild is in the Enchanted Forest, and they care very little for such things as venue or jurisdiction.” He looked at her curiously. “Didn’t you know?”

“Nope.” She shook her head. “I’m not really here, you see.”

Killian had been so caught up first in wonder then in fury that he hadn’t truly looked at her, at least not beyond what was required to note her striking beauty and odd attire. A manifestation, she had called herself, and once he knew what to look for it was plain to see—the faint translucence and hazy outline of her form. Cautiously, he reached out his hand. It went right through her shoulder, with no more resistance than water in a bathtub.

“Huh,” he said. “Curious. So where exactly are you then, Emma Swan, witch, if you’re not here?”

“I’m…” Emma’s brow furrowed and her nose wrinkled. Killian told himself sternly that it was unwise to find a nose adorable when it sat on the face of the corporeal manifestation of a witch from an unspecified realm. “Well, I don’t really know how to describe it,” she said. “I’m on Earth. About three hundred years in your future. Though I suppose this must be Earth too, really.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. I think so? What do you call it? This… place. Bigger than the Enchanted Forest. You… you know there’s a place bigger, right? Beyond the, um, the forest?”

His lip quirked. Her stumbling attempts to explain were also not adorable. “That I do, lass,” he replied. “I spent years sailing the seas of this realm and have travelled to many a land.”

“You’ve travelled the Earth, then,” said Emma. “Or your equivalent of it. What would you call it?”

“Terra, I believe is what you mean.”

“Yes!” She snapped her fingers then pointed the index one at him. “That’s got to be it!”

“So if I understand you, you’re saying you come from Terra as well, but a different version of it, which you call Earth?”

She gave an eager nod. “Yeah, basically. My Earth was called Terra once too, by people who lived in my past, in a different country. But in my language and my time and my country we say Earth.”

“I... see,” said Killian.

“Yeah.” Emma looked a bit sheepish and waved her hand in a vague arc. “It’s a whole thing with multiverses I don’t really understand, if I’m honest. I’m not a wizard, you see.”

“No indeed. Nor I.”

“Well, I mean, you’re not even much of an artificer. Or at least not until recently.”

She was attempting to tease, he could tell. To keep the mood light between them. But all he could hear was the death knell of his last resort, the only hope he had left of honouring his vow. Without warning, the weight of everything he’d been through, a lifetime of struggle and defeat culminating in his attempt to build a time machine that would apparently destroy multiple realms were it allowed to succeed, settled on his shoulders. It was all he could do not to collapse beneath it. He sank down onto the bench and ran his hand down his face.

“No. That I certainly am not.”

He sensed rather than felt Emma sit down beside him—there was barely more than a shift in the air to mark her movement.

“I’m not an artificer, not even now,” he told her, staring at his hand and brace. “All I am is a desperate man looking to right a terrible wrong.”

“A wrong you need to go back in time to fix?” she asked gently.

“Aye.”

“What happened?”

Killian clenched his jaw. He did not wish to discuss Milah. He never actually had, though others besides Emma had tried to make him, insisting he would feel better if he spoke of it. If he gave vent to his anger and his grief. But he could not—the words caught in his throat each time he tried, stopped by the anger that sat hard and curdled in his chest.

“There was… a woman,” he ground out, faintly astonished to hear the words fall from his lips. “I loved her and she me, but she was married to another. A cringing coward of a man who valued his own comfort and meagre security above her happiness and her health.” He breathed slowly through the anger that still rose up at the thought of it. “She tried her best with him, for years she tried, but ultimately she came to realise that he would never change. She saw the remainder of her life stretched out before her, a grim slog through a grey world of misery, and she knew she had to do something, whatever was necessary to change it. For the sake of her own survival.” He risked a glance at Emma. “But she was a woman, thus her options were limited.”

“So she ran away with you,” said Emma. He searched her face for judgment, but there was none.

He nodded. “She ran away with me.”

“You saved her life,” she said harshly. “But you shouldn’t have had to.”

He blinked, startled at her tone, and watched as her face grew tight with anger. “In my land and my time, women have choices,” she hissed. “We have to fight for them every day, but we have them. We can leave marriages and we can have jobs and we can own our own houses and have our own lives. We don’t rely on men unless we choose to.” She looked up to meet his eyes. “I’m guessing that’s not the case here?”

“You guess correctly.” Killian’s voice was choked, his chest drawn tight by the depth of her compassion. Compassion for a woman she’d never met, who had died long before her time. He cleared his throat. “Milah had nowhere to go and no means to go there. I offered her an escape. It was all I could do.”

A moment passed before Emma spoke again.

“What went wrong?” she asked.

His lip curled. “I expect you can guess.”

He could sense the catch in her breath, though it made no sound in the quiet room. “Her husband found you?”

“Aye. Rather a predictable storyline, isn’t it? But there's an unpleasant twist to this tale, I fear.”

“What twist?” she demanded.

Killian swallowed. “Have you heard of the Dark One?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Well, yes. I’ve read the lore of course, but… are you saying the Dark One is real?”

“Very much so.”

He watched as comprehension dawned in her eyes. “And he—your—Milah’s husband—”

“Had become the Dark One, aye. At the cost of his soul, of course, but for some men that's a small price to pay to punish an errant wife.”

“Wow. I mean—wow.”

“I’m not familiar with that particular expression but it certainly seems to suit the case,” said Killian drily. “Wow indeed.”

“He murdered her, didn’t he?” Emma said, in a voice like the lash of a whip. It was not a question.

“On the deck of my ship,” Killian replied, “as I watched, helpless to prevent it. He tore her heart from her chest and he crushed it to dust.” He held up his brace, catching the sunlight on the curve of his hook. “And then he took my hand.”

Emma exhaled, long and slow. “So that’s why you want to go back. To stop her murder.”

This was also not a question, but he answered it nonetheless. “Aye. I promised to protect her and I failed. I have to make it right.”

“You know you can’t do that, Killian.”

The empathy in her voice, the understanding, the way she said his name… Killian’s anger rose again and he snapped at her. “Well not now that you’ve destroyed my bloody time machine!”

“You couldn’t have anyway.”

“And just how the devil—”

“Look, I told you, I’m not a wizard,” said Emma insistently. She shifted on the bench until she was facing him fully, one leg tucked beneath the other. “I don’t know all the ins and outs of how the universe works, or like, the multiverse or whatever. All I know is that if you turn on that machine it will blow a hole in all of it. Every realm and at every time would be destroyed. It would end the world.”

Killian scowled as his mind sought frantically for a loophole, a counterpoint, a way. His fist was tightly clenched and pressed hard against his thigh, his breathing shallow. “The books said—”

“The books don’t know,” she interrupted in that same insistent tone. “No one’s ever done this before. No one’s ever even come close.”

“And here I thought I wasn’t much of an artificer,” he sneered.

“Like I said before. You weren’t.”

Killian thought of all the reading he’d done, the careful cross-referencing of books that likely had never before been seen by the same pair of eyes. He thought of his temporal current regulator, the refinements he’d made to it. How certain he was that it would work.

He looked over at Emma to find her watching him, with gentle sympathy and not a hint of pity. “You can’t go back, Killian,” she said softly. “The past has already happened. All you can do is go forward.”

“So what you’re telling me is I need to move on,” he snarled. How he loathed that expression.

She nodded. “In more ways than one.”

Cautiously she reached out and placed her hand over his clenched fist, and though he could not feel her touch he felt it, the warmth of her compassion and her strength and her magic, drawn from another realm in another time. He let his hand relax and held it, palm up, beneath hers. He drew a deep, unsteady breath and then released it. Then he drew another.

They sat in silence for some time.

“I can’t recall the last time I considered what Milah would think if she could see what I was doing,” said Killian, finally, in a low voice. “I thought about her all the time, at first. But then… it got to the point where every time thoughts of her came into my head I would drink them straight out of it.”

“Because you knew that if she could see you she wouldn’t like what she saw.”

“Because I knew that if she could see me she wouldn’t like what she saw,” he echoed. “She wouldn’t have wanted me to lose myself in this—obsession. But then I have always been prone to obsession and she knew that better than anyone.”

“Obsession is just another word for intense dedication,” declared Emma, “once you add a bit of healthy perspective to it. It’s sincere devotion to what you value. Maybe all you need is just to shift your focus a bit. Find something new to work on, and another motivation to drive you.”

“Something new,” he repeated, then gave a hoarse, choking laugh. “I confess I’ve no idea what that could be.”

“You’ll find something.” The look in her eyes as she watched him was amused, wry, soft, and sad all at once. An odd sensation twisted in his chest. “I wish—” she began, then broke off with a shake of her head.

Killian realised their hands were still clasped. He wished he could close his fingers around hers, truly feel the touch of them against his skin. “What do you wish, love?” he pressed.

She shook her head again. “It’s just—after today I won’t be able to See you anymore. Once you’re no longer a threat you’ll stop appearing in my visions. I just wish I could watch what you do next, that’s all." She flashed him a grin. "I have a feeling it’ll be something epic.”

He laughed and after a moment she joined him, with a tinkling, joyous sound that made his heart feel lighter than perhaps it ever had. Maybe she was right, he thought. Maybe he could do something different. Something not driven by loss or anger or greed. “I don’t know if I can promise epic,” he told her. “But I do promise I'll do something. Something important to me. I promise you, Emma Swan.”

She smiled, gorgeous and heartbreaking. “Good.”

Killian could swear he felt her hand tightening on his, felt it in the echoing squeeze in his chest. He heard her next words before she spoke them.

“I have to go.”

He forced himself to nod. “I know.”

She reached up with her free hand and traced her fingertips across his cheek. “Goodbye, Killian Jones,” she whispered… and then she was gone.

Killian sat alone in his workshop with an empty hand and a silent machine, and a brand new ache in his heart. And for the very first time in a life full of loss, he allowed himself to grieve.

—

Killian didn’t drink.

He wanted to. The rum called to him, a siren’s song of numb oblivion, but that was a pit into which he no longer wished to fall. He had things to do now, crucial things, and they required a clear head.

He took the Jolly Roger and he sailed away, far across the seas to a place he'd sworn he’d never go again. The small port village where Milah had lived, and where she’d died. Whose harbour he’d put at his bow for less than an hour before he’d tipped her body into the depths of the sea.

It was the nearest thing he had to a gravestone.

He stood on the deck with his hand on the railing, staring down into the choppy waves below. His throat ached and his chest felt tight.

“I’m so sorry, Milah,” he whispered. “Sorry that I failed in my promise to protect you. Sorry that when I lost you I lost myself as well. I let myself fall so deeply into despair that I lost sight of who I was—and in doing so I sacrificed the man you loved. I’m sorry I became something you’d have hated me to be.” His throat closed up and he swallowed through it, forced the next words out. “When you died I swore to avenge you, but my love, I think—” he exhaled slowly “—I think I have to let you go.”

A brisk wind swept in off the water and ruffled through his hair as Milah’s fingers used to do. It stroked his cheek with the touch of her lips and whispered with her voice in his ear.

I love you, it said. Go.

Killian let his eyes fall shut as he breathed in the scent of her skin, closed his fist in her curls one final time. When he opened them again he was alone.

Alone, but for the first time in many a year, hopeful.

The past is done, he thought, and can’t be changed. All you can do is move forward.

Somewhere, some time, there was a green-eyed witch with golden curls and a sharp tongue and the softest heart he’d ever known. One who could read him like a book and understand the story it told. And he was an artificer who knew how to build a bloody time machine.

It was time to move on.

—

The afternoon was warm and hazy as it often is in August on the coast of Maine. The air was heavy and humid and buzzing with the hum of bees and midges as they swarmed and bumbled their way through late-summer flowers. Flowers that bloomed in full riotous colour in the remarkable garden of a thoroughly unremarkable grey clapboard house.

A figure approached the garden gate, tall and oddly dressed for this realm. He wore a long and sweeping leather coat over an ornately embroidered waistcoat, tall leather boots and a matching heavy satchel slung across his back. He paused, and regarded the gate with a raised eyebrow and all the deference he could muster.

Killian Jones knew magic when he sensed it.

“May I come in, lass?” he inquired of the air and the gate and the bumblebees, and whomever else might happen to be listening.

The gate swung open.

Killian favoured it with a small bow then sauntered through it, through the bright and fragrant garden and up to the porch steps and the door atop them. It opened as he approached to reveal a woman with long curling hair, a tight white tank top and very short shorts. She placed a hand on her hip and smirked.

“Took you long enough,” she said.

Killian climbed the porch steps and dropped his satchel, hooked a thumb beneath his belt buckle and treated her to his flirtiest grin. “Time is relative, I think you’ll find,” he replied. “Also an illusion. And there are some philosophers who claim that—”

His words were cut off by Emma’s lips, her fingers tight on the lapels of his coat as she pulled him in close. She was solid and real against his chest, her mouth hot and her skin so soft. Killian groaned as he sank his fingers into her hair, as he kissed her back with everything he’d held in his heart since he saw her last.

The kiss was short but rich with feeling, with potential, with hope. When it ended they paused for a moment, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other’s breath.

Emma spoke first. “You came forward,” she said. “You actually did it.” She laughed, and thumped her fist lightly against his chest. “I can’t believe you actually did it.”

“Aye, well, as it turns out, I’m a hell of an artificer,” he replied, and she laughed again. He pulled her against him, wrapped his arms tight around her and sighed as she tucked her head beneath his chin.

“And the rest of it?” she inquired softly. “Milah, and the Dark One—”

He took a moment to consider how to answer. There were many things he could say, so much he wanted to tell her. But it would wait. They had time. In the end he said simply, “I’ve made my peace. It’s done.”

“Good.” She looked up at him with that glorious smile and his heart sang with happiness. “That’s good.”

—

@ohmightydevviepuu @thisonesatellite @katie-dub @kmomof4 @mariakov81 @stahlop @spartanguard @killianjones-twopointoh @captain-emmajones

-

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[ssa25]

Naruhina 2020 - Hand(s)

Rating: T (slangs / curse words)

@naruhina2020

“Did you hear about Chouji?”

“Hn.”

The young man was unperturbed by his best friend’s disinterest in local gossip. He was not one to give up.

“Rookie mistake, if you ask me… I mean I would also be banging on the constant too, if I had someone hot like Karui… But, he was not being discreet about it...”, he commented with a chuckle. “No doubt, her brother caught them red handed…”

Namikaze Naruto lazily leaned over the cemented balustrade on the first floor of the old building that housed some blacksmiths, a tea shop and one successful upscale brothel. The late morning sun was bright and warm on the stragglers and customers on the busy market road. He looked sideways at Sasuke who had his eyes closed and seemed to be soaking up the warmth.

“News is, Chouji has been threatened by Darui to marry her, unless they want to make an enemy out of their clan.”

“Sure.”, Sasuke quipped without a care.

Naruto chuckled and shook his head. “Seems like your night with Yuzu has truly worn you down… She seemed like a screamer too.”

“Hn. She was. Didn’t particularly care for it though.”, he smirked with one open eye. “You had a good time with Yumi?”

“Absolutely!”

This was their time to rejoice and relax. The year long war had ended in their favour, and now being back at the capital, their bodies craved to give in to their baser urges. Brothels like this one served to the elite tier of the kingdom, and it was an easy lay for them without having to string along women for anything permanent. Last night had been just what they needed. Some good wine, beautiful hostesses and dancers, and a warm body to end their night on a high.

A flash of pink caught Naruto’s attention. “Oh, there’s Sakura.”

That got his best friend to open his eyes wide and crouch down to hide behind the solid wall.

“God, you are such a pussy!!”, Naruto teased him.

Sasuke replied with a glare.“ Don’t you fucking dare call her!”

“You are being over dramatic… Who in their right mind would run away from a woman like Sakura?!”

“Not quite over your infatuation, I see Namikaze”, Sasuke sneered at him.

“I gave up on her long ago… She has her eyes set only on you.”, he replied a little wistfully as he watched Sakura pass by the building without realising their presence. “Your father would approve of her too… She is being mentored by Granny Tsunade… She will surely follow her steps to become the royal physician one day.”

“I don’t know… I’m holding out...”

“For who?”, Naruto asked curiously.

Just then, an angered voice overtook the hustle and bustle of the shopping district. Looking down, the blond haired man found a middle aged fruit merchant grabbing a young boy by his shirt. He was about to leap into the situation, when Sasuke pulled on his arm.

“Don’t get into their business… The Commander General won’t be pleased if he hears about you getting involved in a street scuffle, yet again. Let the patrol squad take care of it.”

Naruto helplessly looked down again to see a dark grey cloaked figure attempting to assuage the situation.

—

Hinata was absolutely spellbound by the ambience. People seemed in high spirits, probably because of the kingdom’s recent victory. The small street stalls sold all sorts of trinkets and food items. Her senses were overwhelmed, in a good way. 

She had never experienced the thrill of defying rules. It was a heady feeling. She wished she had had courage to do this before. 

She made sure to check out anything and everything that pulled her attention. She was especially taken by the beautiful beaded necklaces in one particular stall. Her father would never allow her to wear one of those. Not refined or expensive enough, he would say. And now dejectedly she realised, that in her hurry to venture out, she had forgotten to bring any coins. She had no way to pay for anything at all. Maybe, next time she could get some and buy herself one of these necklaces and other trinkets, she surmised.

“Hey… You little rascal!!!”, a loud bellowing voice of a pot bellied man from the neighbouring stall almost shook her.

He had his hands on the collar of a young emaciated boy who didn’t look more than 8 or 9 years old. He shook the child trying to scare him more. The frightened boy had an apple in his hand, which by the looks of it, he had stolen from the enraged man’s cart. She was astonished to see that the people around only spared a glance before trotting away on their personal agendas. No one tried to do anything to save the poor child from this man’s wrath.

“Trying to steal my produce, huh?!!... You little thief!!”, the man shouted. “I will teach you a lesson, you filthy rat!!”

The man raised his hand to smack the child, but Hinata could not help herself from rushing in and blocking the child behind her back. She raised her hands to stop the man, who stilled upon seeing her.

“Please!! Stop!!”, she pleaded to the man. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to harm your business… The poor child is probably just hungry… Can you please let him apologize and let it go? It would be much appreciated!!”

“Stay out of my way woman!!”, the man grunted at her. Her words had no impact on his temper. “Street rats like him are the worst!! He needs a proper beating-“

“Please Sir, I….. I b-beg of you… I will personally see to it that he never repeats this again…”, Hinata tried to coax him into an agreeable state. The hood of her cloak had dropped down. She had her hair open, free from the usual ornaments. She could feel the boy stuck to her back, his body shivered listening to the threats.

“Does he belong to you, woman??”, the man asked, pointing a finger at her.

“No, but-“

“Then stay out of my business!!”, he moved forward to grab the boy from behind her, when a loud crash of glass breaking was heard overhead.

The angry merchant and most of the customers turned around to look at the commotion, and Hinata took this chance to grab the boy’s hand and run. As if the boy understood her ploy, he matched her speed to escape the dire situation.

“Hey, you… Stop right there!!!... Guards!! Guards!!”, the man shouted and tried to get the attention of local guards who patrolled the streets.

Hinata looked back to see that the angry merchant was pointing two guards in their direction. She silently offered her prayers to Almighty, to save them from this situation. She could hear the voices of the guards who were trying to run after them, shouting at them to halt. 

Her feet ached from running on the uneven road in her fine silk shoes, her breathing laboured from all the effort. But she could not get caught, or let the boy suffer at their hands. They would both get into some major trouble.

She turned corners and tried to dodge the guards. Turning around again, she found that they had a bigger patrol team following now. And the only reason they had not caught up was because of the throngs of people who had crowded the streets.

From the corner of her right eye, she could see a figure running and jumping over the roof of the buildings following their trail. It was hard to make out because of the blinding rays of the westerly Sun. She could only despair at the knowledge and turned left into a narrow alleyway. 

But a few steps ahead, she dreadingly realised it was a dead end. When she turned around, she found a man jump from the top of the low buildings adjacent onto the alleyway. He landed a few feet from her and grinned victoriously. It must have been the man following her from the roofs, she concluded.

“You sure know how to rile up the guards…”, he commented as he leisurely walked towards her with his hands in his pocket. Hinata pulled the young boy behind her to shield him from the grinning stranger. He looked like he was a descendant of the sun, with his light hair and sun kissed complexion. He wore a casual linen shirt with the top buttons undone and brown well fitted thick trousers. When he came closer, she noticed his towering height and the bright blue eyes. And also the fact that he was absolutely not breathless, unlike her. 

“I-... I don’t have money on me right now… B-but I can pay for the apple later…”, she tried to plead with him.

“Sshhh…”, the strange man shushed her by laying his forefinger on her lips.

He quickly pushed her body towards the wall and pulled on the string at the base of her neck that held the cloak together.

Hinata was shocked at his actions and tried to stop him by holding his wrists.

“What are you- “, her question remained incomplete when the man easily smirked and pulled away easily from her hold and took off the cloak. Much to her relief, he used it to cover the boy.

“Now… Stay still.”, he ordered her calmly and slid his hand at the back of the neck and brought his face close to hers, as if to join his lips to hers.

Hinata let out a loud gasp, and shut her eyes tight to pull away from his grip. Loud footfalls of the guards interrupted the moment. As if her situation couldn’t get any worse.

The man stood close with his chest pressed against her heaving one and turned his head towards the group of patrol guards who were probably still looking for her and the unnamed little boy. Her heart filled with fear and dread, when she realised that she had probably made the situation worse for the boy. Never mind, the terrible reprimanding session from her father.

“Nothing to look here fellas! Off you go, on your way…”, she heard the rough husky voice of the man in front of her, inform them smugly. She opened her eyes to see the men nod and look away, as if they were embarrassed to come upon a less than appropriate situation.

When the soldiers dispersed easily, she began to understand the weird ploy of this stranger. He wasn’t following her to report them, but to actually save them. He had made it seem as if they were having an intimate moment. 

She turned to look at her saviour gratefully, and found warm blue eyes intently on her. She swallowed nervously, as her eyes admired the sharp planes of the ruggedly handsome face in front of her. She had never witnessed such close proximity with a male, and she realised it left her breathless for an entirely different reason than few minutes back.

His eyes were mapping out her face too, and slowly as he moved back to give her space, his gaze slid down towards her neck and the edge of her bodice.

“Have they left?”, a small voice from beside them broke the moment.

Hinata turned to the side to lift the cloak up and saw the boy look at her questioningly.

“Yes, they have. For now.”, she replied with a gentle smile on her face. She noticed that the boy still gripped on to the apple he had stolen.

The blonde man kneeled to the height of the boy and held him by his shoulders.

“What’s your name?”, he asked.

“Sora.”, the child replied nervously.

“Sora, you do know that stealing is really bad, right?”

Sora nodded his head ashamedly.

“I was very hungry. And I have no money.I’m sorry…”, few tears gathered in his eyes as he apologized.

Hinata couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. It was an awful condition to be in, something that she had never faced in her life. Were there more kids like him who were on the brink of starvation? She felt horribly guilty thinking of the luxury she was brought up in. She had no right to complain or yearn for things when she had it so easy.

“Where are your parents?”, this time Hinata asked.

“I don’t have parents. The orphanage kicked me out because they said I was old enough to take care of myself when I turned 11.”

“Okay. Not to worry.”, the man replied. “I will help you get a job. In return, you will promise me that you will work hard to earn the money and never steal again. Do we have a deal?”

He held out his hand and the boy promptly shook it while nodding his head to agree to his terms.

“And what is your name, gorgeous?”, he winked at her as he stood up. She was positively flustered by him.

“Hi-... Hi-ma...”, she replied.

“Hima…”, he repeated after her as if relishing her name on his tongue. 

He clasped his hand behind him and regarded her curiously. “That was quite the brave deed you did there Hima... Brave but also reckless… Good thing, I could distract the nasty stall owner with quick wit and little damage.”

She gasped. “T-the glass window... That was you?!... You broke it??”

“Let’s just say I have splendid aim. And the glass window belongs to an unoccupied home. So no harm done.”

“Th-Thank you… Thank you very much!”

She would have liked to offer him some reward or compensation for helping her like she had heard her father do a few times. But she had nothing on her. And, he was quite decently dressed to be rewarded with just a few coins anyway.

“Ah, don’t worry about it…”, his voice broke her out of her reverie. “You look a little familiar… Are you from around here? Where do you live?”

Her cheeks grew warm at the way he was looking at her. She could see glimpses of genuine interest and curiosity in his eyes. It was different from the shrewd and calculative gaze of her distant cousin Toneri, who also had an added dash of unfiltered lust.

“The palace.”, she answered without any thought. But quickly realized that she was supposed to be discreet about her identity. “I was running errands in the city. I have to go back soon.”

“Ah, your eyes!!... You must be a part of the extended Hyuuga family serving the Royals…”, he realised it.

“R-right…”

“My name is Naruto. Namikaze Naruto.”, he grinned flirtatiously. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

She had been taught on speaking to the opposite gender, men who were not family or close relatives. But at that moment, all the teachings were lost on her. She could only gape at him and nod. He was unlike anyone she had ever met. He seemed kind, courageous and comfortable in his own skin. He had absolutely no false air of pretense about him.

“The pleasure is mine.”, she replied with a smile.

She found Sora looking back and forth between the two of them, while munching on his apple. She cleared her throat to dispel her nervousness, and lifted her chin up.

“I should get going. Thank you again for coming to our help. It is most appreciated.”

“Do you have to go back now?”, he looked a little disappointed.

Hinata tilted her head in wistful contemplation. “Well…. Not… exactly…”

“Then can I offer you some company. How about a tour around the city. I can take you to the most scenic parts that I’m sure very few people know about…”, he suggested excitedly. 

She really wanted to accept his offer, but not before seeing through the safety of Sora.

“But Sora-“

“Of course… First we can drop Sora off at the Uzumaki compound. I’ll have my protege Konohamaru act as his ward for the time being. I assure you he will be well taken care of.”, Naruto reassured her.

“Okay.”, she replied with barely suppressed enthusiasm.

“Perfect!”, he said cheerily.

Then he outstretched his left arm to offer his hand to her.

Hinata was taken aback by his forwardness. It was not usual for unwed maidens to hold hands with men. Especially for someone of her status. What if someone recognized her? If the news traveled back to her father, the repercussions could be severe. But looking at Namikaze Naruto, all her worries drifted to the back of her mind, as this view of him with his offered hand made her giddy with new sensations. Did she not promise herself to enjoy this day to the fullest? So why should she back out now? Because this might be her only chance to savour his company. 

Who knew when she would get to see him again? If she would get to see him at all?

Naruto peered at her with a hint of worry because she was stalling. “Everything okay?”

She nodded wordlessly.

“Then come. Take my hand.”

[spoopyghostgirl]

And now is my canon Shepard, Jax

Name: Jackson James Shepard

Nickname(s): Jax, James, Jim, Shep, Sheepy

Gender: Male

Age: 27 years old (ME1)

Birthday: November 18th

Previous Homeworld: Earth

Current Homeworld: None recently

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Race: Mixed

Voice: Tucker, Red VS Blue

Personality: Jax is a very lighthearted person, easy to make laugh, and quick to smile. Despite his immensely sunny demeanor, he finds it difficult to relate to others, not for s lack of trying but because he is very shy. That is, unless he is working and then he is a firm, no nonsense, straight forward man.

Family or Relatives: His mother is Amelia Shepard, originally from England. His father is Admiral Hackett, though their relationship was hidden given his mother and fathers places within the alliance. The pair met during a search and rescue mission, Amelia pulling Hackett from behind enemy lines. He thought she was an angel sent to deliver his immortal soul. Waking up later, he was very embarrassed but it ended up working in his favor, since the beautiful lieutenant came to visit him several times during his hospital stay, and if Jax is any sign, those visits continued long after he was released.

Relationships: He originally has a relationship with Tali, though that relationship is ended when she discovers he works for Cerberus (and that he may or may not have taken up casually sleeping with Hades). He later develops feelings for Jack, joking that he has a thing for scary women before ultimately ending that relationship.

Morality: Lawful Good

Pre-Service History: Spacer. Given that both of his parents are high ranking service members, and that his parents were trying to be discrete about both their relationship and Jax's parentage, the young Jax spent most of his time bouncing between ships.

Psychological Profile: War Hero

Addictions: Caffeine, mostly becoming attached to it post promotion in ME1 since he has access to some really nice coffee/espresso. Later becomes addicted to the suped up version that Hades introduces him to when they visit her homeworld. After that, Earth coffee doesn't cut it.

Role model(s): Captain Anderson, his fathers closest friend and one of the biggest players when it came to hiding Jax's parentage. His mother, who despite becoming pregnant during the peak of her career, never slowed down, and achieved greatness. The Spectres, a group of highly trained warriors from several races across the galaxy.

Beliefs: He isn't particularly religious but he does believe in an afterlife. Would suck if you died and that was it.

Habits: Drumming his fingers on desks and his thighs when stressed. Humming to himself in difficult situations, whether on the field or waiting for important calls/meetings. Messing with the paint on his armor whenever he needs to keep his hands or mind busy. Has definitely rushed out on a mission in mismatched armor, thanks to getting interrupted mid repaint.

Hobbies: Plays the cello, something his mother had him learn as a child. Enjoys dancing, also took ballet lessons as a child, which later came in handy in his line of work. Likes painting with Hades, the pair taking turns as each others canvases. Building models (really just legos) and vegging out and watching old vids.

Source of Anger/Hatred: Racism, whether its humans or aliens mistreating each other or people of the same race mistreating each other. Childish people, mistreatment of the less fortunate. Cerberus. Hades shitty family.

Source of Sadness/Sorrow: Lossing loved ones. Losing a good portion of his team defending colonists during a raid. Finding out the awful shit his friends and crew have gone through.

Source of Fear/Phobia: Hates spiders, despite there being other things to fear in the galaxy. Hates heights, it's one thing to be in a ship but a completely different thing to be walking around somewhere high up or near large glass windows in high places. Definitely gets teased about it.

Likes: Music, especially electric music, music that gets you moving. Exercising, though he had prefer methods of exercising. Spicy food, especially anything with jalapenos in it. The colors yellow, blue, and green. Likes taking walks at night and singing along to whatever music is playing. Big animal guy, couldn't have any as a child so as an adult, he goes to shelters, volunteers to walk dogs and other animals that need some love.

Dislikes: Sitting still or being idle, he understands when its necessary but hates when it makes him feel useless or trapped. Not big into heavy foods, they make him sleepy, and a sleepy soldier is a dead one. Does not like the quiet, having grown up on a military vessel, he was constantly around other people. Makes him uncomfortable at the prospect of being in his own room. Can be found sleeping in an open bunk in the communal sleeping area.

Weight: 220 lbs

Height: 6'4

Build: Lean Muscular

Scar(s): Scar on his left back shoulder blade that looks like a several pointed star, was shot in the back close range. Another scar on his right forearm that look like little shots of lightning, from being electrocuted.

Tattoo(s): Several on his upper bicep, both arms and shoulder blades. They vary in what they are. Some are local fauna that he saw on different ships and colonies he's been to/on. Has an N7 tattoo under his right collar bone, about his peck.

Skin Tone: Depends on direct sunlight. His skin tone is normally a warm mocha with some honey brown tones in his cheeks, chest, and arms. Other times, if he has shore leave somewhere sunny, he can get closer to more of a milk chocolate tone. He was dark when he was younger but his skin tone has gotten a bit lighter as he got older.

Facial Features: Strong, high cheek bones. A more square chin and full lips. Long dark lashes, around a pair of granny Smith green eyes. His nose is slightly bulbed, a trait he acquired from his father. In his later he had his right brow and septum pierced but removed both when he join the military.

Hair Style: He normally has it grown out and braided but the military requires him to keep it short. Is normally just a flat buzz cut but, when he is relieved of duty before ME3 he has grown it out again and taken to dreading it.

Hair  color: A midnight brown, almost black.

Eye color: Granny Smith green.

Eye Style: Almond shaped eyes. Regularly called expesssive, making him a rather bad liar.

Helmet: Death mask Helmet

Visor Optics/Lens: Archon visor

Armor set: N7 Defender Armor

Utility Attachment: Ordance Packs (increases amount of ammo that can be carried)

Primary Colour: Matte black

Secondary Colour: seafoam green

Tertiary Colour: Eggshell yellow

Casual Clothing: Big into plaid button ups and crew neck t shirts. Occasionally wears v necks and cut offs. Has a black leather jacket with a hood that is his go to jacket. Wears slim fitting jeans and either dress shoes (preferably brown) or nice tennies.

Faction/Occupation/Affiliation: Commander of the Alliance/Council Spectre ME1, Cerberus Commander/operative ME2, Council Spectre ME3

Artificial Intelligence(A.I)/Companion: EDI whenever necessary or available

Allies/Friends: ME crew, Hades, Councilman Zeus.

Rivals/Frienemies: Hades, mostly in a friendly fashion when it comes to getting things done faster. The Council, since they seem to love and hate him.

Nemesis/Enemies: Cerberus, post ME2

Class: Solider/Adept

Category Threat Level: 9 ME1, 12 ME2 + 3

Rank: Commander/Spectre

Standard/Modified Weapons: 

1. Diamond Back X Assault Rifle

2.M-98 Widow Anti-Material Rifle

3. Cobra X line pistol

Armor Abilities(AA):

1. Kinetic Exoskeleton

2. Shock absorbers

Genetic Augmentation: Is a biotic with an M3 implant. Was chosen for advance biotics during his early Alliance days. Occasionally gets nose bleeds and headaches when over using biotics.

Supernatural Powers: None

Skills/Specialization: Jax is an exceptional biotic, his main go to attacks being throw and shockwave. While he primarily uses his biotics, he had made sure he is still very skilled within close range with pistols, combat knives, mid range with an SMG, and is at least adept when it comes to long range with a sniper.

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Exposed: A Checklist of 9 Best Space Tee Brands

Custom Patches No Minimum Whether you are a famous brand name that intends to promote its service, a retailer that wants to enhance its product variety or a celeb that intends to construct his individual brand, you can make use of empty T-shirts to scale your business or produce the buzz of your brand name. Yet picking the ideal brand for this sort of clothes is a tough telephone call because there are loads of brand names that offer blank Tees. So what should be your choice? Well, we do not want to confuse you with an ending checklist of brand names as we've assembled below only the most effective brand names for empty Tees. Here they are: 1. Bella + Canvas When it comes to top quality, no brand can pair up to the criteria of Bella + Canvas. The brand name is a major distributor of empty tees in the North American region. What makes this brand name stick out amongst the competitors is the fit and style that is unrivaled in the apparel industry. The short sleeve jersey is the highlight of this brand name which comes in 57 different colors. Yet you can forgive Bella + Canvas for making you confused with such a vast variety of shades because their whole supply has one of the most beautiful design, unequaled material, as well as exceptional suitable. 2. Next Level Garments Next Degree Apparel is another leading brand to get the best empty tee t-shirts. It takes pride in selling the ring-spun cotton tees that feels soft on the body and look similarly comfy and fashionable. Launched in 2006, this premium brand name for empty tees makers T-shirts in a variety of styles consisting of the hoody, raglan, tank tops, and long sleeve among others. It is authorized by W.R.A.P (Worldwide Liable Accredited Manufacturing) which supports the production methods and also standard of quality of this company. Next Degree Clothing markets tees in plenty of shades and also dimensions. So you have the freedom of selection to choose the best empty Tees according to your certain demands. 3. American Garments American Garments is currently a subsidiary of Gildan Activewear but marketed under its initial brand name. It has several of the very best empty Tees layouts for both males and females. The specialty of this brand is the durability of the fabric and also durable stitch that do not wear down quickly and also raise the durability of the garment. American Garments produces tees in 100% cotton, poly cotton, and tri-blends, so you have plenty of fabrics to decide. The Tees feel quite great on the body due to the lightweight of its product. The only point that could transform you off is the prices of the garments. Nevertheless, the prices of this brand has actually seen a downtick since Gildan Activewear acquired the business. 4. CB Garments CB Clothing is one more brand that masters making blank tees. It creates 100% cotton tees that fit snugly to the body. They are the wholesaler in empty tee organisation. For that reason, you can obtain a bulk of tees at practical prices. They can use you tees in every shade and also style varying from team neck and the sleeveless style to long sleeve t-shirts and women tops. The advantage about this business is that it complies with the environment-friendly techniques to guarantee that their manufacturing procedure does not harm the environment. 5. Gildan. One of the largest suppliers of blank tees, Gildan has been rocking the fashion industry for greater than three years. This Canadian-based apparel company offers the tees in different layout and design. Despite if you require the hooded tees, crew neck, V-neck, or lengthy sleeve, this brand is your go-to resource to obtain the most effective tees that attract attention in vogue as well as fit. Aside from supplying the most effective high quality, the brand additionally offers you a selection of alternatives pertaining to the color and size. It has tees in a variety of colors that fits every gender as well as body type. So if you want to develop a clothing brand, after that you can acquire tees from this firm as well as make use of custom-made patches to start marketing under your brand name. 6. AS Colour. AS Colour is a major player in clothing retail business in the Australian region. The business additionally deals in the wholesale profession of apparels as well as materials clothes in The United States and Canada and also various other regions. It brags about the purity of its cotton material, and it gets it from the Australian market. It has stores in significant cities in Australia including Melbourne, Adelaide, and Sydney. AS Colour has the very best styles that come in every dimension, shade, and fit. Whether you require a singlet, sweatshirt, storage tanks or crew neck, you can place an order on its online store and obtain the top-notch blank tees that you can utilize to place personalized embroidered spots to advertise your brand name. 7. Anvil. Anvil is renowned for producing form-fitting Tees that highlights your figure and also looks extremely trendy. It produces Tee shirts with 100% ring-spun cotton which is why it feels light on your body. It features a slightly bigger dimension than the common dimension. So when you clean it for the very first time, it will certainly reduce a little bit to fit your body. Feel confident, it has a colorfast textile which doesn't shed illumination after the clean and also when you place personalized iron on patches. Besides, the T-shirts by this business has solid sewing which doesn't break even after several cleans, and also it doesn't lose the initial shape. The tees by Anvil comes in all sizes and shapes. 8. Hanes. Among the earliest apparel brand names in The United States and Canada, Hanes is known for generating the superior-quality products that remain to serve the individuals for greater than a century. The firm likewise markets tag-less Tees that can be found in various colors as well as dimensions. Hanes gets the very best client evaluations for its fit, convenience, and also shades. It generates tees for every single gender, dimension as well as physique ranging from V-neck Tee shirts, sweatshirts, hooded Tee shirts, staff neck and also long-sleeve T-shirts. 9. Certton. Understood for creating a 100% natural cotton fabric, Cerrton is a costs garments brand name from Australia. It markets the empty tees with the distribution network of OCC Clothing which is a leading apparel representative in the Australian area and also the chief dealer for Certton items. The T-shirts by this business is ideal for buyers who intend to utilize Velcro patches that can quickly be fixed on its fabric as well as removed after usage. The firm is a certified natural apparel firm which carefully adheres to the standards relating to environmental safety and security in addition to practices the labor legislations. Which's all. Hope, this checklist enriches your understanding of the best blank Tees and assist you get the very best tees for your details requirements.

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Cuddl Duds Women's Black Thermal Active Balaclava Long Sleeve Top Small or Large.